saintswrite

[saintswrite]

fallingwatcr​:

– CARLY DOES NOT, AND WOULD NEVER, EXPECT KAIA TO RELENT. if anything, it’s usually carly the one who does, not finding anything worth the confrontation – but it is kaia who makes her feel like the confrontation could be worth it, like the curiosity that carly has about her has more value if it could ever possibly be sated. what kaia sees in herself as darkness, carly sees depth – something neverending. in the same way that black holes are beautiful, maybe, but it’s just like carly to see the beauty in what could be destruction. “ move over ? ” carly echoes, brows knitting together. “ you want to share ? ” the bossiness, the complete lack of formalities – that, carly is used to. but kaia wanting to share the same vicinity as her is new. honestly, carly’s not sure what people have favorite benches for if not sleep. every favorite place is a favorite napping place for her. she sits up a little, pats the space next to her amicably as if to call kaia’s bluff ( which she very well might, ) catching her eye again with a smile, “ alright, then. ” 

Kaia literally bites her tongue so the mocking comment she’d like to make only scrapes against her teeth. Swallowing the reflex doesn’t go down smoothly, but she’s the one who suggested that she might want to...share. For once, Kaia doesn’t want to be the reason this is more difficult than it needs to be. Worse, perhaps, she doesn’t want to make Carly regret the morsels of kindness she continues to extend, or her openness that Kaia’s experienced in their brief interactions. Tucked inside the barbed encasement of her offer is curiosity, of what it means if anything to occupy the same space peacefully. Kaia doesn’t know how to make amends with anyone who isn’t her sister, and if you asked her Kaia even did a shitty job at that. But peering down at Carly’s innocent face, even when smiling at Kaia’s expense, compels her to try. Her gaze flickers downcast from the dizzying sight, scoffing as if in disbelief at her next move. “Don’t get too excited,” she huffs. Still standing awkwardly, Kaia tightens her embrace of her sketchbook against her chest and...seats herself in the space just touched by Carly’s hand. “This one has the best lighting, that’s all.” And its closest to her favorite plants, who murmur their welcomes.

#kaia #carly x kaia #<3

[saintswrite]

gensrps​:

          ❛   forced  you  to  leave ?  that’s  a  lot  of  credit  you  give  them.   ❜    minjeong  couldn’t  care  less  if  this  was  meant  to  be  a  jab  or  not,  it’s  a  lazy  one  at  best,  not  even  enough  to  make  her  roll  her  eyes.  a  sigh,  somewhat  disappointed.    ❛   that  might  be  the  first  interesting  thing  you  have  going  on.   ❜    evidently,  kaia  would  be  running  away  from  the  only  exciting  situation  she  could  find  herself  in,  how  incredibly  fucking  boring.  almost  on  cue,  there’s  a  fleeing  attempt  being  made,  making  minjeong  grin  in  the  other’s  blindside,  a  few  steps  taken  backwards  to  follow  the  pace,  quick  one - eighty  to  set  the  course  straight.  she  won’t  jog  to  catch  up,  her  tempo  a  fast  one  to  begin  with.  and  she  doesn’t  want  to  spill  her  food  all  over.    ❛   come  on,  the  previews  that  fucking  interesting ?   ❜    or  is  she  scared  minjeong  might  be  more  ?  the  movies  themselves  look  borderline  obnoxious,  that’s  not  something  she’ll  allow  to  be  dismissed  over.  it’s  not  a  pleasant  encounter,  theirs  never  are,  but  it  does  make  the  evening  slightly  more  interesting.  both  here  for  a  show,  why  not  have  a  first  act.  it’s  not  like  kaia  doesn’t  know  how  to  produce  a  slasher.  which  is  all  healed  saved  for  faint  scared  marks,  by  the  way.  just  some  extra  bracelets  to  cover  this  shit  a  bit  better.

“You don’t know that,” Kaia shoots back. Another lackluster response, posited just to contradict whatever Minjeong is saying. Is it laziness or disinterest? Whichever offends Minjeong more. Surprisingly, though, Kaia’s desire to win this conversation is low. Yet naturally Minjeong’s dissatisfied with a laurel so easily won, she’s so fucking insatiable. Meeting her with silence, or hostility, or even common decency doesn’t cleave her from Kaia’s shadow. As Minjeong’s steps trail Kaia’s, she almost tosses her device with the hard pivot to face her. “Your movie is that way.” She gestures with her head to the opposite of Kaia’s theater. Another exasperated response that isn’t sharp enough to hurt either of them. Kaia isn’t here to be hawkish, but the smell of melted butter give Minjeong away. Perhaps this isn’t a ploy to lure Kaia into a stand-off. But that doesn’t mean Kaia has to be pleased with this. “There’s mindless guts in this one, you’d hate it.”

#kaia #chat: minjeong #hey

[saintswrite]

hqgalpal​:

“Okay, now you’re pushing it.” He gently nudged her. As she leaned in closer, maybe he did lean in a bit too. Was he taking advantage of the closeness that she provided? Absolutely but within reason. P.J. needed this, he needed the attention and Martina was probably the only one to give it to him like this. He just had to remember not to cross the line too much. He paused, unsure of what to say or how to react. To think he was her hero, though he didn’t feel like one at all. “Sometimes,” he began. “I wonder why you think so highly of me. I’m just a regular guy, nothing special.” He was smart but so was everyone else at Gallagher, even Martina who came from a family of spies was better than him. He was nothing compared to all of them. Just a regular guy. “You’re more hero-like than I am.” A true hero that he would read about in books, the kind that always good and just. The one who cared about others and had a pure heart, that was Martina Washington, the actual hero. He chuckled. “You don’t like plaid? How come, I think it looks great!” 

A voice in her brain warns, don’t let Trinity hear you say that. Maybe it was intended as Martina’s attempt to have some edginess, but it feels like a personal scolding. Like, to be fair, she would like if Trinity walked through that door right now. That’s her cousin; family! But she likes being able to talk to PJ just a tiny bit more, to have him leaning into her closeness. Uninterrupted. A third presence is a crowd, and she’d be compelled to leap back. And, secretly, adding distance between them wasn’t a thought that sparked joy. “You’re you,” It isn’t that complicated, an easy math equation where Martina doesn’t have to carry any ones. She doesn’t think that she needs elaborate, but her mouth moves on its own accord anyway. “I’d put you on a pedestal if you were the president or if you were, like, I don’t know, making podcasts or something.” That sounds frivolous but her cheeks flush from the truth of it. Martina tucks two braids behind her ears to distract her nervous hands. “You know what I mean? I just like you. I can’t do anything about that.” Don’t let Trinity hear you say that. There is no room for reproach when her heart is so full from the compliment, charging like a battery plugged into an outlet. “Why, because I came to visit you?” Martina dismisses. “Because I made you laugh? I guess if that makes me a hero....” She’d be one. She’d be that for PJ a zillion times over. “No offense, Peej, but, I’m just saying, gingham uniforms would be a lot cuter.”

#me suffering emotionally: me: time to do shuotina #LKDJSAAKJLSF #<3 #i can't remember timeline wise if this is before the hallway or after? chile #martina x pj

[saintswrite]

ofwaterships​:

There’s absolutely no shame in the way his cheeks start to turn rosy at the word boyfriend. God, Martina Washington called him her boyfriend. What had normal ever felt like to him before these days? Sam raises his brows just slightly at her analysis, surprised he’d rank so high in her list of good people when he has to assume that she’s become the way she is by being surrounded by only the best the world had to offer her, watching and learning like an eternal student until she formed and fitted herself into the kind and bright person she is today. A corner of his lip turns up suddenly, grateful for the thought that he was a part of that circle now, knowing that in return he was studying from her too, how to better himself, how to take this one life of his and make it count for the people around him. “I learn from the best,” he tells her simply, bringing her head close and placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll be kinder, promise.” He’s hung on her every word, waiting with childlike excitement to share in whatever secret she’s about to let him in on, and when she finally does speak, his brow creases for a moment as he tries to understand. She’s so close he wonders if maybe he’s missing the fuller picture— an elaborate hand gesture or broad expression that would really seal the deal— but then Martina explains further and suddenly the pieces fit together and realization with a touch of laughter washes over him, his breath condensing in the space between them when a small chuckle escapes. Of course they had only managed to find each other where they shouldn’t have been, where they weren’t looking. Martina’s nose is cold but her touch is warm against his skin and Sam thinks this is exactly what happiness is supposed to feel like. “You were exactly where you were supposed to be,” he smiles, cupping her face. “Thanks for finding me.”

She’ll never get used to seeing his face pink, frost-kissed (softer than frostbitten, in her humble opinion!) and beautiful. Martina clasps his cheeks in her mittened hands, scrunching up her nose as warmth travels up her fingers and wrists and arms and shoulders. “Me too,” she hums happily, her eyes fluttering shut in utter contentment. When she opens them again, his voice filters through the rose-colored haze coloring her view. The world is brighter when they’re in agreement. It isn’t often that they aren’t, so Martina considers this new abundance of light her new normal. There’s an anxious moment in her story that she thinks Sam might scold her for breaking the rules, and, like, he wouldn’t be wrong, but how could Martina bear to blemish how Sam thought of her? He wasn’t just the greatest person in the world — he was a talented spy, guided by tradition and rules that Martina struggled to memorize. As much as their personalities overlapped, Martina owned her faults and insecurities as solely her burden. Sam would have never gone somewhere, accidentally or purposefully, without a clearance. But she can’t say that she regrets giving the rules a teensy-weensy bend. Without doing so she wouldn’t have Samuel Song’s hands on her cheeks, she wouldn’t be close enough to count the folds between his brow that are slowly smoothing, and she wouldn’t feel the tickle of him breathing a laugh. The sun reappears, and she feels like they’re in a snowglobe turned right-side up, snow quieting. “Remember, don’t tell anyone, I could get in huge trouble,” Martina says in her best stern voice, but it melts in the shrinking, shrinking space between them. Nature holds her breath in anticipation. “Thanks for waiting.” Tracing her gaze down, then back up, she holds his gaze as their lips touch, the kiss warming her entire body between the bursts of lingering snow flurries.

#girl i hate to say this but i wrote this to ed sheeran #happy belated valentine's day #romance is in the air! (real) #martina x sam #chat: martina #tw heterosexuality

[saintswrite]

Halloween...isn’t that bad. It pains Kaia to admit that there is a holiday she understands the desire to participate in. Not that she does in the traditional sense, usually. She won’t be gallivanting through Nemean Lion donning devil horns or fuzzy angel wings, that’s for damn sure. Instead, she marathons horror movies every year, laughing at the medically inaccurate geyser of blood erupting from someone’s chest. The movie theater’s showing a particularly heinous slasher that she’s treating herself to. She couldn’t remember the last time she was...well, almost excited. Kaia accepts the closed-captioning display device held out to her with her best attempt at a smile. Just friendly enough to be polite, but not too much to encourage more conversation. Her eyes scan the corridors for the number printed on her ticket, but her gaze sinks into another just as dark and intense as her own. Kaia commands herself not to tense despite the seizure in her chest. Are you serious. "I had no choice. A stalker is following me around.” This isn’t what Kaia had in mind regarding jumpscares. Thankfully, she wears a bored expression as she sidesteps Minjeong. It’s safer to sever this early to squash the possibility of another maiming or finding other ways to taste buttered popcorn. “I’ll spare you the details,” she signs dismissively, though she knows Minjeong won’t let her escape so easily.

halloween  2022  —

          the  yearly  excuse  at  a  sleazy  and  questionable  costumed  party  in  a  room  filled  with  overly - drunk  demigods  had  never  sounded  as  unappealing  to  her  as  it  is  this  year.  under  any  other  circumstances,  minjeong   wouldn’t  be  the  first  to  show  up,  but  surely  be  the  last  to  leave.  memories  of  what  it  was  just  a  year  ago,  how  different  it  feels  now  that  a  comparison  isn’t  even  fair  —  she’ll  skip  the  bullshit  that  is  sure  to  ensue.  doesn’t  mean  she  wants  to  stay  in  and  do  fuck  all.  there’s  a  craving   from  popcorn  too  salty  lingering  over  her  for  a  few  weeks  now,  might  as  well  satisfy  it.  sounds  like  one  of  the  best  ideas  she’s  had  in  a  while,  until  distinct  curls  catch  her  eyes  once  she’s  acquired  her  snack.    ❛   are  you  serious.   ❜    for  once,  she’s  not  the  force  responsible  behind  the  crossing   of  their  paths.  fucking  ridiculous,  but  also  hilarious.  minjeong’s  come  here  for  another  purpose,  but  why  not  try  to  fill  another  hunger  she  always  has  appetite  for.  can’t  make  an  entrance  from  behind  only,  stepping  into  the  other’s  line  of  sight  a  greater  insult  to  kaia  anyway,  she’s  sure.    ❛   you  know  how  to  leave  campus.  shocking.   ❜    in  all  truthfulness,  minjeong  doesn’t  have  the  luxury  of  time  on  her  side,  her  movie  ticking  closer  each  second  she takes  to  indulge.  though,  she  doubts  the  production  will  be  as  riveting  as  this.    //    @saintswrite​

#happy belated valentine's day! #romance is in the AIR #kaia #chat: minjeong #this is a lil rusty but she'll come back to me fr

[saintswrite]

fallingwatcr​:

– CARLY LOVES THAT FEELING WHEN YOU’VE JUST WOKEN UP. that dreamy, idyllic haze … a certain cozy drowsiness, knowing that if you just rolled over and shut your eyes again, you could go right back to sleep. it’d be that easy. until it isn’t. she knows the voice even before kaia’s image is fully processed in her mind. by the time carly does meet kaia’s gaze, she can feel the heat rising to her cheeks. it’s typical of being around kaia, the girl could make anyone feel embarrassed for existing – an uncanny ability for making carly’s heart race. “ you can’t own a bench, ” carly says and signs. then she pauses, “ well, at least not this bench. it belongs to nemean lion. ” probably a little too sassy for a girl whose hair is practically sticking up on the left side, still brushing sleep out of her eyes. never too drowsy to want to step it to kaia’s challenge, though. she’s long decided not to let the other girl walk on her, regardless of the way their relationship seems to fluctuate like the most confusing roller coaster of all time. “ are you going to find another ? ” 

They’re blushing at each other, and Kaia — to her own surprise — doesn’t rush or fumble to hide it. She doubts Carly even notices the stain through her own fluster. On Kaia, it is easy to misread as simple dislike instead of discomfort. Interacting with Carly never fails at reminding Kaia of what she lacks. Kaia dulls while Carly glitters like the golden flecks in her eyes meeting the sunlight. A delayed scoff leaves her nose, doesn’t bother opening her mouth in rebuttal to that. “Nice one,” Kaia signs. “You sure told me.” Scaring her takes more than a head of blonde fluff and drooping eyelids. It is almost refreshing to see the beginnings of a spine forming, but whether Carly likes it or not, that is her bench. “Hm. No.” Her eyes run over the length of the wood stretched under her. Instead of responding with something that would make her wish she’d stayed asleep, Kaia sees another way to fill the unoccupied space. It is more lenience than she’d given her before. That should count for something. “Move over.”

#carly x kaia #kaia

[saintswrite]

@fallingwatcr​​

Kaia’s unimpressed by finding that her favorite bench is occupied. It’s positioned in the direct path of sunlight, the wood isn’t too warm under her thighs, and the pages of her weathered books appear illuminated from within. How can someone possibly sleep so uncomfortably haloed by that much light? Kaia scowls, naturally, her resting expression deepening by inconvenience. Worse — she has her suspicions who the culprit, curled into herself like a sleeping blonde fawn, might be. Pivoting on her heel would’ve sufficed as a rational reaction ( is she in the mood to deal with an internal cluster of contradictory feelings toward her? ), but she surrenders to impulse, proceeding to peer over to confirm its her. As her shadow crosses over her arm, what do you know, Carly stirs and Kaia, caught, tints with embarrassment, her body jolting back to allow distance. Kaia and Carly arent, exactly, friends, but hovering like a goddamn vulture while she slept warranted an explanation. What are you doing? Too idiotic. I wanted to know if it was you. Too honest. “You’re on my bench,” Kaia signs and speaks, her cadence flat instead of sharp. Too accusatory. Perfect.

#kaia #carly x kaia #you've been on my mind I've tried to write this for months ! #anyway your tweets motivated me and my kaia muse is so high LSDJKAJLKF

[saintswrite]

ofwaterships​:

It’s hard not to latch onto the words ‘It just means a lot to me’ and start to overthink about just why that might be. Sam can’t help start to smile at that, trying not to show it too hard, but if he thinks about it, he can’t really recall ever wanting to hide his happiness from her, especially when she is so often the cause of it. He does, however, hope he can hide the small flush of rosiness starting to warm his face— he could probably blame it on the summer sun and heat. His smile grows anyway, unable to keep it together at her next comment, and Sam is determined to do all he can to show her just how much he cares for her in turn. His gaze flits for just a second to her hand on his, then comes back to her, but all he can think about is her thumb grazing his skin even as he answers her. “I suppose not, and far be it from me to tell you what to do. Think of it as more a suggestion?” he offers, grinning and once again deferring to her a he walks in after her. He’s still admiring everything, making notes and mental comparisons about which pieces of the home look like they’ve been touched by her specific brand of loveliness, and almost doesn’t heed her warning when he nearly trips after his sight lands on her instead. “Blue would have been a good touch— though don’t tell your Mom I disagreed,” he adds in quickly, hoping not to lose the head-start he has already. The entire time, he’s been fully aware that she hadn’t yet let go of his hand and had rejoiced in every second he’d had it, and notices of course when she gives one more squeeze before letting go. Small disappointment, but it was alright, he was confident he’d find his hand in hers soon anyway. “How could I forget a woman’s best friend?” Sam calls after her, then lets out another gentle laugh at her questions, shaking his head in response. “I came all this way to see you, Martina, please. All I wanna do is hear your voice— in person, and not through a speaker this time.”

“Okay, I’ll have my lawyer people look over it,” Martina laughs, as if that’s how receiving a suggestion works. “Seriously, Sam, I can’t believe you’re here.” She’ll probably express her wide-eyed disbelief a million times while he’s here, but she can’t help it, because...wow. Even when he’s doing nothing but standing in her corridor, Martina feels like the luckiest girl in the world. “Blue goes with everything, right? Mamma said she didn’t want her house looking like Tiffany threw up everywhere, which, first of all rude, and, second of all, who doesn’t want to live in a Tiffany store?” Martina giggles. “She’s not that all scary once you get down to her.” They both survived the worst that people could get at Gallagher, and Martina thought that her mother didn’t compare to those horror. Having her mother’s unconditional love definitely helped with that, though, and it’s something totally attainable for Sam if Martina didn’t ruin chances by doing what she does best: putting her foot in her mouth. “It’ll stay between you, Alice, and me, okay?” Martina beams. “You’re totally right, but am I wrong for being impressed? Um, I’ll run to bring her down, or....” she drifts off, gaze climbing up the curling staircase. “You could come up. But I totally understand if you don’t want to, you’re tired and everything, but, um — options!” Is it weird that she’s inviting him to her room and he’ll see, like, where she sleeps? She tries to remember if she left her room a mess. “I want whatever you want, soooo, I’ll talk and talk and talk and talk, just for you. My only rule is that you have to answer my questions, Sam! Starting off with how long you’re staying!” Martina nearly bounces on her feet with each syllable, but she needs to know how long they have together.

#martina x sam #:)

[saintswrite]

ofwaterships​:

Every bit of anxious planning and impatient nerves are worth this reaction, he thinks, drinking up the feeling he gets at her wondrous eyes, that look so full of amazement and awe that he thinks he might do anything in the world to keep her smiling like that. It’s a dangerous thought when he remembers that he’s not by her side the way he really wants to be, but friends can also do a lot for each other, can’t they? Besides, part of the reason he’s here is to make it clear to the both of them that he does want to be by her side. Her voice in his ear makes his chest tighten and then melt again, and it reminds Sam that no matter what, a friend like Martina is already such a blessing. He just can’t help it if this friend also takes up so many of his thoughts day in and day out. “Hi,” he repeats quietly back, even though he’s already greeted her, maybe because he’s not sure how else to keep going, or he also just can’t believe that they’re really here.

Sam tries to stay grounded to her doorstep, even as her touch trails from his back to his arms, but he just nods along to keep explaining his presence here. “I sure hope so,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head because it really sounds like something he should have earned for being more important in her life, but it had been necessary and he’s endlessly grateful to be on Martina’s mother’s good side anyway. “She can be… intimidating, but most moms are, right? Besides, it’s really obvious she just cares a lot about you,” Sam smiles. Is it weird he’s talking about her mom so much? It’s suddenly entirely too easy to start overthinking this, remembering how crazy all of this is, but he’ll have to endure it. For her. As if on cue, Martina exclaims again the insanity of his being here. “I honestly can’t believe it myself,” he responds, a breathy laugh escaping him as he shakes his head. “It wasn’t even that long, don’t worry, really, I’m fine,” he insists. It’s hard to explain to her out loud that it’s nearly impossible to feel tired in her company when being around her is like being woken by pure morning sunlight. Bright, effervescent, energetic. Her hands find his, linking in between his fingers, and Sam feels his nerves heighten in that moment, only to vanish again, heart laid at ease to feel the warmth of her palms, guiding him into her home with a welcoming smile, and it’s like everything makes sense again. Sam’s smile is wide, breath easy again and eyes soft as he follows in, taking it all in like a museum. “God, your house is… gorgeous,” he mutters as he glances around, and it makes sense that someone as lovely as Martina grew up in a palace, and then his face lights up again as he expectantly asks, “Alice?”

"Yeah, I know,” Martina agrees breezily. “It just means a lot to me. That she likes you.” Mamma’s made some choice comments in the past about Martina’s taste in friends, all of which she tries to brush aside. But she doesn’t feel she’ll have to worry about that with Sam, and the proof is in him gleaming on her doorstep. “Almost as much as I do,” she adds with a widening grin, her eyes crinkling. She’s exaggerating — no one else could come close to size of Martina’s like for Sam. “Mm, does that work?” Martina asks with a lilt of tease, her thumb softly brushing along his hand. “Telling someone who’s already worrying not to worry? Did you eat at all? I have a lavender-scented pillow that I like to squeeze after a long flight, and you’re totally welcome to it.” After pulling him into the archway, Martina pauses to let him admire her home. Pride swells in her chest, and Martina glances around herself, as if she hasn’t lived out some of her fondest childhood memories in this home, as if she’s trying to see it through his eyes. “Watch your step,” she warns as she steps down the single stair in the archway. “You really think so? I helped with some of the redecorating. It’s not blue —” she campaigned hard for it, though! “—but I tried my best.” Having Sam in her home feels surreal, like a wish on a shooting star or blown out candles came true. Martina doesn’t want to let go of his hand, because what if he slips away? But he’s tired, probably, and hungry, so she squeezes his hand before slowly loosening her grip. “Shoes totally optional.” The illuminated expression draws a giggle out of her, pleased by that answer. “You remembered!” Martina cheers. “She’s upstairs, being all shy, but she’s excited to finally meet you. I told her – Wait, how long are you staying? Am I talking too much?”

#martina x sam #chat: martina #let it be known that i shortened it

[saintswrite]

ofwaterships​:

“You were born to keep the world warm,” Sam responds, an assured smile on his face like what he’s saying is simple fact, and he definitely believes that to be true. “I’m just the extremely lucky and mildly selfish idiot who gets to keep you next to me most days,” he finishes, and squeezes her for good measure, relishing in their proximity, beyond grateful that they’ve gotten to spend some of the holiday together. It’s crazy, he thinks, how their relationship had only started this semester, but already they feel such a glaring loss when not around each other. He’s already closer now from the squeeze, but grins wider and leans his face even closer to hers as if prompting her to whisper it, “Tell me.” In the closeness, he has the perfect vantage point to catch her gaze turn even gentler, more earnest, and his goofy smile softens, instantly melting even as perfect flakes of snow fall against her inky black hair, sitting there like stars in her galaxy, Martina the sun. Her words make his own heart squeeze, and god it’s insane to think he can continue to fall more in love with her as he nods in return. “Anything and everything. Together.”

“Isn’t that an awful nice thing to say about yourself, boyfriend?” Martina teases, hoping with equal might that its true — that he’s as kind to himself as he is to her. That’s her boyfriend. Boyfriend. Sam tries to reel her in, but Martina is already shifting her weight to bounce her shoulder off of his. “You? Please. You’ve never been selfish a day in your life, like, ever. You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever known in my entire life,” Martina says confidently, angling her head to meet his eyes so he knows that she’s being so serious right now. “And no one thinks my boyfriend is an idiot.” Her nose wrinkles at the thought, like she’d fight them if they did, though she’s doubtful she can throw a solid punch. Already looking at him, Martina reads Sam’s mind — she’s a Pisces, that’s her thing — and her body immediately awakens without thinking about it, lips pursing to catch his. But he stops, and so does she, despite how badly she wants to close the gap between them. "I didn’t have clearance to go to the meadow,” Martina whispers. Her stillness is intentional as Sam fills her field of vision, dotted with falling crisp snowflakes. “When we met again? I got lost on my way to yoga. And then I...found you where I shouldn’t have been looking.” A smile plays the corners of her lips, and one hand grips Sam’s jacket to keep it on her shoulders while the other reaches to cup one of his shoulders for purchase, brushing her nose against his. “Worth it.”

#im mentally ill im insane #chat: martina #martina x sam

[saintswrite]

mindbottleds​:

“i am sure you could if you tried,” ting says, as an attempt at banter and a joke, hating the way the air around her feels so heavy now. she misses feeling normal in social interactions, and it’s only been a few days. “yes, this looks nice.” with the more heavy duty pins and the both of them holding up the banner, they manage to get it more tightly secured this time, and when she steps down from her own step stool, she’s pleased when the banner stays put. it’s a small victory, but one she needed. “i have been to so many homes of family friends and neighbors who have had to hang this up, and it feels a bit silly that i never considered i would have to do the same someday.”

“It’s perfect.” Martina stands next to Ting, admiring their team effort. “I know. It’s like, you think everyone you love will live forever. And then….” She shakes her head. And then they don’t. She hasn’t been to a funeral since Big Momma’s transcended to whatever happens next, but she carried the grief inside of her like a seed buried in her soul. Over time, it sprouted and blossomed into a beautiful eternal love  that belonged to no one else. Another seed is planted for Ting’s mom, and one day it will be beautiful, too. "I’m so sorry, Ting.” Martina says quietly. Her doe-eyed gaze holds onto the banner for a moment as she imagines Ting’s mother and Big Momma sharing a cloud, or a star, or a castle of glitter, meeting for the first time. “I wish you didn’t have to miss her.”

#me five months later: #i havent done all my replies to u but know that was my goal i love u soooo much1 #*! #canon: martina x ting #chat: martina

[saintswrite]

Haris’s attention breaks from his computer screen for the first time in hours, a tinted glare streaking the lenses of his blue light glasses. His lunch is virtually untouched as his laptop projects his latest failure: a code he couldn’t figure out how the hell to debug. “Huh?” Suddenly aware of the stiffness tightening his spine, Haris cranes his neck, replaying the beat of Ronan’s words in his head. Bad news, good news, too-good-to-be-true news. Holy shit. “My guy, congrats!” Haris straightens his terrible posture and reaches across the table for Ronan for a high five. He never understood the ultra competitiveness that plagued the tech industry. “Lunch is on you,” he jokes. “How big are we talkin’?” His eyebrow hikes up, genuinely happy with this news. “No way, again?” Typical. Ask Haris and he’d swear that he hasn’t seen Ronan spit any game, but all admirers flocked to him. He just guessed they have working eyes. Haris reaches for the receipt, holds it up to the light, and squints at the 10 digits for close inspection. Yep, definitely a phone number. “Bro, you gotta be the world’s best wingman,” he jokes. “But I don’t think I’m her type. When are you gonna shoot your shot?” Haris has an idea why he hasn’t, but he wants to hear it from Ronan himself.

@saintswrite​ | ronan & haris

“don’t say anything,” ronan says as he slides across from haris on his lunch break, referring to the dark circles under his eyes which he can credit to the grand total of three hours of sleep he’d gotten the night before. “unless it’s hey ronan, congrats on your big promotion.” it’s not that big, it’s just slightly more power on approval over various story beats in the game. he glances at the crumpled up receipt next to his lunch and coffee, noticing now that the cashier had written her phone number on it, eyebrows lifting. “that’s for you,” he jokes lightly, pushing it towards his best friend.

#getting a feel of him ALSKDJFALKJ #chat: haris #haris x ronan

[saintswrite]

hqgalpal​:

“I know you are. And I’m thankful that you’re here.” Out of everyone here, Martina was the first to see him at his lowest. And even when he hurt her– twice–, she still stayed at his side. He couldn’t tell if it was the power of love or friendship that was keeping her tied to him like this, whichever it was, he was grateful for it. “I’m not entirely sure,” P.J. answered. “I mean, it’s not like I wanted to come to spy school in the first place.” Twice, twice he had to follow along to his father’s desire because of what happened to Ruby. It angered him years ago but now… now he wasn’t too sure. Because while attending both spy schools in New Mexico and Virginia, P.J. was given the opportunity to meet some amazing people. And one of them was sitting in this very room, looking up at him as if he meant everything to her. And in a way, she meant everything to him too, he just wasn’t sure if their definitions of “everything” were the same.  “Maybe I’ll become a spy in the future, maybe I’ll become President of the United States. I don’t really know.” 

“Why wouldn’t you be? I’m literally a delight,” she jokes with a fluttery roll of her eyes that she hopes is just the right pinch of flirty. Martina leans in to listen, elbows digging into the cot as her weight presses her just a little closer. Her dreamy expression slips, PJ strumming a different chord than the heartstring he usually tugs on. She thought it was just her, but she was never allowed to have a future without Gallagher. She wonders where she would have picked to go if Big Momma asked her what she wanted, where PJ would have picked, if they would have picked the same place and had met there. No other place in the world appeals to her right now, because none of them have PJ. “You can be anything you want,” Martina hums. "The universe gives you whatever you want when you’re the full package, and you fit the bill.” Smart, talented, handsome, charismatic, a good heart. There was nothing that PJ couldn’t do. “Whenever you figure whatever your heart wants, whatever you want to be, you’ll always be a hero to me. No take-backs.” She smiles, too soft to be triumphant. Honestly, Martina likes the ring of President PJ — the alliteration supports her point, it’s very superhero-like. She imagines President PJ in a Tom Ford suit, chilling with his feet on the desk in the oval office, then on a special edition of People Magazine — Sexiest President Alive. Her lips quiver with a suppressed giggle at her own vivid imagination. “Hey, but if you’re president one day, can your first law make plaid illegal? Please? For me?”

#martina x pj #it is truly so fitting you got my first reply of the year lKSDJALJF #chat: martina

[saintswrite]

hqgalpal​:

What did he know? A lot of things actually. Sleep, his arm to heal, to leave Gallagher and go to Oxford– okay, that was more of a want than a need. But it was a necessity and priority for him, so that was enough… right? “No, I’m fine,” he said, turning slightly to watch her look through the cabinets and drawers. “Seriously, Mars, you don’t have to do anything for me. I’m fine.” No matter how many times he said that out loud he still didn’t feel fine. Silence filled the space after her question, P.J. letting it sit with him before he said anything. Did he at least feel like a spy after that? “Yeah,” P.J. answered, surprised by the words that fell from his mouth. “Yeah, I did feel like one. Despite how… how scared I was, I felt like a true spy in that moment.” 

Martina eyes him apprehensively. She didn’t understand him, but she knew him well-enough by now to know that he wouldn’t change his mind if she kept fussing. But that wouldn’t stop her from waiting, quietly. “I know. I want....” To do anything for you. She bites down on that, swallows it, lets it dissolve like eating a handful of pop rocks. One final sniff and the used tissue is tossed into the green recycling bin. She reappears at PJ’s bedside, instinctually giving one of his pillows a fluff. “I’m here. If any of that changes,” she says gently. Until he falls asleep or he wants her to leave, both of which she selfishly hopes aren’t soon. “You don’t always have to be fine with me. In case you forgot.” Martina searches his face for a moment, pulling her elbows onto the bed to carry her chin. Dreaminess clouds her eyes. “Do you still want to do this forever?”

#surprise #martina x pj #chat: martina

[saintswrite]

hqgalpal​:

Finally, she was smiling ( while crying because he chose to ignore that ). P.J. felt like he had accomplished something big, though, it was always a big thing if he got her to smile. He almost let go of her hand to wipe away her tears, though because of his hesitation, Martina had did it herself. Maybe that was for the best. “Yeah, I’m happy that I’m okay too.” The fears from that night was still eating away at him, he trying his best to not think about them. Not with another person in the room, especially not Martina. She has already seen him at his lowest and in turn, he hurt her. He can’t do that again. “Uh, check the cabinets. Maybe there’s something in there.” 

Martina feels every bone in her hand ( which is, like, kind of gross! ) as she reluctantly pulls herself from PJ. “Do you need anything?” Martina sniffed. The brief crying spell reddened her nose and the rings under her eyes. Without a mirror, she knows she either looks stoned or like a panda. She’s not at her lowest but she’s definitely not at her best right now. She moves to the cabinets, shifting some things around. There’s bandages stored in there, probably for a nurse, and she wants to sob all over again. “How...” Martina plucks a tissue out of the box and dabs her eyes. A few swipes and PJ’s in high definition again. “Do...do you feel like a spy, at least?”

#hs au watching me progress the other threads #this isn't good but #chat: martina #martina x pj

[saintswrite]

hqgalpal​:

“Three steps sounds perfect.” He should be able to keep that up and hopefully for a long time. “I’m entrusting you with all of this, Martina. You tell me the steps, the brands to buy, whatever. I’ll do it.” His face was after all his best asset. While he was more than a pretty face, it was the first thing that many saw when it came to him. So of course he had to take care of it, not to achieve eternal youth. But to always remain handsome. 

“This?” Them getting pizza together with his son? “No, it’s not. Just two… old friends meeting up after so long.” He wouldn’t have done this with his other employees, especially not a body guard unless he was meeting someone important. Wait, was this weird then? Maybe Martina was trying to hint at the weirdness of this, of course, not like they were close anymore. That was his fault anyways. “But if you’re uncomfortable because of this, you’re more than welcome to leave.” Alexander, who was quiet for most of the conversation, made a sound of confusion, though Shuo simply ignored it. He didn’t have the chance to say anything else as the waiter appeared, ready to take their order. “Oh, um, can we have–” 

“Pizza with broccoli on it!” Alexander shouted, hands slamming down on the table as he looked at the waiter first and then Martina. “Because that’s what you like, right? We can share it.” 

"Have I ever let you down?” Martina asks with good humor, already formulating a routine for him to start. Silly as it sounds, a small part of her is delighted that he’s taking her skincare suggestions so seriously. He is also taking her seriously, even if it’s about something frivolous. “You’ll have a youthful glow in no time,” she teases, but, again, she doesn’t think he needs it. He glows all on his own.

His words settle at the bottom of her stomach. “Old friends,” she affirms with a nod. They haven’t been friends in some time, longer than PJ’s absence was thought to be permanent in her life. She remembered seeing him and feeling her heart turn in her chest, world paling because the sight of him was so vivid. To Martina, they weren’t friends from that moment on. But she supposed how she felt never mattered much to PJ, did it? “No,” she responds too quickly, shaking her head emphatically. “No, it’s not that. I wanted to know what you are to me.” Your boss, Tina. Obviously. “Right now, so I would know what to call you.” A beat. “PJ.”

The waiter rescues her from returning the question and asking if he’s uncomfortable with her being there, of friendship that only tells half of the story. “Hm?” Martina blinks, drawn from her stupor at the open, impressionable of the adorable Alexander. Even as her heart recalls old aches she can’t help but smile. “Yes, yes, that’s how I like it. One large pizza for us to share. Oh, with broccoli and carrots.” Her features sharpen slightly as she turns to PJ. “Shuo?”

#martina x pj #chat: martina #when i dm you something cursed i had to do to write this LSAJFALJ

[saintswrite]

ofwaterships​:

There is just no other possible response to seeing her stand before him now than to smile like an idiot, chest filling with the sweet feeling of his longing for her, the sun beaming down on them somehow dimming in comparison to her bright eyes. He’s spent plenty of these summer days with that golden thrum of happiness beating in his heart, even from just seeing her face through a screen, from hearing her wind-chime timbre through the speaker of his phone. But it’s an entirely different feeling when Martina is here, now, real. Sam thinks briefly of how there’s a timeline out there where she’d chosen not to return to Gallagher, where he’d have to have lived most of his days without her there, relying mostly on calls and letters and visits. Every bone in his body thanks the heavens above them that that isn’t his reality now, because as much joy as she delivers him in those smaller shared moments, nothing will ever beat the real thing.

His grin is wide, eyes crinkling in unison too, and then she says his name and any trace of nerves or fatigue melts away, but all he can say is, “Hi,” like the love-sick fool he is. His first instinct is to reach for her poor phone, but when her arms start to reach for him, Sam’s body quickly shifts momentum to instead open both of his own arms to her, and just like that, he’s holding her tight against him, every bit of excitement and joy squeezing her in return. Sometimes when he’s with her, Sam thinks nothing matters more to him than what he can do for her. Of course he’d catch her.

“Surprise,” he says, voice muffled against her hair, loathe to let go, and there’s no hiding the elation that slips into his words and laughter that gets carried through the breeze. “I couldn’t really wait until the school year started to get to see you again, and I knew we both had some time this summer, so I figured… I’d get myself to Florida,” Sam explains still smiling, reluctantly releasing her but still holding her shoulders under an arm’s length away. “Oh, and I talked to your mom about it,” he assures her, chuckling. “All above board here, don’t worry.”

A new feeling emerges when she effortlessly falls into Sam. One that’s airy and golden like a breeze threaded with sunlight blowing the door leading to her heart open. He immediately latches onto her and she laughs as they squeeze each other, Martina gently trailing her palms along the space between his shoulder blades. “Hi,” she breathes, and she wonders if he can feel her smile plump her cheeks. There is no room inside her body for self-consciousness, all of the space occupied by the shape of Sam and the wave of good feelings that he brought with him. He didn’t have to be by her side to fill her up, but Martina decided that it’s, like, way better when she can drink in his physical presence, inhale the boyish citrus scent that mists the outline of his skin.

"How even...” Martina begins, the question shaping her features before she utters a word. As if he catches it, Sam explains why he’s an arm’s length away, why her hands are able to trail down to rest on top of his aforementioned arms. The story blooms slowly, each sentence bonding with the next, as Martina stares with her mouth slightly agape. He’s actually here. He actually flew here, to Florida. To see her. “You have Mamma’s seal of approval?” she laughs, more endeared than nervous. It doesn’t surprise her in the slightest that Sam won Mamma over, though Mamma never let her have any boys over before. Still didn’t, she guessed, since Sam wasn’t just any boy.  “Lucky you, my mamma can be...well, you met her. She’s the amazing person on the planet but, very...particular,” Martina says, almost apologetic, before she perks again. “It’s her je ne sais quoi.” Oh boy, fingers crossed that Mamma didn’t tell Sam anything embarrassing about her. “Wow, you really thought of everything. Can you believe that you’re here? Like, this is the best surprise ever!” The feel of him under her fingers eclipsed any surprises of the past that could have competed with this moment. “How long was the flight, you must be so tired — come in.” Her hands finally find both of his, lifting them off of her shoulders so she can lace their fingers together, walking backwards to pull him across the threshold while her phone watches forlornly from a patch of grass. “You have to meet the lady of the house.”

#we deserved the serotonin part 2 #chat: martina #martina x sam #idk if i cut this and i won't ask