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yeah-all-of-it · 3 years

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“Hey, sleepyhead! Get up! Busy day!” Ian calls from the bathroom.

He hears a grumpy, incoherent groan come from somewhere underneath the pile of blankets on the bed. After he finishes fixing his hair, he walks over to the bed. He perches himself gently on the edge, slowly sliding his hand underneath the bright white, high thread count duvet, a housewarming gift they had treated themselves to several months ago along with a new mattress and some sheets. After having to bang in walk-in coolers and dugouts and sleep on old mattresses and prison bunks for years, they wanted their bed to be a haven.

He has to feel around but Ian finally finds the waistband of Mickey’s boxers, and slips his hand in. This elicits a more pleasant groan from the pile of blankets.

Ian leans down and whispers softly, “We don’t have time now since someone decided to sleep in so long, but if you get up now, I promise I’ll make it worth your while later.”

“Ugh, fine,” Mickey grumbles, throwing off the covers and rolling out of bed. He stumbles to the bathroom, still half asleep, and shuts the door. Ian continues getting ready as he hears Mickey’s usual morning ritual; taking a piss, washing his face, brushing his teeth. He emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, decidedly more alert, and stops dead in his tracks.

There, standing in front of the full length mirror affixed to the back of the bedroom door, is his husband. He is dressed in a navy blue suit that looks like it was crafted just for his body. A slim fit jacket that enhances his broad shoulders and hugs his muscular arms. Slim leg trousers that show off his perfect ass, still deliciously thick from a few remaining quarantine pounds. Underneath the jacket is a crisp white dress shirt with a burgundy tie, and he has a pair of wing tips the color of caramel on his feet. He has put some gel in his red hair, not losing his curls, but styling them a bit more than normal. In short, he looks fucking incredible.

Once Mickey is able to breathe again, he manages to get out a flirty, “Hey there, Mr. Milkovich,” while very blatantly panning his eyes up and down Ian’s body.

Ian glances up at his husband, standing there in nothing but his ratty boxers, and grins at him.

“See somethin’ you like?” Ian inquires.

Mickey nods his head and smiles that million watt smile of his.

“C’mere.”

Mickey does as instructed and saunters over to Ian, who wraps Mickey tight in his arms and presses a kiss onto his mouth, gently sucking on Mickey’s lower lip. He lets his hands wander aimlessly all over Mickey’s bare back and Mickey melts into him with a soft “hmmmm”.

“Okay okay okay,” Mickey finally interjects, and pulls away. “You’re turnin’ me the fuck on and unless you want that fancy fuckin’ suit ripped off’a you right now, we gotta stop.”

Ian steps back and holds up both hands in mock surrender.

He then walks over to the dresser to grab his wallet and phone. “Mick, you got about forty five minutes to get ready before we have to leave.” He kisses Mickey on the cheek and steps out of the bedroom door, yelling from the hallway, “I’ll brew some coffee and we can take it with us. Lip will kill me if we’re late for his wedding.”

Forty minutes later, Mickey walks out into the living room where Ian is waiting on the sofa, playing some stupid game on his phone. He has poured two travel mugs of coffee that are in front of him on the coffee table. He looks up when he hears Mickey enter the room.

Mickey has on a modern dark gray suit, black dress shirt, black tie, and black wing tips. He’s gelled his jet black hair and it harkens back to years ago, when he was younger and wore his hair gelled every day. His brushed white gold wedding band gleams in the sunlight coming in from the window as he reaches up to adjust his tie. His bright blue eyes pop against the dark color of the suit. Ian sets his phone down and stands up slowly, unable to take his eyes off of his husband.

“Hell-o, Mr. Gallagher,” Ian purrs, while strutting up to Mickey, placing his hands on either side of his freshly shaven face. He slides his hands down Mickey’s arms and buries his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply. He smells of shampoo and Irish Spring soap, fresh from the shower, not yet tainted by the scent of cigarette smoke. He kisses Mickey’s neck gently, sighs, and reluctantly pulls away.

“We have to leave right now if we plan on being at the church by noon for the first round of pictures,” Ian states, double checking his watch.

“Alright, well let’s get goin’, GQ,” Mickey says with a sly grin and a quick raise of his eyebrows, grabbing his coffee on the way out.

Ian’s close behind and smacks Mickey on the ass before closing the door behind them.

———

“You’re early! I’m so fuckin’ proud!” Lip exclaims as the Gallagher-Milkoviches walk into the church.

He steps up to Ian and gives him a tight hug with a firm pat on the back; actually shakes Mickey’s hand. “Hey, you shitheads clean up pretty nice!”

Ian and Mickey both give him synchronized middle fingers.

“Uncle Mickey! Uncle Ian!” Franny yells and runs up to them, jumping into Mickey’s arms. She’s wearing a burgundy sparkly dress with a poofy tulle skirt and gold Doc Martens.

“Hey, kid!” Mickey says sweetly, swinging the tiny girl into the air, causing her to squeal with delight.

“Franny, you look beautiful!” Ian says to her once Mickey has set her down. “I love your dress!”

“It’s like the one I wore when you married Uncle Mickey!” she chirps cheerfully.

“It sure is!” Ian exclaims, giving her a big hug.

“Hey, Lip, where’s the newest little Gallagher?” Ian inquires. “Gotta get some snuggles in before things get busy.”

“She’s right over here, man. Tami’s got her. She’s gotta go get dressed anyway. Come on.”

Ian walks with Lip over to Tami, who is holding a snuggly baby in her arms, dressed in a soft cotton burgundy colored dress and a white cardigan, with little gold moccasins on her feet. Tami gives Ian a big hug and passes the baby off to him before heading elsewhere to put her gown on.

“Hey, there Sophie Gallagher. Uncle Ian missed you!” he coos. “I can’t believe you are three whole months old! And your mommy and daddy are getting married today!”

He glances up and sees Mickey standing off to the side, looking at Ian holding the baby with nothing but love in his eyes. Ian can’t wait to have kids with Mickey, but there is no pressure. They’ll get there one day. Right now they’re just enjoying being husbands and uncles. Mickey’s still nervous around babies, but Franny and Fred adore him.

“Okay okay, my turn!” Debbie interjects. She carefully takes Sophie from Ian and goes to sit down.

Ian spots Fred and heads over to him. “Freddie, my man, what’s up!” he says and picks up the toddler in the matching tiny blue suit who wraps his arms around Ian’s neck, saying, “Hewwo, Uncle Een!” in his sweet little voice. “Where’s Uncle Mickey?”

“He’s right over there. You wanna go tickle him?” Ian asks playfully.

“Yeah! Wet’s go!” They run over and wrap Mickey in a big bear hug. The tough guy can’t help but melt into a big puddle around his nieces and nephew.

“Hey, buddy!” Mickey exclaims, laughing at Fred’s small fingers tickling his sides.

Typical Gallagher chaos is happening. Liam is trying fruitlessly to convince Franny to go potty before things start. Debbie and Lip are arguing about something, as usual. Carl can’t find his suit jacket.

“Alright, we’ve gotta get this show on the road, people!” the photographer yells over the noise.

The photographer attempts to line up the bridesmaids - a couple of Tami’s childhood friends, Debbie, and Cami as the maid of honor, all dressed in burgundy chiffon floor length gowns. Debbie continues to gripe at Lip from her spot in line.

He then tries to get all the boys to line up - Ian, who is the best man, Brad, Carl, and Liam the groomsmen. The photographer has to shoot Ian a look as he puts Carl in a headlock when they are supposed to be lining up.

“Sorry!” Ian yells, straightening his suit and stepping into place.

Rounding up Franny and Fred and getting them to stand still proves to be easier than getting the adults to cooperate.

Mickey just sits back and watches the Gallagher shitshow with a huge grin on his face.

———

“You ready to do this, big brother?” Ian asks while standing in the hallway behind the sanctuary. The faint sound of people finding their seats and conversing quietly fills the air around them.

“Absolutely. Tami’s a good woman, ya know? She calls me on my bullshit, which is something I really need. She’s fuckin’ beautiful and she’s an amazing mom to Fred and Sophie. I’m really fuckin’ lucky, man,” Lip says, and Ian thinks he sees tears forming in Lip’s eyes. “I love her.”

Ian just smiles. “Soft motherfucker,” he jokes quietly and wraps his big brother in a hug, squeezing the back of his neck.

They hear the wedding march begin and know it’s their cue to step out into the sanctuary.

As they stand at the front of the church, the doors open and reveal Tami on the arm of her father, wearing a white beaded gown. It’s strapless and form fitting til it gets to the bottom where it fans out. She has her long blonde hair pulled up into a soft chignon, wispy hairs around her face, no veil. Simple. Lovely. She has a radiant smile on her face as she looks at her husband to be.

They begin to recite their vows and Ian notices they have chosen traditional vows. The same ones he and Mickey said to each other almost two years before.

“I Phillip, take you, Tami...”

“I Tami, take you, Phillip...”

“In sickness and in health...”

Ian can’t help but find Mickey in the crowd, locking eyes with him.

“For richer or poorer...”

Mickey softly smiles at Ian, and Ian just knows that sensitive asshole’s eyes are tearing up.

“Til death do us part.”

Ian is smiling at his husband like an idiot now, unable to take his gaze off of him. He can’t help but think of the day when they said those same beautiful words to each other, meaning them with their whole hearts. They had already been through most of it; sickness, poverty, better and worse. And they had made it. Making those promises that day just cemented that they would always go through those inevitable things together.

It was the best day of Ian’s life. The beginning of their forever. No more forced separations. No more goodbyes. No more lonely nights, wondering if the other is safe and okay. He has to fight back tears; this is Lip and Tami’s day after all.

Lost in thought, he’s startled back to the present by applause as Lip dips Tami for a kiss that’s a little too hot for church. This elicits a standing ovation and whoops and whistles from the guests. Ian can’t help but cheer and clap for his brother and his new wife.

———

After another hour of pictures, these including the bride and groom, they all head to the reception hall.

It’s decorated with white and burgundy linen tablecloths and elaborate floral centerpieces. There are Edison bulb strings hanging from the ceiling. A DJ is spinning beside the parquet dance floor, disco lights flashing away. There is a large table full of chafing dishes and a three tired cake on a separate round table.

“Man, the Tamiettis really went all out,” Mickey says to Ian, grabbing a carrot stick off one of the veggie platters with his fingers, sticking it into the bowl of dip, and shoving it into his mouth.

“Like you have room to talk, Mr. Gold- chiavaris-with-the-white-cushions,” Ian jokes, to which Mickey responds with a light hearted “fuck off”.

After filling their starving bellies with meatballs, chicken wings, finger sandwiches, and cake, the Gallaghers take to the dance floor. They know how to party and they’re not about to let this amazing night with music, free food, and an open bar go to waste.

The whole family is dancing to YMCA, a wedding reception staple, when the end of it fades into a slow song. Ian and Mickey lock eyes. Ian raises a quizzical eyebrow and Mickey nods, almost imperceptibly. Ian slowly walks over to him, gently grips his hips, and pulls him in close. Mickey snakes his arms around Ian’s waist and grasps his hands together at Ian’s lower back. Ian slides his hands up Mickey’s arms and wraps them around his shoulders. They sway slowly to the music, bodies pressed together so closely they can feel each other’s hearts thrumming in their chests. Mickey nuzzles his face into Ian’s neck as Ian rubs his hand on the back of Mickey’s head. They are intoxicated by each other, the romance of the day, and the few Old Styles they’ve shared from the bar.

“Hey, Ian?” Mickey inquires, a little muffled, not bothering to move his face from its place in Ian’s neck.

“Yeah, Mick?” Ian questions, talking into Mickey’s hair.

He hesitates for a second, like he’s trying to think of the right words. “Maybe... maybe it’s the beer, or… or just this day, or maybe being married to your ass is making me fuckin’ soft...” he drifts off.

“Out with it, Mick,” Ian sighs calmly.

“It’s just... I love you. So fuckin’ much. I feel like I don’t say it enough, man,” Mickey finally confesses.

Ian stops swaying, pulls back, and tenderly holds Mickey’s head in his hands. Looks him directly in the eyes. “Mickey. Listen to me. No, you don’t say it very much. But you don’t need to. Because you show me every fuckin’ day. And that’s so much more important and meaningful to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean… you got me to stop wallowing on the couch when I lost my job, paid enough attention that you knew where that could lead. Stopped it before it got bad. Checked in with me. Don’t know where I’d be, ya know mentally, if it wasn’t for you. Worrying about me and shit. Fuck, I probably would have fallen through the cracks years ago without you. And… and you created a job for me so we could work together. You planned a surprise anniversary party for me. You moved to the fuckin’ Westside because I wanted to. You agreed to buy a duvet, for fuck’s sake, and helped me pick it out,” Ian laughs.

“Okay, yeah, I guess I am a pretty amazing husband. You really fuckin’ lucked out, Gallagher.”

“Yeah, damn straight I did,” Ian smiles and pulls his husband back into his arms, thinking the matter settled.

There’s a short beat before Mickey says, so quietly Ian almost doesn’t hear it, “I fuckin’ lucked out, too, ya know.”

“Ya did?” Ian asks casually, expecting a snarky answer. Another slow song has begun so they stay where they are, in each other’s arms on the dance floor.

“Yeah, man. Like… like with my fuckin’ dad?” Mickey begins.

Okay, not where Ian was expecting this conversation to go.

“You… you found nurses for him and shit… and kept trying when they… didn’t work out.” Mickey keeps pausing, like the conversation is making him uncomfortable, but he can’t stop. “He was an evil prick that didn’t fuckin’ deserve our help… but you helped anyway… for me, ya know? ‘Cause it was important to me.

“And then… when he…” Mickey sniffs uncomfortably, reaches up and scratches his nose with his thumb. “…you just let me cry for like, 4 days. Didn’t make fun of me. And you held me. But you didn’t let me forget what a monster he was, no matter how hard I tried to only remember the good shit.”

“Mick, it’s okay, we don’t have to talk about all this, not here anyway —,” Ian begins but Mickey interrupts him.

“No, I wanna… I spent so much of my life never saying what I fuckin’ feel and I want to tell you right now how I fuckin’ feel,” Mickey declares, determined but still so tender.

Ian just nods for him to continue.

“Look, all the shit with my dad is in the past. But I’ll never forget the way you were …just, there for me. Through all of it. It just… it meant a lot to me. It meant everything to me, man. I just… sorry, all this wedding shit has me all fuckin’ emotional and I just needed to let it out. Tell you what you mean to me, that’s all.” He clenches his eyes shut, and squeezes the bridge of his nose with his fingers, only briefly. “Just… don’t fuckin’ get used to it, okay?”

Mickey grins after that last statement, relieving some of the tense emotion of the last several minutes.

Ian smiles back and replies sarcastically, “Wasn’t planning on it, softie.”

“You’re a fuckin’ dick,” Mickey laughs and draws Ian in close, starts to sway to the music again.

“Hey, Mick?” Ian whispers into Mickey’s ear as the song finishes. “I love you too,” and he feels Mickey’s smile light up against his skin.

Ian and Mickey dance and drink the rest of the evening away, celebrating not only Lip and Tami, but also the freedom they’ve found in being so emotionally vulnerable with one another. There is a lightness that comes after getting things off their chests, sharing their unfiltered feelings with one another. This might not have been the ideal occasion to share such heavy stuff, but Ian doesn’t want Mickey to ever be scared again to just blurt out how he fuckin’ feels every minute.

———

They aren’t completely wasted, but are definitely drunk enough that they shouldn’t be driving home. They grab an Uber and Carl, who has an early shift the next morning and quit drinking around 9, drives the ambulance to the Gallagher house where they’ll pick it up later.

Feeling no pain, they laugh and joke and sing like when they were just drunk teenagers, arms tangled around each other, up the elevator and down the hall. It’s nearly 1am and they aren’t exactly being quiet. Their neighbor across the hall, an older eccentric lady named Rhonda, pokes her head out to see what the commotion is, catching the two men pressed up against the wall outside her door in the middle of a steamy kiss.

They finally notice her presence, break apart and Ian blurts out, “Heyyyy, Ms. Rhonda! So sorry to bother you!” as their cheeks turn bright red. They’re not embarrassed that she caught them making out in the hallway, they’re embarrassed because this isn’t the first time she’s caught them making out in the hallway.

“Oh, you beautiful boys are no bother!” she laughs. “Wish I had someone to throw me against a wall and kiss me like that. Shew! You two crazy kids have a great night; god love ya!” and retreats back into her apartment with a friendly smile and a wave.

They laugh, bid her good night, and decide they should probably go inside their apartment before they encounter one of their less friendly neighbors. Ian fumbles around with the key for what feels like an eternity before finally getting the door open. They stumble through the door, slamming it shut loudly behind them, Ian reaching up to lock the deadbolt.

He stops as soon as he throws the keys onto the entry table.

“In case I haven’t told you yet, Mick, you look hot as fuck in that suit. But…,” he steps closer to Mickey. “I think it’ll look even better on our bedroom floor,” Ian teases.

“‘Ey, you look pretty fuckin’ hot yourself,” Mickey responds, biting his lip.

They just stare at each other for a moment, appreciating the sight before them. Suits and ties and dressy shit don’t happen around here that often.

“S’you remember your promise from this morning, right? That if I got outta bed, you’d make it worth my while later?” Mickey asks playfully.

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s fuckin’ later, Gallagher. Time to pay up,” Mickey declares with a flirty grin.

Ian doesn’t even hesitate. Grabs Mickey around the waist and pushes him back toward their bedroom, to their bed with the cloud mattress and the bright white duvet, to their haven.

ETA: Check out Ian, Mickey, and Rhonda’s friendship origin story here!

#I wrote my first fic!#well not my first but this was the first one that I felt wasn’t too garbage to share #please be kind #this is so far out of my comfort zone and I can’t believe I’m actually sharing this for other people to read #gallavich fic #ian and mickey #3.5k #post season 11 #sorry it doesn’t have a title

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grittyreadsfic · 3 years

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hello my friends, one singular person asked for this weeks ago so i’m here with my most unhinged rec list yet: tk and nolan.

now, this one was hard to reign in, so i really didn’t. this pairing had maybe 230 fics in the tag when i first started reading hockey fic, and it’s now over 900, and i’ve read far too many of them, and that makes it so hard to parse it down. so i just...didn't!

so with that said, please enjoy so you want to get into tknp: a beginners guide to a classic case of idiots to lovers

i told myself that i couldn’t rec an author’s entire body of work but then i remembered this is my blog and i do what i want, so i did some consolidating. here’s a list of the quintessential authors for this pairing, you can start at any of their profiles and pick any of their fics at random, and it’ll be one of the best ones for the pairing, hands down.

therainbowsedge: i’d start with the summer camp fic, or the sex toys one, as both beautifully capture the true idiots to lovers nature of this pairing, but just top tier writing all around

manybumblebees: the wedding fic is so tender and port stanley is a classic, but literally pick any single fic and you’ll have a perfect tknp fic. i’m not kidding

jamesvanriemsdick: their tknp fics in their series are some of the hidden gems of this pairing (the tk heartbeat fic makes me LOSE it) but the delaware fic or the seattle fic…..there’s really something for every mood

catchascatchcan: start with era of gods because i could write literal essays on how it’s some of the best fantasy worldbuilding i’ve ever read, but then just read everything else on their account, including non tknp fics. you won’t regret it

hackysack: ao3 user hackysack has written one of two timeloop fics that i absolutely adore, and i thought about just calling that one out in particular, but all of their work deserves the attention

canary: nothing to prove was the first tknp fic i ever read and i was immediately hooked. all of their fics are a good starting place for the pairing, and just really give you a feeling for the pairing

and now, for the fic recs!

to be, despite it all by smudgedfreckles

summary: or, nolan patrick’s gender thesis, by travis konecny.

why i love it: there’s not a lot ofo nonbinary characters in media, even in fic, but this fic’s treatment of nolan and their path to figuring out their gender just feels so real and made me feel so seen. tk’s characterization is also just top notch, and it’s just a super sweet story about two people who love each other

last ones standing by makeit_takeit

summary: If you’re committed to finding your future spouse, reads the last line of the ad, and are ready to look at yourself and your love life in a whole new way, apply now.

At the bottom of the ad there’s a link, and Travis finds his finger hovering over the screen, lip still caught between his teeth.

“I mean,” he says very reasonably, speaking out loud to his empty apartment like some sort of possibly-crazy person, “just applying doesn’t mean anything. Maybe I just fill it out, and see what happens. It’s not like I’m really gonna get picked to be on TV, come on.”

He snorts out loud, just to show his apartment he hasn’t lost his grip on reality or anything; he fully understands how ludicrous that would be.

Then he clicks the link anyway, because yolo or whatever.

why i love it: what part of a married at first sight fic doesn’t make you want to immediately dive right in? the concept is fun, the execution is absolutely flawless, and it captures their dynamic so well while letting it develop naturally

motivation by connectknee

summary: Kevin knows when to back off, the article said. He knows just when to shut up and leave Patty alone, something Travis has never known how to do.

why i love it: the thing i love about this pairing is that tk is loud and in your face, and nolan’s more reserved, a little quieter, a little harder to read. this fic does a really great job of exploring how tk could feel like maybe he’s just a bit too much and is one of my favorites in terms of miscommunication

a tenderness grows by rusesdeguerre

summary: Nolan wouldn’t say that landing a job as the Philadelphia Flyers’ psychotic and probably clinically insane mascot was a childhood dream of his. Maybe tangentially: playing pond hockey in –30°C weather and pretending to be Sidney Crosby is practically a rite of passage when you grow up in Manitoba. That, and experiencing the distinct displeasure that is thousands of mosquitoes sucking your blood out when your father drags you on a father-son camping trip into the backwoods of the northern Canadian Prairies.

why i love it: this was the first fic i recced on this blog, and i stand by that decision. a fic where nolan is not only not a hockey player, but is in fact the person in the gritty suit? absolutely perfect, and so charming from start to finish

meet me at my window by springsteen

summary: Travis has lived in Philadelphia for a few years now, long enough to know there isn’t a major city in America where superheroes don’t destroy an entire city block trying to save humanity or whatever. He can deal with all the super-shit, but Travis did not sign up for getting woken up from a deep sleep because some fucker’s trying to break in through his window.

(5 times the super-villain known as "The Cat" breaks into Travis's apartment, plus 1 time Travis invites him in.)

why i love it: there’s a lot of things to love here, but the concept is just absolutely one of my all time favorite aus ever. it’s fun and charming and the perfect glimpse into a world where heroes and villains exist, and what it’s like just to be a run of the mill kind of guy existing in it. tk and nolan’s back and forth in this make it so engaging, and it’s such a top tier fic

body’s in trouble by cloudsandpassingevents

summary: “Oh, sorry,” someone says. “Didn’t know anyone else was here.”

Nolan freezes, then turns around very slowly. When he looks up, Nicklas fucking Backstrom is standing behind him in a hoodie and baggy sweats, holding the biggest bag of Swedish Fish Nolan’s ever seen in his life in one hand.

“Uh,” Nolan says around the pop tart between his teeth. “Yeah.”

What the fuck, his brain helpfully supplies.

why i love it: from nolan’s inner voice, to the way the author explores all the dynamics within the team, to the way they write the unexpected but actually, it kind of makes sense friendship between nolan and backstrom, is just absolutely fantastic. there’s a lot of moments that circle back and build on each other in a way that really just makes it super compelling

rhizomatic foundations by lighthousetowers

summary: Twenty days after he moves in with Kevin Hayes, twenty days – three months, five months, depending on how you look at it – after not talking to TK, TK shows up at the front door with a plant the size of a basketball in his hands.

TK grins. "Patty, meet Reginald." He lifts up the plant. "Reggie, meet Patty. He's going to be your new - caretaker."

"What the fuck," says Nolan, not moving a single muscle.

Or: That Nolan can hear the plant talk might as well just happen.

why i love it: this is probably my favorite magical realism fic just about ever. it’s fun and charming and a little weird, but in the best possible way. there’s such a wonderful narrative in it, and lighthousetowers always has such beautiful writing, and it really shines in this one. the dialogue and nolan’s characterization are also part of what set it apart for me as one of the best tknp fics

in the dark of any town by mengetpegged

summary: If the voice has an accent at all, it’s a flat prairie Canadian, with none of G’s French-Canadian softness at the edges. But mostly, the accent is just ‘pissed off,’ which TK believes is a default setting for ghosts.

“Who are you?” TK asks, and he doesn’t like how strained his voice sounds, doesn’t like the tinge of anxiety tinting the rise of his question. He tries to regulate his breaths—in through his nose, hold, out through his mouth—but it feels like he’s not getting enough oxygen, which makes him panic even more.

“Someone with a fucking migraine, dickhead,” the voice says. “So keep the lights off and shut the hell up.”

(or: Nolan Patrick, Hotel X Ghost)

why i love it: i’m usually not super into ghost fics, both the spooky kind and the nonspooky kind, but this one is a rare exception. it’s charming and fun and tender and it’s got some of, in my opinion, the best characterization of tk and nolan in any fic. the way the author writes their dynamic and their dialogue is just unmatched

lets_make_this_moment_a_crime.mp3 by honeydripping

summary: Travis meets Nolan at a Midtown show in 2002 when he punches Nolan in the face. He can’t help it, “Like A Movie” just goes off.

But he does feel guilty about it.

TK and Patty work at a bakery together. They go to punk shows to pass the time.

why i love it: idk if anyone asked for an early 2000s emo/punk/alt au but wow! i sure am glad it exists! really the vibes of this fic, as silly as that sounds, are absolutely unmatched. i love the structure with the music, the development of their relationship, and just everything about how the author wrote the setting (there’s this whole thing with tattoos in it that makes me feel absolutely insane)

you’re ripped at every edge by you’re a masterpiece by conformityissuicide

summary: “Ugh, look, this yoga teacher has it out for me, man. And I can’t go back there without at least having some of the basics down. I’ve got to win this battle.”

“Yoga isn’t really something you win at,” Hartsy starts.

Travis cuts him off, “You can win at anything if you try hard enough.”

+++

OR that time Nolan's a grumpy yoga teacher and Travis realizes he wants to bone him and prove him wrong about Travis' non-existent yoga abilities.

why i love it: listen, if you want tknp, at least one of them has to be an idiot, and this tk absolutely captures the obliviousness i love to see in him in fic. it’s such a great characterization of them both and such a great concept (and even better execution)

you form a terror pack (and i’m aware of that) by dalmatienne

summary: “Can I help you?” TK snarks, both eyebrows hiked up in a way that has earned her many elbow checks to the ribs.

The chick looks down her nose, long thick eyelashes fluttering. Red-bitten lips part to blow a florid pink bubble and TK can smell the chemical sweetness when it pops.

“Yeah,” she says in this monotonous voice that seems almost at odds with her bubble gum and neon skates. She jams her stopper into TK’s thigh again, literally inches away from where it’d really hurt. “Tie ‘em.”

why i love it: to be honest, i generally don’t read rule 63 within hrpf, but this one is just absolutely knocks it out of the park. the concept (i fuckin’ love roller derby), the characterization of nolan, the pacing, the rituals, the tone of the entire fic, it’s just all around a perfect read from start to finish

thrills and grills by bitter_leaf

summary: Travis can’t even begin to wonder what he did in a previous life to incur the wrath of this fucking cook. Travis thinks he’s a nice person, doesn’t conduct himself in any way that could be considered particularly dickish, and unless this guy has some sort of issue with hockey bros or people from the boonies, he’s not sure how he started shit without even knowing.

Patty has a vendetta. Travis just wants to eat his eggs in peace.

why i love it: honestly this is the enemies to lovers fic i’ve been waiting for. i remember seeing the reddit post when it first went viral and thinking it would make such a great fic premise, so stumbling across this one was just so wonderful. super engaging and fun and so hilarious to read!

nothing but room for you by fightingfuries

summary: When his agent tells him he’s going to be traded to the Devils, Nolan isn't sure how he feels about it. Might be easier if he was going somewhere farther away, like California or fucking Florida. Somewhere sun-soaked and foreign. Someplace so different from Philadelphia that he can forget he ever played for the Flyers, forget everything that happened there.

Or Nolan fucks up, gets traded, gets his shit together and falls in love. Not necessarily in that order.

why i love it: i cannot stress to you how much i love trade fics, and this one is one of my absolute favorites. the trade to the devils-so close to philly, still, but there’s more to distance than physical miles-was such an excellent choice and the split timeline adds so much to the narrative, and the emotions are real and messy and complicated in the best way

a couple of runaways (i’m glad you stayed) by overturnedgoal

summary: The person in the video he’s watching is super annoying. Some obnoxious holier than thou granola type who keeps talking about their environmental impact as if they aren’t driving a gas guzzler around, but the basic idea of living in a van, driving around wherever, camping all the time, just going hiking and swimming and seeing the whole country? It sounds pretty dope, honestly.

why i love it: i like to watch tours and conversions of vans/buses into tiny homes as a self soothing method, and this fic has the same impact that watching those do. it’s such a fun concept, and it’s so fuckin’ soft, and the dialouge between tk and nolan is just *chef’s kiss*

all candor and style in the crook of your smile by p3trichor

summary: It’s a photo of Nolan on his knees with someones’ fingers in his mouth, lips slick with spit. Travis flicks by it almost too fast and he’s only got seconds to decide if he wants to screenshot it, if he wants to just give up the ghost right then and there. Except Travis’s phone freezes momentarily and then the group refreshes, sidcros87, Bert59 and 14 others took a screenshot!

It’s gone before Travis even has time to process it and he already wasted his replay of the day on a stupid video of a stupid fish that Hayes caught.

Can you send me that screenshot Travis texts Bertuzzi before he can overthink it, his dick already stirring in his sweats. Tuzzi sends back the cry-laughing emoji and then the screenshot before Travis can be too annoyed at him.

Or, Nolan is being weird about Travis's break-up and TK is maybe not straight.

why i love it: i genuinely don’t think i have words for the amount i love this fic. it took me forever to actually read, but it’s absolutely one of my favorite fics, and it’s an absolutely riot to read. carter’s meddling and the presence of tyler bertuzzi both make it extra fun, in my humble opinion

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Snapshot ~ I.L.

A/n: 🥺 - that’s all I got for this one.

Request: “...Isaac lahey x male reader. The reader is a photographer and is super shy and sweet and Isaac likes him so the pack is pushing him to talk and ask him out.” By anon

MASTERLIST

“Oh won’t you smile for me?” His smile was wide and brilliant. Breathtaking. It made Isaac shift, awkward, feeling his body go stiff as his mind went blank.

God, Y/n would the death of him.

“Why?” He grumbled, trying to play uninterested like he always did. Easier that way, he reminded himself. No one could get close. He couldn’t be let down again, not after everything he-

“Because you’re pretty when you smile.”

Isaac jerked, then cleared his throat, feeling his face burn. “I’m a guy. Aren’t I supposed to be handsome?”

Y/n wore a coy smile. “Aren’t art pieces always described as pretty?” He shrugged and Isaac felt the need to bolt. But that would have looked suspicious, so he didn’t. “I don’t know why pretty is reserved for women when men can be art as well. It’s an adjective - describes anyone. Anything. Dictionary definition says nothing about boys not being able to be pretty.

God he was smart too. Kill me now.

It had been like this for three and a half weeks now. It had all started when Isaac and Y/n had met by accident. Isaac was overwhelmed by all the smells and sounds that were jumping out at him after a particularly rough morning that had followed an even rougher weekend with his dad. He’d come to school thinking that it would be his favorite day, like every Monday was, because it meant he could be away from home and focus on something more pleasant and also more important. But it had been too much, the time that had come before school. And he had carried that with him, every noise and touch and look and demanding question as teachers took pleasure in catching him off guard and making him look like an idiot.

So, for lunch, he’d gone out to the field and hidden under the bleachers to get some peace and quiet like he used to before he was a wolf. Before he was part of Derek’s pack. Before his life had gotten a little better and a lot more stressful. Or, that had been the plan anyway. When he got there, someone else was already curled in the soft grass, eyes close and body completely relaxed. The boy’s arms were stretched out ahead of him, fingers open and almost reaching for a camera that had been abandoned.

It seemed like the person had fallen asleep while looking at or taking pictures, or maybe just holding the camera with no purpose. Isaac had woken the person up and had been instantly stolen of all ability to speak or think or even breathe as the most beautiful eyes opened. The boy made the cutest expression Isaac had ever seen - part confused and part disappointed, but also part happy. There was a small smile mixed with foggy gazes and knitted eyebrows. The boy slowly looked at Isaac and spoke. “I’m sorry. Am I in your spot?”

His voice was so... scratchy. It was like sex.

Isaac swallowed. “No. No sorry.” He’d gone to leave but then the boy had sat up, insisting he stay, and they had begun talking after Isaac had hesitantly agreed. Ever since then, Isaac and Y/n had been very close. It was perfectly casual between them, and neither had any problem with talking about whatever, or just sitting in silence if either needed that.

They were quite similar. Both tending to be quiet and withdrawn if given the chance. Y/n saw right through Isaac’s little show of swagger and confidence, and tended to hug him if he tried too hard, as if knowing he was doing it to try and deflect how terrible he felt. They could be real with each other, no expectations. It was like nothing else Isaac had ever felt.

Then one day, things had shifted. Just a little. Small enough that Isaac hadn’t really noticed it for a while. He knew that slowly they started to look at each other longer, even when neither of them were talking. They drifted closer, leaning against each other or resting a head on the other person’s shoulder, or laying in a lap, or just really anything to be touching. Isaac had gotten into the habit of just continually resting his arm across the back of Y/n’s shoulders. They invaded each other’s space constantly. They memorized each other’s orders for all the different places they went to get food, and if one of them was without something to eat, there was no scene made if one of them stole a bit from the other. It was drastically different than how Isaac acted with anyone else and it wasn’t long before others had started to notice.

“You should ask him out,” Erica had hummed one day, looking at her nails.

“Who?” Isaac had asked, eyebrows coming together in confusion.

“Y/n,” Erica had responded like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Boyd nodded. “You two have something special, and neither of you are hiding it. Kind of refreshing to see actually.”

Derek had raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Y/n?”

Isaac had been glaring at Erica when the question had been asked, so when he looked over his face still had traces of annoyance, as did his voice. “My friend. I met him under the bleachers about a month ago. We’re just friends though.”

After that, even those from Scott’s pack had begun to play at hinting for Isaac to make moves on Y/n. While they were fighting and taunting each other, Stiles made a snide comment about “his boyfriend” to Isaac, and somehow Isaac knew immediately who he was talking about.

Even outside of fighting when Scott tried to convince Erica and Isaac to be more careful, he said something that got under Isaac’s skin. “What would Y/n think about all of this? Because if he had to pick sides, I don’t think he’d pick Derek’s.”

He’d been handling it all well, he thought. Through all of that he’d bee able to keep denying his feelings and push away anything close to daydreams... unless he was really out of it and super bored and wanted to go to some sort of happy place, where he would return to that first day under the bleachers, except... every time he went there, Y/n and Isaac always ended up kissing. Despite all of the others’ prodding and the weird thoughts he could never totally shake, he could convince himself he didn’t feel that way toward Y/n.

Then Y/n had started flirting with him.

And now they were here.

Isaac tried to keep that line between them and two boys in love clearly, but every time he did Y/n danced around him as he drew with chalk, crossing the line before he could finish. Or sometimes stepping right over it, grinning smugly, arms crossed over his chest in teasing playfulness. Isaac couldn’t friendzone Y/n if he tried, and Y/n wasn’t giving any room to even try.

“Hey there Handsome.” Isaac felt his face heat up as Y/n moved into his view. The other boy had an adoring expression on his face.

The thing was, Y/n was really never like this with anyone else. He was usually really shy and reserved. The two had been open from the start, allowing them to bypass anxiety and shyness pretty quickly. So Isaac couldn’t tell if this was a secret side to Y/n that he couldn’t get the confidence to use on anyone else, or if he was actually flirting because he was interested. It would be Isaac’s luck that Y/n though the flirting was platonic and fun and meaningless while Isaac was losing his whole shit every time it happened.

“Hey.” His voice cracked when he said it so he cleared his throat. “What’s up, Y/n?”

There seemed to be slight disappointment that colored Y/n’s eyes. “Nothing much. I was just thinking about you so I thought I’d pop over and say hello to my favorite curly haired high schooler.” He reached up, running a hand through Isaac’s hair.

God Isaac almost lost all of his cool right in the middle of the damn hallway. There was nothing he liked more than having his hair played with, and he had imagined the feeling of Y/n’s hands combing through the strands hundreds of times but none of it had prepared him for reality.

Suddenly his body was hot and his mind was foggy and the bell was ringing for class to start and Isaac had had enough. He looked around quickly for anything, and then grabbed Y/n’s hand when he saw a janitorial closet, puling them both inside and locking the door. He rounded on Y/n. “Isaac-?”

“Do you understand how incredible you are?” Isaac demanded. “I never fail when I need to get my shit under control. I learned a long time ago how to seem calm and collected when everything else inside is burning to the ground. I can do it with anyone and everyone else and then you come within five feet of me and I’m a mess. Jesus Y/n please tell me that you understand how much I want to kiss you at literally all times and how absolutely insane it’s driving me.”

For a second, Y/n was stunned. Then, slowly, the biggest grin Isaac had ever seen bloomed on and Y/n reached up, grabbing Isaac by the collar and pulling him into a heated kiss.

The rest, I suppose, is history.

#isaac lahey #teen wolf #male reader #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x male reader #isaac lahey imagine #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x male reader

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kuroo-shitsurou · 3 years

Text

Stay (Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader)

note: saw this fic on my old wattpad and decided to post it here. my apologies if any of the details don't match the canonical events that happened in the main story. i think i wrote this a couple of years ago before i read the manga. just wanted to show some love for my favorite salty boi. also, a little ooc because my younger self just wanted a normal high school romance with this mfer okay

word count: 1.2k

Karasuno High.

A well known school located in the Miyagi prefecture. Most famous for the so called little giant, the Karasuno High School's boys' volleyball team has been at it's best ever since a new batch of students joined the team. They were led by Sawamura Daichi, a flexible receiver and a strong captain that everyone could look up to.

Before they went to nationals, one name began to stick out to the public. He started to gain more and more popularity after the shocking events he featured in during the final round of the inter high.

It was none other than Tsukishima Kei.

The tall, blonde, bespectacled boy amazed the Japanese audience with his ability to remain calm even in the dire situations their team has been through during the match against Shiratorizawa Academy. His exceptional reflexes and surprising willpower helped stop the spikes of the top ace of their prefecture, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Tsukishima paid no mind to the rapidly growing fanbase he had. When people would ask him for autographs or pictures, he'd simply click his tongue and leave them, shoving his headphones over his ears to block out any complaints that came from the fan.

Although they fell a bit short during the nationals, you were still proud of how Tsukishima and the rest of the team worked their asses off to get where they are now. The days of hard, tiring training in the hot and stuffy gym paid off, even if they didn't make their initial goal.

Other than that, many scouts had already offered Tsukishima scholarships to colleges even when he was still a first year. Many people saw his potential, but he turned them down easily. After all, it was still his first year. Why the rush?

You rubbed your eyes and tilted your head to the side. School was still a few hours away, so you had to wake yourself up before you would get reprimanded for sleeping in class.

"Oi, chibi," A lanky blonde approached you and handed you a small can of coffee. "Drink this."

Tsukishima, now well-over 6 feet, towered over you. The third and second years have retired, and surprisingly, Tsukishima was vice captain. He said he didn't care about volleyball, but his actions said otherwise. Now being a third year, he was a lot less sardonic with everyone around him, but he was still incredibly salty (You and Hinata agreed).

"I'm 5'6. I'm not short, Kei, you're just incredibly tall." You took the can of coffee from his hand and nodded towards him as a sign of thanks before taking a big gulp of the beverage.

"Really, really?" He teased, "If you're not short then how come I still need to bend down to be at face level with you?"

"Kei, you're 6'5. That is incredibly tall." You reasoned.

"Aw, _____ is making excuses." He bent down to reach you, "I wonder if-"

To shut him up, you grabbed his collar and smashed your lips against his. His eyes widened, and his face immediately turned red. Once you pulled away, you smirked at his incredibly out of character expression. To add to his embarrassment, you took his black rimmed glasses and put them on. You knew he found you absolutely adorable when you wore glasses, specifically- his glasses.

"How cute." You chuckled gingerly.

"Sh-Shut up." He took a seat beside you, not bothering to take his glasses back, though he couldn't see very clearly.

A comfortable silence wrapped the both of you as a light gush of wind blew past the bench. Your hair was pushed back, and he could smell the faint scent of strawberries coming from you. Ah, he loved your scent. Truth be told, he loved every single part of you, physical and abstract.

"Why are you here so early anyway?" You asked, finishing the coffee.

"I knew you'd be here, obviously." He replied bluntly, scooting closer to you and leaning down to rest his head on your lap. Thankfully, the area was cleared of students other than you two, so this display of affection wouldn't be humiliating for the blonde.

"What about Yamaguchi?" You ran your relatively small fingers through his well-kept hair, feeling the softness of his tresses caress your fingertips.

"He'd come here soon, but I wanted to spend some time with you. Give me my glasses so I can see you better." He grabbed his glasses and put them on his face. He could finally see you properly, though he has memorized every feature there was on your face, so he didn't really need his glasses for that.

Another silent moment passed by. The peacefulness relaxed you, and you felt drowsier.

"About the scholarship," Tsukishima started, and you felt your blood run cold. "I was thinking about accepting it."

"The one to what school? You received so many scholarships I can't remember which one." You giggled, but deep inside, you were crumbling.

"Sendai University, actually. I also want to keep playing professionally even after I graduate."

For a split second, your hand stopped playing with his hair, but you covered it up with a playful laugh.

"Gosh, Kei. You've really gotten far." Your voice cracked, and you could feel your heart breaking in two. You didn't tell him about your plans yet, so it'd be hard to tell him, since graduation was coming soon.

Tsukishima noticed this.

"What's wrong?" He sat up, looking you straight in the eye.

"What? Nothing, Kei."

"_____, we've been together for three years, I can tell that you're hiding something from me."

Tears finally welled up in your eyes, and you didn't bother to wipe them away, since you knew you couldn't get out of this situation that easily. He wouldn't let you.

"Why are you crying?" He wrapped his long arms around you and pulled you on his lap. You could feel his warmth, hear his heartbeat, and smell the vague scent of strawberry shortcake.

"Kei, I'm-," You tried to calm yourself down, "I'm studying college in America."

Tsukishima swore his world collapsed under the despicable wrath of reality. The hammer of truth smashed his dreams of graduating college together with you into millions of tiny splinters. His heart shattered as he stared at your shaking form.

"_____, why didn't you tell me?" Instead of being mad like you expected him to be, he embraced you tighter, and his own salty tears made their way down his cheeks.

"I didn't want you to worry or-" He cut you off with a simple,

"Idiot!"

You piped down.

"Why would you honestly think that I would be worried about you leaving? I'm scared, of course, but I'd never be worried. I know that we can still be together even when we aren't physically near each other. I love you too damn much to let you go. Fuck you, _____ for making me say all this cheesy crappy stuff, okay?" He couldn't believe that he, Tsukishima Kei, was saying all of this.

"Kei," You whispered, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry! I love you too, stupid megane."

"Who are you calling-?!"

"Shut up." You silenced him with another kiss, and he melted into it easily.

"Y'know, there's a thing called long distance relationship, right?"

"Yeah, but I can't really stand the idea of not seeing your tsundere ass all day."

"Fuck off."

"I love you too, Kei."

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!! fanfiction #kei being sweet #kei is a fucking dumbass i love him

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Here Comes the Bride (and the Boys)

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,039

Warnings: None!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

You’re is getting married! But, to get married, you need a dress. And instead of family at the dress appointment, the Reader brings some rather unusual guests. Her fiancé’s three weird best friends.

“First of all, you’re wrong!”

You laughed, bent in half and gripping the dashboard for support as Benny and Will argued in the backseat. You were taking the boys dress shopping, and you hadn’t anticipated the disaster that would be the Miller brothers sitting in the car together.

“Fuck you, a single Twinkie is absolutely bite sized!” Benny said angrily, taking a Twinkie out of his pocket and ripping the package open. “See?” And then he stuffed it in his mouth, proving that it was, in fact, one bite.

Will laughed, punching his brother lightly. “You’re disgusting. We are on our way to a distinguished wedding dress appointment and you’re here stuffing your face with twinkies.”

Santiago, who had the misfortune of driving, sighed. “Lord help me,” he said, turning into the parking lot of the bridal place. “I am surrounded by morons.”

Still smiling, you texted Frankie, who was sitting at home and trying to decide what the wedding’s color scheme would be.

You: Your bffs are fucking idiots

Goldfish: I’m sorry?

You: Benny just ate a whole ass Twinkie in one bite

Goldfish: Wow. Tell him he’s disgusting

You: Will already did. Gtg, we’re there

Goldfish: love you

You: Love you too babe

Getting out of the car, you suddenly rethought your decision to bring the boys to help you choose a wedding dress. But you really didn’t want to do it alone and no one in your family could make it. So you’d grabbed what you hoped was the next best thing. Frankie’s friends.

But it was too late. You pulled the door to the place open and walked in, smiling at the receptionist. “Hello! I’m here for an appointment.”

The receptionist eyed your group and nodded. “Of course. Last name?”

“Morales.” Technically that wasn’t your last name yet, but you’d been engaged for almost a year now and using Frankie’s last name just felt natural.

Once you were checked in, you waited on a couch with the boys.

“So what kind of dress are you getting?” Benny asked, looking at a dress that looked, and this was the nice way of saying it, like an overly decorated pastry.

“Not that,” you said. “I dunno. Maybe A-line? The last fancy thing I wore was when Frankie and I went out to that restaurant last New Years, but that had no back, and I’m not going that slutty for my wedding day.”

Will snorted. “Okay. So the requirements are currently as follows. It must have a back, and it cannot be, in your words, slutty.”

“It has to be white,” you added. “And I want a floor length dress.”

“Well that’s not enough to work off of.”

You shrugged. “It’s what I got.”

Your consultant came in at that point. “Oh! Well, I guess I don’t have to ask who’s the bride!” She said. “I’m Zoe. Who’d you bring with you? Any family?”

“Nope!” You said, looking at the boys. “These are my fiancé’s three best friends, Santiago, Benny, and William.”

Zoe nodded. “Okay. How long have you been engaged?”

You shrugged. “A year, give or take. My fiancé, Frankie, was military until about four months ago, when he went on his last mission.” You could still remember how defeated he’d been coming home, the pain in his eyes as he told you about Tom and everything else. “We’re getting married in September.”

“Awesome!” Zoe said. “So, budget?”

“Frankie and I put aside about two thousand.”

Zoe nodded again. “And are we looking for any specific style of dress?”

You shook your head. “Nope. I just know I want it a bit more conservative, but not something that covers every inch of skin I’ve got.”

“Okay then,” Zoe said. “Let’s go look at some dresses!”

Unsurprisingly, the boys were apprehensive about this part. Benny was the first to recover, happily diving in and pulling a few dresses to ask you about them. Once he found his groove, Will and Santi quickly followed suit.

“What about this?” Santi asked, showing you a dress.

“Eh,” you said, looking over. “I don’t like that feathery bit on the bottom.”

It was interesting, shopping for a wedding dress. You’d only wear it once, but it was so damn important. You passed over dress after dress, dismissing most of them. Eventually, after a fair amount of searching, you and the boys had picked out a few dresses that were all decent contenders.

Trying the dresses on, that was a completely different story. The first dress Zoe brought you, which was one of Santi’s picks, was gorgeous, and actually made your tear up a bit.

“Oh dear, tears already?” Zoe asked, handing you a tissue.

“I just,” you said weakly, wiping your eyes. “I love Frankie so much, and I can’t believe after everything we’ve been through, I’m finally able to officially call him mine.”

Zoe rubbed your back. “I get it hon,” she consoled. “He must be one hell of a man.”

“Oh he definitely is.”

After a few more minutes of admiring the dress and composing yourself, you walked out to show the boys.

Immediately, they went quiet, admiring your dress. You stood on a small pedestal, turning and admiring the dress in the big mirror. “I like it.”

“But?” Santiago prompted.

“I don’t get that big wow feeling,” you finished, almost guilty. “Sorry Santi.”

Santiago shook his head. “It’s okay,” he promised. “But you do like it?”

You nodded, swishing the dress around. “Yeah. It’s got the right amount of pop.”

“Pop?” Benny asked.

“Details,” you elaborated, running a hand along the subtly flowered waistline. “Flair. Call it whatever. And the shape is nice.”

Will nodded. “The sleeves aren’t your thing, are they?”

“Yeah, absolutely not.” You put a finger under the short sleeve. “It’s tight across the shoulders and I feel like I can’t lift my arms.”

“So no short sleeves?” Santiago asked.

“We can eliminate short sleeves,” you decided.

The next few dresses were all like the first. Decent and very pretty, but not your dress. You managed to eliminate a few other things you weren’t too fond of, like the super tight mermaid dresses and the overly poofy princess dresses. Sleeveless was still on the table, but you were hesitant about that. The boys gave amazing criticism, and no one started any drama, which was nice. But still, you found yourself wishing Frankie were here. He’d know exactly what to recommend. You could almost hear him whispering in your ear as you examined yet another not right dress.

“I’m sure you’ll get it eventually, margarita.”

You sighed, deeming the dress a flop and heading back to try something else on.

And then you passed a dress on the way back to the changing room that made you stop in your tracks.

“What is it?” Zoe asked, stopping right behind you.

“What’s that?” You asked, pointing to the dress.

Zoe followed your finger. “Oh. That’s a dress we just got. It’s from a small designer who specializes in unique dresses.”

“Can I try it on?” You asked, still mesmerized.

“Sure.” Zoe grabbed the dress. “It’s not floor length though.”

You shrugged, still watching the dress with nothing short of awe. “I’m willing to bend for this dress.”

The dress fit you perfectly, and when you turned around to look at it for the first time, you were dead silent for a whole minute before starting to cry again.

“Still good tears?” Zoe asked hopefully, helping you step back into your white flats.

“This is my dress,” you said softly. “This is my dress.”

Zoe smiled. “It looks really good on you,” she said. “Shall we show the boys?”

You nodded, smoothing your hands down the textured fabric of the skirt.

Walking out to show the boys was the hardest thing you’d done in a while. The dress was perfect, it was definitely the one, but what if they didn’t agree?

You heard gasps from the group when you stepped onto the pedestal, back facing them.

“So?” Zoe prompted. “What do you think?”

“It’s my dress,” you said yet again. “It’s perfect.”

“It is,” Santiago agreed. “C’mon, turn for us, let us see.”

You turned, facing the boys.

Immediately, Benny, who was smiling, threw his hands up. “Okay, so we threw all the rules out for this dress.”

You laughed, feeling the skirt swish around your calves. “It’s perfect Benny. I had to break the rules for the daisies.”

“I don’t get it,” Benny said, leaning back. “Why daisies?”

“That’s what Frankie calls me,” you said softly. “I’m his margarita. It’s Spanish for daisy.”

You turned to examine the dress again. It was still white, which would placate your mother and gave you that bride feeling in the pit of your stomach. But the thing that sold you was the thin layer of sheer white fabric on top, the layer with the small daisies on it. The sleeves were nice, loose without being a hazard and tight without being too restricting. The V neck was modest enough for a wedding, and the smooth white ribbon around your natural waist really helped define the shape of the dress.

Zoe came out with a matching flower crown and placed it on your head, causing you to tear up when you faced yourself in the mirror again.

“Oh honey,” Santiago said, standing and wrapping you in a hug. “Is it group hug time?”

You nodded, feeling the warm embrace of the boys around you. “Thank you,” you said softly, surrounded by friends. “My mother would’ve had an aneurysm if I tried this on for her.”

Benny laughed, rubbing your back. “We get it,” he said. “And trust us, Fish is gonna adore it.”

Seven months later, you were freaking out, trying not to cry in your small tent, twenty minutes before you were supposed to walk down the aisle.

“What if he doesn’t show up?” You asked one of your bridesmaids, Luca. “What if he doesn’t wanna get married anymore?”

Luca put her hands on your shoulders. “Hey. I’m sure he’s just as nervous as you, and I’m absolutely positive he’s sticking around.”

You took a breath, anxiety spiking again as a knock echoed on the door.

“Can we come in? We have a gift for the bride.”

You eagerly accepted the boys in, embracing them each in turn.

“You look like a goddess,” Will complimented, holding you at arm’s length and smiling. “He’s so nervous.”

“Told you so!” Luca shouted.

Benny laughed. “He told us to give you this.”

You took the small box, opening it hesitantly and pressing a hand to your mouth before the tears bubbled over. It was a necklace, nothing seemingly expensive or fancy. It had a thin silver chain, and on the end of the chain was a circle of resin, no bigger than a quarter, with a beautiful pressed daisy in it.

Luca helped you slip the necklace over your head. The daisy pendant sat on your skin, just above the V neck, barely visible.

“Are you ready?” Santiago asked, placing the necklace box down.

You nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

The next almost half hour of waiting was agony. You texted Frankie, both of you anxious and both of you very ready for the ceremony to be over. Then, Frankie stopped responding, and you heard the music. It was time.

You father took your arm and guided you out of the tent, into the park you’d picked for the venue. Plenty of people were waiting for you, but you only had eyes for one of them.

Frankie turned, his entire face lighting up as he saw you walking towards him. He looked amazing, all clean and neat in a suit with a small daisy tucked into his lapel. He wasn’t wearing his hat, but you almost wished he was. He’d shaved, but that tiny spot where he constantly complained about the lack of facial hair was still there and obvious.

You father smiled, placing your hands in Frankie’s. He squeezed them, and you felt pure joy humming through your veins. You were getting married.

“Ready?” Frankie asked you softly, so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

You didn’t even hesitate to answer. “I’m ready.”

#Triple Frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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phykios · 3 years

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honesty and promise me part 9, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

He doesn’t text her later. He doesn’t text her for two weeks. On day fifteen of no contact from Percy, Annabeth begins to accept that whatever they had might be over now.

That’s alright, she reminds herself. She had been working up to breaking it off with him for a while, and he just went ahead and did it for her. Saves her the trouble, really.

October rolls on, wet and cold, inching ever closer to Halloween, and Annabeth finds herself seeking refuge at Piper’s, lending her body and her skills to help her friend finish her collection before her self-imposed deadline. At least the work provides a nice distraction from her silent phone--when Percy stopped texting her, Thalia did, too. Well. That’s that, she supposes.

Still, the fact that they were never officially dating doesn’t stop Annabeth from scrolling through his Instagram at 2 AM like some pathetic ex-girlfriend, screenshotting all her favorite photos so she can look at them later without the threat of accidentally liking them. He’s been posting a lot of stills from that fucking music video again, the divinely crafted muscles of his body on full display in cool, blue light, brown cheekbone and jawline sharper than ever. Beyonce herself even liked a few of them.

God damn she’s a fucking idiot.

It must be the self-pity that’s making her crazy, because when Luke calls her up to be his date/eye candy to some fancy semi-costumed party that weekend at an art gallery on the Lower East Side, she agrees without even thinking about it.

The gallery isn’t that far (certainly much, much closer than the Lincoln Center) but Annabeth has not worn heels in probably up to a calendar year, and she just cannot make herself walk that far. She will not. Her tiny-ass cross-body bag isn’t big enough to hold a separate pair of walking shoes. So she ponies up the exorbitant cab fare to the Lower East Side, asking the driver to drop her at the Seward Park Library so she can elegantly sashay down the sidewalk with the rest of the rich and glamorous.

No one spares her a second glance, which is both relieving and strangely disheartening. She’s become too used to turning heads, she thinks.

Well. One head in particular.

“Hey, Annabeth!” Luke appears from thin air, dressed immaculately as always. His sandy hair has come a long way since business school, now tamed and laid perfectly, but with the faintest touch of dishevelment, like he couldn’t completely fix it after someone’s hands had been all over it. He looks even more handsome than he had on her birthday. He kisses her on the cheek, right on the sensitive skin of an old, failed piercing, and she shivers. “You look incredible.”

Before she left Piper’s apartment that day, Annabeth had raided her small stash of designer clothes and had rediscovered her old faithful that Piper had tried to bury, the midi-length Valentino dress she had worn to the unveiling of her and Leo’s collaboration. It’s a light, powder blue, which can’t be helped, but the lace collar and three-quarter sleeves cover most of her tattoos. She had dug out her tiara, too, making herself a low-key Halloween costume out of the spring season dress. Though the dress doesn’t fit like it did a year ago, Which is depressing as all hell. “Thanks. You, too.”

He beams at her, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Who did you say was the artist, again?” she asks, taking it.

“I didn’t. Something with an ‘L,’ I think. Levelle? Levique? I don’t remember.”

The white gallery walls have been draped in shades of inky blue and midnight purple, all the better to see the crystal sculptures on display: beautiful renderings of swords and skulls, deadly weapons and human bones. There’s something mind-numbingly obvious about holding a spooky, macabre-themed gallery show on Halloween night, entitled “Death and Riches,” but she has to admit, the artwork is stunning. The crystals take what little light is cast from the weak ceiling lamps and multiply it, casting the dark velvets in rainbow reflections. Annabeth feels like she’s walking through the night sky, like she could reach out and rearrange the stars in the constellations. “Look at this,” she murmurs to Luke, stopping them in front of a sculpture of an ancient cavalry sword. “This is incredible.”

He grunts. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Annabeth fixes him with a look. “‘Cool’? Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a rock.”

She shakes her head. “You are wasted on an art gallery.”

“I am,” he agrees, swiftly. “I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my bosses.”

“What do you mean?”

Luke steers her away from the sculpture, moving them onward. “One of our assistant executives, he’s about to close a huge deal with some big wig from Europe who runs this massive import/export, but before everything is made official, he wanted to meet all of us.”

“Why here, though?”

“He’s in town for this gallery opening; the artist is his niece, or something.”

Ugh. This is why she swore off business bros: always an ulterior motive with these people. “Hey, I’m going to go look for something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” he waves her off.

Annabeth, teetering on her towering heels, has to make her way against the current of the crowd towards the refreshments table along the edge of the wall. She feels ten pounds lighter without all the metal in her face, her center of gravity completely out of whack--not to mention she’s having trouble seeing with all this hair in her face. To better disguise her undercut, she had brushed all her hair over her head in one big, voluminous side ponytail on the wrong side of her face. It’s disorienting, to say the least.

Her stomach roils at the display of food, even as her mouth waters a little bit at the bruschetta with olive tapenade. Rather than risk it, she decides to just go with a glass of sparkling cider. She’s been feeling sick and anxious all day long, dreading every moment of this gala; the last thing she wants to do is exacerbate it with champagne.

Before she makes her way back to Luke’s side, however, she wants to take another look at the actual art. Or at least find out who the actual artist is. Whoever they are, they are phenomenally talented.

“Excuse me,” Annabeth says to the staff member manning the food table. “Do you have any more information about the artist? I’d love to see more of their work.”

“Sure!” she chirps, turning round to grab something off a stack of pamphlets beside her. “You can read more about Ms. Levesque here.”

“Thank you,” says Annabeth, taking the glossy brochure. Levesque. Levesque Levesque Levesque. She knows that name, she’s sure of it. Penny in the air…

Slowly, like she’s walking a labyrinth, she makes her way around the gallery. The booklet has descriptions of each piece of art on display, contexts and histories and prices that make her sweat a little. But by the time she returns to the cavalry sword, her head is swimming--probably from the lack of food--her eyes straining in the dim light. She has completely lost track of Luke. She has completely lost track of the time. Annabeth puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingers against the bone of her forehead.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She jolts at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. The owner of the hand pulls away immediately, holding it up in a placating motion.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annabeth blinks at the person in front of her. He’s blond, tall, with glasses and a scar on his upper lip, and she cannot shake the bone-deep feeling that she’s seen him before.

“You look a little pale. Do you need to sit down?” he asks, electric blue eyes shining with concern.

She shakes her head. “No, no, I’m okay, just a little… the light, you know. Makes it hard to read.”

“I know how you feel,” he says, nodding sagely. “The lighting setup here is absolute murder on my glasses.” Then he sticks out his hand, proud and jutting. “I’m Jason.”

Furiously, she blinks away unbidden tears, turning her sudden sob into a light laugh at the thought of the last time she had met someone named Jason. Or, someone she thought had been named Jason. “Annabeth.” His grip is firm and congenial, like a senator. “Are you with Mercury Exchange, too?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “I’m just here to support the artist. She’s my cousin.”

“Well, congratulations to your cousin on a beautiful gallery opening,” says Annabeth, inclining her head with a smile that he returns. “These sculptures are incredible.”

Jason follows her gaze, and when she looks at him again, he’s smiling. The scar gives his smile an adorable edge. “Hazel is very talented.”

Penny drops. “Hazel Levesque?” Annabeth asks. “Your cousin is Hazel Levesque?”

“Yeah!” Jason beams. “You ever listen to a band called Pluto’s Daughter?”

“You’re Jason Grace?”

That takes him aback, blinking in shock. “Yes… how did you--oh, you know Thalia?” he asks.

No. No no no, this cannot be happening. “Um, not-not really, I just--”

“I just saw her, like, ten minutes ago--”

No no no, she cannot be here, she can’t see Annabeth, not like this-- “Actually,” Annabeth cuts in, “I should really get back to my date, I’m sure he’s worried sick, it was nice meeting you!” And she bolts from the conversation in the general direction of the exit, leaving a very confused member of the cousin consortium in her wake.

Stupid, so stupid, how did she not look this up beforehand, how did she not put it together sooner? She can’t let anyone see her like this, dolled up and--and downright clean. The crowd has turned into an impenetrable wall, the gaps between patrons too small for her to slip between. The dark walls close in around her, suffocating her, and her panic rises, stomach churning, bile crawling up her throat.

From the crush of people, a hand shoots out to grasp hers, and she jumps a foot in the air. “There you are!” says Luke. “Come on, I want you to meet the big wig.”

“Oh, Luke, I don’t know,” she stammers, “I’m-I’m not feeling very well, I think I had a bad burrito earlier, and--”

“It’ll just take a minute,” he wheedles, “We just gotta show up, make some small talk for a few minutes, then I’ll get you home. Sounds good?” But she can’t resist as he pulls her deeper into the gallery.

Like fucking Moses and the fucking Red Sea, the crowd parts before them, laying out a clear path to the three very well dressed men in the center of the room. Even from behind, she can tell that they’re all related: three copies of the same broad build, the same thick, black hair, peppered with grey, the same radiating aura of power and influence, engaged in deep, important conversation.

“Mr. Olympianides?” Luke politely interjects.

As one, the three of them turn to face him, identical gazes sizing them up, pinning them in place. “Yes?” intones the oldest-looking one, his earth-brown eyes cold and dispassionate.

“I think he means me, brother,” says the middle-looking one, jovial. “You’re with Mercury too, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes, sir,” says Luke, holding out a hand. “Luke Castellan, it’s an honor to meet you.”

“Ah, of course!” he says, taking Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard great things about you from Prometheus. I understand I have you to thank for the success of the Saturn deal?”

Luke, wholly in his element, smiles his perfectly practiced sycophantic smile--just the right cocktail of humble and arrogant, gracious and gregarious. You can tell he double majored in theater. “It was no trouble at all, really.”

Then he turns his gaze to Annabeth, and she just about faints.

Those eyes. She knows those eyes. Perfectly blue-green, like the waters of the Mediterranean in the sunshine, beneath thick, black eyebrows, with an aquiline nose and a full, salt and pepper beard--she is, without a doubt, looking into the unimaginably handsome face of Percy’s father.

“May I have the name of your lovely lady?” He takes her hand, bringing it up to his for a kiss.

Annabeth’s eyes practically bug out of her head. This is what Percy will turn into in twenty years? Good lord.

“This is my…” Luke trails off, sparing her a glance. “This is Annabeth Chase. She’s an architect here in New York. Annabeth, these are the gentlemen I was telling you about: Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus Olympianides.”

Oddly enough, part of her relaxes, even at Luke’s little fib. If Percy’s father is here, then that means that Percy might not be. She would still have to duck Thalia, but if Luke lets her leave within the next few minutes, that shouldn’t be too hard.

“Chase--like the Boston Chases?” the oldest brother asks. She’s seen those dark eyes, as well, lined with black, and sometimes with glitter.

Annabeth smiles, just a little vacant. She hasn’t had a conversation like this in two years, but back in Boston she’d had them nearly weekly. “That’s the one,” she agrees, letting a giggle out at the end. With business bros her age, they preferred a little bit of a too cool attitude, they’d loved her with all the metal in her face. But the older ones like a giggle. From the corner of her vision, she sees Luke give her just a little bit of a side eye.

“You’re Randolph’s daughter?” Asks the other brother. His eyes are electric blue. Even if Annabeth hadn’t just met Jason, she’d have known this was Thalia’s father from twenty paces.

“I’m his niece,” Annabeth says. “Frederick is my father.”

“The middle one?” Percy’s father says, with a little bit of a grin.

“Yes.” So far, so good--and no one has asked about her mother. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that she is not her stepmother’s daughter.

There’s maybe the slightest hint of snideness when Zeus says, “Another Harvard graduate, I assume.”

So there are a lot of Chases at Harvard. On a whim, one night while she should have been writing her Modernism final instead, Annabeth had spent several hours making an academic genealogical chart, inordinately pleased when she found out that her old, decrepit freshman history professor had also taught her father, way back in the day.

“Guilty,” she titters, “but I did attend Miss Minerva’s here in the city.”

“So your Randolph’s niece,” Thalia’s dad asks again, “And Frey Vanir is married to your aunt.”

“Yes.” She bites down on the “sir.” She’s got to have some standards.

“Good families,” Nico and Hazel’s father says, nodding at her, “Chases and Vanir.”

Annabeth has some very, very hazy memories of meeting her own fabulously wealthy extended family, just after her little cousin Magnus had been born. She doesn’t recall much, but she can remember the high, vaulted ceilings of her aunt’s apartment on Commonwealth Avenue, the view of the Public Gardens just down the block, and the very big, very sharp-looking sword hanging above the mantel. The Chases are a well-off family, it’s true, but the Vanir, old money from leftover Nordic peerage are very much on the Olympianides' level, even if Annabeth is the one wearing a tiara that allegedly once belonged to the crown jewels of Sweden.

Athena Pallas is on that same level, too, but Annabeth would rather run into Thalia then talk about her mother. Especially with these people.

Then Poseidon’s gaze fixes on something behind her, and he breaks into a broad, heartbreakingly familiar grin. “Ah, Percy, there you are!” he calls.

The smile drops from her face, and her blood freezes. Caught in the gravity well of a black hole, she turns.

A huge mistake.

Her only thought is How dare he be so handsome.

He’s in a suit she’s never seen before, crisply pressed, but comfortable, simple black but with pearl cuff links, to match his father’s. The sharp lines of the suit hide his beautiful form beneath them in a way that makes Annabeth understand the appeal of lingerie like she never has before. He looms, back discipline-straight, his face scrubbed clean and eyebrows perfectly shaped, and to cap it all off, a pair of simple, classy diamond studs in his ears. Percy Jackson remains, as always, unfairly gorgeous, the perfect specimen of male beauty, and Annabeth is powerless under his gaze.

And he’s just heard every word of their conversation.

“Percy,” his father says, “have you met Annabeth Chase?”

Percy stares at her, mouth open a little. She watches those eyes take her in from top to bottom, hairstyle to clean face to conservative dress to high heels. Never, ever one to hide his emotions, she can see his inner monologue playing out on his face: shock and awe, bewilderment and confusion, jerkily transitioning to… to a politely blank face. Like the surface of the ocean, the wave of his feelings disappear beneath his skin, leaving no trace that they were ever there. “No,” he says, in a tone that broaches no argument. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever met Annabeth Chase before.”

He takes her in again. Percy was never above leering, but he was always pretty situational about it. He would wait until sex was explicitly on the table, wait until she wanted to see him go just a little bit crazy for her. He doesn’t leer now, cataloguing the dress, the shoes, the tiara.

“Cinderella?” he asks, before the conversation can become awkward and their audience can notice something else.

“Yes,” she says, unable to force the smile she’d used on his father just minutes before. “What girl doesn’t want to be a princess for Halloween?”

“Cinderella was always your favorite, wasn’t she?” Percy’s father asks him. Then he laughs. “Once we went to Disney in Paris, I think, and Percy, all of ten years old, cried because he didn’t think he was going to be able to meet her.”

Percy’s face stays blank. “I was six, Dad.”

Annabeth winces, internally. That was the year, he’d told her, that he’d spent in shoes that didn’t fit because his new ones had been destroyed by bullies taunting him over ballet, and he didn’t want to tell his mother because trying to buy him a second pair of shoes would have been a struggle. She wonders if maybe he was crying because he’d spent the day walking around Disneyland in shoes two sizes too small, and no one had noticed.

His father laughs again. “Still,” he says, “Cinderella is your favorite.”

“I don’t have much use for princesses anymore,” Percy says. “Fairy tales and true love are kid stuff.”

His uncles laugh along with his father, and Luke just frowns at Percy, like he’s not sure what to make of him. But his family seems convinced it's the wisdom of youth.

“Oh,” says Poseidon, “You never know when you can find someone special.” He does leer at Annabeth, just a bit. There isn’t a lot to leer at in this dress, but it's unmistakable. He’s very handsome, but the leer is perhaps the first time she’s thought he didn’t favor his son.

“Were you the one who dated the princess of what it was called?” Thalia’s father asks. “Or was Triton? Or was it both of you?”

“No,” Hazel and Nico’s father says, “no, they both dated Atlas’s girl. Right?”

“Yes, Uncle Hades,” Percy says.

“Zoe?”

Calypso, Annabeth thinks, just before Percy says it out loud and they all nod.

“Is she here?” Thalia’s father asks, glancing around. “Or do you have a different date tonight?”

Annabeth hasn’t even considered Percy having a date. But the idea of it causes a wave of nausea to come over her, of a beautiful woman on Percy’s arm, one of his fellow dancers, or perhaps some heiress, who he could take to fancy parties and show off to his father and uncles.

That could have so easily been you, says a voice in the back of her head.

I’m no one’s arm candy, she wants to yell at herself.

But she can’t, because she’s literally resting on Luke’s arm, while three powerful businessmen ogle her.

She breathes through her nose, and tries to keep from throwing up. Or crying.

“Percy knows its best to come to events like this stag,” Percy’s father winks at him, and then unmistakably at her, “you never know what sorts of lovely creatures you might run into.”

Percy frowns, clearly uncomfortable. “I think Miss Chase definitely came with her boyfriend.” He nods to Luke, and gives him a smile Annabeth has never seen. So forced and fake and clearly unhappy.

She wishes she could stop everything and scream at Percy that Luke’s not her boyfriend. That he could never be. That she does not want Luke, not the way she wants Percy.

But time goes on, and so does Percy. “I don’t like coming to these sorts of things alone, if I can help it.”

And the world nearly collapses out from under her feet.

“The buddy system is important.” He turns his head, clearly searching the milling crowd for someone. Annabeth doesn’t follow his gaze. She doesn’t want to see the woman he willingly shows off to his father. She glances at Luke instead. His face is still placid, but she’s known him a long time, in all sorts of states. He’s clearly uncomfortable.

“Thalia,” Percy’s voice says, not a shout, but a request. Annabeth doesn’t look over at him, or the direction he shouted, but Luke does. He breaks away from her gaze and actually unlinks their arms. His mask slips a little bit more.

At the last possible second Annabeth looks over too.

Thalia Grace looks exactly like the Thalia Annabeth has always known. Her hair is slicked down in some old fashioned pin curls, and she’s wearing a cocktail dress and red soled heels that are too big for her, but you can see the tattoos up and down her arms and legs, underneath her ripped fishnets. Her facial piercings are all still in, and her eyebrows and ears are full of safety pins and the necklace around her neck is made of them too. She’s wearing the same beat up leather gloves as always.

For just a second, Annabeth hates her. Because Thalia is clearly so Thalia, so comfortable in being Thalia, and she can walk around this fucking gala, with buisness bros and old money, and look totally comfortable and confident.

And Annabeth keeps adjusting her sleeves and hair, worried that somethings going to move wrong, and it's going to become obvious that she’s… something?

Then their eyes meet, and it's almost as bad as when Percy showed up. Thalia looks lost, and then she glances to Annabeth’s side, at Luke and her face settles into a frown not unlike Percy’s.

She stops beside Percy who smiles at her, “Thalia and I always use the buddy system.” He says. Then, as he holds out his hand to her, his smile becomes the closest she could ever refer to as cruel. “Thalia, have you met Annabeth Chase? Of the Boston Chases? Her uncle is Frey Vanir.”

Standing tall, bright eyes ringed in black, Thalia takes in all of Annabeth. She’s done this before, when Annabeth was drunk and crying on a dirty bar floor, with a couple hours old tattoo on her arm and a couple of days old ring in her eyebrow. Annabeth had seen her mother on Wednesday for lunch and had destroyed her life by dinner. She doesn’t really remember what they’d talked about, in the wee hours as Friday became Saturday: not being good enough for your family, how New York took your dreams, chewed them up, and spit them out, how your father would never understand you and your mother would never love you. That sort of thing.

She’d been a gross, pathetic mess. But Thalia had seen something in her that night. Had lifted her off the floor and out the door and eventually onto the mattress in the place she’d been renting weekly at the time. She’d taken Annabeth into her world.

Now, it doesn’t look like she sees anything good in Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases, in designer heels, with a designer bag, wrapped in a designer dress and dripping in jewels. Annabeth knows she looks like a dozen other girls at this event, girls that Luke’s (and maybe Thalia’s and, God, maybe even Percy’s) eyes have wandered over with interest.

“Miss Chase, despite being from Boston,” Percy says to Thalia, “was mentioning some of the schools she went to in New York. I thought maybe you might have known each other through one.”

Percy’s face has gone perfectly blank, but Thalia’s… Thalia’s is angry.

“No,” she says, “we did not go to school together. But Luke and I did.”

It’s Annabeth’s turn to gape, eyes wide as she turns to him, shocked.

Luke tries to smile. “Yes, we did, but--”

Thalia doesn’t let him finish. “Are you still sending weekly audition tapes to Lorne Michaels?” she asks, a snarl that only an idiot would mistake for a grin on her face.

Annabeth would laugh, if she felt like laughing at anything right now.

Luke tries to speak again, but Thalia talks right over him. “No, of course not. You’re doing some business thing.” She eyes his suit and then her three older relatives. “Why else would we be here? I know you never really had the brains for the arts. You were always more interested in the carnal passions of acting.”

Annabeth actually does laugh, just a bit, both because that’s clearly something Luke had once said (and Annabeth remembered him coming straight out of NYU, a Yankee transplant to Boston, she could totally believe it) and because Thalia got Luke’s cadence and tone down perfectly.

But it does nothing to relieve the tension. If anything, it's gone up.

Percy’s father forces his own laugh. “It is so much fun when you run into old friends like this.” He offers, clearly sensing the storm brewing. Percy has at least tried to force it down. “And it's good to see you, as well, Thalia. It's been a long time.”

“It has, Uncle Poseidon,” She agrees.

“Mr. Castellan has left the world of acting for our bland business and finance meetings, but are you still acting?”

Thalia goes very still.

Annabeth, in the two years she’s known Thalia Grace, has never even once heard her so much as allude to acting in anything. She set up equipment and tended bars for cash. The only acting she ever did was pretending not to be hungover.

It’s a slight movement, but she sees Thalia reach out and grip Percy’s arm. He meets it, holding on. Steadying.

He understands what’s going on here.

“She’s not,” Thalia’s father says. He’s been polite so far this evening, but now he sounds annoyed. “All that talent and all that promise, and she’s thrown it all away.” He looks at Thalia, electric eyes to electric eyes, and shakes his head. “You could have been just like your mother.”

Percy, Luke, and Hades all let out a sharp breath.

Thalia’s smile, sharp, turns acidic. “I can't be,” she says. “I don't drive. So I couldn't drive myself into a tree.”

Her father narrows his gaze, mouth tight. Annabeth has actually seen that look on Thalia’s face before. Poseidon looks suddenly very sorry he ever opened his mouth.

Thalia turns to Percy. “Do you think Hazel would mind if I committed a murder and ruined her big night?”

It's a very Thalia thing to say, but Annabeth has never really considered the theatricality of her before. This is an artist working her craft, taking words and turning them into daggers.

“Hazel loves performance art,” Percy says. “And it is on theme.”

Thalia nods and then looks at her father. She smiles. “That sounds like a lot of work, so, instead, why don’t I do just what you want. I’ll be my mother. I’ll go get fabulously drunk and embarrass you horribly. Unfortunately, this is a 21+ event, so I won’t be able to endanger any children in the process. But you never know.”

She spins on her heels, and walks away.

“I'm going to make sure she doesn’t enganger any children just to prove a point,” Percy says. “I'll see you later.” He nods to his family, and then offers Annabeth a very formal handshake. “So nice to meet you.”

She’s missed his hands on her. She doesn’t want to let go.

But she lets him, and he moves over to give Luke one, too. He leans in, just a little bit, and lowers his voice so only Luke and Annabeth can hear. “You shouldn’t make a scene in a public place. But you deserve to know, she’s been cheating on you since May.”

Annabeth can’t breathe for a moment. The perfect man, handsome and charming and crueler than she ever believed possible.

Her stomach rolls again.

Behind her, she hears Poseidon say, “Do you often tell women whose mothers’ acting career dried up and then descended into substance abuse that you hope they have the same career as said mothers? Because wow."

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispers. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m very sorry.”

He turns to speak with the three brothers, to formally and probably seamlessly untangle themselves from all of this, and she tries to turn too, but the effort to spin gets too much.

She’s still nauseous, feeling light-headed. The stiletto heels only add to the problem. She shakes and stumbles, right into Luke, who catches her on one arm, Poseidon on the other. Annabeth has to work very hard not to yank herself away from him.

“Are you alright?” Poseidon’s accent isn’t the same as Percy’s at all, his hands too smooth. There are differences between the two that she can focus on.

“I haven’t been feeling well tonight,” she admits, if it will get her out of here faster.

“Do you need to sit down?” Asks Poseidon. “I’m sure there is a medical professional around here.”

“No, no, thank you,” she says. “I should probably head out, If that’s okay,” she tells Luke, apologetically.

He nods, finally complying with her need for escape. “Of course.”

When Poseidon lets go of her arm, she basically falls into Luke. It's embarrassing. Her eighteen year old self is probably cheering. Unfortunately for her, that crush was killed two great heartbreaks ago. Now, it’s just quiet and awkward as they walk away. “Sorry,” she says.

“Sorry? I should be thanking you. That was a really good excuse.” Then he looks at her--really looks. “It wasn’t an excuse, was it?”

She shakes her head, miserable.

“Is it because of that guy? Percy? Do you know him?”

She nods.

“Why does he think you’ve been cheating on me since May?”

“Because he thinks you and I are a couple, and I’ve been sleeping with him since May.”

Luke lets out a low whistle. “You and those business bros.” He shakes his head. Sometimes he doesn’t quite have the self-awareness that he should, she thinks. “I blame myself. If I didn’t invite you to that MBA party, maybe you wouldn’t have lost your virginity to that asshole in my cohort.”

“Percy’s not a business bro,” she says, defending him, though for the life of her she doesn’t know why. “He’s a ballet dancer with NYCB. It… ended about 3 weeks ago. I’d tell you about it, but I do actually feel pretty horrible.”

Luke frowns at her. “You want me to get you a cab?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “I know you have more business bro things to do. I can get myself home.”

He waits several seconds, before giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, wishing her goodnight, leaving her in the middle of the mingling crowd and the crystal displays.

Annabeth shuffles towards the exit, passing the food table. Even the smell makes her feel like she’s going to throw up. Walking faster doesn’t exactly help.

Eventually, she manages to get out of the main gallery, where the lobby and coat check had been set up, very much regretting letting Luke go. Right now, walking outside and finding a cab might as well be like attempting a quick little jaunt up Mt. Everest. Head aching, stomach rolling, she slumps against the wall outside the coat check, laying her warm cheek against the cool wall.

That’s when she hears the muffled shouting.

Two voices she knows intimately.

“How can you say that?” Thalia whisper-screams. “In what possible universe are they the same?”

“How are they not?” Percy quietly shouts back. “They’re exactly the same.”

“I can’t even believe you’re defending her. She lied to us--she hurt you, just like--”

“Don’t you dare try and tell me you’re doing this for me. This is about you and your problems. Like always.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit.” Then comes the telltale clacks of Thalia stomping about in her high heels. She flings open the door of the coat closet, and comes face to face with Annabeth--who probably looks about like death warmed over. Thalia takes one look at Annabeth, sneers, then stalks away, anger sparking off of her like static shock.

Hot on her heels comes Percy, equally furious. "Then find someone else’s couch to crash on tonight!" He shouts at her retreating form.

Then he sees Annabeth.

She hopes she never has to see him that angry ever again.

It takes a couple of pounding heartbeats, but he visibly dials it back down, rage giving way to something a little less intense, the bitterness bleeding out of him until he’s only just annoyed. “Oh,” he says. “It’s you.”

There’s a million and one things she wants to tell him; her mind is a hurricane, every thought and feeling moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour, sentences forming on her tongue in one second and ripped away the next. She wants to tell him that she never meant to hurt him, but all that comes out is, “Luke isn’t my boyfriend.”

“What, he dump you already?”

“We’ve never dated,” she says. “He’s just a friend. I haven’t cheated on anyone.”

“Oh, so you’ll get all dolled up for some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, but you couldn’t be bothered to find a pair of jeans without holes in them to come see my show?”

Her stomach lurches, in both anger and regret. She did do those things. “You told me that you didn’t care what I wore.”

“And I didn’t, because I thought you didn’t either.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you parted your hair on the wrong side? Because you didn’t care if someone would see your undercut?”

She can’t say anything to that, because of course, he had hit the nail on the head.

“I mean, Thalia may be messed up, but at least she has the guts not to hide it, but you--” he sputters, gesturing angrily to her head, “you put on a tiara and pretend you haven’t been gutter trash for the last two years.”

Indignation rises in her. Gutter trash? “You’re one to talk--you can’t go anywhere nicer than Antonio’s for dinner but you own a custom fucking Italian suit and diamond earrings?”

He scowls. “Oh, I'm sorry, just so we're clear, Kym got me this suit so I would stop, and I quote, 'embarrassing her with my poverty.' I borrowed the earrings from Nico. But you're right. The same Christmas I had my power and heat turned off in Paris, my dad got me these pearl cufflinks.” He raises his hands, brandishing them. “Just what I always wanted!”

“Don’t give me that--the man takes you, his bastard,” she spits, “on the family vacation to the Greek islands every goddamn summer! You think he wouldn’t drop a couple million for you if you asked? Meanwhile, I had to grovel at my mother’s feet for years for even the barest hint of support--”

“That is not even remotely the same thing, and you know it!”

“It isn’t?” She laughs, cruelly. “Because from where I’m standing, we were both left at the mercy of our shitty parents, but you’re too much of a coward to tell your father to fuck off when you really want to.”

That just about sets him off. His eyes darken like sea storms, raging and thunderous. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. You’re the one that lied to me for months, to Thalia for years--Jesus, Annabeth, was any of it real? Was everything you said to me over the last five months just some game to you?”

“How dare you,” she hisses. “How dare you even ask me that when you know full well you’re the only person I’ve shown my designs to in years.”

“Oh, really,” he says, and she goes cold. “What about the one that won the Eta Industries award? Did you not show that to anyone? Or did you get that one because they knew you were Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases.”

Clenching her fists, she growls, standing up against the wall. “Leo and I put our hearts and souls into that project, and we won, fair and fucking square. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, seeing as you probably only got into NYCB because someone cashed a seven figure check.”

She doesn’t know if she’s ever said anything she believes less.

Percy laughs, an ugly, bitter thing. “If it had been that easy, I would have asked him to do that five years ago.”

Then he frowns. “Are you… feeling okay?”

She is not, as a matter of fact, but it’s no longer his fucking business, now is it. Annabeth opens her mouth to tell him so, then abruptly closes it as a little bit of vomit erupts from her esophagus. She covers her mouth, pressing against her teeth, trying to will it back inside.

Warm hands encircle her shoulders, holding her up as her legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “Come on,” he says, gruffly.

Together, they stagger into the single-stall bathroom, when Annabeth rips himself from his grasp, dropping to her knees before the toilet, and hurls. Faintly, she hears the lock of the door click behind her, then jumps at the feel of his hand on her back. “Leave me alone,” she spits, hocking bile into the toilet.

He doesn’t answer, only gently repositions her braid behind her shoulder so she doesn’t get any vomit on it.

She will not admit that his hand on her body is the best she’s felt all day. She will not.

“Ugh,” she moans, in between bouts of bile. “Fuck me.”

“Jesus, what did you eat?”

Annabeth has barely eaten all day, so it’s mostly sparkling cider and a bit of the olive tapenade from earlier.

Finally, after several excruciating minutes, it subsides. She feels twenty pounds lighter, like she’s vomited up all of her organs. Now if only she could have barfed up her heart as well. She’s sure Percy can feel how hard it’s beating, just from being around him again.

When the hell did she let herself get this worked up over a fucking guy, anyway? She hasn’t felt like this since she was nineteen, moping over a missed connection. But she’s not nineteen anymore, she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need anyone taking care of her. She can handle it herself.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

She coughs, attempting to clear her throat, throwing him a glare over her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“I said,” she growls, fingers tightening around the bowl of the toilet. “Leave me al--” Her genius retort is, sadly, cut off by another bout of vomiting, so forceful that her tiara comes flying clean off. It would have landed straight into the bowl, were it not for Percy and his lightning reflexes, snatching it out of the air before the crown jewels of Sweden landed in a puddle of barf.

When she comes back to herself, she realizes that she’s crying.

The second wave passes, and she can breathe again. Her awareness returns to her in pieces, starting with the pinch in her knees from kneeling on the cold, hard floor for too long, then the cool porcelain of the toilet, oddly soothing against her flushed skin. Her mouth tastes like you’d expect, and she spits, trying to clear it in vain.

“That’s it,” Percy murmurs behind her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Just let it out.”

Her chest heaves on a sob, quickly disguising it as a cough. Why won’t this man just leave?

When another five or so minutes pass without any more upchuck, she pulls away from him, practically crawling back until she hits the bathroom wall, the floor pressing up against her bones, and she kicks off her heels. Everything is too cold and too hot, Annabeth practically shaking out of her skin, taking in huge, gulping gasps of air. Faintly, she hears the door open and close, softly and carefully.

Good. He’s gone.

Her whole body shudders. Stubborn tears force their way out of her, crawling down her cheeks, mixing with the taste of vomit and lipstick.

But she can’t wallow in it for too long, because a minute later, Percy comes back, crouching down next to her, offering her a plastic cup of water. “Here.”

She takes a swig, swishing it around her mouth. Staggering to her bare feet, she shambles over to the sink, spitting it out.

There’s no way Annabeth can avoid looking at herself too closely in the mirror, but she tries, her eyes skating over her smeared mascara and running foundation, taking in her (thankfully) vomit free braid and her bare head. “Where,” she coughs. “Where is my tiara?”

“I got it.” In the mirror’s reflection, Percy holds it up. “Wouldn’t want the crown jewels of England to wind up in the toilet.”

“Sweden,” she says, on reflex.

“What?”

Why can’t she just shut her stupid mouth, for God’s sake-- “They were part of the Swedish crown jewels.”

He stares at her in the reflection, his eyes unfathomable. “I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” She asks, a question to which she really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“How I keep letting this happen.” Percy closes his eyes, shaking his head, raising his chin to the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Like this, all the angles and contours of his stupidly beautiful face are thrown in sharp, brutal relief. He looks thin, somehow, the quiet sadness of his expression carved into the lines of his frown, of his squeezed shut eyes and the grim line of his lips. “I thought I was done with letting rich girls fuck me to make a point.”

Funny, how a simple sentence can feel like a knife in the stomach.

Percy, always so tall, slumps his shoulders, running a hand over his face. In seconds, the sadness is gone, replaced with a blank void of expression. “Will you let me call you a cab to take you home?” He asks, because of course, he’d never leave her alone like this. He’s too fucking good.

Annabeth nods into the mirror.

He sidles up to her, slinging her arm around his shoulder. In his other hand, he carries her shoes and her tiara, dangling limply from his fingers. For a wild second she wants to turn and kiss him. She’s wanted to do that for weeks. She wants to wipe the tears and vomit off her face, stick back on her tiara, and go back to the party on his arm. They could make a beautiful picture, she thinks, Poseidon Olympianides’ son and Annabeth Chase of the Boston Chases. But when she tries to move, maybe to make a big mistake, she sways, unsteady. His grip on her waist tightens, holding her close, but his face is turned stubbornly out. He won’t even look at her.

The cool night air and the smell of city dirt is a welcome balm on her flushed face. In no time at all, Percy has hailed a cab, letting her hang off of him as she falls heavily onto the seat. With the utmost care and precision, he gently places her shoes and her crown on her lap, as controlled and careful as when he puts down a fellow dancer. There is no mistake here, she knows. Their little dance together is over. It feels like the end of one of those romantic movies from the 50s her dad used to love to cry over.

“Take her home, please,” he informs the cab driver, giving him her address, then without even sparing her a glance, he closes the door on her.

But greedy for one last look, Annabeth presses her face to the window as the driver pulls away from the curb. The night is dark and the streetlamps are unhelpful, but she can still see him as he cups his hands to his face, glowing like he holds a little star between his fingers, can see him tilt his head up and exhale, sending cigarette smoke up into the heavens.

#this one's a long boi folks #long and sad #but this is as bad as it gets! we've hit rock bottom!#it's all uphill from here i promise #pjo au #ballet au #percabeth #pjo fic #the rivalry ends here

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professional-benaddict · 4 years

Note

Mafia Daddies Stephen and Tony taking over a smol café for a meeting and Peter is their waiter >:)

ive left jensen babe hanging with this for wEeks but i think i managed to scramble together smth!! and that smth includes Tony being an absolute Whore and having a Danger Kink™️

Mafia bosses and husbands Stephen and Tony, bodyguards Steve and Bucky, waiter Peter, mafia aus, threats and use of violence, manipulation, Tony just being That Bitch and embarrassing his husband

“Why are we here?” Bucky’s tone is as grumpy as ever, and Tony rolls his eyes. The man had practically hissed the words out, putting as much force into it as possible without angering his bosses too much, nor causing a big scene.

“You know, the Petersons have been causing all sorts of trouble for us. We’re making a plan of action.” Stephen replies, so that Tony does not have to. The aggression in Bucky’s voice rolls off Stephen like water on a duck. He is not bothered at all, which he rarely is. That is what makes him a good boss, not that Tony does not have other qualities that makes him just as good as his husband. They complete one another in that way. And in a way, Bucky and Steve do that as well, in their roles as the second pair in charge, just below Stephen and Tony.

“No, I mean, why are we here?” Bucky rephrases. If Steve were with him, he would give Tony that infamous look, which signals that he is questioning him. Even with the blonde guard on stand by, and not present with them, Tony feels his presence along with Bucky’s snarky question.

Out of all the places in the world, the three men are meeting in a café. The place is small, but designed purposely in a way to maximise the space completely. It is almost impressive how much they have fit in here without the space feeling like it is suffocating you. Instead, it feels homey, and it smells like fresh coffee and baked goods.

It is just after 8 am, so the morning rush is coming to an end as the sun rises higher and its’ rays do not feel as harsh and blinding anymore. Still, Tony is wearing his sunglasses where he is sat next to his husband Stephen. Besides being very stylish and framing his face nicely, the shades serve another purpose. It lets Tony’s scanning and calculating gaze go undetected. And just like he was briefed the day before, the café is does not have any security cameras. In addition, the gang of four have taken up the largest table in the café, and with how intimidating they look in their black clothing, no one will sit down next to them on the surrounding tables. No cameras, no prying gazes nor eavesdropping ears. Perfect. However, they will wait a few more minutes before starting on the agenda of the their meeting. They have not ordered their coffee of choice yet either.

“Hi! What would you like today? Black, no sugar? Gotcha!”

The sound of a chirpy voice catches Tony’s attention, and he turns his head a bit, as if to see what Stephen is doing on his phone, but actually his gaze is looking somewhere beyond his husband. He looks towards the counter of the café where an adorable, 20-something boy is stood in a dark brown apron, fixing the coffee machines with the speed and precision of an experienced worker. The warm brown curls on top of his head bounce around his ears and the nape of his neck as he moves. They look silky, freshly washed, and perfect to tug on. The boy perfectly fits the profile Tony got from the briefing. This is him, the cute boy who will be covering the café all by himself until 10 am. The place is all theirs, and Tony smirks to himself before finally looking away as the boy hands the finished coffee to the waiting customer.

“Because, I want to have a good cup of coffee, and some fun.” Tony tells Bucky to answer his question about why they are at the café and not at base. “Is that too much to ask, Barnes? I know you don’t smile often, but you must at least be able to appreciate a good, hot drink now and then.”

“I do like to drink.” Bucky replies dryly.

“I don’t mean that way.” Tony corrects.

“All right.” Stephen cuts off by rising from his seat. Always the diplomat, Tony thinks. “I’ll go and order. What would you like?”

Tony and Bucky make their requests in, and watch as Stephen heads to the counter. He returns a few moments later, and once more the group of three fall silent and watch the boy make their coffee behind the counter. There is no one else in the café now, just the way that they planned it all.

“He’s cute.” Tony comments to Stephen quietly. With the way Stephen is sat sideways next to him, Tony cannot see his husband’s eye roll, but he knows he did it anyway.

“You just had one yesterday. Keep it together. We’re just here for business, so please… Don’t mess it up.” Stephen replies quietly, and looks over at Tony to show that he is serious. But, Tony makes no promises, and sits back to watch the boy behind the counter again. Thanks to the sunglasses, Tony does not have to politely avert his gaze when the boy heads over with their drinks on a tray. The man is unapologetic with his staring, and if he was a cartoon character, he would be drooling long ago.

“Here you go! Who’s got the espresso?”

Tony lifts his hand a bit, and thanks the boy as he sets his drinks down. Stephen and Bucky do the same with their black coffees that the waiter sets in front of them.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name, sweetheart?” Tony asks the boy.

“Peter! Peter Parker, sir.” The boy replies with a bright smile, tucking the empty tray under one arm. “Been working here for just over two years now, and I love it.”

“Really? You seem like a natural, that’s for sure.” Tony continues, letting his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose to peer at Peter from above them.

“Oh, thanks!” Peter beams, seemingly a bit taken off guard by being complimented by a complete stranger. “Well, I really do hope you enjoy your drinks. If there’s any problems, I’d be happy to re-make it.”

Next to Tony, Stephen clears his throat after taking a sip of his drink. He shoots his husband a warning look, then adds quietly.

“Honey…”

“Oh, I’m sure it is absolutely perfect.” Tony continues without caring at all about Stephen’s warning. Bucky is sat quietly with his drink, since he has no business to interfere with this, not when he is second in charge.

Flattered once more, Peter laughs a little nervously, but does not shy away from Tony’s eyes. Just when he turns to leave, Tony stops him by pressing his gun against the boy’s hip. Peter halts when he feels the harsh pressure, and looks down at the gun with a mix of horror and confusion. His mouth gapes when he looks at Tony, just a second away from asking what is going on. Tony speaks before he has time to do so.

“There is one thing… Would you mind switching the sign so it says it’s closed? We’re about to talk some serious business, and we’d hate to be disturbed.”

“I’m- I’m going to ask you to leave.” Peter states, and the two other men raise their heads at the command. Stephen scans the scene, where Tony and Peter are frozen and looking at one another intensely. It is almost like, Tony is holding the boy at gunpoint, and Stephen sighs audibly when he realises that his husband is doing exactly that.

“Honey.” Unlike earlier, Stephen’s voice is sharp now. Once more, Tony ignores his husband’s warnings.

“We haven’t even enjoyed the coffee you made us, sweetheart. I’d hate to let something so good just go down the drain. That would be a shame, don’t you agree?” Tony continues, still looking at Peter through his sunglasses. “So, why don’t you-“ Tony halts mid-sentence and from beside him, Stephen tenses and sits up.

“Peter… Put it down.”

The boy has got the sharp blade of a pocket knife up against Tony’s throat, resting just above his trachea, and with the tip pointing at the artery on the side of his neck. The knife is cheap, probably bought somewhere online, but it is quite beautiful still. Both the blade and handle have a multicolour holographic effect, and it looks like the metal and plastic have been dipped in oil. But, aesthetics aside, the knife is still dangerous, at least as long as it is pressed against one’s neck.

“I’m not doing anything.” Peter stresses through gritted teeth, and challenges Tony’s gaze by looking at him even more intensely. The older man can see that he has tucked away his fear somewhere, because all he can see in his brown eyes now is rage. And incredible beauty.

“Well, whatever it is that you are, or aren’t doing, you look stunning while doing it.” Tony drawls with a purr, shooting Peter his best and cockiest smirk. The boy looks amused, but only for a split second before adding more pressure to his blade.

Based on the briefing of this café, Tony would never have thought it would end up like this. The chirpy and bouncy personality is just a facade. The little bastard has been armed this whole time. Tony takes it as a compliment that he was the only that brought out the self-defence response in the waiter boy. But, as fun as this is, it is still a bit humiliating to be put on the spot in front of his second in-command, Bucky. The guard might just be plotting a coup right in this moment, considering just how weak Tony is being now. Time to turn that around.

“Okay, sweetheart, how about we make a deal?” Tony offers, but suddenly averts his gaze to the door. Another customer has entered, and both he and Peter hide their weapons.

For a second, Peter hesitates with heading back to the counter. It is like he is asking Tony permission to leave, or rather daring him to stop him from doing his job. Accepting defeat, for now, Tony nods towards the counter, and Peter heads off without a word.

“You, fucking idiot!” Stephen hisses to Tony, just quiet enough for the other customer to not hear.

“Quite an eventful morning, huh? Perhaps I underestimated this place.” Bucky muses with a chuckle and sips at his coffee. “We should definitely come back. And this coffee is quite good, actually.”

“Shut it. He’s coming back.” Stephen points out in a hushed whisper.

It seems like the customer sensed an uncomfortable atmosphere and left before Peter could ask if they wanted anything. For a second it looks like the waiter is leaving as well, but he just heads to flip the card saying ‘open’ to ‘closed’ instead. Still, Tony takes note on how the boy does not lock the door. If he had a nose like an apex predator, he could probably catch the scent of fear from the boy.

“You’re scaring away my costumers.” Peter states bravely, crossing his arms as he stops by Tony and his gang’s table.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tony coos condescendingly. “Do you need some extra tip to make up for it? I must say, your coffee was excellent, but-“

“Ten.”

“Ten dollars?”

“Ten thousand.”

Stephen sputters over his coffee.

“What do you-“

“For all the trouble you’ve caused, and for me being quiet about everything. And don’t pretend like you don’t have that kind of money, because you do. So, give me it, and then get out of here.”

Tony chuckles once, then he laughs merrily, but Peter does not falter.

“With what? You can’t threaten me, sweetheart. You’ve got nothing, so we can just walk out of here. And I think we will do just that.” Tony says and claps his hands together to signal that this conversation is over. He rises along with his husband and guard, but suddenly the man stumbles back into his chair. The waiter just tripped him? “What the fuck-“

“Sure, walk out.” Peter starts with a smile, but his face quickly drops into a death stare. “And I will turn over the video I recorded on my phone of you threatening me to the police.”

“You-“

“I started recording as soon as you came in. I knew you guys were trouble, and look? I was right. So, ten thousand. Now.”

“You, little shit…” Tony says through gritted teeth, but a hint of a smirk still lingers on his lips as he gazes at Peter in front of him.

How did he get so lucky?

“Steph, darling, could you write the waiter a cheque? And add my number on the back of it.”

“I won’t call you.” Peter deadpans.

“Oh, I think you will.” Tony chuckles, then adds in a lower, and much more sinister tone. “I’m not done with you, and you’re not done with me.”

If Tony could not smell the fear on Peter before, he definitely does it now. And he loves it.

#my prompts #jensen babe #mafia!tony #starker #ironspider #starkerstrange #ironstrange #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark x stephen strange #tony stark #peter parker #stephen strange #james bucky barnes #ask

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killing-all-joy · 3 years

Note

“Can we stay like this forever?” but angst (analogical, Virgil says this while they're cuddling but when he falls asleep Logan leaves to go do something that might kill him)

virgil is bi in this, fyi. sorry if i wrote this in a way you Did Not Want Me To

cw: homophobia, death threats, guns, violence, injury, graphic murder (no major character death don’t worry), swearing

Logan felt Virgil’s head fall onto his chest. They had been watching a movie together, but it had finished long ago and now they were just cuddling on the sofa.

Logan put an arm around his boyfriend. Virgil made a noise of contentment. His eyes were closed but he still managed to direct a blissful smile up at Logan. Logan looked at him with admiration and love, hand moving to caress Virgil’s cheek and brush his hair out of his eyes. Virgil hummed happily at this, nuzzling into Logan’s touch. He took Logan’s free hand in his.

“Can we stay like this forever?” asked Virgil, running his thumb over Logan’s knuckles.

“I hope so.”

“Me too,” Virgil replied, moving his head a bit so he could kiss Logan’s hand. “I love you so much, and you’re so comfy.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss on Virgil’s forehead. “I love you too.”

Virgil hummed. “I love you more.”

“Falsehood.”

Virgil giggled. Logan thought it was the most adorable and beautiful sound; he only wished he got to hear it more. Usually Virgil was much more composed and displayed a negative attitude. Right now, though, he was tired and with his boyfriend—two things that lessened his need to have a filter on his words.

“You gonna stay with me, L?” asked Virgil.

Logan hummed.

He didn’t want to verbally confirm and end up lying to his boyfriend, but he also wanted to keep Virgil happy. A noise like a monotonous hum could make Virgil think Logan meant ‘yes’ when he actually didn’t mean that at all.

Logan continued to run his fingers through Virgil’s purple hair. It was soft and beautiful and Logan’s favorite hair in the world since Virgil was his favorite everything. Favorite person, favorite boy, his eyes were Logan’s favorite pair of eyes, he sometimes wore Logan’s favorite smile, etc. Logan constantly thought about how lucky he was to have Virgil.

After ten minutes of silence, Virgil fell asleep. This didn’t surprise Logan; Virgil hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep the night before. Him napping was good.

Logan stayed still for about thirty minutes after Virgil had fallen asleep, wanting to make sure he had entered a deeper sleep before Logan moved. When that had happened, Logan slowly untangled himself from Virgil and moved off the sofa, trying to be as undisturbing as possible. Logan stacked a couple pillows to replace himself so Virgil wouldn’t notice he was gone. He then tiptoed to his room, took a gun from the dresser, and then tiptoed to the door where he took the keys off the keyring and exited the apartment.

He quickly made his way to his car. He drove off and into the downtown area of the city. Parking in the parking lot of a small park, he rechecked his pockets to make sure he had the gun before exiting his car. He locked it, and then started walking to a nearby alley.

Logan wasn’t here for no reason, and that reason was correlated with why Virgil hadn’t slept well the previous night.

At around 4 a.m., Virgil had been awaken by a threatening text from an ex-girlfriend. She didn’t know Virgil was bisexual when they dated. She had learned yesterday, was very disgusted, and threatened to kill Virgil (perhaps worse) for not telling her that she was dating someone who was also into guys. She demonstrated that she had the means to and would strike when least expected. Logan had come over to Virgil’s house at eleven in the morning when Virgil didn’t show for their breakfast date, and Virgil, sleep-deprived and terrified, told Logan everything.

Logan was scared. This ex-girlfriend could clearly kill Virgil—and would, if she got her way. So, Logan had texted her, pretending to be someone with money to give her. They were to meet in this alleyway at 10 p.m.

It was precisely that time now (this was a rare instance where Logan didn’t want to be early), so Logan quickened his pace. He kept the hand on the pocket containing the gun.

He entered the alleyway. It was dimly lit by a streetlight, so he could faintly see the back of a person ahead. He figured it was Virgil’s ex. She had long, fairly straight blonde hair which was clearly dyed, and was wearing a brown leather jacket and light blue jeans. Her boots were dark brown and worn.

When Logan had reached the distance he wanted to be from the woman, he drew his gun. It was clear she heard him, because she started to pivot on her heels to face Logan.

“I don’t see a briefcase,” she called, taking a couple of stalking steps towards him.

“I do not have one with me presently.”

“Where is my money?”

Logan didn’t answer that question. He took a few steps forward of his own. “I did not bring money to this rendezvous.”

Her hand started to drift towards her pocket.

“You will leave Virgil Storm alone forevermore.”

She laughed. “You’re what? His boyfriend? Come to protect him? I bet you’ve never held a gun in your life.”

Logan rolled his eyes. He didn’t answer, though, as any information could give her the upper-hand. He pointed the gun at her head.

“You will not kill Virgil Storm,” he growled, knuckles going white on the gun.

She laughed again. “No.”

“I do not want to use force.”

She took another step towards him, feigning curiosity while still keeping the conceited confidence that gave her the dominating air in the conversation.

“If you don’t want to use force,” she said, running her tongue across her upper lip, “then why do you have a gun?”

“I will use force if necessary.”

She pouted. “But it’s not necessary. You could leave without any harm done to you, and-”

“You will kill Virgil.”

She nodded in consideration. “Yes, I will. But, still. You don’t have to use force. You could just as well let nature run its course.”

“I will not allow you to kill him.”

“You, someone clearly well-read and with a profitable career ahead of him, probably in science, are going to throw away everything you have for your boyfriend? When you have obviously never even come close to committing murder ever before?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he cocked his gun.

“If you promise you will not kill Virgil, I will spare you,” Logan threatened, gritting his teeth.

“Alright, you want to play dirty,” she conceded with a sigh.

Within the second, the gun in her hands was cocked, aimed, and had her hand on the trigger.

Logan fired.

Her eyes widened and her movements stopped, her firing arm slackening. She obviously didn’t think Logan was capable of murder. The bullet soared through the air and landed in her forehead.

Logan watched as her body fell backward. Her head hit the asphalt with a crack of what was likely the breaking of bones in the skull. Logan switched on the safety to his gun and slowly put it down, satisfied.

“LOGAN!” he heard a voice shriek, followed by dashing footsteps.

The voice was loud, terrified, and definitely spoken by someone who was currently crying.

“LOGAN!” There it was again, accompanied by the running footsteps that were getting progressively louder.

Logan frowned. Who could that be? He hadn’t told anyone what he would be doing.

Logan watched the figure round the corner and enter the alleyway. Logan’s eyes widened as he realized that it was Virgil.

Nevermind that Virgil was supposed to be asleep, how did he know he was here?

“LOGAN! Oh god, Logan!” Virgil shouted, running over to him. He stopped three feet in front of Logan.

“Why are you awake?” asked Logan curiously. “And how did you know I was here?”

“The neighbors were loud and you got a text that worried me so I checked it out,” said Virgil dismissively. “What happened?”

His last sentence was frantic, worried.

“Are you bleeding? Do I need to call 911? I heard a gunshot and I got terrified,” Virgil rambled. “Obviously someone fired a gun here and I was so scared they killed you, L, so goddamn scared...what the hell is wrong with you, going to a dark alleyway at night? I thought you said you’d stay.”

“I did not say I would stay, I merely made a noise acknowledging that I had heard your request,” Logan corrected.

Virgil glared at him. “Those were the less important of my questions.”

Logan sighed. “I am unharmed, Virgil. You do not need to call 911.” Logan glanced behind him. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Virgil looked confused. “Then what happened? Did they miss you? Why aren’t you in shock? Where are they?”

Logan took a step to the side and gestured behind him. “No one missed a shot.”

Virgil’s bewilderment did not cease. “I see a dead woman. Who killed her? Were you tending to her?”

“Take a closer look, my love.”

Virgil would have blushed at the pet name if it wasn’t such a dire situation. Virgil took a few cautious steps towards the corpse. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh...oh my god, it’s her,” said Virgil, no longer confused. “Who killed her?”

Virgil turned around to face Logan in time for him to hold up the gun. Virgil’s eyes widened. Logan was scared that it was in fear.

“You...you killed her,” whispered Virgil.

“I did not want to,” said Logan matter-of-factly. “Truly, I didn’t. However, she was aiming to kill me and I had no choice.”

“For me.” Virgil still seemed to be in shock by the news.

Logan blinked. He looked down at the gun thoughtfully. “Yes. She demonstrated the means and the desire to kill you. I confronted her. She tried to kill me and stated that she would kill you in the future. I killed her instead. Simple.”

Virgil shook his head. “You killed someone, risked so much...for me?”

Logan bit his lip, but nodded. There was a moment of silence.

“You idiot!” Virgil suddenly shouted. “You absolute moron! Why would you do that? I told you not to do anything about it, that I would be okay. We could have called the police! But no, you went out here and almost got yourself killed!”

“We fucking hate the police, Virgil!” Logan replied, not matching his boyfriend’s volume but still raising his voice. “Besides, she could have struck at any time! I was unwilling to take any chances! Not when your safety is concerned!”

“I am not worth you risking your life for!”

“Like hell you aren’t!” Logan shot back. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “I’m sorry for yelling. But what’s done is done. She is dead by my hand. You are no longer in danger.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You are much less bothered by that than you should be.”

“About murder?” asked Logan coolly. “You mistake my impressive education for having prosperity in my youth. I grew up in the most dangerous and criminal neighborhood in the city. I have certainly fired a gun before, and I have witnessed murder more times than that.”

“Have you killed before?”

Logan shrugged. He didn’t answer. “Let’s go home.”

“You haven’t.”

“There is always a worthy situation. Protecting your life will forever be one of them.”

Virgil was silent, looking as though he didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking down to his shoes. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, my darling,” replied Logan, putting his arm around Virgil. Virgil blushed at the term of endearment, leaning into his boyfriend’s side. “Now we can stay in each other’s arms without any external interruptions.”

Virgil smiled. “Logan?”

“Yes, V?”

“The authorities have wanted her dead for a couple of years now for a variety of murders. I don’t figure they will investigate someone who finally took her down.”

Logan grinned. “Thank you, Virgil. I was worried about that.”

They walked back to Logan’s car.

“I can’t wait till we get home and I can cuddle the shit out of you,” Virgil said excitedly as he put on his seatbelt.

“Nor can I.”

Taglist (I forgot it for my last one, sorry!): @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

I know I kind of strayed from the prompt (did I?) so I’m sorry for that. It’s not as angsty as you probably wanted it to be, Lila, but at least there was a happy ending (right?). I hope you liked it!

#analogical #ts fanfic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #romantic analogical #sanders sides fanfiction #dark fic #swearing tw #murder tw #guns tw #graphic depictions of violence #homophobia tw #death threats #injury tw #prompt #fic #somehow-i-got-an-account #sanders sides #kill writes

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blazedbakugou · 4 years

Text

pillow talk || sokka

In which Sokka finds no issue in keeping you up with his late-night rambles but struggles to find the right words to confess his feelings for you.

a/n: felt like showing my baby Sokka some love so I wrote this. @fromthewatertribe babe, this one's for you.

word count: 1.6k

prompts: “Go to bed, you idiot.” & “I’m glad you exist.”

- - -

You smiled softly at your best friend, playing with loose strands of his hair as he let out a content sigh into the crook of your neck. His arm was slung around your waist, his hand tucked away underneath the fabric of your sleep shirt, rough fingertips rubbing soothing patterns on your back. Sokka peeled one eye open to squint at the alarm clock behind you on the bedside table, 12:37 am it read.

“Hey, are you sleepy yet?” You whispered just in case he’d already fallen asleep.

“Yeah…” Sokka replied in a sleepy sigh.

“Wanna go to sleep then?”

Sokka simply shook his head in response before pulling back to prop himself up with his elbow. He blushed when you reached out to push aside the few loose strands that had fallen over his eyes before grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. You tried to ignore the flutter of butterflies that the small gesture had set off in your stomach but it was no use.

There was obviously something between the two of you, something more than just friendship. Both of you were aware of it, but neither of you felt ready to take the next step. So you settled for the longing stares and the subtle sighs of adoration, in hopes that one day they wouldn’t have to kept secret anymore. But for now? Whatever you and Sokka had, it was enough to keep both of you happy.

“Did you know... that reindeer are actually real?” Sokka asked, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

You let out a small groan and flopped onto your back, closing your eyes to try and fake falling asleep.

“Hey! I’m asking a serious question here, up until like a few days ago I had no idea that they existed. I feel like I’ve been living a lie...” He frowned, copying you and laying on his back as well, though he never let go of your hand.

“You’re so dumb,” you giggled softly. “But that’s okay, I still love you.” You noticed the way Sokka squeezed your hand ever-so-slightly at the mention of the word love, but you didn’t comment on it.

A comfortable silence filled the room, the buzz of the city sounded off in the distance along with the quiet rumble of Sokka’s chest as he slipped in and out of consciousness. His snores were annoying to most but absolutely adorable to you. Times like these where you could silently appreciate him were your favorite. You were too shy to fawn over his features during the day but here under the soft moonlight, he never looked more beautiful— even with the small trail of drool that had begun to drip out of the corner of his mouth.

For a split second, you contemplated leaning over and pressing a kiss to his lips, something that you’d imagined doing numerous times but never brought yourself to actually doing. You wished you were more vocal about the way you truly felt for him, that you didn’t stumble over your words every time you tried to flirt or compliment him. You wished that he didn’t affect you as much as he did, but that was the thing about Sokka, he had a way of leaving you speechless without even trying.

He let out a sputtering cough, choking on the saliva that had gathered in his mouth as he scared himself awake.

“You fell asleep on me, I would’ve hoped that my presence didn’t bore you to the point of putting you to sleep.” You pouted, pretending to be hurt.

Sokka frowned, “No, no. Nothin’ like that… just wanted ta… wanted ta rest my eyes for a second. It’s hard work looking at you all day, ya know.”

“Is this your way of trying to flirt with me? Because I don’t think calling me ugly is the best approach.”

“No! What I wanted to say was that… look— it’s just that… I think you’re really pretty... and sometimes I have a hard time believing you’re real.” Even in the dimly lit room, you could tell that a blush had settled on his cheeks.

“Oh.” You replied, squeezing his hand ever so slightly.

“Mm… how many… how many stars do ya think there are?” Sokka croaked out, his voice raspy and sleepy, your ultimate weakness.

“I don’t know… gotta be at least three out there.” You sighed, your body suddenly feeling a lot heavier.

“You know…” you glanced over at him only to find him already looking back at you with an embarrassed expression on his face once he had realized that he’d been caught, “I think you look really cute with your hair down like that...”

Immediately after finishing your sentence, you snapped your head the other way and stared at the ceiling. There was no way you could face him right now after saying something so stupid. With a heart racing in your chest and chills running down your spine, you laid there in total shock. You couldn’t believe that you’d really just said that, you weren’t even sure how you gained the courage to do so. You were just waiting for him to laugh at you and give some sarcastic comment in return.

“...did you- did you really mean that?” Sokka whispered.

“Of course, I did.”

“Oh.”

If it weren’t for his thumb continuing to draw small patterns across the back of your hand, you’d have assumed he’d fallen asleep with how quiet he was being. He hadn’t said a word in the past 5 minutes and you were starting to worry that maybe you’d pushed too far and made him uncomfortable. Maybe you’d read things wrong and saw something that wasn’t really there. You wanted to kick yourself for ruining things when they had already been going so well.

Sokka laid there beside you, also staring up at the ceiling as he tried his best to understand the jumbled up mess of thoughts running through his mind. Except they were coming and going faster than he could grasp them and it was beginning to get a bit overwhelming. He wished that he could make sense of it all— the butterflies in his stomach whenever you smiled, the pride he felt whenever you laughed at his terrible jokes and the love he felt whenever he simply looked at you. Though Sokka knew how he felt about you, or at least he was pretty sure of it, that didn’t make it any easier for him to confess. The past few months of subtle flirting, shy compliments, and giddy smiles— they only confirmed what he’d already been questioning for so long.

Sokka loved you. He just wasn’t ready to admit it yet. So he settled for the playfulness of whatever your current situation was. He found comfort in the casualness of it and he knew that eventually, the time would come where he’d like to take things further. However, now was not the time.

“So… are we gonna continue to beat around the bush?” You spoke up, pulling Sokka out of his trance.

“Yeah… we’ll just figure things out later… right now I wanna… I just wanna hold ya.” Sokka sighed, flipping onto his side.

“I’d like that.” You smiled, slowly inching closer to his warm body.

Sokka wordlessly pulled you against his chest, resting his head on your chest and an arm around your waist. He could hear and feel the beat of your heart, thumping inside your chest and vibrating against his ear. You brought a hand up to play with his hair, something you caught yourself doing way too often, and let out a deep sigh before letting your eyes fall shut. It wouldn’t be long before you both fell asleep, it was now well past 1 am and your bodies were beyond the point of exhaustion.

“Ya smell real nice, ya know…” Sokka hummed, his speech slurring with sleepiness.

“Go to bed, you idiot.” You huffed, flicking the back of his head playfully.

Once again, Sokka had fallen suspiciously quiet. Assuming that maybe this time he’d actually fallen asleep, you began to let yourself relax and tried to get some sleep. Sokka, however, was still awake enough to pay attention to the little details. He noticed the way you would twirl strands of his hair with your finger before smoothing them back out. He noticed the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing pattern became more relaxed. He noticed that you were finally drifting off into sleep and figured he should do the same soon.

Except the fact that he was able to hear his love’s heartbeat so calmly grounded him in a way, he couldn’t explain. He wondered if your heart beat for him in the same way that his heart did for you. It gave him something else to focus on other than the millions of thoughts running through his head. Sokka may have had several things to work out but he was absolutely sure of one thing.

“I’m glad you exist.” Sokka sighed.

He had picked up on the way your heart had begun to beat significantly faster, and though it made his own heart swell and brought a smile to his lips, he didn’t say anything else. He simply held you just a bit tighter before finally allowing himself to fall asleep, with a heart full of adoration and his love safely tucked away in his arms.

- - -

taglist (open)

@spiritvines @loversamongus

#sokka imagine #sokka fluff #sokka x reader #nina’s 1k event #atla #atla imagine #atla fluff #my writings

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hi Steph, you’re amazing at what you do. I just want to know from a true connoisseur, which 3 fics do you think you’ve read and re-read the most number of times? As in, 3 ultimate comfort fics.

Hi Nonny!

Ooof, I’ve been asked a similar question here a couple weeks ago, but hmm, this is actually something I never really had to think hard about! EXCEPT CAN I GIVE YOU 5? Because 5 immediately came to mind. Is that okay?? OMG I’m so sorry. Plus 5 is a number I like better than three, sorry :P Another weird tic of mine.

No surprise which is my first, hahah:

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

It’s just such a joy to read every single time, and I never skip any parts at all. Start to finish EVERY TIME.

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

This was my first Parentlock fic I read and it’s why I now do read Parentlock. Still one of my favourites, and it’s short enough to read in one sitting. It’s just so sweet, and Sherlock is SO precious, and GAH I LOVE it. Another start-to-finish. Which then brings me to this one:

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

I REALLY like this fic because it’s Sherlock POV and it’s him learning about his feelings for John. THOUGH I feel bad admitting that lately, rereads usually start around Ch. 30, because I love John showing up all BAMFy in Ch. 34 and essentially tells the social workers to piss off. And Sherlock is RIDICULOUSLY adorably in love with John so much in this fic. I’ve reread the whole story enough to know what happens before Ch. 30, and all the smoopy stuff happens after that. BUT DON’T think I don’t love this story. I DO. A LOT. I just... Sometimes need certain parts of a story RIGHT now, and that one singular scene is one of them, and I always just keep going from there. :P

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w., 4 Ch. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara's American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she's also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she's placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

I just really love this one. It’s painfully sweet and OH GOD I love how much they fall for each other and HARRY IS TWINSIES AND SHE’S AWESOME. Love it. It’s such a feel-good fic with a great ending. Love it.

And:

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w., 12 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Case Fic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage, Angst, Anal, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Spas / Massages, Shampoo, Jealousy, Fake Relationship) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

THIS FIC. GUH. Just, the way John pieces together how much Sherlock pines for him is ACHINGLY beautiful, that all comes together in a really tender scene in a pool. It’s the pool scene we should have had. UGH. AND SHAMPOO. And best friend Lestrade essentially telling John he’s a moron, LOL. LOVE this fic. I’m SO glad I finally remembered this one was the one with the Shampoo and the spa day.

-----

THIS IS ABSOLUTELY not my only always reads. In fact:

Top 30 Read-Again Fics (March 2019)

Top 30 Read-Again Fics Pt. 2 (Sept. 2019)

And I could TOTALLY do another 30 EASILY. The second one, I remember whittling it down quite a bit, LOL. These are just the first five that came to mind right away. I could also add these five:

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w., 26 Ch. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Frottage, Nightmares, Sleepy Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Humour, Fluff, Dancing, Cooking, Happy Ending) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w., 26 Ch. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w., 23 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w., 19 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate's charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

---------

OKAY I NEED TO CUT HERE or I will go on and ON and ON. Hope this answers your question alright <3

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #read again fics #fave fics #Anonymous

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years

Text

Reflecting Light

Chapter One

Chapter Seven:

Roman was pretty sure flying was something he wasn’t going to get sick of anytime soon. How could anyone get sick of looking so far into the horizon? They flew for a couple days before Shane told him they had to land and investigate this town and restock, and Roman absolutely adored every second of it. He got up every morning and got to watch the sunrise with no obstacles in his way. He got to see more constellations at night than he ever had before, which he was absolutely bragging to Logan about later. He could stand near the front of the ship and feel the wind on his face. Shane was clearly amused by the way that it all amazed Roman, but it was too wonderful an experience for Roman to really be bothered by it.

When they finally landed for the first time it was in a town that Janus Picani apparently stopped often in. Shane was docking the ship when Roman decided to bring up what he was thinking about. He headed over to stand behind Shane. “Sir?” he asked hesitantly.

“Roman, if you call me sir for the next two months I’m going to lose my mind,” Shane said as he glanced backwards. “Just use my name for now.”

“Okay, Shane,” Roman said, even more hesitantly. “I don’t think we should wear our Light uniforms while we ask for information.”

Shane gave him a suspicious look, and Roman took a step back. “Why would we do that?”

“Well, um,” Roman put his hands behind his back so he could fidget as he spoke. “When we first left no one was being very cooperative until I covered the Light symbol on my shirt with Patton’s hoodie. I think people might be more willing to help if we didn’t tell them we’re from The Light.”

Shane gave him a look like he was being an idiot. “There’s a Light insignia on the side of the ship, Roman. Anyone who sees us stepping off is going to see we’re from The Light.”

“Well, yeah, but the people in town—”

“Roman, if you want to wear a cat hoodie everywhere, you be my guest. I intend to have a little pride in the place where I’m from.”

“Oh, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

“We don’t have all morning to argue anyway, Roman.” Shane finished docking the boat and turned around. “I’ll ask around here at the docks. You can go talk to people in town. We’ll cover more ground that way. Can you be back here in a couple hours?”

Roman nodded. “I can do that.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

Roman grabbed his cat hoodie from his bag and slipped it on as he walked away from the ship. He headed into the town, waving back to a couple people who waved to him. One young child came up to him and happily told him she liked his cat hoodie.

“Thank you,” Roman said, smiling brightly at her.

“Sweety, we don’t bother strangers,” said a woman who must have been the girl’s mother, as she walked up to her.

“Oh, she’s fine,” Roman said, waving off her concerns. “This hoodie belongs to a dear friend of mine, he made it himself and I’m using it while I’m traveling. Here, I could write down a list of the materials he used.” Roman pulled out a notebook and wrote down what Patton had used to make the hoodie, and handed it to the girl’s mother.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “My husband is excellent at making clothes, I’m sure this would be no trouble for him.”

“I get a cat hoodie?” the little girl exclaimed happily. “Thank you, mister!” She threw herself around Roman’s leg, and he laughed.

“It’s not a problem at all,” he said, ruffling her hair. “I would stay and try to help make it, but unfortunately I’m on a bit of a desperate journey at the moment. I’m looking for my brother. We’re identical twins, so he looks just like me. He’s also traveling with Janus and Virgil Picani.”

“Oh, you should ask Remy then,” the woman said, pointing across the street. “They delivered to his shop about a week ago. And I highly recommend his Coffee. He finally got it to work.”

“I wanna try his Coffee!” the little girl complained.

“He says it’s not for kids, sweetheart,” the woman said, patting her child on the shoulder. “Good luck on catching up with your brother.”

“Thank you. I hope your husband does well with that hoodie!” Roman called, waving as the two walked away and heading towards the shop across the street.

A bell jingled over the door as Roman opened it, and a man at the counter glanced up. “Hey babes, what can I help you— oh. What are you doing back here, Remus?”

“You’ve seen him?” Roman said, brightening. “Oh, sorry, that was weird. Remus is my twin brother.”

The man, who must have been Remy, nodded in understanding. “Oh, gotcha. Oh, I see it now, no mustache.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Roman muttered, resisting the urge to rub at the spot over his lip. That had always bugged him. Why did only Remus get a mustache, they were identical twins. “Do you know which direction he went? I’m trying to find him.”

“He left without telling you?” Remy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh. He was in trouble,” Roman said. “Someone back home was threatening him. I’m trying to find him because the problem’s been taken care of now.”

Remy nodded slightly. “Yeesh. No wonder he had that panic attack. Babe’s gotta be under a ton of stress.”

Roman’s mouth went dry. “What happened?” he asked.

“Oh shoot, you probably didn’t know that,” Remy said, laughing a little awkwardly. “Yeah, that happened. Don’t worry, he’s fine. Virgil and Janus showed up after like a minute. Good thing too, I had no clue what to do. Hey, while you’re here, you want some Coffee—”

“Do you know which way they went?” Roman asked hurriedly.

Remy gave him a confused look. “Yeah. They’re making their rounds? I think they’re coming back here in three months or so with more supplies for my Coffee. Oh, and weapons I guess.”

“I don’t have three months,” Roman said, still a little stuck on the panic attack part. Virgil and Janus showed up. Roman wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but Remus could be hard to deal with during panic attacks. And if he was being kept prisoner, Janus and Virgil the rebellion members probably didn’t care too much about that. Was this Remy person really so heartless that he wouldn’t care what they did as long as they took Remus away? Why the hell did everyone hate people from The Light so much? “I need to find him as quickly as possible.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Remy said with a shrug. “You can follow their travel route. Do you want to buy some Coffee or not?”

Roman sighed. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try some Coffee.”

Remy smiled brightly and walked into a back room, likely to get whatever the hell Coffee was. He came back out a second later with a mug of some kind of dark liquid and passed it over to Roman. “First try is free,” he said. “Every following cup is ten each.”

Roman took a moment to consider how full of himself that made Remy sound as he picked up the mug and took a sip.

He immediately pulled back. “Fuck that’s bitter,” he said.

“Yeah, I know. I’m debating adding sugar. But the drink should wake you up. Give it a couple minutes.”

“Uh-huh,” Roman said, taking another drink just to avoid pissing Remy off. He drank a couple more mouthfuls, which was about all he could stand, before he passed the cup back to Remy with a thanks for the drink and his help, as if either were particularly valuable. At least he knew Remus had been here.

He pulled off his cat hoodie once he arrived back at the docks. Shane was waiting over by the boat, and stood up from where he was leaning against a crate as Roman approached.

“Roman, finally. Help me load these crates on board.”

“Sorry, this shopkeeper wanted me to try his shitty drink,” Roman said, wrinkling his nose. “It was so incredibly bitter, I do not recommend it.”

“Noted,” Shane said, raising his eyebrows. “Did you manage to get any information?”

“Oh, yeah, that same shopkeeper had seen Remus,” Roman said, moving to pick up a crate. “He’s apparently a frequent stop when Janus and Virgil are making rounds. He still wouldn’t say any of the travel path out loud, though.”

Roman carried the crate on board and set it down with an irritated sigh. His least favorite thing about the outside world so far was that everyone seemed to know about Janus and Virgil Picani’s travel route but never said it out loud. It was like they expected him to know it.

Roman gave that a moment of thought. Maybe they did all know it. They probably just refused to mention it around Light soldiers. It would certainly make sense with how uncooperative they all were. God, he couldn’t imagine how awful it was for Remus to have no idea where he was. If he was a prisoner they probably wouldn’t even let him see the stars. He must be so disoriented.

Roman finished carrying the rest of the crates on board as Shane bought them both some lunch, noting how they should have at least one fresh meal before they had to start eating out of crates again. Roman sat on the far side of the ship and ate his sandwich while looking out at the sea.

Shane sat down next to him after a moment. “You alright, kid?”

“I’m… worried,” Roman admitted. “And pissed. I’m not really sure who to direct that second one at yet. I don’t want to think Remus is a traitor.”

“But a lot of signs are pointing that direction?” Shane asked, sounding surprisingly sympathetic.

Roman glanced over at him. He didn’t really want to think about it. He tried to think about Remus as a prisoner because it was the better alternative.

…Right?

“It’s alright,” Shane said. “He’s your brother. It’s natural to care about him. Even if he turns out to be a traitorous screw-up. As usual,” Shane finished the last part in a mutter, taking another bite out of his sandwich.

Roman sighed. “I know the kind of reputation my brother has, okay? Believe me.” He took a bite of his own sandwich. “But I don’t think he’d betray anyone. He tries really hard. He’s just… accident prone.”

Shane chuckled. “Tries really hard, huh? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Roman sighed. He doubted he was actually going to get anywhere in this conversation. Most people didn’t really seem to believe in Remus, and he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t make it hard for him to believe in Remus sometimes. He loved his brother, and he wasn’t going to start out by believing that Remus was a traitor, but the idea that he was kidnapped by two high ranking rebellion members didn’t seem to make a ton of sense.

He supposed it didn’t really matter in the long run. He was going to get Remus back either way, it was just whether or not he would hug the living daylights out of him or smack him upside the head that was yet to be determined.

Roman ate the last of his sandwich and looked up towards the sky, trying to puzzle out the way he was feeling. He didn’t really get anywhere before Shane said they had to go, and he stood up to go help fly the ship.

Chapter Eight

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #pirates #rebellion #angst #abuse #tw abuse #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #my fic

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morkofday · 3 years

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get to know me

am going to mix these two different tag games into one post so thank you a lot for tagging me @jazthespazz and @i-am-just-a-kiddo ♥

it’s somehow funny to do these same games again after a while so let’s see what I come up with:

Part I

name: real name petra but i prefer vish/vishie over here ^^

pronouns: she/her

star sign: aries ♈

height: 178cm (which am coming more and more proud of while i realize how damn tall every cdrama actor is lol)

time: 10:37pm as am answering this one

birthday: 10th april!

nationality: finnish

fave bands/groups: ah well this is always a hard question but let’s go with these: BTS, DAY6, OneRepublic, Hurts, Oneus, Hoppipolla, TXT, Red, Mamamoo

fave solo artists: (forgive me if i’ve assumed any of these wrong) Novo Amor, Talos, Crywolf, Liu Yuning, SYML, EDEN, PVRIS, Joker Xue, NF, Halsey, Sleeping At Last, Nuz, HyunA, Sam Smith, Taemin

song stuck in your head: it’s OneRepublic’s Rescue Me bc of the song tag game i did earlier today :’D that one always gets stuck in my head whenever i as much as see the title lol

last movie you watched: i think it’s The Yin-Yang Master (2021)? I haven’t watched any movies after that bc am so busy with all of my dramas haha

last show you binged: i think binged would be The Journey Across the Night! I watched that as a whole in 4 days

when you created your blog: in 2013

the last thing you googled: ummm i think it was “what is a ball of wool called” bc of fic purposes haha as a non native speaker i always get a bit lost with words like this

other blogs: none, i just dump everything here like the idiot i am

why i chose my url: dates back to my intense summer of binge reading J.R. Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood series. Vishous was my favorite of the brothers haha. i first used this username in some random game on my nintendo ds lol

how many people are you following: 358 which somehow feels like a lot but also like way too few?? i should probably search for some new blogs with other topics than cql, bts and/or dmbj bc i do love a lot of things at once

how many followers do you have: over 800

average hours of sleep: i’d say around 7h

lucky numbers: i remember answering 5 previously? i don’t really have a lucky number but 5 pops into my head

instruments: nope, no. not touching those tyvm. i admire everyone who can play any instrument tho

what i’m currently wearing: black jeans, socks with foxes on them (plus my woolly socks), a gray cardigan (my fave thing ever!) and an orange/brown top

dream job: writer would be ideal but that is very faaaaar into the dream zone

dream trip: around different parts of asia to taste all the amazing food ;; maybe a road trip of sorts through europe? or inter railing? another trip to london bc i miss that ;; a trip to the very northern part of lapland to see all the auroras etc! i’ve never been that far north :’D

fave food: if i need to quickly name something then sushi. otherwise am pretty fine with anything spicy

top three fictional universes you’d like to live in: i remember thinking about this a lot the last time i answered this but hmm. currently i’d say dmbj still bc that world is fascinating AND i would love to talk to the characters. mass effect would be the second one currently bc i miss those games and the space stuff is super cool! and the third one would be assassin’s creed rogue bc that is my fave ac game and i like the northern sea and the places in it AND i could probably be one of abstergo’s employees instead and just test/play those simulation games haha

Part II

Last Song: am currently listening to my playlist with just everything so i have Andrew Belle’s The Enemy playing right now (also I only just now realized that Andrew Belle also sings Pieces which is one of my fave songs? my bff linked that to me after it played in some tv series she was watching)

Last Movie Last Stream: i didn’t want to mention the same movie again or skip this question and i’ve wanted to talk about this anyway so! i watched Liu Chang’s bday live last night :’D it was so much fun even if i couldn’t understand anything. it was just nice to watch him being himself and have fun and chill with his fans. also the songs were amazing ;; i cried with Liu Sang’s character song as well as the ending. and all the while i couldn’t turn my gaze away from his eyes! he has such pretty eyes and they were absolutely Sparkling throughout the whole stream, it was so nice :’)

Currently Reading: Devotions by Mary Oliver (i adore her poems! they’re a very nice change after Siken haha) and then some uni stuff for a course about culture and mental health plus my thesis

Currently Watching: Douluo Continent, Word of Honor, The Long Ballad

all of these are amazing and make me feel different things! i started Douluo Continent just a while ago and am now on ep 16 i think? it’s been very pretty and very chill and i watch it during the weekend while i wait for new episodes to the other two :’D it’s nice to see Xiao Zhan again and i’ve enjoyed the rpg game type of feeling in it? the group of seven is doing amazing and it’s interesting to watch them craft their team work! Word of Honor again has reached the ending and i just hold my breath with it. am not too far gone with it so i am not getting as heavy feelings about it as i probably could but i enjoy it alot still and i do cry at times ^^ and then The Long Ballad has just blown me away! i didn’t expect to love it this much and be this invested in it but everything about it has been such a positive surprise and it keeps making me super emotional! i love the characters and the story and the romances even! it’s a great accomplishment for me. also yes i cry on the daily bc of hao du and bc of ashile sun’s hair haha

(i am also rewatching Ultimate Note kind of and been thinking about getting into rewatching Reboot bc it has been on my list ever since i finished it)

What is antipoetry to you: okay hmm i had to google this too and have to agree with Kiddo here. i don’t have strong feelings about poetry tbh, i wasn’t into poetry that much before maybe a bit over year ago? Siken has really blown me away haha. but i have always loved song lyrics which i never thought as poetry but then Kiddo said to me that they consider them poetry and yeah ok. i agree? so idk poetry can be whatever i suppose. i’ve never seen any rules in it anyway. i know there are many rules for different types of poetry but then again. i feel like poetry has always been just words put together to feel things and i guess that is the core purpose of every written type of art in the end right?

Currently craving: a drama as good and as personal as The Journey Across the Night. that show really just stole my heart and i want that feeling back. i think about that show every day. i miss Li Jia and his two partners. i miss the vibes. i miss sitting on my floor watching it and just sobbing my heart out haha. also! craving a properly subbed, whole version of Anti-Fraud League. only the first 12 eps are badly subbed out there. wetv has... blocked? deleted? the whole show??? i need it to my life, i wanna see Xiao Yuliang being cute as Mi Ruo and i wanna know where the story goes smh

thank you so much for these both! i had fun ^^ also am sorry this is so long but haha if you’re asking me to talk about myself and my interests then this is what you get :)

tagging (to do which ever part you want or both!): @cross-d-a @jockvillagersonly @humanlighthouse @kholran @xcziel @minmoyu and @leonzhng ♥

#tag game #this was so much fun ok #also yes am an emotional mess #especially when it comes to liu chang/liu sang #and if anyone has any knowledge #about anti-fraud league #then am all ears???#thank you for tagging me!!

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shera-dnd · 3 years

Link

It’s here! The ultimate crossover poly ship we’ve all been waiting for!

But wait, there is more! This is a buy one get two deal, so there is a bonus crossover poly ship added there for free!

Also if you’d like your fic ideas to be written by me or just want to help me keep the lights on, consider donating to my ko-fi (rules over here)

alright with that out of the way. It’s time to enjoy some gay shit

“Sato, tell me again why we’re doing this,” Catra asked with a loud groan, shielding her face as best as she could.

It was a beautiful and sunny summer day at the park, and that meant Catra and Asami were suffering like the sad goths they were as they were dragged along by the ever cheerful Korra and Adora.

“Because we love them dearly,” Asami huffed, exhausted from the heat, “and we can’t just keep them inside all summer.”

“Ugh, are we going on a picnic with our girlfriends here, or walking our dogs?” Catra complained.

As if on cue Adora and Korra turned to look at them, energetically waving at them as they finally found a nice place to set up. Their smiles were so bright that Catra was happy she had put on sunscreen earlier.

“Both,” Asami said, adjusting her sunglasses.

Slowly they walked up to the over excited duo. Thankfully the two of them managed to find a nice patch of shade they could set up under, and not have to melt under the sun like a couple of angsty popsicles.

“Blanket?” Adora asked, promptly taking the leading and organizing position she was born for.

“Check!” Catra replied, getting a cheap picnic blanket from her bag.

“Water?”

“Check,” Korra answered, taking several bottles of water from her backpack.

“Sandwiches?”

“Check,” Asami said, before adding, “I made them.”

“And sodas?”

Korra shoved her arm back into her backpack and began yanking all the soda cans out with far too much enthusiasm. The three of them stopped and glared, getting her to stop before she could slam the cans down...again. As hilarious as it would have been to watch Korra accidentally spray herself again, they actually wanted to drink their sodas this time.

Adora gave them all a satisfied nod, before proudly declaring, “and with that, our picnic date is ready to start!”

“Wow, so romantic, Adora,” Catra rolled her eyes, “nothing makes a girl feel more special than a bunch of checklists.”

“Well I appreciate it when a girl comes prepared,” Asami countered, giving Adora a kiss on the cheek for support.

“Of course you do, Sato,” Catra shook her head and rolled her eyes.

The two of them stuck their tongues at each other for a bit, in what their girlfriends could only assume was their more...unique approach to flirting.

Deciding now was a good time to change the topic away from those two dorks, Korra approached the trio with her arms behind her back.

“Hey, Adora,” she called, earning a glare from Catra, who had nearly patented that line, “you sure we aren’t missing something?”

Adora checked her list a second time, even rereading the things she brought there herself, “I don’t think so?”

Korra smiled as she brought her hands forward, revealing the football she had been hiding behind her. Adora’s hands flew to her mouth to contain a gasp, and looked up at Korra as if she had just whipped out a wedding ring. Catra and Asami were extremely unimpressed.

They barely got to finish setting up before those two darted off to go run around and throw that ball like the pair of adorable goofballs they were.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us again, Applesauce,” Asami commented, sitting comfortably in the shade.

“Yup,” Catra nodded, sitting next to her. She allowed a long pause to pass by before adding, “wanna makeout?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Asami replied, scooting closer and hooking her arms around Catra’s neck.

Catra leaned in, lips slightly parting as they came closer to Asami’s… before being so rudely interrupted by Korra clearing her throat. The two edgy idiots looked up at her, seeing her and Adora standing over them with crossed arms.

“Don’t we do this every day at school?” Korra asked, brow raised in annoyance.

“Yeah,” Catra replied, refusing to move away from Asami, “your point?”

“This is a date,” Adora added, hitting them with her most powerful puppy dog eyes, “can’t you guys please play with us for a bit?”

Both of them groaned and looked at each other. Asami looked ready to give in at the slightest hint of that adorable face, but Catra had years of experience with saying no to it.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” Catra answered.

“Oh well,” Adora sighed, “you asked for it.”

They were barely given a moment to process what that meant, before Korra and Adora hoisted them up, and tossed them over their shoulders like sacks of potatoes. Asami yelped loudly, but accepted her fate. Catra, on the other hand, kicked and screamed the entire way, nearly punching Adora in the face more than once.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” She shouted, “put me down, or I fucking swear!”

Adora simply laughed as she carried her girlfriend along to the nice open space where they were playing just a moment ago.

“Only if you promise to play with us,” she replied.

“Fine!” Catra yelled, “just put me down!”

Adora gently put her down and shot her a beaming smile. Oh she was lucky she was so cute, or Catra would have kicked her ass right now. Instead she just adjusted her clothes, fixed her hair so it would be the correct kind of messy, and huffed.

“So what exactly are you making us play?”

“We don’t need to play an actual game,” Korra answered, “we just wanted to have fun with you guys.”

Catra seemed unconvinced. They should have known she wouldn’t participate if she couldn’t make a competition out of it.

“Okay, how about this,” Adora offered, “we split into teams of two, and we try to just toss the ball between team members without letting the other two catch it. Whoever keeps the ball with their team the longest wins. Sounds fun for you?”

Catra pondered for a moment, seeming satisfied with these terms of engagement she declared, “I’m on team Korra!”

“What!?” Adora exclaimed, her expression one of utter and absolute betrayal, “why?”

“She’s the tallest one here,” Catra explained, casually, “it’s an obvious tactical advantage.”

“By an inch!” Adora countered, still stunned that Catra would ever abandon her like this...again.

“Don’t worry, Adora,” Asami said, putting a hand on her shoulder for reassurance, “we’ll make sure she regrets that”.

Oh no. Korra and Adora looked at each other as they both realized that they may have made a terrible mistake.

What followed was easily the most intense game of keepaway any of them had ever played. Though intensity was just about the only thing Catra and Asami were providing for this match up. Not that the other two minded much - they were genuinely just happy to play with their girlfriends for once - but they were starting to worry one of them was gonna end up doing something stupid.

It wasn’t long until they were proven right. Catra caught a ball meant for Adora and instead of throwing it to Korra, she decided the best strategy was to just run for it. The three of them watched stunned as she bolted off into the park like she was being chased by the hounds of hell. Asami gave chase soon after, so the assumption wasn’t all wrong.

Korra and Adora just stood there, watching as their girlfriends ran after each other, shouting insults at one another.

“We should have known that was gonna happen,” Adora commented with a defeated sigh.

“Well, at least we got them to exercise for once,” Korra offered.

“Yeah,” she nodded, watching those two for just a bit longer before adding, “wanna make out?”

“Sure,” Korra shrugged, “not like they’re gonna be back any time soon.”

~~~

Korra leaned back and closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the cool breeze that blew past their little spot. She took a nice, long sip of her soda and let out a satisfied sigh. Yeah, this picnic was just what she needed.

“Water,” groaned the mostly dead girl to her side.

Catra laid there, sprawled face down on the picnic blanket, barely able to do anything but groan, and complain after completely draining herself like that. She couldn’t help but laugh a little, playing with her girlfriend’s hair before handing her the much needed cold water.

The poor girl groaned something sounding almost similar to a thank you, before chugging the whole bottle down in record time and then flopping back to her sprawled position.

“So what did we learn?” Adora asked, with that particular tone she had at times that made Korra wonder if she ever considered becoming a teacher one day.

“Never to exercise again,” Catra answered.

“No,” she corrected, “don’t over exert yourself

“Also don’t wear all black to a picnic,” Korra added, “I’m surprised you two didn’t cook alive.”

“We did,” Asami replied.

“And that’s why we brought all this water,” Adora said proudly as she handed Asami her own water bottle.

“What would we do without you?” Asami praised.

“We wouldn’t have gone out in this fucking heat that’s for sure,” Catra complained.

“Can you do something other than complain?” Asami asked.

“No,” she replied without a second of hesitation, “also scoot over, you’re hogging all the shade.”

“Sorry, Applesauce, but I won. I hold all the shade privileges now,” she proudly declared, earning a weak little kick from a completely burned out Catra.

“Don’t be like that,” Adora sighed and crawled closer to her girlfriend. She ran her fingers through Catra’s hair, scratching her in this very particular way that only Adora knew how to do, and soon it was like angry asshole Catra had never been there, now replaced with just soft asshole Catra.

“Asami is right,” Catra said, sounding so content with everything, “what would we do without you?”

“Oh, are we showing her some love now?” Korra asked, scooting closer and hugging Adora from behind, “mind if I join in? ‘Cause I got plenty.”

Following her example the other two joined in the PDA, Asami leaning against her shoulder, and Catra resting her head on her lap. Adora looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Y-You guys,” she whined, trying not to crumble into an emotional mess, “I love you so much.”

“We love you too,” Korra answered, kissing her cheek. The others hummed in agreement.

“This means a lot,” she replied, sniffing loudly, “but you’re all really sweaty and it’s way, way too hot for PDA right now.”

Korra and Asami muttered some agreements and promptly moved away, fanning themselves a little to help cool down. Catra, on the other hand, refused to move and in fact even pressed a little closer.

“Are you gonna move?” Adora asked, amused.

“Nope,” Catra replied, “you’re too comfortable.”

Not wanting to disturb this rare moment of peace, Adora accepted her fate, and returned to her duty as Catra’s primary source of scratches.

After that initial burst of energy the rest of the day was surprisingly peaceful. Well, besides a small argument over who had the worst taste in music, and who should or shouldn’t be allowed to have the aux cord. But other than that it was a calm and peaceful day.

Slowly but surely, the shade grew a bit longer and the day grew a bit colder. Night was about to fall, and it was time to move to part two of their wonderful summer date. Milkshakes at the diner. Korra’s kinda sorta aunt Kya ran the place with her wives, so she let Korra and all her friends - and girlfriends - hangout for as long as they wanted.

The four of them greeted Kya before taking their usual table. Catra did not waste a single second trying to sit like a normal person, she promptly tossed her legs over Adora’s lap, and leaned back against the wall, phone already in hand.

“Hey, look at that,” she commented, “Blight dyed her hair purple.”

“Maybe she decided green hair was too straight for her,” Korra joked, “I’m surprised she didn’t go with blue.”

“Well, I think purple works really well for her,” Adora commented, “I mean, all her clothes are already black and purple.”

“All of your clothes are white or red, but I don’t see you dying your hair,” Catra commented, archiving the mental image of redhead Adora for later.

Adora opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Asami, “babe, your hair is wonderful, don’t let her bully you into doing something stupid with it.”

Catra looked ready to throw her phone, “hey, I aint bullying anyone!”

“I see you kids are as cheerful as ever,” Castaspella greeted as she reached them, putting their food on the table, “here are your milkshakes, and the fries are on the house.”

“We really don’t mind paying for it, aunt Casta,” Korra assured her.

“Nonsense, let us spoil you kids a little,” Casta replied, with a wave, “besides, consider this a little thank you for helping our niece get a date.”

“Wait!” Catra interrupted, very confused for a moment, “Amity is your niece?”

“No, silly, I meant Luz,” she chuckled, “she was so in love with that Blight girl that she wouldn’t stop talking to Lilith about how amazing she was. It was adorable.”

Adora blinked a couple of times as she realized that meant that Luz and Glimmer were technically related now. She then vowed to herself to neverr let them find out, their power and chaos combined would be far too much for the world.

“Uh, glad we could help I guess?” Korra offered with a weak smile, completely unaware of the small crisis going on in Adora’s head. Aunt Casta laughed a little at the awkwardness, before leaving to tend to the other tables.

And now that they were left alone it was time to dig in. As usual Adora practically inhaled her food, and had to be stopped by Catra before she choked on something. Also as usual they were all dipping their fries in their milkshakes, with the sole exception of Asami.

“I still don’t know how you guys manage to eat that,” she commented.

Adora loudly swallowed a whole portion of milkshake covered fries in one go - earning an exasperated sigh from Catra - and answered, “it’s good!”

“Is it though?”

“What? Is this unsuitable for your refined palate, princess?” Catra teased.

“It’s…weird,” she replied.

“Hey, I’m weird, and you still love me,” Korra commented, leaning a little closer to her.

“You know what I meant,” she complained even as she leaned back against Korra.

“Don’t you wanna at least give it a try?” Korra asked, offering one of her own fries, “for me?”

That was a cheap trick, and Korra knew it, but it worked. Asami leaned in and took a bite of those fries without even taking them from Korra’s hand. There was a certain romance to eating food from your lover’s hands, or at least there would be if her two other lovers weren’t being little shits and snickering the entire time.

Asami glared at the two of them as she slowly ate her fries, trying to properly savor them, to fully grasp their flavor profile. Adora did a little heart with her hands and blew her a kiss in an attempt to mitigate her annoyance.

It worked better than she would like to admit.

“So how is it?” Korra asked.

Asami swallowed and paused, seeming to ponder her answer for a moment. “It was...better than I expected.”

Korra laughed and shot her a beaming smile, “told you it was good.”

Asami couldn’t respond for a moment as she was too busy being reminded that Korra was a blessing to humanity, and that she was so lucky to be able to call her her girlfriend.

“Well uh...thanks for making me try it,” she mumbled. Trying her best to save herself before Catra and Adora - especially Catra - could make any comments on her loss of composure, Asami dipped one of her fries on her milkshake and offered it to Korra, “here.”

Korra eagerly and happily took a bite off of it.

“That’s so fucking gay,” Catra commented.

“Catra, we’ve all been dating for months,” Adora countered.

“Yeah, your point?” She asked, sticking her tongue out at her.

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Asami replied.

“Complain all you want, princess. You all love me, and you know it.”

The table collectively groaned - Asami burying her head in her hand - all fully aware that she was completely right.

~~~

Eventually the conversation died down. It was late and they had spent all day with each other, but they all knew they’d have to part ways eventually. They all knew they’d probably see each other tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and every day for as long as they could. But that didn’t mean they enjoyed bringing the date to a close.

Adora especially seemed extra clingy today as she gave all three of her girlfriends tight, rib-crushing hugs. The others were far more subtle about it, but it was still there. In the lingering touches after a hug, the yearning looks after a kiss. It was that unspoken want to stay just a little longer, to never let go.

Maybe one day they’d all walk together to their own home, and cuddle together in their own bed, but today they all had different places to return to and they had to go their separate ways. In the end only Korra was left standing in front of the diner.

“Hey, kid,” aunt Kya called, “you want a ride back to your parent’s place?”

“You really don’t--”

“What did Casta say about letting us spoil you?” She interrupted. There was no arguing with her.

Next thing Korra knew she was in Kya’s car, watching the lamp posts pass by them as she took her home.

“You should bring them over more often,” Kya commented.

“I’ll try,” Korra replied.

“I’m serious,” she insisted, “you know we all love when you bring the girls over. It reminds us of the good old days.”

“The good old days?” Korra asked, somewhat amused.

“Back when we were your age,” she explained, “back then it wasn’t exactly okay for a girl to want to be with another girl, let alone two. But even then we knew we wanted nothing more than to be together, just the three of us, for as long as life would let us.”

Korra thought back to that idea of sharing a place with them, living every day with them, making days like this the norm. It all sounded so wonderful.

“Yeah,” she replied, “I think I get it.”

#spop #shera #avatar the legend of korra #atlok #the owl house #toh #catra #adora #catradora #korra #asami sato #korrasami #adora x asami x catra x korra #crossover #castaspella x lilith x kya #modern au #high school au #fanfic

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djinmer4 · 3 years

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Matchmaking for the Greater Evil (4/4)

Jiang Cheng waited four months, two AWOL Cultivation Conferences, one missed visit, and entirely too many unanswered letters before he hopped on Sandu and flew to Qinghe. Truly, it was a remarkable exercise in patience. He sent no letter and brought no retinue but even so, the Nie retainers let him in without even an aside glance, directing him to the usual location and letting him navigate the familiar halls sans a single guard. The same way the Jiang retainers would allow Huaisang to wander Lotus Pier alone.

He paused at the door to Huaisang’s office, the familiar rush of pride filling him. He was pretty much the only person outside of the Unclean Realm who even knew that Huaisang had an office and that he even used it for its intended purpose. Unfortunately, the tide of positive emotion ebbed away. Wanyin had seen, had been allowed to see more than others but it still hadn’t been enough. Pride souring into the usual feelings of failure, he kicked the door open and shouted, “Just because he was a rat, doesn’t mean you have to turn into a turtle!”

Fuck, that wasn’t how he had meant to start this conversation! Jiang Cheng felt the heat rush to his face and was sure he was as red as a brick.

Huaisang looked up, dark eyes wide and face slack with confusion. After a second, he waved his fan to the cushion in front of his desk. Jiang Cheng gladly slumped to his knees, trying to reorganize his thoughts. His friend waited patiently while Wanyin tried to remember the speech he had prepared earlier. Giving up, he at least tried to remember the one he had given his nephew. “What I meant to say was, it’s okay if you’re mourning him. He was a bastard-” Huaisang narrowed his eyes, and he backtracked. “He was a treacherous snake, but you were friends once. Even after he killed your brother, he still cared for you. It’s alright to miss that.”

“I don’t miss him.”

“Are you sure about that? You did the exact same thing after Mingjue died, holing up in Qinghe and not seeing anyone.”

“I don’t miss him. I may have missed Meng Yao a bit, but I don’t miss Jin Guangyao. And I finished my mourning for Meng Yao a long time ago.” The older man put down his brush and resumed fanning himself lazily. “You know, this isn’t how I anticipated this conversation going.”

“What did you expect then?”

He lifted the fan in front of his face, only letting his eyes show above the blades. “More screaming?”

Jiang Cheng snorted. “I did most of my screaming in my letters.”

“So I read. But perhaps you have questions?”

Satisfied that the other wasn’t going to seclude himself any longer, Wanyin relaxed and shifted so that he could sprawl out in front of Sect Leader Nie’s desk. “I’m not an idiot. I may not be as smart as you or Wei Wuxian but I heard enough to put things together without needing to have it spelled out.”

The fan lowered and a smile drifted across the other’s face. “What about Lan Wangji?”

“I’m absolutely smarter than him,” he scoffed. “I knew that Wei Wuxian was back almost immediately.”

“Of course, of course, forgive my doubt. But really, not even one question? What about . . . “ Huaisang’s eyes drifted above their heads to a corner of the room. “Jin Rulan?”

“I’m pretty sure if you had intended to kill my nephew he’d already be dead by now and I’d be at war with someone else. Possibly Jin Guangyao.”

Huaisang’s nose wrinkled adorably as he frowned. “That’s true. Jin Ling wasn’t even supposed to be there, but no matter what happened he inevitably showed up and you almost always followed. I felt like tearing my hair out trying to compensate for the two of you.” He glanced up. “Wei Wuxian?”

“As if you were going to resurrect a different demonic cultivator to be your investigator. Wei Wuxian’s a walking force of chaos and your friend, it only makes sense you’d want his help in uncovering the Chief Cultivator’s crimes.”

“I’m not so sure we’re still friends,” he said under his breath. “Mo Xuanyu?”

“I didn’t remember Mo Xuanyu even existed until Jin Ling reminded me on Dafan Mountain so why the fuck would I care about him?”

“You’re so mean, Jiang-xiong. Still,” he snapped his fan shut. “If you’re not here to yell about my underhanded methods or to ask questions, why did you come?”

“Now you really are being an idiot. I’m here to support you.”

For a few moments, there was silence, broken only by the birds twittering in the garden behind the office. When Huaisang resumed speaking, his voice was very soft. “I always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

“Don't act like you haven’t known for years that I’ve been in love with you.”

“I knew. I expected you to give up a long time ago. Never did figure out why you never moved on.”

“I thought . . . I knew you had to have a reason for acting the way you did. You were too smart not to realize what was going on. If you didn’t want anything to do with me in that way, I was sure you would have just rejected me outright. But the fact you never pushed me away beyond those first few years after your brother died made me think that you had a reason you couldn’t say yes. I was certain of that after you gave me that cloak.” Jiang Cheng shrugged. “Admittedly, I didn’t think ten-year revenge murder plot was it, but in hindsight it now makes sense.”

“I knew that cloak was a mistake,” he muttered to himself. “So what did you think I was waiting for all those years?”

“I thought you were waiting to get married.”

Huaisang gaped at him. “Wait, what? You thought I was waiting to get married to accept your courting offers? Please tell me how that works because that explanation is completely ridiculous.”

“It’s a reasonable conclusion! We both know you care about your sect more than your reputation suggests and you don’t have an heir yet. It makes sense that you’d want to focus on getting one before allowing yourself to follow your heart. It’s what I tried to do after all.”

“So you mean . . . the blacklisting wasn’t on purpose?”

“Why the fuck would you think I did that on purpose?”

“No reason at all!” He fidgeted with his brush a little then put it back again. “In any case, I do in fact have an heir already.”

Jiang Cheng frowned. “Who? I’d know if you had any children.”

“Not a child. Nie Zhenzheng, my second-in-command. Also my cousin. He’s got three kids already.”

“Isn’t he the one who’s always harping on you to get married?”

“Yes, that one. He says he went from being a comfortable fourth in line with two healthy cousins and an older brother who were all capable of having children, to second with only a cut-sleeve between him and the throne. He’s rather desperate to get more buffers between him and the position of Sect Leader, but that’s part of the reason I trust him as second-in-command.”

Wanyin nodded. It was pretty clear why Huaisang would prefer an heir and vice who wasn’t ambitious but still competent. “So do you have any other grand, overarching plans that need to be accomplished?” He reached out to take the older man’s free hand.

“Not . . . really? I’ve got ideas about how to deal with the Nie Sect’s qi deviation problem that I’m planning on focusing on. I always knew I would need a goal to pursue after I got my revenge.” He looked down at their intertwined hands. “Jiang-xiong, Wanyin, are you sure about what you’re asking?”

“Why not? We like each other, neither of us is planning to get married, you’ve accomplished your goal. Unless there’s something else I don’t know about?”

“Jiang Cheng,” Huaisang sighed but didn’t pull away. “What do you want out of this? There are things, there will always be things I won’t be able to give you because of our positions. I’ll never be fully honest with you. Even without having to hide from Jin Guangyao, there are things pertaining to the Nie sect that I will never tell you. You’ll always come second to that. I can’t even say I’ll never hurt you because there will probably be times when Qinghe and Yunmeng will clash. What could I possibly give you that would not be better served elsewhere?”

“I already know all that; I’ve thought about this for years and I’m willing to deal with those things. I’m not asking you to be completely honest with me or to put me above your sect. I won’t be completely honest with you either, that’s just what it means when two Sect Leaders get together. As for not harming each other . . . “ He grimaced and felt heat flood his face. “At the last Cultivator Conference before everything went down, I called you a ‘witless coward’. I’d be losing more face than I can stand if I took you to task over that. I know better and you don’t care much but I know there are times when I hurt you.”

The other hummed a little in agreement. “You do tend to let your temper get away from you. But on the other hand, you did apologize later that evening. You always apologize to me and you don’t even apologize to Jin Ling!”

“Yes, I’m working on that. But as for what I want . . . A-Sang, what I want is to know more of you. There are parts of yourself that you won’t share with anyone and there are parts of yourself that you’ll share with people who aren’t me. But I want to be certain that I know more of you than anyone else. But this isn’t just about me. What do you want out of a relationship?”

Eyes wide and mouth slightly pursed like a doll, Huaisang looked so adorably confused that Jiang Cheng couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on the hand in his grasp. “What I want . . .” he sighed but still didn’t separate their hands. “The problem is I don’t know what I want. I never thought about having a relationship. I had my plan for Jin Guangyao, I had contingencies set-up for Zhenzheng in case I died in the process, and I had goals set up if I survived. I have my sect, my birds, and my porn. The possibility of getting a cultivation partner didn’t even occur to me.”

“Ouch, was I really so easily dismissed?”

“That’s not what I meant, just that I never allowed myself that kind of hope. I can’t tell you what I want because it’s going to take time and a lot of reflection before I even have a clue.”

“I can wait. Hell, I’ve waited eight years already, what’s a couple more?”

“Even if it turns out that I don’t want you?”

“Does Heaven truly bar the way?”

Huaisang’s eyes drifted and Wanyin knew by memory what he was looking at. The books they had exchanged, the incense burner filed with the coils Jiang Cheng had sent him. The large painting of Lotus Pier across from the bookcase and had taken the Nie Sect Leader two entire trips to finish. The gash in the wall when Jiang Cheng had gotten drunk and had tried to demonstrate how he had taken down a demon to the other man. The office was filled with mementos of their years of friendship. Jiang Cheng promised himself that he would make this work.

Huaisang smiled. It wasn’t the one he used outside of the Unclean Realm, tremulous and ingratiating. This was warmer and more confident, his eyes seemed to glow and there was no shaking anywhere to be seen. “No, I don’t think it does.” And for the first time, Jiang Cheng stopped second-guessing himself and kissed that smile the way he always wanted to.

#sangcheng #mdzs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #IT'S DONE IT'S FINALLY DONE #post-canon

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nymphigeon · 4 years

Text

Someone you love(d) || KTH

• Pairing: Taehyung x Reader(f)

• Genre: break up au, angst with a happy ending, fluff? (just a lil' bit at the end :))

• Rating: PG

• Words: 7.2k

• Warnings: swearing, mention of weight, they kiss like once, if you don't like cheesy things....skip this one lmao

• Summary: You thought he loved you, you really did, but the way he left told you something else.

Or alternatively;

Taehyung is an emotionally constipated idiot who doesn't know how to deal with his feelings.

• A/N: Okay it took me waaay too long to write this, I'm so sorry T_T I really wanted to get this out earlier, but well things happened....

I only proofread this like once and had some trouble getting everything into the post properly so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes! Please let me know if you find any so I can fix them asap.

Thank you for the request @mytaetaey! I hope it matches your expectations!!!

It honestly hasn't even been that long since the day he showed up at my house.

"Let’s break up."

Although I really wouldn't be able to tell you how much time had truly passed.

"W-wait why?"

Days felt like weeks, weeks felt like months. Everything just seemed to last a lot longer than it should have.

"Did I do something wrong? I-I can fix it, just tell me!"

It might have happened last week, or the week before that. Wasn't it three weeks ago?

"No, no you didn't do anything wrong y/n. I'm sorry this just isn't working out."

Bottom line is, the passing of time hasn't really been on my mind. Any day without him is a day lost, a day to forget about.

"What do you mean this isn’t working out? I thought we were doing well together..."

I remember the confusion that went through me. All of a sudden the four years we spent together seemed to have disappeared.

“You thought wrong.”

He had been acting weird for a while, never quite getting close to telling me what was going through his mind. I hadn’t anticipated it ever ending like this though.

“Not everything you believe is a fact.”

The years I had to get to know him ended too soon. They went by so fast, they might as well have been non-existent.

"I... why? I don’t understand…

This all came too sudden. Just a few days before he had been laying on my bed, smiling as I told him about my day.

"I just don't feel the same anymore."

I just needed a little more time. A little more time to adore him. A little more time to say goodbye.

"I don't love you anymore."

But I still did do. He didn’t seem to care though. After he took care of me for a while, he decided I’m not worth it. Not even as someone who he just passes by.

"It's best if we don't see each other anymore."

If you cherish what you have you'll never be left unsatisfied.

"Goodbye."

I did. And it broke me.

“Y/n? Helloooo?”

My daydreams get interrupted by a waving hand in front of my face, followed by a harsh flick against my forehead.

“Ouch! Mina that was too hard!” Both my hands shoot up to the stinging spot between my eyes, one to prevent the evil hand from handing out another flick, the other one to rub at the red spot forming.

“Class ended a few minutes ago, you should probably pack up. Really, did you just stare off into space for the entire class?” Spotting my close to empty notebook, Mina sighs and shakes her head. She’s trying to look disappointed, but under the scolding exterior she’s putting on, there is a hint of pity.

It’s not the first time this week that not a single word has made it into my notes. Each time again the pages are either filled with lazy doodles and meaningless scribbles, or a space of absolute nothingness, not even a drop of ink staining the white paper.

“I’m sorry, I really did try to pay attention, but you know I hate his classes with a passion.” We both know that’s not the reason for my absentness, and neither of us speaks up about it. It’s what I requested myself, not being able to cope with the sadness I was causing my friends to feel. They care too much, I don’t want to burden them for too long.

“I know sweetheart, you did do your best. I’ll send my notes later, if you want I’ll help you understand them too.” Though no matter how hard I try, I still rely on them. They keep convincing me to, their kind souls not being able to leave me alone. “If you could I’d really appreciate it.”

A sweet smile appears on Mina’s lips as I accept her offer, being more than happy to help me. She has always been the type to give more than she received, and despite me believing she deserves more than she gets, I adore her for it. “Of course, any time.”

I finish packing my belongings into my backpack, first making sure I didn’t leave anything behind before leaving the classroom with Mina close to my side. She talks about everything and nothing as we roam the spacious hallways filled with tired looking students. I wouldn’t be surprised if more than half of them slept until the end of their lectures.

Most of Mina’s words fall on deaf ears as I think back to the thoughts that occupied my mind the entire time my teacher was trying to explain the principle of quantum mechanics. I wouldn’t have understood it regardless of whether I was paying attention or not by the way.

“Ah you don’t have any more classes today, do you?” An unannounced weight falls on my left side as Mina whines into my shoulder, effectively bringing me back down to earth. Some brabbles about life being unfair escape the muffled sounds she produces, clearly not looking forward to the rest of her day.

“I’m going to be so lonely, me and Daeun aren’t allowed to sit next to each other anymore.” Mina raises her head to catch some air, her hands still clinging to the fabric of my shirt. The scowl on her face isn’t hard to miss, as she isn’t doing much to hide it.

“I was just going to head home straight away.” On any other day I would’ve probably teased her, wishing her good luck while I go and enjoy the free life. Today however, I don’t. My face stays in it’s boring resting position, even as Mina waits for the non-existent twist at the end.

It doesn’t take long before she finally sees I’m not poking fun at her. The moment of realization is clear, her whiny expression disappearing and her hands falling back to her sides. “Oh.”

“Well since it’s Friday how about I come hang out at your place when I’m done here? I’ll drag Daeun along with me too.” Mina’s voice is unsure, scared that I’ll reject her offer. A thick tension hangs in the air as we both wait for my reply.

I want to be alone. I want to be able to overthink in peace without others insisting that my mind is wrong. Though on the other side, I do know that I’ve been pushing them away. All the more reason for them to worry about me.

“Yeah sure.” I manage to convince myself to decide on the option I’d like the least. Somewhere I may be hoping that I’ve been missing out on a distraction I needed. I will never know until I experience it.

“Great! I’ll bring snacks too, let’s make it a movie night!” And off she goes, not waiting for any kind of confirmation from my side. Most likely it’s a way to keep me from refusing, forcing me into a situation that’s best for me, according to her.

I might not be looking forward to the events to come, but even I can’t deny the dull blossoming of my heart. The corners of my lips tug up, together with a hand to wave the girl off.

Yeah, perhaps, just maybe, I’m excited to spend some time with them.

I wasted a lot of time trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. Did I gain too much weight? Did I not text him enough? Was I going down the wrong path?

No matter what I wrote down, which new question I thought of, it didn’t seem right. Crumpled up paper balls and clothes littering the apartment show of the frustration occupying my mind.

No aspect of me changed for the worse. I’m still the same healthy weight, we texted almost every day, and I’m running up the path to a successful career. There is nothing wrong with me, so why am I blaming myself so heavily?

Because for some reason I believe that if I had done things differently the outcome would have been better. Because maybe he would’ve changed his mind if I reacted differently. Because it could never be him who was in the wrong.

A knock on the door and the pen I had been holding drops. Focussing on the paper in front of me once more, the harsh worded sentences ending in large written question marks stand out. I’m yearning for answers to questions I don’t even understand myself and it’s terrifying.

Three knocks on the door this time and I’m up, quickly discarding all the papers littering around. Some I tear to pieces, making sure none of the written sentences are visible anymore, others simply get hidden.

The door creaks as it opens, broadcasting it’s old age to the world. I should probably replace it sometime before someone decides to break in. Not that there’s anything worth taking here, I am a student after all.

“Hey dea- Oh no you look horrible.” A slight gasp interrupts Daeun’s cheery greeting when she notices the birds nest that is my hair. After having acted out all my annoyance on the poor strands, they’ve taken to each other for comfort, gladly intertwining. To my dismay, of course.

“I feel horrible. Come in.” The chuckle meant to lighten the statement doesn’t do it’s job properly. Both don’t say anything more as they enter the tiny apartment I call home, but they might as well have been screaming ‘I feel sorry for you.’” If they won’t do it, their faces definitely will.

“I won’t let any of you chose a movie tonight, I’ve got way too many good ideas.” Mina drops the overfilled bags she was holding on the dinner table while she talks. From the few items that stick out it’s safe to deduce that they’re filled with snacks to the brim.

“Also I was thinking we could order some pizza for dinner. All on me, I just got payed.” Like she owns the place, Mina reaches for several bowls high up in the cupboards of the kitchen. “We’ll use these tonight..” She says it more so to herself than to anyone else, not bothering to ask me anything. Not that it was really needed, I would have given her permission anyway.

“How was your day?” Sitting down next to Daeun, who has made herself comfortable on the couch after walking in, I try to start a basic conversation. Even though I’m not particularly in the mood for anything, I decide it’s probably best to try before I ruin the fun.

“You shouldn’t have to pretend that everything is okay, you know.” My question is completely ignored, switched for a statement that sets a heavy atmosphere in the room. The little excitement I had for their visit disappears. Instead, irritation starts taking over.

“Look Daeun, I-”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but this is not the way to cope with whatever may be happening inside you right now.” The tone she uses tells me she isn’t about to back out anytime soon. I hate it, hate how she feels like she can tell me what’s best for me.

“If this is what you came here for then I think it’s best that you leave. I’m not playing around here.” I turn away from the both of them, showing my back instead. This was supposed to be a fun evening to get my mind off him. Turns out, it’s the exact opposite.

“She’s right y/n.” It didn’t sound like Mina initially wanted to talk about this. She has always been unsure of when and how to address things, usually rather staying silent. With the right help however, Mina too will spill her words.

“This will always be a part of your life now, no matter how hard you try to erase it, you can’t. I know you’re hurting, and you’re allowed to feel hurt, we just want to help you. We’ll distract you all you like later, but for now, just confide in us please?”

It’s the way I feel both of their eyes burning into my back, the way she isn’t exactly sure how to convey her thoughts, though has the best intentions, the way a gentle hand softly lands on my shoulder. Sooner or later the dam would have broken. Apparently that time has come.

“I gave up so much for that guy! I moved to a more expensive apartment closer to his so we could see each other more, I started working more hours so he wouldn’t need to pay every time we went out together,” I never really got the chance to complain about the negative side to the changes I made, always feeling like it should be worth it, since I did it for him.

“I studied late into the night just so I had time during the day to hang out with him, do you know how much sleep I lost? I couldn’t even go home to my parents regularly anymore, for the distance was too much.”

Not exactly having expected me to rant so much, the two girls seated next to me stare in surprise. Never have I expressed any discomfort with what I was doing, always plastering a smile on my face.

“I don’t even mind that he broke up with me, I mean I do, but he was so cold! I had done my best to keep things going between us and he just gives me an ‘oh I don’t like you anymore’ like it’s common sense. I didn’t even get a thank you for all those years or a sorry for breaking it off! I just wish he’d…”

I take in a deep breath after having forgotten to breathe for the past minute, all the tears I kept in finally making an appearance as my anger get replaced by the same sadness I felt all those days ago.

“I just wished he’d at least given me reassurance I hadn’t been a waste of his time.”

The volume in which I spoke had drastically lowered, coming out in an almost-whisper. All the objects in front of me blurred as a non-stop stream of tears made it’s way out, my cries just mere silent sobs.

The hand resting on my shoulder becomes an arm pulling me into her side, the rough material of her shirt revealing her identity. Daeun doesn’t say anything as her other hand strokes through the strands of my hair, detangling any knots on the way.

For a moment I feel guilty about the tears wetting her shirt. It’s when she pulls me against her a little tighter that the feeling disappears, giving me the opportunity to fully bask in her embrace.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Feeling left out, Mina pats my thigh and breaks the silence. “You worked hard didn’t you? Because you loved him.” I can hear her clothes rustling first, before her arms too wrap around the space Daeun left.

“I still do.” No matter how much I try to forget about him, I can’t seem to do it. He has engraved himself into my mind, forever stuck. If he’d ever leave is a mystery, though for now, it seems impossible.

You know what? Fuck you Kim Taehyung.

“Dude, what do you want for your birthday?” It’s Jungkook who has slammed down my door and completely disturbed my peace.

“Huh? Nothing in particular really.” Despite the rude entrance, I don’t look up from my tv screen, having already gotten used to the lack of announcements before he comes in.

“Didn’t you ask me that already two days ago?” Once again ignoring any form of politeness, the younger one makes grabby hands towards the bag of potato chips laying next to me. I don’t make any move to stop him, knowing very well I can’t win from him in a fight, ever.

“Yeah because I thought maybe you changed your mind. Usually you’re so excited for your birthday, but you just seem so… Unenthusiastic?” There is almost no way to take him seriously when he’s scarfing down my dear food like it’s water. Surely when were out next time I’ll make him get me a new bag.

“Well yeah that’s because…” What exactly was I going to say?

Finally grabbing his full attention, Jungkook puts down the bag of chips and lets himself fall down next to me. “Because?”

There is no mistaking his smirk for a smile, although he does his damn best to hide it. He knows exactly what I was about to say, and I’m not about to admit anything.

“Because I realized it’s nothing to be overly excited about. That’s it.” Challenging Jungkook to prove me wrong I stare right back at him, not planning on chickening out any time soon. It seems to have worked, as he looks away first.

“Ah is that so? I’ll just see if I can find something you’ll like myself in that case.” The boy who has silently admitted defeat removes himself from the couch, moving to his room at the other side of our apartment. “Good luck buddy.”

No longer having to pay attention to him, I rewind the movie I was watching back. That muscle bunny just made me miss the absolute best part.

“So why exactly are you dragging me to town again?”

It’s not too busy today, which should have been a given as it’s a normal weekday. Everyone is either yawning behind a desk or running around in circles depending on their career choices. Compared to them, I’m making the worst possible choice by letting my best friend convince me to skip class for a reason I wasn’t even familiar with.

“I’m having none of this ‘I don’t care what you get me’ nonsense. We’re going to find something you like, and that’s why we’re here.” Jimin takes a pause from pulling me along by hand to put both of his on his waist like a proud toddler.

“So in other words, we’re here so I can choose my own birthday gift?” Slowly I begin to understand how much of a waste of my time this is. I could’ve been doing fine trying to understand whatever Mrs. Wilson wanted to go over today, but instead I’m going to be reminded of my ex all day. Great.

Well, if she was still here it wouldn’t have mattered whether I knew what I wanted or not, she always had something great for me, and I always looked forward to it. Once she jokingly told me how she felt pressured, having to live up to my expectations. Though honestly there was nothing for her to live up to, I liked her gifts because she gave them to me. Because she always managed to make each and every birthday a fun one.

“Any ideas yet? Jewellery, clothes, games… Wait, nothing too expensive, I’ll go broke!” Jimin’s sudden panic manages to bubble up a chuckle in me. He doesn’t really seem to appreciate it though, as he scowls at the sound. “What? Your taste is too expensive!”

He knows me well it seems. Not that it was ever a real secret. When the contents of your closet is worth more than someone’s rent several times anybody would want to show that off right? Well so do I.

We walk into several stores for inspiration. No real shopping haul, just a quick in and out with Jimin trying to get a reaction out of me by stuffing things he thinks I like into my face. So far no real success, my only reaction being something along the lines of ‘ah yes that looks nice’ at everything he proposes.

It’s not like I’m purposefully trying not to find something I truly like, but more that honestly nothing catches my interest. And I promise it’s not even the price, some of my most prized possessions are the cheapest things I own. This just isn’t doing it for me.

After having been pulled into the what feels like the hundredth store, my stomach decides to make the loudest noise known to mankind. “Can we like, maybe take a break?” There is no doubt that my face is bright red at this moment, instantly heating up when Jimin laughs equally as loud.

“If you were hungry you should’ve just said so. Let’s go find something to eat.” Is probably the only sentence he said today that I’ve fully agreed on.

It sounded so easy, just find somewhere to buy food. Unfortunately, getting our tummies filled wasn’t written in our future so soon. No matter where we look, everything is either closed or completely full with customers. Who knew so many other people were hungry at this moment. Not like it’s close to dinner time or anything.

Eventually, I manage to convince Jimin to eat at a small fancy restaurant down the street on my expense. Despite him agreeing after a few attempts, a set pout is still present on his face, which doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon. Together with some murmurs about how this isn’t fair, he makes himself look incredibly adorable.

Soon however, I would come to regret my decision. The fancy tablecloths and nicely plated food wouldn’t be looking so appealing anymore. Because even if I had convinced my mind of the truth my constant lies hold, there was simply no way for me to convince my heart too.

“Hey isn’t that y/n and… I don’t think I know him.”

The male opposite her had somehow won her over with that stupid perfect smile he wore, his eyes an annoyingly beautiful ocean deep blue and his blonde hair styled in an awfully neat way. Everything about the sight annoys the heck out of me, including the way she was smiling back at him. Why does she look so happy? When was the last time I saw her like that?

“Oh are they… I’m sorry Tae.”

I was the one who broke up with her. I was the one who walked out with a load haven fallen off of my shoulders. I was the one who ran even though she cried. There is no reason for me not to be completely fine.

“I don’t care, she can do whatever she wants now.”

So then why am I the one hurting this much?

It came sooner than expected, my birthday. Just sort of snuck up on me. After the restaurant incident Jimin himself magically decided to end the shopping trip and go home to eat. Nobody ever mentioned my birthday again in the following days.

It was pretty clear that someone had told the others about what happened, although none of them spoke about it. That someone obviously being Jimin.

“Soooo… any plans for the day?”

The question comes from Jungkook, who is fidgeting with the hem of his oversized hoodie. He stands quietly in the doorway to my room, waiting for an answer he already knows.

“Go to class and study after.”

“You’re not going out of the house? No party planned?” The suffocating nervosity radiates off of him in waves, displayed by the still ongoing fidgeting and his eyes that can’t seem to focus on one thing at a time.

“Nope, no other plans.” I sit up in bed, slowly coming to terms with the fact that I won’t be getting any more sleep. Despite him looking like he’s scared I’m going to get mad, he doesn’t actually give up, which isn’t appreciated on my part.

“Well the boys thought we could maybe go out together, get a few drinks.” On any other day besides my birthday I would’ve most likely agreed to the plan. Today however, I can’t help but relate every proposition to my birthday, which I, in case you hadn’t noticed yet, want to forget about as soon as possible.

I had already given him enough opportunities to stop. All it would take was leaving me alone. His constant persistence ends up getting to me, successfully causing me to snap at the younger boy. If he expected an outburst, he’s getting it.

“Why the fuck does everyone expect me to celebrate today? If my birthday is the day on which I can do whatever shit I want then let me do whatever I want!” It wasn’t meant to come out that way, and the guilt sets in the moment I realize it, but I don’t have time to apologize.

“Dude, you seriously need to do something about your feelings for y/n.” He sighs the words as he casually leans against the wall, his arms crossed. In an instant the awkward energy around him disappears, replaced by a very prominent eye roll. It’s not hard to guess that this has been on his mind for a while.

“Don’t mention her. This has nothing to do with her.”

“This has everything to do with her and you know it.”

I don’t have anything to say against that. We both know it’s the truth, though only one of us is trying to deny it. The dumb one.

“You know what I think? You spent your past 6 birthdays with the girl of your dreams and now that you pushed her away you have no idea what to do. Am I right?”

He is. I don’t say anything as my head lowers, slowly realizing there is no hiding anything from him. She’s still on my mind. I still wonder what she’s doing, where she is, if she’s safe. I still care. “You’re right.”

I broke up with who I considered my other half, convincing myself that I didn’t need her anymore. Who exactly was I trying to protect?

“I had to, I’ll hurt her.” I already did.

“And suddenly breaking up with her is supposed to make her happy?” I was hoping it would in the long run.

“You’re not the same as him.” Though I am. The same parents, the same group of friends growing up, the same sense of humour. We got along so well. What if we still do?

“He’s my brother Kook. We were so alike. You know he once too adored her.” We don’t talk anymore, I’m disappointed in him. He would’ve been too. I don’t understand what changed.

“He used her, nobody saw it coming. The signs were there, he just hid them too well.” Jungkook leaves his spot against to wall to comfort me, tucking my head into his neck.

“You’re not him and he isn’t you. The fact that you no longer want to be associated with him proves everything. He didn’t care about Hyeon.” So he can look straight at me, he pushes me away with his hands on my shoulders. The expression on his face tells me he’s serious.

“You love her, and you’ve got to fix this mess.”

I don’t like agreeing with him, but once again, he’s right.

As soon as I open the door I want to slam it right back into his face. Or I might want to run into his arms, I can’t decide yet. Regardless, I wasn’t expecting Taehyung to be standing on the other side when the doorbell went off.

“Umm… Hi?” All the words that have been building up in my personal dictionary seem to disappear the moment I lay my eyes on him. He still looks as good as the last time I saw him, even though the circumstances were heart-breaking.

“Hey, um I’m sorry I showed up unannounced. I didn’t really think this through…” Everything about him screams awkward. From the way his feet are pointed slightly more inwards than normally, to the way he doesn’t seem to be able to smile naturally. Instead there is this weird, tight expression on his face.

“Oh um… Would you like to come in though?” I don’t wait for an answer as I step aside, my memory helping me remind that nine out of ten times the answer to that question is ‘yes’. “Oh yeah, thank you.”

“Do you want anything to drink?” Not really having anything to say I cycle through the set few sentences I usually need when I have someone over. I’m not happy that he’s here, but I’m not the type to lash out at people.

“Ah no, I’m okay. Look I’m just going to get straight to the point, I messed up big time. I got insecure and closed myself off to everyone including you and I’m so fucking sorry that I did.”

My lack of reaction surprises me. Sure, my insides are doing somersaults, but I don’t feel the need to express any of it. Like an unused sheet of paper, my face stays blank. “And now you’re here to win me back I presume?”

Somewhere in between his statement and mine, the tables shifted. Slowly, I’m gaining the confidence he is losing.

“Well, not really, I mean yes, but-”

He catches himself rambling, shutting his mouth before any real nonsense can make it out. Taking a deep breath helps, the words coming out more fluently after. Not a great start, but it’s okay. I have patience. Sometimes.

“I just wanted to let you know that the words I shot at you that day weren’t true. I hurt you and I didn’t want those words to roam your mind not knowing they weren’t even close to what I was feeling.”

The deep breath he drew in earlier escapes in a deep sigh, followed by his mouth opening and closing a few times without any sounds making it out. “And?” It was meant as a way to encourage him to continue. Sadly, it came out rather rude.

“I do still care about you, damn I still love you more every day. If there is anything I can do to make it up to you please let me know, I don’t want to have to live in a world where my last words to you made you cry. Obviously I would want a second chance at being the proper lover you deserve, but you’re in charge here. If you want me to walk out the door I will.”

There’s a hopeful look in his eyes making my heart beat erratically. In the past I would’ve instantly dropped to my knees, making sure every wish of his came true. I am no longer that girl.

“Tae it’s been months, you can’t just suddenly drop by and tell me you’re sorry. I spent days wondering why you broke up with me, wailing over the fact that you suddenly just didn’t care anymore, and even now you’re not giving me an answer. Why did you suddenly turn your back on me? Why did you not talk to me about whatever was bothering you? Even now you’re making me feel like you couldn’t trust me. Fuck, you just left me there like I was a piece of trash!”

What was once a hopeful look in his eyes, turned into defeat. He won’t give me an answer.

“You can’t just come in here exclaiming to love me after I’ve worked so hard to get myself over you. You can’t just come in here trying to steal my heart when I’m learning to give it to somebody else.”

“The blonde haired dude?”

Perhaps I shouldn’t feel a sense of accomplishment at the clear jealousy in his voice. However, this man did break my heart in two for apparently no reason. Is it weird I would want to get back at him a little?

“His name is Yejun and he’s a great guy. Look, just leave please. I have nothing more to say or hear. We’re done.” Turning away from him I mark the end of this conversation. It takes a while before there is any movement behind me. Slow steps make their way to the front door before pausing.

“I hope he treats you well, but I’m not going to simply give up on you like that.”

And secretly, I was hoping he wouldn’t.

Two, three four days, before I realize it it has been an entire week since I last saw him. Some part of me is scared, scared that he has decided otherwise and I will never hear from him again.

I had told myself getting over him would be easy when I finally accepted the help of my friends, and for a while it was. Or so I thought, because the moment he walked in here I was right back to square one.

I’m in the middle of working on a new project when the doorbell rings. Standing up, I go to open the door wondering who it could be. If he had come back for me after all. Too bad I would soon be disappointed, as the man standing in front of my door was just an ordinary mailman.

“Umm I didn’t order anything?” My eyes fall on almost gigantic package behind the man. If I ordered some furniture I would’ve surely remembered right?

“Are you not y/f/n y/l/n?”

“No I am.”

“It clearly has your name and address on it miss.”

The building up confusion hasn’t left my head yet, but knowing there is nothing else I can do I decide to accept the package. After thanking the courier I close the door and carefully carry the big box into my living room.

The moment I open the big thing up, a bunch of big balloons float up to my low ceiling. There’s a transparent one with little hearts bouncing around inside, one that’s just one big heart itself, another one has the words ‘I love you’ written on it in a neat font. If I hadn’t checked my calendar this morning I would’ve thought it was valentine’s day.

Diving deeper into the box I find a relatively big fluffy teddy bear, hugging what seems to be a letter in a white envelope.

‘When I was 16 a miracle happened, I met the most beautiful girl. Me not being able to contain myself I immediately introduced myself to her. She said he name was y/n. I think it was back then that I decided her voice was my favourite. I was too much of a coward to ask her out at the time. I eventually did, though looking back I wish I did so sooner. There was never a boring day with her by my side.’

That’s all there is. Just a few words on an otherwise empty piece of paper. No signature at the bottom, no name, and still I knew exactly who wrote it.

The next day another package came in. This time a different set of balloons, a different stuffed animal, but the exact same white envelope.

‘When I was 22 my brother and his fiancée broke it off. Just like the piece of shit I have to call my dad he betrayed his partner’s trust, cheating on her without a second thought. My mother heard about it and accused both of us as being just like our father. You know after a while, I really started believing her.’

Each day a new box would come in, always containing a present with a letter attached.

‘I was terrified of hurting you, terrified of you seeing me the way my mom did, so I hid everything from you. I should’ve known that I can’t hide anything, you know me too well. I panicked and left you, the biggest mistake I could ever make. One that made everything that was already happening so much worse. I tried telling myself I didn’t need you, but I just couldn’t.’

I believed him, believed in the words he wrote down.

‘I’m so fucking sorry for everything I put you through. It’s all my fault and I’ll spend forever owning up to my mistakes. I love you and I don’t want to live without you. Please just give me one more chance to prove myself to you. One is all I need.’

I’m sorry Yejun, I can’t forget about him after all.

Actually he should be the one who is nervous, and well maybe he is, but I’m the one standing on his front porch with my knees shaking and my heart beating right out of my chest. At one point I was even scared he would be able to hear me through the door.

Shaking my head I gather all the courage I can to knock on his door before I turn around and run back in the direction I came from. However, when I hear the sound of my fist on the hard wood I briefly still consider hiding somewhere.

Luckily I don’t get the chance to. While still going back and forth between the options staying or coming back some other time, the door creaks. I stiffly force my hands to stay still at my sides. The time it takes for the door to actually open seems like an entirety. If you were to count the passing seconds it would at most be like 5, which doesn’t sound like much, it feels like much.

“y/n?” His stance looks like a ‘what are you doing here?’, but his eyes give more of a ‘please say you’re here to forgive me’. Well, the latter would be right. “Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah of course.”

It’s not hard to notice that he is uncertain of his actions. It pleases me on one hand, as it gives me some sort of confirmation that he doesn’t want to make any more mistakes around me. On the other hand, I don’t like seeing him uptight around me. I wish he was more comfortable when I’m near.

“I received the letters you wrote.” He knows I received his letters, he was the one who wrote them and sent them out. Surprisingly though, he almost audibly swallows at the information like he did something bad.

“Why couldn’t you tell me in person?” It takes me back to the day he suddenly landed on my doorstep. Even when I explicitly asked for it, he gave me nothing.

“I was scared, I couldn’t get the words out. I wasn’t at all prepared.” He takes a pause before continuing. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just didn’t know what else to believe at that point.”

Carefully, I reach out my hand to place on top of his laying on his lap. I don’t touch his skin yet, patiently waiting for him to give me some sort of consent. It comes in the form of him softly raising his hand to meet mine.

“I know, we all have our insecure times. You’re not obligated to tell me anything. I can’t and shouldn’t force you to. I’m sorry I doubted you. I was only upset about the way you left.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I thought that if your last memory of me was a bad one you’d forget me faster.”

It didn’t work the way he wanted it to, but he already knows. Already having been hit with that fact multiple times, I decide to spare him. I don’t mention it again.

“Did you ever stop loving me?” At the time it seemed like he did. Like he wasn’t simply acting, like those harsh words were what he truly felt. “Be honest please.” I don’t want any more lies. I’ll accept whatever comes out, even if it throws me right back to where I started.

“I-I don’t know… I really thought my mother was right. That what I had for you wasn’t what it seemed to be.” His gaze briefly drifts to the ground, before focussing on our touching hands. Like magic, the uncomfortableness he was feeling seems to shift. “No matter what she or I tried to convince myself of, something was always missing. I couldn’t put a mask over my own hurting and guilt anymore.”

He spoke the truth. Well at least I think he did. And so I accepted it.

“Okay, thank you for telling me.”

This talk was long overdue. Something we both needed and completely missed. No screaming, no crying, no accusing. If only it went this way from the start. We’re not all perfect though. Even if someone out there is, I’m not, he isn’t. They must be laughing at us.

“Your letters were cheesy. The gifts too.” I’m not sure if this is me trying to lighten the mood, or if I’m just stating facts. Regardless, it makes the both of us smile.

“I know. But you love cheesy things, like the roses I buy you on special occasions.” When he looks back at me I have to resist the urge to jump on him. The smile he wears look good on him. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. “You know me too well.”

“Well did they work?”

I had already made up my mind a few days back. While staring at the floating balloons occupying my living room I had decided for myself that he’s worth it. He is.

Tilting my head up like I’m still thinking, I make clear ‘hmm’ sound. I had thought that the answer is quite obvious, seeing as I came to him myself, but when doubt takes away his smile I drop the act. I’ve been through enough. We’ve both been through enough.

“Yeah, yeah it did.”

Unlike myself, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me. Burying his head in the crook of my neck like he used to do, he lets out a few low ‘thank you’s’. It doesn’t take me long to return the hug, feeling just as safe with him as I used to.

“What about.. Ah I forgot his name.” It’s not hard to guess who he’s hinting at, the sourness in his voice giving him away. I understand, I wouldn’t like it either.

“I ended things.” His answer just comes in the for of a small nod. There is no need for anything more.

“I honestly thought you were going to reject me again.” He ends his sentence with a chuckle and completely relaxes in my hold. Now that the tension is gone, we can go back to where we left off, slowly rebuilding what was lost.

“I was just playing with you, I’m sorry. But no more being an asshole okay? I promise I will kick your ass.” My giggling might undermine the threat a little to others. Luckily, he knows I’m serious.

“I will give you full permission to, but you’ll never have to. I’m going to dump so much love on you that you’ll regret ever even thinking about taking me back. You’re stuck with me now though, so you better be prepared.”

Pulling himself back a little, he plants a gentle kiss on my lips. And then another one, a second one, three more, each kiss more passionate than the last. A fire spreads throughout my body, burning away the few doubts I had left with success. Eventually, to my dismay, I have to pull back for air. Damn humans for needing oxygen.

“Oh? I’d like to see you try.”

Just in case you were wondering, I never did regret it.

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