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equalstrashflavoredtrash · 7 years

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The Mighty Pine

PART 2 - PART 3

a/n: doing something a lil weird, this one is a historical AU where captain boomerang is laying low, working as a lumberjack in the 1930s. Please tell me what you think and if i should continue!!

@beautifulramblingbrains @frecklefaceb @feminamortem @anditcametopass @dauntlessmetalmom @pathybo @mimigemrose @ag-delights @abfoster1s @sparklemichele @jojuarez26 @purple-puddin @audreyfulquard @sharknadoslut @societalfailure @insertamazingwords @megnificent07 @roslea @james-k-delaney [if you wanna be on the list hmu]

Warning: drinking and flirting

Captain Boomerang X OFC // Suicide Squad // Lumberjack AU

word count: 4,050

"Why am I not surprised to find you hidden away with your nose buried in a book?" A deep voice whispered in your ear, pulling you back to reality from the story. You couldn't help but smile to yourself knowing without looking exactly who it was leaning over the back of your chair, his mouth poised close enough that his warm breath tickled the skin of your neck.

"You shouldn't be up here," you reminded him in a light tone, "Did anyone see you? Do they know you're here?" Turning slightly in your seat, you closed your book, letting it rest in your lap as you finally looked to the man behind you. The first things you noticed was the smirk under his scruffy muttonchops and the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Not a soul," he replied in a low voice that was barely audible over the noise of the revelers below.

The balcony over the back of the main hall had always been your favorite place to hide in the grange hall during town socials. You could sit by the railing and watch the crowd below as they danced and sang while you enjoyed a book. The space was mostly used for storage, filled with empty chairs and benches that could easily be brought down via the winch and pulley by the edge of the balcony. The only way up was through a small hatch with a ladder which were not easy to spot.

"Anyone know yer up here?" he asked, his accent making your stomach flip as he quirked his eyebrows.

"Yes, my aunt does, and if she knew I was with a man unsupervised, she'd be livid." Your eyes traveled down the column of his neck to his worn flannel shirt. It was unbuttoned enough to reveal a white undershirt and a few curls of chest hair poking over the collar. You could just barely see the glint of the gold chain tucked away, hidden under the layers. Slowly your gaze drifted to his broad shoulders, their expanse defined by the navy blue strap of his suspenders that sat perfectly between his muscles making their size visible through the tartan patterned fabric.

"And what if she knew that man was me?" he querried, watching as your attention wandered.

Slowly you looked back up to his steely blue eyes, trying to hide the playful smile that was tugging at your lips "If that was the case, then I would probably wake in a convent tomorrow." Setting your book to the side, you stood up, facing him fully, "Which is why you should leave. I'll be helping with the delivery tomorrow, I'll see you then." You placed one hand flat on his chest, pushing against him slightly, though he didn't budge. Gnawing on your lip, you fought to keep your face even, trying to make no reaction to the feeling of his hard chest under your palm.

"But I want'd ta see yeh tonight," he asserted, lifting his hand to cover yours as he took a step forward, bowing his head slightly. You felt a dull throb between your legs as his musky scent filled your nostrils. You struggled to stay present while your mind drifted back to the last moment you two had been alone together in the camp's pantry. When he had quickly leaned forward, pecking your lips, stealing your first kiss before turning on his heel to leave.

He had left you dumbfounded, standing still staring at where he'd been. Before that moment the relationship between you and him had consisted of merely flirtatious banter. Though you did find him attractive, you had never expected anything to happen, mostly because you knew how strongly your aunt would object. The moment had been in the forethoughts of your mind since it happened, unable to shake the bubbly sensation in your gut when you remembered the scratchy feel of his facial hair and how it contrasted with his soft lips.

Though you wanted nothing more right now, you knew what was expected of you and being alone with a man did not fall into that category. "What makes you think I wanted to see you?"

"The way yeh biting yer lip," he smirked as he slowly slid his free arm around your middle, his broad hand resting on the small of your back as he urged you closer until your form was pressed hard into him. A shock ran through you at the contact, being pulled into his arms. You couldn't help but blush, very aware of the fact that your breast were also pushed against him. You were sure he could feel every curve of your body along his.

He leaned forward, ghosting past your lips to kiss along your jawbone towards your ear. Raising your other hands to his chest, you wrapped your fingers around his suspenders, drawing yourself against him.

"I really shouldn't be here-," you hiccoughed as he took your earlobe between his lips. "Here alone with you. What if someone saw us?" you finished, trying to stifle your moan.

You could feel him chuckle against your skin at your reaction. Pulling away he wrapped his arms tighter around you, stepping backwards into the shadowy eaves behind the rafters. There, hidden in the dark he pushed you against the wall and finally captured your lips with his. Though you couldn't say it, this is what you wanted. Pulling at his braces you deepened the kiss, parting your lips to grant him access. You moved on intuition, wrapping an arm around his neck as you wrestled with his tongue. You let out an involuntary squeak when he squeezed you tighter, bringing your hips against his as he raised a hand, resting it against the wall along side your head.

He growled while pulling at your lips, his free hand slowly sliding up your side, coming tantalizing close to touching your breast where his grip stalled. Turning away, his head snapped to look over his shoulder and you realize he'd noticed something you hadn't.

"Mignon?" The familiar voice of your neighbor and friend, Addie called, using your nickname. "Are you up here?"

"Yes," you choked out, still poised close between him and the wall, though hidden in the shadows. "Yes, I'm just reading."

"Your Aunt Josephine wants to leave, she's been asking for you," Addie replied, speaking into the darkness.

"I'll be down in a minute, I've almost finished this chapter," You bluffed, trying to ignore the teasing way he continued to grind his hips against yours.

It isn't until you hear the trap door slam shut that you let out the breath you'd been holding. Instantly he began to move against you, pushing his knee between your legs as he nipped at the skin over your pulse point.

"No," you gasped. "I need to go." It took all of your strength to push him back far enough that you could inch away. He held your gaze as you broke from his grasp, pacing backwards to leave. Biting at your lip, you paused for a second as you watched him. Throwing caution to the wind you stepped forward, quickly pressing your lips to his before turning to leave as he had done before.

The next morning you where early to rise, having barely slept through the night. Vibrating with excitement, you still glowed from the kiss the night before. The memory of the way he pushed you against the wall, hidden in the shadows as he tasted you was on constant repeat, playing again and again in your mind.

You couldn't help but giggle as you climbed down the stairs, lifting your skirt away from your feet to prevent tripping. Pulling your jacket off the hook by the door, you started to fasten the buttons when you heard your Aunt Jo calling your name from the kitchen.

"What a surprise to see you this side of noon. To what do we owe this pleasure?" she stated as you walked into the kitchen. She was seated at the table, the newspaper spread out in front of her with a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as the maid prepared her breakfast. You couldn't help but smile, even at her backhand comment. You did have some genuine affection for your aunt who'd been kind enough to take you into her home when you were very young. Now widowed, she had never been able to have children of her own and you knew under the cold exterior she could be kind and motherly, though it'd been awhile since you'd seen that side of her.

"Hank the grocer is making a delivery up to camp today, he said I could catch a ride," you explain with a shrug. "I thought I'd help Aunt Ro for a day or two." You waited patiently, watching as her lips pulled into a thin line just how you expected.

"You know I don't like you going up there," she admonished, reaching for her cup of tea. "It was fine when you were younger but you're much too old now to be spending so much time there. You should be looking for a husband, not working," she exhaled sharply through her nose as she studied your appearance, "Though I don't know who would marry you with your hair like that." Finally dropping the act, you let out an exasperated sigh. At least you knew she didn't have any good reason to be mad with you if she was resorting to criticizing the bobbed haircut you got a month or so ago.

"Please, half the men have known me all my life and see me as a daughter," you countered, resting your fists on your hips. "And Aunt Ro wouldn't let anything happen to me. Don't you trust your sister?"

"No, sometimes I do not. She can be too lenient in my opinion." For two people who had shared a womb your Aunts Josephine and Rosemary could not be more different. While Josephine lived by rules, following every step in a recipe to the dot, Rosemary was flamboyant and loud, constantly laughing and singing, ignoring the cooking instructions while dumping whatever she wants into the pot.

When you were little you wished Rosemary had taken you in instead of Josephine, but now you understood how running the main house of a lumber camp left little time to care for a toddler. Thankfully you were always welcomed to visit whenever you pleased, even unannounced, as long as you pulled your weight helping with chores.

Sitting next to Hank on the carriage, you tried to focus on your book. It was a long and tedious ride to the camp which was buried in the forest. You had long since learned that it was best to bring some literature with you knowing Hank wasn't much for conversation, but today, try as you might to focus, your mind kept floating back to the night before, to the way his fingers wrapped around your ribs and so close to your breast.

You completely understood why your Aunt Jo didn't want you to spend time at the lumber camp anymore, and it was that exact same reason why you were excited to go visit. Digger was everything she hated. He was tall, hairy, and usually a few days overdue for a good bath and scrub. In your mind's eye, you could picture the sneer your aunt would make if she ever got close enough to smell him, though there was something about his scent that made you light headed.

Digger also had no mind for manners or subtly, often saying whatever was closest to the surface of his thoughts. Laughing to yourself, you imagined him seated at the long polished dining room table, confused beyond reason as to why there's three forks, two spoons and knives and half a dozen plates set out in front of him, with no idea what any of them were used for. You were certain he'd never been to a dinner party like the ones your aunt hosted.

You knew nothing about his history and never asked, knowing it was courtesy to not press the men in the camp about their previous lives. His accent was wildly different from anything you'd every heard before, and through the grapevine you learned he was originally from Australia, halfway around the world. You wanted to ask him how he came to be here in the woods but every time he was near you any rational thoughts you may have had flew from your mind.

It was already midday when you arrived at camp, and your Aunt Ro had no time for pleasantries, immediately putting you to work watching over the stew as she went to speak with Hank. Afterwards you were set to the task of unloading the next month's worth of food into the pantry and root cellar.

Puffing on a hand rolled cigarette, Digger was lost in thought, bouncing on top of the pile of logs being pulling in on the a horse drawn cart. He'd managed to flag down his pal, the teamster Jean Claude and catch a ride back to camp.

"'Ey, regarde," Jean Claude called, catching Diggers attention with a nudge of his elbow as they broke through the edge of the woods. He whistled and pulled on the reins, slowing the two horses before he pointed across the clearing to the cabin and the grocer's cart next to the entrance. "C'est Mignon," the quebecois indicated with a wink while Digger caught a fleeting glimpse of your skirt as you returned into the main cabin with another crate of potatoes. He couldn't help but smile, suddenly more anxious for the day's work to be done with.

You groaned as you stood up, listening to your back crack while you stretched. Straining from the cramped, bent over position you had held while stacking the lower shelves. Lifting the empty crate you turned to exit the small store room. Letting out a small yelp you nearly dropped the wooden box, surprised by the large man in the doorway.

"Sorry, luv," Digger chuckled as he tucked something silver away into his pocket, "Didn' mean ta scare yeh. I would've said hello, but I was distracted by the view." He smirked as you blushed, realizing he was referring to watching you bent over from behind. With a roll of your eyes, you stepped to the side, trying to move around him. He kept even with you, quickly moving to block your path.

"Digger, please," you requested as you moved the other way and he followed.

"I like hearing you say that," he replied in a low voice, watching as you bit your lip in reaction.

"I need to finish my chores," you stated, trying to give him a serious look. He relented, leaning back against a column and letting you pass. Walking into the main part of the dingle you found the last crate next to the entrance. Noticing there was no sign of the grocer's carriage and a light snow was starting to fall, you lifted the full crate you turned to your aunt to question what was going on.

"Hank was eager to leave before the snow picked up," Rosemary explained as she tended to the stew on the cook stove, "I told him you'd be fine here for the night." She barely looked to you, focused on her task as you returned to the pantry.

Digger remained leaning against the post when you entered the room, crossing to the shelf where the jars of preserves went.

"Yeh stuck here for the night?" he asked after a moment of silence, taking a few steps closer to where you knelt, organizing the jars.

"So it would seem," you replied, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he unscrewed the top of the small square flask he held before lifting it to his lips.

"It'd be a shame if yeh were trapped here for a few days because of the storm," You couldn't help but notice the forced casual air to his voice. You didn't have to look to see his smirk. Putting away the last of the preserves, you stood to face him.

"It seems to me that you don't think that would be as much of a tragedy as you suggest." Biting at your inner cheek, you tried to hide the coy smile that was tugging at the corners of your mouth while you watched him take another drink. "What's that?" You inquired, stepping closer, lifting the flask from his hands. Taking a sniff, you immediately recognized the stinging smell of grain alcohol.

"Nothin' yeh'd like darl," he grinned, watching the way your face wrinkled at the fumes of the drink. Catching his eye, you took his words as a challenge and lifted the flask to your lips. The booze had barely touched your tongue when you began to cough and sputter. Digger let out a boisterous laugh, watching you lose your composure as he took back the flask.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you turned away from him, embarrassed as you tried to catch your breath. He continued to chuckle, stepping closer behind you and placing his hand flat on your back and rubbing across your shoulder blades. Your face flushed at the contact as you began to have another coughing fit, this time spurred by your embarrassment. You tried to move away again, bracing one hand on a shelf while you covered your mouth with the other. He stayed close, letting his hand drop further down your back, along your spine. Your stomach flipped at the sensation, you could feel the warmth of his palm through the cotton of your blouse while his hand drifted lower, nearer to your hips.

"Careful," he teased as you took deep, shaky breaths, finally calming down and facing him. You stepped away as he moved in, backing up until you bumped into the shelves behind you. You watched him as he advanced, resting one hand on the untreated wood board next to your shoulder while his tongue darted out from under his mustache, wetting his bottom lip.

A nervous but exciting energy coursed through you as he held your gaze. Tentatively, you reached out, resting your hand on his upper arm when he bent forward. He slowly closed the distance between the pair of you until he was near enough that you could smell the tobacco smoke still on his breath.

"Mignon!" Aunt Ro called from the other room, her voice carrying through the open doorway. "When you're done in the pantry, I need a hand in the dingle!"

Digger pulled back, standing up straight with his jaw clenched. It was written on his face that he wasn't happy but all the same he stepped aside.

"Sorry," you squeaked as you squeezed past him to help your aunt with dinner.

The late night meal was the same affair as always. The men were loud, both laughing and arguing as they devoured the stew. After eating, half the group bundled up and headed off to their small cabins, or into the the large barracks just off the dingle. You helped your aunt finish wash the pots before she retired, heading to the other side of the log cabin to the room she shared with her husband, John.

It was nearing midnight as you walked up to the last few men seated around a table, playing cards next to the dying fire. You stood between Digger and Jean Claude, resting your hand on the back of the latter's chair to spy what he had in his hand.

Jean Claude had been working at the camp since you were 10 and was the one who'd given you the nickname 'Mignon'. He first traveled south looking for work so he could afford to build a house for the girl he loved. After five years he had saved enough and returned home. A year later he returned, explaining that she had gotten knocked up and married the father while Jean Claude was away.

Across the table was the McInerney brothers, Peter and James. The pair of whom had been working for your Uncle John longer than you'd been around. Though nearly identical and always together, you had been surprised to learn when you were younger that they weren't actually twins, Peter being a little older than James.

You knew why these were the last men awake, tomorrow they'd be sending the logs down river and none of those around the table where skilled in that. Jean Claude and Digger were both foreign and hadn't grown up learning to walk across the logs, and while they weren't terrible at it, they were much too slow to be useful on the river. The brothers apparently had a fear of the water, you weren't entirely sure why but you'd heard it was from watching their younger sister drown.

"Tu la victoire?" you asked in broken french as you studied Jean Claude's cards.

"Non, I am far from winning," he laughed as you stood up, shifting to look over Digger's shoulder.

"What are you playing?" you asked as you eyed the two piles of cards in the center of the table.

"Gin rummy," Digger stated as James played, placing one card down in the face up pile before drawing another from the opposite stack. "Care t'learn?" he questioned, quirking an eyebrow as he looked up at you.

"Okay-," you began as he quickly pulled you into his lap. You couldn't help but blush as he leaned forward starting to explain the object of the game and details like what a 'run' is. He reached forward, drawing a card from the face down pile and placing the ten of spades into his hand. "If yeh draw, yeh have to discard," he stated as he pulled out a four of diamonds and placed it face up. You nodded, watching his play. While the game moved around the table you nearly forgot you were sitting on Digger's lap as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. When it came to Digger's turn again, he grabbed your waist, pulling you back against his chest as he balanced his forearm on the lip of the table.

"Yeh try playing this round," he stated, his hand lingering on your hip, while his facial hair tickled the outer shell of your ear. "There's a queen of spades on the discard, what yeh gon' do?"

You tried to focus on the game and not the feeling of his chest against your back, or the way his warm breath drifted across your neck as you contemplated the possible moves. Eventually you decided to take the exposed queen of spades, tucking it between the ten and king of the same suit, and discard the seemingly random six of hearts.

"Very good choice," Digger stated loudly as he squeezed your hip, "Yeh might get good at this yet." He reached forward, grabbing the unmarked bottle of brown liquor that sat on the table and refilled his glass, "Yeh deserve a drink for that one." You took the glass in two hands and cautiously looked around the table.

"Don't worry, we won't tell your aunt," Peter finally stated with a wave of his hand.

Lifting the glass to you lips, you took a much more cautious sip than you had before. You grimaced slightly at the initial taste but enjoyed the warm feeling as the liquid traveled to your stomach. "That's not bad," you mention with a nod, "I like it more than the other stuff." Lifting the glass you took another sip of the amber liquid.

"I warned yeh about the grain alcohol," Digger teased, causing the other men to erupt with laughter. You could feel your face burning though you weren't sure if it was from the liquor or embarrassment.

Placing your hands flat on the table you pushed yourself up, rising from Digger's lap and releasing yourself from his grasp. "I should go to sleep," you announced, taking your time to say goodnight to James, Peter and Jean Claude, making a point to ignore the man behind you before leaving to your small bedroom.

PART 2 - PART 3

#Captain Boomerang #captain boomerang imagine #captain boomerang fanfiction #captain boomerang fanfic #captain boomerang fan fiction #george harkness #digger harkness #digger harknes x oft #digger harkness x oc #digger harkness imagine #Suicide Squad #suicide squad imagine #suicide squad fan fiction #skwad #dccu #dc #historcial au #lumberjacks #1930s

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91percentpynch · 3 years

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the cut that always bleeds - kevaaron au pt 3

kejerejean stans? this one is for you. no seriously this one is out of jean‘s point of view? cuz honestly i love that hoe so much. as always get your tissues ready guys. this is actually kinda long? and a mess? and no one beta read it so if there are mistakes or it doesn‘t make sense i‘m sorry!! this is not that sad? tw: mention of murder, mention of physically hurting someone, mention of stabbing, mention of the nest, mention of trauma

check this out to find the other parts:)

Jean has always been a light sleeper. He had to be in order to survive the horrors of Evermore.

So naturally the sobs - as silent as they might have been - woke him up. His eyes opened at once, he sat straight up. Almost automatically he got to his feet and left the room to get to Kevin.

After all, comforting Kevin was like breathing to him.

Jeremy followed Jean, because he would always follow Jean. Jeremy was like a moth and Jean was the light. Wherever he went Jer would follow.

So they went to Kevin‘s room. The striker laid in his bed, curled up, phone in his hand, uncontrollable sobs escaping his mouth.

„I see you took the call this time“, Jean said, surprisingly gentle.

„I wanted to end it. I wanted to have a clear cut. So tell me, why does the cut still bleed?“, Kevin whispered, his voice barely audible.

„Because it‘s a cut that always bleeds“, Jeremy told Kevin as he came closer, carefully and ever so gentle placing his hands on the other boy‘s back.

„He said he wants me to come back to him“, Kevin whispered while holding onto himself as if to try to stop himself from falling apart. „He told me he misses me. That he only gets high when he misses me“

It was quiet in the dark room, shadows were dancing, just as Aaron and Kevin used to dance in the dead of night underneath the night sky.

„You did the right thing Kev“, Jean replied in French while he got into the Bed behind Kevin. Just like they used to do in the Nest.

When Kevin was in his arms he began to hum a French lullaby into his ear.

Jeremy joined them after a second of admiring his beautiful boyfriend and the broken boy in his arms.

„Dude, do you want something? Hot coca? A special Knoxian hug? Us to get Andrew to gut that bastard? Wait, hold on. I forgot. Twin brother. Well, I can gut him for you? Andrew and this is a word by word quote told be once ‚You‘re like a little unicorn in a world full of wolfs with razor sharp teeths, learn to gut the wolfs, stay safe‘, so he taught me how to stab someone? Yeah okay that is not the topic right now, I can still gut Aaron though. I mean Andrew would try to hurt me, but then again I‘m his best friend so he does not have the rights to gut me, right?“, Jeremy offered him a toothy grin, while his hand wandred to his neck rubbing it nervously.

„Can you please not gut him? First of all: Andrew already tried to choke me once when Josten was in danger and I told them where he was, cause apparently yOu DoN‘t KeEp ThOsE tHiNgS tO yOuRsElF yOu FuCkInG mOrOn. I think you do keep those things to yourself if the other option is to get fucking murdered by the mafia??? But what do I know, am I right? After all I‘m just a narcistic, Exy-obsessed asshole without a personality. Bonus I have anxiety, panic attacks, probably depression and I‘m unlovable“, Kevin mumbled into his pillow, the voices of the other foxes, of the other teams inside of his head.

„Did they tell you that?“, Jeremy asked, not quite able to hide the sadness and pain in his voice.

„Doesn‘t eveyone think that?“, Kevin asked. „I mean I think they tend to forget that the woman who gave birth to me, the last woman who geniuely loved me besides maybe Abby, invented the job. I think they tend to forget that the fucking mafia killed her when they found out I‘m not theirs by nature, so the only solution was apparently fucking murder. Then they kidnapped me, brainwashed and tortured me to the point where all I knew was Exy. Oh and maybe they also tend to forget that Ravens were only ever allowed to do Exy, if you were privilegded enough sleep, and do more Exy“

„Kevin you are so much more than that“, Jean whispered into Kevin‘s ear while pressing him against his chest. Just as they used to do in the Nest. „I might be mad at you, because you left me alone with those psychopaths. I used to think you didn‘t care about me. But you were just like me, okay with less scars and less you know. However I cannot say I wouldn‘t have done the same. I understand you now, Kevin. And please, please stop saying those things. And now let us cuddle you and let Jer go through his ridiculous post break-up list. We‘re gonna cuddle you and all you have to do is trying to fall asleep. Used to help me when I was alone at USC. Could only sleep properly when someone held me. Well, Jeremy. Tomorrow we‘ll shove unhealthy food down your throat and watch Downton Abbey or whatever those historcial dramas you love so much are called. While stroking your hand or whatever you‘re into big boy. Afterwards we‘ll take the dogs out and force you to watch the fucking sunset. And I‘ll hold your fucking hand“

Kevin supposed the middle of the night was the time of long lost truths. „Okay“, he mumbled while he moved closer to Jean. Replacing his smell with Jean‘s. It took him a while to fall asleep but he managed.

At the same time Jeremy said „Mi amor, I love you, I really do, but that was literally the most romantic thing you said in the past two years? That is way more romantic than ANY date you ever planned for me? Rude? The audacity?“

„Moi soleil, you don‘t have the ‚cult kidnapped me and tortured me‘ card you can pull, you get the bonus treatmeant of any other people. Besides I literally have matching tattoos with you? I drew you like multiply times? I wrote like a dozen poems and at LEAST one short story? I wrote you a fucking lullaby? You have no right to complain right now, or you‘ll loose your kissing privileges and I give them to Kevin“

„Eww gross“, Kevin mumbled.

„I don‘t remeber you saying that back in the Nest“, Jean replied, poking his cheek.

Kevin didn‘t have the energy to answer. It was a long day. Sleep could have him for the day. Death’s little sister might claim him for the night.

This night he dreamed about Aaron. Strong arms around his waist. Golden eyes locking with smaragd ones. They were on some lonely beach, kissing lazily while the water kissed their feet. It was a beautiful day. Not as beautiful as Aaron, but then again nothing would ever be as beautiful as this specific piece of art. Everything was alright. Everything was good. Why couldn‘t it be the real Aaron and the real Kevin on that beach.

At about noon Kevin woke up to a drooling Jeremy on his stomach and the smell of waffles and soft French swearing in the kitchen. Softly Kevin woke Jeremy up.

„Sorry I always end up on weird angles and drooling on random guys. Jean used to get so mad when I fell asleep in his lap. But you can‘t take him serious when he looks with you with heart eyes trying to be Mad, can you? Anyways we should probably go to him and help him? Oh wait hold on a hot second there. I‘m banned from the kitche, so we can sleep? Right? Right?“

„I hate to break this to you Jer, but it‘s noon. So, no we cannot sleep. You can choose my clothes, though. I know you love going through my stuff and playing dress the doll, Kevin Day edition“, Kevin almost smiled at Jeremy, when he looked up at him pouting.

Then he remembered another blonde boy, pouting at him when he told him no. Another constellation of freckles around another, straight, perfect nose. Sinful lips softly turned up, trying to look mad. Hazel eyes instead of ocean blue ones. Messy blonde curles, instead of soft badly dyed ginger ones. Strong arms instead of lean ones covered in flower tattoos. God, Kevin missed his Aaron.

No, not his. Not anymore

„Okay, but you have to wear to fab outfit I‘ll throw in your face“, Jeremy gave him another easy, toothy grin.

Slowly the other boy got out of bed and went over to the cabet. Slowly Jer went through Kevin‘s cloths. After a while he slowly turned around, holding a jersey that is obviously by far too small for Kevin in front of his face. „What is that? Why do you still have his jersey? Babe, you gotta get rid of that, rather sooner than later“

Jeremy had the weird habit of calling his friends babe, baby, dude or bro. Before Jean he called his boyfriends bro or dude as well, but Jean was so confused by it he quickly stopped doing it.

„First of all: I‘m a weak ass bitch, it smelled of it. And secondly maybe I wanna stab it once I‘m over the phase where I‘m like madly missing him?. I‘d just put it into a pillow, stab at it like a maniac and then set it on fire. I didn‘t grow up with a psychopath as my supposed best friend for nothing Jer“

„Okay? Well I got your clothes. And you‘ll look amazing, cause it‘s the FOX ONSIE I GOT YOU!!! I‘ll wear my onsie as well, and I‘ll force Jean to wear his one as well!! Much fun!! Much wholesome!!“

So that‘s how Kevin Day, queen of Exy, landed sandwiched between his childhood crush and long life crush on their couch, watching Downton Abbey with a plate of waffles on his lap. This was nice. He might had actually enjoyed it, if this wasn‘t his and Aaron‘s show. They used to watch it, cry over it together, make out while watching it.

Thank God didn‘t actually touch him while watching Downton Abbey, he was good at daydreaming. Kevin would just had preteneded that it was Aaron and he thought him breathing Aaron‘s name was the last thing any of them needed today.

After their Downton Abbey marathon they ordered pizza, against Kevin‘s better judgement. Another traditon Kevin shared with Aaron. At finals Aaron would often forget to eat and Kevin was too big of a mess to be bothered to cook so he would end up ordering something every single day and feeding it Aaron while he studied on the floor. Occasionally he would earn a soft kiss, growing hungrier when the night grew darker. God Kevin missed the soft lips on his own.

Kevin would have enjoyed the beach, wouldn‘t he be dressed in a fox onsie, holding hands with a 6“5 guy who looked like he both could and would kill you in a unicorn onsie holding two tiny dogs in his other hand and with a 5“4 dude in a matching unicorn onsie with two dogs that were almost bigger than him.

At least this didn‘t remind him on Aaron.

Well, actually. The way the ocean softly kissed the sand, reminded him of his dream. And of the endless trips to the beach, sleeping in the car, Aaron on top of him. Lazy kisses and warm hugs. It was the first place Aaron took Kevin after their rehab. It was the first night they spent together, as sober men. Well, not sober per se. But drunk and high on each others love. It might had been the most painful memory of the day. God he missed those strong arms around his waist.

Nontheless the pain got less, he felt almost numb. Kevin liked feeling numb. Nothing hurt when you feel numb.

The sunset was beautiful. It reminded him of golden hairs, freckles standing against golden skin, soft lips at his ears, his neck, the corner of his lips.

„Aaron you‘re supposed to look at the sunset, you shithead“, Kevin used to smile down at him. „But I‘m already looking at the most beautfiul thing this world has to offer“, Aaron replied smoothly, locking eyes with Kevin.

When the moon took the place of his long lost lover they decided to go back.

It was safe to say that no one dared to think that someone would wait for them there. Especially not the one person they tried to avoid by all means the entire day.

„You said to stop calling. Never mentioned face to face conversations“, a husky voice said. And Kevin‘s world stopped.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king’s men #kevin day #aaron minyard #kevaaron #ship: kevaaron

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thompsborn · 3 years

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Happy FFWF! What is a movie/tv show au that you would write if you had the time? Give me some character as characters as well.

NOTE: i saved this as a draft but for some reason there are two drafts that were saved above it even though i saved this after and i have no clue but i’m dumb and thought i deleted this when i didn’t holy shit pfjfjfj

okay anyway, as always i’m a day late BUT!!

my answer might sound odd because it’s like a realoty show or whatever it’s not fictionale but STORM CHASERS. i’ve been on a STRONG meteorology kick recently (as in i’m currently debating changing my entire future path towards studying meteorology since i don’t actually need an english degree to publish books and that’s something i can always do on the side) and harley is from tennessee which while it isn’t part of the plains tornado alley it IS part of the dixie tornado alley, which i’m gonna add a map of dixie alley to kinda show:

so different parts of tennessee (circled in red for anyone who isn’t sure; i had to look it up to double check because i immediately doubted my brain’s ability to remember the map lmao) are more likely to get tornadoes than other. i also just read this whole paper called the historcial and statistical analysis comparison of “tornado alley” to “dixie alley” which also has this picture in it that shows tornado alley in red and dixie alley in green which is cool!!

but in the paper is basically says that the Plains Tornado Alley (PTA) definitely has the highest frequency of tornadoes, having a lot more than the Dixie Tornado Alley (DTA). the paper puts it into perspective of 10,000 square miles. in terms of frequency, the PTA has a normalized frequency of 332 tornadoes per 10,000 square miles whilte the DTA has a normalized frequency of 276. however, while the PTA has a higher frequency (and definitely has some famously well known tornadic tragidies in recent history; moore, joplin, etc.), the DTA has a higher frequency in creating stronger and more violent tornadoes, with a normalized frequency of 89 strong or violent tornadoes per 10,000 square feet while the PTA has a normalized frequency of 70!

i’ll leave the meteorology ramble there, but basically what i’m saying with all that tornado talk is that, harley is from tennessee, and while there are places called rose hill, and i even found a cite that says there’s something called rose hill in maynardville tn that i can’t find anywhere else??, there’s no ACTUAL town called rose hill in tennessee which means i could write a fic where that motherfucker lives in the god damn RED ZONE in the DTA

and he could grow up fascinated by tornadoes which could grow into a curiosity for natural disasters in general which could lead to meteorology which could lead to going to a new york university or something to study meteorology where he meets peter who is also studying meteorology (i haven’t thought of a reason for peter to be interested in it yet) and ned (again idk why he’s gonna be interested yet either) and peter and ned are already friends bc they went to midtown together but they meet harley and they all become BEST friends and maybe decide to do a storm chaser youtube channel or twitch or smth bc theyre dumb

so then it’d be like. october

which okay sorry more meteorology ramble real quick—another difference between the plains tornado alley and the dixie tornado alley is that, while the PTA gets a majority of their tornadoes during spring (72% of observed strong/violent tornadoes from april-june), the DTA is less likely to have their only strong/violent tornadoes in spring, as only about 38% of theirs happen from april-june, while having a secondary peak where about 40% of their strong/violent tornadoes occur from october-february. in the PTA, about 10% of their strong tornadoes happen during that time frame. basically that means that the PTA can also have violent tornadoes october-february but are FAR more likely to have them april-june, while DTA have two seasons and are almost equally as likely to have strong and violent tornadoes from both april-june AND october-february!

okay anyway

SO it’d be like october and there’s a storm system coming in and they’ve started this youtube or twitch storm chasing thing but nothing big has happened yet and they can only really do it in segments because harley moved to new york after finishing college and they all share an apartment and shit and have jobs bc they finished college and can only go down when there are storm systems coming in that they can get down in time for (somehow i can try to find a way for them to work for tony and tony can let them take a jet or something ?? idk this is still just an idea) and they just.

they chase a fucking insane system that results in like two or three violent tornadoes touching down and it’s just. a lot. idk but i want to.

this answer got so long i’m so sorry omg

#ffwf #also this would be a parkner fic #idk about other ships yet i wanna have ned shipped w someone probs betty #maybe thompsborn #idk this is literally just a fun indulgent idea i might never write it

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