#if you managed to read through this post i'll give you piece of my soul

[blueparadis]

▏CAN'T PRETEND ▏M.SANO ▏

+. content warnings — afab-reader, college au, modern au, college boy!Manjiro and college boy! Draken, enemies to lovers, angst, mention of Draken, Baji, Kazutora, Mitsuya, Emma, OCs, explicit smut, oral acts, mature language. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

+. synopsis — Draken, it was all draken; it was his fauilt that Manjiro came to know about your feelings for him but you didn’t regret it, you regretted what happened afterward. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

+. notes — HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SUNSHINE BOY ( I LOVE EVERY VERSION OF HIM) & this piece is a part of “begrudging beloved”, hosted by @hishalo .

— you can also read this in ao3. It took hours for me to format this post because tumblr decided to thrash my remnant energy.I'm so very tired that I feel stoned.

⌗ tags —» @fueledbysano @michiphoria @cursedmoonchild word count — 10k REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED | tap here to view my works.

Manjiro Sano, the heart and sunshine of the college. He was good at sports, quite fertile-brained in academics, and always managed to be in good books with the professors even though he was the pioneer of anything that could sprout into a chain of never-ending trouble.

With Ken Ryuguji on his side all the time, he seemed unreachable yet he had a bevy of girls around him. Most girls swooned over him and he did not exactly enjoy the stares but never bothered to shoo them away. Why would he? He didn't have to do much for their attention; better put it to good use rather than throw it all away.

He was the most outspoken among his friends. Something about him stirred an affinity among most hearts. Was it his smile, his kindness, his mischievous acts? you couldn’t tell. He was a boy full of dreams and the heart wrecker of your soul.

He excelled at keeping up roses and sunshines reputation of his but when you first saw him it shattered too much to mend by itself. He was at the infirmary getting his cock sucked by a senior of his. Boxers gathered at the foot, the jersey tossed aside while his hands were rested on the bed.

There were rounds of practice matches on that day that provided him the perfect opportunity to sneak out. His skin glowing in dim light, soaking in sweat. Eyes closed, the head was thrown back and you exhaled a sharp breath when he flipped his head in the front followed by a husky groan.

At that moment, as you watched him struggle with his breath, gasping and panting heavily, his eyes fell over you. And you immediately vanished in the nearest girl's washroom almost under the reflex.

Sick. Horrid. Who does he think he is? It's not like no one's stopping them but why here? why here of all places? Unfortunately, that wasn't the last encounter. Since your art class was on the fifth floor, opposite the playground it gave a great view, a subject to think about, for most students but you, it turned out to be your maddening distraction.

Classes were fine and with a friend like Naomi, you couldn't ask for more. She was the principal’s daughter but she never exposed the flag to show dominance, to have her way with everything. And that's why you liked her.

Who the fuck cares about the talk going behind your back? And knowing Naomi, she couldn't bother to give a flying fuck who spewed nonsense into her ears, saying that you were trying to use her, to be in good books with her to clear semesters and blah blah blah.

“What’re you going to have for breakfast Nao?”, she peered through her eyelashes pouting a little trying to give thought to you.

“Unlike you, I eat my breakfast and don't stay up late either. So. . .”

“Yea! Yea! Yea! Got it. I'll be right back then.”, rolling your eyes heavenwards, you quickly ended her trail of talk otherwise she'd soon start sounding like your mom.

That was your routine and you never go out of it since this was the only time when you could know if he was absent or present, playing a match or not, having a practice study session, or just detention.

Somedays, Mitsuya, Naomi’s boyfriend came with snacks and you could still find yourself searching for him, Manjiro. It's a good thing that you've English in common with Draken otherwise it's like a circle in a spiral just to get a glimpse of him.

And without Draken, Manjiro hit like a cold wave washing over your soul every time you crossed paths with him. As you reached the food court, you beamed and your heart leaped with joy finding Draken at the usual spot. He was friendly, and well-mannered unlike his friend; why couldn't you just like him instead?

“How was the first class?”, Draken said as he grabbed his bag to put it near the foot of the table.

“The usual. I’m glad I pulled the all-nighter otherwise I would have lost this scholarship”, you quipped adjusting yourself beside him.

“ Da faq ”, Draken screamed. His eyes focused on your body, eyebrows growing closer with annoyance as you try to figure out his awful usage of words, that too in the morning. It's way too early for this.

“God! Sometimes I don't know whether you're careless or just thoughtless. ”, he gives his jersey to you gesturing to put it on. And as you did, you realize that the high-neck ivory top didn't do a great job hiding your bra color. The bra lining was perfectly visible if it were to be against the sunlight.

“I was in a hurry so…”, Draken's eyebrows jumped at your feeble try to put up an explanation as if he hasn’t heard thousands of lame excuses of yours, “Yeah, I’m sorry.”, you amended instantly putting those strained focused eyes of worry at ease.

After the first period, both of you had a free class and he has always been the first to hit the canteen since he has grown accustomed to your ways and habits — of being punctual even if it meant skipping your breakfast. Hence, he is always ready to pay for your breakfast. He is nice and kind but he isn’t witless. He knows which button to press to impress you, which to piss you off and which to use to get to his girl, Emma.

“I’ve one more class, that too a self-study one, then all classes are dissolved...Ah Shit”

“Why are you like this y/n?”, Draken tried to imitate your tone. silencing the call that lit up his phone he apologetically asked, “no but seriously y/n. Why are you so irritated?”

“I did not just come for a single class, well, it wasn’t all in vain . . . ”, of course, it wasn’t. Only two classes and the rest are dissolved. What could be more time-captivating than to watch him play while all you do is sit at a lonely corner of a bench to watch his current ‘fling’ being all over him?

She wasn't the one who had given him a blow job. She was different, a brunette and this one was a blonde bitch. Sometimes you just wanted to scream from the bottom of your lungs to tell everyone how much of scum is he but you couldn't just do that. It's not like he has come after you or harmed you but such a foul act of violating the rules made you snap every time you spotted him with a girl.

“Ken-chin.”, a high-pitched voice. “I knew I’d find you here”, created ripples in your pool of thoughts. It was him. The person you managed to avoid throughout the semester and you were successful if he hadn't just showed up in your favorite place. As much as his presence made you restless from afar, his very presence next to you boiled your blood oozing out annoyance, sometimes anger. He was way too full of himself, the only flaw you could pin till now.

Manjiro sat in front of his friend and before he could take a good look at you, you tapped Draken’s shoulders and left immediately. No words were exchanged and you wanted to keep it that way.

Even though you wanted to know him, you never wished to catch his attention simply because first, you wouldn't stand a chance against those popular girls he has been with or might not fit his needs or probably you're not his type.

Second, why would he even bother to look at you when he has a horde of hot chicks just a tap away? Moreover, it wouldn’t end well for you. While he’ll remain unscathed you’ll become more mutilated than before since there’s no coming back if he ever initiates the first step. After all, just like most of the girls you too had a crush on him.

That day at the infirmary when you saw him you knew you’d be treated just like others, a page to turn over. You could never blame him for that even in all your sanity. He dated girls, he fucked them witless, probably some relationships were broken because of him but you still didn't think he was bad.

They did say love is blind but if that was the case you would at least try once to be in his vicinity thinking he might be kind enough to pick a withering flower like you. But, he would never; Manjiro would never be the one to pick you because you are bad for his health, too pure for his bad habits, and, that he’ll know with just a glance.

Even if he accidentally picks you, all your emotions will come crashing down like a castle of sand struck by his wave of crude, cold tactics. There was no other result of such borrowed love.

Everyone was kind of aware of his flirty behavior but none knew he fucked girls witless in the changing room after winning the match except his team, the girls he tossed to Baji and then to Kazutora after a while getting bored with them.He hated losing. Miraculously, his team never lost official matches. He was always very passionate about what he wanted, be it victory or you.

“Na Ken-chin !…who’s that girl wearing your jersey?, Manjiro asked while his eyes watched you fade into the group of students like a hawk. “Tell me who is she.”

Draken has known him since his childhood and knowing Manjiro, he won’t stop chaffing at him throughout the day until he gets what he wants. Ryuguji lets out a sigh as his thoughts come to an end.

“She is y/n y/l/n. Arts major. quite quick on the tongue but doesn't talk much. she's good at sports too … and she likes to wear light-colored tops, mostly one-pieces. ” Draken states everything with a straight face except that you’re close to Emma since it would be troublesome for both of you. His eyes are focused on his plate that is getting emptied by Manjiro as he robotically spills every single detail he knew about you, that he has noticed since you've been friends with him from the beginning of the year.

And then, he pauses noticing his empty plate before finally adding the finishing touch for your introduction. Manjiro gives up searching for that familiar jacket in the crowd as his eyes finally focused on his friend.

“and today she's wearing a red bra.”, Draken utters meekly as his eyes dart onto his friend’s pale face from the empty plate. His cheeks flushed at his comment.

“Da faq Ken-chin”, Manjiro coughed covering his mouth with the length of his arm. “what’s it have to do with who she is?” He starts to cuss at him which does nothing but brighten up Baji's day who was watching all of these from the corner of the food counter.

Baji was sure taken aback when Manjiro showed interest in a girl. From what he has observed, he never had to take the first step, that is, to gather intel because it’s always the girls who lurk in his range like a moth. Manjiro was more than ready to burn their wings. But Alas! You were a butterfly, so very far from his range yet so tempting to his insatiable ways of hunger.

Draken tossed his bag over his shoulder leaving Manjiro in absolute dismal as he exclaims with a grin, “she’s too good for you. Don't get attached.”, before leaving the table.

Manjiro doesn't get to talk back much since he's still trying to recover from his thought about you since he has seen enough naked girls have an idea how you would be, under that white silk dress with red lingerie set.

But why the fuck Draken would notice such detail about you? You are just some random girl whom he has often seen around himself in breaks. Not that he was much bothered

But Manjiro always wanted to believe that it was a lot more than just some lucky coincidences. And, even though he knew you had seen him in the infirmary he never thought it would be wise to make you aware that he recognized you the very next day.

Still, he was hoping too much. After all, he has seen a lot of his friends going haywire in emotions, affections or love, or whatever they prefer to call it. To him, you were another passing cloud but for you, he was the whole sky full of grey hues, devoid of rainbows and sapphire serenity

“Emma you’re here? Don’t you have classes?”, Naomi’s voice was audible through the corridors. You smiled to yourself since it’s rare for her to come and visit your class. Thanks to whatever meeting the teacher’s council was having, the students could finally breathe freely and even fly.

“Well, it’s all dissolved and I know you two have another class which is more of a self-study period. So, I came to visit. I was getting bored.”

“I’m back”, Naomi and Emma were startled by your excitement. You quickly got rid of Draken’s jersey and handed it to Emma. At first, she hesitated but when you both of you smirked wiggling eyebrows towards her at a rhythm, she could not help but take it with a grin plastered on her face.

“Let me take some pictures”, you muttered taking the phone out of your pocket.

“Woah! You’re quick-witted. And good at this”, Naomi praised as Emma put the jacket on. It was double her size. Still, she looked so adorable.

After taking a few pictures Emma warned, “Do not show them to Draken.” “Aye Aye Ma’am”, you and Naomi, both said in unison perfectly making it clear, that Draken is getting those pictures before her. He’ll get a boner if he sees Emma in his jacket.

The clouds started to cluster at the bosom of the sky while the boys were at the peak of playing volleyball. You glanced through the window and it first fell on Manjiro, then on Mitsuya. You didn’t seem to find Draken, not yet.

“It might rain soon. The forecast said there will be a heavy downpour. Emma, why don’t you go home? I’ve car so I’ll drop Y/n home and we’re staying for a bit to work on our projects.”, Naomi suggested.

Although, Emma didn’t seem to like the idea. She agreed but she needed to inform her brother that she was going home early.

She faded into the corridor while you picked up your palette knife. Keeping the cake crumb in your mouth you started to paint the blank canvas. Naomi was talking to her mom. You noticed Emma running through the field to go to his brother.

“What the actual fuck?”, it took a while to connect the dots; Manjiro Sano, shortly Mikey or Mike. You were aware of both of his nicknames but Emma’s Mikey and the heart-throb of this college would be the same person was a tough fact to digest. You could feel your heartbeats against your ear drums while you watched Manjiro nod at his sister’s predicament and smile at her.

Now, that’s new. You’ve been watching him for months now, well you had to. If you could change your college you’d do it in a heartbeat but that’s impossible so as this; to get a glimpse of him smiling so happily. Even when he was with his friends it was close to scoffing or smirking.

You watched Emma run towards the school building with a grin on her face and when your eyes went back towards Manjiro, his eyes were already on you. Nerves stilled, breathing seemed to stop, you counted your heartbeats sitting like a statue eyes settling on him.

You pondered. Perhaps, he was watching someone else but when you looked towards the coach at the sound of the whistle, he immediately averted his gaze. He was looking towards the net, where players were yet to take positions and the coach was standing.

Damn, he was watching you. It was just a mere fraction of the moment like a flickering light yet it recoiled back to the first eye contact you had with him, vile yet exhilarating! You spotted Baji, Kazutora, and Draken as your eyes scanned the field.

The time flew faster than you imagined. Naomi was busy with her project and judging by the splotches on her dress she got stuck with her art project. Your canvas remained empty since every time you tried to give a shape to your thought his face would appear as well as vanish instantly. Your mind was restless, and so was your soul and you cussed him for that.

The rain had just started pouring. All the boys were still playing except Manjiro. It is not that hard to pick a blonde boy with a short stature among all of them or maybe he rubbed off on you. You scoffed as the thought of being bound to him by anything other than hatred crossed your mind.

The corridor was empty and devoid of the normal chatter. The only sound that prevailed was of the splattering raindrops against the window pane. Manjiro was merrily whistling walking through that lonely corridor and texting his friends to come over to Izana’s place.

Izana, Izana Kurokawa; his step-brother. He was still studying with the aid of scholarships. Unlike his brother, he wasn't very athletic. He was all brains and beauty. He graduated three years earlier than Manjiro. The smile in his yearbook photo declared that he could win many hearts in an instant.

Manjiro had no problem arranging for a place to chill and relax since he gets a little shy in front of his eldest brother, Shinichiro. It’s not the place, it’s the person, he would say. Being ten years elder than him, Shinichiro was like his dad. So, he was always confined in Izana especially in the matters of heart and girls because he believes Shinichiro wasn't like them;

While he held the ability to attract butterflies even though they never seem to come back, Izana and Manjiro were always the flames that would burn their wings. Such was their jealousy, their possessiveness.

Albeit, it would be less tedious to bring a girl over to his house rather than Zana's but Shinichiro had an idea how much it would mean to a girl while his gem of a brother would remain oblivious to such blooming emotions. So, Shinichiro declared a straight no to such habits.

“Listen, Zana. Emma went home early. We’re coming over to your place. Did you score?”

“Yep. How many are coming today?”, Izana exhaled as he checked the watch, 7:30 pm.

Manjiro paused. Draken went to drop Emma. Mitsuya would get busy with his girl.

“It’s just Baji, Tora. Two.”, he wiped his body with his jersey.

“No, make it three” He ended the call immediately and quickly hid against the turn of the corridor as he saw you standing absent-mindedly staring at the rain. There she is, the girl in red.

Without much thinking, he strolled towards you.

“Do you know where”, if he didn’t grab your hand you’d have bashed your head against the floor? His fingers remain clamped around your wrist. You exhaled strongly at such a surprise and before you composed yourself properly as he asked again, “Do you know where Draken is?”

“He went along with Emma to drop her home.”, It’s odd that he has to ask since you clearly remember Emma being all giddy while mentioning that Manjiro insisted on taking someone with her, someone as in Draken.

“Leaving you all alone…”, you quickly detached your hand from his hold and tucked it behind your waist. Your eyebrows congested at his remark.

What did he exactly mean by that? Why? Why would he leave me alone? First of all, why the fuck does he think we’ve something that might end up with him leaving me?

“Well, if you’re free you can come with us.”,

“She isn’t”, Naomi slipped in. Perfect.

Being Mitsuya’s girl as well as the daughter of the principal she was desired by many, perhaps Manjiro too but only to fuck her up. There is nothing he hated more than when he didn't get what he wanted and when his ploy gets an unmendable deviation.

“She is coming with us. I’m going to drop her home after Karaoke”

“What? When did that happen?”, Mitsuya’s jaw dropped because in this weather he would rather spend his time with Naomi rather than along with her friends in karaoke. Manjiro noticed how the love birds talked in eye codes and let out a short throaty chuckle. His pitch black pupils shun in thrill.

“So, if you change your mind. Let me know. I’ll be at the changing room”, he crossed by you leaving you in utter anger and disgust.

“I won’t. I won’t change my mind every time you ask.”, you bit your bottom lip inwards to control your anger but it was in vain.

“And as for Draken, he asked me before leaving with Emma.”, you lied and when he looked back at you, his aghast gaze was the greatest victory.

You walked away into your room leaving Naomi and Mitsuya baffled at your behavior. They kinda knew how you hated him but they happen to believe it’s the otherwise.

Manjiro didn’t realize he was grinning at your sharp display of wit until Baji smacked at the back of his head exclaiming that he looked like a stuffy toy, like Mickey mouse. He let out a trail of throaty chuckles this time gaining Baji’s stares.

“One, two”, Izana searched for number three as he held the door open with a cigarette pressed in between his teeth. He was barely dressed. “Where is number three?”

“Not coming.”, baji and Hanemiya followed as Manjiro stomped through his lavish apartment and sat in the middle of the sofa.

“She’s not easy.”, Baji added

“Ah, it’s a She”, Izana said with a dragging tone earning Manjiro’s stare.

“Yeah, she isn’t easy. Any girl would have jumped at an opportunity like that. How close is she with Ken-chin?”

“Quite close!”, Kazutora added as he started to roll a joint. Manjiro’s eyes flared at Baji and then to Kazutora who seemed too focused on his joint than usual.

“How close are they?”, Manjiro’s voice was stern, bold laced with possessiveness. At first, Baji hesitated, but when Izana nodded at the way he gave in.

“Well, word around the campus is y/n has a crush on him.”

“We all know about Draken but no idea about how he feels about y/n”, Kazutora finished Baji’s thought as he sealed the joint with the tip of his tongue.

For the first time, Manjiro felt awful about himself. Not for craving you only for himself even if that would last only for a few months, but because you saw right through him. He never bothered too much to find answers for why. He thinks those bring more trouble than lies. So, he didn’t give a flying fuck why he was so hooked on you. He just wanted you.

“What are you doin’?”, Draken asked from the other side of the phone.

“Ah! Cursing myself to death”, you said as you gazed at the imprint Manjiro Sano left on your right hand of his hold

“Ya’ know y/n Mikey was asking about you… and”

“And you told everything you know about me?”

“Fuck, at least be a little happy. At least you caught his eyes”

“Why? Why would I be? He is … forget it. I don’t wanna talk about it”

“Oh, c’mon do you think I wouldn't notice how you look at him? ALL THE TIME? ”

“I don’t know. You’re not getting those jersey pics of Emma's. Good night”, your cheeks flushed at his remark. Yes, you watched him. You watched him every chance you would get but if only Draken knew that you could never have him the way you wanted, only yours. So, you had to bury the feeling of liking him before it would bloom into love.

The next day, you couldn’t spot him anywhere on the campus. Even Draken didn’t know his whereabouts. Emma was hard to find too but since she was finally making some progress with Ken, you swallowed your curiosity, your bubbles of worried thoughts about him. Baji, Kazutora - those two were your only option since Nao as well as Mitsu would rather leap with joy thinking you’ve finally come to terms with their opinion. Sometimes, they’re so mom and dad to you.

It has been almost two weeks since you stopped going to the canteen; three since you didn’t spot Manjiro. The former had hurt you more since watching Draken and Emma soaked in happiness and with promised roses, it made you aware of how lonely you were. It is not that Emma stole your place; you never had a place, to begin with. You knew that from the very beginning but to see it all play out was such an eyesore.

At last, you decided to drop by the changing room. You could hear different male voices overlapping with each other. It was difficult to recognize. The moment you entered the volleyball court, there was a silent wave that washed over both of you as you spotted Manjiro spiking the ball. He noticed you since you leaned against the railing over the balcony. It is the last set and surely it wouldn’t hurt to wait and watch him play.

One more score and then the practice match would be over. It was Baji’s turn to serve. You inhaled a deep breath as you started to walk toward the exit but a sharp voice made you jolt. Still, it didn’t stop you.

“Hey the girl in red” “Hey y/n”, it was his voice, Manjiro. you searched for him and as your eyes landed on him he smiled brightly. Your heart leaped into the core of your throat.

“Wait for me. Please. Till the finish the game.”, with all the loneliness and sadness piling up inside your body, you barely could bite back like most of the time and hence you had to wait.

As the game finished you stood near the entrance of the changing room. Kazutora left without much fuss but Baji eyed you up and down, then looked at Manjiro before leaving.

“Thanks for waiting!”, he quipped as you offered him your insulated water bottle still trying to figure out your actions. If you still had a place to go after the first period, as you had a few weeks ago; perhaps, you wouldn't have been here. Thanks to Draken.

“Did you tell anyone?”, Manjiro noticed the confusion in your eyes. “About what you saw at the infirmary last semester?”, your eyebrows jumped as the memory flashed at the back of your head.

He emptied the bottle over himself and drank the rest of the cold water as his dark globes scanned you.

Manjiro was at his limit, cautious around you since he never dealt with your kind. The kind that would look breathtakingly beautiful while drowning in vulnerability. He didn’t know that until he noticed you coming day in and day out at the canteen. Watch you stare at Draken and Emma as you grabbed a packed food and then leave without a word.

Manjiro knew you were friends with his sister and secretly he was thankful for the friendship that kept you from being the third wheel in her relationship. But what he couldn’t digest was how you looked at Draken.

It is such a vicious cycle how Manjiro will never know how you looked at him, thought of him, and pushed him out of your soul before you gave in to the illuminating flame of affection.

“No” His eyes were pale. “My turn. Did you seriously make me wait to ask this?”

Even though Manjiro wanted to slam you against his closet, hold your thighs tightly to kiss those soft lips of yours, he couldn’t. Manjiro banged shut his closet making you a jolt.

“Sorry. Did that startle you?”, you felt awful when he thrashed your question just like Draken slowly forgot to buy food for you.

“No. your behavior did”, you tartly spoke and vanished from his sight as soon as possible. He watched you as your faded in your off-white dress. She likes to wear dark-colored inners.

It was almost the end of another semester. All were busy preparing for their exams and at a boiling moment like this, your phone rang in that familiar ringtone. It was Draken.

“Yes, what?”

“I need your help y/n”

“With what? Notes? We’re from different streams Draken. Plus, I’m sure Emma would be happy to help you with that. She knows everyone, bye”

“Wait, wait wait. I need your help” and that tone alone declared that he still hasn’t confessed his feelings. You rolled your eyes since even without the confession they looked like they made it official.

Around four o'clock in the morning, the call ended. He was complaining about how you stopped coming to the canteen and when you came clean, he was so nice to apologize at length, probably overdid it.

The day exams ended, Emma and Naomi insisted you on attending the party at Izana’s penthouse, more like dragged you in it saying it would be fun but here you are standing on the lonely balcony while others were dancing, drinking, and enjoying their youth to the fullest.

After the end of every semester, this was a must. And all thanks to Izana. After his mom died he inherited all the wealth. Even though, he was adopted he inherited all the property as well as the alimony. At first, he didn’t want it. Cursed money he’d say to Ran but the rumor has it a certain girl changed his devilish heart. They’re not together though; It is a wonder how a devil let go of his angel who was ready to soak all his sins.

As soon as you entered the room where DJ was set up, Draken pulled Emma after nodding in your direction. You smiled as you knew what he meant. He is going to confess today. Emma dragged you into the crowd. Emma is not much of a freestyle dancer, she wished to pursue ballet so she stood in a corner watching both of you go wild. You felt a bit remorse thinking she might misunderstand but then again you can’t say explain yourself not when she has not asked for it. It would backfire.

But when Manjiro saw you, you were already swinging your hips along with Ryuguji who seemed too absorbed in the moment. Naomi went to search for Mitsuya. You spotted a guy with a sleeveless vest, headphones around his nape moving his body in rhythm. His tattoo was glowing in the dim light. He looked so hot. You searched for a familiar stature since Rindou was never alone, he always had his brother, Ran by his side even if they were polar in every way.

As you skimmed through the crowd you bumped into Kazutora. He was a bit handsy, and so were you. You still couldn’t spot Manjiro which was a good sign. “Sorry Y/n”, his breath was refreshing non-alcoholic unlike other guys but his eyes declared how stoned he was.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to a side where it’s less crowded. His ear-spread smile was enough to let you know how thankful he was. A dark-haired boy with emerald green eyes came to his savior. Kazutora immediately wrapped his arms around him and you excused yourself as you noticed the eyes of the other guy. Some would say he’s high but you tend to believe it was little more than just friends.

“Wanna paint your body y/n ?” speak of the devil. You turned your gaze towards Izana who just finished painting Manjiro’s body. A face of a lion on his back. No wonder Izana was selected as a guide for the previous art exhibition. Unfortunately, you missed it since you still hadn’t enrolled in this university.

Manjiro started complaining about how there’s no point in painting his body if he can’t see it. Izana ignored and nudged him to move aside. You hesitated at first, but when you noticed most of the girls were in short tops, you swallowed your inner thoughts before slipping the shirt on the floor.

Now, you were just in a skirt, a pant, and a lacy black bra.Izana grinned. He tapped the cigarette as he kept the brush in the paint bucket. He looked at Manjiro and then towards you before leaving. Great, so everyone knows how you hated him, liked him, or whatever.

Manjiro stood in front of you with that brush in his hand as every sound seem to fade. Can’t you just live for once? Can’t you just have him? Just for once? What could he possibly do in the remaining two semesters?

The moment he was about to say something there was a power cut. A shrill cry of disappointment echoed through the room while you thanked the heavens. You wanted to go away from this place as soon as possible and this seemed like a perfect chance. “Just stay.”, a feeble voice reached your ears while Manjiro pulled you to an adjacent cubicle where the moonlight fell over your face.

The power was back up, and so was the music. He still had the brush in his hand. “Why were you dancing with Ken?”, eyes boring into you as he cornered you more. “Because your sister dragged me”

“Half-sister”, he corrected.

“I don’t care. Move”, you raised your voice as you felt your pulse rising.

“What if I don’t ?”, he blocked the exit with his arm having your naked belly brush the length of his arm. “Look at me”, his lips brushed your ears.

“What if I don’t?”, but your words were responded with action. Manjiro swiftly pulled you against his firm chest. His skin was burning. You froze at his audacity and were ready to scream.

“You’re free to do anything you want”, his limb grazed your boobline. “And so am I”, he murmured before turning you around.

It happened within a blink of an eye. Your hands were above your head pinned by his, one of his legs shoved under your skirt as he sucked your lips. You wanted this, wanted to have him. So what if he forgets after a few months and calls you just for sex? You were not bound to answer him, were you?

“Do you still want me to move?”, he asked. Breathing perfectly normal while you struggled to inhale. You looked at him since his question is so baseless given the fact that he still held your hands above your head. “Right ‘course”, he let go of your hands. As he was about to walk away, you grabbed his toned muscular arm. He is strong. He turned around and nothing need to be said since he noticed your soft parted lips. And just like that, a butterfly was ready to burn its wings in fire, like an ordinary moth.

When you opened your eyes, you were in an oversized shirt, your pants and wrapped in his arms. Manjiro was still sleeping, his blonde strands of hair curled at the bottom. His back was half-clad with the cover. You removed the quilt from him in an instant as the last night’s impulse twinkled like a star. Thank god he is in boxers.

No discarded condom packet was lying as you scanned the floor and the dustbin looked intact. But that still doesn’t mean you didn’t do it. Your chest heaved at the thought of waking him up. You extended your hand and then retreated, then again extended it near his cheeks and instantly curled it in your lap.

“Woah! That was hard to watch”, Izana was so loud or maybe it was the booze that still fazed your senses. He majestically stomped into the room and smiled as he exclaimed, “This is my favorite part”

“Wake up Mikey.”, he grabbed his arms to jerk him a bit. He groaned and curled against your thighs. You never looked so lost before. What exactly you could do when your crush is still asleep beside you while his step-brother wakes him up?

“Shin called me ten times”

“T-E-N times ?!”, Mikey sprung up on the bed.

“He falls for it, every damn time”, Izana quipped looking at you before leaving his brother in absolute horror. Mikey jumped out of the bed and as he turned around he noticed you sitting like a good girl at his display. He swallowed hard noticing the bite marks near your inner thighs and neckline. “Just gimme two minutes, I’ll drop you home”

“No. Thank you”, and that surely woke him up if a lie like that didn’t. He sat near the edge of the bed. “I know girls like you”, he mumbled tapping your nose. He is not even sorry that he tosses girls so easily. You peered through your eyelashes, he continued, “Who thinks it’s a mistake, who thinks it’s bad to do something like this, who thinks they are bad to enjoy their life before marriage.” Your heart flipped inside your ribs as those very lips that spouted such sweet talk dashed on to your lips.

Yes, he knew everything. He knew how easily you would give in, how you were so stubborn to avoid him because this is what scared you the most; to be just another girl to him. If he remembered you as Emma's friend that wouldn’t be a bother but you lost the chance yesterday when you kissed him back.

You pushed him away saying, “I’ve to go” and didn’t pay any heed to his pout. You dressed in the bathroom and before leaving you remarked, “Good luck with that” pointing towards his boner. You smiled as he quickly covered himself.

Manjiro enjoyed this as much as you regretted it, for him, he had won this. He couldn’t care less about you, your silly crush on Ken-chin, or that you’re Emma's dearest friend. He had won the bet.

A new semester began. Naomi and Mitsuya were no doubt in utter shock at such vivid progress. You just had to go through another semester, then you don’t have to see him anymore and he would never know how much your heart ached for him. But things weren’t that easy. While you tried your best to avoid him, he used to pop now and then. He even stopped seeing other girls and the most shocking part is you didn’t even ask for it.

Most of the girls envied you and talked behind your back which made you feel awful since you didn’t ask any of these. You barely kept in touch with him. Sometimes, he would take you for a bike ride and talk about his dreams, and his friends but he neither asked about Ken nor Emma.

He was certainly curious about Naomi but you were lost in him. Those moments however seemed unpromising meant the world to you. Why? Because you had fallen in love with him. You no longer loath him with every beat of your heart. You now desired to let him burn your wings so that you could never leave him, even if your sane voice told you to.

The semester ended way too early or so as it seemed. And like a tradition, most of the familiar faces gathered at Izana’s penthouse. Baji mentioned that he saw Mikey on the balcony with Izana but when you reached there it was empty.

“Looking for Mikey I guess”, a boy with strangely symmetric scars at the edge of his lips asked you as you entered the lift. He followed. You searched his face trying to place if Mikey ever mentioned him in his talks. “Haruchiyo?”, you muttered gaining a wide grin from him. When you looked at him a little too long, he wore his mask. You wanted to apologize but the moment the door of the elevator opened, you stopped as you saw the blonde boy. He was sure with Izana; that was correct but Baji got the wrong floor.

“So, you’re gonna ditch her? Just like that?”, Izana asked.

“ I mean. We’re not together. We are not even official or anything like that. I’ll just walk when I’ll feel like it”, Manjiro puffed out a ring from his drag, as he continued, “I wouldn’t have bothered to do this if Haruchiyo didn’t point it out … that how close she was with Draken. I mean I would ruin everyone who would break my sister’s heart.”

“Still, she needs to know Mikey. It's better that way. She is different ya’know, she is …” Izana absent-mindedly glanced in the direction of the elevator.

There you were standing with blank eyes with Haruchiyo by your side who had no idea that his silly comment would turn into an obsession and eventually end with such an awful heartbreak. Izana was staring at you with parted lips.

“yep. She is different.”, Manjiro added following Izana's trail of vision. You snapped into reality and immediately took the stairs as your eyes met his. That was your last eye contact with him before you walked out of his life.

“Fuck Haruchiyo, move !”

“Mikey? You get most of the girls here and you pull this shit? When you talked about her to me over the phone I thought you changed. You didn't...”

“Fuck, fuck fuck…just move”, Manjiro pushed Haruchiyo aside and ran as fast as he could.

“y/n you're gonna hurt yourself. You're gonna fall off the stairs.”, Manjiro shouted as he ran through the stairs pushing through the crowd. When he reached near the pool area he saw you in a yellow dress running towards the main road.

“y/n STOP. Listen to me. ”, he panted as he saw you pause. “I can explain.”

“Manjiro Sano. I don't want your explanation. You're free now. So, stop following me.”, with that you slowly walked towards the mouth of the main road to catch a bus without looking back. For the first time Manjiro knew how heartbreak sounded. It sounded as if a wounded creature wailed all night till it was dead.

“For the first time in my life, I've seen you interested in a girl.” Manjiro shot his hazy gaze upwards.

“Ken-chin!”

“told you she was too good for you.”

“fuck you.”, Manjiro hissed as he took Draken’s hand to stand up. She indeed is different.

The next day was normal and the day after was too. You didn't speak of him to Naomi. Even, Mitsuya’s visits became less frequent. There were quite a lot of spectators so it's quite normal for people to know about it. Mikey's girls were smiling again but not for long. It was a week.

It was a week everything was like this. Slowly, people started to talk, blame you for Mikey's cold behavior, and hold you responsible if Mikey was absent. Naomi couldn't defend you anymore.

Rumors and lies spread like wildfires. Some even said that he left you because you cheated on him with Haruchiyo. It broke his heart when he saw you in the elevator with Haruchiyo. You pretended not to care while he did the same.

Haruchiyo was easy to find. He was a transfer student at your university. He always wore a mask most probably because he didn't want to catch anyone's eye but you saw him without his mask, that day, more like he let you. Why would he do that?

“Y/n what's wrong with you?”, a shrill high pitched voice gained your attention enough to make you look at the face of the person. You’ve been avoiding people’s faces lately.

Emma. You knew this day would come. You've prepared for this day. You exhaled deeply before she started to cuss at you but all you heard were words of apology.

“Why didn't you tell me? I could have talked to him. I could have talked to Shin— she was on the verge of crying because she held herself responsible when she heard every ounce of truth from Izana. Izana sure is all beauty and brains.

“Emma. Relax. Breath.”, you cupped her hands. “I knew it from the very beginning. I knew it all along. Just pretend that I was one of his easy fucks. that's it”

“is that what you tell yourself?”, Draken quipped. You wondered how long he had been standing near the door but he sure looked concerned, not sure for whom exactly — was it you, Mikey, or Emma?

“No. Because we never fucked each other ”,

“Rrrrr-right!”, he nodded and stared at you.

“We just like had … make-out sessions and bike rides...”, you trailed off when Emma and Draken both were shocked at your words. They couldn't believe it. “Why are you two looking as if I'm lying? Did Mikey already brag about how he fucked me or did he already tell that I was clean so that others could have me...after all I was Mikey's girl ?”

“This is serious.”, Emma remarked.

“Indeed.”, Draken nodded three times. “Mikey doesn't take anyone for a ride, for all the girls he has fucked and he is ...

“what Draken is trying to say is that he is himself with you.”, Emma picked up his cue, and before she could tell you to mend the broken ties you let out a snort.

“Emma. I'll talk to you later. I've classes today”, another lie along with a few thousand others. You checked your watch and quickly walked towards the exit. You headed towards the music class since it was empty at this time.

You were sitting near the window facing it at the music class when you spotted Haruchiyo playing baseball. You watched him through the window as he hit the ball flying across the field. He seemed happy. maybe he still isn't aware of the rumors.

“y/n, do you have class here?”,

“Yes. no. I'm sorry. I'll leave.” when you turned around you noticed a blonde guy and a familiar dragon tattoo peaked through his collar. Manjiro Sano. of course needed a change. He couldn't even look at you.

“We didn't have a proper chance to talk...I’ I’m sorry for all of these. I didn't realize it back then...

his words seem to fade. he seems to become hazy. You felt a burning sensation near your temple before you almost lost balance. you grabbed the handle of the chair but alas! the ball hit you hard enough to make you faint.

When your heavy eyelids opened, you noticed Emma sitting near your feet. Draken's bag was near the bottom of the door. The beeping sound slowly helped you regain your senses. You turned your head only to find Manjiro sleeping as he held your hand. His cheeks were pressed against the back of your hand. You didn't feel his warmth. The sedatives and painkillers were to blame.

You tried to move your hand a little as you tried to remember the last thing before you fainted. You remembered how Manjiro’s voice slurred as he held you in his arms, as you tried your utmost to say I love you too.

You closed your eyes thinking he might just act out of pity. After all, if you hadn't seen him at the infirmary, if he hadn't acted on such an impulse thought, if you didn't know Draken he wouldn't even give a fuck about you, maybe he still doesn't but the way he was grasping onto your palms screamed how desperately he wanted you to stay in with him, only him. You drifted to sleep again.

Damn ! the pills and baseball players. damn Haruchiyo. damn it. fuck everything...

It was night when you woke up in your vivid senses. Your parched throat ached for a drop of wetness. You manage to stand but with that slipper, you were bound to fall and it would surely knock you out forever with such weakness in your body.

The corridors were silent, devoid of bright lights. Your room was engulfed in darkness except for the light perforating through the glass windows. “You never learn do you?”

If it wasn't for the fall, you'd have died out of a heart attack. Who on earth does that?

“I’m thirsty.”

Draken switched on the lights. He texted someone. Probably his dearest friend, Mikey. Before leaving the room he handed you a bottle. You cursed how weak your body was since you were unable to open the cap. Fuck you Draken. You tried a few more rounds and then gave up.

“Here”, a small bottle finely opened with a straw dipped in it. “It’s chilled. Just like you prefer”, you knew that voice, those rough hands, long fingers with a firm grip. You couldn’t seem to get the name properly.

“Izana?”

“Uh…no”, he cleared his throat, “You don’t remember me? It’s Manjiro. Your Manjiro” You tried to gain your composure but finally gave in to his adorable ways, his long eyelashes that reeked of loneliness and surrender; his pink lips that slightly parted and trembled at the possibility of losing you. You had no idea you could wield such power, power to see him vulnerable, to see the Manjiro Sano on his knees. You started to drink the cold mineral water using the straw. Sitting on the bed, having him standing near your knee you left him bobbing like a broken boat with the greatest trail of confusions.

What if the concussion was too much? What if she seriously doesn't remember me? What if she thinks of Izana as me and me as Izana? Oh my god fuck! That’s even worse.

You noticed his grip stiffened and clenched the bed sheets. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine Manjiro”, you uttered giving him an apologetic look. His eyebrows knitted close. And so you kissed him clearing all his doubts, soaking all his waves of anger and disappointments, absorbing every bit of loneliness from his frail body.

“You shouldn’t have done that”, he remarked as you pulled away from the kiss. His hands were underneath your thighs while yours curled around his slim nape.

“Mikey. Control”, and both of you flew away from each other. Mikey even bashed the back of his head against the wall. He glared at Izana but a bigger stature appeared. It was Shinichiro.

“A word Mikey”, Shinichiro scanned you with suspicious eyes.

As both the Sanos were talking outside, well Mikey was on the explaining end that included lots of hand movements while Shinichiro listened keeping his hands folded in his chest. There was no doubt that they were discussing you since at every other minute Shinichiro looked at you with surprise in his. At each glance, the surprise kept swelling until Manjiro turned him around to make him face his back to you.

“Remember that rumor, that I changed myself for a girl?”, Izana gave you a lollipop because the way Shinichiro shook his head declared that it’s gonna take a little while.

“Yeah…”, you supplied as you took the lollipop.

“Well, it wasn't. It was him”, he popped out his lollipop and smiled looking at you. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“He is so handsome”, and Izana almost choked on his breath since he knew Mikey’s pout would last weeks long because of this. Both the Sanos left in a hurry after Shinichiro got a call. But Mikey came back to say. “Izana watch her. Just watch her”, no one would suspect Izana of being a tease the way he nodded his head like a good boy.

“Do you know why he got that dragon tattoo similar to Draken and Mitsuya?”, Izana asked but he rolled his eyes noticing your curious globes.

“He felt lonely. He was happy for Emma and Draken, for Mitsuya too. No doubt about that but he missed them. He couldn’t exactly roam around the campus like he used to” he looked at you pulling out the candy into his mouth and discarding the stick into the bin. “And then he met you. You whom he thought had a crush on his friend, Draken. So, trust me when I say that handsome brother of his might do the same what Manjiro has done with you.”

“I know I got lucky but that doesn’t change the fact that he is an asshole”

“A valid fact”, he shook his head. He took a few steps towards the exit. “Try to think”, he slipped before leaving you in all sorts of confusion.

When you were discharged from the hospital, it was Izana who came to take you. He brought his car.

“Your mom drained your father in alimony”, you remarked looking at his black Lamborghini. He simply smiled. It smelt of pride and confidence. The car ride was mostly silent but your mind was not. It was a pool of questions, questions like where is he taking you? Why did he come? Why Manjiro didn’t come? Is he angry? Or is he sick?

“I think you’re taking the wrong route”

“Ha-ha. No no. y/n. Mikey couldn’t come. He was nervous since he kinda blames himself for your accident. Plus, the doctor asked you to remain under watch. So, Mikey thought it would be better to take you to my house” Izana noticed your denial as you frowned. “Mikey told me you wouldn’t like the idea” and that softened your expressions.

“Your house? House as in your penthouse?”

“House as in my house”, he corrected. A staff got all your bags while Izana guided you up to your room.

“Wait here! Mikey will be here shortly” and with that Izana left the room.

You pulled the curtains and gasped at the view. The whole city was drenched in rain and the glass became foggy. You wrote, “I love you Manjiro Sano”, and felt childish about it.

“Can I come in?”, you immediately pulled the curtains back and turned around.

“Mikey. It’s you”

“You never call me Mikey,”, his eyebrows grew closer but this time there was a curve at the edge of those pink lips. “What did you do?”, he was wearing a black suit and his boots clicked against the wooden floor as he approached you.

“Stop right there.”, you exhaled “Tell me something, are you planning to take me somewhere and then marry me and then keep me somewhere away from everyone-

Manjiro walked towards you even with your disapproval. You closed your eyes, the curtains clenched in your fist hold as his body grazed yours while his hands swiftly made you release the hold on the curtains.

“I might!”, he whispered as he drew the curtains. “I think I’ve to if you keep doing things like these”

You grinned at him as his eyes bored into you without blinking. Your smile sublimed and a low gasp evaporated through your lips as he pulled you against him, his hands stilling around your waistline. Your nose crooked as he brought his face closer to yours.

"That day if I would have looked you in the eye and said those things, perhaps you wouldn't be so hurt..."

"That day if you looked me in the eye, I would have fled out of your sight", there was a smile on his face, a smile that wouldn't wither away. He took your hands in his and kissed your palms as he continued, "I'm...I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was such an asshole. All I cared about was winning, winning at everything and anything until I lost myself. I think I love you"

"You still think...?"

"Hey, At least I'm trying...", he muttered softly while your eyes darted to the view outside.

"I think I love you too", you murmured as he wrapped his arms around your belly pulling you close to his body. You were now facing the view again as his lips started to work its wonder.

“I remember how you told me that you’d win every match if I take you to arcade games”, his hands slipped under your dress. “You were so drunk that you barely let me do anything; I wasn’t drunk drunk but I’m glad it was your pussy that I tasted while going down on someone”

“Oh my god! Please stop talking right now.”, you palmed your face in embarrassment but he wasn’t going to stop, not anytime soon.

“And, when you talked about Draken and Emma, about how happy they were, about how lonely you were, I felt that too. It was so hard to hold myself back”, Manjiro sat at the edge of the bed having you in between his legs, his hands still clamped around your thin torso.

“Don’t tell me we did it while I was drunk”, you uttered in dismal.

“No, we didn’t.”, he chuckled as he swung sideways. “You almost cried saying that you’re strong, that a one-night stand doesn’t define you, and that you’re gonna prove Nao wrong”, that it is just a dried leaf of autumnal fall.

“So, try to trust me when I do this…

“Do wh-at …ah aH”, your hands flew back on his thighs. With a firm grip, you gasped as one of his hands massaged your boob while the other rubbed your feminity. You were squirming in his hold but that didn’t faze him. “Man-Ji-ro”, you moaned and it was responded with a harsh bite against your pulse point. He brought his slick wet fingers near his lips. You watched him lick it clean as his other hand rested over your tummy.

Your palm dived into his soft strands of yours as you kissed him instantly. You could feel his smile through the kiss. His hands gave a squeeze on your waist muscles. Manjiro felt you relax as he pulled the elastic of your panty and then released it. It made you flinch and immediately pull away from the kiss.

That was his chance, the only chance to turn the tables around. Within a blink of an eye, you were underneath him. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous”, he murmured staring at you. You noticed the gleam in his eyes that roamed all over your body and stilled over your excited nipples. You got rid of the red dress that Emma brought you before the day you were discharged.

This is the first time he has seen you naked. You were far more angelic than what he had imagined. Manjiro latched his lips around your pebbled nipple as he interlaced his fingers with yours. You squealed as he sucked too hard before biting your flesh.

“Mikey”, and he rolled along your side. It was Shinichiro's voice. Thank god the door was closed.

He cupped your cheeks and rubbed his thumb over your flushed cheeks.

“MIKEY”,

“Yea! Coming”, he responded. He checked his watch. “Gimme fifteen minutes” and before you could ask him not to stall his brother further he positioned his mouth near your clit. He pushed aside the cloth and gave a broad lick.

A smirk laced his lips because it would take less than fifteen to make you cum. It turned him on as he smelt your arousal.

“Fu-ck! Don’t stop”

“As you wish babe”, his mouth kept altering between broad licks and strong sucks. He paused as he felt you struggle for breath, wraith under his touch till you came.

“May I know where you’re going?”, you asked as he stood motionless staring at your naked body that was glistening in sweat.

“Get dressed !”, he pointed towards your bag. “And stay close to me. Don’t go around jumping all over the place”

You frowned thinking how much of a child he thought you would be. You couldn’t exactly blame him since all he knew about you was from Draken. Mikey had no idea about how a lover acts when they’re around the people they fancy; After all, you are his first love.

networks — @tokyometronetwork

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[jittersbitters]

Splintered Hearts (1)- "First Impressions"

Story summary: Two people of differing backgrounds; Both religiously traumatized (in different ways), both college friends of Foggy, and both not having the most stable of lives- romantic or otherwise. One looking to become a lawyer (and a savior) for the people of Hell's Kitchen, while the other chooses to be a doctor for those entering an early grave. Two vastly separate lives finally starting to collide- for better or for worse? Secrets and lies always did make kisses far more sweet.

Chapter summary: Foggy has a friend at the hospital that Matt has been dying to meet. Through circumstance and luck, he finally gets the chance to meet them one-on-one. Hopefully, the chicken and dumplings he brought are enough to smooth things over.

Word count: 7k

Chapter Mood board

Tropes: Strangers to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, daddy issues, might be some friends to unknown enemies to lovers (We'll see how I feel when we cross that bridge), friendship to love to hate to love again, Food is the easiest way to anyone heart (Trope or just facts?). Catholic x Pagan (guilty pleasure), lawyer x doctor, vigilant x reformed criminal (pending...), sex first love later, Oops we fell in love type story, slow burn, mutual pining, both fell first and then fell harder

Content Warning (Strap in folks; bolded is what appears in this chapter): FMC is named (I can't do that Y/N shit or constantly typing just she/her and vague gender descriptions, I have war flashbacks from my Wattpad days. Sorry fam oc is being slapped in here- I don't care it feels better), Possible Inaccuracies (I'm reading the script sue me), The subtlest hint of daddy issues, Vaguely mentioned age gap between Matt and Amilia (FMC), Religious trauma, Matt went one-way and Amilia went the other, mentions of drug use, Descriptions of drug use, Mentions of addiction recover, Falling off and going on a bender, Mentions of past criminal active, Descriptions of murder scenes, Descriptions of violence, FILTH, SMUT IS TO COME I promise, Just got to sit through the slowest slow burn ever, Detailed descriptions of dead bodies, She's not like other girls she likes to play with the dead, I'll add more when we get farther into this- editing has transformed this from the original plot- its BETTER

part one

A/N: If you would have told me 3 years ago I would be posting this, I would have laughed in your face- but here we are. Special thanks to @knightofthieves and a couple Matt Murdock pages for giving me the confidence to edit and post this. It turned out better than expected, I hope you like it. I'm hoping to post this on the same schedule as my therapy visits. We will see.

"It isn't the red ribbon that binds us together.

The root that unifies us, does not derive from a tree on the wall.

This bond knows no genetics.

Friendship is a peculiar seed.

No matter the season, the weather,

nor the time of the day.

When planted on a nourishing soul,

it will always bear fruit." -Clairel Estevez

~-~

‘240 N. Pleasant Ave. Bronx, NY 10462’

This had been the place her nurse had mentioned. Taking people in, like her, with nowhere else to go. Wayward kids and adults with habits that made them undesirable to society. 

That's what she was at this moment, unwanted and pathetically useless. 

With no skills to manage a normal life, this was the last choice she had - rehabilitation with nothing more than a voucher and a bag of belongings. She had been lucky an attending had been nice enough, kind enough, to her to shove a piece of paper in her hand before ushering her out the door. Three simple lines containing the information and resources to get somewhere safe.

 Now, the letter with the address card was held, crumpled, in her hand. Thinning for days spent reading the smudged words, a reminder of a fresh start. A start that had the slouched woman, draped in the shadows left by the broken lamp post, looking up at the old Georgian-styled house in front of her. Sticking out like a sore thumb, presenting as some sort of illusion made from the smog and grey drizzle. Potted plants and windchimes hung from the porch rafters, the sound of the crystals sitting almost eerily in the air. The glow of the interior lights giving a warm backwash that set shadows across the front lawn, reached the tips of her shoes.

It made her anxious. Being out, prancing up to a random stranger's house. It was almost uncanny. A normal house, a normal neighborhood. Complete with the green yard and a slowly aging white picket fence. Flowers were even planted to perfectly line the bottom... It was an oasis in the New York chill, made to allure those passing by. It was only a thousand miles from home and the complete opposite of everything she had grown to know. It made her feel insignificant and self-conscious, small. Worried that her clothes would have the lady of the house turning up her nose in disgust. Button up wrinkled and disheveled from the bus ride, obviously heavily slept in and smelling of humid sweat. She had done her best to freshen up at the bus stop, nervous about making the right impression for the first time face to face. She just worried that the effort hadn’t been enough.

She’d think it was excitement, butterflies fluttering in her gut like a teenage girl going to prom if it wasn’t for the acid that was climbing up her throat. Burning bile that had her stomach in knots, turning over and over till she felt like she was about to lose her lunch. A clammy, cold sweat dripped between her fingers. She cringed at the salty texture; hastily patting her palms dry on the sides of her legs and shoving the paper into her coat pocket. Finally looking around at something other than the house, she peered around the dead residential street becoming acutely aware of just how long she had been standing out front. Tsking crudely at her absurd behavior, calling herself a child as she picked at the fraying seam of her pants.

“Fuck, FUCK,” she said bitterly through her teeth. Hearing the grind of them in her ears as she fixed her sack. The strap dug into her shoulder, loaded with all her earthly possessions, as she finally stepped into the light of the driveway. Making the agonizing journey to the front door, stalling on the steps of the porch as she saw all the trinkets and planters. Not being able to help herself, tutting at the stereotypical rocking chair by the front door - fit with the dog bed sitting beside it. The rattling of the bench swing creaked next to it as a breeze swept through, chimes ringing behind her. 

Guess she really was a Grandma…

When she came to the front door, she remembered to breathe, steeling her overzealous nerves, and taking one last look around before knocking on the door. Making it quick with false vibrato before she lost her edge. Instantly, she regretted it as someone seemed to bounce up and shuffle toward the door, obviously expecting her arrival. It had her inching side to side, smoothing down the wrinkles in her button-up, tightening her ponytail to hide tangled hair. Still fussing over her appearance like a schoolgirl, when the door opened- stomach sinking to her feet. The light from the entrance basking her pale face, the smell of some type of cookie wafting through the air. Her stomach growled as she felt drawn inside forgetting she hadn’t eaten since she stepped foot on her bus here. Mouth watering at the same time her lips felt parched, her throat begging for a glass of water.

“Ah, Darling! You must be Ms. Boteo! Rachael told me to be expecting you tonight.” An elderly woman opened the door, tanned skin wrinkled with age and blotted with freckles. A smile that could rival the sun brightened her face as she took in the young woman's tired appearance. A small frown twitched at the sides of her lips as her eyes scanned the bags under the lady’s even darker eyes. Growing the tiniest bit unsettled, disappointed, by the dead look behind them. Not even the light from her house was managing to brighten them. Somehow just made the amber look hauntingly soulless, fading into the black ring of her iris. It had the woman pushing down a shiver, rubbing her hands together like the chill of mid-October was getting to her. Hiding a frown in a brightened smile.

“Why- Why don’t we get you out of this cold? I’ll introduce you to everyone…” She led the newly arrived women inside with a hand on her shoulder, shocked when she felt nothing but ice. Even with the leather jacket, she shouldn’t have been that cold. “And maybe a nice cup of tea, hmm?”

~-~

Seven years later…

“Nelson,” The sharp voice of his boss cut through the air like a knife. It made both men freeze in the middle of their work. Both turned to answer her, Foggy feeling like a deer in headlights as his pen slipped from his hand and the office phone pressed into his shoulder dangled precariously. The air felt thick in their closet of an office as she looked between the two interns with a passive gaze. “I need you to sit in on my meeting with the Agnelli accounts.”

The panic that went through Foggy was palpable. “Yes ma’am.” He gave an awkward nod of his head, enough to satisfy his boss. He looked between her departing back and his notepad, finishing his call- obviously disgruntled. “Yes, Yes, thank you, Bobby.” 

*Click* 

Foggy fell back into his chair, tense as he pushed the phone away from him in a huff. “Shit! I was supposed to go to the hospital for lunch…”

“You still haven’t got the list?” Matt turned his head toward Foggy’s voice, hands grazing over the documents before him. “I thought you went to see them on Monday?”

“No,” He pulled the word out, turning inward to their shard desks. “They were called to a scene as soon as I arrived. Walked out the door with a pat on the back and a ‘I’m sorry, I'll see you whenever Franklin’ before whipping out the door and leaving me with TWO servings of Taiwanese noodles. With all our overtime, today is the only time we both have available for a while. I won’t be seeing them till after the trial at this rate.”

Matt’s fingers stopped mid-page. 

Foggy was desperate. The case was going to court in 3 days, and while they had a case without paperwork from the hospital, it wasn’t perfect. It had holes, and their boss didn’t like holes. The records would be the cherry on top. Impress the boss and make the trial MUCH easier to breeze through. Two birds, one stone. Besides... Matt had never been allowed to know so much as the name of whoever this friend was at the hospital. This could be his chance, as selfish as it was- he was far too curious to care anymore.

“I…Could go?” Matt tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. Leaning in his chair as he swiveled to the side. Without paying attention to anything else, Matt could still feel the disdain at the idea, heavy in the air like smoke. The way Foggy fidgeted and gave him a shrewd once over to discern Matt’s intentions. However, before Foggy could shoot him down like usual, Matt raised a hand to interrupt him. Let him try and convince him. “Think about it. I don’t have that much work and you have this meeting now. When’s the next chance you’re realistically going to have to go to the hospital?”

“...”

Silence was good. Silence wasn’t a no. As long as he held it long enough, he was bound to break eventually…

“... You’ll need to pick up the order from MeiMei’s.” That was NOT entirely too far from the hospital. “It's Friday so she will be counting on the usual from there, she’s particular about these things.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Matt gave a little shrug of the mouth but got nothing but silence again in return. He sensed Foggy becoming more anxious about the idea, having to contemplate if he was actually going through with this. Was the report really worth exposing his ‘mystery man’? Years of excuses going down the drain, opening a door he wouldn’t be able to close.

“You’ll behave yourself?” Even without context, Matt got the subtext in that accusation. It was the first domino tipping, sewing the downfall of all the rest.

“So they’re a woman, then? Interesting” The upward twitch in his lips gave Foggy all the proof he needed not to trust his friend. Resigning with a sharp glare and an exaggerated sigh that Matt couldn’t help but laugh at. It didn’t help his case, only ended in another sharp look shooting his way.

“No. No! The answer is no.” Foggy turned away, starting to pack up papers for the new meeting. Surrending himself to the absence of that report, not like they needed it. It would be fine. There was always the next case, another opportunity to impress the boss would always arise

“Okay, Okay,” Matt put his hands up, showing his capulation. Though, still smiling at his friend's obvious discomfort and exasperation. “I promise it will be nothing, but my best behavior.”

Foggy rolled his head toward Matt. Even though he knew Matt couldn’t see him, it didn’t stop Foggy from giving his office mate a ‘do I look stupid to you’ stare. Looking the most unamused he had ever been with Matt, it was almost a shame Matt didn’t get to witness it. “See, that?” he thrusted an open hand toward his partner. “That is the problem.”

Matt snorted, raising his eyebrows. “What now? How is that the problem?”

“With you it is. You’ll talk nice and butter her up, then next thing I know I’m being canceled on for lunch because you wooed her, or whatever it is you do,” he was waving his hands around, becoming more eccentric as he continued to shove papers and files he needed into his case.

“Wooed her? Foggy-”

“No, I’m not losing my only client before I’ve even started.” He clipped his briefcase shut, doubling down. “Took me way too long to convince her lawyers aren’t the devil, I’m not letting you take that away.”

“Hey, now. I’m just trying to help,” Matt leaned farther back in his chair, a convincing smile never leaving his lips. “I will keep my distance, I swear it.” The uptick in his tone told Foggy not to trust him, track record not being taken into consideration… but he did trust Matt, even if now it might have been misguided. If he made it clear she was off limits then, he was more than sure that Matt would stick to it… Right?

It was a beat before Matt heard the victorious spleen sigh of Foggy relenting. Leaning over his desk to write a note, scribbling it quickly before stuffing it in Matt’s shirt pocket. “Give that to her boss, he asked me to look into the legality of something for him.”

“Oh?” His satisfaction was quickly replaced with confusion. What could that mean?

“You’ll... Find out soon enough…” Foggy gave a shrug, nodding his head side to side. “Probably.” He stole his briefcase from his desk, reaching for the door. “Go to the hospital and head to the morgue, she’s a resident there.”

“The morgue?” Matt gave him a befuddled look. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that.

“Yeah,” Foggy laughed, finding his own amusement. His turn to smile now. “The morgue.”

Matt was left with nothing else as Foggy left quickly after, not fully closing the door to their office in his rush. He didn’t know what he felt more, surprise Foggy gave in and let him go in his stead or that uncomfortable feeling that has your skin crawling when you look down your basement stairs. Matt chose to focus on the surprise, for his sake.

~-~

Upon entering the Morgue, Matt is hit with a strong wave of chemicals and burnt coffee. It was thick enough in the air to make his temples burn with an unpleasant ache. The strong smell of the hospital had hit him a floor up and two blocks away, down here he could taste it on the back of his tongue. It made his throat clog with a metallic taste, it was nasty. How anyone could stomach even the lightest waft of this smell was beyond him. He could hear the whirling of a centrifuge buzzing off to the side, someone sitting next to it was tapping their pen against the table. He hears the click of the top before the scratch of it gliding against a piece of paper. No doubt jotting down some sort of note, the person too absorbed in work to take notice of his presence.

Stepping farther in, his cane hit the edge of the doorway, leading into a sunken room with a couple of stairs going down to it. The woman in front of him had a steady heartbeat but her breathing was shallow.  She's exhausted, he can hear it in the slight cracking of her back and joints when she shifts in place. He almost feels bad for disturbing her while she is in such a state, it barely being passed 1 p.m. no less. The burnt coffee smell stong in her direction, she practically reeks of it. No creamer, maybe a spoon full of stale sugar. The mild soap and linens smell a mild undertone compared to the caffeine aroma staining her white coat… and… Pomegranates.

Matt doesn't get the time to reconsider, not that he would. Not when his chance to find out more was being served to him on a silver platter. He is barely a step down into the main room when the woman suddenly becomes aware of his presence. A sudden, hungry, chirp cuts through the space between them, like a knife through a crisp fruit. 

“Chicken and rice dumplings?" She sounded as tired as she felt, a dry mirthy tone accompanied an even drier laughter. A meer chuckle as she lifted her head at the smell of the food in the bag hanging in Matt's hand, though not turning her head to see who was behind her. "I’d say you spoil me Percy, but we both know that's not the case.” 

The heavy sarcasm is obvious like a slap in the face. The technician half turned in her chair, still writing down her final notes as she expected Foggy’s usual quip back. Something about how much he needs her, he wouldn’t be able to do half his job without her, voice laced with some sort of exaggerated desperation and false adoration. Something to butter up her ego even more. And Matt being, well, who he was- the gentlemen he is, couldn’t help but feel obliged. In his own way, of course. 

So, with a wide smug smile spreading on his face, showing teeth while replying all too smoothly.

“I’m not this, Percy,” Matt tried not to laugh at the fact that this girl called Froggy by his middle name. “But, I have no problem spoiling you, if that's what he does.”

He expected to scare her a bit, maybe jump in her seat. That he expected. What he didn’t expect was her to shriek like a dying seagull before devolving into a coughing fit as she choked on her spit. Terror shot through her as she was rendered vulnerable in a moment of fear.

That was definitely not her usual lunch buddy.

Horror evolved into shock and embarrassment when she looked over to the door. Finding an older, than her, man with a heavy 5’oclock shadow and a cheeky smile that had her heart skipping a beat in both their ears. Struck silent for a moment as she twiddled the pen in her hand, chewing herself out for her twitterpation. Over nothing but a stranger who had found his way into her lab. Instantly drawn to his striking red glasses that glinted in the fluorescent light, giving him a devilish expression. It caused her a moment of pause before she pointed her pen at him, an eyebrow raising as she tried to figure out who the hell this random man at her job holding her lunch was. “You’re not him…”

She dragged out her words a bit as she attempted to settle her fluttering heart, eyes flicking all over his face. Abashly noting to herself that he had dimples, seeing them very clearly even part-way across the room from her. Etched deep into his scruffy face, accentuating his smile lines.

Pushing out air through her nose, she had to remind herself that staring wasn’t nice. Remebering her manners enough to throw a nervous, flirty smile his direction (aware he couldn’t see it)- setting down her pen to give Matt her full attention. Notes could wait, this was far more interesting.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what happened to him? Finally, bribed the wrong police officers?” She laughed at her joke, standing from her seat and using her foot to push in her stool. Stepping around the room, venturing closer with a drag in her step. Giving Matt time to answer before she got too close, too comfortable.

“No, nothing, like that.” He laughed, shaking his head. Walking farther into the room, taking her movement as an invitation. Careful, after scaring her, not to go too far into her personal space without another enticement. “Our boss called him to sit in on a meeting with a client.”

Matt received another bemused chuckle, listening to her rub her hands in sanitizer before stuffing them into her pockets. "So he sent you?" She was walking around the exam table between her and Matt, both lucky he hadn’t come in while she was in the middle of an active case. "That's… New.” Underneath all her bravo and charm, she was put off. Anxious. The masked stims and raising pulse; rubbing her thrumb over the seams of her pockets, the swinging of her elbows, biting her lip. She wasn’t as happy about his presence as she portrayed.

Matt chose to tread lightly, considering her reaction carefully. Leaning against his cane at his side, using it to balance as he put all his weight on one foot. Mimicking her chuckles, smiling boyishly again to try and soothe her over. Becoming as none threateningly as possible. “No,” His voice was a bit softer, the word coming out as only a breath while shaking his head. “I just happened to volunteer at the right time to bring you your food instead.” Shifting on his feet, he lifted her food, dangling it in front of her. If memory served, Foggy did say that food was the quickest way into her good graces. “I didn’t think it fair for Foggy to keep our best source of information to himself… Plus” He shrugged his mouth, not being able to stop himself from teasing her a little. “Someone needed to pick up your very, specific and particular order.”

He can hear her heart rate jump unexpectedly again as color rushes to her cheeks. Knowing, beyond a doubt that Foggy had said something of her tastes. He always did find her compulsion for routine amusing, if not a little worrying at times. If it was coming from anyone else she might have felt hurt, offended even. Scoffed in their face and told them to scram, she’d rather go hungry. But she couldn’t, not to Franklin and by extension his friend. Not when she knew there was no malice, just humor. Like old friends picking at each other- trying to lighten her mood and her more than obvious discomfort at the sudden change in her lunch plans. If there was anything she was, she liked to at least consider herself decent at social awareness. Even if she tended to be a little dramatic at times. So instead, she took the teasing with an open heart and grinned, laughing even. Stepping closer to him as a moment passed and her inner monologue seemed to cause an epiphany. Curiosity sank in its claws; realizing who exactly she was conversing with.

“Ah!” She snorted, finally close enough to take her food from his raised fist. The crinkling of the bag as her hand brushed against his. Making him jump a little at how cold she was, hands of ice with what he could only assume was connected to a very warm heart. “So you're his partner-in-law, I was wondering when you’d wiggle your way here." She gives him a look over before moving past him to a small office kitchen attached to the morgue, far enough away it wasn’t a health hazard. The smell of pomegranates and that old coffee made him take a deep breath, turning to follow her. 

She set down her food unceremoniously on the rickety discount table, the blue resin top scuffed and stained from years of occupants. Humming at the smell of spices and chicken, she threw a glance over her shoulder to catch his slow creeping approach. Seeing nothing but a confused puppy trying to navigate a new house. The warmer fluorescent lights of the breakroom seemed to cast softened shadows down his face, bouncing through his finger-brushed hair. The first words in her head spilling out before she could stop them. Coming out with all the confidence in the world before they had the chance to go through that liiiittle mental filter everyone was supposed to use.  "He was right, you are pretty." 

It was Matt’s turn to blush, taken aback for a moment; for several reasons. One, the compliment, for him, came out of nowhere. Not entirely unappreciated, is smugly accepted even. Inflating his ego a bit. Two, this made his promise to Foggy a little harder. Foggy hadn’t been exaggerating the fact that this friend had a brass, awkward but charming personality it seemed. Turbulent in regulation, like a kitten falling out of bed kind of way, flipping between overly skeptical and anxious to loose-lipped with unfiltered compliments. She was awkward, and out of her element, but her approach was endearing. Sweet in its own clumsy way. 

And three, the most rather obvious one; Foggy had called him pretty? That ol’ dog. He’d have to remind himself later to bring it up when they had a moment. Real answers could wait, right now this was all far too intriguing not to ride on the coat tales of. Grinning, he laughed at the proclamation, blowing air out his nose as he raised an eyebrow in amusement. “He called me pretty? If I had only known, I would have proposed sooner.” Matt grasped his cane firmly with both hands, planting in front and center of him. Receiving what could only be described as a chortle from the tech.

“Well, you two deserve each other. Bribing a state worker, who taught you two such questionable morals," She tutted in faux disappointment. Practically calling him a kettle, as the documents he would be expecting sat in her purse in the office next to them. If anyone had questionable morals it was the women sneaking confidential information for their boss’s trust fund, business clients. All her ‘big corporations must die’ beliefs going down the drain as soon as her college buddy pops up with tacos from some obscure restaurant she loved. Pushing passed the self-critization, she started to rip open the plastic bag and look through the boxes of steaming food. 

“I don’t think my morals are that questionable,” Her pursed his lips mockingly, causing her to roll her eyes and blow air out through her nose again.

“If I had questionable mortals, I wouldn’t acknowledge it either,” She admired the golden dumplings before shoving one whole into her mouth and looking through the rest of the food. Finding the juices and meat inside better than anything else at this moment. It had been a couple of days, maybe a week, since she had had good and proper food; so maybe it was her neglected pallet talking. “(Mmmm, So good.)”

Catching himself, admiring her sounds a little too much, Matt switches thoughts. Remembering the paper Foggy shoved into his shirt. Fishing it out while drawing her attention again with a cough, clearing his throat. He dares to step closer, edging into the kitchen little by little. She heard her mumble something to acknowledge him as she chewed her big mouth of food. “Mmnnhh?” 

“Foggy said he was asked to look into the legality? of a few things for your boss?” He handed her the paper, taking the opportunity to get closer. Stopping when he was in the area of the table, the strong scent of her perfume and the food hitting him where it hurt. Reminding him he hadn’t eaten lunch, his stomach happy to voice its abuse to him and his surroundings. The sweet smell of pomegranates and cherries, and what he could mistake as mint, not helping the saliva accumulating on the back of his throat.

It was sweet and musky.

Hearing his stomach,  she scrunched her nose. Holding in a laugh she looked up from the quickly jotted legal jarb to give him the once over. Looking at him through the curtaining of her fringe, a gaiety squint of her eyes as she saw him shift slightly. He was aware she had noticed his stomach’s dramatized famine. “Well… “She started awkwardly, swallowing her bite before she had fully finished it. “...This food isn't going to eat itself.”

“Smooth,” He huffed at her, switching his cane from hand to hand.

“I am anything if not smooth,” she waved her hands like she was showing off a painting, bowing her head. She made herself laugh again as she pulled out her chair, pulling the other out for him by leg with her foot. “Sit, you may not be my usual company but you’ll do.”

Matt gave a light-hearted gasp, sending an all-to-chipper smirk her way. Folding up his cane and stowing it in his jacket, he reached for the back of the chair- guiding himself to sit. She wasted no time in planting herself on her own, rubbing her hands like a fly eager for its feast. Rummaging through the remains of the shredded bag for the chopsticks. Tapping them on the table to open them, made it easier for Matt when she handed them over.

His fingers brushed hers again, this time intentionally. Making her heart flutter and bounce against her rib cage. She was swift, pulling her hand away and grabbing for her own utensil to eat. Tapping it on the table again to rip away the plastic. Cheeks burning as Matt took in her reaction, cracking his sticks apart. He smoothed his hand across the table till he found an unopened box of dumplings and noodles, pulling it towards himself.

Now that he was sitting down with her, in a moment of silence, he thought back on his momentary conversations about her with Foggy. He had talked about how proper she was to people, overly so. Awkward and put off by normal social interactions, so much so that she puts up a vague and distant front. Living a very private life, with a very tight schedule. One of a hundred excuses made by Foggy as to why Matt was never introduced. Why Foggy kept his friendship with her so secluded. 

Sitting here with her now, listening to her talk. He didn’t see any of that. Figuratively speaking of course.

She stuffed her face with food in an attempt to distract herself from him, slurping her noodles and shoving a whole dumpling in her mouth with no shame. She didn’t seem to care about manners as she all but demolished her mountain of food. The stereotype of an overworked student resident is all but perpetuated. Too tired to care about her anxiety, too nice to turn him away. Going far enough as to invite him to eat, given it was Foggy’s portion it would have become leftovers or gone to waste anyway. 

He was only left with his questions as he ate his food, a silence settling between them. Only the crunch of food being shared.

Matt had been kept blatantly in the dark about this woman since he caught Foggy on the phone with her back during their first year at L&M. One of their first cases and they were collecting information, simply helping facilitate a deal between two companies. Foggy claimed to know someone vaguely connected to business, apparently, they took courses in college and knew the son of the owner through them. Asked her to talk to the son and convince his dad to ease up on his conditions, and take the next deal that was proposed. Two days and a meeting later, a deal was signed. The man had mentioned that his son was the one to persuade him as he was shaking his new partner's hands.

When he asked Foggy about it later that day, he kept it vague. When pressed even more as Matt followed him through the halls, pestering him with theories and ridiculous questions, Foggy just said they wouldn’t like him. With such a response Matt was, understandably, caught off guard, but relented when he sensed how serious his friend was. However, he would be lying if he said that Foggy’s comment wasn’t the start of a perpetual cycle of agonizing curiosity. His brain itched with questions that started to pile higher and higher the longer Foggy disappeared during lunch or after work for his secret rendezvous, ones that always ended in Foggy having some sort of new edge. Any time Matt tried questioning it, no matter how innocent the question was, he was met with the same answers. ‘They wouldn’t like you’, ‘They’re too busy to entertain both of us’, “They’re very private’, or simply ‘They’re not a people person’. 

It wasn’t till a couple of months ago, did Foggy started to become a bit more lenient about what he said. Letting it slip they worked at the hospital nearby. Sometimes it was just a tossed-in comment that his friend insisted on having authentic Italian pasta with a mountain of parmesan cheese to rival Everest- for just a missing patient record for the case they were building. Sometimes it was more personal, letting it slip that they crashed at his place after Foggy had joined them in attending a fundraiser party for said friend's hospital- in exchange for sneaking him into a person’s room to serve them or get papers signed.

 For months, he lived off small tidbits of information. Slowly forming a picture in his mind of who might have been helping Foggy. Someone who had known him for almost as long as Matt had. He was never able to pry out specifics, Foggy kept all that good stuff to himself. Where in the hospital they worked, how they met even remained a mystery. The simplest of stuff like did they go to the same college as them or if they were a man or woman was impossible.

He was given no clues on how to find them because Foggy, or as he constantly blamed- they, never wanted it…but today had been Matt's lucky day. After so long, Franklin had finally relented. Matt had left L&M’s with a pep in his step. Going over a list of questions he had accumulated over this whole period. However, now with his opportunity to have every one of them answered, he drew a blank on what to start with. 

Indecisive. Matt had so many questions ricocheting through his head, all jumbled up like scrabble. 

‘How did she meet Foggy?

Why did they never meet in college?

Why did she first start taking bribes? Why continue?

Had she been from New York her whole life like them?’

And of course, the newest as of this afternoon: ‘Why work in the morgue of all places?’

A healthy curiosity. 

He had a long time to prepare his questions, with as much as he bugged Foggy some days he should have had them ready to go, but all of them died on the tip of his tongue. So, he was lucky when his new lunch buddy was the one to break their silence. Matt was so lost in his own head he hadn’t noticed how tense it had gotten in the moments passed. 

“I am very aware Franklin made excuses on my behalf," She said through a half mouth of food, speaking through her cheek. "He asked on many occasions to introduce us. I always, adamantly, said no.”

That made Matt pause, lowering his chopsticks back into the box. “So he wasn’t lying when he said you weren’t a people person?” He smiled at her, turning his head slightly in her direction. “Or is it you just wouldn’t like me?” He teased, sensing her coil when he called her out and trying to lighten the mood. 

It seemed to work.

“No,” She rushed to breathe out, after swallowing her bite, with a shake of her head. “Well, I mean, Uh-” She blushed as she started to stumble over her words. Tripping up over her own tongue. “I mean, yes to not being a people person. No to not liking you.”

“So you like me?” The way he said it, the suggestive undertone coating the bottom of his words. It had her shifting in her seat and clearing her throat, hiding for a second in the bottom of a cold coffee cup she had taken the liberty to sip off of during their meal.

“Well, that is... That is to be determined.” She shot back after a moment. Setting down her cup in favor of twirling her chopsticks in her noodles.

“Oh?” He didn’t mean to lean closer, but he found himself doing so. Still staying aware of her obvious personal bubble. “Almost sounds like a challenge,” He braced his arms on the table slightly, chair scooting against the ceramic floors.

She laughed, it was joyful and bemused. It had her setting down her chopsticks fully, leaning back in her chair to look at him. Arm over the back as she held on to her wrist with her other hand. “I suppose it would, to you.”

“To me?” 

“Oh yes- you might not know me, but I do know of Foggy’s college roommate turned office colleague,” She shrugged her shoulders, licking her lips nervously as she glanced around the room, squinting at the incessantly flickering buzz of the fluorescent lights that seemed to fill her head with cotton “Though maybe not as much as I thought, now that we're sitting face to face.”

“We are? Jeez, I thought we were face to back,” His joke earned him a heavy scowl, one he could feel across his face. Tapping his chopsticks against the rim of the heavy, cardboard takeout box, he listened to her puff out air at him. Suppressing a laugh, not knowing if she was allowed to or not.”Really shows a guy, huh?”

“Wow, blind jokes already. Have to say, I’m honored our friendship is moving so fast,” She huffed at him again, tone dry but not humorless as she turned back to the food. Deeming it far more worthy of her attention.

“Friendship, you’ll make Foggy jealous.” Matt jabbed lightly.

“He’ll live,” She stuffed her face again, chewing a bit faster this time. Something obviously catching her train of thought. “However…”

Matt raised a brow, stabbing a dumpling in favor of actually picking up the food properly this time.

“Friends usually know each other's names,” She pushed around the scraps in her box, sneaking a glance at him. “A tidbit I assume Percy failed to mention on either of our parts.”

“Well,” Matt turned his chair with a scrap. “That’s easily fixed,” He raised his hand, offering it for her to shake. Finally able to introduce himself. “Matthew Murdock.”

He felt her smile before anything else. Oddly warming his skin like he had just stepped out into the morning sun after a shady night. Then came her hand. Softer than he thought it would be, just as cold as before, slightly dried out from the hand sanitizer. Small compared to his but still shaking his firmly, experienced one would say. Her voice was last. Smooth and ivory.

“Amilia Boteo, just call me Lia.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter one is done baby. The next chapter is to come in the next two weeks. My editor (love you bestie) refuses to beta for Matt Murdock so it's gonna take a minute.

Tag list of cringe: @xxjuviajawbreakerxx

#matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #fanfic #oc x canon #fanfiction #foggy nelson #slowburns #slow burn #chapter 1 #oc #strap in folks this shits gonna get DARK

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 5 - Find Me In Da Club

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: The gang arrive at the much-awaited club... where there are a few surprises in store for Drake.

Word Count: 4,400

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, rude behaviour, angst, sexual tension)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: Apologies this took me so long! August ended up being quite a busy month, so I didn’t get as much writing done as I wanted to. Also... this is not the whole chapter 😅 Because this installment was getting close to 7,000 words (and it was still not done!) I decided to split it into two chapters to (a) give y’all something to read, since you’ve been waiting so patiently (or not, in some cases 😆), (b) make the posting on Tumblr a bit more manageable, and (c) this way I could use both chapter theme songs that I could not for the life of me decide between! The next chapter should be up a bit faster because it’s about half done already, and my schedule should be back to a bit more normal from September 🤞

Chapter 5 - Find Me In Da Club

"Let me guess..." I sigh, picking up the tumbler to tip the rest of my drink back. "Max's bright idea?"

I know that going clubbing was the original plan. But I guess I kinda hoped we'd have more time on our impromptu detour... Especially since Gale’s finally talking to me, and I don’t want to lose the hard-won progress I managed to make with her.

Plus — as she so aptly put it just now — I’m nowhere near satisfied yet and I want to keep her to myself for as long as possible...

"Nope!" declares Leo impishly. "It was actually the girls' suggestion. And it'd be rude to keep them waiting. So, chop-chop!"

"Alright, alright," I grumble, dropping the glass back onto the bar top and reaching for my wallet. "I'll be over in a minute."

"Better make it a New York minute," Leo advises with a clap on my back. "Because it'd be mighty bad form for the best man to miss the climax of the night!"

He saunters off with a rakish wink in Gale's direction.

I roll my eyes as I pull the platinum credit card out again.

If there’s one thing that Chris didn't need help with, it’s finding a hook-up... Which is why I bet on him last night.

But Leo’s right in that I probably shouldn't hang around too long. Because this trip had been my idea, and as the de facto best man (even though it hasn’t officially been announced yet), it’s my job to make sure that Chris gets the best night out that the Big Apple can provide...

...and that he also makes it back to the hotel — and to Cordonia — on time and in one piece, and ideally without any recreational drugs floating around in his system. Otherwise, the plane ride back (not to mention the all-important Masquerade Ball) is going to be rough as fuck for everyone involved.

"So, you're here... on a bachelor party?" asks Gale, her voice cutting through my thoughts.

"Yeah," I reply, raising my hand to signal my desire to settle up with the bartender.

"And you're the best man."

"Yup..." I confirm, tapping the card against the bar top as I wait for the guy to print off the receipt.

She cocks her head to the side with a frown. "You don't seem very happy about it..."

I respond with a nonchalant shrug. "It is what it is. How I feel about it isn't important."

"Shouldn't it be?"

Turning my head, I catch her gaze. She's looking at me with laser-like focus — like she had last night when she'd been trying to decipher where I was from... Only this time it feels like she’s trying to get a read on my very soul.

I quickly break eye contact. "No."

"Why n—?"

"Cash or card?" asks the bartender, cutting off Gale with impeccable timing as he places the cheque in front of me.

"Card," I reply, quickly scanning the list of items to make sure everything’s in order.

Christ, this girl’s more persistent than a dog with a bone...

But I can’t exactly tell her that I’m best man to a prince at the mercy of tradition, and the last thing I’m looking forward to doing is standing by Chris' side in a few months' time, pretending to be happy for him while I officially and irrevocably witness his marriage to a blue-nosed social climber in front of God, his family, and the entire kingdom.

Because we’re supposed to be here incognito, and I’m not gonna risk my best friend's last night of freedom by blowing his cover to some girl I only just met.

And even if I had been at liberty to talk about the upcoming wedding, and the social season, and how the only reason we’re here at all is because Chris got shafted by his brother, it would be a pointless exercise anyway.

Because talking — about any of it, especially how I said 'yes' to Chris without a second's hesitation, even as I felt my insides burn up with betrayal at the knowledge that I'll be complicit in signing my brother's life away in a loveless marriage of political convenience to a woman he barely knows... or worse, Olivia — isn’t gonna to help me, and it sure as hell isn’t gonna help Chris.

Not when we’re both powerless in the face of the inevitable outcome.

"Thanks," I mutter, pulling the card back out of the machine and stowing it away in my wallet.

Better to just bury whatever resentment I’m feeling at being an unwilling pawn forced to participate in the whole monocratic set-up — next to the same hole I stuffed my bitter rage at Dad's untimely passing, my hurt at Mom's departure, and my guilt-ridden sense of failure at Sav's unexplained disappearance — and try to enjoy what little time I have left with Chris before I lose him too.

"Hey," she says softly, laying a hand on my wrist. "I know it's not my place but—"

"It's not," I confirm gruffly, stuffing the wallet back in my pocket as I stand up. "You comin'?"

She stares at me for a long moment — as if wanting to say something more — but in the end just nods silently before sliding off the bar stool.

"Yeah! The PAR-tay's in da house!" hollers Max, raising the roof. "Whoop-whoop!"

"Now this is what I'm talking about!" agrees Tariq, sweeping his approving gaze around the club.

"Oh, wow!" gushes Gale's brunette friend, who I learnt on the ride over was called Hayley. "Check out the view!"

Chris claps Leo on the shoulder approvingly. "Looks like you picked well, brother."

I had to agree.

If there’s one thing that Leo’s good at — apart from sneaking out of official events and getting into the pants of any girl he sets his sights on — it’s having his finger on the pulse of every major city's nightlife.

And this place is no exception.

Located on the 16th floor of a swanky hotel, the club features floor-to-ceiling windows that lead out onto a large, wrap-around terrace dominated by an oblong hot tub set against an unparalleled view of both the Manhattan skyline and the Hudson.

And even though in real terms it’s still quite early — barely gone 10pm — the venue’s already heaving with what looks like the crème of New York's glitterati. Diamond-studded watches flash in tandem with Bvlgari jewellery under the strobing neon lights as glamorously dressed bodies move to the EDM beat.

In short? We've stepped into a Mecca of excess. And even though the flashy venue with it's high-roller clientele isn’t exactly my scene — you can smell the self-entitlement from the doorway — it’s the perfect place to cap off Chris' night.

Hell, the overall net-worth’s probably so high that no one'd even bat an eye at the fact that a bone fide prince has just waltzed in to join the party!

So, despite everything, I have to hand it to Leo — his days of flaking off have paid off big time. Because the entire club’s basically one oversized VIP area, which means that security’s tight, and I don’t have to worry about spiked drinks, kidnapping attempts, or someone recognising Chris...

...at least, not as much as I would have to normally.

"Ohmygod!" gasps Lucy, grabbing Gale by the arm. "Leo!"

The elder Rys chuckles. "I admit it is a rather divine set—"

Max shoves him out of the way with wide eyes. "Oh, my giddy aunt, you're right!"

"Guess we're not talking about me, huh?" observes Leo dryly, as shrieks of excitement erupt from the rest of Gale's girlfriends as they zero in on whatever it was that has got them all into such a tizzy.

Chris nods his head towards the other side of the club. "I believe it is that gentleman over there who's caught everyone's attention."

Leo follows his brother's gaze. "Ah. Should've guessed. The slightly more famous Leo. He's always stealing the spotlight."

"Undeservedly," mutters Tariq, craning his neck judgementally. "He's not even wearing a suit..."

"So?" counters Lucy tartly. "A suit doesn't make a man. He could be wearing a paper bag and he'd still look hot!"

I can't help but snort at the look on Besnard's face. "Told ya..."

"Keep it in your pants, Luce!" smirks Gale with a shake of her head... though I can see that her gaze is also fixed on the far side of the club.

"I'm just sayin'!"

"Holy shoot!" gasps Hayley, covering her mouth. "Is that Rihanna he's talking to?"

"Didn't they used to date?" asks Jamie quizzically.

"No!" scoffs Lucy. "How can you even—?"

"Come on," interrupts Leo, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll introduce you."

Lucy's mouth drops. "You... know him?"

"Of course!" he affirms, looping his arm through hers and Gale's. "Met him at the UN a few times. Brilliant chap! Just don't ask for photos or autographs."

Gale cocks her head. "The UN? How did y—?"

"It doesn't matter!" squeals Lucy, bouncing up and down like a jackrabbit on crack. "He knows Leonardo DiCaprio! Do you know how long I've been—?"

"You're not seriously going to try and get him onto your podcast again?" asks Gale with a wry quirk of her brow as Leo starts leading the procession away.

"Why not?" comes the objectionable reply. "I'm an environmental commentator, he's an environmental philanthropist. We're a match made in influencer heaven."

Gale throws her head back — exposing her long, slender neck — her laugh ringing out like a bell despite the loud music.

But I don't catch her reply because in the next second, she's pulled into the press, and I lose sight of her amongst all the bodies.

I heave a low breath.

There goes Gale for the rest of the night...

I know I shouldn't be surprised. Especially after I cornered her into coming clean about the crap she'd been through with that dick of a boss, only to shut her down hard her when she tried to return the favour by doing a rundown of my feelings on the upcoming royal wedding.

Because conversation’s a two-way street. And instead of opening up to her — like she opened up to me — I basically told her to fuck off.

And normally I wouldn't give a damn. Because my personal shit’s exactly that — my personal shit. I don’t need people rooting through it like hogs on a muck heap. And if that doesn’t sit well with the counterparty, then they can lump it.

But, for some reason, watching her walk off just now without a backwards glance — even though it’s completely within her rights to do so — feels like a kick in the gut.

I mean, since when the fuck do I care who she talks to? A girl I met yesterday and am never gonna see again after tonight?

It's not like this is a date, or that she owes me anything. Right?

"You coming, mate?" asks Chris, laying a hand on the small of Hayley's back to guide her after the others.

"Nah," I demure. "I'm gonna hit up the bar."

I may have shot up the hard-won progress I managed to make with Gale tonight, but at least I’ll always have whiskey as a consolation prize.

"You sure?" he queries.

"Yeah," I affirm, making quick eye contact with the two undercover Guard to let them know I’m passing Chris over to them. "Don't worry about me."

"Alright..." he concedes, eyeing me sceptically...

...but I've already turned away.

I know he knows that something’s up.

But Chris had more important things to do, like actually enjoy his unofficial bachelor party in the company of a girl who he obviously hit it off with back at the karaoke bar, instead of listening to me piss and moan about things that are — and always have been — set in stone.

Best that I just take my irritations and drown them in booze. Alone. Like I always do.

Threading my way through the crowd, I arrive at the busy bar area, and I feel a growl of annoyance slip out of me at the sight of the heaving mass of humanity before me.

Just fuckin' great...

But, short of forking out roughly five grand for table service — assuming we can even get a table on such a busy night — there’s no alternative.

Steeling myself, I dive into the press, trying to avoid sloshing drinks and stiletto heels as I battle my way to the front.

This is the biggest reason why I avoid clubs like the plague. It isn’t the loud music. It isn’t the dancing. It’s the fact that the bar’s always swamped and you have to fight tooth and nail to get your hands on a hastily prepared drink that you can have for half-price anywhere else.

It's all for Chris, I remind myself stoically as I squeeze myself into the tight space that’s just opened up in front of me. You can suck it up for one night, Walker.

Leaning onto the minimalist, polished brass bar top, I try to catch the closest bartender's attention...

...but just as I manage to make eye contact, a wad of cash gets thrust in front of my face by an over-manicured fist, narrowly missing my nose.

"Oi! Murudda!" cries a female voice from next to me in the perfect octave to carry above the thumping techno music and general shouted conversation. "You deaf, or somethin'? I said we need tequila, pronto!"

"We got Casamigos, Patrón, or Jose Cuervo," calls the bartender in response while sloshing gold-flecked vodka into a row of shot glasses.

I feel my jaw tighten. This is how people got served, huh?

"Make that Maker's Mark, double," I holler back, angling myself back in front of the interloping woman.

I'm rewarded for my asperity with a nod from the other side of the bar. "Coming right up!"

"What the fuck, shit face?" objects the girl shrilly, giving me a shove. "Am I invisible, or somethin'?"

"Nope," I reply as I pull my wallet from my jeans. "Just rude and obnoxious."

Her mouth drops. "What did you just say to me?!"

"The truth," I hit back, pulling some cash out. "You cut up about a dozen people back there. And nearly broke my nose waving your hundred bucks around like you owned the place."

"How 'bout I break your nose for real, jackass?" she snaps, getting up in my face. "Teach you some respect, huh?"

"Respect is earned, missy," I tell her calmly, exchanging the bills for the tumbler of Maker's Mark that is deposited in front of me. "And gettin' into a fight over a drink ain't how you get it."

Grabbing the whiskey, I turn pointedly away, not bothering to wait for whatever outburst she was gearing up to throw my way.

Un-fuckin'-believable...

I know that New Yorkers have a reputation for being brash and impatient. But that woman had been next level.

And I want to put as much distance between us as possible because I have no time — and even less interest — in getting caught up in a shouting match with a pissed-off Karen.

Slaloming myself between bodies, I make my way back to the others.

Arriving at the back of the club, I pause in a slightly quieter corner to do a sweep of the crowd, quickly spotting the now disparate members of our group. Leo’s stood off to one side, in solitary conversation with DiCaprio. Max is busy channeling his inner Travolta in the middle of a small but growing circle of onlookers. Lucy and Jamie are...making out on the dancefloor?

Huh. Did not see that one coming...

Normally I’m good at picking up on these things. But, I’m admittedly more distracted than usual...

Lifting the whiskey to my mouth, I continue my sweep of the club. Tariq’s trying — and failing — to flag down one of the VIP servers by waving his gold credit card around like a moron. Meanwhile, Chris has parked himself on a chaise long in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and is in deep conversation with Hayley about something, the two undercover Guard standing a few feet away.

The only person I can’t see is Gale.

Had she left?

I shake my head irately.

It doesn’t matter, dumbass.

She’a a grow-ass woman and can do whatever the fuck she wants. Up to and including heading off the rails, or even home with a hookup. She doesn’t need my oversight or my permission...

...even if the thought of her being felt up by some guy makes my teeth clench.

I throw the rest of the bourbon back angrily.

I know I shouldn't care. I know it’s none of my business. I know I have no right.

But something about this girl wipes all the God-given sense from my brain.

Hell, I barely know anything about her apart from her name and the fact that she’s pissed at me — again — yet all I can think about is ripping that flimsy crop top off and layering my hot and heavy apology all over her body until she’s begging me for salvation as she—

A sharp clink rends the air.

Glancing down at the empty tumbler in my hand, I see that a hairline fracture had appeared down one side.

Fuck.

This isn’t good.

I need air. Now.

Throwing myself out onto the terrace — before I shattered the glass completely — I’m hit in the face by the humid evening breeze.

But it does little to tame my pulse, or the latest iteration of the graphic fantasy that I can’t seem to get away from, no matter how hard I tried...

...which — if I’m honest with myself — isn’t very hard at all.

Because let's face it. The girl’s a pipe-dream. That I keep blowing up. So, an X-rated reverie’s the closest I’m ever gonna get to the real thing with her.

May as well keep on dreamin'...

I make it to the end of the terrace. Dropping the empty glass onto a nearby planter, I reach out and grasp the coolness of the metal and glass railing as I gaze out over the picture-perfect Manhattan skyline without really seeing it.

Instead, the mental images continue to dance in front of me, haunting me like ghosts.

Gale swaying her hips between my legs at the karaoke bar...

Gale looking up at me from the back seat of the taxi, her lips parted, her eyes pulling me in like the cusp of an event horizon...

Gale pushed up against the wall, moaning as my hands explored every—

I clench my eyes shut. Christ... I’m in too deep. I should never've—

"Drake?"

My head snaps around.

Gale — the real Gale — is stood next to me, face creased in concern. "Are you... okay?"

"Fine," I reply, tightening my grip on the railing as I look out into the night again.

I’m the furthest thing from fine. My palms are sweating, my gut feels like it's been tied in knots, and my heart’s going a million miles a minute.

But like hell am I gonna tell her any of that.

"Are you sure?" she asks sceptically. "Because you looked like you were going to throw your guts up over the side of the building just now..."

I snort wryly. "Trust me, I'm good."

The irony of the situation isn’t lost on me.

Neither is the fact that — just like Chris — she seems to have an uncanny habit of being able to read me like an open book... which is weirdly unnerving.

"If you say so, Dr House," she deadpans, lifting her arms up to rest them on the railing next to mine. "But just so we're on the safe side, I'm gonna keep you under observation."

I heave a breath. "Gale, you don't need t—"

"I do," she says softly, glancing up at me. "Because I want to apologise."

I reel back, dumbfounded. "Apologise? What in the hell for?"

"For trying to pry about something that's obviously a sore subject for you," she explains. "I should've just taken the hint and—"

"No," I interject, turning to face her. "You did nothing wrong. I gave you an answer you weren't expecting, so you tried to dive deeper. It was a completely natural reaction to have."

"Then why have you been giving me the cold shoulder for the past hour?" she asks patently.

"I..." I rake my hand through my hair with a sigh. "Because you're right. It is kind of a sore subject for me. But I'm not at liberty to talk about it."

She raises a brow. "Because of the bro-code?"

I blink. Who is this girl?

She throws her head back with a laugh. "Oh, don't look so surprised, bud! I grew up with three older brothers — I know all about your 'secret' ride or die rules." She raises her hands to emphasise 'secret' with sardonic air quotes. "So, I can respect the fact that you don't want to bad-mouth the groom — even if you think he's about to make the biggest mistake of his life."

"Erm, thanks," I mutter finally, managing to recollect myself. "For understanding. Most people wouldn't."

She shrugs up at me with a smile. "I'm not most people."

I swallow. Hard. Don't I know it.

She's close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off her body, taste the sweet earthiness of her perfume drifting over me, see the chestnut-coloured flecks that ring her irises as I stare into her eyes.

But as strong as the undercurrent of attraction is, I can't let myself get lost in the pull of possibility. Not 'til I've squared my accounts.

"Even so." I pause to clear the sudden hoarseness from my throat. "I shouldn't've cold shouldered you like I did. It was a dick move, and... and I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "Drake, you don't need t—"

"But I want to," I insist, closing what gap remained between us on autopilot.

"Does that mean you're planning to make it up to me?" she whispers, her breath tickling my mouth as she tilts her face up towards mine.

"One hundred percent," I confirm, reaching up to brush away that same lock of hair that had escaped her up-do again. "I still owe you a proper apology."

Her eyes search mine.

I hold her gaze… waiting… wondering what she'll say.

A slow smile curves at her lips. "In that case, cowboy," she declares, flicking her finger over the underside of my jaw, "you can break it down for me on the dancefloor."

My eyes widen. "Wait... What?"

This isn’t what I'd been expecting. At all.

Her telling me to fuck off? Sure. Buying her a drink, a late-night dinner... Hell, even going back to her place for Netflix and chill had all been on the cards...

But dancing?

At a club?

Especially after she stormed out halfway through my karaoke routine?

No fuckin' way.

"What's the matter, Walker?" she purrs slyly. "You only do solo acts?"

I scoff. "No."

"Should I ask the DJ to put on some Rod Stewart?" she continues conversationally. "Get you in the mood?"

I suppress a groan. "No."

I knew that song choice was gonna come back and bite me in the ass.... I just hadn't expected it to be so soon. But, I guess I deserve it.

"Or do you need to take your shirt off?" She trails her finger down across the buttons at the front with a smirk. "Make yourself more comfortable?"

"Why?" I counter, leaning in. "Is that what you want, Gale...?"

Her eyes widen in the face of my sudden flip of the proverbial table.

"...because if you're lookin' to undress me, there's easier ways to do it," I remind her pointedly, dropping my hands onto the railing on either side of her.

Despite her initial frazzlement, she recovers quickly to meet my gaze coyly. "What makes you think I want to undress you?"

I feel a smile pull at the corner of my mouth. She wants to play it like that, huh?

"You mean apart from the fact that it's written all over you?"

She lifts her chin defiantly. "I think you're imagining things, bud."

"Funny you should say that," I reply with a lupine grin, bending low. "Because I'll bet my bottom dollar that right now, all you're imaginin' is skipping the unnecessary foreplay and diving straight into the main event..."

I hear her breath catch in her throat at the thinly veiled invitation.

"...which is that pool party, right there." I incline my head meaningfully towards the hot tub.

Her jaw drops.

I pull back with a smirk. Turnabout’s fair play, girl.

But in the next instant, that mischievous sparkle ignites her gaze again. And before I can blink, she's up in my space, calling my bluff as she hooks her finger through the front of my shirt.

My heart-rate jumps to 100.

"Or maybe I'm just looking to make you sweat, Walker..." she breathes against my mouth.

All the blood in my veins dives south.

"...and I don't want you to ruin your fancy shirt." She gives the material a sharp tug.

I groan despite myself. Fuck, baby, you can ruin all my shirts...

But before I can grab her, or kiss her, or react in any way, she's already spun away with a sassy smile, pinging the cotton against my chest. "Because you probably got just the one."

I let out an explosive breath.

Sweet Jesus. Somebody needs to put a warning label on this girl!

Because while I can think of a dozen better ways to spend the night than getting bumped around on an overcrowded dancefloor like a pissed off pin ball, my feet are already pulling me back across the terrace after her.

Like the hooked idiot that I am.

Because I can’t say 'no' to her.

And she knows it.

Which meant I’m royally screwed.

The story continues in Chapter 6 - Let It Whip

Translations:

- Murudda = idiot / shit for brains

Permatags (let me know if you want to be added!)

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Sleepless in New York only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@bebepac @lilacsandwhiskey @katedrakeohd

Picture credits

Dancing - Rooftop - H&D - Drake - Bar - Harper - Skyline - Drinks

#sleepless in new york #drake walker #drake x mc #harper gale #new york #the royal romance #trr fanfic #choices fic writers creations #cfcw fic of the week #Spotify

[saintsenara]

An update…where the murderer will be REVEALED?! And a possible Room of Requirement scene? 😉 I am SO pumped.

For One Year in Every Ten I’ll go for: ⚡️ 🕸️ 🌋 🥸

And 😈—I’d love to hear about any WIP you’re feeling at the moment :) Your list last spring was incredible!

(PS Thanks to the Death Eater Hagrid dossier, I am now deep in WIP in which Ron and Luna (not a pairing, just true crime pals) accidentally figure it while bored during the lockdown, while reviewing cold cases from the war years. Truly a life-changing read).

One for the gorgeous Scylla and Charybdis to follow!

anon, i need desperately for you to reveal yourself and send me this ron & luna crime-fighting duo uncovering dark lord hagrid fic. it sounds like a masterpiece, canon rewritten, atyd in the mud, and i need it.

in fact, answering questions on one year in every ten from this work in progress ask game seems almost futile in the light of this life-changing information. i'll power through, though...

🌋 percentage which is done and ready to post?

it’s all done. i’m just lazy.

⚡️ which character is gonna get a rude awakening?

harry james potter is shortly to discover that sleeping with a wanted criminal doesn’t endear you to the government. which i feel hermione has already mentioned, but harry wasn’t listening then.

🕸 feeling you were stuck with how to write?

it’s not so much a feeling as a character, but i normally hate writing hermione - she and i would not be friends in real life! what of it! - and so deciding to make the trio (which dear old tom has forced his way into) a central part of the story was quite daunting. choosing to make hermione a lawyer was also not my brightest move, since the risk of her becoming insufferable as a result was high, but i think she and i have managed to form an uneasy alliance, helped - without a doubt - by the fact that ron is a chad.

🥸 tag yourself, which wip character are you?

tom. i’m also a hot slut who likes to overshare and who reacts poorly to the slightest provocation.

😈 next wip after this one?

i'm shocked to discover that i've actually made good progress on much of that list, which isn't like me... many pieces have already launched, many will shortly. it's giving hustle culture.

i think it’s important to always have at least one tomarrymort on the go, just so that the girlies (gender neutral) who don’t like the ship are always having to live in fear. because i can’t focus on single tasks, i have three tomarrymort wips in the pipeline. first up, we’re getting a little pornographic treat for the @tomarrybigbang, then we’re getting philosophical with two musings - one a one-shot, one a big multi-chapter stunner - on the nature of the soul and of love.

i also have a scarcrux-turns-the-child-harry-into-a-murderer one-shot knocking around somewhere, because of course i do.

#asenora on writing #work in progress ask game #one year in every ten #asks answered

[cold-r-ain-in-june]

so a few weeks ago @steadfast sent me an ask wondering how i manage to gather the pieces of media for my web weavings

unfortunately,  it just happened that when you sent me that ask i was one foot in the grave with a fever and ever since i got better i've been procrastinating writing you a reply since i wanted to give you my best answer

double unfortunately, tumblr decided to delete the post and your ask when i was almost done, so i'll try to write it again even though i'm frustrated over the original getting deleted so bear with me

so to start off, i happen to suffer from the horrible condition called sometimes-i-feel-things-so-strongly-i-want-to-cut-open-my-skin-to-let-them-out. a horrible illness really. things like anger or missing my ex or chronic sadness. sometimes, rarely, it happens to be love, though much less often then i would like.

basically, i bottle things up to the point in which i cant help but see them everything. i see a random poem on my instagram feed, i listen to a song on the bus and one of the lyrics clicks like it never had before, a scene from a movie a watched 3 years ago comes to haunt me at night when i cant sleep.

so i gather them, sometimes, i make new folders for them, other times i am so lazy and messy i just let them get lost and rot with the other 10k of screenshots i have on my phone.

obviously, i also have to outright search for things, but i dont even do it for the sake of creating a web weaving post at first. i just feel one thing so deeply i have to look up proof that people have been also feeling this thing for thousands of years and theyve all dealt with it. i mostly search them here on tumblr and sometimes pinterest. words like "friendship", like "medea", like "toxic siblings", they can all open doors to pieces of media you have never heard of before, but which contain a three line dialogue youd kill for from the first time you read it. this all very tricky, evidently, at times, things simply dont match with the way you actually feel, no matter how much you search for them, but stitching them together can give you this almost perfect thing that mirrors your soul.

i also happen to be the kind of person who screenshots everything they think its relevant. and its good that i have really low standards for relevance. thats how i end up diving in my screenshots pile, when i feel like my web searching is failing, and sometimes i get lucky enough and i find a line i collected 2 years ago that matches exactly how i feel in that moment.

you've also mentioned the question of whenever i memorize book passages, and the answer is somewhere between yes and no. while, when i read i heavily annotate my books, im not a big fan of memorising outright passages (my brain is mush lets be honest, i cant fry it even more with overloading), and i dont write them down or anything, but i do however manage to memorize the overall idea of passages that stick to me. liek i can tell that x book has some quote about y thing even if i dont remember it outright. then i try to look it up, i use goodreads mostly (which is a bitch on mobile but you can work your way around if you search shit on web AND THEN you open it with the app) and google books when it decides to be helpful every once in a while, and if neither of those work, THEN, i open my edition and try to look for it because im lazy like that.

another site i really like, and its obvious in my web weavings is gentle.earth!! which, now that i say it, i actually havent visited it in a while but since i remembered it exists ill probably stalk it for the next few weeks. it's an anymous site on which everyone can confess things that hang heavy on them and some of them get to be displayed on the page after the entires are curated. its a really pretty thing to look through

now that i covered the bases of obtaining the materials for the web weaving, which i think i can boil down to 1. hysterical search mission and 2. hoarding every piece of media you come across, i will also add that at least for me personall, putting them in order for is a pain in the ass (which is also the maine reason i havent made a web weaving in almost a year even though i have the materials ready). i dont know if other people who do this kind of things are as press as i am about the order in which each post go and the way the different shades of the same idea interwine and bullshit bullshit or if im just mental. but yeah its also a really important step for me, its basically the polish of the post ig

also the biggest problem with the hoarding strategy is spending 2 days looking for a source because your past self was too lazy to also screenshot the source. thats also a bitch

anyway, i honestly i have no idea if youll find anything helpful here, or if i just used your ask to moan about my struggles but its 3 am over here and honestly this is the best ive got. thank you for the ask though, i do love getting ask even if it takes me two decades to answer them <3

#i wanted to say that the original version was better but honestly i dont even remember it anymore #shows up 2 weeks late with starbucks to answer your ask by low key trauma dumping #i sure hope at least 1% of this is helpful #mine #kit #web weaving

[piduai]

Thank you so much for translating all of the Golden Kamuy related content!! As a fellow tsurumigirl myself I'm eternally grateful that you took a lot of your own free time to translate so much content about a series that doesn't even have much traction in the west to begin with and made it widely available on your blog. Also, even though I don't know japanese, it really seems like you did an awesome job at capturing the witty language and humour (especially Satoru Noda's interviews) of the og text. I know it takes a lot of time and effort to do those types of translations so, again, thank you so much for your work! Golden Kamuy is a truly special piece of fiction and I'm glad I got to learn more about it through your translations. Gaining more insight to it all was super nice and those drama CD's were pretty funny too. For what it's worth I trully appreciate your service, it is factually more selfless then any US marine. Even if you don't feel like translating more in the future I loved reading the amount you've done this far. Hopefully we'll get more story involved GK content (besides merch) in the future, a side story involving pre-gold hunt 7th Division (more Ogata/Usami dynamic we didn't get nearly enough of that glorious mess) or a tiny sequel of Shiraishi visiting Sugimoto and Asirpa after a timeskip would definitely be too much to hope for but a girl has her dreams... Much love to you and your cat!!

no problemo 💞 gk having no reach outside jp is specifically what made me translate for it in the first place, or rather seeing a piece of information translated woefully wrong by someone else and being like um i have to fix this. i rarely get passionately invested in anything myself, but when i do i just feel the need to share my love with others, you know? and contributing to making the extra stuff accessible is my way of doing it, so :) i'm glad you think i managed to convey noda's tone!! both english and japanese are foreign languages for me so it's inevitable that some stuff is going to come out stiff and awkward and unnatural, but i genuinely did my best to make all of my texts easy to read! so i'm glad it's noticeable, thank you so much <3

i think that if noda ever releases other material regarding gk i'll give in and translate it like i did all previous times. i see stupid annoying disrespectful people posting my shit on twitter and get mad and go like i'll never do anything for you ingrates again. but it boils over. at the end of the day my love for the series outweighs whatever gripes i have towards its dumbass insufferable poor man's f*ndom, and there's always going to be waaay more people that just read silently than the loud idiots on twitter dot com. so it's all good. i do really love gk a lot

as for the last part idk, in this fast-going vapid profit-obsessed era of endless prequels/sequels/spin-offs/reboots etc i think there's an elegant beauty in a timely, neat ending. the story told what it had to say and wrapped up oldschool style which i think is good... stuff that drags on forever in pursuit of profit has no soul. though of course if noda released any of that i'd read it it just wouldn't be the same. so i'm content 🫶

#thank you for the message it was very sweet :) #anon

[foreheadface]

sorry sorry i just have to get this out

and you know what scares me more than people is people thinking im really weird because of my disability or i make them uncomfortable because of my self-deprecating jokes or the cancer thing or etc? and AR has such shit transportation so if someone wants to hang out with me like last semester i wont be able to do it because i can't drive and i don't expect anybody to waste gas money to pick me up bc also who even am i and i just  

*breath*

what if i fail at talking and i just i know i'ts not like going there TOMORROW but ii feel like i've already destroyed so many relationships in the past like 5 years i don't know if i can even handle it??? 

i feel burnt out and hurt all the time, all over again and its this same sinking feeling i've felt for like the last 5 years and i just feel like everyone's moving on but me and i've just stopped.

like sometimes i'll just stare at the wall and pretend that i'm someone else because i don't know... being me just really really sucks??? or at least i think it does??

i started crying like last.... week? i think?? and mom asked if i need to talk to a therapist but i said no.. because i honestly don't even think that will even help??? because like what will that even solve? it won't change the fact that i'm basically alone all the freaking time. or that i can't, like, leave this godforsaken house alone because i'm blind and can't remember anything as everyone so loves to tell me over and over because of a stroke and what if i can't find my way back home if i did leave by myself? theres just no point. 

like i remember doctors and my mother and lots of other ppl saying that im a fighter and i can get through anything but... i just don’t feel like there’s any point in fighting back? 

is that what hopelessness is? am i depressed? 

like... its not like i want to hurt myself or anything... im not wanting to die. i just feel like i'm sand on a beach and i want life to pass over me like water because i dont think theres anything i can do about it???

i want to go out and do things. draw landscapes. learn things. write about people. meet other humans. have a conversation. change the world. change what people perceive about b/vi disabled ppl but i dont have the means to even do that. like there's no way and (at least where i like) b/vi kids get out of high school, maybe go to college, but then they just sit on their ass in their house bc they can't go anywhere and accumulate an ssi check a month (although the repubes are trying to get rid of that so thanks, trump) or they start working for dsb (a division of dhs) and thats cool and all but they kinda suck and can't really help anyone without that person knowing what they need so ppl who just became blind/vi dont even know what to do and I JUST. 

both scenarios terrify me. 

i guess that's why i like Lamiroir from AA so much as a fictional character because she lost EVERYTHING. 

first her husband and (she believed) her first CHILD BURN TO DEATH IN A HORRIBLE FIRE DURING A KINGDOM OVERTHROW IN THIS FOREIGN COUNTRY then, she gets remarried (now at acceptance in her grief with all the trauma of the past) AND SHE GETS SHOT IN THE HEAD (in her occipital lobe, im assuming because thats vision. i am an expert) BY HER NEW HUSBAND AND HIS FRIEND AND LIVES and her father ships her off to a fucking foreign country where she sings in restaurants as a career (i wonder if she learned braille in Borginia??? hmmm new hc) AND SHE FUCKING MAKES IT. 

Thalassa makes it and consequently makes a living off of something she loves. i just... i don't hear about that a lot. successful b/vi people (at least in AR, like what... we’re like the third poorest state???) and it depresses me even more. 

the two other girls in my senior class both have kids now and thats usually what happens to blind women that graduate from that school. 

or, they get a degree and they start working at the very school they graduated from. which is nice i guess but... it sort of made me feel like... they've never been anywhere but at the Blind School. 

and... doesn't really relate but this relates to the "i destroy every meaningful relationship i've ever had" and the "giving up/ giving in" thing... i've starting to think that... maybe i'm the problem. 

i mean... i guess i've had issues with friends all throughout my life. i changed schools 4 times in elementary school, and one of those was because of bullying. 

i've never really felt like i belonged in a group. the only time i did was right before i got leukemia and right before that everyone was acting weird.... almost like... none of them really... liked me..?? 

and i dunno... i guess i just haven't ever met the ppl i really click with in college yet but i'm starting to think that maybe i'm the one who’s toxic? or a bomb or... something. 

i write about people all the time in meaningful relationships and i guess they're just daydreams and words but when i get to certain parts i stop because “is this really how ppl would act in this situation?” i don't know. i don't know any ppl to talk to to see. 

if you've been on my blog this past week, you'll probably already know that i was hanging out with/camping with my dad and his girlfriend. 

and that was.... weird, to say the least... 

like, she's kinda... weird... but she's nice and i have no right to judge her. i mean i don't even know her that well. and she doesn't have a driver's licensee anymore so we rode around in cabs all day which is kinda my future. she also talked badly abt stevie (which i mean is understandable bc my brother has major issues w/ dad and literally acts like an ass everytime he’s around him) but that kinda pissed me off- still kinda does... because she doesn’t know him and she doesn’t know the shit my dad hhas done. To all of us. like its not even her place to ever hate stevie for anyway he acts bc she has no fucking clue what happened b4 she met my dad.

 BUT ANYWAY this lady like has massive anxiety too abt like ppl and like doesn't go anywhere either a lot. but ANYWAY where was i going with this? smh 

IM JUST SCARED OKAY IM SCARED ABOUT SO MANY THINGS 

*sigh* its 12:48 whoops srry srry

#if you managed to read through this post i'll give you piece of my soul #if you didn't thats cool too #i just need to organize my weird thoughts #anastacia actually blogs #tw: cancer mention #tw: blindness mention #tw: potential depression? i don't even know what to call this #i just i-i'm sorry #super long #just #im not even going to read over this for grammar errors okay #is that ok with you #anastacia screams into the void #actually #anastacia SCREECHES into the void

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Two

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I’m making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

Baast woke to the scent of cooking meat. It made her stomach rumble and mouth salivate but also confused her. There had been no one in her life for many years. There should be no one to cook. Her eyes snapped open, prepared to fight whoever had found her.

Then her eyes fell on Din playing with Grogu, and it all came flooding back. He spoke softly through the modulator, encouraging the boy to float the small silver ball from Din's hand to Grogu's.

When the child succeeded, Din whispered a pleased, "Dank farrik!"

Baast almost purred, watching him with the child. He made an excellent father, and she was of an age to desire a mate, a home, a pride. But a warrior like him deserved someone better than a broken Zentari. It mattered not that her soul cried out whenever he touched her without the barrier of his gloves.

He'd stripped them off yesterday, and she could smell him—the spicy scent of masculine soap blending seamlessly with the musk of a man warm in his beskar. But the underlying scent of Din Djarin was that of the sandy dunes of her homeworld. He smelled of warm winds and dusky plains, of tall grasses whipped by fragrant breezes. 

He smelled like home. 

The stars were cruel indeed to drop her in the lap of the one made for her.

She watched them for a time as he encouraged Grogu. Their bond was strong, too strong if the Jedi were to be believed. Such attachments bred fear for the one they loved, and fear lent itself to the Darkside. 

The idea of Grogu's pure soul becoming tainted made her ache, and though she said she couldn't help them, Baast knew she must. Grogu deserved a chance to grow up on the side of good. 

She sat up, drawing Din's notice, the man turning toward her across the fire. 

"Morning."

Baast wondered at the voice behind the modulator. Would it be deeper? More robust? Would it be even more pleasing than this one that stroked fingers of violent want through her blood?

"Good morning," she murmured, voice husky still with sleep. 

Before she could ask, the canteen he carried on his belt was in his hand. "Drink?"

She nodded, catching it easily when he tossed it to her. "Thank you. I'm not used to morning conversations anymore. Or any conversations in some years."

"You've done well, evading capture until now. Now, the Tribe will help."

"The Tribe," she whispered. "I've been alone for so long." The idea of being part of something was both appealing and terrifying. "I look forward to meeting your Alor."

"She will be glad to meet you. They all will. Everyone will hope-" He cut himself off, busying himself with the lizard cooking over the fire. 

"Mando, they should not hope for what I do not think I can give," she sighed, lifting Grogu to her lap when he shuffled over.

"You don't know for sure you can't bond, Baast. Give it time."

Time was all she had. Life was a long thing for a Zentari alone in the universe. 

Small green hands gently touched her cheeks, causing her to look down at Grogu. He cooed a sweet noise as she gazed into big, dark eyes. They were expressive in their own right, and she felt herself falling, diving once more into his mind. 

The images came fast and furious. Din running, fighting, killing, but almost always alone. 

Baast closed her eyes as pain washed through her for the Mandalorian. "I cannot," she whispered to the child. "It would not be fair."

Grogu frowned at her before squealing loudly. More images filled her mind, these of a man reckless with his safety, one who had little to nothing to live for. 

She gasped and wrenched her face away from his hands, but it didn't stop the flow of ridiculousness. Kriff! The man had a death wish!

When Grogu disappeared from her lap, only then did he release her from his grasp. 

Baast sent the green menace a glare. "That was entirely rude."

He smiled and blew a raspberry. 

"I'm sorry," Din murmured, holding the child away like Grogu was a danger.

She held up her hand, continuing to glare. "Do not apologize for something he did. It sets a poor president. Invading my mind is bad manners, little one. Disregarding another's desires is a step down a dark path. This will not be allowed."

"Dark path?" Din asked. 

"The Jedi and the Sith. One force believes in peace and passivity. The other wants power and are often corrupted by that passionate desire, both use the Force. He has the potential to be extremely powerful, but with that power comes responsibility. It is a razor's edge to walk, one I am not confident I have the skill to help him navigate."

Din straightened, but his shoulders lowered, relaxing his posture. "You'll help him? I didn't want to bring it up, but I'm running out of options."

"Yes," she sighed. "I know of one who may be able to help him, but I do not know if he will come at my call. Where is your covert?" He said nothing, and Baast tilted her head in apology. "That was an improper question. Forgive me."

"Always," he murmured.

She wondered if that would still be true should he learn what Grogu already suspected. "If I am to make contact, it must be from Tatooine."

"Why Tatooine?"

"Because it is the planet we agreed upon." She turned toward the fire and the spit of roasting meat before looking up at Din. "Have you eaten?" 

The movement was subtle, a single negative action.

Baast hummed and reached for the cloth that tied her pants' to her calf and began to unwrap it. 

"What are you doing?"

She ignored him and continued until her pant leg fluttered free. The cloth was only a couple inches wide, but it was long and thick enough to make an adequate blindfold. 

She lifted it to her eyes, only for his hand to shoot out and grab her wrist. It felt odd for him to touch her with the slightly cracked but soft leather of a glove now that she knew the feel of his skin.

"You don't need to do that."

Baast blinked slowly, gaze drifting to his hand before returning to the visor where his eyes would be. "It is not a need but a want. I will do this, Din Djarin, so that you may eat freely with the child and I. This is the Way."

"It is unnecessary."

She unfolded, rising gracefully to stand before him, wrist yet held in his grasp. "When last did you eat?"

He said nothing.

She tilted her head and held out the cloth. "I have not shared a meal with another in many years. I would share this meal with you and Grogu. Allow me to honour your Creed."

There was no sound, no movement beyond what Grogu contributed to the conversation in small burbles of noise. The Mandalorian was still and silent, a hunter in all things.

Baast waited, quiet, calm. After so many years in a cell, the forest gave her peace, but those years had taught her patience. She could wait for eternity for his decision. She had the time, after all.

What went on behind the helmet, she couldn't know, but eventually, he set Grogu down, released her wrist, and took the blindfold. "Turn around."

She did so, pushing her hair back to uncover her ears. "If possible, try not to cover them. The tips are sensitive, and the fabric will feel abrasive."

The cloth came down over her eyes, hooked behind her ears, and crossed at the back of her head. 

"Again," she murmured. "I can still see."

Twice more, the fabric circled before he tied a knot. 

Her senses heightened, hearing, smell, and the sixth sense that had been with her all her life. The Force resonated in every living thing, glowing and pulsing, connecting all of them. She could see it like an orange glow, thin lines and thick, veining out around them. 

"Good?"

"Yes." The heat of the fire warmed her skin, but before she could move, Din took her hand and elbow. 

"Kneel. I'll get you some food."

Baast followed his direction, aware of the bright light that was Grogu coming to her side. He placed his hand on hers, flooding Baast with a gentle apology. She turned her hand over to hold his little claws.

A quiet hiss filled her ears, causing her to turn toward Din. The beskar blocked some of his energy, the Force somehow muted by it. Then he lifted off his helmet. 

It took every effort to restrain herself from gasping. He glowed white, the shining brightness of a sun. Shock left her mute as she tracked the supernova that was this Mandalorian as he set down his helmet and removed the spit from the fire. He pulled off a piece of meat, maybe a leg, she couldn't quite tell, and brought it to her. 

"Here." The deep baritone was like the softest of silk to her senses. 

Baast held out her hands for the meat. His bare fingers grazed her palm as the hot meal hit her flesh, and grease trickled through her fingers. 

"Thank you," she managed to force from a throat gone tight with emotion. 

"It's hot. Be careful."

She stuffed down the aching need to reach out and feel the lips that produced such a voice and smiled crookedly instead. "Too long have you travelled with only Grogu for company."

He chuckled. "Perhaps."

Another wave of needy desire hit her, but Baast fought it off. She would not doom him to a half-life with an unfinished bond.

She ate and made sure he ate once Grogu was fed, asking questions about the child and how they came to be together simply to keep him talking. His voice was a balm to a soul grown used to silence.

When they finally finished their meal, she waited for him to return his helmet and come to release the blindfold. His hands were deft, skilled, and careful not to pull her hair.

Baast blinked to adjust to the quickly blooming daylight, then retied her pant leg as Din smothered the fire. She reached for Grogu and stood, ready to leave. 

"I can carry him."

She tilted her head, already missing the gentle ebb and flow of the Force from him, now encased in all that beskar. "Do you object to me carrying him because you think I am weak or out of principle because he is your foundling?"

"Uh…"

She arched a brow. "Do not underestimate me, Mando. I live because I am jatnese be te jatnese. The best of the best."

"I know what it means," he huffed.

"Then stop being ori'buyce, kih'kovid," she smirked. "I will care for the child as you have cared for me."

"Atin," he muttered. 

She didn't protest because, yes, she was stubborn.

"Fine." She could almost hear a pout in his modulated voice as he turned and marched out of their temporary camp. "And I'm not all helmet," he grumbled, likely thinking she couldn't hear him.

Baast smirked and gave Grogu a wink. "Come along, ad'ika. We weak ones best keep up with the big strong Mandalorian," she teased.

"I will leave you behind."

She grinned at his back. "No, you will not."

***

By the time they reached the Razor Crest, he was sweating in his beskar again, but with the luxury of the fresher within sight, Din didn't let it bother him.

He disarmed the ground defences and lowered the hatch, heading inside to get them underway. He wanted off the planet before anyone else thought to come looking for Baast'mal. 

Hopefully, the Alor would know who to bribe to falsify a new chain code for her. Either that, or there would be an all-out war to eliminate the threat and bounty on her head. Or, she would spend the rest of her life hunted by the Empire.

He hated that thought. Baast was not a creature who should spend her life hiding. She should be allowed out into the light, a creature of hope and beauty. 

Though he hadn't seen the true colour of her eyes, the rest of her was so mesh'la, when he'd removed his helmet, it had momentarily taken his breath. And without the helmet, her scent had filled his nose like something he'd loved and long forgotten. It was warm, soft, and decadent, all things a Mandalorian put off when he put on the beskar. 

It was getting harder and harder to keep his hands to himself.

She closed the ramp and followed him to the ladder, climbing up with Grogu to slip into the seat back and to his right.

"Once we've left the atmosphere, you're welcome to the fresher, food, whatever you need," he offered, getting them airborne.

"Do I smell?"

He froze. "That wasn't what-"

Her laugher, that throaty purr, cut him off. "It's fine, Mando. An actual fresher after years of lakes and waterfalls will be pleasant."

"Hm. I have to make a stop on Nevarro, then another before we go to Tatooine. Is there anything you need?"

"Clothing. A cloak. And a weapon."

They cleared the planet, and he made the jump into hyperspace before turning around. "What kind?"

"Short sabres or staff will do."

He watched her pet Grogu's ears, gently using those long claws in such a fashion the kid was almost comatose in bliss. She sat with one foot propped on the seat, comfortably leaning on the armrest. He wondered if her skin would begin to lose its sun-kissed nature now that she was off-world.

"How did you learn to fight?" he asked, forcing himself not to think about her skin and how soft it was. 

"Mandalorians are not the only warrior race. Zentari are taught from birth; the rest I learned from the idiots who held me captive. They sought to make me a weapon or a slave, with that came training, but Zentari are not so easily coerced, nor do we forget the slaughter of thousands. I am no weak-minded individual to be controlled by some Sith," she spat.

"Sith?" He knew next to nothing about Force-wielders and felt the lack of knowledge acutely. 

"They oppose all things the Jedi stand for, desiring power over peace or balance. They corrupt what they touch.."

"And how does a Zentari hold out against someone so powerful?" He didn't wish to insult her, but surely a child against a master Sith couldn't win.

She sighed and looked away, watching the lights of hyperspace. "Zentari are neither good nor evil. We are Force neutral. The blood bonds distinguish much of our future. To avoid creating bonds with those that would bring harm was why Zentarus was so well hidden. But someone betrayed us. They used to brag about it, the Imps. How one who we trusted gave us up to the Empire."

"If you are Force neutral, why allow Mandalorians to know of Zentarus? Why let us come seeking mates?"

She shot those vibrant eyes back in his direction. "Because the Way was honourable once. Perhaps, at some point, Mandalore was led astray by their leader, but that was not our doing. Those that came to us knew the Way. They humbled themselves before us, and if they were denied, they left knowing such was not their destiny. Those who came knowing not the Way… did not leave Zentarus alive."

"Then I am glad I knew the Way," he murmured, wondering who would have won between the two of them had she not revealed herself.

"As am I," she nodded, looking as regal as the Sand Panther she claimed in her blood.

"Were the Jedi not part of your Way?"

She scowled. "The Jedi saw us as a threat. Naturally born Force users who required little training to do much of what they could, who lived for generations, and who were neither good nor evil. They feared what would happen if we were corrupted. An attempt was made to wipe us out. It failed, and we Zentari veiled Zentarus from those who knew not where to look."

"And that's why you didn't want to help us," he sighed, realizing the untenable position he'd put her in.

She stood, placing the sleeping Grogu down on her seat before taking the step she needed to stand between his spread knees. Her hands lifted to land lightly on the sides of his helmet, gliding over the metal. "It is no longer a want but a need. I will not watch Grogu fall to the side of the Sith because of my fear of the Jedi. He must be trained."

She leaned down and rested her forehead against his helmet as long lashes veiled her eyes. "This is the Way."

Without his permission, Din's hands found her hips and drew her incrementally closer. "I will protect you, Baast."

"We will protect each other."

He hummed his agreement and wondered at the low ripple of sound vibrating through his chest.

Next chapter

#Star-Crossed #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x ofc #star-crossed:bound by blood

[seatosomert]

Street Photography...my New therapy.

Now you guys who've been here a while will already know about my love for Street Photography.

Just of late I've been dealing with some significant work stress.

I'm meditating and getting outdoors. I usually exercise regularly in the gym but I've not been for a week now.

I've needed something else to immerse myself into and take my mind away from the stresses at work.

I've chosen to throw myself into more Street photography.

I've been reading what I can only describe as one of the best self help books I've read. I'm sure the author Sean Tucker intended this book for other means, yet I say self help because it is self help for creatives.

In writing this book Sean has helped me to do some real soul searching and I've made some discoveries along the way.

I've leapt out of a creative rut, discovered my photographic Raison D' Etre and I've started to connect with my photography in an entirely new way. And it feels great.

I've let go of my, probably unhealthy connection with Social Media for a more casual relationship. I've started to invest more time in helping others by getting back into coaching again.

In essence I've completely fallen back, head over heels, in love with my photography again. But this time without the baggage that has us doubting ourselves or comparing ourselves to others too often.

We all do it.

The book is a mix of philosophical narrative, which Tucker presents with a gentle, non-patronising delivery. He writes with an honesty and degree of vulnerability that allows the reader to truly connect with his story. One which some of us share in many aspects.

However, where this book differs from all others about improving your photography let's say, is that it's applicable to all creatives.

Indeed it doesn't focus on photography, but instead talks about just being creative and the struggles we can all face. Then he begins to unwrap some of this and gives you some suggestions on how to unpack your creative blocks let's say, re-organise your priorities (pretty much you as a person really) in a conversational manner rather than a list of what to do and what not to do.

It's also a bit of an auto biography for Tucker. And what an interesting and varied life he has led.

Anyway. I tell you this not to try and sell you his book (although I can HIGHLY recommend it), but instead to explain to you how I have refocused my creative attention and some of the tools I've used to do this. It's got me into a much better place creatively. This book was the significant catalyst.

Zone Focusing...the street photogs secret weapon.

I've gone back to shooting on the Sony a6300 for now when shooting street scenes. The articulating screen is great for this genre and as I have been using some 7Artisans manual focus lenses (25mm f/1.8 and 55mm f/1.4) I've been using the superior Peak focusing in the Sony a6300.

However. Today I was using zone focusing. This is where you set your aperture and focus point so that you have. A zone within which any subject entering that zone will be in acceptable focus.

The advantage of this method is that you set your focus and aperture then you shoot. You can also preset your shutter speed and just switch ISO to auto and then just focus on what's going on around you and composition. It's the fastest possible way you can shoot. Yes, it's even faster than the fastest AF, because you see, you shoot, you move on. That's it.

It's a truly liberating way to shoot and before anyone even notices you you're done and gone.

It's great and I highly recommend it.

If anyone wants me to go into this more and talk through how this is done, comment on the post and I'll sort something for you guys.

So here are some more shots, all of which have been shot with the focus zone method.

I have to say, I went to meet a pal for lunch today and so went to the city an hour early and shot for an hour before our meet.

It was easy to fit in and it was so therapeutic just pointing my fully manual semi pro (some might say) Camera as a point and shoot, but a point and shoot that I had complete control over the metering etc and firing away. I didn't do any chimping. Just shot and moved on.

I managed to hit focus about 98% of the time I have found when I examined the images at home. It was great.

And the important bit...I was feeling complete overwhelm with stress a couple of days ago. I couldn't be arsed doing anything.

I knew that was totally not me.

Getting out to shoot in this way, no stress shooting basically, allowed me to just completely immerse myself and be present in my environment and just to shoot for the sheer pleasure of it.

So my gratitude goes out to Sean Tucker for writing what is a truly amazing piece of work and to photography for saving me from complete burn out.

So this last image was taken yesterday by my amazing wife who managed to catch a rare image of me with a genuine smile.

(Love you babes 😁x)

So that's it guys. Comment, like, share follow and hit me up for any observations, any questions and feel free to share your stories in the comments if you've had a similar experience to the one I describe here.

See all in a bit.

Kind regards.

Neil.

#seantucker #photography #sonycamera #sonyalpha #sonypictures #7artisans #streetphotography #Leeds #zonefocusing #themeaninginthemaking

[skyblue-369]

When it rains, flowers bloom

A little disclaimer before starting: I know what you're thinking. I know it doesn't look so good. I'm not an artist (or a writer lmao), I just wanted to give a general idea of how I designed the character. Remember! Criticism is acceptable, just be polite.

(I'd like to put a "read more" link on the tunblr app but I can't. If anyone reading this knows how, I'll appreciate your help.)

Plus, bonus gif at the end of the post ⬇️

Word count: 1341

"Be one of you? A member of your superhero team or something?" asked the blonde girl, finally sitting on a cut tree trunk, because at the moment all of her energy had to be switched from her limbs to her thoughts. In her mindset it was already confusing that someone had broken her daily routine. Surely accidents happened before, like the time some ravens started chasing her because her hair looked like a nest, or the time she believed covering in mud was the perfect idea to become invisible at night and almost got caught. As i said, accidents happened, but never on this level.

Moreover, those six kids were offering her to change life nonchalantly, and she didn't know if she had the strenght to do it, not again. Although living for three years in a cave all by yourself can make you crave some company, Maria wasn't sure if becoming a superhero was the right path to take. It sounded weird in her head.

<p/>"I'd prefer to use the term family."

Luckily, Ben giggled at the comment and added a clarification that would make her change point of view. "Family" was the magic word because, at the end, wasn't it everything she ever wanted?

"Wait, so they are brothers? How? Oh wait, adoption...An orphan that doesn't know siblings don't always look the same. How ironic."

Just the idea of a family, of a mum, a dad, and brothers and sisters that couldn't be afraid or jealous of her was more than tempting.

She could tolerate to use her powers more often if it meant that her reward was love.

However, the sparkle in her eyes was blown away very soon. It seemed clear that the Hargreeves had different opinions on the matter.

For example Diego, who was standing far from her until now, snapped and pointed his finger so sharply against the girl that he could almost stab her. Maybe because he was literally holding a knife in said hand.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! Not everybody agreed on this! We're already full of problems, don't you think? We don't need to add another weird kid to the list."

"He's saying that as if he wasn't one." Maria mumbled glancing at the only other girl in the room. She would rather speak Italian in order not to be understood, but there she believed she was in good faith because she wasn't mocking, just explaining her misunderstanding to Allison.

"Stop behaving like a jerk, Diego." Three caught the signal and replied, while getting off the table to protect the blondie, almost covering her view. Obviously One had to join the discussion. In fact, as Number Seven will explain to her the next day in the comfy living room of the mansion, Two's rage acts like a tornado. It is sudden and aggressive and destroys everything around it, especially Luther's patience. Moreover, It looked like One shared the same brain as his sister because they tend to agree on anything, but this time Luther's way of laying out words only made her facepalm.

"I don't know you, but for all of my childhood I had been wondering if other people with our kind of abilities even existed. Now that we found one, the least we can do is report her to Father."

"Are you listening to yourself, Luther? What childhood? If Father lays his hands on her, he'll make her suffer as he did with us, treating her like some sort of machine. We're doing her a favour."

The air was becoming thicker, both metaphorically and literally. The cave already had a little airflow owing to the fact that the entrance had to be hidden by two doors, which were a layer of plants and a sheet of iron.

Maria felt her breath even heavier. It was the first conversation when she wasn't just staring from afar since a long time. She wasn't used to talking, let alone arguing. She wanted to light the mood but didn't know how, and tried to find advice in Ben's eyes, still in contact with hers.

"Don't want to interrupt you guys or something, but shouldn't we be asking her? Anyway honey, how can you not get your boobs stuck into this thing? Tell me your secret!"

Who could tell that the miracle could reside in the only person who didn't speak a single syllable in the whole fight, if we count that Five was muttering to himself!

That kind soul of Klaus was laying on his stomach on the girl's floating bed, that wasn't so practical to sleep in. What would you expect from a net, "purchased" by some gentle fishermen, attached to the roof of the cave and decorated with some pillows?

In fact, the boy was having fun tracing the outline of its holes, while gazing at Maria through one of them.

The poor girl was trying to cover her almost flat chest with her arms, her blush fading into the orange light of the candles. Everybody seemed to empathize with her embarassment and fell into silence for a second.

"Not that she can really choose, Klaus. Tell me, how long did you think you could live like this?" Five was too serious to get distracted from his brother's nonsense and actually heard his only logical sentence.

"Scostumato (Rude)! You have no idea how many things I had to steal just to give some colour to this room!" finally Maria managed to talk back and wanted to approach that old-young man. On the other side, Five's eyes were moving around so fast to analyze every piece of furniture, but could never stop to look at the blondie.

That's the change of subject that the "rescue team" needed to shot the final question.

"So what do you say? Wanna come?" almost sang Ben to sound more convincing, causing Four to laugh a little.

Maria told them without any frills how amazing it would have been to join them.

"I'd like to, but I respect every opinion, even Diego's..." these were her words.

They didn't show the complete truth, she was just being polite.

"Don't listen to him, he's always so grumpy." Allison tried to calm her down, while glancing at Number Two, who was already stepping outside.

"I'm going. Reach me when you finish this puppet show." he growled, right before putting in act his dramatic exit.

He was just moving the door when his hand was caught by Maria's.

"Where do you think you're going? We're deep in the forest, you'd get lost for sure." she gave him a lovable smile, mixed of concern and satisfaction, which made Diego freeze subtly. He felt trapped by some memories.

This allowed the girl to pass him, make a little turn and march backwards to see if everything was at its place.

"You have to go to the main road, right? Let me guide you myself! And can the last one who comes out turn the candles off, please? We don't want to start a fire."

One at a time, they all passed around the little lake avoiding to step into the water.

The only exception was for Klaus, who didn't care about the waterfall when he ran to the others. Turning off the lights didn't take a lot, he was just stealing a jar full of suspicious herbs.

"So, what's the verdict, my partner in crime?" he asked, hugging Ben from behind.

"I'll take it as a yes..."

"Welcome to our dysfunctional family, honey!" he shouted, as on the other side of the line the blonde girl crawled a little on herself, putting her arms around her waist. A golden tear fell straight to the ground, giving birth to a daisy.

She was leaving that place as if she just slept there for a night. She's never had a connection with it, really. The only thing that attracted her was the beauty of nature, which could be found everywhere. And then, all the good memories she wanted to keep were already treasured in her blue t-shirt.

Preparing to get childhood traumas with the Hargreeves be like:

(Kiernan Shipka looks so cute in this I can't)

#umbrella academy oc #uaocsdaily #ocappreciation #tua ocs #tua #umbrella acedmy #the umbrella academy #drawing

[an-abundance-of-castiels]

Best Left Forgotten

Part 14: Please

Series Summary: You wake up in the bunker with a serious head injury and no memory of the last year or the Winchesters and find that Dean is avoiding you. You are determined to find out the truth about what happened but maybe the truth is best left forgotten.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Cas

Warnings: language, Season 10 Spoilers

Word Count: 1403

General Disclaimer: I do not own the gif or any of the Supernatural properties or characters. This is a fan piece and is intended to be enjoyed only as such.

A/N: This is my first fic so any and all feedback is appreciated! A HUGE thanks to @weirdochick56 for rough beta-ing and encouraging me to pick this up again and give it another try in the first place!

Best Left Forgotten Masterlist

Missed Part 13?

**********

“She didn’t see our face! We don’t have to kill her. Please. We don’t have to.” You hear a young boy begging from down a tunnel. Heaviness presses down all over your body and you begin to feel your body. You blink your eyes open to a blurry image of your lap. Slowly, your hazy mind clears. You notice two things immediately: you’re tied in a chair and you have one hell of a headache. Whoever bashed you in the head earlier is clearly standing in front of you, so you don’t move or look up; maybe your ignorance can save you.

“You’re right Cy. We don’t have to. We get to. Here. When I get back, I want her dead.” You hear retreating footsteps and open your eyes. You frantically assess your options, a strange mix of adrenaline and hunter’s instinct giving you clarity. You have nothing in your pockets. The rope is too tight to escape. You have no hope of fighting back while tied up here. He has a gun.

Escape isn’t an option. The only thing left to do is beg.

You finally look up. The boy is lanky and nerdy looking with glasses. He’s holding a gun and looks awkward with it, like someone handed him a dead animal. He seems afraid of you and is standing terrified, looking from the gun to you.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you blurt out in desperation. You don’t wanna die like this, chained to a chair like a dog.

He stares into your eyes, conflict and fear clouding his eyes. “Ummm… maybe I can untie you? And then you run. Before he gets back, okay?” His eyes look kind, but afraid behind his glasses. He seems sincere. He glances around frantically before he steps to untie you just as a large man rounds the corner.

You recognize him. It’s that Styne man that the boys had in the dungeon. The one who killed Charlie. All fear for your life vanishes as liquid hot hatred burns through your stomach. “YOU FUCKING MURDERER! I’M GONNA-” You scream at the top of your lungs, but the words choke you when Dean rounds the corner with a gun. You feel an instinctive surge of happiness at the sight of his face. He’ll save you and kill this asshole. Your celebration is cut short when you notice the mark glowing and see the glaze over his eyes. What has he done? He’s so pale, like all the blood has been drained from his body. His body and clothes are soaked in blood. How many people has he murdered? Your stomach drops. You gag and tremble.

“Been looking for you.” Dean says glaring at the large man.

“Oh yeah? Why is that? Oh wait. You're not still sore about um, what's her name?” The Styne man waves his arm, brushing it off. Your stomach burns with anger.

“Charlie.” Dean swallows hard at her name. “Her name was Charlie.” His face falls and his eyes dim. You look down in shame. You begin to pray to Cas, something you realize you should have done earlier.

“Yeah, well. Chuckie, she got what she deserved. Wanna know how I did her? It's a kinda funny story—"

“Shut up.”

You silently pray as hard as you can. “Please hurry Cas. I think Dean can be saved. He’s covered in blood, but he’s after Charlie’s killers.”

“Straight to it, then. I respect that. You got lucky before. This time, I'm sporting some new upgrades. See my old man-”

“Your old man's dead.” Dean interrupts. “They're all dead. So, you can save me the speech on the three hearts, the two spleens, the seven nipples, for the ladies... or the fellas, I don't judge. But even with all that, you still only have one brain.” Dean smirks.

“So?”

In one swift motion, Dean draws his gun, shoots the man in the head, and turns his gun on the boy. He throws his arms up and starts to cry.

“No no no no no, don't! Dean, don't!” You scream desperately at Dean, struggling to break the rope.

Dean looks at you blankly and cocks his head, “Why not? He’s one of them.”

“No. No, I'm not! Okay, I hate my family! See, look!” The boy yanks his shirt up desperately, “No stitches! I'm not like them, I promise.”

“Oh, you are like them. There's bad in you. It's in your blood.” Dean insists matter-of-factly. “Now you can deny it and you can run from it all you want, but that bad.... will always win.” The absolute sincerity in his eyes makes your heart stop. He’s given up. How could you ever hope to save him if he’s already given up? And then it dawns on you: he’s going to kill that boy. Your Dean is about to murder an innocent kid. But maybe if you stop him, you can convince him that there’s still hope. This battle for a kid’s life suddenly becomes a battle for Dean’s soul. You continue to struggle with your ties with a renewed desperation. “He was trying to help me. He was going to let me run.” You beg with Dean as you frantically fight the ropes. You have to get to Dean so you can calm him down.

“I'll do anything you want. Okay, please. You don't need to do this” the boy begins to cry. “Please.”

Dean looks down and lowers his gun. He seems in thought. The next few seconds seem to move in slow motion. Several things happen at once:

You finally pull your hands free and yank the rope off of your torso.

Dean looks up at the boy, points his gun at him, and says, “Yeah. I do.”

You lunge at Cy. 

You and Cy come crashing to the ground into a pile of books and at first, you think you got away with it. You smile at him and he looks back at you, horrified. You’re confused, and the world is a little blurry. “What’s wrong?”

Cy points at your shoulder. You reach your left arm round to feel the back of your right shoulder. It comes back bloody. Cy’s eyes grow wide and he frantically tries to pull you toward him.

“What?” You realize your words are slurred. When you don’t budge, he begins to crawl away and trips several times.

You turn to look behind you and see Dean approaching. He seems to be in no hurry and his cold eyes hold no concern for you. It occurs to your foggy mind that this is odd as you are hurriedly bleeding out.

“Why did you do that?” He asks evenly as he points the gun in your face.

You try to slide away and fall over, groaning when you hit your shoulder. “Dean…” is all you can manage to get out.

Suddenly, you see a blur of beige as Dean is tackled out of your view. You hear struggling and your body starts to react on its own, desperately dragging you away from the fight. Something brings you to a halt.

You hear Cas start begging. “Dean stop.”

Dean stands over Cas and continues to hit him. Blood is everywhere, and Cas’s face is almost unrecognizable. You feel a surge of energy. This isn’t like last time. This time it ends in Cas’s death if you don’t do something. You start to frantically drag yourself back, not sure where the sudden energy and clarity came from. You are a couple feet away when Dean takes Cas’s angel blade out and raises it high above his head, pulling Cas up by his tie. Cas grabs Dean’s hand.

“No, Dean. Please.” Cas manages to choke out through the blood.

Dean hesitates a moment with a cold expression on his face. You reach his blood-soaked leg and grab it. “Please, Dean.”

Dean glances down at you coldly and shoves you to the side with his foot. You skid to a halt roughly into a pile of books and photos, finding that whatever propelled you forward before can’t fight the blood loss. You feel like you’re drowning. You’re swimming up and just can’t reach the surface.

Cas looks at you with guilt in his eyes. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

The last thing you see before the darkness overtakes you is Dean begin to bring the angel blade down swiftly into Cas’s chest.

Part 15

If you would like to be tagged in future posts, please add yourself here! (Message me to add you if you have issues with the doc)

IMPORTANT NOTE for my BLF tags: Anyone who has changed their handle, please update it! Also, this tag list will be disappearing when the story ends. If you would like to be added to a specific category, change that in the google doc as well! Thanks for reading!!! <3

My Lovely Forever Tag: @alexwinchester23

Best Left Forgotten Tags

@webcricket @musiclovinchic93 @spnfamily-thewinchesters @flipperjanga11 @emptywithout @closetspngirl @falloutgirlzz @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @myfavemoose-sammy @krob284 @darkswanordie @spookycowz @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters @sandlee44 @supernatural-bellawinchester @alyeskandragon @mirandaaustin93 @polina-93 @somebadeeee @formulafun @catlover1899 @ashley-unicorn  @musiclovinchic93 @momma-loves-her-some-capnbucky  @misspygmypie  @witch-of-letters @love-nakamura @analisespn @klinenovakwinchester  @sasbb23 @20gayneen @dolphincliffs

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@daydreamingintheimpalareturns

#best left forgotten #demon dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #spn #spn fic #dean x reader #demon dean x reader #angst #fluff #mark of cain

[celisgettacos]

I'm going to post this because maybe someone will hear this over words unspoken, my name is Billy Strange and I still wake up each morning picking up the next piece, I've almost taken my life more then I can count on both hands, from a high school sweet heart marriage of 9 years turned bloody and a custody battle that went from healthy to sadistic over a span of 3 years and 20k, and it was the words from a man I barely knew for no more then 6 months, that has saved me

I see and talk to so many fathers who tell me their story and I so badly want to tell them just to listen to what I'm telling you, I can get you out of this if you just let me a stranger walk with you through it... It never works out that easy but I don't give up and I hope you all read these words and share them to those who may hear it better from the words written by their brother in arms.. any way

I look back for those 2 years I was there and remember pushing anyone close to me as far away as possible so that they didn't have to feel the initial pain or try to stop me, all because I felt like I let them all down...

The only people I kept around me were strangers because I wanted to know if they seen me as a failure not even knowing me.... It was because of that, and them being completely honest about why it was only me that maybe it wasn't meant to be,

(A Satanist told me this and I'll never forget it, it was his words that allowed me to get this far) he is not one for recognition so I won't label him.

"did you ever think that your trying so hard to hold up a world that has fallen all around you...

Maybe you are on the right path and you are only focusing on the things that have already broken, and don't realize that all you have to do is look down at each piece, see it and learn why it was so important to you and then glue it to that small piece you are still holding above you, then go to the next and keep going until each piece has shown you just how strong it actually made you to make it to someone who seen your strength, and can see you just forgot what gave you that strength.

It will hurt, it will make you hate the way you handled certain things, it will cause you to try to give up,

but because you made it a task to see each piece, and put it all back up, you will never allow yourself to give up, or find a rope, until you complete your task, because thats the person you are...

But you have to understand that it may have taken you 5 years to build that first world you now see broken below you, it will take far longer to rebuild it stronger, because you will also rebuild yourself with each piece, and you have to remember to let each piece's glue dry before placing the other or else you will watch it become to stressful and not understand why you think you are doing the right thing but it keeps falling....

Learn each piece then let it hurt, while you hold it in place to dry, let it consume your mind and play it over and over like a movie each piece until it dries, then heal, smile before you look back down for that next piece, and don't ever be scared to place even those bad things you did when not everyone was watching back into your rebuild, because without each piece it will be to weak and fall apart down the road when everything seemed good.

Basically you have to accept that you are on a dark road but to learn to see in the dark it will allow you to navigate later in life when you see a person on that same road and they ask for help.. Don't ever forget how you felt because they may have absolutely no one and will you want to be the one who pretends like you didn't see it. Anyway that being said stop mopping and let's go handle business "

The next section is a completely separate chapter from above but I feel maybe can help...

I want to add to this 4 years from that being told to me and experiencing it in real life, that sometimes you will still find yourself in a sort of limbo period I've managed to pin mine down to about every 8 months, if for some reason I didn't accomplish a goal I set prior and it feels like no matter what I do or try I can't for some reason figure it out, those are the moments you need to find a person you trust your life with because those will be the moments you will try anything to get you out of that mentality because we want to feel that we are moving forward no matter the speed, but to feel stuck and not being able to see a way out or that lost piece that you know is there it's just probably hidden under some of your other pieces..we feel like Maybe just for a moment let whatever is causing you to panic, whether it's rent, a car that is broke and no money and work tomorrow, or you've been jobless for 3 months now and even with all the resumes submitted nothing is available and winter is a cold time to be homeless with no job, or maybe you still haven't got a place to stay so that you can have your children stay with you finally, whatever it is the worst thing that can happen is what you silently keep fighting to not take over,

I just want this fight to stop for one night, I just want all this stress to burry itself tonight so I can try to breathe... What that really means is I'm going to go back to those bad habits I had because it always quieted those fights in my head and if I can just do that I will have a clear mind to find a solution..

I will tell you from experience that once you reach that moment nothing but a person of trust will stop you from taking that hit, or drinking those shots, calling that sexual excitement, spending the money you don't have on the gambling machines, going out on the town with the sole purpose of getting wasted, because we truly believe that we are better prepared to control our vices, we will stop at our limit, what we never realize is that we allowed those vices to retake control by thinking you needed it to breathe.

What will ultimately usually happen is a night of uncontrolled guilt, constant war inside yourself, conscious tears filling up your emotional warhead..

all night this rage of self doubt quietly destroying your confidence, causing you to go right on past that limit of 2 shots, or just one line, or I'll only put 20 bucks in the slots, or I will just flirt I won't allow it to go past that,

because that fight is still loud and now more painful, because you know deep down that you allowed yourself to fall and laying there helpless...I cringe even writing these next words because it's so easy to reach this point of thinking that;

"obviously we were just meant to fail"

"why not right, "

"who really cares if I fail there's, no one here to stop me right..."

"So why should I have to carry this pain all the damn time, why is it so fucking easy for everyone else..."

And that's it...

(Those of you who are reading this and may be in this exact moment please, look at that image that you always hold in your mind of your child's eyes, look at that past moment when you and your daughter would lay under the stars with her head on your shoulder watching the magical pink elephant jump through a black sky as she explains how much she loves you and talks about anything and everything that her imagination creates under that massive sky where imagination always comes to life.... Feel her heart as she paints her masterpiece and ask you to help with the flowers over there by the big dipper so the elephant has something to give her mom,

please don't let your moment die because you have no more left, and no one in your face to help you, please call me I don't know you but I will before we hang up and I won't let you fail the only mission that will keep your children's smile alive for another year because you didn't let yourself fall.)

Cont. - don't Wake up the next day or still awake 12 hours later after all those "friends" left you to sit with your own guilt... Oh yeah, that guilt is now yelling loudly inside your entire soul, as it launches that emotional warhead of tears, oh yeah those evil people why did they let me do this....

Why did they... Urrrghhhhh why did I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I,... DO this I can't believe I went back to what destroyed me and actually talked myself into believing this was going to help me....

It's in those tears and self reflection comes a choice that is now forced on you, oh hold that thought your friend from last night is calling, and they want to know if you want to continue this "unhealthy" adventure..

You either respond with a yes and have accepted that you have lost your control, and most times it will set you back 3-6 months or until your money runs out or those "friends" hurt you. And then you realize that all you did was take on more hurt and more pain and that's a scenario that will most likely continue to lead to occasional loss of all reality until you find that piece of your life that you keep looking over and afraid to pick up, and will cause your life to end up in constant downfalls until addressed.

Or you will have addressed that guilt and conquer a small war by not answering, because you are very In tune with accepting responsibility and able to understand that you could have destroyed your life, someone else's life, and now you know that you still are not able to control those periods of limbo when nothing is working. So accept responsibility for any loses you may have encountered, like a drug test at work, or a piece of your dignity, or people you thought were friends...

The first step from that is to immediately have the talk with that person you know will hold you accountable during those periods, 9 out of 10 times that person is who you looked up to as a child whether it's your mom, dad, grandparent, or sibling, for me it was my grandmother.. The moment you can go to them honestly no matter what it was that you did the night before, you have to let them know what that is, you have to be able to openly label the thing that will destroy you, and let them know how important they are to your strength, those tears from that conversation will build a mountain of motivation inside of you... Usually sparking that jolt to get you over that limbo...

Some people can afford to pay those people to help them, for the rest of us we have each other so that's my little piece of advice I hope it helps someone

#mentally ill #mentalwellness #mental instability #mental awareness #2020 #mental illness #Spotify

[gayshitiguess]

So since @riahawk messaged me the second after I made that post saying simply “playlist yes” I thought I would share.

So I chose one song for every chapter and thought I would do a Critical Role styled explanation! I hope you guys like it!

Chapter 1: Modern Literature

“Dying in LA” By Panic! At the Disco

“Every face along the boulevard is a dreamer just like you./ You looked at death in a tarot card and you saw what you had to do.”

What can I say, this song has always screamed Mollymauk to me, especially these two lines in the pre-chorus. Beware takes place in LA, so the title is just that much more accurate. In this first chapter and for most of the story, Molly keeps drawing the same three cards from his deck, the Fool, the Devil, and Death. He is literally looking at death in a tarot card. This is him trying to find his way, trying to gleam where he’s supposed to go from here. Luckily, he finds his way.

Chapter 2: A Show of Scrutiny

“I Put a Spell on You” By Screamin Jay Hawkins

Enter magic awkward dude! This chapter deals mostly with the aftermath of Molly finding out holy shit, magic is real. I chose this version of the Nina Simone version simply because I wanted to capture the frantic, scream argument part of this chapter. This version has Jay Hawkins literally just screeching into the mic, and if that doesn’t sum up Molly’s mood for this chapter, I don’t know what does. Bonus, it's a love song, and this is where the seeds are planted. Love is in the air, but mostly panic and magic!

Chapter 3: Lost and Found

“Junkie Church” By AJJ

“Last week I saw you at the junkie church/ you told me all the things I need to hear/ like I’ve got a heart of gold/ and a kind and open soul.”

This is one of my favorite chapters in the entire piece. I love to put in little lunar interludes of sorts between the big stuff, and this really was that at its best. In this chapter, we get a bit of insight into Caleb’s past, but not nearly the entirely. We also get a tarot reading from Molly to Caleb that somehow managed to give Caleb’s fucking terrible story positivity. Con men really are in the business of telling people what they want to hear. Molly made it his business to tell Caleb pretty things. He’s very good at that.

Chapter 4: Shadows

“Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)” By Fall Out Boy

“I hope the roof flies off and we get blown out into space/ I always make such expensive mistakes.”

You know my emo ass had to throw in some Fall Out Boy. Really, everything that they do in this chapter is mistakes. This is where shit gets bad. So many bad choices were made from Caleb giving Molly the necklace to letting the entire group into the haunted house. It had to end in a possession. Plus, I need some sick guitar riffs to get into a fight scene.

Chapter 5: Passed Through Fire

“Holy Calamity [Bear Witness II]” By Handsome Boy Modeling School

Did I say that I needed sick guitar riffs for a fight? I’m so sorry, I meant that I needed classics of the hip hop scene blowing out my speakers. This song just captures the absolute chaos of what the fuck is happening in the chapter. Shit gets crazy from the moment that the song begins, and this chapter’s contents are enough to have you screaming “Holy Calamity!” from beginning to end

Chapter 6: Reunions

“Safe in my Garden” By The Mamas & The Papas

This really is the quintessential Caduceus song to me. Really, the idea of him bopping to The Mamas & The Papas is such a lovely one. This song just reminds me of the Blooming Grove, the smooth, sweet sound, the very name just feels like the Grove. And here we get to see everybody coming to Caduceus for help and for protection. They’re all safe in his garden.

Chapter 7: What Lies Beneath the Surface

“Zombies” By Childish Gambino

“You will find/ there is no safe place/ to hide.”

Zombies! I mean, really, there was no better song for this chapter. If I was going to do a chapter about the undead, I had to throw Gambino in there. This whole album could be the soundtrack for this story, but this one especially. This chapter completely negates the safety of the last, completely ruins the safe garden that Caduceus maintains. It's a wrench in the plan and it’s a song that sounds so different from any other on the playlist, that its a wrench in the sound.

Chapter 8: Omens

“Nausea” By Jeff Rosenstock

“I got so tired of discussing my future/ I started avoiding the people I love./ Evening of silence and morning of nausea/ Shake and sweat and I can’t throw up/ I got so tired of discussing my future/ That I walk through my life like I'm the only one”

Caleb has a really hard time communicating what he wants to other people. He also has a hard time talking about his future, since he hasn’t really planned on having one since the academy. It's hard for him not to push people away, but Molly is stubborn and he isn’t willing to let Caleb push people out of his life.

Chapter 9: Strange Bedfellows

“I’ve Got Problems” By Harley Poe

“Talking to myself again/ About how I'll never win/ I look into the mirror/ And that's how my day begins/ I wonder when did all this black fill up my mind/ Well I don't shower/ I'm a slob/ I've gone years without a job/ And I can't seem to keep my hands out of my pants and off my knob/ Because the perversions in my head are of the sickest kind”

What can I say? Caleb’s got problems. Like, big time problems. He’s one fucked up shit. Just as “Safe in my Garden” is the quintessential Caduceus song, this is the quintessential Caleb song. I really could put the entire song in quotations because it is perfect. He’s trying his best here to convince Molly that he is FUBAR and honestly? It kind of works. He’s a fucked up guy who does fucked up things, and there’s very little that either of them can do about it.

Chapter 10: Dangerous Liasons

“Would you Be So Kind” By dodie

Caleb and Molly have been hinting at romance for the entire piece, but this is where it really starts to bloom. Molly expressed how serious he is about this, and tells Caleb that whenever he’s ready, Molly’s there. Molly is baring his soul in a way he hasn’t to anybody before. He’s trusting Caleb in a way he hasn’t with anybody. It's scary and he’s afraid to fuck it up, and all he can do right now is ask Caleb “could you maybe fall in love with me?”

Chapter 11: Crimson Deplomacy

“Devil’s Haircut” By Beck

Molly’s worst fucking nightmare; finding out what exactly is in his head. It turns out that it's Lucien. It's his worst case scenario. Getting real, concrete answers to his past that he never once asked for. And it only means bad things on the way. There’s something decidedly evil in his mind and he’s stuck. All he can do is hope that he’ll be okay. Plus, what a use of the kazoo.

Chapter 12: At Dawn, We Plan!

“Bad Moon Rising” By Creedence Clearwater Revival

This song is cursed and so is this chapter. It's all about bad tidings and warnings, an omen of bad things on the rise. Although this chapter is relatively tame, there is a permeating sense of unease. Molly knows that this is going to go badly. He knows that something horrible is about to happen. And there is absolutely nothing that he can do about it. There’s a bad moon on the rise, and Molly’s going to have to face it.

Chapter 13: Found and Lost

“Through The Roof N’ Underground (feat. Eugene Hütz)” By Gogol Bordello

“When there's a trap set up for you/ In every corner of this town/ And so you learn the only way to go is underground/ When there's a trap set up for you/ In every corner of your room/ And so you learn the only way to go is through the roof”

Taliesin said it himself, Molly was always going to end with this song. This whole chapter is a fucking disaster. Molly “dies,” Lucien comes back, Lucien “dies,” there’s a lot of our favorite Bloodhunter biting the dust. Molly is doomed the second that that demon enters the room, and so he makes his way underground. Lucien is dragged up by his teeth from the inside of himself, and he goes straight through the roof. I’ve really found a love for this song and the intense, falling to pieces nature of it. By the end of it, the instrumentals and vocals fall out of sync and fade into nothing, just like Molly.

Chapter 14: Epilouge: The Chapter Closes

“Safety Song” By Andrea Gibson

“I was walking home in the red night zone/ I had a pair of flowers/ you had pegs on the back of your bike/ it was almost the morning hour/ I said come with me to the carnival/ we can sneak in when the power goes out/ we can sit real still in the bumper carts/ and see what it's all about to be safe/ from the crashing day/ we can be safe from everything/ you caught my eye in the funhouse mirror/ you look so pretty even like that/ you held my hand while I held my tongue/ and blushed beneath my baseball cap/ you said we've all got monsters under our bed and under our skin as well/ we can hold them in the corners of our little shame or bring them to show and tell/ just know your safe to tell me anything/ you are so safe to tell me anything/ lying in the grass by the ferris wheel/ I saw a train i knew we could catch so/ we ran through the streets and the parking lot/ and we caught that train as we caught our breath and we rode through the hills and the silo fields/ I knew my heart had no fire escape/ but I stood in your lightning like a sycamore tree/ love is a risk you have to take I feel safe to risk everything/ I feel safe to risk everything”

Finally, finally Molly has made it. After several months of recovery, plenty of therapy, and lots of soul searching, he’s able to breathe. This entire story has felt suffocating for me. I believe that Molly’s arc would have been an extremely painful and cathartic one to watch, so I thought that I would make something similar. This song is slow and sweet and tenuous. For a story that goes so hard for so long, I wanted to slow it down at the end and deliver something sweet. This is where Caleb and Molly decide to risk it, amnesia and trauma be damned, because love is a risk, but it's one that they have to take. And he’s safe. Finally safe.

#beware beware #from the bell jar #molly #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #playlist #molly playlist

[ifishouldvanish]

Falling Forward (1/3)

Part 3 of I Must Be Warmer Now

Summary: Gold isn't sure what to call this thing between him and Lacey. But such things usually have a way of working themselves out. Rating: T Tags: fluff for these two, because they need it

[Read on AO3]

Mr Gold takes a deep breath and knocks on the door to suite 201. He's been dreading this moment all week. Collecting rent from Lacey for the first time since they started… seeing each other.

He's not sure what to call it exactly. They mostly visit each other's homes, have sex, then stay up until the wee hours of the morning venting to each other about work, their exes, or whatever the latest gossip from the Storybrooke rumour mill is. They don't exactly go out on dates or anything, at least not in town. She’s come over for dinner a few times and he’s driven out to Portland twice more to watch her open mic performances, but that's about it. They’re establishing somewhat of a routine, a safe framework in which this thing between them operates, and if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t like it. But he doesn’t know how or if he even could explain it to her.

The deadbolt clicks and the door swings open, revealing Lacey in her tiny pajama bottoms and a cami, with yesterday's smudged eyeliner and her hair pulled up into her signature messy bun. She looks beautiful.

She leans against the doorframe, her eyes sweeping over his figure while a pleased little smirk tugs at her lips. “...Hey.”

Gold's heart is already racing and his mouth is bone dry. He tries to remember his line. It's that time of the month, Miss French. Does he call her Miss French? Or is that too formal? No, no. He's here to collect rent. Nothing more, nothing less. This is business. Miss French it is, he decides.

“...Hey." He says. Close enough.

Lacey sucks her teeth. “You uh, wanna come in… or something?”

No. No, no, no. Collect rent. Leave.

“I-If you wouldn't mind,” he says with a light chuckle instead, smiling like an idiot despite himself.

She spins around and struts back into the apartment without a word, and Gold berates himself for standing frozen in place, his eyes focused on her perfect little bottom until she reaches the kitchen counter. He finally shakes it off and follows after her, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks when he closes the door behind him. He can’t wait to get this over with, yet at the same time, he doesn’t want to leave.

She rummages through a stack of papers for a moment before pulling out a worn envelope with the word RENT scrawled across it in permanent marker. She plucks the wad of cash out and counts it quietly to herself before offering it to him. “Here you go.”

There’s a panicked feeling in Gold’s chest as he accepts it from her, but once he tucks it into his breast pocket, he can feel his soul beginning to return to his body.

“Thank you.” He nods, exhaling slowly. “Miss French.”

The smile on her face falters at that. “Yeah.” She mumbles, her eyes sweeping toward the door. “No problem.”

Well, that can't be right. He can feel the giddiness that was blooming in his chest a moment ago shriveling up and wilting into shame. He's definitely fucked something up.

Gold’s mind races for the words he needs to undo whatever it is he's just done, but before he can find them, she shifts on her feet and looks back him again, this time with a rigidness to her features. Her eyes seem to look through him, or into him, and his heart starts to pound in his chest.

“So.” She folds her arms over her chest and leans back against the counter.. “What's up?”

“Oh— nothing.” He says a little too quickly. God, he's starting to sweat. “You?”

“Same old.” She shrugs. “You um, gonna be done making rounds soon?”

He stops himself before an automatic yes can jump from his tongue. “Should be done come five.”

“Hm.” She says with another shrug. A silence stretches between them for a moment and she sucks her teeth. “You know... you could uh, come by later. If you want.”

“Right.” He coughs.

“I uh… I was just gonna order takeout and binge rewatch the X-Files or something.” She adds with forced nonchalance.

“I'll ah, consider it.”

“You um—” The hard-edged expression fades from her features, giving way to the soft, tender one typically reserved for their post-coital chit-chats. “You doing okay?” She asks, taking a half-step closer and resting a hand on his shoulder. She gives him a slight squeeze but quickly pulls away, wrapping her arms around herself again.

“Aye, fine.” He coughs, squeezing the handle of his cane. “Just... came by for the rent, ye know?”

She pouts at him and sighs. “Yeah.”

“So, I guess I'll ah... be on my way then.” He tells the floor.

“I guess so.”

He looks back up, ready to flash her a parting smile— but she looks so disappointed again and he can't bring himself to leave because he's clearly doing something wrong. He just can't stand to leave her like this, in less cheerful a state than he found her in.

God dammit. Why is he so terrible at this? She's trying to make plans with you, you dolt.

He tentatively reaches his free hand out for one of hers, but they're still crossed over her chest, and so it just hovers awkwardly in the air instead. He settles for gently grasping her arm at the elbow, rubbing his thumb over it in a manner he hopes— yet doubts— is comforting.

“I'll…” He pulls back and gives her a weak smile that she returns, much to his relief. “I'll come by around six?”

Her smile widens into something more genuine. “Six sounds good.”

“Good.” He nods. “I'll ah, see you then.” He hesitates for a second, then swallows. “...Sweetheart.”

Lacey takes her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back the grin that so badly wants to bloom across her face. With the weight of his uncertainty lifted from his shoulders, Gold feels like he's floating.

The playful gleam finally returns to her blue eyes and she wets her lips. “Sounds good, baby.”

Gold knows he’s blushing. He doesn't have much time to feel embarrassed for himself though, before she throws her arms around his shoulders and presses her lips to his. It catches him off guard, and he lets out a surprised little grunt before he reciprocates and slides his arm around her waist.

Baby.

He never really liked it when Milah would call him that. But from Lacey, it just feels right.

Mr Gold collected rent from the rest of the tenants in Lacey's building with a dopey smile planted firmly on his face, earning himself curious stares from each and every one of them. Unit 302 was short $200 and he just told them not to worry about it. As he walks back out to the car, he tells himself it’s only because he doesn't have time to explain the particular details of their rental agreement right now, and not because his little exchange with Lacey just has him in that good of a mood and what's he going to do with another $200 anyway?

But who is he kidding? His mind has been playing the sound of her voice calling him baby over and over like a broken record, and it makes his chest tingle with anticipation every time. He’s not a big fan of takeout and he doesn’t know what an X-File is, but he can hardly wait until the end of the day so can enjoy them both with her. As soon as he finishes up on 3rd Avenue, he turns onto Main Street and makes a beeline for the florist.

The bell hanging above the front door of Game of Thorns clangs annoyingly as he steps inside, but it’s not enough to sour his mood. Not by a longshot. He’s a man on a mission this afternoon— buying flowers for his sweetheart— and if that means having to deal with Moe French’s poor taste in doorbells, then so be it. He hears the advancing of dragging footsteps and the man emerges from the back room, his friendly service smile slipping from his face when he recognizes his latest visitor.

“Gold? You already got your money this morning,” he groans. “Every cent! Count it again!”

“Lovely to see you again as well, Mr French.” He says with a forced, polite smile as he approaches the counter. “But no, no… I'm not here for your money.” Surely he can manage to put aside his general distaste for this man for a few minutes. For Lacey. He glances around the shop for a moment, then rests his hands on his cane and looks Moe in the eyes. “I'd like a dozen of your finest roses.” He says calmly. “Salmon or light pink, preferably.”

Moe just stares ahead blankly, and he isn't sure if he heard him. Or believes him. Or was paying attention. If there was ever a light behind the eyes of Moe French, Gold thinks, it must have gone out long ago.

“No.” He finally says.

Gold blinks. “...Excuse me?”

“I said no.”

Gold frowns. “Mr French.” He wets his lips and leans over the counter slightly. “A bit of free advice from one proprietor to another: turning away customers— not the best business strategy.”

“I don't care if it's bad for business.” The man bellows. “I'm not selling you a single rose from this shop.”

Gold lets out a little chuckle and glances around the shop again— an irritated, predatory grin spreading across his face. The nerve of this man. “Mr French—”

“What does a bastard like you want with my Lacey?”

“You mean it isn't obvious?” Gold scoffs. “After all, you are her father.”

Moe’s face reddens and he looks like he might explode.

“Lacey is an incredibly resilient young woman with a kind heart, vivacious spirit, and  illuminating perspective on life.” Gold explains, taking mercy on him. “I think the better question, Mr French, is why someone like her would want anything to do with me.”

Moe scowls at him a moment longer and huffs, his shoulders slouching in defeat. “She doesn't like roses anymore.” He grunts.

That wipes the smug grin right off of Gold's face. He hadn't even considered well… that. He feels like an idiot. Every time he'd hurt me, there'd be flowers the next morning.

“Not since—”

“No.” Gold sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, of course not.” Whoever Lacey's ex-fiancé is, the bastard's lucky she hasn't uttered his name once to him. He'd hop the first flight to New York and give him a piece of his mind. Or his cane.

For the best, Gold tells himself as he takes a deep breath. Assault and battery— still a very bad idea.

Moe looks down the floor hesitantly and sighs. “...Stargazer lilies are her favorite.”

Gold tilts his head at him. He'll take back every foul thought he's ever had about the man if helps him choose the perfect flowers for Lacey. “Stargazer lilies? How— how might those look with carnation, or hydrangea?”

Moe nods slowly. “I can make it work.”

Gold arches a brow. “It's short notice. I'd like them for tonight.”

“I’m willing to move things around a bit for my daughter.” Moe says firmly, standing tall with fatherly pride. “I can have something ready by five.”

“That would be... perfect, Mr French.”

“I don't know what in God's name she sees in you, Gold.” Moe says. “But whatever she sees, she... likes it.” He admits reluctantly.

Gold knits his brows together. Did Moe just give him his… blessing?

“...Thank you.” He says in a whisper, beginning to head back toward the door. He stops halfway and looks back at Moe. “Mr French, I— the last thing I want is to hurt—”

“I know.” He grumbles. “Now go on. Get out of my shop, Gold.”

*****

Lacey takes a deep breath and a quick look in the mirror when she hears the knock at the door. It has to be him.

She's suddenly regretting having changed into a proper outfit. She even put on lipstick and reapplied her day-old eyeliner. Was it too much? Was she trying too hard? Lacey French doesn't dress up for anyone but herself— right?

Calm down, she urges herself. She takes so much pride in not worrying about what people think, but when it comes to Gold, that philosophy goes flying out the window. She just likes him so much and she wants him to like her too. He has to like her by now, doesn't he?

He knocks again and she shakes it off. It’s too late now. Just fucking do it, darling.

She opens the door and Gold looks more nervous now than he did three hours ago. He's wearing the same suit but he somehow looks even cuter than before. It's probably the bouquet of— whoa.

“For you, sweetheart.” He says with a timid smile on his face as he offers the flowers to her.

“You—” She wets her lips and stares at the floral arrangement, her heart fluttering in her chest and nervous energy boiling in her gut. “You got me flowers?” She asks, immediately cringing at how cold her voice sounds.

A panicked look fills his eyes and her mouth gapes open with worry. She can't find any words but she's slowly beginning to realize there isn't a single rose in the arrangement. Instead, it's a stunning bouquet of stargazer lilies. God dammit Lacey, thank you— you say thank you.

“It... It seemed the proper th-thing to do?” He explains weakly. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—”

“No!” She blurts. “No, no!” She looks at the bouquet again and smiles. “No, I just mean— it's… really nice of you.” Her words seem to do little to console him though, and God, why does he put up with her? Stammering, she rushes to accept them from him. “I'm sorry. I'm not used to— I don't know.”

Not used to anybody thinking I'm worth buying flowers for.

“I know you said—” Gold cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Your father told me they were your favorite?”

“They are.” She assures him with her best smile. “They’re uh, they're beautiful. Thank you.” She just stares at him for the longest time because Christ. He didn't just buy her flowers— he went through her father to buy her flowers. That couldn’t have been pleasant. “I love them.”

She takes a moment to admire the arrangement properly. Flowers. He got you flowers. She suddenly realizes he's still standing in her doorway and shakes her head.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” she blurts. “Come in.”

He takes no more than two steps inside before stopping and looking at her apprehensively, fumbling with his hands. She doesn't know what to do but then she feels him place a gentle hand on her arm. He leans in slowly and presses a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“You look beautiful.” He says, the apples of his cheeks rounded by a timid smile.

Oh, fuck this.

Lacey adjusts her grip on the flowers and clasps her free hand on his shoulder, pulling him in hard for a kiss— A real one, on the lips with a bit of tongue, because this is getting ridiculous. And also because every time she kisses him like this, she notices the look of complete, utter surprise on his face and it's kind of adorable. His arm slowly wraps around her waist and he kisses her back. The flowers rustle between them as their hands wander over each other and they deepen the kiss. He follows her touch as she pulls away and smiles when they finally part.

“Thank you, baby.” She says with a finishing peck on his cheek. “Let me find something to put these in.”

For once, Lacey's glad she works at a florist because she intends to make her flowers from Mr Gold last as long as possible.

#rumbelle fic #golden lace