#the guy who cut down the trees MOVED AWAY IN NOVEMBER

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Nothing Compares 2 You

Pairing: RockstarEddieMunsonxReader

Request: Thank you to @munsonfire for this request and for allowing me the use of her edit! I love emotional drama and you are very good at it (as you are very good at everything else). Eddie has to leave town because he's becoming famous and they break up. They still love each other after all these years, but they've never spoken to each other. Eddie may have had many girls in his life, she may have always followed him in the tabloids and thought he had forgotten about her. somehow, by chance, they might see each other again... when she thought she'd never see him again?

Word Count: 7.5K

18+ ONLY

“I don’t understand why we’re going to Rockefeller Center in October,” you mused, walking along with your best friends, Nancy and Robin. “Isn’t seeing the massive Christmas tree and ice skating the whole point of Rockefeller Center?”

Nancy sighed, looping her arm through yours, “Yes, but the whole area is full of shops and great restaurants. We can do a little shopping and grab a late lunch.  And how can we travel to New York City and not see Rockefeller Center?”

You shrugged. The three of you were having a girls long weekend in New York City. Only Nancy would want her bachelorette party to be a weekend of Broadway, culture, and history. The three of you had seen Anna Kerenina last night and it had been amazing. You’d also gone to Central Park, gone to the top of the Empire State Building, seen Times Square, and gone to The Met. Tomorrow was supposed to be the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. 

Jonathan had popped the question last Christmas and your two friends were getting married in November. They were keeping the wedding fairly small. You and Robin were the only bridesmaids. Jonathan’s brother, Will, and his friend, Argyle, were the groomsman. The guys were doing a camping weekend, inviting along the rest of the crew. Jonathan and Nancy were not interested in the usual partying or strippers and while it may seem odd to most, you thought it was actually kind of refreshing.

As you approached Rockefeller center, you smiled. It was a perfect fall day, a world of color and warmth. The leaves were changing, the trees blazing in shades of red and orange. The sky was a clear, bright blue and you could sense the excitement in the air, the city vibrant and full of life. It felt like walking through a painting, every corner you turned a new picture full of beauty and wonder. 

“Oh!” Robin squealed, darting away from the two of you. “They have thrift stores!”

“Oh boy,” you laughed, you and Nancy shaking your heads at each other as you followed Robin into ‘The City Opera Thrift Shop.’ 

Robin looked like a kid in a candy store as she perused the mish mash of clothing on racks, sorted by size and then color. Robin was not a shopping kind of girl unless you got her into a thrift store. The girl loved nothing more than quirky and cheap. Growing up in a family that had to pinch every penny had taught her to be frugal. You loved her sense of fashion because it was so uniquely her. 

You meandered over to a rack of concert shirts, pushing them back one by one. Band tees were your go-to on weekends and oversized ones made the best pajamas. Used ones already had that soft, worn, washed feeling, leaving you from having to break them in. You pulled out a Black Crowes one, holding it up to yourself and your entire body froze, as if ice water had been dumped over your head, when you caught sight of the shirt that had been hiding behind it. 

A strangled sob lodged in your throat, cutting off your air supply, your hand moving on its own in slow motion. Your fingers gripped the side, running over the black cotton. Your eyes devoured the jagged lettering, like words carved into wood. You knew it intimately because you’d been the one who had drawn it years ago in high school. 

It was from their first tour, four years ago, in 1988. Your eyes slipped closed as you swallowed hard, forcing the sob down, locking it back into the dark box you tried to keep everything that had to do with him trapped in. But the image of him, those big brown eyes pleading with you to understand that he had to go, begging you to come with him, flashed behind your lids and your eyes shot open against the assault to your heart. 

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Robin called from the front of the store, a large bag hanging off of her arm. 

“Uh…yeah…” you cried out, shoving the Black Crowes shirt back in front of the shirt you wished you’d never seen, covering it up the same way you’d covered up everything to do with him. Out of sight, out of mind. At least that was how it was supposed to work.

Who were you kidding? That had never been how it had worked. How could it when he was everywhere you looked? His music videos were all over MTV, he was on every show doing interviews and performances, and forget about going to a store. That face that had haunted you for five years was plastered across every magazine. 

He clearly wasn’t thinking about you. He’d moved on, being pictured with a different woman on his arm every week. Making out with some supermodel at a party, having lunch with the hottest young actress in Hollywood, or catching some groupie’s panties on stage. The man had gotten what he’d always wanted. He was a rockstar, known across the world. He was the guy every woman wanted to fuck. He was the guy every guy wanted to be. He’d gotten out of Hawkins, away from their small minded ignorance, away from you. 

“Hey, you okay?” asked Nancy, her eyes narrowing in concern as you followed them out of the store. 

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile on your face, “I’m good. So, what’s next?”

“More shopping, obviously,” giggled Nancy. “I need to find something for my mom. She’s always wanted to come to New York so I want to get her something very New York but not like the silly tourist stuff, you know? No snowglobes or keychains. I want to find her something cool.”

“Okay, well, then let’s get on it,” you stated, relieved to have a mission to focus your energy on to keep you from slipping down into that dark hole. That dark hole you’d disappeared down for six months after he’d left, that dark hole you swore you wouldn’t allow to swallow you anymore.

You spent the next hour and half in and out of stores, Nancy insisting nothing was right for her mom. You’d pointed out hand painted bags, shirts, paintings of the skyline, but nothing seemed to be right. Just as you were getting ready to give up for now and grab some lunch, Nancy gasped, pointing ahead. 

“The NBC Studios shop!” she squealed. “My mom loves Jay Leno. Her and Dad were so upset when Carson was leaving but they wound up loving Leno. They watch it every single night. I bet I could find her something there.”

She grabbed onto yours and Robin’s hands and dragged you through the doors of the shop before instantly abandoning you to peruse all the merchandise. You looked over at Robin and shrugged, the two of you splitting up to browse yourselves. There was an entire section of merchandise just for popular shows on the channel.

You picked up an X-men mug, thinking Dustin would love it but you quickly put it back. If you bought him something that would be an avalanche of spending you couldn’t stop or afford. You couldn’t get him something without bringing something back for all of them. You’d never hear the end of it from Mike, Lucas, or Max if you got Dustin something and not them. Will would be gracious about it. El would probably be confused as to why she should care. Steve would definitely give you shit, offended, claiming you loved Dustin more than him. 

Just as Nancy walked over, triumphant, with a mug and a shirt, you turned, your attention caught by a cavalcade of dark SUVs pulling up in front of the building. Your two friends spun to see what had caught your eye and Nancy sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Oh…I bet it’s someone famous. Someone who’s going to be on the Tonight Show or something. Who do you think it is?”

You shrugged, “How would I know? I don’t want it. Do either of you know who’s supposed to be on tonight?”

Robin shook her head, “No idea. Nancy, you said your parents watch it every night.”

“They do, but I don’t. I mean, I have here and there when someone I like is going to be on. But I haven’t watched tv all week so I haven’t even seen a preview. I was too busy with wedding plans and getting ready to leave for our trip.”

You watched curiously as a big guy in a suit with an earpiece came around the side of the SUV and pulled the door open. A familiar mop of curly dishwater blond hair appeared first, followed by the sweet face of one of your favorite people in the world. It should have filled you with pleasure to see him again, the guy who’d always treated you like a little sister, but instead a sense of dread seeped into your body. No. It couldn’t be. Because if he was here, then that meant…

You were falling, slipping sideways, as your world tilted on its axis at the sight of him climbing out of the SUV. Those coffee hued eyes were concealed by a large pair of sunglasses but you didn’t need to see them because they were forever imprinted on your brain. He looked so damn good, of course he did. In place of his usual ripped jeans and leather jacket, he wore a fitted brown suit, a white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to provide you a peek of his chest.

“Oh shit,” muttered Robin. 

“Hey…hey…” Nancy called out next to you, her hand holding your bicep in a vice grip, as if she were scared you’d collapse which was a very real possibility at this moment. “Hey, you okay?”

You couldn’t answer. You had no air. Your throat tightened, your lungs were paralyzed, unable to pull in precious oxygen. You were trapped, suffocating under the weight of memories, memories you’d buried deep but that now broke free, flashing before your mind like a slideshow of pain. Eddie winking at you from the stage at the Hideout, him leaning against your locker after class, lying in the back of his van sharing a joint, sitting on his bed as he worked on a new song, dancing at prom, the day he left…image after image attacked you, a knife slicing into you over and over, leaving you bleeding and helpless. 

“I…no…I can’t…” you whimpered, shaking your head, taking small steps backwards as if you could run from him, as if he wasn’t about to come through the exact entrance you would need to escape. 

“Hey, calm down. It’s okay,” Nancy urged but her words fell on deaf ears. 

You were drowning, everything muffled, the lights were too bright. You couldn’t breathe. Your hands clawed at the neck of your shirt, a v-neck, which was in no way hindering anything but it felt like it. Your clothes felt restricting, too tight, caging you in. 

One of the large men pushed open the door as two others flanked Eddie, leading him through it. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant came behind him, each with their own bodyguards. Jesus, there must have been twelve guys with them, covering them on all sides, the front, and the back, ensuring no one was getting close to them. That was fine. There wasn’t anything you wanted less.

As they passed in front of the gift shop’s floor to ceiling windows, you took two more steps back, bumping into a mannequin, sending it crashing to the floor along with a display of drinking glasses. A clerk glared over at you with a sigh, coming over to assess the damage. But that wasn’t what you were focusing on as Eddie’s head turned toward the sound. He stilled, pulling the sunglasses off his face, and there was those eyes, going wide as he took in the sight of you standing in the middle of the shop. 

“Shit…no…no, no, no, no…” you pleaded, eyes darting from one side to the other, desperately seeking a way out of this situation but there was none unless you were willing to run past him.

“It’s okay, just breathe. It’s okay.” Nancy’s hands rubbed over your arms, attempting to soothe but only succeeding in making you even more agitated. 

You shrugged her off as Eddie leaned into one of his bodyguards, whispering something in his ear. You were frozen, your feet stuck to the floor as the burly guy nodded and followed Eddie, pulling the door open. Suddenly the man you’d only seen in pictures and on television for the last five years was standing in front of you and you wished the Earth would open up and swallow you whole. 

“Princess? Robin? Nancy? What are you three doing in New York?” Eddie asked, his sunglasses held between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, as if you were a mirage. 

“Girl’s weekend before my wedding,” answered Nancy when you hadn’t responded. 

“Wedding?” Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, but still he didn’t look at her, his eyes glued on you as if you would disappear if he looked away. “You and Jonathan?”

“Yeah. He popped the question last Christmas,” she replied. “So, how’s the rockstar life?”

“Huh? Oh…uh, you know.” He shrugged. “Very rockstar.” His head tilted, those brown eyes threatening to pull you under, to consume you entirely. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t. “I can’t believe you’re here. I, well, I have to do this Tonight Show thing. It could take a few hours but would you want to come to my hotel after?”

His hotel? Was he serious? There was no way you could trust yourself alone in a room with him. Your body reacted to him, remembered him, his fingertips an imprint on your skin. This man who had known you more intimately than anyone else had in your entire life. This man who had been your first. This man who you’d thought would be your only before he shattered your heart. 

Robin’s hand wrapped around yours, sensing the distress your body was under as Nancy stepped in front of you. Your friends who had been there, who had witnessed that dark time in your life, who had been the ones to pull you back from the edge just as you were ready to plummet into the abyss. 

“How about you give us the information and let her think about it?” Nancy offered.

“Princess?” Eddie asked, concerned, his face peering around Nancy to find you again but this time you looked away. “Look, I just want to talk. I haven’t seen you in…god, it’s been…”

“Five years,” you mumbled, shocked at the sound of your own voice. 

“I know,” he said softly. “Trust me. I know exactly how long it’s been. Look, if you tell me where you’re staying, I can have my driver pick you up. Or if you’d prefer, I can come to you. Just tell me your hotel and room number and I can come over after. I can bring dinner or we can order something or we can go out somewhere if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Look, Eddie,” Robin began, stepping into him, forcing him to step back. “She’s a bit overwhelmed at seeing you. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“I can because I feel exactly the same. I just want to talk.”

“Well, maybe she does and maybe she doesn’t but maybe you need to take a step back and give her some time to process all of this,” Nancy suggested calmly. “Give us your information and she can have a couple hours to decide what she wants to do.”

But you knew what you wanted. Of course you knew. There hadn’t been a choice from the moment you’d seen Gareth, knowing Eddie was not far behind. Seeing the man you’d been hopelessly in love with years after he left left you in a flurry of mixed emotions. You were both overjoyed to see that face you’d adored so much and overcome with old memories and thoughts of what could have been if he’d never left. A tug-of-war between the past and the present, battling for your heart with such force you feared it would rip in two. 

Yet, even with all the conflict inside you, there was never any doubt of what you would do if given the choice. Wasn’t this the exact kind of situation you’d fantasized about endless times? Running into him, him missing you, him telling you that you’d always been the only one for him, that he still loved you.

“Room 1562 at The Mayfair,” you said, all three heads turning to look at you as you inhaled deeply and brought your eyes back to his face. “And you can bring food. That’s fine.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours then,” Eddie said, giving you that smile that swept your feet out from under you every damn time. “I can’t wait. Thank you, princess.”

Blinking back tears, you walked past him, past his slack jawed bandmates, ignoring Gareth when he called out to you, and out of the building. You weren’t trying to be bitchy but you had to get out of there. If you didn’t get some fresh air to your brain, you were going to pass out. Stopping on the sidewalk, you gulped in precious oxygen, wondering what in the hell you’d just gotten yourself into.

The door flew open, your two best friends flying out and running over to your side. Nancy’s hand came to your back. Robin’s arm locked around yours, the two of them guiding you away from the building, understanding that you needed distance. 

“Holy shit…holy shit…” Robin gasped. “I cannot believe that just happened. Are you okay?”

“I had no idea. I am so sorry,” Nancy crooned, her hand making soothing circles over your back. “Who would have thought of all the weekends in the year, the one we chose to come to New York, Eddie would be here?”

“Not me,” you managed, a nervous giggle, frantic and squeaky exploding from you. 

“Honey, are you sure you want to do this?” Nancy questioned. 

“Yeah. If you’re rethinking this, we can go get our stuff and check out right now. We can switch hotels. He’ll never know where to find us,” Robin told you. “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to.”

“No…no…I do,” you assured them, slowly coming down from the very near panic attack you’d just experienced. “I do. I want to see him. I want to talk to him. It’s okay. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to be painful but maybe it will also be good.”

“Good? Do you remember how you were after he left? Because we do,” Robin commented, one eyebrow lifting. “You don’t have to subject yourself to that again.”

“I know. I know. But he’s not a bad guy. He didn’t try to hurt me. He had an amazing opportunity and he couldn’t pass it up. And I am happy for him. Really, I am. It sucked but he’s not the bad guy. There is no bad guy in this story. It was an impossible situation. I’ll be okay. I was just taken by surprise. It was unexpected but I am expecting him to show up later so it will be fine.” Her two friends eyebrows lifted, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “Seriously, it will be fine.”

____________________________________________________________

It wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine. You paced across the floor of your hotel room as you’d been doing for the last hour. You had no idea when he was arriving. How long did a taping for The Tonight Show take? Why would you know that? You had no experience in the world of celebrity. Maybe he wasn’t coming at all. Maybe he’d thought about it and realized that he didn’t need to waste his time seeing you. He had gorgeous women throwing themselves at him all the time. Why would he sacrifice an evening with a supermodel to hang out with his average ex-girlfriend from small town Hawkins?

This was ridiculous. Why had you agreed to this? What good was seeing him going to do? Just the sight of the man had brought on a panic attack, a shirt with his band’s name had sent you spiraling down the rabbit hole of sadness. Didn’t you know this? How many times had you lost track of time, disappearing into memories when you’d spotted his face on a magazine cover at the store? 

No, you definitely should not have given him your hotel information. You should have said it was nice to see him, good luck with his appearance, and then left. Polite but keeping everything casual. You hadn’t been anything to him for five years. Five years was a long time. He’d obviously moved on. What did it say about you that you hadn’t?

Sure, you’d dated. You had that thing with Dylan that lasted for a year but it ended eight months ago when he confronted you, demanding to know if you were in love with him and you couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. You wanted to be in love with him. You wanted to be able to give someone else your heart fully but it had never belonged to you. It wasn’t yours to give. Your heart was currently touring the world and maybe it was time you got it back. Maybe that was what this meeting would do for you. You could finally sever that string, take back what was yours so you could move on and give it to someone else. 

A sharp knock on your door paused your thoughts, your feet skidding to a stop on the carpet. Your entire body responded to the possibility of Eddie on the other side of that door, heart racing, lungs rushing, the hair on your arms raising. Closing your eyes, you took in a slow inhale through your nose and then calmly walked over, opening it. 

“Oh!” you shrieked in surprise to find one of the large bodyguards standing on the other side. He pushed past you and began looking around the room, checking in closets, under the bed, and in the bathroom.

Eddie shrugged, smiling sheepishly at you, “Sorry about this. They’re very serious about my safety.”

The bodyguard appeared content that nothing was lurking in your room to attack his charge. He gave Eddie a small nod, saying, “Jack and I will be right outside the door.”

“How about just down the hall, man?” Eddie suggested. “A little privacy, maybe?”

The big man did not appear happy about it but he nodded, “Just down the hall. We’ve given very strict instructions that no one is to be allowed onto this floor until you leave, unless they are being escorted by James. He’s down in the lobby.”

“Got it. I feel very safe,” Eddie assured him, closing the door behind him. He turned to you, eyes rolling, hooking his thumb toward the door. “These guys are so fucking annoying but management insists. I had a stalker situation last year and ever since then, I’ve gone nowhere without Mr. Tall and Surly.”

“You had a stalker?” you asked, a weight weighing heavy in your stomach at the thought of him being in any danger. 

Eddie shook his head with a snort, wild brown waves tossing around as he began unpacking a large brown bag onto the table, “It was nothing. Seriously. Some twenty year old who had convinced herself that we were destined to be or something. She sent notes and flowers. It was all harmless at first until she managed to figure out where we were staying and I got back late one night to her hiding in my closet.” He chuckled darkly, opening containers, the smell of Italian food permeating the room. “Scared the shit out of me, let me tell you. But she didn’t have any weapons or anything. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. She just wanted to convince me we were soulmates. Hotel security showed up and escorted her out. Poor thing was clearly struggling with some kind of mental illness. I tried to convince CJ, our manager, that it wasn’t a big deal but ever since then he’s been adamant that we have a security detail.”

“Well, better safe than sorry,” you sighed, moving over to sit across from him at the table as he took a seat. “I mean, stalker situations can be very scary. You’re lucky she wasn’t out to hurt you.”

“I guess.” He held up a container of chicken alfredo. “This still your favorite?”

“Uh…yeah,” you nodded, smiling as he scooped down on your plate, along with garlic bread. “Thanks.”

“Well, I was trying to figure out what to grab and then I remembered how much you love Italian food. You always picked Enzo’s for your birthday dinner. You still go there every year?”

“No. I don’t. This past birthday, I actually went out of town for my dinner to a new Thai place in Indy. Dylan didn’t really like…” You stopped, pressing your lips together. Shit. Why had you mentioned Dylan? And no, you hadn’t stepped foot in Enzo’s in five years. That had been your and Eddie’s place. You couldn’t stand the thought of going in there without him.

“Dylan?” asked Eddie, not missing a beat. He sat up, leaning back in his chair, legs spreading wide, those ring clad fingers running over his thighs as he looked at you. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“He was.”

“Was? What happened?”

You swallowed hard. This was not a topic you wanted to be discussing with him. But you’d been the one to open the flood gates, to stick your big old foot in your mouth.

“We broke up,” you replied with a shrug. “It wasn’t really going anywhere, you know? He was nice. I liked him. But he asked me if I was in love with him and I just…I couldn’t lie. So, he ended it. It was probably for the best anyway.” You needed to change the subject before he had you admitting things you did not want. “So, anyway, who cares about me? I’m still living the same boring life in Hawkins. I want to know about you, the big rockstar.”

Eddie flushed, those cheeks turning bright ride as he grabbed onto his hair, bringing it across his mouth. Your heart tugged, remembering how he did this when he was embarrassed or uncomfortable. 

“It’s not as amazing as it sounds. I mean, it is. I love playing music for a living. I love being in the recording studio, working through the kinks with the guys, that moment when we finally get it right. There is nothing like standing on that stage, a sea of people screaming for you, singing your songs back at you. That part is…there really are no words. But the rest of it, all the interviews, the photo shoots, the required appearances at different functions, that’s just all the extra shit that I have to do to keep management happy. Sleeping in a different town every night gets exhausting. Sometimes I really do lay back at night and dream of my simple life back in Hawkins…sometimes I dream about that last night, laying next to you under the stars. I’ve missed you, princess.”

You swallowed, emotion threatening to choke you at his words, “Eddie…”

“What?”

“Don’t, okay? Please don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you that I miss you?”

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, closing your eyes and shaking your head, tears building up behind your eyelids. “I can’t. You have no idea. You have no idea what it was like for me when you left. You have no idea how hard it was.”

“But I do know how hard it was,” he argued, reaching for your hand but you pulled it back quickly. “I know exactly how hard it was because it was hard for me too.”

“Really? It was hard for you,” you challenged, eyes opening to glare at him. “It must have been really hard to have those models suctioned to your lips, to have your hand up the skirt of beautiful actresses you were dining with, to be sleeping with a different girl every night. I saw all the photos, Eddie. Your epic love life has graced the pages of many magazines.”

His eyes widened, nostrils flaring, “Yeah, okay? I’ve had a pretty healthy sex life since I left. I was a goddamn mess for a while. I was burying myself in other women because I was trying to forget you.”

“Well, good for you. I’m glad that worked for you! Because nothing ever worked for me!” you cried, jumping up so hard you knocked the chair back.

“It didn’t work for me! And how can you be so pissed off at me? I begged you to come with me and you refused. Do you really hate me for chasing after my dream? You knew I wanted to play music when we started dating. You knew I would go for it if I could.”

“No. I don’t hate you. Fuck, I wish I could hate you because it would make things so much easier but I can’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t fault you for chasing your dreams. And look at the life you have now. I’m proud of you, Eddie. I really am, but I…I never thought I would recover when you left.”

“Neither did I but I begged you, princess! I begged you to come with me!”

“I know you did but what would that have even looked like, Eddie? What? Me waiting in hotel rooms while you trekked from place to place? Me becoming the third wheel that was dragging you down because your focus wasn’t solely on the band? I couldn’t be that person. I couldn’t become someone you resented because I was standing in the way of you getting what you wanted. And obviously you’ve gotten it. You’ve moved on! Good for you. I can’t. I’m still stuck in that town where memories of you assault me on a daily basis. I can’t get away from you!”

“You think I’ve moved on?” he demanded, rising from his chair. 

“You obviously have. I’ve seen the evidence. I know about you and that starlet. It’s been five years. Of course you moved on. You have this exciting life, traveling all over, meeting all kinds of people. You should have moved on but then you don’t get to come in here and give me those damn eyes and tell me you’ve missed me. That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” Eddie’s eyes flashed as he began moving forward, backing you up with each step until he was so close you could feel his breath fanning your face. “Moved on? Princess, I have never moved on. You crawled inside me. You’re in my blood, my fucking skin. No matter how many women I’ve fucked, I never moved on. You want to talk about not fair. Not fair is your face haunting me everytime I’m fucking someone else, wishing it was you beneath me. Not fair is you suddenly being in my town, finally within reach, and you telling me I don’t get to tell you how much I’ve missed you. Not fair is how badly I want to bury myself inside you right now even knowing it will destroy me because it will have been worth it.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, stepping back again, the backs of your knees hitting the bed and sending you toppling onto your back on the mattress. Those brown eyes darkened with lust, the only warning you had before he was on top of you, fists on either side of your head, gazing down at you with such desire that you were sure to drown in it. 

“This is a bad idea,” you managed to choke out, knowing his words were true. Allowing him to consume you would mean the end of you but you didn’t have the strength to stop it because you wanted this. Jesus, you wanted this so badly. 

“Yeah, it probably is,” he rasped, ducking his head down, his nose trailing over your cheek and down along your neck, inhaling the scent of you, sending shivers racing down your spine and straight between your thighs. “But I don’t fucking care. Let me have you, princess, even if it's only for one night.”

“Yes…”

You barely had the word out before his lips were on yours, devouring you like a man starved. Your lungs expanded as if this kiss were breathing life back into you. Your heart jumped, responding, coming back from being dormant for so long the moment his lips touched yours. Your soul pulled, reaching for him, recognizing in him the thing it had been missing for too long. 

“I’ve missed you,” he growled, teeth pulling at your bottom lip before his tongue slid past and over yours. You met it, the two reacquainting themselves, dancing to a tune you both remembered the steps to as if it had just been yesterday. 

A large hand slid along the outer edge of your thigh, up your dress, cool metal pressing into your skin as he gripped your ass through your panties and you whimpered at the feel of those hands on you again. His lips moved, exploring every inch of your face and neck, leaving no part of you untouched. 

“You smell so damn good,” he whispered, tongue snaking along the column of your throat. “Taste good too.”

Your body shuddered. His other hand grabbed onto the strap of your dress, dragging it down your shoulder and arm until the cool air hit your exposed breast. 

“Fuck, no bra, baby? Was that just for me?”

You could not formulate words as his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard. His tongue lazily swirled, lavishing it with attention as he ground his erection down into you, fingers digging into your ass, pulling you as close as possible. His teeth raked over the tender bud and you cried out, back arching, pressing yourself against his face. 

“You like that, baby?” he crooned, doing it again, grinning when he got the exact reaction he wanted. “Feel good?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you whined, your hands grabbing at his leather jacket. He pulled back just long enough to pull it off and your fingers latched onto the hem of his shirt before he could stop you, needing to feel his skin. You sat up, his thighs straddling your, lifting it over his head and tossing it to the floor. 

Your eyes greedily ran over every inch of him, your fingers tracing the familiar tattoos inked over his skin before moving to the unfamiliar ones. He sighed at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed, his body exhaling as if in relief. There was a dragon running over his ribcage and a familiar guitar on his arm. Fuck, he was beautiful. He was still your Eddie, a bit more toned, but still lean and pale and just as perfect as you remembered. 

You pressed your lips against the black widow on his chest. Eddie moaned, one hand cradling the back of your head as your mouth explored his chest just as he’d explored yours. You teased one nipple and then the other, nibbling, enjoying the hiss of pleasure that escaped between his clenched teeth. And then you paused, your head snapping back, tears burning your eyes when you caught sight of the small black letters just to the left of the demon head he’d gotten when you were juniors. Your fingers reached out hesitantly, running over the letters.

“Is this…?” you breathed.

He glanced down, a soft smile curving his lips as he took your fingers, pressing a kiss to them, “Yeah. It’s a copy of the carving I put in that tree of our initials senior year.”

“But why? Why would you get that when we weren’t even together anymore?”

“Because,” Eddie began, those hands coming down on the mattress, leaning into you, forcing you to lie back as his mouth scorched your skin, trailing over your collarbone. “My heart is yours. It always has been. It doesn’t matter how far apart we are or if we’re together, it’s always been with you, sweetheart.” His hand slid under your dress again, palming your pussy over your panties and he hissed. “Fuck…your panties are already so wet. Is that all for me? Did she miss me?”

“So fucking much,” you whined, rolling your hips toward his hand, needing to feel his fingers on you, inside you. It had been so long and only Eddie knew how to bring you to earth shattering orgasm. No man since had made your toes curl the way he did.

Eddie’s nose ran over your hair, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. His hand slid under your panties as he stretched out next to you, fingers slipping through your slick to find your aching clit. Your body bucked and you keened, arching as his thumb brushed over your clit. Small circles teased the sensitive little bud as two thick fingers pressed into you, your body immediately pulsing around them. 

“Mmm…she remembers,” he breathed against your ear, pulling your earlobe between his teeth. “She knows who she belongs to.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words sending shockwaves of pleasure rocking through your body, your hips rolling to meet the pumping of his fingers. 

His fingers began scissoring, spreading you, preparing you for him just the way he used to. The pleasure coursing through you was like your own sweet little oasis. You had opened the door to a world you’d long hidden from yourself and any stress or worry about what this meant, what happened after this, disappeared. Eddie, his fingers, his words, his body, was all that mattered in this moment. 

He curled his fingers within you, hitting that spot that only he had ever found, that spot that had you seeing stars, that had you hurtling through the universe toward a never ending void. You screeched, eyes rolling back and then closing, chest heaving with every single gasp of air, knowing you weren’t going to be able to hold on much longer. 

A strong grip on your chin turned your head toward Eddie, “Open your eyes for me, beautiful. I’ve waited far too long for this. I want to see you lose control.”

It was a struggle, your body fighting back against you as it thrashed around in the waves of the storm that was your approaching orgasm. You finally opened your eyes, finding those brown ones that reminded you so much of perfectly melted chocolate staring into yours with such intensity that your stomach coiled even more. 

“You’re close, aren’t you, princess?” he asked with certainty. “I can feel it. Come on, baby. Let go for me.”

You screamed his name as your body trembled violently, your back arching, that knot in your stomach loosening. And then he was dragging your underwear down your legs, pushing his own pants and boxers past his hips. His lips were on yours and your hand slid between you, fisting his cock and the groan he released sent a whole new shock of pleasure through you. 

“Fuck baby, yes…” he moaned, his forehead rolling over yours. “Feels so good…missed you…missed your touch.”

His tongue slid into your mouth once again as you worked him in your hand and then teased him, guiding his cock through your slick, up and down. Each time the head of it bumped over your clit, you whimpered, the sound swallowed into his mouth. 

“Love when you use me to get off,” he growled. “Need to be inside you, sweetheart. You still on the pill?”

“Y…y…yes…” you stammered.

The word was barely out of your mouth before he thrust into you, pressing until his pelvis was flush with yours. You groaned simultaneously at the feel of your bodies connecting once again. Your pussy fluttered around him, as if welcoming him home, everything feeling as it should be for the first time in far too long.

“Jesus, baby, you feel so fucking good. So fucking good,” grunted Eddie, his body still, nose bumping over yours and you blinked when something wet fell onto your eye. Looking up, you saw he was crying and your heart squeezed as if in a vice. 

Your hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over the drop, collecting it. He smiled softly, pressing his lips to yours as he began to move his hips slowly, rutting within you each time until he was bottomed out. His arms came around your back, crushing you against him, melding your two bodies until no inch of you was untouched by him.

“Eddie, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you…” you breathed, fingers moving into his hair, your foreheads stamped together as he thrust into you as if he were trying to climb into your body.

“Me too, baby. Me too. This is how it’s supposed to be. You’re mine. You were always meant to be mine.” His mouth fell on your neck, biting and sucking, marking you. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours…yours…” you cried, feeling as you climbed toward release once again. 

“And I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. Just yours.” He growled, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper shoulders. “I’m gonna, princess. Cum with me, baby.”

It wasn’t a choice. You were barely hanging on by a thread. He buried himself deep within you, his body stilling as he cried out your name, his cock twitched, filling you with his release. Your head pressed into the pillow, legs locking around him, joining him in sweet ecstasy as you peaked once again. 

Eddie shuddered above you and then collapsed against you, his face buried against your neck. Your fingers toyed with his hair, tears burning your eyes. Fuck, you were going to pay for this. How long would you bury yourself in that miserable dark hole this time after you inevitably parted, after he headed off to be a rockstar again?

“Jesus H. Christ, princess…that was fucking amazing,” he sighed, nuzzling against your neck. “I love you.”

Your entire body stilled, completely rigid at his words. That vice around your heart tightened, threatening to crush it into a million pieces. No. You’d never recover from this. The sex would have been hard enough to get past but those words…this was too much. Silent tears slid down your cheeks. 

“Hey, hey,” Eddie soothed, his mouth pressing where the tears were. “Why the tears, princess? Why are you sad?”

��I can’t…I can’t do this,” you mumbled, attempting to sit up but his arms came around, pulling you back down to the bed, cradling you against his body. Tender kisses pressed against your forehead and you sunk into the safety and comfort of him, knowing it wouldn’t last. 

“Can’t do what?”

“What are we doing? You’re just going to leave again and I am going to have to try to get over you again. And I didn’t do a great job the first time. Why do you think I wasn’t in love with Dylan? Because I’ve never been able to get over you!”

“Baby, I never got over you either. I tried. And yes, I do have to leave again. That’s my job. But come with me.” His fingers brushed your hair back from your face, his eyes begging you the same they did five years ago. “Come on tour with me. You belong with me. I know it and so do you. Don’t make me have to live without you anymore.”

“Eddie, I don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t. You were worried the band wouldn’t take off if you were there distracting me but the band’s already taken off. The guys have missed you too. They would love to have you come along. Gareth’s got a girl and she travels with us. Nobody cares. Besides…” he grinned, teasing your neck with kisses, “you are the best kind of distraction.”

“I…I mean…”

“You mean what? I’ve been miserable without you. Are you telling me you haven’t been miserable without me?”

“No. I have,” you admitted. 

“Then come with me. Be with me. Let’s be happy.”

He was right. All of the reasons you’d had five years ago to not go on tour with them were mute at this point. Corroded Coffin was the most popular band in the world. You weren’t going to stop them from becoming big because they were already big. You tried picturing it, traveling the world with Eddie, seeing and experiencing things you never had before, sleeping next to him every night, getting to watch him on stage again. And you realized, you wanted it. You wanted it badly. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His eyes lit up. “You’re going to come on the road with me?”

“Yes. I’m so tired of trying to be happy without you. I just want you. You’re what makes me happy.”

“Oh sweetheart, I am going to make you happy every day for the rest of forever, starting now,” he grinned, and then his lips were traveling down your body and your head was humming with bliss.

#eddie munson #eddie the banished #stranger things eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #rockstar eddie munson x you #eddie munson rockstar au #eddie munson rockstar #rockstar eddie munson

[eriquin]

The Trolley Problem, Part 33

Steve has planned for a lot of things, but he didn't count on someone else having a party on Tuesday night.

(master post)

The boys eventually convinced El to come up from the basement and introduce herself. They tried to get her to float another toy, but she refused and Carol backed her up. Tommy and Steve went back out to the backyard to pry the bear traps open and pour the meat into a space in the middle of the lawn. Carol stuck by the door, making sure the kids didn’t leave the house. They all gathered by the windows to watch, Jonathan included. He looked nervous, like he was starting to believe in the possibility of it not being a prank. 

There was some noise in the woods, but not in the direction of the lab. Steve shone his flashlight over towards it, but it sounded far away. “What do you think that was?” 

Tommy stopped and listened with him. It sounded like people, or distant music. “Who lives in that direction?” 

“There’s a few houses that way,” Steve said. “Like most of the rest of Loch Nora, if you go far enough.”

“It sounds like people,” Tommy said. “Shit, what if they attract its attention instead?” 

Steve grimaced. “Who’s going to be hanging around outside in November, though?” 

Carol took a few steps towards them and shouted, “What are you guys doing?”

They moved away from the trees and back towards the pool. Most of the traps were on the other half of the yard, so it wasn’t hard to avoid them. “Steve and I heard voices and stuff,” Tommy said, pointing off towards the woods. 

Carol frowned and crossed her arms. “Maybe it’s Heather’s party?”

“Wait, what?” Steve asked. He looked back towards the woods and tried to remember who lived in that direction. “Heather as in Heather Holloway?”

“Yeah. Someone said that her parents went out of town on some second honeymoon thing and she was throwing a party tonight.” Carol scratched the side of her nose. “It was one of the girls in your class, actually. She asked if you were really going to the party. I just kind of ignored her because, like, why would you be going to a party tonight?”

“Hold on a second,” Steve said. “Heather Holloway, who lives like two blocks from here, is having a party tonight?” 

“I guess?” Carol said. “I was kind of preoccupied with, like, all the monster planning stuff.”

“How big a party?” Steve asked. 

Carol glared at him. “Why? Did you want to go? Maybe drop the whole monster hunting thing and—”

“Carol!” Steve grabbed her by the arms, trying to get her to focus. Tommy yanked on the back of his jacket. “Guys! The demogorgon attacked when I had a party. What if it goes there instead?”

“You said it went after blood,” Tommy said. He pointed at the bucket from the butcher’s shop, now in the middle of the yard and surrounded by bear traps. “Why would it go there?”

“I don’t know!” Steve said. “But what if someone cuts themselves? What if it wants human blood more than cow?” 

“Fuck,” Carol muttered. 

Tommy seemed to come to the same conclusion. “But we can’t just go over there!” he said, gesturing at the trees. “We can’t fight it in the woods, either. We have to get it here.” He looked down at Steve’s hand, then turned to Carol and said, “Go get me a kitchen knife.” 

“What? No!” Carol shook her head. “You’re not doing the same stupid hand-cutting thing that Steve did. My mom is working tonight, and she will not believe that—”

Her protests were cut short by a scream from the woods. All three of them turned to look. From the door of the sunroom, Jonathan stepped out, camera in hand. He was keeping the kids inside, but it was loud enough that they’d heard it, too. “What the hell was that?” he asked. 

Carol crossed her arms. “I don’t know. It sounded kind of fake, you know? Like someone was trying to scare somebody.”

Tommy and Steve looked at each other. It had sounded kind of weird. “Yeah, maybe,” Steve said. They waited, nervously watching the woods.

Soon, they heard more shouting, and then another scream. This was a real one, though. Steve started towards the sound, but Tommy grabbed his arm. “You can’t, dude,” he said. “You’re... You’re fucking unarmed!” 

“Shit.” Steve ran back to the deck and grabbed his bat. Tommy grabbed something, too, while Carol got behind Jonathan and pushed the kids back into the house. They all gathered at the windows while Steve tried to figure out where the scream had come from. Outside of the area around the porch, it was completely dark, and he didn’t have a flashlight. 

One of the kids must have found the switch for the yard lights, because they all came on at once. In a sickeningly familiar way, they immediately started flickering. Steve could see someone running in the woods, chased by something with too-long limbs. He started to run towards them. 

A girl emerged from the trees, tripping over the warning ropes and tumbling into the yard. In that horrifying moment, Steve saw that it was Robin. He threw himself over her, barely making it but ready to fight the demogorgon off from the ground if he had to. Above them, there was a spurt of flame, and Tommy shouted for them to stay down. 

The demogorgon fell back a step, spooked by the fire. It gave Steve a chance to get his arms around Robin’s middle and start pulling her up. Tommy had a lighter, a bottle of hairspray, and a lot of rage on his face. 

“Come on, you faceless freak,” he shouted, clicking the lighter on again. “Eat some fire.”

The hairspray lit up again as a makeshift flamethrower, driving the demogorgon back. Robin was crying and hyperventilating, and Steve kept an arm around her to get her to her feet. “Tommy, watch it!” he yelled.

But it was too late, and the flames climbed too high up the stream of hairspray. Tommy saw what was happening and dropped it, but that didn’t stop the thing from igniting and exploding right in front of him. He screamed, and everything around them was on fire. 

Steve didn’t spare time to think. He grabbed Tommy and Robin both and ran towards the pool. It felt like running through molasses, everything going way too slow, until they broke the surface of the water and sank to the bottom. He could only hope that the explosion had caught the demogorgon, too.

#the trolley problem #time travel #stranger things #steddie #my writing

[steddie-thirst]

He Didn't Do It | Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader |

Summary: Eddie gets out of jail for a crime he knows he didn't commit. You forgive him on the grounds their no evidence and Gareth provides some light. You figure out what kind of guy Eddie is.

You stare down at the caller I.D. before answering the call. The incident had changed you in a major way, being more careful about information you gave or even who you surrounded yourself with. "Hello?"

"Jesus, I'm so glad you answered!"

"Gareth?" It wasn't hard to recognize his voice after following Eddie's bands music. You've known Gareth just as long and come to recognize his voice, "What are you doing calling me-"

"Listen, I heard about what happened from, Eddie." You scoff and he Gareth sighs.

"He did it and I know he did it, because-"

"He loves you." The drummer spits out, "Eddie would never and I mean never hurt you." He would fight for Eddie, they've been friends for years. "That night, when he was on his way he called me and we were on the phone for an hour. The time he was in your window was 2 minutes after that. He didn't do it, Belle."

You were still to focused on the fact that he mentioned that Eddie had said 'he loved you', but it was shocking. Surely enough you and the young star had been close. Friends for the longest time and had closer since being in high school. Beauty and the Freak, shocking wasn't it? "He said that? Said he loved me? Really?"

Gareth chuckles, "Yeah, he did. Wouldn't shut up about you, actually." He was much surprised at the fact that you chose not to argue, but he was grateful you believed him. "We're performing at the hideout tonight, if you want to stop by-"

"Where is he now, Gare?" You ask with a bit to much eagerness that has the drummer's head spinning, but he gives in.

"He's at your old meeting spot. I'm assuming you know-" Gareth was cut off by the dial-tone and he nodded. "Yeah, she knows."

Eddie stares down into the old grooves of the wood. Many a day and night he spent at this table, dealing, selling, and making other usual bad decisions. Except the day when he met you..

November 1986

"It's gonna be 30 for half. No more and no less?" The jock, Barry asked nervously glancing down at the plastic baggie then up to Eddie's ringed fingers clasping the bag.

Barry sees Eddie grin from the corner of his peripheral, "Listen man, if you don't have the money then-" He cuts off Eddie with a scoff.

"Forget it, freak." He stands up from the rusty picnic table flipping him the bird and storming off away from the clearing. "Should've known he was a fucking freak.."

Eddie only sighed and stuffed his supply back into the black metal tin he was lugging around. He huffed, "So much for that sale." He reaches into his pocket to pull out his box of cigarettes, going to light one up when he heard something. He pushed the stick to the corner of his mouth and tucks the others back into his pocket. He cranes his head in the direction of the noise and smirks at the sight. From behind one of the trees the tip of a black flat peeks out from behind one of the tall trees.

"Gee, it must be crazy to be sitting out here all alone." Eddie goes to light his cigarette watching as the feet move out from behind the tall oaks. He takes a puff, exhaling the smoke out into the cool autumn air. When you come into view Eddie smirks, "Guess I am not crazy." He jokes.

You blush and approach the table, "H-How'd you know I was there?"

Eddie chuckles, "Saw those poking out from behind the tree." he points to your black flats and you sigh, plopping down on the opposite bench from him. "Didn't take the Queen Bee to be into drugs." He comments waving his hand around.

"Oh, I'm not.. I just.." You forget why you're there. He's just so casual it puts you in both a good mood and numbs you. "I came to see you. Purely you."

"Damn. Who gave me away?" He joked lightly and you smile watching him take another drag, before tossing the butt down and stomping it out.

"Gareth." You reply quickly.

"Good 'ol, Gareth." Eddie grins and you giggle finding it hard not to when he's smiling and paying all of his attention to you. "I like you, Belle, you intrigue me." You lean forward and grin, "Tell me more about yourself."

"You first." You reply.

November 1990

You approach the table the same way you did that very day. What you didn't know was that someone had followed you there. As you sit down Eddie looks up from the table. His hair is messy, eyes tired, and clothes rustled, "I'm sorry." You start.

"Belle, you were scared.. I'm not mad."

"But I am! At myself." You argue, "I let someone I love take the rap for murder, because I was scared myself! Eddie, that's cra-mm" His lips cut you off and you nearly melt. His lips are just as soft as you remember, soft and sweet, but tasting of smoke.

Steve watched from his spot behind the tree and he was burning with anger. Eddie loved you and you were returning that love. The years had changed nothing about your love for Eddie, not even murder could change those feelings and years of longing for him. When you pulled back Eddie sighed, "God, I missed you Eds."

"I missed you too." You respond almost breathlessly and Eddie chuckles.

"Well if you missed me so much, I expect to see you tonight at the Hideout." He retorted and you nodded reaching over to take his hands. Still clad with those chunky rings he liked to wear. Never changing was a major thing Eddie supported. Just be yourself.

"I promise, Eds. I'll be there."

"And so will I." Steve mumbled. Things were going to end there, Steve had ben fucked over just enough in his life. He was going to kill Eddie and put and end to it, you were his. You needed to know that.

TAGLIST:

@yaspillz @dahliamae @munsonloverblog @off-phelia @strangerthingsstories5255 @fujiihime @shyposttree @damon-loves-pie @fanficfanatic204 @seratoninsickness @k0urti @thatlonelypieceoftoast @marianita195 @phantomxoxo @wittlewowa @buchanansbaby @rollergirlworld @allithewriter @555stargirl555 @gothguitargal @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @carol-munson @ali-r3n @letmebeyoureuphoria @cherry-omi @harrys-tittie @yearwalker96 @lipglossanon @thepastdied @brittney69 @jessevans

#steve harrington #stranger things #slasher!steve #stranger things fandom #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x fem!reader #x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #ghostface #slashers

[theficpusher]

Home for the Holly Days by LadyLondonderry | nr | 2421 There he is, bowl of batter in one arm and whisk in the other. The wireless is blaring something that distinctly sounds like Fairytale of New York, which would make sense with how much Harry loves muggle music. But. The thing is, is he's doing some terribly odd moves, swaying his hips slightly out of pace with the music but with so much more passion than Louis thinks he's ever seen anybody display about this song. His apron, down to his knees, is swishing back and forth as he moves and - dear lord - his shorts don't even reach as low as the hem of his apron. Louis has to get out of here. Or, Louis’s participating in the Secret Santa exchange between all the Hogwarts professors stuck at school over the winter holidays, and the Sorting Hat may fancy itself a bit of a matchmaker.

if you should try to kiss her by disgruntledkittenface | nr | 3129 It’s kind of their thing now. They make relentless snarky comments to and about each other and exchange meaningful eye contact every time they think no one is looking. At least, that’s what Louis thinks they’re doing, like their own extended lesbian mating ritual. It seems obvious to her that they’re inevitable in some kind of cosmic, grand design type of way; they’re eventually going to end up together and fix up an old house and Nick will build a chicken coop for the backyard (or hire someone to build it, probably) and then they’ll live happily ever after, bickering the whole time. If only she could be sure that’s what Nick thinks they’re doing. Harry's annual Christmas party gives Louis her chance to be brave and tell Nick how she feels.

(looking for) your name in these words by honey_beeing | T | 5330 Rapunzel, I wish you would let down your hair so I could come to meet you. ;) -Secret Santa "Mate, you're blushing," points out Niall as he reads it. (or) Where Secret Santa notes have a way of turning into love letters.

You Are The Only Thing On My Christmas List by KayleeJohn | T | 6008 Niall’s face splits in two in a wide teasing grin and Harry tries to yank his hand away, spitting, “Unbelievable,” but Niall just laughs, throwing his head back before he folds himself on the table top and traps Harry’s hand under his arms. It’s not the worst fate imaginable. Or the one where Niall is the only thing Harry really wants for Christmas.

I Just Want You (For My Own) by BleedMeAMelody | nr | 6147 “I made it so that you’re Harry Styles’ secret santa!” Niall practically shouted, clearly excited by his handiwork. Louis blinked once, twice, three times. “I’m sorry, I must be hearing things because it sounded like you just said that you made me Harry Styles’ secret santa, which I know can’t possibly be true,” Louis said evenly with a shake of his head. “Oh, but it is! I did!” Niall exclaimed happily. Or, Niall is tired of listening to Louis pine over the cute, curly-haired boy who works on the fourth floor, so he rigs the company’s secret santa. Holiday antics ensue.

Will You Still Call Me Superman by el_em_en_oh_pee | T | 6370 When Harry opens his locker, there's a box wrapped in blue tissue paper, wound messily in a skinny white ribbon, just sitting on top of his textbooks. A piece of paper taped to the top of the box readsTo Harry, Happy Christmas! I noticed how you're always chewing on your pencils in class so I thought this might help! -Your Secret Admir Santa xx In which Harry has an overwhelming crush on Liam, the nicest, coolest guy in school, and his friends aren't very supportive of the pain his crush causes him. The jerks.

Potions and Presents and a Partridge in a Pear Tree by b0yfriendsinl0ve | T | 7052 Harry has a bit of a crush, it's Christmas and there's chocolate.

Santa Baby Honey by SadaVeniren | E | 28736 “Let’s cut right to the chase,” Niall said, loading the powerpoint, which was just one page, comprised of Louis’ face and the words How do you solve a problem like this asshole? “It’s the beginning of November and Louis is already being a fuckwit. How are we gonna have him knock that shit off this year?” aka Louis is the CEO of a toy company and Christmas is a stressful time of year so his assistant decides the best way to make him chill out is by getting him laid through a Secret Santa

This Is Not The End by PrettyInSoulPunk | E | 41031 When Niall gets back home, there's a package lying on the ground right inside of his security gate, but he doesn't see it until he nearly trips over it. It's small, so he figures it must have been pushed through the mail slot. Or maybe it was thrown over the wall because it feels soft enough not to be fragile. There's no postage or return address, just a holiday sticker with his name printed on it in handwriting that Niall doesn't recognize.

#secret santa #LadyLondonderry #disgruntledkittenface #honey_beeing #KayleeJohn #BleedMeAMelody #el_em_en_oh_pee #b0yfriendsinl0ve #SadaVeniren #PrettyInSoulPunk #Home for the Holly Days #if you should try to kiss her #(looking for) your name in these words #You Are The Only Thing On My Christmas List #I Just Want You (For My Own) #Will You Still Call Me Superman #Potions and Presents and a Partridge in a Pear Tree #Santa Baby Honey #This Is Not The End

[jenxwp]

‘A Necessary Evil’ NZ script

Hey guys! We are finally up to the last episode of the Destiny-Quest-Necessary Evil arc, and boy, are we going out with a bang. Until I started reading through this script I didn’t realise how this story must have evolved! There are so many differences, so this post is going to be long.. #sorrynotsorry. 

No, honestly… clear your calendar for the day and grab a coffee because we are going for a ride.. but if you stick with me it will be WELL worth it. 🤯

So first off, a little bit about this script. This one is special to me because it was used on-set in New Zealand and I don’t have many like that. How do I know? The two ring binding on the left is the main give-away along with the fax detailing. The script has seen better days, but considering its 25 years old and been around New Zealand and made its way across the seas to Australia- I think it’s going good!

Who is Russell? Well that’s a mystery I have been trying to work out for many years. I have spoken to people who worked on set and it is still an enigma. 

At the top of each page you can see that the document was faxed from LA through to New Zealand on November 8th 1996. I have covered up the number- not sure if it’s still active, but I don’t know international numbers and better safe than sorry!

Interestingly, the shooting schedule for this episode was from November 26th to December 5th with 8 shooting days allocated. Whether this changed because of Lucy’s accident I am not sure, but these are the dates I have on my season 2 main unit production schedule. With this script, I am not sure if it is a final copy because it is annotated ‘2nd draft’. Scripts will go through many versions before the final, but I would have thought because the writers are in LA, only the final would have gone to NZ. But then again the script is dated November 22nd.. which is weeks AFTER it was faxed. Ok there is some voodoo shit going on here. AND if shooting was to begin on the 26th, SURELY it was finalised by the 22nd… but then again.. *I* am a last minute kinda gal so I can’t really judge.. and... Argh! Help! If anyone has a ‘shooting draft’ for this episode, please give me a shout-out- we can compare!

I have digressed. Alright, first up- the teaser. It is so different to what we end up with on screen:

Interestingly, instead of having the dialogue between Gabrielle and Ephiny regarding the ‘Amazon parades’, we have some friendly banter between Xena and Gabrielle about sleeping in late and sleeping in trees. It’s good light-hearted fun.

In the script, Velasca has a lot more meaty dialogue. Which to be honest, I am glad they reduced. Statements like “gift from the gods… to MAKE A GOD” is so much more powerful compared to what is written above. That’s my opinion, but it’s so interesting to read what was originally intended. There was also much more emphasis on Xena being injured in this initial battle which is brought up many times in this script.

The next scene after the intro is also so different to what we saw! I am just going to leave this here...

I have mixed feelings about this. I do feel like the conversation with Xena and Gabrielle is forced, and to be honest, what we got on screen was more genuine. Those two can convey more in one look than 5 pages of dialogue.

Moving on.. Callisto and her pet rat in the Labyrinth of the Gods!

Hear me out. I am glad this changed. I am one of those ones that enjoys Hercules. Let me make clear that I don’t like Sorbo… but I grew up watching the action back-2-back and I will still watch it on occasion. Xena is 10000% times better than Hercules, but I just love the entire WORLD that they create- X:WP, H:TLJ, and Young Hercules. So I like the seamless continuity.

This next one is interesting because this replaces the scene where the Amazons ‘offer’ up Ephiny at night time. I do like the original…

Next up is a bit more of an explanation why they are going in a hole to retrieve Callisto.. continuity.. heh 😄

BUT. I don’t like the implication that Gabrielle would leave Xena? I know it was in jest but I really just don’t think given the circumstances they would joke about that. Or am I being overly analytical?

Down into Callisto’s tomb…

I just wish we saw Xena break off a stalagmite… meanwhile we have Gabrielle and a rabbit up top.

(gifs from @aphroditexwp​)

‘Nuff said.

Next up we have a real change from the screen. In the script, Velasca destroys a temple to Demeter, not Artemis.

Artemis makes sense… goddess of the Amazons. Lets stick with the latter shall we?

Now this bit is good. In this script, the manner in which Xena tells the story of Cirra to the villagers and Callisto’s reaction is very different to what we see. Callisto is much more involved.

I would like to have seen how this played out. I greatly admire Hudson’s acting of Callisto because she is such a loose cannon. You never know how it will be portrayed. But that look she gives in the episode- that almost robotic moment; it just makes the scene for me and we would NEVER have got that with this dialogue. So is it greedy of me to want both?

So the scene in the ‘mountain arena’ (as I am going to dub it) isn’t too different, but since Callisto gets blown into pieces I feel it is worth visiting:

Following on from this, we also have SUCH a different campfire scene:

I have reservations about how good a ‘general’ Callisto would have been. I think she was much more impulsive and wouldn’t have sat around discussing tactics. She definitely wouldn’t have discussed things on the same level as Xena. I know these differences are dealt with in the scene but I really just don’t see it. I would love to know what others think of this because maybe I am bias… NOTHING could be beat the campfire scene between Gabrielle and Callisto.

I wasn’t going to include this next snippet because I know this post is already very long but… Chariot!!

Alright. Here we are. The penultimate fight. Buckle up. THIS IS SO DIFFERENT. Lets read:

… so XENA is the one on the rope bridge telling GABRIELLE to cut the ropes! AND SHE DOES! I am just shook.

Okay, final scene back in the Amazon village:

What do you prefer? The Wizard of Oz version or the ‘Less-Wizardy’?

I do really like the imagery of Velasca and Callisto imprisoned like flies in amber, but I am unsure if CGI at the time would have done it justice. The gutteral screams and laughs really get you in the feels in that closing scene. But from what I remember, I think there was intentions to have Velasca resurrected from the lava like Callisto was at some point. At least it was left open and I would have loved her return. Imagine if she came back after the 25-year time jump with no understanding of ANYTHING between Season 2 and Season 6. That would have been fun.

Alrighty guys, if you’re still with me, THANK YOU. Its been an epic one. You deserve a stiff drink.

Until next time xo

#xena #Xena Warrior Princess #script #xenites #production materials #new zealand #lucy lawless #renee o'connor #hudson leick

[your-eternal-muse]

Home

Summery: After months of being held against your will, you escape into the world, and await for the moment when you can return home.

Warnings: Mentions of abduction, vague mentions of abuse, talk of injury, thoughts of giving up, mentions of weight loss

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Words: 2.5k

Authors Note: Wow. It’s been a hot fucking minute huh? Sorry for taking so long. I was moving and unpacking, and getting situated and than I got a new job and so many other things. This is the piece that got me back into the writing flow, so that's fun. I am still working on requests, and while they may not be posted in the order that I received them, they still will be posted. I will also be posting little one shots in between them as well, because my brain doesn’t know when to fucking stop. I missed you guys. I hope you’re all doing well. Also I’m at 950 followers??? That’s insane. I don’t believe it. Anyway, enjoy!

I run.

I run through gaps in between trees, stepping on sticks, ducking under branches.

Every muscle, every bone in my body is screaming at me to stop. To give up, fall to the ground and curl up at the base of a tree and give in to the darkness.

But I can’t.

I can’t stop running, not until I know I’m safe.

Not until I’m home.

The air is brisk, and the leaves crunching underneath my bare feet are different shades of decay.

The sunlight breaking through the canopy does little to tell me what time of day it is, or even what direction I’m going. 

So I just run.

Away from the little wooden house where I’ve been beaten almost everyday for who knows how long.

I’ve lost count of the days.

But I got lucky.

He’s always gone during the day, and I’ve lost enough weight so I could slip my wrists through the zip tie that had me bound.

I’m losing stamina, but I keep pushing forward.

Please, god, give me something, anything.

I stumble through a wall of brush, falling to the gravel ground of the side of the road.

A road.

I push myself up, my steps stuttering as I gain my back my balance.

I turn my head, looking both ways down the seemingly deserted road, and I now believe in a mighty being above because I see gas pumps not even a half a mile down the road from where I’m standing.

I start running as fast as I can, limping every other step, trying to pick up a speed my body has forgotten.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and every breath feels like it’s being ripped out of me, but I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to.

I turn into the gravel driveway of the station speeding towards the front door, barreling inside, heaving for air as I turn and lock the deadbolt on the door.

I flip the sign from open to closed for good measure, before slipping down to the floor in a heap.

“Oh sweet baby jesus above, darling what happened to you?” A woman runs out from behind the counter, crouching down next to me pushing dirty matted hair out of my face, hands running gently over my exposed skin.

My voice is hoarse, and my throat burns when I speak.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent y/n y/l/n of the Behavioral Analysis unit of the F.B.I.” I let my head fall back against the glass of the door. “I don’t, I don’t have my badge otherwise I would show you.”

Her eyes are deep green, and kind. Worry creases her already wrinkled face, and her skin looks soft and loose.

“Oh honey, it’s okay. I believe you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Tears start to form in my eyes and I can’t seem to move anymore. “I was abducted by someone we were chasing in May, and I just escaped.” 

A hand comes to cover her mouth. 

“I really need to use your phone to contact my team.” 

She couldn’t be older than 50, with long dirty blonde hair starting to gray at the roots.

I couldn’t help but feel the trust swarm my chest, too tired to put up walls anymore.

“Oh of course, honey. Let me help you behind the counter, and we’ll get you all set.”

She gingerly helped me back to my feet, wrapping my arm over her shoulders to help me sit on a stool behind the counter. 

She makes sure I’m set sturdy on the seat, before handing me a landline from beside the till.

“You use that to call however many people you want, and I’m gonna go get you some water and something to eat.”

She starts to walk away but she snaps her fingers and turns around, grabbing something from the counter and draping it over my shoulders.

It was a fuzzy winter jacket.

“It’s almost November, you’re probably freezing too.”

Her accent is a gentle southern, like a grandma who makes peach cobbler and gives the best hugs. 

I shove my arms through the sleeves, zipping it up to my chin. 

Almost November.

It’s October.

I’ve been gone for five months.

October, and I’m wearing shorts and a ripped tank top.

I look down at the landline and take a breath to steady my trembling hands before dialing the number I know by heart.

Three rings, and he picks up.

“This is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

I start to sob at the sound of his voice, a voice I never thought I’d be able to hear again.

I start to collapse within on myself.

“Hello?”

I haven’t said anything.

I take a breath, wiping my nose on the back of my hand before speaking.

“Hey, Spence.”

It’s silent, and I can faintly hear the sound of something crashing to the floor.

“Y-Y/n?”

“Jesus, I never thought I’d get to hear your voice again.”

“Where are you? Are you safe? Is he there?” He’s frantic, his voice rushed and high.

“I don’t know where I am, but I’m safe. I’m at some gas station. A nice woman is helping me.”

I lick my lips and I can taste the saltiness of my snot. “I got out.” 

“Penelope, I need you to trace this call right now.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

He has it on speaker, and I openly sob at the twinkle of her voice.

“Penelope…” is all I can muster, but it’s enough to hear her gasp, and then her own sob.

“Hold on tight sweet girl! We’re coming!”

I hear typing, and background voices getting louder.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Derek?” I gasp, bringing a hand to the center of my chest and grasping the fabric tight in my hands.

I lean back against the wall as the woman comes up with bottles of water, and bags of different foods.

Tears stream down my face, and the woman pushes hair out of my face, pinning it back with clips from her own hair.

“Is that you stud muffin?” I hope he hears the small smile in my voice.

I hear a shaky breath. “Yeah it’s me sweetheart.”

“I got her! She's a few miles outside of Chattanooga Tennessee!”

Tennessee? How the hell did I get to Tennessee?

“Derek, go tell the others. We’ll meet you at the jet.”

I hear shuffling on the other end as I break the seal on the water, before taking a long, much needed gulp.

“Are you still there y/n?” His voice is laced with concern, and I can picture the crease above his brows, the shakiness of his hands. 

“I’m here.”

“You stay right there, okay? Don’t move. We're on our way.”

The woman hands me a box of tissues, and I take a few wiping my eyes, but my cheeks stay wet.

“God, I missed your voice.”

A moment of silence, and I know he’s trying to collect himself on the other end of the phone, trying to stay strong for me.

“I missed yours too. I called your phone every day just to listen to your voice. I probably left a thousand voicemails.”

The woman opens a bag of chips for me, before kneeling and pulling out a first aid kit from below the counter.

“I thought about you every day. About your voice. Your smile. I just wanted you to walk through the door and say some weird statistic and we’d fly off into the sunset.”

I can hear him choke back tears and all I want to do is hold him, like his pain is somehow my own.

“I tried. I tried so hard, but you had disappeared without a trace. But I never stopped. I would never stop looking for you.”

“I know, Spence. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, and I never will.”

Muffled voices in the background and he sniffles. “I have to hang up, baby. We’re taking off. We’ll be there in a little under two hours okay?”

Two hours.

“Okay. Please hurry.” I close my eyes, picturing his smile in my mind. “I miss you.”

“We will. I love you. See you soon. Hang on.”

The line goes dead, and I bring the phone slowly back down from my ear, hanging up.

I take a chip and pop it in my mouth. 

The woman stands in front of me, and with a cotton pad with alcohol, starts to clean at the cuts on my face.

“What’s your name?” I ask, feeling bad, that in the 20 minutes I’ve been here already, I hadn’t even stopped to ask.

“Luanne, sweetpea. It seems like you got a lot of people that care about you.”

I nod my head, popping another chip into my mouth. “My team. They’re my family. We were on a case in Chicago in May when…”

Bile starts to form at the back of my throat, but I shove it back down with another swig of water. 

I lick my lips, trying to get rid of the sting of the salt in the cracks. “Thank you. For helping me. I know you didn’t have to but-”

“Sweetpea,” she holds my face in her hands, wiping away the tears that are still falling. “You have been through hell and back again. You deserve all the kindness in the world.” She pulls me into herself, and I nuzzle my face into the fabric of her shirt. 

It smells like lavender.

“You’re safe now. Any bastard that tries to come in is going to have to go through me first.”

I clutch onto her shirt, basking in the first kind human touch I’ve had in months. 

She smooths down my hair, soft and slow, and I listen to the heartbeat in her chest.

“You know, you remind me so much of my daughter. She looks soft on the outside, but she’s one hell of a fighter. I think you’d both get along rather swell.”

She stands, and just holds me, running her fingers through my hair, as I soak her shirt with my tears. 

I’m never going to forget her, forget this. 

I will spend every day of the rest of my life trying to repay this woman's kindness anyway I can. 

Thank you, will never be thanks enough.

Flashing lights appear outside the window.

~~~

I’m tired. 

My eyes burn with every blink and there’s an insistent pounding matching the beating of my heart inside my skull.

It hurts to breathe.

It hurts to move.

I’m freezing.

I tighten the blanket around me as medics move around me, getting things ready for when I’ll finally cave and agree to go to the hospital.

But I can’t leave.

I won’t leave. 

Not yet. 

The red and blue lights don’t help the migraine swimming behind my eyes, and everyone is talking too loud.

Why is everyone talking so loud?

My eyes look across the darkening parking lot, and Luanne is leaning against the hood of a cop car, her hands in her pockets, and she smiles at me, her hair blowing softly in the cold October wind.

But I hear fast paced tires on gravel, and my eyes move from her to the two black SUVS pulling into the lot.

I’m moving. 

Thoughts aren’t even processing in my brain, my neurons are stagnant. I’m moving on pure instinct. 

The car door opens before it’s even stopped, and the blanket falls from my shoulders in a heap on the floor of the ambulance.

Time is an illusion. 

It’s completely stopped as my feet meet the gravel, and I push the dirt behind me, moving towards the one person I thought about whenever I got the chance.

It’s just me and him, moving towards one another, two unstoppable forces about to test Newton's law.

My eyes start at his feet.

His pants fall over the top of his chuck taylors, and I’m positive two different socks sit below them. 

Higher.

Closer.

His hips.

He’s not wearing a belt. His holster is crooked. He was in a rush.

Higher.

Closer.

His chest. 

His vest is missing. His tie is loose, and the top couple of buttons are undone.

I can see his collar bones.

Higher.

Closer.

His neck, the bobbing adam's apple.

Higher.

Closer.

His lips, pursed.

His nose, red.

Highest.

Here.

His eyes. 

Deep hazel, honey surrounding darkened pupils, and I fly into his arms.

Ice melts.

My head clears.

I wrap my arms around his neck, shoving my face into his shoulder, inhaling like it is my first breath.

My feet aren’t on the ground anymore. 

He holds me, tightly against him, hands splayed across my back, his own face buried into my neck.

Our heart beats sync. For a moment, we're one. 

And then time seems to start again, and I pull back, eyes bleary, and I grab his face, crashing my lips to his in a desperate plea. 

He breaths into me, and I know, for certain, for the first time in months, that I am safe.

I am home.

We break, and our tears mix on cold cheeks, and I can’t stop looking at him, touching him, feeling the fabric of his jacket beneath my fingertips, the growth of his stomach beneath my own.

“I love you, I love you so much, oh my god.” His hands are all over me. My face, my neck, my arms. 

I never thought I’d get to touch him again, get to feel him, get to kiss him.

“You’re here. I love you. You’re here.” Is all I can manage as I bring his face to mine again.

I played out entire scenes where we did exactly this inside my head while that man did whatever he wanted to me.

I had all the things I wanted to say inside my head, but now that it’s real, now that it’s forged into reality, words fail. 

Nothing I can or want to say means anything at this moment. 

Nothing matters other than me and him.

A new hand is on my shoulder, and I lift my head to see Hotch. 

And so I am passed, from person to person, being held and squeezed and kissed and cried on until everyone has felt the breath leave my lungs, and I have felt the warmth of their skin. 

I return to Spencer, and he drapes his coat over my shoulders and zips it up to my chin, before the medics walk over.

They don’t say anything, and they don’t need to. 

I simply grab his hand and start moving towards the ambulance. 

“We’ll meet you at the hospital.” Hotch's voice is stern, and soft at the same time. 

I nod, and climb into the back, Spencer right behind me.

The medics get to work, and I feel my eyes droop, feeling his hand in mine.

He brings it up to his lips, pressing a kiss against each knuckle. “It’s okay. You can rest now. You’ve fought long enough.”

I smile at him, watching the tears stream down his cheeks. 

I succumb to the darkness.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x Female!Reader #Spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #derek morgan #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x reader

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 17/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

November approaches quickly.  The surveyor is due to arrive in only a handful of weeks.  The horses are coming along just fine with their training.  Mulder’s relationship with Katherine feels like it’s moving forward at a pleasant pace.  Just before the last weekend of the month, he asks her if he might accompany her into town that Friday.

“Of course,” she says.  “But, you don’t need to ask.”

“You might have plans with your friends and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“I would like to call on Susannah and Monica and Doctor Black, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome to join me.”

“Then, I will accept your invitation.”

“My invitation?  You invited yourself.”

“Did I?”

Probably the only thing he finds more delightful than when she raises her eyebrow at him is when she rolls her eyes at him.

He asks if she’d like to attempt to drive the wagon into town, but she declines.  She feels that she’s only just mastered the carriage and has not had any wagon lessons yet.  She’s more than happy to have him drive them.

Their first stop is the mercantile.  Susannah rushes out to greet them and pulls Katherine inside by looping her arm through hers.

“We’ve got the prettiest new fabric in that will suit you so well,” she says.  “I’ve been hoping you’d come by and held it just for you.”

“John,” Mulder greets, as he enters the store.

“Mulder, what timing.  The denim trousers you ordered arrived just this week.”

“Thank you, I’ll take them now if you’ll wrap them.”

“Already done.”

“Katherine has our supply list, but it looks like your wife has absconded with her.”

“Yes, she’s been waiting for her to come in.”

“I’ll just take a look at the catalog in the meantime, I may have a few other things to order.”

“Certainly.”  John slides the thick book of merchandise across the counter to Mulder.  “We saw Melvin ride through town a few weeks ago and take Doctor Black back with him to the ranch.  Heard you had taken a tumble from a wagon.”

“Just a little shoulder damage.  That does remind me, if you have any liniment, I’ll take a couple tins off you.”

“We’ve got Sloan’s.  The oil.”

“That’s fine, two bottles.  No, make it three.  I’ll bring one to the Doc.”

“He said Katherine patched you right up and did about as good of job with it as he would’ve done.”

“I guess if I had to compare the two, I much prefer the bedside manner of my wife.”

Mulder chuckles as John blushes and fumbles with the bottles of liniment.  He’s saved from any further conversation of his shoulder when Katherine appears with Susannah and some bolts of cotton fabric with a blue paisley pattern.

“Kate, you have our list?” Mulder asks.

“Oh, yes.”  She opens the little drawstring bag at her wrist and gives John the paper.

“Now that Katherine’s taken over from Melvin, you don’t have to translate his hieroglyphics any longer.”

“Yes, lovely handwriting.”  John nods and then starts to collect items from the list, all business.

“I was just needling your wife about that Sunday dinner get-together we promised,” Susannah says.  “You be sure not to keep her so busy she can’t do some proper visiting.”

“She is more than free to ride out at any time to come calling, but it has been a bit hectic lately.”

“Oh, we heard about your fall.  Doctor Black said Katherine did all the doctoring for him and he didn’t lift a finger.”

“It was a mild concussion and a shoulder dislocation,” Katherine explains.  “Just required a re-set of the shoulder and a good deal of rest.”

“John, put in for five of these undershirts here on page 67.  Kate, is there anything you might want from Montgomery Ward?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take a gander and put in for whatever you find with John.  I’m going to head across the way to the lumber mill just for a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

Mulder leaves Katherine at the mercantile and goes across the road to the mill.  It’s a noisy place with a lot of sawing and yelling and hammering.  The smell of sawdust is everywhere.  The air is thick with it and Mulder can swear he feels it clinging to him as soon as he gets within five feet of the place.

“Mr. Hartwell,” he shouts, waving his hat to get the foreman’s attention.

Mr. Hartwell leaves the saw he’s working with stuck in the lumber he’s cutting and takes his gloves off to shake hands.  “Mr. Mulder, good to see you,” he says.

“I’m soon to be in need of some lumber.”

“Oh?”

“I took over Old Man Goodwin’s plot and I’ve got a surveyor coming out a little more than a week from now.  He’s supposed to get me some plans for a bigger barn, new stables, and we’ll be doing a new bunkhouse and expanding the house eventually.”

“Is that right?  When might you be needing your order?”

“I hope to break ground by winter.  At least on the corral.  I’ve been clearing trees on the property and we can recycle some of what we’ve already got.  You still have a record on the build on my current plot?”

“I reckon so.”

“Let’s start with that same amount.  I’m about to run down to the bank.  I’ll tell Mr. Skinner you’ll be giving him an estimate and he can advance anything you need and I’ll take what I can get by let’s say, mid-December?”

“Well alright then.”  Mr. Hartwell nods.

“I’ll also be in the market to hire labor, so if you have anyone in mind you can point my way, I’d be most grateful.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Thank you.”

The two men shake hands again and Mulder heads back to the mercantile.  John Jr. is loading up the wagon with their purchases.  He gives Mulder a wave.

“How are things with your sweetheart?” Mulder asks, helping to load the last of the crates from the porch.

John Jr. sighs.  “She broke off with me a couple weeks ago.”

“Well, now, that’s a shame.”

“She said I was boring and then the next day she was holding hands with Luke Doggett.”

“That the Sheriff’s boy?”

“Yes, Sir.  I can’t even be mad over it because Luke’s a nice guy.”

“Be patient.  You’re a hard worker and you’re not boring at all, you’re stable, like your father.  You’ll find a great girl one day that’ll appreciate that.”

“Naw, I think I’m done with girls for awhile.  I’m gonna save up and get a horse.”

“Well, horses are good too.  When you’re ready to buy, you come see me.  I’ll give you a good deal.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mulder chuckles to himself as he walks away from John Jr. and goes back into the mercantile.  Katherine gives him a smile that makes him want to wrap his arms around her.  He puts his hand at the small of her back instead.

“Ready?” he asks.

Katherine and Susannah say their goodbyes.  Mulder helps his wife up into the wagon seat and then they head to the bank.  He leaves Katherine at the line to the teller’s window and waves to Skinner who motions him into the office.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re moving forward on the expansion,” Mulder tells him.  “Mr. Hartwell should be coming by with an estimate for lumber.  I told him to speak with you and you’d arrange to advance him anything he might need.”

“I can do that.”

“I also, uh…”  Mulder turns his hat over in his hands for a few moments and then he glances out into the foyer of the bank before he shuts the door to Skinner’s office for a bit of privacy.  “If you can get word to my lawyers through the branch in Fort Worth that I’d like to update my will, I would appreciate it.”

“Certainly, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m sure I’ll need an update of my account holdings, so whatever they need they can have time to put it together.”

“What brought this on, if I may ask?”

“Had a fall from a wagon a few weeks ago.  Nothing drastic, mind you, it just got me thinking and I’d like to make sure that if...well, if anything should happen, there’s no question of what my wishes are.”

“Your wife would be protected, by law.”

“Not well enough.  I want to make damn sure the ranch will stay with her, and I want to make sure Melvin will be taken care of as well.”

“I’ll get word and if anything comes back from your lawyers, I will let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Does she even know?  Who she really married?  How much you’re worth?”

“No.”

“You might want to tell her sometime.”

“When the time is right.”

↭

Katherine feels more confident this time when she pays the mortgage.  The teller is polite, calls her Mrs. Mulder, slides the card to her that she needs to sign with a fountain pen and she doesn’t hesitate this time to write Katherine Mulder next to the date.

She’s finished before Mulder is done speaking with Mr. Skinner, so she waits for him outside by the wagon.  She’s never really gotten a good look at the town before.  The row of businesses stretches long and wide.  If the bank is the end point, the mercantile is the start.  In between there’s a sawmill, a blacksmith, the saloon, an icehouse, a cafe, a flour mill, a bath house, a meeting house, the sheriff’s office, a barber, a boarding house, a livery, a laundry, and the house of ill repute, as Mulder referred to it.

She knows there’s a church somewhere and a school, but they must be hidden in the outskirts of the town.  Doctor Black must have his practice somewhere off the main road as well.  Monica had said she lives off the road that veers left from the bank and she wonders how many other homes are out there and where everyone lives.  The Byers may make their home as part of their store, but presumably Mr. Skinner does not sleep in the bank.  And she remembers that Susannah said he had a wife.

Mulder comes outside and stands next to her.  “When I first got here about the only things that existed were the mercantile and the saloon,” he says.  “Sometimes it seems like all this just sprang up overnight.”

“Susannah was telling me today that a Wells Fargo office is coming in next year.”

“Long overdue for that, if you ask me.  Nearest place to send a telegram is either Abilene or Fort Worth, depending on where you’re at.”

“How many folks live here?”

“I can’t say I know for sure.  If I were to wager a guess, maybe fifty or so in town.  There’s a lot of ranches around these parts that do their business here, so if you consider them to be part of the town, there’s got to be at least another hundred.”

“It’s strange, but I grew up in a city of twenty thousand people and it always felt very small to me.  But, standing here, on a street you can probably walk up and back in a quarter of an hour, it feels enormous.”

“Well, they say everything is bigger in Texas.”

“I have heard that.”

“Where to now, fair Kate?”

“Where does the Doctor live?”

“Up that way behind the boardinghouse.”

“I’d like to drop in on Monica first then, since the Doc is on the way back.”

Katherine takes Mulder’s hand to climb into the wagon and he drives them down the road, over a short bridge, and then past a grove of trees.  A house appears as soon as they clear the trees, like an island in a sea of bluebonnets.

“Goodness,” Katherine says.  “Monica said you can’t miss it.”

The rumble of the wagon must have alerted her friend.  Monica comes out to the porch, wiping her hands on a dishrag.  She waves and jumps down the steps to greet them as they come down the lane.

“I hope you don’t mind us dropping in,” Katherine says as she climbs down from the wagon.  “We were in town so I wanted to say hello.”

“Are you kidding?  I’m thrilled.”  Monica hugs Katherine hard and keeps an arm around her shoulders as she waves to Mulder.  “I’ve got cornbread in the oven that’ll be done soon.  You’ll stay and have a cut before I bring dinner out to John, won’t you?”

“Well, that sounds too good to pass up,” Mulder answers.

“Come on in.”

The Doggett residence is similar to the ranch house.  There’s a dogtrot that runs from the front to the back, but the left side of the house is all kitchen and dining area, presumably bedrooms are on the right.  Monica offers them chairs at the table and then checks on the cornbread.  Mulder holds a chair out for Katherine as she loosens her hat and removes her gloves, but he doesn’t sit down right away.  He moves over to a breakfront along the wall and runs his hand over the smooth wood.

“This is a beauty,” he says.

“My boy built that,” Monica answers, proudly.

“The Sheriff did this?”

“No, our son Luke.  I swear he was swinging a hammer before he could toddle.”

Mulder nods and continues to run his hand down the side and across the front.  “How old might Luke be?”

“Fifteen.  Just had a birthday on the 13th of October.”

“That’s funny, we have the same birthday.”

“Your birthday was the 13th?” Katherine asks.  She’s mildly embarrassed that she had no idea her own husband’s birthday had passed.

“I didn’t even remember myself until just now.”

“What year were you born?” Monica asks.

“1861.”

Monica closes her eyes and tilts her head for a few moments.  “You’re a three,” she says, with a brief nod.

“A three?”

“Yes, in numerology.  Your life path number is a three.  It means you like to inspire others and make them smile.  But, if you feel you’ve been misinterpreted you can become sullen and withdrawn.”

“Is that right?”  Mulder grins as he looks at Katherine and she raises her eyebrow.  “But, I thought I was blue and red.  Now I’m a number?”

“Oh, you told him about his aura?”  Monica beams.

“I um…”  Katherine can feel the heat rising to her cheeks as though she were caught gossipping.  Mulder must sense her discomfort for he finally sits down beside her and takes her hand before hanging his hat on his bent knee.

“One day I’d like to hear all about it,” he says, squeezing Katherine’s hand.  “I was just wondering though, Mrs. Doggett-”

“Oh, call me Monica, please.”

“Monica, that’s really high quality work your boy does.  How would you feel about letting him come out this winter and work on an expansion out at my ranch?  I’d pay him, of course.”

“I’d have to speak with my husband about it, but I’m sure Luke would be thrilled at the prospect.  He’s been at us to quit school for the last few years.”

“Oh, but he can’t quit school,” Katherine says.

“Well, most of the kids around here quit by the age of twelve.  They’re needed at their farms or ranches.  Luke’s been the oldest in the schoolhouse for the last two years and he’s been pretty anxious to move on.  John wouldn’t let him since we don’t have a farm and he’s certainly not going to allow his son to take on a job at the saloon, which is about the only place that’d hire a boy his age.”

“I’m going to be looking to hire quite a few men starting next month or so,” Mulder says.  “There’s plenty of room in the bunkhouse for him and I’ll see to it he comes home for the week’s end.  Your husband is welcome to ride out any time to check in.”

“I would keep my eye on him as well, if you’re at all concerned about that,” Katherine adds.

“Oh.”  Monica puts her hand on Katherine’s arm and smiles.  “I don’t doubt that.  My, what a lovely ring!”

“Thank you.”  Katherine runs her thumb along the side of her ring band with her thumb.  “My husband got it for me.”

They spend the next half of an hour with Monica Doggett, sharing a slice of cornbread and chatting amicably.  Mulder asks her more about this numerology thing and she happily shares with him more about his life path based on his birth date.  When it’s time for them to take their leave, Mulder offers to drive Monica to the Sheriff’s office, but she says she would much rather walk.  It’s just about her only time to herself and she enjoys it.

They ride back up into town and Mulder passes the bank to go down a smaller road behind the north side of the town.  He points out a house up the ways with a sign hanging at the front that simply says ‘DOC’ etched in wood.

For some reason, Katherine feels nervous on the way up to the doctor’s porch.  She knows she already made a good impression on the doctor, but still wonders if that was just politeness.  The doctors she knew from nurse’s training were mercurial.  Someone bearing a compliment one day could come bearing condescension the next, or worse.  

Mulder opens the door to usher her inside.  Doctor Black peeks out from behind a curtain and smiles broadly.

“Just my luck,” the doctor says.  “I’ve just set a broken bone and could surely use your assistance while I mix a plaster.”

“Of course,” Katherine says.  She immediately takes her gloves off and hands them to Mulder.  

There’s a young boy perched at the edge of the exam table, no more than five or six, sniffling and sullen.  Katherine moves to him and right away she can see that his left wrist is broken.  She smiles at him and takes a gentle hold on his arm, cradling his wrist in her hands so the doctor can get to work on mixing a plaster.

“My name is Katherine,” she says to the boy.  “Who might you be?”

“Joey Skinner.”

“Is Walter Skinner your father, son?” Mulder asks.  

Joey nods and then wipes his nose with the back of his good hand.

“Has anyone gone to fetch Mr. Skinner?” Mulder asks Doctor Black.  “I could run over to the bank right now.”

“Yes, why don’t you do that.”  Doctor Black nods to Mulder and then hands Katherine a roll of gauze.  “I trust you can wrap up that wrist.”

“Certainly.”  She deftly holds Joey’s arm with one hand and uses her thumb to pin the edge of the gauze down and begins to wrap.  “Joey, you tell me if this hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, how did this happen?”

“I was playing tag with Grace and Emma and Isaac and I was ‘It’ and I was running and I tripped on a rock and I felled down and my hand hurted real bad.  Grace yelled for Miss Holly and Miss Holly bringed me to the doc.”

“Well, I think you’re a very brave boy and we’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Now,” Doctor Black says, rolling a small table over with a bowl of milky liquid and wrappings.  “Joey, this might feel a little cold, but you do your best to hold still, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Excellent wrapping,” the doctor tells Katherine.  “Would you like to do the plaster?”

Katherine nods and the doctor moves the table to her side so she can work.  She runs the wrapping through the liquid and winds it around Joey’s small wrist and arm, moving methodically.  She has experience with setting and wrapping broken bones, but never on a child.  She’s cautious, but tries to be quick for Joey’s sake.  Doctor Black provides her with a few short instructions as she goes.

“Beautiful work,” Doctor Black says when Katherine is wiping her hands dry.  “Joey, is there any pain in your wrist now or in your arm.”

“It’s kinda itchy.”

“Yes, it might be, but you can’t scratch right now, I’m sorry.  We’re going to let it dry and when it’s done it’ll be hard as a rock and keep your wrist in place so it can heal.”

Joey’s bottom lip begins to tremble.  “Is it gonna be on my arm forever and ever?”

Katherine puts her arm around Joey and rubs his shoulder.  “Not forever, sweetheart, just a few weeks is all.  And the doctor will probably check on it a time or two to make sure it’s healing properly.”

“That’s right,” Doctor Black says.

“Joey!?  Joey!?”  Walter Skinner bursts through the door with Mulder behind him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Joey.”  Mr. Skinner rushes over and for a moment, Katherine is afraid he’s going to grab the boy up in a fit of panic before the cast sets.  

“Everything’s alright,” Katherine says.

“What happened, son?”

“I was playing tag…”

As soon as Joey starts up with his story again, Katherine slips away from the exam table to go to Mulder.  “He okay?” Mulder asks.

“It wasn’t a bad break.”

“Good.”  He pulls Katherine’s gloves from his pocket and hands them to her.

Doctor Black comes up to the two of them and he and Mulder shake hands.  Mulder gives him the extra bottle of liniment he bought at the mercantile and the doctor thanks him.

“Looks as though your shoulder’s healed nicely,” Doctor Black says.

“Yes, well, I happened to have a very strict nursemaid to see me through.”  Mulder chuckles and Katherine demurs a little.

“If you think you could spare your wife for a few days a month, I’d be happy to have the help here.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t,” Katherine answers.

“Why couldn’t you?” Mulder asks.

“Well, there’s just so much to do.  And the expansion is coming up, so…”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”  Mulder nods to the doctor and at Katherine.  “Good skills should never go to waste.”

Katherine is all but rendered speechless.  She doesn’t know if she’s shocked or grateful or why she should even be so surprised.  Mulder’s the only man she’s ever known that doesn’t seem to want to control her in some way, who seems to want her to have independence as much as she wants it.  And she doesn’t just think he’s putting on airs of a generous husband in front of the doctor.  She believes that he means what he says.

“We’ll talk it over,” she says.

“Joey.”  Mulder produces a quarter and walks over and hands it to the boy.  “Next time you’re in the Byers mercantile, you tell Mr. Byers you want a bag of his best penny candy.”

“Gee, thank you, Sir!”

After they leave the doctor’s place and get back into the wagon, Katherine sits close to Mulder and holds his arm as he drives.  “Did you know Mr. Skinner had a boy?” she asks.

“Hell, until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know he had a wife.  He doesn’t talk much.”

“I think that minor panic may have caused him to lose what little hair he’s got left.”

Mulder roars with laughter.

#i wrote this #Broken Things #Chapter 17 #MSR #AU

[fallingappleshurt]

Swept Away Sheets

YES I KNOW ITS NOVEMBER 22 BUT I WANTED TO DO A HALLOWEEN STORY AND FORGOT

Yeah here it is, I spazzed about this in the fd au server awhile ago and this isn’t that good but like- I’m already late

Wilbur is 13, Tech, 12, Tommy is 10? I don’t know

This AU was created by antarctic bay!! Anxiety is brrrrring so not tagging sorry 

Anyways hope you enjoy!

“And you’re sure you remember the route you’re taking,” Phil asked, grabbing his key off the counter, “I want you guys to be safe, even though you are running around at night without adult supervision.”

“Phil we’ll be fine,” Wilbur insisted as Techno poked at his vampire fangs and Tommy thrashed around, the sheet draped over top of him flapping wildly.

“I don’t wanna be a ghost!”

“That’s on you, you didn’t pick something else before tonight, ran out of time to get a different costume.” Phil said, rolling his eyes.

“The sheet of shame,” Techno teased, pushing Tommy lightly.

“No!”

Wilbur grinned, “Tommy’s in the shame sheet!”

“No!”

Wilbur cackled, “It fits, I’d say you deserve it-”

“No I don’t you guys are just mean!”

“Alright, it’s almost 6:00, I’m going to be late and they guys at the store are already freaking out. You guys need to get to the neighborhood. Call me if anything goes wrong or you need help,” He pointed at Wilbur’s flip phone, “I mean it.”

“We’ll be fine Phil,” Techno said, “There will be other kids out,”

They walked out of their apartment towards a nearby neighborhood, it was a better bet then trying to do it in their apartment building.

The bones on Wilburs skeleton costume started to glow as the sun dipped below the trees. They had merged with a group of other kids, there was another ghost, a witch, a dog, an angel, and someone dressed as a lollipop. They traveled down the street together, the kid dressed as a witch urging them to go faster.

The houses were decorated with fake cobwebs and plastic skeletons, a few people just left a bowl of candy on their porch with a sign; ‘Please take one!’

They all took more then one, Tommy took three.

They had been trick or treating for over an hour as Techno followed Wilbur up to a creepy house with fake gravestones in the front. Wincing slightly as one of the other kids laughed loudly,Techno was growing tired of being around other people.

They knocked on the door and the women who answered cooed over everyone’s costumes and gave them candy. As they were walking back down the driveway something shifted behind a car.

A bloodied Freddie Krueger leapt out at the group, slashing at them with long rusty claws. Techno jumped back and tripped over someone else's feet as the other kids screamed and scattered in different directions, a few of them sprinting down the street.

The masked man cackled as Techno got to his feet, heart pounding, he was indifferent about horror in general but he did not like to be jumpscared.

Wilbur ran up next to him, threw a stick at the masked man, grabbed Techno’s arm and pulled him away.

“What the hell was that?” Techno asked as Wilbur looked frantically up and down the street.

“Hang on, I lost Tommy-”

“You what!” Techno whipped to the side, hoping it was a joke.

“He was right next to me- right next to me! I looked away for a second and now he’s gone!”

“Phil’s gonna kill us!”

“I know I know now help me find him!”

Techno scanned the surroundings, trying to spot Tommy’s dusty sheet but coming up short. “I don’t see him,”

Wilbur swore, “We gotta find him, right now-”

“No shit!”

They rushed up and down the winding neighborhood streets, houses and people started to blur together as Techno searched for a little kid with a sheet over his head. At first he had been more annoyed then worried, mentally grumbling about how Tommy shouldn’t have wandered off but after ten minutes of running around, calling for him, it started to shift more into panic.

What if he had gotten kidnapped or hurt? What if he was really hurt and laying by the side of the road? He could have lost his sheet and then Wilbur and Techno might have missed him-

His thoughts were cut off when he heard;

“Wilbur! Techno! Look!”

Techno skidded to a halt, sneakers sliding against the asphalt, he looked over to see Tommy running up to them, pillowcase crackling and bouncing.

“I found like three houses that give out full size candy bars!”

“Where were you?” Wilbur yelped, throwing his hands out, “Tommy what the fuck!”

“What?”

“Wilbur and I have been looking for you for like 20 minutes!” Techno said, anxiety and adrenaline starting to wear off.

“Oh yeah I saw you guys,” Tommy said nonchalantly.

“You-what, you- you saw us? And didn’t approach us until now?” Wilbur snapped, “Why!”

“Cause you guys were being mean earlier, I am not wearing a shame sheet!”

Techno slapped his forehead, dragging his hand down his face, smudging his glasses in the process.

“I’m going to kill you, you little shit!” Wilbur lunged at Tommy. Techno made no move to stop him.

“I’ll tell Phil you lost me while we were trick or treating!” Tommy shrieked, jumping back.

Techno grabbed the back of Wilbur’s shirt, pulling him back. Wilbur sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. “Okay, I won’t kill you, yet, but you gotta promise not to tell Ph-”

“I’m still gonna tell Phil,” Tommy said, even though his face was covered, Techno could see the shit-eating grin on his face.

“No, you can’t tell Phil, or I’ll tell him that you ran away and didn’t even try to get back to us.” Techno said, “It’s our word against yours.”

“I’ll cry,” Tommy said smugly. He knew Phil would side with him if he cried about being scared and then had his older brothers yell at him.

“Fuck.” Techno turned to Wilbur, looking for some kind of help. Wilbur sighed, “What if we give you picks of our candy when we get home?”

“Half of each,” Tommy stated.

“No! You can’t even eat that much candy!” Wilbur shot back.

“I think I’m being pretty fair,”

“You’re not-”

“Tommy what if you got a 1/3 of each of ours?” Techno cut in, biting his tongue as Tommy considered it. A literal two minutes later Tommy nodded.

“Okay!”

Techno sighed in relief as Wilbur checked the time on his flip phone.

“We still have like 20 minutes before Trick-or-treating ends, we could hit more houses on the way home.”

“Oh! Come with me and I’ll show you the houses with the big candy bars!” Tommy grabbed at Wilbur's sleeve, pulling him down the street, Techno followed, anxiety gone now that they found their brother and ensured that he wasn’t going to snitch, everything was fine.

Then they got home.

Phil was waiting for them, Techno guessed the crisis at the store had been fixed, he was sitting on the couch looking tired.

“Did you guys have fun?” He asked as they pushed open the door. Techno nodded, nudging his shoes off.

“Yeah!” Tommy said, “But Wilbur and Techno lost me halfway-”

Techno whipped around and jumped at Tommy before he could finish his sentence. He pinned him to the floor as Wilbur jammed his hand over his mouth.

“Wait, they what?” Phil asked, sitting up from the couch, going to untangle his brothers. Normally he didn’t bother because it was a semi-normal occurrence but this was different.

“What the hell,” Techno hissed under his breath as Wilbur, unconvincingly, said, “Nothing! He didn’t say anything, he’s just- just really hyped up on candy! That’s all!”

“Uh huh,” Phil walked over, shoved Wilbur away and hooking an arm around Techno’s chest, pulling him off of Tommy.

“Oh you’re strong,” Techno said under his breath as Phil grabbed Tommy and pulled him up.

“They what?” He asked.

“Wilbur and Techno lost me while we were Trick-or-Treating,” Tommy stated simply, ignoring the daggers his older brothers were glaring at him.

Phil turned to Wilbur and Techno, “You lost him?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, well, it was a complicated situation-” Techno started,

“There was a guy with a mask and another kid and-” Wilbur butted in until they were both talking over each other, both dancing around the point.

“You lost your brother?” Phil reiterated slowly.

“Uh, yeah,” Techno looked away nervously, Wilbur scratched the back of his neck nervously.

Phil took a deep breath, putting his face in his hand, “I’m too tired for this, I’ll deal with this in the morning, I’m taking a shower,” He walked down the hall then looked back at them, “But consider yourselves on notice.” Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

The moment the door closed they both pounced back on Tommy, words jumbling together as Tommy laughed.

“You said we had a deal!”

“Why did you tell Phil!”

“I’m gonna kill you you little gremlin, come here!”

They wrestled, Tommy v.s Wilbur and Techno, they pushed and pulled at each other, pulling at clothes and hair before collapsing back on the tile, gasping.

They sat in silence when Tommy asked, “Do I still get 1/3 of your guys’s candy?”

“No!”

#mcyt #minecraft #minecraft youtubers #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #sleepyboysinc #technoblr #technoblade #sbi au #family dynamics #fd!au #fd au #sbi #sleepyblr #writing #Halloween #IM LATE I KNOW #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #there’s really no angst #trick or trick #Apples Writing

[hobbitsnapes]

The Red Hoods Protègè chapter 22

Older Damian Wayne x ofc

(Photo made by my lovely friend @iamhollows)

A/N: thanks to my lovely friend @geekonaleash, who wrote majority of the letters, I was able to put this out for you guys.

Summary:Red hood has taken a young vigilante under his wing and subsequently changes Damians life forever.

Tags: @comic-nerd-dc c @comic-brew @psychovigilantewrites @psych0crybaby

Weeks go by of the same routine, taking odd jobs and small cases from her father with little to no hiccups.

It was easy, almost too easy. She had taken on the likes of croc and bane just some months ago, now dealing with petty thefts and bank robbers. She longed for the night she could truly test her skills, whether that be in her fighting or brains.

That night came on a chilly November night.

Her heart raced in her chest as she rounded the alley, her body cold to the core from the deep winter air. Hardly any snow lay on the ground, mostly turned to a dark brown slush that made a God awful noise against her boots.

Her legs felt like they would give out any second, having run through the street practically the entire night in the freezing cold.

She spotted a dumpster up ahead, willing her legs to go a bit further. ‘Just a few minutes’ she thought as she sat down behind it.

It was late, nearly 3 in the morning. Having been out since 8, her body freezing cold making any and all energy in her body disapste.

Her heart sank to her stomach when she saw it, making her eyes widen as she got up.

There, at the opening of the dumpster, lay a hand.

She inspected the body for a split moment, to the best of her ability. Having it been thrown in, trash covering it almost completely.

She knows this is a bad idea, but her curiosity gets the best of her as she pulls it from the dumpster, laying it in a heap on the ground.

From the looks of their clothes, or better yet lack thereof, she’s able to tell it's a prostitute. Long blonde hair a tangled mess as her clothes torn.

The most notable wound being a slash to her throat, that bled down to her chest.

The cut wasn’t deep but torn, the skin fraying like ripped denim. A serrated knife, or a sawing motion from a dull blade. She tries not to think of the immense pain that was caused, even with the cut not being very long. They were left to bleed out, or the killer watched as the Poor woman choked and tried screaming out from the pain, only being able to cough up blood.

“What in the?” She whispers when she sees it, a piece of paper?

She grabs for it from under her top, looking it over and, what?

It almost resembled a riddle, her mind flashing momentarily to the green wearing man before she remembered. Riddler never does kills like these, especially with the body being hidden. His is always a show, a way to get attention. This was sloppy, definitely the persons first.

She took one last look to the body, before making a call to the GCPD, telling them the coordinates. She looked one last time at the letter, before folding it, tucking it into her jacket. Well, here’s her chance she’s been waiting for.

She takes a seat at her desk, lamp set on the letter as she peers down at it.

society mocks those who be different, who dwell in the dark like the shadow of a once bright star, only to cry out when the star be a comet, painting the streets in scarlet and ash. You’ll find the next body where care is to be given, but only to let them die in the end.

What does this mean? She thinks as she reads over the words. Who dwell in the dark like the shadow of a once bright star. They must’ve been someone of status of some kind, whether it be from wealth, family or great skill and achievements, who had everything ripped either by their own doing or another.

only to cry out when the star be a comet, painting the streets in scarlet and ash. They must blame others for what happened to them, and subsequently for loosing their status, so they’re desperate for the game and notoriety they were used to, but from whatever trauma they went through, it broke them. Causing immense anger and rage to fill them, warping their mind, thus the killings. They’re so angry at the world, they want fear, and to cause others the pain they must feel the world brought them.

Her heart drops when she hears her door open, shoving the letter into her desk as she turns around.

“Hey you busy at all?” Tim asks, “no why?” She lies, hoping to God that her voice won’t give her away.

Either he didn’t notice, or chose not to ask as he sits on her bed, her joining him immediately after.

They sit and idly chat about their day, but her mind keeps playing over the letter. What does all this mean? Why is-her questions stop when she looks up, seeing him looking at her in question. “You alright?” He asks. “Yeah why?” “You just seem, out of it. You sure you’re feeling alright?” She sighs at this, truly wanting to ask him to help, but in her gut, she knows that’s the easy way out. He would be able to crack it in seconds, fully able to get the profile on the man easily. She wanted to prove to her father that, she could actually do this on her own. Which is why, she had to lie. “Yeah, sorry just really tired. The cold really made tonight way harder.” A soft smile player on his lips at this. “Well then in that case, I’ll leave you to sleep, and maybe look at upgrading your suit to make it warmer. How’s that sound?” Her heart warms at this, a smile on her face. “That'd be great, thank you.” “Hey no problem, I’ve had to do it so many times, it takes me a few days at most.” He chuckles. She pulls him in for a hug, hey arms wrapping around his shoulders before pulling away.

She gets under her covers as he walks out, a smile on his face as he shuts her light out.

She gets up as soon as he shuts the door, walking quietly back to her desk, pulling out the letter.

She knew she had to do this by herself she thought, as she got her notepad out and got to work.

After reading and deciding the letter, she was able to figure out where the next body would be. The Gotham general hospital. And she knew, this body wouldn’t be hard to find.

And she was right, as soon as she finished the few cases her father sent her on, she got straight to making her way to the hospital. For once thankful for the simple missions he would put her on.

She was right to her suspicion, finding the body directly on the roof of the hospital. Sprawled out was a nurse, who was just as gruesome as the last. A stab wound to the heart. Blood soaked her scrubs, making the soft blue a deep, almost blackened purple. Her eyes wide in horror, set like stone to gaze up to the sky.

And as she knew, there was a letter in her pocket.

She quickly grabbed for the letter, calling the GCPD once again, before leaving.

‘An open casket filled with treasures In one sudden move of utmost pleasures. Sweet cries of the poor carer, Thinking someone cared was her error. You’ll find the body where people gather to see history, not knowing history be made there.’

Something happened to them, something that made their fall from fame so breaking, it broke them in the process.

It not only broke them physically, but emotionally. They hated the care from the hospital and the staff. They were strong, powerful, capable. They were hurt and had to get help for a while, something they loathed. They were probably an athlete, relying on their bodies for their fame.

You’ll find the body where people gather to see history, not knowing history be made there. History, a school? No, that’s not right. History, that word stuck out in her mind.

She quickly got out her laptop, and within a few minutes, she found the Gotham Museum of Antiquities.

She turned back to the letter, setting it flat to her desk.

She ran her fingers over the writing, feeling the harsh indents from the pressure of the pen. It was shaky, the deep indents feeling jagged. They were hurt, humiliated by what happened, causing rage to fill them. They felt such anger that, she could feel it in how hard they wrote. This wasn’t a psychopath, no, this was someone deeply hurt, driven mad.

She wrote all this down as she went, setting the papers over her desk in as neat of a pile that she could.

She quickly set it all into her desk, making sure they were all in an order. She had to make sure nobody would come in, or else, they might find all of this.

It was highly irstional, to think that any of them would go hunting in her room. But the fear of them doing so, kept her up most of the night.

She came up with yet another lie, faking being too ill to go out the next night. Her father concerned for the believable cough she let out, finally being calmed once she told him she was going to stay in that night.

She felt bad, truly. She hated keeping not only a secret, but lying to both her father and her best friend. But she knew this would give her more time, and having her soul focus on this one case.

She waited to hear them leave for over 15 minutes before she readied herself, making sure to leave her door locked.

They all at least knew that, if it was locked, not to enter unless emergency, even then, it would have to be the manor burning down.

She climbed out her window, making sure to listed in to where Alfred was before she made the trip from her high window.

‘So this is what most teenagers feel when they sneak out the house.’ She thought as she got down to the cold ground. Snow had finally fallen in a large heap over the city, making her trip to where she hid her bike that morning harder. It’d be a dead giveaway she snuck out if she just walked through the snow, so it took her time to reach the shrub where her bike lay.

Finally managing to get out of the trees surrounding the manor, she made sure to shut any and all tracking devices she wore, before leaving.

“He’s getting bolder.” She whispered as she reached the museum. There, on the front steps of the old building, lay a man. A security guard to be exact.

She walked over to the man, crouching down to the body. Only this time, there was no stab wound to either his throat or to his chest. But blood looked underneath.

She turned the body around, finally seeing where the source of the blood came from. A deep stab wound to the mans upper back, nearly exposing his shoulder and spine.

She groaned out, reaching for her shoulder blades as memories of the healing played in her mind. To this day, any injury to the upper back or shoulders on another person sent her back, back to the worst time of her life.

Another note, placed in his front pocket pocket out.

She reached for it, tucking it into her jacket before standing up.

She froze in place when she saw them, her eyes trained on them as her heart slows. Prints in the snow nearly filled in, but still visible.

She crouched down to them, looking at each one closely.

They were almost filled in, so this had been taken place only some hours ago. Before the heavy blanket of snow hit.

The thing that stood out was the spacing and the pattern. They were jagged, almost slipping looking like.

The man had a limp. She thought, before standing beside them. She walked to recreate the steps, an evident limp in how they went. It was his right leg. Something happened here, and she thinks she knows what.

She sat at her desk, her blanket securely wrapped around her as she peered down to the letter.

‘It all ends with no more laughter, you’ll find the next body where families gather to watch stars be made on a Field, A trophy that can no longer be concealed’

It all ends with no more laughter. He was mocked, or he believed he was when maybe others looked at him with sympathy. In his eyes, it was them mocking him.

Where families gather to watch stars be made on a Field, A trophy that can no longer be concealed.

He was an athlete, had to be. A gasp leaves her lips as it hits her. Her heart drops to her stomach as she reached for her laptop, hurily turning it on as she writes down her thoughts.

Garrett Wilkins, star quarterback of the Gotham Rogues. Well, used to be.

Star in the game, having played it all his life from school to professional. He had everything. Fame, Wellth, everything.

That was until a fateful day in November, as he was walking out of the old museum with his longtime girlfriend, he was shot in the back.

He was able to make outstanding recovery, no longer wheelchair ridden like doctors thought. But he didn’t walk away how he was. He developed a bad limp, causing his team to kick him off.

Last people heard of him, was his girlfriend left him because of a rumored drinking problem.

This all took place 2 years ago.

She ran as fast as her legs took her, nearly falling over due to the thick snow on the ground.

Her heart hammered against her chest as she entered the arena, eyes searching around until she saw it. Her heart sank to her feet, as a pained sigh left her lips.

She thought she could make it in time, hoping, praying that she would be able to get there before him or when he was here. A small amount of hope that, she could save her.

She crouched down to her body, a tear slipping into her mask as a pained whimper left her lips.

She had hoped he wouldn’t have, but she knew, he would kill her.

“I’m so sorry Cass.” She cried, as she closed her wide eyes. Her body a bloody mess, nearly unrecognizable due to the many stab wounds that littered her body.

And again, like it was a call from a screaming Banshee, lay another letter.

Once more my face will grace your screen A star running on a field of green But now and forever my title I reclaim Never will I lose my newfound fame. You’ll find the next body where families go to play, to be surrounded by others as they watch their children’s play.

“God fucking damnit!” She exclaimed as she slammed her hand against her table, tears filling her eyes. She really, truly hoped she could make it in time. But sadly, she knew this would happen eventually. You can’t save everyone she thought.

Her feet carry her all the way to the park, her heart heavy in her chest from the memories flooding back.

She laughs out as he spins her around, nearly making him fall from both their laughter.

Their faces only inches apart as he sets her down, arms still around her as they gaze into one another’s eyes. Hearts beating at a steady rhythm.

Her eyes search around the park, head tilted slightly as she looks around.

There’s no body? Maybe he hid it? No, he definitely wouldn’t. He WANTS them to be found, wants the fame back on him. Hiding the body gives a chance that it won’t be found, a risk he’s not willing to take.

She rounded the corner, walking further into the snow. Where could it be? She thinks, before her heart stops, everything going black.

A sharp slap to her cheek wakes her up, a cry breaking past her lips. “Jesum dude, a safe word would be nice.” She groaned out. “Where is he?” He demands, hand grabbing a hold of her neck. Her hands and legs tied to the chair. Surprisingly, they felt pretty secure.

“Who?” She asks, anger evident in her voice. “I know you work with Red Hood, Batman, all of them! WHERE ARE THEY!” He screams in her face.

She starts laughing, causing him to grow even angrier. “WHATS SO FUNNY!” She can’t help but throw her head back in laughter. “They’re not coming.” His face falls momentarily, before turning angry once again. “What do you mean THEY'RE NOT COMING!” “I mean exactly that. They aren’t because they don’t know you exist. Only I know and that’s only because I found the first body by accident. All you want is the game again Garrett, well guess what, you lost. Not red hood, Batman, fuck even the GCPD know who you are. You, lost.”

He slams his fists into the table beside her, letting out a frustrated scream. “Fine. Well, I guess I can get fame some other way.” He says, grabbing a gun beside him. Her heart drops to her stomach, shutting her eyes as she waits for the bullet. But, the gunshot never came. The sound of the door breaking down and the man falling to the ground screaming drowned out any and all noise.

She hisses out at the burn of the alcohol on her cheek,trying to drown out the thick silence of the room. “You could’ve gotten killed you know. No correction, you were about to be killed before we came.” Says Jason, anger evident in his tone. Her heart pains in her chest as she looks away from her father. She knows he’s only angry because of fear. Fear that his daughter could’ve died.

“I mean how could you be so careless like that! You should’ve been able to hear him! God I fucking trained you better than that!” He yells, arms up in anger. Everyone stays silent as he rants, knowing not to step between them. Memories of how protective he gets with her, none of them dare to try.

“You could’ve died tonight. This is why I’ve only sent you on smaller cases. I’ll be DAMNED if my daughter gets fucking killed because she was reckless!” “Jason, stop it.” Says dick. Everyone’s heads whip to the man, holding their breaths. “Oh yeah, why should I. My daughter almost got herself killed!” “Because you and none of us have any room to talk. We all risk our lives everytime we go out there. You can’t sit here and scold her for messing up. You, me, Bruce, everyone in the room has slipped up at least a dozen times. So don’t stand there and yell at her when what she did was highly impressive, especially where all you taught her was combat.” He says to the younger man. Jason knows he’s right, lowering his head.

“I’m sorry but what? What was impressive?” She asks nobody in particular. “How you were able to figure that out in such a short amount of time.” Says Tim. “I’m sorry what? How was that impressive? And also, how did you guys find me? I turned off all my tracking devices.” She was completely lost. How is that impressive to a room of some of the worlds greatest detectives. And how in the hell did they find her? “I was worried about you. Last I heard from you was you were sick, and I hadn’t seen or heard anything for over a day. So I, went to go check and found you weren’t there. And, you left all your research on the table. I was able to figure out where he lived, and we all just went.” Says Tim. She wasn’t mad, actually grateful. “And to answer your other question, it’s impressive because, Jason never taught you any advanced detective skills. You not only figured out his letters, but where. And, you can naturally profile handwriting. None of us can do that on our own. It took years to even somewhat make a good guess. Which is why, we wanted to ask you something.” She looks at dick in question, trying to figure out what he meant. “We wanted to ask if you’d join us. Be a part of our team.” Says Bruce. She looks at all of them like they’re mad, before she could say anything, her father beat her to it. “They brought it up to me, and I think, it’s a good idea. Dicks right. You’ve got a lotta skill that they could really use. Especially the handwriting thing. Plus, it’ll be good to have others around just in case something happened. It’ll not only make me feel better knowing you’ve got backup, but I know it’ll give you more room to lean. I’ve, been to scared to let you go out and really test not only your fighting, but your smarts. And I’m sorry for that.”

Everyone’s eyes train on her, as they wait for her response. Even Damians eyes look to her. She lets out a sigh, looking to her father first, before to all of them. “Fine. But on one condition.”

“Wait, you're asking what?” “Exactly that. I’ll be a part of your little Scooby gang as long as if there’s no other option, that if it’s life or death for any of us or civilians, I take them out.” She says, arms crossed. “You’ve gotta be fucking-.”Damian says, before Bruce cuts him off. “Fine. But only, if I, or anyone of the others apart from your father give the okay to that.” Damian looks to his father, eyes wide in anger and disbelief. “Are you-“ “deal.” She says, extending her hand out to Bruce. They both shake on it, neither paying attention to Damian. “You’re all okay with this?” He asks, anger still in his voice. “Didn’t you hear what they agreed on? She won’t do it unless one of us says she can.” Says Tim. “And we need her skills Damian.” Dick replies, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re all fucking crazy.” He says, heart beating wildly in his chest, walking away from everyone.

#damian wayne fanfiction #older damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne smut #batman #batfamily #damian wayne #dc #dceu #jason todd #batfam x reader #Jason Todd #red hood #dick grayson #Tim drake #dc imagine

[everybodyscupoftea]

rockin around the christmas tree

pike jj x reader

you and jj decorate your first apartment together

this is in the future when you and jj are in nashville :)

(warnings: cursing, implied drinking, very very little editing)

At the words, “I’ve never really decorated a tree before,” you knew immediately that you were going to go all out for JJ. You knew his childhood wasn’t great and that he didn’t really experience it in college either with living in the dorm and then the frat house, but you didn’t consider that meant he’d never really done the tree and lights shebang.

Over the month of November you started gathering up random decorations, here and there, that you thought could fit in your apartment without being a nuisance. One afternoon you convinced your mom to drive over from your hometown with some of your favorite ornaments and decorations from childhood.

She loved JJ and was plenty happy to part with them for his sake. You made sure all the bags and boxes were put away in the second bedroom and made a promise with yourself to not tell him until after Thanksgiving.

Then you got slammed with paper after paper and quiz after quiz which led you to truly forget about everything until you went in there to make sure things were all clean for guests and tripped over a box full of lights.

“Ow, fuck!” you yelped, looking down to see what you’d hit, stomach dropping when you saw it all and heard JJ coming to see what was wrong. Before he could quite get to the door, you waved him away, “All good, just stubbed my toe.”

He backed away, hesitantly, toward the kitchen where he’d been cutting the turkey for dinner. Cody and Tyler were coming into town, and you were doubly excited that they were staying the night so that you could rope them into putting up the once forgotten decorations.

Just as you finished pushing everything out of the way and clearing off the bed, there was a knock at the door. JJ called from the kitchen, “Can you grab that, sweetheart, I’m almost done with the turkey?”

“Got it,” you yelled back, practically skipping to throw the door open for your friends you hadn’t seen outside of FaceTime in months. As soon as you threw the door open, Cody, who was closest, was pulling you into a tight hug, face pressed firmly into your hair. He sighed, “Damn, smell the same, kinda nice.”

You snorted, squeezing back, “That was soft.” 

“Forgive me,” he answered sarcastically, “I just missed you is all.”

“Move,” Tyler interrupted before you could respond, elbowing Cody out of the way to hug you. You hugged back just as tight before grabbing both of them by the arms to pull them inside.

“JJ is finishing up the food, so I’ll give you guys a tour real quick and you can drop your stuff in the guest bedroom.”

“Sweet,” Cody nodded, “though I’m not sure how I feel about JJ being in control of the food.”

“Let him have it, I need to tell you guys something.”

They followed you around the whole place and ended in the second bedroom where you shut the door, Tyler smirked, “Getting us alone to pitch a foursome?”

You blinked, not prepared at all, “I-” after a few seconds gathered your thoughts, “no, I just wanted to know if you guys needed to be anywhere early tomorrow or if you could help us decorate for Christmas. JJ never has before, so I thought it could be a fun family activity.”

Before you even finished, Cody, who loved Christmas and decorating for it was nodding eagerly, “Oh fuck yeah. I’m so down. Is that why this room is so messy? Christmas decorations.”

You snorted, “Please, I haven’t forgotten how messy y’all are, I spent so much time in that disaster of a dorm room.”

Tyler waved you off, “We’re much better now.”

“I’m sure,” you answered sarcastically.

“I am, my girlfriend whipped me into shape,” Cody told you, “our apartment looks so dope.”

“Yeah, because your girlfriend has her shit together and a Pinterest board.”

Tyler snorted, “True, you have no eye for interior design.”

Cody rolled his eyes as JJ yelled for everyone to come eat. The four of you sat around the small table you and JJ found on sale with plates heaped full of food. Before anyone could take a bite, you cleared your throat, “Okay, everyone share their lists.”

A tradition the four of you started in college was to share at least three things each person was thankful for before eating whatever you’d managed to put together for dinner, usually takeout because no one was thankful for cafeteria food and the shitty dorm kitchen.

“I’ll go first,” Tyler started, “I’m thankful for the Sixers finally playing well, my girlfriend for getting me a new job, and for you guys having a nice enough apartment to play host.”

“Wait wait wait,” JJ held his hand up, “your girlfriend got you a job?”

Tyler shrugged, “I figure if I play my cards right and don’t fuck anything up, when she finishes law school and has a nice job, I can become a trophy husband. I’ll be supportive as fuck and the  best arm candy on the planet.”

You snorted and said, “Okay, poor Emma first of all. It’s my turn though. I’m thankful for my therapist, she’s really done a lot of heavy lifting this fall, I’m thankful for JJ not burning the building down while cooking, and I’m thankful for you guys driving to see us because my separation anxiety was getting pretty bad and my poor therapist needs a break.”

Cody gave you a thumbs up, “Live to serve. My turn, I’m thankful for Liverpool sucking ass this season, I’m thankful that my girlfriend is good at everything I’m bad at because I’m pretty sure I’d have died by this point, and I’m thankful that you guys live somewhere interesting enough that I want to come visit.”

“Okay, me last,” JJ started, “I’m thankful for you guys being here even though it was kind of an inconvenient trip, I’m thankful for my boss for giving me a holiday bonus, and I’m thankful to finally get to spend a holiday in my own space. A safe space.”

Cody and Tyler, both great with emotion, held out fists for him to bump and then started eating.

-

“Okay,” you clapped your hands, startling JJ awake the next morning, “it’s noon, we’ve slept off most of the hangover, and now we have shit to do.”

“What?” he asked, voice cracking, as he rubbed his eyes.

“It’s Christmas season, we have to decorate.”

JJ groaned, “Shopping? While I feel like this? No.”

“No need to shop, I have it all. Now get up, get dressed, and let’s do this.”

Tyler was already up when you walked out of the bedroom, and he waved, “I ordered breakfast but couldn’t find your coffee pot. Cody is sorting through the decorations, did you have a tree?”

“Yeah, I have one in the closet, we always did a real tree at home, but I figured we should start small and see how it goes.”

“Good plan. I think Cody has a Christmas playlist ready. He’s so excited, could barely sleep.”

He followed you to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame while you made coffee. You chuckled, “Yeah, I know how much he loves Christmas. I’m honestly kind of surprised we never did a group decorating thing like this before.”

“Well,” Tyler crossed his arms, “we did the small trees in the dorm, but JJ didn’t want to buy one for himself so it didn’t really count. And then decorating the frat house was just not worth the effort.”

You passed him a mug and he took a sip while you answered, “JJ never really seemed super interested either. I mean I was going to keep it chill this year too but he brought it up.”

“Cody said you had a whole bunch of homemade stuff.”

“Yeah, my mom brought it to me. I was thinking of making JJ do some of the ornaments to make it even but I’m not sure he’d go for that.”

Tyler snorted, “Man’s a simp, he’d do it for you.”

“Who’s a simp?” Cody asked, walking into the kitchen to take the second mug.

“All three of you,” you told him, grabbing the creamer out of the fridge for him.

He took a sip and shrugged, “Yeah, true. But who are we discussing in particular now?”

“JJ. Whether he’d made homemade ornaments,” Tyler responded.

“He definitely would,” Cody nodded, “I would too. Is that on today’s agenda?”

“It is not. But I mean, if you guys want to make us some in the future and mail them, I’ll gladly hang them on the tree.”

“Deal.”

 “What’s the deal?” JJ asked, finally joining the rest of you.

“Nothing, drink some coffee and we’ll decorate.”

-

After the food arrived and everyone ate, Cody did in fact have a Christmas playlist queued, and he hooked it up to the speaker to blast in the living room. Tyler strung lights around, and JJ told you, “We should just keep these up after Christmas.”

By the time the two of you had struggled to get the tree put together and in a good spot, you added, “Maybe we don’t take the tree down either. We can just decorate it for every holiday.”

Tyler laughed, “Don’t be those guys.”

“We will,” JJ vowed, “we will absolutely be those guys. I just broke a sweat.”

“I will come back for New Years and start a riot if the tree is still up. You laugh like I’m joking, but I will,” Tyler told the two of you.

Cody was barely paying attention, reaching up to put an ornament on the tree when you stopped him, “JJ has to put the first one up.”

JJ gave you a weird look, “What? Why?”

“Bro,” Tyler told you, “lowkey this is a foursome.”

“No, it’s so not.”

“But, it kinda is. We’re taking JJ’s Christmas tree decorating virginity.”

“That’s so-” JJ paused, “okay the logic works a little but I don’t like it.”

“I hate you all,” you groaned, handing JJ an ornament and gently shoving him toward the tree.

“You don’t,” Cody singsonged from his spot across the room.

When everything  was done, Cody turned all the lights off in the room and JJ plugged the tree in. Tyler flipped all the lights he’d put out on and the four of you stood in the doorway to take it all in. 

JJ sighed, “Kinda love it. It’s going to be such a pain to take down, but it feels good.”

“A good family decorating day,” Cody added, “next year we’ll make ornaments.”

You laughed, “Sure.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, JJ hummed, “Gonna miss our Christmas this year.”

Tyler looked a little teary eyed, “Yeah, we can FaceTime though.”

“Are you crying?” Cody asked incredulously.

“It’s the hangover,” Tyler denied, wiping his eyes.

Cody rolled his eyes, “Sure it is. I’m gonna miss you guys too.”

“Group hug,” you said, holding your arms out. For the first time in a while and the last time for an even longer while, you hugged your boys close. You sniffled, pulling back, “Bring your girlfriends next time. They’re always welcome too.”

They nodded and left after one more hug. JJ and you sat on the couch, soaking in the sudden silence. You leaned into his side and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Movie, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you answered, “Home Alone.”

~

day four of @obxmermaid​‘s holiday challenge: decorating the tree

#pike!jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #outer banks #outer banks fic #obxmermaidholiday #frat!jj

[boxoftheskyking]

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Five

In which we have a scene at the bar

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

--

Early November 2000

When Jiang Cheng comes to the bar on his own, he lets Wei Ying watch his back. Which is to say, he sits at the bar and doesn’t spend the whole time half-turned to keep an eye on the door. When Jin Zixuan joins them, he hangs by the corner of the bar by the weird old poker machine that hasn’t worked in years, and he mostly avoids eye contact.

“Hey Zixuan,” Wei Ying says, grinning. “How’s your cousin?”

“Hm?” He’s so polite, always, in a snobby kind of way. Like he knows he’s better than you, but he’s far too well-bred to admit it. Wei Ying sometimes wonders if he got that from his mother. Wei Ying has never really spoken to Mrs. Jin outside of an awkward few minutes at the wedding, but what he knows of the rest of the family is far more in the “knows they’re better than you and will tell you to your face” camp.

“Your cousin, you know.” He winks at Jiang Cheng. “It’s the liiiiiife of the Jin!”

Jiang Cheng joins in, “What’s going down in Lanling—”

“Cut it out!” Zixuan reaches out like he’s going to cover Jiang Cheng’s mouth, but he doesn’t. 

“It’s catchy!” Jiang Cheng giggles. It’s a gratifying sight.

“That show should be outlawed,” Zixuan says darkly.

“It’s genius,” Wei Ying argues, drinking in the two of them there, together. “Nie Huaisang is a visionary.”

“I’m going to have him imprisoned. He’s a curse.”

“He’s a genius. It’s a totally new art form.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Art form. It’s boring. I like seeing Jin Zixun humiliated as much as anyone, but it’s just rich people sitting around being stupid and rich.”

“It’s reality, but also pure escapism. It’s brilliant.”

“It’s a threat to national security,” Zixuan says. Wei Ying cackles.

Jiang Cheng makes a face. “There’s no story! There’s no, like, script.”

“There is a story! It’s all how Huaisang edits it.” Wei Ying hasn’t actually talked to Nie Huaisang in years, so he’s not that personally invested, but he can’t resist the chance to disagree with both Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan at the same time.

Zixuan slides his glass over for a refill. “Zixun is never going to get a real job. He has no skills, he can’t do anything useful, so he sits around and has cameras follow him? It’s a disgrace.”

“It’s the most watched show in the country. I watch it every week.”

Jiang Cheng intercepts Zixuan’s glass to steal a sip. “That’s because you also don’t have a real job.”

“Serve yourself then, asshole.”

“We don’t watch reality TV, we work. We’re civil servants.”

“I’ve written six columns on The Life of Jin, I’ll have you know. So it is my job. And I’m more of a civil servant than you, I barely make any money.” It earns him a pair of eyerolls, but they won’t insult the paper to his face. Not anymore. “I can’t believe they made you both work today.” It’s the wrong thing to say, and Wei Ying covers his wince to fill a row of pints.

“Yeah, well.” Zixuan scratches the back of his neck. He keeps his hair a bit long, like Jiang Cheng does, but on him it feels like a memorial. “Five years. I guess I can’t keep getting time off forever.”

Jiang Cheng is drumming his fingers on the bar, looking away.

“Five years to the day, though,” Wei Ying offers. He leans in, almost wanting to touch . . . something, then twirls away to ring someone up. He feels like a bird, a swallow, dipping and soaring and coming in close for a moment before getting scared back up to a tree top.

When he comes back the tension has receded.

“Dad wants me to move over to the business side of things,” Zixuan is saying.

“Leave intelligence?” Jiang Cheng’s brow furrows, clearly already imagining following his brother-in-law over to the corporate hellhole of Jin Industries.

“Yeah. He keeps talking about the CEO gig, as if I’m qualified.”

“No offense,” Wei Ying says, “but your dad has never been big on qualified.”

“What about Guangyao?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“He’s not the face Dad wants for the company. I don’t know, it’s like during the war, he’s staying back in his lab and his back office, tinkering with stuff. Dad wants a stupid— A face. You know, dynasty bullshit.”

“Like those propaganda posters.” Wei Ying grins at him. “That noble profile. I had one on my bedroom wall.”

“Don’t be creepy.” Jiang Cheng goes to smack him, but he ducks away. “You did not.”

“It wasn’t propaganda.” Zixuan sighs, having lost this argument before.

“It was good propaganda,” Jiang Cheng argues.

Wei Ying keeps his thoughts to himself, for once. He doesn’t comment on Jin Guangyao, either, though he could. A drunk girl yells at him from the other side of the bar, which helps.

“But like—” Zixuan takes a long gulp, spinning his fingers in frustration, looking for the words. “This is what I trained for. I joined the army at eighteen. I was in the army when it was just prison security and diplomatic escorts. My degree is decoration, and he knows that. It’s an art piece on the office wall, it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just become this business guy. It’s like— He doesn’t actually know me, who I am, what I’m good at. He just expects me to work wherever he plugs me in, to just be the best at whatever he thinks I should be the best at. I’m already the best at something. Right? I’m too old to be the best at something else.”

Wei Ying shrugs in sympathy. “Welcome to your thirties, eh?”

Jiang Cheng drains his glass, his third already. “He wants you to be a liquid.”

“What?”

“He thinks you’re a liquid. Your dad. Fit the shape of your container.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m not a fucking liquid.”

Jiang Cheng points at him. “That’s right. You’re not a fucking liquid.”

“I’m a solid.”

“You’re solid as shit, man.” Jiang Cheng pounds on Zixuan’s chest, and he winces slightly.

It’s nine o’clock, so Wei Ying decides he gets to pour himself a whiskey. He puts an orange slice in it, for vitamins.

Jin Zixuan looks into his own glass, thoughtfully. “Although, I mean. What’s a liquid without a container? Just a puddle, right?”

“Or a river,” Jiang Cheng says. They pause to contemplate rivers.

“What kind of liquid would you be?” Wei Ying asks, watching the gold of his liquor swirl around the melting ice cubes and the orange peel.

Zixuan huffs a laugh. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Vegetable soup,” Wei Ying says, then winces again.

“Soup,” Jiang Cheng agrees, quietly.

“Yeah,” Zixuan says. “Soup.”

They stare down into their glasses, drink.

“That reminds me,” Zixuan says, rallying after a long moment and pulling his fancy silver business card holder out of his breast pocket. “I got a new number.”

He hands Wei Ying a classy white card. It’s not his government one, just his phone number and his new email. Of course Jin Zixuan would have a personal business card, printed up by a printing company somewhere.

“Did you get rid of the old phone?” Wei Ying asks, carefully. Jiang Cheng looks between them, also careful, saying nothing.

“No, I just had to— I moved it to the basement. I can’t keep . . . The answering machine is still hooked up to the old one. I’ll still wipe the tape, so you can call—”

“Thanks.” We don’t talk about it. Let’s keep not talking about it. Wei Ying rinses a glass that’s already clean.

“If you want. It’s not a problem. I just can’t keep—”

“Yeah.” He wipes the glass, too quickly, the damp microfiber squeaks a little.

“A-Ling gets confused. He hears you say her name, you say ‘Jiejie,’ and he—”

“Yeah, I get it, no problem.” Wei Ying rinses the glass again.

“You can call me, though.” Jin Zixuan is looking at him, which he rarely actually does right in the face, horribly earnest. “You know that. You can call the new number and talk to him, or to me.”

“I know. I will.” He probably won’t. He looks over at Jiang Cheng, who’s chewing on his lip. Yanli would scold him for that, say that’s why it keeps chapping, worse now that it’s getting colder. He doesn’t leave her messages, Wei Ying doesn’t think. He doesn’t need crutches like that, he straps the anger onto himself like steel braces and gets on with things, limping.

Wei Ying would like to be angry, especially today on the five year anniversary. Five full years without her. That would be a comfort, such a relief, to be angry. But he doesn’t get to be angry when Jiang Cheng is around.

Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “I can’t believe your dad allows Zixun to do that show.”

Zixuan draws himself up, sucking in a breath like he’s coming out of water. “He must get something from it. Like some kind of PR or something.”

Wei Ying goes into the back and carries out a case of wine and a case of cider, loads them into the cooler. It takes a while, he has to pull things out so the warm bottles go in the back. He can vaguely hear his brothers insulting Jin Zixun and the state of modern television, keeping it light. He stares at the label on a bottle of cider—it’s an apple with a face, one of those unnerving cartoon faces where all the teeth are the same size and shape. No one’s teeth look like that.

He shuts the cooler and returns.

“If Zixun looks like a fool,” Wei Ying says thoughtfully, interrupting them like he’s supposed to, “then he’s mostly harmless. He’s a goofball. It must be useful for the great and powerful Jin to have a goofball side. It makes you look less, I don’t know . . .” He could say a lot of things. He could say things like tyrannical or despotic or calculating or morally questionable. He doesn’t say any of it, just waves his hands around.

Zixuan looks like he hears the words anyway, and as usual, he stares out across the bar. “He’s a sacrifice, I suppose. Zixun. He’s always been the spare.”

“Do you think he knows he’s being played?” Jiang Cheng asks. “Would he keep doing it if he knew?”

“My dad,” Zixuan says slowly. “Doesn’t play Go. Metaphorically speaking. Not like A-Yao does. But he does play poker. Zixun—” he spins the glass between his hands. “Zixun plays hopscotch. Badly.”

Wei Ying snorts, and it feels nice.

“I guess I don’t like the show so much anymore,” he says, pouting.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng reaches out and flicks his ear. Wei Ying lets him.

“Why does everything have to be nefarious?” Wei Ying whines, meaning reality TV but also Jiang Cheng and his mean fingers “Can’t we have something that’s just dumb? Aren’t we there, as a country, where we can just have stupid shit that’s stupid and doesn’t mean anything?”

“You mean besides you, and also your face?” Jiang Cheng asks. Zixuan sighs at them in a judgmental way.

Wei Ying taps his chin. “Although, there’s a column there. The insidious political machinations of so-called reality.” He hits the button to roll out some receipt paper and makes a few notes.

“I just don’t get why he does it,” Jiang Cheng muses. “He has to know he looks bad. Right? Like, he has to.” As if everyone is as pathologically obsessed with their public appearance as you are, which is something Wei Ying does not say. “It’s not like he needs the money.”

As always, that’s its own flavor of uncomfortable. Zixuan makes more money than Jiang Cheng, and has a trust fund on top of it. He keeps trying to make it up by buying expensive presents and starting a tab wherever they go, but Jiang Cheng won’t take it. He used to, back when Zixuan was just their shitty rich brother-in-law, or Yanli’s shitty rich boyfriend. He used to call it “Yanli’s dowry” when he’d leave his birthday dinner with a new stereo or a nice watch. Now that they’re friends, though, he gets pissed off. He’ll get mad if Zixuan buys him a hardcover instead of a paperback, now that they’re friends. He’s a complicated man. So is Zixuan, in his way.

That’s probably why they get along so well, and why Wei Ying is always a half a step off of their weird masculine choreography. Wei Ying fancies himself a complicated man, but it’s different. He’s in control in a way they don’t seem to be, not of his life but of his face and his voice and his sentence structure. It makes him a good reporter.

They, on the other hand, have always been good soldiers.

Wei Ying had cried when Jiang Cheng enlisted, mid-’93. 

“You watch too many war movies,” he’d said, looking down at this lap, twisting his hands together, face hot and heart racing. “It won’t be like that, A-Cheng, there’s not any glory in it, it’ll just be horrible—”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Jiang Cheng had been stubborn as always, chin jutting out. “Wen Chao’s last attack—I can’t just sit here.”

Yanli hadn’t cried at all, she’d just looked between them, silent.

“Why don’t you come too?”Jian Cheng had asked him, eyes like a six-year-old. “You’d be good at it. We could do it together.”

“No, I gotta— Someone’s gotta report on all your heroics, right?” Wei Ying had been sweating, panicked, chills running down his arms, blowing his nose again and again. “Maybe I’ll get an assignment so I can follow you around and sing about your adventures. Like something out of those ancient poems, right?”

He’d been wrong about his role in the war, but more right than he’d be able to guess about ancient poetry. Because cultivation was real. Magic was real, and his brother was somehow mixed up in it.

He got drunk with Yanli the week after the first cultivator battle. The first battle with the new cultivator corps. Zixuan, Jiang Cheng, Lan Zhan, Mianmian, and the others.

“You husband is a wizard,” Wei Ying had said, slurring.

“Your brother is a wizard.” Yanli had flicked a sunflower seed into his lap. 

That was her secret: when Yanli got drunk she could go through two bags of sunflower seeds by herself. She got the cheap ones from the gas station on the corner and split them with her teeth, scattering shells everywhere like a little disaster zone. She’d clean up all the evidence in the morning, before anyone woke up. She was almost never hungover. 

Wei Ying loved that about her, the evidence she left, her secret messiness. He’d catch a stray shell in the corner, behind a potted plant or caught in the fringe of an area rug, and he’d get so rocked with love—violent, breathless love for her—that his vision would go spotty. 

Or maybe that’s just how he remembers it, now that she’s gone.

“Actually, he’s your brother too,” Wei Ying had said at the time, poking her nose. “Your husband and your brother are both wizards. So what does that make you?”

“Well, there’s Lan Zhan. You’re blushing, see, you’re blushing. And Mianmian. They’re your—”

“Friends.”

“Yeah, but you kissed both of them.”

Wei Ying had stuck out his tongue at her, or done something equally childish.

She’d cracked a sunflower seed and popped it into her mouth. “We could be wizards if we wanted to.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely”

“We just aren’t.”

“We’re busy.”

“We are busy people.”

Wei Ying is shaken out of the memory by a pint glass slamming down on the bar, just missing Jiang Cheng’s elbow. It’s Li Wangcheng, youngest son of his usual source, Li Riseung.

“Fill ‘er up, asshole,” Li Wangcheng says, listing into his buddies on either side. Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are both looking at him with equally disdainful nose wrinkles. “Chop chop.”

Wei Ying sighs. “Sorry, Wangcheng, you’re cut off. I already over-served you, and I promised your dad and your brother I wouldn’t.”

“Fuck you.”

“Your liver can’t take it. Here, have some water and go sit down.”

“Fuck you, Wei Ying. Fuck you.” He’s pushing off his friends, leaning over the bar with his tobacco-stained teeth and his mix-of-alcohol breath.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wei Ying moves away, wiping down the counter, and Wangcheng follows.

“I’ll fucking kill you. You watch your back, bitch, I’ll fucking find you, and I’ll kill you.”

Wei Ying puts up his hands. “Okay, man, take it easy.”

“I know where you live. I know where you park your bike. Your stupid little fucking— Your stupid bike.”

His two biggest friends start pulling at his elbow, pulling him away. He shakes them off.

“Don’t think I won’t. Don’t think I won’t find you, motherfucker.”

Jiang Cheng is off his stool, now, and Zixuan is moving around behind him, coming in to engage. Wei Ying waves them off, desperately. Wen Ning is leaving his spot by the door.

“When you leave tonight, you better—”

“The fuck did you say?” Jiang Cheng is up in his face, now, and Wei Ying has to come out from behind the bar. He hates leaving the bar, it’s his comfortable place to be.

“Leave it. A-Cheng, A-Xuan, leave it, leave it.” He gets himself between them all, holding his brother back. Wen Ning has a good hold on Wangcheng’s shoulders.

“Fuck you.” That sprays a bit in his face, the plosive. “Everything was fine before you came here. Yiling was fine before you came here, and then everything went to shit.”

“That’s not—” Jiang Cheng tries to butt in, but Wei Ying sticks an elbow in his gut.

“I said, leave it.”

“Fucking worthless,” Wangcheng spits at him, and Wen Ning and his friends haul him back towards the door. “Fucking demon. You’re a fucking demon, Wei Ying! Fucking cursed!”

Wen Ning throws them out, and the silence following is awkward, no one looking at each other. Wei Ying wipes his face, straightens Jiang Cheng’s shirt collar, and goes back to work. There’s a short woman standing there, frozen, holding out her empty glass. He gets her another gin and cranberry, pleased that he remembered, and she gives him a pitying kind of smile. He hides his hands down by his sides, but he knows she’s seen them. Everyone can see them; he doesn’t cover them.

“Holy shit,” Jiang Cheng says, still staring back at the door.

“Yeah. Never mind.” Wei Ying readjusts his t-shirt.

“Never mind? That was a death threat. For what, cutting him off?”

“Forget about it.”

“For cutting him off? What the fuck?”

“A-Cheng, forget it.”

“I’m not gonna forget it, that guy knows where you live.”

“It’s fine, it happens. Leave it. Please? Leave it.”

Jiang Cheng sits down. Zixuan says nothing, looking between Jaing Cheng and the door.

“Does it happen a lot?” Jiang Cheng is interrogating, intelligence-mode.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Wei Ying, does it happen a lot?”

“I mean, a bit. Okay?”

“For cutting—?”

“It’s not about cutting him off. It’s not about that. It’s not about me. Calm down.”

“Sure sounded like it’s about you. ‘Demon,’ really—”

“If it wasn’t me it would be someone else. Wen Ning. His friends. His dad.” Wei Ying chops more limes than he needs to, calmed by the sharpness of the knife. “He’s dying. Actually dying, everyone knows it. His liver is shot. He’s been laid off for months, and he can’t pay for any more treatment. His dad’s broke, mom died in the war. He’s lashing out.”

“But that’s not your—”

“You can’t swing at the clouds forever. Right? He’s not the only one. People feel good here, they feel comfortable here, and so they can hit someone here if they need to. You get beaten down and beaten down for year after year, eventually you have to fight back. Right? Otherwise what are you?” What am I? he doesn’t ask.

Zixuan clears his throat, still not looking at him. “What’s the use of fighting you? You’re not—”

Wei Ying laughs at him, mean. “What’s he gonna do, fight your dad? The whole fucking government? Who can he hit? After a while, you have to hit something or you’ll go mad. You have to make contact. Right?” He chops another lime. “You have to have an effect on something. You have to hit someone and see the bruise, or yell at someone and see them flinch. Otherwise it’s like you don’t exist at all. You’re already dead.”

“Wei Ying,” Zixuan says it, which is a surprise. He almost never says his name.

“Somewhere like this, somewhere like Yiling, all you can reach is the guy next to you. Once they put the crabs in the bucket, they put the lid on.”

The chatter in the bar is back, which is nice since there’s an awkward silence between the three of them. Wei Ying puts the chopped limes into the cooler and washes the cutting board, washes the knife. He replaces a drink at the other end of the bar earlier than he normally would—the guy is only halfway through, but he nods a thanks.

“What about—” Zixuan starts, hesitant. “Wei Ying, what about police?”

“Ha!” Wei Ying snaps it at him, not a laugh, not at all. “Don’t you— You don’t come here, into my bar, talking about police.”

“I didn’t come in talking about police, I’m just saying—”

“No cops in Yiling.” He shuts a cooler with his heel, a satisfying slam. “Cops are military, and the military hates Yiling.”

Zixuan bristles. “No, we don’t.”

He always does this. It’s one of the things Wei Ying can’t process about him, and one of the reasons they’ve never been close and probably never will be. It’s always “we.” The Jins, the government, the military. Wei Ying can like him if he doesn’t see Jin Guangshan, if he doesn’t see Jin Guangyao, if he doesn’t see the war when he looks at him. But then he comes in with the “we.”

It’s probably sad, actually, how long he’s been a soldier. How much of him is wrapped up in being his dad’s perfect soldier.

Wei Ying bites his tongue, takes a breath. “Of course you do. Everyone in charge hates Yiling.”

“I don’t hate Yiling.” Zixuan is getting stubborn. He looks like A-Ling, almost a pout. “It’s where you live, and you’re my family.”

Wei Ying blinks at him. “I don’t know how to talk to you when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“Sincere. All, you know—” he waves an empty bottle around in Zixuan’s face. “Sincere.”

The pout becomes more of a pout. “I’m always sincere.

“Yeah, that’s why we don’t talk.”

Jiang Cheng leans across the bar and snags the rail whiskey bottle to top off his own glass.

“I can beat you up later, if you like,” Zixuan offers.

“Yeah.” Wei Ying doesn’t want to smile, but he does anyway. “Maybe.”

The silence isn’t awkward this time. Wei Ying takes the whiskey bottle back from Jiang Cheng and makes a show of wiping it off with the bleach rag. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

After a while, Jiang Cheng asks, “Is there something happening here this month? For the five years? Like a memorial or something?” He’s looking away, all careful again.

“Is Lanling doing something?” They look at Zixuan, only slightly accusing on Wei Ying’s part.

“No. I mean December 3 there will be a whole . . . Armistice anniversary.”

“But nothing for Sunshot. Nothing for the massacre I mean,” Wei Ying says.

“I mean, not specifically.” Zixuan licks his lips. “I’m sure it’ll be mentioned.”

“Nothing here, though?” Jiang Cheng asks again.

“Trust me, people around here aren’t the ones that need reminding what you’re— what Lanling is capable of.” 

“That’s not fair,” Zixuan says.

Wei Ying looks down at his hands, the mottled brown of them. Flies, flies and dirt and flies and chemicals and flies. “Don’t talk about fair. Not about this.”

Zixuan opens his mouth, but Jiang Cheng shakes his head, violently.

“A-Cheng, it’s not—”

“Stop it.” Jiang Cheng is glaring at him now, the kind of look Wei Ying gets all the time, but Zixuan doesn’t see so much. It makes him stop.

Wei Ying goes to the back and grabs the broom. Jiang Cheng reaches over for the gin bottle and tops off Zixuan’s glass. Wei Ying pretends he doesn’t see it and starts at the far end of the bar. It’s getting slower, people heading out for the night to more exciting places.

A song comes on, something from his college days. He remembers recording it onto a cassette tape from the radio, keeping it in his backpack. Lan Zhan didn’t really like it, but he let Wei Ying play it all the time on his cheap little dorm room stereo.

Wei Ying sings along under his breath as he sweeps. “And if I lied, would you forgive me. Whoa-oh-oh. Fit to be tied, but you still live with me. Oh, whoa-oh-oh.”

“This song,” Zixuan says, smiling a little. “We used to— We used to fight a lot. A-Li and I. Stupid stuff. I was late for dinner. My mom would get so overbearing and we’d fight about that. Her mom would— Well, you know. We’d fight about that. Baby stuff. We didn’t know what to do about baby stuff, so she bought out the whole section of the book store and said we’d divide and conquer. But every book was different, so we’d argue. Dr. Po says this. Well, Dr. Wen says that. She could be so— You’re all so stubborn. Stupid stuff. And we’d be so pissed off we stopped speaking to each other. But I bought her this CD once, not for a birthday or anything, just because. She loved them from way back. And she’d put it on, and we’d dance, and we wouldn’t be mad anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said, clearing his throat. “She liked that sappy shit.”

“Do you play it for A-Ling?” Wei Ying asks.

Zixuan shakes his head. “It makes me sad to hear it. I spend most of my time trying not to be sad around A-Ling.”

Jiang Cheng moves like he’s going to touch him, his arm, his shoulder. He aborts the move and grabs his glass instead, slides it over to tap against Zixuan’s. 

“You’re doing good,” he says.

Zixuan looks down, blinking seriously.

“You are,” Wei Ying agrees. “You’re doing good. And you know it pains me to say it.”

Zixuan gives him an echo of a laugh.

“A-Ling is lucky.”

“He’d be luckier if his uncles would visit. Both of them.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying say in unison.

“You want me to change the song?” Wei Ying asks.

“No, leave it. It’s good. It’s a nice song.”

An old woman leans on the bar—she’s familiar but Wei Ying can’t remember her name. “Hey, hey, Wei Ying!”

“Yeah, auntie?” he smiles charmingly at her.

“You know my daughter’s coming home soon. December 21.”

“Cheers to that!” he gives her a half-salute.

“I’ll set you up, once she’s home. Just you wait, she’s the prettiest, even now.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“She makes that jumpsuit look like runway fashion. Still has her figure, even with the prison food.”

“Can’t wait,” Wei Ying says politely.

“December 21,” the old woman waves her finger at him and heads for the door. 

“Invite me to the wedding,” Jiang Cheng teases.

“December 21,” Wei Ying rolls it around in his mouth. “The Wens are coming home.”

Zixuan straightens up. “Really?”

“That’s what we’re celebrating. We don’t celebrate the Massacre, but innocent people coming home? That’s worth it.”

“Innocent is—”

“Zixuan, think about where you are.”

Zixuan nods.

All of the Wens who’d been scooped up post-Sunshot, post-war, those related to rebels or in the wrong place at the wrong time, they’d all been sentenced to five years in prison. “Just to be safe.” The majority came from Yiling, Dafan, other small towns in the West. People who couldn’t afford to run to Lanling, to Gusu, somewhere safe during the worst of the fighting. People who wouldn’t turn their backs on brothers and aunts and cousins in Nightless City. 

But five years have almost passed, and the Wens are coming home.

“It’ll be weird, won’t it?” Jiang Cheng asks, diplomatic in his insensitivity.

“A hundred and forty-three people,” Wei Ying says. “At least, that’s how many went in. I’m sure a couple fucked up inside, got their sentences extended.”

“But still.”

“But still,” he agrees.

“Are you going to do something for it? In December?” Jiang Cheng asks him.

“Dunno. I should stock up though, shouldn’t I? I’ll make a note.”

Later, after Jiang Cheng and Zixuan leave for Jiang Cheng’s Yiling sublet—a two bedroom so Zixuan doesn’t have to get his own place in town—Wei Ying sweeps up while Wen Ning flips chairs up on the tables.  

“Have you ever gotten over something?” Wei Ying asks him.

“Like what?” Wen Ning stops working and looks at him. He always does that—Wei Ying has always wondered if he had hearing loss as a kid. If he’s talking to you, he always has to stop whatever he’s doing and look at you right in the face.

“I don’t know. But have you ever stood there a second and realized you were over something? Or through something. You know, on the other side?”

Wen Ning thinks for a while, and Wei Ying sweeps around his feet. “School, I guess.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What about you?”

Wei Ying leans down with the dust pan. “I don’t think I’ve ever come out the other side of anything. I think maybe if you stay in something long enough you adapt. Grow gills or whatever, so you can breathe. So you can survive when the world turns unlivable around you. And maybe you aren’t living at all, maybe you’re a stone, or you’re a dead fish with rotten eyes, washed up on the bank of a river that dried up years and years ago.” 

Wen Ning still looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn’t ask Wei Ying to make sense. It’s what Wei Ying appreciates the most about him. 

“So maybe you’re dead, or maybe you’re evolving. Like, maybe that’s just what the world is now, and what you would have previously defined as dead, what you’d look at ten years ago and say that’s a dead thing, maybe that’s just what life looks like now. Evolution.” 

Wen Ning nods and picks up a chair. “I think . . . I might be remembering wrong, but I think evolution takes a long time. Like many generations. So maybe you should look at the kids.”

“The kids?” 

“Yeah, see if the kids have gills. Or whatever. Whatever you said.”

Wei Ying leans his chin on his broom and watches Wen Ning go table by table, strong and methodical. He sets the chairs so gently on the tabletops that it doesn’t make any noise. He flips them with complete control and lines up the seats.

“Maybe,” Wei Ying says. He goes back behind the bar and turns up the music. There’s work to do before heading home

#assorted writings #pick up every piece #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi

[myfanwymusings]

TAYLOR SWIFT / EVERMORE

The following is a collection of lyric sentence starters from Taylor Swift’s ninth studio album evermore. Some lyrics have been slightly modified for ease of role-playing. Feel free to change any tense or pronouns. May contain mature content. This has been reposted from my old blog.

WILLOW

I’m rough on the surface, but you cut through like a knife

If it was an open-shut case I never would have known from the look on your face

Lost in your current like a priceless wine

The more that you say, the less I know

Wherever you stray, I follow

I'm begging for you to take my hand

I'm begging for you

I can feel you sneaking in

There was one prize I'd cheat to win

They count me out time and time again

Anywhere else is hollow

That's my man

I come back stronger than a '90s trend

Wait for the signal, and I'll meet you after dark

I'll meet you after dark

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

This is an open-shut case

I should’ve known from the look on your face

Hey, that's my man

Yeah, that's my man  

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

You booked the night train for a reason

Your heart was glass, I dropped it

You told your family for a reason

You dropped my hand while dancing, left me out there standing

Love slipped beyond your reaches and I couldn't give a reason

This dorm was once a madhouse

Well, it's made for me

Soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls that we once walked through

I never was ready so I watch you go

She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head

Sometimes you just don't know the answer til someone's on their knees and asks you

You won't remember all my champagne problems  

GOLD RUSH

I don't like a gold rush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

My mind turns your life into folklore

I won't call you out on your contrarian shit

‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON

If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you

There's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

But if it's all the same to you it's the same to me

You could call me "babe" for the weekend

We could call it even

Remember how you watched me leave

You can run, but only so far

And the road not taken looks real good now

Hear me out, we could just ride around

The road not taken looks real good now and it always leads to you in my hometown

I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay

I wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm faking'

The heart I know I'm breaking' is my own

Even though I'm leaving' and I'll be yours for the weekend

​'Tis the damn season

TOLERATE IT

I notice everything you do or don't do

You're so much older and wiser

If it's all in my head tell me now

Tell me I've got it wrong somehow

I know my love should be celebrated but you tolerate it

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky - now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins?

Believe me, I could do it

NO BODY, NO CRIME

He did it

Her husband's actin' different, and it smells like infidelity

That ain't my Merlot on his mouth. That ain't my jewelry on our joint account

I think I'm gonna call him out

No, there ain't no doubt

I think he did it, but I just can't prove it

No body, no crime

I ain't letting' up until the day I die

Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen

I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

She was with me, dude

They think she did it, but they just can't prove it

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

I wasn't letting' up until the day he died

HAPPINESS

I see this for what it is

All the years I've given is just shit we're dividing' up

I can't face reinvention

There will be happiness after you

There was happiness because of you

Haunted by the look in my eyes that would've loved you for a lifetime

Tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk?

I hope she'll be your beautiful fool, who takes my spot next to you

No, I didn't mean that

Sorry, I can't see facts through all of my fury

You haven't met the new me yet

There will be happiness after me

There was happiness because of me

I can't make it go away by making you a villain

I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night, now I get fake niceties

No one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you and you know you hurt him, too

All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness

After giving you the best I had, tell me what to give after that?

All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness. You haven't met the new me yet and I think she'll give you that

DOROTHEA

Do you ever stop and think about me?

A tiny screen's the only place I see you now

I got nothing but well-wishes for ya

This place is the same as it ever was but you don't like it that way

It's never too late to come back to my side

You're a queen selling' dreams, selling' makeup and magazines

From you I'd buy anything

But are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers?

I guess I'll never know

If you're ever tired of being known for who you know, you'll always know me.

CONEY ISLAND

If I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to?

And if this is the long haul how'd we get here so soon?

Did I close my fist around something delicate?

Did I shatter you?

Sorry for not making you my centerfold

What's a lifetime of achievement if I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?

Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

We were like the mall before the internet

Were you waiting at our old spot: in the tree line by the gold clock?

Did I leave you hanging every single day?

When I got into the accident the sight that flashed before me was your face

IVY

Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

I just sit here and wait, grieving for the living

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

I wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed

Your opal eyes are all I wish to see

I'd live and die for moments that we stole

What would he do if he found us out?

Dare to sit and watch what we'll become

It's a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it

It's the goddamn fight of my life and you started it  

COWBOY LIKE ME

Dancing' is a dangerous game

I'm never gonna love again  

I've got some tricks up my sleeve

Takes one to know one

Never wanted love, just a fancy car

You're a cowboy like me

I’m telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear

You're a bandit like me

Never thought I'd meet you here

We could be the way forward and I know I'll pay for it

The skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

The old men that I've swindled really did believe I was the one

Now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon

Forever is the sweetest con  

LONG STORY SHORT

I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me

I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides

Long story short, it was a bad time

If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break

I clung to the nearest lips and long story short, it was the wrong guy

Now I'm all about you

Actually, I always felt I must look better in the rear view - missing me.

If someone comes at us, this time, I'm ready

No more keeping' score, now I just keep you warm

Past me, I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things

Your nemeses will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing

He feels like home

Long story short, I survived  

MARJORIE

Never be so kind you forget to be clever

Never be so clever you forget to be kind

If I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now

If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around

You're alive in my head

What died didn't stay dead

You're alive, so alive

Never be so polite you forget your power

Nevеr wield such power you forget to be polite

I should've asked you questions

Should've kept every grocery store receipt cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

I know better but you're still around

I still feel you all around  

CLOSURE

It's been a long time and seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain

Yes, I'm doing better

I don't need your closure

Yes, I got your letter

Don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled

I'm fine with my spite and my tears, and my beers and my candles

I know I'm just a wrinkle in your new life

Staying friends would iron it out so nice

EVERMORE

Gray November, I've been down since July

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone trying to find the one where I went wrong

I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore

Guess I'm feeling unmoored

Can't remember what I used to fight for

Can't not think of all the cost and the things that will be lost

To be certain, we'll be tall again

Is there a line that I could just go cross?

And when I was shipwrecked I thought of you

It was real enough to get me through

I dreamed of you

I swear you were there

I had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn't be for evermore  

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

Friends break up

I'm right where you left me

Help

I'm still at the restaurant

I swear you could hear a hair pin drop

What a sad sight...

I felt the moment stop

They expected me to find perspective

Everybody moved on, but I stayed there

You left me no choice

You left me no choice but to stay here forever

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everyone else

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Breakups happen every day

I was still the one you wanted

If our love died young, I can't bare witness

If you ever think you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me

IT'S TIME TO GO

He's insisting that friends look at each other like that

The words of a sister come back in whispers

She's a crook that was caught

She was not in fact what she seemed

You know when it's time to go

Twenty years at that job, then the boss of the son gets the spot....

Keeping it how it was will only break hearts worse

Sometimes giving up is the strong thing

Sometimes walking out is the one thing that will find you the right thing

Sometimes to run is the brave thing

I gave my all

He gave me nothing at all

He's got my past frozen behind glass but I've got me

You will know in your soul that it's time to go

#inbox memes. #rph #rpc #roleplay memes. #taylor swift lyrics.

[puckngrind]

What’s In a Name: Finale- J. Toews

Chapter 16.

Where we left off: Jon and Bekah got married in Sedona and are off to their honeymoon after the Blackhawks convention.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 4,390

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Final.

When Jon finally let it slip they were honeymooning in Iceland after the convention, Bekah was unsure of her husband’s thought process. She expected some beach vacation with their own bungalow but what she got was way more their style. They stayed up to take in the midnight sun, snorkeled in a fault line, skinny dipped in a natural hot spring and made out like no one was watching under a waterfall. They were so hot for each other the couple even missed a guided tour simply because they lost track of time and didn’t get out of bed. Married life was good even with the season starting. Right before training camp Jon drops a package on the counter and retreats to the fridge.

“Tae, whatcha order?” Bekah sipped one her later afternoon coffee.

“Rings.” Jon’s voice echoed from inside the fridge.

“Huh?”

“Take a look Beks.” Jon closes the door and motions towards the package. Inside were maybe a dozen or more silicone bands. “For practice and games, working out... you know when I have the potential of ripping off my finger with the real one.”

“Jon, you didn’t have to... I mean, it’s fine if you go ringless at work.” Bekah sips her coffee and smiles. “As long as you only come home to me.” Jon rounded the counter, pulls out one of the silicone bands, removes his wedding ring and places it on his left ring finger.

“It’s only been you since 2015, Beks, and it will only be you until the day I die.” His lips press firmly onto hers. “I want to have the constant reminder that I have the best wife ever to come home to.” His lips graze hers again.

“Not sure I deserve that reward yet, maybe in a year?” Bekah giggles into Jon’s skin.

Brynn came with Derek when the Blue Jackets played in Chicago. The two hadn’t seen each other since they left Arizona in July. “I still cannot believe you two are married, so damn in love it’s sick, and have these breathtaking wedding pictures already hanging up. I think it took a month to even get our proofs back let alone a framed picture and you have this on a giant canvas.” Brynn’s finger points to Bekah’s favorite picture. Jon’s arms wrapped her, lips pressed to her cheek as her vail flies in the wind. The fact that she doubted being about to get to the spot where they took the picture is funny looking back. She was thankful Jon pushed for it.

It was Christmas before they knew it. The families decided to give the newlyweds the actual holiday to themselves again and came together the weekend before. Bekah told Jon there better not be any surprise gifts in, on, or under the tree. On Christmas Eve she came down the steps to see a blanket laid out in front of the tree with the fire going.

“What’s this Tae?” She kisses her husband who looked pleased with himself.

“I thought we should have our own Christmas tradition that we could do when we have kids.” He dips down and scoops up the wine glasses. “Maybe without the wine.” Bekah sips her glass and takes in the small details Jon put into this picnic.

“Sounds perfect!” They sat down and talked all about the holidays, break, and how the season was going.

“I know you are going home for New Years but very much want my wife with me in Calgary to ring in 2020.” Jon stands to move the plates and wine glasses.

“J, I don’t see why I couldn’t just cut my home trip short?” Bekah leans on her hands watching Jon’s reaction.

“Really? I know you miss it.” He kneels next to her.

“Not as much as I did. Plus, I want to ring in 2020 with you just didn’t want to mess up team bonding.” Jon laughs a little and moves his body on top of hers.

“I think the guys will understand why.” Jon presses his lips to hers and Bekah moans out.

“Wanna go upstairs?” She whispers when their lips break for air.

“Fuck no.” Jon lifts up and pulls off both of their clothes wasting no time making sure Bekah was ready before pressing into her. His movements were slow and intentional. Pulling Bekah’s legs high up so she had to move her hands from pulling at his back to holding her legs up. Jon humming in pure love of the moment. Taking in their highs together Jon still holding tight into his wife.

“So is this also a Christmas tradition there, Tae?” Bekah’s breaths were short as she laughed.

“I think so. Maybe before Santa arrives.” He snickers as he lifts up and grabs another blanket to wrap around them.

“Is Santa coming to our house this year? Dropping off any surprises?” Bekah combs her fingers through Jon’s hair as he lays on her chest.

“Nope. Well, house hunting...” Jon felt Bekah’s reaction to his statement. “We can stay here if you want. It’s up to you.”

They didn’t. Soon after Jon and Bekah returned from Columbus and Calgary the couple found the perfect house close to the city. Moving during the season seemed to be a daunting task but Bekah managed to get the essentials unpacked and hired painters and such to make their home feel like them. All-Star weekend the couple found themselves at home in Winnipeg.

“Beks?” Jon called out after coming in from a run. Bekah told Jon she was going to make cookies while he was gone. “Babe?” He wandered the house and sees her still with her shoes on in bed asleep. He sits down next to her and brushes the hair out of her face. “You okay?” His eyebrows knit together knowing his wife was not a nap type of person however many times he begged her to nap pre-game with him.

“Yeah, just got super tired that’s all.” Bekah’s voice was groggy.

“Yeah, you left the dough out on the counter.” Jon slips back behind her. “Do you think you are coming down with something?” He presses his lips to the back of her head.

“I don’t think so. Maybe... oh... well. Um. Shit. What day is it?” Bekah lifts up suddenly.

“The 23rd. Why Bekah?” Jon sits up behind her.

“I’m two weeks late.” Bekah’s hand covers her mouth realizing what that could mean.

“You mean like late late? As in...” Jon’s arms wrap around Bekah.

“Like maybe you would go get a test... or three.” She looks back at him and she shuffles to his feet and heads to the store. The smell of cookies hit his nose when he walked back in the door. Bekah icing the batch that had cooled.

“So, I know we said we would let nature take its course but that was in November.” Bekah nods, licks the icing off her finger and grabs the bag.

The two waited for the longest two minutes of their lives sitting on the bathroom floor. Bekah’s head rested on Jon’s shoulder. Jon’s hand picked up the stick from the counter. “Ready...” he whispers and Bekah’s shoulders shrug. “Pregnant. Beks!” Jon’s voice picked up and he jumped to his feet placing the test on the counter and scooping his wife into his arms kissing her skin as he walks.

“Tae, what are you doing?” Bekah questions.

“Celebrating knocking my sexy wife up in the first try!” Jon drops Bekah onto the bed and crowds her. Ridding himself of his shirt and pulling on hers.

“It could be a false positive.” Bekah’s hands land on Jon’s chest.

“It’s not.” Jon retorts. “For as long I’ve known you, your cycle has been the most predictable thing about you.” Jon manages to pull Bekah’s shirt off and kisses down to her stomach. “Salut bébé, c'est ton papa.” He whispers into her skin the looks up to see Bekah’s face. “Sorry, maybe I should...” Jon goes to move thinking he changed the mood and Bekah’s hands catch his shoulders.

“Tae, that was a damn turn on. Please... continue.” Jon winks up at her and presses his tongue to her folds lapping up how incredibly wet she was. Bekah’s orgasm ripping through her body like a ball of fire. Her body jolting up away from his mouth which was still working it’s magic.

“Holy shit. J, I need more.” Bekah panted out and Jon’s mouth met her chest as he laid her back down pressing his length deep inside eliciting moans as he rocked.

“Oh. Beks. Beks. I...” Jon huffs as Bekah pulls her body up into his and feels him explode deep inside of her sending shockwaves through out her body. “I love you.” Jon whispers while crashing into her body.

“Same but you are crushing my pelvis.” Bekah wiggles and Jon jumps off her quickly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You are carrying our child.” His hand grazes her stomach.

“Potentially. I need to schedule an appointment for when we are back.” She reaches for her phone and Jon’s hand catches her arm.

“Does your brain ever shut off My Love?” Jon kisses her. “No is the answer. And I want to go. Can you schedule around me?”

Soon after their return home, Jon and Bekah found themselves in her OBGYN’s office listening to their child’s heartbeat. A tear streaming down Jon’s face as Bekah held his hand tight. On the drive home, Bekah broke the comfortable silence. “Can we wait to tell people including family until the second trimester?” Jon’s thumb rubs the back of her hand as he drives.

“Whenever you want Beks.” Jon’s delight evident in his tone.

“I want to tell Rin first but don’t exactly know how.” Bekah inhales quickly as Jon sighs. Brynn and Derek would be the perfect parents but after too many miscarriages to count and an undetermined infertility diagnosis they just stopped trying. Getting pregnant so quickly was going to crush her best friend and she knew it. She watched Brynn at coworker’s baby showers. She hid the pain well but Bekah saw it.

She wanted to tell her best friend in person. What she didn’t expect was the pause and quarantine. Jon came home early March talking about the NHLPA and on the phone not realizing Bekah was laying in the middle of the floor. He stands over her and smiles. “My beautiful wife okay down there?”

“Fat wife that is. And no. They said you could have morning sickness and mine was mid-afternoon sickness which is for the birds THEN they said you feel better in your second trimester and welp... my body feels like I ran a damn marathon and I just moved the rug three feet over. How was your discussion with those people?” Bekah waves her hand around and Jon laughs.

“They want to start zoom calls so I have to think where I could do it here. Plus I think we can go home to Manitoba for a bit if you feel already.”

“Yeah, do it in the kitchen so you don’t have the blow job angle your team Canada buddy did yesterday. I need to call Rin. My body isn’t hiding this baby much longer.” Jon lays down next to her and kisses her cheek.

“Blow job angles. Funny. I don’t need anyone but you thinking of that.” He rolls her body on top of his and she sits up with his hands on her hips. “And you, Mrs. Toews and more beautiful now than the day we met.” Jon’s thumbs rub the small bump appearing on her lower abdomen.

Bekah buzzed around the house while Jon sat on the zoom call. She dropped her phone when she heard him answer the question about what he’s been up to since the last game. After the call ended she stands next to him. “When is that call being published?” Bekah asks with an annoyance in her voice.

“They said in a few days, why Beks?” Jon pulls her into his lap.

“Because you just fucking told the world I’m pregnant and I haven’t even told our families.” Jon’s eyes blow wide.

“Oh fuck! I... I... I didn’t even think about it.” His hand covers his face.

“I need to go FaceTime Rin.” Bekah kissed her regretful husband and retreated to their bedroom.

“How’s my bestie doing in quarantine?” Brynn didn’t even say hi. “What’s that face for?” Bekah sighed.

“I wanted to do this in person so I could hold your hand but damn Covid and shit.” Bekah starts.

“You are pregnant aren’t you?” Brynn pulls a smile across her face.

“How did ya?” Bekah’s eyebrow shoots up. “I am. Due mid-September.”

“I knew you looked different in December but couldn’t place it. You were barely pregnant weren’t you?” Brynn feels the tears coming.

“Yeah. Rin. I... I... I’m sorry.” Bekah whispers.

“Bekah, you don’t have to be sorry. I’m so happy for you and cannot wait to be Auntie Rin!” Brynn wipes her eyes.

“Oh Rin.” Bekah sniffles. “I didn’t know how you would take this.” The friends talked a little more before Bekah hung up and called Kelly who squealed while jumping then realized Bekah’s odd questions in February were pregnancy related. When she returned to Jon he was laying on the couch she asked him to move. “Your parents or mine first?”

“Together?” Jon laughed and they both FaceTimed their mom’s who were overjoyed at the news about being grandparents. Marie had tons of questions regarding Bekah and the baby’s safety while the Toews were busy talking to Jon about their trip home and if Bekah would be safe on the lake’s ice.

With permission from her doctor, the couple returned to Canada and Jon enjoyed rare times with his family but soon realized the couple needed to return to the states. Jon was constantly on the phone with negotiations about return to play throughout the summer.  Laying in bed one night with his head on her growing belly, Bekah could feel he was holding something back.

“Tae, talk.  What’s up?  She ran her hands through his growing hair that she secretly loved while everything was shut down.  

“We’ve been talking about a return to play and that players could opt out.  I think I should since with the baby coming.  I would be gone for most of your last trimester.”  Jon kisses and turns his attention.  “Momma won’t let me open the envelope that says if you are a boy or girl.  Maybe you could help me out, huh?”  Bekah laughs hard that her belly moves.

“I told you with everything else the way it is having a little surprise wouldn’t hurt anyone.  We bought the essentials and Kelly swears her kids were in the white onesies, or naked and wrapped up in a blanket for the first few weeks.  Eating, pooping, and sleeping.”  Jon looks up resting his chin on her stomach.

“Fine.  I’ll wait.  We already have enough Hawks stuff to last about a week.  Plus the girls are ready to socially distance pounce on you once the baby does come.  I do have an important question for you?”

“Yeah?”

“When is sex off the table?”  He bites his lip and Bekah shakes her head.

“Depends on how I feel and where the baby is plus you don’t want to induce labor too early.”

“Soooo.... we can still?”  Jon’s eyebrows dance.

“You want to sex this up?  With my swollen ankles and clothes that no longer fit...”

“You don’t need clothes for what I want to do with you.”  Jon lays next to his wife and pulls her face to his.  “You are beautiful.”  He deepens his kiss and she moans.

“I just look fat Tae.”  Bekah recoils.  “Plus, I need a shower.”  She moves and Jon follows.

“I’ll join you.”  He pulls her body into his while walking to their shower.  

“You seriously want to have sex with me?”  She looks at her naked body in the mirror and over to Jon noticing he was already hard.  

“Not much has changed from last week when I wore your thighs at earmuffs.”  Jon turned on the shower and lead her under the water.  He could physically see Bekah’s shoulders relax under the warm water.  Pulling her breasts into his hands he massaged gently.  “Tell me if it’s too much okay Beks”  He kissed  the back of her neck and his fingers found her entrance.  Using the edge of the shower, Bekah pulled her leg up for easier access to her clit as Jon kissed her skin.  

“Tae.”  She breathed out feeling an orgasm building then she felt the baby.  “Jon!”  Her hand went to her stomach.  “Feel.”  She brought his hand to her belly and Jon felt their child kick his hand.

“Oh wow!  That is maybe the coolest feeling ever.”  Jon kisses Bekah and she feels his hardened cock on her back.  “Does that mean we stop, because...”

“No.  I want you to fuck me.”  Bekah turns around and Jon pulls her body up and slides her onto his length but cannot get situated enough.  “take me to be bed.”  She breathed out.  

“Wet?”  He questioned as he pulls out.

“Yes.”  She wraps her arms around him and he carries them to the bed.  Laying her down carefully and pressing into her as she moves her legs to feel all of him.  With just a few thrusts, Bekah’s orgasm crashes over her and she feels the baby fluttering inside.  “Can I finish you off orally?”  She pants.  

“You don’t have to Beks.  I’m fine.”  She wiggled from under him and he falls onto the mattress.  “Beks... really... I’m... holy fuck.  Don’t stop.”  Jon soon changed his mind when Bekah’s lips wrapped tight around him and he hit the back of her throat.  Sliding easily up and down his length Jon breathed out his approval of her actions and quickly spilled down her throat.  Bekah pops her lips and wipes her mouth as she retreats.  “I have no words.”  Jon huffs out and stares up at Bekah who is now rubbing her stomach.

“Now can you get up so we can change the sheets and go to bed.  This momma to be is tired.”  Bekah stands and Jon strips the wet bed before cuddling his wife.  

With somewhat of an argument, Brynn came to Chicago as Jon entered the bubble.  Jon kissed Bekah’s belly as was leaving, “You cannot make an entrance into the world until Daddy returns or Momma enters the bubble.  Either way, hang out.  Make sure Momma listens to Auntie Rin and cheer on the Hawks.”  Jon lifts up and wraps his arms around his wife.  “Tu es toujours avec moi, mes amours.”  Jon kisses her then pulls away to see the tears build in her eyes.  “Always with me.”  Jon gives instructions to Brynn to make sure Bekah keeps to the doctor’s orders and she calls him if anything happens.

“Go kick some Oiler ass Babe!”  Bekah giggles trying to contain her emotions.

“Why does he have to look so damn sexy and I cannot touch him.  You know these girls are falling all over him.”  Bekah watched the coverage of Jon walking into the arena while Brynn painted her toe nails.

“And that man only has eyes for you.”  Brynn smiled seeing the the way Bekah contorts her face.  

“Yeah, some hot ass media girl is much sexier than the fat cow he left at home.”  Bekah rubs her belly that has grown to the point that she cannot see her feet.  

“Sorry friend, this whole negative self talk has to be your hormones because everyone in the world knows how much that man loves you. Did you see the picture from last game?  You could see your wedding picture on his lock screen.”

“Did he look that good when he left?  And the way he is playing is so fucking sexy.”  Bekah looks at her phone.  “Sorry, baby bird.  Momma will be filtering herself when you arrive next month.”  Brynn laughs.

“He will call.  He always does.”  And like magic Bekah’s phone rings.  Since entering the bubble Jon calls to talk to the baby once a day, and will call Bekah before she goes to bed and before he goes on the ice.

“There is my girl!”  Jon’s voice booms out of the speaker.  

“Hey Tae!  Could you talk to the league and see if they could I don’t know, move your game’s start time before my bedtime?”  This makes both Jon and Brynn laugh.  “I watch you when I get up to pee at around 11 but I hate missing the games live.

“Sure, I’ll just call Gary myself and request a game time change.”  The three laugh.  

“I love you, Tae.  Good luck tonight and go kick some ass.”  She kisses at the phone.  

“I love you, two.”  He blows her a kiss and hangs up to the sounds of heaving coming from Bekah’s feet.

“Yeah, if they lose and he comes home I foresee your labor starting.”  

“Rin, that would be a month early!”  Bekah squeaks out.

“I call it like I see it.  And that man is gonna want his wife when he returns.”  Bekah covered her eyes then starts googling sex in the third trimester.

Jon was home three and a half weeks after he left for Edmonton.  Brynn stayed through the week and then drove back to Ohio with the promise she would be back when Baby Toews was born.  Bekah’s due date came and she was still pregnant.

“This baby is NEVER leaving.”  Bekah walked the stairs for the 10th time that day.

“You’ve made it comfortable.  They want to stay FOREVER.”  Jon laughs while he indulges in his dessert concoction he only eats off season.

“I think I’ve tried everything but sex.”  Bekah leans on the counter and presses her hips back to relive the pressure.  Jon drops the spoon from his mouth.

“Well, I can fucking help with that.”  He pulls Bekah’s arm and practically pushes her up the stairs.  Leaning against the headboard he pats his lap.  “Climb aboard the let’s meet our baby Jonny train.”  He laughs and Bekah scoffs.

“Your dad jokes are just gonna get worse, aren’t they?”  She removes her shorts and climbs onto Jon’s lap.

“Yup!  Now, can we get rid of this?”  He pulls off her old t-shirt that is stretched around her belly.  “And can I play with these?  I don’t think they will belong to me soon.”  Jon leans up to suck in her nipple while cupping her other breast.  Bekah lets go of a gasp.

“Too much.”  She whispered and lifts herself up.  Jon’s hands hold her helps as she lowers herself onto his length.  She presses her hips forward with a sound that was both pleasure and pain.  “It’s not gonna take much to make me.” “Oh good.  Me either.”  Jon pulls her hips forward as her belly hits his abs.  He thrusts slightly up and Bekah goes to move.

“I think if we stand.”  She stands to her feet and Jon comes behind her.  

“Ready?”  He whispered and she nods.  The grunts and moans fill the room quickly.  The pain of her hips and full term baby sitting on her organs was forgotten as their highs crash over them.  Jon leans over and kisses her shoulder blades while he pulls out.  The two stand there for a moment evening out their breaths.  “Beks, did you just pee?”  Jon jumps back.

“No.  My water just broke.”  Bekah turns and gives Jon a look.  “I need to shower I cannot give birth smelling like sex.”  Jon laughs.

“You do that, I’ll go load the car.  Unless you need me?”  He had slight panic sound in his voice that was laced with excitement.  Bekah giggled as she waddled to the shower and Jon grabbed the bags out of the nursery Brynn helped finish while he was gone.

The hospital was waiting for them as they arrived.  Jon started a group text to their moms, Brynn, Kelly, and Alyssa.  Jon sat in the rocking chair waiting for her next contraction.  “You are a rockstar you know?”  Bekah looks over at him while flipping the channel on the tv.  “Nothing like the movies or tv.  You haven’t called me a bastard or anything.”  He smirks at her.

“While I don’t plan on it... I have pushed this giant headed Toews baby out my vagina yet.”  Bekah sees Jon’s Adam’s apple bob.  “And for the sake of our sex life, maybe you shouldn’t watch.”  Jon stands and hold her hand preparing for the next contraction.  She squeezes.

“Oh no, I want to see it all.  Cut the cord.  And I’ll still find you sexy as hell.  You are bringing our child into the world.  I will be impatiently waiting for the doctor to clear you.”  Bekah rolls her eyes as the doctor comes in. 

“It’s go time here!”  The doctor looks up and Jon and and Bekah look each other with excitement.  Bringing a child into the world during a pandemic was difficult but when the moment came and it was just the two of them there was a calmness washed over them.  Bekah crushed Jon’s hand and forearm pushing but he didn’t mind.  When the doctor said one more for the shoulders, Jon leaned over his wife’s leg and watched the most incredible thing in the entire world.  In a spilt second his world completely changed.  

“Tae, is it a boy or a girl?”  Bekah whispers out of breath looking at Jon’s face and the tears welling up.

“It’s a boy, Beks.”  He was handed the scissors and cut the cord.  The nurse patted him dry and goes to hand him to Bekah.  “Daddy holds him first.”  She points and the nurse places Jon’s son in his arms.

“Time of birth, 1am, September 19th.”  The nurse announces.

“It’s the 19th, Jon!”  Bekah looks up at Jon as he passes the baby to his wif.  She holds her son to her chest and kisses his head.  

“Does baby boy Toews have a name?”  The doctor asks as the couple looks at each other and in unison answer...

“Lincoln.”

The End.

#What's in a name fic #WIAN #WIAN finale #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️ #jonathan toews #Jonathan Toews fic #j toews #happens in the 2019-2020 season

[forgetmenotbts]

HEATHER

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader // Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff (a little?)  // Angst

Word Count: 3k

Warning: Violence, mc death, not a happy ending (13+)

"Have you ever felt the feeling of wanting to be Heather? And then regretted it in the end? Why? Because I just did."

“Belated happy anniversary to the both of you” Jungkook greeted you and Taehyung with disgust. You nudged him for being grumpy and not showing interest to what you are doing.

“You ungrateful brat!” You huffed as you saw your best friend rolling his eyes on you and Taehyung.

“Y/N, stop being mean to Jungkook. You’re the one who pulled him here when he’s supposed to be sleeping peacefully on his bed, remember?” Taehyung told his you and put his arms around your waist.

“Okay fine. I’m sorry, just stop staring at me like I did something wrong.” You said, brows meeting in annoyance.

“Whatever, Y/N” Jungkook sneered at you and walked past by you and Taehyung.

“Jeon Jungkook!” You shouted with greeted teeth. You will never understand your best friend but you didn’t bother asking him the reason of his grumpiness towards you when Taehyung is around.

You saw Jungkook sat in a bench near you and took his phone out to entertain himself. You glanced at him and saw how he is eyeing you and Taehyung and went back to snob the both of you. You saw how his lips twitched when he saw you scrunching your nose in annoyed with his attitude.

You missed the way his mouth parted to say something as soon as Taehyung gave you a warm hug.

~

“What is it this time, Y/N?” Jungkook groaned as he answered the call.

“Hi, are you busy?” you asked him. He can’t see you but he can definitely imagine you biting your lips as you wait for him to say ‘No’ because that always happen.

“No. Why? You need something?” he replied. He’s careful with his words because he might offend you.

“Uh…would you like to come with us?” he can hear the hesitation in your voice “but if you don’t want to, it’s fine!” you assured him.

“I’ll come” he almost cursed himself, when will he learn how to say no to you? “Where should I meet you?”

“Oh! No worries, we’ll pick you up. Go and change now, bunny boy” you teased him and laughed when you heard him groaned because of the nickname. You know how much he hated that nickname but you love teasing him.

“We’ll see you in a bit. Don’t forget to wear warm clothes! It’s almost November, you won’t like to be sick.” You reminded him, almost sounds like his mom.

“How about you? Did you bring your sweater?” he heard you cooed before answering his question.

“Don’t worry bunny boy. Taehyung is my human sweater. Right Tae?” he heard the man laughed in the background, agreeing with what you said and he almost rolled his eyes because of disgust.

“Oh, we’re near you’re house, Kook. You better come out now!” you said with enthusiasm and ended the call.

Jungkook went outside of his house after the call, leaving his sweater behind. Not minding the cold that is seeping through his skin. He can see Taehyung’s car, and you who’s waving at him inside the car.

As the car stopped in front of him, he watched you rolled down the car window and gave him a big smile.

“Get in, bunny boy!” you grinned at him, and he went inside the car. He threw a glance at the couple who’s holding each other’s hands in front of him. You turned to look at him and as soon as you see him wearing a plain black shirt you immediately shifted from you seat. Jungkook’s eyes are focused on how Taehyung’s free hand held you gently to avoid any accident inside the car.

“I told you to bring your sweater!” you snarled at him but Jungkook only shrugged “I don’t need it. It’s not even that cold” he leaned on the window as he watched you with amusement.

“Oh come on, Kook!” you said with annoyance. He saw how Taehyung rubbed your hands with his thumb to make you calm, he tried to ignore it but he can’t stop giving a glance at what the man is doing with his your hands.

“I’ll lend you a sweater. I don’t want you to catch a cold.” You insisted as lower your seat to reached Jungkook’s arms.

“Y/N, give it to him later. I’m still driving.” Taehyung reminded you, and you missed how Jungkook clenched when he saw you pouting.

“I told you, I don’t need it.” Jungkook hissed at you which made you surprised. He saw you furrows your brow that made him smirked. He loves getting you annoyed.

“Yes you do! Taehyung has two sweaters; you can take it from the bag beside you. Just wear it Kookie.” His lips twitched when he heard you said the nickname you had given him as you pleaded, trying to make him wear the sweater as you adjusted your seat again. 

Jungkook didn’t bother to take the sweater beside him, but he just watched the couple in front of him with pain in his eyes.

~

As they reached their destination, you saw how your best friend is still not wearing a sweater. Jungkook saw you whispered something to Taehyung and went back inside the car.

"Here's a sweater, bunny boy!" You grinned at Jungkook as you offer him the sweater.

"I told you, I don't need it and stop calling me that." he didn’t take the sweater that you’re giving him. You being so stubborn, demands him to wear the sweater. Jungkook attempts to argue but is cut off by Taehyung’s laugh because of your bickering.

"Jungkook, just wear it. You know her. She won't let you go if you don't do what she wants." Taehyung teased, still laughing. Jungkook watched him went to your side and pulled you into his arms. Sighing in defeat, Jungkook was forced to put the sweater on and you gave him a big smile.

"Thank you for reminding him that, Tae!" you sang and gave your boyfriend a peck on the cheeks. Jungkook shook his head as he averted his eyes away from the couple.

Why did he even tag along with them?

~

From: Y/N

Why’d you leave?

To: Y/N

I’ll be back. Wait for me.

 From: Y/N

Okay. Taehyung told me that you can keep the sweater.

If you want? Coz it looks good on u. :(

 To: Y/N

Hey, can I go home?

 Jungkook is waiting for your reply when his phone suddenly rang. He answered the call while watching you from afar, he’s standing behind a tree and he can see you playing with your fingers while walking in circle.

“You don’t want our company anymore?” you asked, sadness is evident in your voice and he can see your worried expression.

“No! It’s just that…I’m always with you guys.” Silence, you stopped walking. He sighed and continued talking “It doesn’t look right, I’m always third wheeling.” He heard you took a deep breath as you sat on a bench. You’re now playing with your feet.

“Sorry Kook, I’ll tell him that you already want to go home.” You murmured and stand up to go where Taehyung is- he’s buying foods for the three of you.

“No, you don’t need to!” Jungkook tried to stop you but you’re already beside Taehyung, he noticed how you smiled as you talked to Taehyung and proceeds to hug him.

“Hey Kook, you want to watch a movie?” you asked him excitedly. You’re now smiling while waiting for him to come back.

“Nah, I’m going to be third wheeling again.” He exclaimed and leaned on the tree. Playing with his lower lip as he watched Taehyung went to where you are sitting, giving you the food that he bought.

“No! I mean, just the two of us. I’ll tell Tae to drive us to your apartment.” You explained suppressing your laugh, you took the food while glancing around you.

“Sure, just like what I had planned.” He commented and smiled at himself.

“What?” you asked in confusion.

“I mean, Taehyung driving me, us, home.” Jungkook said and straightened his back as he walks slowly to where you are sitting.

“Oh okay. You should come back here so that we can go home.”

~

"Message me if you need anything, okay?" Taehyung reminded and gave you a peck on the lips which made you giggled.

"Okay, fine. Drive safely, okay?" you smiled at him while holding his hands.

"For you, baby. I will." Taehyung gave you a kiss on the cheek. He lower himself and peeked at Jungkook who is waiting for you outside the car.

"Please take care of my girl" he told Jungkook and gave him a smile.

"Oh, I will." Jungkook cackled and took Y/N's wrist. "Come on, get inside."

"Bye, I love you!" Y/N shouted and blows a kiss to her boyfriend who also said I love you in return.

Jungkook only sneered as he heard them exchanging I love yous.

Disgusting. He thought as he reached to open the front door.

Jungkook went straight to his room to change clothes as they entered his apartment; you on the other hand lay down on his couch. You took the tv controller and tried to find some movies to watch. You want to watch The Notebook but knowing Jungkook he will only whine at you and tell you that anime movies are more exciting than the ones you like.

You heard him went to his kitchen and when he came back, he already have foods and drinks in a tray. He sat beside you and put the tray on the table.

“So…what are we going to watch?” you asked him with anticipation. 

Please not the same anime, please not the same anime. 

Your mind kept on repeating the same words. He hugged his knees until it reached his chest and murmured a soft “Whatever you want to watch”. You smiled and hugged him as you search for the movie that you want, not knowing what will happen soon.

~

Jungkook was busy fighting himself; he’s not watching the movie. He kept on glancing at your side and then back to the screen then at you again. He’s just there, sitting beside you fighting his inner demons, and trying to busy himself by watching how the people in the screen are moving.

He didn’t even notice how you kept your body straight while peeking at him, you saw how he kept on holding his ears, a sign that he’s nervous. And you don’t know what is making him nervous. You called him but it’s like he can’t hear you, he’s whispering something but you can’t understand it.

“Kook?” you tried calling him again but he’s not even batting an eye on you. You sighed and shifted from your seat to face him.

"Hey" you called him, again. Patting his arms softly to call his attention, he stopped rubbing his ears and he looked at you with confusion.

"You're not even watching. You can tell me if you want another movie, I know you hate romance" you murmured and was about to take the controller when Jungkook held your wrist. You were brought back to your seat, Jungkook’s hand is still on your wrist.

"Y/N you know how much I treasure our friendship. Right?" he asked you. Is that what he has been thinking the whole time? You grinned and held his cheeks to your hands. Scrunching your nose while you are cupping his face. You squished his cheeks like you always do.

"Of course, you dummy! Why wouldn't I know that? We spent 15 years of our life together." You stated, still smiling at him, and not minding if the movie is still playing. Maybe he wants to say something, you thought.

"You know how much I love you, right?" Jungkook held your hands. A small gasp was heard from you because of shocked, and you see how his orbs darken while staring at you.

"Yeah, why?" you questioned him as you felt Jungkook's hands trembling on yours. Trying to keep your smile at him as you asked him with worry "Hey Kook, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sorry." he cried. His sobs covered the noise that is coming from the television.

Why is he saying sorry? Did he do something that he needs to be sorry? You asked yourself, trying to calm him down.

"Hey, why are you saying sorry?" you hushed him. You were about to pull him for a hug but Jungkook suddenly held your neck that caught you in surprise.

"What are you doing, Jungkook?" you asked him with confusion as he tightened his grip on your neck and you started coughing.

"I love you. I really do…but I don't want you to be with him. I'm sorry." Jungkook said and then he started strangling you. He pushed you that made your back meet the arm rest of the sofa.

"I'm sorry Y/N…but I love him too." He said in between his sobs.

"Kook-" you groaned while trying to take his hand away from your neck, trying to set yourself free from your best friend. Pain can be seen on your face.

Is he the Jungkook that you spent almost all your life with? Is he the same Jungkook who protected you with all his might? Yeah, maybe he is. But, why?

Jungkook watched how you tried to escape from his hold, trying to gasp for air and crying for his mercy.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he repeated with close eyes. He can hear your soft muffling sound.

"Kook...p-please" you begged while trying to kick him but he's still stronger than you. You can't breathe. If this is the end of you, then why? Why do you need to die in the hands of someone you love dearly?

Jungkook felt your tears on his hands, and he suddenly felt your trembling hands reaching for him. You cupped his face and he felt your thumb wiping his tears, he looked at you with wide eyes. He can see how much you're struggling with his hold.

"I... I love...you...too, K-Kook...ie" he heard you whispered under your breath and Jungkook saw how you gave him a sad smile, eyes slowly closing. He felt the hands cupping his face fell on his side. The last words you've said to him made him come back to his senses.

"Y/N?" he called you. He can feel his heart beating faster than it is as he called your name. Scared of what he did.

"No. Y/N, wake up. Please. Y/N?" he held you closer to him. He looked at his side and saw his reflection in the mirror. He can see how his tears are running down on his face as he call out for your name again.

“Y/N please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. Wake up, please?” he took your hands and put it back to his face but he can’t feel the warmth that he needs. He tried to hold it back to its place but it kept on falling to his side. He cried harder.

“Please Y/N. I’m sorry, please wake up! Don’t leave me! Please!” he kept on repeating. Waiting for you to respond. Shaking your body gently to wake you up, to wake his lifeless best friend up.

"No, I didn't–" he said staring at his trembling hands and then to you who is not waking up. Wishing that everything that has happened is only a dream.

But no, he knew that he killed you with both of his hands. And his greediness is the one that took him this far.

"Y/N, no. Y/N" he cried as he hugged your lifeless body.

~

“Hi baby” Taehyung greeted, he kneeled down and wipe your gravestone. He can feel the hot tears from his eyes.

“It’s been a year” he muttered, placing the flowers- lilac, your favorite. “If only I knew, maybe you’re still here, alive and laughing at my jokes. If I only knew, I wouldn’t left you with him. God knows how much I want to keep you in my arms that night. If I only knew that it will be the last time I’ll hear you say I love you, I wouldn’t let you go out of my car. But I did, because you trust him and I know how much you love him.” He sniffed and tried to wipe the tears away but it won’t stop coming out of his eyes and he just let himself cry.

It’s already a year but the pain of you being gone is still evident, he can’t let you go. He doesn’t want to let you go.

“Wherever you are, please be happy and wait for me. I love you, Y/N. I always will. Until we meet again, my love.” He said in between his sobs.

~

"Mr. Jeon, we need to go back." Jungkook heard the nurse say but he didn't move from where he is standing. He's watching Taehyung in front of your grave. He's talking to you, and he can hear him crying his heart out. Jungkook felt his heart clenched at the sight of the young man crying on your tomb, he felt the guilt. He felt regretful.

"Mr. Jeon, we only gave you half an hour to stay here. The doctor will get mad at us if we won't come back to the hospital now." the nurse reminded him but he only scoffed at her. He glanced at your grave for the last time and went inside the car with the nurse.

After that night, he reported himself to the police and surrender to the authority. He was interviewed and brought to a mental facility. Inside the small room where he was confined, Jungkook cried all night for what he did to you. Every night the same dream visits him and all he can do is cry and beg your forgiveness. Months after being treated by his doctors, he realized what he truly felt. The things he did and how much he regrets it.

As the car moves away from the cemetery, he can’t stop himself from tearing up. If only he knew that he loves you more than he loves him. Maybe, he wouldn't wish that he was Heather.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi everyone, yes this is inspired by Conan Gray’s song-- heather. I was just casually listening to it and when I read it’s lyrics it gave me an idea and I thought why not write it? This is just my second story and I hope you liked it, english isn’t my second language so forgive me for any typographical errors. :( But still thank you for reading it!

Have a good day everyone!

#bts au #bts #taekook #taekook x reader #taehyung #jungkook #v #jk #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts taekook #bts taehyung #bts jungkook #bts oneshot #bts fanfic

[linkfms]

☠️    *   what  is  up,  party  people  !    i’m  jojo  (  she/her  ),  23,  and  in  the  pst  timezone.    it’s  been  a  while  since  i’ve  been  in  a  group  so...  pls  bear  with  me.    anyway,  under  the  cut  you’ll  find  more  info  on  resident  emo  boy:  link  !   i’m  so  excited  to  write  with  u  all,  and,  if  u  ever  want  to  plot  give  this  a  lil’  like  or  send  an  im  over  @  yea right#4256  !

lincoln  “link”  seong  was  spotted  in  the  fashion  district  adorning  prada  combat  boots,  with  some  airpod  pros  on.    they’re  most  likely  listening  to  when  you  were  young  by  the  killers.   you  may  know  them  as  @hyperlink  or  as  that   jeon  jungkook  lookalike.    their  twenty - fourth  birthday  just  passed.    while  living  in   tribeca,   they’ve  gained  a  bit  of  a  reputation.    they’re  known  to  be  erratic  but  on  the  other  hand   vehement.    wonder  if  they’ll  be  the  next  person  to  hit  the  headlines.   (  cis male  &   he/him  )

↳     THE  BASICS:    STATISTICS.

full  name:   seong  hyunjae  (  성  현재  )    /    lincoln  seong.

nickname:  link,  and  will  probably  only  answer  to  link  !

age  &  date  of  birth:   24  &  november  21,  1996.

hometown:   born  in  busan,  south  korea,  but  moved  to  jefferson,  connecticut  in  2006.

current  location:   tribeca,  new  york.

education:  completed  high  school  and  attempted  first  semester  of  university,  but  decided  to  pursue  music  instead.

occupation:   drummer  for  indie/alternative  rock  band,  my  time  (  sound  is  similar  to  bands  like  the  killers,  the  1975,  and  paramore  ).   also  is  an  affiliate  with  an  esports  organization  !   doesn’t  play  competitively,  but  streams  and  creates  content  for  them  weekly.

sexual  orientation:   pansexual  &  panromantic.

gender  &  pronouns:   cisgender  male  &  he/him  pronouns.

↳     THE  BACKGROUND:   BIOGRAPHY.  (   tw:  mentions  of  alcoholism  &  abuse  )

seong  hyunjae  (  later  given  the  english  name  lincoln  seong...  thanks  linkin  park  !   )   was  born  in  the  heart  of  busan,  south  korea.    his  parents  married  at  the  age  of  21,  due  to  the  cultural  expectations  of  having  a  child  born  out  of  wedlock.    while  things  seemed  to  be  smooth  sailing  for  a  while,   the  couple  realized  the  real  struggles  of  adulthood.   financial  issues  came  into  play.   stress  from  working  multiple  jobs  every  single  day  took  a  toll  on  their  mental  health,  as  well  as  their  relationship  with  each  other.   link’s  mother  began  to  develop  an  alcohol  addiction,  and  her  abusive  behavior  came  following  after.   their  home  was  falling  apart,  with  four-year-old  link  falling  asleep  to  muffled  screaming  and  glass  being  thrown  on  the  next  room  over.   his  father  was  able  to  withstand  it  for  a  while,  but  he  drew  the  line  after  coming  home  from  work  to  see  large  cuts  on  the  side  of  his  son’s  thigh,  and  a  bruise  forming  across  his  cheek.   that  was  when  he  knew  his  wife  was  dangerous.    so,  one  night  when  lincoln’s  mother  as  at  work,  he  packed  his  belongings,  grabbed  link,  and  left  without  looking  back.

for  a  while,  it  was  just  the  two  of  them.    they  found  ways  to  make  it  work,  and  despite  the  fact  that  it  was  a  constant  struggle,  his  father  never  wanted  link  to  lose  his  childhood.    in  fact,  his  father  gave  him  everything  he  could  give   —   but  most  importantly,  as  cheesy  as  it  sounds,  his  unconditional  love  and  support.    as  someone  who  lost  his  own  parents  young,  he  made  sure  that  link  would  never  feel  like  he’s  being  deprived of  that,  ever.   they  created  this  tight-knight  bond  because  of  that,  which  can’t  ever  be  broken.   and  now,  link’s  fondest  memories  always  involved  spending  time  with  his  father.    one  favorite  memory  of  his  involved  morning  jam  sessions  after  breakfast.    link’s  father  was  previously  a  lead  guitarist  in  a  garage  band  with  a  few  of  his  high  school  friends,  so  while  he  was  playing  riffs  on  his  electric  guitar,  eight-year-old  link  would  be  banging  the  coffee  table  with  plastic  straws.   

when  link  was  about  ten,  he  and  his  father  sold  all  of  their  belongings  and  moved  all  the  way  to  jefferson,  connecticut  for  a  job  offer  that  he  couldn’t  refuse.   fast  forward  a  few  years,  and  he’s  a  teenager  in  high  school.    growing  up  link  was  more  of  an  introvert,  and  would  spend  his  time  in  the  computer  lab  playing  video  games  or  browsing  in  online  forums.   he  was  a  regular  in  this  my  chemical  romance  forum  (  under  the  username  @hyperlink  ),  and  made  a  lot  of  his  lifelong  friends  over  there.    one  of  his  online  friends  jokingly  suggested  one  afternoon  that  they  should  start  a  band  over  their  nightly  skype  call,  and  while  it  was  initially  shrugged  off  as  dream  more  than  an  arm’s  reach  away,  my  time  was  born.    link  had  to  endlessly  plead  his  father  to  buy  him  a  secondhand  drum  kit  off  of  craigslist  for  christmas.   but  once  he  found  it  under  their  tree  that  year,  it  sparked  this  drive  in  him  to  learn  and  practice  nonstop. 

their  first  official  band  practice  happened  a  day  after  link’s  high  school  graduation  (  which  was  also  the  first  time  everyone  saw  each  other  in  person  !   ),  and  they  spent  that  entire  summer  making  music.   at  first,  link  only  thought  of  it  as  a  hobby...  since,  he  was  attending  his  first  year  of  university  that  fall.   but  after  playing  their  first  few  shows  and  making  all  these  memories,   he  couldn’t  keep  the  band  in  the  backburner.   he  dropped  out  not  too  long  after  to  pursue  his  music  career  full-time.   moved  out,  spent  the  next  few  months  working  long  shifts  at  the  local  amusement  park,  and  shared  one  two-bedroom  apartment  with  his  bandmates.    one  of  their  songs  went  viral  one  crazy  night,   and  the  next  thing  they  knew,  they  were  being  signed  into  a  record  label.   now  ?   they’re  one  of  the  biggest  alternative/indie  rock  bands  out  there  with  multiple  platinum  records,  sold  out  world  tours,  and  millions  of streams  each  year.   their  time  finally  came.

↳     THE  INSIDE  LOOK:    PERSONALITY.

link  definitely...  gets  babied  a  lot   (  by  his  bandmates  and  his  fans  ),   and  he  uses  that  to  his  advantage  :]   because  of  that  he  gets  away  with   a  lot  of  things,  but  it’s  usually  with  things  that  are  small  like  eating  the  last  slice  of  pizza  and  it  would  be  justified  with  “  no  he  is  a  growing  BOY  he  NEEDS  it  !  ”

that  being  said,  he  eats  nonstop.   the  guy  carries  a  sandwich  bag  full  of  cheerios  wherever  he  goes.   his  friends  know  that  if  they  can’t  finish  eating  something,  they  can  always  donate  it  to  link  for  a  good  cause.

when  my  chemical  romance  announced  their  reunion  tour  in  2019,  he  threw  his  phone  across  the  room  and  cried.   my  chemical  romance  (  with  green  day  and  linkin  park  as  a  close  second  !  )   are  his  all-time  favorite  bands,  and  a  lot  of  my  time’s  sound  is  heavily  inspired  by  them.

when  i  tell  u  that  this  man  is  so  chill,  i  mean  it.   like  things  could  LITERALLY  be  on  fire  and  he’d  be  like   “  just  throw  some  water  on  it  it’ll  be  fine  😎  ” ...  he’s  not  the  type  to  worry  about  things,  and  is  more  of  a  go  with  the  flow  type  of  person.   he  doesn’t  even  need  to  be  zooted  to  be  like  this.   KJFGDG

being  in  the  band  and  a  part  of  the  entertainment  industry  caused  a  small  shift  in  his  personality.   maybe  he  just  blossomed  ?   who  knows  !   but  because  he’s  been  exposed  to  the  rockstar  life,   he  was  able  to  open  up  more.   he’s  always  seeking  thrills,  big  or  small,  and  won’t  have  the  time  to  think  about  the  consequences  for  his  actions.  

because  the  my  chemical  romance  forum  that  was  once  his  second  home  shut  down,   he’s  since  moved  on  to  reddit.   social  media  isn’t  really  his  thing  (  and  his  fans  always  get  mad  at  him  for  posting  a  selfie  once  a  month  then  dipping  ),  but  catch  him  on  subreddits  making  comments  or  starting  fights  for  the  sheer  entertainment  of  proving  someone  wrong. 

this  might  sound  bad  but...  he  still  can’t  wrap  his  head  around  the  fact  that  he  isn’t  ?   financially  struggling  anymore  ?   even  if  he’s  already  bought  a  house  and  two  luxury  cars  for  his  dad,  he  still  gets  ticked  off  if  he  sees  something  small  like  an  APPLE   that  is  marked  a  dollar  and  a  few  cents  over  the  usual.   he  catches  himself  using  things  until  they’re  ABSOLUTELY  worn  out,  and  still  leeches  off  of  his  bandmates/friends  when  he  can.  <3   also,  if  something  is  broken,  he’ll  be  the  type  to  figure  it  out  and  fix  it  himself.

people...  don’t  exactly  remember  the  last  time  he’s  slept.   it  could  be  the  insomnia   (   it’s  definitely  insomnia,  thx  childhood   trauma  !   )  but  it’s  almost  gotten  to  the  point  where  he’s  afraid  to  fall  asleep  on  his  own.   he’ll  always  try  to  find  ways  to  sleep  in  someone’s  company,  even  if  it’s  just  him  crashing  on  a  couch  while  someone  is  watching  tv  right  there.   if  he’s  alone  though,  he’ll  always  try  to  find  ways  to  distract  himself  like  stream  for  10  hours  straight.

speaking  of  trauma...  he’s  also  scared  of  relationships.  after  witnessing  the  way  his  mother  treated  his  father,  he’s  cautious  of  history  repeating  itself...  but  with  him.  so  whenever  he  catches  himself  even  falling  for  just  a  little,  he  dips.

his  life  revolves  around  the  4  m’s:   marvel  movies,  minecraft,  music,  and  my  chemical  romance.   that’s  it.

a  link  😏   to  his  pinterest  !   also,  i  don’t  have  any  wcs,  but  if  we  plot,  i  promise  i’ll  use  my  big  brain  to  brainstorm  something  with  u.  <3

#wealthyhq:intro #the way i spent too much time writing this.................

[thiswasinevitableid]

Apple, Delight (Sternclay)

Prompt for the fourth was: Apple Orchard

Barclay has cinnamon sugar in his pores, he’s certain of it. The first of October means the crowds arrive in earnest to Amnesty Farm which, from late September to mid-November, becomes a center for fall fun. They don’t serve tons of food, but Barclay is in charge of what they do offer, his pride and joy being their apple cider doughnuts, which he’s made by dozen since eight that morning.

He’s ready to settle in for the night when he discovers he has less firewood than he thought. Ah well, Sass needs to go out anyway, a trip to the wood pile won’t kill him. 

Except, as he’s gathering an armful of chopped logs, Sass goes tearing off towards the orchards, dark fur disappearing into the shadows under the trees.

Barclay sighs, sets the wood down and starts off after him. It’s not like he can get too lost, since the farm is fenced in on all sides, but it’s supposed to rain tonight and he’d hate for him to be out in it. Plus, if he gets into the garden display again, Dani will be pissed. 

He passes the petting zoo, then the goat and sheep pens, smiling when soft clucks come from the chicken coop. They’re on a country road, so at night there’s no traffic to drown out the sounds of the farm and the nearby woods. Maybe some people find it eerie, but hes’ grateful for the relative quiet after a day of being in the kitchen. 

Skirting the end of the U-Pick Pumpkin Patch brings him to the apple orchards. There are also pear and cherry trees, but the apples make up the bulk of what they grow, and visitors are welcome to pick from designated sections. 

Now if only he could spot a wagging tail or hear a jingling collar in the midst of them. 

“Sass!” He whistles, but no shape comes bounding towards him. Usually when the dog fails to come when called, it’s because he’s chasing some poor squirrel or rabbit into the underbrush.

Which is why, when he hears a  distinctly human cry of alarm, Barclay jumps out of his skin before taking off towards the subsequent barks. 

He finds Sass directing his deep woofs at a man about Barclay’s age, with dark hair that was slicked back at some point but is now mussed, and a sweater and jeans that are far too clean for him to be a farmhand. When he gets closer, he realizes he recognizes the guy; he’d been in with his family earlier that day, and Barclay had just enough time to think he was hotter than the fryer before a new wave of visitors came to the counter. Given that he was there with a woman and  young girl, he’s gonna assume the guy is off-limits for flirting. 

“Sass, c’mon boy, heel.” 

The dog turns, lopes over to Barclay as he steps to the man and offers a hand. 

“Sorry, he’s a surprisingly good guard dog for something that gets distracted by butterflies.”

The man takes his hand, stands and brushes leaves from his sweater, “and he's terrifying to have bolting towards you out of the darkness.”

Barclay raises an eyebrow, “that's kind of the point of a guard dog. Y’know, keeping intruders out?”

“I’m not an intruder, I am a visitor who misplaced something.”

“We’ve been closed for two hours.”

“I’m aware. But the front gate was locked and I couldn't get anyone’s attention.”

“Because the staff who live here live out towards the back. That's why we put that phone number on the gate. '' He turns them back towards the cottage, Sass trotting happily in front of them. 

“Which would have worked perfectly. If the thing I was missing wasn't my phone.” The man holds up a smartphone.

“I mean, guess it’s good you found it, but you coulda used someone else's and let us know to look for i in the lost and found. Folds are good about bringing dropped stuff back to the main farm.”

“I considered that option but I might not have a job come morning if I did it that way.”

“Jesus, where do you work?”

“The FBI.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, pretty much.”

“That how come you were able to scale the fence so easily?”

The man nods.

“What kind of work do you do in the FBI?” He may as well make the most of having a cute guy walking with him. A little practice flirting can’t hurt. God knows he needs it. 

“I work for the, um, the UP.”

“....Holy shit, I didn’t know that was real, I thought they made it up for the X-Files.”

“No, though it involves far more dead ends than that show portrays. Oddly, Twin Peaks is more accurate to what I do.”

“Man, that’s fucking cool agh, shit” rain patters on the leaves, “please tell me you moved your car away from the gate?”

“Only a little.”

“Shit. Okay, you probably figured it out from wandering around, but we are literally on the other end of the property right now, and the golf cart is in the shop.”

“It’s, um, it’s alright, if you get me to the main route through the farm, I can walk back on my own and climb the fence. Again.” His tone suggests he’s already working through the logistics in his head. 

“Uh, if you aren't in too big a hurry, at least let me swing by my place and get you a raincoat?”

“Oh. Um, that’d be great. Thank you.”

They veer right and soon the cottage comes into view. He grabs some dry firewood while Sass waits on the step and the man rubs his hands together. 

Once they’re inside, the man turns to him and Barclay has to work to keep his focus on his words rather than the blue eyes and handsome face.

“May I use your restroom? I got a bit muddy.” He holds up his hands. 

“Just down the hall.” 

The man smiles, and Barclay starts building a fire as he walks away. There’s a ding, and he goes to check in case Mama needs something. But it's not his phone, it’s the other man's, glowing where he set it on the table. 

Hayes: I expect better than technical mishaps from you, agent,

Shit, he wasn’t kidding about work. And his other notification is showing thirty unread emails.

The water shuts off in the bathroom and he hurries back to the fire, is just getting it caught when there’s a groan behind him. Turning, he sees his guest running a hand through his black hair, staring defeatedly down at his phone. 

“I’m moving to the bottom of the sea.”

Barclay chuckles and the man looks a little embarrassed at being heard.

“If you want something closer to home, we're hiring seasonal help.”

“I’m sure it’d do wonders for my physique, if you’re anything to go by, but I doubt I’m cut out for it. I’m white-collar through and through, unfortunately. Sorry” he looks at the hardwood floor, “probably shouldn’t whine about my job, since you’re helping me stay dry instead after I committed at least two misdemeanors on your property.”

“It’s Mama’s, I just work here. And it’s okay. Though, uh, kinda surprised you wanna talk to some random dude on a farm about it instead of, like, your wife.”

“Wife?”

“The woman who was with you today? You came into the restaurant at one point.”

“Oh! No, that’s my sister, I came with her and my niece. Her opinion on my work troubles is to get a boyfriend so I’ll have someone to complain to.”

Barclay closes the fire grate slightly harder than he means to at that last sentence.

“Did, uh, did you all have a good time?”

“Very. Ellie, my niece, adored all the animals, and Lily comes here every year to pick out pumpkins for decorating the house. I, um, my favorite part was the food. Those doughnuts were amazing, as were the pumpkin scones.”

Barclay blushes; a cute guy complimenting his cooking tends to make him all fluttery.

“You thought those were good, then I got something you need to try. Uh, I mean, if you want to stay a little, if not I can get the coat and we can go.”

The man looks at his phone, then back to Barclay, “what the hell, things are under control until the morning. I’d love to stay. Um, may I dry my sweater by the fire? It got pretty wet just in the few minutes we were out.”

“Sure thing uh, Mr-”

“Joseph is fine.”

Barclay smiles, heading for the kitchen, but not before watching Joseph's shirt catch on his sweater and ride up, revealing honest-to-god cut muscle. Instead of asking if he can lick apple butter off his abs, he grabs the jar of said butter, the loaf of bread, and starts a kettle for tea. 

Soon he’s setting a plate and a cup of cranberry-apple tea un front of Joseph, who inhales appreciatively.

“Let me guess; you made all of this?”

“Yep, the apple butter is an old family recipe.”

They eat in silence for a few moments until Sass, roused from his spot by the fire by the smell of food, pads over to sit in front of Joseph and stare. When that fails to produce treats, he turns his puppy-dog eyes on Barclay. The cook makes him sit and shake before tossing him a small piece of bread.

“What kind of dog is he?”

“Bernese Mountain Dog and Rottweiler, we think.”

“Is his name short for something?”

Barclay smiles, “Sasquatch. He had huge feet as a puppy.”

“We have similar dog-naming habits.” Joseph pulls out his phone, “this is Nessie.” When he turns it, Barclay almost snorts tea out his nose, unprepared for the sight of a greyhound in a sweater decorated with tiny Loch Ness Monsters. 

“Believe it or not, she adores that sweater. Last time I took it off to be washed, she whined for an hour.”

“Awww” It’s an adorable image, but not quite as adorable as the thought of Joseph on laundry day, in pajama pants and one of Barclay’s shirts, hair still relaxed from a shower. 

“She’s a good girl.” He tucks his phone away, “I feel terrible whenever I have to travel for work; my sister can’t take her so I have to board her somewhere, and it’s just infrequent enough that she forgets the staff and is terrified of them anew each time.”

“We could always get her used to me and board her here, assuming she and Sass get along.” The offer is sixty percent out of the goodness of his heart and forty percent wanting to see Joseph smile. 

“You’d really do that?”

“The farm is secure, she’d have a playmate, and there’d be lots of people here looking after her. She’d sleep in the cottage, of course.”

Joseph gives him an inquisitive look, then glances down at Sass, who’s wagging his tail so hard he’s sweeping the floor.

“Sure, what the hell. Assuming they get along, the next time I have to go, she can stay here.”

They chat for awhile longer about books, cooking, and various farm mishaps, before Barclay reluctantly fetches the spare raincoat so they can get Joseph back to his car. 

“Doesn’t quite bring out your eyes the way that sweater does.” He murmurs, then tries to correct for the come-on with, “because it’s such a, uh, a nice sweater?”

Joseph stays close to him as he replies “I’d offer to trade, but I’m not sure any of my clothes could survive that broad chest.” He ghosts his fingers across Barclays shirt, “Though it could be fun to see them try.”

The walk to the gate isn’t nearly long enough, and he blushes when Joseph once again thanks him profusely for his help and his company. The walk back, however, feels like an eternity, one that gives him time to doubt the other man had any interest in him at all. 

But all that evaporates when he gets home. Because sitting on the table is a slip of paper with a phone number and a short message. 

For arranging dog playdates. And dinner next Friday if you’re interested.

-Joseph

And sitting just below the message is a small, precisely drawn heart.

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #promptober #meet ugly #TAZ Amnesty