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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

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ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 34

Man these parts are getting harder and harder to churn out. A lot of plot points converging and real life ramping up. Hopefully you all enjoy this. Please comment your thoughts on the chapter. And if you really liked it, Reblog it. Thats the best way to get others to see it. Also, Please let me know your thoughts. Your comments fuel me.

(Master Post)

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade surveyed the classroom. Her former classmates now her masked servants. It was fitting how they were all silent. Before, they listened to her because she told them exactly the things they wanted to hear, now they listened because she had power over them. It was kind of poetic in a way.

She looked across the classroom, she realized that there seemed to be more people missing than she initially realized.

“We are missing someone. Aside from Marinette, who is missing?”

The controlled classmates looked amongst themselves. Trying to figure out who was the one that was not in the class.

“Is it Chloé?” Miracular inquired, trying to answer her master’s request.

The akuma looked around.

“Huh… Oh yea, she isn’t here. Well she isn’t important. I was thinking someone else.” Masquerade answered. She looked to her most recently made akuma servant.

The Bubbler, the akumatized version of Nino stood motionless. As if he was not registering what was going on.

“Bubbler? Do you know who is missing?”

The multicolored akuma said nothing. Not even looking in the direction of the mask maiden.

“Bubbler! I order you to answer me!” She commanded with fiery rage.

The akuma turned to face his master, now responding.

“Adrien is missing.” The bubbler answered, his voice robotic and as emotive as a speak and spell.

“So, Adrien isn’t in the room. What a shame. I was planning on turning him into my handsome little knight.”

Masquerade thought for a moment.

Has Adrien been akumatized? Lila wasn’t sure she had ever seen or heard about him getting akumatized. She knew that the class had pretty much gotten hit at least once or twice at some point from what she had heard and read from the ladyblog. But if that goody-goody Marinette hadn’t been akumatized, Adrien likely hadn’t been akumatized either.

“Alright my servants! We have a new mission. I want you to lock this school down! No one is allowed in or out. Anyone you find, bring them to me. If they can be akumatized, then they are joining our cause.”

“Time breaker. Guard the perimeter outside of the school. Anyone outside of Ladybug and Chat noir trying to get in. Tag them, but only if they are suspicious of what’s going on. Stay hidden otherwise.”

“Timebreaker nodded and began skating out of the room in a rush.

“Horrificator, once Timebreaker is outside, seal all the exits in the main building.”

The masked monstress nodded and sped out of the room.

“Dark Cupid, Stoneheart, Princess Fragrance, Miracular and Reflekta. I want you to split up check all of the rooms and bring me potential akumas.”

The five akuma nodded and made their way out the door.

“Gamer and Robostus. I want you to hack into the airwaves. I want access to every Electric device in Paris when I give you the signal. But make sure to be subtle. I don’t want anyone to know about us until I tell you.”

The two nod and start working to get that ready for her.

She focuses her attention to the bubble making akuma that was giving her problems earlier.

Considering how hard it was to break him down, it was understandable. She had saved him for last for a reason. Because he was the hardest one to crack.

He was a relatively calm individual, able to keep a level head. But even he had his weakness. His confidence. Once that was shaken, seeing his entire class taken, knowing his girlfriend was under her control, he couldn't resist another moment. In a way, it was the most satisfying charm on her bracelet.

“Now Bubbler, you are going to go and locate Marinette and Adrien for me. Put them in a bubble and bring them to me. Help that girlfriend of yours.”

The bubbler nodded yes despite severe shaking. Seems even now he is trying to resist the control of the mask.

“Troublesome, but it is only temporary. He will break soon enough.” Masquerade mused to herself.

She looked at the near empty room with contempt. This was hardly a place where she could exact her vengeance. It was so… lame. Though a thought occurs as she realized who she had left standing at attention without orders.

“Evillustrator, I have a special request for you.”

________________________________________________________

“What is this?” Chloé screeched. “My daddy bought me the best phone plan in the city. How can I not have service right now?!”

The nurse felt a chill run down her spine. Could the akuma block out phone signals? Is that why there is no attention being given to the school? How could they call for help? How would anyone know of the akuma attack? Would Ladybug and Chat noir be able to help them?

The nurse started to feel herself going pale, she was just supposed to be a school nurse. Worst thing she needed to deal with was a scraped knee or give a kid an ice pack. Now she has a woman that collapsed on the bed and an akuma that is somewhere in the school. She had just moved to Paris a few months ago. It was her dream to live in the city of love, get her career going, find a nice guy, and just live the good life. But no one told her that supervillain attacks would be so personally connected to her situation? She had heard about this crap in New York and in America. But Paris? It was too much. What if Ladybug and Chat noir didn’t fix everything? What if this was where her story ended. What if…

“Hey!”

The nurse turned to her attention to the voice. It was the brash blonde teen that was complaining.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Just a heads up, I am not taking care of you.” Chloé commented.

Angela felt her face heat up with annoyance.

“Listen you brat. I don’t have time to deal with your attitude. I have a woman that is out cold from exhaustion in a building with a hostile akuma.”

“Good, at least you aren’t going to faint. I don’t need any more whinny women fainting on me”

The nurse paused, did the girl say that just to help her not succumb to the grim situation?

Chloé started making her way to the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“You already got your hands full with the annoying assistant. I need to make a call to daddy. So, I am going to head out the building and try there. Try not to get ripped apart by an akuma, I still need more ice when I get back.”

Angela blinked. This girl wasn’t scared of the akuma. She was actually going out to do something reasonable. If she could call for help, it would mean that this whole thing blows over.

“Okay, I’ll stay here. Be safe.”

“Yea whatever.”

Chloé headed out the door.

Angela felt a ghost of a smile grace her face.

‘Maybe that girl isn’t a complete brat after all.’

__________________________________________________

The shapeshifting sentimonster growled as it smacked the locker. It lost both primary targets. And worst of all, Ladybug appeared to make this even harder. Masquerade needed to hear about this.

“Master, Marinette and Adrien have escaped my sight.”

The sentimonster heard a sigh of disappointment from the other end.

“It is fine Simularé, They wont be able to escape the school anyway. They will be found soon enough. If anything, this is a blessing in disguise. Having them be the last targets will have them bare witness to how devasting it will all be.” Masquerade answered. “Any news on Ladybug and Chat noir?”

“That’s the other bad news. Ladybug arrived, I am assuming that’s how Marinette managed to escape, and ladybug also took Adrien away as well. No sign of chat noir. But if you know one is here, the other is likely soon to follow.”

There was a brief moment of silence, as masquerade mulled over the information she had received.

“Actually, that works out well for us. Meet up at my location, I have the other students out looking for them, I need your power for something more important.”

“Yes master.”

Simularé shifted back into its phantom form, moving quickly down the hallway to obey her master’s request.

Just as it left, Ladybug popped out of a nearby locker. Relieved it didn’t notice.

“That’s not good, Masquerade likely got everyone in the classroom.” The red heroine said aloud.

She activated her communicator and tried to contact chat noir. But there was no sound.

“Damn it. No signal. Lila likely cut the communication as soon as she realized it.?”

“No worries Buggaboo, I happen to be on site.” A voice called out.

Chat noir jumped out of another locker to reveal he was there.

Ladybug felt a bit of relief at her partner’s appearance. She could tell he felt the same. Better a situation with two heroes.

“Been here the whole time?” The spotted heroine asked her cat crimefighting comrade.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago, I figured something was up, so I decided to take a quick peek. Cat curiosity and all that.”

“And you assumed it was with Collège Françoise Dupont?”

“It seemed like a solid guess.”

“Considering the track record, that is reasonable.” Ladybug conceded.

“Ever wonder why it is always this school and never any of the other schools? Paris is a big city. You would think Hawkmoth would decide to branch out to the other schools in the city.” Chat noir inquired as they started walking down the hall.

“I assumed its just a coincidence.”

“Shot in the dark, maybe he has a kid that goes here. He is pretty old” Chat noir dissed.

“I can’t imagine anyone that would want to date Hawkmoth.” Ladybug joked.

“What about the blue lady? She seemed crazy enough.”

“And now that image is burned in my mind. Thanks kitty.” Ladybug sarcastically commented. “Despite the mental scarring, I am glad you got here. Seems a repeat offender got herself an upgrade in the akuma powers department.”

“Lila.”

“How did you know?”

“I was reading the ladyblog, Alya did great work on that article.” Chat noir praised. He mentally applauded his quick thinking.

“Right, kind of the reason I felt the need to keep an eye on this place. But sadly, I was too slow.” Ladybug responded a tad gloomy.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. We will finish this akuma before lunch.”

Ladybug heard a footstep from the end of the hallway.

“Get down!”

Ladybug tackled the cat hero down. Just narrowly avoiding a neon pause symbol, which now suck on the wall.

“Looks like Lila has been busy.” Chat noir noted as he turned his face to the direction of the attacker.

Ladybug looked at the akuma. The white mask covering her friend’s face. Lady Wifi was back.

“Alya…”

The two heroes got into a fighting stance and prepared to take down this controlled akuma.

________________________________________________

The halls were empty and lifeless as the two visiting teens made their way cautiously down the halls.

“Oddly quiet in here.” The fencer commented. “What do you think Luka?”

“Well last time we entered a place with an akuma in it, it was brimming with armored minions. Maybe this akuma has more stealth?” The Musician commented. “So, I don’t think you will be fighting as directly as you are use to Kagami.”

Kagami nodded at that, not exactly happy or sad regarding that remark. Her plan was to see if she could help her friends get out of the building, grab her textbook, and get out. She wasn’t really that interested in fighting a superpowered foe at this moment in time.

The two ceased speaking when they heard approaching footsteps.

“Someone’s coming.” Luka noted.

The two duck into the nearest room.

The two stayed close to the door as they listened to the sound of the approaching figure.

Kagami dropped to the floor silently as to check and see if she could get a visual.

She could only see what appeared to be costume boots of a larger figure. Which made the expert fencer believe it was not friendly.

The figure stopped, looking at the door. The two teens felt their neck hairs stand on edge as they did their best not to make a sound.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure passed the door without checking. Once the sound of his footsteps could no longer be heard, they let out a sigh of relief.

“That was way too close for comfort.”

“Agreed. I would prefer a direct confrontation next time, much less nerve-racking. “

The two carefully open the door and exit the room.

“Seems we found the akuma.” Luka commented. “Now we just need to avoid it and.”

“You mean akumas.” Kagami corrected.

“Akumas?”

Kagami tilted the boys head to look in the same direction she was looking, and sure enough she saw a rather large rock like creature walking the halls.

“Oh… well that is bad.”

Kagami pushed him back into the room and closed the door. Locking it before the rock giant could notice them.

“I’m surprised.”

“By the fact there is an 8-foot-tall rock beast outside?”

“No, by the fact you didn’t try to fight it.”

“I don’t have a weapon.” Kagami replied flatly.

Luka raised a brow at the comment, unsure if the fencer was serious or not about fighting that thing if she had a foil.

“Is something wrong?” A third voice came from behind them.

The two teens turned around, preparing for the worst. Though they were relieved to see it was just an old janitor… in a Hawaiian shirt. Despite his odd dress, he did give off a kind aura. One of a trusting old grandpa.

They noticed that the room seemed to be a sort of teacher’s lounge, with a small counter with a sink and cabinets. As well as a fridge to keep food cold and stored. A place in the school where teachers would come to get a quick coffee or store their lunch.

“Oh good, you aren’t an akuma.” Luka sighed with relief.

“An akuma?” The old man asked.

“Yes, it is very dangerous out there right now. There are multiple villains outside. I would recommend staying put while we go out there and help handle things.” Kagami explained.

“Quite bold of you to go out there against those monsters.” The man responded.

“Don’t worry, we will be careful. We just need to make sure we can get as many people out as we can so Ladybug and Chat noir won’t need to worry.”

“Ah, how selfless of you. You both seem quite capable for ones so young.”

“You’re very kind, but we are just doing what we can. Our friends are out there and they need our help.”

Kagami goes to the door. Checking to ensure the coast is clear again.

The old man pats the musician’s shoulder.

“I am sure you two will figure a way to help your friends.”

“There are too many outside this room.” Kagami grumbled. If only I had a way to fight them.”

The mysterious janitor smiled.

“Say… I did happen to see Ladybug earlier.”

The two teens turned their attention to the old man.

“You did?” they asked in unison.

“Yes, she happened to drop something while rushing. Would you two be so kind as to return them to her when you see her.”

The two of them glance at each other and shrug. The old janitor might be senile.

“Sure… We can give it to her.” Luka assured the old man, trying to remain polite.

The old man moves to a closet, where out of view of the two teens, an elaborate chest with the symbol of the guardian’s decorates the top. He quickly gets two smaller boxes and closes the closet.

“Ah! Here they are.”

He hands the two a small box each. Their eyes go wide.

“They seemed important, so I didn’t want to just leave them on the floor. But I have a feeling you two will take good care of them.”

The two teens were engrossed by the boxes in their hands. They recognized them immediately. These were the boxes Ladybug used when handing out miraculous.

“Where did you find…?” Kagami tried to question, but noticed the old man was no longer there.

“He’s gone…”

“Actually, I am over here.”

The teens look in the opposite direction they were looking in order to see him at the end of the room getting a snack from the fridge.

The duo decided that maybe this old guy wasn’t all there after all and figured it would be best to go somewhere and utilize the ‘gift’ they were just given.

“Stay in the lounge where it’s safe okay?” Luka asked politely.

“Of course. I am not paid if I am not working.”

The two teens checked the door again, and once the coast was clear. They both slipped out of the room.

After he knew they were out of sight, the old man chuckled.

“The senile routine works every time.”

“Master, you really cut it close with that one.” A small turtle creature exclaimed as he popped out from the closet.

“The universe works in mysterious ways Wayzz. What are the odds that there would be an attack on the school the very day I decide to hide out as a janitor?”

“Considering the frequency of akuma attacks, very likely.”

“True, but how about running into two individuals that Marinette had picked to be heroes.” Fu followed up.

“That is quite a coincidence.”

The guardian pulled out his phone and noticed he didn’t have a signal.

“It seems I can’t get a signal to notify her of the reinforcements I sent her way. Likely it would be the same on her end. So, it is a good thing I acted in advance.”

Fu moved to the closet where he kept the miraculous.

“I can’t help but shake the feeling Ladybug and Chat noir will need all of the help they can get.

“Don’t worry master, I am sure Ladybug and Chat noir will be successful.

“Let us keep an eye on things. They might need another ally to turn the tide.

________________________________________________________

“I am guessing you are also familiar with what’s inside here?” Kagami inquired as the two stealthily moved in the hall.

“I may be familiar with it.” Luka commented.

Kagami contemplated the statement. She figured out the truth.

“Seems we both have used a miraculous then?”

“It appears we have. Though I am not sure Ladybug will be thrilled that someone knows I have helped her.”

“I understand the sentiment. Though lets simply agree to keep it between us.” Kagami answered. “Friends do keep secrets like that if I’m correct.”

Luka smiled at the comment.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Luka assured.

“As is yours.”

The two found the locker room and quickly moved inside.

“Coast is clear.”

The two opened the boxes and as they did two magical creatures appeared in front of them.

A floating creature with multiple spikes appeared in front of the fencer, while another floating creature that resembled a cobra stood in front of luka.

“It is a pleasure to see you again Mistress Kagami.”

“It’s been too long, Longg.” Kagami smiled. Happy to see her kwami friend.

“Hello Luka, itssss been a while.” The snake kwami greeted.

“Happy to see you too Sass.” Luka fist bumped his kwami.

The kwamis stop and turn to see the other kwami there.

“Does Ladybug know about this?” They both ask in unison.

“We will inform her after. Right now, there is a lot of danger.” Kagami exclaimed. “Ladybug needs our help.”

The two kwami nod and prepare to fight.

“Consssider us accomplissses.” Sass answered.

The two teens put on the miraculous.

“Sass! Scales Slither.”

“Longg! Bring the storm”

The two teens transform into their heroic alter egos.

Kagami shifting into the dragon miraculous hero Ryuuko, and Luka changing into the Snake hero Viperion.

The two stop to glance at the other.

“So, what should I call you.” The snake hero asked curiously.

“Call me Ryuuko. And what about you mister snake?”

“Viperion is what I am going with.”

“Fitting.”

“As is yours.”

The two give a nod of comradery before making their way out of the locker room. They had to go help Ladybug.

__________________________________________________

Ladybug dashed across the hallway, avoiding pause symbols being flung at her by the conniving akuma.

She slid underneath one of the symbols and preformed a daring slide kick to knock Lady Wifi off balance.

While she was unstable, Chat noir charged and used his baton to make contact with her white mask. Believing it was the obvious weak point.

“Got it!” Chat noir exclaimed triumphantly. The strike of the staff knocking Ladywifi a good several meters. Before lying flat on her back.

“Wow, that is a tough mask. I thought for sure that was the weak point.” Chat noir commented.

Lady Wifi stood up robotically.

“There must be a way to snap her out of it. Unless Hawkmoth is learning from his mistakes.” Ladybug hypothesized as she got up from the ground.

“Well I got nothing.” Chat noir shrugged.

Another set of footsteps approaching caught the hero’s attention. The recognized the multicolored bubble maker the moment they saw him.

“Nino… You too?” Chat noir said under his breath.

The Bubble maker used his bubble wand to summon two large bubbles to capture the heroes. Bringing back flashbacks of their first encounter with the bubble akuma.

Chat noir and Ladybug expertly slide between the gaps of the attack, resulting in Lady Wifi getting hit with the large bubbles and being sent flying into the wall via bubble prison.

Chat noir lunged at the Bubbler, his quick pounce pinning him down before he could attack.

“Maybe I can destroy his mask with…”

“Wait Chat noir!” Ladybug called out.

Chat noir paused.

“What if your cataclysm doesn’t free him?”

“And then I am left without the power before a recharge.”

“Exactly. We need to hold off on using our powers right now.”

Chat noir wanted to save his friend. But he knew his partner was right. They needed to conserve their powers before facing Lila.

The Bubbler managed to get the cat hero off of him with a burst of strength. Knocking Chat noir to the ground.

Lady Wifi had gotten free from the bubble attack and was now blocking the other entrance.

Ladybug and Chat noir moved back to back, Ladybug facing the ladyblogger turned mindless akuma slave and Chat noir facing the akumatized DJ.

“Any ideas, Buggaboo?”

“Seems they can’t adapt. They are pretty much mindless slaves. Which makes sense since Lila wouldn’t want them to think for themselves.”

“So you’re saying their movements are simple.”

“Which means they are exploitable.”

Chat noir felt relief watch over him. He knew Ladybug had a plan.

_____________________________________________________

“EWWWW!” Chloé screeched in disgust. The front entrance to the school had been covered in a pink slime.

She wiped her hand on the cleanest section of wall she could find. This was not her day.

“What is with this nasty gross akuma? First, I can’t call Daddy to come and pick me up. I can’t even post about it! How will Ladybug know to save me? Or better yet, get me the bee miraculous so I can help her save the day?”

Chloé decided to try another exit, since she had no plans of sticking around without knowing if she was going to be given a miraculous or not. Plus, she did say she would call for help, and doing that would make her look good in potential hero points.

As she was walking, she bumps into something in the middle of the hall. Which was bizzare since the hall was clear.

“Ouch, right on my bruise. What the hell is…”

Chloé felt her anger shift to fear when she watched as the empty hall now contained a familiar akuma.

“Sabrina?”

The akuma turned to her, her face covered with a white face mask.

“Eww. Your akuma form looks even tacker than before.”

“Take potential akuma to master.” The akumatized Sabrina stated in an emotionless tone. Repeating the order, she had been given.

“Oh no you don’t! Sabrina, I order you to listen to me!”

The akuma ignored the blonde’s command and slowly walked towards her.

“Sabrina… I am warning you. I am going to yell at you over this later if you don’t stop right now.”

Chloé started slowly backing away. She wasn’t sure of what to do.

“Listen… if you stop right now… I’ll uh… let you take a pick of one of my old sweaters.” Chloé bargained, not intending to let her pick one of the ones she actually liked.

Chloé felt her hand touch the sealed door, and knew she was at the end of the hall. She was boxed in.

“This is so unacceptable.” Chloé stated, preparing to get captured. But a flash of Red and Black came out of nowhere and kicked the akuma hard to the wall.

“Ladybug! I knew you would like save me!” Chloé jumped and hugged her savior.

“Im not ladybug.” The heroine spoke.”

Chloé released the hug as she examined who her savior was.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chloé had never bothered to learn the names of any of the other miraculous heroes. She sometimes forgets chat noir’s name.

“Ryuuko.” The dragon heroine stated calmly, almost regretting saving Chloé.

“Did Ladybug send you? Cause it would have been better if she got me to help.”

Ryuuko decided to ignore Chloé’s comment.

“Now we need to leave before she… Where did she go?” Looking at the dented locker that no longer had an akuma lying on the ground.

Suddenly the akuma popped out of nowhere about to strike from above with her tonfa and steal Ryuuko’s powers, but was stopped when a small harp smacked her face.

“She appears to have invisibility.” A voice called out.

The two turn to see the snake hero as he caught his harp on the rebound.

Chloé took a moment to look over the snake hero. She had to admit, he was pretty cute. Not Adrien cute, maybe she would start learning the names of the other heroes.

“Quick thinking Viperion.” Ryuuko thanked the snake teen.

“Just following your lead.” Viperion responded. The two giving eachother a respectful smile. They both seemed to have gotten used to working together.

The akuma got up. Its white face mask making the akuma’s expression unreadable. But its body language exuded rage.

“Seems we aren’t going anywhere until she is taken care of.” Ryuuko said as she stared down the akuma.

Viperion turned to chloé.

“You need to go and get to safety.”

“Okay!” Chloé says as she runs off.

“How come she didn’t give you any sass?”

“Because I already have him.”

Kagami had to admit that was a clever response.

“Not what I meant, but Chat noir would love that joke.”

“I will be sure to tell him it later.”

“Stick to playing guitar. You’re a better musician than comedian.”

Before they could get off anymore banter. The akuma went for another attack.

________________________________________________________

Simularé entered Ms.Bustier’s classroom.

“I am here.” The ghostly sentimonster announced.

“Excellent.”

The sentimonster looked up to see that the classroom it was expeciting to see had been altered into what appeared to be a rather glamourous throne room. The windows covered by white curtains with the design of an akuma in black. The platforms and stairs had been altered to be marble. And at the top, where Lila’s desk once was was now a golden throne akin to something one would see in a castle. Though despite the impressive change in the classroom it was still being designed. The akuma known as the evillustrator was still creating more furnishings for the room.

“Simulare, I have an order for you.” Masquerade stated as she sat on the new throne. Clearly confident in her position.

The sentimonster approached her master. Stopping only a few feet away.

“I want you to create a mirage over the school. Since Ladybug is already in the school. It would be best if you made sure no one notices whats happening here. I don’t need any additional heroes popping in yet. Let’s handle her before making things public.”

Simularé nodded.

“Understood. But what should we do if she…”

“I have everything under control. Just follow my orders.”

Simularé ceased her questioning.

“As you wish master.”

The sentimonster shifted into her Volpina form and headed out of the classroom.

“She is getting arrogant in her power. If things do go south, I will need to step in.” Simularé said to herself. But for now, she knew she had a role to play.

_____________________________________________________________

And that ends part 34.

Seems things are REALLY heating up. Will Viperion and Ryuuko be able to help Ladybug and Chat noir?

Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to get through to their brainwashed friends?

Will Masquerade's gambit be enough for her to get her vengeance?

Whats Simularé's deal?

Find out by staying tuned and sharing. Remember Reblogs help content creators and if you do enjoy my content, the support really does help

593 notes · View notes

jaepies · 3 years

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𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙢𝙖 - yuri on ice

yuri x victor

chapter 1 : disconnect

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

stupid idiot.

stupid, bumbling idiot who is incapable of doing the one thing which he is supposed to excel at. you actually thought you could make it? a frail shell of man, unable to persevere when it matters most. everyone must emit a silent chuckle each time you take your unworthy place on the ice.

"look at that joke of a skater. that yuri katsuki must really have no shame."

"if he had a single ounce of pride he would study and find himself a stable office job."

"i feel such pity for him - he's still so young yet he's throwing his life away."

that's right yuri. every single spectator is berating you in their minds. think about how humiliated your parents must feel each time someone inquires about you - let the clouds rain guilt. you have no umbrella to protect you now, this is the sincere world.

yuri couldn't help but be polluted by the poison of his thoughts. his inner voice incarcerating him as he shuffled along the floors of the overseas.

just let me go home

headlines upon headlines were filled with his failures of the recent Grand Prix. his mistakes displayed free for all; with impending reviews from those who feel as though they can hide among anonymity.

the backpack which yuri had been carrying began to felt heavier the longer he stayed within his own head. he needed to escape; he needed a way to be freed from this cage.

"yuri katsuki!"

the vibrant sound made yuri whip his head around. his reaction slightly delayed from being shrouded by showers of solemnness - the contrast disoriented his mind. it was as though he was walking unbalanced on a tightrope.

"don't give up. it's too early for you to retire!"

he's lying to you

he wants to see you fumble again. who doesn't love watching someone screw up right before their eyes? how could someone possibly feel this way?

everyone perceives you as another wasted talented.

with another dejected sigh, yuri simply just plodded away. repeatedly he kept telling himself he would never do this again, he couldn't; his willpower was fading as rapidly as his ambition for victory came and left.

the bustling room was filled with young flames brimming with passion. it was almost sickly how potent the yearn and desire for achievement was. the irony of it almost made yuri laugh, how long had it been since he had felt like that?

when he gave it some thought, there was one moment in particular which stood out. yuri was in his youth as he watched the russian teenager make the ice his own.

his hair had flowed and followed wherever he and his skates went, something about that performance resonated within the japanese boy. he had never experienced this before.

a neuron had been triggered at that point in time and yuri's body went into dopamine overload. with his new founded passion for the sport, he dedicated every waking moment to the art of ice skating.

he craved the sensation which watching the performance had given him. determination controlled him but somewhere along the way in the forthcoming years, it had gotten lost.

"a photo?"

huh

"would you like a commemorative photo?"

very few people in their lives are blessed with the opportunity of feeling star-struck. the heavens must have felt some sympathy towards yuri because if his eyes were not deceiving him,

the victor nikiforov was asking for a photo.

he clammed up, his disbelief overtaking him and prevented him from spitting any coherent words out. it was a rather dismal sight.

many spend so much time creating scenarios like this one, imagining how you would be around your idol. would you act cool? shocked? or would you act like yourself and pray that they like your personality.

countless nights spent staring at the ceiling formulating the perfect words to say. the very words which would convey how you felt and express the sincerity which had been bottle up within you for years.

yuri katsuki had been given the opportunity to put all this to good use yet he rendered it all pointless as he just walked away and headed towards the automatic doors.

he just walked away, leaving the man, who started it all for him, unanswered.

yuri katsuki,

you really are a stupid idiot.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#yuri on ice #yuri katsuki #yuri #victor #victor nikiforov #yuri x victor #ice skating #writing #writer #fanfic #anime #yoi #katsuki yuuri #yuuri katsuki #yuurixvictor #yuuri on ice #yuuri #not canon

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

Not Joyce or Monet

PART THIRTY-NINE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: major discussions of parent death/death in general, smoking, drinking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6.3K

Summary: Jess publishes his second book and Ella receives a troubling call from Stars Hollow.

Flopping face-first down onto the bed, Ella breathed a sigh of relief. It would have felt strange not to have a little champagne at Jess’s book launch party. But, she was a lightweight. She was floating somewhere between tipsy, buzzed, and drunk. At least she was still capable of slipping off her shoes before making her way to the bedroom. She’d even managed to change into pajamas, brush her teeth, and wash her face. A far cry from the screwdriver incident at Liz’s baby shower. A heavy winter snow fell outside the windows and a touch of cold air seeped into the draughty apartment. Goosebumps rose lightly on her skin. In her state, they felt nice instead of uncomfortable. She was already dozing when Jess came in, having taken a quick shower. His hair was still damp as he climbed into bed next to her, the movement shaking her from her haze.

“Did you like your party?” she murmured, watching as he shut off the lamp and rolled over to face her.

His face was aglow with the bluish light of the snowy Saturday evening. “Mhm.”

She snickered a bit at his nonchalance. “I know you hate parties, but Chris insisted it was the best way to drum up business. And you do like surprises, Mr. Spontaneity. Matthew and I made it as lowkey as we could.”

“It wasn’t so bad, Eleanor. Really,” he said, shrugging. “You’re remembering that you whispered lines from Catch-22 in my ear all night, right?”

“I figured you’d need some Joseph Heller to make it through,” she explained, slightly sheepish.

Jess smiled. “Of course. And watching Chris and Leo get so drunk they do their acapella version of ‘Under Pressure’ could never be bad.”

“Leo does do a damn good Freddie Mercury,” Ella agreed, chuckling. “I didn’t realize the publishing agents would all go blackout level, too.”

“Oh, yeah. You should’ve seen what Chris did for the Subsect launch. It was like that scene where E.T. gets drunk. But if there were fifty aliens in the movie instead of just one,” Jess said flatly, begrudgingly.

“You must be a little drunk if you’re letting a cheesy eighties movie slip. Or have I finally converted you?” she teased, snuggling deeper into the pillow.

Jess smirked. “Not yet. Chris made me try his Manhattans to see if they ‘tasted too much like gasoline.’”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that they did,” Ella said.

“Someone give the lady a prize,” Jess shot back tiredly. “Good thing we walked there.”

“Yeah. And good thing I got to watch you catch a snowflake with your tongue on the way back.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, cutie,” she said, forcing her laughter down. “I’ll be eating my words when you watch me fall on my ass while we’re ice-skating with April.”

She knew if he’d been entirely sober, he wouldn’t have gotten so caught up in his wonderment at the storm. But Ella had also seen him sticking out his tongue awaiting a snowflake in an old, yellowing photo album Liz had shown off during her baby shower. In it, Jess had been no more than three. Dressed in a raggedy winter jacket on some grimy corner of New York City. He and Liz were sticking their tongues out together. Seeing the photo had given Ella’s mouth a bittersweet taste. It was hard to imagine Jess ever feeling so relaxed around his mother. She saw the same rare awe from him on the walk home. Most of the time, he was so weighed down by the world he could barely come up for air. She thought she had never seen him look so young at heart before.

“Can’t wait,” Jess hummed, mocking. It was nearly time for April’s winter break, and Anna had somehow agreed to let her spend it with Luke, Lorelai, and Rory. Ella and Jess had opted to return to Stars Hollow for Christmas, after the bumps in the road on Thanksgiving. Two more days, and they’d be braving the icy roads on their way up to Connecticut. April had already called them to schedule a time for ice-skating. The proper, analytical way the little girl spoke never failed to amuse Ella.

“Me neither,” Ella quipped as her eyelids began to droop again. She could smell the minty scent of Jess’s shampoo.

As he watched her begin to drift off, he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. From what Matthew had said, Ella had essentially been put in charge of the party when Chris’s trademark irresponsibility made an appearance. Matthew had jury duty and couldn’t assume his usual role of organizer in the wake of Chris’s chaotic decision-making. What she’d managed to throw together, though, was one of the better parties Jess had ever been to. The publishers they knew usually sent younger employees to the underground press launches, and Chris had ended up making friends with most of the usual suspects at the launch for Jess’s first book. Ella had made sure the guest list only included familiar faces. If they just had to throw him a surprise party, which Chris demanded (normally, she wouldn’t have listened, but if it was a matter of getting his book better exposure, she was willing to risk it), she’d try to make it as comfortable for him as possible. Or, at the very least, bearable.

And she’d just gotten done with finals two days earlier. He could see how tired she was. Her nerves over the possibility of seeing her father during the winter holidays hadn’t helped her sleeping recently either. Though Jess wasn’t sure how it would actually pan out, she claimed she wanted an attempt at apologizing for what she’d said at Adam’s graduation. She was sick of family nonsense, she said. Maybe if she levelled the playing field, they could begin to understand each other again. Ella herself wasn’t sure exactly what had sparked her desire to try again with her family, but suspected it might have been Thanksgiving. Jess, simply put, was someone she admired. Seeing him trying to mend his relationships (even though he didn’t have to, even though it was difficult), made her feel just a little more confident. Maybe not everything turned out bad, after all.

Shutting his own eyes, Jess slipped his hand beneath Ella’s shirt, his fingertips ghosting over her back. She smiled softly at his touch, feather-light. A pleasant shiver rolled through her.

“Thank you for the party,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Well, thanks for writing my new favorite book,” she answered instantly, sleepy and sincere. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

. . .

There were still a couple hours left until lunchtime when Ella slipped through the door at Truncheon, but it wasn’t entirely uncommon for her to show up and work a little. Especially when she was on break from school and got antsy. Jess had debated giving her the easel he’d bought her for Christmas early, so she would have something new to focus on while he tied up the odds and ends at the book press. But, ultimately, he wanted to wait until the morning after they returned to Philadelphia. It would be far more surprising to wake up and find a Christmas present wrapped up in the living room on the morning of New Year’s Day than on the actual gift-giving holiday.

When he’d left for his last day of work prior to their trip to Connecticut, she’d still been half asleep. Her sketchbook was open on her bedside table, a pencil drawing of a child with hollow eyes having yet to be shaded. She’d been up late working on it the night before, on a roll. He hadn’t even shut the door to the apartment before she was out cold again. He’d been anxious to get back home, to pack and prepare for the trip. In his opinion, there was no use in only opening for a Monday and then closing for the holidays the rest of the week, but Matthew’s stickler spirit won out. Jess wasn’t going to be skipping around the store in merriment as the rest of the world took a vacation, but he also wasn’t moping around like Chris. He was in the midst of diffusing an argument between his two coworkers when Ella arrived.

He wanted to smile when he saw her, and almost did. But then he got a good look at her hazel eyes, and immediately he could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t that she was sleepy, though she looked a bit haggard in with her peacoat tied around her haphazardly and her hair wild, dotted with the snowflakes falling steadily outside. Instead, she looked almost unreachable. His Eleanor who was always so present and vivid and alive, even in the midst of drudgery. And she wasn’t daydreaming, either. She wasn’t off in her own thoughts, thinking of Emily Dickinson or James Joyce or Claude Monet. No; she was simply not there. Not really.

“Hey, honey. You’re early,” he began as she approached him, where he stood in between Matthew and Chris. The two of them didn’t even notice she’d come in until Jess addressed her, still too caught up in their argument over where to place the new books of free-form poetry.

Swallowing harshly, Ella gave a weak smile and raked her fingers through her hair. She walked up to them, wringing her hands together. Jess didn’t need to see her hands to know she had already bitten her nails down to the quick. At the interruption, Chris gave a frustrated huff and turned to Ella.

“Ella, please tell Matthew it makes zero sense to put the free-form poetry anywhere near the sonnets! They should be on opposite ends of the store, as far as I’m concerned,” he exclaimed in exasperation.

Matthew rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as his jaw clenched. “I’m glad you’re here, Ella. Please tell Chris that we don’t only sell poetry, and free-form or not, it has no business anywhere near science fiction!”

Furrowing her brows, distracted, Ella shook her head. “Um...I don’t know...but I….”

“What?” Jess asked as she gestured slightly with her hands. Her face was pale, and she almost seemed confused, at a loss for words. It didn’t happen to her often, to say the least.

Blowing out a breath, she tried again, jerking her thumb back over her shoulder. “Back at the apartment...I just got a call from my brother. My dad’s dead.”

Jess’s heart dropped into his stomach. “What?”

“Yeah,” Ella said, nodding. As she continued, she took a hair elastic from her wrist and began pulling her locks into a ponytail. “Adam said he was in a car accident this morning. Driving home from some bar in Maryland. If I had to guess, he was still a little drunk from last night. No one else got hurt, which is good. He hit a patch of black ice, and he was going too fast, and I guess he just went right off the road. Into a tree. And he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.”

Her speech became more urgent with every word, as they heard it sink in for her in real time. But she was never frantic, only determined and stern. The spacey fog was fading from her demeanor, though it remained in her eyes. Only in her eyes. She didn’t give them time to respond, just kept thinking out loud.

“Noah’s already on a plane from Oregon, but I don’t think he’s gonna be any help. And Adam said Fiona’s freaking out, so I’m almost definitely going to have to make the arrangements. I know you guys have work and stuff, but we need to pack up and get there before the rest of the family does, or everything will probably just explode on principle. Fuck! This is just like him. To die a week before Christmas!”

“Whoa, hey, Eleanor, just slow down for a second, okay?” Jess began, taking a hesitant step towards her and grabbing her hand. He squeezed once, hard, hoping to calm her down at least a little.

“Jesus, Ella-” Chris began.

“I’m so sorry,” Matthew said.

Ella shook her head, her face stoic. “Don’t, okay? Don’t be sorry. No one needs to be sorry. He was a fucking drunk, and it finally caught up with him. I just need to get back to Stars Hollow to take care of this, and then maybe Christmas won’t be completely ruined. Sound good?”

“Elle, just hold on. You should sit down and-” Jess said, but she cut him off.

“No, Jess. Seriously, I’m fine. Let’s just go and get it over with, and then it’ll be done,” she said, her hand never leaving his though she didn’t squeeze back. Her tone was tight, clipped, but she didn’t sound angry. He recognized it from the night on the bridge when she’d told him about the days following her mother’s death. The way she held it all together, and blocked it all out. Numb and headstrong.

“Do you want us to come with?” Matthew asked, watching with uncertainty as Ella began to tug Jess towards the door, grabbing his bag for him and handing him his coat.

“What? Of course not,” Ella said, insistent, as though it were obvious. “All I need to do is steal Jess for a few days. You need to do whatever it is you’re gonna do with Mabel. And Chris needs to do whatever it is he’s gonna do with Leo, and you need to tell me about it when we get back. I can pretty much guarantee your stories will be more fun than mine.”

“Are you sure?” Chris chimed in, brow heavy with worry. Her iciness surprised him. He had never heard someone react to a parent’s death quite so flippantly before.

“Yes. Jesus, Chris, keep up,” she replied, in a way which would have spurred a playful argument on a normal day. Again, her nonchalance unnerved all three of them.

Jess interlocked their fingers again instantly once he had his bag and his coat, almost heading out the door already. She was moving too fast for him to process much of anything, only reacting. He hadn’t seen her in such a frenzy in a very long time. “Eleanor, wait. Stop.”

“I can’t stop, Jess. I told you, we’ve gotta get there before my uncle has time to hit on Fiona and before Noah has time to piss off Adam. It’s fine. I promise. I’m fine.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she pulled him out the front door instead. As they went, she shouted over her shoulder to Matthew and Chris: “Happy holidays! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

And then, she and Jess were gone. Chris and Matthew exchanged concerned, flabbergasted glances.

. . .

Flashback was the word that came to the forefront of her mind, as she stared up at the ceiling in the Gilmore living room. Luke and Lorelai were trying, and she appreciated it. They could both tell she didn’t want to talk about it, only wanted a bit of normalcy after the long day. And they’d obliged. After all, they’d had practice. Lorelai knew exactly what to do. She’d had Luke bring dinner home from the diner: turkey sandwiches and sodas. She’d suggested they watch a movie after dinner, something campy horror. Finally, they had settled on The Lost Boys. Ella knew how much Jess hated the movie, especially Kiefer Sutherland’s mullet, but he never complained once. A large part of her wished he would. She wanted it to be the way it was supposed to be. She wanted to have Christmas in Stars Hollow with the people who felt more like her family than her father did. Adam celebrating with one of his school friends in Boston, Fiona with her sister, Noah with his finacée in Oregon. But, of course, things never went as planned. Not in Ella’s experience at least.

At some point during the movie, she’d fallen asleep on the couch. No matter how much she wanted to stay awake until the end, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Dealing with Fiona’s blubbering and Adam’s silence and Noah’s anger had pretty well exhausted her. Not to mention the business setting up the funeral at the church. She’d spent nearly two hours with the pastor, but the service was only halfway planned. She wished Aunt Julie could arrive sooner, but the girls were in school until Tuesday. Erin had some big recital she was pitching a fit about missing. Ella couldn’t blame her. She wouldn’t want to be there if she didn’t have to be. No, they would arrive on Wednesday morning. Two hours before the funeral, set for noon. At some point before then, Ella would have to sort out the flower arrangements and the music and the programs. At least Luke was providing the food. She assumed he would before he even offered. And she would have to write the eulogy. But she wasn’t even thinking about it yet. Every time the idea of writing it entered her mind, she would start humming a Stevie Nicks song and pointedly ignore it.

It was all too familiar. The planning, the writing, the consoling. Since they’d arrived in Stars Hollow that afternoon, it had been a non stop barrage of tasks and tears. None of it was surprising. And it almost made her want to laugh. The minute she heard that her mother was dead, she had burst out laughing, a nervous reaction she couldn’t control. Granted, the laughter came from deep inside her, and probably resembled a pained shriek more than an actual giggle. But it was laughter nonetheless, and her father had recognized it as such. He’d yelled at her until his voice became hoarse. She knew it wouldn’t happen again. He was the dead one now, after all. But still, she didn’t let the anxious laughter escape. She didn’t let anything escape. After the punishment she’d received for letting go last time, she knew not to do it again. No one was there to smack her, to scream, but she just couldn’t bring herself to forget how it had felt. Like she couldn’t even grieve right. And the best way to grieve became to not grieve at all.

She laid with one hand on her stomach and the other behind her head, analyzing the popcorn ceiling. She’d awoken with the room dim and the TV shut off. A quilt which she hadn’t fallen asleep under was draped over her, and there were hushed whispers in the direction of the kitchen. She hadn’t planned to wake up until morning, but she hadn’t planned to fall asleep there either. They were supposed to be sleeping in the apartment above the diner for the vacation, while Rory and April took the spare beds in the Gilmore house. But neither girl had yet to arrive, and Lorelai insisted Ella and Jess stay over after dinner. It was no use driving over in the snow, even if Luke’s was only about a minute away. Ella couldn’t believe how similar it all was to before. Sleeping alone on the Gilmore couch as others worried over her a few feet away.

She listened, in spite of herself. It was too tempting not to eavesdrop when she’d already heard her name so many times. Luke was concerned about her forgetting to eat. Lorelai was concerned about her shutting everyone out and being overwhelmed by the funeral preparations. And both of them were concerned about her coming to blows with Fiona at some point in the next few days.

Sighing, Ella ran her tongue over her teeth and remembered she hadn’t brushed them. She debated not doing so, but decided to just bite the bullet. With everything else on her mind, she thought it best to eliminate all the outward elements which might impede her from getting back to sleep. She rolled over on her side, preparing to sit up, when she saw Jess. She thought he’d be in the kitchen, talking with Luke and Lorelai. Instead, he sat on the floor with his back against the sofa. His head was near hers, leaned back. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t snoring. She doubted he was fully asleep, but nonetheless attempted to get past him and rummage through the bag on the armchair to find her toothbrush. Her stealth proved lacking, however, when he began to stir as soon as she reached the bag.

“Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands and doing his best to seem lively. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied, fishing her toothbrush out from the sea of clothes she’d thrown into the duffel before they sped away from the apartment in Philadelphia. “I just forgot to brush my teeth.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding and hoisting himself up. His neck was already sore from the position he’d dozed off in, unwilling to follow Luke and Lorelai into the kitchen with Ella asleep on the couch. “Me too. I’ll come with.”

She nodded back, grabbing his toothbrush as well. The whispers didn’t cease until they made their way into the kitchen, Luke and Lorelai looking up at their entrance. Ella debated using the upstairs bathroom, not disturbing the two of them. But she didn’t have the energy to climb the stairs, and it would be the first time she could get a good look at the new half-bathroom they added next to Rory’s room. The smell of the diner food lingered, and it made Ella’s chest feel just a touch less tight. Lorelai broke out into a small smile at the sight of the two of them.

“You need anything, sweetie?” she asked, speaking only to Ella.

Though she felt a bit uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze, Ella smiled back. There was a warmth in her stomach at Lorelai’s voice. She focused on that feeling, and only that feeling. “No, we’re fine. Just brushing our teeth. The dentist would be pissed at me if I broke the pattern after over twenty years.”

“That’s true. Always best to avoid the Sweeney Todd dentistry possibility,” Lorelai agreed, nodding. Then, she yawned theatrically and looked at Luke, who only rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “I think we’re gonna head upstairs. It’s past our bedtime.”

“Still got those four o’clock deliveries, huh?” Jess asked sullenly, eyeing Luke. Many a morning when he was a teenager, he’d been awoken at half past three by the sound of Luke’s alarm.

Luke sighed. “For the business that housed and fed you for two years? Yeah, I do.”

Ella snorted a laugh, and nudged Jess playfully in the ribs. “Like you’re not always up before the sun, even on Saturday.”

“Where do you think that started?” Jess shot back, pointing an accusatory finger at Luke. “He screwed with my internal clock for life!”

“I think that’s enough fuel for future therapy sessions for tonight,” Lorelai announced, rising from the table, Luke following.

“Agreed,” Luke grumbled.

As they exchanged goodnights, Lorelai gave Ella a kiss on the cheek. Immediately after, she scrunched up her nose and smudged the lipstick from Ella’s freckled skin with her thumb. To Ella’s shock, Lorelai also gave Jess a short hug before making for the stairs. Luke hugged Jess, too. The two of them still had trouble showing physical affection for each other, as they probably always would. Ella had to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness between them.

When Luke hugged Ella, though, she felt tears prick at her eyes for the first time all day. She recognized his familiar smell, the soft feeling of his flannel, his strong arms around her. Somewhere in her mind, it occurred to her that the way it felt for Luke to hug her was what she had always wanted it to feel like when her own father hugged her. And she knew for sure she would never get it from him. She could finally be certain there was nothing left to do to repair her relationship with him. There was no time left for Jake to make her feel as safe as Luke made her feel. As he never had, even in her childhood. But by the time she and Luke broke apart, she had gathered herself enough. She cleared her throat and blinked away the glassy sheen in her eyes.

Luke ruffled her hair as he stepped back from her. If he saw that she was upset, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get everything figured out tomorrow.”

“I know, boss,” she replied.

. . .

The cigarette smoke made her a bit nauseous, but it was also comforting in a way she was slightly ashamed of. The winter air was crisp and biting, and her cheeks were frosted roses. Embers glowed orange in the darkness as she took a long drag, burning her lungs. She was already regretting it, but she simply felt too tired to think out the actual consequences of what she was doing. She had tried. She really had. But falling asleep, with Jess snoring softly beneath her as they lay on the couch, was absolutely impossible. Fatigue was weighing down her bones, and there was a perpetual ache throbbing behind her eyes. But each time she got close to sleep, the thought of her father would flash across her mind, and she would be wide awake once more.

Once she gave up, she had managed to sneak outside unnoticed. The wind whispered past her, hollow and haunting. But maybe everything was feeling spookier because death was at the forefront of her mind. Then again, when wasn’t it? Though the shock had certainly hit her with full force when she heard the news, she couldn’t bring herself to be surprised. The other shoe had dropped. She knew it would, just when she let her guard down. The moment she forgot to worry, the universe had knocked her down again. She flicked her cigarette and watched the excess ash melt a small spot in the snow below the steps.

At the sound of the front door creaking open, she startled only a little. For a wild moment, she wanted to put her cigarette out and hide it behind her back, pretending to be innocent. Especially if it was Luke. But she had to remember she was a grown up. And the feeling disappeared entirely when she saw only a disheveled Jess wrapping himself up in his jacket as he came out onto the porch and sat down next to her.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here,” he remarked, holding her peacoat out to her.

She took it with a trembling hand.

“Thank you,” she said solemnly, breathing out a long stream of smoke as she spoke. The coat was old and cheap, and did little to help a Connecticut winter, but she shrugged it on anyway.

He nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “Don’t mention it.”

They sat in silence, an owl hooting somewhere in the trees beyond the house. Ella didn’t put the cigarette out until it got so small it began to burn her fingers. After she’d discarded it, her breath still puffed out, along with Jess’s, in frigid white clouds. Flurries of snow fell in scattered sprays, but the night was mostly quiet and overcast. Jess crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

She spoke, as he knew she eventually would, after a few more minutes. Gesturing down to the crushed cigarette, her tired eyes met his. “Do you want one?”

“No, thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “Where’d you get those in the middle of the night in Stars Hollow, anyway?”

A thin smirk ghosted over her lips. “Snatched ‘em off Bootsy’s newsstand.”

“Really?” he asked, laughing slightly, with eyebrows raised.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, Mariano. I was sneaking out of my bedroom window long before you got here.”

“Touché.” His eyes lingered on her, hair glistening golden in the soft light and eyes still far off somewhere miles away. He hesitated before he continued. “Did you walk all the way to Bootsy’s without a coat?”

She shrugged, glancing down at the Doc Martens on her feet. “I’m fine. I had my good shoes on. Besides, it’s only like a minute away.”

“Alright.”

“Seriously, Jess. I’m fine,” she snapped after a moment.

“Okay. I get it,” he said instantly. “You’re fine. You’re not cold.”

Ella ran her hands through her hair. Her body shook as she yawned.

“You wanna go back to bed?” he asked.

“No,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus, Jess! Stop trying to take care of me! Stop asking me questions! Just let me fucking sit here!” Ella exclaimed, huffing in frustration.

Jess recoiled slightly, and he nodded at her again. He ran a hand over his mouth and swallowed down the million other questions which were rising in his throat. The ones she’d refused to ask on the drive up, and the ones she apparently still wanted to avoid. “Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. “No, I’m...I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I couldn’t fall asleep.”

“We don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to. We could watch one of Lorelai’s cassettes in there,” Jess suggested, fighting hard to keep his tone light, bracing for whatever reaction she was going to have.

“I love that she still has cassettes,” Ella said wistfully, though not smiling. Her voice was low and raspy as she stared out ahead of her into the darkness and the lightly falling snow.

He nodded a little. “I know you do.”

Ella’s hands were itching to hold another cigarette, but she fought the urge. The pack which sat on the porch steps next to her would almost certainly be crumpled up and thrown in the trash the moment she reentered the house. Along with the lighter. But it was nice to have them there. If she wanted. They sat wordlessly, listening to the rustle of the wind in the evergreen trees. Jess didn’t make a sound. He was just far away enough not to touch her, almost in silent askance of whether she wanted space. She did. And she didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to talk almost as much as she didn’t want to write the eulogy. She wanted to be able to push down the sorrow and the rage until they just dissolved and she was as happy as she had been just a day earlier. Yesterday, she may have even been hopeful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt hopeful about her family. But, now, she had to stop herself from reaching for a cigarette yet again. And she felt herself wanting a drink. A drink stronger than champagne at a book launch. And then the words started flowing before she could overthink them, before she could lock them away in her heart forever.

She swallowed thickly, looking down into her lap at her nail-bitten hands. “This is just like it was the last time.”

“Oh yeah?” he whispered, shifting a bit closer to her.

“Yeah,” she echoed, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear. She sniffed. “I mean, last time my dad was the devastated one instead of Fiona. But Adam still got pissed at Noah, and Noah only got more pissed because Adam was mad at him.”

Noah had only made it to town an hour before Ella left to go back to the Gilmore residence for the night, but he and Adam were at each other’s throats pretty much as soon as they saw each other. Upset that his Christmas vacation was being disrupted, Noah had insisted on staying at a motel instead of at the little blue house in which they had grown up. Adam wasn’t happy about it, accusing Noah of acting as though he was too good for them. In turn, Noah asked Adam why he wasn’t mad at Ella for staying with Lorelai. Adam had shot back immediately, saying Noah had abandoned the entire family the minute he could, while Ella stayed behind. At that point, Ella knew there was no way to diffuse the situation. She’d only offered to walk back with Noah to the motel, leaving Adam to sleep in his old room. Luckily, Fiona’s sister was already in town for the holiday. So, it didn’t wholly fall to any of the three of them to console her.

Jess and Luke had both offered to go over to the house with her after helping with the arrangements, but she’d insisted on meeting her brothers there alone. The surreality of the moment didn’t dawn on her until she saw Adam’s teary eyes and Noah’s flushed face. It was like she had stepped into the past. She’d come back to the Gilmore house to find Jess sitting in the living room, halfway through the Russian novel he’d brought with. In the face of his questions, she’d only given him the liner notes and then fallen mostly silent for the rest of the evening.

“And Lorelai and Luke won’t let me brush my teeth without asking me if I need anything,” Ella continued, with a scoff in her words. “And, I love them. I do. And I’m so fucking grateful that it hurts. But, I’m fine. I’m totally fucking fine.”

“So I’ve heard,” he quipped.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’ve heard that, too,” he said.

She laughed breathily, lifting her head to look up at the sky. “Shut up.”

“Will do.”

Then, after a moment: “I just wish...I wish it wasn’t like this. I mean, he was a shitty dad. But he was still my dad.”

He watched as she chose her words, carefully. Her voice had more emotion than he’d heard all day. Bringing his arm around her shoulders, he hoped to lessen the trembling of her hands just a little. She leaned into him, letting herself feel his warmth but fighting the wateriness in her voice. Of all the things she didn’t want to do, crying was at the top of the list.

“And now...I don’t have parents. I don’t even have a dad who hates me and never calls,” she continued.

“He didn’t hate you,” Jess interjected.

She shook her head. “Yeah, he did, Jess. He fucking hated me. Because I looked like my mom and I didn’t like Fiona and I wouldn’t quit talking back at the dinner table. But it doesn’t bother me. I hated him most of the time, too.”

He hummed in response, listening.

Her face crumpled for only a moment. But, again, she regained her composure. A couple silent tears threatened to slip over. “But at least I had someone to hate, y’know? Now, it’s just...no one.”

She took in a shaky breath, and Jess began to rub circles over her back. He recognized that her shivering was no longer due to the cold but from the sobs she wouldn’t let loose. Ella’s stomach did a flip, as she clenched her hands into fists. But she just couldn’t hold it in any longer. She let a single wimper pass her lips. And then, the levee broke. She put her head in her hands and finally began to weep, cries from deep within her escaping at last.

“I just...I don’t have p-parents anymore,” she spoke through sobs, trying to get her voice under control but failing miserably. “I’m not anyone’s daughter anymore. I don’t belong to anyone anymore.”

Jess shut his eyes for a moment, feeling a crack in his heart as he heard her anguish. But a part of him was relieved she was finally letting it out. He knew not all of her tears were for her father, but for her mother as well. He’d never seen her cry so hard before, so hard she couldn’t catch her breath and she was beginning to feel sick to her stomach. She stopped being able to talk after a while, only crying, folding in on herself.

“I...I don’t...belong to anyone anymore,” she repeated.

Gnawing on his bottom lip again, Jess smoothed an affectionate hand over her hair. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Though he couldn’t see her face, Ella felt her cheeks heat up at his seeing her sob so openly. Jess spoke in a clear, strong tone.

“Listen, Eleanor, I know it feels like you’re alone without them, but that’s not true, okay?” he said.

She let out a tearful scoff.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m serious,” Jess continued, placing a hand on her damp cheek and turning her face gently so she would look at him.

She wanted to avoid his eyes, embarrassed, but simply couldn’t bring herself to look anywhere else. The sight of him almost made her physically relax.

An earnest crease stood out between his eyebrows when he spoke again. “You belong to me, and I belong to you. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it?”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned at his words, as tears kept rolling steadily down her cheeks. But then, her lip began to quiver and she closed her eyes. Jess was worried she was about to get angry again. But instead, she slumped weakly against him. He could feel her tears begin to wet the neckline of his t-shirt as she rested her head on his chest. Breathing out long and slow, Jess wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t know whether his words had helped, but he was doubtful. No amount of talking was going to make her feel any better. He couldn’t crack a joke or start a playful argument or do a magic trick. He could only be there. He simply sat and held her against the wind.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls oc #jess mariano #jess mariano x oc #jess mariano oc fanfiction #jess mariano au #jess mariano x original character #oc fanfiction #luke danes #lorelai gilmore

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beecherdrysdale · 3 years

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Waittt can I just say how happy I am about our friendship! It has blossomed so much. Remember when we were talking about skating at the start ?!

I’m sorry about your shoulder, hip and knee problems. I totally understand! I have hip and ankle problems😓 . The life of athletes.

Hahaha stripper girl! My thoughts too lol . School is annoying but I gotta keep up hehe.

Haha Jamie is happy I’m not drowning him anymore, but you know what it’s a fitness challenge for him heheh! . I honestly don’t really believe that you would go easy lol , I feel like once you get into that competitive zone you are unstoppable!. You guys are dominate- imma go create t shirts !!

I’m not gonna lie, I can kinda see either me or Ryan falling off the jet ski hehe. We’re a chaotic duo. Our director also agrees w our partnership. I’m thinking a 2 person jet ski for you and Dylan. Ahhhh him holding you 🥺🥺 and putting his chin on your shoulder omg.

Go ponytail twins!! Are u good at doing ur hair? Cuz I can help you !! Haha me too! Shorts are more of my go to. Haha I had to skate away so that she wouldn’t see me losing it hehe. Also lol! That’s pretty funny. I can barely scare my parents.

Is it weird that I can totally see you laughing at us?! Me, Dylan and quinner would probably swear the most hehe.

Yess you and dylan🥺🥺 the photo would be great! Both of you smiling and me and the boys looking like shit lol. I’m not sure who matches me more. Who do see hugging me ?

Yess please send me a regional hoodie😍😍 kk I’ll go get you one ;) or do you want a red wings one? I think that’s the team you like ?

Honestly I just like being comfy at school so i get you . I like to dress up more during the weekend. Do u have any cool necklaces?

Haha yesss me and Ryan would probably start like picking each other up lol. Or just doing super crazy moves. Yess ofc I’ll teach quinner to dance. Gotta get him *tipsy* first tho. Yass you with Jamie, I can see you do more of an upbeat dance and then a slow one w Dylan 🥺 awwww I see that !! Just admiring each other 😍

Yaaa my guy best friend lives like 20 mins away from me if I walk lol. I get it soon wbu ? . Black cherry is great 🤌 have you ever had champagne?

Okkk another cute vacay idea I have is all of us sitting around a bonfire w blankets and a bunch of food! Since Dylan knows how to play the guitar everybody can sing- other than me since I have a terrible voice lol. Aww the cuddling that would go on!! Or some of the boys just falling asleep on you! I see u and dyl. He can serenade you hehe.

ok yesss i love our friendship sm! i always look forward to responding to your asks 💖 haha yes at the very beginning we were mostly only talking about skating. i’m pretty sure the first thing you sent was after i did really bad on a test and said to send in soft thoughts

oof yeah knee and hip problems are tough. my mom just recently found out about my joint problems, which i thought she knew about but ig not, and now she’s vv concerned for me lol

ok so i’m pretty sure i’ve already shared this story, but one time i accidentally said i was gonna drop out to become a stripper in front of my gym teacher at my very catholic school and she just goes “you’d probably make more money than me” 💀 but yeah you just gotta keep up with school ig

hehe yes you gotta keep jamie in shape for hockey season. also that is vv true i do get competitive once i get into it so i probably wouldn’t go easy on you sorry lol. aww t-shirts for us tyyy 🥰

haha yes i could see one of you falling off the jet ski. tbh i probably would too bc i can be kinda clumsy sometimes. falling in gang lol. omg him with his chin on my shoulder 🥺🥺 that’s some soft shit and i’m here for it

i’m good at most hair, but i would definitely need your help bc i can not get a ponytail without bumps lol. but also imagine one of the guys sees one of us putting braids in our hair and decides he wants to try and then they all decide to have a competition to see who can do it best (inspired by events that have actually occurred to me). haha yes i would do the same just skate away. and i was dying when i scared my dad bc i can never scare him and i wasn’t even trying to lol

omg yes, sorry but i would be laughing at all of you. hehe we would probably all be smiling but still look like shit in the picture but that’s ok. and i could probably see jamie hugging you more, idk he just seems like a bit more of a cuddly person than quinner

hehe let me find a regional hoodie i can part with. ooh a red wings hoodie. yes i love them even tho they’re awful rn. oh you’re lucky you can be comfy at school i have to wear a uniform, and then i usually have a lot of swim practice/meets on weekends so i’m just in hoodies all the time lol. the only necklace i really wear is my saint brigid’s cross, but i probably have others somewhere

omgggg i can picture it you and ryan together would be so funny but so cute. yes we would definitely have to get quinner tipsy and loosen him up lol. then you could get him to dance. yes just vibing with jamie during one of the songs and doing a slow song with dyl 😍

oooh that’s fun that he lives close. i turn 16 on memorial day, so i have to wait til the next weekend to get my license bc the dmv will be closed. no i haven’t had champagne bc my parents don’t like it and my friends and i have just never gotten any

omg yes i love bonfires and food, so perfect! haha i will join you in the non-singing group bc i also have an awful voice lol. and then the cuddling that would happen in the dark when they think none of the other guys can see them cuddling us 🥺 or if they fall asleep on us 🥺🥺 omg getting serenaded would be so cute

#ask answered #anon answered #skating anon

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theregoesmylurkerstatus · 5 years

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The Mighty Nein keep self describing their group as a bunch of “assholes” but now that I think about it, they’ve kind of... won over the vast majority of people they’ve come across who they weren't trying to kill?

They got a wary mob boss to hire them and give them professional trust and leniency. They got an ENEMY SPY in the middle of a mission to speak with them honestly after about five minutes of talking. They got an anti-social, grumpy old wizard who’s house they almost broke into to give them the time of day and the ability to jump in and out of his house. Two of those they just did on a whim.

They were almost hired on by contract for the Empire, officially. They got a hostile Queen from an enemy nation that was at war with the land she assumed they came from to grant them her favour. They got a fucking Pirate King who KNEW that they’d broken pretty much the only rules he (lethally) enforced to let them go.

All of these people had legitimate reasons to do so -- given that the Nein had done a them favours or proved their competency -- but the fact remains that the Mighty Nein were able to ingratiate themselves. Have consistently been able to wriggle their way out of bad situations not with their skill in battle, but with forthrightness and communication. They've charmed and deceived and negotiated, yeah. But ultimately what that means is that people were won over by them, by their arguments and gestures of good faith. Because most of these are ongoing connections they’ve made. They didn’t just sweet talk in the moment, they’ve maintained these relationships in some capacity. Very few could have made those relationships in the first place.

How many friends have they made, now? Shakaste, Nila, Twiggy, Keg, Calianna, all out there somewhere. Kiri, Kiri’s adopted family, Bryce, Rissa and her father Cleff, Gustav, Orly. How many allies? Yussah, Essik, potentially Ophelia and the Gentlemen, perhaps Dairon if they don’t step on each other’s toes, Waccoh if they stay on her good side. They’ve gotten guest PCs they’ve met to be willing to die for them (Twiggy and Keg, most notably). Of course, that’s partially just due to the nature of the game, but in-universe the point stands.

Calianna’s letter is what got me thinking about all this. She points out, very correctly, that though they’re suspicious and not terribly polite, they give pretty much everyone the time of day and effort at the slightest incentive. And yet they never think people like them in particular.

They’ve gotten on just about everyone they’ve encountered’s good side, somehow, which is impressive, but they don’t seem to realize anyone is going to continue looking at them with anything other than annoyance or tolerance. There were a lot of great metas floating around over the last week discussing (or just joking) about how they were so close to running last week after a single screw up, and in the end the Bright Queen... thanked them for what they’d already done, instead of punishing them from their failure like they expected.

The Nein think they have to prove, over and over and over again to the same people, that they’re competent and useful and not liabilities. Because otherwise they’ll be tossed aside at the slightest provocation.

Of course, that’s not news. We’ve known this whole time that they have these issues because it’s pretty obvious in how they interact with one another. It’s taken them this long for them to come to terms, individually, with the fact that people within the Nein actually like them. Hell, that lesson still may have not sunk in all the way! But they clearly still think that no one outside the group will want them around them for any length of time. They think they have to go above and beyond to prove that they’re trustworthy, all the time, and still assume they’re on thin ice. It doesn’t even occur to them that people might find them likeable in any capacity (excluding, of course, Caduceus and Jester. Everyone likes Caduceus and Jester.)

I’m not saying that’s not the case. They’ve had to prove themselves to many, many people, and if they hadn’t then most of these connections probably wouldn’t exist at all. They’re on shaky territory with many of their allegiances. But the fact that they’ve made them at all speaks to them NOT being nearly as bad at gaining trust and good will as they all seem to think. Their general attitude is that these are a series of flukes that will inevitably collapse, and not a pattern that speaks to their general reputation. They think they’re bullshitting their way through everything, and while they may be making it up as they go along, they’ve actually been pretty honest and rather lacking in ill intent, exercising and improving a decent personable front. And the people around them can see that, and have potentially formed favourable opinions from that.

The default, patented Mighty Nein assumption is “we’re skating by.” Yes, Caduceus, you’re right, none of the rest of them HAVE had the experience of being trusted to do the right thing. Not only that, it straight up doesn’t occur to them that they ever could be. It’s a surprise when anyone says anything positive about them aside from “they can do their jobs.” That people might reluctantly find them charming, if they’re not actively trying to seem that way? That people might grow fond of them, value them? There’s a constant clock ticking in most of their heads, counting down until they inevitably burn any and all bridges they’ve made.

I don’t believe any of the Nein realized the impression they’d made on Calianna until that letter. That they might not only have done the bare minimum, but actually raised her bar for how she’d like to be treated. That (shocker) they might actually be... better, and kinder, than the average person.

(And, well. Why would they? Fjord, bullied and outcast his whole life, eyed with suspicion, tolerated at best. Beau, scolded and outcast her whole life, having her own parents fail to give her positive attention, lacking almost entirely for friends and role models. Nott, bullied and outcast her whole life (are we noticing a patten here?), first by her own community and family, then by a community she hated. Caleb, trained up as a ruthless weapon, discarded when no longer useful, locked up alone for a decade, and (you guessed it) outcast once he was free. Jester, alone and sheltered, friendless for all but her most recent months of life, forced out of the only place she’d ever lived under threat of death for a single silly mistake. Yasha! Has never mentioned friends! Lost her only loved one! Kicked out of her only known home. And then Caduceus. Who came from a big family who seems to have loved him, was given legitimate responsibilities, and feels comfortable within them. Is any of this a mystery? Why would most of the Nein EVER expect people to want them around? They never have before.)

I feel like I’m not necessarily saying anything unique here. But I often wonder what people think of the Nein as a whole, and while “crazy” and “competent” are the popular answers (and I’m sure they’re true), “liked” or “thought well of” to ANY degree generally isn’t up there. Certainly not among the Nein themselves. And yet positive inclinations towards them (from Essik, and Calianna, and many others) are perhaps not such uncommon reactions, regardless.

Am I wrong? Are they actually generally disliked or considered annoying? Possibly. It’s hard to know the inner workings of most NPC’s heads. But they certainly have gained better reactions than they give themselves credit for. And the dislike they seem to assume as the default is maybe not as much of a default as they think.

#@ that one sentence: that pretty much sums up how fjord beau and caleb balance taking the lead for the mighty nein #'charmed' fjords specialty 'deceived' beaus specialty 'negotiated' calebs specialty #there's a whole other interesting post in that that i... still haven't finished writing #idk how accurate this is and (as usual) i don't know if what I'm trying to say comes across #but ay I've word vomited some thoughts prompted by both caliannas letter and essik's amusement at their dumb prank #as well as the whole bright queen thing last week #so maybe there's something interesting and accurate buried in this dfhgjhkj #critical role #cr spoilers #c2e71 #ramblings #the mighty nein #speculation

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levelstory · 5 years

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Music Reflection I, The Cringe is Real

The other day, my mother made a comment to me that there really is no sense that can bring back memories quite like your sense of smell. I agreed with her, but commented that sound and music may be tied for that ranking. Smell certainly brings me back to certain moments of my life, in ways I can't always explain to myself. But music brings back memories in a different kind of way. Songs are attached to specific thoughts and actions, to who I was at the time of listening.

I thought it could be fun to revisit some of these songs from the past and talk about my feelings toward them, then and now. I imagine this will be a series of blogs so you can always look forward to more...

No Strings Attached by NSYNC

One of the most loaded questions you could ask a nine year old girl in the '90s was: do you prefer the Backstreet Boys or NSYNC? I was a hardcore Backstreet Boys listener. I owned all of their albums (except Millenium which was a damn shame) and listened to them rigorously, practicing for dance recitals next to "Quit Playing Games with My Heart" and making up dance moves to "As Long as You Love Me" and "Get Down." When my brother received the Chapter One album for his birthday, our home videos show my face sink into a pit of jealousy that he got the album instead of me. We even had Backstreet Boy action figures from Burger King which I am sure can be found somewhere in our basement to this very day, as well as a poster that had a button that when pressed would play a clip from "Don't Want You Back."

I had an intense loyalty toward them, for reasons that are very unclear to me as I never outright disliked NSYNC's music. I heard them enough at the skating rink and at birthday parties. For some reason, all I can remember is disliking their look compared to BSB. Both groups were distinct in this regard, and I very much clung to the group I had spent most of my elementary career listening to on repeat.

One of the cool toys in the late '90s, early 2000s was called HitClips, little cartridges that would play 30 second clips of songs from popular artists like Britney Spears, Hanson, and of course BSB and NSYNC. I remember a girl in my fifth grade class bringing her hit clips in and being nice enough to let me borrow them and bring them home. Of course some of them were NSYNC and I remember replaying "Bye Bye Bye" and "It's Gonna Be Me" over and over, aching to listen to the full tracks. Shortly after returning them, I imagine I got my mom to take me to Target (which was my go to music store at the time) and used my allowance money to purchase the NSYNC album, No Strings Attached.

There are so many memories I attach to listening to this album. I had just gotten my very first desk for my bedroom and I remember my boom box sitting at the back of the desk where I would pop in CD's and cassette tapes. This was also around the time my room was painted from plain white to a soft pink. One of my best friends at the time also owned this album. Her father owned a camper that sat in their driveway, and we would sit inside with her stereo and listen to music while we pretended to be camping far away from our suburban reality.

"No Strings Attached," the titular song in which the album was named, was not always a favorite of mine. At first it was the well known tracks that held my interest before I gave the rest of the album a chance. Songs like "Space Cowboy," "Digital Get Down," and "That's When I'll Stop Loving You" were tracks I came to love later, along with "No Strings Attached." The song is one that so easily gets stuck in my head (along with "Just Got Paid"). Once I hear it, I can't unhear it for some hours and I find myself humming it throughout the day. More than anything, this track in particular seems to be the most nostalgic. Whereas songs like "Bye Bye Bye" and "This I Promise You" I have returned to regularly throughout my life, "No Strings Attached" is one that I love all the more because it isn't one I necessarily return to all that often, and in that way it feels rare and distant, and therefore nostalgic.

Listening to this track with the modern ear does not do it any favors. Sure it sounds good, if not a bit chaotic like much of this album, but the lyrics lean toward the "nice guy" narrative which I am so over in 2019. I appreciate it from a distant, but can't say it has aged particularly well. NSYNC sing to this supposed lady that they want to have a relationship with her, with no preconceived expectations, or no strings attached, unlike the guy she is currently with who doesn't pay her any attention or return her calls. It all feels very '90s...and if I am being honest, returning to the '90s is one of the main reasons I return to these tracks. While I can't give it too much credit, I won't deny that it is a banger to listen to and enjoy. No Strings Attached remains one of my favorite albums from the ‘90s.

Why Not? by Hilary Duff

As a teen, I never really got on the Hilary Duff / Lizzie McGuire train. For reasons that are way too dense and difficult to unpack here, I really disliked the live action Disney "sitcoms" as a kid. Many of my friends watched and enjoyed them, while I hated them. So when the Lizzie McGuire movie came out to theaters, it was the last thing I wanted to see. Yet I did end up seeing it...at least, I feel like I saw it in theaters. I don't remember who convinced me to see it or why I gave in to my dislike, but I did see it. I also remember being at a friends house and she wanted to watch the DVD while I adamantly didn't and it caused a bit of a rift between us for a few hours. We got over it of course, and to go into all of that would be another tangent so I shall move ahead.

My friend who loved the show bought the movie soundtrack and we listened to it constantly. I remember sleeping over her house and making up dances, jumping on the bed, and running around like crazy kids with a ton of energy tend to do. "Why Not?" was my favorite song from the Lizzie McGuire soundtrack. I remember I loved Hilary Duff's voice, and was convinced that my own voice was almost identical to hers. I have a distinct memory of sitting at my bedroom window and singing her music to myself, carefully measuring my voice and making sure I sang just like she would.

This song was heavily marketed upon the release of the Lizzie McGuire movie. The music video was on TV all the time. In many ways it fit very well with the film's core themes - why not take chances? Why not do the thing you are most afraid of? If you don't take the chance, you may never have the opportunity to do so again. The lyrics are a mixed bag. One line that I never grow tired of is, "you always dress in yellow, when you want to dress in gold, instead of listening to your heart, you do just what you're told." It is certainly not a lyric that contains much depth and I assure you it isn't the message of the lyrics that have always captured me, but rather how they bounce and flow and how effortlessly Duff approaches them. It is a portion of the song that I always enjoy.

The bridge, like most pop songs, is tragically boring. I enjoy Duff's humming (is that the word for what she does immediately after the bridge? What would you even call that?) but then the lyrics move toward the point where the song writers must have been on a time crunch saying, "You'll never get to heaven, or even to LA, if you don't believe there's a way." This lyric caught me off guard recently because I never really thought about it before but I just find it funny that the song talks about going to heaven, something that contains so much religious meaning and cultural significance, and then immediately puts going to LA on the same scale. Like, you'll never escape eternal damnation if you don't take chances, but you might also not make it to LA where you could become famous...yes, those are equally important. Sure I knew the song was generic, but my god it just drops into the absurd and pitiful by the bridge.

Despite this, I still really enjoy the song. It isn't perfect but it speaks to a particular time of my life and I enjoy the memories associated with it.

I'm With You by Avril Lavigne

Avril Lavigne's album "Let Go" was a big deal when it came out. It has a distinct place in my memory, coming out the year I moved into a new house, went to a new school, and started entering my teenage years. This was a time when burning CD's was still considered legal and so I never actually owned the album. My cousins burned the album on a CD for me, and I made a cover in Microsoft Word compiled of the album name made in Word Art and pixelated images of Lavigne scattered about. At the time, I thought my album cover looked really cool.

"Let Go" was released around the same time Lizzie McGuire was on the rise, but unlike Hilary Duff and the Disney Channel, Lavigne made us 12 year olds feel like we were listening to adult music. Listening to this album felt hardcore at the time. It was low key grunge music, with themes and ideas far more sanitized than we knew.

I can remember a friend I made at my new school and going to her house where we listened to Avril Lavigne, rocking out to "Sk8ter Boi" and playing air guitar along with "Complicated." But "I'm With You" took on a much darker tone than either of these songs, and used a word that was off limits, "damn." There is a home video we have, which I believed I tried to tape over and remove from existence in case of blackmail, where I filmed myself singing the song and every time Lavigne belts, "It's a damn cold night!", I would fall silent at the "damn" and not say anything at all, for fear of being heard by my parents.

I can't say Lavigne's album has aged all too well. It isn't horrible but it is also nowhere near as good as we believed. Full of angst and "edgy" guitar, it definitely remains a product of its time. What is strange is that Lavigne's album is not one I have felt the need to return to much as I have grown older. The strongest memory with the album is listening to it in the car on my portable CD player on the way to North Carolina in the summer. Apart from that, my memory usually paints in broad strokes and just remembers the album being super popular when I was a sixth grader. All of the girls my age loved it, as did I, and my friends performed "Sk8ter Boi" at a lip sync competition.

"I'm With You" stands out for its slow pace when compared to all of the other tracks. "Losing Grip" is sharp and industrial sounding, "Complicated" is the soft rock track that fits perfectly on the radio, "Sk8ter Boi" is the song to rock out to, and "My World," my personal favorite as a kid, is a fun guitar jam. But "I'm With You" isn't fun. It really showcases Lavigne's vocal range as well as her vulnerability as a songwriter. It builds up slowly and concludes with a strong crescendo of instrumentation. Okay, that might be overstating things just a tad. But there is something about this song that always gets me and I know that is the nostalgia talking.

Lucky by Britney Spears

I have something to admit...I never owned a Britney Spears album. How can I call myself a real '90s kid if I didn't own a Britney Spears album? It is embarrassing. There were plenty of her songs I loved, but I guess I got by with her song "Sometimes" being on the compilation record, Now 3, which I listened to quite frequently.

When "Lucky" was released, I really loved it. It was one of those songs that I loved so desperately that I am surprised I never got around to asking my parents for the album it was on. Luckily, a friend of mine owned said album and brought it over for my 10th birthday party. I imagine we listened to the album a lot that night, but all I can really remember is me dancing to "Lucky" on my screen porch while my friends watched, giggling. In fact, we have video evidence of this and it doesn't embarrass me...well, it embarrasses me a little. The video is somewhat cringy in that I am not a good dancer, but I make up for it with silliness for sure.

"Lucky" tells the story of a celebrity who isn't happy. It comes off as very Marilynne Monroe; you expect this person to have it all but actually they don't and it makes them very sad. It isn't a very complicated song (though I guess none of the songs I am writing about are complicated). The storytelling is straightforward and easy to grasp.

It is expected for listeners to wonder if the song is autobiographical and if Britney really was unhappy in her current predicament. Hindsight certainly reveals that this was most likely the case in some regard. Seeing where she is now and where her career has gone doesn't bode well for this song which makes me much more sympathetic toward her as a human being. If this was the case, listening to the track makes you sad. Still, if you can look past the blatant message, it is a track that remains catchy though I don't find I love it as much as an adult. The song just doesn't sound as catchy anymore, and it only makes me feel sad for Spears.

All for Love by Stevie Brock

This track is easily the most obscure of the bunch. Stevie Brock never acquired the same celebrity as the other artists on this list. However, he did enjoy a few good years of teenie bopper fame and air time on Radio Disney. He was one of the many Aaron Carter wannabes that arrived on the music scene. This isn't to say he didn't have talent. His still immature voice was catchy enough and he was clearly a great performer. But like many child artists, his record was generic and…well, bad. Very bad.

One huge trend of the '90s and early 2000s was this weird thing where young boys on the verge of becoming teens would sing songs about getting the girl and dating and complex romantic topics that made little sense to a teenager. The result is that the songs are super hetero-normative and a bit creepy. I am sitting in the car, reliving my childhood memories by listening to this song, and I can't help but think, "is it weird that I, a 29 year old woman, am listening to a 13 year old, whose voice still hasn't matured, sing about his 'romantic troubles' with a girl in his class who clearly doesn't want to date him but he wants it so it is okay that he keeps pursuing her?". Yes, it is a little weird.

What is really weird to me is that I remember this song as if it came out way before it actually did. The album didn't properly release until summer of 2003 and I seem to recall listening the year previous. This could be because when I bought the album I was 12 going on 13 and thus I associate it more with being 12 than a 13 year old middle-schooler. But it would make sense. After all, the whole reason I even heard of Stevie Brock was because when on vacation in 2003 in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, my family ate at the Hard Rock Cafe and on the big screen where they played music videos, Brock's cover of "All for Love" came on the screen. I've always been the type of person who loves music so when I hear a song I enjoy, I have to write it down so that I can listen to it when I would get home. These days we have apps that allow us to listen to songs and tell us what they are called. But back then when music wasn't as readily available and I was a child who didn't really have enough money to buy things at the ready, this act was more of a scavenger hunt than anything else. Would I be able to find this guy's album when I got home? What if it wasn't at Target? What would I do then?

Fortunately, Brock captured a strong, if not temporary, following and his album was on store shelves. "All for Love" is a fine song, mostly due to it being a cover from another band. As already addressed, the lyrics feel very odd coming from someone so young. He addresses the girl he is singing to as "sugar" which just makes me skin curl. It is creepy that the music industry breeds young boys to sing about these things so early. This was easily my favorite song from the album. My strongest memories of the song, besides first hearing it at the Hard Rock Cafe, are listening to it and the entire album at my friends house. We had a fun tradition of bringing her boombox outside and dancing around the front lawn. I remember her birthday party and us tween girls dancing through the summer air, our bare feet wet from the moist grass. I'm sure the neighbors had fun watching us act like total maniacs.

Revisiting these songs was fun, but I know there are more I want to talk about in the future! Stay tuned! What are some songs you listened to as a kid that make you feel super nostalgic today? Let me know in the comments!

#Stevie Brock #NSYNC #Britney Spears #Avril Lavigne #Hilary Duff

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

The Period of the Long Change (11/15)

It’s quick. One second she’s standing there and everything is fine and then Emma looks up and it’s not. It’s awful. And the lights are too bright and there are too many rooms and too many opinions and her phone won’t stop ringing because everything seems to be changing all at once. She’s never been great at coping with change. But, maybe, if she can just figure it out and stay right where she is, with Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, at her side, it’ll be alright.

It’s slow. One second he’s standing there and everything is fine and then Killian’s breath catches and it’s not. It’s terrifying. And the noises are too loud and there are too many questions and he can’t find the right answers to any of them, not sure how to cope with everything changing all at once. That’s never really been his forte. But, maybe, if he can just figure it out and stay right where he is, with Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations, at his side, it’ll be alright.

It’s another season and another challenge and Emma and Killian are both struggling to get over the boards.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 8K or so. I got really intent on similar lengths this story. AN: If you’re still clicking and reading this, I really appreciate it. Thanks for sticking with it. And me. Both of those things are very nice.

Also on Ao3 and FF.net and Tumblr if that’s your jam.

Phillip’s mother had not been in Montréal.

She’d been in Toronto.

Figured.

And she showed up an hour before Phillip’s ceremony.

Figured. Again.

“Swan, you’ve got to breathe, love,” Killian said. By her last count that was the fifth time he’d told Emma that since they’d gotten out of the car.

She glared at him.

He didn’t blink.

“I feel we’re at some kind of ceremonial impasse,” Emma grumbled, digging the toe of her shoe into the recently rediscovered carpet in her office. She wasn’t sure when that had happened exactly – had been far too busy trying to make sure Phillip’s mother got a jersey that fit and Kristoff had paled a little when met with the look on Emma’s face when he questioned her – but it was probably Merida’s doing and there was almost enough room in that office to get around easily.

Almost.

They still had to get through Casino Night and were still waiting on the video poker thing to get there and Zelena was somewhere, probably pacing and making another list and Emma needed to get to the team suite so she could see the ice. She needed to make sure the carpet laid flat so Aurora stopped worrying about falling over.

She was really worried about falling over.

Machine. The word she’d been looking for before was machine. It was a video poker machine and they’d ordered four because that was, somehow, still cheaper than a new roulette table.

Killian’s hands wrapped around Emma’s shoulders, effectively holding her in place when she tried to starting pacing on instinct.

“I need you to take at least three actual, real deep breaths for me,” he said, and he didn’t let go, even when Emma twisted and wiggled and Matt was doing figure eights around three stacks of papers that detailed the Casino Night food orders.

Emma sighed, letting her head crash into his chest and that couldn’t have been good for his ribs because the right side of his body was still a little purple and changing the bandages that morning had been a very particular type of challenge.

Mostly because it involved Killian without a shirt on.

And doing whatever he’d done with his eyebrows and his mouth and Emma was still worried about everything, but her husband was also kind of absurdly attractive and she kind of needed a distraction.

Not that that was a distraction.

God, that sounded awful even in her head.

Phillip’s ceremony would last fifteen minutes and, she was convinced, it would be the longest fifteen minutes of her life.

She could not remember if someone had given his mom a jersey.

Kristoff hadn’t actually said anything when they’d stormed into the locker room. Maybe Emma needed to find Anna. She could do something about Kristoff’s face.

Killian chuckled lightly, chest shaking against Emma’s forehead as he wrapped an around her waist and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s not breathing, Swan,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Yeah, well, that’s because Phillip’s mom terrified me.”

“She was a little intense, huh?” Emma hummed, burrowing against him and that wasn’t good either, but he didn’t object and she knew he wouldn’t and maybe they both desperately needed a distraction. “No wonder Aurora’s so stressed out all the time. Did we ever find out what she was doing in Toronto?” “I’d imagine she lives there.” “Hysterical.” “That was not a joke. That was a straight fact. And also what Lucas told me when she, somehow, found her.” “I think she searched like Canadian census records,” Emma said. She hadn’t moved her head. Matt was still running in circles. That was not going to end well. “Does Canada have a census?” “I’d imagine they do,” Killian laughed, leaning back so Emma had to glance up and she wasn’t entirely prepared for the smile or whatever the hell he was doing with the rest of his face, but that was absurdly attractive too and this was going to be the longest fifteen minutes of her life.

“But,” Killian added. “I think Lucas made some calls to the league office and some kind of draft record and Phillip’s mother apparently splits her time in several Canadian cities and major metropolitan areas of Europe.” “Where does Lithuania fall into that?” “I think she was born there. Still holds citizenship. That means Rook can play international for them and never has to worry about getting cut from Team USA.” Emma let out a low whistle, Killian’s eyes widening slightly at the quasi-insult and they needed to get out of that office. They needed to get Peggy off the goddamn floor, but she kept squirming whenever one of them picked her up and crying when anyone held onto her for longer than four seconds and Emma understood that.

She kind of wanted to run a marathon.

“That was kind of harsh,” Emma muttered, Killian shrugging slightly like being the face of that particular brand of hockey wasn’t much more than a passing thought. “Phillip’s mom is super intimidating and I don’t think Kristoff wanted to give her a jersey.” “No, he did.” “Wait, what?�� “He did.” “When? I was standing there.” Killian made a contradictory noise, rocking his head slightly and he had to let go of her waist to catch a very energetic four-year-old around the middle before he practically flew out the door and into the hallway. Merida was trying to get Emma’s attention on her walkie-talkie.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, but she couldn’t quite get much of a threat in her voice. It was difficult to do that when Matt was laughing so loudly and he still hadn’t quite come to terms with a Rangers game that didn’t involve Killian, but he’d resolutely refused to wear any jersey except a Jones one when they left the apartment.

“It means you left the locker room because, one, Pegs is closing in on walking and won’t hold still for more than a few seconds so you didn’t want her in the middle of pre-game. And, two, that you also had to leave so you could hear Merida’s slightly frantic message about the carpet.” “You think the super-sonic hearing thing is just a result of growing up in the brownstone or you think you’re genetically blessed?”

Killian grinned, twisting Matt in his hold and tugging him up against his side. “Stay still for half a minute, Mattie,” he mumbled, eyes never leaving Emma’s and she really needed to stop swooning over her own husband.

Easier said than done.

“And I’m assuming you did something vaguely menacing and captain-like in between all of that? Also it’s entirely possible that she’s just frustrated by how loud this stupid arena is and not any closer to walking than she was a week ago.” “Ah, there’s no room for that kind of pessimism, Swan. Walking, skating, world domination. All within reach.” “You think she’s going to take over the world?” Emma arched an eyebrow, and Killian couldn’t really shrug when Matt was hanging off his shoulder, but his smile got wider and, probably, more powerful, but she did not have time to think about that.

Merida was screaming into the walkie-talkie.

“With that kind of upper-body strength? Of course.” “Is that a prerequisite?

“I think it probably helps,” Killian grinned. Matt kicked him in the shin, legs flailing and laughter still lingering in the air around them. Ruby had joined the walkie-talkie fray. “It’s only a matter of time, Swan. Weebling will become wobbling or however it works.” “I don’t think that’s how it works.” He nodded seriously, but they were only an hour away from puck drop and she really was curious about what he’d done. “You going to finish your story, then?” she asked, tugging on the back of Matt’s jersey when it twisted against him. “Mattie, you’ve got to stop moving. You’re going to hurt Dad.” Matt stopped laughing abruptly, the sound almost echoing in Emma’s ears. She hissed in a breath of air, wincing when she realized what she said and even Peggy stopped crawling on the tiny bit of blanket that she just kept in one of her desk drawers.

They needed to stop putting Peggy on the floor in her office.

“Sorry,” Matt mumbled, burying his face into Killian’s neck and the letters all sounded like one elongated sound with a few added ‘w’ just to really drive the depressing point home. Emma pinched the bridge of her nose, biting her lip and ignoring several walke-talkie based attacks and Killian shook his head when she met his gaze.

She hadn’t actually asked a question.

That absolutely did not matter.

And one of Matt’s shoes had fallen off at some point.

“I’m fine, Mattie,” Killian promised, hitching his arm under their kid’s legs and trying to rest him on his hip instead of his side, but the kid in question was also four and far heavier than he had been a few years before.

“Emma,” Ruby screeched. She needed to turn the walkie-talkie volume down. She had no idea where Ruby got the walkie-talkie from.

She huffed, frustrated by another conversation that had, effectively, fallen off the metaphorical rails. “What? God, what could you possibly want right now?” “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Retract the fangs or whatever.”

“Seriously, what is with you and the metaphors? That didn’t even make sense.” “Is that a metaphor? Cap, do you think that was a metaphor?” “How did you know Killian was here?” Emma asked sharply, and it wasn’t easy to try and hold a baby, a walkie-talkie and fold a blanket at the same time her mind was trying to remember if she’d told the Garden sound guy about the music he was supposed to play before the video tribute.

That couldn't have been the right word at all.

That sounded worse than memorial.

All of these words made Phillip sound like he was dead.

No wonder he didn’t want the ceremony.

“Please,” Ruby sighed. “Where else was he going to be? Pegs start walking around your office yet? She better not, I’m going to be really annoyed if it happens and I’m not there.” “Yeah, that’s not your call, really, Lucas,” Killian said. He pulled Peggy out of Emma’s arms, a kid holding onto either side of him and there were fingers in his hair and the front of his shirt and tie because he had to wear a tie to games on the off chance that the cameras panned to him in the team suite.

The cameras would absolutely pan to him in the team suite.

“And I absolutely do not care, Cap. Is someone going to answer my question or, like, what’s the deal with that?” “I honestly cannot remember it,” Emma muttered. She threw the blanket back on the floor, giving up on proper folds as soon as Killian glanced her direction and they were so far behind schedule it was almost comical.

Or it would have been if her pulse would settle down.

She wasn’t sure if that was entirely because of the ceremony or how hardcore Phillip’s mom was or how ridiculously attracted she was to her own husband when said husband was being some kind of picture-perfect dad.

It was probably all of them.

Equally.

Not equally. The picture-perfect dad thing was definitely, at least, half. Maybe even like two thirds.

They all needed to get some kind of elementary school refresher from Mary Margaret.

“Ok, first of all, that’s rude,” Ruby started, and her voice sounded far closer than it should have. She smiled when they walked out of Emma’s office, the door slamming shut behind them and Killian groaned when some type of limb collided with a different part of his body. Matt barely slowed down, running towards Ruby as quick as he could and she almost didn’t keep her balance, crouching down to catch him and pull him towards her.

“Hey, mini-Jones,” Ruby said. Her walkie-talkie was on the ground. “How come you were hanging off your dad? You’re going to mess up his tie and he’s never going to fix it and then he’s going to look ridiculous on camera.” “Look who’s being rude now, Lucas.” Her smile didn’t change, hooking her chin over Matt’s shoulder so she could stare at them with a look that was nothing short of confident and certain and Ruby knew something.

No wonder she’d stolen a walkie-talkie.

“Did you take Merida’s?” Emma asked. “Or did you just find your own somewhere and make someone tell you what line we’re on?” “You know we’re a professional hockey team, right? We do have more than one walkie-talkie available for major events.” “Is this a major event?” “You planned it, Em.” Emma made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, leaning back when Killian managed to drift back into her space. Ruby scowled. “Don’t tell Rook that,” Killian said. “He’s freaking out enough as it is. Thinks the whole thing’s going to mess with his head and he’s going to embarrass everyone on the ice tonight.”

“He knows that’s ridiculous, right?” “Have you met his mom? Or his dad, for that matter? I’m surprised they both didn’t fly to South Korea to denounce his very existence when he didn’t win gold.” “Yeah, they’re kind of terrifying, right?” Ruby asked, and Emma didn’t think she imagined the way her arms tightened around Matt a bit.

“I didn’t meet his dad yet,” Emma admitted. “I’ve been kind of swamped. Is the carpet ready for the ice yet? Also seriously why did you take a walkie-talkie? And why are you here? Shouldn’t you be running pre-game?” “It’s less than an hour until puck drop, if there’s still media in the locker room, I’m pretty positive Arthur will just stab them with a skate.” “God.” “She’s got a point, Swan,” Killian muttered, an arm back around her shoulders and Peggy yanking on his tie. “Plus a three-game losing streak? Arthur’s probably broken several whiteboards already.” “Six,” Ruby answered lightly. She stood up, wincing when one of her knees cracked in the process, but she didn’t let Matt move away from her, resting both her hands on his shoulders and she was the single most frustrating person on the planet when she had information before anyone else.

Occupational hazard.

Ruby loved being the one to break news.

And lording it over everyone else.

“Six?” Killian repeated skeptically. “Why are that many whiteboards in the locker room?” “For reasons exactly like this, Cap. Obviously. Also, I didn’t steal any walkie-talkies because, as mentioned, we’ve got more than two walkie-talkies to our name and Merida would never actually admit to being frustrated by Emma’s tendency to ignore her.” “That was a very round about way to criticize,” Emma said. Killian kissed her hair.

“I’m not,” Ruby argued. “I agree with you about Rook’s parents and, I swear, his mom could probably get Gina to stop glaring because she absolutely does it better. But I also know you were up here, probably freaking out about all of this, and I am here to tell you that, a, it’s fine, b, it will continue to be fine and, three, you really need to get into the team suite because TV wants to camera pan to Cap at some point since he won’t be on the ice and it’s his linemate. Apparently we’re all in on team unity or something.” “Did you change from letters to numbers at the end just to frustrate me?” “And also because it’s hysterical.” “I promise, it’s not.”

Ruby made a face, shaking her head and pressing half a dozen kisses to Matt’s cheek when he started bobbing impatiently on the balls of his feet. “You look like your dad, but you are as prone to impatience as your mom, mini-Jones.” Emma groaned, but Ruby was unaffected by the whole thing and Killian might have mumbled that’s true under his breath. “Traitor,” she accused, prying Peggy’s fingers away from his tie and his shirt and it only ended with her getting her hair tugged, but they really needed to get out of that hallway or Emma was going to kiss him with a very opinionated and slightly disgruntled audience around.

She still didn’t know if Phillip’s mom got her jersey.

“Also,” Ruby added, slamming her finger into the elevator button behind her. “Mary Margaret and David are here. Which is mostly the reason I showed up.” “So you weren’t just here to mock my event?” “Who do you think I am?” “You are you and prone to mocking. And I also know you weren’t just here to announce arrivals that I probably got text messages about anyway.”

“You actually check your phone?” “Absolutely not. I don’t even know where it is.” “In my pocket,” Killian said, stepping through the open elevator doors and they should just take his tie off. It was a hazard at this point. He shrugged when both Emma and Ruby gaped at him, a lopsided smile and a baby in his arms and that was ridiculous. Totally unfair. Emma didn’t really care about Phillip’s mom anymore. “I figured you’d need it eventually,” he reasoned. “And Mary Margaret texted me too because she knew Emma wouldn’t look at her phone. Banana'a here too.” “Did they come together?” Emma asked, not sure why that made her heart feel like it was exploding a little bit. It was surprisingly pleasant.

“Nah. Coincidental taxi crossover. Or so Banana told me.” “That’s very creative, although I’m not sure it really makes sense.” “Tell Banana that. I did already. It’ll make me sound way more convincing if we tag-team the argument.” Ruby gagged, Matt laughing into her side and it might have been the longest elevator ride in the world. Merida’s voice wasn’t quite clear on the walkie-talkie. “Gross,” Ruby announced, and Chase Square was already filled with fans when the elevator doors opened. There were far more Débleu jerseys than usual. “Seriously, Cap, fix your tie before they pan to you on TV or Anna will have even more reason to make fun of you than how obnoxiously into your wife you are.” “If that was supposed to be an insult, it fell a little flat, Lucas.”

“No, that was just a fact.”

Killian rolled his eyes, but did as instructed, a particularly impressive feat in the middle of a crowd that was very quick to recognize him. He smiled and nodded and took a handful of pictures before some security guard realized what was happening and directed them around the corner towards the player’s entrance.

They didn’t say anything more in the second elevator, Matt’s not-quite-quiet commentary about the Flames and the power play and holding it in the zone like that was a phrase he understood. He absolutely understood it.

And Ruby’s eyes flickered towards Mary Margaret as soon as they walked into the team suite, Anna already making faces at Leo. “She’s a goddamn baby thief,” Killian mumbled, but the insult lost most of his edge when he started making his own faces at Peggy and Emma knew they were all keeping secrets.

“You might want to reconsider that when I’m fairly certain it’s hereditary,” Emma suggested.” “I’m not actually related to Banana.” “Shut up, KJ,” Anna yelled from the other side of the team suite, and Ruby was whispering something to Mary Margaret. “Also, hi, Emma!” “Hi, Anna,” Emma mumbled, smile tugging at her mouth without her explicit permission and there was carpet on the ice.

Ruby glanced at her. “I told you it’d be fine.” “Do not presume to know exactly what I’m thinking.” “I’m not. It’s another fact. Tell her, Cap.” “I’m not doing that, Lucas,” Killian said. “When are they going to pan to me? Is there an actual plan or you just letting TV order us around?” “You need to keep flirting with Emma so you’re not quite as abrasive. Or are you just super frustrated about how,” she covered both of Matt’s ears, “shitty the power play is without you in front of the net?” “You’re just wandering around throwing out opinions no one asked for, aren’t you?” “I’d repeat my last two questions, but that seems redundant.” “Let go of my kid’s head, please.” Anna chuckled, earning several confused glances and both teams were trying to do warmups with a goddamn carpet in the middle of the ice. “What?” she asked. “That was a funny sentence. And KJ does that whole snarl thing when he’s trying to use his captain voice. It’s hysterical when he thinks he’s some kind of authority.” “Only when you aren’t undermining it, Banana.” She stuck her tongue out. “Mer,” Emma said, yanking the walkie-talkie off her belt with enough force that she was slightly worried about the stitching of her clothes. “Did we agree the carpet was going to be out there for warmups? That seems like a pretty major hazard.” Merida didn’t answer. “Mer!” “Uh, yeah, yeah, boss, I’m here. And no, that was definitely not part of the plan.” Emma cursed a variety of different words that mostly just revolved around facilities spending a prolonged period of time in several different underworlds and she wished she knew more Norwegian. It always sounded more intimidating.

She’d started pacing at some point. Or, possibly, just jumping up and down and Mary Margaret knew something too. She kept licking her lips and staring at her shoes and back up at Emma like she wanted to shout several headlines in her face – a move she’d already done in the last twenty-four hours because the New York media contingent had several metaphorical field days with Killian’s press conference.

And maybe Emma had watched it more than once.

Maybe she hoped that wasn’t as crazy as she was worried it absolutely was.

It was romantic.

Whatever.

They’d gotten the carpet on the ice too early.

“How did that happen?” Emma demanded, glancing around the room like any of them would be able to answer. Peggy almost tripped over her own feet, standing in the middle of the team suite with her arms above her head and hands wrapped up in Killian’s and that was more than enough for some of the fight to fall out of Emma.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to calm me down with our own kid,” she grumbled.

Killian grinned. And Mary Margaret might have sniffled. She, at least, took her phone out. “Is it working?”

“Kind of. Depends on what Reese’s and Ruby are gossiping about.” “There is no gossip,” Mary Margaret promised, but even Anna laughed at the obvious lie and David winced as if it physically pained him to hear those words. “What? C’mon, there’s not!” “You should have practiced that some more, Reese’s.” “She did,” David mumbled. Anna laughed louder.

“Aw, that’s not fair at all,” Mary Margaret sighed, slumping into a chair with her legs hanging over the side and it felt a bit like junior year of college and watching the Rangers in their dorm because David stole the remote. Only with a much bigger carpet disaster.

Emma hoped they hadn’t reached disaster level yet.

“M’s, did you honestly practice telling Emma a lie before you got up here?” Ruby asked, smile taking up half her face. She’d let go of Matt at some point, letting him run towards the glass and start shouting cheers that Roland and Henry had undoubtedly taught him over the Christmas break.

“No,” Mary Margaret said. “No! That would be insane.” “And we’re certainly not insane,” Killian muttered. He pulled the walkie-talkie out of Emma’s hands, turning the volume down, which, honestly was probably for the best because she still kept listening to her music too loud and she was very likely doing irreparable damage to her eardrums or something.

Mary Margaret nodded. “Absolutely not. Your tie is crooked.” “Pegs is a menace.” “With some honestly ridiculous lower-body strength. She start running around yet?”

“God, stop suggesting that we’re looming close to walking,” Emma groaned. She stuffed the walkie-talkie back in her pocket and they were all professional hockey players, they could skate around the goddamn carpet. As long as Aurora didn’t fall over later, she didn’t care.

“It’s got to be close though, right?” Mary Margaret pressed, and that inflection wasn’t right either. Emma narrowed her eyes. “What did you bet on?” “What?” “Is that what the gossiping is about? And why Rubes was so mad at the thought of Pegs walking without her being there to confirm it? Did this team bet on Peggy’s first steps?” “No!” “Try again, Reese’s. “ “No.” “Oh, that was worse than the last time,” Ruby sighed, leaning against the door behind her. “M’s, you’ve really got to get better at this. We can’t deal with the garbage lying for the rest of our lives. It’s just going to be exhausting.” “That doesn’t seem like a problem?” “Yeah,” David agreed. “Maybe we shouldn't be advocating better lying. Aren’t we supposed to be the responsible ones? Also, Em, stop glaring at all of us. It’s not that big of a deal. This is...familial and fun. And I’ve got to pay for Rol’s onion rings again later, so you can deal with this.” “That will cost you twenty bucks, tops,” Emma seethed, twisting away from Killian’s arm when he tried to rest his hand on her shoulder again. And, really, she wasn’t that upset. She wasn’t even angry. She was, admittedly, kind of charmed by the whole, stupid thing and no one could tell Mary Margaret anything.

But she’d almost lost track of how many times she’d watched Killian’s presser and the headlines weren’t bad, were almost complimentary, and every time Emma thought about the league offer again, she was a little worried her brain was actually going to explode.

They all needed to stop making brain jokes.

It was tactless.

“That’s twenty bucks I don’t want to spend feeding a ravenous teenager,” David grumbled. “But, seriously, no sign of walking? Just standing up with Cap’s help?” “That’s still pretty impressive,” Killian argued. “I’m not disputing that. I’m just trying to save my investment.” “How much you got riding on this exactly, Sergeant?” Emma asked, glancing at the ice when the players started working their way off it and they were running out of time for witty banter. Matt was not particularly pleased warmups were over. He kept trying to shoot at the glass.

David leveled her with an even stare, the visual embodiment of older brother and Emma bit her tongue so she didn’t dissolve into slightly stressed-out hysterics. “That’s not information you need to be aware of.”

“It’s my kid though, so…”

“And,” Mary Margaret added brightly. “That’s not even remotely what the gossip was about. You guys go in the locker room yet?” Ruby groaned, sliding down the door into a less-than-professional heap and Emma could also see the color leaving Mary Margaret’s face. That was almost kind of funny too. “Oh, shit,” Mary Margaret muttered.

Emma gasped. Killian tensed next to her, head snapping from Emma to each of their kids and back again like he was checking they were still there and still fine and she really couldn’t be blamed for whatever sense of dread landed in the pit of her stomach.

It had been that kind of month.

“M’s, seriously, if you didn’t bring cookies to this game, I would say some really horrible things right to your face,” Ruby said.

“You brought cookies to this hockey game?” Emma asked. Mary Margaret shrugged, and appeared to be trying to melt into the chair she was still sitting in. “How did you get those in the Garden?”

“That security guard downstairs totally knows us now.” “And she bribed him with a cookie,” David mumbled, grinning when Mary Margaret snapped her head around to stare at him.

Emma laughed, head falling against Killian’s shoulder and both Ruby and Matt stuck their tongues out when he kissed her hair. “That’s the most Mary Margaret Nolan thing I’ve ever heard. I’m surprised the pigeons on 34th Street didn’t join in the whole thing and serenade the guy with several songs.” “That’d just make him fall asleep,” Anna pointed out. “He always kind of looks like he’s falling asleep, doesn’t he?” “To serve and protect,” Ruby intoned. She was still on the floor.

And the ceremony had started.

The music went off without a hitch, or something less than lame than the word hitch and Emma breathed an audible sigh of relief when it transitioned perfectly into the video montage. That was a much better word than tribute.

Anna chuckled when they showed Phillip getting drafted, highlights from his rookie season and they pointedly ignored the incident with Soyer and injuries and Mary Margaret sniffled again when they got to back-to-back Stanley Cup victories and smiles and parades that weren’t really that much work.

They were fun.

Emma wanted another Stanley Cup parade.

Killian didn’t move – an arm slung around Emma’s shoulders and Peggy’s fingers gripping his tie – but his fingers started drifting in between her shoulder blades when they showed the Olympics and the whole, stupid video finished with Phillip scoring in Chicago and lifting the second Stanley Cup and she turned towards him before she remembered the inevitable camera pan.

“Holy shit,” Ruby breathed. “We did actually get her a jersey.” Emma’s head jerked back to the ice, lips parted and she had no excuse for whatever her breathing was doing, panting slightly like she’d run that marathon she’d been hoping for.

Killian kept staring ahead. But his tongue darted between his lips and he muttered something to Peggy when she yanked harder on a tie that was almost perfectly Rangers blue.

“Did you do that?” Emma asked quietly. The jersey wasn’t a perfect replica of the ones Aurora and Phillip’s dad were wearing – the laces weren’t perfectly tied and Emma thought she noticed a tiny rip at the end of the right sleeve, but it was a jersey and, really, at this point, that was all any of them could ask for.

“Killian,” Emma prompted, and he blinked. “Did you threaten Kristoff in the middle of the locker room and make him give Phillip’s mom a game-worn jersey?” “I didn’t know it’d be game worn.” “Oh my God.” “And I didn’t really threaten him either, so take at least five-thousand steps back, Banana. Also if you got here on time, you definitely could have helped.” “That’s like insider trading or something, KJ,” Anna challenged, but Emma’s mind was still kind of reeling and Phillip’s mom was smiling. Beaming, in fact.

Aurora hadn’t tripped on the carpet.

“That’s not even remotely what that is,” Killian argued. “But it didn’t really matter. I think Rook’s mom was angry she thought she was going to miss it or not be allowed on the ice--” “--I wouldn’t do that,” Emma interrupted.

“Aurora might have. But, yeah, she’s incredibly intimidating and apparently a very respected museum curator or something and it’s a very strange family dynamic and I just told Kristoff to give her something from the last home game.” “And how much convincing did that require?” Anna asked archly.

“Not a lot.” “You and Reese’s should have lying competitions,” Emma mumbled, smiling when Mary Margaret clicked her tongue in reproach. She’d finally sat up straight, feet on the ground and Leo on her leg and they hadn’t figured out what the gossip was. They needed Elsa to schedule literally every conversation.

“Not a lie, Swan,” Killian said. “An amendment.” David scoffed. “That’s not the word you’re looking for either.”

“I think we really need a refresher on the English language, Reese’s,” Emma said. “Like maybe before Casino Night.” “That’s not a very long time,” Mary Margaret laughed. Phillip was kissing Aurora on the cheek, a blush on his face that absolutely had everything to do with the literal spotlight on them and there were cameras on the ice and a very loud PA announcement and people were standing and clapping and Emma didn’t really think before she turned.

It was, she’d eventually argue, partially because he wouldn’t let go of their kids and partially because he’d saved the jersey incident and partially because he was just really stupid good looking, but it was mostly because she was more in love with him than she’d been the first time he’d saved one of her events and the headlines were going to be absurd.

She had to press up on her toes because she already had enough to worry about without thinking of blisters on her heels, and Killian’s breath hitched when Emma’s lips pressed against his. It wasn’t particularly easy or a particularly good angle – one kid clinging to his very bruised ribs and the other less than pleased that his parents were making out in public spaces again – but Emma couldn’t bring herself to care.

It was a very good distraction.

It still wasn’t a distraction.

It was...her life.

That was such a dramatic thought.

Her fingers found the back of Killian’s hair, the smile clear on his face even as he kept kissing her and his hand landed on top of her ring when it fell over the front of her shirt.

“I love you,” she mumbled against him. She should have worn heels. It would have made all of this easier.

Killian laughed softly, hair falling across his forehead and breath warm against the curve of her jaw when his mouth moved there. “I love you too, Swan.” “Hey, uh, guys,” Ruby muttered, nodding to the closest TV screen and Killian cursed in Norwegian.

“Don’t repeat that,” he said immediately, glancing at Matt who was already doing just that.

They’d clearly cut away from them quickly – probably scandalized several truck operators at MSG in the process – but they’d also clearly been making out on the game broadcast and Phillip was quite obviously trying to stare at the team suite from the ice.

He looked like he was laughing.

Ruby snickered. Anna might have been guffawing. And on her phone. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “No, that totally just happened. I was sitting right here, El. No, of course they didn’t plan it. I don’t know KJ was staring at Emma like she built the Earth or something.”

“The Earth didn’t get built,” Mary Margaret corrected. “If you want to get technical. The Big Bang kind of formed it and then everything evolved out of there.” “See, this is the kind of things we need a refresher on,” Emma said, but she could feel the heat on her face and Killian kept running his hand through his hair. She sighed, closing her eyes and she could hear her phone ringing. It was still in Killian’s pocket. “I need that,” she muttered.

He grimaced when he dropped it in her outstretched palm. “Swan, this is--” “No, no, this is...if the worst thing that ever happens to us again is making out on camera for an unscheduled pan, then I think we’ve won some kind of metaphorical lottery.” Emma stared meaningfully at Ruby, a smile lingering on her face as she held both hands up in mock surrender. “If Zelena is pissed, I’ll take full responsibility for the pan. Unscheduled or otherwise.” “Your mercy knows no bounds.” “Stop making out everywhere.”

“I’ve got to go deal with this,” Emma muttered, phone shaking in her grip.

Killian hummed, the hint of a smirk on his face and it was actually kind of funny. If funny was actually ridiculous and absurd and Liam was probably calling his phone too. “We’ll be fine, love.”

He kissed her again, quick and easy and Emma’s smile didn’t feel as out of place as it probably should have.

The entire suite shouted get out of here at once.

And, really, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. Zelena had to keep pausing so she wouldn’t laugh when she was using her powerful voice and Emma’s stomach stayed exactly where it was supposed for the entire conversation, feet propped up on the edge of her desk as she was reminded about professionalism and the brand and she hummed in agreement at least seventeen different times.

She didn’t actually apologize once.

She wasn’t really sorry.

And she wasn’t really ready for the knock on her office door.

“Hey,” Henry grinned, leaning against the half-open doorway with his feet crossed at the ankles and the move was almost too Killian. Emma laughed loudly, swinging her feet back onto the floor and practically leaping across the space.

Henry didn’t stumble when Emma crashed into him, far taller than she was still entirely used to with hair that probably infuriated Regina daily, but he hugged her back tightly.

“What are you doing here?” Emma asked. “Are you supposed to be here? Did I know you were going to be here? Are you the gossip that Ruby and Reese’s were talking about. Were you in the locker room before?” “God, that was like eighty-six questions at once. And no to all of them actually. This was kind of a spur of the moment thing so I could see Phillip’s ceremony and be here for Casino Night.” “I didn’t get you a ticket to Casino Night.” “I’m pretty positive Merida did.” “God, she should just be running the whole department at this point, it’d be so much more efficient.” Henry clicked his tongue, brows pulled low in something that was an almost too obvious disagreement and Emma had to blink to remind herself that the kid in front of her was actually an eighteen-year-old and kind of an adult and she always forgot how tall he was.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, tugging lightly on the front of his team-branded t-shirt to pull him further into her office. He let a quiet whoa when he saw the small explosion of paperwork, sinking down into an open chair as Emma perched on the front of her desk. “It was worse a couple days ago, honestly.” “I find that very hard to believe.” “How long have we known each other?” “Ah, yeah, that’s true,” Henry grinned. He crossed his arms, expression steady when Emma lifted her eyebrows. “You ok?” “Depends on how much you know.” “Probably way more than I should.” “You’ve always been a very good eavesdropper,” Emma said, and she could almost feel her metaphorical and literal heart strings being tugged. “You get a tux for Casino Night? Oh God, are you bringing a date?” “Of course I got a tux for Casino Night? Did Killian? Rol said he hadn’t yet.” “That was the less interesting question.” “That’s because you sound like Mom.” Emma scrunched her nose, working another laugh out of Henry and he was better at imitating Killian’s eyebrow thing than anyone else. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that. Seriously. A date? You’re bringing a date. She a Ranger fan?” “It’d be weird to bring her to Casino Night if she wasn’t.”

Emma wasn’t sure what noise, exactly, she made in response to that, but it kind of sounded like a yelp and a screech and the general, vocal embodiment of excitement and Henry drooped in his chair. “Did you meet her at school?” “In my creative writing class.” “You read anything she’s written?” “Why does this seem like an interrogation?” “It’s not,” Emma argued. “End of the season presser at the worst.” “Yeah, we’re well acquainted with pressers now, aren’t we?” “Oh that lacked a distinct sense of subtlety. Scarlet-esque. You’re usually much better than that.”

“I’m going to tell Will you said that.”

“Ah, don’t do that,” Emma sighed. “I’m never going to hear the end of it. And he’s probably got like ten bucks on when Peggy’s going to walk.” Henry shook his head, smile a little more tremulous, but still a hint confident and Emma was breathing out of her mouth. She should have put the game on in her office. “It’s more like fifty,” Henry said. “I think they’re all trying to avoid how worried they are about Killian. Focus on something good instead, you know?” “That’s ridiculous.” “It’s nice. It’s proper family. Which is why I don’t think you should take this league job.” Emma was glad she was sitting down, gripping the front of her desk a little tighter and she was only a little surprised her eyes did not, in fact, fall out of her head. “Jumping right into the deep end of it, aren’t we?” “That’s not true at all. We hugged, we bantered a little, you interrogated me.” “That’s not what happened! How do you even know about this job?”

“Rol asked Mom if you were going to leave on the cab ride from JFK.” “God, that’s playing dirty,” Emma sighed, but Henry just shifted his eyebrows and smiled wider. He’d been taking lessons from Killian, she was sure. “Why don’t you think I should take the job?”

“Because you don’t want it.” “You’re skating on very thin ice, kid.” Henry rolled his eyes, but he sat up a little straighter – staring at Emma with a look she hadn’t seen in years, not since he was terrified Regina and Robin might send him back or decide they didn’t actually want him and she had to swallow to stop herself from crying.

Again.

God.

“You’d be great at it, Emma,” Henry said. “And it’d be so good. So it probably makes me a selfish asshole when I--” “--Hey,” she snapped. He rolled his eyes again.

“I’m in college, you don’t have to correct my speaking patterns.” “Tough luck. Keep talking.”

He saluted. “You’d be great at it, but this is...you can do all that here. You already have. Hell, look at me. Look at every GD kid you’ve ever done anything for. You can inspire things here and inspire people here and no one wants you to leave the Garden, Emma. It’s...did Merida already tell you it’s your team too?” “How do you know that?”

“A very lucky guess, actually. And because everyone thinks that. And also because I think you could do more here.” “That’s a very strong opinion.” Henry shrugged, shaking his hair off his forehead. He didn’t blink. He didn’t say anything else. He kept looking at Emma with a sense of confidence he’d had in her since he was twelve because Emma had the same in him and time was, apparently, some kind of flat circle.

“I know it’s a good offer, Emma,” Henry whispered. “But this is…” “Home?” she chanced, and he nodded, ducking his gaze to the ground when she noticed the bit of moisture in the corner of his eye. Emma leaned forward, pulling his hands away from his thighs and lacing her fingers through his, squeezing tightly. “You’re a incredibly smart guy, you know that?”

“Sometimes.” “Eh.” “With one hell of a mouth on him,” Emma added, brushing a kiss over the top of his forehead. “So, what’s your date’s name? You going to wear matching outfits?” Henry did, eventually, answer, most, of Emma’s questions – drawing the line at home many dates he and Maddie had been, but she wasn’t even counting on getting a name, so that felt like a victory. Which was good since the Rangers did not get one.

Again.

And that probably shouldn’t have made her happy, but she’d been caught making out on live TV already that night, so she figured her maturity was kind of fluid at this point.

Will cackled as soon as they walked into the restaurant, nearly falling off his stool and earning a frustrated look from both Aurora and Phillip’s mother and they were going to have to let her keep that game-used jersey.

Kristoff wouldn’t appreciate that.

But that all seemed to fall by several different waysides when Arthur appeared in front of them, a pinch between his eyebrows that was understandable since the power play still looked like several different Norwegian curse words.

“I’ve been looking for you, Jones,” Arthur announced. Killian’s eyes darted towards Emma, letting Anna pull Peggy out of his arms and she absolutely leaned against his side when he pulled her there.

“I was in the locker room before, Arthur.”

“Placating whatever Phillip’s mother’s name is.” “God, that is almost too abrasive even for you,” Emma muttered. Arthur barely made a noise.

“Four in a row, Emma. Four in a row. Have you seen our power play? He may be getting pre-game ceremonies, but Phillip’s shit at screening goal.” Killian groaned. “My kids are here, Arthur. Try and remember where you are. How many whiteboards you break tonight?” “Not important. I’m here to offer you a deal.” “Excuse me? Do you even have the power to do that?” “And shouldn’t Gina be dealing with that?” Emma asked, blinking when Regina appeared as suddenly as if she’d been summoned. She glared at Arthur.

“I don’t know and I don’t particularly care,” he said. “Regina, you can disagree if you want, this is what’s happening.” “You haven’t even said anything, Arthur,” Killian pointed out. “I want you to advise. The team. Or something that sounds less official because I do actually think it’s against your contract.” “What?” “What part of that was confusing?” “All of it.” Arthur sighed in frustration, waving both his hands through the air as Regina continued to glare at him. “The power play is God awful,” he muttered. “Husinger hasn’t recorded a point since you punched him and I don’t want you to talk to him really, but if you’re just going to sit in the team suite and get us sued by the FCC then you might as well be occupying your time better.” “You’re not going to get sued by the FCC,” Regina mumbled. And that was probably more for Emma than Killian.

“Can I do that?” Killian asked.

“Who are you directing that question to?” “You’re my agent!” Regina made a dismissive noise, lips twisted slightly and Killian’s arm tightened around Emma’s waist. “As long as Arthur doesn’t use the word advisor ever again. IR doesn’t stop you from participating in team events. You can tell them how to play hockey as long as you’re not the one playing hockey or punching anyone else.” “That was rather pointed, Gina.” “Those phone calls lasted for hours and I’m still dealing with presser repercussions.” “Were there a lot of those?” Emma asked sharply, but Killian muttered some kind of disagreement before she’d finished the question.

He took a deep breath, fingers toying with the belt loop that no longer had a walkie-talkie attached to it and Emma needed to buy Merida several drinks. “You just want me to...what, Arthur? Help make the team better?” “Obviously,” Arthur snapped. “Did you watch that power play?” “Yeah, it looked like garbage.” “Exactly. Don’t punch anyone, we won’t use the wrong terminology and maybe we won’t embarrass ourselves before the end of the season.” “Aiming high, huh?”

“Cap,” Will cried from the other side of the restaurant at the same time Anna screeched “KJ!” and Emma knew she shouldn’t use his shoulder as leverage, but he kind of lifted her up too and Regina gasped loudly when she saw it first.

“I totally won,” Roland yelled. “I told you guys it was going to be tonight!”

He was standing on a chair, Ariel’s hand hovering behind him as Matt and Dylan hit a puck against the closest wall, and they’d moved half a dozen tables out of the way.

It wasn’t really walking, but it was definitely more than wobbling and Emma wasn’t sure either she or Killian had ever moved that fast. They both crouched down as soon as they moved into the open space, arms outstretched as Robin moved behind Peggy, careful not to get too close and disturb the slightly shaky balance she’d found.

Mary Margaret had her phone out, tears on her cheeks while Ruby shouted encouragements and Emma was glad for both because her mind couldn’t quite process the rush of endorphins it was currently dealing with.

The whole restaurant turned to them – cheers echoing as loudly as they had during Phillip’s ceremony and Emma didn’t realize she was crying until David handed her a goddamn napkin. And that wasn't really going to help her when Killian muttered “c’mon, little love, just one foot in front of the other.”

She absolutely did not understand the instructions, but she did it anyway, tottling forward until Killian’s hands pulled her against his chest and they all exploded into a noise that could only be classified as pure joy.

Emma might have been sobbing.

Mary Margaret definitely was.

“You did so good,” Killian said softly, holding onto Peggy tightly and there wasn’t much baby to kiss, but Emma worked with what she had.

“I’ll take my money now, please,” Roland said, grinning like he’d won that previously discussed lottery.

“How much did you get?” Emma asked.

Will didn’t look at Killian when he answered. “Probably a couple hundred dollars, honestly.” Her laugh wasn’t so much that as it was just even more joy, but Emma was certain everything switched, again, in that moment and she kissed Peggy’s arm before she did something stupid like shout several brand-new life plans at all of them.

She said it quietly instead.

“You should do it.” Killian blinked. “What?” “Advise or not that word. As long as there are no punches thrown. That power play is painful to watch now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, pulse thumping at the quiet hope in his voice and the squirming, now-walking baby in his arms. “You think we can get her to walk again? I think Reese’s video is probably a little shaky.” “Rude,” Mary Margaret said. “But also probably accurate.” Killian smiled – slow and easy and he’d taken off his tie before Henry and Emma got back to the team suite. “We can absolutely do that, Swan,” he said, a promise without actually saying it.

And Elsa screamed into the phone when Emma sent her the non-shaky video of Peggy walking.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #blue line change #listen #i like established relationships #and i like established relationships that like each other even more #so #here's some of that #and henry!

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hollenka99 · 4 years

Text

...Ouch

Summary: When Mark suggested he let Wilford Warfstache interview him, Jack didn't think it would end up like this. One thing's for sure, he's not listening to Mark's ideas again. Based on a-heist-of-words' Egoctober 2018 prompt, "...ouch..." and Warfstache Interviews Markiplier.

Warnings: Wilford has a knife so y’know... attempted stabbing.

The studio audience cheered appropriately as the title card played. It looked like a good turn out, maybe 90% of the seats were filled. Mark was there too, somewhere. Jack was interested to see what kind of questions this Warfstache guy was going to ask him. Mark had mentioned the reporter to Jack several months ago. He explained the man was always looking for someone new to question. He guaranteed the interview would be memorable. That was to be seen.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and of course, all other configurations of being. My name is Wilford Warfstache and boy, do we have a great guest for you tonight. Some call him the worst Irishman, some call him a leprechaun, most people just call him Green Pewdiepie... please welcome Mr Jacksepticeye!"

Um, okay. Weird introduction but whatever. Mark did say Wilford Warfstache was eccentric.

"Welcome sir." "Hi." He gave the audience a little wave. "Our producer couldn't find another way to boost our ratings." Right then... "So, you play video games for a living?" "Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that. It's a pretty cool job to have." "Now what exactly is it that you do while playing these treacherous virtual brain dumpsters?" "Well, I wouldn't call them brain dumpsters." He gives a small laugh. "I basically record myself playing a game, do a little commentating and post it to YouTube. We're called Let's Players; there's quite a few of us on YouTube." "So you commentate?" "Yeah." "So what is it exactly that you, Jacksepticeye, commentate?" "Video games. People come to my channel to watch me react to the game I'm playing that video." "Ooh!" Warfstache encouraged the audience to have a similar response. "Reaction to what?"

He was going to kill Mark.

"Video. Games." He tried not to sound like a dick, he swore he did. His interviewer's reaction was unintelligible. "And now on to the nitty-gritty!" That was more like it. Maybe this interview had just started off weak. "Hell yeah." "Now what games would you say have been the biggest draw to your channel?" "Oh, that's easy. Yeah, everyone seems to love my videos on Skate 3, Grand Theft Auto... Happy Wheels is a big one too." The crowd cheered at the mention of Happy Wheels. "Yeah! Screw you, Billy." He joked. "So which one of these games would you say is your favourite?" "You know, I get asked this all the time and I still can't choose. Um..." The boom operator lost their grip. It went right into his mouth.

Mark was dead. Jack was never listening to his suggestions again.

"Boy, you got a lot of fans." But... he wasn't quite done answering the last question. Never mind, he didn't have a solid answer anyway. The sooner this interview was over, the sooner he could return to bitching about Irish showers. "Yeah, over 6 million subscribers. It's crazy how many people want to watch my content." "That is baffling!" "I feel the same. But I'm thankful for every last one. If it wasn't for them, I'd still be stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere by myself. I've also gotten to know some awesome people because of it." "Anyway, have you ever met any of these 'fans'?" "All the time! I just came back from PAX West and there were a whole bunch of them. You get to meet a lot at conventions but a few will spot you in the street. They're all really sweet so I-"

"Murder their entire family?" Where the hell did that come from? "What?! No! No, of course I don't." "So you admit it!" Warfstache accused. "You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen. The Jacksepticeye has just admitted to never murdering anyone." "I... yeah, I never murdered anyone." Jack scanned the audience to see if they were hallucinating the same ludicrous bullshit he was. "Look, this is going in a really weird direction. Can we go back to normal questions?" "Sounds like someone's getting impatient." "Dude, you literally just accused me of murder. I only agreed to this interview because I was told it would be different. I don't know why Mark ever recommended you. I think you might be-"

Warfstache pulled a tiny dagger from his trousers. Yeah, the guy was clearly insane. Was that Jack's cue to get the hell out of here? Yes, it certainly sounded like it. Very distinct sirens of 'Get the fuck away from this madman' were blaring.

The blade barely missed him during Warfstache's first attempt to stab him. He leaped out of the chair. A moving target was less likely to be killed than a seated one. That didn't stop the reporter from drawing closer.

Jack didn't even know what he was doing. Once his survival instincts kicked in, everything was on autopilot. So how the hell the scuffle ended with Warfstache bleeding and him holding the knife would forever remain a mystery. He'd stabbed someone. Oh God, he was going to be responsible for someone's death.

"...Ouch." Wilford looked annoyed. Why was he annoyed? The guy had just been stabbed in the gut. He was bleeding. Why was he just standing there? Why was he acting like it was nothing?

Somebody grabbed him. They didn't wait for his mind to catch up with his involuntarily steps. His other arm hurt.

"Okay, that should be far enough." The member of security halted by an exit. "Are you injured?" "Uh..." Jack's sleeve was turning red. Oh shit. "Doesn't look deep but we should get you a bandage or two." "Sure." Honestly, he was ready to switch his brain off for a while. "Yeah, we've got a Code Pink. The guest doesn't appear to be in immediate danger but keep an eye on Warfstache. I'm taking the guest to the infirmary to treat his arm. Update me if anything happens." The guard spoke into a walkie-talkie. The walk to the infirmary was much gentler. "Does this happen often if you have a code for it?" "He's not the most stable individual. I heard he shot someone off the first floor once."

His brain was resembling a dial-up. Who allowed a murderer to host his own program? Why wasn't he locked up?

Disinfecting the slash on his arm stung. Although, it was better to wince than lose it to an infection. Now his arm was being treated, he could relax slightly. The maniac reporter still lingered in his mind.

"Will Warfstache be okay? I mean, I did stab him." "That guy? Oh yeah, you'd think he was invincible the way he brushes off injuries. He's something else, I'm telling you." "You can say that again. Still..." "Trust me, he will be back in action within 24 hours. You don't need to go all Lady Macbeth."

A half Korean man frantically burst into the infirmary. He scanned the room erratically before catching sight of the Irishman with recently dyed green hair. Jack was pissed and Mark leaked anxiety.

"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. Did he get you?" Mark's eyes landing on his friend's bandaged arm was a sufficient answer. "We need to talk." Jack glared.

#my writing #writersofjack #egoctober 2018 #ao3 transfer #wilford warfstache #warfstache interviews markiplier #tw attempted stabbing #the crew are just so done with wil's bullshit #jacksepticeye #markiplier

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hayjeon · 6 years

Text

Snow and Ice 01 [m] (ft. Jungkook)

→ friendswithbenefits!au with Snowboarder!JK and figure skater!reader during the Olympicssss!

→ 11.1k | part 2 (coming soon!)

A/n: I know that winter olympics is exclusive to winter sports and vice versa with summer, but let’s ignore that for the sake of the fic ;) (ie. mentions of gymnasts)

also this was meant to be a oneshot, but after getting somewhere around 18k...i decided to split into 2 parts! sorry, but hope you guys enjoy what I already have! :D not heavily edited sry but enjoyoyyyyoyyoy

“How fucking hard is it for the boys to seriously not sound like a bunch of monkeys at 3am in the damn morning?!” You grouch, stomping out of the restroom to Irene.

She’s already dressed in her gym outfit, and tying her shoes. “God, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “I think they’ve made a bet or something to see who can make it the longest after bottomless drinking.” Stretching, she groans, “They were up even up til 5am I think, after you fell asleep.”

You roll your eyes, slipping off your robe and pulling on a tight spandex pair of leggings and sports bra. You grab your water bottle and join your teammate as you walk down the hall of the rooming area and into the gym. “It would be nice for once to try and get a normal week of life before the games start. By the way, are we doing cardio today?”

Irene nods, tying her hair up high. “Start off with 60 minutes running and then help me stretch? We’ll go practice on the rink later after lunch.”

You nod and throw the towel on the handle as you step up onto a machine. It’s 6am, but already, dozens of other athletes are busy at work, pressing the weight machines and cardio machines to life. You can see that the gymnastics girls are taking up most of the easy weights, and the hockey players fiddling with the heavier weights. Seokjin, one of the guys from your university’s snowboarding team, walks up to you with a smile, starting up the running machine next to yours, and matching your brisk walk.

“Good morning,” he grins, “How are you feeling?”

You roll your eyes, cracking your neck. “God, Jin, I wanted to kill the guys on the fourth floor. Literally, they’re the loudest herd of chimpanzees when they’re drunk.”

Seokjin laughs, upping his speed. “They made a bet to see who could drink the longest from the keg. It was interesting to watch but my coach would’ve killed me if she were here and saw me sleeping anytime past 1am. And even though our coaches can’t be here in the lodgings,” he shudders, taking a swig from his bottle, “I’d rather not find out what she’ll do to me if she ever knew the truth.”

You laugh, increasing your speed and matching his long strides with quick ones of your own. “Good thinking, you’re smart.”

He grins at you and the both of you ease into your daily routines.

Everyday is like this, even when you’re not in the Olympic village. This is your second Olympics, and your second time representing your country for women’s figure skating. Being said, getting here meant that every day was a routine, just like today’s, monkey boys living a floor above you or not.

Wake up at 5am, and cardio for an hour, stretch for 30, practice jumps on mats for 30, and then actually skating for another 2 hours, before returning to stretch out the sore muscles, and then finally getting to eat your first meal, which was probably a salad, chicken breast, and maybe a fruit smoothie if your morning cardio was more productive than usual. Then it was a bit of rest and loosening the muscles with a warm bath, and then back with weight training and more skating until it was night, and the lactic acid buildup was making your muscles all shaky and unsteady. Rinse, repeat.

It’s easy to throw popcorn at your tv screen and sneer, “Idiots,” when a representative of the country makes a mistake during the games. Somehow, everyone sitting at home in front of their televisions, munching on their bottomless fried chicken and coke became masters at whatever sport they were watching this time of year. But becoming an olympian meant that this was your life: training, practicing, and winning.

You amp up the speed on the machine into a full sprint as you think of the way you only got a silver medal the last time you competed. The bratty Jennie Kim had won the gold, and managed to shove it in your face every single time you two saw each other. She was here too, you could practically smell the hatred and the evil emanating off her skin whenever you were in a 50 mile radius of her.

You sigh as your music lets you drift off into a place, a place where you don’t have to think about how sweaty and tired you are already. The music that you chose this year for your routine was classy, and so was the show that you prepared.

It took months of training, and was also the reason you had to go so hard on cardio this year: there were four triple-axels, triple toe-loops you had to master during the routine, and that didn’t even include the two triple salchows towards the end of the routine. None other than Kim Yuna had attempted and succeeded at doing a routine like that completely without failing.

All while looking like a complete goddess.

Beethoven’s 9th symphony was a fairy-like, dainty work of art, with swells of the orchestra booming in the background to create an ominous feeling to it. To master this routine, you’d had to also go through hours of acting classes, to get “in touch with your deepest emotions,” like your coach Minho had convinced you.

Your mother had gotten her hands on the most gorgeous outfit, a turquoise, shimmering deep blue-green that make your skin glitter and shine and complimented your eyes and matched incredibly well with the silver accents and accessories embroidered onto the dress.

You don’t really remember how you got here. It just started as an innocent day at the rink, where you’d convinced your mother to let you do something more interesting than learning the piano or the violin, and she’d let you choose between gymnastics and figure skating. You were mesmerized by the pretty outfits as a little girl, so she’d taken you for lessons.

And then the lessons slowly became rehearsals for the junior figure skating team, and then your coach labeled you as team captain, and then you were being sent off to do shows all around the country. You were then competing and winning gold medals as fast as ever, and at the ripe young age of 17, you were crowned as the next Female Figure Skating Olympian to join your country’s team, to train and compete in the next winter olympics.

That was how you were thrust into this world of competing and working yourself to the bone at age 18. It just...sort of happened, and at one point in your little 18 year old life you did have a moment to turn around and survey how the hell you got here in the first place. But, it was too late, and you were way too invested, switching out hours of studying or playing video games or with dolls for training on the ice in your childhood to back out now.

Your workout comes to an end and you’re already sweating bullets and chugging down buckets of water by the end. Irene finishes a couple of seconds before you do and waits for you as you cool down and step off. You both take a couple more minutes to towel off and cool before you step into the mirror room, and begin to stretch. You place your ankle on top of the poles for steadiness and begin stretching your upper body, cooling down in the air conditioned room.

“Well if it isn’t y/n?” A voice sounds in the entrance of the stretching room and all the heads in the room turn to see who it is.

You don’t even have to look to know who it is.

He cockily wipes his face with a towel and throws it over his shoulder, spraying a steady stream of water from his bottle into his mouth as he saunters over to where you’re stretching. You roll your eyes and ignore him, switching sides and propping your other leg up 90 degrees as you curve your torso towards it with your hand stretched towards your toes.

He walks up to you and in the mirror, you can see the other girls in the room whispering and giggling at the presence of the handsome Olympian.

Jeon Jungkook. Age 22. Also his second time competing in the Olympics. Gold medalist if we’re talking about olympics, but all time World Champion in the Men’s Snowboarding medium and Guiness World Record holder for highest score last year, beating out previous record holders and his own best scores with the recent win. Endorses like a thousand snowboarding and athletic brands like Northface and Tim Burton. Also the owner of his own resort on the side. He was a celebrity within the Olympians, and also voted one of the hottest Olympians ever.

“Looking good,” he rakes his eyes up and down your body, grinning sleazily. “How long has it been, 3 years? 4 years?”

You huff as you take down your leg from the pole. “If you could ever for once figure out how to do math, you’d know that it’s been 4 years since the last olympics, Jeon Jungkook.”

He smirks when you finally respond to him, walking over to lean against the pole as you sit down and begin stretching your hamstrings. “Congrats on your win during the World Championships, I watched and cheered for you during it.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you here to make fun of my silver medal too? I have enough knowing grins from Jennie Kim to last me a lifetime.” You switch legs, leaning forward and pressing your knees against your chest.

He laughs, “Hell no, I would never dare to make fun of the ice queen.”

Straightening up, you narrow your eyes at him. He’s been calling you that since you can remember. “Get lost, Jungkook. Go do your weights or whatever.” You resume stretching, extending one leg far behind you as you sit comfortable in a split.

He stands, watching you from above. “Suit yourself. Know I’ll be back though.”

He walks cockily back, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his brow, which is completely stupid because he has a towel. It’s so obvious he does it to get a ruse out of the other gymnasts and skaters stretching in the room, which it does.

Irene inches up to you and joins you in your stretches.

“Don’t ask,” you groan and switch sides.

She shrugs, laughing at you in the mirror. “Wasn’t gonna. That exchange spoke for itself. He definitely has the hots for you.”

You roll your eyes and groan as you get up, and Irene joins you to help you stand and lift your leg up as high as she can reach, way up over your head. “Uh,” you cringe at the stiffness of your thigh muscles, “He does that to everyone. Seriously. I’ve seen him even give some of the referees sleazy looks. It’s just in his blood.”

She whistles as you switch legs. “Well whatever his blood’s doing, I bet it’s working real hard.”

“Ew!” You exclaim and laugh, letting her switch sides with you as you help her with her standing splits. “Never!”

She laughs, finishing her other side. “Alright grumpy, let’s go get you some breakfast before you rip my head off and get even more hangry.”

_____________________________________________________________________

You both get washed up and changed before heading over to the Dining Hall. It’s basically another stadium, with the lower levels transformed into a buffet style area and tables and chairs all looped together like high school all over again.

Hoseok, one of the male figure skaters, joins your table and Seokjin appears a couple minutes after, his plate piled high with all the food he could find at the buffet.

Hoseok cringes at the sight, “Jeez, dude, how many calories even is that thing?”

You and Irene peer over to see a buttload of eggs, rice, noodles, meats, and salad piled onto his tray. The both of you sigh at the sight, watching dreamily as Seokjin shoves the food endlessly into his mouth. It was your own personal mukbang broadcast.

“Uhhh two-touszhndf-mpmph” Seokjin mutters, and Hoseok glares again, cringing at the food that flies out of Seokjin’s mouth.

“Two thousand?” You balk, resting your chin in your hand as you push a cherry tomato around on your plate with your fork. “Did you increase it since last time?”

Seokjin nods, washing his huge mouthful down with a swig of orange juice. “I don’t know what it is about this weather, but I’m starving.”

Irene sighs, setting down her cup. “God, I just wanna eat a big heaping bowl of french fries and a oozy, greasy cheeseburger right about now.” Hoseok nods in forlorn agreement and you nod too, pouting at the sad dressing-less salad in front of you.

Seokjin talks again, food flying, “They have some! Over there! Can’t you sneak one? Our coaches aren’t even here.”

Irene doesn’t even bother looking. She shakes her head. “No, it’ll affect our jumps. Really. Even the slightest bit of change in our weight will throw our center of gravity off. Plus, have you seen our outfits? They’re tight as fuck.”

You nod, sighing as you swallow the last piece of cabbage. “Mine’s so tight I have to wear a stick-on bra instead of having it padded, like normal.”

Hoseok cringes, “Hell ya, mine’s so tight I have to clench my ass cheeks everytime I do a sitting spin, or else the spandex gets too tight and gives me the absolute worst wedgie.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Guys, shut up. You know who has the worst, tightest outfits? The swim team.”

The three of you stop talking, and burst in laughter as Seokjin rolls his eyes. You imagine the swim team in their tiny little speedos, junk squeezed tight and asses practically fighting to get out. You snort, “HAHA, don’t those guys ever like accidentally moon someone or like slip out of those things? I feel like they’re so small on their hips, it’ll fit around me.” You giggle, and Irene joins you, laughing at Seokjin’s disgusted expression.

He’s about to respond when a voice interrupts. “Talking about the swim team’s speedos?”

You all turn to see Park Jimin, captain of the Men’s Ice Hockey team turn up with a few of his teammates to your table. He sets his tray down next to yours, and laughs when Irene nods.

Seokjin resumes, “Okay they’re not that tight, like I won’t lose any sperm because of it. They’re just...snug.”

Irene cackles. “How do you even know?! You’re a snowboarder!”

He shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. “Sometimes when you’re boarding you need a little extra waterproof protection.”

The entire table explodes into laughter and disgust, and you join in, finally feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“Man, this makes me remember how it was in camp all those years ago, doesn’t it?” Jimin adds, and you guys all reminisce to the high school days, where athletes would attend a “athlete-morale” camp over the summer every year, which was just a sorry excuse for job-less coaches to shove down inspiring speeches and “team-building” activities down your helpless throats.

A lot of you separate into your own conversations, launching into giggles and yells of memories you all shared together. That’s how you knew so many of the Olympians here. Even though you all had different schedules and different sports and areas of interest, somehow most of you had gathered at this camp every summer without fail. And every summer, the lot of you would suffer and bitch and complain together about how stupid and useless the lessons and activities were, and plot ways to escape your cabins at night to sneak away and do some drinking or exploring. Given, you drove your camp leaders crazy. They’d never seen a group of athletes like you guys, they said as they warily sent you home after a week of sleepless nights.

Jimin nudges you. “How have you been?”

You grin, turning to him, “Good, you?”

“Same as ever,” he grins, smiling the sweet smile where his eyes would crinkle.

“Actually you look a little different, you lost a lot of your baby fat.” You reach over and pinch his cheeks, and he frowns at you humorously as you laugh. “I remember we used to call you acorn because your face was so round.”

He groans, “Seriously, I never forgave Yoongi hyung for coming up with that name.”

You laugh, sipping your coffee. “I hear you and your team won silver in nationals, congratulations.”

He sighs, “Thanks, y/n, but you know in our world, only the gold is worth congratulating for.”

You nod, “I know how that feels.” Shrugging, he agrees with you, sending you a sad forlorn apologetic smile. He probably heard down the grapevine that you’d gotten silver.

“But at least this year, you’re gonna win gold right?”

You shrug, picking at your cup. “I don’t know...the routine is really hard and I’m still jet lagged and not feeling my best. I’m getting nervous, and that anxiety was exactly why I stumbled a bit during my routine last year and lost the gold to Jennie.”

“Ah Jennie,” he recalls, “Pretty, but sort of a bitch.” He shrugs, and Irene cuts in. “Sort of? Nope, she’s such a bitch.”

The two conversations between yours and Jimin’s and Irene’s with Hoseok and Seokjin merge as Irene rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, it was ridiculous. Jennie’s routine wasn’t half as great as y/n’s but there was a slight stumble, which wasn’t even a stumble, and Jennie won. Which is ridiculous because Jennie actually tripped and had to leave out a spin on one of her turns to make sure she didn’t actually fall.”

Hoseok tips his head. “Y/n, you stumbled?”

Before you can even answer, Irene does it for you. “It was literally just a slight stumble, at most she switched her blade and landed with a bit more spark than usual.”

You shrug, nodding at Irene to thank her for explaining it. You’d had to explain it way too many times now. “Whatever, it’s past now, and there’s not much I can do about it. We’re both here now, so it’s just important that I stay focused.”

Seokjin nods. “Don’t worry, y/n. You’ll win. I’m sure of it.”

Hoseok snorts, “How?”

Seokjin makes a funny face, “Didn’t ya’ll know that I’m a genius and got voted the #1 most handsome face of the Olympians? If anyone knows things like that, it’s me.” He says, and everyone chuckles at it. Same ol’ Seokjin.

“Speaking of which, here comes #1 most “daddy” Olympian.” Hoseok comments, glancing at the entrance of the dining hall. By instinct, you turn with Irene in your chair to see Jeon Jungkook sauntering in with the rest of his snowboarding team.

The guys are gorgeous, with languid body movements, but strong bulky builds underneath all their protective waterproof jackets. Their jaws were chiseled and their looked rugged in that hot way. Jaebum, the one on Jungkook’s left was Irene’s favorite for a while, and was handsome and charming enough to even appear on a couple of variety shows and drama cameos. The snowboarders were actual celebrities back home.

You roll your eyes and turn back as quickly as possible, but not before Jungkook’s gaze settles on yours with a smirk. “I don’t even understand how that vote was even cast.” You grumble, sipping your coffee. “Seriously, out of all the other athletes, Jungkook? Gross.”

Jimin laughs. “Well, who do you think would have been #1 then?”

You groan, cringing. “To be honest, you or Seokjin.”

All of you laugh as Seokjin pumps his fist, “Yes!” He cries out, food flying out of his mouth again, to Hoseok’s horror. “I knew it. Y/n think’s I’m hotter than Jeon Jungkook!”

“Shut up!” you hiss, laughing as you try to get him to sit down, but it’s too late. At the sound of his name, Jeon Jungkook is drawn to your table like a fly to a light and grins as he walks over. “Incoming,” Irene hisses as she smiles up fakely at Jungkook.

“I heard my name, are you guys talking about me?” He drawls, grinning as he perches a hand on the back of your chair. You ignore him and eat your yogurt.

Jimin laughs, lifting a hand to shake hands with Jungkook. “’Sup dude, it’s been a while. Lookin’ good.” He smiles and you watch in disgust as Jungkook laughs, tainting Jimin’s innocent and beautiful presence with an entire bucketful of gross cocky frat-boy confidence.

“I’ve been cutting a little bit, trying to not bulk too much these days,” Jungkook shrugs, flexing his arm a little to the delight of the gymnasts a few tables over. “I started getting a little less air once I started bulking up. But you’re lookin’ better bro, you guys training a lot?”

Jimin nods, clapping the teammate next to him on a shoulder lightheartedly. He grins his charming smile again, his eyes crinkling on the sides. “Yeah, our couch has been pushing us real hard these days, but it’s been working. We’re all at our best weights of the season, and feeling real good for the upcoming games.” He smiles at you, glancing sadly at your poor little salad. “Y/n, you must be having a hard time recently too, right? Coach has us on a strict diet, but yours is probably stricter, isn’t it?”

You sigh, pushing around your cold chicken breast around on the plate for both guys to see. “I eat less than a thousand calories per day, all divided into six tiny meals. Helps keep off the weight so that I can jump higher. I can’t remember the last time I had an all-you-can-eat korean barbeque dinner. Maybe it was when I was in elementary school? Legit over a decade ago.” You shake your head as you picture the cold piece of meat as a sizzling hunk of delicious pork.

It doesn’t help.

Jungkook laughs, inviting himself to take the empty seat next to yours, his arm draped over the back. “Well, I for one, think you have an amazing body.” He winks at you and you pretend to gag as everyone chuckles at the table.

“Gross!” you exclaim, pointing your fork menacingly at him. “Don’t you have some other girls to flirt with besides me? I’ve had enough fratboy for a day.”

He grins, hand splaying across your back, warm against your skin. “Trust me, y/n, you’ll never have enough of me.” He winks and bids everyone a dumb cocky drawled “Later guys,” and walks off with his boy band team.

Hoseok grins at you, “Was I high off my painkillers for a second or did Jeon Jungkook actually flirt with you and basically imply that he wanted to bang?”

You choke on a piece of lettuce as everyone around the table nods, Irene and Seokjin chiming in with a simultaneous, “Totally.” Before turning to eachother with wide eyes and high-fiving.

“Gross!” You exclaim again for the second time that morning, washing it down with a swig of water. “Me with Jeon Jungkook? I feel my ovaries shriveling up at the thought of sleeping with that frat-boy pig.” Jimin just watches you carefully.

Hoseok shrugs, “I bet if you sleep with him, it won’t just be your ovaries shriveling up. I hear he’s great in bed.”

“Ugh! God Hoseok! Can you like not?” You cringe, and he laughs.

“I can’t help it! He’s cute!! If he swung this way, I’d jump on that even before he could even know he was gay.”

Everyone laughs and shakes their head at Hoseok’s blunt gayness, and you just grin uncomfortably as you turn back to your salad. You look up to see Jimin just watching you with a shy smile as he continues eating without a word.

After breakfast, it was time to stretch a little more and actually start skating. You say bye to the rest of the crew and make your way to the gym again with Irene. You cringe, massaging your shoulder as you walk over.

“Fuck,” you mutter, kneading the sore muscles. “My shoulder is all messed up...”

Irene turns with a worried expression. “Oh shoot, I knew that not sleeping with a neck pillow would mess with your trap muscles. Did you bring your muscle cream with you?”

Rummaging through your pack, you frown, “No...shit it really hurts though.”

She pushes you towards the dorms. “Go and get it before we get on the rink, Coach’ll kill you if she finds out you didn’t treat it before getting on the ice. You know how she is. One little painful thing and she’ll go crazy on you and make sure you get it treated and ban you from the ice until it’s better.”

You nod, biting your lip. “Don’t wait up for me!” You jog in the direction of the dorms.

It’s a bit chilly, but the cardio helps a little as you make your way up the lavish road towards the towering buildings. The olympic villages...were always nice on the outside, but pretty dumb on the inside.

Athletes were organized into country teams and shoved into tiny little apartments by gender, provided with college dormitory-style like rooms with two or three beds shoved into them with skinny little closets for your coats and stuff. You sigh as the dorm doors open to a rush of cold air, and scan your nametag before jogging over to the elevator, staring at your phone and logging your breakfast calories.

The elevator opens and you nonchalantly walk inside, but right before the doors close, a hand comes in and slams the door crevice, forcing the doors to open automatically. You frown at the noise and look up to see who it is, and your jaw drops as you see Jungkook smirking at you as he steps in the elevator. You roll your eyes and drop your neck back to your phone as your typing fingers become a little harsher at the screen of your phone.

He grins at you, “Whatcha doin’?”

“Trying to have some alone time,” you grumble, rolling your eyes at nothing in particular. He grins and somehow in his brain interprets it as an invitation to move closer and peer at your phone screen. “Sexting?”

“No, god Jungkook,” you yelp, twisting the screen away from him, “You’re still super gross.”

He laughs as the doors open and he trails after you. “This isn’t even your floor.” You grumble, walking down the hall towards your room anyway.

“This isn’t even my building, but you knew that already.” He shrugs, grinning at you. He knew you too well, and he knew that too. God, you just wanted to strangle him in that pretty little neck of his. You unlock your door and he hovers, watching you rummage around your room for the bright blue container of your muscle cream.

“So, you have a thing with the hockey player?” He leans against your door, eyeing you with a cocky smirk.

You huff and drop your duffel, giving up on finding the muscle cream you were positive you packed. Hands on your hips, you face him with a glare.

“Just because I exchanged a couple of words with Jimin doesn’t mean I’m dating him, Jungkook. I’m not like you, fucking the first thing he sees.”

He hisses between his teeth, throwing his head back as he chuckles. “Oooo that burned. Straight from the ice princess. You really chose your sport didn’t ya? Double meaning and all.”

Glaring, you roll your eyes and turn back to digging through the drawers. “Why the hell are you here? I need to apply my muscle cream.”

Grinning, he produces a condom packet from his pocket. “Guess what? These are Olympic grade. I would hate to waste them when they’re giving ‘em away so freely.” Shrugging, he gestures between the both of you. “We can see if they work as well as they’re supposed to?”

When you don’t reply, he grins again, letting the door shut behind him and lock as he saunters over to you.

“So whaddyou say, for old times sake?”

You groan, whirling around and facing him head on with a glare.

“Jungkook,” you grit, “we slept together twice. Four years ago. There is no old time’s sake.” You wave your arms dramatically.

He laughs, leaning back comfortably on your bed, and you groan. “Yeah it was four years ago, but equally as good. I mean,” he wonders, flipping the condom around in his fingers, “who knew that the goody little ice princess was actually such a freak in bed?”

You finally find the annoying little blue container and spin at him with hands on your hips. “Stop talking about that night. It never happened, okay? No one can know.” You twist open the container and unzip your jacket to reveal your sports bra and turn away from Jungkook to apply it.

He watches you struggle to reach the spot near your shoulder blade. “Need help?”

You glare at him over your shoulder. “No.”

He shrugs, “Your legs are flexible, but you know your arms not flexible enough to reach it and everyone’s out for training now. I’ll do it, no funny business.” He stands, and you glare at him but let him draw nearer as he takes the container from you.

“Turn around,” he says gently, and begins to slather on the cream into your shoulder and neck, rubbing it in so that the stickiness is absorbed completely into your skin. You wince as he rubs too hard and he apologizes, setting the container down and concentrating on not rubbing too hard.

“It wasn’t only four, you know,” he mutters, and you pause, frowning. “What?”

“We slept together twice four years ago during the games, but we also slept together a couple more times after that. Just not at the games.” He stops rubbing, and you jerk your jacket onto your shoulder again, standing up from the bed with a glare as you pack your backpack.

“Dont,” you warn, teeth gritted, “talk about that in front of anyone, ever. It could jeopardize our careers. Do you understand?! A few drunken nights together doesn’t mean anything! No matter how hot you think you are!” You storm off, jamming your shoes on and stomping outside.

The only thing you hear before the door slams shut is his cocky voice calling out, “So you think I’m hot?!”

Turn, Triple toe loop, land, Bielmann spin, stop, smile, turn again blade change.

You chant the routines in your head as you glide over the ice with the music. Although there were still 2 weeks left ahead of your actual performance, it was still crucial that you skated your program more than 10 times a day so that it was completely muscle memory by the time you stepped onto Olympic ice.

Your teammates watch carefully from the sidelines with your coach, who’s carefully scrutinizing your every move. You finish with a flourish, chest heaving as the swell of music ends.

Irene claps happily and Hoseok also joins her, cheering your name as you crumble over, hands on your knees as you heave with the effort of skating heavily for so long. Your coach steps onto the ice, patting your back as you put on your skate guards and take a seat.

“Good job Y/N,” she nods, stepping aside to let other skaters take to the ice. “Why don’t you go home today and stretch a little? You’re looking a little stiff.”

You nod, and on the corner of your eye, you see Jennie Kim step onto the ice. “Sure thing, coach, but let me stay behind and watch this one.” Coach Kim follows your gaze and softens. “Y/N,” she urges, “I don’t know if it’ll help you to watch her program.”

“It’s fine!” You reassure her with a smile and join Hoseok and Irene on the benches as the music begins.

Jennie was a phenomenal skater, everyone agreed. She was beautiful and thin and charming and knew exactly how to flirt on the ice. What you lacked in with performance skills, she excelled in with expressions and smiles, and what she lacked in technical jumps and clean cut programs, she excelled in making it look even more effortless and flirting with the audience enough to grant standing ovations and performing with a lot of emotion.

As the three of you watch her run through her program, she completes jumps and spins that you never expected her to be able to complete. “How the hell did she learn to do the triple lutz triple toe loop combo?! I thought last show she had to cut it out of her program because she couldn’t land it properly!” You hiss, and Irene shrugs, her jaw hanging open too. “I don’t know...” she says lowly, watching Jennie glide over the ice as if she were weightless. “That...that’s impossible to do within what...six weeks? Even Rose couldn’t do it like that.”

Hoseok gasps, “Oh my god, she faked that she couldn’t do it so she’d lower your expectations.”

You frown and watch her finish her routine, one she stops and gets claps from other people also watching from the stands. Your coach pats you on the shoulder. “Although her routine is a lot more complex than we thought it would be, if you execute ours perfectly, you’re bound to get a hell of a lot more points than she can. Your training is gonna pay off, don’t worry about it.”

Chewing on your lip, you nod, crossing your arms and worriedly walking out of the rink.

Your steps are heavy as you head towards the gym. Jennie and you had once been peers, two young girls who began skating together for fun and ended up enjoying it and being actually good at it. But then, somehow, somewhere within all the competition, you both had stopped doing eachother’s makeup and hair between performances, and instead had resorted to smirks and jeers as you challenged eachother.

Your gold medal or championship trophies matched the number of ones she had, and the both of you were neck to neck during every single match you could ever think of since you both became teenagers.

This was probably going to be your final or second to last Olympics, and then you would end up doing promotions for companies or becoming a trainer for the rest of your life. If you wanted to live comfortably, you would have to skate like your life depended on it, and Jennie did too. Whatever medals the both of you won today would go down in history and determine the next years to come. If you didn’t win that gold medal this year, you were determined to just retire before it became even more embarrassing.

The gym is full, with the sun high up in the air at 2pm. You can see a group of hockey players fiddling with the weights alongside the swimmers who were working the machines. The gymnasts and the female swimmers were already stretching in the padded room, and the running machines full of all types of athletes. Immediately, when you enter, the white shirt stretched over Jungkook’s back muscles is the first thing you see.

Ignoring the clenching feeling of anxiety in your gut, you head over to the stretching area to begin cooling off.

Feet out, leg as high up as you can, you coax yourself, mimicking what your coach would be telling you as of now. You can feel the stiffness, all the way back to your calves and the muscle cream from yesterday wasn’t helping all that much. Facing the mirror, you balance a hand on the beam and lean forward, lifting your leg up high far above your head as you balance on one foot, preparing for one of your spins.

Through the mirror, you see him come in, his head swiveling as he surveys the myriad of other girls stretching and then smiling wide as he jogs over to you, throwing his sweaty towel around his neck. Gross.

“So,” he says, leaning against the bar with a greasy smile. “Did you think about what I said?”

You roll your eyes and continue stretching. “How many times did I tell you that there’s absolutely nothing to talk about?”

“How many times after that night did you even have sex at all?” He scoffs, moving around to face you when you turn to switch sides.

“Did you like, even go out after that?” He prods, watching you stretch through the mirror. He wipes his sweat with the small hand towel, spraying some water from his bottle into his mouth and shaking out his sweaty bangs.

You switch legs, making another face when it strains a little. He notices, “oh, uh, do you need some help with that?”

You finally acknowledge him after twenty minutes of ignoring him. He was persistent, you had to give him that. Rolling your eyes you nod, “Do you remember how?”

“No,” he scoffs, but steps forward anyway, cradling your ankle in his larger hands. He’s hot, the cool temperature of the stretching area doing nothing to cool off his skin. He steps forward so the both of you are almost a hand width apart and places your ankle daintily on his broad shoulder. He then steps even closer, supporting your lower back with his hands and slowly pressing in to help stretch the calves and hamstrings.

You wimper a little because he’s almost an entire head and a half taller than your petite size and the leg on his shoulder is pressed almost to your chest. Squeezing your eyes shut you breathe in and out, the both of your bodies rocking slightly to accommodate the inflation of your lungs into your chest.

You can feel the heat emanating off his chest as he stands there looking down at you with the hardness of his body pressed up against the back of your thigh. It’s hard to not let your mind wander at that, flashbacks of drunken irresponsible high school days when you’d go to bed with him fucking you from behind and wake up to him kissing between your legs. And then you’d finish off with a nice hot bath and some good food. Back when you had no responsibilities, no worries, and no burdens on your shoulders.

The moment causes your mind to go a little hazy and in the fleeting few seconds of feeling vulnerable and the flood of hormones at the familIr feeling of his body against yours you whisper, “I haven’t” in response to his questions before. It’s too quiet to be heard over the high quality air conditioner whirring almost silently in the corner, but nonetheless his proximity lets him hear the two words.

He doesn’t say anything though, and lets your leg down from his shoulder and helps you get the other one onto his right shoulder. Rinse and repeat. But just as you open your mouth to say something more, a hand on the small of your back smooths over the curve of your hip and up your thigh and over to your ankle. Holding it delicately there, his hand grips it wth a firm and warm grasp, as he angles his head down to meet your questioning gaze.

“Me neither.” He whispers, and steps forward to press himself tightly against you. Your back presses against the bar and your hands flutter up from it to grip his forearms. You distinctly feel his hardness pressed against your belly.

“Seriously? Don’t lie to me Jeon Jungkook. The last time we slept together was months ago.”

“I’m serious!” You give him a glare.

“Do you…?” He trails off, and begins blinking like he does when he gets nervous.

The question lingers heavily over the hum of the running machines and air purifiers lining the training area.

His hands release your ankle and sets it gingerly on the ground, and he steps back, the warmth of his body and his chest and his hands and his breath leaving you all at once. You stumble a little back, your back resting on the bar.

Space, he was giving you space to decide.

You sigh, flexing your hands that are beginning to sweat. Your performance wasn’t for another two weeks. What did you have to lose?

Thinking about the way Jennie glided over that triple-toe-triple-lutz combination with no effort at all made you rage all the way inside, insides glowing hot from the annoyance of being fooled by her again. What was just one night of sex going to do? Your coach told you to relax and make sure you weren’t too stressed out and anxious...this...this was just an interesting way of doing it. What she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping forward, gathering your things and heading out, as he jogs after you with a surprised look. “But on one condition, Jeon Jungkook. You cannot tell anyone. Are we clear?”

He smirks, running a hand through his hair. “Clear as ice.”

“Fuck,” you wimper as the the door slams shut behind you and Jungkook crowds your personal space. He’s breathing heavily, yanking harshly at your jacket zipper until it falls to the ground and your sports bra is all you’re wearing on top. He unzips that too and lets it fall to the ground, kissing you senselessly, lips moving against yours and drawing out your breaths and moans.

“God I missed this,” he breathes, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist you tongue at his neck as he sets you on his bed and strips off his jacket. “Did you miss me too?” He smirks as he sucks on your nipple crewdly and you moan in response, hips bucking up into his.

“No--oh my god” you keen when he yanks down your legging and rubs at you through your underwear. Your hand flies down to grip his wrist, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. “Oh-- fuck, please don’t stop.”

He just chuckles and yanks your underwear band aside to reveal your dripping core, sliding his fingers in you with no obstruction at all. “Oh shit, Y/N, you’re so fucking wet,” he grumbles, nipping at your breast as you mewl and twist under the onslaught of sensations.

“Take your pants off,” you breathe, panting harshly as he kneels up to peel his shirt off, revealing white milky skin, textured with taught lines and lean muscle. You help him untie the strings on his sweatpants, nimble fingers working desperately at the waistband until Jungkook gets impatient and just yanks it down his hips along with his boxers.

While he grabs a condom, you yank off your panties, pushing him to sit up against the headboard of the bed. You straddle him, throwing a thigh over his hips and resting your hands on his shoulders for leverage.

Were his shoulders always this broad?

You shake away the thought as he grips himself and guides himself to your center, rubbing his sensitive tip against your wetness and smearing it around to make it more comfortable. You busy yourself with sucking a hickey against his collarbone, licking and biting until the clean flesh becomes red and inflamed and shiny with your spit.

“Ready?” He breathes out, pupils blown out as he pants up at you. You nod and lower yourself on him slowly, and Jungkook moves his hand from gripping himself to settle and help you guide your hips down onto him. The both of you moan when you bottom out, panting and gripping each other desperately. When the stretch isn’t so bad, you rock your hips slowly back and forth, not yet bouncing up and down on him yet.

The movement stimulates your clit against his pelvis and you moan, throwing your head back and looping your arms around his neck as you continue to swivel your hips on him. Jungkook sits there, eyes heavy lidded as he watches you with a slight smile on his lips. His hand raises to curl your hair over your shoulder, his hand following and resting on your neck as he leans down to kiss against your neck, tongue laving heavily, hot and wet against your skin as you cling to him.

He’s marking you too, focusing on the area right where your jawline meets your ear and nibbling against it, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin, making you moan. “Jungkook,” you whine, and he seems to understand what you’re asking for when his hand settles on your hips again and he begins to guide you up and down his length.

The extra stimulation gets him going and he cringes. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grits his teeth and his hairline begins to dot with sweat at the effort. “I...I’m gonna cum s-soon.”

“Already?” You gasp, opening your eyes to ask him. He nods, biting his lip as he groans, his jaw falling open. “I-it’s been a r-really long t-time. And you feel s-so fucking good. Hngh.” He groans as you squeeze around him in response to his praise.

“Okay,” you breathe, “Just wait for me, hold on.” You reach down and rub your clit in wide circles, gathering the wetness from where you and Jungkook meet, and pressing into your clit with the pads of your fingers. Jungkook just buries his face into your neck, panting harshly against your collarbone as you continue to swivel your hips, moaning and rubbing like your life depended on it.

With the feeling of Jungkooks lips on your nipples and his hands roaming your body, and his dick reaching parts of you that your fingers can’t even think of stimulating, and along with the 7-month-long hiatus from sex with him, you find yourself reaching the edge fairly quickly.

“O-oh shit, Jungkook,” you whisper, letting him take over in rubbing circles on your clit, “I-I’m gonna---” You bite down on his shoulder, dampening the moans that tumble out of your mouth as you topple over the edge. At the sensation, Jungkook cums almost simultaenously as he finally lets himself go, and his moans spur you on as you quake over him and both your hips stutter at the overwhelming rush of pleasure.

You pant and tremble as the sensations run through your entire body, your eyes rolling back as you moan and mewl and say whatever the fuck is coming out of your mouth right now at the feelings. But apparently it’s not completely and utterly horseshit that you’re muttering right now because Jungkook rocks up into you, riding out his own high and groaning your name loudly as his orgasm subsides.

He laughs a little when he finishes, and the action makes him move a bit inside of you and you cringe, muttering a “ew you’re so sticky,” as you climb off of him. He stands after you, following you into the shower and flushing down the condom. Grinning and leaning against the doorway, he watches you climb into the shower and hose down your body.

“How the hell were you hooked up with your own room? And bathroom?” You mutter, using the body wash there to clean off all the sweat.

When he doesn’t respond, you turn, but a hand snakes around your waist. “Let me,” he murmurs, grabbing the soap from you and running along your back, his warm hands scratching over your skin. You let your head fall back at the sensation as he focuses a little too much on your breasts, swirling over the nipple with circular motions and gentle hands. “Again?”

“Let’s save water,” he grins and you let him.

You don’t save any water that day. It was 44 minutes too long.

“Let’s go get some food,” Jungkook whines, as you both finish, collapsing on the bed with panting breathes as you come down from your high. His hands cradle your waist as you take a moment to gather yourself before you prop yourself up.

“Huh?” You wrinkle your nose down at him, propping your arms on his chest.

He laughs, sitting up and grabbing his shirt. “You said you were hungrier earlier. And we barely ate today, after gymming in the morning. I’m starving,” he whines, pouting at you and you laugh, rolling off of his bed to grab your clothes.

“I can’t,” you whine, pouting at your belly and poking the skin there. “If coach finds out I’m eating anything other than the diet we’re limited to, she’ll kill me.”

He rolls his eyes, shrugging on a hoodie. “Oh god,” he groans, pulling on his baggy pants with easy. “You’re literally skinnier than some models that I’ve slept with.”

You glare at him when he mentions the models and he laughs guiltily. “Sorry,” he grins, “But it’s true. You can afford to eat whatever you like. C’mon, just one meal won’t hurt.”

You sigh, pulling on your leggings and a clean pair of underwear. Somehow...you ended up having a stash of underwear hidden deep within Jungkook’s drawers.

“Fine,” you grumble, but the grin on your face says otherwise. It’d been ages since you ate anything other than the planned dietary foods prepared for you by your coach and parents. This...this time wouldn’t be too bad. No one would notice.

“Where’s my phone?” You grumble, digging through the bedsheets and your bag as you search for it.

Jungkook shrugs, shaking out his hair. “I’ll meet you outside, gonna pee before we go.”

You shrug him off and he leaves, and you finally find the device and slip it into your pocket. You also grab Jungkook’s really baggy hoodie and pull it over your thin workout spandex long sleeve and leggings, relishing in the way his smell floods your senses as the warm and soft fabric tumbles down your body all the way to your mid-thigh. Grinning, you turn to open the door, calling out, “Jungkook I--”

Standing down the hall, with a packet of yogurt hanging from his lips and eyes as wide as yours, is Seokjin. His hand lingers on his doorknob, and he balks at you as you stand in Jungkook’s single room, in his clothes, and takes one glance at the messy room full of your stuff and mussed up bedsheets, and connects the dots immediately.

“Seokjin...” you breathe, eyes darting to the main entrance.

“What the fuck?” He sputters, pulling out the plastic packet from his mouth and stomping up to you. “You’re the girl that Jungkook’s been fucking?”

You bite your lip, trying to rack up any excuse, but you come up blank. “Oh my god, Seokjin, you can’t tell anyone! Not even Irene, if coach finds out she’ll kill me---”

He whisper-yells at you. “Have you even met our coach? He’ll rip our balls off one by one if he knew Jungkook was slacking off in any way.”

“Also,” he adds, frowning, “How dare you?! I thought you said he was gross.”

You grin sheepishly. “It just happened...the stress and all, and there’s a lot of time in 3 weeks for 24 hours...”

He shakes his head trying to get the image of you out of his head. “God,” he hisses, “I’ve been trying to set the two of you up for years! And all you two did was give me shit for it. Little did I know you two were already getting it on,” he glances behind him, to the vicinity of his room, whipping back around to you furiously. “And right next to my room?!”

You sigh, gripping his arm. “C’mon Seokjin I know you won’t tell, but I need you to say it out loud. Please, promise me you won’t tell.”

He sighs, groaning at you before relenting. “Alright, fine. But only because you gave me really yummy vitamins next week and medicine for my constipation.”

You grin, reaching up to hug him. When he leaves for his room, Jungkook finally emerges from the restroom, grinning. “Whatcha two talkin’ about?” He grins, cocking his chin at Seokjin’s door.

You march up to him, punching him hard. He doubles over, winded. “What the fuck Jungkook?!” you hiss, “I thought you said no one’s home before 3!”

He winces, groaning and clutching his stomach. “Jeez woman,” he croaks, “Who the fuck taught you how to punch?”

You smirk, “Get up. I’m hungry now.” He grins as he leads you to the front door. He reaches down and pulls the hood of his sweater up and around your head, bunching it low over your eyes. “Good,” he comments, doing the same to his own. “We can’t get caught sneaking out. I know of a way.” He winks and leads you down the elevator and towards the edge of the campus.

“Where?” You hiss, jogging after him.

He grins at you, pulling you alongside him with a warm hand that curls around yours. “Just trust me.” He walks straight for where the trash deposits are, and you wrinkle your nose at the smell of rotting food and boxes of cardboard strewn messily in the garage. But in the corner, you can clearly see a door marked with a red EXIT sign.

“That’s the only one that doesn’t lock, all around campus,” he explains, slowly and gently opening it and glancing around to make sure the coast is clear before jogging out with you. “The others have cameras or guards, but this one I guess was forgotten with all the other construction that was going on.”

You hmm in agreement and relish in the way Jungkook’s hand feels against yours. It’s a lot bigger, and his long fingers curl all the way to the middle of your palm, where his thumb strokes gently and warmly against your smooth skin. Feeling the way your hand is freezing cold, he pockets both your hands in his jacket pockets, nesting both your hands in the warm comforts of his down jacket.

After a bit of walking, you make it to a decently crowded pedestrian area where he leads you to a corner of the street, where a tiny snack shop sits. Your mouth waters at the sight of a couple people inside, drinking hot soups and chowing down on instant ddukbokki’s and kimbap’s and ramen bowls that made your stomach churn with anticipation.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, as Jungkook grins at you and leads you up to the stands, taking a seat in the corner. He still doesn’t let go, letting your intertwined hands rest on the plastic foldable table. “How did you find this place?” you whisper, after he orders a heaping pile of food for the both of you.

“It’s a secret passed down through the snowboarding team for generations,” he winks, grinning when the cook brings over a steaming pile of rice cakes and korean pancakes and kimbap for you both to start on. You use the skewer to grab a piece and pop it into your mouth, humming and grinning at the wonderful taste of spicy and sweet that bursts within your mouth. Moaning at the sensation, you skewer a few more pieces into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he explains.

“The hyungs would sneak out every chance we get. Our coach is a little...stiff and strict, but he lets us do this sort of in an apology for how strict he usually is.”

You nod, chewing and washing it down with a sip of hot soup. “And does he come with you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, using his free hand to grab a kimbap and chew on it. “Nope, he lets us have our thing. It’s like a tradition. I think this year, the team plans to come back here at least a few more times before we have to go back.”

You grin, happily finishing up the plate of rice cakes. Staring at the empty bottom in horror you gulp. “Oh shit, when did I finish this whole thing?” You frown, trying to count the calories in your head. “Fuck, I’m screwed.” Dropping your skewer, you feel tears of shame brimming in your eyes.

Jungkook just frowns and shakes his head. He calls out for another order and you protest, but he just retorts, “Even the people with the best bodies let themselves have cheat days for goodness sake. You need this, Y/N. Don’t just de-stress with sex, rejuvenate with some food too.”

You melt under his worried words and grin, sheepishly nodding when he hands you a new skewer.

“Thanks Jungkook,” you whisper, taking another sip of the delicious ramen. “I love this place.”

He grins, his hand curling around yours tighter.

Once the both of you finish eating, he takes you around a bit more to explore, and then the both of you stumble back into his dorm.

“Oh my god,” He mumbles into your neck as you unbuckle his jeans and slip a hand down his boxers. “Your hands are freezing,” he grits, licking and kissing at your neck as you pump him tightly in your fist.

You giggle, letting him undo the zipper of your jacket and slide your jumper off of your torso. His hands fall heavily on your breasts, cradling them and letting their weight fall into his palms as he presses you into his warm bed. “Yours too,” you pant, the end of your declaration hitching up into a moan as he moves his mouth down to suck harshly at your nipple before tenderly running his warm tongue over it.

“Let me warm you up,” he moans, and you remove your hand from his pants as he gets busy getting rid of yours. Once completely off and your leggings and panties thrown haphazardly over his shoulder, he hikes your thighs up over his shoulders and licks a warm stripe up your slit.

Your head falls back onto the pillows, abs tensing as Jungkook gets to work, his warm mouth and tongue laving all over your lips and slit, maneuvering in patterns that make you twist and turn like putty under his hands. Your own hands are gripping at his forearms crossed over your belly, anchoring you to the bed, nails digging into his cold skin and scratching at the nape of his neck where you hold the strands of his hair tightly.

“F-fuck,” you moan, hips jostling against his arms, “I-I can’t...Jungkook, just put it in...” you beg, core clenching as he boldly pushes you right up against the point of tipping over. But no matter how good you taste and how beautiful you sound and look right now, Jungkook also agrees that the best way to watch you cum is when you’re writhing underneath him.

“Fine,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at you.

So he licks one last cheeky stripe up against your clit, the rough pad of his tongue stimulating you enough to make you jump before he gets up, carding off his shirt and pants as he climbs up your body and meets you in the middle with a sloppy kiss.

He hastily puts on the condom and slides into you with no intrusion, settling his warm weight on yours, chest against yours and hips gently rocking into your core. You moan and clutch at him desperately, throwing your arms around his neck and curling your legs around him like a vice.

Jungkook lets out a strangled moan of your name, stuttering, “Sh-shit, don’t clench, y-you’re so fucking tight,” he grits, and when you see the way his jaw tenses in the effort to not cum too fast, you can’t help but lean up and nip teasingly at his ear and scrape your teeth against the sharp jawline.

“C’mon,” you whisper, whining as he begins rutting into you faster, “Hurry,” you moan, and Jungkook leans up, detaching from your neck to sit up a bit better and piston his hips into you, angling himself just enough so the tip of his cock slides and taps right against the spot that has your toes curling and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. You moan and pant and whine like an animal in heat as Jungkook wipes the sweat off his brow, and gets this steely look on his face as he drives home.

The both of you finish, eachother’s names on the tip of your tongues and moans as you huskily whine and pant, bodies trembling with the overexertion of so much sex and the overwhelming pleasure of both your climaxes.

Jungkook collapses on you, breathing heavily, and you let him stay there, kissing small innocent, apologetic kisses into the soft flesh of your chest as he comes down from his high.

You begin giggling, as he does so, cringing a bit from the oversensitivity of the orgasm and laughing at the tickling feeling of his lips smoothing so softly over your skin.

“One more time?” He asks, and he instantly feels the way your breath hitches and shudders at the suggestion.

You smirk down at him, bringing him in for a kiss.

“Of course,” you whisper against his lips, smiling as he grins and meets you halfway again.

You didn’t go home at all that night.

tbd!

#bangtan bookclub #bts fics #bts smut #jungkook fics #jungkook smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts #jungkook #writing #fics #snow and ice

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yinxiong · 6 years

Text

the sun is always setting somewhere else

Characters: Lee Haechan x Reader (3rd person perspective)

Genre: drabble + fluff, oneshot

Word count: 2428

Summary: all that glitters is not gold, but maybe the boy who walks in sunlight would beg to differ.

Notes: inspired by Lisa Oppenheim’s photograph series I saw at a museum recently (should definitely search it up). also not really sure where this story went, or why it ends so badly, but it used up the last of my fanfic juices, so enjoy :)) (also for my evil hyuck stans @hyu-ck and @thorns-and-bumpy-roads <3)

she’s stuck.

stuck in her room, stuck in her house, stuck in the suffocating world of pretty dresses and shoes and glitter and money, money, money.

she’s sick of it.

“if you’re so sick of it, why don’t you just leave?”

she glares at the boy lounging on her king-sized bed, sinking into the plush velvet pillows as he taps away on his nintendo.

“easy for you to say. you’re just working here for the summer. you don’t have to live in this ugly world of gold forever.”

“yeah, but you can at least leave the house. no one is stopping you from going down to the carpark and taking one of those oh, i don’t know, shiny porsches and making a run down the hill. i’d say you’d get halfway to the main gate before they even notice your room is empty.” he snaps the gum in his mouth and blows a bubble, eyes fixed on the screen and not even sparing her a single glance. (not that she cared, or anything. she doesn’t care for much these days.)

“might i remind you that the reason i’m grounded right now is because i tried to do that last week with my father’s motorbike?”

he simply shrugs and pops another bubble, “you just chose the wrong vehicle. those things don’t cover like my shiny four-wheelers. plus, why would you take one of his personal bikes? he doesn’t even let me touch them, let alone you.”

“maybe i just wanted some attention,“ she grumbles, throwing a poorly-aimed pillow at his head (it misses). “no one remembers i exist unless i do something bad.”

he suddenly jumps up and rolls off the bed, shaking out his caramel hair streaked with blue and pink so it’s falling daintily over his forehead (she wonders if it feels as soft as it looks).

“wanna get something to eat? i’m starving.”

“from the kitchens? i’m so sick of eating gourmet food,” she sighs for the nth time that day, flopping down on the too-comfortable mattress in defeat.

“who said anything about gourmet food? i’m in the mood for some ramen.”

it takes her a moment to register his words.

“you mean you’re going out?” sitting up, she furrows her brow in confusion. “you don’t have a car.”

he smirks and waggles a finger dramatically, “yeah but i can always borrow one.”

she stares at him blankly, “they moved the keys so we wouldn’t be able to get into them.”

her ears are met with a soft groan, though instead of frustration she catches a hint of amusement in his tone, “you’re literally so dumb. makes sense you’re always stuck in here.”

“shut up, hyuck.”

“just kidding, angel.”

with a chuckle, he pulls a bright red key from thin air, dangling it in front of her face triumphantly, “you forget that i literally live in the carpark. i’m the one who moved the keys, so guess who has a ride out of this place?”

she scoffs, unable to hide her grin, “idiot. where are we going?”

reaching out, she makes a grab for the ticket to freedom, but before she can even brush her fingers against the plastic, he’s jerking his arm back with a teasing smile, “who said you were coming with me? i’m pretty sure you’re grounded-”

“hyuck!”

it’s been approximately forty-seven minutes since she’s left the mansion riding shotgun in the cherry red mercedes-benz convertible donghyuck snagged (so much for stealth), and so far there’s been no sight of any security car or helicopter out to hunt them down. maybe they could pull off this escapade after all.

“if you fall out because you leaned too far, i’m not responsible,” he shouts against the roar of the wind, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at his disguised worry.

“it’s better than having to go back to that hellhole.”

“normally i’d argue, but you’re being exceptionally annoying about it today so sure.”

“be quiet and just keep driving, please.”

“what does it look like i’m doing?”

she turns around to shoot him a glare, “i’m pretty sure i said to ‘be quiet’ too, though it sounds like you’re doing the exact opposite.”

he raises an eyebrow above the ridiculous gold-rimmed sunglasses perched on his nose – a complimentary gift scavenged from the glove box – and gives her (or what she assumes to be) a pointed look.

“who said i had to listen to you? my car, my rules.”

“my family owns this car, hyuck.”

“well i’m driving, angel, so better deal with it. unless you want to go to that business party at seven o’clock tonight, and i’m pretty sure that’s at the very bottom of your to-do list right now.”

sighing in defeat, she crosses her arms and falls back into the seat, watching the pristine emerald lawns of rich properties bloom into landscapes of rugged mountains and stubborn trees, grass now running rampant in their true realm. it makes her feel a little better, to know that no matter how hard they try, humans could never conquer the wild spirit of nature.

closing her eyes, she unties her hair and lets the wind take it up in its greedy hands, combing through with an untamed freedom she doesn’t remember experiencing in a very long time.

perhaps there’s still a little hope left for her.

the closest city is not much of a city at all, just an assortment of sun beat shops and motels surrounded by tiny houses dotted along a single road, but it’s filled with people who don’t eat and sleep in money, who don’t give a shit about whether their champagne tastes french enough or not (they don’t even drink champagne here).

for the first time in ages, she’s able to breathe.

“convenience store ramen has never tasted so good,” she sighs, happily slurping down the sodium-packed bane of her mother’s existence. “i missed being unhealthy.”

“if we were closer to seoul, i’d take you to the little ramen shop my brother works at.” donghyuck drums his fingers on the tiny wooden table they’re crowded up against, watching her attack the bowl he abandoned. “they make the best noodles in the entire country.”

“even better than the ones chef lee makes?”

“a hundred times better.”

“you better swear on it.”

he places a hand on her head and ruffles her hair playfully, “of course, angel. anything for you.”

his voice is void of mirth, replaced with something new, something bordering a fondness that makes her pause mid-bite.

she’s never noticed that before.

“what’s your favorite thing to do in the summer? besides stealing cars and hiding in my room because mrs. park will have your head if she catches you skipping jobs?”

tilting his head, he props an arm beneath his chin so she can catch the familiar twinkle in his eye. “why the sudden question? i thought we were on strict ‘no invading personal space’ terms.”

“shut up, you broke that the moment you started hanging out in my room.” huffing, she turns away so he wouldn’t see the sudden flush in her cheeks. “i just… never asked you about your life outside of mine. you’ve been here for two months but i don’t think i know much besides what music you like and which video games you play instead of studying.”

he blinks, pink lips parting slightly in surprise before he snaps out of his daze and gently prods her in the shoulder, “well, angel, it’s never too late to find out.”

the sun is skating across the surface of the water when donghyuck pulls up to the beach. jumping out the moment he stops the car, she begins running toward the water, not even stopping to check if he was behind her.

she gets about halfway there before stumbling to a stop in the sand.

“wow, thanks for waiting, angel. i didn’t know you were this excited to see my favorite place in the area,” he pants when he finally catches up. glancing at her face, he furrows his brow when recognizing her lost expression. “what’s wrong?”

she glances down at her trembling hands, then back up to see his concerned eyes. brown and warm and laced with an emotion she doesn’t know.

“i’ve never gotten this far before, hyuck.”

there’s a soft touch on her fingers, and he’s squeezing the anxiety from her nerves.

“hey, it’s going to be okay. i’m here with you,” he smiles, so sweet and genuine and she wonders why there are two suns in the sky. “don’t you want to see the sunset?”

somehow she manages to nod, and the next thing she knows they’re standing at the place where the sea kisses dry land.

“whenever i miss my family, i convince doyoung to lend me a car and drive out here. it’s only been a few times though.”

“did you come here a lot with them?”

he laughs, a melodious sound that turns her insides to melted chocolate. “nah, only once with my brother when he got me the job. we were just passing by, actually, but the sky was covered in purple and he just had to stop the car and take a picture.”

“oh. why is it so special to you then?”

he pauses, watching the lazy waves crawl ashore in scattered petals of white foam.

“before we left, he told me… he told me that no matter how far apart we were, the sun will always be setting somewhere. like it doesn’t matter where, but as long as i remember we still see the same sun every day, it’ll set and we’ll be a day closer to seeing each other again. kind of silly, i know.”

she takes a breath, inhaling the salty sweet air and letting the foreign scent wash through her mind.

“i don’t think it’s silly.”

his hand falls from hers as he flashes her a look of surprise. “really?”

“yes, really.” shrugging, she steps closer to the water, sticking out a foot as if daring the sea to lash out and pull her in. “if anything, i think that’s beautiful.”

from behind, she hears a light scoff, and she feels the corners of her lips lift up.

“you’re not really so bad, you know.”

“wow, i’m touched. what makes you think that?”

“most rich kids are really dumb and pretentious after growing up in money, but you’re nothing like them. you have real dreams and never looked down on someone poor like me.”

she almost loses her balance when she whips around to find him staring at the sand, hands shoved in his pockets and looking so, so small.

it makes her heart twinge.

“poor? you, poor?” a loud laugh of disbelief tumbles from her mouth. “how could someone who spends his entire summer working at a hellhole just to help support his family, someone who listened to the broken girl when no one else would, someone who saw me as something more than a spoiled brat and actually became my first friend, ever be poor?”

“angel, i’m working for you because i have no money. i’m literally poor.”

she shakes her head and grasps at his sweater sleeves, trying to find the ends of his heartstrings sewn into the seams.

“donghyuck, you have a heart of gold. you’re the richest person i’ve ever met.”

finally catching his fingers again, she looks up at his glowing honey face, the amber flecks of sun dancing in his eyes sending her into a mesmerized daze that steals her breath away.

their shoes are wet and the water is freezing, but she feels warm, oh so warm, when his firm arms wrap around her numb body and squeezes the lifelessness from her veins.

he smells like cinnamon and peaches and late summer bonfires, and she never wants to let go.

“you deserve so much more than what they see.”

the summer ends as fast as it came.

“angel, you have my number. just because you’re going across the ocean for a few months doesn’t mean you can’t contact me.”

she angrily bites down on her lip, blinking back the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes in frustration.

“i’m going to miss you.”

he chuckles and runs a hand through his faded hair, and she almost hits him for looking so pretty when she’s about to cry.

“well me too, angel, but it’s not like you’ll never see me again. i still have to take you out for ramen, remember?”

“can’t i just not get on the plane?”

“i don’t think how it works, angel.”

“don’t call me that, it’s just going to make me miss you more.”

with an angry huff, she shoves the stuffed bear he won her at a carnival into his arms, stomping away as childlike as she dares.

“christ, why are you so cute even when throwing a fit?” he mumbles, picking up her abandoned belongings and chasing after the spirited girl. “hey angel, wait. i have a gift for you.”

she counts to five seconds before slowing to a stop, listening to his rushed footsteps and the jingle of keychains bouncing on her bags until he stumbles into view. from his sweater, he pulls out a polaroid camera, finally revealing the reason behind the bulge in his pocket she’d been so suspiciously staring at since leaving the car.

“remember what i told you that evening at the beach? well, i thought that since it worked for me, it might work for you too.” clearing his throat, he holds it out as a peace offering, a smile ghosting his heart-shaped lips when she hesitantly accepts the present. “for each time you miss me to the point of going insane – which i really hope you don’t, that would be really hard to explain to your parents – i want you to go and take a picture of the sunset. doesn’t matter where or how pretty, just a sunset. that way, you’ll remember that we’re still connected, and we’re one day closer to seeing each other again. how does that sound?”

one pause turns to two, three. yet still he stands there, patient and waiting with his heart on his sleeve.

“hyuck?”

“yeah?”

“can i kiss you?”

“well if you’re really that desperate, angel, i guess-”

there’s nothing more satisfying than the feeling of being able to shut donghyuck up, and with his soft sighs and sweet lips and gentle hands tangling in her hair, she knows this is something she could definitely get used to.

fin.

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scribbles-by-kate · 6 years

Text

A Girlfriend for Christmas - Chapter One

Neal never thought his mother would take his invitation to come for Christmas seriously, but she did. Having made things awkward, he proceeds to make them even more awkward by telling a lie about his friend Belle, also staying for Christmas, and his father, but can a lie become the truth?

Think this will be about five chapters. It'll end up an E rating, but it's general up until about the midpoint of chapter four.

A Girlfriend for Christmas

Chapter One

The place was beautiful. Belle gasped as the house came into view. Neal had called it the cabin, but it was really a rather large, well-kept house, sitting right on the lake front. The only thing cabin-like about it was that it was built of wood and stone. It reminded her more of a ski lodge, though, than a forest cabin.

'It's lovely, Neal,' she said.

'Grandpa says the lake should be frozen enough to skate on,' Henry informed her.

'That sounds amazing,' she said. 'Lucky I brought my skates.'

Neal and his family had invited her to spend Christmas with them here. She didn't have family around, and Ariel and Eric, whom she usually spent Christmas with, were away for the holidays this year, so she'd been at a loose end until Neal and Emma invited her to come with them.

At first she'd demurred. 'I don't want to put your father out,' she'd said to Neal. It was his house, and he would be there too.

Neal had waved her off. 'Papa will kill me if he finds out I left you alone on Christmas,' he'd said. 'You and he know each other. You get along, right?'

Yes, they did, very well, but Belle had insisted he call his father then and there to check that it was ok that she join them. Neal had done as she asked and then smiled and handed the phone to her after talking to his father for a few moments.

'Wants to talk to you,' he'd said.

'Belle, do come,' Tristan Gold had said. 'Please, it'll be lovely to see you. Say yes.'

So she had, and now she was here, the day before Christmas Eve, climbing out of the car in the crisp air, the forest and the water and the house in her eyeline, and then the door opened and Tristan Gold appeared.

He was not a tall man, but he commanded attention. He was smart and shrewd, the best negotiator in the business, she'd read. He was famous. The deal maker, they called him, and, indeed, he must be good at it, because it had gotten him this lovely house, along with a house in Boston and an apartment in New York. He probably had property in other cities too. He was a very wealthy man anyway.

He smiled now as Henry ran to him. He loved his family. Belle had known him for a year or so, since Neal brought him along to a library fundraiser, and she'd seen him with his son and grandson several times over that time. As busy as he was with his work, he'd drop everything for his family. He'd raised Neal practically by himself, and helped out a lot when Neal and Emma found themselves young parents. Family came first for him.

He'd also been kind to her. He'd made a very generous donation to the library the night they met, and every time they'd met since, he'd shown an interest in her, chatted to her about books and art and music. They had a lot in common, and she liked him very much.

She found him very easy on the eye too. He had a lovely smile, warm brown eyes, and lovely silky-looking hair. He'd actually cut it recently, and it had taken a bit of getting used to. She had liked it when he wore it to his collar, but she found she also liked the way it curled now, and it was still long enough to bury fingers in in intimate moments.

Belle blushed at that thought, but at least she could blame her red cheeks on the cold. She really shouldn't be thinking thoughts like that about him, but he made it very difficult not to. Neal would kill her if he knew she thought this way about his father.

She smiled as Neal hugged his father now. They were very close. While things were tense with his mother, Neal had a wonderful relationship with his father.

'Emma.' he greeted now. 'How lovely.' And he hugged his daughter-in-law.

Then he spotted Belle. His smile was warm and welcoming.

'Belle, you came, I'm so glad.'

'Hello, Tristan. What a beautiful place you have here,' she enthused. 'Merry Christmas.'

He hugged her. 'Merry Christmas, Belle,' he murmured. And as soon as he hugged her, Gold knew he'd be thinking about doing just that, and more than that, for the entire holiday.

Belle was gorgeous. She was also smart and sweet and kind. Neal had introduced them last year, and, before the night was over, he'd had the thought that he'd love to ask her out, but she surely had better options in her own age range, so he didn't. A year later, and here she was, staying for Christmas, and he was even more smitten than he had been a year ago.

'Come on in and get warm,' he invited. 'There's a nice fire going, and there's hot chocolate ready, with cinnamon for grating for those who like it with cinnamon.'

'Awesome, thanks, Papa,' Neal said, heading towards the door.

'Hold on, son, you get to help me with the bags first,' Gold called.

'Right, forgot,' Neal said, turning around.

Gold rolled his eyes and Belle saw and giggled. He smiled and so did she.

Neal smirked as they stared at each other. They were so obviously into each other. If something hadn't happened by tomorrow, he was going to lock them in a room until they admitted their feelings for each other.

'I can take my bag in,' Belle said.

'Absolutely not,' Gold returned. 'You're a guest, Belle. We'll be in in a minute.'

She smiled, relenting. 'Why thank you,' she said, and skipped after Emma and Henry.

The interior was as lovely as the exterior. The entryway was light and airy, with a rose window high up and exposed beams to add to the rustic feel. The living space was open and light too, with a lovely fireplace and views of the lake and the forest. The dining area flowed through to the kitchen at the back, overlooking the lake, and she guessed that the bedrooms upstairs overlooked the lake also.

A Christmas tree stood bare in the living room, boxes of ornaments sitting beside it, waiting for the Golds to decorate it. Henry had told her it was a tradition that they all decorated the tree together. There were already decorations hung in the living room, and up along the stairs. She guessed that Tristan had been busy all day, getting everything ready for his family.

How lovely, she thought, as she took off her coat and scarf, and hung them on the coat stand. Such a beautiful, relaxing place.

Emma and Henry were helping themselves to hot chocolate with marshmallows and cinnamon in the kitchen. Belle found them and helped herself to some at their invitation, but she did without the marshmallows and cinnamon, preferring just to taste the chocolate.

'Don't know what you're missing,' Henry said, and she smiled.

'My mother used to make it with a dollop of cream and chocolate shavings on top,' she said.

'Mm, that does sound good,' Emma said. 'I'm sure Dad's got cream and chocolate somewhere.'

'I do,' Gold said, coming in. 'Would you like some, Belle? Here, let me.' And he took her cup and added a dollop of cream and some grated chocolate.

'Thank you,' Belle said softly, smiling.

'You're quite welcome,' Gold returned. 'I'm not a cinnamon person myself,' he said confidentially. 'Not sure what the appeal is for this lot, honestly.'

'Cinnamon's awesome,' Henry insisted. 'Where's Dad?'

'Bringing the last of the bags up,' Gold said. 'You brought a lot this year.'

'That was Mom,' Henry claimed.

'Hey!'

'Oh, don't worry, Emma, I know a certain person refused to leave home without his video games, and the console, and an extra controller.'

'Hey, I was just being considerate of you guys,' Henry said, shrugging, 'in case you wanted to play too.'

'Em, next year, don't let the kid bring so much,' Neal called, panting as he came into the kitchen. 'It's not like we're not gonna have to bring twice as much home, Henry,' he added, 'since a certain person buys too many gifts.'

'I know you're not talking about me,' Gold said. 'I had a word with Santa's elves after last year, so I don't think there'll be as much extravagance this year.'

'Yeah, right,' Neal returned, not believing that for a second. 'We're not gonna fit all of us in the car going home with all the gifts.'

Gold held his hands up, pleading innocence, and Belle smiled at the scene. They were such a lovely, loving family.

Gold caught her eye and winked, and she giggled. Yes, no doubt Neal was right and there would be many presents for young Henry this Christmas.

'Alright, who wants to decorate the tree?' Gold asked.

'Me!' Henry yelled.

'Not so loud, kid,' Emma said.

'Oops, sorry. Can we, Grandpa?'

'We can,' his grandfather said.

'Cool.' And Henry ran off.

Emma and Neal followed.

'Better make sure he doesn't just throw everything on there,' Neal said as he followed his wife.

'Belle, I hope you'll join us,' Gold said.

'Oh, it's your family thing. I don't want to intrude,' she demurred.

'None of that,' he scolded. 'You could never intrude. Come on, bring your hot chocolate with you.'

So she did, smiling, and the five of them had a blast arranging the ornaments on the tree.

Before they were finished, though, the jovial scene was interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door.

'Who on earth can that be?' Gold wondered, going to investigate. No one else was expected. Everyone else followed, equally curious.

'Milah?' Gold said, shocked, as he opened the door to his ex-wife.

'Surprise!' she said.

'What are you doing here, Milah?' Gold asked, not at all pleased to see her.

'Well, I thought I'd join you all for Christmas. Neal said I should, so here I am.'

'Shit,' Neal growled under his breath. Emma nudged him in the ribs for swearing in front of their son. Shit, he was in so much trouble...

'Neal?' his father demanded.

'Well, I guess I kinda did?' he said sheepishly. 'Pretty sure I meant it sarcastically, though. I never thought she'd actually come.'

'Neal,' his father growled.

'Oh, come on! Ma doesn't do rustic. Who could guess she'd actually take me up on it?'

'Oh, for God's sake,' Gold said, rubbing a hand over his face.

He had a pretty good idea what had happened. His smart arse son decided to fuck with his mother on one of the rare occasions they shared a meal together. He'd probably had a bit too much to drink as well, which never helped matters, because he got very sarcastic when he was drunk, but Milah was hopeless at recognising sarcasm for what it was. Well, she was so narcissistic as well that she probably assumed everyone wanted her around all the time, so, when Neal said something like 'yeah, you should totally come to the cabin for Christmas: Papa would love to see you', the woman had got it into her head that it was a genuine invitation.

'Well, aren't you going to let me in, Tristan?' Milah demanded. 'It's bloody freezing out here.'

He opened the door in silence. He couldn't tell her to leave. She'd spread nasty gossip all over Boston if he didn't welcome her, and he didn't need the headache of refuting whatever she said. If he let her stay, she'd get bored quickly and go back to the city. Neal was right: Milah did not do rustic, and there was not a lot to do out here that would appeal to her.

'Emma, Henry, how nice to see you both,' Milah was saying now.

'Hey, Milah,' Emma returned.

'Hi,' Henry said unenthusiasticly, sticking close to his mother. He did not like his grandmother at all. She'd never treated him with any kind of affection, so why should he?

'And who might you be, dear?' Milah asked, looking at Belle, who was suddenly aware she was intruding on an awkward family moment.

Neal suddenly had a brainwave, how to keep his mother at bay and help his father and Belle along at the same time.

'This is Belle,' he said, before she could introduce herself, 'Papa's girlfriend.’

Next time, Gold and Belle have to figure out a way to deal with that little bombshell...

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #scribbles-by-kate's stories #a girlfriend for christmas

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soullesscircuits · 6 years

Text

Rules: answer these 86 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people

tagged by @thankwheezus (Thank you thank you thank you!!!)

last

1. drink - Cereal milk, I think. Unless that doesn’t count. Then water.

2. phone call - Incoming was the LOD at work calling to see if I could cover a call off, outgoing was...My mom.

3. text message - Both incoming and outgoing was my little (middle) brother

4. song you listened to - Awakening With You by Celldweller

5. time you cried - Uuuuh... Sunday night at A:IW

ever

6. dated someone twice? - No

7. kissed someone and regretted it? -wiggly hand gesture-

8. been cheated on - No

9. lost someone special - Depends on how you define ‘special’ and ‘lost’.

10. been depressed - Eeyup

11. gotten drunk and thrown up - Eeyup.

fave colors

12. Grey

13. Electric blue

14. Olive green

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends - A few, yeah

16. fallen out of love - Maybe? A year is a long time and love is weird. I couldn’t say for sure.

17. laughed until you cried - Probably?

18. found out someone was talking about you - Don’t think so?

19. met someone who changed you - Y... es? Unsure.

20. found out who your friends are - Eh. Not really?

21. kissed someone on your Facebook friends list - Yes.

general

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know irl - I dunno who all is even on there. The vast majority of them.

23. do you have any pets? - My son, my boy <3

24. do you want to change your name? - Yes.

25. what did you do for your last birthday? I was in the car all gotdam day.

26. what time did you wake up today - 6 AM, give or take.

27. what were you doing at midnight last night - Scrolling tumblr, probably.

28. what is something you can’t wait for - Death Poe to finish healing over so we can go camping!

29. when was the last time you saw your mom - This morning when she woke me up at 6 in the gotdam morning

30. what are you listening to right now - Cry Plays: Night in the Woods (episode... 7, I think?)

31. have you ever talked to a person named Tom - Probably? Off the top of my head, I couldn’t tell you.

32.something that’s getting on your nerves - My little brother’s alarms. They go off ever 5 minutes or so and he won’t wake up to them but he won’t turn them off either.

33. most visited website - tumblr, probably?

34. hair color - brown

35. long or short hair? - super short

36. do you have a crush on someone - who knows? maybe?

37. what do you like about yourself - not fuckin much lmao... (Uuuh... I guess some of my writing is ok?)

38. want any piercings - yes yes yes!!! I want to get my nose re-pierced, if nothing else. Aesthetically, I’d love a septum, brow, and bridge. But I won’t do any of those because a) I’m a coward, and b) I feel like those would get infected real easy.

39. blood type - No idea.

40. nicknames - Soul, Soulless, Circuits, V, Ri, Narf, Kai, Hitori... There are many others I’ve been known by, but they’ve faded into antiquity.

41. relationship status - Yes. (Taken but available - polyamorous)

42. zodiac - Capricorn

43. pronouns - They/them is the go to, but any are fine.

44. fave tv shows - Travelers, Crazyhead, BtVS, XFiles, a variety of anime...

45. tattoos - None yet, but I definitely want some.

46. right or left handed - Right, but my left is passable in a pinch.

47. ever had surgery - Two rounds of wisdom tooth extractions and another dental procedure that I don’t remember the name of to separate my lower lip from my gums (I think?)

48. piercings - Earlobe and a healed over nostril (2x)

49. sport - I’ve played a ton, but not anymore. Figure skating, soccer, volleyball, basketball, golf, rowing, swimming, diving, tennis, cross country, gymnastics, softball...... I’m sure there were more, but I can’t think of them off the top of my head.

50. vacation - What about vacation? The last one I’ve taken? (An overnight to Chicago with my family) The next one I want to take? (Probably a camping trip with my boy) My dream vacation? (Maybe a wide view of Japan or somewhere in SA or... There’s a lot of places I’d like to go. Maybe, if it’s a DREAM vacation, it would be a month long thing where I hop all over the world, never staying anywhere for long unless I wanted to) What I do most often on vacation? (Probably camping) Gonna need to be more specific.

51. trainers(shoes?) - I’m barefoot right now.

52. eating - Nothing right now. Most recently frozen Reece’s cups

53. drinking - Nothing right now. Most recently cereal milk (which I am strongly regretting rn holy shit i need to pick up some lactaid from walmart or smth)

54. I am about to watch - The rest of this playthrough. And then I’ll probably find another playthrough. Or maybe an anime.

55. waiting for - These fucks to get out of my house

56. want - death to get some gotdam stuff done today.

57. get married - I’d like the experience, but not terribly interested

58. career - Everything and nothing. A nature photographer, maybe? I’d like that. Don’t think I’d make much of a living, though, so I’d still need a day job. Something that lets me travel often, though. That’s the ultimate goal.

which is better

59. hugs or kisses - Hugs.

60. lips or eyes - Eyes.

61. shorter or taller - Taller, but shorter is also A+

62. older or younger - Older.

63. nice arms or stomach - Arms.

64. hookup or relationship - r...elationship?

65. troublemaker or hesitant - Hesitant

have you ever

66. kissed a stranger - Sort of? The closest was someone I’d met earlier that night.

67. drank hard liquor - Yes.

68. lost glasses - No.

69. turned someone down - Not explicitly. I did drive off before someone who had asked for my number came back, though.

70. sex on first date - No.

71. broken someone’s heart - Who knows? I doubt it, though.

72. had your heart broken - Mmmhm

73. been arrested - Nope.

74. cried when someone died - Yep.

75. fallen for a friend - Several times.

do you believe in

76. yourself - -wiggly hand gesture-

77. miracles - Not, like, divine intervention-type miracles, but things do sometimes just work out even when it seems impossible.

78. love at first sight - Not true love or anything, but a strong connection sure.

79. santa claus - I mean, like, the kid’s story had to come from somewhere. I’m sure there was probably a real person at some point that he was based on.

80. kiss on a first date - Sure, if you wanna.

81. angels - -wiggly hand gesture- Maybe? Not the commonly accepted idea of them probably though

other

82. best friends name - Fay

83. eye color - Hazel (they used to be real bright green, but they’re muddled and muddy now)

84. fave movie - Right now? Probably... Hm... PacRim? Maybe Princess Bride?

85. fave actor - Eh. Changes day to day. Jeff Goldblum is a pretty good constant, though.

86. fave actress - Probs Winona Ryder. Maybe Zoe Saldana, tho

I’ll reblog this later with tags but im tired and ive been working on this on and off all day sooooooo. yeah......

#long post #tag game #thanks for the tag yo

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miraniel · 6 years

Text

l85 questions tag game

Tagged by @peppermintfeminist. Hi mate! You’re the best!

— What was your last…

1. Drink: Alcoholic? You’re kidding right? I recently tried a milliliter of Somerset Apple Brandy and NOPE, never again. Non-alcoholic? Water with lemon.

2. Phone call: My parents, just before I left for England, where I am now (not over the excitement yet)

3. Text message: “Yes” in response to my grandmother, who asked if I got her text.

4. Song you listened to: Reflection from Mulan

5. Time you cried: Two days ago, in the middle of a back country road in Somerset, over a goddamn Severus Snape fanfic. I’m still mad that the writer actually managed to make me care about fucking Snape.

— Have you ever…

6. Dated someone twice: No. Have I dated someone once? Yes, but only by accident.

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: No.

8. Been cheated on: Look I’m ace as fuck and have never dated really ever.

9. Lost someone special: Yes, I’ve lost friends in multiple senses.

10. Been depressed: I don’t think so.

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Any alcohol has this taste for me that the best I’ve been able to describe it is “rancid nickles,” it’s bloody awful, and I’ve never been able to stomach more than a sip of the stuff, so no.

— Fave colours

12. Olive green.

13. Purple.

14. Deep cerulean.

— in the last year have you…

15. Made new friends: Not really. I made a couple of cordial acquaintences in the drama productions I’ve been in, but no one close.

16. Fallen out of love: No, see above about being ace as fuck. Now, my brief obsession with the show Sherlock...

17. Laughed until you cried: Yes. So many times.

18. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes, in both good ways and bad ways.

19. Met someone who changed you: So many people. Just one who springs to mind is my Education professor at college. She was amazing.

20. Found out who your friends are: I am fully aware that I am a terrible long-distance friend. It’s my worst flaw and I wish I was better about this. I think I’ve betrayed more friendships by just letting them slip away than I ever have had people turn on, or abandon, me.

21. Kissed someone on your facebook friends list: Unless we’re referring to familial pecks on cheeks... no.

— General

22. How many of your facebook friends do you know irl: Nearly all of them, apart from one random guy that my cousins met online and who has since befriended the entire family.

23. Do you have any pets: I no longer live at home, but my family still has one of the two cats we had when I was growing up.

24. Do you want to change your name: I think about it sometimes. I think about it a lot. I’ve just started using a new name with an eye to it becoming my official pen name. I don’t know if I want to start using it as my everyday name.

25. What did you do for your last birthday: Oh, crap... I can’t remember. I think my mom was there, and my grandparents. We had cake and a tiny family party. I think. All I remember is I was glad I didn’t have a play rehearsal that day.

26. What time did you wake up today: 6:50 am

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Sleeping, for once in my life.

28. What is something you can’t wait for: Finally achieving my lifelong goal: being employed, being published, and being financially stable enough that I can afford a little house, with a dishwasher and laundry, and a cat, and food, and health insurance, and Netflix. It seems... a long way off. Also the next episode of Supergirl?

29. This question is mysteriously missing, so I will pose a question to the universe/the people I’m going to tag: What was the first piece of media (film, book, world, comic, game, character, etc) that you were ever obsessed with?

30. What are you listening to right now: Silence.

31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Several Tims, but no Toms. Excluding possibly some random middle aged guys back when I was growing up because who remembers that sort of thing

32. Something that’s getting on your nerves: People assuming I’m in my early teens and asking me things like how high school is going. Then I’m like, “Nope, I’m like ten years older than that, graduated college a while ago now,” and they’re like “Oh, you look so young,” and I’m like “I know!!” and then (and this is the bit that’s driving me crazy) they all say “You’ll be so grateful when you’re my age!” Like... I just kind of called you out for patronizing me? And your immediate response is to patronize me again? Also there’s no guarantee that I’ll still look ten years younger than I actually am when I’m 50? Also, I may be grateful or not when I’m your age but it sure isn’t doing me any favors now? Please stop. Just stop.

33. Most visited website: I may or may not be slightly obsessed with Nonasuch’s fantastic Dogfather Harry Potter AU and I might check their tumblr once or twice a day.

34. Hair colour: Somewhere between dirty blond and light brown now. It was blond when I was a kid.

35. Long or short hair: Okay, so I really want to be able to braid my hair elaborately again, but I also love the feel of short hair on the back of my neck. Right now it’s in an inbetween stage and I can have neither of these things. What is a person to do.

36. Do you have a crush on someone: I had things I called crushes when I was in high school and hadn’t figured out I’m ace as fuck. I get hardcore friend crushes.

37. What do you like about yourself: I’m proud of my talents, though I play them down more than I should, and I neglect to practice them more than I should. I like how far I’ve come figuring out my identity and who I am these past six years or so.

38. Want any piercings: Under no circumstances am I voluntarily going to sit still and let someone poke a needle through me or into me for anything other than a medical necessity. This applies to tattoos as well. I respect people who have them, but hell no for me.

39. Blood type: SOMEONE knows because I’ve had a blood transfusion, I think, but I don’t have a clue.

40. Nicknames: I have wanted a nickname my entire life and nothing has ever stuck.

41. Relationship status: Single asexual inactively seeks person willing to share habitation, bookshelves, Netflix, pet, and nerdy conversation for the rest of their life.

42. Sign: I don’t do the zodiac thing at all, but I’m an INTJ and a Hufflepuff.

43. Pronouns: Um, this is a weird place and time to do this, but since you asked, I’ve just changed them to “they/them.”

44. Fave tv show: Ever? Avatar the Last Airbender. Right now? Supergirl, The Flash, Miraculous Ladybug

45. Tattoos: See above regarding NEEDLES

46. Fave city: Albuquerque. Fight me.

47: Ever had surgery: When I was a kid I had The Case of Pneumonia From Hell and Fun Times in Hospitals and got chest tubes and part of my lung removed. Also a few minor random stuff.

48. Piercings: See above regarding needles. The needle phobia is directly related to the Fun Times in Hospitals.

49. Sport: Literally none. I’ll watch gymnastics and skating every four years, but apart from that the highlight of my interest in sports was that time that JKR was live-writing the Quidditch World Cup on Pottermore.

50. Vacation: I’m in Oxford right now, somewhere I’ve always dreamed of being! And I’m on my way to Scotland and Wales.

— More general

52. Eating: Sushi, macaroni and cheese, fruit, chocolate, scones

53. Drinking: tea, tea, tea, milk, orange juice, non-alcoholic lemonade or apple cider, water, tea, tea, tea

54. I’m about to watch: Brooklyn 99 (The UK has it on netflix!!)

55. Waiting for: My betas to come back to me on my novel draft. Then it’s agent shopping!

56. Want: A cat, the ability to focus, the ability to read properly without stupid eye problems, a job, writing time

57. Get married: ... growing up I fantasized about getting married because I wanted my paternal cousins to meet my maternal cousins and I couldn’t think of any way that would likely happen apart from my marriage and I think they would get on like a house on fire.. this still seems like one of the only motivating factors for me ever to get married.

58. Career: Author and poet and crazy cat lady

— Which is better

59. Hugs or kisses: hugs

60. Lips or eyes: Neither. I don’t actually like making eye contact even though I’ve learned to do it, and why would I stare at people’s mouths?

61. Shorter or taller: For a dance partner? Taller, but not significantly so.

62. Older or younger: If this is meant to be about romantic partners? Because why would anyone ask this question? Significant age gaps are generally not a good thing either way, except possibly between two consenting adults who understand and work to alleviate the uneven power dynamic a significant age gap typically creates?

63. Nice arms or stomach: The heck?

64. Hookup or relationships: Relationships.

65. Troublemaker or hesitant: Hesitant and trying to overcome it

— Have you ever

66. Kissed a stranger: NOPE

67. Drank hard liquor: See above regarding the horrors created by my taste buds and any alcohol.

68. Turned someone down: Yes. It was awwwkward, but he was a friend. Normally, when I suspect someone likes me, I run away and never speak to them again. Trying to get over that.

69. Sex on first date: Uh nnnoooo

70: Broken someone’s heart: I hope not

71. Had your heart broken: By friendships, yeah.

72. Been arrested: Nope

73. Cried when someone died: Not really.

74. Fallen for a friend: A couple times, but in like, a really aggressively platonic way

— Do you believe in

75. Yourself: Yes.

76. Miracles: Yes.

77. Love at first sight: Yes, because it basically happened to my parents. Theirs is a story of being bookstore managers, an immediate attraction, a mutual failure to understand origami, and a shared love of Star Trek. It would make a perfect rom com but there was literally no drama. My parents are adorable.

78. Santa Claus: I have always had the ability to choose what I believe in. Santa Claus was one of those things, long after I knew the truth.

79. Angels: Not really of the stereotypical “feathery wings and flawless skin” type. In the possibility or even likelihood of benevolent forces or beings outside human comprehension that are not a divine creator but may be from or of the divine, yes. This likely has a lot to do with how many times I read Narnia, The Dark is Rising, and A Wrinkle in Time as a kid, now I think about it.

— Misc

80. Eye colour: Green

81. Best friend’s name: I have a few. One starts with a C.

82. Favourite movie: The Fellowship of the Ring. Or 101 Dalmations.

83. Favourite actor: Maggie Smith

84. Favourite cartoon: Avatar the Last Airbender. I didn’t discover it until I was about 18, but I love it to death.

85. Religion: Ex-roman catholic Episcopalian

Tagging @nerdiekatie, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @dragon-feathers, and @fantasiavii

#ask me things #replies #tag games #y'all don't have to do it if you don't want to #anyone who wants to do it pretend I tagged you

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ncfan-1 · 6 years

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Professor Venomous vs. Roller Skates

If there is skating, there will be falling.

[Also on AO3]

As is likely obvious, I based this fic on this post that Ryann Shannon made to her Twitter.

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The list of demands had been Cosma’s idea. She occasionally had to mind her nieces for long periods of time and had found that small children responded better to having to do their chores if they were allowed to make certain demands after long enough periods of compliance. “Just be careful you spell out anything she’s not allowed to demand ahead of time. The little monsters get very unruly if they think you’ve been acting in bad faith.”

Spelling out all of the things Fink wasn’t allowed to demand had been easy—or so Professor Venomous over-confidently, he realized now, had thought. She wasn’t allowed to demand any of the foods she was allergic to, especially not shellfish (No matter how much she begged, especially considering they’d found out she was allergic to it the hard way). She wasn’t allowed to conduct an experiment in the lab unsupervised; it was going to be a few years before Fink had the kind of fine motor control that would suffer allowing her to handle some of the more delicate materials or equipment. And by no means were they ever going back to the zoo, not since that time one of the zookeepers had taken Fink for an escaped zoo animal and tried to shoot her with a tranq dart.

Venomous had instituted the list of demands a few months ago, and so far, all had gone well. If Fink did her chores, then every other weekend she was allowed to write her latest demand on the list pinned on the front of the fridge by some of the refrigerator magnets they’d picked up the last time they were in the airport. She never really demanded anything too outlandish or beyond his ability to provide. Some of it had been, dare he say it, fun. (Vandalizing that billboard in sight of P.O.I.N.T. Headquarters had been very fun.) But today?

“You… want to go roller skating,” Venomous said blankly.

Fink grinned, showing off a mouth full of big, sharp teeth. “Yes!” One of those teeth was loose, and she whistled a little when she talked.

Venomous looked at Fink. He looked at the list, then stared around the kitchen and living room of their condo, then back to Fink. “You don’t own any roller skates,” he pointed out. “And if I get you roller skates, you’ll just outgrow them in a few months.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to go buy roller skates, Boss!” Fink protested. She puffed out her cheeks, eyes narrowed slightly. “I said I wanted to go to the skating rink!”

The skating rink. Try as he might, Venomous couldn’t quite help but twitch a little at the thought of it. Not being able to let things go was, to a certain extent, just part of being a villain, but there were some things he’d probably do better to let go of. This particular thing would be easier to let go of if he simply stayed away from any and all roller skating establishments.

“I honestly don’t know where to find any skating rinks,” Venomous tried. And it was the truth. The local skating rink when he was growing up had moved to another location about ten years ago. Not being the kind of person who frequented skating rinks, and not being the kind of villain who targeted them, Venomous had never bothered to find out where the new location was.

But Fink was not to be deterred by such a thing. “I got you covered, Boss!” She whipped out her phone, typed something on it and held it out to him, grinning. “See?”

Too late, Venomous remembered that Fink’s phone had a map app on it. She’d already taken the liberty of plotting their course; the skating rink was seven miles northwest of the condo, fifteen minutes by car in present traffic. That close, huh?

For a moment, Venomous considered telling her to think of something else to do today. He considered making up some story about why they couldn’t go to the skating rink, something involving an old arch-nemesis and a run-in with the cops. But Fink had gotten to the point where she could pretty much always tell when he was lying. Cosma’s horror stories about what her nieces did when they got “unruly” loomed in the back of his mind. And most importantly, there was the bright-eyed look of anticipation on Fink’s face…

“Alright,” he conceded. “Let’s be ready to go in half an hour.”

…that Venomous couldn’t quite bring himself to mar with disappointment. Heh, that probably had something to do with why he was a Level -7 and not a Level -10 or lower. Oh, well. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Around forty-five minutes later, Venomous was looking at the front of the skating rink through the car windshield, and already a sense of foreboding was building within him. He couldn’t really pinpoint the source. The sun was shining; what few clouds were in the sky were thin and white, rather than gray and stormy. Nothing about the building screamed “obvious trap for villains looking to go roller skating.” But still, he was getting the same feeling he’d gotten the last time he ordered a robot from Boxmore, right before the blasted thing had fallen apart after that first hit.

There weren’t as many cars in the parking lot as he had been afraid there would be. Less people meant less chances of a meddlesome hero deciding that a villainous bioengineer and his evil minion just weren’t allowed to do normal, non-villainous things in their free time. But the fact that there were less people here than he’d expected, on a weekend of all times, might be commentary on the quality of the rink itself.

And then there was the sign.

“Come on!” Fink ran out ahead of him, stopping by the black-tinted glass doors as Venomous walked at a more sedate pace behind her, staring up at the sign all the while.

‘STARDUST’ was spelled out in big, bold Plexiglas letters. The interior of the glass was coated in silvery-blue glitter which sparkled in the daytime sun. An image of a silver disco ball shimmered just below the sign.

Well, maybe it was just a holdover from the last location.

And maybe it wasn’t.

He’d been unable to hear it from outside, but once they walked inside the rink Venomous heard clearly the music blaring over the speakers. Upbeat synth-pop that he was pretty sure he’d heard over the radio or in a club sometime around twenty years ago, just a little too loud for comfort.

The next thing Venomous was struck by after he took in the music was how dark it was. The light levels would have been more appropriate for a night club where the goal was to never get too good of a look at the person you were dancing with. For a skating rink where the presence of small children was presumably not only expected but accepted, it seemed a bit… dim.

Then there were the lights over the rink itself.

It was easy to pick out the rink. Located in a massive depression in the center of the building, surrounded by guardrails (that were spaced so that an enterprising child—say about Fink’s size—could have crawled under the lowest rung, Venomous couldn’t help but notice) and accessible only by stair, it’s not like anyone could miss it. Situated at multiple points over the rink were colored spotlights that glowed dimly on the polished, gleaming wood floor. They shone the full range of the color spectrum, slowly shifting from one end to the other. And over the center of the rink, there dangled a gigantic disco ball, from which shot beams of silver light.

Disco. Venomous glared up at the disco ball. This place just had to be disco-themed.

“Boss?” Fink tugged on his hand and pointed impatiently at a desk off to the side of the rink, near a massive display rack full of sheets and safety equipment, and a row of lockers. “Check-in’s over there.”

“Alright, alright!” In spite of recent unpleasant revelations, he could still laugh. “It’s not like it’s going to grow legs and run away!”

Manning the check-in desk was a teenager who, to put it mildly, looked bored out of his skull. Boredom wasn’t on the list of things Venomous typically associated with a skating rink, but he supposed that if you came in here every day, it was bound to lose its novelty sooner or later. The teen was dressed in clothes that Venomous could only describe as a mash-up of a disco dance floor reject pile and 80s workout clothes. Sweatband and knee-high leg warmers and long, tasseled fringe and far too much polyester. Workplace uniform, Venomous supposed. Hoped.

“Welcome to Stardust Skating Sanctuary,” the teen intoned in what was honestly the most unenthusiastic tone of voice Venomous had heard since the last time he’d snuck into Gar’s bodega in disguise. Just like the cashier in the bodega, he was busy typing away on his phone, not even looking up. “How may I help you?”

“How much does it cost to rent out a pair of children’s skates?”

Without looking up, the teen pointed backwards at a sign behind him, which read “UNDER 12—10 TECHNOS. 12 OR OLDER—15 TECHNOS.” “Linda at the skates will help you get set up,” he droned, busily typing on his phone.

Without further ado, Fink headed over to the skates rack, where a woman with four eyes and six arms was waiting with a child’s foot measuring device. For a moment, Venomous considered being offended by the cashier’s visible disinterest in paying customers, but he decided to just drop it. If he had to dress like that for work every day, he’d be done with everything, too.

Venomous handed the teen his credit card and waited, staring around the rink. At the back on the left-hand side, there were a few arcade cabinets. A trio of preteens were hanging around them, two of them squaring off at a dance machine while the third looked on. At the center of the back there was a sign for the restrooms. On the right-hand side, there was a small food court with tables set up in front of it; the aroma of fresh pizza wafted over to the check-in desk. Venomous let out a quietly relieved breath. At least there’d be somewhere for him to sit and wait while Fink was skating.

“Sir?” When Venomous turned his attention back to the teen, the latter was frowning at Fink, who was still looking for skates her size while Linda helped. “If your daughter is under four feet tall, you must accompany her into the rink.”

“Fink’s not my daughter; she’s my minion,” Venomous replied automatically. Like that would help him now.

The teen opened and shut his mouth like a fish stranded on dry land. When he found his voice again, he fixed Venomous in a flat stare and told him, “If your minion is under four feet tall, you have to accompany her into the rink,” like he had already had to explain this to far too many people. “Otherwise, she can’t skate. House rules.”

He pointed off towards the rink. When Venomous saw what he was pointing at, it was all he could do not to slap his forehead in dismay.

Off by one of the stairways down into the rink, there was a cardboard cutout. The character was decked out in inline skates, helmet, knee and elbow pads, and the sort of one-piece exercise suit that should have died with the 80s. Totally without explanation, it was a badger. It was holding its right hand about four feet off the ground, and a sign next to it read, “Boris the Badger says you must be this tall to skate by yourself. If not, ask your parents to join you!”

Venomous’s gut reaction was to refuse. He knew he’d have to put on skates to go into the rink; by no means would they make him do that. Never again. Venomous didn’t like making a complete fool out of himself in public any more than the next person.

But he’d already promised Fink that she could skate. Going back on his word now would be setting one heck of a bad example for her. Villains could double-cross their enemies any day of the week; that wasn’t just acceptable, but expected (Though if your enemy happened to be powerful or influential, perhaps not the best idea). However, villains—especially very young and inexperienced ones—really shouldn’t get the impression that double-crossing their allies was a good idea, especially not over something so trivial. Villains, real villains who didn’t traffic in things like moral ambiguity, tended to have limited social circles. You needed to be careful about just what you did with your social capital.

Of course, the chances of Fink, young as she was, doing anything but scrunching her face up in confusion if he spoke to her about ‘social capital,’ were close to nil, but the principle stood. Venomous really did slap his forehead this time. “Alright,” he muttered. “One child and one adult.”

By the time Venomous made his way over to the fitting area for skates, Fink appeared to be almost done finding something that fit her. They were down to two pairs of skates.

One of which was inline.

“Not the inline,” he vetoed, before Fink could say anything. “They’re too difficult to balance on. You’ll fall.”

Fink’s red eyes opened wide in indignation. “I will not!”

“You’ve never worn skates before. The inline skates are too advanced for you. You’re not wearing them.”

Fink stuck her tongue out at him, but grabbed the quad skates and went to wait on a bench by the rink, back turned to him.

“Do you have men’s quad skates in a size 10?” Venomous asked Linda. “I’m not picky about the color.”

Linda nodded. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Oh, sir? Is your daughter—“

“She’s my minion, not my daughter.”

Linda glared at him with all four eyes. “If your minion is less than seven years old, she’ll have to wear a helmet. Is she less than seven years old?”

Venomous had designed Fink to have stronger bones than nearly anyone she would ever encounter; the only reason they weren’t stronger was because his research suggested that that could lead to… problems. The likelihood of Fink ever winding up with broken bones or a skull fracture was close to zero. However, her soft tissue and internal organs were no sturdier than the average, healthy human’s. Going out on the rink without a helmet could still end poorly for her.

He weighed all that against one very important caveat: Fink’s ears. The helmet didn’t have any holes, so Fink’s ears would be completely covered, and she wouldn’t be able to hear a thing. There was also a risk of damage to her ears if they were pressed flat against her head for too long.

“She’s older than seven,” Venomous lied, and decided they’d just have to take their chances. He could stop her from taking a serious fall without much difficulty.

Linda looked less than convinced, but rather than trying to argue the point, she held out a key on a hot pink spiral bracelet. “Here is the key to a locker, so you won’t have to leave your shoes or any of your valuables out in the open. Now, if you’ll come with me, I think we can find skates for you…”

A short while later, Venomous had his skates (hot pink, again) and went over to where Fink was waiting. Well, sulking would be a better word for it. She glowered up at him when he approached. “I could’ve done it,” Fink groused, crossing her arms over her chest.

“If you do alright with the quad skates and we ever come back here, I’ll let you try them then. For now, you need to start off with something more stable.”

To show just how little she thought of that, Fink made what was, honestly, an impressively grotesque face. Venomous had seen corpses still trapped in a death rictus that were more pleasant to look at than that.

He smiled slightly. “Keep it up. Your face might stick that way.”

Fink beamed, anger apparently forgotten. “You think so?”

“Anything’s possible.”

Since another rule was that skates were not to be worn outside of the rink itself, they took their skates down into said rink. There were about thirty people using it, a near-even mix of children and adults, but the rink was large enough that it was fairly easy to find a quiet spot to sit down and get their skates on.

These are stiff, Venomous thought to himself as he struggled to get his skates on and laced. Apparently this particular pair of skates hadn’t been worn that often. That seemed a bit unlikely, considering there had only been ten pairs of skates in his size to start with, but perhaps they were new.

A faint odor of sweat clung to the cool air here, accompanied by shoe leather and a very weak pine-scented air freshener. Venomous wasn’t entirely sure how that was even possible, but the music was even louder here than it had been up above, so loud that it was making his teeth chatter. He spared a concerned glance for Fink—her hearing was much keener than the average human’s, after all—but inexplicably, she seemed unbothered. I suppose I should have her ears examined the next time we go to the doctor’s, he thought wryly.

Most of the rink was lined with a guardrail that, Venomous supposed (and hoped it was strong enough to serve the purpose), was meant to aid fallen skaters in getting back up. The only place with a break in the guardrails, asides from the access points at the stairways, was almost directly across from where he and Fink were sitting.

Painted on the wall, there was a smiling tiger dressed much the same as ‘Boris’ upstairs. Off to its left, a large sign read:

TAMMY THE TIGER SAYS SAFETY ROCKS!

Tammy’s Safety Rules:

No shouting No fighting No pushing or shoving No biting or clawing No food or drinks on the rink No use of superpowers No duels to the death No weapons ESPECIALLY no ray guns No gum

Stardust Skating Sanctuary is designated neutral territory for heroes and villains, as well as assorted sidekicks, apprentices, minions, henchmen, and robotic servants. So everyone remember to get along and have fun!

Neutral territory? Well, at least that minimized the chances of some trigger-happy hero or their trigger-happy sidekick to take a potshot at them. Venomous tapped Fink’s shoulder and pointed out the sign. “Have you read the safety rules yet?”

When Fink got to the end of the sign, she made another face, though this one looked more like she’d swallowed a lemon than done an impression of a death rictus. “Oh, not that again! So we can’t mess with any heroes even if they’re hogging the rink?!”

“Not unless you want to get kicked out—and never let back in.” Venomous smiled thinly down at her. However, if a hero tries to hassle you, I’ll hardly be angry if you give them what they gave you, and twice again.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Boss, I will,” Fink assured him.

All too soon, the moment of truth arrived. Venomous got to his feet, slowly, very slowly, clutching the guardrail in a death grip. He put as much weight as possible on his feet, willing them not to roll out from under him. Suddenly, he was finding himself inundated with a flood of memories from earlier years, none of them entirely pleasant. Ever so slowly, he began to remove his hand from the rail.

Fink, on the other hand, pushed off of the wall with all the confidence of someone who had no doubt of her success. She whirled around on her skates, cackling like someone who was plotting to take the world hostage with a doomsday weapon (One day. One day). “What were you worried about? This is easy! See me—oof!”

Of course she had fallen over. Planted face-first onto the flood, to be precise. Whoever was in charge of things upstairs loved punishing people for overconfidence, especially if they were villains. But before Venomous could even try to make his way over to her, she was right back up again, undaunted, and rocketing around on the skates.

I wonder if she even knows how to brake. But still, he smiled a little. Now, to let go of the guardrail…

He took a few tentative strides forward on the skates, careful not to stray too far from the rail. The floor must have been waxed just that morning; Venomous could see his face reflected there all too clearly, furrowed brow and clenched jaw. It was entirely too slick for his liking; every time he moved forwards, it was like trying to walk down a sidewalk coated in ice without falling over.

Venomous bit back a frustrated growl and moved away from the rail. He could walk around in go-go boots all day without a problem; why should roller skates (quad skates, too, not inline) be any different?

His first thought, after a few hesitant strokes, was that this wasn’t so bad. Certainly, it was beer than the last time, though that was hardly an achievement to applaud. With only a few minor hiccups, he could keep his balance without much trouble—this rink was level, and that certainly helped. He wasn’t going very fast—not like Fink, who was currently racing (as much as her short legs allowed) around the rink, with the other skaters scooting out of her way. Going that fast wasn’t the name of the game. Staying upright was.

This… wasn’t so bad. It was never going to be good, per se, but it wasn’t so bad.

His ankles wobbled ominously.

History taught a lesson that still held true in present day: once his ankles began to wobble, it was all over. He was not going to regain control, was not miraculously going to find himself steady again. It was all downhill from here. Still, Venomous tried to steady himself. Tried to stop, in vain.

Why did the ground always rush up to meet him so quickly, so hard? Venomous knew how the laws of gravity and inertia worked; he had paid attention in high school science classes. Still, it didn’t seem quite fair that the landing should be so unforgiving. At least he had landed flat on his back instead of landing on his face or his leg.

“You okay?” Fink called from the other side of the rink.

Venomous waved a hand weakly in her general direction. The light above shone blue, then purple, then black. “I’m fine.” The music seemed even louder than before; he nearly had to shout to hear himself over it. “Just keep on doing what you’re doing.” The silver disco ball was just barely in his field of vision. He scowled up at it, as though it was responsible for his fall.

The skates were not going to beat him. If he had to wear them, he would master them. If he could bioengineer a person like Fink, he could roller skate. Small children could do it; it only stood to reason that he could, too.

The second fall came maybe three minutes after the first.

The third fall came around thirty seconds after the second. Thrusting his arm out in front of his face was the only thing that kept Venomous from face-planting right onto the gleaming floor. This time, he didn’t get up. He really couldn’t be bothered. He just stayed where he was, lying face-down on the floor, his bones vibrating roughly in time to the music.

Before he could spend too much time enjoying his new career as a man-shaped roadblock, Fink skated over to him. Venomous could feel her poke his back cautiously. “Boss? You okay?”

“I’m dying,” he moaned.

A few more pokes followed that, more insistent. “You’re not dying,” Fink retorted. She prodded between his shoulder blades with her fingertips. “You just fell over!”

“I’m dying,” he insisted, struggling to keep laughter out of his voice and instead adopt a suitably morose tone. “Avenge me, Fink.”

“On what?” She jabbed her finger into his back. “The floor?”

Fink began to poke his back incessantly, until maintaining the ruse would have just been completely ridiculous, and, not without some reluctance, Venomous sat back up. He brushed his hair out of his face and grimaced down at her. Fink regarded him with a deliberately neutral look on her face, before that neutral look broke into a grin and she began poking his chest, hard.

Venomous batted her hand away. “Alright! Have some mercy on your creator; I’ve never taken to this as well as you have.”

Fink mimed at poking him one last time, but pulled her hand away, that grin still affixed to her face. “Have you ever been here before, Boss?”

He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

It wasn’t a lie. The local rink had only been in this location for around ten years, after all. He’d never set foot in this building before today. It was good that he didn’t have to lie to her. Fink would have been able to tell, and there were some things he wasn’t ready to explain to her. When she was older, perhaps, but not now, when she still possessed a child’s black-and-white understanding of the world.

Mercifully, Fink didn’t pick up on any evasion of his. She merely raised an eyebrow and asked, “So I guess you can’t skate that great, huh?”

“I’m afraid not.” Leave aside the fact that if you wanted to learn to roller skate, there were more places to do it than just the skating rink. You didn’t often see an adult learning to roller skate on a sidewalk; outside of sports competitions and skating rinks, you didn’t often see an adult roller skating, period.

Fink regarded him in silence for a moment, before breaking into another grin. “I can show you how!”

Venomous tilted his head downwards and stared dubiously at her. “Says the girl who’s been roller skating for all of fifteen minutes.”

“I can!” Fink insisted, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re always telling me we gotta try new things. Just trust me.”

And she’d said it. There went the death knell of any chance Venomous had of just sitting this one out, clanging so loudly that suddenly the music didn’t seem so loud after all. It was not use that the ‘gotta try new things’ Fink referred to had much more to do with trying to get her to eat foods she was unfamiliar with than with anything else. With little to no confidence of his ability to stay upright, he got back to his feet. Oh, well. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. At least no one he knew happened to be at the rink today to watch him fail repeatedly.

Fink grabbed his hand in her own and set off down the length of the rink. “See?” She laughed. “It’s easy once you get the hang of it!”

It really wasn’t, but it was hardly going to hurt him to just let her have this. It wasn’t always the kid who needed to learn new things.

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Trying to guess how Professor Venomous and Fink would act on a “day off” was a little bit of a process. Venomous spent most of ‘We’re Captured’ in a state of deep irritation, and wasn’t exactly happy for most of ‘Villain’s Night Out’ either; his appearances in ‘Villain’s Night In’ and ‘Boxmore Infomercial’ were basically just cameos. How does he act when he isn’t irritated, when he isn’t around heroes or other villains, when it’s his “day off”, I asked myself. The answer: “…Like a dad. A dad who also happens to a villainous bioengineer.” Until we get more insight into his relationship with Fink, I stand by this.

As for Fink, I figure that she’s probably still rambunctious, but at least a bit better-behaved when she isn’t around people she hates.

#OK KO let's be heroes #Fanfic #Professor Venomous #Fink #Egregious amounts of fluff

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