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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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an (incomplete) list of things kon can do because lex luthor is his dad that people always forget about:

#1 : math - he's fifteen, and math comes easy to him (unlike a lot of people his age, or at least, his visible age.) a lot of things come easy to him, because when you have all knowledge in the known universe downloaded into your brain, things like advanced math don't bother you very much.

but it bothers his friends, because bart loses interest about three seconds into the assignments, cassie groans anytime "homework" is brought up in general, and tim hates the concept and execution of math so much that he'd rather hide in kon's room where he thinks no one will look for him instead of even cracking open a textbook.

but kon's pretty sure being a hero means you don't need any real world skills, and after his initial hesitation and disagreements, he realized that he genuinely wants these people to like him, to be friends with him. their math homework is easier than a breeze to complete.

#2 : tying a tie the ~fancy~ way - he's nineteen, and his fingers flow through a silk tie like a fish through water. the motions are beyond familiar, he could do them in his sleep. so is the action of pulling on a suit, pressing his collar, arranging his hair into a neat style. he's timothy drake-wayne's date tonight, and he needs to look the part. fortunately, luthor taught him how to look the part a long the ago.

the party itself is,,,,pleasant, he supposes. he spends most of the time as arm candy, tim's pretty little thing as his boyfriend sweet-talked investors and networked. but they both know that the tipsier people are, the easier they let slip secrets to someone they believe won't understand them, and kon gathers a wealth of information by the time he meets up with tim by the appetizer bar right before dinner.

tim tugs him close by his tie and kisses his cheek, then laughs when kon discreetly but disgustedly spits out the pickled salmon cracker toppings.

#3 : educated debating - he's sixteen, and in an argument with tim that's gone so off the rails that kon can't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. wherever they started, they were here, now, kon on top of a table in an ice cream parlour screaming about how a socialist approach to taxes would boost the lower class, tim on top of a barstool screaming right back about how the middle class are the only ones paying taxes and socialism would only put more weight on their shoulders.

both of them are this close to busting out laughing, and the only reason they haven't been thrown out is because the employee behind the counter is frantically taking notes. kon can see it in tim's eyes, see the way the younger boy didn't expect to hold such a passionate and intense debate with him, didn't expect kon to be capable of it. it's a pleasant surprise, though; that much is evident in tim's barely-hidden grin.

the debate comes to a pause when bart smacks him with a spoon and tells him off for stepping on the speedster's ice cream, and the tiredness with which he collapses back into the booth is a good one.

#4 : efficient + effective workplace supervision - he's twenty, and wondering how in the hell people hadn't murdered the entirety of young justice when it was first founded. bart had graduated to being the flash's full time sidekick, and though he came to visit often, it wasn't the same. gotham was almost always on the verge of imminent disaster these days, and tim was one of the few ropes holding it together. kon missed him like crazy, but his few visits were all the boy could spare. cassie was in charge now, and she was a wonderful leader, but busy, always smoothing over relations between the team and the justice league and civilian offices.

so, somehow, that left kon to be the den mother to all the new younger kids, and somehow, kon was good at it. he knew exactly what to say to get people to listen to his commands, telling them to work on this or work on that, train for this and practice that. he tells them when to get some sleep and let the weight of the day roll off their shoulders, and when to push themselves to raise them higher than they ever thought they could go. unexpectedly, he finds himself liking it.

#5 : the splits

#6 : colour schemes + interior decorating - he's twenty-one, and tim's finally deciding to turn the nest into a home. bart, who had spent the last couple of years bouncing between allen-west-mercury households and was therefore accustomed to a home with a fire of love reaching every corner and every member of the family, was appalled. so was kon, honestly.

the penthouse that tim worked out of was cold and impersonal, sleek lines that angles that matched the limbs and contours of tim's body. but the shadows around tim's eyes had lessed over the past few years, his smile coming to his lips almost as easy as when young justice first learned how to work together. all it took was a little encouragement from cassie, and suddenly, all four of them were involved in a home renovation project.

cassie churned out ikea furniture like it was nothing, the three of them taking a break from their jobs to just watch her as she lifted one of their hardwood bookshelves with one hand. bart bought home goods and essentials from various department stores and ran around, stocking the house with them wherever he felt a saucepan needed to be hung (near the coat hanger) or a candle holder needed to be placed (on the kitchen barstools, because apparently those were decorative anyway).

kon, meanwhile, decorated. he painted rooms and bought curtains and pillows, yes. but he also sorted through every single souvenir and memory the four of them had managed to accumulate over the years, photographs and hacked-off pieces of giant robots and saved movie tickets and broken weapons. he gets his hands on everything he can find, then fills up tim's nest until it's brimming with a cosy warmth made up of the four of them.

still, it's an obnoxiously large penthouse, so there's empty and open space left over even after redecorating. it's tim who takes a breath and works up the courage to tell them, not ask but tell them, that he wanted each of them to have their own bedroom. so bart takes the largest guest room and turns it into an explosion of colour, and cassie spends too much time decorating a room that she won't even live in most of the time. kon conspicuously notes how tim doesn't bother giving kon a room, just dumps kon's backpack on his bed and clears room in his own closet. he does wrap tim in a ttk hug though, from all the way across the room, and drinks in tim's red flush.

#7 : speed reading (no powers) - he's seventeen, and just now realizing how competitive his best friends are. cassie had long since resigned herself to being the judge and the hander-outer-of-prizes (candy from the nearest convenience store) for the speed-reading competition, but tim, kon, and bart were still in the running.

eventually, though, the pressure from holding back his powers grew too strong, and bart slumped against the back of the sofa, mournfully opening his mouth so cassie could drop a candy into it.

and then there were two.

kon thought back to the confrontation that had started this contest in the first place, robin's offhand comment about how he had to be the one to collect the data files from the company office they were infiltrating, because he was the only one who could speed-read and retain information. that had spiraled into an argument, then a challenge, then a competition, with a clear rule not to use any powers.

kon darted his eyes across the page, soaking up every word, the pages like tiny knives on the pads of his fingers as he turned them. he lost track of the page count, just reading and reading and reading until he tried to turn the page and realized there wasn't a next one. he yelled in triumph, reveling in tim's defeated groan, and settled in for cassie's quiz on the contents of the book.

#8 : sophisticated meal and wine palette - he was twenty-two, and discovering that he really, really liked tim's shocked face. they'd been friends for years now, childish hatred turned into playful bantering turned into knowing each other inside out. still, every now and then, kon did something that forced tim's eyebrows high on his head, his eyes widening just the barest bit.

right now, kon was at a dinner party with the words moral support written across his forehead. tim could handle himself remarkably well, but there was tiredness lacing the smaller boy's frame, and kon could practically see the way the tips of his soul were frazzled. so kon let tim lean into his arm and whispered jokes about luna-with-the-big-ugly-purse and martonio-who-can't-do-a-combover into his ear. or, at least, he was.

somehow he'd been drawn into a good natured argument with the man sitting just two seats down from tim and kon. friendly opinions of food had been tossed back and forth, growing more and more heated until kon looked him right in the eye and said he liked prosecco with his prosciutto, internally crowing with satisfaction at their shocked silence and sighing with pity that none of the guests here would ever try that combination out of fear of deviation. once the man had regained his sensibilities, he shot back, saying the sixth course should never serve salmon, instead regaling the fish to the amusebouche or the cheese course. kon snorted and told him fish itself was going out of style, and if he wanted to impress guests at the next dinner party he hosted, he should try serving octopus.

tim's shocked face was a pleasant surprise, but seeing the stunned, controlled blinks of everyone around him as they realized he wasn't just a pretty face was satisfying as well. even more satisfying was when he and tim said their goodbyes; while waiting for the valet, tim pressed up onto the tips of his toes and whispered promisingly in kon's ear, i fucking love your competence.

#9 : manipulating people into hating him to justify his actions - he was eighteen, and he was screaming, crying, tearing his hair out. kon didn't know what he had expected. lingering fondness? grudging acceptance? maybe a small leap for a chance at love?

it didn't matter. clark didn't want anything to do with him. and he was eighteen now, which meant clark didn't need to take care of him anymore, didn't need to pretend to pay attention to him anymore. he'd made it quite clear.

maybe that was why he found himself hesitating before saying no to amanda waller's offer. he forgot about the warnings tim gave him, though, and waller pounced on that hesitation, quicker than a panther. it was easy, it was oh so easy to let himself go with her.

besides, they had a reason to hate him now. he hadn't done anything to clark. he hadn't asked to be made. but clark had wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and didn't that sting. so if people were going to turn him away now, it was going to be for something he did.

he didn't realize how bad he was spiraling, how close he was to stepping off the lighted ledge he'd been balancing on his entire life and tumbling into the darkness below. but cassie had a stronger punch than most grown superheroes, and bart had tenaciousness written into every strand of his ginormous hair, and tim gripped his jaw so hard his fingernails dug into kon's skin and told kon that he was getting his best friend back, no matter what the hell he thought he was worth.

maybe it was madness that made him throw himself forward, still wrapped in the lasso cassie borrowed from diana, practically mauling tim's lips with his own. he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to break down crying after he kissed someone, given past experience, but the three of them, his wonderful, wonderful friends, just hugged him tight, let him fight and shake and sob until all the rage was gone. it was the first time in a long while he'd done something in hopes that someone would look at him with love, not hatred.

#10 : waltzing - he was twenty-three, twenty three and giddy with how much time he had left. conner was with tim drake-wayne publicly now, so expectations were thrust onto him, expecting to be met.

kon tended to have more fun at events than tim ever did. granted, kon didn't have to deal with all of his coworkers drinking too much and exchanging money with secrets faster than drugs and asking tim whether or not his relationship meant he was open for still-young and handsome men who needed just a small escape from their wives. but tim wasn't trying very hard to enjoy himself either.

so kon was completely justified in tugging him towards the center of the room, in a patch of floor sparsely occupied, then pulling him as close as he dared. tim's panicked whisper of what!? was overridden by kon's laughter, but he muffled his sounds for a minute, letting tim hear the quiet music playing in the background (prerecorded and playing on speakers, not live).

understanding broke over tim's face, and he arched into kon's hold as easy as breathing. kon moved one of his hands to grip tim's wrist, and he twirled the two of them effortlessly, breathless at tim's flabbergasted expression. the rhythm was simple, and tim caught on quickly. one two three, one two twist, one two three, one two step, one two three, one two switch, one two three, one two three.

kon couldn't say they danced the night away, because a little while later tim took a break for a drink, then speeches were made, then dinner was served. by then, they were both entirely too tired to dance, longing for just a bed and a soft blanket and each other. but for those few minutes in the middle of a packed yet empty ballroom, kon and tim did lose themselves in the music, just a little bit.

i don't know shit about taxes or socialism. this got way longer than anticipated whoops. i'm tagging this "long post," but if someone asks me to put it under a cut, i'd be happy to

also jesus christ this thing is almost 2.5k words. im uploading it to ao3 later if i'm in the mood

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridg @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy

#scribbles from the swamp #kon-el #conner kent #superboy #timkon #core four #dc #kon-el headcanon #kon-el fic #conner kent headcanon #conner kent fic #superboy headcanon #superboy fic #timkon headcanon #timkon fic #core four headcanon #core four fic #dc headcanon #dc fic

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mondayrobot · 3 years

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120-Day Fanfiction List (M)

A collection of my recommended Eren/Mikasa fanfictions for the first one-hundred and twenty days of the year.

Warning: The contents contain adult themes.

Rating: Mature

A Prompt for a Romp by Timid Mew

A bunch of short stories compressed together in one big pile. All of which are EreMika and AruAni.

Across Realities by BladeOfRain

Eren stands on Paradis Island as its saviour. Yet he could not help but question if the sacrifices he had made were worth it. They were free, but his demons still haunted him. He was ready to let go, but a second chance sparked hope inside him, hope that he had not felt for a long time. In this new reality, he strives to protect those he had lost and protect the future of Paradis.

After It's All Done by somecatastrophe

In another life, there was no one waiting on the other side of the sea. Thus Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman get to live the peaceful and domestic life they always wanted.

Came Out Swinging by fevversinherhair

Nine months ago, Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman fought for the first time. Eren pursues his MMA career, Mikasa goes off to college. When his first big amateur match brings them back together, old memories and new feelings muddle the issue.

Encounters by rainycliff213

Mikasa had not expected to find a creature like him, supposedly extinct for millennia, wandering in the same woods as her. The monsters had for centuries terrorized humanity, and it seemed she was the next victim.

Yet, after her escape, it seemed that neither the princess nor the monster could shake their encounter.

fide et amor by hellsiren @zoldyckvevo

drabbles. Eren, Mikasa, and a different kind of love.

Four Years by Kaekiro @kaekiro

A collection of drabbles that center around Eren and Mikasa's life after running away together.

Hearts afire by Sharinganblossoms

Collection of eremika snippets exploring the spectrum from canonverse to AU.

In another life by Sharinganblossoms

In a world without walls and burden and dreadful fate their paths collide once again.

Matrimony by waddlestreet

A marriage of convenience between Azumabito Princess, Mikasa Ackerman and General of Eldian army, Eren Jaeger.

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore by ygrittewildthing @ackermanstyle

Historia Reiss could not have approached Mikasa Ackerman with the idea of joining a band at a better time. After a falling out with Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger, Mikasa decides to take her up on her offer joining alongside Ymir Langnar (bassist), Sasha Blouse (drummer), and Annie Leonhart (guitarist). With their new keyboard player and lyricist, they set off on a journey that takes them away from their hometown. After winning the battle of the bands, they scored a record deal. As they set out to record their first album, their past begins to catch up to them.

my most beloved by misswongs

Within the false reality he's created, in a cabin that encompasses all of the selfish desires he'll never have, Eren makes sure Mikasa is happy. She’s here, and for a quiet, fleeting eternity, she’s his.

Mysterium by dialectus @dialectus

She sees him change, he sees her grow. After discovering a piece of the world to call their own, two troubled souls find solace in each other

Never again by iliankasmoulinka91 @ili-akkaman

On the verge of death, they both regret what could have been but was never. But there is always an afterlife.

Oath by StormyInk

She didn't want to leave Eren but her past had caught up with her and she refused to let those shadowy fingers reach him, refusing to keep putting him in danger, even if it meant tearing herself out of his life. "Are you coming?" Levi asked her & she looked away from the boy who'd saved her life all those years ago. It was time to keep the oath she'd made. "Yes. I am."

On a Beautiful Mountainside, I Love You by sentimentalblue @isayamasideblog

How easy it was to run. Runaways. That’s what they are.

Sight Beyond Sight by Timid Mew

Mikasa ponders over the loss of her sight, making her feel isolated and detached. Eren, however, quickly shows her that even though she's lost the use of her eyes, she still has him.

Somewhere Impossible and Lovely by rainycliff213

Could they escape it all, if they ran away? Would a life in peace be worth it?

Stress Relief by Pepin-Bones

Soldiers lead stressful lives, which means they need ways to unwind and cope with the stress of what they see and what they do - sometimes in unconventional ways. But Eren thinks it's ridiculous, or at least he did...

Teenagers by theothardus

In a world of no Titans, they would be normal, and normal teenagers might snuggle up, and Mikasa might be the one to make the first move.

The Journey by adieemus

Running away to the edge of the world with her lover, makes a soldier wonder how to get back living in her own body, after holding another in her arms for one night.

The Life I Wished For You by Timid Mew

Eren never expected to find a woman tucked away in the dark depths of a deep cave when finding shelter from the rain. He also never expected her to be a mythical creature only depicted in books.

the way home by bacondestiny @@inbothourhandsgloria

Eren crosses the ocean on the backs of his Colossals.

They can swim; he cannot. This body is too huge, too dense. He has arms but they’re useless. He has legs but they drag after him. He scuttles along the ground on his hundreds of protruding ribs. He feels them puncture the soil, the sand. Rocks scrape against the exposed bone, and when he stands on the blisteringly hot exposed muscle of his Titans, the water steaming up around, it would be enough to char if it weren’t for his healing. He’s kept on the brink of burning, unable to let the heat kill his nerves.

It hurts.

But it only lasts a few hours.

And while the steam still burns, while the pressure on the points of his ribs is odd and painful, now, it is time for others to hurt —

—“Mikasa,” Eren says, shaking her awake. “Mikasa, wake up.”

this love we share by MintToy @minttoy

She loves him and he loves her back. On the surface, it seems easy, but she knows in some dark crevice of her mind, that even though love is selfish – escaping to these mountains was selfish – it is also good.

Her source of strength. The root of his humanity.

Time will come when it will teach her to grow, too.

Through Thick and Thin by Moonstars (Flamingo27)

Eren is a university student with a bright future ahead in the field of medicine, very much like his father. At the same time, Mikasa is a student in the same university, specifically in the nursing school. Just like the green-eyed boy, she is very much considered a genius in her department. When the two met, they fell in love and it was widely known in the university for both of the students had a promising future in their respective fields.

However, a sudden revelation had shattered both of their future plans: Mikasa’s unexpected pregnancy.

Till Death Do Us Apart by misswongs

Through the confined expansions of the wood that it's made of, through the grass, the trees, the birds soaring in the skies, they feel each other. They exist for one another, holding on to whatever is left of their fragmented bodies and withered souls—for everyone will be bone and ashes soon but they're still here, still flesh and blood, still alive.

Still alive.

And for now, just for now, it's enough.

we'll never be those kids again (but we can try) by rilakkuma5 @uhhstar

She had hoped this would happen differently. In an ideal world, it would have. They’d have been blushing and fumbling. Awkward laughter. Unsure hands. Soft kisses. All of it. In an ideal world, this would have played out like her fantasies—tender and loving.

But the world is ending. For the umpteenth time. She’s lost count.

What Ifs by qeen124

"I love you, Eren."

She gasped as soon as the words came out of her mouth. There was a sense of relief, followed by a wave of panic. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly, she saw his shoes step closer to hers, and felt his fingers lift her chin up, allowing her dark eyes to settle into his.

He didn't speak a word but what he did next was more than enough as a response.

Your one and only Dark Knight by kuchenackerman @kuchenackerman

In the daytime I’m Eren. Just a normal boy with a normal boring life. But there’s something about me that no one knows yet. Emphasis on yet. ‘Cause I have a secret. No, but seriously, can I at least tell her? It's so unfair...

You can also check out: 2020 Eremika Fanfiction Masterlist

#eremika #fanfiction #writing

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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How would Mikasa react to waking up to a female!siren singing to her?

Interestingly enough did you know that the original designs for Sirens portrayed them as humans with wings in greek mythology, having bird features like feathers and claws for legs. "Winged maidens, daughters of the Earth" Helen in In Euripides's play

The goddess Demeter who gave them wings for a reason related to her daughter persephone, although if the wings were a blessing to search for her or a curse as punishment for their failure to protect her is...unkown. If someone managed to resist a siren's song, the siren's life will end.

The only people who managed to best their singing are the muses, who plucked their wings and made crowns from the feathers and Orpheus who drowned out their singing by playing the lyre.

It's not until people began classifying them with mermaids that they merged their looks and instead the Sirens took their appearance but kept their backstory, or got known as the "predator" of mermaids when in realty they just target sailors.

Also this request is lowkey a pun since Mikasa's name is originally from a battleship name and Sirens drown ships.

Mikasa waking up to a female Siren!reader

{ Mikasa x Female reader | tw: mentions of death tw: drowning | fantasy, falling in love, angst with comfort | canon universe }

{ "Aphrodite" 1893 by Adolf Hirémy-Hirschl 1860–1933 }

It's burning, her lungs are burning.

Was the first thing Mikasa realised as she drifted back into consciousness, her body felt heavy and her throat burned. Suddenly a heavy pressure was against her chest for a split second before coming back again, push after push, she felt air making it's way to her lungs.

And then the coughing started, pushing all the remaining water out of her body. Her vision returning as she could make out the voice of someone near her.

Looking above her, Mikasa's breath stilled for a moment when she saw a naked women, the most gorgeous women she's ever seen and when you smiled at her staring, her heart jumped.

Trying to help her sit up, you reached for her hand. She instantly reached for her blade before forcing her hand up, sharp edge inches from your face.

"Who are you and where am i" her voice was still hoarse, despite that it didn't lose it's threatening tone.

You look at her, the human you just saved from drowning, pointing the end of the weapon, you just retrieved from the floor of the ocean, at you.

Trying to think this through and not frighten her any further, you open your mouth to talk. The second she sees your sharp pointy teeth, she leaps four steps back.

This isn't going to work, you think watching her eyes widening while taking in the rest of your body. Moving the end your tail in the air, the big colorful fins disract her for a second for you to start singing.

One moment she felt utterly terrfied, cold and confused but the second your voice went through her like silk, it felt as if her brain numbed her pain and worries. Too hyponitzed to notice the sound the blade made as it hit the rocks under, her eyes softened as she walked towards you.

Her steps echoed through the cave, your singing coating her mind in milk and honey as she realised again how absolutely beautiful you are, how lovely your skin looked without anything to cover it, how mesmerising your tail was.

She wanted to see you up close, to touch you again, to have your hands on her chest again. She was hooked on your voice.

When you squeezed her shoulder she melted under your touch, when you stepped closer her eyelashes fluttered. She followed you to the edge of the cave, sitting right beside on on the cliff as waves crashed against the sharp rocks under.

You could sing her to jump and she wouldn't think twice about it. But you didn't, no instead the end of your tail wrapped around her legs, securing her in place and making sure no wave will dare make her fall.

The singing stopped, but the molten sugar her brain was swimming in didn't. You asked her what's the last thing she can remember, attempting to help before the effects of your voice wear off.

Her dark eyes stared into your glowing ones, just as confused as before but willing to co-operate this time.

What's the last thing can Mikasa remember...well she remembers her name. She also remembers the feeling of cold air and dry sand, she remembers walking miles down the beach at night, hoping the sea could drown her sorrows. With no Titans to worry about anymore, her worries for her friends grew more and more.

It's easy to protect them against a flesh eating gaint, but could she say the same when it comes to protecting them from their own minds?

She remembers the stars being her only company on the long walk, that was until she saw a figure leaning against the rocks in the sea.

Who in their right mind would attempt something so dangerous, she thought. They could die, were they attempting to...

and so she didn't hesitate in jumping after them, ignoring the freezing water while pushing her self towards the figure, hoping to pull them into land.

But she underestimated just how deep the water was, having only been in shallow parts before she didn't realise how dangerous it is when she couldn't feel her feet touching the ground anymore. The sea having no remorse or pity on her before dragging her down under, waves setting off her balance as salty water filled her lungs.

Burning, her lungs were burning.

Horror settled in her eyes, she could still taste the saltiness in her mouth, she could still feel the pressure of water dragging her down, too much, it was all too much.

And then your hands were holding hers, and the storm in her mind calmed down. She felt like she could breath again just by looking at your eyes, she was alive.

"You saved me" it was her turn to squeeze your hands, bringing them to her face. Your thumbs wiped away the salty tears before they could reach her lips.

You held her as she cried her heart out, part because of the horrible experience she just went through, another because of the ghosts of fears and responsibilities on her shoulders. As she sobbed in your chest, mentioning some names you've never heard before. Asking them to forgive her for not knowing how to help, for not being strong enough to protect him from himself.

You don't ask who Eren and Armin are.

Running your fingers through her silky dark hair, it calms her down. She doesn't let go of you and you find the warmth comforting, her grip is surprisingly strong as if she's worried you'll slip between her fingers.

Getting her composer back together, she silently thanks you. The moon is still up and the night is still young, and so she doesn't attempt to leave or move away. Instead she leans closer, her face inches from yours that you could feel her breath against your lips.

"Could you...sing to me again? Please."

You nod, she gives you the most heartwarming smile you've seen before closing the distance between you slowly, almost as if she's giving you space to pull away. You don't.

Her kiss was soft, delicate even, like she's never been kissed before and when you kiss back she becomes putty in your hand. Her mouth taste salty but you don't mind it.

When she pulls away, amazement in her eyes as if she just discovered a new secret to life, she whispers a small thank you.

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5uptic · 3 years

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crewfu fanfic spotlight :)

Smores by Chione_chan (5up & Steve, general rating, gen | 273 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve roast their fans as they roast marshmallows.

arms wrapped tight by spaded_ace (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 283 words)

Summary: Another short drabble about the cuddling

guitars that gently weep or something like that by 5280ft (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 469 words)

Summary: He wonders what feeling would be like physically. Feeling someone. In specific instances. In circumstances that he can’t generalize, or compartmentalize, or ignore and wait to go away: Apollo wants to feel so badly his hands ache.

5:39 by spaded_ace (Apollo & Steve, general rating, gen | 674 words)

Summary: Musing when you can't sleep, lethargy in the morning

grab hold the darkness we become by headlessline (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 675 words)

Summary: “Are monsters born or created?” Steve, 5up, and vampires.

defining moments by meowcode (5up/Sleepy, Janet/Kimi, teen rating, multi | 704 words, chaptered words)

Summary: working title: heather attempts to write regularly for once in his miserable fucking life

Tantalus by farmersagainstweed (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 755 words)

Summary: This was, arguably, worse than before. Before tonight he had thought Steve was straight, unobtainable. He hadn't even let him want. But now? Like Tantalus doomed to an eternity with food just out of reach, he could now see all he could ever want. It was so painfully close, he could just feel it on the tips of his fingers. Pinning Apollo gets a night he could only dream of, but it won't last forever.

Cold sheets and menthol by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 851 words)

Summary: The sensation is like a brain freeze. It's one which Steve savors. Sometime after the events of things like me and things like you shouldn't mix Steve and Apollo enjoy some alone time.

There's nothing simple when it comes to you and I by BloodSplatter (Apollo/Steve, unrated, m/m | 876 words)

Summary: Steve thinks of how he and Apollo can have something between them, but it doesn't go further than that.

Would like you, to be someone else. by Nifki (Apollo/Steve, general rating, multi | 929 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Apollo goes to a Summer camp and dislikes Steve while the readers decide what they'll do.

Love Will Tear Us Apart by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, unrated, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: He always has been told not to fall in love with anyone who won’t love you back. That statement also included not giving his heart to his best friend.

Breakeven by Chione_chan (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: “I think it’s better that we, ya know, move on, see other people…” Fundy says. "I gave you everything and you’re just leaving," 5up wants to say. He also feels the profanities buzzing at the tip of his tongue. It was only recently that he’s felt comfortable cussing freely, less concerned about how others perceived him. He wants to hurl obscenities at Fundy but he knows that he’s better than that. Fundy never did deal well with people yelling at him. It made him easy to manipulate, but not in the way 5up would like. Besides, it’d only make him miserable later knowing that he let his mask slip so far.

what if earth just got tired of spinning? by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: apollo and steve in love at the end of the world

taught you the ropes; taught you to love by homeward_bound (5up/David/Hafu, teen rating, multi | 1k words)

Summary: [5:05am: hafu wakes up and opens twitter, and after.]

oil and water by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Apollo is a puppet on strings, pulled along by a heart that no longer beats.

Apollo's Letter by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, mature, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: A letter you found in the hollow of the wall in the cell of Larkhill.

Élet by Nnoitra (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve knows his Soulmate is aware of who he is, the neat first words scrawl is proof enough to him. But who?

Inside Your Head by BoxesWrites (Apollo/Steve, mature, m/m | 1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: When Apollo meets Steve in Vegas, something changes. Maybe a lot changes. But the weirdest thing seems to be that Apollo can hear Steve speaking when his mouth isn't moving.

sunrise symphony by sweetlikesugr (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: As the first rays of the morning sunshine spill into Steve's bedroom, a memory of a melody fills Apollo's mind.

here's the earliest star by headlessline (5up/David/Hafu, teen rating, multi | 1.2k words)

Summary: And, really… 5up can’t help the way he flops into David’s embrace the second they are close enough to touch. He can’t help the way he buries his face in David’s soft flannel, and he definitely can’t help the deep breath he takes in of floral, woody jasmine. “Hi,” 5up whispers.

Home with you my love~ by RK16 (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: 5up stresses and Steve calms his worries

we belong in the quietest quiet by headlessline (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.3k words)

Summary: Steve looks at 5up’s back, his burgundy sweater and whorls of dark hair, and imagines standing up and slow-dancing with him to the hum of Chanel. He wants to slow-dance--to step on toes and awkwardly hover his hand above 5up’s flank--and he wants to touch noses in a platonic kiss, and he wants to lay his head on 5up’s chest, and he wants to stay here forever and make loaf after loaf of cinnamon banana bread, and he wants.

we will grow old as friends (time and hearts will wear us thin by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.3k words)

Summary: It’s stupid, Apollo knows it’s stupid as he stares across the hotel room, a whole universe between his and Steve’s beds, and watches the rise and fall of Steve’s chest. Steve is fast asleep, softly snoring in the middle of his bed. His limbs are a mess, thrown everywhere, and his mouth is wide open, drooling all over his pillow.

easy to seduce by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.3k words)

Summary: Where Steve tries to understand his feelings and the universe doesn't let him take a break.

i could do about anything by neptoons (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.4k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a fic about jealousy, uncertainty, and a little courage — where apollo falls for his best friend, and keeps on falling.

Highschool by Paige_crewfu (unrated, gen | 1.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: A collection of Crewfu Oneshots in a highschool AU

The Ghosts of What We Could’ve Had by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, mature, m/m | 1.7k words)

Summary: It’d been months. Months since Apollo had gotten up the courage to send that first DM. Months since he woke up to a text from his best friend every morning, though it was more recent that he’d started sending them first. Months since he’d given Steve a compliment for the first time, months since he made Steve have a laugh attack for the first time, months since he began to have a reason to live again.

housewarming by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: The thought makes his chest warm, the urge to touch hold feel rearing up, and Steve isn’t one to deny his instincts. He’s a wild animal of a man, he is. He ignores 5up repeatedly asking to be handed cheese in favor of suddenly grabbing him from behind, snaking his arms tightly around his waist and burying his head in 5up’s mess of curls. 5up startles, settles, and then laughs. “What are you doing?”

you would do that for me? by neptoons (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: apollo expresses his love for steve in silly little ways.

gingerbread houses and candy hearts by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: “No Steve, we don’t fucking put that in first, why the fuck would you do that-” “Shut up! I know how to fucking bake. Just let me do this, and you can do everything else!” “You said that last time, you moron. You’re decorating, I’m making the gingerbread house, you dumbass!” “But Apollo-” “This is why you can’t work with other people. Let me do something, for fuck’s sake.” “But it would taste better if you did it like I did-” “Nope. Not talking to you. Either you can sit and watch me make the house, or you can actually help out without trying to change everything.” Steve slumped, clearly done with arguing. “Whatever. It’s not my fault if it tastes like shit.”

Knight in Pink Armor by Chione_chan (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: Fundy gets stood up. Luckily, there’s a cute leafling to rescue his evening. Kinda.

cafés and clichés by waywiser (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 2k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Fundy scoffs. Surely, this guy with the stupid fuzzy sweater and piercing eyes has come in here specifically to irritate him. He hasn’t even ordered coffee for heaven’s sake. Tea! He wants fucking tea, even though it’s almost one o’clock in the morning.

whole world in his hands by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: “Hey Apollo, I think the worst thing about America is that they allow racists to live. How about you?” Apollo grinded his teeth together, glaring at Steve. “And how, Steve, does this relate to America’s shit economical status? The thing we’re supposed to make a presentation on?” Steve gave Apollo an awfully pretty grin, leaning onto the desk. “Dunno. I’m sure you can work something out. I just think the fact that racists exist is worse than America’s economic status.”

little mysteries by neptoons (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: apollo has a secret, and steve won’t rest until he finds out what it is.

Free Bird by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Apollo found himself in need of a new place to live. The opportunity to leave Texas was in front of him, and he chose to follow it. Or, how Apollo discovered his feelings, defined himself, and freed his life from people it was pressured by.

what you fantasize about by homeward_bound (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 2.1k words)

Summary: [steve has a wet dream about apollo, gets the ride of his life, is sort of jebaited, and realizes he has a humiliation kink, in that order.]

Wolfboy by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.2k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Apollo upgrades to an e-boy by acquiring wolf ears.

picturing me and you (together) by liquorleftovers (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.7k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steve wakes up incredibly hungover after Hafu's birthday party and finds a picture on his phone of him and Dumbdog kissing. He is left very confused, about a lot of things.

Heat waves by BloodSplatter (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.1k words)

Summary: Apollo doesn’t feel well. So he decided to take a week or few off streaming and focus on himself. Week turns into a month, and he doesn't even notice how time flies. Getting out of the burnout is the hardest part, but he's sure that it's possible. Especially when he finds out that his friends were worried about him.

At the end of the world with you by RK16 (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 3.2k words)

Summary: 5up finds himself in the middle of a apocalypse then proceeds to find and promptly lose his family.

Inner Workings of Life by amethystvxidwalker (5up/Poki, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, multi | 3.4k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Tales and drabbles of friends and more <3

trusting fears by 5fu (Hafu & 5up, general rating, gen | 3.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: If you asked Hafu, soulmates were worthless. It was something she learned early on, as soon as she had gotten the words on her left arm. Words that have haunted her for years. But that didn't matter. She had no need for any of those silly notions of being "complete." What she needed was to get on with her job aboard the Morn as Second in Command. She was set to, along with her Captain and the rest of the crew, welcome the people of the Fable. They claim to have important information urgently needing to be shared but something's off about them. Hafu just couldn't put her finger on it. Especially their Second, an arrogant pink man. Something feels... wrong.

like a wolf howling at the moon by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 3.6k words, chaptered)

Summary: steve comes to the conclusion that apollo is in love with him. and so, steve decides to do what he does best: completely fuck with apollo's peace of mind. but apollo knows how to play games, and most importantly, he knows how to win them.

Sometimes it is like that by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 3.7k works, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Just another party at Hafu's and just another night together in their hotel room. But today Dumbdog was especially flirty while drunk. But why should Steve complain.

the lull of your lips by sweetlikesugr (Apollo/Steve, explicit, m/m | 3.7k words)

Summary: “Welcome to Sugar Pine Hotline, where you can find everything your body craves, and then some more. All you’ve got to do is not be afraid to ask, lover boy.” “Uh, is the guy with the extremely soothing voice working tonight?” “I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” “Ehm, I believe he said he goes by a Rat Boy sometimes? Is that helpful?” “Redirecting you now…”

we lay here for years or for hours (so long we become the flowers) by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.7k words)

Summary: Steve's words fall from his lips in the form of petals, waiting for him to whisper I love you to the person that holds his heart. Apollo is trapped in a magic slumber and Steve's words would only fall on deaf ears.

Blood and Dogwood Flowers by DeadlyHuggles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.8k words)

Summary: Steve laughed softly at Dumbdog's antics, but the laughter swiftly turned into something much worse. That ever present scratch in his throat grew as he began to cough. He couldn’t stop coughing. His throat hurt so badly, like thorns were digging into them. He felt like something sharp was trying to climb up his throat. He hacked and hacked until at last he hacked up the thing in his mouth into his hands. And then everything stopped. The scratch in his throat was still there, but it was much less severe, merely a tickle than an actual scratch now, and delicately in his palms sat a four petaled, light pink flower with a light green center. Steve felt a bolt of horror go through him as he stared down at the innocent little flower. Hanahaki was a decently rare disease, but often cases of hanahaki were broadcasted and romanticized. There were very few people alive who didn’t know what coughing up flowers meant.

I'll surround you (make you feel sure) by LovelyDayForIt (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 4.4k words)

Summary: The events preceding, during, and subsequent to the Vegas meetup. Follow Steve and Dumbdog through a tale of adoration, panic. Secrets only lead to more secrets, and they can eat up a person inside and out.

My Kinda Love by rosesinwinter (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: 5up as the shy bartender with a pretty voice. Steve as the sarcastic and oblivious runner-from-his-past. Hafu as the meddling best friend. The rest is history.

out of nothing, into more (see the day) by 5280ft (5up/Apollo/Steve, teen rating, multi | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: dive out of nothing and into more but i can’t quite tell what i’m hoping for somehow, maybe now, i’ll find the words to say: never thought i’d see the day see the day, the altogether

soften the light that hurts my eyes by homeward_bound (5up/David/Hafu, mature, multi | 8.8k words)

Summary: [hafu has a rough day, 5up has a rough night, david holds them together, and the morning sun casts a gentle warmth over all of them.]

cupid's compendium of extraordinary words by Qupid (5up/Ellum, 5up/Sleepy, 5up/Steve, Apollo/Gumi, Apollo/Steve, Br00d/DK, Koji/Steve, teen rating, multi | 9k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a series of brief accounts of the word of the day in the only way I know how to express it

lexicon of a simple worm by thebetterwormy (5up/Apollo, 5up/Ellum, 5up/Fundy, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 10.3k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a series of little fics based on the word of the day :)

I haven't told you anything yet by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 11.6k words, chaptered)

Summary: Apollo has always been a great pilot. He never felt more at home than when within the cockpit of his Jaeger. But now, he's been stationed at the Houston base, tiny and empty. His Jaeger comes with him but he doesn't have a copilot anymore. If he's being honest with himself, he isn't really a pilot anymore either.

anthology by sweetlikesugr (5up/Ellum, 5up/Sleepy, 5up/Steve, Apollo/Steve, Koji/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 12k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: anthology [ an-thol-uh-jee ] noun, plural an��thol·o·gies. a collection of selected writings by one author.~ or lav attempts to write a short ficlet based around the word of the day, hopefully every day.

Under the Rose by Hinician (5up/Fundy, unrated, m/m | 14.4k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: 5up, a plant-hybrid witch, encounters an injured Dreamon Hunter lying in his woods. After rehabilitating the Hunter and convincing him that he’s not a Dreamon, 5up thought he’d never see the fox man again. This is in fact not the case.

we should just kiss like real people do by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, mature, m/m | 14.6k words, chaptered)

Summary: Apollo spends his nights walking other people's dreams, but then he moves to LA to live with his good old pal Steve. Suddenly, he is walking Steve's dreams every night, a tourist of his subconscious, and Apollo can't decide if it's the best or the worst thing to ever happen.

The Kind That's Never Done by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 15k words, chaptered)

Summary: Apollo is fucked. In general, Apollo doesn't really believe in love the way most people talk about it. To Apollo, love isn't some big thing, there's no grand romance that the universe has destined, that's just not how it works. What love is, is having someone that you're happy to be around. When the good parts about someone outweigh the bad parts, when you're content to be around them, that's what love is. And Apollo has lost count of all the good things about Steven Suptic.

loving you is so easy (and I never want to stop) by thebetterwormy (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 17.3k words, chaptered)

Summary: “I didn’t know we had a third roommate,” Steve says, turning the stuffed animal to face him. “Does this mean we can split rent three ways?” (Apollo brings his childhood stuffed dog to his new apartment with Steve. It causes a few... changes.)

Things Like Me And Things Like You Shouldn't Mix by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, multi | 62.3k words, chaptered)

Summary: Steve startles, just slightly, when he sees the man in his kitchen. And, it's not like Steve checked out the place before signing the lease, because it was cheap and he needed somewhere to stay, so he didn't know if he would have any roommates, but if it's just one, he can deal with it. The guy's about Steve's age, and just as tall, too. Maybe even a touch taller then Steve, but who's keeping track. He looks perfectly normal, which is honestly the most startling thing. His skin is unblemished, and his clothes, while definitely a bit old fashioned, are spotless. His slightly reddish hair is a touch unkempt, but overall he looks like a perfectly normal dude. He doesn't look up when Steve walks in, and he suspects that the guy hasn't even registered that he's there. He's just sitting in one of these creaky old wooden chairs that came with the place. He's looking across the built in table, (and Steve takes a moment to admire it, because he's always found built-ins to add so much character to a house) and he stares blankly at a spot on the opposite wall. Steve decides he should probably just get this out of the way, and moves to address the ghost that's sitting in his new kitchen.

Also!!

spaded_ace’s sex and vienna collection.

5280ft’s modern metamorphoses: a greek collection and world's worst roommates and co. collection.

Nnoitra’s What happened In Vegas collection.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

#long post #crewfu #i'm never letting myself go that long without making one of these again. UGHH #love to see the word of the day fics <3 and more f/m pairing hellllll yea #fanfic spotlight #good night everyone. kisses to all the lovely writers <3

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rockislandadultreads · 3 years

Text

Books for Fans of Normal People

a hit novel by Sally Rooney and popular Hulu show

Rich and Pretty by Rumaan Alam

This irresistible debut, set in contemporary New York, provides a sharp, insightful look into how the relationship between two best friends changes when they are no longer coming of age but learning how to live adult lives. As close as sisters for twenty years, Sarah and Lauren have been together through high school and college, first jobs and first loves, the uncertainties of their twenties and the realities of their thirties. Sarah, the only child of a prominent intellectual and a socialite, works at a charity and is methodically planning her wedding. Lauren—beautiful, independent, and unpredictable—is single and working in publishing, deflecting her parents’ worries and questions about her life and future by trying not to think about it herself. Each woman envies—and is horrified by—particular aspects of the other’s life, topics of conversation they avoid with masterful linguistic pirouettes. Once, Sarah and Lauren were inseparable; for a long a time now, they’ve been apart. Can two women who rarely see one other, selectively share secrets, and lead different lives still call themselves best friends? Is it their abiding connection—or just force of habit—that keeps them together? With impeccable style, biting humor, and a keen sense of detail, Rumaan Alam deftly explores how the attachments we form in childhood shift as we adapt to our adult lives—and how the bonds of friendship endure, even when our paths diverge.

The Girl He Used to Know by Tracey Garvis Graves

What if you had a second chance at first love?

Annika Rose likes being alone. She feels lost in social situations, saying the wrong thing or acting the wrong way. She just can't read people. She prefers the quiet solitude of books or playing chess to being around others. Apart from Jonathan. She liked being around him, but she hasn't seen him for ten years. Until now that is. And she's not sure he'll want to see her again after what happened all those years ago.

Annika Rose likes being alone. Except that, actually, she doesn't like being alone at all.

Miss You by Kate Eberlen

Tess and Gus are meant to be. They just haven't met properly yet. And perhaps they never will . . . Today is the first day of the rest of your life is the motto on a plate in the kitchen at home, and Tess can't get it out of her head, even though she's in Florence for a final, idyllic holiday before university. Her life is about to change forever - but not in the way she expects. Gus and his parents are also on holiday in Florence. Their lives have already changed suddenly and dramatically. Gus tries to be a dutiful son, but longs to escape and discover what sort of person he is going to be. For one day, the paths of an eighteen-year-old girl and boy criss-cross before they each return to England. Over the course of the next sixteen years, life and love will offer them very different challenges. Separated by distance and fate, there's no way the two of them are ever going to meet each other properly . . . or is there?

Trust Exercise by Susan Choi

In an American suburb in the early 1980s, students at a highly competitive performing arts high school struggle and thrive in a rarified bubble, ambitiously pursuing music, movement, Shakespeare, and, particularly, their acting classes. When within this striving "Brotherhood of the Arts," two freshmen, David and Sarah, fall headlong into love, their passion does not go unnoticed--or untoyed with--by anyone, especially not by their charismatic acting teacher, Mr. Kingsley. The outside world of family life and economic status, of academic pressure and of their future adult lives, fails to penetrate this school's walls--until it does, in a shocking spiral of events that catapults the action forward in time and flips the premise upside-down. What the reader believes to have happened to David and Sarah and their friends is not entirely true--though it's not false, either. It takes until the book's stunning coda for the final piece of the puzzle to fall into place--revealing truths that will resonate long after the final sentence. As captivating and tender as it is surprising, Susan Choi's Trust Exercise will incite heated conversations about fiction and truth, and about friendships and loyalties, and will leave readers with wiser understandings of the true capacities of adolescents and of the powers and responsibilities of adults.

#fiction #normal people #adult fiction #romance #literary #literary fiction #literature #book recs #reading recommendations #recommended reading #to read #tbr #library #currently reading #hulu #tv shows #readalike

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albertasunrise · 3 years

Text

Chance - Chapter 5

Warnings: Angst, talk of drug use, overdose.

Pairings: Frankie Morales/ Reader

The trip seems to fly by, every day filled with a different activity that seemed to fill little Sophia with complete joy. You and Frankie couldn’t get enough of each other, discovering each other’s bodies and discovering exactly what makes the two of you sing. It was your last night at the cabin and the four of you decided the best way to spend it was sitting around the fire with a beer in hand, reminiscing about your youth or in their case, their days serving.

‘So what made you quit?’ You ask them all, noting that they’re all still young enough to serve.

‘When they kicked Fish out for his Coke habit... We're a team so we quit.’ States Benny, taking a swig of his beer.

‘Coke habit?’ Your expression drops as you pull yourself away from the man in question ‘What Coke habit?’

‘It wasn’t really a habit-’

‘Benny shut the fuck up.’ Spits Will ‘You’ve done enough damage.’

‘Frankie?’

‘I went through a pretty low patch a little while back.’ He confesses, scrubbing a hand over his face ‘My ex was into it and promised it would take the edge off my PTSD and it did... for a little while. Then I got busted and they revoked my licence and I realised that I needed to get my life on track. I told her that she needed to quit it, finding out we were pregnant kinda helped with that. When Fia was born and Lexi left I had to man up and so I got my licence back and I haven’t touched the shit since.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’

‘I didn’t want you to think less of me.’ He looks at you with a sad expression as he forms his next words carefully ‘You’ve been the best thing to happen to me since Fia was born. If I lost you I don’t think I’d be able to cope.’

‘Don’t put that sort of pressure on my Francisco.’ You snap, standing and swiftly entering the kitchen.

You could feel your tears threatening to spill as you fought hard not to panic. You’d not been completely honest to the boys when you’d said that you had no backstories. You had one. One that still haunted you to this day. Stepping outside with a fresh beer in hand the boys all look at you but you look at Frankie, his expression breaking your heart and you know you need to come clean. You sit down on one of the free chairs and stare into the fire, carefully constructing your story in the hopes it would bring the boys clarity regarding your reaction to Frankie’s confession.

‘I was in a serious relationship about 10 years ago.’ You start, already feeling your voice wobbling as you speak ‘He was everything to me. We were happily planning our wedding, excited for the future. He worked in insurance which was a demanding job but he always seemed to be full of energy. Turns out he had a secret coping mechanism that he had managed to keep hidden from me. So well hidden in fact that I didn’t know about it until he was having a fit on the floor as he suffered from a cocaine overdose.’

You paused for a few moments as you take a long swig of your beer, noting the new tension in the air as they waited for you to finish your story.

‘I did everything I could for him but he had a heart attack. They weren’t able to revive him.’ You let out a sob then, catching the way Frankie is looking at you and so you return his gaze ‘I can’t go through that again.’ You shake your head as you let out a shaky breath ‘I just can’t Frankie.’

‘You won’t.’ He promises, his eyes pleading for you to believe him ‘I never did it heavily. It was just an occasional fix when things got bad. Now I have Sophia I don’t need it. Now I have you.’

‘He’s been clean for over a year Doc.’ Will pipes up, grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze ‘You were brave to tell us about this. I can’t begin to imagine what you went through but it won’t happen with Frankie.’

‘It won’t Hermosa.’ He confirms ‘I love you too much to ever risk hurting you like that.’

Your mouth drops open as you process what he’d just said to you. He loves you. Until now, those words had not been uttered by either of you, even if you both felt that way about each other. You both figured it was too soon. You’d only been together a few months but you couldn’t deny that you’d fallen head over heels for this man.

‘Shit... Sorry, I-’

‘I love you too.’ You reply, smiling at him as you watch the anxiety in his face melt away.

That night was the most passionate sex the two of you ever had. He worshipped every inch of you as he tried to make you feel how much he loved you. You don’t think anyone has ever made love to you like that and with every kiss and thrust of his hips, you felt your worries fade into nothing. The drive back home was a long one, you still had a few days off so Frankie asked you to stay a few more days, not wanting your time together to end and of course you agreed.

‘Can you get that baby?’ Asks Frankie upon hearing the doorbell go.

Carrying Sophia in your arms you make your way to the front door, chuckling when she tries to tug on your bottom lip. Opening the door you are greeted by a face that you recognise from group pictures but never expected to see in person.

‘Is Frankie here?’ She asks, her voices dripping in spite.

‘He is.’ You reply.

Sophia starts to get fussy and you turn your attention to her, rocking her in your arms as her eyes start to fill with tears.

‘Here give her to me.’

‘No.’ You suddenly feel very protective of the infant in your arms.

‘Who is it, baby?’ Frankie asks as he comes up beside you, his jaw dropping at who he sees ‘What are you doing here Lexi?’

‘I came for my daughter.’ She replies, eyes burning holes into you.

‘You what?’

‘She’s my daughter Frankie.’ She starts, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

‘You gave up the right to call her that when you walked out on us.’ He spits, wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling you and his baby closer.

‘Who’s this bitch?’ She growls, pointing to you with her chin ‘Found a replacement quickly.’

‘A replacement?’ You yell, feeling your anger bubbling inside you.

‘Lexi please go.’ He says as he gives your waist a small squeeze.

‘Fine.’ She spits, glaring at you both ‘You haven’t seen the last of me. I will get her back.’

It had been two weeks since Frankie’s ex had turned up at his door. Since then you’d not heard or seen from her but there was always a worry bubbling in the background about what she was planning. You had promised Frankie that if she tried to fight for custody you would do whatever you could to help him, the boys also vowing the same thing. Your shift today had been relatively uneventful, the most serious injury being a sex-related one that you’d rather forget about. You can’t help but watch the clock, excited to see Frankie and the baby. After coming back from your trip you’d more or less ended up staying permanently, he’d gifted you a key the day before you’d gone back to work and gradually your stuff had migrated.

‘Any plans tonight with lover boy?’ Ask Sophie as she gives you a friendly nudge with her elbow and a wink.

‘We both have the day off tomorrow so we were planning on take-out and a Star Wars marathon.’

‘You two are so perfect for each other.’ She chuckles ‘Well have fun!’

You finish up your paperwork and slip into your casual clothes. You practically sprint to your car, not wanting to wait any longer than you had to to get back to your perfect little family waiting for you at home. The universe is obviously on your side as you drive, every light turning green as you approach it and before long you’re pulling up onto Frankie’s drive. Your expression becomes confused as you see that the front door is open but you shrug and grab your bag, stepping quickly towards the house.

‘Baby I’m home.’ You announce.

Looking around you see two mugs on the coffee table and you try and remember if you had left yours out this morning.

‘Frankie?’ You raise your voice a little louder as you walk into the kitchen and find that he’s not there ‘Baby you here?’

You look in the garden but he’s still nowhere to be seen. A gnawing feeling starts to form in the pit of your stomach as you head towards the bedrooms, checking his room and seeing that that room is empty also.

‘Frankie?’

That’s when you hear it. A faint groaning coming from Sophia’s bedroom. Pushing the door open you are hit with a sense of Deja Vu when you see Frankie laying on the ground, his eyes rolling around in their sockets as his body wriggled on the floor. You knew exactly what this was.

‘Frankie?’ You drop to his side, taking his pulse and finding it racing beneath your fingertips ‘Frankie how much did you take?’

‘Lexi.’ Was his reply, his eyes growing wider as his heart rate picked up more.

‘What about her?’ It comes out angrier than you meant it to.

‘She... she...’

‘She what?’

He doesn’t answer, just starts to look around the room in a daze. You pull out your phone, dialling for an ambulance whilst trying to keep your anger at bay. He’s promised. Once you’d gotten off of the phone with the emergency services you ring Will, the fight to keep your anger at bay becoming harder by the second.

'Hey Doc, what's up?'

‘Frankie’s OD’d.’

‘He’s what?’ Comes the older Miller’s voice down the phone.

‘I found him on the floor of Sophia’s room.’

‘Shit. Is the baby okay?’

‘Yeah she’s-’ You stop dead when you notice her cot is empty, your heart starts to race as you start to put the pieces together.

‘You still there Doc?’

‘She’s gone, Will.’ You sob ‘Fuck he said Lexi’s name, I think he was trying to tell me she’d taken her.’ You pause and then it hits you ‘Shit I think she drugged him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I found two mugs on the coffee table when I walked in. She must have come round to try and sweet talk him and slipped some coke into his coffee.’ You look down at Frankie whose whole body has gone rigid ‘No... no no shit no!.’

He lets out a scream as his body starts to convulse. Eye’s rolling back into his skull. You can hear Will shouting at you down the phone but you can’t reply. You can’t move. You sit there frozen to the spot as you watch history repeat itself with Frankie. This couldn’t be happening again.

Chapter 6

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #francisco morales #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #ben miller #garrett hedlund fanfiction #garrett hedlund #will miller #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam

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sunriseantebellum · 2 years

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“Myth, Man, and Music”

In the beginning, there was silence. There was also time—but we’ll get back to that later. With nothing but time, God worked for 6 days, creating day and night, sea and sky and land, creatures and man to live in the space, and then sound followed somewhere along the way. God saw that all this was good, and so He rested on the 7th day, leaving the rest of creation to man. Years went by and sound continued to exist among nature. Then man began to wonder if sound was another thing they could learn to control, as they had done with many other elements around them. No one can pinpoint the inventor of music, though many claim greatest-of-all-times. Some figure it was a game changer when David played his secret chord— everyone loves an exclusive, after all. God must’ve thought so too, since we still make music today. But among all the greats, there is only one of each kind. Jonathan Larson was born on the 4th of February in 1960, New York. He was reborn the moment he discovered music, and his purpose was created once his heart first heard the notes of a Sondheim song. But Jonathan did not have great origins or the gift of time, only a need to express, to communicate.

At first glance, he seemed like just another young man at a piano, t-shirt stained and still smelling of the diner he worked at during the day. But Jonathan was the patron saint of failure and rolling your sleeves up to try again, with a ticking clock for a heart, an acute awareness of time, and a most-assured sense of self—despite an empty wallet. His greatness was beyond what most senses can detect, but if you listened close enough, you might have heard the birds change their tune so they could sing along; might have felt the world shift and light up from under your feet to make way for a trail, newly blazed—a pocket universe created by love, because isn’t that the reason for creation? For anything done with love is not a waste of time; doing things with love is simply doing things right, and this is how Jonathan chose to live. It was as if he knew that his heart, not even reaching 36, would decide it was time for him to leave the world behind before he could even get a chance to taste glory, or harvest his toil. It was unlike any other, the way someone so brilliant made others feel so welcome. Maybe it was in knowing and believing in his place in the world that he helped so many to find their own. Thanks to the legacy and impact his music left behind, there are voices that can now be heard; new songs that can finally be written and sung. He should look on with pride at how his ability to inspire and change lives has transcended the short length of his; that those who hear a similar ticking like a measure of youth, or feel the pressure to be great on a deadline, can hear him say: you are more than the times you were told no. Go with love and look ahead—that’s where your best awaits you.

— j.a.

JANUARY 29/31 - Mythology Write a big juicy mythology of someone. It could be a family member or someone you admire from afar, but make sure it's someone who changed a room with their arrival. Even if it isn't true. Be sure to include all five senses when describing their presence. What weather did they induce? What bloomed suddenly? How did the insects react? What bad idea stirred suddenly in someone's mind? What comfort? This prompt comes from Rachel McKibbens. You can read the prompt on her website here.

#jade writes #poem #poetry #january 31/31 #jonathan larson #tick tick boom #finally got to write my ode to this inspiration of a man

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writingpuddle · 4 years

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Fic Masterpost

I actually have enough fics now to justify doing one of these, so here goes! I realized after I finished that I never specified pairings, but like, do you gotta ask? It’s Andreil all the way down 😎

Multi-Chapter

Out of the Ashes (Quartet, WIP) Words: 254,021 Rating: Mature/Explicit

A highschool AU turned university Exy AU with a few major plot twists and a whole lotta angst. Comprised of: Pressure Points (Words: 92,170, complete) Flatline (Words: 76,642, complete) Borrowed Time (Words: 85,207, WIP)

Glencaster Lodge (complete) Words: 51,429 Rating: Teen and Up

Sometimes happily ever after is a long time coming.

The one where Andrew and Neil didn't meet in college. Now, in their sixties, they discover it's never too late for true love.

Through Rose-Coloured Glasses (WIP) Words: 21,175 Rating: Teen and Up

A series of vignettes set in a world where Neil and Andrew were adopted as children and grew up as best friends.

Be All My Sins Remember’d (WIP) Words: 6,716 Rating: Teen and Up

Kengo is dead, and it wasn't an accident.

a Hamlet AU featuring Riko as Hamlet, Jean as Horatio, and a whole pile of angst and murder

Broken Symmetries (WIP) Words: 53,648 Rating: Teen and Up

Multiverse travel is real--but you can only travel to worlds where your doppelganger is already dead. To Eldridge Co., Neil is a valuable commodity, able to travel to nearly 98% of the worlds they can reach. But neither Neil or Eldridge are quite what they seem. (A Space Between Worlds AU)

Warning Signs (WIP) Words: 5,714 Rating: Mature

Mary Hatford could kill a man and fleece his corpse without flinching. She knew the family business inside and out. She was born for this life, she had trained for this life, and she wanted it with all of her being.

There was just one teensy little problem.

Much Ado (complete) Words: 23,186 Rating: Teen and Up

Loosely following the plot of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, avowed bachelor Neil is determined never to marry, and also determined to insult Andrew into an early grave. Meanwhile, Riko is plotting to ruin Matt and Dan's wedding. Wymack has a headache.

Under a Sea of Mist (complete) Words: 48,992 Rating: Teen and Up

For a thousand years the Lord Ruler has reigned over the Final Empire. Ash falls from the sky and strange mists shroud the night. The skaa labour in the fields and the nobility dance in their Keeps, their glittering lights blinding them to the cruelty in their hearts.

The skaa rebellion is a fantasy and Neil knows it. The Lord Ruler is immortal; there's no overthrowing him. It's as much a surprise to him as anyone else when he gets recruited. But as he gets drawn deeper into the plot, he starts to discover things that will change their understanding of magic forever.

There's always another secret. (A Mistborn AU; no knowledge of Mistborn required)

One-Shots

Coming Home (complete) Words: 19,343 Rating: Teen and Up

After Baltimore, the Foxes get Neil back--in an urn.

Across the ocean, Nathaniel Wesninski schemes to get back to his family.

Love and Other Assorted Foolishness (complete) Words: 3,232 Rating: Teen and Up

5 times Andrew and Neil kissed in secret while there were other people around + 1 time they got caught

Honey I Shrunk The Kids (complete) Words: 6,261 Rating: General

Due to handwavium quantum nonsense, Andrew and Neil are suddenly children again, with no memories of their lives with the Foxes. The team attempts to take care of them. Hijinks and cuteness ensues.

Becoming (complete) Words: 2,171 Rating: General

Learning to be soft is an uphill process. Andrew and Neil take a stab at it anyway.

More Than This (complete) Words: 2,556 Rating: Teen and Up

What if Neil and Andrew met before Mary died--from Mary’s POV

Singularity (complete) Words: 15,011 Rating: Teen and Up

Neil Josten's Guide to Hooking Up With Your Roommate

(your results may vary)

Moonlight (complete) Words: 1,815 Rating: Teen and Up

The Foxes go camping. Skinny-dipping happens. Neil is a nuisance.

Another Day Calls (complete) Words: 6,561 Rating: Mature

Aaron's trial ended with a not-guilty verdict. That should be the end of it. Andrew testified and now he can wash his hands of that part of his life.

But though it's ancient history to him, it's front page news to the rest of the world. The fallout is never that easy.

The Stars Refuse To Shine (complete) Words: 4560 Rating: Teen and Up

Andrew faces a life-threatening surgery. Neil grapples with the thought of losing the most important person in his life.

What do you do when the person you were supposed to grow old with might die tomorrow?

Never Have I Ever (complete) Words: 7191 Rating: Teen and Up

“Wait, it’s my turn,” Allison said, pushing herself further upright. She swayed dangerously, then narrowed her eyes and pointed at Neil. “We’re still targeting him, right.”

“Jesus,” Aaron muttered. “Could you guys seriously—”

Nicky clapped a hand over Aaron’s mouth. “Yes,” he said. “Definitely. Make the boy drink.”

Aaron shoved him off and sulked at the edge of the fire, nursing his drink.

“Alright,” Allison said. “I've got it. Never have I ever—told Andrew I love him.”

Bulletpoint Fics

Neil with a British Accent

The Marriage Fic

Foxes on the Pacific Crest Trail

The Hobby Farm

Trans!Neil

#my writing #fanfic #aftg #fic masterpost #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #going through this list really illuminates how erratic my writing interests are #the pattern is #things i like #and things i like are not very consistent lol #all for the neil

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

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WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter ten: the kind of love we gather

word count: 7.5k

rating: m for mature

warnings: there is an interaction with an abusive ex-husband that eludes to physical/domestic violence. also, i think it's fair to warn against joseph himself--whatever argument there is to be had about the sincerity of his feelings, there's a few times where it feels like there's definitely some emotional manipulation happening.

notes: this is an interlude chapter, a little flashback/prelude going through isolde and joseph's relationship--or, at least, a significant part of it (still some secrets to be discovered!). i've had this chapter drawn up for a while and i thought this would be a great cliffhanger/changing point in the story to give their relationship and their dynamic a little more context, so i hope that's alright with y'all!

some of you folks who follow me here on tumblr may recognize a part of this chapter as a smut oneshot i wrote for them; that was the alternate universe to this instance in time, which is firmly rooted in their canon. lmao

it should go without saying that i have yeeted canon out the window for all of ancient names and witching hour, and the way that the seed brothers were pre-reaping and hope county is subject to much the same.

—Before—

The first time that Isolde saw Joseph, she knew she was in for it.

If he had been any other man, she thought, it wouldn’t have been so clearly a disaster waiting to happen. She would have been able to crash and burn with him as she pleased: but he wasn’t just any other man. He was John’s man, his older brother, the one that he tried so hard to live up to and impress. She had only heard of him in passing, but that was all it had taken. Isolde knew exactly how John felt about him.

“Who is that?” she asked, when she spotted the cleanly dressed man across the room. The office was dimly lit with the lights lowered; people mingled and chatted, drinks in hand, as everyone celebrated that they’d been able to move into a nice, new office downtown, with a whole floor to themselves.

John’s gaze followed hers. His expression flattened. “Stop it.”

No fun. Isolde feigned innocence. “Stop what?”

“That’s my brother Joseph, Sol,” he hissed. “Do not try to fuck my brother.”

“You have a couple, don’t you?” she asked. “What’s the one?”

“Fuck off.”

She sighed, taking a sip of her drink. Just her luck. A Seed boy, and yet, so fine. What a waste. “Fine, Johnny,” she said, patting his shoulder. Across the room, she saw Joseph’s gaze land on hers as he politely smiled at one of the other partygoers, and then stay locked, right on her. “I won’t fuck your very hot brother, who is very plainly making eyes at me from across the room.”

“He’s never had great taste in women.” John grimaced. “Off-limits, Isolde, I mean it.”

“Scout’s honor.”

So much for that, anyway, she thought later, when Joseph crossed the party and made his way up to her. He was even more handsome up close, and though long hair wasn’t typically her type, it looked good on him, pulled back and slick. Just enough to look polished.

“You’re Isolde?” Joseph asked, and his eyes swept over her. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Are you the authority on Isoldes?” she replied. She arched a brow loftily at him. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of an expert.”

“Well, it’s just that John rarely complains about beautiful women,” he countered easily, the flirtation slipping so seamlessly from his mouth that she might have missed it. “They’re his greatest vice. Yet, he complains incessantly about you.” He paused. “I’m Joseph, his brother.”

That did sound like John. Isolde wrangled a smile, leaned comfortably back against the wall as Joseph sidled over to her. With him in front of her, he almost completely eclipsed out the rest of the party, like he’d suddenly bubbled her and it was just the two of them in the entire room. He was so very good at that—with his eyes on her, it felt as though nobody else in the entire world existed.

“I’m flattered,” she murmured, “that I’ve managed to break John of his greatest vice.”

“I did come to thank you for that.” Joseph’s mouth ticked up into a smile, almost playful, if the rich timbre of his voice wasn’t so soothing. “And for taking good care of John. He’s a...”

Isolde watched Joseph through her lashes. He had no alcohol in his hands, but kept them tucked easily into the pockets of his slacks; he held himself without the easy arrogance that John carried himself. It was more like Joseph knew, exactly, his place in the world, and so didn’t feel the need to assert it. It simply was.

“Handful,” Isolde supplied.

“That’s a good way to put that,” he agreed. A quiet moment stretched between them—an easy silence, and she got the impression that it was going to be like this with him; no pressure to fill the silences—before she shifted on her feet.

“So, how are you going to do it?” she asked him, taking a sip of her drink. Joseph’s gaze, which had drifted to where John was chatting with Jacob and another guest, flickered back to her. The inquisitive tilt of his head followed after, and when she didn’t supply further questioning, he didn’t bother smothering the amused little smile on his face.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Thank me.”

The smile didn’t quite leave his face yet. “Didn’t John give you the same speech about how off-limits we are to each other?”

“Well,” Isolde relented, “whatever is he going to complain about if his brother doesn’t take me out for dinner? I’d be failing him as his vice breaker if I didn’t keep my game fresh.”

“Is that what I’m doing to thank you, then?”

Joseph’s voice was a low, rich sound, rumbling straight through her, vibrating in the cavity of her chest. She thought, instantly, that she’d like to know what it felt like to have him say her name into her skin. Isolde’s lashes fluttered; she hummed thoughtfully and polished off the last of her wine.

Dinner isn’t sex, she reasoned. So technically, I’m not really breaking John’s little agreement.

“It’s an option,” she offered after a moment. And then, in an act of what John would surely describe later as pure spite for his well-being and mental health: “Though you’re welcome to do more, if you feel inclined.”

This finally (finally, a part of her said) elicited a laugh out of Joseph. His eyes slipped from hers, lingering on her mouth before pulling away to the rest of the party, almost reluctantly.

“Tomorrow,” he said after a moment. “Are you free?”

“Technically I’m working,” Isolde drawled, “but lucky for you, I’m the boss and I can make my own hours.”

“Lucky, indeed,” Joseph replied amusedly. “Six, then.”

“And don’t tell John,” Isolde said, as though making a pact. The man inclined his head a little, reaching up and sweeping a loose strand of hair behind her ear and made a low noise of agreement.

“And don’t tell John,” he reiterated. “Yet.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I asked you for one thing, Isolde!”

John was, as to be expected, upset.

“That’s not true,” Isolde defended, busying her hands with gathering up a few files and tucking them into her bag. “You ask me for a million things, every day. Namely, tolerating your ego. Not to mention keeping your head from exploding every time someone pays you a compliment, and—”

“You know what I mean.” John exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers to his temples as though Isolde had inspired in him the greatest of headaches. She hoped that she had. It would be the least he could suffer, after all of the brainpower she had to expend on the daily to keep him in check.

Leaning back in her chair, Isolde said, “It was just dinner, John.”

“Do not pretend to be stupid all of a sudden,” John snapped. “Joseph does not date around. He doesn’t ever do something that’s just dinner."

"Funny," she mused, "it feels like that's exactly what it was. Eating food together, at a restaurant, during the evening."

John’s head cocked to the side. He leveled her with a singular pointed look and said, “Oh, yeah?”

She squinted at him. “Yeah.”

“Is that so? Then what did you do after dinner, Isolde?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the wall as he waited for her answer. She kept her face wiped clear of emotions even though John’s question instantly inspired in her a flurry of memories; Joseph, snagging her hand on their way out of the restaurant, leaning in and kissing her; and kissing her, and kissing her, keeping her pulled close against him until she thought she was going to go dizzy from it all.

And then, well—

“We’re two consenting adults, John,” she said at last, and he threw up his hands.

“I explicitly said not to!”

“Yeah, well!” There was no good excuse; she knew that. The excuse was that Joseph was incredibly attractive, and Isolde had wanted him, and so that had been the beginning and the end of it. Still, she kept her eyes on the paper in front of her. “I made that agreement before I got a good look at him. John, I’m actually trying to get some work done, so if you could—”

John scoffed. “One, Joseph is related to me, so of course he’s hot, and two—you’ve got the impulse control of a toddler. I hope you know that.”

He pushed off from the wall and started collecting his things to leave her office; a blissful departure, to be sure, but there was something sitting and stinging in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t let her leave it to rest.

“Rich,” Isolde said demurely, “coming from the man who can’t stop an endless chain of making-up-breaking-up.”

His movements paused. He stared at her for a long moment, before he said. “Hey, Isolde?”

“Yes, John?”

“Fuck you.” John’s movements resumed to the door. “Fuck you, and see you in the conference room in twenty.” Another pause, and then thrown over his shoulder: “If you’re not too busy letting my brother—”

“Alright, point made!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “It’s really not anything serious. Okay? It was just dinner and a date, that’s all.”

This had him stopping again, paused in the doorway with a bit of frustration welling up in his voice when he said, “You don’t know my brother, Isolde.”

“But I know me. Alright?”

He sighed. “Yes, alright. Twenty minutes, then.”

For a moment, it felt like things had been settled between them. John was still young, she thought; younger than her, and the baby of his brothers, which she knew meant he held on tighter to things that maybe he needed to all the time. Too tight, or too loose, to make it hurt less when something didn’t work out.

But the peace only lasted for a moment, because a few minutes after John had settled back in behind his desk across the hall from her, their secretary came around the corner, her arms filled with a fragrant bouquet of lilies.

“Ms. Khan, you have an admirer!” she exclaimed delightedly. Isolde met John’s eyes across the hall, staring at her with an expression that could only have been described with the phrase I told you so. “It looks like they’re from a gentleman named Joseph S—”

“Thank you, Laura,” Isolde interrupted, clearing her throat. “You can set them on the table there, I’ll find them a vase.”

Laura nodded and smiled, laying the bouquet delicately on the coffee table and then making her way out of the office. Isolde left the flowers untouched for about an hour, unable to stand the thought of John catching her keeping them alive (because she would never hear an end to it), but it was killing her a little bit. She had mentioned once, in an off-hand comment, that she didn’t like the typical flower bouquets like red roses or carnations; lilies were her favorite. One tiny comment, and this was the result?

There was only a note with the flowers. It said, Hoping John isn’t giving you too much trouble. Be by at six for you.

It felt a little treacherous; just enough to make it a bit harder to look at John with a serious face and not burst out laughing at the absurdity of their situation. Thankfully, close to the end of the day John made the dramatic announcement that he thought he was going to kill himself if he had to spend even another second sitting across from the elaborate bouquet.

“I’m going to go home,” he said, shrugging into his coat, “and try to retain at least half of my brain cells.”

Isolde hmm’d. “So just the one, then?

“Ha-ha. Goodnight, Sol.”

“Have a good night.”

It seemed like there were only a few moments of quiet between John’s departure and Joseph’s arrival, though in reality it had been a few hours; focusing felt like a chore, like it took a little extra work to get through the depositions she had to prepare and the emails she had to answer.

Just dinner, she thought. Just dinner and a date, and whatever happened after. And just one more date tonight. Not a big deal; adults go on dates all the time. I’m an adult. It’s fine.

But it wasn’t just that, because she was sure her heart rate had plateaued at a solid one hundred and ten since Joseph’s I’ll pick you up from work text. Because Isolde wasn’t the kind of woman who took a man back to her place on the first date, and yet.

By the time Joseph did swing by to pick her up, John had been gone for a few hours and she’d gotten almost no work done, instead completely consumed by the predicament she’d planted herself in. It did break the rules to date Joseph. No business and pleasure, first and foremost. Normally, Isolde would have considered herself a woman of incredible discipline, able to turn down temptations of varying degrees—but when Joseph rolled through her office door with those stupid, hot yellow aviators on his face, she thought maybe she had overestimated herself.

“You look tired,” Joseph said lightly, brushing some snow out of his hair. Isolde’s expression flattened.

“Thanks, Romeo. ‘Hi, Isolde, how was your day?’ ‘Oh, just fine, except for your brother throwing a baby temper tantrum every five minutes’. ‘You poor thing, Isolde, but you have to tell me how you manage to be so exceptionally beautiful still’.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t look beautiful still,” he replied. His eyes followed her as she walked around her desk, having slid her coat on and collected her purse; they stayed trained on her all the way up to when there was no space left between them, until he was gazing at her with amusement dragging his mouth into a smile.

She said, lightly, “You didn’t say I was beautiful at all, actually.”

Joseph reached up. Though the room was empty of everyone except the two of them, somehow it still felt special when he looked at her—it still felt like nothing else in the entire world mattered to Joseph in that moment except for her. The pad of his thumb brushed her lower lip, his gaze drinking her in, admiring and hungry in equal amounts.

“You are,” he said, his voice low, the timbre of it rattling something animal inside of her. “Beautiful.”

Kiss me, she wanted to say, because he was so close and yet seemed to refuse to actually finish the job. She didn’t think she could have mustered the words even if she wanted to; Joseph was a wildfire, eating up all the oxygen around her, sucking it right out of the air until there was nothing left but for her to feel swallowed by it.

“I wasn’t entirely truthful with you, the other night,” Joseph continued, dragging his thumb from her lip down to her jawline, “when I said that John’s greatest vice was beautiful women.” He paused, his head tilting. “They’re mine.”

Isolde’s lashes fluttered. She glanced up at him, and she said, “Well, that’s not the greatest sales pitch for yourself. How many red flags should I be looking for?”

He laughed and brushed his lips against her temple. “I get the feeling you won’t miss a single one.”

It shouldn’t have been quite so endearing, his casual reference to any red flags that he might have. Even his confidence that she’d pick them out (she would; if finding red flags was an Olympic sport, Isolde would have been a gold medalist) didn’t inspire the greatest feeling in her, though if she was playing devil’s advocate she knew that there were things about herself that didn’t make her so very well acquainted with healthy relationships.

“I’m glad I was able to come and pick you up today,” Joseph continued casually as they left her office and headed down the stairs. “It’s been snowing all afternoon. I’d hate for you to have to drive in this weather.”

And then he did things like that—uncharacteristically gentlemanly of him, to not want her to drive herself home in adverse weather. “I think I would have been fine,” Isolde replied. His fingers brushed hers at her side, snagging them and bringing them up to his mouth to kiss.

“Undoubtedly.”

It hadn’t been a lie, his remark about the snow. By the time they were pushing the doors to the lobby open, bidding the security officer goodnight, at least a solid foot of snow had collected and was pushed up against the lip of the sidewalk.

She grimaced. Winter was her least favorite season. Holiday cheer and Isolde Khan were not two concepts that melded well—not that she was a scrooge, per se, but with her only family halfway across the world and, on top, a tenuous relationship at best, it didn’t make Christmas very fun.

As they walked down the sidewalk, passing Joseph’s car in favor of pursuing a nearby restaurant, the blonde kept their fingers tangled together. The gesture was light, and didn’t demand anything, but it was enough to say something: I want you close to me.

“Does your family come here for the holidays?” Joseph asked lightly, disentangling their hands in favor of giving her hip a squeeze, keeping his hand there as they drifted into a warmly-lit wine bar. “I remember you saying they live in Turkey.”

So Joseph did just have that good of a memory. She’d have to be more careful about the things she said to him. “No,” Isolde replied, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere. “It’s too far. And I don’t go there.”

“Then what do you do on Christmas?” he prompted. He tugged a seat out for her at a spot farthest away from the door and then planted himself across from her, absently reading over the list of wines.

“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely. And then, in an effort to redirect, again: “You, if you’re around.”

Joseph’s gaze flickered up to hers from across the table. She could tell he was trying to stifle a smile. “You’d have to come all the way to Hope County if you had that penciled into your planner, Miss Khan.”

“Oh, Miss Khan, am I? We’re suddenly very formal with each other.” Isolde grinned. “And what does Joseph Seed, in Hope County, do on Christmas?”

“We haven’t spent many holidays together, but this year I’d like have a big family dinner on Christmas Eve, the handful of us.” He settled back in his chair a little, like he was getting ready to be there for a while. “Since John’s moved out here for work, Jacob’s been out of the country, and we only recently found each other again, we don’t get a lot of time together.” He shrugged. “And you, of course. If you’re around.”

Before she had an opportunity to respond, caught off guard by how easily he wielded her own flirtation against her, she felt a few bodies brush past their table and then pause, only to be followed by a dreadfully familiar voice: “Isolde?”

Something sharp and hot brought her pulse to a grinding stop—or it felt like it, anyway, like all of the breath had been sucked right out of her and she had ceased to be alive anymore, a cadaver sat up to play pretend like in those old photos. No, she thought when she felt a hand touch her shoulder, nausea welling up inside of her. No, I don’t want this, not right now.

“It is you,” Alec said, his voice blooming with warmth. “I thought I recognized you. I know you like this spot.” His hand slid from her shoulder and she felt, without even looking at him, the way he turned his eyes to Joseph. “Who’s your friend?”

“Date,” Isolde bit out. “He’s my date.”

Her ex-husband let out what she could only describe as a comical exhale of breath. Joseph was watching her, inquisitive but ever-so-composed, before he turned his gaze politely to Alec and offered his hand.

“Joseph,” the blonde said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The sight of the two men shaking hands made her want to puke. Everything Alec touched in her life was rotten, putrid—brimming with bile and spoiled, forever. She didn’t want it to be like that with Joseph, too.

Alec began, “I’m—”

“Alec is my ex-husband,” Isolde interrupted, her voice hard, punctuating each consonant of the words that came out of her mouth with violent intent.

Joseph settled back in his seat. Suddenly, Isolde was reminded that he had a penchant for remembering even the smallest throwaway details, and that she’d probably let him in on more than she would have liked about how her relationship had been with Alec without even saying anything. Yes, Isolde thought absently, her brain careening like a plane on fire as she watched Joseph fix his eyes on Alec, yes, he can tell.

“Fresh on the dating scene, and only six months divorced,” Alec remarked lightly, his infuriatingly handsome face the only thing filling up her peripheral. “I’m happy for you, Isolde.”

“So leave,” Isolde snapped. She finally looked at him, really looked at him, and naturally he looked perfect; dark curls, stubble neatly trimmed, eyes bright and amused. There were a few thin, gossamer scars on his face from the last time they were together— but he must have paid quite a bit of money to smooth those out.

He lifted his hands in a show of surrender, his gaze sweeping over her. Just that one gesture felt like a violation—she wanted to smash his face into the table and tell him he didn’t get to even look at her anymore.

“Good luck with this one, Joe,” Alec said, his overly-familiar use of a nickname that Isolde had never heard anyone use with Joseph sticking to her ribs like a heavy dinner. “She’s a wicked little thing.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” Joseph replied serenely.

Alec paused; his gaze lingered on her neck and suddenly he was grinning. Isolde knew what it was he was looking at—a bruise, a remnant of the night before, left by Joseph.

“Yeah,” Alec agreed, “it looks like you’ve already figured out how to handle her.”

Who’s going to pity you? If you were me, you would have seen that you were begging for it. You fucking asked for it.

Isolde stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the wooden paneling of the floor. Sick, she thought, her stomach rolling. I’m going to be sick. “Leaving,” she managed out, only vaguely aware of Joseph also coming to a stand across from her, albeit more composed. “We’re leaving.”

I’m your husband, Isolde. It means it’s my job to keep you in line.

“Not on my account, I hope,” Alec sighed. “You’ve always been so dramatic. Anyway, Joseph—a pleasure to meet you, and—you know, call me if you need help with her. I’m always happy to lend my expertise.”

Everyone knows what it takes to get you under control, and I’ll tell anyone who asks.

She pushed past him, stepping around the table and clutching her coat and purse in her hands. There wasn’t time to put them on; there would never be enough time to get as much space between herself and Alec as she wanted.

I should have killed him, she thought viciously, taking in lungfuls of frigid air, snow dappling her face and sticking to her eyelashes. Right then, I should have bashed his fucking skull in.

Fingers brushed her arm. On instinct she startled, whirling to face the impending threat, half-expecting Alec to have chased her out into the street in an attempt to corner her—a thing that he had taken great joy in before, sweeping things off of the counter to grab and pull and rip—but it was Joseph. He waited two heartbeats before he reached again, his fingertips cradling the crook of her elbow.

It was a question: can I? Will you let me?

“I wish he would die,” she said, without thinking, the words spilling out of her like a poison she just couldn’t hold in anymore. Whatever information Joseph had gleaned about her tumultuous marriage with Alec made him unbothered by this statement; he tugged her closer to him, the hand not holding her arm reaching up to brush the pads of his fingers across her pulse point.

He said, “I know.”

“Joseph—”

“Isolde.” His voice was low, the words murmured against her forehead. “Don’t explain.” Because I already know, is what he meant. Because I already understand what’s going on here.

He tugged her coat out of her hands and pulled it around her shoulders. Bent like he was, leaned into her with something that she thought might be adoration, Joseph brushed their noses together. She felt tension flood her body; she was afraid that he might try to kiss her right then, of what she might do if he did while her body was brutalized by adrenaline, but he didn’t.

He just held her.

“Here,” Joseph said, taking her hand and bringing it to his neck until she could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his pulse under her fingers. “I’ve got you.”

It should have frightened her. Joseph’s intensity was an intimidating kind, but in these moments, the intensity was required to cut through the panic. It overwhelmed her fried senses, the neurons firing rapidly stifled and swallowed up by the looming responsibility to recognize his closeness. The smell of his cologne, the bump of their noses, the feeling of his stubble under her fingertips, his hands closing the jacket around her shoulders. All of it meant that her brain could no longer panic, and had, instead, something to occupy itself with.

“Can you take me home?” Her voice felt small coming out of her, like it belonged to someone else. A different Isolde, at a different place and time. The girl she might have been or perhaps was before Alec.

Low, Joseph murmured, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

A sick, macabre part of her wanted to look back behind Joseph at the wine bar. It wanted to see Alec again—the way that you couldn’t stop yourself from peeking through your hands at the monster in a horror movie, the way that you couldn’t look away from a brutal car crash on the highway. Sick, she thought dizzily. He made me sick.

“Take me home,” she said, more firmly this time.

“I’m trying,” Joseph replied. His voice was so soft that she almost had to strain to hear it over the pounding of her heart. His hands came to her face, cradling. “You have to let me.”

Isolde nodded, swallowing back what adrenaline insisted on leaking into her brain. She hadn’t realized that she was bolting her feet to the floor, gritting her teeth against the gentle pressure of Joseph’s hands, until he said, you have to let me.

“Okay,” she murmured. He nodded and brushed the hair from her face. This time, his guiding pressure actually registered in her brain; when he nudged her away from the bar and down the street to his car, she moved, instead of digging her heels in.

When they reached the vehicle, he opened the passenger door for her and waited for her to climb in before he leaned down.

“I’m—” Isolde started, the words shredding in her mouth before they got out of her. I’m sorry, she wanted to say. “About—the bar, I—”

“I told you, don’t explain yourself,” Joseph insisted, tucking her hair behind her ear. There was something almost earnest about his gaze now as he watched her, her heart thrumming violently in her chest with a different mantra now. Same, it said, when Joseph’s fingers grazed her cheek, tilted her chin up. Same as us. Ours, too. He’s our kind.

“There’s plenty of people I wish were dead, too.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Shoes, clothes, charger, phone. No phone?

“Where did he put my phone?” Isolde muttered, searching through the suitcase on the bed. An array of clothing was laid out, but not yet folded; in fact, the only things that were packed yet were all work things that she’d have to take with her. Joseph would probably be furious—he had, in fact, specifically insisted that no work come on the vacation—but better than anyone he knew what it was like to rely on John for things. Which was that, if you liked things done to the standard that Joseph and Isolde wanted them done to, you didn’t rely on anyone else. Least of all John.

“Soli…” It was Joseph’s voice coming from the bottom of the stairs, not questioning but asking. Beckoning. You’re taking too long. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Where’s my phone?” she called back, pacing around the other side of the bedroom. “I’m trying to pack it up for tomorrow so that I don’t have to worry about it.”

A beat, where Joseph was likely collecting his patience, passed. “It’s down here. You left it on the counter.” And then: “Come eat, won’t you?”

He was doing that thing where he phrased it as a question and meant it as a statement. Joseph had learned, in a very short period of time, that she didn’t like when someone told her what to do; as petulant as it was, she’d buck against something like that desperately until it felt like her idea all along.

Isolde sighed. “Yes, I’m coming, Joseph.” One more up-and-down the stairs, ten more minutes of packing, and then she’d be content enough to sit down and eat.

“Full first name?” came the leisurely reply from downstairs. “My, you are in a mood tonight.”

Isolde busied herself with folding clothes, a smile fighting its way onto her face in spite of Joseph’s insistence that she was “in a mood”. She wasn’t; if he wanted to believe that, he was certainly welcome to, but she wasn’t in a mood. She was thinking.

So she put folded clothes over the work files and said, “Joseph, light of my life; the sun which my planet orbits; the fabric by which the stars are made…”

“This sounds more like the Isolde I’m used to.” His voice was closer now, coming from the doorway, and when she looked over her shoulder at him he said, “And definitely not coming to eat.”

“Do you go by Joe?” she asked lightly, dropping the last of her clothes in the suitcase.

Joseph wandered across the master bedroom until there wasn’t any space left between them; his hand came up to her face, trailing the slope of her cheekbone. “I certainly do not.”

“So, definitely call you that, then.”

“You are testing my greatest virtue,” Joseph replied, leaning down and kissing her. Just the once, though; long enough for her to want to lean into it, and not long enough to be satisfying. He pulled back just so far as to let their lips brush when he said, “Come sit down.”

Skimming her fingers along his chest, she asked playfully, “What are you going to do if I say no?”

The blonde eyed her amusedly. “John was right. You really don’t like being bossed around, do you?”

“How dare you say those words, in that order, in my presence,” Isolde murmured without heat. “You know I can’t stand to have someone stroking his ego by admitting he’s right about something.” A low laugh slipped out of Joseph and he carded his fingers through her hair, letting the pads of his fingers skim the back of her scalp as he kissed her temple.

She loved it. She loved when he did this; Joseph was so tactile, taking every opportunity to connect them through touch, like she grounded him. Like she was something precious that he wanted to enjoy every chance he got.

“You are the only one I’ll say something to more than once,” he said, his voice pleasantly low. “But luckily for you, I find your obstinance endearing.”

“If it helps,” she countered, “I don’t mind if you boss me around. Mostly. Why don’t you give it another try?” That wasn’t true. She did. But she liked the way it made Joseph’s ego inflate the second he did, even if it was for something stupid.

“Sweet girl.” His voice was a pleasant purr against her skin. “Always threatening me with a good time.”

This made her laugh. Joseph kissed the slope of her cheekbone, and then the corner of her mouth, his fingers sliding through her hair affectionately. She finally relented and allowed him to nudge her out through the bedroom door, making her way down the stairs. It wasn’t her first time going on a vacation with a… Friend of the romantic persuasion, but it was her first time going on vacation with a friend of the romantic persuasion back home. She’d never introduced her parents to any man that she’d dated—not only because they were eleven hours away by flight, but because there just hadn’t ever been anyone.

Joseph was—different. But she had always known that; she had always known that he was an exception to a lot of people’s rules, not just her own, and she was violating cardinal rule number one of her own personal regiment, which was “don’t mix business and pleasure”. Pursuing a romantic relationship with your business partner’s older brother didn’t exactly adhere to that, did it?

“It’s going to be hot,” Isolde said, “and the flight is long, and the traffic is going to be… Well, insane. But my parents will definitely insist on feeding us the second we get there—”

“That’s fine.”

“—so what I’m saying is, if I blink at you five times in rapid succession, we need to make up an emergency to leave. What’s the emergency? We have to have one ready and on hand, otherwise my dad will see straight…”

Her voice trailed off. The kitchen was not as she’d left it, a little over an hour ago, to pack. In fact, it was dimly lit by candles, the dining table sporting a bouquet—not roses, like someone might have expected out of a scene like this, but calla lilies. Her favorite.

“What—” She stopped in the doorway, but Joseph sidled up behind her, hands on her hips and nudging her forward. “Joseph, what…?”

“I told you.” He kissed just below her ear, reaching for her left hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles there, too. “You’re the only person that I’ll say something to more than once—”

Isolde felt something—something both hot and cold, sharp and too soft—whip through her immediately at the leading tone. “You’re not making any sense,” she managed out, trying to dig her heels in, but Joseph wasn’t trying to push her in any further so it didn’t matter.

“I want you to marry me.” Joseph said against her skin, and he slid something cool and metal along her finger. “I want you to be my wife, Soli.”

A ring, her brain said, the alarm bells ringing immediately. That’s a ring. Holy shit, that’s a really big fucking ring. On your finger. Holy shit.

“Isolde.” Joseph turned her around to look at him fully now, brows furrowing at what was surely a look of panic on her face. What she thought had to be the assumption that they were only nerves, he continued, “I know that—”

“No.” The word came out of her mouth before she could stop it, the single-word-statement fleeing her mouth in her panic. She thought she’d feel regret about it, but she didn’t; only about the way Joseph looked at her when she said it.

He seemed to be gathering himself for a moment, like maybe he didn’t think that she meant it, that she was playing some kind of joke on him.

Joseph began, “If this is your idea of—”

“I mean it,” Isolde interjected. “I won’t marry you, Joseph. So—no. Take this—” She fumbled the engagement ring off of her finger and put it into his hand like it was a cursed item, like she couldn’t get it off of her finger any fucking quicker. “Take this back. And—that’s it, I just don’t want it.”

His eyes were fixed on her, no longer soft in their romanticism, but hard, steely. “And why not?”

She swallowed up a sound that probably would have been close to agony. It was agony, having to explain to him; her mind vibrating at an entirely different frequency than his, the panic settling into her bones. She needed to say, I’ve been married before you and I know what it’s like to give yourself over to someone, she needed to say, I won’t fucking let someone own me, Joseph Seed, she needed to say, I told you two months ago I never wanted to get married again, and you just apparently didn’t listen, which is reason enough.

“I don’t need to justify myself to you,” is what she said instead, going to step around him. But his hand caught her wrist, the carefully manicured and polished exterior fading into something that hit an edge of tension, pulling pulling pulling until she thought she was going to watch him finally snap.

But he said, “You do.”

“Fuck. You,” Sol bit out. The anger flared hot in her chest. It was, at last, a familiar emotion; anger and not panic, filling her up. Drowning out the sadness that tried to rip through her like a wildfire. “I told you. I told you I wasn’t doing it again.”

“I’m different.” Now it was his turn to sound almost petulant, his grip on her wrist like iron. “You said that yourself. That we’re—”

“Not different enough,” she snapped. “Apparently, anyway, since you couldn’t wait longer than two months to try and put your name on me, could you?” Trying to pull her wrist out of his grip proved futile, and she managed out with the timbre of her voice vibrating with poison, “And get your fucking hand off of me, Joseph.”

He stared at her for a long moment before he finally loosened his hold on her wrist. Enough to let her pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t. Isolde stayed firmly put, willing her legs to carry her somewhere else—back home would probably be the best thing, driving the hours it takes between Hope County and the nearest lick of civilization.

You said that yourself. I’m different.

He was. She wanted to say, you are, Joseph, but she didn’t, because she knew that it would only start them in another circle again, a snake swallowing its own tail in an endless cycle.

So they stood there for a moment: neither of them saying anything, her last threat hanging, jolts of anger fizzing and popping in the air between them. Isolde’s hand slid just enough to catch at the wrist in Joseph’s grip, and he took her hand instead, then, tugging lightly to draw her close to him.

Testing her out. Feeling her boundaries. She’d basically said I’ll tear your hand off if you don’t listen to me, but he didn’t think she would. And now he was going to slam those buttons—slide his fingers under her edges until he found the exact farthest he could push her.

“I won’t,” Joseph said, very low and quiet, “let you do this to me, Isolde.”

She had been expecting something else. Something sweet, maybe—Joseph liked to do that. Sweet girl, he’d say to her, and if anyone else had tried to call her girl they would’ve gotten dumped, but with this viper it was different. It didn’t feel condescending when Joseph said it to her. It just felt covetous.

And that’s what he was best at: bite, and then soothe. It made his sharp edges more tolerable. It made them nice. But now he was all sharp edges, only hard lines, catching on her and tearing every time the two of them made contact. It had always been this way; John had said that he thought they were poorly matched, and at the time, she’d written it off as John not liking to share even his business partner with his older brother.

Now more than ever, she thought that he was right. They were both too unwieldy, too wretched, to let someone else sway them from their opinions.

“You are so fucking dramatic,” Isolde said, pulling her hand out of his grip at last and turning on her heel. “We don’t need to be married to be together. And your antiquated notion—”

“There are things I want to accomplish, and they’re best done with a wife—”

“I’m sorry, did you hear a period punctuating the end of my sentence? Don’t fucking talk over me, Joseph,” she snapped. For one split second, she saw something vicious flicker over Joseph’s face—just for that one, tiny second—and then he cleared his face.

After a second of silence, of waiting for Joseph to try and get the last word in, she finished, “You don’t know me well enough to want to marry me. And—marriage is a scam, anyway. I would know, I handle nasty divorces every day at work.” I’ve handled my own nasty divorce. “If you’re looking for a pretty housewife to sit around statuesque and have dinner ready for you when you come home, then—well, then you really don’t fucking know me.”

Joseph was silent. His jaw worked, his eyes sweeping over her, tension radiating off of her until he said, “I guess I don’t.”

“I guess so,” Isolde agreed. Another moment of silence, where it felt like they were circling each other like wounded dogs, and she said, “I’m going to go—”

“Fine,” he interrupted, the thing that he knew she hated. “When you’ve calmed down, we can discuss this like adults.”

“There isn’t anything to discuss,” she said, gathering up her coat and keys and walking up the stairs. “I’m not going to change my mind, Joseph.”

From the kitchen, she heard him agree, “Not yet.”

“Shut up,” Isolde snapped. “You make me so fucking mad.”

He didn’t respond to that; she heard him moving around in the kitchen, gathering things and putting them away as she hauled her suitcase down to the front door. He met her at the door, opening it for her—which pissed her off half as much as him putting an engagement ring on her finger.

It shouldn’t have, but it did. It was like he was saying, I know you’ll be back, so go on. Feel free to leave whenever you’d like.

Like the gentleman he was, he carried her suitcase out and loaded it into the car, lingering around the driver’s side as she threw her coat inside. And then she was the one waiting, unsure of what to do; the muscle memory of her body said, kiss him goodbye, the fury in her brain screaming to get in the car and leave.

“When you change your mind,” he reiterated calmly, reaching up and brushing the hair from her face, “you know how to get in touch with me.”

Isolde’s gaze flickered at the touch, Joseph’s warm, heady cologne washing over her as the space between them vanished. She said, the amber and vetiver of him welling up inside of her and filling her like a wineskin, “I won’t.”

His lips grazed her temple, fingers brushing her jaw. “I love you, Isolde.”

Fucking narcissist, she thought, venomously, pulling away from him. Her gaze drifted over his face, trying to find something familiar, something that reminded her of the man she had thought she had loved—but who had clearly proven he was incapable of thinking of anyone but himself.

So finally, she bit out, “This is what you think love is?”

She wanted the words to sting. She wanted them to wipe the tranquility off of his face. He had always been so composed; the wretchedness in her wanted to shake it out of him, making him squirm like he was so good at doing to her.

But he didn’t; his mouth ticked upward in a serene smile, eyes fixed on her as he stepped back from the car. He seemed confident in himself—that it was love, that she would see it was. One day.

I won’t let you do this to me, he’d said.

“Have a safe drive,” he called, when she slammed the door. It was an hour to the airport; an hour, and then however long of a flight, however long she’d have to wait for the next flight heading out to Georgia.

Joseph turned and walked back inside as she pulled out of the driveway, as carefully as she could through the snow; in her rearview mirror, she saw him stop at the door and turn to look, eyes fixed on her.

There are plenty of people I wish were dead, too.

#fic: witching hour #otp: i could sleep inside the cold of you #witching hour interlude #joseph seed x ofc #joseph seed/ofc #ch: isolde khan #ch: joseph seed #this felt important to include #a lot of it is polished from my pre-cult canon but it feels!!!!!#necessary to give them a bit more context esp for folks who only see my content on ao3 #thank u everyone for being patient w me <3 #my writing #far cry 5 fic #fc5 fic

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twomoonstwosuns · 4 years

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pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: alcohol, swearing maybe, fluff

word count: 5.0k

a/n: THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. IT HURT ME THAT I STRUGGLED SO MUCH WITH THIS, BUT I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH THE WAIT. we’re going to start getting angsty again so buckle up friends.

also thank you @dameronsgalaxygal for helping me with my writers block. she is so lovely and if you're not following her you should because girl has quality writing.

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Patience really was a virtue, except when disruptions stood in the way.

You left Cabo early that morning and didn’t land in Poe’s hometowns until early evening, six hours after your scheduled arrival time, first due to heavy delays and then a problem with the plane that was found just as boarding was about to begin.

Walking as fast as you could without running into people, you marched down the jetway, rushed through the halls and down the escalator to baggage claim where Poe would meet you. He saw you hurrying towards him and he stood from the bench he was sitting on.

“Finally!” He threw his arms out to the side in frustration that matched yours. You rolled your eyes.

“I know, I’m annoyed.”

“So, what was the problem with the plane?”

You groaned as you stopped in front of him and crossed your arms. “Something about the air vents not blowing cool air? I don’t remember what they said, I was too busy being mad that half a day was wasted stuck at an airport. I’m tired and hungry and not particularly thrilled that I’m about to go meet your dad feeling all pissed off and annoyed.”

Poe stepped into your space, placing both hands on your cheeks and pulling your mouth to his in a slow kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed.

“Still mad?” Poe asked quietly when he pulled back, his lips still ghosting over yours as he moved his arms around your waist. You gave him a half smile as your arms uncrossed and rested on top of his.

“Kinda.”

Poe kissed you again, putting a little more pressure against your lips.

“How about now?” Your smile curved upwards more and you bit your lip.

“Maybe a little bit still.”

Poe smirked and kissed you a third time, pulling you closer into him. You giggled against his mouth as he lifted you off the ground, your arms coming up around his neck to hold onto him. You broke apart as the corral alarm sounded.

“Ok, now I’m feeling better,” you said as he set you down gently, keeping you held in his embrace. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Me too. And I’m glad you’re here. Should we go?”

“Please.”

Poe grabbed your hand and you waited for your suitcase to appear. You were back to groaning in annoyance as you stood for another ten minutes next to the corral waiting for your bag. When you finally had it, you followed Poe out of the airport.

You told him more about your vacation, how you discovered on your last full day that you were terrified of parasailing, but you were glad you did it because it was something you’d always wanted to try. Poe told you about Rey twisting her ankle three miles away from their car and how he and Finn switched off carrying her so she wouldn’t hurt it worse.

Your leg bounced nervously as Poe pulled up in front of a house, your heart pounding in your ears. You didn’t even realize Poe had cut the engine until you felt his hand squeezing your knee and heard the silence that filled the car.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured you. “He’s excited to meet you.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. Poe took your suitcase from the trunk of the car and you followed him up to the front door.

“Dad? We’re back!”

There was a moment of shuffling followed by footsteps and then Kes Dameron was in front of you. You marveled at their similarities. Poe was definitely his father’s son, from the shared skin tone to the same relaxed, easy smile they were both giving you.

“You must be Y/N,” Kes said, taking a step towards you with his hand outstretched. He and Poe even sounded similar. You took his hand and shook it.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I hope you’re hungry, I’ve got dinner waiting.”

“You go ahead,” Poe said, grabbing your attention and heading towards the stairs. “I’ll bring this upstairs.”

“Come in, come in, make yourself comfortable,” Kes said, holding his arm out to invite you further into his home. You followed him to the kitchen, wringing your hands nervously in front of you.

“Anything I can do to help?” You asked, looking around at the food that was going to make its way to the dining room.

“You can tell me what you’d like to drink. Beer, wine, soda..?”

“Water would just fine, actually. Between the waiting the flight itself, I didn’t drink much today.”

“So, what happened that caused such a delay?” Kes asked as he grabbed a glass of ice water for you. “I’ve done my fair share of flying and I’ve never had a delay that long.”

“There was some bad weather, then there was a problem with the plane. And then it took forever to get my suitcase.” You let out a dry laugh as you took your glass. “I just couldn’t catch a break today.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it safe.”

You smiled appreciatively at him and grabbed a bowl to bring out to the table. Poe met you in there and went to the kitchen to grab himself something to drink. He came back to the table and Kes handed you a bowl of vegetables first to help yourself to.

“The food is delicious,” you said after taking a few bites.

“Do you cook at all?”

“I can make a few things, but nothing like this.” You said, taking a bite of food. “Though I do make a mean soup that’ll kick any sickness you have.”

Poe hummed in agreement.

“Ah see, that’s one thing I don’t have,” Kes said. “Any chance I could steal it from you?”

“Secret family recipe, I don’t think they’ll forgive me if I did that.”

“I understand. Maybe next time.” Your heart pounded at next time; ten minutes into meeting him and he was talking about next time already. “So tell me about yourself.”

You told Kes all about the most relevant things in your life at that moment in between bites of food. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you saw food in front of you that wasn’t a bag of airplane pretzels. You’d talked more about yourself in the last month than you had ever in your life, between meeting Poe’s friends and now his dad. Kes listened intently, asking questions about your family and interests that proved to you he was making an effort and wasn’t just being polite for show. Any nervousness you had felt going into this first meeting was slowly fading.

“You’re currently a student?” Kes asked, though his tone wasn’t harsh or accusatory. You hummed as you nodded. “I couldn’t remember if Poe said you were or not.”

“I graduate in May, so I will be a former student soon.”

“And what does the university say about you being…you know, together?” Kes looked between you and Poe.

“It’s technically against the rules,” Poe answered.“I don’t really know what would happen to her, but I know there’s consequences for me. Which is why we don’t go anywhere and the only people on campus who know are her roommates.”

You half expected to get a lecture on making sure you remain careful, but it never came. Food was cleared from plates and the three of you sat with happy stomachs, making no effort to ditch the conversation to clean up.

“How’d you guys get acquainted?” A playful smirk slowly spread across Kes’ face. “Did you see each other across the room and think ‘wow’?”

“Actually, yeah,” Poe said and your jaw dropped a little as you looked at him. He just glanced at you with a small smile. “She took one of my half-semester classes last fall. I immediately thought she was beautiful, got to know her over the two months, ran into her outside of class after it finished and we chatted—“

Poe nudged your foot with his as you stifled a laugh. Chatting was definitely the least scandalous thing that went down on Halloween, but Kes didn’t need those details.

“—and we got to know each other better until I couldn’t not ask her out.”

You gave him a small smile. “You never told me that.”

Poe just shrugged with a small smirk on his face and you grinned at him. It was similar to what you thought when you first stepped into his classroom. You briefly recalled seeing him come in and whispering ‘holy shit’ under your breath, giggling together with your friend about how attractive your professor was on the way to get lunch. You got to know him as well as he got to know all of his students, the picture of Beebs as his computer background making you just melt. Then you harbored a small crush on him for the rest of the semester that you finally did something about thanks to a little alcohol on Halloween night.

A yawn suddenly escaped your lips, making Kes chuckle. “Why don’t you go get some rest?”

“I’m good, I can help with the dishes.”

“It’s ok hon, we’ve got it. You’re tired and you’ve had a long day. Go get some rest.”

You smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Mr. Dameron.”

“Kes, please.” He glanced over at Poe. “She’s been down here since you guys got here, why don’t you get her settled upstairs and then come help me clean up.”

You quietly giggled at Kes telling Poe what to do like he was a teenager. Poe put a hand on your back and led you out of the dining room as you waved a friendly ‘good night’ to Kes. You followed Poe up the stairs into the bedroom that he explained was the one he had as a kid.

“Dad said we can share a room as long as there’s ‘no funny business’.”

“Oh my god,” you giggled as you put a hand to your face.

“I was half expecting Spider-Man sheets and Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition posters on the walls.”

“He took them all down when I moved out,” Poe teased, leaning against the door. “Bathroom’s right next door. And by the way? I told you you’d be fine.”

He chuckled as he ducked out the door when you balled up and threw your sweatshirt at him. When he was out of sight, you let out a breath and mumbled an ‘ok’ under your breath as you grabbed what you needed for the shower and headed into the bathroom. You had made it through dinner, answered the questions Kes had about your relationship without it turning awkward or hearing thinly-veiled insults disguised around advice about being careful.

The hot water of the shower felt heavenly on your sore muscles but felt like needles poking your skin when it made contact with the places you got sunburned. You washed the feeling of stuffy airports and cramped airplanes off of your hair and body, the idea of curling up in bed and sleeping in in the morning very enticing.

You kept your shower quick to not take up all the hot water and quickly dressed into a big t-shirt and sleep shorts before brushing your teeth. Going back to the room, you saw Poe with his legs outstretched in front of him, leaning against the headboard. You dropped your clothes into your suitcase, grabbing a bottle of aloe vera before sitting down in front of him.

“I really hate to be this person, but do you think your dad likes me? Or do I need to try harder, maybe mention something he really likes to find some common ground?”

“No, he really likes you.” His statement ended more like a question and you furrowed your brow at him. “What’s in your hand?”

You waved the bottle in front of him. “Aloe. I got a little burned on my back. Help me out?”

Poe nodded and shifted to sit up more. You moved to sit between his legs and he slowly lifted the back of your shirt.

“A little burnt? Did you even put sunscreen on?”

“Yes! I thought SPF 30 would be enough!”

Poe snickered as he put the aloe vera in his hands and gently rubbed the cooling gel into your skin, a shiver running through you as it immediately started working. He spread it around evenly and massaged it in so it wouldn’t transfer onto your shirt.

“So what’s the but?”

“What but?”

“‘He really likes you’…but?” Poe didn’t say anything and you sigh. “Come on, I can tell by the sound of your voice there’s something else.”

Poe stopped massaging your back, allowing his thumb to run gently down your spine.

“He did say something.”

You twisted the top half of your body as far as you could so you could look at Poe and he allowed your shirt to fall back down. His expression was unreadable, but not sad or worried.

“Not about you. He really does like you, he told me he thinks you’re fantastic. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a problem with the fact that you’re my student as long as we’re careful. Which we are.”

“Then what is it?”

“He just reminded me that I’m in my thirties and you’re in your twenties.”

You nodded slowly in understanding.

“And people in their twenties are typically partying and getting blackout drunk on the weekends and hooking up with tons of people and not thinking about serious relationships,” you said and Poe nodded. “I get it.”

You rested your hand on top of the one Poe had on your knee. “I mean, I like grabbing drinks with my friends and maybe going to a club or something but going out every weekend? That’s not really my thing. And the random hookups? Overrated, in my opinion.”

Poe laced your fingers together. “That’s what I told him.”

“He just wants what’s best for you. They’re valid concerns. My mom will probably have the same concerns when I tell her.” You let go of Poe’s hand to gently run your finger along the underside of his jaw, making him look at you. “Which I’m going to do the next time I see her. I really want her and Tallie to know.”

Poe gave you a half smile as he kissed your finger.

“Your dad is great, by the way,” you said when Poe pulled back to look at you. “And I’m sorry, he might be an even better cook than you.”

Poe’s jaw dropped in mock offense. “Fine, I’ll leave you here and go back by myself and he can make you breakfast on Sunday morning.”

You laughed as leaned your head against his, settling into the comfortable silence broken only by the soft ticking of the clock. You moved so your back was pressed against Poe’s chest once again, his arms encircling your waist as you lean back against him.

“You know, I was a random hookup.”

You smirked as gently elbowed his stomach. “Yes you were, and you’ve ruined men for me forever so thanks a lot.”

He poked your stomach in retaliation and you laughed quietly. “But look what we got out of it.”

Your head dropped back onto his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat completely relaxing you.

“Sometimes I wish it was always this easy,” you said quietly. Poe dropped his head into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath as he squeezed your waist.

“Yeah, me too.”

》》》

“Favorite place you were stationed?”

“Aviano, Italy. It’s this little town in the north surrounded by mountains on one side and the ocean on the other. We were there for a year when Poe was a baby so he probably doesn’t remember much, but I’d love to travel there with him. Maybe stop at a few other places I got to go visit while stationed over there. Have you traveled anywhere in Europe?”

“I almost studied abroad in Spain a few years ago, but the day before I was supposed to leave I ended up getting my appendix taken out, so I didn’t get to go. But I really want to go see the big cities and explore the smaller towns. An old friend of mine did that and he said he found a lot of hidden treasures.”

“Aviano’s got a lot of those, including the best coffee I’ve ever had in all my years here on Earth.”

“Ok well, now I have to go there.”

You had joined Kes in the living room about an hour. Poe had gotten slammed with emails from students with poor excuses for not having homework ready for after break and was dealing with that when you heard noise coming from the TV discussing the results of the previous night’s game. Your comment about Colorado’s lack of quality defense caught his attention and before you knew it, you were watching the highlights with him and making your guesses about who would make it to the playoffs.

“What made you want to join the Air Force?”

“My father was a pilot. He always told me stories of flying and fighting for his country. I admired him for it. So, when I was drafted at eighteen I knew immediately what branch I wanted to be in.” You saw him glance at a picture on the shelf by the television, one that had him, Poe, and a man you assumed was Poe’s grandfather out on a lake. “I know Poe wanted to continue the tradition and I would’ve loved for him to do that too. But I owe him everything for staying behind and helping me out when I was sick. And he found a career he loves, and that makes me just as proud, so it was all worth it.”

Kes had a proud look on his face and it warmed your heart to hear more about their close relationship.

“He admires you so much,” you smiled warmly. “The stories he’s told me about growing up, the experiences you guys had together…he’s proud to be your son.”

“Speaking of, hey son.”

You looked behind you and saw Poe leaning against the wall with his jacket and shoes on.

“How was your nap?” You asked with a smirk and Poe chuckled.

“It was good,” he said. He held up his car keys. “Wanna take a drive?”

Kes patted your knee and gave you a warm smile. “I’ll meet you guys at Barker’s in an hour.”

You grab your jacket and shoes and follow Poe out to his car.

“Where are we going?”

Poe just smiled at you. “You’ll see when we get there.”

You drove for about twenty minutes, the soft music from the radio the only sound needed. You noticed some of the trees were already starting to get leaves back, a hopeful sign of spring. You wished there was someway you could bring a little bit of that back to school where, at least when you left for Cabo, there was still dead grass and dirty snow everywhere you looked.

Poe turned through an open vine-covered gate and you sat up straight when you realized just where you were.

“Poe, wh—“ Your smile dropped slowly and your heart began to hammer in your chest. Multi-colored stones stood up from the ground, varying in size and shape with pops of colorful flowers scattered across them. “Poe, wait.”

The shakiness in your voice made Poe glance at you. When he saw the worried look on your face, he slowed the car down and pulled off to the side. You looked out the windows before looking at Poe, your eyes glossy with tears.

“Are you—are you sure you want to take me here?”

Poe furrowed his brow as he put the car in park. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You open your mouth to speak and no words came out, but the look on your face said it all. Poe tilted his head in concern.

“Is that what this is about?” Your eyes cast downward. “Baby…”

Poe reached over and cupped your cheek, cradling it in his hand as he brought your gaze up to him.

“Are you still hanging onto that?” You nodded. “Why?”

“Because it was the most hurtful thing I could’ve said to you.”

Poe exhaled deeply, his thumb running gently across the spot just underneath your eye. “Baby, it was a stupid fight where we both said stupid things. I’ve forgotten all about it. You should to. Please.”

All you could do was nod. Poe released your face and pulled back onto the road, driving a few minutes deeper into the cemetery before finally stopping and turning back to you. “It’ll just be a few minutes. If you really don’t want to though, we don’t have to.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I want to.”

You got out of the car and Poe immediately grabbed your hand when he came around to your side of the car.

“Wait,” you said, pulling him back when he took a few steps forward. “I don’t—what do I say?”

Poe walked back to you, squeezing your hand. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I just want you there.”

You nodded and he kissed your temple gently before leading you across the crunchy grass. The sun was shining brightly, mixing wonderfully with the crisp afternoon air. The beautiful day brought out others as well, the hum of their hushed conversations with loved ones floating being carried by the wind.

Shara’s headstone was near the end of a row that ended right at the fencing. The marble reflected the sun’s rays and shone beautifully. Fresh flowers sat propped up against the stone.

“We were here yesterday,” Poe explained when you eyed the flowers that had no business being that bright in the cold air. “We come here every time I visit home.”

You didn’t know Shara, but you felt a sense of heartache as you stepped in front of her headstone.

“Mom, this is Y/N,” Poe said before looking down at you with soft eyes and a matching smile. “She’s beautiful, amazing, funny, kind, selfless…”

You hid your face in Poe’s chest, his sweet words and how he said them with such adoration bringing tears to your eyes. He let go of your hand and put his arm around your shoulder. You rested your cheek against his jacket.

“…technically my student, but we’re going to pretend she’s not. In fact, sometimes I think she should just take over my class and let me relax. I might be a little biased but…god, she’s so smart.”

You face flushed with color and quietly sniffled, unsure if it was from the cold or the overwhelming rush of emotions.

“She’s already won over dad. They were talking about Aviano and hockey earlier today. It doesn’t sound like she’s a Colorado fan, though. Oh, and she cannot skate worth a damn. Seriously, it’s embarrassing.”

You scoffed and nudged him. He just tightened his arm around you.

“I’m pretty sure Beebs likes her more than me, but she spoils him so that might be it,” He continued. “She’s going to graduate at the top of her class in a few months. And…”

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but when his mind flooded with memories and the what-could’ve-beens, he was overcome with emotion and unable to speak. You looked up at him as you gently rubbed his back.

“You and Kes raised an amazing son.” Your voice shook as you spoke, the feeling of speaking to an inanimate object weird to you, but knowing how important it was to Poe. “He’s the kind of man every mother wants their son to be. You would be so proud of him.”

Poe gazed down in pure adoration at you, a small smile crossing his face. He cleared his throat.

“Can I have a minute?”

“Of course.”

You reached up and kissed Poe’s cheek and you let your lips linger for a second before squeezing his arm and walking back to the car. Poe waited until you were far enough away before turning back to his mother’s gravestone.

“If you’d have asked me when I first started teaching that I’d fall for one of my students, I’d have laughed in your face. But she’s not just that to me. She’s…” Poe glanced back at your retreating figure before turning back. “I wish you could’ve met her, mom. You’d really love her. Because I know I do.”

Poe stood in silence for another minute before heading back towards his car. You were patiently leaning against the passenger door, tears coming to your eyes when you saw Poe have a moment with his mother.

You gave him a small smile and he immediately wrapped you in a hug, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Thank you,” Poe mumbled in your hair. “This meant a lot to me.”

You moved to look up at Poe, smiling softly. “It meant a lot to me, too.”

Poe softly pecked your lips and rested his forehead against yours.

“I’ve got one more place I want to take you.”

You nod as you got back into the car. As Poe waited for traffic to clear to turn back onto the road, you leaned over and kissed his cheek a second time, giving him another warm smile as you sat back in your seat. Poe turned onto the road and grabbed your hand for the duration of the drive.

You arrived back in town in about ten minutes time, Poe parking in front of a rundown bar that had seen its fair share of love and weather over many many years. Kes’ car was already in the parking lot.

“This is my Maz’s.” Poe explained as you both got out of the car.

It was a classic small town bar, the kind where the bartenders knew every detail of their regulars’ lives and welcomed everyone by name. Kes was at the counter chatting with the bartender, waving you and Poe over and immediately buying you both a drink. Kes led you to a table where you put your coats and you were about to sit down when Poe eyed something behind him.

“Want to shoot some pool?”

“Against you? No thanks,” Kes smirked. “I don’t know how you got so damn good but I’m not in the mood to get my ass handed to me in front of people I know.”

“Come on, you should be proud your son is beating you!”

“Well, I’m not.” Kes said. “Fine, I’ll play. But I’m teaming up with Y/N. I need all the help I can get.”

Poe looked over at you and you shrugged as you walked over to the wall to grab a pool cue. Kes racked up the balls as you prepped the pool cue with blue chalk. Poe broke the rack and watched as one of the solid colors got close to a pocket. He tapped it in with the cue ball, making solids his objective and stripes yours and Kes’.

You lined up the stick with the cue ball, eyeing it for a moment before sending it towards the red striped ball which smoothly sunk into a corner pocket. Kes patted your back as he cheered and Poe looked at you incredulously. All you could do was smirk.

“Oh yeah, I learned how to play growing up.”

The game was neck and neck and pretty soon Kes wasn’t even playing anymore. He was grabbing drinks for everyone and acting as your personal cheerleader, strategizing with you on what and where you should hit next. And when you sunk the eight ball before Poe had even finished putting away all the solids, Kes cheered and lifted you into a hug.

“I’m only playing against you know if Y/N is here,” he said before going up to the bar to grab another drink. You sat on the edge of the pool table as Poe approached you.

“Who taught you to play?” He asked with a small smile. You gave him a sad smile.

“My dad.” Poe’s smile dropped and you squeezed his arm. “Once school is done and we can be out, you’ll find out I’m kind of good at darts but terrible at quarters.”

“Alright, so we’ll play quarters so I can beat you at something.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, thankful he went along with the subject change, and he kissed it back into your mouth. Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” came over the speakers. You broke away from him, took a long swig of your beer and hopped off the pool table, holding your hand out to Poe.

“Come dance with me.” Poe just laughed and shook his head. “This is one of my favorite songs! Please?”

You stuck your bottom lip out in an over exaggerated pout. Poe rolls his eyes with a humored smile and drank the rest of his beer before setting the bottle next to yours and taking your outstretched hand. You led him onto the dance floor and you were yanked back by Poe stopping. He pulled you into him and, with a hand on your back and the other holding yours, he moved you along to the music.

You danced to the mid-tempo song, Poe spinning you under his arm. He surprised you by dipping you and you laughed loudly, clutching onto his shirt so you wouldn’t fall. Poe pulled you back up, holding you closer to him than he previously was.

Kes smiled at the pair of you from across the bar. Poe had told him you were something special and he saw very clearly why. You were the first girl Poe had brought home to meet Kes in years, but you were the only girl Poe had ever taken to visit Shara, something that he held so closely to his heart. Kes knew then and there that you’d be around for a long time.

Poe knew it too.

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron #poe dameron fluff #back to you series #modern au #modern poe dameron

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imaginesmai · 4 years

Text

Peter Parker - Far From Home

This is long, angsty and fluffy! It follows the film, mostly.

Plot: Peter Parker has just been run over by a train. However, he has biggest worries. Like, Beck having you in his grasp.

“Oh my god, Happy”

Peter let out a loud hiss when the needle hit his skin once more, and swallowed down the tears that threatened to leave his eyes. He bit his lip, closed his eyes and endured the pain for a while longer. No more than a few hours ago, he had been all over the moon because you had asked him to go for a walk through the city. He had been inches away from kissing you, had gripped your hand and had told you the truth about his identity; well, you had figured it out, but no one needed to know that. It felt like a dream, that had turned into a nightmare because of his stupidity.

“Just a few more to go, don’t worry” Happy said, using a soft voice that Peter thought he didn’t deserve.

Another pinch, another hiss. The needle, however, wasn’t what hurt him the most. It was a mash up between the betrayal of who he thought he could trust, the guilt crushing into him like waves, and his mind running a mile per hour with the possibilities of the disaster that he had caused.

He tried looking out of the window and focused on the low hum of the plane. It was hard to disassociate from Happy stitching up his shoulder without any anaesthetic, and just when he thought he had managed to keep his breathing under control, the careful man hit some nerve and Peter jumped on his seat.

“Happy!” Peter slammed his fist on the desk, an empty cup making its way to the ground.

“Relax, Peter!” Happy tried to calm him down, but it only angered Peter more. The boy got up in a sudden move, with half of his wound still bleeding. Happy was about to drag him back to the chair when Peter turned around and faced him, showing the angry tears on his eyes.

“Don’t tell me to relax!”

Happy had known Peter for some years by then. He had thought he knew the boy fairly well to say that Peter was nothing but sunshine and rainbows. The kid made videos, introduced himself to everything – and anything – , and sometimes brought sandwiches for him when he thought Happy might not have eaten yet. But the way Peter spoke, showed him that the pain he was feeling was nothing like sunshine and rainbows. In fact, Happy thought no one should ever felt it – especially not a kid, his kid.

“How can I relax when I messed up so bad?” his voice broke at the end into a messy sob, and Peter pressed the back of his bloody hand to his lips. “I trusted – I trusted Beck. I thought he was my friend, I gave him the only thing Mr Stark left behind for me.”

“Kid, maybe – ” Happy started, but Peter cut him off.

“And now, he has her.” Peter let the tears run down his cheeks, supporting himself against the side of the plane. “He has the most important person for me and the deadliest weapon, because – because I can’t take care of anything without messing up”

His legs gave up and Happy didn’t have time to catch him before he stumbled into the nearest sit. The autopilot was, once more, the only thing that could be heard in the plane, besides Peter’s quiet sobs. Happy didn’t know much about what had happened, just that he had received a call from a very long number and had to fly through half of the world to get Peter. Since then, he had had to calm the boy down from a panic attack twice, where he had only muttered your name and asked if everything was real.

“So, please… do not tell me to relax.” Peter breathed out.

He let his body fall down until his head was nearly hitting his knees, and ran a desperate hand through his hair. It was damp with blood and sweat, and he missed so, so much the brief feeling of your hand running through his hair. It had been just a second, after he had freaked out after the whole discovery with Mysterio, and you had done it by chance. But he wanted so desperately to feel it again. Peter and Happy let the silence take over for a few minutes, and Peter used that time to get his shit together.

Finally, he heard movement and raised his head. Happy was sitting now in front of him, leaning towards him with his hands clasped together. There was only a desk between them, and that reminded him of the abysm that dissociated both of them in that moment. While Peter was witnessing his whole word crash, Happy still had to understand where that awful wound came from.

“You have to talk to me, Peter” Happy tried to sound as friendly as possible. He searched Peter’s eyes with his own, and held the smile even when he saw the pain in them.

“Y/N… she’s the girl I had the plan with” Peter started, lowering his gaze again. “I was supposed to kiss her at the top of the Eiffel tower, because she loves those awful love movies and I really, really like her Happy”

Peter started to tell him how Nick Fury had crashed his plan by changing the trip, how Beck had appeared from another universe and he had been fooled like a kid. How you had found a drone that proved his lies and had showed it to Peter, discovering his secret identity in the way. Peter avoided the details about how you had almost kissed in the bridge and how you had hug him for a while longer when he had jumped from that window; not knowing Beck was already at the hotel and had targeted you before Peter had the chance to do anything about it.

“It was all a trap. It – I-I fell for it. A-and he had her all the time, but I couldn’t… reach her” Peter tried to explain how the illusions had messed up with his head, and hadn’t let him save you. “Then – the train, I was hit by a train and I fell unconscious. I woke up before I called you”

“And that guy still has Y/N” Happy finished for him, and Peter nodded.

The shadow of you reaching for him, in Beck’s grasp, just before the train ran him over clouded if eyes. Peter wondered if you knew he was alive; you hadn’t known he was Spiderman until that night, and his powers were still some mystery for him sometimes. He wondered, too, if you were alive. If Beck wanted to, he could have killed you just after the crash.

But his ‘peter tingle’ told him you were still alive, with Beck, in case the plan had gone wrong and Peter came back. That was, probably, what scared him the post. That you would have to endure just an inch of what the illusions made to him.

Peter pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes and rubbed them until he saw white spots, and then looked up to Happy.

“I don’t know what to do, Happy” Peter wasn’t afraid of sounding weak, or childish, in front of him. The man sighed. “I just – I just want her back”

“You’re Spiderman. She counts on you” Happy told him with a small smirk, and his eyes were the most real thing Peter had seen since the fight with Mysterio. “You’ll figure something out”

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

That Flash had a public account with no self-preservation, where he announced himself the biggest fan of spiderman and uploaded the most embarrassing things, came in handy. Peter decided to take care of the suit while Happy drove them to London, where the students were and where he hoped Mysterio would be. Ned also knew about the fiasco of the monsters, and probably MJ did too, so they were probably a threat too.

The suit he was creating was nothing like the old one. He decided to go with the original colours, eliminating the blue and using only black and red. He added a few new webs designs he was working with Tony the last time in the lab, something similar to a parachute so that he could fly down from the plane, and a thicker cloth around his body so that he wouldn’t be defeated so easily.

Like last time. Where he had seen you for the last time.

Breathing through his mouth and giving Happy a hesitant thumb up, he decided to rip the band-aid at once, jumping out without looking back. Suddenly, he was surrounded by air, clouds and pressure. Peter fell through the sky like a crumb, right into the bigger mess he had seen in a long time.

A bus was in flames, flying in the sky and being torn apart like if it was made of clay. People were running everywhere, screaming and looking for their loved ones. As Peter went down, he could see more of the scenario; like Ned gripping Betty’s arm with one hand and leading MJ away with the other, or Mr Harrington trying to calm everyone down while screeching like a fire alarm.

Peter landed on the top of the bridge, hidden from plain sight but still in a good position to see everything above him. Like, Mysterio controlling the drones with a big helmet from inside the glass tunnel, while gripping your arm and dragging you around. He sucked in a breath as he quickly searched for any injuries. You seemed fine, wearing the same floral drees you had been wearing for the opera, then stained by grease and blood. Your hair, that had been pulled up, was obstructing your face as you tried to break free from Mysterio.

But you were alive, still having the will to fight against him, and Peter could almost laugh in relief. He didn’t waste much time in relaxing, instead going for the plan that he had made up in the short trip there.

“Happy?” he muttered against his earpiece. “I – Y/N is down there”

“That’s good, kid” Happy muffled voice came through the earpiece. “You know the plan then. Turn off the earpiece and cause a distraction. I’ll be waiting on the ground, just bring her to me and I’ll put her to safety”

“Alright” Peter smiled shakily. For a moment, he hesitated. He knew he was far from just a kid, but he had really, really wanted to be a trip without any problem. Where he could talk about his feelings with you, and maybe kiss you. His hand trembled for a second; then he pressed the earpiece. “See you in a minute”

The lines of drones designed to protect Mysterio failed to detect Peter when he entered into the cloud, and the boy let his mouth hang open. There were, at least, one thousand drones flying around an open air, shooting and creating an illusion for the rest of the world. In the middle, stood the real Beck, talking angrily with someone and still holding your arm.

From where he stood on one of the drones, he could see some kind of wound on your ankle, that stopped you from moving freely. Peter gripped the end of the drone where he was resting with so much force that the mental bended under his fingers, and he had to stop himself before throwing everything through the roof. Instead of just going for Beck, he focused on the drones.

They seemed to be following a path. Move left twice, then right once, up and down three times. The plan was simple; destroy one of them so that Beck would be forced to check it out, and use the opportunity to lower you to Happy, who would put you in a safe place while Peter ended up the fight.

Peter decided to go with one that seemed lonely. It was probably in charge of something small, like the monster’s finger or his eye. He threw an explosive web to it and hid under the glass bridge when it exploded. From there, he could hear everything.

“No, I want the cape – what was that?” Beck turned around like a maniac, hissing venom into the earpiece. “Why the fuck has a drone exploded?! I said I wanted a perfect job this time!”

A unintelligible response came out of Beck’s helmet, too low even for Peter’s ear to pick up. He watched, from his place under a piece of metal, how his face became redder and redder until a vein popped out of his neck. It seemed that Peter was finally seeing Beck’s true face; a mad man that couldn’t control his emotions.

“I don’t care! I don’t – if this goes wrong, you’re dead! You hear me?! I’m gonna fucking rip you apart!” he threatened into the earpiece. Peter winced each time you were shaken around like a piece of rag, but forced himself to stay in place. “Like everything, I’ll go and solve it. But be fucking prepared for when I come back”

Beck took out the earpiece and threw it over the bridge, emitting a low grunt. Your lip trembled and more tears fell down your cheeks when his grip on your arm became more rough. Over the past few hours, you had cried, begged, yelled, insulted, sassed and said everything you could think of to the man. Still, the only thing you had received had been a nasty bruise on your cheek and a hard stamp on your foot that probably was broken.

“Now, listed to me” Beck kneeled in front of you and frowned. When he talked, spit hit your cheek. “You stay here. Quiet, still and being a good girl. If I find you an inch to the left, I’m going to throw you to the river tied to a drone. And that’s not gonna feel nice. You hear me?”

“Yes” you answered, knowing that if you didn’t he would only get angrier. “Yes, I won’t – I won’t move”

“I know you won’t” Beck scoffed, and inched closer. “But if by any chances certain spider boy comes around, you will stay put too. Because I don’t think his body would take two thousand drones shooting at him, alright?”

You nodded quickly and another sob rose up your throat. Beck got up and dragged you to the side of the bridge. He didn’t bother in tying you, because he had played with your mind enough times to know you wouldn’t move.

A drone appeared in front of him, simulating a small platform where he could step on. Beck spared you a final glare and drifted away into the mass of drones.

Peter, still hidden under the bridge, saw his chance and crawled up to where you were. He took his mask off with one hand and clenched his jaw. His body hurt and his spidey sense was screaming at him to leave, but he kept moving until he was besides you. He took a second to look at you thoughtfully; from head to toe, from how your hair was messy from being dragged and the way you hugged yourself.

It took him a while to move, because he could feel the panic attack rise to his throat, and the bile with it. He was tempted to turn to the side and empty what he had left in his stomach, but swallowed and gave you a hesitant smile. You didn’t move, neither, and he was afraid you thought he wasn’t real. Been there, done that.

“Hey” he whispered, and stepped – or crawled, since he was still in fours – forwards. “Hey, Y/N. It’s me”

“Oh my god” you squealed out, and unfolded the protective shell you had created around your body to put your hands on your mouth. “Oh my –“

“I know, I know” he stopped you, and looked quickly around to check Beck was still busy. “But I’m here. I’m – I’m real. And I can prove it! Ask me –“

“Oh my god, you’re alive!”

Peter barely could do anything before your body crushed into him. He wasn’t prepared for it, so he fell onto his butt and caught both of your bodies with his elbow. Swallowing the hiss of pain, he wrapped his free arm around your middle and hid his face on your neck.

Suddenly, he felt like a kid.

Spiderman wasn’t supposed to do that, but Peter let the first sob break through his throat and pressed you tighter against his body. Time was hot on your trails, and Peter knew that; yet he only took shaky breaths against your neck. You were talking, saying something about Beck, your class and the drones. It was all white noise, compared to his heart beating loudly against his ears.

You smelt like blood, sweat and Beck. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, because Peter was sensitive to them and, after hours of captivity, they weren’t nice. Behind them, there was also your natural smell, the one he found himself sniffling in class when you sat in front of him. It was there, just like Peter’s sanity, hanging by a thread.

Slowly, Peter pulled you back until your faces were only inches apart. He had to shift his gaze to see your features, and his lip shook dangerously. There were tears on his cheeks, and his eyes were glossy.

“I’m gonna get you out of here” Peter whispered. He didn’t want to sound weak, but it seemed that he was the one seeking your comfort. “I – Happy is down there, and he’ll take you to a safe place. I’m sorry… I couldn’t save you. Sorry.”

“It’s okay” you reassured him. “You’re saving me now, Spiderman.”

“But I couldn’t – “

“We can discuss it later” you cut him off with a small wet laugh. “I think I’m going into cardiac arrest if I spend one more second here”

Peter nodded once, twice and a last one more firmly. He got up and helped you to stand by his side, your ankle making your lean against him. Again, with just one hand, he put on his mask and jumped out of the bridge in a blink of an eye. Wind rushed past him like the familiar feeling he was used to, and he felt as if he was just in Queens, swinging back to his apartment after a rough patrol.

The occasional yelp from you and threat woke him up from his daydream.

He landed in an alley, away from the mess and destruction. Happy was waiting for you like the loyal friend he was, with a black car already on and a gun ready on his shelter. The plan was to run in the opposite direction, run by a hospital in case it was needed, and wait for Peter to go back home. It was a rushed plan, open to many problems and obstacles, hence the gun, but Peter didn’t have anything else. With a sigh, he unwrapped his arm from your waist and let you catch your breath.

“Peter – that was – we were, they were just seconds!” you smacked his shoulder lightly, and Peter didn’t have the heart to tell you it had been stitched in the ride there. “Why didn’t – I’m taking so many advantage of that.”

“We can… talk about that. At home” Peter said, voice muffled under the mask. He didn’t want to risk breaking down again, so he didn’t take off the mask. “I’ll see you there. I have, you know, to go back”

“I guess” you shuddered, and Happy honked. Neither of you cared. “Be careful”

“I will”

There went his plan, probably. The beautiful blue necklace he had brought you in Venice was probably destroyed in his backpack, wherever it was then. The kiss, shattered by an improvised kidnapping. His date, ruined by a mad murderer. And the girl he wanted to do all of that with, in front of him ready to go home.

Peter swallowed around nothing, because his throat felt dry.

“I, uh, we could do that again. No the swinging. The – the other part” Peter blushed under the mask, and you raised a brow.

“The part you got it by a train? Or the kidnapping?” you teased.

“No! No that’s – isn’t happening again. I promise. Never, ever again” Peter shook his head and raised his hands. “Like in a million years? Never. I’m sorry. Not that, it shouldn’t –“

Happy honked again, and both of you jumped a bit. He shouted something to Peter and signalled inside of the car and behind you. The place wasn’t ideal, but neither was probably kissing Spiderman. After all, you had just been kidnapped and Peter was going to risk his life for the sake of the humanity.

So nothing wasn’t ideal, but Peter wasn’t either, and that was where the magic of things laid.

There was a sudden breeze hitting the lower part of his face, and the mask rested uncomfortably against the bruises on his cheeks. Shivers ran down his spine and for a moment he was afraid, because his vison was being blocked because of the mask and his ears were covered. Probably a second before having a breakdown, he felt your lips on his.

They were soft but decisive, your hand cradling the back of his head. It wasn’t as good as what he had planned, yet he could live with that. Leaning forward and ignoring Happy’s indignant shout, he responded to the kiss. There were no fireworks or angels singings, and his body still hurt from the beating. Nothing was being solved by kissing, but he surely felt a lot better.

The kiss was awkward because of the mask, and Peter was too petrified to even think about removing it. One of his hands was resting on your hip, while the other just clenched and unclenched at his side. Your fingers cradled the baby hairs of his neck and he shudder, making you smile and push yourself tighter against his.

As quickly as it had come, it went away. You stepped back, lowered his mask and the world screamed for him again. Peter wasn’t sure, for a second, that it had been real; but then he saw the blush of your cheeks, the angry-proud smirk in Happy’s face, and the tingling on the tips of his fingers.

“Yeah, we can repeat this later” you said, and kissed his masked cheek. If he hadn’t had the mask, he would probably had been as red as it. “See you later, Peter”

Not the first date he had imagined, but he was fairly okay with it.

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