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heshoes · 3 years

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Uni Daze

She was his best friend and they shared everything together already anyway. What difference would it make if it were a hat, shampoo, or the same bed sometimes? So what? That's what the Uni Daze were about, having fun, traditions, getting serious, new relationships, friendships, heart ache, break-ups, make ups, secrets, the occasional/casual bajingo here and there, and possibly, just maybe, finding the love of your life and hoping that it all works out.

Warnings: Slow burn, smut, angst, mentions of abortion, mentions of verbal abuse

Pairing: Harry Styles x OFC ( face claim Zendaya)

Uni Daze Masterlist

Chapter 4 (word count 11.2k)

Harry

Usually a busy day keeps me grounded and out of any possible trouble that Michelle could help get me into, but today was different. It seems like whenever there was something toolook forward to, the day seems to drag and the minute and second hands on the clock move at a non existent pace. Any other day I would almost dread going to work the front desk in the first year halls though I know it had to be done. Today, however, I looked at it as four hours that I could use to talk to Rion.

There was a two hour gap in my time frame today due to a professor sending out a bullshit email telling us the reasons as to why his class was cancelled. He was one of the youngest professors at the university with a track record of hanging out with his student's. But what he did behind the closed doors with Lumen, the girl who lived down the hall from Michelle and I was none of my business.

After I'd taken the spare time to shower, change clothes, and read a chapter and a half ahead in my anatomy text I found myself antsy and ready to go to work, much to Michelle's amusement.

"Just sit down. You have twenty minutes left yet. Did you not have some kind of I'm an important person meeting that you could have went to? Or any equations that you could crack in hopes to surpass both Galileo and Einstein combined? Over achiever."

"Michelle, your grade mark average has been higher than mine since birth and I'm older than you."

“True. But I just don't put as much effort into it as you do."

"That's what makes it all the more annoying. No, I don't have any meetings lined up for senior class. You could be a part of it you know. All you have to do is come to a meeting."

"I'll pass on that. Thanks."

"It looks good on job applications."

"And so does First Class Honors at an Ivy League Uni." Michelle spoke, paying little attention to me as she smiled down at her phone. Ten minutes had passed before I stood from the couch, drawing Michelle's attention again. She smirked at me while shaking her head.

"I'm gonna walk. It's a nice night out, plus if I work a little earlier I get paid more and that doesn't hurt."

"No, I'm sure it doesn't. Especially if you're not really in it for the money in the first place, Hershey. Ask her out today, yeah?"

"I just enjoy talking to her. I don't want to ask her out. It's too soon. It's cliche."

"Says the man who was turned down once and then gave up completely. You don't have to date her Harrow, but stop lying to yourself. It gets you nowhere fast. Ask her to the party."

****

The walk to the first year halls was quicker than I expected. I wasn't sure if it was due to the distraction of the scenery change or my pace, but a fifteen minute stroll was cut down to one that only took ten. When I walked into the double doors I saw her again, seated at the front desk with her eyes focused on the pages of her book taking in each word with a lazy grin on her face.

“Hi Rion. How are you?" I asked somewhat loud, causing her to jump. "Sorry didn't mean to scare you."

“No, it’s fine. I didn't see you walking up. I should pay better attention sitting here. Sometimes I just get so engrossed in the words that I forget what's going on around me. How are you this evening?"

I grinned at her before running a hand through my hair and taking the hair tie that I'd stolen from Michelle off of my wrist before pulling it halfway up.

"I'm alright, but I think I asked you a question first.” Rion looked down at her half way finished novel that she had barely scratched the surface of on Monday and then smiled up at me as I made my way around the desk, taking the seat next to hers.

"I'm doing quite well actually. I have no real complaints." Her face dropped.

"That face that you're making is telling me that the last thing that you said was a lie. Clearly."

"Well..."

"Go on. Say it." I grinned while pushing my chair back and resting my feet on the shelf of the desk in front of us.

"My flatmate."

"Yeah?"

"She had company last night.” Rion's voice lowered to a whisper and her cheeks twinged the lightest shade of pink.

"And?"

"And they were very...loud. I didn't get much sleep and every time I had time between classes and I went back to my dorm to take a nap I would always oversleep. I could swear I was late to almost every class today, but my professors were kind of understanding. They all cut me a break because I'm new." Rion rested her head in her hands before she began to shake it back and forth. "I mean I don't want to be that girl who switches dorm flats because their flatmate makes them uncomfortable. She's a really nice girl you know?"

"Uh-huh." I chuckled. I didn't mean to laugh at her misfortune and bad day, but she looked so distressed while explaining it all. No wonder she was rushing about today.

"But I can't risk being late to class, or miss classes because her and her girlfriend insist on having loud goes at each other. My parents had to pay so much for tuition here and I'm working at least three jobs to pay the loans I've taken out myself."

"Yeah that's-Wait what did you say?"

"I said I'm working three jobs to pay off loans and my parents for school and-"

"Wait, no. Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off, but what did you say before that?"

"My flatmate and her girlfriend have loud goes at each other."

"Your flatmate is a girl?"

"Yes." Rion tilted her head, looking at me as if I'd lost it. When you live on campus, the dorms are usually co-ed, but the actual rooms aren't.

"And you said she had a girlfriend?" It wouldn't be her. It can't be.

"Yes she's a les-"

"Lesbian."

"Yeah. And it's not that, that makes me uncomfortable. I believe love is love no matter who you find it with. It's just that they were so loud and I think sex is a very private and sacred thing… And I mean it was so disrespectful because Alison knows that I have to be up so early for my first class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday but she was— they were both...and then there was this buzzing sound. I think toys were involved."

I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it. The mix of the story, the situation, and the toys made it too good to be true. Rion pouted, but I could still see a trace of a smile on her lips.

“Sorry. It's not funny. You were just making a funny face. Did you say your flatmate's name was Alison?"

"Yeah. Do you know her?"

"No." It's really not a lie. I don't know her.

"Oh. She's a really sweet girl, but I need sleep."

"You do. Three jobs is a lot to juggle. It makes me feel like I'm not doing enough."

"You do though. You work, you have more classes than I do, and you're president of senior class. We both are tackling a lot…But, I can't help but feel like something is missing from the equation for the both of us. I just can't quite put my finger on it."

“Yeah, me either. Do you know Alison's girlfriend. Have you seen her?" I don't know why I'm hoping that there's a chance that this Alison is playing the same game that Michelle is or that it's a completely different girl.

"No. I'm sure that she said it at some point last night, but I put my earphones in to try and muffle the sound as much as possible." Rion sighed as she turned around to face the desk again, looking back down at her book.

"It kind of sounds like you need an escape." I say, hoping that she would turn back around to face me.

“It's only the start of the year. Usually I'd be fine, but I'm already tired. Cambridge comes with a price, but I'm more than willing to pay it. A get away sounds good."

"Well, there's this party on Saturday that practically the whole school contributes in. I've even seen some professors there, the younger ones at least."

"Really? At a school like this?"

"Rion, Cambridge may seem mysterious, with all of its prestige, low acceptance rates, and student's who attend with big brains, but it’s a university first. Parties exist here and because we're not supposed to be considered a school known for parties, they exist a little bit more than your regular university. We just keep it a secret. You should come."

"I'm not really that much of a partier. The last one I went to was after I finished all of my GCSE. I was talking to this boy that I liked and I'd never really drank that much, but I was with my friends and peer pressure and all... It just didn't end well."

"Let me guess. You threw up on him?"

"No... I— I can't! I can't tell you it was so embarrassing!" Rion laughed covering her mouth before she stood up to help a first year out. I swear its only Wednesday and more than a fourth of the first years who live in this building have already lost their keys. I'm sure that after the party on Saturday and the excessive drinking that's going to take place there's going to be a line outside the door for key replacements.

Chelle: I'm so bored so I'm gonna clean the apartment. Starting in the living space, then your room, then mine. Anything that might stick to my fingers if I touch it this time? 😜😷

To Chelle: Don't clean my room! It's already clean! And please don't tell me you touched anything in my bin?😨😳

Chelle: I haven't, but I assume the worst. And I may or may not have changed your name in my phone to Mr. Tissue. I will never let you live that down.

To Chelle: Call one of your bitches and leave my shit alone, pimp daddy. I'm buying a lock for my door.🔒

Chelle: 😼Bitches? What good will a lock do when I'll have the spare? 🔐👀

To Chelle: We'll discuss this when I get home. I’m Busy. 🗣DO NOT TOUCH MY SHIT!

"You alright?" Rion asked pulling me out of my text war with Mitchell.

"Oh, yeah. Just texting my flat mate."

"Mitch, right?"

"Yeah," I snickered, shaking my head while thinking about the well being of my things, "So are you going to tell me what happened when you were at this party years and years ago talking to the boy you liked?"

"Ugh, no I can't. I absolutely can't embarrass myself that much again. It would be like reliving it."

"I'll tell you one of mine. My most embarrassing, but you've got to tell me yours first.” Rion hid her head in her hands peeking out at me between her fingers and laughing.

"Fine. But please don't judge me. It was my first time being drunk. Promise?"

"I promise that I might not be able to not laugh and I won't judge you but tease you for it later."Rion squinted her eyes at me processing what I said before she turned around facing away from me in her swivel chair. I heard her take a deep breath before she started.

"I'd never been drunk before and we were at this party because everyone finished their GCSE. We weren't really old enough to drink-"

"No shit?"

"Don't interrupt," she laughed dragging out the words, "All of the toilets were taken in the house so I was waiting outside of this one when Flynn came up to talk to me-"

I laughed out loud for the third time today and the story wasn't even over. "His name was Flynn?"

"Yes. He was very cute! Let me finish!"

"Okay, soz."

"So we were talking and I was really drunk and I really had to go and....I peed! Don't laugh! You said you wouldn't judge me!” Laughing was an understatement. My stomach hurt and my eyes started to water.

"You pissed yourself?!"

"I didn't talk to anyone for a week, even my best friend for letting me get that drunk."

"Why didn't you go wee outside?"

"Well it's so easy for boys to do that isn't it? You can just whip it out, shake it off, and put it away. Girls have layers that they have to get through, and I'm a lady."

"A lady who wet herself."

"And what's your story?"

"And it appears that we're out of time."

"Oh no you don't!" She laughed wiping the corner of her eye and pouting, "You promised!"

"Alright I guess. I was out with one of my friends and his parents had just gotten divorced so he was living with his mum at the time. We'd went to a bar and I'd gotten so drunk that I forgot where I was-"

"That's it?"

"No, I wish it was but no. We went back to his place because my mum doesn't like me drinking and I didn't want to hear her nag. But when I got back to his place, I started stripping off."

"You didn't!"

"I did. I took off everything.... Everything. My friends mum was at work at the time but when she came home the next morning I was ass naked in her hallway sleeping on the floor...on my back...and it was morning...My friend had went in his room and closed the door. But, now every time I come home to visit him and his mum is there she winks at me and pinches my bum."

Rion was in tears the same way that I was a few minutes ago and I didn't even care that the story was embarrassing, because her laugh was as cute as she was. I looked at my phone to check the time and our shift would be over in five minutes. Any other day time would have dragged on, but it always seems when I'm here with her it goes by a little faster.

"I can't believe that." Rion spoke while wiping her eyes again.

"Well believe it, because it happens every time. Makes for a good story though." We both started to gather our things to leave but before we left the building, Rion tore a sheet of paper from her notebook and began to write on it.

"Here. Um, that's my number. I don't know about the party just yet because I have to check my work schedules and everything else, but I don't know. Just text me sometime before then?"

"Sure. I mean yeah of course I will.”

Rion grinned at me while biting her bottom lip before walking away and the walk home that usually took fifteen minutes now felt as if it only took five.

****

I closed the door behind me with an exhaled breath and a smile on my face before inhaling the scent of pine and citrus. Michelle poked her head out into the hallway that led to the door where I stood before she stepped out of the kitchen fully wearing pink rubber gloves, a pair of my favorite Green Bay sweats, and a t-shirt that also happened to be mine.

“Honey, I'm home."

"Bitches?"

"Excuse me?" I looked at my best mate confused as she crossed her arms across her chest after removing the gloves from her hands, tilting her head to the side as she spoke again.

"You said I have bitches, Styles. Apparently there's more to discuss."

I walked away from the door removing my work shirt and tossing it at Michelle. She tried to move out of the way and dodge the laundry that I'd threw at her but it still landed on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, causing it to land on the floor before shouting at me.

"I've just cleaned this entire apartment and you come in here making a mess! Pick it up and take it to you're room you quadruple nippled fuck."

"Girls don't mind my bonus nipples. It even sometimes becomes interesting foreplay, when I was having sex that is."

"Gross!"

I laugh and duck when she launches the shirt back to me causing it to land in in a pile on the kitchen floor. We both look at it and step over it before I grab two beers out of the refrigerator, one for myself and one for Chelle.When I try to hand her the beverage, she frowns at the twist off cap and then pouts at me causing me to scowl before I open it for her.

"You're so useless sometimes, Chelle."

"Says the man who doesn't clean, yet looks around at a spotless household that smells of cinnamon. I wonder who did that? Ah, it must have been the useless one. Now," Michelle spoke before clicking the neck of her beer with mine and then taking a sip, "What's this about my bitches?"

I chuckled as I took a gulp of my drink and headed for the living-room with Michelle close behind. We sat on the couch on on opposite ends of each other, relaxing after a long day as we usually do.

"Maybe not bitches in the plural sense. Maybe there's just one?"

Michelle stretched out on the couch putting her mitch-matched sock clad feet on my lap, drawing a displeased look from me but ignoring it entirely as she dramatically massaged her temples with her free hand.

"I can't deal with your game of clue today. The chemicals from the cleaning made my brain go fuzzy and I don't think the beer is helping. Just tell me what you think you know so I can tell you that you're wrong as usual."

I smiled at her, placing my half finished beer bottle on the table in front of us and then began massaging her calves causing her to close her eyes and hum in appreciation before taking another swig of her drink.

"Alison."

Michelle opened one of her eyes before quickly closing it again.

"What about her?"

"Was she a part of your plans B and C last night? Because something or someone tells me that she may have been." Michelle's eyes snapped open and she looked at me in shock. "It's okay if you like her. You can't help who you like."

"I don't like anyone," Michelle looked down briefly at her lap as she shrugged off my discovery. If I've learned anything about her from being her friend its that when she fails to make eye contact, she's lying. "Gianna stood me up last night and Alison was my backup plan. It's simple. I got what I wanted and left in the morning before she even woke up."

"Okay," I smirked at her before picking up my beer again, finishing what was left of it.

"I'm serious. I don't like anyone. I don't feel anything for anyone anymore. Senior year, up the ante, remember? I barely like you."

"Alright," I chuckled before pushing her legs off of me, returning to the kitchen to grab another drink.

"Harry!"

"I believe you, I believe you. You you're an emotionless drone," I spoke as I opened the refrigerator, "We need to go to the grocery store. This is getting ridiculous. We don't have anything in here besides beer, fizzy drinks, and water."

"There are plenty of noodle cups in the cabinet. We'll just tell people we're on an all liquid diet if we ever get visitors. We're not done talking about the other thing. Stop changing the subject. How did you even know I was at Alison's last night?"

I closed the door to the refrigerator with a smirk on my face walking past Michelle to go back into the living room. She followed behind me while lighting a candle that smells like oranges to keep the citrus scent going.

"Well? Come on Har. I don't want to have to chase you around the apartment all day for answers."

"Make me a noodle cup and bring me a bottle of water and I'll tell you."

"You were just in the kitchen!" Michelle speaks as she throws her lighter at me but does what I ask.

When she gets back, she hands me a fork and places the bottle of water on the table in front of me. I smile at her as a thank you before I speak.

"Rion."

"What?"

"Small world right? Or, small campus? Rion, is Alison's flatmate and she kind of, she heard you two last night. I mean, unless that wasn't you and there's another girl named Alison on campus? She said you guys kept her up because you both were too loud."

"There very well could be another Alison, Harry. It's not like there are only four lesbians that exist on earth. But Rion? The girl that you work with? The one that you have the hots in the pants for, Rion?"

"Yes and I don't just like her that way."

"Hm. Of course you do, you've only known her for three days..."

"What, hm? What do you have to say about her?"

"Oh, nothing except Alison calls her prudence. She says she's a real goody good and she's annoying."

"Thats sad," I say as I finish all that I was going to of my noodles leaving the rest for Michelle to eat. She takes the cup from my hands and takes a bite while looking at me to finish what I was going to say, "Rion says Alison's really nice and sweet."

“Well, I don't know. Rion may very well be Princess Peach. You know I don't do girly gossip. It gets on my last nerve. Alison just feels the need to talk to me when I'm there and its like shut the fuck up, girl. I didn't come over here to hear you talk, now get between my legs and-"

"Woah! Okay, and Mitchel is back. How are ya bro? I haven't really seen you in a few days."

"Fuck off Harry." Michelle laughs. "I hear the sordid details of you and the lads sexcapades all the time...well not you so much now, but you know what I was getting at."

"Yeah but, it's kind of different..."

"How?" Chelle quirked an eyebrow and turned her head looking to me for an answer that I'm not sure that I wanted to give her.

"Well, because... I um... and it's just that sometimes-"

"Wait! Harry you pervert! You get turned on by it don't you? It gives you a stiffy?"

"No!"

"Yes! Yes it does! You're turning all red!"

“No it doesn’t, Michelle!"

"Then what's your valid reason?"

I couldn't think of a lie fast enough and Michelle started to laugh, nasty snort and all. I took a pillow from the couch and threw it at her, making her fall backwards on the floor and stay there, using the pillow to her advantage as she lied down on the throw rug that covered the majority of the hardwood flooring in the living room. Our apartment was pretty nice considering that it was still school property, then again we did luck out putting in our bid in order to get into the newer buildings.

"Okay Hersh, I'll keep my dirty details to a minimum for the sake of your tight trousers. I can only imagine that, that gets uncomfortable. Anyway, did you ask prudence- sorry, Rion, to the party this weekend?"

"I did." I smile as I think about the neatly folded piece of paper in my pocket with her number written across it.

"What did she say?" Michelle looks up at me from her place on the floor.

"She said that she's not really that much of a party person." I smiled again a bit harder than I had before.

"So she's not going and she turned you down again? Maybe she is a prude. Don't worry about it Harry, there are plenty of other girls out here on campus just as smart, if not smarter than she is, prettier, and who will appreciate you for- What are you smiling about? Why are you so giddy from being turned down twice?"

I chuckled to myself while shaking my head and standing from my place on the couch, stretching before going towards my room.

"I didn't necessarily get turned down."

I could hear Michelle's footsteps close behind me as I walked into my room. She'd been in here. I can tell not only because of the clothes that she wore to clean that were mine, but because I could still faintly smell her perfume. Nothing was on the floor anymore and she even made my bed. I looked around the room and then back at her before I sat, grabbing one of the neatly placed pillows to put under my head, then lied back on it with my legs hanging over the edge of the mattress.

"Before you say anything, you'll be able to find your things. I just put everything where it’s supposed to normally go."

"I wasn't going to say anything besides thank you. I'm still buying a lock for my door, but thank you."

Michelle rolled her eyes. Something she calls a brainless trait. When she catches herself she covers her face in embarrassment before she continues to bother me, taking a seat next to me on the bed. "So how is Rion's telling you that she's not a party girl, not necessarily turning you down?"

"She gave me her number. You know, for someone who doesn't like to hang out with girls you surely do a lot of girly gossip. You're so nosey, Jesus."

"Oh please, Harrow. You wanted to tell me just as bad if not worse than I wanted to know. Are you going to call her tonight?"

“No. That's too forward and desperate. I'll text her tomorrow or something."

"You're such a teenaged girl. You think about things too much instead of just doing them. Sometimes I wonder if you have a bajingo where your penis should be. If she gave you her number its because she wants a call.”

"Go fuck off somewhere else Mitchel! And by the way, those joggers and that shirt are mine. Thief."

Michelle stood from the bed with a smirk on her face before she took off my shirt and my sweats, folding them precisely before she put them in my washing basket. I kept my eyes on her face when she looked back at me and I swear that I tried to keep my eyes on her face the entire time, but I would be lying if I said that my eyes didn't roam over her smooth skin when she wasn't looking at me. I closed my eyes quickly and turned my head away. Hearing her laugh was the only evidence that I had to let me know that she was still standing in my room.

"I didn't say take off my clothes right now. God, Chelle don't be so literal. Go dress yourself!"

"I have on underwear! And you took off your shirt when you came through the door. AND I've seen you walk around in your boxers plenty. Is there some sort of double standard because I'm a woman?”

"That's not the point! And yes there is! Please go put on trousers and a shirt?"

“Whatever, Harry. I'm going to bed. Clearly I'll have to sleep this way because it's hot as hell fire in my room. It's a shame that this is a new building but they still didn't bother to make sure that the ventilation was right before they stuck people in it. Good night and all that."

"Night." I looked towards Chelle and then looked away again as she began to walk out of my room, her nicely rounded bum bounced as she closed the door behind her.

****

Saturday came quickly. Too quickly for my liking, and I hadn't text Rion or called her at all. I didn't want to seem desperate, but perhaps waiting three days made it seem like I wasn't interested? I hadn't seen her at work for the past two days because she has two other jobs to juggle. I'd hoped that she could get off for today, however, even though I haven't said a word to her.

"Just call her. Stop being a chicken shit. The party is tonight, and I'm rooting for you, Styles." Michelle spoke as we walked down the aisles of Sainsbury Supermarket. We'd been here for nearly half an hour and had nothing in our cart except beer, noodle cups, frozen pizza's and a bottle of Goldschläger for tonight. Broke college students can afford alcohol when they can't afford anything else.

"Are we going to buy any real food, or is this about as good as it gets?" I asked, ignoring Michelle's comment.

"What? We've got plenty. Plus I think there are chicken nuggets in there and that's a delicacy for us. Don't avoid what I've said to you."

"I haven't avoided anything, and we would be able to get more than chicken nuggets and noodles if you would just call your parents."

Michelle hesitated before she looked back at me and then back down at her list. She doesn't call her parents much to ask for money if she can avoid it. Her mum isn't doing so well health wise and to the best of my knowledge she hasn't been for some years now. The doctors thought that she had leukemia, but apparently they've only just discovered that's not the case. I think it's what drives Michelle's dream to become a doctor. She's eager to find out what's going on with her mum so that she can be the one to cure it.

She glanced at her phone having an internal battle with herself on whether she should ring home or not. I felt bad for asking her and I normally wouldn't, but I'm running low on funds myself. I usually get a stipend every other week from my mum and paid every other Friday from my shitty job, but unfortunately I'm between pay checks and for some reason my mum is late.

Michelle decided against my idea putting her phone back in her pocket.

"We're in our last year of uni. What would it look like if we resorted to calling our parents to wire us food money? You call yours if you're so hungry."

"It would look like we're both working shit jobs barely making wage and paying to rent out the apartment that we have so that we can finish out this last year with a roof over our heads. I wouldn't ask you to usually, but is an emergency. I asked my parents last time. It's your turn."

“Well, we can just get rid of something then if we don't have enough." Michelle stopped the cart and began to sift through the contents inside it, moving over ten cups of noodles out of the way and the one bag of chicken nuggets that we had. When her hand landed on the alcohol, we both looked at each other and shook our heads no. "Fuck," Michelle groaned under her breath, "Fine I'll ask my parents tomorrow. Let’s just get this for now and get out of here."

When we left the grocery store, after loading all four of our bags into my car, Michelle got quiet while looking out the window. I still hadn't told her that Louis is planning on meeting up with me and the lads to drink before we go just to prove that he's not one of those people and usually, now days anyway, wherever Louis is Michelle is far away and vice versa. I figure that there's no better time to tell her rather than now while she's quiet, but at the same time I don't want to hurt her feelings. She seemed lost in thought, but there's still a smile on her face.

I cleared my throat causing her to look at me quizzically with an eyebrow raised.

"Um, so.."

"Yes?"

"About the party tonigh-"

"No you don't!" Michelle cut in not allowing me to finish what I was going to say as we pulled up to our apartment. "You're not cutting out of this. Gosh, Harry, I know that you want to be more serious and that this year and I'm sorry for not using the Ultimate Alarm the other day when you were in an alcoholic hibernation, but it's a Saturday. Can you not have fun on Saturdays?" Michelle frowned pouting a bit.

"I'm going to the party, if that's what that speech was pertaining to at all? I wasn't going to say that I'm not going."

"Oh. Well then by all means continue." She smiled this time, happy with herself because she didn't have to argue her case any further.

"Yeah, I um, I'm going to the party, but Louis wanted me and the lads to meet up with him before we go. Pre-gaming and all that." I spoke quickly hoping that she didn't mind or hear what I said for that matter. Her eyes stayed straight forward, looking outside the windshield before she replied.

"All of you?"

"Yeah. He kind of asked about it earlier this week when I saw him...But you know we'll hang out at the party and stuff."

She nodded her head. It was the only response she'd given as her eyes stayed on the boot of the car in front of us.

"Are you alright with it? I can always-"

"Don't worry about it, Harrow. You were his friends first after all, and we live with each other. I'm tired of seeing your ugly mug anyway." Michelle laughed while patting my cheek and I shoved her hand off of me. "Plus, we all know I have bitches that I need to tend to so it's fine."

She covers up how she truly feels with a joke and all of a sudden I feel guilty.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah it's fine. You're very much a pleaser, Harrow. Did you know that?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked as I parked the car and grabbed the groceries out of the back seat to go upstairs.

"You can't please everyone. In the end someone is going to have to be let down or hurt. That's the way of life. It's okay to be selfish sometimes, Harry. That's what I mean."

Michelle sighed as she walked ahead of me, using her keys to unlock the door to our flat. I put the groceries and my things down in the kitchen before I went for a wee, all the while trying to figure out where the hell that last bit of our conversation was coming from, but when I came out of the bathroom she was back to acting like her normal self.

"Since you're leaving me to fend for myself tonight," Michelle spoke holding up two double shot glasses filled to the brim with alcohol, "We didn't buy this for nothing." She spoke in reference to the Goldschläger that ate up the majority of our money and bit her bottom lip while smiling at me.

I winced, already feeling the burn of the liquid going down my throat, before looking at my watch.

"It's only five. No one is going to start drinking until at least nine. You're trying to kill me. I said sorry for agreeing to go with Louis and the lads. Why are you making me do this?"

"Harry, when we were first years we drank early all the time."

"And my liver paid for it."

"Oop, Harry what's that?"

I looked over my shoulder confused before I looked back over to Michelle.

"What's what?"

"Is that a bajingo between your legs where you penis should be?" Michelle started to laugh while pointing in that general area.

"Piss off Chelle!" I spoke before walking up to the table and grabbing the shot that she'd placed there for me. I held it up to eye level inspecting it first. There was something floating in the glass.

"It's actually gold," Michelle said seeing the confusion written clean across my face, "hence the name Goldschläger."

"So we can afford to drink gold flecks in alcohol, but we can't afford real food?"

"I'm going to call my parents tomorrow I said, Mr. Sensable. Now shut up and down it!"

I looked at Michelle shaking my head as we clinked glasses and turned the shot up to our lips. The burn of it made my eyes water and when I looked at Michelle, hers were doing the same. I picked up the bottle on the table and read it before Michelle took it from my hands, pouring us both another shot.

"This is forty-five percent alcohol."

"Yes. It's strong. So, so strong." She nodded as if she already knew.

"We'll be trashed if we keep drinking this. We probably wouldn't even make it to the party." I spoke before I walked over to the refrigerator to grab us beers, hoping that she would switch substances.

"No we won't. I won't let us miss it. But legend has it that this is supposed to get you drunk quickly. The gold flecks supposedly make microscopic cuts in your esophagus so the alcohol can get into your bloodstream faster. Cheers." Michelle handed me the shot glass again as if after hearing that I would want to drink it again.

"Michelle that's horrible. I don't want to-"

"Just take one more shot of it and then we'll just sip beer until you leave to go meet up with Louis and the rest of the lads."

Her eyes were pleading and I couldn't tell her no. We both flipped our heads back as he downed the shots and with in a peer pressured hour, ten shots and two beers later, there was a sloppy grin on my face and I my vision was doubled. Michelle however seemed fine.

"Your alcohol tolerance has lowered dramatically. It’s almost seven. What time were you going to go to Louis'?"

"In an hour."

"I'll drive you." She spoke as she sat against the couch taking out her phone and laughing at my facial expression.

"You had just as much to drink as I have. You can't drive."

"I can. I've got a buzz but that's all. You're trashed. I only had three shots. The other seven you took alone." I looked at her in shock. How could she have tricked me that way? I swear she was drinking too. Michelle laughed and I could already tell that she was recording me. "I'm putting this on instagram."

"Don't! I really hate you." I slurred while pointing at her, only causing her to laugh more.

"You need to loosen up, especially for your hot date tonight. There's no point in you being so uptight at the start of the quarter. I'll let you go back to your boring self when Monday comes around again." She pulled her phone away from me as I tried to take it from her. "You might want to check your phone by the way. It seems you have a message."

I looked down at the notification that showed on the screen, squinting my eyes to try and focus on what was there. When my eyes adjusted, I almost felt sober.

Rion: I was starting to think that maybe you'd forgotten about me. I checked my schedule and I'm actually free tonight. I don't know how long I'll stay, but I'll meet you there. Alison is going so I'll just be with her.

My eyes widened before I scrolled up to see what I supposedly said.

To Rion: Hiiiii, It's Harry. Sorry for being such a stupid arsehole and not texting you sooner, but would you still want to go to that party tonight?

"You texted Rion?"

"Yup."

"But I-I'm not...Fuck!"

"What? You like her right? I've done you a favor."

"Yeah, but—“

"No but's. You either like her or you don't and if you do and if she likes you, which she does, obviously, then you have the go ahead to call. She wanted you to call. She clearly likes you. She's excited and so are you. You're just nervous. You haven't been on a date in six months or maybe more? But, this should be like riding a bike, if you will. I've removed your kickstand, now all you have to do is pedal."

I looked at Michelle and shook my head before I went in my room to find something to wear for tonight, deciding on the usual skinny jeans and oversized shirt, leaving a few of the buttons in the front undone as I stumbled into the living room to wait for Michelle. She reappeared from her room shortly after I did wearing black leather looking tight pants and some sort of red cut off shirt along with her fake glasses and red lips. She looked beautiful and I could only think that she was doing so for Alison.

As much as Chelle would doubt it, I think the player may have taken an interest in one that's supposed to be a pawn in her dating game. All I can hope for is that Alison treats her right. She deserves someone who would.

"What's the point of wearing a shirt if it’s barely buttoned, Styles? And it's see through. I mean I guess kudos for buttoning the three buttons you did bother with correctly." It could be because I'm drunk, but I could have sworn that I saw her look me up and down...not necessarily in a friendship manner. I ignored her while grinning and standing from the couch before she grabbed the Goldschläger again pouring us both another shot. "One for the road?"

"I'll take it if you take it first you lying Judas. I'm already drunk enough as it is."

Michelle cringed before she threw her head back downing the shot, eyes watering again by how strong of a burn the cinnamon schnapps left behind. I did the same and then took another for the hell of it since I wouldn't be driving tonight. Michelle eyed me as I walked down the stairs and to her car as if I would fall.

"Stop watching me and walk yourself."

"Someone has to watch out for you. You're clumsy enough as it is, bambi. Adding alcohol to the mix is a disaster waiting to strike."

"Says the absolute asshole who got me drunk in the first place."

"Oh yeah...That's right." Michelle smiled victoriously before she spoke again, clearing her throat before hand, "Uh, so, since I'm taking you to Louis' place where does he stay? I know he must have moved from where we lived before..." Her face dropped slightly.

"With his bird about five blocks over... Sorr-"

"It's fine." Michelle started her car, looking through the windscreen straight ahead like she did earlier as she drove and listened to the directions I gave her, telling he where to turn.

When we pulled up in front of the house, Niall was outside on the porch with a beer in his hand, smoking a cigarette. No doubt because Hollie put him out of the house, not wanting anything to smell like stale smoke.

"Harry! Hi Mitch!" He waved to us as he stumbled over to the car clearly drunk himself and louder than usual. "You're staying too, Michelle?" She shook her head no while smiling half way at Niall as I got out of the car. "You should stay. This thing, whatever it is, between you and Lou is ridiculous. You guys were so close and it can get there again. Just get out of the car and-"

"I can't Ni, I have somewhere to be, myself." Michelle's eyes begged Niall to be more quiet but he didn't get the hint. He was going to speak again, but was cut off by Lou as he walked out onto his porch with Hollie close behind. He didn't notice that Michelle was with us until I moved to walk towards the house.

"Lads!"

I looked from Michelle to Louis then back to Michelle again and as I did I saw her eyes widen right before she cursed under her breath. Louis paused in his steps, and his eyebrows drew together slightly before he spoke.

"Michelle." He nodded at her as a greeting gesture making everything more awkward.

"Louis."

"Mitch can stay right?" In that moment everyone looked at Niall as he took another drunken, oblivious drag off of his cigarette and it appeared that everyone wanted to punch him in the face, including me.

"No actually I was just leaving. Enjoy your night boys. Be safe, Harrow. I'll see you later yeah?"

I nodded my head before she spoke a simple "good," and sped off as quickly as her car could take her. Louis took a deep breath, shaking his head before smiling at us and inviting us in for more booze. I honestly didn't think that I would drink anymore tonight, but after that I felt the need to.

Niall dropped his cigarette and stepped on it while shrugging his shoulders at me as we followed behind Louis into the house where everyone else sat.

“Read the room next time, yeah?” I spoke under my breath hoping that only Niall would hear me.

“What room? It’s stupid that they don’t talk anymore. For fucks sake he was going t’ marry—”

“I know, Niall. I know.” I interrupted Niall mid sentence and could not help but notice the hitch in my jaw, that became more sore than it had been in a while.

We all spoke as we walked in the house and I put the topic behind me in order to proceed on with the rest of the night and for the first time in a while I was happy that the liquor continued to flow. It seemed to put me and everyone else around in the right mindset for one of the biggest parties of the year, but Louis still seemed somewhat flustered about seeing Michelle for the first time since they called things off. I know Michelle probably didn't feel the best either and I tried to text her to see if she was alright, but I got no response.

Chelle: Are you okay, Chelle? I'm so sorry about that. Didn't know that he would come outside.

Though I got no response to my text, I expected to see Michelle as soon as we got to The Barn. The title of the bar was fitting as it was out closer towards farmland and covered in red paint as it actually was previously a stable. It was crowded with everyone from students to professors indulging in what the night had to offer, but as I skimmed the crowd I began to get more anxious. We had been here for an hour. I was sure that by now that I would have run into her. Taking out my phone, I’d opted to give her a ring, but before I could unlock my screen my phone began to buzz in my hand.

"Hello?" I slurred on the line while closing my opposite ear with my finger so that I could hear whoever it was I was talking to.

"Harry?" The deafening music and noise in the background made it almost impossible to hear.

"No, this is Harry." hiccup “Who is this?"

"Harry, it's Rion can you hear me?"

I walked away from Niall, Darragh, and the rest of the lads as they prepared to make Niall do a keg stand; swaying as I went.

"Who is this?" I repeated trying to hear better, hoping that it was Michelle calling me back in response to the text I’d sent.

"Harry, it's Rion. Can you hear me now?"

"Rion?"

"Yes."

"Hi." I smiled as if she were in front of me, when in all actuality I was in the middle of the crowded street surrounded by a sea of strangers. A car honked at me just as I was about to cross back towards the party, causing me to step back so that I didn't get hit.

"Where are you?" She laughed into the phone causing me to smile again.

“Outside enjoying the weather. Are you here? At the party I mean."

"I am," when she spoke I could hear the smile in her voice, over the excessive chattering and music in the background. "Can you come to the doors near the front of the pub and meet me there?"

"Sure. Stay on the phone with me? You know, just until I find you." I slurred into the phone but Rion laughed again nonetheless.

"Of course...Is that you in the middle of the street? Please be careful if it is."

I looked around, confused as to how she could see me but I couldn't see her. I walked towards the pub again forcing my bleary eyes to focus until I spotted her, standing on a large rock that was just outside the door. When I reached her, I held out my hand to help her down. She took it and called me a gentleman before I said anything else.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked as I looked down at her in her jean jacket and simple black dress that clung to her chest then flowed down to her feet.

"I guess. It's not that bad. Ten times better than the last party I went to already."

I laughed.

"You haven't drunk anything?"

"One mixed drink, but I didn't really finish it. Are you enjoying yourself?" She asked me as we began to walk to nowhere in particular.

"I am. A little bit more now, actually.” A slight blush came to Rion's cheeks before she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and I cleared my throat to continue. "Where's your flatmate?"

"Alison? I'm not sure. She said she was going to meet up with a friend of hers. The same girl that she was with the last time no doubt."

My mind went to Michelle as I checked my phone again and still I had no messages from her.

"So, she left you here?"

"I haven't seen her in the last hour... She could have. But if she did, I have no real way home now. She was my ride. I knew I should have just driven on my own."

I didn't say anything more, but I had the feeling that Alison bailed. I might have an idea as to who with and where to as well.

"Well, are you ready to go?" We ended up closer to the street facing in the direction of the campus. "The night is oddly nice for the end of August and the sky isn't as cloudy as it could be. We might miss getting rained on if we leave now."

"Do you have your car?" She asked looking towards me as if it were a deal breaker.

“No, but I would walk back with you. The parties aren't really my thing anymore. I just came to catch up with some friends. It was nice to get out. We're only about a 15 minute walk away from campus."

Rion looked towards the pub and then back at me again before she smiled and answered me sweetly.

"I'd love to get out of here with you."

Rion and I began walking, but as soon as we got a little bit past the corner where the party was being held at she stopped, causing me to stop as well and look back at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Are you going to tell any of your friends that you're leaving?" She asks while holding her dress up just past her ankles so it doesn't touch the ground.

I grin at her, absolutely ecstatic that she's giving me the chance to walk her back to her dorm room. If those tossers want to know where I went they know how to call. I guess Mitch really did do me a favor and I might owe her one after this.

"Oh, um...No. They're having a good time. I'm sure they won't even notice that I left. It's okay. Besides, I'm getting kind of tired anyway. I could always just shoot them a message."

Rion nods her head in agreement before we begin to walk again. Bunching the material of her dress in one hand in hopes not to step on it, I couldn't help but chuckle as I looked at her.

"Its so long. I love this dress but it's a bit of a hassle to wear." Rion comments, already knowing the reason for my amusement. I gently grab her hand to stop her once more and this time she looks at me with as soft smile forming on her lips.

"Here, let me..." I trailed off, gently taking her hand that had the fabric of her dress, causing her to let it go. Our eyes met as I slowly went down on my knees in front of her. If I would have gone too fast I'm sure I would have lost my balance or worse. It's almost a wonder that I can form a coherent sentence. All that I can hope is that I don't completely reek of alcohol.

I take the hem of the dress and tie a knot in it that's hopefully loose enough to undo when she gets home if she wants, and high enough so that she doesn't have to worry about stepping on it or have it sweep on the ground to get torn or dirty; just above her ankles. I'm not going to lie, when I was down there I looked at her feet and what I could see of her legs. I won't say I have a foot fetish or anything weird like that, but if a girls toes looks like they can pick up an orange with ease and whip it at the back of your head, it's kind of a turn off for me.

Her feet were beautiful aside from a few cuts here and there on her the tops of them. She even had a plaster or two on one of them, but somehow she even made that okay because they matched the purple coloring of her nail polish.

I stood after I was finished, and by the look on her face I must have been down there for a reasonable amount of time to make a knot, at least I hope I was. When I was looking at her feet, I had to make it not so noticeable that that's what I was doing. I don't want her to think I'm some kind of a freak.

"Thank you," she exclaimed while smiling, "I don't know why I didn't think of that."

"Yeah I saw some other girl do it and thought it made sense."

Rion smiled at me again and as we walked next to each other, her hand grazed mine; once, twice, three times before I grabbed it in my own. I saw her look over at me through her peripheral vision. It was a quick glance but I saw it nonetheless. I also saw her bite her bottom lip to try to prevent her smile from getting any bigger than it already was.

I didn't want to bust her out and embarrass her, but I did want to tease her a little. I gently squeezed her hand while biting my bottom lip to stop my smile from spreading much like she did, causing her to laugh before I changed the subject.

"The sky is really clear tonight. I can see Orion's Belt. It really might not rain after all."

"My namesake." Rion smirked.

"Sorry, what?" I spoke noticing that the party sounds were fading farther and farther into the distance.

"My mum is really into Greek mythology and constellations, so my name and its spelling came from Orion himself." She pointed towards the sky and the huge constellation before she looked back at me, slipping her hand back into mine purposefully.

"Cool story. And I'm not being a sarcastic asshole or anything by the way. That makes your name original." hiccup "And I like it a lot. I think my mum named me Harold because it was the only male name that begins with H and that comes after G that she could think of. Her creativity stopped after she realized that she wanted to put her kids names in alphabetical order." Rion laughed and nudged my arm.

"Don't talk about your mum. I think she might have chosen the name because Harry fits you. I've always liked that name."

"Have you now?" I asked with a smirk on my face and an eyebrow raised.

"I have."

"It's because of Prince Harry isn't it? Be honest."

"No it's-"

"Tell the truth."

"He's just so cute. He's the dreamiest ginger I've ever seen besides Ed Sheeran. All due respect to his royalness." Rion spoke causing me to laugh and shake my head before she continued. "Then again, all of the Harry's I've had the pleasure of meeting were pretty fit." She said looking over at me and then back up at the velvety black night sky speckled with beautiful stars.

"How many of us have you met?"

"Well...Just one so far."

I looked over at her as we finally reached a street that had lamp posts and she let out a small chuckle that sounded as if she were clearing her throat. Her eyes caught the light that lined the streets making her irises seem to brighten even though her eye color was dark brown.

We'd finally reached campus just as the clouds started to roll in at two in the morning and from there, I followed Rion's lead back to her dorm. In my three full years at Cambridge, I'd never been to this one in particular, but apparently, Michelle has. I saw her car in the parking lot. Something told me that she would be here, seeking comfort for the blow she received earlier. The sooner that she realizes that fucking doesn’t fix what hurts her, the better off she'll be. Part of me wants to bang on the door as soon as we get to the room, but I decide against it. All I cab hope that she’ll talk to someone eventually. If that someone happens to be Alison, then I'll be happy for her, I guess.

"Thank you, Harry. For getting me home safe and asking me to come out. I had fun for the amount of time I was there for." Rion leaned against her door, smiling while looking up at me.

"It was no problem. Thank, you for, you know, coming." I could hear myself wanting to ramble before I closed my mouth.

“Good night, then." Rion spoke, still smiling and then pausing.

"Goodnight."

Rion turned to unlock her door and when she got it open I turned to leave, but before I could go I could feel her pull my hand. When I turned she had a pout on her face.

"You know, you're really horrible at picking up on signals."

Huh?

"I-"

"I waited so patiently as well."

"I'm-"

"Three days. You didn't text me or say anything for three days. I didn't know what to think. I still don't."

"You're-"

"Oh shut up, Harry."

Rion crossed her arms over her chest and out of shock I closed my mouth, not really sure what to say or do. Rion squinted her eyes at me before shaking her head and turning to go into her little dorm before I stopped her, pulling her to me before I kissed her deeply, pushing her against the wall a bit to show her how it should be done.After it was over Rion sighed in content with her eyes still closed before reopening them slowly. I grinned against her lips before speaking knowing that I’d won her over.

"I didn't know what to think either to be honest. It's been a while."

Rion grabbed me by the front of my shirt, bringing my lips back down to hers.She pulled away, kissing the corner of my mouth making a trail to my ear and then kissing me right beneath my earlobe. There was no tongue involved at all but it still had been the most action than I'd gotten in months and it was still enough to leave us both breathless at the end of her antics.

"Do you know what to think now?” She pushed her door open, speaking before she closed the door behind herself with a cheeky smile.

I’m not sure how long I stood there with a goofy grin on my face after it was all said and done, but when I got to the stairs my drunken mind allowed my legs to work properly and carry me down while still having the memory replay in my head.

I'd only gotten through the doors of the exit of her dormitory before my brain went to my pants, thinking that I might be able to get a good wank before I fell asleep with Rion's lips pressed against my jaw as the mental muse. Just when I thought about flushing any possible tissues instead of putting them in my bin, my phone rang.

"Harry?" Rion whispered into the phone, sounding on the agitated side.

"Rion? What's wrong?"

"She's at it again." Rion exhaled into the phone before I heard the creaking of a door, sounding as if it were being shut.

"Who's at what?"

"Alison and her, friend."

I started to chuckle, thinking of all of the ways that I would tease Michelle tomorrow when I saw her. I know that she's been active, but damn. She's got to be insatiable. I pictured her and Alison, terribly sweaty, gasping for air-

"Harry?"

"Sorry, what did you say?" Rion's voice snapped me out of getting too carried away in inappropriate thought again. Thoughts that I shouldn't venture into about my best pal.

"I really want to be able to sleep without being disrupted. Do you mind if I come to yours? I'll sleep on the couch, the floor, a chair. Anything you wouldn't mind sparing really."

“No, of course I don't mind."

Oh god.

"Are you sure? Should you ask your flatmate first? I wouldn't want to intrude on you or him."

My mind was swimming with a thousand things. Minor details that had the potential to be major. Is my room clean? When is the last time that I had a girl in my room that wasn’t Michelle? Do we have water bottles that I can offer Rion when we get into my flat if she's thirsty? Why does Rion think that Mitch is a guy?

“No… I uh, I'm alone for the night, actually. My flatmate is staying somewhere else I think." In your roommates' room, disrupting you currently.

"Thank you so much." Rion breathed out, sounding somewhat relieved.

"Yeah no problem. I'll turn around now."

"Oh shit, did you get far? I'm so sorry."

"No it's fine. I just got down the street a bit." I spoke as I neared her building again.

I saw her walking out in the same clothes she was wearing before. When she got to me, she thanked me again before we took the surprisingly short walk towards my flat.

"You live in the new buildings? Fancy."

"Yeah, it's alright. For it being new, the ventilation sucks in Mitch's room, but that's the only complaint we have."

I unlocked the door and turned the knob saying a silent prayer as we walked in, but I'd forgotten that Michelle cleaned the whole place, including my room despite my protest for her not to. It was the first time that I’d been happy that she didn’t listen to me.

"It's really nice, Harry. You were being modest." Rion spoke as she tiptoed through the apartment, stopping in the living-room and taking a seat for herself before removing her sandals. "Really clean for two lads."

"Oh, actually-"

"Sorry, Harry. I don't want to interrupt, but do you think I could use the restroom first? I'm bursting to go."

I laughed while running my hand through my hair. "Sure. It's just down the hall. We wouldn't want a repeat of your last party."

Rion turned red, covering her mouth in a laugh and speaking to me as she walked down the hall.

"I really still can't believe I told you that."

While she was gone, I grabbed extra blankets from the linen closet and laid out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts of mine for her to wear on my bed. I also grabbed a bottle of water and put it on my desk for her in case she was thirsty, thankful that I made Michelle put some of those noodle cups back in exchange for it. Before I made my bed on the couch, I went into Michelle's room to steal one of her pillows but I’d gotten distracted easily. On her bedside table was a picture of the both of us taken last year. We were both pretty out of it and you can clearly tell in the photo, but in the midst of all the insanity Michelle was still alert and smiling at me while I was laughing and pulling her shirtsleeve with my teeth.

When I heard Rion leaving the bathroom I quickly left from Michelle's room, placing the photograph back down where I got it from and closing her bedroom door behind me.

"You'll be in my room. I've laid you out some things to make you more comfortable."

"Awe, Harry. I can take the couch really. I don't want to kick you out of your bed."

"No you won't. Now, go to bed. Good night, but for real this time."

Rion eyed me as she nodded her head in agreement, a slight grin on her lips.

“Yes for real this time.” She spoke before her bottom lip was drawn into her mouth. The liquor I consumed tonight made me do the same as I looked her up and down shamelessly, grinning as I did so.

I started to take a step backwards only to notice that Rion advanced forwards causing me to stop in my tracks. Our lips connected again more fervently than they had before, before I started to walk again leading Rion back into my bedroom.

#Harry Styles #harry styles slow burn #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction

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pollylynn · 3 years

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Title: Unexcogitable WC: 2000 Episode: Watershed (5 x 24)

There’s a little mystery to solve when he emerges from the lost weekend—the lost . . . however many days it’s been since he slammed himself into the high gear necessary to not just finish Deadly Heat, but to finish finish it. And he has been determined to finish finish it: is crossed, ts dotted, and every sentence Gina-proofed.

He wants a summer with her. A normal-for-them, no suspension, no secret relationship, no . . . immediate threat of a Bracken-sent assassin. There’ll be book tour stuff, of course. He’ll be in and out of the city. But he’s gotten good at coaxing her away for two days her, three days there. He has high hopes for on-the-road summer adventures with Kate.

But first there is a mystery to solve, almost right when he emerges.

He is rank. He has jeans and a shirt with buttons that’s deeply unfamiliar to him. He’s clutching potential cover art, and he cannot imagine where it came from. So it’s definitely been more than a lost weekend. None of that is the mystery, though. That's all part of high gear. It’s part of him being head down and dedicated to finish finishing the book.

The mystery is Kate related. There’s a text on his phone. When he pulls himself out of the Costa Rica funk—the funk of no one caring how many poisonous things and seasonally aggressive murder birds his daughter might encounter—he has a body drop text. It’s old, but not that old, and it’s not from her. He can tell at a glance from the random capitalization and arbitrarily missing letters that it’s from Esposito, and that’s odd enough to warrant calling her, even though he’s pretty sure he has already called . . . a lot.

Some number of minutes ago—or could it have been hours?—he remembers that he called to leave an almost certainly incoherent victory message as he’d hit save on his final final draft. And then . . . didn’t he call her to ask if he’d already called her? He’s more or less certain he called again, or maybe again again, to confess that he still had acknowledgments to write. And then one more time to ask in one high-anxiety run-on sentence if he thought it was okay to change his book jacket bio to say that he lives in New York City with his daughter, his mother, and his lady love, who wishes to remain mysterious .

But even though that’s all a lot, Esposito being the one to text definitely warrants one more call, doesn’t it? He decides it does. He’s stripping off his rank clothes and swapping the phone from hand to hand as it rings on speaker, as he tries to decide if a shower will suffice for detoxifying him, or if he might need some kind of industrial dunking combined with medical-grade abrasives.

The phone juggling is unnecessary. It’s five rings to voicemail again. It’s sticking his head out of the shower every twenty-two seconds, because he’s pretty sure he heard it ring, and why has in’t rung? But it hasn’t rung. It doesn’t ring, even though he’s washed and dressed and on his way. And that’s a bit of mystery.

It’s a bit more of a mystery when she shows up late and disheveled, when she looks as if she’s been caught in the act. Of what, he doesn’t know, and that’s cause for consternation. It’s cause for his guilt reflex to kick in. He can be a beast when he’s kicked it into high gear. He can be a boor and a bore and all kinds of unpleasant things starting with all the letters of the alphabet, so he wonders if he’s done something or if he’s failed to do something. He wonders if he’s managed to get on her nerves to the point that the only thing for it, apparently, is for her to take one of her psychotically long runs, where time and space fall away.

He looks her up and down. He takes in the blazer she’s still trying to button and the comparative disarray of her still-perfect hair. He is not getting psychotic-run vibe off her. He’s not sure what vibe he’s getting off her, and that calls for investigation

Or maybe it doesn’t call for investigation? Maybe it calls for space. Maybe it calls for butting out. Maybe it’s him or not him, and maybe she’s been to see Burke.

He wishes the prospect didn’t terrify him. It’s a problem that the prospect terrifies him, and he knows that. He kicks himself for it every time the name comes up, every time he over-the-shoulder snoops an entry in the calendar on her phone.

He wishes that he could get his brain to think of it as her going to her therapist, not him driving her to see a therapist. But he’s kind of not there. He’s kind of caught up in the little mysteries of what she’s thinking, feeling, considering at every second, and he’s kind of quite problematically caught up in the idea that she wouldn’t need a therapist if he didn’t occasionally disappear into his writing, if he weren’t more than occasionally a doofus who unwittingly hurts her, if he could be better across the board.

It’s foolishness, he knows, and damaging foolishness at that.

Moreover, it’s a lot for eleven in the morning. It’s a lot to read into a slightly wrinkle blazer and hair that only scores a fifteen on a scale of one to ten, so he consciously dials it down. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that this a lot and it’s unnecessary. It’s a text from Esposito, rather than her. It’s a few missed phone calls and her running the tiniest bit late.

It’s trivial. It's a minor mystery at best. He reminds himself that he has the whole summer work on the first one hundred mysteries of Kate Beckett.

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

There’s a little mystery to solve when he walks out on her into the welcome heat and riotous noise of New York in not-quite summer. Its solution might be beyond him. His meager powers might not be be up to solving the mystery of how he could have been so fucking stupid.

She lied to him. She’s been lying to him and he’s going to need a calendar to figure out how long that’s been going on. Since Stack, he realizes he steps, unseeing, into an intersection and pounds a fist into the hood of the car that nearly mows him down. Since the moment he asked what the man had wanted to talk to her about. It goes back at least that far.

And farther. He weaves like a drunk through traffic, human and not human, cars and not cars. He comes to the realization that her lies must stretch back so much farther, because she had that spin on this right at her fingertips. She had a ready-to-go narrative that he is the monster, he is the self-centered diva who would dare to be upset, he is the Neanderthal who would stand in the way of her career. He’ss the one who makes her lie, and that’s not something one comes up with on the fly.

She’d gone to the It’s my life well again, and that’s a fucking annual celebration. And that means she’s been lying since last summer. It means she’s been lying since the moment she swore that it wasn’t the storm, it wasn’t the dramatic gesture of quitting the force, it wasn’t almost dying that had brought the two of them crashing together at last.

She has been lying since day one. She has had one foot out the door all this time and deep down he fucking knew it.

He knew it when she ran off after Bracken solo the very morning after she’d sworn she was done.

He knew it when she lied to him and everyone and hid the letter from Bracken’s patsy would-be assassin.

He knew it when it was five rings to voice mail all morning.

He knew it when the text was from Esposito.

He knew it when she rushed in, disheveled, when she lied to his face about her phone being off, about Gates wanting to talk to her about nothing, when she crept out of his bed before dawn just this morning because she couldn’t stand lying there next to him for one second longer.

There has never been a moment when he hasn’t known, deep down in his sad-sack romantic soul, that this has always been one-sided. He has always known that she is his soul mate and he is not hers, and he has prayed for time, for mercy, for change. The pain of it is paralyzing, but the only mystery her is how the hell he has managed to be this fucking stupid for so long.

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

There's a mystery to solve when the rage breaks. It is not a little mystery and he may not have it in him to solve it.

He is the mystery. Who he has been, what he has done, what he has failed to do. He is the mystery.

She is not an innocent her. He does not—cannot—absolve her of the lies she’s told, the maneuvering she’s done to arrive at that outcome she’d already decided was inevitable. And if he loved her less, he wouldn’t want so badly to shake her for that, for all of the ways she has sold herself short, sold them short, counted what they are to one another short.

She has lied to him. She has lied to herself. There’s little he can do about that, save solve the mystery of himself.

He has held back. With her, he has always held back, the universe, with its whimsical sense of humor, has delivered that epiphany straight from the acid tongue of the least sympathetic mother in the world.

He would like to crawl away and lick his wounds. He would like a day, an hour, goddamned minute to just think through this realization. He has held back.

He has spent a year terrified that he’ll slip and tell her that he loves her, because they don’t say that, do they?.

He has spent a year manufacturing weekends when he needs to write, needs quality time with Alexis, needs a gaming night with the boys. He has spent a year conjuring space from the ether—a break from him—because he’s spent a year believing this is what she needs, this is how he doesn’t drive her away by being too much, too soon, too often.

He has spent a year not making a single comment on how stupid it is that there’s a his place and her place when they are together nearly every night

He has spent a year not letting himself wonder where they’ll be in another year.

He has spent a year telling himself This is enough. This has to be enough.

He has spent a year being a coward, letting the most damaged parts of himself insist on inertia, on silence, on asking nothing of the relationship that she was not actively, glaringly, eye-lollingly giving.

He is not responsible for her lies—for the caricature of him that she has manufactured to justify them. But he is not innocent of them, either. He, with his black certainty that everything between them is one-sided is not innocent at all.

He is a mystery he does not have time to solve right now. He is a mystery that he’ll have to wait to solve, he’ll have to work at solving.

He is a mystery with a ring in his pocket—a tiny weight that anchors him to what might be his one moment of bravery in the whole of the last year. He is a mystery on a mission.

A/N: Alternating rage and boredom—asymptotic to morphousness.

images via kissthemgoodbye

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 5 #Castle: Watershed #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Martha Rodgers #Javier Esposito #Alexis Castle #Fic #Fanfic #Gina Cowell #Gina Griffin #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Tell Me More

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clonecest-bin-account · 3 years

Note

Thank you for doing this!

Bingo box; mischief, pairing: tech/wrecker(I'm also happy their just friends), prompt: Wrecker chalenges Tech to a throwing contest. He didn't say Tech couldn't use technology.

(AHsdhshkfdhs I love)

“Why should I even agree to do this?” Tech immediately asks.

“Because it’s fun!” Wrecker replies, as if Tech doesn’t know his actual motive, something that he doesn’t hesitate to make known.

“No, it’s because you like these stupid games because you always win,” he says in fact. For what other reason would Wrecker come to him of all people challenging him to a throwing competition?

This is nothing new however: Wrecker does tend to get restless, and when he does he often turns to challenging the others to some sort of contest, anything to battle the boredom. It’s not like Tech doesn’t understand him, but he also doesn’t want him to get cocky after an easy win, because let’s face, he’d never be able to beat him.

Wait, unless…

“You know what?” he says. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Awesome! Then we--”

“But not now.”

“What do you mean ‘not now’?” Wrecker asks, confused.

“I mean that I need time to prepare. What? You thought I’d be able to do it immediately?” Tech replies, patting on Wrecker’s bicep. “I don’t wanna lose to you.”

At that, Wrecker burst into laughter; it isn’t a mocking laughter though, he genuinely finds it funny but not in a bad way.

“Alright, I’ll give you some time,” he says, jovially slapping Tech’s shoulder and almost sending him fumbling ahead. “Come find me when you’re ready!”

Tech has to fight really hard to hide the smirk on his face, but he manages. “Don’t worry big guy, I will.”

It takes less time than Tech thought to get ready, which is good because eventually Wrecker would’ve grown bored of waiting and he would’ve sought him out to finally do this challenge.

It wasn’t easy to hide his project from him, given how close they are, Tech had to utilize every single moment in which they weren’t together to work on it. Thankfully he could’ve counted on the others’ help who, having gotten wind of Tech’s plan, did their best to keep Wrecker away from him; they’re true friends.

Now that he’s finally ready, however, he doesn’t need to avoid it anymore, and actually, he goes straight to him. It’s not hard to find him, Tech only had to follow the noise - he never was that stealthy to begin with.

Mh, looks like Wrecker’s doing some weights. Tech almost feels bad for interrupting him so he just leans against the doors and waits for him to be done, which might be just an excuse to admire his body. What? If Wrecker didn’t want to be watched, he could’ve sealed the doors. Besides, those back muscles look so good that Tech can’t help but to stare…

He chuckles at the startled way Wrecker turns towards him when he finally speaks - he hadn’t noticed him at all.

“Hey there, big guy…”

“Holy-- Tech! How long have you been there?” Yes, Wrecker really hadn’t noticed him.

“A while,” Tech replies, a smirk on his face that gets soon mirrored by the other.

“I see, I see. Enjoying the show, huh?” he comments, flexing his arm. Tech has to bite his lower lip or else he’d say something that would completely deviate from his original purpose.

Concentrate, Tech! Now’s not the time to get distracted!

“Not really, actually,” he says. “I came here for the challenge.”

Wrecker still doesn’t drop the smirk. “Oh? You think you’re ready?”

“I don’t think I’m ready, I am,” Tech replies, trying very hard not to sound cocky, but he can’t help it, not with his secret weapon. Sure, it might be cheating, but Wrecker never set any rule about using technology, so technically he’s not breaking them.

Wrecker picks up on the tone, however, and he looks more than intrigued. He’s figured that Tech must have some sort of plan, which makes him curious.

“Let’s get going then.”

They walk out of the Havok Marauder, not wanting to break anything inside, and get settled on the clearing they have landed. Miles and miles of plain fields, the perfect zone for a throwing contest.

“What do we get if we win?” Tech can’t help but to ask.

“Huh?” Wrecker replies, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t really think about that…”

Typical Wrecker, he throws himself into any kind of challenge without even thinking about what comes next.

“How about who wins gets a kiss?” he proposes.

“But we already kiss all the time!” Wrecker replies. “What would make that special?”

“It would be a victory kiss…” Tech explains, though he himself isn’t that convinced about that. Kissing was the first thing that came to mind, that why he suggested it.

Wrecker thinks about it just a moment, then he nods.

“Yeah, makes sense. I think…” he says, turning immediately towards Tech again. “So, are we doing this?”

“Ladies first,” Tech jokes, though he’s serious about wanting Wrecker to go first.

They’ve agreed to throw one EMP grenade each, since they don’t want to cause actual harm to the environment. That kind of grenades is harmful only to droids, so they should be safe.

Wrecker weighs the one in his hand, juggling it a bit. His stare is fixed ahead of him, observing a potential target.

The rules are simple: whoever throws the grenade furthest wins.

Tech smiles, stretching his hand. If only Wrecker would’ve noticed that his armor is slightly different from the usual he might’ve questioned what he did to it, which by the way is nothing too major: just a thruster that will help him launch the grenade further and give it a little boost.

He feels a bit bad about what he’s doing, but how does that saying go? In war and love there are no rules. Sure this might not be as serious as actual war, but hey they’re still soldiers, so he guesses it counts. He isn’t sure about that, and actually is pretty sure that it’s just some excuse that he’s ramble-y brain came up with, but whatever. Not everything has to be serious: sometimes he might just want to do something just for the sake of doing it, or just for the sake of general mischief in this particular case.

Wrecker goes completely still, just for a moment, then he throws the grenade. It flies through the air through an ample arc. Tech doesn’t have his bucket on so he can’t calculate the exact distance, but he doesn’t need it to discern that it’s a lot; it makes him wonder if even the help of technology will be enough to win this. Not that it would be such a huge loss, but c’mon he does have some pride.

They’re barely able to hear the sound of the EMP grenade detonate, which prompts Wrecker to turn towards Tech with an excited gaze.

“Pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah…” Tech can’t help but to admit, sounding genuinely impressed. Ok, maybe he won’t be that mad if he loses after all.

It’s his turn now.

He takes Wrecker’s place, observing the field in front of him. He didn’t want to use his bucket to calculate the trajectory because he felt that would’ve been too much cheating, but now he finds himself regretting it.

He does his best to understand the wind’s direction and use this information to figure out what his best throwing angle will be. Eventually, however, Wrecker has to yell at him: “We don’t have all day!”

“R-Right, sorry…” he apologizes, deciding to wind it. If it works, good, if it doesn’t, at least he tried.

He almost dislocates his shoulder for who strongly the machinery in his armor pulls at it, and after throwing the grenade, Tech finds himself stumbling a few steps ahead before finding some semblance of equilibrium back.

In a moment Wrecker’s by his side, holding him up.

“Shit, Tech! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” the other replies, not wanting Wrecker to worry for nothing.

They wait, they wait and they wait, but after loosing track of the grenade, they still haven’t heard the sound of its detonation, which means…

The realization hits them both at the same time, making them turn towards each other, Tech with a cocky gaze and Wrecker with a surprised one.

“Looks like I--”

“No way!” Wrecker immediately exclaims. “Something must’ve gone wrong!”

“Yeah, like?” Tech challenges him.

“Oh I don’t know… Maybe it just didn’t detonate!”

“Wrecker, they’ve never not detonate, so why it should’ve done it now?”

“I just…”

“Face it, big guy, I won.”

Every bad feeling Tech had about this dissipates into nothing as he watches Wrecker try to make sense of all this. It’s really fun to watch.

“You used some trick! There’s no other way!”

“So what? You never mentioned anything about them,” Tech points out, the smile still on his face.

“… Shit, you’re right,” Wrecker finally realizes. This is as close as an admission that he lost that Tech is going to get, so he’ll let that be enough. Besides…

He turns his face towards Wrecker, exposing his cheek.

“So? I’m waiting for my prize.”

He hears Wrecker huff, then he suddenly grabs Tech by the chin, forcing him to turn his face again so that he can press their lips together, which isn’t what Tech was expecting - not that he’s complaining, of course.

When they pull away, Wrecker’s still pouting, though it’s obvious that he’s forcing himself to keep it up.

“Happy now?” he asks, and Tech can’t help but to laugh, leaning closer for another kiss.

“Yes.”

#200 followers bingo #cloneshipping #clonecest #techwrecker #clone trooper tech #clone trooper wrecker #my fics #bitterfishies

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hournites · 3 years

Text

Say that we’ll stay with each other

An aged-up Jealous!Rick hournite fic for @samarasketch

~.~

They grab coffee at the diner to catch up every week. It’s not the only time they see each other, but missions require zero personal life talk for safety, as learned very quickly into their JSA run, and their texts just aren’t sufficient enough for the way they miss each other’s company.

Beth rearranges the cutlery, waiting for Rick as he picks out two desserts from beneath the glass window by the cash. It’s late and quiet, Rick had to work overtime to finish a deadline, so she took a nap at her office until he swung by with his car to pick her up.

The steaming coffee is in front of her, untouched. It’s been a long day and she’s second guessing whether or not caffeine is actually such a good idea after all.

“Wow,” Rick greets her, sliding into the booth across from her. He’s no longer slicking his hair back with gel and the small change makes a massive difference in how he looks. His hair is thick, falling over the front of his face, long enough to frame his eyes. Those eyes are lit up now, bright hazel. They sweep over her, taking everything in like he needs the moment to process.

The silent gesture pushes Beth to look down at herself, wondering if she spilled something or was showcasing a wardrobe malfunction of some kind.

“You look amazing. I noticed before but your jacket was on.”

Beth relaxes, settling against the leather backing of her seat. He grins at her, which she returns easily. Rick is her best friend—has been for a very long time. Her lips curve around the rim of her ceramic mug. “Oh, thank you! I was on my date earlier over lunch. I didn’t want to show up in my lab coat.”

“Right,” he replies. “Dr. Leho, was it?” ” Rick twirls his fork into the perfectly cut marble cake slice on the pretty small plate. “How’d that go?”

Beth suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. “Dr. Leon.”

“Oh, was that it?” As if he hadn’t deliberately botched the name of her date in the first place. Rick has met Denny before. Beth’s mom had invited him to her surprise birthday dinner that she organized with Courtney a few weeks ago. He was nice, bought her a book of easy recipes that he swore got him well fed through night shifts that he thought she’d enjoy. The gesture was thoughtful and was what made her agree to giving him her number. Rick was there for it all, one eyebrow arched high in what she was able to tell was silent judgement as he kept sharing a look with Yolanda.

“—And it went fine.”

He raises that brow again now. “Just fine?”

Beth shrugs. She already knows how Rick feels about why she’s giving him a chance. He’s not exactly her first choice when it comes to dating—Rather, he wasn’t much of a choice at all, pestered into giving the youngest single doctor working at her mom’s floor the time of day.

Her parents are getting concerned she’s throwing herself too deep into work without any support. It’s not precisely fair—Juggling a new position at Central City emergency with spontaneous secret crime-fighting against metahuman villainous egomaniacs does not give a woman much time to find someone new to love. Long shifts end in face-planting into bed until the next one and there’s nothing more she’d rather do than shove off her work shoes to do that. Only a handful of people have enough grip on Beth’s heart for her to sacrifice her evenings—Courtney and her family, Yolanda, Jade, Wally, her parents. And while she enjoys the pretty dress and matching pair of high heels for dinner, her energy to sustain a relationship would require an extension of self that she’s not sure she has to offer.

She’s tried to explain this, cutting out the important JSA parts, which she self-admits would strengthen her argument.

“It was a nice lunch.” She’s already preferring dessert with Rick, though.

“Tell me about it.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“What, he was that boring?”

Beth sighs. She finds herself describing her entire lunch break, from waiting for Denny to scrub his hands from surgical fluids to grabbing her hand to chatter about his day without a moment of pause for her to get something into the conversation until their food had arrived. It’s because he was excited to be on the date with her. Beth’s mom was talking her up to him, no doubt, clearly that was the case by any indication of how her mother kept talking about Denny to her over the phone too. So Denny was likely nervous, he kept letting out a barking type laugh after something he thought Beth should find funny. Beth couldn’t exactly be annoyed for his rambling to no end, she was the queen of that when she was younger. Her mom probably thought it was nice they had that in common. Except, it’s not. Beth’s excited verbal amusement park went away with age. Beth learned to keep her mouth shut when she needed to, she’s hoarded too many secrets.

“There’s one thing though that bothered me a bit,” she admits finally, tapping her cut nails against the table. “He asked me what...pleased me... the most.”

Rick frowns at her. “Huh?”

She flushes, eyes flitting away as she mumbles, “In bed. What I find pleasurable in bed.”

Rick bristles, his mouth dropping open. “Did you tell him?”

“After what he told me first? I kind of had to. There was a family sitting within earshot of us, it was barely noon so I sort of said something vague, I don’t exactly remember, I think my brain is trying to block it out. It was embarrassing.”

“God, that’s tacky.”

She knew Rick would say that. “I think he was trying to assess our compatibility?”

“You make him sound like some socially inept robot.”

Beth lowers her mug, biting her tongue on calling herself a socially inept robot. She reaches over the table for the pot the waitress left for them after Rick’s second refill, instead. He lifts it for her when notices, pouring her a fresh cup and slides over the basket of sugar packets and creamers.

“Thanks,” she says, then returns to their conversation. “I think he was trying to be suave.”

“You hate that word! You’ve said so yourself!”

Had she? Beth wrinkles her nose. It’s crazy how much of their lives they’ve shared together. “In high school, maybe.”

“I vividly remember you telling me that talking about sexual preferences with acquaintances freaks you out.” That’s true. Whenever a horror story kinky sex accident patient shows up in Beth’s emergency room describing their incident in full detail, it takes all of her professionalism not to drop her clipboard and run out from second hand embarrassment.

She shifts in her seat and explains, “He was my date, Rick.”

“So that’s what, half an hour of getting to know him? You’d think someone that went to med school would have the patience to keep it in their pants.”

“Rick!” She gapes at his bluntness because he’s just flinging it out there, dragging Dr. Leon’s entire personality with barely any effort at all, what’s worse is that he’s being unintentionally funny and now she’s trying not to laugh.

“What? This man is clearly not for you. He’s not your type.”

She raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Then what is?”

Rick looks down at his plate, quieting. He hasn’t really eaten yet, just danced his fork all over that cake. She’s half tempted to ask him for it if Rick’s not hungry. She finished her lemon square in four bites.

“Well...”

“Well?”

"Well... He’s not my type... for you. He’s not good enough for you. He sounds like a secret sleaze."

Beth stops trying to defend Denny after Rick says that. She’s not sure if he’s so adamant because he can tell the way she’s not really interested in him, but feels the need to make her mom happy and is trying to give her an out, or if he honestly thinks Denny is not a good person. She’s been a superhero for ten years now, Beth is pretty sure how to gauge a person’s character. There’s nothing wrong with Denny Leon the way Rick is painting him. It’s hard because she knows there’s no real spark, but she’s willing to try. Chemistry doesn’t develop like that over one day.

Beth thinks about her mom again. She just wants Beth to have a fulfilling life. And she had found Beth’s father while also steadily making a career as a respected research clinician. What’s Beth’s excuse then, to say finding someone isn’t possible?

“I don’t have a type, I’ve barely dated at all. The man I’ve spent most of my time with is you.”

Rick takes a while to respond, but his eyes are on hers like he’s waiting for an afterthought to accompany her last sentence. It’s sincere and gentle, and for the second time since they’ve met here today, she finds her heartbeat picking up because of the way she’s being seen.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s just—“

“What?”

He takes another moment before answering. “Why are you forcing something with someone you have no desire to connect to? Are you not...Happy?”

His question takes her by surprise. She stammers, feeling more heat rise to her face. “Why are you asking me this?”

Rick drags a hand over his face and leaves it there for a moment, like he’s just trying to breathe. Eventually, he sweeps his hair back up over his head, and he strikes a nostalgic resemblance to the angry boy Beth latched onto in tenth grade whose soul she watched soften over years of time. Her heart pangs at the memory of the way things were. When they spent all week side by side, and didn’t have to schedule coffee dates that inch towards midnight around saving each other in costumes with relics because of their hectic lives.

“I care about you,” he finally says. “I just don’t want to see you exhaust yourself over someone that’s not worth your time. You should be with someone who makes you feel how I feel whenever I’m with you.”

She smiles at that. “I love you too, Rick.”

His own smile falters, something dims in his expression, she’d almost call it wistful, but that’s not exactly a feeling Rick has in his emotional repertoire. He lowers his gaze to his plate again.

“Hey.” Beth places her hand over his. “Are you okay?”

In high school, Rick was on track to becoming a mechanic like Pat until the man turned him around by the shoulders and walked him through scholarship applications for college. To the surprise of practically everyone in Blue Valley except his inner circle of friends, he graduated with honours in both chemistry and physics, and is now an independent research scientist for a big pharma company. He says he likes his lab, but the regulations of being under a company contract means there’s only so much experimentation he can get by with on his own. Beth has been encouraging his recent talks of starting up his own research lab for JSA, but he seems stressed thinking of taking that beyond the realms of idealism.

His hand freezes beneath her palm. He glances up at her again without words, like he’s struggling with what to say. The creases between Beth’s brows deepen further with concern. “Rick?”

“I’m fine,” he lies. The smile is so fake it hurts that he thinks she could be fooled by it.

“Come on, it’s just us. Something’s bothering you. Is it work? Did your uncle contact you for money again?”

“No, I’m fine. I promise.”

“Rick—“

“You don’t have a type. You just have a person. I know that because you’ve been my person since I was seventeen. You don’t need your mother’s fancy surgeon prodigy to sweep you off your feet, Beth. You have me.”

“I—”

Her pulse rushes in her ears. She’s honestly speechless. Beth just sits there. Rick searches her face for some type of recognition she can’t give back because she’s just confused. She’s blinking back unexpected tears, the hand she has over his shaking, because there has to be something more to this, the gravity behind everything, but her mind keeps hitting against a blank wall. She understands what Rick is saying but not what he means.

He sees her distress and slips out of his booth, sliding into her side. “Hey,” he says, wrapping an arm around her as she presses her wet face into his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s okay.”

Her stomach drops at the horrible way his voice sounds scratchy, thick with regret. That’s when it clicks, and the tears fall for real.

Rick is in love with her.

She’s not crying because she’s upset. Blindly, she reaches up for his face to see him, those fond hazel eyes blinking back. They used to be so hardened and guarded, but it’s just openness now, with her. It’s late, the diner is almost empty, nothing but dim lights and the only waitress busy cleaning up behind the counter. It’s just them, in their special spot. And it’s just them, their solid partnership, that Beth needs in her life to carve out time and effort and feelings for. He’s been trying to articulate this over and over since the evening began. Hugging her tightly, lets out a long breath. The solace he finds in her, alone. The relief and love. How she feels it in equal measures, how it’s always been there.

“I didn’t know.”

“I never really told you.”

But he has, really. He’s shown her since they were kids.

She touches his face, guiding him down so he could kiss her the way she suddenly desperately wants.

He does, kissing Beth deeply until her head goes dizzy and the light feeling is not something she ever wants to let go of. There is no extension of self when Beth is with Rick. No room to make. He already is in her future, can have all of her time.

#stargirl #hournite #rick tyler #beth chapel #fluff #jealous!rick #hournites fic #dctv

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blackkatmagic · 3 years

Note

you have so many interesting story ideas and they just keep coming. can i ask what inspires your au's and plots? also how on earth do you work on so many at one time??? im in awe but also fearful of your skills

xD The ideas part is easy - I have many terrible enablers in my discord server who like to fling plots at me like it’s a competition. I just take them and run with them. And tbh having so many things to work on keeps my brain engaged no matter what - I always have something that’s coming up and needs to be updated, and there’s enough variety that I don’t get bored as easily. And also just. Lots of practice juggling stories, at this point.

#Anonymous #kat answers

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding On Ch 15: TFI Friday

Summary: It’s Friday (thank f**k), and Frank’s taken the day off work so that he and Fliss can take an early dinner before meeting the Circle of Truth to celebrate Bonnie and Simon’s engagement…but Fliss is struggling with her emotions, especially when it comes to leaving Alex behind.

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW, no under 18s…)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: A lot of fluff going down in this chapter…they deserve it! We also get to see Frank’s version of the events from Done With Nice Guys which was written by @smediumsmeatbae. Please check it out, it’s adorable!!!

Chapter Song: Laid by James (this happens to be another one of my favourites…give it a listen to!)

Series Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

This bed is on fire with passionate love. The neighbours complain about the noises above, but she only comes when she’s on top. My therapist said not to see you no more, he said you’re like a disease without any cure, he said I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no…ah, you think you’re so pretty…

Frank woke, reaching out blindly for his phone to silence the alarm. He swiped the button across and turned over, fully intending on giving Fliss a cuddle for another 5 minutes or so before he had to get up when realisation crashed over him and he gave a groan. He'd booked the fucking day off so he could take Fliss for a late afternoon-slash-early evening meal and had forgotten to turn off his bastard alarm.

And then it further dawned on him that it didn't actually matter because Mary still needed to get up and ready for school regardless of his day off or not.

But then…it was Friday. Her university day…which meant she wasn’t due in until 10…

With a grin his arm tightened over Fliss’ waist, hand splaying on her belly as he pulled her back into him, nuzzling his nose into her neck, feeling a stirring in his boxers where his cock was already semi-hard thanks to the life of its own it had in a morning. Part of him wanted to wake her for a bit of fun before the rest of the house rose, the other knew she was bound to be tired after Alex had been an absolute horror during the night, but in the end the decision was made for him as he felt her shift a little, before she stretched out her limbs, a soft sigh escaping from her mouth. "Morning Sailor..." Fliss yawned.

"Morning Cowgirl" He said, closing his eyes and snuggling closer into her. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“The alarm did.” She shifted slightly before she propped herself up to check on Alex who was fast asleep "Yeah, now he sleeps" she grumbled.

Frank gave a chuckle and pressed another kiss to her neck "yeah he was really not playing ball last night was he?"

"3 times." She groaned "He's a bottomless pit Frank."

"I told you to stay on bed the 3rd time." Frank sighed.

"Once I'm awake I'm awake." She shrugged. "He cries and it’s like my boobs send an alarm to my brain.”

Frank chuckled "Well like your mom suggested, introducing the formula should help. He'll fill up from less and give you a break."

"You mean because I can't feed him what he needs myself." She let put a sigh and at that Frank took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Hey, look at me." He said sternly and she rolled onto her back, her brown eyes blinking up at him, auburn and blonde hair splayed across her pillow "you checked with the doctor, she said this perfectly normal..."

"Then why do I feel so shit." She asked, tears brimming her eyes "I can't even feed our baby properly.”

"Come ‘ere..." he said gently as she rolled onto her side facing him, his arms cradling her close as she pressed her face into his chest, sniffling "Lissy, you're a wonderful mom. Don't start beating yourself up about something that in the grand scheme of things really doesn't matter."

"It matters to me Frank..."

"Look, he won't give a shit whether what he's getting is from you or not. He just wants food." He said gently, his hand rubbing up and down her back, underneath the sleep cami she was wearing "if anything the fact you're doing this shows how much of a good mom you are. You spotted something that he needs and you're doing what you have to do to give it to him.” She stayed silent bar her little sniffles and he gently pressed a kiss to her head. "Don't think on it too much Fliss. I know it must feel shitty for you but he'll be fine. That I can promise you."

She took a deep breath and pulled back to look at him, and he gently brushed his lips against hers, the hand that was on her back stopping in the middle of the spine, holding her to him. She arched an eyebrow and gave a little smirk before he shrugged and kissed her lazily. She took the kiss eagerly, allowing him to slowly ease her over onto her back, caging her underneath his body as his mouth moved to her jawline then her neck. She gave a soft sigh, her hands sliding into his sleep-messed hair and he’d just moved his mouth downwards, softly nipping at her chest through her top when, with his ever perfect timing, Alex let out a little whine.

“For fucks sake…” Frank grumbled, his head falling to the valley of Fliss’ chest as she chuckled, swatting at his head. With a sigh he propped himself up and dropped a kiss to her lips. “I’ll get him sorted.” he said. “You take a while, lay in.”

Fliss looked down at her boobs and then shrugged “Well seeing as he fed 3 times over night they’re not that swollen so…” Frank gave a snort as she looked at him, arching her eyebrows “Hey, the struggle is real, ok?"

“I didn’t suggest otherwise.” He said, hopping out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats, yanking at the crotch as they felt a little tight thanks to the fact he was still aroused, and a T-shirt as Fliss leaned over, gently rubbing Alex’s tummy. “Hey…” he said, picking his son up, gently placing a large hand on his back “If you’re swapping over to formula, does that mean Ben and Jerry are gonna go smaller?” he nodded at her chest “Because if so I may be forced to reconsider my stance on the situation.”

“If you didn’t have hold of our son I’d punch you.” Fliss glared and he gave a chuckle before he headed out of the room.

“Couldn’t you have slept for like 15 minutes longer this morning buddy?” he questioned gently as he entered the nursery, placing Alex down on the changing mat. “You totally cock blocked me. Which, for the record, is not cool.”

Alex looked at him, blinking slowly.

“Yeah, you might look like that.” Frank deadpanned, as Alex’s hands curled around his fingers. His little legs wiggled a little and Frank bent down with his mouth arranged in an open smile, causing Alex’s face to split into a little grin, his arms and legs waggling even faster. “Yeah, ok, I forgive you.” Frank chuckled before he changed him into a clean diaper and then padded downstairs to warm his bottle up, juggling his son easily in one arm as he did so.

By now Alex’s fairly decent mood had started to wane as he was hungry. The noises he made were getting louder and slightly more impatient, threatening to turn into an out and out cry.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s coming pal…” Frank said, dropping a gentle kiss to the downy hair on Alex’s head “I know, you’re hungry...despite the fact you had midnight, 1.30 am and 4am snack…”

He settled on the sofa, flicked on the TV for the morning news, positioned Alex and gave him his bottle, watching with a soft smile on his face as the baby’s cheeks worked hungrily taking the mix of breast and formula. They’d started this just a few days or so ago after Fliss had simply been unable to stop him crying from hunger Tuesday afternoon and called her mom in a flap. She’d suggested doing what Steve and Sian had had to do with the twins, seeing as both of those had been greedy little bastards too so after a call to the Paediatrician, Fliss had reluctantly agreed. He did sympathise with her, and he’d been waiting for the inevitable tears which had finally come that morning, but it would be much easier for her in the long run all things considered, especially if as the doctor had suggested she could move to formula fully bar a morning feed.

Supporting Alex in one arm, he absentmindedly watched the anchor and co-anchor on the breakfast show interviewing someone about a Thanksgiving tradition or something, he wasn’t really paying much attention if he was honest. It freaked him out how fast it was creeping up on them. Soon it would be fucking Christmas. Thankfully, Fliss seemed to be on top of it mostly. They were hosting a small Thanksgiving with his mother then heading over to Verity and Bill’s for the usual party, and for Christmas Steve, Sian and the boys were over so they were spending the day at Verity and Bill’s along with Roberta and his mother…which was always fun. It never ceased to amaze him how welcoming Fliss’ family had been to his own fucked up version of one.

Lost in his thoughts, he was jerked from them by a little popping noise and he looked down to see Alex had moved away from the bottle, and to his astonishment there was a small amount left.

“Finally full up buddy?” he asked, offering it him back but the baby turned his head away un interested “Guess so.” Frank said, placing the bottle on the coffee table and moving Alex so he was leaning against his chest, head on his shoulder as he burped him. It took a little while but eventually he obliged and Frank chuckled, turning his head to look at him, bright blue eyes staring around the room. He was developing so fast now, it was ridiculous.

“Shall we go wake your sister up?” he asked softly, “Yeah, ok…”

Thankfully, Mary was actually pretty co-operative most mornings, and today being one of her university split days she was in a good mood, rabbiting on to Frank about the assignment she had done. They ate breakfast before she headed off upstairs to get changed and once she was back, he told her to watch Alex for a second whilst he made his way into the bedroom with a plate of toast and a coffee for Fliss, knowing full well she wouldn’t be asleep. And sure enough, she lay on her back, watching the TV. She beamed at him as she shuffled herself up, taking the mug off him as he placed the plate on the night stand and perched on the side of the bed.

“Where’s Bean?” she asked.

“Mary’s watching him for a second so I could bring you that.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’ll take him with me when I drop Mary off. He likes the truck. I might pop into the shop for 20 minutes or so, the guys haven’t seen him in a while and I like showing him off.” Frank smiled a little bashfully and Fliss’ smile grew even larger. “Imma dress him in his Made In Boston T-shirt…”

Fliss chuckled “I still can’t believe Bonnie and Simon got him that.” “Oh, I can.” Frank nodded “In fact, that’s quite tame for what I expected from Si to be honest.” “Yeah, that’s true…” Fliss conceded “Oh, don’t forget, I’m teaching at 2 for an hour.” “I’ll be well back before then.” Frank snorted, “It’s not even 8 yet.” “I know I was just pointing out you can have some more male bonding time then too.” “Great, maybe I’ll introduce him to Debbie Does Dallas…” Frank teased and Fliss snorted

“Well, we know he likes boobs so…”

Frank gave a laugh before he leaned over and gave her another soft kiss. “I’ll get him dressed and then we’re heading out so I’ll see you in a little while. Love you.” “Love you too.” She smiled, as he bumped his nose against hers and left.

*****

Once he’d dropped Mary off and walked her into her lecture hall where he handed her over to her tutor, he headed back out to the truck, clipping the car seat back in place. He dropped into work, where as predicted the guys on the team all came to say hi, commenting on how big he was compared to last time they’d seen him. He double checked a couple of the rotas for Monday before he headed home, getting back just after 11, by which point Alex was fast asleep. He entered the house, greeting Thor who came bounding down the stairs to check who’d dared to walk into his home.

“Just me buddy.” He said, patting the large dog’s head before he headed upstairs knowing full well that if Thor had been upstairs that meant Fliss was too. And sure enough, he opened the door to their bedroom and heard the shower in the en-suite going. Fred opened his eye and looked at Frank from where he had been lounging on their bed, his tail swishing slightly before he returned to his cat nap, not even bothering to move.

With a snort at the cat’s blatant lack of any fucks to give, Frank placed the car seat on the dresser, smoothing back Alex’s hair as he continued to sleep and then realised that this was a prime opportunity for finishing what he started this morning. With a dirty smirk to himself he opened the door to the bathroom. Fliss’ head was tipped back, face turned to the stream of water, suds cascading from her long hair down her body which instantly had him half hard in the constraints of his sweats.

Yup, Frank Adler was a big fan of getting dirty in the shower.

“Room for another?” he asked, cheekily, pulling off his T-shirt. Fliss jumped a little as she hadn’t heard him come in and then turned to look at him through the shower screen, most of her body obscured by the frosted glass pattern. She grinned and raised her hand, making a beckoning motion with her fingers. In a flash he shed the remainder of his clothing and stepped into the large cubicle with her, his hands reaching out for her hips, pulling her towards him, so her back was pressed to his chest.

“I believe we have unfinished business Miss Gallagher.” He said, feeling her slick skin pressing against his as he nipped at her neck.

“Really?” she pondered, “I don’t recall…”

“No?” he teased, his lips placing another kiss to her wet skin, “Maybe this will jog your memory…”

His hands slid up, tracing the curve of her waist before he gently cupped her breasts, calloused thumbs skating over the nipples. With a reaction that was automatic, she let out a soft sigh as he gently teased her, his palms and fingers working their magic, all the time taking care not to be too rough as he knew she was sensitive. But in the end it was Fliss demanding he go harder as she arched her back, pushing herself into his hands as she felt the aching brewing between her legs. She went to squeeze them closed, anything to help relieve the pressure that was building and she felt Frank’s lips smirk against her neck, one of his hands brushing down her body, slipping between her folds, right where she needed him most.

“Fuck…” she swore, as he gently played her, slow, teasing strokes and before long she was rocking against his hand, seeking friction as she was spiralling higher and higher, Frank’s rock hard dick pressing into the lower part of her back.

“Turn around…” Frank said into her ear and she did as she was told, greeting his lips in a filthy kiss as he pivoted her round so that her back was pressed to the wall of the shower cubicle. His mouth moved from hers to her jawline, the whiskers of his beard gently sliding over her skin as he dipped his head to kiss her collar bone before he rather gracefully dropped to his knees. He glanced up at her, deep brown met ocean blue, her eyes full with a heady combination of love, desire and lust and it drew a low growl from his throat as he reached down for her left ankle. With a steady hand Frank lifted it over his right shoulder and gently kissed and sucked his way up her leg, leaving a nip at the apex of her thigh. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the tiles as he moved to where she wanted him the most, his tongue long and flat against her centre as he lapped at her entrance all the way up to her sensitive bud. Her body jolted as she let out a soft sigh of his name which was laced with satisfaction as he set his mouth to work.

As Frank devoured her with the enthusiasm of a man starved, Fliss curled her fingers into his damp hair, the movement a reflex as the other slapped flat against the grey slate tiles. The contrast of his short beard scratching at her sensitive skin to his soft tongue and mouth was sending her body into overdrive. He gently grazed her bud with his teeth which caused her hips to violently buck forward, her nails dug into his scalp and he gave a chuckle which vibrated against her clit causing her to groan loudly.

“Jesus Christ Frank…” she panted, looking down at him. He peeked up from between her legs, a cheeky glint in his eyes as he continued, his tongue flicking into her entrance, before he sucked on her bud and then she was gone. Her knees trembled as her hand pulled his hair, almost to the point it was painful as she gave a loud cry, her other hand reaching to his head as she used both to push him away from her sensitive sex as she clamped down around thin air. With a smug sense of satisfaction at having undone her to the extent he had, Frank rose to his feet, wiping his wet face with an equally wet forearm and he cupped her cheeks, kissing her again, his tongue tangling against hers.

Fliss’ wrecked brain had barely registered his mouth was on hers when he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as the water cascaded down on them both. “Turn back around…”he whispered softly, and she did as she was told. Frank gently moved his hands to her hips, pulling her back, nudging her ankles with his feet to open her up a little more. With one palm on the base of her back he gently bent her forward ever so slightly, took his throbbing cock in his hand and lined himself up. With a gentle, slow movement he slipped inside, burying himself in her heat, the rumble from his throat slipping out of his mouth at the relief of finally being inside her. Once he was fully sheathed his hands moved, one to her stomach, holding her in place, the other up to her breasts as she arched her back, her head back against his shoulder as he drove in and out of her, slowly, deliberately. Her right hand moved back to grab at his thigh, her fingertips digging into the hard muscle as he thrust forward, the other hand flat reached back to tangle in his hair.

“God you feel so good baby…” he groaned, his mouth licking a stripe up the side of her neck as her head lolled to the right, tracing her wet skin up to her jaw line, “So fahkin’ good…”

The hand that had been on her belly moved to grasp her chin with his finger and thumb, tipping her face round to his so he could kiss her. It was all Fliss could do to kiss him back, allowing him to control the pace as she was completely gone, the sensations lancing through her body had left her totally pliant to his ministrations, and he fucking adored the fact she surrendered to him, that she felt safe enough to do so.

“Frankie…” she panted softly as he continued to push into her, driving deep, and she gave a squeak as he rotated his hips, his fingers letting go of her face to slide down her body, between her legs and she gave a long wail of delight as he fondled her bud, “Shit…I’m…”

“Go one, come for me baby…” he nipped at her ear “I got you, I promise…”

With a last, silent moan she came, hard, her knees almost buckling, but Frank held her to him as she blissed out completely, the entire world fading around her as she felt nothing but the familiar hot, warm pleasure as her abdomen contracted and relaxed as her walls spasmed around him over and over.

“Good girl…” he praised as he continued thrusting through, the heat in his own belly now beginning to spike even more, “Such a good girl for me…”

She preened at his praise, relaxing slightly into his hold as he kissed her neck once more, picking up the pace slightly. She reached back with one hand to cup his balls and with an almost violent buck forward he came, biting down gently on her shoulder, muffling the noises of satisfaction and pleasure that rolled from the back of his throat.

His hips stilled and neither of them moved, his hands gently flexing on her hips before he gave a soft chuckle of satisfaction and he pulled out of her, taking care to keep her as close to him as he could. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and she turned her head, greeting his lips in a soft, gentle kiss and he smiled as she pulled away, rubbing her nose against his.

“You should take the day off more often” she quipped and Frank could do nothing but laugh.

“I fahkin’ love you.” He chuckled and she grinned, giving a shrug.

“I’m a very lovable person.”

“That you are cowgirl.” He nodded, “That you are.”

*****

“Felicity Rose Gallagher, if you ask me one more time if we are sure we’re going to be ok I’m gonna go mad.” Verity glared at Fliss who had just asked the question for the umpteenth time since her parents had turned up for babysitting duty.

Fliss gave a groan and held her hands up. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You’ve left him with us before, this is no different.” Verity looked at her “No go, go on, scoot.”

Over Fliss’ shoulder, Frank shot Verity a wink as he dropped his hand to the curve of his girl’s lower back.

“Come on Lissy, we’ll be late otherwise.”

“Yeah, and I wanna get back to eat.” Bill said, twirling his car keys.

“Maybe I should drive?” Fliss looked at Frank who took a deep breath as Verity made an annoyed noise in her throat.

“If you want to drive, then that’s up to you.” Frank said simply as she bit her lip. “Be a shame though, I was gonna treat you to that champagne you demanded…maybe not quite a swimming pool full but…”

Fliss looked at him for a second before she shook her head “I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologising.” He chuckled softly “Baby what do you want to do?”

She glanced at Alex who was led in Verity’s arms, happily grinning up at his Nanna before she turned to Frank. “No, you’re right. We haven’t been out for months so…”she nodded. “Let’s go.” “Halle-fuckin-lujah.” Bill mumbled, earning himself a glare from Fliss. “V, I’ll grab us some take-out on the way back.”

“Bye baby…” Fliss crossed the room to drop a kiss on Alex’s head and then turned, taking Frank’s outstretched hand. “We won’t be too late…” she tossed over her shoulder at her mum. Verity shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re staying so be as late as you want.”

Fliss nodded and Frank squeezed his hand around hers as they left the room, not before he threw a smile at Verity who gave him a knowing one back. Fliss had been fine all week with the principle of going out…right up until she had gotten out of her second shower of the day that evening, when she’d suddenly had an attack of conscience about leaving him with her parents whilst she went out drinking. Frank was sharp enough to know full well this was linked to her current feelings of inadequacy, and he also knew that no matter what he said or did, there was nothing he could do to stop that bar be there for her and give her the reassurance that she needed.

That and simply love her, which was a given, because he did with every single breath he took.

“You look gorgeous.” He said to her gently as they walked to her dad’s car. She smiled and glanced down at the dark blue peplum top she was wearing, coupled with faded jeans and a white denim jacket. She’d been over the moon to find out she could fit back in those jeans so he wasn’t surprised she’d chosen them for the evening. On her feet she wore a simple pair of yellow heeled pumps, complete with matching bag. Her hair was down in loose waves, and her make-up was simple, a light dusting of rose gold powder on her lids.

“Thanks.” She said, before she eyed him up and down and he grinned as he knew full well what she was thinking, given that he was dressed in his yellow and black palm-tree Hawaiian print shirt.

“You said my shit shits were endearing.” He said and she gave a laugh, shrugging.

“You wouldn’t be Frank without them.” She smiled and he grinned.

Fliss declined the front seat when Frank offered it to her, instead climbing into the back behind her dad taking the time to check up on a few emails and the yard’s social media accounts. The three of them made easy chat on the way into St Pete’s and they thanked Bill for the lift as they both climbed out. Fliss instructed her dad to call them if there was any problems and he simply rolled his eyes and told her to “piss off and have a good time”.

They’d picked to go to Rios for dinner before they were heading down to Ferg’s to meet up with the others a little later on. It had become a little bit of a running joke between Bonnie and Fliss that, as much of a dive as Ferg’s was, frankly the two women preferred it to any of the bars they frequented. It was casual, fun, they knew a hell of a lot of people in there including most of the bar staff, and it held good memories. It suited both Frank and Simon down to the ground, both of them happy to tease their girls about having simple taste until Fliss normally quipped back along the lines of that being the reason she was marrying Frank in the first place. But when he pushed all jokes aside, he was glad she was so down to Earth. He had nothing against Greg or Jake’s wives but man, they were high maintenance.

But not his Lissy.

As it was still early and they wanted to chill out, they had opted to eat in the more casual outside lounge area which sported the roof bar and offered an all evening Tapas style menu, not the full a la carte main restaurant menu. As such they were led through to their table on the veranda. Neither of them had been into this part since the refurb, the last time Fliss came it hadn’t been finished but now, she felt a smile cross her face as she looked around. It was cosy and casual, right up her street. The tables were slightly lower than normal and appeared to all be different shapes and sizes, made out of driftwood and pallets. They were decked with large candles held in jars in the middle and surrounded by comfy chairs and bean bags all of which sported blankets given that the time of year meant sometimes in the evening it could be quite chilly at night. In the middle of the veranda was a large stone fire pit which was covered by an ornamental, wrought iron cage that spiralled to a point some 8 foot off the ground, and the bar stood to the rear right hand corner with a few people sat down enjoying a drink.

“Oh my God, I love it.” Fliss muttered to Frank and he looked down at her, nodding.

“This is pretty cool” he conceded.

“The tables and seats…it’s just how I pictured our wedding.” She said as they were led over to their spot at the rear, which was just by the glass barrier of the roof, over-looking the beach and the ocean.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, looking at her.

She nodded “Rustic, causal, bean bags, blankets…that type of thing…although it won’t be that cold then…”

“If you want blankets, baby, you can have blankets.” He chuckled kissing her forehead as they settled down onto the comfy plush seats which to Fliss’ delight were also bean bags just shaped differently. The teenage kid who had shown them to their table soon returned with the menus and informed them that as it was the first week they’d opened the terrace, with every bottle of wine purchased, there was complementary charcuterie tasting platter included. Fliss’ eyes lit up and Frank knew why, it was probably her favourite thing to eat in the world and he had to admit, she did a pretty wicked board herself when they were entertaining. With that in mind, he ordered them a bottle of Pinot Grigio and they sat back, Frank’s arm dropping over Fliss’ shoulders as she looked around.

“You know, if this is the type of thing you want, why not take a few photos and then we can start looking around.” Frank suggested and Fliss looked at him, smiling. “You can give Bobbi a call. I know you want to organise it yourself but she’ll probably have a list of suppliers, caterers, that sorta stuff for you to look at.” “I already know what I want for catering.” Fliss looked at him.

“You do?” Frank asked.

“Yup. I want food trucks. Mexican and Pizza.”

Frank cocked his head to one side, smiling as he looked at her “That’s actually a fucking brilliant idea.”

“No fancy sit down meal, if it stays for a couple of hours then people can grab what they want when they want.”

“Love it.” Frank grinned, looking up as their waiter appeared with their bottle of wine. He poured them both a glass and set the ice bucket in the middle of the table, before he disappeared again. Frank picked his glass up and Fliss did the same, the pair of them gently clinking them together, smiling. “To our first date in…what? 4 months?” Frank teased and Fliss shrugged.

“I don’t know, I lost track of time…been kinda busy.” She teased as Frank chuckled, leaning down to give her a soft kiss.

Their charcuterie board arrived not long after and they then placed their order, opting for the Chef’s Selection, a number of small tapas dishes which as the name suggested, would be selected by the chef for them. Fliss had liked the idea of it all being rather mysterious and as the waiter had asked what kind of thing they liked they’d both listed a few things and he’d nodded, heading away with their order.

Frank reached over for the wine bottle to top Fliss’ glass up and she thanked him, taking another sip, before he saw her bite her lip and she reached into her purse.

“Congratulations.” He said dryly, teasing her a little as she turned to him. He nodded to the phone “You made it like 45 minutes since we walked out of the door without checking up on him.” “I wasn’t…” she began to protest and he gave her a look and she groaned, tossing her phone back in her purse “Ok, fine…maybe I was.” “Honey, he’ll be ok.” Frank said gently, his hand on her knee “You’re mom and dad did this all before remember?”

“I know, I know…” she said, before she reached over for an olive and popped it in her mouth.

Frank then diverted the subject, got her talking about her afternoon teaching and she animatedly filled him in on how nice it had been to get back to seeing some of her clients. The conversation was easy, fun, they laughed and giggled away and a little over half an hour later when their food arrived they’d worked though their first bottle of wine and Frank then ordered them a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Brut, just as he’d promised.

The food was amazing, Frank couldn’t fault a single thing about it, other than maybe it was a little too good as his jeans definitely felt a little tighter around the waist when they finished their meal because despite the fact he was full he just couldn’t stop eating. As the waiter came to clean the empty dishes away, Fliss then heard her phone going. Reaching into her purse she read the message and smiled before she turned the phone to Frank. It was a picture of Alex, fast asleep against Bill’s chest as he sat in their lounge.

“See.” Frank smile “He’s happy as a pig in shit.” “Frank!” Fliss scoffed, slapping his arm, “Don’t call our baby a pig.” “I was talking about your dad.”

“Oh…I’m so telling him you said that.” She said as they both laughed and she shook her head “You’re a bad man.”

“You love it honey.” He teased and she grinned.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” She leaned over, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss. She glanced down at her phone and smiled again before she put it away “We did good though. We made a pretty cute baby.” “Good genes.” Frank boasted and Fliss laughed and he smiled at her, brushing her hair back behind her ear before he rest his arm along the back of the soft chair she was in. “Ever think you’ll fancy another?”

“Another baby?” Fliss asked and Frank nodded. “Fuck no.” she spluttered and Frank let out a loud laugh. “I mean I wouldn’t change any of this for the world but, well, he wasn’t exactly on my life plan…”

“Good, because I don’t want one either.” He said in between his chuckles as he reached for his champagne flute.

“Well, you know…” Fliss said, mimicking him and picking hers up “There is one way we could make sure it doesn’t happen again…” she moved the hand that wasn’t holding her drink and mimed a pair of scissors snipping the air. Frank choked on his drink, spluttering slightly as the bubbles threatened to fizz down his nose. Fliss roared with laughter as he wiped at his shirt and glared at her.

“Absolutely no way in hell.”

“Why not?” she shrugged.

“Because…well, just no!” he said, grimacing, “I couldn’t do that to Little Frank.” “Little Frank…jesus…I can’t…” Fliss’ laughter grew even louder and the familiar snorting that happened when she was laughing beyond control started, which set Frank off again. She clamped her hand over her mouth, slapping his arm and looked away from him, trying to control herself. Eventually they managed to stop and Frank shook his head, composing himself before he asked for the check.

*****

They hit a cab down to Ferg’s and Fliss squealed when she saw Bonnie, sweeping her up into a huge hug before examining her ring up close whilst Frank shook Simon’s hand, pulling him into a bro hug, slapping his back. They were joined shortly afterwards by the rest of the gang, and when Simon and Bonnie broke their news to everyone there were more loud cheers and a shout of “shots all round” from Jake. Frank kept a careful eye on Fliss, who was already flushed from what they’d drunk over dinner, especially seeing as she hadn’t had a proper drink in over a year now. She downed 2 tequilas and then shook her head when someone asked her if she wanted another, instead requesting a water.

The gang moved to their preferred spot over at one of the tables at the back, round the corner away from the bar area, and they had a good hour or so catch up before the boys wanted to shoot some pool. Together they made their way over to the games area, the girls settling at one of the tall tables by the side.

“So how is the little one?” Greg turned to Frank as Simon and Jake racked the pool balls up, and he beamed in response.

“Ah Greg, he’s fahkin’ awesome.” Frank gushed “I just…he’s great, really great. Other than being a little cock block that is.” Greg snorted “Yeah I hate to break it to you, but that only gets worse as they get older…especially when they learn how to climb out of their crib and come to your room.” “Imma get a lock on the door.” Frank stated simply and Greg laughed as they grabbed a cue each, chalking the end.

They shot one game and then Frank said it was his round, so he headed off to the bar. He nodded to Dave, asking for the same again plus another bottle of water for Fliss and as he headed off to get their drinks, the young woman on the seat next to Frank jumped down from the stool next to him. Frank fished in his pocket for his wallet, pausing as he heard a little yelp and he turned his head to the right to see the guy sat two stools down had his arm curled around the young woman’s upper arm. She tried to get free but the guy’s grip tightened and Frank felt a spike of anger in his chest. All he could see in his mind was Fliss and that bastard ex-husband of hers hurting her. And he knew then he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, let this go.

“We’re not done yet.” The guy said loudly, a sneer on his face as he looked at the girl. Frank quickly stepped up behind her, and he looked at the guy and shook his head.

“Yes, you are.” He said, drawing himself up to full height, shoulders tensing, his eyes not once leaving the douchebag in front of him as he kept his voice calm and level “Let the lady go, man.”

“Mind your business, dick head.”

“It became my business when the whole bar could hear your conversation.” Frank retorted, his tone still calm. “Let her go. Now.”

After a second or so, albeit reluctantly, the asshole did loosen his grip so that the young girl could remove her arm from his hand meaning she could get out of the way. She headed down to the far end of the bar, Frank watching her for a second before he turned back to the man in front of him who was now wobbling to his feet, his fist clenching by his side.

Frank snorted to himself. Was this asshole really going to go there? Sure, the inebriated piece of shit was built, he probably had a good 20 pounds on him, but Frank himself was no push over. He was in decent shape, he knew that, and given his chances against someone who was struggling to stand up straight, well, he’d take them.

“What are you, some kinda knight in shining armor?” the guy snorted. “Fuck you, man!”

Before Frank had time for a rebuttal, asshole had made a run for him and Frank almost lazily sidestepped as the drunk swung a punch at him. Not being able to stop, Mr Drunk asshole pitched forward and smacked into a chair, catching his head on the adjacent table-top. He groaned out in pain as he held his head on the ground.

“Jeff! What the hell is going on?”

Frank looked up to see a group of guys heading back in from the outside of the patio and for the first time he felt a little nervous. He looked around, and to his relief he saw Simon and Jake approaching.

“Get him outta here!” Dave said loudly “Your friend is drunk and startin’ fights in my bar. Get the fuck out before I call the cops.”

The guys were fast to act, quickly shuffling ‘Jeff’ out and cursing at him for ruining their night.

“Fucking prick…” Dave shook his head, before he looked at Frank. “Nice going man, this rounds on the house.” “Thanks Dave…” Frank smiled at him.

“Hey bud, you ok?” Simon clapped Frank on the shoulder as Jake eyed the guys leaving “What the fuck?” “Oh he was hassling some girl.” Frank said, shaking his head, “She was petrified.” “What a dick.” Jake mumbled, turning back to him. “She ok?” “Not sure…” Frank said, looking round the bar as Dave placed the tray of drinks down in front of him. He didn’t know whether she had stayed or scarpered but he soon spotted her. She was sat on a chair, her arms over her stomach at the opposite end of the bar. Frank felt a pang of sympathy for her, she was clearly here on her own for whatever reason. “Do me a favour and take the drinks back to the tables will you?” he said to Jake and Simon, before he strode over, stopping besides her.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked her gently.

“Yeah, thanks to you. Thank you for helping me. You’re like my hero.” she let out a nervous laugh as a pink blush settled on her cheeks.

“You’re welcome but I was just doing what any person would do.” Frank smiled, a little embarrassed at the compliment. “My name’s Frank, by the way. You want some water?”

She offered her name and nodded. Frank turned to Dave “Hey man, can she get a water”?

“Sure.” Dave nodded, reaching into the fridge for a bottle. He passed it over and she took it with a thanks, taking a slow sip before she set the bottle down and looked back at Frank.

“So, Frank. Is there any way I could thank you for your bravery? Maybe treat you to a coffee sometime?” at that she reached forward and put her hand on top of his forearm gently, looking at him expectantly.

Shit. Not another fucking Vegas.

As gently as he could he moved his arm away, coughing a little as he shook his head. “I… uh, thank you for the offer, but not sure my fiancée would appreciate that.”

“Oh, god. I’m sorry.” She blushed again and pulled her hand away.

He smiled kindly at her, but before he could assure her not to worry about it he heard Fliss shouting. “Frank!”

He turned to see her walking towards him, a worried expression on her face. “Are you okay?” “Yeah Lissy, I’m fine.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her temple lightly.

“What happened?” she asked, searching his eyes “Jake and Simon mentioned there’d been a fight and…” “Just some drunken asshole harassing this lady.” He said, nodding to the woman. “I stepped in that’s all. He didn’t hit me, don’t worry.”

Fliss looked at him, then to the woman and back again as Frank introduced her. The young woman reached out and shook Fliss hand as Frank’s arm dropped to her back, gently brushing underneath her top.

"Well, I think I’ve had enough ‘fun’ for the night.” The girl laughed dryly. “I’m gonna head out. Thank you again, Frank. It was nice meeting you Fliss. You’ve got quite a guy."

Fliss looked at Frank whose cheeks had flushed slightly and she nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I do. Take care.”

They stood watching her leave before Fliss turned to Frank, her hands sliding up his chest “Like a regular real life Captain America ain’t you? Standing up for the little guy.”

Frank rolled his eyes “Your Marvel obsession is ridiculous.”

She shrugged as he dropped a kiss to her lips before they headed back over to join their friends.

***** An hour or so later Fliss was ready to go home, her feet hurt, her boobs hurt and she was quite drunk. She leaned over to Frank who was sat next to her, her hand curling round his thigh and he turned to her.

“You ok sweetheart?”

“No, I mean yeah, I mean…” she sighed “I’m ready to go home, do you mind?” “Course not.” He smiled, giving a little chuckle “I’ll get us an Uber ok?”

He reached for his phone, ordered the car and to Fliss’ relief there was one literally round the corner. They stood up, bid their friends good night sharing a few hugs and the like before Frank looped an arm round Fliss’ shoulders, hers slinking around his waist as they walked slowly out of the bar. Frank could tell she was a little unsteady on her feet and he smiled to himself, pleased she’d let go enough to enjoy herself.

Carefully he made sure she got down the steps ok and they walked along the little path that led down to the front of the row of bars that Ferg’s was at the end of. As they emerged onto the road area, waiting for their cab Frank heard a shout.

“Oi..”

He wheeled round and saw the asshole from the bar, Jeff, stumbling towards him as his friends hastily followed, shouting at him to leave it alone.

“Fuck…” Frank mumbled, “Fliss, move honey, quick…” She looked up at him, then to the guy approaching, and he felt her tense. He stepped forward, his arm stretched out to the side, ready to push her behind him but in a flash she ducked under it and before he could stop her she’d raised her fist and smashed it straight into the approaching guy’s face. Her punch connected with a satisfying crack and he dropped like a stone to the floor, clutching his nose which was billowing blood.

His friends appeared once more, apologising profoundly as they hoisted him to his feet, he was groaning and clutching at his face, as they led him away.

“Lissy…” Frank’s voice was a mixture of shock and awe as she turned to him, shaking out her fist.

“Sorry, oh my God that was so bad…” she mumbled, “Was that bad? Are you angry?”

“Angry?” he looked at her, shaking his head “No. Why would- what- where the fuck did you learn to punch like that?”

“Steve.” She shrugged “Haven’t done it in a while…”

Frank blinked as their Uber pulled up and she made her way towards it. He shook himself out of his shocked stance and strode forward, opening the car door for her. He stopped it halfway, causing her to look at him and he dropped his head, his lips brushing her ear. “Baby, I just want you to know that I’m all sorts of turned on right now…”

She looked up at him and her lips quirked up at the side into a cheeky grin. “Best hope this guy doesn’t take the long way home then…” Frank gave a little growl as she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He opened the door fully, to allow her to climb into the back seat, before he hastily followed her in. As the driver set off, Frank leaned forward between the front seats, which wasn’t exactly easy given the bulge in the front of his jeans and he nodded to the driver.

“Extra 5 bucks in it for you pal, if you make it quick…”

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #gifted #gifted fan fic

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finnlongman · 3 years

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If you don't mind me asking, as a writer, is there anything you do to motivate yourself/stay focused on one particular idea/project? Like, keeping yourself from having another idea mid-work and having an "ooo shiny" moment, and leaving the old work to be an Emer to the new idea's Fand (to make a clumsy Ulstsr Cycle joke)? I've been trying to get a bit more serious about writing recently and this is an issue I've been running into. Thank you in advance if you do answer this ask.

I always have multiple projects in my brain, but I generally have a one-track mind when I'm actually working on things. It's why I'll obsessively edit a novel in three weeks and then go back to doing academic work -- my brain won't let me do both at once, so I have to give them all my focus for a short period of time and then switch.

I'm trying to get better at juggling multiple things, but it's still my weak point. This summer, I had to split focus between two novels, a thesis, and an article, all in the space of about 2.5 months. The result? I completely abandoned my thesis, and indeed, any academic work, for the whole of August, in order to focus on fiction, because the deadline was more urgent. Sometimes you have to prioritise, and knowing you have to switch tasks at a certain time and that this one has to be finished first does wonders for making you focus.

However, if you don't have deadlines and if nobody is expecting you to hand anything in, it can be a lot harder to do the finishing part, and it's easy to go off chasing new ideas. I think we've all done it. For the first 10 years of writing fiction, I didn't have any deadlines either except those I gave myself, and I definitely abandoned projects and hopped around. Even since I signed with my agent, there's been at least one project I had to put aside unfinished and I don't know when or if I'll come back to it, though that was less a case of being distracted by something else and more a case of being too depressed to write. If it had been under contract, though, that would have been more difficult! So I'm glad that it wasn't.

Part of the way I avoid it is by writing fast. This is unhelpful advice, because either you write fast or you don't, and if you're not a speedy writer, it's probably not very useful as a tactic. But if I write fast enough, not only do I not give myself time to get bored, I also have the drive of knowing the sooner I finish something, the sooner I can move on to something else. If it's only another 3 weeks of work, there's less a sense of the new idea being impossibly distant. I always leave first drafts to stew for at least a few months before I edit them, so once they're done, hopping between projects is a good thing -- as long as I got to the end first. But not getting to the end can be a killer.

I also try not to take breaks while writing first drafts. Again, doesn't work for everyone, hasn't always worked for me. But the books where I take days/weeks off while drafting are the ones that are hardest to finish, and every time I've stopped long-term and said I'll come back to it later to finish it ... I never have. If I ever do, I'll have to rewrite the whole first half before I can continue. This is partly because I'm not an outliner, so first drafts are precariously balanced in my head and setting them down can mean losing sight of something crucial. If I had a set outline to follow, it might be easier to dip in and out.

Having said that, I do have some books that have been written far more intermittently with lots of days off... but they were definitely harder. The continuity and speed is a fairly crucial part of maintaining my train of thought. Like I said -- one-track mind. That's why it's so hard for me to balance multiple projects.

Over time, I've learned that ideas are really the easiest part of writing, but they often don't go anywhere. I keep note of them, often in my phone, but an idea is not a plot, and it takes time for them to turn into a book. I like to let them mature on their own for a while. I knew I wanted to write TRWTH from about 2015, but I didn't draft it until late 2018; I knew I wanted to write a Bisclavret retelling since about 2016, but didn't draft it until late 2019. I gave them time to figure out what shape they wanted to be in before I started actually working with those premises directly. So that can help me resist the temptation to jump on something new -- it's not necessarily ready yet. Writing it down feels like scratching the itch ("I'm not ignoring it, I'm just setting it aside") and means you won't forget it, but also means by the time you come to look at it again, you have a better sense of whether it's worth writing.

Having said that, I'm easily distracted by the temptation to *edit* something other than the book I'm currently working on; I'll reread an older project and see how to fix it and since editing doesn't require the same single-minded focus (for me) as first drafts, I can be lured away quite easily. Deadlines are usually the main thing that helps there.

If I'm honest... deadlines in general are the only things that keep me on track. Otherwise I'm always hopping between things and never focusing on anything long enough to get it "finished". It's where things like NaNoWriMo can help: setting yourself a goal of writing a certain amount of a book within a window of time can often keep you on target long enough to pass the point of no return (i.e. the point at which you're more invested in finishing the book than in starting a different one). I never finished anything until I did NaNo for the first time; it turned out what I needed was a deadline and an excuse to write quickly.

Two final things. One is that I try to only write things I really care about. If I'm ready to abandon a project and never come back, I probably wasn't invested in it in the first place. Two, if an idea is constantly popping up while writing something else, it might be related. It might explore the same themes, or develop on one of the ideas. It can be worth poking at it for a minute to check if that's the case, and if it is... it's not a new story. It's a new part of the story you were already writing, and can be woven in.

It's possible absolutely none of this is applicable to those with a different writing style to me, and it's also incredibly rambly, but quick summary:

deadlines help. knowing someone is expecting something from you helps.

writing fast enough not to get bored gives you less time to get distracted.

ideas need time. write them down and let them stew instead of rashly chasing them; they may not be able to carry a whole story on their own

they may not BE a whole story; consider whether they're part of what you're already writing

Did this make any sense at all? I have no idea. I've actually been switching between three projects (two fiction, one academic) this week, so my brain is utterly melted because, as I said, I suck at doing that.

#writing #answered #oddnub-eye

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 4 years

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Serious ask from a good fan & a creator with too many WIPs. How do you juggle multiple projects with good inspiration constantly making you jump between them, and how do you take a hiatus from working on any of them without feeling disappointed or inadequate? That being said I hope you own hiatus is going well and that you are relaxing enough. :)

I’m not sure if this will be helpful because I honestly juggle multiple projects and jump between them… on purpose.

Like, multitasking on several projects is actually a part of my work ethic at this point. When I only have one project, it’s actually harder for me to do anything at all.

And that sounds weird, but let me try to explain…

All projects have a seasonal up and down rhythm. Sometimes you’re inspired and you make a lot of art - and sometimes you’re just NOT. This is in no way a new concept but personally I categorize my productivity this way:

When I lose interest and my current (and only) project enters into a winter (non-productive) period, I end up empty handed. There’s nothing I can do, I just have to wait it out.

But if I have multiple projects going on, I actually have a better time with it because I can combine resting from one project with being productive in another.

For example, I’m currently taking a break from WD!Steven. Well…. I’m arguably not TOTALLY taking a break - but I’m currently not writing plot-heavy comics. Instead, I’m focusing on some of my other accounts. I’m active in the Good Omens fandom instead. On the back-burner, I also have fics I’m writing for whenever I get bored of art and need a break from visual creating. And when I’m tired of THAT (storywriting in general) I have some projects on the FAR back-burner that are infograph-oriented that I could fall back on.

So if you can visualize this - I’m basically keeping my options open so that I never have to STOP making something. I always have a backup project that needs to be done.

I’m kinda in a perpetual state of switching between projects and prioritizing whatever I’m most motivated to do. This way, I’m never caught without something to work on, and at the same time, I get my needed rest from projects that are naturally just not moving forward at all.

Would I recommend this to others?

I think not. I think this kind of juggling act can very easily destroy your life if you aren’t also totally committed to giving yourself plenty of rest. And I think other people can do DO get burnout from this type of work-style.

Nonetheless, it has been working for me for about 2-3 years now and I’m personally very happy on this schedule - at least creatively. I think what stresses me out at THIS point is actually not my art projects but my IRL work - where I feel ultimately unchallenged. If I had a job I enjoyed (like back when I was teaching daily and making my own curriculum for EFL lessons) I would end up tesselating work stuff into this as well.

Anyway, hope that makes sense and uhhh…. Sorry, I ended up kinda going off-topic!

(Please don’t come at me with ‘THAT’S UNHEALTHY YOU NEED TO REST’ - I know myself better than you do, and I’m fully aware of what my brain can and cannot do. My brain’s natural state is “flipbook carousel hybrid that is constantly thinking about SOMETHING” and I have spent years learning to utilize this and make myself behave like a living breathing human being instead of a spaced-out daydreaming gremlin. Nothing you can say to me will be useful unless you are literally living inside my head alongside with me.)

#chekhov answers #work ethic #arting #art #project management #time management #graham-cheshir

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

They find out their s/o is a Party Princess

@memekingofwwiii , you had this fricking adorable idea of Izuku and Shoto fighting with y/n, and then she says she’s gotta leave to put on a dress and go to a tea party, and that got me thinking-What if they left because they were a Party Princess??? So of course as I was in the middle of writing it Tumblr POSTED it, so I had to redo it 😖 but I hope you like these!!!

Pairings: Izuku x reader, Shoto x reader

Scenarios (more like mini fics cause I DONT KNOW WHEN TO STOP TYPING-)

——————————

Izuku

“Hey Deku, you doing okay over there?” You yelled out, swinging your fist towards the thief’s side.

Both you and Izuku were patrolling the city today, as you two had interned with the same agency for the summer vacation. Everyday had been pretty boring since starting the program a few weeks back, but today you had finally found some action: two thugs trying to steal a poor old lady’s purse.

“Doing-just fine-how about you?”He grunted, sending a sharp kick at his opponent’s back, sending him to the ground. Izuku quickly toppled on top of the young man, tying his hands and feet together with some scraps of rope on the ground. Once he was happy with his work, Izuku quickly stood up, looking over at you to see you fighting alone against the other thief. He quickly broke into a run, trying to go and help you as quickly as possible

Throughout the few weeks interning alongside you, Izuku had begun to form a small crush on you. At first sight he had thought you were unbelievably pretty and couldn’t help but blush when seeing you. But as he began to hang out with you, you were quite possibly one of the coolest people he had ever met. You were so kind hearted and sweet to anyone you met, always taking the time to give them a warm greeting or a bright smile. It made his heart race seeing you wave to children on the road, being so gentle with them when they came over and asked if you two were really heroes. You could also be a total bad ass when you wanted to, your snarky remarks and devilish grin making his chest tighten and his heart race.

Right now, though, you were having some trouble, as the thief you were trying to apprehend was giving you a hard time. You swung another fist towards his chest this time, which the thief dodged easily. You grunted under your breath, annoyance and worry riddled in your brows.

“Can we-hurry this up a little!” You shouted between breaths. “I kinda got-places to be right now!”

The man scoffed at you, cracking his fingers. “Nah, sweetie, I’m just getting started!”

You rolled your eyes, hating how the word “sweetie” was directed towards you-but as the thief was busying himself with his knuckles, you sneaked a peak at the time- your party was in 45 minutes...if you got this wrapped up in 5, you could maybe run home, clean up, and drive to the place and might be there on time-

Noticing your distracted stance, the thief began to lunge at you, his large hands aimed for grabbing your head in a deathlock. Luckily, Izuku sprinted over just in time to propel his body at the man, tumbling on the ground as he pinned the thief’s hands on the ground.

“Deku!” You ran over to him, helping him as you pinned the man’s wrists together. That allowed Deku to tie up the thief a little bit easier, the struggling making it quite difficult to even tie a simple knot. But Izuku finished his work very quickly, pushing off the villians back as you let go of his wrists.

You looked at the greenette’s freckled face, his warm grin and bright eyes causing a soft blush to creep on yours. You had to admit it to yourself that this boy was unbelievably handsome, even if he didn’t realize it himself. And the fact that he has just saved you right now-your heart practically stopped at the idea. You wished you could stay longer with him, hating to leave Izuku with the boring task of watching the two thiefs before the police arrived, but you were seriosuly cutting time extremely short.

“Thank you, Izuku,” you said, your breathing still irregular from fighting, “for saving me like that.”

The boy chuckled nervously, his hand rubbing the back his neck. “Oh, your welcome y/n, it-it wasn’t much, youd do the same-“

Before he could register what was even going on, he felt your hands around his back and your body pressed up against his. Izuku’s brain practically began to malfunction-you were-hugging him? He was never this close to girls,or you for that matter-he could feel how soft your hair was, how wonderfully fresh and sweet your perfume smelled, even how your chest pressed up against him- his cheeks burned bright at that thought, his hands too shaky to wrap around your waist as his eyes were blown wide out of his sockets.

And just as quickly as you had hugged him, you let go, totally oblivious to the blushing mess you had turned Izuku into. Izuku busily tried to hide his cheeks as you quickly whipped your phone out of your hero suit, a curse slipping out of your mouth.

“I’m gonna be late!” You sighed in frustration.

Midoriya blinked a few times, confusion set on his face- “Late for what?” he asked innocently, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“I gotta be at a party-there’s some, entertainment going there that cant be late-“

“Oh, like a magician? I didn’t know you were excited for those type of things,” Izuku asked, watching the two delinquents on the ground.

“Actually, no, not like that,” you stated with a giggle, I’m the entertainment, I’m a party princess-

Izuku shook his head in confusion and looked at you with his eyes wide. How did he not know this about you?

“I started this summer to get some extra cash,” you continued, “it’s been kind of a struggle though juggling my scheduele with the internship. But I’ve been having a lot of fun dressing up and making these kids’ days...I just hope I won’t be late for my next party,”

“When is it?” He asked, his cheeks rosy with the thought of you in a pretty ball gown. He knew you were a kind hearted person, but you going out of your way to make a little child’s day extra special was something he found so endearing. He felt himself fall in love with you just a little more, a small smile gracing his lips.

“In 30 minutes,” you huffed, “I’ll barely have enough time to wash up and get into costume-“

“Well if it’s any help, I’ll stay and wait for the police, I don’t won’t you late for your event,” Izuku gave you a nervous smile, the green in his eyes sparkling like gems.

You gasped in relief, your smile wide as you gave Izuku another hug. “You’re the best Deku!” You yelled, giving his firm body a tight squeeze.

Before you ran off to get yourself ready for your gig, you gave Izuku a kiss on his cheeck, sending his soul over the moon. He was so thankful you ran off so quickly, because you would have deifnitely noticed the red encasing his whole face as his cheeks tingled in the place where you kissed it. He would never get use to your touches, but god did they feel nice!

——————————

Shoto

Shoto was currently helping you train, his intense tasks making you pant from near exhaustion. You knew Shoto would force you to your limits, but god-this boy was merciless.

After you had seen how agile and flexible Shoto was while fighting, you worked up enough courage to ask him to help you train. It was something you admired from afar deifnitely not from checking him out, and you were extremely relieved when he had said yes.

But right now, he was totally destroying your ass.

“Cmon, y/n,” he panted out, “I know your stronger than this.”

his hands were pinning yours to the ground: one icy and one warm.The bi-colored boy had somehow thrown you to the ground yet again, his taut body on top of yours as your cheeks flushed with color from being so close to him. You were so thankful you were also red from over exerting yourself, so he would have no idea you were blushing from being so close to him.

“Well, considering you’ve been throwing me around like a rag doll this whole time,” you quipped tiredly, “I think I’m allowed to be a little tired.”

He cocked his head in confusion, the tips of his red hair melding with his white. “If your tired, why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

Shoto knew you were getting exhausted, but he had been perplexed on why you didn’t tell him you didn’t want to continue. He was having a nice time with you, your movements keeping him on his toes and your snarkiness tugging small grins out of him. He didn’t want to stop, he liked sparring with you, but considering this was just training, he didn’t want to stop until you did.

“Cause...I haven’t gotten a proper move in,” you gave Shiro a devilish grin, making his eyes grow wide. You wrap your legs around his waist, flipping him over so it was now him, not you, who was pinned on the ground.

He couldn’t control his heart from beating so fast-his breath was coming out particularly warm from that flip. Shoto had had a very quiet crush on you for sometime, not fully aware of it himself that he had a small infactuation with you. But how your hands laced around his wrists made his skin tingle, or how your body pressed into his made his body heat up intensely, was hard to ignore.

He stared at your face, unable to ignore the invading thoughts of just how beautiful you looked on top of him, your smile shining triumphantly down at him. He began to get lost in your (e/c) eyes, wishing he could stare at your face all day.

“Alright Shoto, I gotta head out,” you patted his chest nonchalantly, abruptly breaking him out of his daze.

“Thank you for all your help,” you gave him a soft smile as you held out your hand, helping him off the ground. You walked over to grab your water bottle, taking a swing from the container.

“now I gotta go into a nightmare dress...” you grumbled under your breath, sitting down on a bench beside you.

“A nightmare dress?” Todoroki sat down beside you, draping a towel around his damp neck.

“Yeah....long story short, I somehow got wrapped into helping Uraraka with her little cousin’s birthday party. She’s obsessed with this one princess on TV and I apparently I look just like her, so...”

“Uraraka asked you to perform at the party as this character?” he finished your sentence, resting his elbows on his knees in order to look at your face.

You nodded your head as you looked down at the water bottle in your hand, obviously looking a little conflicted. Your smile was no longer on your face, you teeth capturing your lower lip in worry.

Shoto was concerned over your sudden change, missing the warm smile you had sent his way just moments before. He wanted you to smile at him again, as if he was the only one in the world that could make you grin so happily.

“What’s wrong y/n? Are-are you feeling sick?” he asked politely, watching your facial expression closely.

You sighed, lying your head against the wall of the training room.

“I’m just worried I won’t be good at this. I watched the show,got the costume, I did everything I could to make sure her cousin has a good birthday party-I’m just scared the kids will hate me, or maybe I’ll trip and just ruin everything-“

Shoto laid his hand gently on top of yours, the sudden touch forcing you to look at him.

“You are going to be wonderful y/n,” he assured you, his voice soft and full of warmth, “if Uraraka trusted something so important in you, she clearly knows your more than capabale of achieving at this.” He paused slightly, his bi-colored eyes boaring into yours.

“And so do I.”

————————

Taggings (if ya want to be added, just shoot me an ask or comment on this post!)

@orokayagi @leeeah-loooser @freckledoriya

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oddcoupler222 · 4 years

Note

Do you have any book recs like yours and w. epic love scenes like yours?

I appreciate anything I’ve written being called epic in any way :)

I don’t really know if I could accurately compare any books I’ve read to my own but I do have some book recs that I adore! I’ll give you my top ten lesfics for some variety

- Behind the Green Curtain by Riley LaShea (my ultimate fave romance)

When Caton’s sleazy boss offers her a position as his wife’s personal assistant, she accepts the job with reservations, certain Jack Halston has ulterior motives. After meeting Jack’s wife Amelia, though, it’s Caton’s motivations that begin to unravel. As vicious as she is beautiful, Amelia threatens Caton’s position and her sense of decorum. As the attraction between the two women spirals into a torrid affair, Caton is drawn deeper into Jack and Amelia’s world of privilege and prestige, where everything is at stake and nothing is what it seems.

- All That Matters by Susan X Meagher

Life is going damned well for Blair Spencer. She's a very successful real estate agent, happily married to a man who encourages her to live the independent life she loves; and they're actively working to have a baby. The wrench in the works is that Blair favors adoption, while her husband David desperately wants to have a biological child. The fates are against them, and they finally seek the help of a group of reproductive specialists. One of the doctors, a surgeon named Kylie Mackenzie, eventually becomes a good friend to Blair. And she needs all of the friends she can get when things start to go horribly wrong at home. As her marriage teeters on the brink of collapse, she relies more and more on Kylie's friendship. Kylie's happily gay; Blair's happily straight. But the way they structure their relationship leads friends and family to privately question whether the pair is setting themselves up for heartache. They eventually come to a crossroads, which could either destroy their friendship or turn it into what each of them has been seeking. The question is whether each woman can change her view of herself and her needs. The answer is all that matters.

- Alone by EJ Noyes

Half a million dollars will be Celeste Thorne’s reward for spending four years of her life in total isolation. No faces. No voices. No way to leave.

Since Celeste has never really worried about being alone, the generous paycheck she’ll receive for her participation in the solitary psychological experiment seems like easy money.

When she finds an injured hiker in the woods bordering her living compound, her strictly governed world is thrown into disarray. But even as she struggles with the morality of breaking the rules of the experiment, Celeste can’t deny her growing attraction to the kind and enigmatic Olivia Soldano. Still, how much can you really trust a stranger? And how much can you trust yourself when you know all the faces you’ve seen and voices you’ve heard for the past three years have only been your imagination?

But what’s real? Celeste’s reality may lie somewhere between the absolute truth and a carefully constructed deception. (the concept of this is just INcredible. and the execution as well - perfect)

- The Goodmans by Clare Ashton

The lovely doctor Abby Hart lives in her dream cottage in the quintessential English border town of Ludbury, home to the Goodmans. Maggie Goodman, all fire and passion, is like another mother to her, amiable Richard a rock and 60s-child Celia is the grandmother she never had. But Abby has a secret. Best friend Jude Goodman is the love of her life, and very, very straight. Even if Jude had ever given a woman a second glance, there’d also be the small problem of Maggie – she would definitely not approve. But secrets have a habit of sneaking out, and Abby’s not the only one with something to hide. Life is just about to get very interesting for the Goodmans. Things are not what they used to be, but could they be even better? (there are not one but TWO perfectly written romances intertwined in this *chef kiss*)

- Pretending in Paradise by M Ullrich

When travelwisdom.com assigns PR specialist Caroline Beckett and travel blogger Emma Morgan to cover a hot new couples retreat, they're forced to fake a relationship to secure a reservation. Ten days in paradise would be a dream assignment, if only they'd stop arguing long enough to enjoy it. Reputations are Caroline's business. Too bad she was forced out of her previous job when an ex smeared hers all over the office grapevine. She's never getting involved with a coworker again, especially not one as careless and unprofessional as Emma. Emma knows that life is too short to play by the rules. But when she goes too far and a defamation lawsuit puts her job in jeopardy, she has to make nice with Caroline, the image police, and deliver the best story of her career.

Only pretending to be in love sure feels a whole lot like falling in love. When their story goes public, ambition and privacy collide, and their chance at making a fake relationship real might just be collateral damage. (there’s just SOMETHING about this that is super freaking cute)

- The Brutal Truth by Lee Winter

Australian crime reporter Maddie Grey is out of her depth in New York, miserable, and secretly drawn to her powerful, twice-married, media mogul boss, Elena Bartell, who eats failing newspapers for breakfast. As work takes them to Australia, Maddie is goaded into a brief, seemingly harmless bet with her enigmatic boss—where they have to tell the complete truth to each other. It backfires catastrophically.

A lesbian romance about the lies we tell ourselves.

- The Red Files by Lee Winter (kudos to her for being the only author that makes it to this list with two separate books)

Ambitious Daily Sentinel journalist Lauren King is chafing on LA’s vapid social circuit, reporting on glamorous A-list parties while sparring with her rival—the formidable, icy Catherine Ayers. Ayers is an ex-Washington political correspondent who suffered a humiliating fall from grace, and her acerbic, vicious tongue keeps everyone at bay. Everyone, that is, except knockabout Iowa girl King, who is undaunted, unimpressed and gives as good as she gets. One night a curious story unfolds before their eyes: One business launch, 34 prostitutes and a pallet of missing pink champagne. Can the warring pair work together to unravel an incredible story? This is a lesbian fiction with more than a few mysterious twists. (as someone who is usually pretty bored by any plot other than the romance, I actually enjoyed this mystery)

- Tricky Wisdom/Tricky Chances by Camryn Eyde

(for tricky wisdom) Darcy Wright is a closeted lesbian who has been infatuated with her best friend, Taylor, since junior high. Leaving her small northeast Minnesota town for Harvard in a quest to become a doctor, she moves in with med-student Olivia Boyd, a neurotic, anal, gigantic pain in the backside. The first year of juggling medical school is grueling, but it’s nothing compared to living with Olivia.

Coming out to her friends and family with an anti-climactic flop, Darcy uses her newly publicized sexuality to try and win Taylor’s affections through an ill-hatched scheme that crosses uncomfortable lines. The result is as unexpected to Darcy as Darcy’s affinity for medicine is to Olivia.

The first year of medical school is a nerve-wracking encounter in medicine, learning lessons the hard way, and finding what her heart desires.

Tricky Chances is the sequel to Wisdom, but it’s the only lesfic sequel that i truly felt added to the first one and was just as gripping! Plus, the first book is only 48k words so the followup is perfect to come right after

- Who’d Have Thought by G Benson

Top neurosurgeon Samantha Thomson needs to get married fast and is tightlipped as to why. And with over $200,000 on offer to tie the knot, no questions asked, cash-strapped ER nurse Hayden Pérez isn’t about to demand answers.

The deal is only for a year of marriage, but Hayden’s going into it knowing it will be a nightmare. Sam is complicated, rude, kind of cold, and someone Hayden barely tolerates at work, let alone wants to marry. The hardest part is that Hayden has to convince everyone around them that they’re madly in love and that racing down the aisle together is all they’ve ever wanted. What could possibly go wrong? (this book comes in 9th because i don’t love it QUITE as much as i do all the others, but it was the one that got me into lesfic so! it’s good stuff)

And in a guest pick from the only other voracious lesfic reader i know, @debbie-eagan -

Beautiful Dreamer by Melissa Brayden -

Philadelphia real estate broker Devyn Winters is at the peak of her career, closing multimillion-dollar deals and relishing it. She’s pretty much blocked out her formative years in Dreamer’s Bay, where the most exciting thing to happen was the twice a year bake sale. Unfortunately, a distress call hauls her back home and away from the life she’s constructed. Now the question is just how long until she can leave again? And when did boring Elizabeth Draper get so beautiful?

Elizabeth Draper loves people, free time, and a good cup of coffee in the warm sunlight. In the quaint town of Dreamer’s Bay, she’s the only employee of On the Spot, an odd jobs company. She remembers Devyn Winters as shallow in high school, but now everything about Devyn makes her lose focus. Though her brain knows Devyn is only home temporarily, her heart didn’t seem to get the memo (I’m personally not a huge Brayden fan but a lot of other lesfic readers are so I reached out for a second opinion on this matter)

I hope you enjoy!

#lesfic #book recs

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ebhenah · 4 years

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ATLA, LOK and Aang as a Dad- a parent’s perspective.

I’ve been seeing some comments about how LOK did a disservice to Aang in how it portrayed his parenting- or more accuartely, how his children remembered his parenting. It makes me sad that people don't seem to realize that the show wasn't saying he played favorites. That was the perception of his children in a large part because of the time and attention given to (and arguably required for) nurturing the gifts and talents of the very rare air-benders.

Shockingly, children's perception of their parents are not always accurate. I have no doubt that Aang adored all of his children- but they were three very different personalities, with very different needs, different learning styles, different talents, different goals and dreams and fears and flaws. Aang was the Avatar, but he was also an imperfect human just like anyone else. There are going to be people that make more or less sense to him. There are going to be people that he finds it easier to teach, to understand, to support, and to nurture.

Most parents of multiple kids find that they resonate differently with them. It's not about loving one more than the others, it's simply that children are not cookie cutters. Each parent-child relationship is unique. It's sad and poignant that they were unable to deal with the hurt they carried from their childhood with their father before they lost him, but that is how life works sometimes.

I have 3 kids- 2 are a lot like me, and their brains make sense to me. I know how to reach them and we share interests. The other child is not much like me at all, and we don't hang out as much, but I love them every bit as fiercely as their siblings. They amaze me and surprise me all the time and I am beyond proud of them. Kids need a wide range of things from us as they grow up. Sometimes, those needs conflict and parents end up having to prioritize one child's needs temporarily for reasons that don't make sense to the kids and just hope that it all balances out in the long run.

Aang and Katara clearly loved their children. We see the legacy of that love in how they treat their own loved ones. Sometimes, sadly, love doesn't translate very well through disparate love languages. "Easy" children can feel ignored and forgotten compared to louder, more demanding siblings. "Challenging" children can feel like their parents see them as too much work. Shy kids of outgoing parents can feel like they get lost in the shuffle. Outgoing children of shy parents can feel isolated and lonely. Athletic children of artistic parents and artistic children of athletic parents can feel like they aren't understood or appreciated.

Beyond that, people experience shared interactions differently, so a passing comment made my a tired or stressed out parent might cut much deeper than they ever know. A human mistake like a broken promise or not being able to afford something the child wants can stick with a kid.

Parents (even Aang) are just people.

No one can be all things to all people. No one is perfect. We change and grow and learn. We screw up and fall short and overreact. It happens... and it has almost nothing to do with how much we love our kids. We can be great parents 90% of the time and still our children will remember the 10% of the time that we weren't what they needed.

I don’t think it is all that surprising that Bumi and Kya feel like Tenzin got more attention. Tenzin was the baby of the family and it is a common refrain of older siblings that the baby of the family got more attention, fewer punishments, and generally treated differently. A big part of the reason that is such a frequent complaint is that parents learn. Parenting has a steep learning curve, and the big screw-ups carry the potential to have huge consequences. Over and above the fact that we tend to get better at something the longer we’ve been doing it (like caring for children), our life situations change over time. For example- my eldest sometimes complained that my younger children have a more constant/stable home and get more attention than he did at the same age. This is because when he was that age I was still in the workforce and we were still renting apartments with roommates, and since then we’ve settled into a family home and I no longer work outside the home. Those external changes allowed for major shifts in how I parent. Kya’s comment to Tenzin that he was the only one who travelled with Aang in response to his fond memories of ‘vacationing’ with their father is no doubt true, but doesn’t automatically prove favoritism. Bumi appears to be about a decade older than Tenzin. By the time Tenzin was old enough to be forming those memories, Bumi and Kya very likely had busy, bustling lives that would be disrupted if they travelled with Aang. Friends, schooling, hobbies... roots. Some children don’t travel well. Additionally, the world very likely needed different things from the Avatar when he started his family than it did over a decade later.

And, let’s not forget that Aang was literally the only person who could teach Tenzin how to access and hone his air-bending. When faced with the conflict of being needed in another part of the world but also needing to be available and present to train his air-bending son “bring the kid along” is the only real solution- but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t feel like he was choosing one kid over the other to the children, themselves. Even if they understood on a logical level, the hurt and resentment could still linger.

Legend of Korra could be (and likely is) very accurately portraying how Aang's children remember him without that meaning that Aang was a bad father or that he played favorites, because there was an entire lifetime that happened, and the things that hurt are the things they need to heal from. His children are not going to remember every single time that nothing bad happened to them, because those periods are normal and boring.

They were raised by parents who had gone through a lot of traumatic stuff at a very young age and who were always under extreme pressure and scrutiny. They grew up in a world that was recovering from war, genocide, and oppression, and was reforging itself into something new and better. They were surrounded by people who idolized their parents and saw them as larger than life. Whether the kids were aware of it or not, they also grew up in a world where they were at risk of being targetted because of who their parents were. That risk likely factored into many of the decisions Aang and Katara made about who went where when. (IE- keeping one child safe during travels is a lot easier than keeping three of them safe. Taking care of two children while your spouse is travelling is easier than juggling the needs of three of them.) All things considered, if the worst parental baggage Bumi and Kya carry with them decades later is that the two of them feel like their father loved them but he loved the child with talents that tied him to his own childhood, his own culture, and every loved one he had before they were massacred a little bit more then I think Aang probably did an exemplary job as a father.

#atla #aang's parenting #katara's parenting #legend of korra #lok #avatar the last airbender #bumi #tenzin #kya

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a-lonely-tatertot · 3 years

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Finding Home Ch. 5

A/N: Yall I am soooo sorry this took so freaking long!!! but its done and I hope yall like it this was so much fun to write even if it took over a month because of school and stuff but its here so yeah! please dont forget to comment or reblog they mean so much too me :D and thank you @bookwyrminspiration for editing and helping me get this out as fast as i could word count: 5096 tw warnings: minor panic attack, mentions of volence, and invasion of privacy

Chapter 5: Starting of a Fire

Sweat dripped down her spine as thoughts raced through her head. Sophie didn't quite understand how it had happened, all she knew was that somehow she had Tam's memories. Memories of Linh and arguing and Denver. How had she gotten in his head? Did Tam know she had seen his memories? She hadn’t touched her telepathy in years. School was hard without it, but she had her memory, and she didn't want to know what her human friends were thinking; Fitz had somehow ingrained the rules in her brain. But somehow, after years of barely even thinking about it, she had managed to reach Tam's mind, which was probably hundreds of miles away, and had looked at the exact memories she was thinking of.

Memories Sophie had no right to. Fear solidified in her stomach, a weight she didn't quite know how to bear. "Soph? Sophie, you up?" Amy called from the hallway.

The pillow behind her looked so soft and tempting to fall back into, but no matter what telepathy crisis she was having, she had a life to get to. "Yeah, I'm getting there." The words came out rough from sleep.

Grabbing her phone from the nightstand, she plugged in her headphones and started her wake-up playlist. Mystical powers could wait until after breakfast.

Amy rode the bus with her to work, Their Saturday routine. Amy had tutoring with Jena (bless her heart), and Sophie who had worked at the cafe across the street. Normally she would work all day and get home around the same time Amy did from her afternoon shift. It worked well, and they would sit at home afterward juggling homework and takeout.

"That guy's picking his nose," Amy said, breaking the unintentionally tense silence.

"That's so gross, why would you say that?" Sophie whispered incredulously. No matter how hard she tried, her eyes couldn't leave the man who, unfortunately, had a finger up his nose.

"Ha, now you can't unsee it!" Amy grinned triumphantly. Annoyed, Sophie grumbled back and went silent. She stared, lost in thought, not fully present.

"Why are you so tense?" Amy said softly, as if she didn't quite want Sophie to hear. In the back of her mind, she thought it sounded like when she used to hear human thoughts.

"Hm? I'm not tense," Sophie lied, only to have Amy turn to her in surprise.

"I didn't say that you were," Amy responded quizzically.

“But I heard you?” Sophie said. Was she hallucinating? No, she couldn’t be, she wasn’t crazy. Amy was still staring at her, eyes boring, brows furrowed. Studying her, Sophie really didn’t like being studied. Her tone bordered annoyed when she finally asked, “What?”

“Why’d you read my mind?” Amy asked, eyes narrowed and her tone hushed. “Isn't there rules against that?”

It took a second for Sophie to process what Amy was saying. She hadn’t meant to listen in, but she hadn’t meant to go through Tam’s memories either. Was she losing control again? It was two minds; it could mean nothing, it wasn’t her fault, it was an accident! But what if losing control of her telepathy is only the beginning? This- the worrying, the panic, malfunctioning that reminded her she was only an experiment and a weapon- it was supposed to be over. Why wasn’t it over?

Too deep in her panic, Sophie was unaware of Amy grabbing her arm. The bus slowed down and Amy dragged her out of the bus and as far away from the swarms of people as she could. “Sophie? Soph you with me?” Amy asked desperately. In response, Sophie could only nod. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought, oh, this is a panic attack. The want to run, to move, to get away, exploded in her body everywhere at once. The walls around her mind fell next, and she heard everything at once. Her head pounded, her eyes watered and her knees gave out. She crumbled to the ground and Amy sank in front of her.

Hands gripped her shoulders, hard but not in the way she knew. It wasn’t trapping but comforting, grounding, a reminder of where she was. Amy’s hands moved, one to her arm and one to the back of her neck. Amidst the screaming thoughts of passerby chaos and pain, Amy knelt in front of her, pressed against her and one thought rang louder than the rest.

I'm here. I’ve got you. You can enter my mind if that’s easier, it’s gonna be okay.

Sophie wanted to cry with relief, if she could have talked she would’ve shouted with happiness. She choked in a breath, focused her mind, and plunged her mind forward.

Amy let out a sharp breath but stayed quiet. After over a year and a half of being in no other mind than her own, it was surprisingly underwhelming. It was weird, feeling her body in one place but knowing her mind wasn’t with it.

Hi? she thought.

You're loud, geez, Amy responded. How’re you doing?

It's easier to block everyone else out if I focus on you, she said. The pain was still horrible but she was getting there. One by one she matched her breaths to Amy’s and started to block off the other thoughts. Built her walls, brick by brick, until the suffocation of thousands of thoughts loosened and the migraine calmed.

Eventually, Amy spoke. So, when did this start happening?

Losing control? After Fitz taught me what to do it hasn’t happened, Sophie responded.

No unintentional mind reading? Nothing? Amy had her there. Unintentional mind-probing more like.

Sophie took another deep breath and leaned away from her sister but kept her eyes shut to block out the world. Last night, she started, I somehow got ahold of Tam’s memories. The ones of Linh and him when they first arrived here.

Amy remained silent, the only sound their breathing. A beat passed and Sophie opened her eyes to find Amy studying her, eyebrow quirked. Go on, she finally thought.

Except Sophie didn’t quite know how to go on. In an impulse decision, she brought Tam’s memories to the surface of her mind. With a brief Brace yourself, she transmitted them to Amy and watched her reaction as the scenes played before them.

When it was over, and the scene of Tam and Fitz faded, Amy was silent yet again. “Oh shit,” Amy whispered, meeting Sophie’s eyes.

With a chuckle, Sophie bitterly responded, “Yup.”

“Have you told her?”

“No?” Sophie gaped. “How would I even say that? ‘Oh yeah so in my sleep I accidentally watched your brother’s memories and learned all the shit you didn’t tell me. hope you don’t hate me or anything’?”

“Okay, yeah, that's a pretty bad conversation starter,” Amy agreed. “I don’t know how, but you need to tell her. This is pretty big.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh and Amy’s face softened with relief. Standing up she continued, “I guess we should get moving, we don’t want to be late.” As they walked, Sophie tried not to think about how she intentionally avoided saying “I will”.

Hours passed, tedious as always. Taking orders, making coffee, cups and bags, and people. So many people. Somehow Amilia's head survived. A few slip-ups, when a part of her mind would get distracted. When the muscle memory of her tasks wasn't enough and she had to rack her brain to remember an order only to get flooded with thoughts that definitely didn't help her remember.

At one point, when there was barely anyone in the small cafe, Amilia had an idea. Her gaze flicked over the cafe, from the plants scattered decoratively to the tables she had yet to clean. Taking a breath, she tried to open her mind up to one of her coworker's thoughts. To see if she could after all these years only blocking off her powers. After a few tries (and tripping over a bucket of water) she managed to do it. With enough focus, she could open her mind and build walls around the thin connection between her and her coworker's minds.

She grinned, letting herself celebrate her small success for a fleeting moment until the door opened again with a ding and she was back at the register. The order was simple as Sophie plugged it into the small device. Her voice struggled not to sound bored as she called out the name when it was ready and returned to her cleaning. It was all so boring; her mind wandered to Linh coming over. She felt her heart flutter at the same time dread settled. Not now, Amilia told herself as the small bell rang again and she found herself back at the register.

"Amilia!" Jena called, sauntering her way into the cafe like she owned the place. That's what Amilia liked about the girl, how she wasn't intimidated by anything. Natalie trailed behind her with a tired look in her eyes.

"I need like three coffees," Natalie groaned.

"You won't survive three coffees," Amilia laughed, already starting to place their orders. It was the same every week, Jena with the most amount of sugar added to her coffee and Natalie with just straight black. Jena paid as an apology for whatever hell studying ended up being.

Nat hummed appreciatively when James, Amilia's coworker, gave them their order. In one move she downed the entire cup despite it being burning hot. "Ahh that's the shit," she mused.

"How did your throat not just disintegrate?" Amilia asked bewildered.

"I'm just not a weakling," she retorted. "Also your girl is coming over once your shift is over if you haven't forgotten."

'Your girl', Amilia knew, was referring to Linh who had planned to come and hang out that afternoon. Which, after the events of the morning, she had entirely forgotten. "Fuck," she hissed. "My shift is almost over so hopefully we can get home with time to spare to clean?"

The apartment desperately needed cleaning, covered in piles of homework and dishes and trash that they only occasionally had time to take out.

Thirty minutes later the sisters were rushing onto their bus home, catching their breath as they grabbed the handlebars. When they finally arrived home, the tall glass building taunting them in the daylight, Sophie took the stairs two at a time and practically kicked the door in. She ran around the apartment in a fury trying to figure out where she could stuff things when she heard murmurs.

"How long do you think it'll take her to notice?" Linh's unmistakable voice asked.

"Eh give her a second; She's in the zone," Amy responded, clearly trying not to laugh. Slowly turning around, praying desperately that her face wasn't as red as it felt, Sophie faced the figures leaning in the doorway.

"Hi?" she said tentatively, but it came out more like a question.

"Hello, sweetheart. We didn't mean to interrupt," Linh responded with a grin.

Sophie tugged at her eyelash in embarrassment, "I totally just ran right past you didn't I?"

"Yup," Linh chuckled.

Sophie groaned and buried her face in her hands. "It's nice to know you care about order though," Linh said, gently pulling her hands away from her face and placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

Amy chuckled, walking in behind Linh, "Y’all are too soft for me. I'll be in my room." In a half-hearted response, Sophie stuck her tongue out as she passed. Linh's arms were comforting around her as they snaked their way around her waist. Instinctively Sophie leaned into her touch and wrapped her arms around Linh before burying her head into the crook of her neck. The first thing that Sophie realized was that Linh was much taller than her, in all the memories she had Linh was shorter,but here she was, taller, and Sophie leaning against her instead of the other way. The second thing was that Linh was warm like a blanket or a human heater. Compared to the rest of the world, which was gradually getting colder because of the fall, Linh felt warm like home, like something familiar.

"We should probably move," Linh whispered, mouth against the top of hair.

Sophie hummed, "But you're comfy."

Linh laughed sweetly, "You were in the middle of cleaning, I don't wanna interrupt that."

Pulling back, Sophie surveyed the room. Unfortunately, it was still in need of some cleaning. "I can do that later; you're here right now and I wanna spend time with my girlfriend."

Linh just shook her head, "I like cleaning. It's relaxing, and you can introduce me to that music you've been screaming about."

Vaguely she remembered texting Linh late one night about the new band she’d found and how Linh just had to listen or she would die. She grabbed a cup from the kitchen, reluctantly started the music, to which Linh started moving slowly. "We can start in my room, it's probably the worst," Sophie said, stopping her brain from overthinking it before it was out of her mouth.

With that, they started cleaning, which was surprisingly more fun than it would seem. Now and then a song would come on and Sophie would throw down whatever she was holding and do an impromptu dance party. Linh would just laugh and watch her with those eyes that were full of adoration and pulled at Sophie's heart, pulled Sophie farther and farther into this dream of reality.

She avoided thoughts of what Linh was, of the memories she wasn't supposed to have seen, they but nagged at her over and over. Feet moved, things fell, and they laughed and danced, and Linh- Linh just wouldn't stop smiling. The small motion pulled at her heart and it was just like she imagined. It reminded her of the days during the war that they'd sit and sort through the clues, and for once Sophie found herself longing for that time.

"Hey, babe?" Linh called from the closet as Sophie shook herself out of her haze.

"Yeah?"

Stepping out there was something in her hands. It was a postcard. She cocked her head to the side trying to rack her brain where it could've come from. "It says it's from Kull? The hell kinda name is that?" Linh said.

No- Sophie stumbled a bit, no it couldn't be. But no, she remembered. Three weeks after being at the new apartment she got mail. Not some shipment for her, a postcard, with four words written on it. With shaking hands Sophie grabbed the card out of Linh's hands like she was in a dream.

I'm here, always. - Mari

Far deep inside of her, under layers and layers of running and hiding and nights of crying, something broke. She was lonely. She wasn't alone per se; Amy was there, Linh was there, giving her those concerned eyes and crinkled eyebrows, but she was lonely. Sophie missed late-night pancakes, and endless days laughing and baking hands filled with flour (distantly she wondered if that's why Fitz had fallen in love with baking), she missed the hard exterior who had the best hugs and always knew what she was doing. She found herself missing Angie too, the weekends they'd play scrabble and laugh at how Angie would win every time no matter how hard she and Mari tried. Sophie longed for late nights sitting in Tommy's attic, the lawnmower boy across the street that always came in for banana pancakes while unironically humming the song under his breath (she asked him about it once and he just said it was always stuck in his head). They used to play late night games until it was one in the morning and Mari was calling and asking if she was coming home (most nights she didn't, too busy laughing and trying to throw popcorn into each other's mouths). And something inside her realized she missed those nights. She missed the random people she'd fallen in love with, the late nights filled with laughter and shakes instead of nightmares and tears.

Glancing up she studied Linh's face. It was a mix of concern and confusion, a bit of hesitance, and a lot of wonder. The sudden urge to cry hit Sophie like a brick wall and she did. She cried quietly, knowing that this wasn't something that needed to be cried over yet she needed to do it anyway. Strong arms wrapped themselves around her and Sophie buried her head and tears into Linh's shoulder. "What do you need?" Linh asked after a moment of rubbing small circles into Sophie's back.

"To go home." Linh jerked back, confusion and bewilderment evident in her eyes because home to Linh would never be a small town with a dirt road and covered in trees, it would be a world of brokenness and misplaced ideals that forced her, them, to fix it. It would be a world of shimmering crystals and jobs she never wanted. She didn't know Sophie's was the exact opposite. Sophie explained, the town and what she left behind, not why because it felt stupid, but she explained what Mari was, her friend (mother figure? The one who knew her better than anyone else?), she said she left, and she needed to go back.

"Okay," Linh said, a finality. And Linh pulled out her computer, and an hour later they had plans and were packing and it all felt too rushed to be real. It felt weirder when Amy said goodbye from the bottom steps of the apartment; she would be coming up the next day with the gang's van. It felt weird, like moving through jelly when they stepped into the Grayhound station and Sophie was left staring at her ticket and at the bus in disbelief.

"Soph," Linh whispered after a beat, "I think you're supposed to, you know, get on the bus."

Sophie knew the functions of buses, better than Linh most likely; she knew that one was supposed to step in it, choose a seat, wait for it to stop, and if it was the desired location one would step off of the bus. If her life were the movie she watched with her parents when she was little, she would walk gracefully, with soft music setting the mood, and when she would sit down, she would let out a breath that she wouldn't know she was holding. She would watch out the window wistfully, and at some point, the music would get quieter and the image of her would fade into the memories of herself meeting Mari, a speed-up of the year she had spent with the woman would play. The music would rise, and the scene of her running trying to hold herself together in the pouring rain. The camera would follow as she ran to the bus stop, as she grabbed a ticket and made it to the last bus for the night with her little duffle bag and tears picture-perfect, the ugly sobs that wracked her that night were just not movie material, and the scene would switch just as she was sitting down in the memory to her standing up, with a new determination in her eyes, in the present.

But, this was not some multimillion-coming-of-age story with a bow on top.

Because Sophie herself was too much of an emotional mess and a real person (term used loosely and does not apply to being a secret-elven-war-hero and more used in the sense of the emotional trauma and not knowing how to function normally that comes with being a secret-elven-war-hero) to be the star of a movie. Who would pay money to go see someone with human emotions also fail at life when they can just look at themselves or the people around them for free?

"Earth to Sophie!" Linh snapped in front of her face.

"Yes, I'm alive, huh?" Sophie rushed.

Linh snickered and made Sophie blush more than she wanted to admit. "I was wondering if we were actually going to get on the train?" Linh said gently.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sorry it's just weird, I needed a minute," Sophie apologized.

Linh smiled slightly and gently intertwined their fingers, "I get it, and I'm here for you." Instinctively she leaned into the touch, but a knot of guilt and anxiety tied in her stomach along with thoughts that she had tried desperately to keep out of her head all day. What are you hiding? If I said anything would you still be here? Or will you run from me too?

They found their seats, and Sophie managed to steal her way to the window seat. She stuffed her bag under the seat in front of her and found herself stopping. She let out the breath, she hadn't realized she was holding. A pit settled in her, a deep and endless feeling that she could get lost in. Down down down it went filled with black and heaviness she was so desperately trying to ignore. Her uncertainty scared her the most. It was like the Neverseen, she never knew how long her peace would last or how quickly it would be ruined.

Hopefully, she could make this last another day. Another night of this feeling, of safety while holding Linh's hand. She wasn't quite ready for this to be over, to rock the boat, to ask about what Linh did. It was selfish, but Sophie was a selfish person.

The man at the front of the bus, the driver, stood up holding the microphone, and started to say something probably about rules and destinations, but Sophie couldn't hear a word he said. At that moment her thoughts were flooded as the boundaries she built came tumbling down. "Fuck," she whispered, she could barely hear herself. Squeezing her eyes she tried not to cry and kept her head down. This time it wasn't nearly as bad as the street which had so many more people, but still, her head pounded and she dug her nails into her fingers resisting the urge to pick at an eyelash. Surprisingly, it was pretty easy to hide the pain from Linh, whose sole focus was the driver's words. She clamped her jaw shut and focused on the pain in her palms, trying to forget about the migraine. The Grayhound suddenly roared to life and started to move jostling Sophie back into her seat, the motion making it worse. "Fucking christ," she hissed as a particularly loud thought rose to the surface.

"Babe? You okay?" Linh asked, putting her hand on Sophie's arm, finally noticing that Sophie was very much not okay. It took everything in her not to snap something sarcastic back.

Instead, she went for a hopefully convincing smile and said, "Yeah I just need to run to the bathroom."

Linh chuckled as she got up. "I told you to go before we left." Sophie nodded in response as her head continued to pound and she reached up to pick an eyelash. She tried to hide the pain as much as she could walking towards the back, holding her balance surprisingly well as the jackhammer in her head continued.

She made it to the bathroom, which was smaller than she expected. Sitting on the closed toilet (it was the size of a portapotty and she wished there was somewhere else to sit) Sophie counted her breaths. Slowly, she opened her mind. It was as bad of an idea as it sounded. The pounding got worse like the thoughts were trying to crack her mind, but Sophie was determined. Sifting through the loud barrage of words and ideas she searched for the quieter voices. She found her way downward (not really but it was the only way to describe the feeling) pushing thoughts to the side building a guarded bridge from her mind. A tiny wisp of thought caught her attention, a blank spot between the screaming.

Gotcha, she thought triumphantly.

Pushing forward, imaginary brick by imaginary brick she created a path to the silent mind that was most likely sleeping already. With a push, she found her way in as gently as she could, taking refugee in the calm. She allowed herself a breath before she started to build her mind walls around the second one. One by one the minds faded to the background like static until she was finally at peace in the stranger's head. It felt weird, to say the least. The walls were up, she was fine, she was protected, and yet she felt reluctant to leave. Like she should figure out who this person was. Why did she care? That was a good question, Sophie didn't quite have an answer.

As she was about to leave, pushing away her conflicting thoughts, a memory, tinted blue appeared. She shouldn't have looked at it. That was her first mistake. There were rules against this intrusion, she wasn't supposed to see it. And yet she was curious. So, against her better judgment, Sophie stayed and Sophie watched.

She could tell from the start the memory clearly wasn’t happy. It started in what looked like a bathroom. Dark and grim, dimly lit. They were staring down at the sink, something dripping from their face. It might've been blood. The door opened and the person's head swung, Sophie caught a glimpse of dark hair in the mirror before her attention was drawn to the figure in front of her.

Dangerous eyes matched a dangerous frame. A red and black striped shirt peeked out from behind a gray jacket rolled up to the man's elbows. Peaking from under the edge of the sleeve was the end of an anchor. Dark eyes were accompanied by a smirk that made Sophie's hair stand up. "What do you want?" a high voice said, presumably the owner of the memory.

He only raised an eyebrow in response leaning against the wall.

"Oh stop that little act," the voice huffed, "No one’s gonna see you here.”

His face relaxed and for a beat it was silent, then, "You're being reckless."

Saying nothing, the view shifted back to the sink. "I've got nothing to lose," they murmured. Pale hands with bruised knuckles gripped the edge of the sink.

"Yeah? Well welcome to the club," he said gruffly. "The whole reason this little group exists is cause every single one of those people? Guess what, they've got nothing else to lose except this place. And I'm not risking their safety for you."

"Nice to know you care," they said with a huff.

The man's eyes were tired as he pleaded, "Look, you know I'm not great at emotions, but try not to pick a fight with every single person you come into contact with out there?"

"Yeah, I'll try," breathed the voice, defeated.

"And Linh?" the man kept speaking, but Sophie couldn't hear. Words were muffled as they looked up, and Linh's—her Linh’s—face stared back at her in the mirror.

Startled, Sophie stumbled out of the memory, out of Linh's mind (why was it Linh's mind?) all together. The wall of the bathroom smacked against the back of her head as she jerked back into herself. "What the hell," she gasped. "What the hell."

A beat passed till Sophie stood, bumping her knees against the wall across from her. It was awkward trying to maneuver her way out of the miniature-sized bathroom (it didn’t even count as a bathroom). Finally, she pushed the sliding door back to let her out and tried to avoid eye contact with anyone that noticed her. Fumbling her way out, still slightly trapped in her haze of how’s and whys and Linh Linh Linh- she almost passed her seat when Linh tapped her.

Sophie didn’t hear what she said, it all going in one ear and out the other as she tried to mask her intense waves of emotion and thanking the universe that Linh wasn’t an empath. She avoided Linh’s silver eyes, dodging her worried looks.

“I’m fine,” Sophie barked. “Just rattled, wondering what I’m gonna say to Mari,” she lied of course the thought of Mari hadn’t even crossed her mind until then. But when she started to talk she couldn’t stop herself, “It’s just been a long time you know? I don’t know if she even wants to see me. I left her just in the middle of the night with barely a goodbye after a year of living with her and her taking care of me and-“

There was a hand holding hers and another cupping her cheek. “Hey,” Linh whispered, her breath tickled Sophie’s cheek.

“H-hey,” she stuttered as Linh brushed her thumb under Sophie’s eye, wiping off the tear she didn’t even know was there.

A small smile captured Linh’s face, it made Sophie wonder how this girl was the same one who used to be so so angry. she probably still is, part of her thought before she shoved it away.

“We’re already here, on this bus on our way; this is the point of no return. Okay? And this may be the point of no return, but you’re not alone. I’ve got you and Amy’s coming up tomorrow. You’re not alone in this. Whether she wants you to come or not cause of how long it’s been since she asked, you need this, you can’t just bury this,” Linh said, her hands stayed cupped around Sophie’s face and her eyes held her gaze firmly.

Sophie let herself nod as she noticed how close Linh was. Part of her wondered if she was supposed to kiss Linh (that’s what couples did right?) but another was stuck turning Linh’s words over in her mind unable to stop thinking, But isn’t that what you did? Bury and bury and bury?

Linh’s smile grew and she felt herself smile too, even if it was small and her mind was too busy overthinking for the aching in her chest to register. They turned away from each other, Linh with a small remark of how tired she was and Sophie grabbing her headphones from her bag. Plugging them in, a desperate attempt to shut out her mind, she felt Linh's head on her shoulder and that smile returned and grew as Linh sighed and curled into her side. For a brief moment, she convinced herself that the girl in the memory was not the same girl she knew. For a fleeting second, Sophie pretended that she couldn't feel herself setting the fire to the beginning of the end.

#hehheheheh #finding home #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #solinh #sophie foster #kotlc sophie #linh song #kotlc linh #amy foster #kotlc amy #kotlc fic #kotlc fanfic #tater writes #writers on tumblr

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Text

Wicked

“Hey, Nat?”

Naturally poking a trained killer would have anyone on the wrong end of the death stick. But after your years of building a friendship after having literally totaled the top three floors of Stark Tower by having crashed into it stopping a shuttle from obliterating the city, post border crossing with some alien scavengers who had knocked it off course she knew how hard it had been for you. Years of reigning in your strength and even control of your voice that could sway others to doing what you wanted later, she smirked still every time you stole a successful pat on her arm without bruising it or knocking her around by accident.

“Hey, hope you enjoyed your day, just spent mine wrangling some four legged creepers out of the Dodgers Stadium.”

Steve from the other side of the counter in the kitchen called back, “Hey! That kid tripped me, none of that was my fault!”

Sam scoffed, still muttering to himself rubbing a cloth vigorously onto his jacket to get a mustard stain off of it. From the scuffle ending the pair of them on the news while Bucky was dangling from the balcony to the dugout shouting at one of the players who had made a kid cry after he’d gotten struck out yet again.

“Well, it was, mainly, online, browsing.” Her brow inched up noting your nerves peaking up again meaning things might start levitating around the room soon. “I have a question, favor really.”

“Sure, whatcha got for me? Anything to get me out of the on call pool tonight.”

“Well, you’re good at blending in,” she nodded, “And I got these tickets, but I don’t know how fancy is too fancy to go see a show on Broadway, and all I have might be a bit too sparkly after my sequin,” your tone slowed as she stood up and grabbed her coat, “Shopping, trip.”

You looked her over and she gave you a kind grin, “Let’s go shopping. Find you something stunning.”

Trotting after her on your toes you said, “Well, not too stunning, I mean I have some voom, but I don’t want to be too va va voom, to a show. It’s not my show, I’m just going.” Again she smirked at you hitting the button for the elevator, “It’ll be dark, but I don’t want to distract. I just, by all accounts I shouldn’t be able to afford the show, but I helped that guy with that bus crash and he said his son works the counter and knows another guy he didn’t name and they put me down for tickets for whichever show I wanted. Which really isn’t all that logical a gift I mean they’re losing out funds to give me two seats-,”

Her hand folded around yours pulling it from twisting around your shirt button. “Pluto, you stopped a bus from plowing through the theater on Broadway, everyone that works there owes it to you that they still have their jobs and the theater and production companies all because you flicked your hand to stop a bus and help an old man that stumbled off the curb. Two seats is so far from damaging to how badly that crash would have been. You earned it. Now what did you want to wear?” She asked stepping into the lift.

“Well, I wanted to wear one of my sequin minis, but again, sparkly, I didn’t want to distract. So, black perhaps. Many films have said that a simple black dress should be a staple to one’s wardrobe.”

“That it should. I prefer black, always does the trick, and don’t you worry about your va va voom. Only people worried about your voom will be dropping dead quickly enough from jealousy.”

“I don’t believe that is how jealousy works.” Making her smirk again and pat your arm, “Ah, another verbal intricacy.”

Over a black bandage dress set to hug you perfectly you looked to your friend while she suggested a pair of heels she had gone with you to buy months prior after seeing her sighing over a shoe sale advertised in a magazine you asked, “This weekend, are you busy?”

“Unfortunately. That when your show is?”

“Yes,”

“Well I could see if Bucky could stand in for me.”

Shaking your head you said, “No, they need a brain there. I can, ask someone, someone fun.” The sentence and sure nod you had given yourself in a sweeping glance over the store had her holding back a chuckle and glancing back to the rack of shrugs you might like with a bit of shimmer to fit your preferred palette of a tad bit sparkly and a blend of colors resembling galaxies. Her focus there bringing you back on your mental ramblings as to who to ask dipping back into picking out something to help keep you warm in case it got a bit chilly.

Back to the tower you went and through each room you went pausing to glance at each person inside, every person in varying levels of being accustomed to your awkward ways, always with Peter overreacting. That tingly sense he got that he was being observed while distracted ended up with him chucking his the mask Tony had just finished polishing for his new suit halfway across the room into the rubbish bin making Tony’s jaw drop open with a stunned scoff.

Noticing it was you however Peter turned and sprung across the room, “Sorry Tony, habit.”

Tony, “I just polished it…”

Peter, “Just so used to it being my Aunt, not Miss Pluto.” Digging it out and buffing it with the elbow of his sweater.

Passing that room you continued on to the study where you found your chosen target. Right onto the cushion beside the raven haired Prince, who was seated with brows furrowed in focus on his Mahjong game on his tablet, you sat luring his eyes right to you as your legs were crossed between you and your finger tapped his elbow. “You’re fun.”

The grin on your face causing him to lower the tablet to his lap and shift in his seat in confusion, “It has been some time since I have been told that. Might I ask the importance of my talents of amusement?”

“Well, see I have tickets to a show, and you’re a Prince, Princes go to shows all the time so I thought I might see if you wanted to go with me.”

“There are two Princes in this building.”

“Yes, however, I would prefer to not ask Thor, he would draw the wrong sort of attention while I am meaning to see the show, not distract from it. No doubt he’d get bored and start juggling chairs or something.” The thought making Loki smirk your way.

“That is my argument in my favor? The ability to behave myself in tedious situations?”

“Absolutely not.” You fired back making him smirk at you. “See, I have tickets and Nat helped me to pick out a dress and you’re a Prince and Princes go to shows but normally I don’t fit the look of someone who could afford Broadway tickets. I figured if you might go then I might not be taken as out of place because, well, Prince.”

The final word was accented with another poke only luring his smirk out more, “Even without me you would fit in perfectly.” In the sink of your brows he stated, “I shall go, when is the show?”

“Saturday.”

He nodded then looked you over as you moved to turn so you might stand asking, “Why do you let them call you Pluto? That is the name they have assigned your home planet, but not your name.”

Your eyes met his, “Not everyone has a name so kind to tongues as yours, Prince Loki.”

“Your name is very kind,”

“They lack the vocal vibration necessary to perfectly pronounce my name without issuing insult. Pluto is a lovely alias.”

“Why did you choose this planet?”

“My father tried to eat me.” His brow inched up, “Unlike Asgardians our Lords may only father one child.”

“He required a son.”

“No, he burned for one.”

“I suppose it would be safer for you to remain here then and not return home. Figures you might try to acclimate. Though Asgard would always welcome you.”

“Oh yes, who could be concerned with the Jotuns once a Plunoie has touched their golden grounds.”

“They would never treat you as I have been. You are the daughter of a Lord and will be treated as such.”

“Says you,”

“Even Thor is fond of your company and Mother has always been curious of Pluto. She would defend you.”

“All the same, enjoy your game Prince Loki. Go for the dragon.” His brow arched up and he looked to his tablet again finding the matching dragon tiles he tapped making him smirk at a lotus tile he needed.

There was no question of what you had chosen, merely the creeping joy that he was the Prince you had chosen to support you in this. He knew all too well just how fragile these creatures could be and how long it had taken him to master his own skills to remain among them for their safety. Far superior to their beings without a drop of cruelty in you he had to marvel how you pushed yourself to control easing yourself to safe levels among mortals within a few meager years while it took Asgardians hundreds with scarce blip of trips to Midguard to test their control among them. If you had asked for support in this support you would get from him on this occasion and any other.

Wicked. The word was splashed across the billboards and posters and at the door you showed your tickets that seemed to trigger a ripple of gestures ushering you and Prince Loki through the crowds with great ease straight to your seats right up front with what they called the best view in the house. The people around you and the task of getting here just barely enough to keep him from staring at you dumbly since Pepper had made sure that he and you managed to get into the elevator at all in the double sided stare down.

Settled down in place with legs crossed for you both Loki’s gaze shifted from the playbill in his lap to the lanterns on the walls flickering luring focus to you. Without missing a beat up his arm went to rest across the armrest between you to ease his fingertips between the palms of your hands tangling in your lap from nerves. Once your eyes fell on him through the vibrating pulses that had started to form in your hands his fingers eased to intertwine with yours acting as a buffer to stop the reaction interfering with the electronics in the block. Lowly he whispered to you mentally, “You are doing lovely so far. Just breathe.”

“Have you seen this show before?”

“No. Although I have read it is something of a prequel to the Wizard of Oz.”

“I do hope it does not bore you.”

Again his eyes shifted to glance at his hand fixed in yours stirring an urge to beam brightly like an idiot for finally claiming more than a greeting poke from you. The action a way of proving that unlike the mortals you didn’t have to hold back with him or be afraid to harm him, and have one person on this planet who didn’t leave you a nervous wreck to upset or harm by accident. Also unaware of how much his action had comforted you in his fearless taking of your hand. Finally having some form of contact with a being strong enough to equal yourself, at least in day to day tasks and situations.

“You could never bore me.” The words echoed in your head a few moments until a snap of a picture being snapped of the pair of you by a woman hurrying by had your focus on her. Only to see an usher come to escort her out for disturbing fellow ticket holders stirring up an argument from her she was unable to win as when told to delete the photo to get in she posted it online. “See, no one ever wants my picture.”

You glanced at him to the stroke of his thumb along the side of your hand, “No doubt more comments will pop up to see what I destroy this time.”

“Another reason why I am your ideal companion on outings, equally as culpable for damage to the public. I don’t mind playing the villain to spare you unjust scorn.” Softly he gazed back at you with an easy grin on his face shifting to the warning the show was beginning in a moment. Over the audience a hush fell and your eyes shifted to the curtain in the dimming of the lights signaling his own hand to tighten a tad from his own nerves and yours to fold around his.

‘No One Mourns the Wicked’ seemed to set the mood that they were setting up the lead role for Elphaba to be the main focus. ‘The Wizard and I’ though lovely seemed to make your stomach sink knowing how the sequel ends. By ‘No Good Deed’ you and Loki both leaned together, with your second hand clutching his sleeve at the elbow resting into his arm while he did the same to yours. Up with the crowds you stood with his hand keeping your hand he looped around his elbow saying, “You can just pat my arm.” Knowing your timid stance on clapping too hard so he clapped and you merely tapped finger tips around his arm easily disguised in the dim audience and while the lights rose an usher came to escort you both out first to keep you from being hounded by press while they lined up for the stage door experience.

“That-,” out of the pair of you for the show was all you could muster up to discus the flawless yet all too familiar notions behind the role. Good intentions landing someone as a named villain hounded and insulted at any chance given. Outside your car had been called by the valet and into it you eased with Loki strolling around to drive. Stealing a glance your way he buckled up then shifted in his seat with blinker on to pull out heading back to the tower.

Glancing your way again to your soft sigh he heard you say, “It’s so sad.”

“Yes it is. Wonderful, but sad.”

“I thought it was supposed to be happy. Pepper said it was the better choice of the two offered. Other one’s about chess. She said it was sad.”

Loki’s brows furrowed at the slowing of the traffic making him stop asking, “If the chess one was sad by her terms no doubt we would have left absolutely depressed.”

Sudden clunks of buildings going dark from a rolling blackout had groans filling the street and glancing around you checked the cars around you and lifted your hand to try and hover the car back only for Loki to pat the back of it saying, “I’ve got it.” One swish of his hand and the car was coated in green glowing smoke that in a flash had you parked in its usual spot back in Stark Tower Garage. “Now, for another surprise. I promised you dinner.”

Curiously out you climbed once he’d teleported to open the door with hand offered to help you up, making certain to keep close. Once again taking in each tempting detail of your unbelievable self just barely a foot in front of him. “Cooking? You cook?” You asked seeing him all but glowing in the faint light from the emergency beams in each corner while the tower whirred powering up on its backup generator.

At that he smirked saying, “I am now.” Again his hand melded to yours through your soft squeak. “Heimdall,” Bright lights flooded the garage to the Bifrost opening and once inside the golden dome your eyes dropped to the plume of a rainbow coated cloud of vapor escaping your lips. Lifting your hand you grinned seeing your skin again naturally glimmering with prisms of light, rainbows dancing across it in each movement. Looking up to Loki your eyes were no longer purple but in each glance away reflected the same galaxies the curls laid down your back in a dangling strip from the end of your rolled over bun Wanda had helped to pin securely.

“Welcome back Prince Loki,” the head of the gold clad guardian bowed to him then turned to you speaking in your own tongue rather roughly, “Welcome, Lady.”

Smirking at him you replied, “I take it-,” your words halted seeing the cloud escaping your lips much like the ones when freshly landed on Earth had caused earthquakes after affecting the atmosphere luring your free hand to your lips.

Loki stated in a pat of his fingertips on your arm, “You are safe to our planet,” meant exactly as he had said it, turning your head to catch his nod, “Our atmosphere is much thicker than Midguard. You are safe here.”

Facing the guard again you said, “You are Heimdall.”

“I am, yes.”

“Did you see the show?”

“Yes, while you are here perhaps you may prefer one of ours.”

Loki’s hand still holding yours shifted as he said, “For now, I am cooking us supper.”

Heimdall’s brow inched up, “I am not doubting your skill, however, Queen Frigga has put much effort into its preparation.”

Flatly Loki replied, “Breakfast then.” Making the guard smirk at his first step down the golden steps you looked down to taking a step at a time with the Prince pausing to see the pencil skirt fighting against the movement.

It was only two steps yet all the more adorable when you caught his eye saying, “I neglected to practice on stairs.”

Heimdall glanced away pretending the blush inching onto Loki’s cheeks replying, “Mastered already.”

Nodding you replied, “For every lie you tell me I expect five steps in a handstand,” he smirked at you and chuckled as you added, “I will waive this first offence.”

“I did not lie.” You paused with a brow raised and he repeated, “I did not lie! That second step, you mastered it.” Your eyes narrowed slightly and his dazed grin eased out making you turn away.

“I am watching you.” He nodded stepping as you did out into the bright moonlight that dimmed your impressive colorful shimmer to your shielded yet still glittering self cast in rainbows reflecting the bridge the Prince led you across.

“That I am grateful for.” He hummed pointing out clusters of stars until you got far enough from the Bifrost he could turn and point saying, “And that-,”

“Pluto.” Stepping back he watched your eyes dart to the bridge and up again to the distant city shining brightly making you ask, “Is it hard to clean, all that gold?”

Smirking at you he replied, “We have our ways to ensure it remains intact and glimmering for guests.” All the way across he pointed out different locations until the guards around the city curiously looked over the new guest everyone was curious about. Thor had brought handfuls of guests home but you were the first Loki had invited, as well as the first of your race, leaving no clue on what to expect.

Golden halls with thick tapestries ended in what you could take as the throne room by the massive golden throne looking far from comfortable. Each shadow you passed through between flaming bowl stands brought out your same glowing appearance from the Bifrost fading away again in the light of the flames cast your way. Right in front of the throne you eyed the blonde woman clad in an elegant green gown Loki released your hand to embrace. “Mother,” he said smiling looking her over to turn to you still smiling brightly halting your head nod her way a moment, “I would like to introduce my guest,”

Frigga cut him off, “Please do tell us your true name, I would not wish to disrespect you by using the name Midgardians can pronounce.”

Through a deep breath you wet your lips replying, “I am called, Ku-l’ua Jaqiearae.” The name a faint echoing hum from your lullaby tone.

Frigga nodded her head repeating, “Lady, Ku-l’ua,”

That had you giggle and say, “No, Ku is exiled, l’ua is Heir of what you might call Duke. On my planet my rank was T’y’pn-eo. Third Heir of, Duke. And it is said after my name, I was given the name but exile was my choice. But Lady Jaqiearae will suffice here, Queen Frigga.”

Frigga smiled saying, “We shall master your titles soon, Lady Jaqiearae. For now, we have a lovely meal waiting for you.”

“Thank you.”

Her arm circled Loki’s as he offered it and she asked, “How was the show?”

Loki’s lips pursed and he replied, “Well, for a rather light hearted theme it bore quite the drastic undertone.”

Dinner went well and at Loki’s shared comment on breakfast you were granted a spare set of pajamas flowing and not silken as they appeared, though much like in mangas you had seen with a frilly top and barely visible frilly shorts underneath in a pale blue. Either way you were here to sleep although wide eyed after simply touching the bed a waft of rose shot through the air in the puff of smoke erupting from the golden silk sheet under the folded back thickly embroidered comforter in a dark grey. Glancing from your hands to the sheets again you turned to your balcony Loki had commented being shared by his room, across a small gap of course, so he might call you out to see the first of their two suns rising. “Pst!”

Lounging in his favorite pajamas on his fainting couch with his favorite book his grin dimmed a moment turning his head to his open balcony, “Loki!” This time you had whispered a tad louder luring the Prince to close his book and stand up to venture out hearing a second, “Pst!” Not three steps later you repeated, “Lo-,” out he stepped with brows raised curious what the problem was while you took in his long forest green shirt clad self seemingly in no pants visible by the length of his shirt baring strips of his toned thighs. “I lit my bed on fire.”

His brows shot up more planting his hands on the rail between you trying to glance inside your room, “You-,”

“It’s out now.” His eyes were on you again then in a puff of green smoke he zapped to your side walking into your room, “I didn’t mean to. I just touched the sheet and, pfft,”

He glanced at you, “Smoke, makes, a, pfft.”

After a few blinks he asked, “Why does it reek of roses in here?”

“I can’t touch flowers,” He glanced at you again, “Pfft,”

Trying not to smile at your worried wide eyed star-like self he turned easing his hand around you to plant on your back guiding you to the balcony, “Stay with me tonight.”

“But, they said that’s my room.”

On the balcony you glanced around at the puff of green smoke coating then washing away on the breeze from you both at his zapping you to his balcony, “Well we certainly can’t stay out here. The guards change in two minutes.” Leading you inside to his much comfier looking silver and black monster of a bed on a raised platform coated in spotted fur blankets layered across it lit by the roaring fireplace behind his former reading spot. “No flowers here. Get some sleep, I planned on reading a bit first.”

Timidly you did climb into his bed laying an absurd six feet in directly in the middle with a huge fur pillow under your head. Twelve curious minutes you laid there wondering at the lack of a page being turned, looking again to Loki as you rolled onto your side, asking after nearly a half hour of failing to fall asleep. “What are you reading?” His eyes flinched up to you utterly forgetting the book in his hands or the subject it was on by your starlight self glowing so cozily from his bed.

Softly he sighed finding his feet and closing his book he carried over and once he had settled onto the bed in front of you a few feet away he propped himself up reading the cover to you before starting on the first page. “Are you tired?” You asked after his fourth time rereading a line he’d already read aloud to the shift of one of your feet or hands making you wonder if he was simply tired or if you were distracting him from the task at hand somehow. The thought made more amusing by the trickle of a faint blush across his cheeks.

“I believe a few more pages might be managed before I retire.”

“Perhaps I might try to sleep. I bid you a mortal goodnight rest, Prince Loki.”

Faking a shift to roll over you hid your urge to smirk when he looked your way asking, “A mortal goodnight,” with a sigh he said, “Perhaps one day you might share a Plunoie goodnight.”

“If you are certain, I will oblige.” Up you inched to prop up on a hip and hand closing the distance between you freezing the Prince in place to the fall of your shadow over his cheek. A whisper, or perhaps the tap of a nose or forehead, possible trace of a finger across skin or cup of a cheek. A slap would even have been expected before this, as from the square of his jaw across his cheek to his forehead the skin on his face rippled blue with ridges easing out following the trace of your tongue. “May asteroids barrage your nightmares, Prince Loki.”

Back you shifted to lay in your former spot feeling his wide red eyed stare following you, voice lost for only moments before he could ask, “Plunoie, lick, one another, to sleep?”

Shaking your head his mouth dropped open to your spreading smile, “Nope.”

“Ugh, trickster,” he said dropping his book at his side in a slide closer, “I will show you a goodnight of my own.” Ruffling up the covers to have nothing between him and your curled self drawing a squeak from you stirring a cloud of mist above the bed glimmering like a storm of stars in a sunset sky. To your giggle when his hands found your waist easing you up against his side the clouds spread to fill the room releasing a group of firefly like lights that flew around withering after moments while the multicolored blush more Technicolor strobe light than your usual rainbow prism glimmer across your cheeks split his smile wide in curiosity for what the sudden reaction really meant in that moment.

Leaning over you his hand rose from your waist to tenderly trace up your cheek opposite him, cupping it ever so gently ghosting his thumb slower to meet the rest of his fingers adoring the feel of the skin underneath he’d so longed to touch. From hovering above you his face lowered and cheek to cheek in a lullaby of a whisper in Asgardian, “To my star most precious and pure, dreams of adventure and bliss I bid thee, most dear one.” Eye to eye again when he drew back the lights spread again to the deepening of an adoring gaze from the Prince absorbing each intimate moment of this. Forehead to forehead his head rested to your mental count of four followed by alternating taps of his nose on either side of yours reaching that same number. “Rest well, Ku-l’ua Jaqiearae”

Back he pulled to lay back again in his old spot and you asked watching him, “What was the whisper?”

Bringing a finger to his lips in the lift of his book again he shushed you narrowing your eyes, “Sleep now.”

“Five steps, now.” Back to your face his eyes shifted seeing you point, “Handstand for the lie.”

“I did not lie. Merely said sleep now.”

“Now you order me about?”

“I would not dare.”

“Handstand.”

“No,”

“No?” You giggled out luring his eyes to the firefly like lights distracting him against your push on his side bumping him off his bed. To cushion his fall he stirred up a green cloud dissipating to lower him gently contrasting his otherwise painful landing.

Locking his eyes on you his narrowed in a sharp huff, “You boot me from my own bed?”

“You are not getting back in this bed until you give me my five steps.”

“Fine, next Saturday however you are entirely at my mercy, no arguments on my plans, not a one.” Without awaiting your response forward he forced himself off the platform onto his palms in a steady handstand halting a moment to the drop of the lower portion of the shirt folding over his torso revealing a strip of his belly above his shorts now revealed with buttons down the side of his thighs. One at a time once centered five steps were taken and on the sixth he turned dropping a leg to take his weight granting him a steady rise up in lowering the second to walk back to the bed. “Five steps, as demanded.”

Slyly through the spread of his smirk he hummed out, “Now,” back onto his bed he hopped easing from his knees to his former spot and closer still, “Sleep,” again you giggled at the tug you felt on your middle in his arm scooping you onto your side, back against his chest you settled with his one arm under your neck and the other around your middle. Colorful lights and mists thickened deepening the smirk hidden in the hair hiding the face burrowing into it. Down below the oddly colorful balcony steps from patrolling guards were heard passing by crossing to opposite check points, a sound like the again steadying of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. Behind you however the Prince’s mind whirled out of control wondering what he might just plan, both for breakfast and again for next Saturday.

Somewhere between sleep and wonder a prickle down his arm triggered the droop of his arm heavier around your waist showing sign of his sudden drop off to sleep. A calming numbness knowing that you had fallen asleep on his arm somehow signaled a much needed rest to begin. A sign that unlike when he slept on his side alone held him in place to not wake you, where alone would have him rolling over. Surely remaining awake would only prolong the discomfort so his body chose for him to keep you in place. Breakfast promised however just before sunrise stirred him and groggily he murmured, “Jaqiearae,” the gentle shake he gave drew a grumble in return only urging his head rolling back to confirm by how much light in his room he had to the first of two sunrises had him ease back scooping you up in his conscious arm leaving the other to drop over your curled legs while it stirred.

Half awake his feet carried the both of you to the same balcony he charmed his lounge to the perfect spot to settle down feeling the deep waking breaths from you alerting you would not miss this stunning sight far from your beauty, yet one you had yet to see. Down to the kitchens he led you startling more than a few servants along the way but none more than those coming in to find your giggling self smiling to his oddly adorable lopsided waffle stick castle surrounded by a moat of eggs with meat monsters throughout to be flooded with the as yet unnamed but oh so delicious sauce inside the castle seeping out to mingle their flavors excellently. The mess once all eaten was cleaned up by the both of you ending to the bubble coated Prince chasing your shrieking and giggling self after a surprise attack giving him a fading mustache sliding down around his neck.

Clearing his throat however once he’d caught you the sight of his mother on the other side of the fountain you had been caught trying to avoid he nodded his head saying, “Mother.”

Grinning herself she nodded her hear replying, “Loki dear, do be certain to add the singing fountains of silver on the southern courtyard once you have finished your tour of this one.”

“Yes, I shall.” On your upper back his hand settled stating, “My Grandmother settled the arrangements for these stones herself, and were she not carrying Mother perhaps laid them herself.” Just past another statue and in his hand yours rose to his lips for a jaw dropping lick down the back of your hand. Right after he released you and it was your turn to chase the now fleeing Prince chuckling himself at your stunned squeak.

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

X Loki - @pastelhexmaniac

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @changlingkhat

#Loki x Reader OC #Marvel #Wicked #New Planets #New Friends #Trickster

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honeydots · 4 years

Note

200. “He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.” ~~ This has some Vibes and I kinda like them so? I'd like 2 humbly request your take on this w/ shukita or akeshu if it's ok to ask for!! -- dorky-arsene (a sideblog)

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it”

Hello no I didn’t forget about these I am just slower than a little baby turtle!!!!! Anyway

Summary: Goro’s new job leads him to discover that dealing with both a crush and an idiot while flipping burgers is, unarguably, the worst turn his life could’ve taken.

cw: sexual themes (+p5r spoilers)

(ao3 link)

“Hello! Would you like to try our Big Bang Special Combo Shot-Straight-Through Promotional Meal for ‘Thy Father of Corruption 2: The Daughter of Rejection’ for ¥850?”

Goro wanted to quit.

You need this job. You need this job. He’d repeat to himself each time a customer decided they were feeling peckish. You will have no money if you quit and then you will have no home and then you will drop out of college and then you will die.

He’d left the police department after graduating. With his past plans of an 18-year life expectancy having slipped down the drain, he hardly had a reason to stay. High school had been an uphill battle with cases of murder and robbery breathing down his neck, and he’d hesitated to even make an attempt at trying to juggle his priorities in university. Dropping the detective gig meant dropping the media attention, too, which gave him breathing room he certainly knew he needed, but never really had.

The problem was, after three years of fading out of fame and living off his savings, he realized this wouldn’t stretch as far as he’d predicted. He hadn’t accounted nearly enough for the expenses that came with the unwelcome enforcement of trying to live as a proper human being. His bank account was growing meager. If he wanted to keep living (which was arguable) in the way that he was (which he did) he’d need an income. Almost anything would do, as long as it would bend and break to his schedule.

And, all things considered, he technically had connections here. And ever since… that, the pay had actually increased to a respectable amount. The management had rehired, retrained, and improved. It was fast food, but it was livable. Nothing shameful about being livable.

And god fucking dammit he had already done three interviews with no hires and he needed food other than half-cooked ramen noodles and bread slices.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?”

That didn’t mean he didn’t loathe every minute.

It was bad enough that he had a job at Big Bang Burger. And, bad enough that he’d been desperate to get it. It was bad enough that he had to bring in his homework like some anguished used-to-be honors student now getting barely passing marks. And christ, it was bad enough each time a customer would walk in, a hamburger-shaped icepick would slam itself into his frontal lobe, forever ingraining the memory of his premeditated brain murder of the former CEO of this very restaurant.

All of that, and he couldn’t stress this more, was bad enough. It was entirely shitty all around. Completely awful, and damming, and humbling, though he hated to admit it. He’d like to say it couldn’t get any worse. That this was the end of the line, get off the train before it turns around, don’t get stuck in the never ending cycle of beef patties and sesame seed buns.

But, god, of all the coworkers.

“Ya know,” said Sakamoto, leaning down on the front counter after their customer had left, “I dunno if clenching your teeth like you’ve got peanut butter stuck in there counts as ‘service with a smile.’”

Sakamoto Ryuji. The boy who had the opposite of a filter, and more like a megaphone spewing recordings of every profanity in the Japanese language. He, who had walked in on Goro’s second day and loudly declared, ‘I thought I smelled something, what’s this a-hole doing here?’ Really, who else could he tolerate spending eight-hour shifts with; greasy stoves, piss poor customers, and the ruthless scent of lysol on tile included?

Ah, right. Anyone else.

Goro pressed his lips together. “Hm. Well you know, I was almost certain that elbows on the counter was a fireable offense.”

Sakamoto snatched himself up in a second, elbows up high. He hung there and looked around the empty restaurant.

He pouted. “Not cool, dude. That’s only when there’s customers.”

Goro raised his eyebrows. He was really just going to stand there? He looked like an idiot, or a chicken. A hybrid that, if anyone could pull off, would be him. He was making a great show of it, too.

Sakamoto narrowed his eyes. “Unless you’re a snitch.”

Goro spoke in his most syrupy sweet voice. “Are you implying then, that your job is in my hands? An entertaining thought, Sakamoto.” If it were only that simple to really get him fired. Unfortunately, their manager seemed to love his enthusiasm. Every moment he spent enthusiastically mopping floors and singing into the handle was a moment Goro could’ve been writing soliloquies of his growing and newfound hatred for Carly Rae Jepsen.

Sakamoto folded his arms in a huff. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, man! Look at that fake-ass smile.” He shook his head. “And I get customer service blows and stuff, but you use it for everything. Lighten up dude! Take a break.”

Sakamoto said things with such confidence, such surety. It made his teeth grind.

“I’d prefer to keep my job,” Goro said, and gave him the sweet smile Sakamoto was arguing against. “Though, if you’d like to pay my rent for me, you’re more than welcome.”

He acted like he hadn’t even heard him.“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re so gloomy all the time, your face just doesn’t know how to work it. Look it, check me out.” Sakamoto pointed his thumb at himself and flashed a toothy smile. “Just like that! All natural, bro. It’s easy. Come on, you really try it this time.”

Goro very clearly did not. He stared with his most obsolete and ‘stop-trying-to-have-a-conversation-with-me’ look he could muster. He’d communicate it telepathically, if given the chance.

“That doesn’t look like trying to me,” Sakamoto said expectantly.

Couldn’t they just sit in silence and wait for their fabrication of getting-along time when the next inevitable customer came in? “Perhaps, and please let me know if this is too complicated, I simply have no intention of trying, because I don’t believe there’s anything to fix.”

“Nah, that’s not it,” replied Sakamoto, as if he was being thoughtful.

Another reason why he was completely obnoxious was because the longer they knew each other, the less that Goro’s flawless stone faced looks worked. Sakamoto kept spewing hot air. He’d gained some kind of tolerance, and it was tedious to work around.

Sakamoto leaned back down, previous elbow warnings forgotten. “I bet you’re the kinda guy who’s super ticklish, so you act all boring so no one suspects it.”

“I’m not,” Goro snapped.

“Quick reply there, buddy.”

Goro didn’t answer to that. He didn’t owe it to him. This was pointless; why did Sakamoto find such pleasure in talking about pointless things?

He slouched further down. “So it’s silent treatment now. You’re checking all the boxes over here.” He waved his finger through the air. “Check, n’ check, n’, check.”

Goro was getting a headache. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Betcha you’re super ticklish. And like, one of those cry-laughers.”

“Sakamoto, did you hear what I just said.”

He stretched up from his position on the counter. “Like if I poke you in the side, I bet it would make ya jump.”

“Do not.” He could just try it. Goro would bend his finger back so far it’d break. He wondered if that would be a viable option to get him to stop talking sometime.

“Didn’t say I was gonna.” He rested his arms behind his neck. “You’re just proving my point more, though.”

Sakamoto was annoyingly stubborn at times. Once he found a niche with Goro, he’d hack his way in and grab on like a tick. Bother him like it was his last chance he’d ever get, as if they didn’t work shifts together four times a week. He was bound to get lyme disease at this rate.

Goro felt like a very frustrated pair of tweezers.“Can we talk about anything else, please?”

Sakamoto went quiet. He was just looking at him now. Goro tensed up. Was he really going to try and poke him? He meant it, he’d break his hand.

“Ya know, there is something I wanna talk to you about,” he said.

Goro did not like the sound of that. “Oh really.” He tried to sound like he was just told he was about to be given a lecture on the intricacies and details of lentil soup. Which, perhaps could be more interesting than whatever topic Sakamoto was about to pull out of his ass.

Sakamoto sniffed. “Yup. It’s about Akira.”

Oh, he really didn’t like where this was going. “Sakamoto, I—”

“When’re ya gonna like, confess.”

Goro visibly winced. Dammit. He knew he’d bring this up one day. He was absolutely infuriated Sakamoto knew about that, and he hadn’t even told him. He’d been making guesses and Goro had been just tired enough during his shift to let a hint of a sigh out, and Sakamoto had taken that to new heights. Another example of conversations being had that Goro would’ve just about died to get out of.

Sakamoto was still staring at him. Didn’t he have anything better to do? Goro knew they didn’t at this good for nothing job, but what was so hard about just acting like you’re busy. You’re pretending then, at least, and that’s something.

“Well, dude?” asked Sakamoto.

Any conversation is better than that one.

Mother of fuck.

“I…” Goro started, adjusting a piece of his hair, “I suppose I am a little ticklish.”

Sakamoto’s face lit up. “Dude, for real? Called it,” he said triumphantly. Had Goro not known him as well as he did, he’d think the divergence in conversation was a trick to get him to admit he was a bit… touchy. But he did know him, and he wasn’t one for games like that.

“Most people are, it shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s skin sensitivity, nothing more.”

Sakamoto shrugged. “Still funny you admitted to it.”

Sure. Very hilarious. Yet another fact Sakamoto now knows about him that he’d really have rather not shared under any circumstance.

“Satisfied, now?” Goro asked, but it wasn’t really a question. He didn’t plan on expanding, this was embarrassing enough as it was.

“Nope,” he replied, “cause that’s great and all, but I really gotta know the game plan.” He leaned in close to Goro, and he in turn leaned farther away.

“There’s no ‘game plan,’ Sakamoto. Please don’t get so close to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He moved back, obviously not finished. “Come on, though, you gotta have something.” And back down on the counter he slouched.

‘Something,’ he’d said. Yes, and that something was to keep his mouth shut and go about his life keeping each and every one of those mortifying feelings to himself. It was humiliating enough that Sakamoto knew. Telling Akira? He didn’t even want to imagine it. He’d rather face Okumura-san herself and ask her to buy one of their Shot-Straight-Through combo meals.

“There’s nothing. And I don’t plan there to be anything. And, it’s not really much of your business, is it?” Goro could feel himself growing irritated.

Sakamoto melted further into the counter. “I just don’t get why you’re not gonna ask him out if you like him. You might as well, man, it’ll be fine.”

What simple ways of thinking. Do this, get that in return. Black and white, and right and wrong. Spill your fleeting moment of vulnerability and try not to think about the extensive hole of commitment you’re burying yourself in. One turn of phrase, one word, one misplaced breath to Akira would forever rupture the sorry excuse of acquaintanceship they’d been flip flopping through for the past three years. Akira was a blank slate and simultaneously the person he knew best. He knew him, but didn’t really, and he could never tell what he was thinking. Suddenly he was gambling again, and this time it came entirely unwelcome. Risks you face before death and risks that you’ll keep living through no matter the outcome tasted different. One was tangy and sweet and thrilling, the other was bitter shit. Not to mention that Akira was too kind to him for his own good. He couldn’t even tell what was a lie.

But, Sakamoto didn’t need to know all that. “You say that like there’s nothing to consider. As if I’ve never even given this thought. You do not belong in my head, Sakamoto. And I do not need to give you, an obvious outsider on the entire dilemma, any sort of justification for why I’m going to continue to abstain on something as trivial as a confession.”

Sakamoto huffed at him. “What if I said that I gua-ran-tee he’s not gonna say no to you.”

Goro was already sick of this. What, had Sakamoto expected his heart to skip? His pulse to rise? That just the very thought of mutual feelings would send him into some flustered mess? Please. He told the tingling feeling going up through his legs and down his arms and up the back of his neck to shut the fuck up.

He couldn’t stay quiet for long. Sakamoto could and would get ideas. “Then why doesn’t he just tell me that himself? Why are you playing wingman for him?”

“Cause he’s not gonna say anything cause he’s got to be worried that he’s gonna freak you and your crazy attachment issues out!”

Of course, there it was. The blind bet. Sakamoto’s one-way thinking at it again, and Goro would not have it. “I’m not going to start playing some game with him about the complexities of whatever idea of consent he has in his head. I don’t need his sympathy, and I am certainly not looking for it. I don’t have time for something messy and half-assed. I don’t want that, and surely he doesn’t, either. If he feels any way about me, he’d ought to tell me, because then maybe we’d find some kind of leeway. But I will not let him sit there and wait for me to make the first move, like a key element in his plan. This is not some teenage romance, and I am not a caricature of his love life. He can wait patiently all he’d like, but I’m perfectly content as I am now.”

Sakamoto seemed a little stunned.

“Man, he’s just…” He trailed off. They sat in silence.

So ways still existed to get Sakamoto to stop rambling on. He was sure he’d regret saying this later, for a multitude of reasons. He didn’t hate Sakamoto, even saying dislike felt strong, but he always talked about things that Goro had no interest nor inclination to discuss. Maybe silence was for the best between them, for now.

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it. That’s all it is, dude,” said Sakamoto.

Goro inhaled. So he wasn’t done, then. “Love… is an entirely different conversation.”

“Okay, fine, you want me to say he ‘like-likes’ you like some fifth grader? Cause he does.”

Goro didn’t reply. He’d made his point.

“He isn’t playing one of your weirdo mind games,” Sakamoto continued. “I think you’re thinking too hard about this. He’s just a guy. He just wants to make sure you’re all comfortable and shit. Cause it’s not like we don’t all know the bullshit that was goin’ on for you.”

“I am not looking for his pity.” A fine thing to say while working at a Big Bang Burger in a bright yellow shirt and starred apron. It didn’t matter. He didn’t wear this with pride, per say, but he wouldn’t ask someone to feel sorry for him.

He didn’t exactly want to be seen, either. Especially not Akira, but of course he’d make habits of visiting. That was just like him, and it was just like his pity, too.

Sakamoto looked frustrated. “He ain’t pitying you, man! He’s tryin’ to respect you! He knows you got things to go through on your own and he’s trying to give you space and everything.”

Goro clicked his tongue. “If you know that’s his tactic, why are you trying to pressure me into this?”

“Cause I don’t care, dude!” Sakamoto said, and then stopped himself, and promptly looked very guilty. “Well, okay. I do care. Like, I do. But sometimes…” He looked like he was trying to pick his words out carefully. He had an idea, just no way to form it.

He settled. “Sometimes, you just gotta get laid, man.”

At this point, Goro found himself shocked that he wasn’t banging his own head against the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re twenty one years old! Dude, I know you haven’t gotten any,” Sakamoto argued. “Your gay ass with emotional problems? Get outta here.”

“This is not—”

Sakamoto put his hands up nonshalontly. “And like, yeah, no judgey stuff, take your time if you gotta. But have you considered it? Tell me. I betcha you haven’t.”

Goro opened his mouth, expecting to reply with an incredibly well thought out ‘fuck off,’ but the automatic doors slid open, and suddenly Goro was all smiles and greetings, so what came out instead was, “Hello! Welcome to Big Bang Burger! Would you—ah.”

Sakamoto snorted loudly, and Goro wanted to kick him so bad.

And actually, what was stopping him? Sakamoto had earned this, and it’s not like this customer would care.

Because, who else could’ve been just about summoned by the trouble than Kurusu Akira himself; strolling in so casually through the doors, like he hadn’t just become the most unpleasant topic of conversation Goro had ever had with Sakamoto. Speak of the devil was an understatement, or perhaps he was the devil himself.

“What the eff, man!”

“Hey you two,” said Akira, hands in his pockets and clearly bagless. He didn’t even register Goro’s kick, like that was just some normal occurrence. Somehow, that made him angrier.

“Yo,” said Sakamoto, recovering annoyingly quickly. Goro wondered if he should’ve considered breaking his finger.

Sakamoto reached out to Akira for a fist bump. “You don’t have the cat with ya?”

Akira bumped him back. “Nope. Just me today.”

“Sweet,” Sakamoto replied, a smile growing wide. Goro hated the look. It was the hungriest and most dastardly shit-eating grin he’d ever seen him dare to make. So, knowing Sakamoto and his terrible poker face, he had thought up some idiotic ploy.

“What’s up with you?” Akira asked, and thank god it wasn’t directed at Goro. Sakamoto’s obviousness did not go unnoticed.

“Oh nothin’, nothin’,” said Sakamoto, entirely conspicuously, “I gotta go, though, grind never stops. Super secret stuff in the back.”

Goro glared at him. So now he would pretend to be busy?

“Burger secrets,” Akira said, and Ryuji gave him a finger gun in reply. He walked off without a word, but apparently felt the inclination to jerk his head back at Goro, as if he didn’t know what he was doing.

He sighed. No amount of alone time would ever compel Goro to confess at a Big Bang Burger, of all places. At least Akira tended to be a little more bearable in conversation. He hoped he’d be an in and out customer. “Can I get you anything?”

Akira looked at him for a moment. “You look flustered.”

Goro felt himself twitch. He wasn’t flustered, like some preteen who can’t hear the word genital without bursting into laughter. If anything, Sakamoto had caught him off guard with his stupidity. He obviously was not one to be so affected by such a topic. He was an adult, and a professional. He would again not think about the fact he was wearing an orange visor right now.

“I’m positive that isn’t a menu item,” he replied, keeping his pleasant smile plastered on, keeping any stray annoyance from showing.

Akira examined him closer. “Do you have a fever or something? You look red.”

Goro drummed his fingers against the counter impatiently. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, Akira, Sakamoto just decided to kindly push the image of you railing me as a form of twisted therapy into the forefront of my consciousness. Would you like any drinks?

“I’m fine. I’m not the type to go to work sick,” he decided on instead.

“Really?” He didn’t seem convinced.

Goro folded his arms. “While living in a society where health is determined by the trust of the majority, I have no plans to spread my germs to an unsuspecting businessman, in that I expect the same from him.”

Akira considered that for a moment. “So you’re embarrassed, then.”

Goro’s expression turned sour. He was not in the mood for a debate. “Everyone seems to be presuming things today, have I missed a memo?”

Akira didn’t miss a beat. “Ryuji said something?”

Goro dragged his fingernails into his palm. He was hardly being that obvious, he wasn’t a bumbling idiot who couldn’t keep a straight face. Akira was just acutely good at reading people, (namely, reading him) and it drove Goro up the wall. It was unfair, for one thing, since Akira continued to maintain blank expressions in the face of clowns and hookers, keeping his inner thoughts kept behind lock and key. And, as of more recently, he was the one person Goro really desperately wanted to hide every wandering emotion from possible. Just his luck, fall for the bastard who analyzes people as a side job for his savior-complex living.

This was making him more frustrated. “Would you just order?”

Akira looked at the menu, but Goro knew it was bullshit. He ordered the same thing every time— a shake and a burger, no tomatoes. He certainly already knew what he wanted, but was just causing trouble in the meantime. What an annoyance. Goro punched it in, and made no moves to go and cook. If Sakamoto was going to have his “business” in the back, then he could stay there and do his job.

“Sit over there, we’ll bring it to you when it’s done,” he said, and Akira silently obliged. He gave a small smile before he turned, leaving Goro completely alone with his thoughts as he sat at his table and scrolled through his phone.

He couldn’t believe the timing of Sakamoto’s distasteful comment to Akira’s unseasonable entrance. Things always seemed to fall into place with Goro, just not the right places. The right place, but a little down, and to the left, the left, he said. He wished Sakamoto would mind his own business, let him quietly pine until his untimely death; which kept getting put off, might he add.

Sakamoto emerged from the back end of the restaurant. He was holding the bag of presumably Akira’s food, and his shake. He waved them enthusiastically.

“Go on, dude,” he smirked.

Goro was blunt. “No.” He’d pissed him off enough today. He wasn’t going to walk over there and serve the food. Sakamoto’s little idea of love, romance and marriage in a burger joint would have to wait. Ideally, it would get itself stuck in wet concrete, and drown way down under where no one could see it and where the light of day would never reach.

Sakamoto seemed to catch his drift. “Jeez, fine. Huffy, huffy.”

He walked over to Akira with a spring in his step, and they started chatting idly. Goro couldn’t hear. In all honesty, he was trying to tune them out. His headache was growing worse. Pounding in his head, every light too bright and repetitive music blurring together his thoughts. And of course there was the elephant in the room, who was whispering to him Sakamoto’s crude suggestions, and the irritating notion that maybe he was right, just a little bit.

He needed to get himself together. He was acting like some horny teenager. Get fucked, you raunchy elephant.

Sakamoto left to let him eat, and made a show of going back to the other end of the restaurant, all while wiggling his eyebrows at Goro. In turn, Goro made a show of rolling his eyes and planting himself facing away from Akira. It made Sakamoto laugh, for whatever reason, and Goro just ignored him.

He watched the door idly and tried to relax. He’d been clenching his teeth, and his jaw ached. He tried to focus to get his headache to fade into obscurity. He couldn’t find much to concentrate on, was his issue. Other than the obvious, which he would ignore without remorse. He wanted to go home. No lights too bright there, no sloppily cleaned windows, and especially no crush (the word left a bad taste in his mouth. Boy who has left him emotionally compromised after giving him no reason to deny he had worth in the world and keeps him up at night thinking about the way he really tried to will him back into existence when he could, god, have anything else in the world, and he wanted him. Was that a better option?) sitting out of view, chewing quietly and doing absolutely nothing to draw so much attention to himself. At home he could drown it all out in a cold bath, and let himself think of nothing but his numbing toes and pruning fingers.

“Hey, catch,” Akira said, suddenly there and startling Goro out of his bathlike daydream. He tossed something onto the counter. Goro did not catch it.

It was a napkin, all folded up in a careful way. It didn’t hold the shape well, but the intention was pretty clear. “Um. A crane?”

“Yup. Present for you.” he started, rubbing his neck, and he had the nerve to look bashful. “I got bored.”

Goro hadn’t noticed him making it. Which, alright, did make sense, he was purposefully keeping his neck away from that entire half of the restaurant. “Sorry we aren’t quite the height of entertainment here.” Goro lightly touched its head. He didn’t know Akira knew how to make these. “Well, thank you, I guess.”

Akira pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You’re welcome to name him.”

“I think that I won’t.”

“That can be pretty trendy, too,” he replied. “I’ve gotta go. Class. Tell Ryuji I say bye.”

“Bye, dude!” Sakamoto shouted from the back. There was that tiresome enthusiasm again.

It made Akira smile.“Nevermind, then. See you.”

Goro just barely lifted his hand by the wrist to wave. “Bye.”

Akira turned, gave him a small trill of his fingers, and left. Sakamoto did not return to his exit, and Goro savored the moment. It was just him and the crane, now.

It was pretty shoddy. Unfolding, and barely standing up on its own. Cheap paper napkins were not the ideal material for origami, it seemed. He watched it slowly fall apart, wings losing shape and the head relaxing into its neck. Akira had hardly stayed long, so that meant he was probably pretty good at this sort of thing. He wouldn’t have guessed.

…He thought about how it might look on proper paper. The creases sharp and crisp, the ends pointed and still. What would Akira’s hands look like while they worked? He could hear the sounds of the folding, and the wedging, clean paper being bent and rippled. Delicate fingers, working through, meticulously checking every last inch. Sometimes a pinch, just where it’s needed. And then finished, folded tight, wrapped together in itself. Very quick work, with the touch of a hand.

“The heck is that?” Sakamoto said, getting an actual jump out of Goro.

“What?” he gasped, and took a second to collect his thoughts. At work. Sakamoto came back. In a Big Bang Burger. Headache present. Good fucking god. “It’s just…” He pressed his fingers into the side of his temple “It’s a paper crane. Akira made it.”

Sakamoto let that sink in.“You tellin me you were just sitting here staring at the thing Akira made you?”

“I wasn’t,” Goro replied, trying desperately to catch his breath as casually as possible.

“Uh, you literally were.” Sakamoto got uncomfortably close to him again. Goro physically moved away, because now was not the time.

It didn’t deter Sakamoto whatsoever. He put his hands on his hips and gave an annoying grin. “Bro, you gotta tell him… You’ve obviously got it preeetty bad.”

Goro was fed up with this. This conversation needed to end, or he thought he might explode. “I don’t ‘have it bad,’ Sakamoto, stop bringing this up.”

Sakamoto smirked at him. “You so do though, is the thing.”

“I don’t. Leave me alone.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and kept his mouth shut. He was acting so haughty, like he’d won the argument. Which, he hadn’t, for the record.

That stupid crane. All it’d done was make things worse. And what was it even doing? Sitting here crumbling away into uselessly folded paper. A cheap napkin made of other recycled cheap napkins. Clean and crisp paper was a long sought after dream, a fantasy and nothing more.

You know, this was just it, really. This is what he meant. Akira would try and fold him up and he’d inevitably fall back down. He didn’t know just what fantastic method he’d try, but it wouldn’t matter— he was made of what he was made of, and nothing would hold him up. Trying was pointless, risking for naught, it would be better for everyone if he stayed just how he was and didn’t overstay his use.

He would not fit into Akira’s plans or his pities. He couldn’t.

“…Bruh. What does that even mean.”

Ah? “What?“ No. He had not said that out loud. Sakamoto did not just hear all that nonsense.

Sakamoto was giving him a funny look. “You’re not a napkin, man.”

God, shit. Shit shit shit. “I— I know that, this is just—“ The unpleasant feeling of blood rushing to his face was just as intolerable as it was unpreventable.

“For real? Cause you sure sounded like you were calling yourself a napkin.”

Absolutely unbelievable. How unruly was he that he’d just spouted all that like it was nothing? He couldn’t believe he had to explain himself now, but letting him get ideas was undeniably worse. “It’s supposed to be… symbolic, Sakamoto.”

He could practically see the gears turning in his head. That wasn’t something difficult to understand, you dunce. Every second of this humiliating scene felt like a knife turning in his back.

“Why does your brain work in such effed up ways. You gotta work on that,” Sakamoto said, not letting up his judgemental look.

He crossed his arms, trying to make his mortification appear like annoyance. “Don’t you start with me. As if you ever have something useful to say. At least I’m— I’m thinking, here.”

That riled him up a bit. “I’m thinkin’! I almost flunked literature so maybe I’m not so good at this analysis stuff, but you know what? Hear me out.” Goro did not want to hear him out. He continued despite that. “I get it, you got your problems. But I really don’t think you callin’ yourself some shitty crane is fair, you know? Like, you’re a whole guy.”

He did not appreciate how genuine Sakamoto was acting. It was odd, and it felt awkward coming from him. He didn’t want to feel guilty for being rude to him earlier, either. Just another topic to bother him to sleep.

Sakamoto went on. “Gahhh, it feels weird sayin’ this but like, you’re not a napkin, okay! And Akira doesn’t think so either. You’re more… complicated. Napkins don’t pay taxes or anything.”

Ah, alright. So it was mostly bullshit. He could ease the guilt away in one fell swoop.

Goro’s disinterest seemed to show itself well to Sakamoto. “Just, okay. Lemme get my thoughts here. You gotta like… be your own first step. I didn’t get my own shit sorted out until I actually tried to. And I’m not sayin it’s easy to do. But Imma tell you right now your first step is gonna be to stop thinking you’re a napkin or a bucket or a plate of green beans or whatever else you come up with. And I mean it, man.”

Goro knew he had things to say to that. He had thought out replies and phrases that Sakamoto would need more headspace to begin to understand. But none of them came to him. So he decided to stay threateningly quiet.

It was well received. “Okay okay, you’re gettin’ mad, I can tell. I’m gonna take my break,” Sakamoto relented, and turned on his heel. “I ain’t really trying to tell ya what to do but give it a thinking about, alright? ‘Least for Akira’s sake,” he said over his shoulder, and left Goro almost more alone than before.

It wasn’t even Akira’s sake Goro was worried about. Not in the way Sakamoto seemed to think. And he didn’t need to be told he wasn’t some inanimate object, he wasn’t that out of mind.

Any sort of sensible argument would have to come to him after the fact, apparently. To tell him this wouldn’t be a “first step,” more like a hundredth. How many paces did crawling out of the hole he’d buried himself in count for? How many miles had he gone by now, barefoot and bleeding all the way.

Such a stupid conversation. Needless, too, since for whatever reason his filter decided to leave him to fend for himself. Just another addition to this embarrassing excuse of a shift today.

The paper crane sat still on the counter, though it hardly resembled one anymore. He almost felt bad. He had his typical pit in his stomach, but nothing exactly to pinpoint it on. Was he wallowing in that much self-loathing?

Perhaps.

Goro adamantly refused to have any more dramatic revelations at his part time job, so any introspections would have to come later.

He put the crumpled crane in his pocket. It was certainly not going to be a crane once he took it out again, but he didn’t really know what else to do with it. Throwing it away felt wrong, to him. Though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do with it when he got home.

Akira hadn’t given this to him in hopes of causing some mental anguish. Or at least, he assumed so. Sakamoto had said he didn’t play mind games, but if not those, what was he doing? It felt better to know it was a game, in that way there was something about Akira’s mystery of a consciousness he could pry through.

Was he reading into things? For sure. Reading too deeply into anything had been a talent of his for as long as he could remember. It had saved his life before, many times and in the most difficult of times.

This crane wasn’t life threatening, but it felt like it was. Not in the thrilling way, but in the shitty way.

His shift was over soon. Which reminded him, Sakamoto had surely already taken his break. He was a dip, but Goro preferred his own thoughts to any conversation they’d had today. And that was saying something, since getting out of his own head was a much needed relief that he’d take almost any chance he got.

He was overthinking, and there was nothing he could do about it. He would continue to overthink until someone stole his brain and dunked it in acid. Where was the enjoyment otherwise? It was all he knew how to do.

And even he didn’t overthink this— if Akira had given this to him in earnest and in playfulness, and if Sakamoto hadn’t been overtly pulling his leg through their shifts today. There wasn’t even anything remarkable about it. If there was a chance that maybe things were just okay, and getting better, and he wasn’t a living metaphor for a tissue. Oh just, say he invited him out for coffee, and Akira surprised him with a new little creation, less spur of the moment and made something almost sweet. He’d never drop his pride so low as to ask for a lesson, but if he did, maybe he could learn to make something, too. And maybe he wouldn’t hate every moment of it, and maybe he’d like getting so close, and maybe he’d appreciate the mistakes as much as the praises.

…Hm.

That was just a fantasy, of course. And surely, nothing was all that great about it. Anything could go wrong in any number of ways, his own interventions just one category.

Maybe it was the headache, or the dragging on shift, or the terrible lights, or the distant humming of his coworker, but Goro must’ve been caught off guard today. Because otherwise, why else would he have thought, not long and not convincingly, but still a thought as present as can be, that maybe, despite everything.

It could be nice. Just for a little bit. Maybe that didn’t sound quite so bad.

Not so bad at all.

#it is shuake btw!#thank u for requesting this sorry i took ages #i hope you’ll enjoy it...... and sorry if youve been avoiding spoilers!!!#i know the games out but i also know not everyone has seen all the Content #but i will leave it at that #also its 6k cause i just dont know how to stop talking #my fics #my p5 fics #ask #dorky-arsene

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