#but like. who the fuck puts a box of pasta with the boxes of tea
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I go into my pantry, and I say, "Oh no, pookie, what did they do to you?" and my pantry does not reply (because it is a pantry)
#my family made the worst decision making me the one responsible for the pantry bc now i get mad as hell when things are out of place#its still a work in progress obviously bc theres so much shit on the ground level that idk what to do it#but like. who the fuck puts a box of pasta with the boxes of tea#and salsa with the ice cream toppings like these bitches are TRYING to make me mad#amd the ice cream cones taken out of the ice cream section like ooooh im gonna start biting#i have. issues probably#i just have a very specific way or organizing things that like. makes sense to me bc i live in my head#same shit is always happening in my minifridge as well#like my mom will put smth in there and then i open it and look and gasp in horror#pixie fever ; angel dust
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Random headcanons that I'm writing down 'cause I got writer's block for the kink headcanons.
Thanks to @devilgirlnq for the help 💞.
Tora listens to Evanescence and has a MySpace account.
Kei is a tsundere, that's the tweet.
Ken uses 2in1 shampoo 😔.
Taka... For some reason I see him being lowkey a christian???
Fuyu acts all confident and shit with love when "advicing" Michi but if he has a crush he just goes 🧍🏻♂️ and will NEVER approach you.
Shin is actually not shy at all, we love flustered Shin, but I firmly believe he's just chill with everything.
Akkun is probably the best husband, ngl. He's stable, has a work/life balance...
Mikey has a special corner on his blanket/towel that he chews on.
Souya has to set ALL his stuffies on the bed when he goes to sleep 'cause if not he feels bad for them.
Hakkai and Nahoya sleep like in a starfish position, they sprawl all over the bed, blankets stuck to their limbs, just a mess.
Mikey and Senju drool in their sleep. (So do Shin, Michi...)
Taiju sleeps like a vampire or corpse or something, kinda creepy.
Ran wears a silk bonnet and eyemask to bed. (He's so babygirl)
Ran used to get up in the middle of the night and check if Rin was still breathing 😭.
In the last timeline, Emma got cute overalls to match the vibe when hanging out at Shin's shop, then used them when "helping" Ken (talking his ears off).
Taka and Kei are the ones that respect women the most tbh. Mikey and Ken are cool too, just... Kinda old school? Women need protection 'cause they're weaker and shit? But with good intentions.
Ken is the dad friend, Taka the mom friend, Mikey, Kei, Nahoya and Tora are the bastard children, Peh and Pah the pet chihuahuas.
Mikey didn't one day decide to let his hair grow, he just was too lazy to go get a haircut and it just ended up as we know it.
I can imagine that if shin had a daughter he would go see lil Izana at the orphanage to show him his niece while Kakucho looks in awe along with him.
Ran would definitely give his daughter those black sun glasses to wear... As a toddler.
Koko's son is a fashion icon.
Mikey can't have children, he is the baby.
Draken is so girl dad.
Koko's son knows how to strut.
The machoman dressed like a fairy having a tea party... That's mochi.
MUCHO TOO. Man will look so intimidating with makeup smeared all over his face by his daughter.
He walks down the street at a fair or smth with his two girls one on each hand, stern expression fairy wings and glittery makeup.
I see Taka not having children until he's older maybe.
He had enough kids already lmao.
Wait till marriage type of man (for kids, not sex lmao.)
The *gets closer* "can I kiss you?" Is Taka in the beginning of the relationship.
Shion looks like the type to be so competitive when playing pretend kitchen with their child.
HE CORRECTS HER COOKING BUT IT'S A 3YO PLAYING WITH PLASTIC.
When in real life he can burn the dam kitchen.
Cooked dry pasta but didn't know you needed to boilt it.
Just put it in the pot.
You come back after being out for the day and find Shion asleep on the floor next to the couch, mouth open, with your kid sprawled on his chest, the house a mess, and fast food boxes around.
The state of the kitchen shows he tried
Almost all of them are girl dads.
Not because of being good with women or anything.
But because they all give gay vibes. (I'm joking... Mostly)
Hakkai ain't having kids.
He's a single, childless gay.
He's like fuck them kids, respectfully.
Hanma... Why do I see him having old parents or a grandpa.
His parents had him when they were in their 30s/40s.
Probably parents don't even live where he lives 'cause they don't give a shit or are dead.
Or both lmao.
He gives unsupervised vibes.
He probably got kicked out or snuck out and lived in the streets somewhere.
He's one of the many characters who doesn't get holydays or bds celebrated at home.
I see him living alone somewhere.
Maybe the streets, staying over places.
Or a house that used to belong to a relative.
Or abandoned place.
He slept on the bus stop benches.
But like, he has money for cigs.
He steals or pickpockets.
Maybe some deals, betting... Doesn't even cheat, he's just good and lucky.
Beats people up for money too.
And has senpaiis is the delinquent world.
That's how he got his bike.
I headcanon him and Tetta go hang out and eat sometimes with Tetta's excuse being having to strategize.
And Tetta always pays.
He just does it, before Shu can't even say or do anything.
Shu probably gets seconds yet Kisaki is so used to it he doesn't question it. Just scoffs at him but nevertheless still pays.
He scolds him for eating like a pig but then side eyes him worriedly if he eats less.
And goes like "It's rude to not even eat what I'm getting you".
Will NEVER say that he just worries about him lmao.
Mikey needs a photographer for something as a racer and before Koko recommends someone Tetta goes "I'll call Hanma." And leaves.
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Lover Like Me pt 13 | Feysand
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 ** Part 14
In the end, I don’t go with him. None of us do, even though there’s a whole group discussion about it during the week.
“Don’t go.” Mor is cold and certain. For someone who is usually so warm, it shocks me how flat and unforgiving her eyes are. I am reminded that Mor, and only Mor, has already met Rhys’s father.
We’re sitting in Rhys’s living room like usual, but the boxes of pizza are growing cold and somehow I don’t think there’s going to be a Disney movie tonight. Mor had been relaxing next to Cassian on the couch, but since Rhys told them about the call from the hospital, she’s gone stiff and hasn’t moved. Azriel is leaning against the wall, and I’m perched on the kitchen counter next to Rhys. I slide my fingers under the hem of his t-shirt, and don’t say anything. I just watch Mor, and the fury in the straightness of her spine.
“I mean he has to go, right?” Cassian, on the other hand, is all open handed and frank faced. I think I will always love him, for that. “I never met my dad and I hope he’s miserable out there. But if I had the chance, to meet him just once…”
“It’s not the same,” Mor hisses back. “The worst your dad did was fuck off. The worst this guy has done…” she trails off. I notice how white her knuckles have gone around her mug, and I don’t think I want to hear the end of the sentence.
“What are you thinking, Rhys?” Azriel, as ever, keeps his own opinion to himself. Rhys just rubs his face in his hands.
“I don’t know,” he confesses. “This is likely the last time the decision will be mine.”
Rhys’s pizza is untouched, and in the ensuing silence I pick up a piece and hold it to his lips. He gives me a small smile and takes a bite, to humour me. He hasn’t eaten all day, and there’s a mug of tea gone cold on his bench top. My slice is only nibbled, but Rhys is bigger than me and I’m convinced he needs the nourishment more than I do.
Cassian is having no such trouble.
“So we’ll all come with you,” he says, his mouth full. That’s his natural state. Rhys shakes his head.
“No,” he says slowly. “I think… I think I want to go alone.”
“So you’re going, then,” Azriel says, after a moment.
There’s another heavy pause, and then Rhys nods. I look at Mor, and her face is stony as I’ve ever seen it, but she says nothing.
And that’s that.
The others go home after dinner, and I put the uneaten pizza in the fridge while Rhys has a long shower. I wash up his mug and a few other bits and pieces in the sink, and then sit on his bed on my phone until he comes out.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask quietly, when Rhys sits down heavily on the bed. He blinks at me in confusion.
“Why would I want that?”
“I thought maybe you’d want some time to yourself…”
But Rhys pulls me under the blankets and buries his face in my neck. “Stay,” he says, and so I do.
Rhys’s skin is warm from the shower, his hair is damp and clean and smells like his shampoo. It’s quickly become the most comforting scent to me and I’d start using it myself, just so I can smell it around me when he’s not there, if he hadn’t told me how much he likes my shampoo, too.
I turn the lights out, and we make love without words but with many silent things passed between our mouths that mean more than the things we could say out loud.
Rhys doesn’t go the next day, or the day after. On one of the nights, I come home after work and I can hear him and Mor arguing loudly in his apartment. It’s not something I feel I have a part in, so I don’t go in, but even from my house I can hear Mor shouting. And after a while, a third, murmuring voice. When she finally storms out, I look out my window and see Azriel follow her quietly to her place.
Rhys walks through my door a little while after that, and I hand him a bowl of pasta. We don’t talk about their fight.
On Thursday night he makes up his mind, and on Friday morning he’s up early like usual so all I tell him is “good luck,” and he kisses my mouth before he leaves.
When I wake up an hour after that, I go to work and all day I keep checking my phone for updates. None come. I send a few texts early on- “how are you feeling?” “Text me when you get there,” “I’m here to talk if you need to call”- but get no response. It’s unreasonable for me to wait for them; I imagine he’s driving for the most part and not feeling chatty the rest. But I still do, and when the message comes, hours later, it’s not from Rhys. It’s Azriel.
Azriel: He’s back. He’s at work.
I tap out my reply fast.
Feyre: He’s at work? He’s not taking the rest of the day off?
I quickly do the math in my head- if Rhys is back by now, he must have spent less than an hour at the hospital. Did that mean things went well, or very badly?
“Guess not,” is all Azriel says. Then he sends me the address of the auto shop, and a quick Google tells me a bus will get me there in twenty. I make my excuses to my coworker, and she waves me off. I’m grateful the store is quiet, but I’d have left even if it wasn’t.
When I get to the shop, I see Cassian, Mor and Azriel all standing in a knot by the door.
“Hey, Feyre,” Cassian greets me.
It’s a bright sunny day and the three of them are in dark blue jumpsuits that have the shop’s logo embroidered on the chest. Cassian has his hair bundled on top of his head, and he gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“How is he?”
Rhys’s friends just glance at each other, and they look as worried as I feel. It’s not reassuring.
“Hard to say,” Cassian tells me. “He hasn’t said anything, he just turned up and started working. We didn’t expect him in today at all.”
“He shouldn’t have fucking gone,” Mor says. “I told him not to go. Nothing good happens when that man is in Rhys’s life.”
I look from one to the other. Mor’s blonde ponytail swings as she shakes her head. She’s wearing a stained white tank top under her jumpsuit, with the buttons are undone and the sleeves pushed up to the elbows. Even in my harried state I manage to notice she looks incredible even in greasy work clothes. I realise that I’ve never been to Rhys’s work place, even though this is where my friends all spend most of their day.
“We’ve been trying to check on him, but I don’t think he wants to talk,” Cassian says, breaking me out of my rambling reverie. I notice I’m chewing on my thumb nail, and pull it out of my mouth.
“What should I do?” I ask him. He shrugs.
“Maybe he’ll talk to you.”
“It’s worth a try,” Mor says. “We’re mostly done for the day, but we can stick around and try to help…” She glances at Cassian, and I can feel how helpless they’re feeling.
“No it’s okay, you guys go. I’ll talk to him.”
Cassian clasps my shoulder on his way out, and Mor throws me a look that is part sympathetic, and part grateful. I think, don’t thank me yet. I don’t know what I can do for Rhys that his friends couldn’t.
And then only Azriel is left, leaning against the door frame.
“Thanks for texting me,” I say to him. Azriel just looks at me, with that unreadable stare of his.
“I thought you’d want to be here,” he says. “But… there’s some things you should know about Rhys. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time together. I’m sure you’ve gotten to know him pretty well.”
I wait. Azriel sighs.
“He’s not… himself right now,” he tells me.
I cock my head and gaze back at Rhys’s friend. I wonder who he’s trying to protect right now- me, or Rhys. I think he’s sweet either way.
“There are three levels of Rhys being upset,” I say, matter-of-factly. “Level one, he’s grumpy but you can fix him with a cup of tea and a sleeve of cookies. Level two, he’s mad, but he's distractable and it’s usually a good idea to get his… heart rate up.” A hint of a smile warms Azriel’s face. “Level three, things have gone very wrong. At this level, Rhys likes... hurt.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath, and the warmth disappears.
“I know I’ve only known Rhys for a few months, but my tactic is to work my way up the list until of one those things sticks. Did I miss anything?”
Azriel says nothing for a moment, and then eventually shakes his head. “No,” he says. “That is correct.” He pauses again. “And you still want to go in there?”
“I do.”
Azriel still doesn’t move. I soften, and think that maybe Azriel is usually the one who takes on Rhys at level three. I can see Mor and Cassian putting the kettle on and sparring but Azriel… I look at my feet, then take a step closer. I make the confession under my breath.
“Sometimes, I like hurt, too.”
I look up at him, and he’s reassessing. I don’t know what conclusion he draws, but he pushes off the door and walks away.
I’m surprised when I feel the squeeze of his hand on mine, just briefly, as he goes.
I pass through the front office and into the shop out the back. The room opens up into a huge space with bright fluorescent lights and concrete walls. There are a large number of tools and other objects I can’t identify on hooks and shelves, and two cars up near the ceiling. I can’t see Rhys, but I can hear the clink of metal on metal echoing through the space.
I walk around, taking in my surroundings for a while. I make sure my footsteps make noise, so that Rhys knows I’m here, and my eyes run over the stacks of tyres, the red and black pillars of the hoists, and the strangeness of having several tonnes of vehicle suspended above head height. I even find what I assume is Rhys’s motorcycle, tucked against a far wall. I walk toward the clinking instead.
“They’ve all gone, have they?” Rhys asks. I still can’t see him.
“Yes,” I tell him. “It’s just me.”
There’s a tension hanging heavy in the atmosphere, another fume in the oily air. I can taste it coating my tongue, and I can see why I found his friends all standing outside. Bad, then. Things went badly, with his father.
“Good,” Rhys comments. “They were annoying me.”
There’s a loud clang as he drops his tool into a box nearby, and then he steps out from behind the car he was working on. He’s wiping his hands on a rag, and I just stand and wait. Rhys has the arms of his jumpsuit tied around his waist, and he’s in one of his black singlets. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his bare arms, and a stray curl is falling in his eyes. On the surface he looks calm, but there’s something beneath that, something that my brain doesn’t have a name for but my body is responding to. Run, it’s saying, but it’s not clarifying in which direction. I keep standing still.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how it went?” he says. His voice is flat and cold.
“Only if you want to tell me,” I respond. Rhys throws the rag on a table, and sighs.
“Can I tell you about it later?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know what I actually feeling like doing right now?”
“Tell me.”
“I feel like tying you to this hoist and fucking you till you scream.”
The air goes out of my lungs so fast.
My head empties, my toes curl, and I just think, Is that all it takes, with us? I shouldn't be surprised, by now.
I blush at the thought of anyone else possibly overhearing us, I know the guys have gone but I don’t know if anyone else works here, or if his boss is somewhere out of sight or…. But I’m looking at Rhys and he’s looking at me and he shares none of my concerns.
I take one step to the left, my knees only just holding me up, and put my hand on one of the black pillars. I look at it; the painted surface is shiny and cold under my fingers. I was never too good with words, anyway.
“This one?” I ask, much more casually than I feel.
“Well the other two are holding cars up.” Rhys starts walking toward me- stalking is more like it, he’s got that predatory look in his eye that makes me convinced that any second he’s going to sprout wings and fangs. My heart thunders in my ears.
“I guess that’s true.”
There a primal instinct somewhere in my brain that has me backing away, even though I know I look ridiculous hiding behind the post.
“Where are you going?” he asks. His voice has dropped to that low place that sends skitters up my spine. I step again, rounding the pillar, but he keeps coming.
“Just… admiring the machinery. Never been in a garage before.”
Rhys is standing right in front of me now, but there’s a red metal arm between us, jutting out from the post about the height of my waist. He leans his forearm against the pillar, right by my head, and leans in close.
“Put your hands on the bar, Feyre.”
I do it, and grip it so that Rhys can’t see the tremor. I’m not afraid of him, it’s just that my adrenalin spikes when he gets like this and… the anticipation is as potent as fear itself.
“Stay there.”
Rhys steps away and returns with a length of strap. He winds it around my wrists and binds me to the red bar. Then he walks behind me, and when I can’t see him my heartrate kicks even higher. I don’t know how close he is to me until I feel his breath on my ear.
“Good girl,” he croons. I shiver.
I’m convinced he’s going to bend me over just like this, but then there’s just silence and cold air. I’ve just started to wonder where he’s gone, when I’m startled by a loud noise. It’s a sort of grinding sound, and before I can guess what it might be, the bar under my hands starts to move. I whip my head around, and find Rhys several paces away with his thumb on a green button and his eyes watching me like I’m his next meal.
I watch him back at first, but then I look back toward the red bar because it’s risen to eye height. I’m leaning against it still, because my legs are jelly. But the bar keeps rising, and my arms are lifted above my head. I’m stretched out, I’m on my tiptoes. Just before I’m lifted clean off my feet, the grinding noise stops, and everything is still again. I can just barely put weight in the balls of my feet.
“Rhys…”
He comes back to stand before me, hands behind his back and something taunting in the corner of his mouth.
“Comfortable, Feyre darling?”
No. I stick my chin out. “Very,” I say coolly, and he chuckles.
“Good.”
At that moment, there’s the bright ding of a desk bell, and I realise that Azriel hadn’t turned the Open sign around when he left. Rhys looks toward the sound.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he says, and gives me a cruel smile. Prick.
Rhys walks out to the office, and I’m just left there to hang.
He’s gone for what must be a few minutes but feels like an age, and I can hear muted voices in the adjoining room. A laugh, even, and I’m a little scandalised that Rhys can put on his friendly customer-service voice while I’m tied up in the shop only meters away. For a second, I have the mortifying thought that he might bring someone through while I’m suspended here, but I quickly banish it. Rhys wouldn’t humiliate me like that. Would he?
Finally he returns, and as he walks toward me he pulls another strap off the wall and slings it over his shoulder.
“Now,” he says, inches from my face. He slides his hands into his pockets. “Where were we?”
“Hope you’re not turning down business on my account,” I say. It’s all bravado, of course, but the last thing Rhys needs is to think I’m scared of him.
“I told him to come back tomorrow,” Rhys replies. “But I can call him back if you really want.” He leans in close. “If you’re not satisfied with just one of me.”
I just shrug- or I try to, but my shoulders are already up by my ears and starting to ache. Rhys laughs at me. He steps back, and begins to walk around me again. When he can’t see my face, I quietly blow a breath out. I’m trying to remain calm, but I’m so completely out of my depth. I’m strung up, pushing up on my tiptoes to relieve the pressure on my wrists, and he’s circling me with eyes that devour. I still can’t see him, but suddenly there’s a breath on the back of my neck. His hand lands on the side of my throat, thumb in the base of my skull and a long forefinger over my windpipe. He puts his teeth on the join of my shoulder, and he’s hard against my backside.
“Mmm I like you like this,” he murmurs, and the rumble in his voice has me arching against him. He’s finally touching me, and it’s not enough. I shudder, and he squeezes my throat before letting go and I’m cold all over.
Next thing I know, his lips touch the nape of my neck, and his hands are sliding up the sides of my thighs. They’re so warm against my skin, under my dress, and then brushing over my stomach. My hands twitch but of course I can’t touch him back. He hooks his fingers into the band of my underwear and then tugs them down; threads my feet through to get them off me. They go into the pocket of his jumpsuit.
Next, Rhys walks around in front of me again, but he’s not looking at my face. He slowly starts to undo the buttons down the front of my dress, enough to get his hands over my bra, and exhales through his teeth when he squeezes my breasts.
“Yeah,” he says, “I should have gotten you in here ages ago.”
“You can walk circles around me at home,” I shoot back, and I’m just mad because he isn’t kissing me. Rhys’s eyes darken.
“I had a few other things planned,” he tells me, and then he rips my dress the rest of the way open so buttons clatter to the floor.
“I liked this dress,” I hiss. I’m goading him and I know it. Come on, I think. I can take it.
“I like it better this way.”
He gathers the two sides up in his hands and ties them in a knot at my stomach.
“You’ll pay for a new one,” I say.
“And you’ll pay for giving me lip.” The strap slides from his shoulder and into his hands.
“Do it,” I spit. And quicker than I thought possible, the strap lashes out and strikes across my lower belly. I gasp at the sudden pain, but it settles into a heat somewhere behind my navel. I shouldn’t be surprised by now that it feels good. Rhys laughs darkly, and begins to circle again.
“Want another one?” he purrs. I grit my teeth.
“Yes,” I choke out.
The strap lands again, this time against my bare ass. Electricity snaps hot over my skin. I cry out, and then bite my lip against it. When he whips me again, I hold the sound behind my teeth.
“Oh come now,” Rhys says. He grips my throat again, and pulls me back against his body. “Don’t be a spoil-sport.” His voice sinks low. “Moan for me.” And then he drops the strap and smacks me with his hand. My jaw drops open and I didn’t need his instruction- the moan is involuntary.
“Good girl,” he says at my ear, and the next slap stings near the join at the top of my leg. I moan again, as every hair on my body stands on end, and I’m rewarded with soothing circles rubbed over the reddened skin. It lasts only a few seconds before I’m spanked a fifth time, and this time when he does it his teeth sink into my shoulder. He rubs over the sore spot again.
“So fucking good,” he praises, and his thumb strokes the side of my neck in time with his hand on my ass. “You like being spanked like that?” he asks. I don’t respond, but his fingers move over my hip and between my legs and he finds his answer.
“Fuck Feyre,” he growls. “If I’d known I could get you so wet by smacking your ass…”
His hand leaves my throat so he can spank me again on the other cheek, a fresh pain, while the other hand starts to move where it is. I moan louder now, and hope to god he’s locked the front office up. He strokes over my clit while he squeezes my backside where he hit me, and I’m turning to liquid under his touch.
“Do you even know what you do to me?” Rhys mutters. I’m losing coherence and he’s talking about what I’m doing to him? He grips my hip and grinds into my ass while he touches me, the solid line of him pushing against me hard enough to bruise. Point made.
“I have some idea,” I tease, but it comes out breathy. His fingers speed up on my clit, and I lose my legs entirely. The strap cuts into my wrists but I barely feel it.
“Doubtful,” is all he says, and his hand moves lower. His fingers push inside me but the heel of his palm keeps contact with my clit. There's a soft groan from behind me as he slides in to his knuckles. He’s rubbing his cock against my ass as his fingers move in and out, and then his teeth and tongue are roving over the back of my neck.
“Shit Rhys,” I gasp, and I can hear his breathing labour, too.
“Wanna fuck you so bad, Feyre,” he says. And I fucking wish he would but I can’t string the words together to tell him. Then he spanks me again as he curls his fingers inside me, and suddenly I’m right on the edge. “If I keep doing that will you come?” he asks me. My mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Shall I do it and find out?”
He hits me again and I feel it all the way up my spine. My head falls back against his shoulder and his lips move against my ear.
“Shall I count how many it takes?” My toes clench in my shoes. "How many are we up to now?" he muses. The next word is a growl. “Six.”
The slap lands across the low part of my ass, and all the while his other hand keeps moving between my legs. I cry out, and he kisses me gently on the side of my throat.
“Seven.”
The sharp of the pain bleeds into a heat that suffuses through to my belly, and the more I feel the more the world fades away, and it’s just him and me and the tightening spiral in my core.
“Eight.”
My breaths are short and shallow, and when my mouth opens again I’m barely making a sound. His fingers are speeding up, and my skin is getting raw, but I’m pushing my toes into the ground to arch up toward the next slap.
“Nine.”
This one stings so much my eyes are watering, and yet the sharper the feeling under his hand the stronger feeling between my legs, and I'm shivering, I’m clenching around his fingers as they move in and out of me.
“Ten-” And that’s the one. I’m coming hard, I’m crying and the sobs compete with the moans in my throat. I’m shaking so much Rhys has wrapped an arm around my middle to take some of my weight since I can’t put my feet flat on the ground, and it feels like he’s the only thing holding me together.
“That’s my fucking girl,” Rhys is mumbling, but I can barely hear him because I’m pretty sure I’m floating outside of my body somewhere near the ceiling.
I don’t know how long it takes me to come back down, but when I do Rhys is still holding me up and he’s pressing soft kisses over my neck and my ears. When I’m able to lift my head and look at him, he catches my mouth with his and licks my tongue and my teeth as he kisses me.
Eventually Rhys lets me go, slowly so as not to jar my shoulders, and my arms ache again when I’m holding my own weight. But it’s only for a second, because he steps round to face me and wraps my legs around his waist. He holds me up again and kisses me, lush and slow. Does it for so long that before I know it, I’m rolling my hips into him and the kiss gets dirtier, hungrier, toothier. I want to touch him so badly, to wrap my arms around his neck and get my fingers in his hair. To get him out of that gods-damned jumpsuit. All I can do is whine like a tied-up pet.
Fortunately, Rhys is as wound up as I am.
He lets go of me long enough to shove the front of his pants down, but he’s still got my weight because my ankles are crossed behind his back. He pulls himself out but then just rubs me with his fingers again, and it’s not what I want. I grip harder with my legs, trying to get his hips closer, and he seems to understand. Lines his cock up to my entrance and then gets his hands back on my ass and pushes me down on to himself.
“Christ Feyre…”
I share the sentiment. Rhys’s head drops down onto my shoulder as he sinks into me, all the way in. We just stay like that for a moment, breathing hard against each other, and then he’s pulling out and pushing back in. We both moan as he lands again, and he palms my breast under my ruined dress as he does it.
“Fuck you look good tied up like this,” he says.
He moves his hands back down so he can pull me onto himself by my ass.
“More,” I tell him on the exhale, and he snarls in reply and starts fucking me in earnest.
And as much as I’m frustrated that I can’t get my hands on him, the feeling of being at his mercy and letting him take exactly what he needs is strangely freeing. I have no thoughts toward what I should be doing because I can’t do anything, and all I have to do is take and feel and glory in the way that he moves.
Rhys shifts his hold so he’s got one arm cradling me, and with his free hand he grips the bar above my head. Now that he’s got more purchase, he’s pounding harder into me and I’m still helpless in his hold.
“I should keep you down here,” he says, but his words are slurring together. “Should bind you up so you can’t go anywhere, and I’ll fuck you just like this whenever I want…”
When he’s buried this deep inside me, I can’t say I’m opposed to the idea.
His hand slides down my spine and his fingers find the seam of my backside. I can feel the spread of his handprint holding me to him, and I can barely get a breath in when he's fucking me like this. He gets his mouth on mine and his kiss is as raw and obliterating as the sex.
“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come,” he says on my lips. I just tighten the grip of my legs and keep kissing him. “I want one more from you first,” he growls, but I shake my head and bite his lip. He starts to slow down but I keep moving my hips.
“Don’t you dare,” I grind out, and with a groan he picks up his pace again. He lets go of the bar and fists his fingers in my hair instead, and my breath catches as my head is pulled back.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please come, please I…”
Rhys lets out a snarl that rips through his teeth, and his hips snap forward so fast I can’t keep up. A bead of sweat runs cold between my breasts, I’m not sure if it’s from me or from him. His fingers dig into me and I only exist where he’s touching me, and then he’s roaring as he hits his climax and shudders hard into me.
I squeeze down on the bar under my hands as the waves of his pleasure rock through me, and I can’t breathe for how tightly he’s holding me. When he lets go of my hair I let my head fall onto his chest, and I can feel the beat of his heart under his tattoos. He kisses me, soft again, on the mouth and then with his tongue on my nipple and then in a line down my sternum. Gets on his knees, pulls my thighs over his shoulders so he’s still got my weight, and then kisses me right over my clit. I shiver, way too sensitive and tender from being fucked. He just chuckles and does it again.
“Rhys I can’t…”
He licks it this time and doesn’t seem to mind that I’ve still got his cum dripping out of me.
“I told you,” he says. “I want one more from you.”
And then he sucks my clit into his mouth and his tongue is relentless. He flicks it over and over me where I need it, and it only takes a few minutes before I’m coming again, my legs wrapped around his head and his hands curled around my thighs.
When I’ve finally stopped shaking, Rhys stands carefully and settles my legs around his hips again. He unties my hands, and my arms drop heavily around his neck. Completely boneless, I’m carried to a work bench and set down on it, before he finds a clean rag and gently wipes me off.
"You okay, sweetheart?"
I nod wearily, and give him a tired but true smile.
He gives me a spare jumpsuit to wear, since he’s ruined my dress, and then kisses my forehead.
“You were so, so good,” he murmurs. I just lean into him and let him hug me, while I breathe in the smell of grease and metal and Rhys. He lifts me again, and carries me to his car. Buckles me in, locks up the shop, and then holds my hand while he drives us home.
Hours later, after Rhys has put me in the shower and cooked me dinner and wrapped himself around me in his bed, he tells me.
“You can ask me, now,” he says. It takes me a moment, but I understand.
“How did it go?” I ask in the dark. He sighs.
“He’s dead.”
I turn around to face him, and he tangles our legs together. I hardly know what to say.
“Your dad died?”
“Yeah.”
I brush a curl from his forehead, and the words I’m sorry form in my mouth but I don’t know if they’d be right.
“Did you get to talk to him at all?”
“Sort of. He was pretty much gone by the time I got there, just pale and full of tubes. They said they were just keeping him breathing until I got there. So I said my goodbyes, and then he went.”’
“Did you get to tell him what you wanted to?”
Rhys shrugs. “I didn’t really plan what to say. The whole drive there I tried to, but I haven’t had anything to say to him in thirteen years. As much as I tried, I couldn’t come up with anything. Just figured… once I saw him, I might know. Or, he might say something, and then I’d have a response…”
“I’m sorry, Rhys.” I say it now, because I don’t know what else to say. The words never sound like enough, when someone is dead.
“I said, ‘You were a rotten father, and you couldn’t even stick around for me to tell it to you.’ Was that too harsh?”
Now it’s my turn to shrug. “It sounds like it was true.”
“And then they gave me a letter.”
“A letter?”
“A note, really. And his will.”
“What did the note say?”
“It said, ‘My son. I’ll be of more use to you dead than I was alive, but I’m sure you thought that anyway.’ And in the will he left me everything.”
“What?”
“I don’t know much about how he lived his last few years but I know he came from money. And there’s a massive house that I’m going to sell. So my dad is dead and suddenly I have more money than I know what to do with.”
“Rhys…”
“That’s a lot of conflicting things to feel, isn’t it?”
I bark a laugh. “It’s a few things.”
We lie in silence for a while, digesting the news. I think Rhys has been digesting all day.
“I’m buying the shop,” Rhys says. “For ma. And the others.”
“And here I thought I was going to buy it for you someday,” I tease.
“Well maybe I’ll give you the proceeds from the manor, in payment for my painting, and then you can buy the shop.” He gives me a sad smile, and I give him one back.
“And I’m going to get a house,” he says. “A real one, not a shit box. For me. And for you. If you’ll come with me. I know it's too soon, but it'll months from now anyway, maybe more..”
I put my hands on his face.
“I’d live with you in a shit box,” I say.
“You’ll never have to again,” he tells me, and then he kisses me so sweetly that I forgive him for keeping my underwear in his jumpsuit pocket.
****
The truth is, it didn't take me 2 months to write chapter 12 it took me this long to write this. It was in my head for so long and I just didn't have the juice to get it out, so I hope I did these babies justice. We're almost at the end, I just have to tell you the epilogue x
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @elentiya-whitethorn @rarephloxes @timesconvert @mis-lil-red @alerialumina
#feysand#feysand fic#acotar#it is SO LONG#like the longest chapter ive ever written#for the longest fic ive ever written#i think i'm just delirious at this point
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@artificeheart &&. said... ❝If you think about life like its just a big bowl of alphabet soup, everything starts to make sense.❞ (Aether // modern verse)
the burger wrapper crinkles as he takes another bite. it's a nice day — pleasantly warm, with enough clouds blocking the sun that he feels comfortable loitering around the roof of his apartment without worrying about COOKING himself to death. the streamer doesn't speak, mouth currently occupied with his lunch — though he does narrow his eyes at aether in such a way that guarantees he has words about that comment.
chew. swallow. ❝ alphabet soup? ❞ alphabet soup. ren makes a face — as if to purposefully exaggerate his confusion. ( although it's just as likely a genuine expression. ) ❝ explain. ❞ it sounds like a command. it is, though such demands are rendered toothless from the frequency at which they spill from the streamer's lips. he's just a bit irritating like that. ❝ are you comparing alphabet soup to tea leaves? or is this more of a mad libs type of situation? ❞ as he speaks, ren peers idly over the edge of the building. his eyes track the streets below — though what he's SEARCHING FOR, if anything, is still unclear. ❝ if you're trying to spin some sort of complex metaphor to make yourself sound smart, you really should have gone for something a little more distinguished than a meal for toddlers. ❞ not that he has any room to talk; a not-insubstantial portion of his diet comes from a box or can. sometimes he simply can't be bothered to put in the effort for anything else.
❝ i think life is more like spaghetti? ... long pasta. ❞ this is such a stupid conversation. he's kind of enjoying it. ❝ all tangled together in one chaotic, messy lump. ❞ a little ugly. a little strange. but maybe it tastes alright — and that's the part that matters. ( or it's undercooked and overly salty and terrible. )
ren blinks. ❝ hold that thought. ❞ there he is — there's that bastard deliveryman who always throws his packages like he's playing fucking skee-ball with them. the streamer snatches up a packet of mayo that came with his meal and tears it open with pointed teeth. then, squeezes its contents over the side of the building. he's quick to dart out of sight, waiting, waiting, waiting. it doesn't take very long; a faint stream of avian-directed CURSES rises from the ground below — and ren smirks, a degree of malice that borders on almost cartoonishly evil in the quirk of his lips. ❝ anyway. ❞ attention flicks back to his burger, and the streamer takes a triumphant bite. ❝ you were saying? ❞
#artificeheart#𝟎𝟏𝟕 : 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘳𝘺. ◟ v. modern .◝#( this entire conversation feels like the perfect encapsulation of modernverse's chaotic shitpost energies )
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August Contest Submission #3: Claim This Desire
Words: ca. 7,000
Setting: mAU
Lemon: lime
Content: language, sexual situations
This is a bad idea.
A monumentally, boneheaded, epically bad idea and I have only myself to blame. Why the fuck did I suggest just the two of us going away for a week to our parents’ cabin?
Alone.
Isolated.
By ourselves.
Did I mention this is a bad idea?
I take my time putting away the last of our groceries in the refrigerator in a futile attempt to distract myself from the sounds of Elsa moving around in the cabin’s only bedroom in which she is getting it ready for tonight. Barely audible humming floats out of the bedroom and the urge to flee completely drains from me. My sister only ever hums when she’s extremely happy. Now I feel guilty for wishing to not be here.
With the kitchen wiped down and the bags of groceries stowed away, I have nothing to do while I wait for Elsa to finish so I open a bag of green, gummy frogs. My dumb ass hadn’t read the online listing closely enough and accidentally bought twelve bags of Sharable Sized bags instead of twelve personal sized bags. I am now the proud owner of almost four pounds of gummy frogs. I’ll be eating them for weeks. Out of nowhere, a hand reaches into the bag and plucks out a piece of candy.
“All finished?” I smile at Elsa’s relaxed look. The last six months had been particularly stressful for her with the promotion. Something else had been bothering her but she wouldn’t tell me.
“Yes. Let’s have a quick dinner then go to bed.” Elsa covers her yawn with a hand. “I’m still tired from the drive up here.”
“How? You slept the whole way.” Luckily, I have a backlog of podcasts to keep me company.
“I didn’t sleep the whole three hours.”
“Oh yes, waking up long enough to ask for an iced tea when I stopped for gas and snacks before falling back asleep totally counts.” I don’t bother resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “I put your warm, unopened can in the fridge.”
“I was a little tired.” A faint blush dusts her cheeks.
“Obviously.” I tilt by bag of gummy frogs to Elsa, offering them to her.
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Umm… yes?” I frown in confusion. Do I really look bad or something?
“Never, in twenty-seven years, have you ever willingly shared your gummy frogs.”
“Not true!” Just because I can’t remember a time I have, doesn’t mean it has never happened.
Elsa raises an eyebrow.
“I thought you would like one?”
That damn sexy eyebrow stays up.
“Fine! I accidentally ordered too many.” Fuck. Now I’m even finding her eyebrows sexy. There are not enough seconds in a day to count all the ways I am screwed.
“How much is too many?”
“I might have… possibly… kinda… ordered twelve bags.” Okay, I didn’t think saying it out loud would actually be worse than when I first opened the box. Who wants to admit to their crush that they are an oblivious idiot?
“Twelve?” Gorgeous blue eyes twinkle in amusement.
“I thought I was ordering the smaller bags!”
“Didn’t the price clue you in?” My sister looks like she is struggling not to laugh.
“I wasn’t paying attention.” My order had two books, face wash, a new reusable water bottle, and three cute new bands for my watch. Twenty-six dollars for my candy didn’t even register.
“And now you own your own personal plague.” Elsa takes another frog and eats it. “A delicious plague.”
I hand her the half-full bag of candy before reaching over to turn on the stove to boil the pot of water. “How does pasta sound?”
“Perfect.” A kiss against my temple. “Thank you for the frogs.”
“You’re welcome. Now get out of the kitchen and pick out a movie.” Not that this cabin has much of a kitchen. The building only sports three rooms: a combination kitchen and living room, a bathroom just big enough for a sink, toilet, and minuscule shower, and a bedroom with a dresser and king sized bed. When we were kids, Elsa and I slept in sleeping bags on the living room floor. I miss our parents everyday but I am extremely thankful they live in England now. I would sooner sleep in the car than on the floor.
Sounds from the TV cause me to turn my head and see the opening scene of Jurassic Park. We’ve seen this movie so many times I don’t even have to be looking at the screen to see it. I slice and butter a loaf of French bread while waiting for the oven to warm up and water to boil.
“Can I help with anything?” Soundlessly, Elsa appears next to me.
I am mature enough to admit I very nearly screamed. Admit to myself. Other people don’t have to know. There are enough embarrassing things my sister knows about me, I don’t need to give her unknown ones too.
“Nope. I got this.” The bread goes into the warm oven and I avert my eyes. My racing heartbeat sounds loud in my ears. Sometime while I was slicing and buttering bread, Elsa changed into the tiniest shorts and tank top known to man.
Yup. This is a bad idea.
* * * * *
I am a bad sister. Not the worst out there (at least according to all the True Crime shows I watch) but I am still a bad sister. The second Anna suggested we take a vacation together out here, I remembered that this place only has one bed and agreed immediately knowing this would happen; this being her sleeping peacefully in my arms. I can’t contain the need to hum so I try to keep it as low as I can.
Soft sleepy sounds come from my sister and she tightens her clutch on my shirt, warm breaths puff against my neck. This alone makes the whole vacation worth it. More sleepy noises and I look down to see Anna’s eyes fluttering open.
“Good morning, my little cuddle bunny.” The old nickname brings a smile to my lips. It doesn’t matter if she is four or twenty-seven, if you’re sleeping in the same bed as her, she will snuggle into you the second sleep claims her.
“Good morning.” She shifts even closer to me, Anna’s soft curves pressing against me. “What were you humming?”
“‘You Go to My Head.’ Ready to get up?” For very selfish reasons, I want to stay just like this all day. Preferably without clothes.
“Nooooo. Five more minutes.” Lips brush against my neck as she speaks and I hope Anna can’t feel how hard my heart is pounding.
“You said that ten minutes ago.” My sense of self preservation doesn’t seem to be working as it stays silent when I pull her even closer until we are practically occupying the same space.
“We’re on va…” Anna didn’t even finish the sentence before dozing off again.
Getting up didn’t sound particularly enticing anyway. Judging by the chill in the room, the fire in the wood burning stove must have gone out hours ago. I silently debate if I should brave the cold to light it again or wait for Anna to do it. These shorts, bought specifically for this trip, came nowhere close to mid thigh and the mere thought of leaving this warm bed brings on a phantom chill.
An evil thought crosses my mind. I slide out of bed and pad into the main area of the cabin to get the fire going again. When I return to our bed, I pause for a single heartbeat. It is a sister’s sworn duty to always warm her cold toes on her sister.
“HOLY SHIT!” Anna flings herself away and off the bed. She lands on the floor with a loud thud.
“Morning, Sunshine!” I can’t contain my laughter.
“Fuck you.” Floats up from out of sight.
No objections here. I poke my head over the side and look down. If looks could kill, that would have taken out half the forest.
“French Toast for breakfast?” These giggles better stop, there are way too many good places to hide a body round here.
“With cinnamon and strawberries?” A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.
“Absolutely.” Food is always the best way to bribe for Anna’s forgiveness and the beaming smile tells me the frosty wake up call is excused.
* * * * *
“Do you have gloves?” Elsa stares at her list and waits for my answer.
“Yes.”
“Charged the lantern?”
“Yes.” Another check on her list.
“Did you pack-“
“Elsa, we’ll only be five minutes from here. If we forget anything we can come back.”
“But-“
I interrupt Elsa with a quick peck on the lips. “We’ll be fine. Let’s go.” I grab her hand and pull her with me out into the darkness. Stupid. That was incredibly stupid. It felt natural to lean in and steal a kiss, like it is something we normally do. But now that I know how they feel, all I want to do is push her up against a wall and really feast on those amazing lips. Fuck fuck fuck. Why is she so perfect?
Holding the lantern up, we walk in silence the few minutes it takes to get to the wide clearing. I am kicking myself the whole way, hoping Elsa isn’t freaking out.
“Here looks good.” My eyes stay firmly on the picnic blanket I am spreading out, giving the task much more attention it deserves. The light from the lantern shifts and I hear Elsa putting down the backpack before she sits. I continue to shift awkwardly from foot to foot.
“Are you going to sit down?” It is the hesitancy I hear that brings my gaze up to see my sister looking crestfallen. “Do you want your own spot?” She holds out the red blanket we brought in case the night turns chilly.
There is pond scum, there is dirt, there are worms, then there is me lower than any of those.
“Of course not.” I sit down next to Elsa, leaving, what I hope, is an appropriate amount of space between us. Not too far so she thinks I don’t want to sit with her but not too close and make her potentially uncomfortable. Stupid kiss. Okay, not stupid, just epically poorly timed kiss.
“When is it supposed to start?” Elsa opens the backpack and pulls out two canteens of water.
“It should start…” a glance at the smart watch our parents gave me last year, “in ten minutes.”
“Are you excited?”
“Yeah! I’ve been waiting two years for this.” Excitement overrides my nervousness and I turn to Elsa. At this moment, I know how lucky my life truly is. This stunning woman is beside me, smiling only at me, spending her precious time with me.
“Are you ready?” Elsa pauses before switching off the lantern.
I lay down, looking up at the sky. “Let’s go.”
Darkness surrounds us. Slowly, bit by bit, my eyes adjust and the sky fills with stars. My eyes immediately find the Big Dipper and follow the two stars at the end of the cup to the North Star, from there I spot the constellation Cygnus flying along the Milky Way, visible and bright. I am thankful for the moonless sky, it has been far too long since I’ve seen so many stars.
“Wow.”
“I know.” Not many stars are visible back home with all the light pollution. I turn my head to watch Elsa studying the night sky. When was the last time we did this? Probably high school. Joy fills me as I watch this amazing woman beside me.
Elsa turns her head to me and our eyes lock. The air thickens around us. I want to kiss her. A real kiss; one that can’t be explained away as something innocent. My skin itches with the need to lean forward and taste those lips, explore her mouth, claim every part of her Elsa will give me.
Before I can surrender to the little voice urging me into action, a sizzling sound from overhead breaks the spell. Both of us turn our gazes to the night sky. Streaks of light dart across the sky with a sizzling sound. One. Two. Three. Then the night sky fills with light and sound.
“I didn’t know meteor showers made a sound.” Awe in Elsa’s whisper matches how I feel.
“It’s from the meteor traveling through our upper atmosphere.” My eyes stay on the light display above us. I’m so distracted that I fail to notice Elsa moving until her head is on my shoulder, arm wrapping around my waist. I tense at the unexpected touch.
My frozen brain jolts back into action when I feel my sister begin to pull away and I wrap my arms around her, stopping her retreat. I can’t look down, every lustful thought is sure to be clearly seen on my face.
Humming starts up and I easily recognize the song. ‘The Very Thought of You’ is weaving with hissing meteors and the usual nighttime sounds of the forest, making a perfect song for this moment. It’s a fool’s hope that the dark can obscure my face enough with how close we are. I look down. A beat then Elsa’s eyes, twinkling with starlight, meets my gaze.
I kiss her. This is no chaste kiss. It is of desire and devotion and, above all else, love. Elsa does not hesitate to return the kiss. Joy morphs into hunger at the first brush of her tongue against my lips.
“You’re missing your meteor shower.” Elsa’s breathless whisper sends a shiver through me from head to toe, the gentle nip to my earlobe stops all higher brain function.
To hell with that, nothing matters more than the warm body pressed against mine. I tug her leg over my hip, wanting to be even closer. She grinds into me and sets my body aflame.
* * * * *
A beam of sunlight hits my face, waking me up from a dreamless sleep and I can’t be annoyed by it when I remember why we didn’t close the curtains last night. I stretch, the feeling of delightfully sore muscles bringing a smile to my face.
“Good morning, sleepy- what the fuck?!” Anna’s horrified voice chases away any lingering sleepiness.
“Anna?” Holding the sheet against my bare chest, I sit up and reluctantly turn my gaze. My heart drops at her fear. I fight to chase away thoughts that she regrets last night.
“Who are you? What are you?” Anna holds the sheet to her own bare chest and scoots to the edge of the bed.
“It’s-it’s me.” Seeing her pull away brings tears to my eyes and I close them before turning away, not wanting to watch Anna distance herself further. “You regret last night.” I can’t bring myself to make it a question and hear her voice say the obvious answer.
“Elsa?” Sounds of rustling and her hand turns my face back to her. “Please open your eyes.”
There is nothing I can deny this woman even if it will break my heart. But instead of disgust as I expect, I see curiosity, searching.
“It is you.” She presses our foreheads together and heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank god it’s you.”
“Of course? Who else would I be?” This morning is a roller coaster of confusion. I lift up my hand intending to tuck a lock of red hair back but stop halfway there. My hand is lavender. My whole arm is changed and my nails are black. Pulling the sheet away from my body, I peek down at myself. It is everywhere. Dizziness grips me and it’s only because Anna grabs my shoulders that I don’t fall over.
“Easy, Elsa. You need to breathe.” She pulls me into her arms and I calm enough to not go spinning out into space.
The lump in my throat makes it impossible to talk. This must be a punishment for last night. Stopping us last night didn’t even cross my mind, I willingly lost myself in joy and passion.
“Hey.” Anna gently tilts my head towards her. “Don’t do that.”
I hesitantly look into her eyes, unsure what I will see.
“Don’t regret last night.” Taking my hand in hers, she presses it against her chest, where I can feel her heart pounding. “Please don’t regret last night.”
“I don’t.” Partially true. Last was perfect and I want to repeat it all week but then this morning happened. Maybe if I did feel an ounce of remorse for it I would not have ended up purple.
“Good.” Tension leaks out of Anna. She leans in and kisses me before I can stop her. “It feels a little strange to kiss you with your tusks but I don’t hate it.”
“Tusks?” Before I can say anything else, Anna kisses me again, sliding her tongue into my mouth. Energy fills me and my fingers itch to pull the sheet aside and repeat last night. I pull back, stopping myself from pushing things further.
“Breakfast.” Anna pulls back too and I watch her struggling to catch her breath. “We should have breakfast.”
“Okay.” My voice sounds rough even to my ears. It takes a great deal of control not to pull her back into me.
Anna opens her mouth, closes it, then scrambles out of bed. I quickly close my eyes to avoid the temptation that is all that skin. Soft skin. Responsive skin. Delicious skin. Stop. Figuring out how to reverse this is what I should be concentrating on not other, enjoyable, amazing, pleasurable things. Stop. Distraction. I need a distraction. I wait until the sound of the bedroom door closes before I open my eyes again. The full length mirror on the bedroom door catches my attention. After sliding out of bed, I walk over to see what I look like.
Well, this is disturbing. I am purple all over (including my nipples which are a much darker shade), my toenails are black like my fingernails, two small half inch tusks jut up from my lower jaw, the five inch horns twisting up out of the top of my forehead don’t bother me as much as my eyes, my once blue eyes are now a bright red. At least my hair is still blonde. Movement from behind me catches my eye and I turn my head. A tail. I have a fucking dark purple tail. Now that I know it’s there, I can sense it in a tiny corner of my mind and it only takes a little bit of concentration to control it. Long and skinny, it has a flat spade-like tip, and I can feel the air flow over it as it moves.
The smell of cooking bacon fills the room and I rush to dress, my stomach grumbling the whole time.
* * * * *
I sit down across from Elsa after placing both our plates down.
“This smells great. Thank you for cooking.” And that smile makes it worth getting splattered with little bits of bacon grease.
“You’re welcome.” I notice her clothes and frown. “Why are you wearing a hoodie? Are you cold?” If she is cold, why the shorts? It is supposed to be warm today.
Her cheeks turn a darker purple and I can’t help but be charmed when I realize this is her blushing.
“None of my bras or shirts fit.” Her gaze stay on her plate while eats.
“Oh.” My eyes shift to her chest and see the once comfortably fitting hoodie strain slightly at her chest. Only a flicker of something dark moving behind Elsa pulls my attention away. “Is that a tail?”
“Yes.” Her eyes meet mine.
It’s going to take some time to get used to the red. Now is not the time to think about that. I can’t imagine how scary it must be to wake up suddenly looking like this. It’s still Elsa though. I can absolutely roll with this. But first, I need to get that nervous look off her face.
“Can you control it?” I hope my question sounds as curious and unconcerned as I am trying to sound.
“Yes.” The tail stops swishing randomly around and the tip bends up and down in half, waving at me.
“That’s so cool!” So much for bland. But seeing Elsa’s shoulders relax has me believing calm might not be the way to go. Before I can ask anything else, Elsa speaks up.
“How do I get home?” Tension returns to her movements as she starts to eat.
“I’ve been thinking about that.” I eat a forkful of hot eggs. Eating bacon and toast cold is perfectly fine, eating eggs cold is impossible. “You should live with me until we figure this out. My apartment has a parking garage attached. We can get there late at night when no one’s around. All you’d need to do is wear your hood up and we can sneak you in.”
“I can request to work from home. I’ll need an excuse to not go in at all.” Elsa finishes her food before I get even a quarter through mine.
“Say you broke a leg and the doctor said to stay off it for a couple of weeks. Wait, you’ll need a doctor’s note for that.” When Elsa steals a piece of toast, I push my mostly full plate to her and lean back to grab an apple off the counter.
“Thank you. My job doesn’t require doctor notes.” Elsa quickly eats the food on the plate.
“Lucky. I should work for you.” Not. I’d rather jump off a cliff than work with numbers all day. “Do you want me to make you another plate?”
It takes a few moments before she shakes her head.
“Sure? I can-“ A flash of red light blinds me and it takes a bit for my eyesight to come back.
“Are you Elsa Fredricks?” The deep, gravely voice comes from in front of me so I look down at the table, uncertain what exactly I’m looking at. Standing at maybe four inches tall, the little red creature sports curly black ram horns, a tail, and cloven feet.
“Umm… hi.” He turns to face me and I see his face. Just like Elsa, he has tusks, though much longer, sprouting up from his lower jaw and solid black eyes.
“You must be her sister, Anna.” He waits for my nod. “Greetings, Fredricks sisters. I am Harrlock of the Reegnul kingdom.” Harrlock bows. “I am here to ease Elsa into her new existence.”
“Ease how?” If he tries to take my sister away, I’ll squash him like a bug.
Before either of us gets an answer, the little creature jumps off the table and, after another bright flash of red light, appears before us much, much taller. As in seven feet taller and so muscular I’m certain he could demolish my car without breaking a sweat.
“I am here to teach her how to conceal herself and answer questions about her existence.” He sets down a leather (please let it just be normal leather) bag I did not see earlier.
“What am I?” To anyone else, Elsa appears calm and relaxed but I can see the subtle signs of tension.
“You are a succubus.” Muscles moving around his eyes give me the impression he is looking between us. “A linked succubus. That will make this easier. It is bothersome having to find people for new succubi to feed off of.”
“A succubus?” I watch Elsa turn a concerning shade of pastel purple. “Last night… I… I forced her?”
“No.” The answer is unhesitating. “It is impossible to influence a linked partner, only enhance their pleasure. You can influence others only if they’re interested but it will take sex with multiple people to produce the amount energy one night with your link can.”
“Oh.” I expect to see Elsa blush at the mention of sex, instead she just looks relieved. Good. I had no doubts. “Wait, you’re saying she’s my ‘link’? What is a ‘link’?”
“You humans would call it marriage. It is more permanent than that, there is no divorce between linked beings.”
“And we need to have-have-have…” Elsa’s blush matches mine. Kinda. Not even twenty-four hours later and we’re talking about this with a stranger.
“In order for your magic to replenish and control your succubus side you will need to have sex.” He points to me. “Preferably with you. It will be the best nourishment for her.” Harrlock says this far too calmly for my taste.
“But we’re sisters!” Like Big Red and Scary doesn’t know that or that it stopped me last night.
“Unimportant. You are linked.” Either he is very patient or I suck at reading demon expressions. “Any other questions?”
Lots but only one comes to mind. “You’re a demon. Why are we not running away screaming?” I feel calm with only a distant part of myself wanting to flee in terror.
“My kind uses magic to calm living creatures around us. We use it to hunt. But,” he continues on before I can open my mouth, “I have not hunted humans in thousands of years. You taste horrible now.”
Good to know I offend his delicate palate.
“Now that’s settled, let’s begin.”
* * * * *
All three of us are in the meadow Anna and I watched the meteor shower from. Harrlock said it would be dangerous to practice with my new magic inside right now. When he said that, I asked Anna to stay at the cabin but she flat out refused. Now they’re standing six feet away and I’m hoping he keeps her safe from me.
“Are you ready?” I get the feeling that if I say no that he would wait patiently for me to be ready. Guess being thousands and thousands of years old has more than a few advantages.
“Yes.” I’m not so patient. The sooner I can look normal, the sooner Anna doesn’t have to see me this way.
“Close your eyes.”
I close them and listen intently.
“Imagine a stone is in your stomach. Concentrate on that stone. Think only of that stone. Then slowly relax and let the image fade. Feel the energy flow back from your stomach to the rest of your body.”
It feels like water is lazily flowing through me, filling up every part.
“Do you feel it now?”
“Yes.” It moves under my skin, waiting for me to command.
“Repeat the exercise until you can move your magic to any part of your body you desire it to.”
I take a deep breath and picture the rock. Magic flows.
“What caused Elsa to change?” Anna tries to keep her voice low but I can still hear her.
“Major celestial events, like meteor showers or eclipses, cause certain humans to change.” Harrlock explains, his low voice even lower.
“If we stayed inside she would she still have changed?”
“Yes.”
Another deep breath and my magic stutters, the flow uneven.
“Why were you so tiny when you first appeared?”
“It takes less magic to travel between dimensions when I’m smaller.”
The rock. Picture the rock.
“How many demon countries are there?”
“There are nine demon kingdoms with a neutral one, Reegnul, in the center. It is a place for negotiations between kingdoms and for newly made demons to acclimate.”
My magic doesn’t move.
“How long-“
“Anna.” I open my eyes and raise an eyebrow, trying not to snap in frustration but frustration still leaks through.
“Oops, sorry. Shutting up now.” Anna pantomimes zipping her mouth.
“Thank you.” Before I close my eyes again I see the corners of Harrlock’s lips twitch.
I imagine a rock.
* * * * *
“Harrlock is sleeping outside. He says that since I’m still learning, my magic can leak out while I sleep and make him nauseous.” Elsa drags her feet into our bedroom.
“Tired?” If someone asks me to describe my sister in one word I would say ‘stubborn.’ I could see her movements slowly turn sluggish several hours before she stopped practicing. She’d probably still be out in the field if Harrlock hadn’t instructed her to stop or there would be no lessons tomorrow.
“Extremely.” Leaning against the dresser by the door, Elsa sighs. “Thank you for today. I don’t know how I would have coped without you.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that but you’re welcome.” She’s my sister and I’m in love with her, doing anything besides being there for Elsa didn’t even cross my mind. I’m just thankful that the demon universe doesn’t have an issue with us or things would get even more complicated than they already are.
Elsa smiles at me then walks to the closet and pulls out a blanket. “Sweet dreams.” She walks over to our bedroom door.
“Wait, wait, wait. Where are you going? Does Harrlock need a blanket or something?” I sit up straighter in the bed, ready to chase after her if I need to.
“I’m going to sleep on the couch.” Elsa hugs the folded blanket tight.
“Do you want to sleep on the couch?” Maybe she needs some time alone.
“…no, not really.”
“Then get over here.” I pat the bed next to me. It breaks my heart to see her so nervous, like she’s waiting for me to bolt or pull away in horror.
Stiffly, still tightly clutching the blanket, Elsa walks over and sits on the bed, leaving plenty of room between us.
Carefully I tug the blanket away and scoot closer. “This,” I gently caress a lavender cheek, “doesn’t bother me.”
“It doesn’t?” Hope fills her gaze.
“It’ll take some getting used to but I like it and you’re still Elsa.” Surely, it has been a month since she changed and not just this morning. Everything feels new and old at the same time. I bite my lip before speaking again. “Can I touch you?”
“Oh, sure.” Despite my question clearly surprising her, Elsa doesn’t look panicky which is all the approval I need to explore.
I run my fingers up to her neck, and just like everywhere else, her skin is soft while also feeling thicker, stronger than my own. My hand travels up to tuck back a lock of blonde hair only to find her once rounded ear is now pointed. Slowly, I use a finger to trace along its edge and take a note of her breath hitching. Next, I explore the base of her horns which appear to be pretty sensitive area judging by the gasp. The horns themselves are smooth and not black as I first thought, there are hints of purple in the right light.
“Are you okay? Can I continue?” Last thing I want is for her to want me to stop and not tell me.
“Yes.” Elsa’s husky response warms me but when our eyes meet I nearly jump in surprise. Her red eyes are glowing faintly.
The sight of her tail lazily moving catches my attention and I reach for it. Wrapping around my hand, it feels like warm velvet. I rub the spade shape at the end and Elsa moans loudly. Naughty ideas flood my mind when I realize she’s especially sensitive here.
“D-don’t.” Panting breaths fill the room. “I-I won’t be… be able to c-control… myself.”
Her glowing eyes rise to meet mine, desire etched into every feature of her face. I rub her tail.
* * * * *
I finish wiping down the small kitchen counter and hang the damp towel over the edge of the sink to dry. After five days teaching me how to disguise myself, Harrlock will go back home tomorrow. Part of me will miss him, he is a calm and patient teacher but I will not miss the morning approvals of mine and Anna’s nighttime activities to ‘replenish’ my magic.
All morning, from the time we woke up through lunch, my glamour has been on and it hasn’t flickered once. I am proud of that. It means I’ll be able to go buy better fitting clothes when we get back home. Fortunately, Anna went into town and bought me a pair of jeans (two sizes too big so I have to wear a belt) and three shirts in the most brightest, obnoxious colors (I’m certain she did that on purpose.) My tail tightens around my calf where it is uncomfortably hidden in my pants. The glamour only hides my appearance so my tail, if left out, can still knock things over, and horns can still be felt if someone touches my head.
“You have performed well, Elsa.” Harrlock looks pleased.
“Thank you. And you were right, it is getting easier to put on and maintain.” I am confident that the glamour will stay solid now. It held when Harrlock purposely broke a dish earlier, startling me into dropping my own plate. “I’m ready for the last test.”
“Good.” He motions for me to stay where I stand. “Anna, will you please come here.”
“Sure.” Anna slips a bookmark into her book and walks over from the couch. “What’s up, Mr. Red?”
For some reason the nickname, which she has been using all week, amuses Harrlock. I always say my sister can charm anyone, at any time, no matter how grumpy they are, and apparently that includes seven-foot tall demons. He leans over and whispers something in her ear.
Anna nods and turns to me. Words asking what is going on, die in my throat when she slinks towards me, the slow sway of her hips capturing my attention. Teal eyes lock on mine and my breath hitches at the heat in that gaze. She presses into me from chest to knees, the warmth of her body sets my skin tingling. Lips brush over mine and my control breaks. My hands grab her hips, pulling them tight against mine and greedily press my lips to hers. A distant part of me remembers we are not alone and while it doesn’t stop me from deepening our kiss, I make sure not to let my hands wonder. Far too soon for my taste, Anna pulls back and kisses along my jaw.
“You’re purple again.” The whisper in my ear cuts through the haze I’m floating in.
Looking down, still buzzing from our kiss, I see my glamour is gone and I am clueless when that happened.
“As a succubus,” Harrlock’s deep voice draws my attention and I the corners of his mouth turn up into a small smile, “lust is a weakness you will have to learn to manage. Anna will be by far the strongest distraction due to your link but other human’s lust will be also affect you.”
“So we’ll need to practice.” I feel myself perk up at the idea. The old part of me recoils at the thought of Harrlock being in the room but I easily ignore it.
“Lots and lots.” Anna whispers then nips my earlobe before I can ask if she’d mind helping.
“Yes, you will need to work on it.” This time Harrlock doesn’t bother stifling his amusement and shakes his head. “Please try again.”
Practice makes perfect.
* * * * *
There are few views more perfect in life than seeing Elsa in those tiny shorts bend over to pick up the pillow that fell off the couch. All that curvy purple legs, magnificently soft ass, and sexy tail on display has me counting down the seconds until Mr. Red leaves. It should probably disturb me how quickly I have started preferring this over how she used to look but I don’t give a fuck. I have never seen her look more confident or comfortable before and it’s sexy as hell. Elsa continues to hum ‘Time After Time’ as she tidies the sitting area and my admiring eyes stay glued to her. A chuckle behind me breaks my ogling. I look over my shoulder.
“It is time for me to leave.” He picks up the bag at his feet.
“Aww, sure you don’t want to stay for lunch, Mr. Red?” I don’t know what possessed me to call him that when he first showed up. I’m just glad he finds it humorous and doesn’t set me on fire or something.
“Why humans insist on ruining perfectly good meat by burning it is a mystery.” He rolls his eyes and I smirk at the familiar complainant. “Now that Elsa can control her glamour, I must return to my other students. They have rested enough.”
“Will we see you again?” Elsa is now standing beside me, wraps an arm around my shoulders and I lean into her.
“Yes, when you and Anna decide to enter the demon realm, I will be your guide.”
“Wait, I can come too? But I’m not a demon.” I believed I would be left behind when the time came and had been doing my best to ignore the ache in my chest at the thought.
“When the two of you,” he motions between us, “are fully bonded, it will be safe for you but not before then. Some of us have not lost their taste for human flesh.”
I feel myself pale at the thought. Then I catch the small smirk. Jokes? He knows how to make jokes now? My glare only furthers his amusement. Bastard.
“The succubus Liliana will visit you in a few weeks to teach you how to use your succubus skills.” Mr. Red pulls out something out of his bag and hands it to Elsa. “Use this if you need to contact me.”
“Wow.” Sitting in Elsa’s hand is a necklace with a quarter-sized deep red ruby stone in an intricate silver filigree setting attached to a thin chain. It looks old. Really old. Something about it tells me it wasn’t made here.
“To use it,” his deep voice captures my attention again, “hold it, push a little bit of your magic into it then ask for me. I will be able to speak to you in your mind as long as you are touching it.”
“She doesn’t have to use Latin or something?” Every movie I’d seen both the demon and human use Latin. I’m pretty sure it’s even still used by the Catholic Church.
“Latin?” Eyebrow raised, he waits for me to explain.
“Yeah,” I gesture at him, “isn’t it what you guys use for contracts and spells and stuff?”
“Why would we use that dead language?” His infinite patience continues as he answers my millionth question during his stay. “Magic relies heavily on intent and that can become obscured if the caster uses a language they were not raised with.”
“Wouldn’t it sound better though? My sister can totally learn Latin then she can sound like a badass while zapping people.” It takes effort but I refrain from making ‘pew pew’ noises. Elsa sighs beside me, clearly not seeing how cool that would be.
He stops me from arguing my case further, “I have seen demons strike themselves with lightning instead of their opponent because they were too lazy to translate a spell into their native tongue.”
“Oh.” I turn to Elsa. “No Latin.”
“I will do my best to refrain from learning it.” Elsa carefully puts the necklace around her neck; the pendant stopping mid-chest, the perfect length for it to hide under her shirt.
“Farewell, Fredricks Sisters. Until I see you in my realm, good health to you both.”
“Thanks! You too.” I grin at Mr. Red. Though he looks really scary, he had been super nice to us. I’m good at knowing when people are faking nice to me and I didn’t get that vibe at all.
“Thank you for all your help.” Elsa gives a cute little wave goodbye.
A red flash of light and the seven foot demon is four inches tall again, another flash of red light and he disappears. Alone again at last.
“We should finish cleaning up so we can leave early tomorrow.” Like the place isn’t nearly spotless already. Elsa only takes one step before I stop her.
“You know, without traffic, it takes three hours to drive home.” Raising my hand to my chin, I pretend to be thinking things through.
“It does.” Elsa turns to me with a curious look.
“Three hours to your apartment,” I begin ticking points off on my fingers, “an hour to pack anything you may need for a few weeks-“
“Why do I-“
I ignore her and continue on, “Thirty minutes to drive to my place, and ten minutes to get everything up to the apartment. That’s a lot of time.”
“Yes? But why am I staying at your place?”
“Because it’s bigger than yours.” Okay, this is probably the stupidest way to ask Elsa to move in but since I started I will have to go with it.
“You want me to move in?” The smile creeping onto her face makes me hopeful.
“Yup. Gotta keep you supplied with magic.” Innocent, look innocent damn it.
“Thank you for your noble sacrifice.” Elsa’s smile could not get any bigger. “Why don’t we try living together part time first?”
“Okay.” Not exactly the response I was going for but I’ll take it. It will give me an opportunity to thoroughly convince her to stay permanently.
“What does how long everything takes have to do with moving in?” Even with the horns, her head tilt reminds me of an adorable puppy, happily waiting to understand.
“Doing all that will take us almost five hours without traffic. That’s a long time to have a glamour on.” It only takes three steps to be pressed against Elsa. I wrap my arms around her neck and I play with the fine hair on her nape. “We can’t have your magic running out along the way, can we.”
“No, we can’t.” Hands grip my hips and her eyes start glowing faintly red. Elsa starts pushing me back towards our bedroom.
“We should make sure you’re topped up.” The velvety feel of her tail travels under my shirt and up my back. Gentle pressure and my bra loosens. Now I feel like humming.
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This is the first time I went to Dutch Comic Con for only one day due to financial reasons, but I still had a lot of fun!
Day one.
I went on the Saturday only. I went in my Ladybug outfit, but because I really did not want to bring a coat at all, I slapped a Christmas sweater underneath it and wore trousers beneath my skirt. It looked stupid, but you know what? I didn’t care.
I saw so many Genshin Impact cosplay that I actually made a checklist (I had to use paimon.moe so have fun staring at my constellations).
I wrote in Alhaitham cuz he is not a playable character yet, but I caught him buying boba tea. I added question marks on some, because I wasn’t sure, I might’ve mistaken them for someone else.
OH and I didn’t even write down Signora... but it’s okay, cuz I took a photo with her!
I had to let a stranger take the photo, so it was rushed and messy, haha. On the right is La Signora, a gorgeous and evil fatui woman, and on my left is Tartaglia with a custom variant on his outfit, I really liked their take on it!
Other than that I did not take photos with any of the other cosplay, but it is what it is.
We were mostly shopping all day, I am sad we found the artist alley so late because it is my favourite place to be, and apparently one of my favourites was having their last time at Comic Con and I didn’t even know, I wish I said hi. :( But it is what it is.
I was actually overwhelmed by how popular Genshin Impact really is, there was a lot. Not just cosplay, but also merch. I still hate that I saw body-pillows of some child characters, but ugh, it is what it is. I also always feel weird and awkward around people who have the same favourite character as me? Is that odd? But it’s okay, I got some merchandise of my favourite... when you think you were done whaling on him, there is always more..;. forgive me father, for I have ‘simped’ (this term is meant as a joke).
You see the dude I have 3 buttons, 2 charms and 1 sticker of? That’s my favourite character of Genshin Impact lol. I did not buy every single thing I saw, I can get picky with art depicted of him. The one where he blushes, I like that his blush is heart-shaped. His name is Kazuha... but I also bought a button of Tighnari because I really liked how it turned out, very nice art. Sadly I forgot to look at many other favourites such as Albedo, Rosaria... and Layla is just too new to have merch of (I saw one button and it didn’t look nice enough for my taste).
As you can see, I also have a notepad of The Witcher, I love that Geralt looks so annoyed at whatever the fuck Jaskier is saying. I put the Kazuha sticker in the chat bubble, because it was from the same artist.
Let me zoom out a bit.
The box contains a Digimon TCG playmat (PB-04 if you want to google it, it has Omnimon on it) and a pack of card sleeves. I wanted to leave it boxed for now.
On the left is also a starter deck of the Digimon TCG, “Heavenly Yellow,” which involves Angemon.
The fluffy alpaca is Jake. He looked like a Jake to me at least. He is made of 92% alpaca fleece AND IS SO SOFT AND FLUFFY. I keep joking that he loves it when you touch his butt, cuz it’s so soft. When someone commented on me holding Jake (that it looked so soft), I literally just went “wanna touch it” and held his butt out hahaha. Jake is beautiful.
The fabric at the bottom... is like some kimono-coat-esque thing that I never planned to buy, but ended up doing so anyway...
It’s a little like this.
I say a little cuz I do notice differences. I am too tired to take a proper photo of me wearing it, but it looked like a pretty big size so it should be fine.
I also saw a watercolour art of Kazuha that I kinda wanted to buy, but I felt like my friend would judge me for it, and I am not over fond of buying prints anyway. Oh well haha. I spent so much money already, it’s fine.
I had some bubble tea, some pasta, plenty coffee... it was a good day. I was so excited to see Digimon TCG haha. Either way, thanks for listening to my ted talk.
—
WDCC - 2022 - scuffed Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)
DCC - 2022 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug) / scuffed Ellie (The Last of Us)
RCC 2020 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)
WDCC 2019 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug) / Mimi (Digimon)
ACC 2019 - no report, little happened
DCC 2019 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug) / Mimi (Digimon)
DCC 2018 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)
ACC 2018 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)
DCC 2018 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)
RCC 2018 - Mimi (Digimon)
WDCC 2017 - Mimi (Digimon)
ACC 2017 - Mimi (Digimon)
DCC 2017 - Mimi (Digimon)
RCC 2017 - Mimi (Digimon)
ACC 2016 - Hook (Once Upon A Time)
DCC 2016 - Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)
DCC 2015 - Sunday - Hobbit (Lord of the Rings)
DCC 2015 - Saturday - Ellie (The Last of Us)
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One tracking the other down at lunch and making them accept food that they personally made because they know the other person doesn’t have a lunch that day. - Not a relationship one, but a headcanon that reader fills the boys' fridge when they can to make sure they're eating well and not just pizza.
I am soft already 🥺
I’m making this in headcanon style as to cover all the lads.
Listen Raph EATS™️
The calorie intake in this man is insane so naturally carbs are like go to
But there’s more to carbs than just pizza and yes sometimes he’s caught up in patrols and training and sleep and it’s easier to inhale six boxes of pizza
Living alone has taught you to make meals for yourself or meal prep but now you find yourself making more portions. Pastas, meats, stews etc
You bring them down while their out patrolling and place them in the fridge with sticky notes for who gets what, the more fatty and high calories ones usually reserved for Raph
He catches you one night though and he’s legit like giddy cause you’re cooking is his fucking favorite and he’s already getting his designated container out and digging in
You can’t help but feel a slight blush cause Raph can be so serious and moody but he is legit stuffing his face with a happy smile and telling you that he loves how you effortless season the meat and tenderize it. He’s just a happy big lad.
Oh god does Donnie need to be fed
This motherfucker has gone days without a proper meal at times
It’s to the point that you’ve set up alarms on his phone to REMIND HIM TO EAT
And not snack, A MEAL
So you’ll drop by with food all the time at all hours of the day. Thankful for those 24hr places or you’re own cooking.
You’ll barge into the lab and announce it’s time to eat and you’ll force him to stop whatever he’s doing so he eats with you.
You make it easier for him by asking him questions about his projects, he likes feeling he isn’t slacking off and talking over his ideas helps him reach answers to questions he might have
Donnie is so hideously smart and you love hearing him talk cause you’ll flex the knowledge he drops on you with your coworkers
One of the things he’s a huge sucker for is sweets so you usually grab dessert for him along with the food. You can’t comprehend where he puts it all cause he’s so lean and when he does sit down to eat his appetite rivals Raph’s
And trust me Donnie secretly loves that you know his tastes so well.
April calls one day to ask what the guys want and without missing a beat you blurt out exactly what Donnie’s order is and you tell her you’ll Venmo her some extra cash to grab him a tiramisu
He feels really fuzzy on the inside when you do that
This lads eating habits are frightening honestly, mostly because he eats combos he creates that you’re sure should either kill a man or at least give them heartburn for six weeks straight
But he is the one that most devours pizzas and can eat it for a week straight if you don’t watch him
Mikey is a great cook though but he likes cooking for everybody ya know? He likes sharing his crazy inventions with his loved ones but he sometimes neglects that on himself and just goes for easy stuff
This is something you plan to change naturally
On the occasions that Mikey is patrolling near your place you’ll text him to swing by and get a snack. You’ll grab his backpack and fill it up with all sorts of snacks from healthy to not so healthy and water because orange crush is not a source of hydration
You also leave him silly notes because you both like to make each other laugh with lame jokes or anecdotes and that makes him excited to swing by during patrols to get his night snack
Mikey likes that you try to present all the food groups. Celery sticks, potato chips, ham sandwiches, an ice cream sandwich, like seriously you spoil him. It’s pretty easy though because Mikey is actually the only one of the brothers who’ll eat ANYTHING. Seriously he’ll try anything and that’s kinda fun cause he’s honest about it.
You know he might get in trouble when he starts to blow off the last couple of hours of patrol to spend it with you eating and laughing. He’s always dropped everything to spend time with his two favorite things: food and you
Leo is pretty on top of his diet. Yes he’ll eat pizza cause it’s a nice comfort food but he does tend to switch away to other things more than Mikey will.
In his case is, he will literally forget to eat
He’ll go ham on his training and patrolling and when he starts feelings a little nauseous and dizzy it’ll hit him that maybe he skipped a meal.
Queue you, you always ask him if he’s eaten. Wether in person, in text or on the phone and if he so much as makes a thinking face or sound you’re already telling him to come by or to sit tight
And something that absolutely and I do mean ABSOLUTELY KILLS HIM is that you can make sushi from scratch and when you show up with three bento boxes all for him, he can almost squeal with joy
Boy loves his sushi, any Oriental cuisine really. Ramen, bibimbap, coconut curry, bubble tea. You like to poke fun at him and arrive with a buffet by announcing “here’s your food you weeb” oh but it’s you who recommends him anime’s and rants to him about storylines etc
You find it really sweet that he’ll share the food you brought him even if you’ve told him twenty times that you already ate
He’s a sneak cause he’ll offer you pieces of sushi while you rant about thing but you do notice that he gives you the nicer pieces.
And you don’t miss that he gives you half his bubble tea
Why he gotta be such a caretaker???
You don’t mind though, you like how happy he is sharing his food with you and he seems to like feeding you.
#tmnt bayverse#tmnt Raphael#tmnt Donatello#tmnt Michelangelo#tmnt Leonardo#Raphael#Leonardo#Donatello#Michelangelo#tmnt Raph#tmnt Donnie#tmnt Mikey#tmnt Leo#Leo#Mikey#Donnie#Raph#pre relationship prompts#ask#thatbluemerm
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hello hi , it is g , ur friendly local neighbourhood hindu indian ( as in south asian ) ! so a few people requested that i just make a guide-esque sorta thing on hindu indian characters ! im not really good at guides , so instead , these are just little things i’ve noticed or picked up on that could really potentially strengthen the next indian character u ( pretty please ! ) pick up !
disclaimer : i am writing this from my perspective and it is NOT definitive , nor do i speak on behalf of all hindu indians ! i am a 23-year-old bisexual cis female hindu indian , with one older gay brother, and a Train Wreck middle brother . my mother is from new delhi , and my father is from nairobi but has indian heritage ( not sure which part of india bc he’s an Engima ) . i have extended family in india and have visited india about 10-15 times throughout my entire life .
so firstly , im so glad u all are here and want to write more hindu indian characters ! please please do so ! i hope this helps , encourages u , and isnt too confusing !!
psa : i need everyone to know that this is a very basic ‘ guide ‘ and theres a lot it DOESNT touch on or address bc i didnt want to get too Extensive and Detailed and have people Turn off and not Read it . this is just written in the terms of hopefully helping build character / be relevant to characters a bit better that ive employed into writing my OWN hindu indian character creations ! but if u have any other questions pls reach out to me or any other indians in the rpc and im sure we’ll try our best to assist u !
FCS:
one thing i’d really like to say is that its great to see fcs like dev patel , deepika padukone and avan jogia picked up every now and then in rps , but there’s actually a LOT of other indian fcs you could be and should be using ! the main reason people don’t seem to know them is because they’re not ‘ hollywood ‘ stars per se ( it was a super big deal when pr*yanka broke out of bollywood and into bollywood but we don’t talk about her on this Blog ) . they’re usually bollywood stars and i don’t really see bollywood discussed that much in the rpc !
if you’re after MORE indian fcs , i have a tag of indian females here , and indian males here . the fcs on my blogs are also not ALL that exist . there are plenty of other blogs out there that post indian fcs , such as sonamhelps & bollymusings !!! there’s also some really great faceclaim directories out there that include a LOT of indians with resources !
unfortunately , i do not know of any trans indians or nonbinary indians but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist . indian cultures and beliefs are still quite Old School and not super progressive . india only just had it’s first wlw mainstream bollywood film released last year . lgbtqia+ issues are NOT really spoken about in india or within indian families at ALL , and if they are - they’re usually dismissed or reacted to Very Very Badly . ( again this isnt definitive and im sure and hopeful that some indians have had GREAT coming out stories and been accepted by their families but this has not been a common thing ive seen or witnessed from my cousins my age , indian friends , myself and my brother who are lgbtqia + )
FOOD :
we do eat with our hands and we eat like PROS with our hands . we can shovel it so easily and quickly . i don’t know how to describe it but you use the first three fingers of your hand to place the Food there , and then use your thumb to kinda scoop it off and into your mouth . this is NOT unhygienic because indians wash their hands very regularly and most of the time we aren’t actually touching our mouths to our hands !
indian food is MADE to be eaten with your hands for the most part . it is literally NOT practical to eat food with a knife and fork . here’s a really great article explaining things more in depth re: indian food and using our hands !
cows are seen as Very holy beings in hindu indian culture , and for that reason - there isn’t a lot of beef being eaten or consumed. sure , some indians DO eat beef but i don’t think its super common, but in my personal experience as a non-beef-eater this results in A LOT of me asking ‘ oh , sorry what sauce does that pasta come with ? ‘ ‘ oh those are beef sausages ? sorry i can’t eat them ‘ etc etc . beef is in a LOT of things , and this makes me very very careful and almost pedantic about what i do eat and ask about , food wise !
indian food is seen as stinky by a majority of white people . it has a very very strong smell as im sure u know , and opening ur lunch box as a little kid to a Curry or Dal ur mum has made u ? one way street to being bullied . i also remember a time a real estate agent continuously told my dad nobody was interested in buying our house bc it smelled too much like curry, despite my mum not having cooked curry in Weeks ( just say what u Really mean , bitch ! )
indian curry exists but so does dal / daal . this is curry-like dish that is usually made out of lentils . so if ur going to talk about indian food and u know curries and samosas . . pls also bring up dals . and sabji ! ( sabji is usually just boiled vegetables plopped together . a lot of potato usually )
desserts are what we call Indian Sweets . this is stuff that is usually very VERY sugary and a bit of an accustomed taste . theyre very colourful and LOOK beautiful but even i , for one , can not eat many indian sweets bc they are a Lot of Sweet and Sugar . examples of indian sweets that u can google : gulab jamun , burfi , rasgulla , jalebi etc . here’s a great link for more !
give me spiced food or give me death . literally . . put some cumin in . . put some garam masala . . put some chillies . . flavour ur Food for my Indian Taste Buds
FAMILY :
if you are the oldest son of an Indian Family . . congratulations . you are now the Head of the family and must carry every weight and burden alone . it is extremely isolating and taxing on you ( my dad is the oldest indian son , and also - so is my eldest brother , obvs ) . there is a LOT that is expected of you to do . you are expected to quite literally run the family and be the ‘ man of the house ‘ by yourself .
if you are a daughter . . . even BIGGER congratulations ! you are basically a maid to every male or guest who EVER comes over to your house . you must be a Hostess , you must be in the kitchen cooking , serving snacks, bringing tea , and then washing up and basically waiting on Hand and Foot . you will not be included into a lot of dialogue or engaged in a lot of conversation and TRUST ME ! THAT WILL GRIND UR GOD DAMN GEARS IN THE 21ST CENTURY !
if you are a boys’ boy ( aka straight and Sporty ) , then congrats ! you get it the easiest : you are the favourite of every social event . the uncles and cousins love talking to you and dude-ing it up with you , and the aunts fawn over you and think you’re the Best Thing since sliced bread . sit back , put your feet up , and expect to be treated like a God. you can do absolutely no wrong . ( my middle brother is this to a T and listen . . he’s been in and out of jail for physical violence and ab*se for over 5 years . and family still FROTH over him . my teeth are gritted to dust thinking of this again )
indian aunties are lethal . they gossip like teenage girls . they will find out everything . they will bitch behind your back . they can NOT be trusted .
everyone is ur uncle or aunt, sister or brother . literally everyone . ur cousin ? no. thats ur sister . ur dads friend ? no , thats ur uncle . you will call them as such . EVERYONE is family .
family is in general a VERY BIG THING in indian culture , too . ‘ what will it Look like to everyone else if we don’t all arrive together ? ‘ my dad usually asks dskjdfjn . it’s all about Looking Right and Standing As A United Front . that being said , indian family has undying and unwavering loyalty for one another , they just show it in a very Weird way .
FASHION:
female hindu indian formal clothes are usually really embroidered to hell and back and this makes them very scratchy , uncomfortable, and HEAVY . you aren’t running anywhere anytime soon in a full blown lehenga or saree
most ‘ modern ‘ hindu indian women do not wear full Indian Clothes all the time . some do , but usually it’s a lot of wearing a kurti tunic with jeans , or just normal everyday clothing . again , this is going to be different based on which parts of india your character is from , though !
usually , older women and married women wear traditiona hindul indian clothing quite often . i know my mum wore a sari AT HOME everyday when i was growing up, until i was like 13 and took her shopping with me to get something Else to wear .
bindi’s just stick right onto ur forehead but they do fall off a lot , especially when ur wearing makeup or sweating . again , you don’t need to wear a bindi everyday , unless thats ur preference . i usually only wear them for festivals . ( festivals means indian celebrations , not like . . coachella ((which u should not be wearing a bindi to , if ur not indian fyi )) )
male formal clothes are usually just literally anything Formal and buttoned up for the most part , and u can get away with that , or you can wear a really nice kurta
indians wear white at funerals , not black ( not sure if this should go in the fashion section but this entire thing is being organised into a Mess by now anyways ) . you CAN wear black to a funeral of course , but its common to wear white !
DATING ( tw’s for islamaphobia ):
modern day indian / desi fuck boys exist and my god they are Something Else . hasan minhaj did a really good piece about this and explaining them to a T ( starts at 1:43 )
( THIS IS THE POINT THAT WILL MENTION ISLAMAPHOBIA AND HOMOPHOBIA ! ) basically according to Older indians , , ur dating options in 2020 go like this ( if ur a cis female like me ) :
hindu indian men are god tier , white men are Not Okay But I Guess So Bc We Have To Accept They’re Everywhere , females / being lgbtqia+ is not Taken Seriously , and muslims are literally not even close to being an option or Accepted . again this isn’t definitive but based on a lot of indian media i’ve consumed and seen how they portray muslims in general as well as Dating Options , as well as talking to other indians , both who are older / traditional and hold these ideals , whereas Younger gens generally do NOT hold these ideals / actively are Against these backwards ideals. i remember when i was in year 6 and had my first boyfriend . . he was a muslim and my dad FLIPPED the FUCK out . it’s not even that i was dating someone / young / his only daughter . . it was mainly because i was dating a muslim . again , this is a very OLD SCHOOL and traditional way of thinking and it is NOT CORRECT . pls don’t take this as a note to be islamaphobic if u write an indian character bc . . thats literally the opposite of what im trying to tell u here .
yeah arranged marriages are definitely still a thing for us , even now in 2020
YES if u are an unmarried / single indian ( ESPECIALLY if ur a woman ) about to enter ur 30s . . ur in DANGER and u are the black sheep and theres probably something Wrong With You bc why are u still single ?
TRADITIONS / BELIEFS / SUPERSTITIONS :
idk if its just me and my family but we are SUPER superstitious . if you say anything like ‘ he hasnt gotten sick in years !’ immediately , everyone knocks on wood or their head . if you were planning on leaving the house and sneeze ? thats bad luck , stand and wait for five minutes then u can leave . we have a strong belief in drishti , or alternatively : The Evil Eye , and making sure we don’t invite it into our lives . a lot of our prayers are about warding drishti away .
the evil eye is kinda Complicated but basically its an ill-wishing upon an unsuspecting person . if somebody is jealous of you or angered by you , they may wish upon you or cast upon you the Evil eye ( or even just glare at u whilst ur not looking and thats Big Bad ) .
a lot of older indians , like older people in general i guess , are not super progressive or Open . this isnt ALWAYS the case but older indians can be very very stubborn in their beliefs in what is Right and Wrong , Normal and Not Normal
theres a LOT of hindu indian festivals and events ! tbh too many for me to even keep up with . but without fail at least once a year ill say to ONE of my friends ‘ oh sorry i cant make it . i have an indian Thing on that day ‘ and its usually about a festival , so pls be aware that there are a LOT of indian festivals and if ur writing an indian character , its perfectly understandable and Relatable for them to say they can’t make it to a party or hang out with their friends that night , for that very reason !
the main / most popular ( ? ) festivities that i personally do celebrate every year without fail are :
diwali ( the festival of lights , celebrating goddess lakshmi roaming the earth . in my household this is usually turning on literally every single light and lighting candles and fireworks / sparklers and saying some prayers , and eating a formal dinner all together ! )
holi ( the festival of colours . celebrating victory and love . again personally for me , this was usually celebrated at the temple with all of us Kids running around throwing paint on each other ! )
rakhi / raksha bandhan ( a day of sisters celebrating their brothers . you tie a rakhi which is usually a bracelet / holy string around your brothers wrist , feed them some food , pray for their wellbeing and in return they gift you something . in my case, i usually get money from them ) .
navratri / durga puja ( 9 nights and 10 days of celebrations but tbh u don’t have to do all the days . or i mean . . i don’t . i fast one day from morning to night and then i slide on over to boogie and dance dandiya which is literally the MOST FUN dance ever bc its based off some Historical Fight and u go faster and faster and keep going until ur absolutely SPENT bc u dont wanna lose ur place in the circle )
there are SO MANY HINDU INDIAN GODS too . and so many prayers to all of them and to just general Life Wellness . chances are that ur character will know at least ONE aarti / gazal / prayer off by heart and have sung it at least 30 times in a monotone voice . the ones i know off by heart bc ive had to sing them 3000 times ? om jai jagdish hare , & the gayatri mantra
GENERAL LIL THINGS I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO CATEGORISE ( tw’s for skin whitening , colorism and classism ) :
( THIS IS THE POINT THAT NEEDS A TW FOR SKIN WHITENING AND COLORISM ) lets hold indians accountable right now : we advertise SKIN LIGHTENING CREAM . i think they finally stopped that earlier this year / due to BLM ( i’m not entirely sure / could be wrong ) , but thats literally how bad it is , that we would openly advertise and encourage people to literally bleach their skin rather than look darker .
( THIS IS THE POINT THAT NEEDS A TW FOR COLORISM AND CLASSISM ) colorism is a BIG thing in india and usually linked to class . generally speaking , the people who are Darker Skinned are usually people who work outside / labourers or homeless even , and are therefore seen as lower class / bottom class . the lighter skin you have , the more privileged and advantaged you are bc ur seen as working a Good job out of the sun and having a home . it’s incredibly classist as well as just generally Fucked Up . why am i telling u this ? mainly so u understand the importance of using a dark skinned indian fc vs a light skinned indian fc which i know is hard , bc a lot of darker skinned indians arent in hollywood / have resources , but its still something to Think About .
i have a long Ethnic name . literally my first name is 10+ letters , which i know doesnt seem that long Necessarily but its also a Super Ethnic name with e’s and and j and n . it Flows and Sounds very clearly different from a christian name . it is VERY important to me that my name be said Correctly because i’ve spent so much time having it said incorrectly or Westernised . i also know a lot of indians my age who ( like me ) have had to dramatically shorten their REAL first name ( which is usually also pretty long . not always , but it is Common ) , to fit their name into white people’s mouths better . please put some thought into ur indian characters name !
not all indians speak hindi ! hindi is one of MANY dialects within india . there is also tamil , urdu , bengali , punjabi , telugu and SO many more , so pls research which part of india ur character / their family is from bc hindi won’t always be the default language for them !
not every indian is hindu ! of course ur character doesnt have to be religious at all , bc if im being honest IM barely religious but my FAMILY is and this is smth u should think abt bc religion is a pretty big thing for indians . so even if ur character isnt hindu , they were probably raised with SOME religious beliefs . have a think about which religions they would have been brought up with ! there’s a very large percentage of practicing muslims , sikhs and buddhists too ! and even christianity !
WRITING WISE / CREATING AN INDIAN CHARACTER WISE :
the first step should be to consume indian media ! listen to indian music . watch bollywood movies ! theres SO MANY out there on everyone’s netflix . if u want some recs , let me know and i can try my best to find smth for u ! if u want smth thats Hollywood-indian . . . Hasan Minhaj is great to watch , especially his episodes on indian culture / politics , and Never Have I Ever on netflix was rlly good / relatable for me personally as an indian growing up in a western society !
i would really really love to see more indian rep in general , but i’d also like to discuss the Stereotypes that ive seen indians portrayed as in mainstream hollywood media :
indian women as soft spoken and subservient beings who are abused by their husbands and have no say in anything
heterosexuality within indian relationships and indian dating
indian men as sleazy
indians in general not being seen as Sexy or Sexual beings with any sex drive at all
Stumbling , Stuttering , Nerdy awkward messes of men who don’t know how to interact with anybody they find sexually appealing
an indian character that everybody ( usually white ) finds Uncomfortable and Weird and is seen as usually the Butt of the joke .
i think those mentioned above could be helpful in how to plan your next indian character and think about how to SUBVERT a trope theyre often portrayed as , or create an indian thats not stereotypical !
so what and who SHOULD you write ?
an indian character who is proudly and openly gay , or bi
a trans or nonbinary indian ( PLEASE ! )
an indian character with really super accepting parents and family
an aromantic indian
an indian who is focused on their career first and not their dating life
a fuckboy / fuckgirl ( honestly . . i’d love to see it )
a indian character who is a party animal
an outspoken indian female who takes no shit and is strong in every sense of the word
a confident , smooth talking indian businessman who is Sexy and Lusted After ( not in a gross christian grey way but just . i’d love to see indian characters seen as Sexy . not in a fetishy way , either , but just because it’d be a nice change in pace ! )
a character who IS traditional / religious but also very progressive and forward thinking in their beliefs
honestly just any character that isnt whats mentioned above
#guide#writing help#rph#rpc#islamaphobia tw#colorism tw#classism tw#idk if this is any good and i was very uncomfortable putting in the part abt how a lot of older indians feel abt muslims#but i mean . . lets just call it the fuck out bc its Gross Behaviour so lets call it out and work to change it#anyways every trigger is tagged super clearly in every point that talks abt it#i kept those parts Brief and as Direct and Honest as possible#pls let me know if u need me to tag anything#and lastly . . . pls write indian characters !!!!
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and they were roommates / analogical
oh my god they were roommates
includes: slow burn analogical, cute moments, me just vibing with virgil the whole damn time, god i wish this would happen irl, bad language use, also it just kinda drops off at the end, sorry (please let me know if i need to tag anything else)
(masterlist)
“That’s the last of my boxes,” Virgil muttered, hood up. “Thanks for letting me move in, Logan. I don’t know how much longer I could’ve coped with Remus and Janus.” It wasn’t that Remus and Janus were bad roommates, it was just… Janus was overbearing sometimes, trying to make sure that Virgil took care of himself. And Remus, was, well, Remus. He was always doing weird experiments and painting murals on the walls. Virgil was never 100% sure that the red blood was paint and not blood.
“It’s not a problem. The spare bedroom was just being used for storage,” Logan said from his seat at the dining table, his laptop open as he typed quickly. “Would you like some help unpacking?”
“I’m going to take a nap first, I think. But thanks.” Virgil took his final box to the room, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t bother to make the bed, and just laid down, falling asleep quickly.
-
“Virgil, it’s been three weeks and you haven’t unpacked yet,” Logan said, leaning against the doorframe to Virgil’s room. The boxes were open, clothes were strewn about the room, and the bed was still unmade, with just a blanket covering the mattress. “Please let me help you unpack.”
“Sheesh, it’s fine, it’s not like any of my shit is in your way,” Virgil muttered, finally pulling one of the headphone ears off. “I’ll get to it eventually.”
“Well, can you at least wash your dishes?” Logan crossed his arms, a frown on his face. “I’m not going to clean up after you. Janus might have done that for you, but I refuse to.”
“Fuck off,” Virgil’s voice was low, and he pulled his hood over his head. “I’ll do it later.”
-
Except he didn’t. The next morning, Logan stepped out of his room and almost directly onto Virgil’s foot. He was laying across the floor, face down, headphones blasting music so loudly that Logan could clearly hear the words to the song. Logan groaned, running a hand through his hair in a frustrated manner. He decided to kick Virgil’s foot, glaring down at the man.
“Get the fuck up, Virgil,” His voice was ragged, and his eyes dark. Virgil just grumbled, sitting up on the floor and looking up, pulling the headphones off. The bags under his eyes were heavy and dark, and Logan had a moment where he almost felt sympathy, but it quickly passed. “Why are you laying in the hallway?”
“My room was making me anxious,” Virgil responded. “Too much… everything. The hallway is nice and empty. Perfect for laying down.” Logan watched the other man’s face carefully, noting the empty glare in his eyes.
“...are you okay?” He finally asked, eyes narrowing. He had never seen Virgil act this way, not really. Whenever they had been around each other, when Logan was visiting Remus for science projects or when they were both visiting Patton for dinner or Roman for movies, Virgil would be… okay. Logan didn’t notice when Virgil would excuse himself to the bathroom or leave early. He didn’t pay that close of attention, because he thought that Virgil was okay. He knew that Virgil had suffered from depression and anxiety pretty severely as a teen and in college, but figured that he had recovered, since no one ever really talked about it. He wondered if everyone else danced around the topic, not wanting to upset Virgil. And he wondered if he was being a bad friend, never checking in with the other, just… assuming.
Logan didn’t wait for Virgil to answer. He stepped over the man on the floor and went into the messy bedroom, taking stock of what needed to be moved and put away. He folded and hung up clothes, put sheets and a comforter on the bed, and broke down the empty boxes. There was a box on the desk that he peered into, finding some books that he set on a shelf and some notebooks that he set on the desk.
When he exited the room, broken down boxes in his arms, he found Virgil laying across the hallway floor again. Logan walked around him and went to store the boxes in the hallway cabinet, then glanced at Virgil. He took his cellphone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to Patton.
Virgil’s feeling down today, how can I help him? -Logan
What?! Is he okay? Do I need to come over? ~Patton
No, don’t do that. I cleaned up his room, but he’s laying on the floor in the hallway, face down. What do I do? -Logan
Let me text Janus. ~Patton
Logan sighed, leaving Virgil in the hallway. He took a seat on the couch, watching his phone intently, when a text came through from Janus.
If he’s feeling down and laying on the floor, just… let him be for a while. Offer him food and water just in case. He has these bad days a lot, so be gentle. xx Janus
Logan didn’t respond, he just locked his phone and sighed. He was right, he had never noticed, or maybe he never cared to notice because he was always so wrapped up in his own head. As he was about to get up and get a snack for Virgil, his phone chirped again.
His favorite movie is The Nightmare Before Christmas. If you can… just start playing it. He might come and watch, and if he does, just sit with him. xx Janus
Logan considered this, and once he prepared some snacks and two mugs of tea, he turned on the movie, making sure the volume was up enough for Virgil to hear it. Shortly after the opening song, he saw Virgil peek into the living room, but made no acknowledgements to this. He just took a long sip of his tea, looking only at the movie.
Virgil sat on the other end of the couch, pulling his legs under him, and watched the film in silence. At some point, he started drinking the tea and ate a few of the crackers that Logan had set out.
Once the movie was over, Logan cleaned up the mugs and snacks. As he was doing the dishes, he heard Virgil come into the kitchen. “...thank you, Logan,” was all that he said before he retreated into his room.
-
Logan peeked his head in through the crack in Virgil’s bedroom door. Virgil was sitting at the desk, leaning over a notebook and scrawling fast. The logical man cleared his throat so that he wouldn’t startle the anxious man, and Virgil turned around to look at him.
“I made some pasta. If you’re hungry,” Logan said, his eyes watching Virgil’s movements carefully. In the three months that they had been living together, he had come to understand Virgil’s various moods, and could decipher what mood he was in based off of his body language.
Virgil scribbling in his notebook meant that his mind was overworking itself, that he was feeling anxious and he needed to get the thoughts out of his head. The best way to work with that was to bring him out of his room to eat and talk, or to watch a movie together.
If Virgil was laying on the floor, regardless of where, then he was having a depressed day. On those days, Logan practically had to force him to eat, to shower, and to rest on the couch. Those days usually turned into movie days, and when Logan had too much work to do he’d call Patton or Roman to come spend time with Virgil.
The third mood was one that happened very rarely. It was as if Virgil needed to do anything other than what he was supposed to do. He cleaned the entire apartment, did laundry, and spent a big part of the day baking. Logan hadn’t quite figured out what this mood meant, but he knew it wasn’t good.
“What kind of pasta?” Virgil asked. His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t had anything to drink (which wasn’t true, because Logan had given him some water and tea earlier).
“Chicken Alfredo,” Logan responded. “I also made a salad, and opened a bottle of white wine.” He figured that wine probably wouldn’t help Virgil’s depressed moods, but his anxious mood could do with some alcohol. “I could put on a film, too. Maybe Tangled?”
“Yeah… that sounds nice. I’ll be right out,” Virgil responded, turning back to his notebook. He finished writing a line and when he got back up, Logan had gone back out into the shared living space.
The two filled their plates with food and brought the wine bottle and two glasses into the living room. Logan sat down first, setting down his plate and pouring some wine into each glass. Virgil turned the film on, and they watched in silence, save for the crunching of the food in their mouths.
Logan watched as Virgil mouthed along the words to “I See the Light” and couldn’t tear his gaze away. Virgil seemed so earnest, so into it, that Logan couldn’t help but feel a tightening in his chest. He finally looked away, but couldn’t focus on the rest of the film. His mind was wandering, imagining what it would be like to see Virgil give him a genuine smile, like the ones he had seen given to Patton and Janus.
When the film ended, Virgil was the first to get up and clear the dishes. Logan didn’t get up, but he heard Virgil turn on the sink in the kitchen. He turned off the film and stood up slowly, wondering if he should go into the kitchen to talk to his roommate. He heard a crash in the kitchen and quickly ran towards the room.
“Stop! Wait!” Virgil yelled before Logan crossed the threshold. One of the wine glasses had slipped out of Virgil’s hand and there was glass all over the tiled floor. “Don’t come in here. Can you get the broom or vacuum?”
“Are you okay?” Logan asked, not moving from the spot he was frozen in. Virgil just nodded, and Logan sighed before retreating to get the broom and vacuum. He started sweeping before Virgil could say anything, and he did his best to get all of the pieces he could see.
“I can do it,” Virgil muttered as Logan got closer to the sink. “You don’t have to clean up my mistake.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” was all that Logan said in response. When he finished sweeping, he vacuumed over the space quickly, just to make sure that all of the tiny pieces were off the floor. He then looked at Virgil, who had a look of shame on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay, Virge?”
“Yeah, I… my hand slipped, is all.” He responded. Logan glanced at Virgil’s hand and saw a cut on his thumb. He grabbed the other man’s hand and inspected it closely.
“You’re bleeding,” Logan’s voice was serious.
“Logan, I’m fine, please–”
“Virgil, let me clean and bandage this,” Logan insisted, pulling the other man towards the bathroom. He made Virgil sit on the edge of the tub and went through the medicine cabinet to get out peroxide and a bandaid.
“I’m really fine, Logan,” Virgil muttered, pouting as Logan dabbed the peroxide on the cut with a cotton ball. He hissed a little, eyes closing. “It stings.”
“That means it’s working,” Logan said, face contorted as he focused on putting the bandaid on in a way that covered the cut well. “There, see? As good as new.”
“...thanks,” Virgil said, eyes down. “I’ll go finish the dishes.” He got up and pushed past Logan, leaving the logical man standing alone in the bathroom, confused.
-
“Hi Patton, hey Roman, come on in!” Logan opened the door, the two friends smiling as they came into the apartment. “Remus and Janus are already in the living room. There’s wine and some appetizers, and dinner should be coming out of the oven fairly soon.”
“Where’s Virgil?” Patton asked, looking around. Logan looked down at his feet, biting his lower lip.
“He baked some brownies earlier, but he’s… feeling down again. I’ll try to get him to come out when dinner’s ready,” Logan explained. Patton frowned.
“I’ll go talk to him,” He said, and before Logan could stop him, the other man was already heading down the hall. Roman startled Logan by putting a hand on his shoulder.
“He’s a bit of an emo nightmare, huh? I mean, you’ve been living together for what, six months? How can you handle that?” Roman chuckled, and Logan frowned.
“He’s not a nightmare, Roman. He’s still figuring some stuff out,” He explained. “He started going to a therapist last month, and things seem to be… better.”
“Dr. Picani, right?” Janus came over to join the conversation. “I’ve heard good things. I’m glad he’s finally going.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” Logan said. “I’m gonna go check on dinner.” He went into the kitchen and opened the oven to check on the lasagna he was making. It was still getting crispy on the top, so he closed the oven and gave it another 20 minutes on the timer. He heard someone come into the kitchen behind him and turned around to see Janus standing there.
“How is he really?” He asked, crossing his arms. “If you can’t handle it, he can always move back in with Remus and me–”
“No,” Logan responded, voice firm. “He’s not a child, Janus. He can make his own decisions and take care of himself without you harping over everything he does.”
“I just meant…” Janus sighed. “I’m sorry. I know he’s not a child, I just… I worry about him. He’s been through so much, and it’s still hard for me to not see him every day, to know whether or not he’s okay. But, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a good job.”
“It’s not a job to take care of him. I had a spare room, he wanted to move out of your place, so he’s here. That’s all.” Logan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. Janus narrowed his eyes a little.
“He speaks pretty highly of you, you know. Says you always seem to know what he needs when he’s feeling down, and he said you drive him to his appointments with Dr. Picani.” Janus sat down at the table, watching Logan’s reactions very carefully.
“I originally only was planning on doing so the first time because he was so nervous, but… I don’t mind,” Logan smiled faintly. “I like spending time with him.”
“Riiiiight,” Janus smirked. “That’s it, right? You just like spending time with him, you just think of him as a friend?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at–”
“How much longer until dinner?” Virgil asked, stepping into the kitchen. He had his hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, and Patton was right behind him. “Oh, it feels tense in here, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Janus smiled. “I’m going to go get more wine,” He quickly left the kitchen, making Virgil raise an eyebrow. Logan cleared his throat.
“Another fifteen minutes or so,” He said, eyes down. “You should have a snack or something, or maybe get some water or wine.”
“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Lo.” Virgil left the kitchen, Patton following closely behind.
Logan sighed, wondering what Janus was going to accuse him of. The truth was, Logan was pretty sure that he was falling for Virgil, but he couldn’t put that kind of pressure on the anxious man, not when he had finally started going to therapy and was considering trying antidepressants. Not when the two had become good friends who would eat dinner together every night and watch Disney films. He knew that feelings would ruin their friendship, so he pushed them down, ignoring them. He didn’t even know if he was falling for Virgil, because he had never fallen in love before. He wanted to, he wished he could, but no one ever gave him butterflies or made him blush. Not the way Virgil did, anyways.
And, he was sure that if he ever made a move on Virgil, the protection squad (Janus and Patton) would put an end to things pretty quickly. The two treated him like a child, trying to take care of him, and Logan knew it was out of love and care, but Virgil was an adult, and Logan wanted him to feel like he could make his own decisions. If anything were to ever happen with them, it would have to be on Virgil’s terms, and Logan was confident that Virgil could never have feelings for the logical man.
Logan was quiet as they all ate dinner together. Roman and Remus argued about a long-seeded childhood event, Patton cracked jokes. Virgil also stayed quiet, only answering Janus’ question about therapy, and Logan’s hesitant question about how dinner had turned out.
The group conglomerated in the living room after they had all finished eating, and played Jackbox games until, one by one, the others left, leaving the roommates.
“I’m going to clean up the kitchen,” Logan said, standing up from his place on the rug.
“Leave it for tomorrow, you seem pretty tired,” Virgil suggested, turning off the television. “It won’t kill you to have a little bit of a mess overnight.”
“I should, though…” Logan hesitated, then he sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Have a seat,” Virgil offered, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “You should take it easy.” Logan sat down on the couch, letting his eyes close and his head fall back onto the headrest. He took a few deep breaths, but then heard Virgil clear his throat. He opened his eyes and glanced over at the other man. “Is there something going on between you and Janus?”
“What?” Logan asked incredulously, and he shook his head. “No, Virgil. What would make you think that?”
“I just… I don’t know. When Patton and I came into the kitchen, earlier, it seemed… tense…” Virgil murmured, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, I just thought… maybe…”
“I’m pretty sure that Remus is trying to get with Janus,” Logan responded, “But, either way, I’m not interested in him.”
“Is there… someone you are interested in?” Virgil asked. Logan’s heartbeat quickened and he gulped, looking down at his hands. “If it’s Patton, I could help–”
“No. No, it’s not, I’m not…” Logan stammered over his words, and he could feel his face turning red. “I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight, Virgil.” He stood up again, and started walking to his room. He entered the room and started to close the door but a hand stopped it, pushing the door back open. Virgil was standing there, eyes focused on Logan.
“I need to tell you something,” He said, voice low and hesitant. He took a breath. “I… I tried to stop it. I tried to not feel this way because you’re my friend and you’re a big support in my life, but I couldn’t help it. All of the talks, all of the movies we sit and watch, and the care that you show me, I just…” He looked down, taking another deep breath. “I’m… I’m in love with you, Logan.”
“Virgil–”
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know how to stop it,” Virgil was crying now, and Logan’s heart ached. “I tried. I tried to force it down, I tried to not think about it, I tried to write all of my feelings out and ask Dr. Picani for help but… I couldn’t, I can’t, I’m so sorry…”
“Virge–”
“I’ll move out. I’ll go back to Janus’, I promise. You won’t have to deal with me anymore. I’m so sorry,” He was shaking hard, tears streaming down his face. Logan pulled him into a tight hug, making him gasp.
“Don’t apologize. And please, please, don’t leave, Virgil,” Logan whispered, holding him tightly. “Because I’m in love with you, too.” Virgil froze in his arms, a gasp escaping his lips.
“W-What?”
“I tried to push it down. I didn’t want to do anything because you’re going through a huge shift in your life and you don’t need the pressure. But being around you, seeing how hard you’re trying… of fucking course I fell in love with you, too,” Logan smiled, pulling back a little bit to see Virgil’s face. It was splotchy and red and there were lots of tears and some snot, but Logan had never thought he was more beautiful.
“I- I…” Virgil stammered over his words, and Logan held his face in his hands. “Logan…” He whimpered, then their lips met in a hasty, needy kiss. Virgil tangled his fingers in Logan’s hair, pulling him as close as possible.
They finally pulled back after a few minutes of kissing. Virgil pressed his forehead against Logan’s, the biggest smile plastered on his face. Logan was smiling too, a real, genuine smile, one that he probably had never given to anyone.
#amanda writes sanders sides fic#analogical#ts virgil#ts anxiety#anxiety sanders#virgil sanders#ts logic#ts logan#logan sanders#logic sanders#ss analogical#analogical fanfiction
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Black Magic Woman
I got this request from @buckybarton03 I hope I did this justice, dearie.
Pairing: Bucky X Reade
Word Count: 3500
Request: Hi, I was wondering if you could write about how Bucky and Y/N have been dating for a while and Tony throws a party so the Avengers can finally meet Y/N. At the party, Y/N connects with Sam really well (as friends) and Bucky gets super jealous.
“Are you sure you wanna be keeping secrets, Bucky? Your whole team relies on the fact that there aren’t any secrets between you guys.” You say softly.
The sauce is simmering quietly on the stove and the meatballs are frying away in the oil. You’re just waiting for the water to boil for the pasta. Bucky is pacing around your spacious kitchen.
“It’s not a secret, doll. Sam knows about you. I’m not hiding you from anyone.” He says, his blue eyes drifting to the meatballs.
“Don’t even think about it. And yeah, sure, Sam knows about me. But we’ve never met.”
“I’m just trying to keep you safe.” He says.
“No, you’re using that excuse to cover your real feelings.” You huff, putting down the tongs and turning towards him.
“My real feelings?” He asks.
You cup his face gently. “Barnes, when will you ever learn you can’t keep anything from me?”
“Probably never.”
“You’re still feeling guilt over your past. Like maybe you don’t deserve to be happy.” Your thumbs trace light lines over the planes of his face. He grasps your wrists softly. “But remember? We talked about this. James Buchanan Barnes would never have done that. They took the best qualities about you and twisted them. That’s not on you. You’re allowed to be happy, to have a life. You said yourself that Stark forgave you.”
“He did.” Bucky sighs, closing his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still feel like if I did have a life, moved on, he wouldn’t be pissed. Sorry.”
“Don’t be fucking sorry, you know I never mind a god damn swear word.” You reply and he chuckles.
“You’re worse than a soldier.”
“Bucky, please? I need you to be comfortable with this, okay? I’m happy to wait until you’re ready, but I think you should consider it.” You say.
“Fine. Just for you.” He nods.
You press up on your tip-toes and kiss his soft lips. He pulls back and grins, brushing your cheek.
“You get all red.”
“Yeah, the beard burn is no joke with you.” You mutter, turning back to the stove. “You can make the pasta, and if you even think about touching the meatballs before they’re ready, you’re gonna get it.” You warn. He grins, holding up his hand.
“Yes, ma’am.” He promises, but you suspect that his fingers are crossed on the hand you can’t see.
***
“Barnes!” Tony calls, trying to catch up to the big man. Shit, he walks fast. “Bucky!” Tony calls again, turning his speed into an actual jog. “Damn, speed racer.” He mutters, stopping when he sees him truck through the door and he’s gone.
“Hey, Tony.” Sam greets, signing in.
Tony turns to look at him and sighs. “Will you tell Barnes that he can stop avoiding me? I’m not mad anymore.”
Sam has the nerve to chuckle. “Sure, I’ll let him know, but it’s not about you, man.” He says, patting Tony on the shoulder. “Not everything is, you know.”
“What? Then why is he running from me?”
“Maybe it’s not you? Maybe he’s running to someone instead.” Sam grins.
“I don’t follow.”
“He’s got a girl. He’s there almost every night.”
“What’s she like? Why haven’t I met her?”
“I don’t know what she’s like. No one’s met her as far as I know. And if they’ve met her before me, he’s gonna be sorry.” Sam says, dropping the pen back down. “He probably wants his privacy, man. After seventy years of living in a cage where anyone can come by and harass you, wouldn’t you want privacy?”
“Fine, when you put it like that, it makes sense.” Tony sighs.
“Good. Now, let it go. He’ll introduce us when he’s ready.” Sam disappears into the compound and Tony looks thoughtfully at the door.
“But I’m ready now.” He mumbles, heading back for his office. Time to think of a plan.
***
The grocery store is crowded, more crowded than he would have liked. People keep bumping into him and that’s not helping his cover. Not that a baseball hat and dark sunglasses is much of a cover.
He had spotted you back in the frozen foods section and simply couldn’t believe his luck. Having received your picture in his background check, he knew exactly who you were.
And boy, are you way out of Barnes’ league.
He follows you around for at least fifteen minutes, trying to figure out a way to meet you ‘organically’ since he’s not supposed to know who you are.
You’re looking at boxes of tea, so he figures he can approach under the guise of getting some for himself.
Just as he’s about to turn the corner, someone bumps into him and he knocks over an entire shelf of syrup bottles and honey jars. The mess goes everywhere and he has to scramble to hide.
***
Which tea did Bucky say he wanted? Crap, you knew you should have written it down. You select a couple different varieties, tossing them in your basket. You’re about to leave when an entire shelf tips over behind you. You jump, flattening yourself against the tea wall as honey and syrup flood toward you.
There’s a narrow space to walk for your escape so you quickly take it, avoiding getting your shoes all sticky.
Some people need to pay more attention.
***
You wanna ask him, you know your tone would be light. It’s a thing these days, a joke people say when weird things happen. But he would take it the wrong way, get overprotective and never let you leave your apartment.
“Do you ever feel like you’re being followed?” One simple question, a tease, a half-hearted jest.
But with Bucky, the King of Paranoia, it would mean so much more. So you keep it to yourself. Even though weird things keep happening.
There was that incident in the grocery store, and then a few days later at your favorite book store-an entire row of customers were knocked over as some lunatic created havoc. Then at the laundromat, some idiot accidentally locked himself inside a dryer and they had to close the building down.
Everywhere you go lately, chaos follows you.
***
“I don’t understand.” Tony paces his living room.
“Explain to me again how you accidentally got locked in a dryer in a laundromat you don’t even need to go to,” Pepper says, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“It doesn’t matter, that was weeks ago, Pep. Don’t you see it? She’s a witch and she’s cursed me.”
“To do what, exactly? Make a fool of yourself? Because you’re doing just fine on your own.” She says evenly.
“Funny. No! Every time I try to get near her, something disastrous happens.” Tony chews on his thumb as he thinks. “It’s been two months. All I want is to meet her. That’s it. Make her feel welcome so Barnes feels welcome.”
“Lies.” Pepper sighs, leaning back and crossing her long legs.
“Excuse me?”
“You, sir, are a dirty rotten liar who lies on his throne of lies. You want to meet her because you don’t like that someone is keeping a secret from you.” She accuses and his mouth falls open.
“Why, I never!”
“More lies. You always.” She retorts, standing up and getting more wine. “Honestly, why are you going to all the trouble of tracking her down when you could just get her to come to you?”
Tony perks up and looks at his wife. “Come again?”
“Throw a party. A small get together with just the Avengers and their significant others. We could do a barbecue.”
“Pepper, you’re a genius.” He exclaims, pulling her in for a kiss.
“I know.”
***
You fidget nervously in front of the mirror. Bucky will be home soon and then it’s just a quick shower and he’ll be ready to go.
You eye the invitation and a slow smile spreads across your face. Finally. You can’t wait to meet all his friends.
You smooth the indigo-colored shirt down over your waist, hands just having too much energy to stay still.
It’s still a mystery as to how Tony Stark even knows about you or where you live, but you just assume that Bucky gave the okay to invite you. Or maybe he put you down as an emergency contact.
Whatever the reason, you’re excited. Eleven shirt changes, do the shoes match the shirt, or not match? Hair up? Hair down? Makeup? No makeup? Barbecue means casual, right?
The door clicks open and you can hear Bucky shuffling as he takes off his work boots. “Babe?” He calls and you scoop up the invitation before stepping out to meet him. His eyes lift to look at you and he smiles. “Wow. You look gorgeous.” He says, stepping forward.
“You’ve been gone for five days on a mission, I could wear a potato sack and you would still think that. Better than the sweaty men you’ve been around.” You roll your eyes, but you still flush slightly at his compliment.
“Very true. And I would very much like it if you wore a potato sack. Easy access, no buttons or ridiculous bra hooks to fight with. Just up and over your head and then you’re all mine.” He says, sweeping you into his arms and kissing you deeply.
You sink into it for a moment before you remember that he doesn’t have much time to get ready. You pull away before he can distract you any further.
“What?” He asks, confused as he searches your face.
“You have to get ready so we can go.” You say, pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. Not that he moves much.
“Go where? Are you taking me out on a date?” He asks scandalously, teasing you with slow steps and leaning into your hands.
“To Tony’s party.” You remind him.
He stops dead and stands up straight, all humor is gone. “Wait, what? What party?” He asks.
You hold up the envelope for him to see and he takes it from your hands, reading the details. “You didn’t know.” You say, resisting the sigh.
“No.” He answers shortly.
So, he didn’t give the okay, this isn’t his idea. He’s still not ready.
You give a small nod. “Alright.” You start taking off your earrings.
“Doll,” he starts.
“We don’t have to go. I said I would wait until you’re ready, not Tony Stark. We can stay home. You’re probably tired anyway.” You step around him to put your jewelry in the dish on your dresser.
He grabs your arm lightly, stopping you. “Don’t. Keep your earrings in.” He says, his eyes closed.
“Bucky, we don’t have to go, it’s fine.” You insist.
He pulls you close and cups your face softly. “When are you gonna learn that you can’t keep things from me?” He teases. “I know you wanna go. You got all dressed up and I can feel your excitement in the air. Let me shower and then we’ll go.” He promises.
“Are you sure? Really really sure?” You ask and he nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“It’s time.”
***
Bucky
He told you he was fine with going to the party. It just means that he can yell at Tony tonight instead of waiting until Monday.
You look so beautiful, the deep rich color of your shirt bringing out the tones in your eyes. You thank him softly as he opens the door for you. You look up at him as you slip inside and squeeze his hand.
“We can go. Get burgers at Rhonda’s, your favorite milkshake. Netflix and chill.” You offer suggestively and he’s sorely tempted to take you up on it, but he knows how much you want to be here. And he loves you for offering him a way out.
“Nope. Although, the Netflix and chill thing we’re definitely doing.” He says and you laugh.
“Deal.” You kiss him softly and allow him to lead you through to the common area. There’s a massive outdoor patio with a grill set up and tables and chairs, coolers of beer and sodas. It looks like it’s a quiet affair, not one of Tony’s loud galas. Just a handful of people that he works with, Natasha, Sam, Maria, Sharon, and some others.
He sees Pepper and gives a small smile, realizing that keeping this a small affair must have been her idea.
“Hey, Bucky. Glad you could make it.” She says, giving him a confident peck on the cheek.
“Thanks. This is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, Pepper, Tony’s wife, and wrangler.” He looks at Pepper. “Speaking of, do you know where he is?” Bucky asks.
“Getting the food from the kitchen. Y/N, let’s get you a drink.” She says, offering you her arm. “I see Sam over by the drinks, let’s go meet him.”
You take it with a curious look at Bucky. He nods once and kisses your cheek, your skin soft against his lips. He watches Pepper lead you away before turning to go to the kitchen.
Tony is humming away, dancing very badly as he prepares a platter full of burgers. He doesn’t notice Bucky enter and a little thrill goes through his chest. Never able to resist startling someone, it brings him a secret joy.
He moves silently behind the billionaire. “Stark.” He growls.
Tony lets out a high-pitched scream and he spins around and stumbles back into the counter with a hard thud.
Ever the master assassin, Bucky keeps a straight face on the outside, but inside he’s doubled over laughing hysterically. That shit was funny.
“Barnes!” Tony squeaks. “Glad to see you made it back.” He manages, looking around the kitchen guiltily.
“Are you?” Bucky murmurs, examining his nails.
“Of course.” He clears his throat nervously.
“What’s the matter, Tony?”
“Nothing, why would anything be wrong?”
Bucky sighs, crossing his arms. “Stark. Why go behind my back?”
“What do you mean?”
“This party, the invite. You could have just told me about it. Instead, you send an invitation behind my back to my girlfriend. How did you even find out about her?”
Tony sighs in defeat, his posture relaxing. “Wilson. He mentioned her a couple months ago and I’ve been trying to meet her ever since.” He shakes his head. “She’s some kind of magic. Every time I get close something would happen to make it go wrong.”
Bucky chuckles. “She is magic, I’ll give you that. C’mon. I’ll introduce you as long as you leave her alone after this. I don’t want her in the crossfire of what we do.”
“You know we’d protect her,” Tony replies as Bucky picks up the platter.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” The men walk back outside to the party and Bucky stops dead as he sees Sam sling his arm around your shoulders.
He leaves you alone for a few seconds.
You tip your head back and laugh, nudging his ribs with your elbow. Annoyance settles in his belly, burning through his veins.
***
Sam Wilson is hilarious. Ever since Pepper brought you over here, he’s done nothing but crack jokes and tell you stories about your boyfriend.
He’s warm and charming and easily accepting you. You can tell you’re gonna be good friends.
You’re in the middle of teasing him about a story Bucky told you about him when you feel eyes on the back of your head. You start to turn and Sam drapes his arm around your shoulders, laughing at your teasing comments. You nudge his ribs good-naturedly.
His attention gets called away and you look around, seeing Tony Stark at the grill. He’s handing the platter over to someone else, which doesn’t surprise you. He doesn’t seem like the type to cook.
So, if Tony’s out here, where’s Bucky? You turn in a circle, searching for his face. Not seeing him outside, you head inside, hoping you don’t get lost.
You don’t have to look too long before you nearly walk into him. “Hey.” You smile, linking your hand through his. “Work everything out with Tony?” You ask, tilting your head.
He barely looks at you before nodding. “Yup.”
“Bucky, what’s wrong?”
“You should go enjoy the party. It’s for you, after all.” He says. His voice is cold, face blank of emotion.
“Bucky.” You say firmly, squeezing his hand. “I like it a lot better when you talk to me.” You try and he scoffs quietly.
“Do you?” He replies and then winces.
Your body turns cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I shouldn’t be here.” He pulls his hand out of yours and turns to leave. “This is a mistake.”
A mistake? Those words hurt you more than you can say.
You dart around him and block his way with your hands on his shoulders. “What’s a mistake? Being here? Or being with me?” You ask, your voice wobbling.
“You deserve better, someone without baggage to drag you down.” He shakes his head, taking your hands off him.
“You’re leaving me? Here? At a party with your friends?” Your voice cracks and the tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision.
What could possibly have made this mood come on?
“They’re not my friends.” He says, looking over your head.
“Sam is.” You return, tears spilling over as he clenches his jaw.
Bucky groans. “Doll, don’t cry.” He half reaches to brush them away but drops his arm.
“Then don’t leave me. It’s a stupid idea and you know it. I love you. I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
He opens his mouth to reply but glances over your head and closes his mouth. He nods with a curt smile at someone passing before he takes your hand and pulls you into a small side room.
“Take a minute to collect yourself.” He says, turning to the door but you squeeze yourself between him and the entrance, blocking his way.
He raises an eyebrow and you know you’re no competition for him, he could easily move you. But he won’t.
“What the fuck is going on? Did I do something wrong?” You ask but he just shakes his head, taking a step back from you. “Are you just overwhelmed? I know you weren’t planning on this, being here and sharing me yet. We can go home, I’ll leave. I’d rather be with you anyway.” You rush.
“No, doll.” He sighs and you grip the door handle so you don’t sink to your knees. The thought of losing him breaks you. “We can stay. I’m just being...” he trails off.
You try to wait patiently for him to continue speaking, but it’s not easy. You’re dying to know what’s in his head.
“I’m just...” he repeats, struggling. Finally, he looks at you and the cracks in his demeanor give way to holes and he melts. “Jealous.” He admits finally, shoulders slumping as he unburdens himself.
“Jealous? Of what?” You frown, confused.
“Sam. You two were getting along so well, right off the bat. I just...”
You heave a sigh of relief. “Listen, I like Sam. He’s great and I feel better having met him knowing he’s got your back. Of course, we’re going to get along. We have someone we care about in common.” You say, poking his arm. “Jesus, you’re an idiot.” You huff.
“Am I still your idiot?”
You tilt your head, thinking about it for a second. “I guess if you still want to be.” You shrug, but inside you’re ridiculously happy.
“Of course, I want to.”
“So, we can go back to the party?” You ask, gesturing behind you. He nods, holding out his hand. You take it, kissing the back of it. “You’re not allowed to leave me.” You tell him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He leads you back outside and over to his friend. He lightly punches Sam in the arm, his own tight around your shoulders. You happily lean into him.
There’s a tap on his arm and he turns you around to see Tony Stark. Bucky groans exaggeratedly but introduces you anyway.
“Yeah, the magic girl.” Tony nods knowingly and you tilt your head curiously.
“The what?” You ask.
“You have some sort of magic. I’ve been trying to meet you for a couple months but something always goes wrong.” He admits, shaking your hand.
“You’re the disaster that’s been following me around?” You ask incredulously. Sam snorts into his drink and turns away.
“Well, yeah.”
“How on earth did you even get stuck in a dryer?” You plant your hand on your hip as a sheepish grin spreads across his face.
“Well, it’s a long story.” He starts, glancing at Bucky.
“You got stuck in a dryer? Now, this I have to hear.” Your boyfriend says, gesturing for him to continue.
“Well,” Tony starts and you just know that this is going to be the start of a beautiful, but weird, friendship.
Tag List:
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#request#Bucky Barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky barnes x reader#mermaidxatxheart-writes#romance#fluff#marvel#marvel fan fiction#marvel fanfic
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fic prompt: while on the meteor, dave tries to convince Karkat that he can cook even tho his cooking knowledge stops at Kraft Macaroni. it's like a cooking show if that cooking show were left unattended for most of its childhood. rose stands by inwardly just fuckin living for this shit as Dave swears to god humans eat this
I almost didn’t do this one but this is my first ever request and also I'm not a fucking quitter so
You hate living here. You hated living here when it was you and a bunch of your friends, and you hated living here when the threat of a murder was around every corner, and you hate living here now that you’re with a couple of strangers that look weird and behave weird and say weird things.
Not that they didn’t say weird things before you started living with them, the two of them had that shit on lock. But now you have to hear it come out of their mouths, and into your brain where you’re forced to visualize some of the things they say.
At first, it was kind of nice? In that new-haircut way, where you’re not confident in it, but you can’t really change it so your only option is to just wear it until it becomes you’re new normal.
You have not reached that point in your new hivemates yet, unfortunately.
You’re not friendly with the humans. Not in the same way you are over text, at least. It’s always been difficult making friends in person, even the friends that you spent your entire life with had to live with a little bit of shunning from you simply because you’re not used to sharing your space with other living beings. It’s weird.
When the Strider human approaches you (and you call him that because you think it’s fucking weird to address someone by just a one-syllable name, and last names are more comfortable than just refusing to address him, not to mention rude) it only spells bad energy. Rancid vibes as he puts it.
You’re curled up on the sofa, in the recreation center, reading the same book you found in a decrypted hallway a few weeks ago. The cover of the book is so smudged and ripped, there’s no cover really, and some of the pages are torn out, but it’s kind of fun imaging what the missing pages had in them. Strider smacks something on the table in front of you and it makes your whole body jolt and hair stand up on end as your claws grip the pages and tear them even more. Great, that’s like a whole six more words you’ll have to make up later.
As you peel the parchment off your fingertips, you finally look up at him. You do your best to look annoyed, but you know you’re just tired. He’s got that look on his face. The one that says--
“Check this shit out.”
Good, god, yeah, that look. The thing he slammed on your table was a box, small, probably less than ten inches tall, and thing, only about an inch wide and deep, and a bright fucking blue with ugly bright yellows to contrast it. The design alone makes your lip turn slightly. “Whatever the fuck you want to bother me with this time, I guarantee I don’t have the patience for it. And I usually have the patience for it.”
“Total lie, but it’s okay, I forgive you, ‘cause this is gonna blow your fucking alien fucking troll mind, dude. This,” And he holds up the box, suddenly you feel as though you’re being sold something and you really really don’t want it. “is a Kraft dinner, and it’s called kraft cause it was crafted by the straight-up amazing ass food gods, not us ‘cause we’re different.”
You don’t want to talk. You feel like talking will encourage him to keep going, but he keeps going regardless as if you aren’t even there.
“I’m under the impression that you don’t know what this is, or even what’s inside of it, so lemme give you the tour.” Strider opens up the box and decaptulouges what appears to be an entire fucking metal basin, cooking surface, and a whole fucking sink. It’s...food. You suppose. Considering you’re not entirely certain what humans classify as ‘dinner’, it does not seem to be the same as what you do.
Strider dumbs the box into the metal basin, and out clatters little hard....let’s be honest here, they’re tubes. Tiny tubes.
“Is--” You start, and try to reach forward to touch the tubes. Strider smacks your hand away with a sharp slap and you hiss and pull back. “Dude, fuck off, I'm doing a bit here. Keep your hands and feet in the ride at all times, you know the drill.”
“What drill! There’s no d--I don’t want to be part of your stupid bit! All you ever do is run around with your little fucking god powers and make shit do other shit and turn shit into other shit and make a mess and who has to clean it up?? Karkat does, Karkat cleans up everything and he never gets a single please, or thank you or anything! And now you want me to watch you eat plastic and pretend it’s food?? I’m not falling for it, especially not this time, you blabbering, annoying fuckhead.”
The noises he makes, which you think are meant to pacify you, sound kind of like a tea kettle that’s only just starting to boil, a soft hiss/shush noise while tapping you on the shoulder. “Just trust me on this one, it’ll all be worth it.”
Fuck it, what else are you gonna do? Count pebbles??
After you seem like you’re going to allow him to continue, Strider fills the basin with water, and puts it on the cooking apparatus, turning the thing on and mumbling while he puts on his weird little show.
“Water’s gettin’ hot and it’s ‘bout to get hotter, fill it to the top, make sure it doesn’t splatter--no that’s fucking stupid, scratch that, reverse, uh, actually fast forward...” There’s his dumb little powers again. Before your very eyes, the water’s boiling. You peak over the top curiously and the little plastic tubes are big, pale and bendy. They peak over the water just a little, not completely submerged. He conveniently opens up his sylladex again and pulls out...a bowl with holes on it??
“You didn’t salt the water, Dave, you’re supposed to salt the water.” You peak over your shoulder and see Lalonde, the other human, in the doorway. She’s leaning her hip against the framing, arms crossed and smiling. How long has she been there. “Whatever, it doesn’t even make it heat up faster, who care.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“I’m absolutely not.” He then dumps the pasta out of the basin into the bowl, all the water spilling out into the sink. You’ll admit, now your interest is piqued. The tubes are soft now! Just from cooking in water??
You’ve decided your interest is un-piqued. Even as Lalonde continues to make fun of her human counterpart for not putting human salt rocks into a big pot of water where they would surely sink to the bottom and not add any experience to soft squish tubes. But you don’t say anything, because you’re tired of being made fun of for not understanding human cultures. Mouth shut.
Lalonde scoffs, baffled. “It’s for seasoning, Dave.”
“It’s cheese, Rose, it has all the flavors it needs!”
As they bicker, you see Strider move the tubes from the bowl to the basin again, stove off and he picks out a little white pouch, opens it and dumps it in. You watch with astonishment and disgust. Those tubes looked perfectly suitable!!
The two of them look to you, Rose with surprise but Dave keeps the same face on regardless. Strider has stopped stiring, with the big ol’ spoon he took out as well, which was changing the color of the tubes and making them into this gross mush that looked a lot like the insides of some animals back home. You almost gag, but manage to hold it back just enough. “I know it’s probably weird to you, but I swear it’s good, here gimme a sec.”
“Listen, bro, I'm basically a fucking M and C expert, I use to eat this shit for weeks on end.”
“Yes, and then you’d faint on your keyboard from iron deficiency.”
“That was one time, and it wasn’t even because of that, it was because of something else completely.”
“DUDE WHAT THE FUCK!” You sit up and shout, now kind of angry that Dave ruined perfectly good tubes and was acting like nothing was even weird about it.
You’ll admit you’re curious. So when he starts to pull out a little spoon, and get you some on it, it makes a little squelch noise and you do gag at that, and he holds it up for you to take. You do. And you stare at it for a really really long time. With as much care and precision as you can manage, you take one little tube. out and eat it.
It doesn’t...taste like anything. Not strongly of anything at least. You almost wonder what steps occurred to bring this sort of thing into existence. Not only on earth but here, on the meteor. You don’t say anything, just handing the spoon back to Strider. It’s the most polite way you can think of.
Still, he asks, “it’s good isn’t it?”
#i really hope u like this#i dont write know or care about dave or ross#and i havemt read the meteor part of hs 1 in a long time#cause ya know#sollux isnt in it#please dont tag as ship thank u#idk u can envision whatever u want just dont let me know#karkat vantas#rose lalonde#dave strider
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let them turn into a river
I've said I wouldn't write any more codas. Yet here I am. This works through some of my thoughts about Alex this season, which may not be everyone's cup of tea.
This also fills two prompts I got: "being given an unexpected hug, and stiffening, then melting into it" by @daffietjuh and "Alex has a breakdown over something mundane like what type of tuna to buy" (I think the original prompt was by @meneatyoghurt, and @rensbaratheon gave it to me).
[PTSD flashbacks, panic attack, mentions of abuse, discussion of possible dub-con (2x06)]
I'm fine. I'm completely fine, Alex repeats to himself as he wanders down the supermarket aisle in search of pasta.
It's not untrue, not exactly. He's certainly functioning a lot better than he was when he first got back from overseas, and his leg is doing rather well these days, even if it's now twinging in pain from the long day he's had. It's just that...he's had nothing but long, exhausting days in what feels like months. It's just that he's really, really tired.
And now he's in the store on a Saturday evening at eleven pm because the really, really nice guy he was hoping to try dating isn't willing to put up with his baggage. Alex can't blame Forrest. He wouldn't put up with it if he had a choice. He spent hours just staring at the bottom of his glass after Forrest left, until Maria slammed a bottle in front of him to get his attention and invited herself to lunch tomorrow.
“It's been a while since we really talked, Alex. I almost feel like you're the one avoiding me now.” The little progress Alex has made−according to his therapist, anyway−on setting his boundaries and asserting what he wants must have evaporated sometime during that night, because he didn't manage to say no.
Which means he needs to figure out what to cook. It's going to have to be meatball pasta, Alex decides. It's the only thing he can think of right now that's suitable for a guest but doesn't require a lot of preparation, and he has no wish to spend hours in the kitchen. He grabs his usual brand of pasta, grateful that he knows where it is by heart, and moves down the aisle to the sauce area.
The whole section of tomato sauce cans stares back at him.
Alex takes a step back to encompass the whole thing with his gaze, curses as the move twists his prosthesis enough for a sharp spike of pain to travel up his leg, and closes his eyes to center himself. Breathe. Everything's fine.
There are cans and boxes and bottles. Tomato sauce and pulp and juice. Several brands of each, with added flavoring and different sizes. How can there be dozens of different options? Alex is just looking for something to put in meatball pasta, it shouldn't be complicated.
He peers at the labels again, trying to wake up his brain enough to decide. But there's prices to think of, and ecology−what's better again, metal cans or cartons?−and so many different types and some of them are written in fucking Italian and he cannot choose. He stays frozen, two feet away from the shelves, vaguely rocking on his heels.
He can't breathe.
He can't breathe and he can't read the labels anymore because everything is suddenly out of focus. Fuck. He blinks, and inspires−and chokes, and wheezes, and shit, this shouldn't be so hard, why is he having a fucking panic attack in the middle of the deserted supermarket at 11 pm?
But he is, and thinking about how this should be simple, and why is he such a failure, is definitely not helping. He reaches out, tries to grab a can at random, and only succeeds in miscalculating and knocking several cans off the shelf. The noise they make hitting the floor is deafening.
Alex flinches, hard, and falls backward when it triggers another spike of pain up his leg and back. He hits the shelves at his back, probably knocking more things over−but he doesn't hear them fall over the buzzing in his ears. He feels the pain, though. The pain and the lack of air and the blackening at the edge of his vision.
Breathe.
He closes his eyes tight, letting himself fall on his ass on the floor and curl up. With his left knee under his chin, his right leg extended, he digs his nails into his palms. I can't do this. I can't.
He can't have Maria over, and pretend everything is fine. He can't talk to her about her relationship with Michael and about his own failed date. He can't look at her and forget about her kissing him, about the mess of limbs and emotions that followed, about how he can't feel anything but disgust toward himself ever since.
He can't.
Today has been a roller-coaster already. The elation he felt at the paintball park is long forgotten, replaced by wave upon wave of shame. At everything, at the mirror of himself he glimpsed in his father's eyes, at the way he froze with Maria, at the uncontrollably fear that gripped his gut when Forrest leaned in for a kiss, when he'd thought−he doesn't know what he'd thought. Only that in that moment, he felt a hand around his neck clearer than he has in months.
He feels it still, as he gasps for air. He spent every second in the hospital, from the moment his father first lost his temper, waiting for the hand to close around him. And yet he couldn't stop himself from catching his dad when he stumbled, even as he expected him to lash out. Why can't he even fucking put a stop to that? Let go of this monster for good, cut him out of his life?
Because he's a coward, that's why. He presses his back into the shelves until it hurts so much he gasps out. Pain. Focus. Breathe.
He's a fucking coward, so of course he's not good enough for someone like Forrest. Just like he'll never be good enough for Michael.
Michael. His mouth on him, again, after months of fantasizing about that. His warmth, his unique scent, his breathing−but they're not alone, and it's too much, too fucking much, that's not what he wants. Alex's skin crawls like that day, and he scrapes his nails at his palms, like he wants to rip it off.
No, no. No. He can't think about that again. He's in the middle of a fucking supermarket, for God's sake! He can't go down that hole.
Get a fucking grip.
Tomato sauce. That's what he needs. Nothing else. He can put everything aside, like how he's going to have to spend hours alone with Maria in his house tomorrow. After being touched by her that way. After watching her touch Michael that way.
He can't even get a handle on his thoughts long enough to remember the tricks his therapist gave him to get out of a panic attack. Counting. Right. One. Two.
No. Counting backward, or in threes, or the brain just takes over. But where to start? Twenty? Is that enough? A hundred? This is too much. How do you count in threes anyway?
Fuck.
Vaguely, he realizes the hand tightening on his throat is his own, his body desperately clawing at itself to breathe. Did his father mix his meds on purpose today? He wouldn't put it past him. But what would his purpose be?
Alex hates it. Being put in this position, the only son in town who is supposed to care for his ailing father. He avoids his childhood home as much as he can, but he's still the contact listed for him at the hospital. He hates watching Jesse Manes struggle to move around and feeling empathy he doesn't want, how somehow this is one more thing that brings them closer instead of separating them. Dammit. His dad in this position because he tried to kill Kyle, after torturing aliens−people−for decades. Alex shouldn't be feeling empathy for this man. He should have watched him fall on his face today, and not even moved a muscle.
Like his father watched him fall too many times after his injury.
Manes men don't show weakness.
Why couldn't he? Why is he such a coward that he can't separate the need to keep his father close, to monitor his actions and find out more about Project Shepard, from his own feelings?
Why can't he let the shadow of his father's abuse behind?
Making out with a hot guy in public is only made hotter when it pisses off all the bigots and the homophobes.
Alex wants to retch in shame.
“Alex!”
Alex can't tell where the voice comes from, but he feels someone coming close and that's what pulls him out of his panic. Reality brutally refocuses. He goes right from foggy, breathless dissociation to cold hypervigilance. He stills, releasing his left leg to be able to use it to swipe at someone's legs, and looks up very slowly.
It's Kyle, crouching down in front of him, frowning in worry. He may have called his name several times already, Alex doesn't know. He's surrounded by fallen cans of tomato, and one of them has burst and send red sauce flying everywhere.
Alex flinches away when Kyle tries to touch him. Breathing burns his lungs, but he forces the air in. Pain doesn't matter. Pain is good, right now, making him focus.
“Alex, what happened?” Kyle asks, like he's speaking to a small child. Or maybe Alex is imagining that. Everything is slow, unreal, his body unfeeling except for the pain.
He tries to make his mouth move to answer, but he can't. He shakes his head in frustration.
“Okay, okay, I won't touch you, alright? It's okay, there's no threat here. Do you know where you are?”
Alex nods, and dips his head, avoiding Kyle's eyes. Coming back to reality just means more shame. He's sitting in the middle of a supermarket, pants stained with tomato, panting and−for God's sake−crying. He's ridiculous.
“Good, you're with me,” Kyle continues. “Was it only a panic attack, or is there something medically wrong with you?”
Alex just stares at him, uncomprehending. He can't put the words together enough to make them make sense.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Kyle reformulates.
Alex shakes his head, and wills his hands to stop trembling.
Without taking his eyes off him for more than a second at a time, Kyle starts to pick up the intact cans of tomato off the floor. Giving him space, Alex understands. When he crouches down again, Alex feels stronger, more anchored, even if his whole body feels like cotton candy.
“Think you can get up now?” Kyle asks.
“Yeah,” Alex rasps out. He holds out a hand, though, rather than try to stand up by himself in the mess of tomato sauce. He wouldn't trust his leg with that on a good day.
Kyle scouts over, puts Alex's arm around his shoulders, and hoists him up.
“What about−” Alex gestures to the mess, and his own dropped groceries.
“I'll tell a clerk, it's okay. Let's just get you home, alright?”
“'Kay,” Alex murmurs. He doesn't have the brain space to think about it beyond his embarrassment, anyway.
Kyle lets him lean on him all the way to the checkout counter, and quietly explains what happened to the wide-eyed girl sitting behind it. Alex doesn't listen to her answer, his focus still shot. He stares vaguely at a the packs of gum behind her instead.
“Let's go,” Kyle prompts him to move again.
Alex wants to make it out under his own power, or some variation thereof. He takes his arm back, but he stumbles at the first step, and he has to catch himself roughly on the counter. Rather than make a big deal about it, Kyle simply hooks his arm into his, providing discrete support.
Sometimes Alex wants to hate him for how considerate he is. Right now he doesn't even have it in him to be anything but thankful, though.
The store is just two blocks from Alex's house, so he came here on foot, but there's no way he's making it back. His leg aches something fierce, and his steps are uneven, awkward.
Kyle guides him to his car in the parking lot without a comment, and takes the time to make sure Alex is comfortable in the passenger seat before he drives the thirty seconds to his home. There seems to be no end to Alex's shame tonight, and yet Kyle somehow manages to make it as painless as the situation can be−physically and emotionally. He gets Alex into the most comfortable armchair in his living room, pants and prosthesis off, with minimum fuss and as much privacy as possible.
“Thank you,” Alex murmurs when Kyle finally sits down on the couch across from him.
“I can go, if you tell me you're going to be okay,” Kyle says. “But I can also stay.”
Alex bites his lip. No, he doesn't really want to be left alone with his thoughts. “Not the night,” he says. “But maybe for a minute?” He doesn't like how whiny his voice sounds, but he's exhausted. He curls up in the armchair, propping his right leg on the arm rest and tucking his left foot under him.
“Okay,” Kyle nods, though it's almost midnight. Alex feels bad for asking that of him, but he did offer. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There isn't much to talk about,” Alex shrugs. “I'm sorry. I was just...tired.”
Kyle raises his eyebrows. “You're allowed not to talk about it, but please don't downplay it, Alex. This wasn't you being tired.”
“No, you're right. This was me freaking out over what tomato sauce to buy. But mostly, it's been a long day. Long week. Long...everything.”
“Your work?” Kyle asks.
“Not really. Not mostly. I've been, uh, taking on side projects, researching Project Shepard and Caulfield, helping you guys. And...my superiors were on base yesterday. My boss. And my boss's boss. And for about half-an-hour, I thought they were here to arrest me.”
“What?”
“It turns out that it was unrelated, but people are asking questions. Not my team, but I'm just a Captain, I still have to answer to people. And recently, I've had to cover up a shit-ton of things. Things that I could be court-martialed for and spend my life in prison several times over. You know this, you did the same.”
“Well, I'm risking my medical license for sure, maybe being sued by the hospital, but probably not jail,” Kyle says. “I didn't...honestly, I don't think any of us realized what you did for us.”
“For them,” Alex corrects him. “You're an outsider to them as much as I am. Tied up by shitty legacies and unwanted feelings for people who don't want us back.”
“You're right,” Kyle sighs. “I told Liz, before the surgery, I told Liz once that was over, I was done. But we all know it's not true.”
Alex gives him a commiserating smile. “In any case, Michael, Max and Isobel risk much worse just by being alive. I'm okay with doing my part. I have to admit that I started seriously questioning that when I learned that Liz decided to go ahead with the heart transplant when she thought you wouldn't be able to keep Max alive, because I had to pull in a lot of favors to get you that theater. That's when people started asking questions.”
“Wait, she didn't tell you beforehand? I thought she told you, or I would have.”
“I don't know if you've noticed, but Liz tends to get tunnel vision,” Alex shrugs. “Rosa told me.”
“Not Michael?”
“Nah, he was wrapped up in his family. We didn't talk.”
“What's going on with you two, anyway?” Kyle asks. “At Caulfield, you were basically flirting the whole way there, and now he's with Maria?”
Alex swallows. “Our...timelines didn't align,” he says. “My family destroyed his. I can't blame him for keeping me at arm's length.”
“That's bullshit, Alex. You're not your family.”
“And yet I brought so much pain into his life,” he sighs.
“So you're just giving up?”
“He's made it clear over and over that I'm not the one he wants. So yeah, I'm giving up.”
Kyle tilts his head. “There's something you're not telling me.”
Fuck. Either Kyle has become even more observant than he was or Alex is still so rattled that he's letting things through. Probably the second option.
Alex ponders it for a moment. He hasn't talked to anyone about that night. He hasn't seen his therapist in months, not since the nightmares and flashbacks Caulfield brought back up abated, and he doesn't exactly have a host of other friends to discuss things with. It's been a weight on his shoulders that doesn't live, that permeates everything. But then...this is Kyle. Is he really someone Alex want to talk about this with?
Actually, yes, he decides. Kyle has something of a unique perspective.
“We had a threesome,” he mutters. It's even more awkward coming out of his mouth than it is when he thinks the word.
“I'm sorry, what did you just say?” Kyle has his mouth hanging open. He's heard perfectly well.
“Michael, Maria and me,” Alex says. “After, uh, Maria and I went to see this boot maker, and he attacked us, stabbed me and went after Maria. She knocked him out and he's in custody,” Alex add hurriedly when he sees Kyle's expression become murderous.
“He stabbed you,” Kyle states.
“Just a little,” Alex shrugs. It's healed just fine, it will probably barely scar. “I'm fine.”
“You got stabbed, and instead of, I don't know, calling me, you had sex with your ex and your best friend. Your female best friend.”
“She initiated it, it's not like we came onto her or anything,” Alex raises his hands.
Kyle blinks. “Yeah, that's not what I'm worried about, Alex.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
Kyle works his jaw several times, trying to find his words. “Let's put it like this. Why are you telling me about it?”
“I...don't know,” Alex shrugs. It weights on his mind, and it needs to get out.
“How did it feel?”
Alex swallows. “Not great. I didn't...I didn't enjoy it. I thought−” he trails off.
“What did you think?” Kyle prompts him.
“We were coming off an adrenaline rush, and being with other people, with them, it felt...safe. I didn't want to leave. When Maria started to−I thought I wanted Michael enough that it would be okay, that I could handle it.”
“'Handle it',” Kyle repeats. “Alex, are you even hearing yourself right now? What would you say if one of your partners said they could 'handle' sex with you?”
“I'd back off right away,” Alex sighs. “But it wasn't like that, we were all consenting.”
“You'd just been attacked. You were injured. I'm assuming you'd been on your leg for a long time. Am I getting the right picture here?”
Alex shrugs. He can't deny it, but it doesn't feel right. Maria and Michael didn't make him have sex with them, he did it of his own free will. Sure, he should have left, but he hasn't been known for making the best decisions for himself, right?
His hands are shaking again.
“I could have left,” he says, his voice trembling. “I didn't want to, but I should have.”
“Okay,” Kyle says, physically backing off. “Don't spiral out again, it's okay.”
“I tried to go on a date, today,” Alex says after a few deep breaths.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. The guy is great. I just...he tried to kiss me, and I couldn't.”
Kyle frowns. “Why−oh, in public?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know about your father?”
“No,” Alex shrugs. “Does it matter? We all have our bad coming out stories.”
“Your father is a little more than that, Alex,” Kyle raises an eyebrow, like Alex doesn't know that.
“It doesn't change anything. He's not ready to date someone who's not out and proud.”
“Except you are, Alex. You are out and proud. And honestly, with what you've been through, it's amazing how open you are. So maybe you don't wear glitter or dye your hair blue−”
Alex snickers.
“What?”
“Forrest has blue hair,” he says.
“The guy?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Well, my point stands. You're not in the closet, you just have baggage. Heavy baggage, maybe, but it's not the same.”
Alex tilts his head. Kyle is not wrong, even if he hadn't thought of it that way.
“You think I'd look good in glitter?” he asks, because he needs to stop getting in too deep with his emotions.
“Alex, you'd look good in sack. Glitter, rainbows, crazy hair colors? You'd definitely pull them off. Green would look good on you. Or purple.”
“I think I'll stick to black, thank you,” Alex laughs. “But maybe I'll think of getting my ears pierced again. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You suddenly seem to be awfully interested in queer fashion.”
Kyle actually blushes. “Um, I...I might have taken to hanging out at Planet 7,” he mumbles.
“You?” Alex asks in shock.
“I wanted to get away from Liz. And anything alien. Actually aliens, I mean. Not that it worked.”
Alex frowns. “Michael was there?”
“No,” Kyle shakes his head. “Not him. Fuck, I shouldn't have told you that.”
It takes Alex a few moments to catch up. “It can't be Max, so...Isobel? Really?”
“I didn't mean to...out her or anything.”
“It's okay, I'm not going to go shout it from the rooftops,” Alex says, because Kyle really looks worried. “Though you should definitely be careful who you tell.”
“I will.”
“What about you?” Alex asks.
“What?”
“Are you trying to tell me you're not as straight as you thought?”
Kyle hides his face in his hands. “I don't know, maybe? I don't...I'm really not sure. I never thought about men that way, but when I see the couples there, or the people who hook up...I don't know.”
“It's okay,” Alex smiles. “It's okay not to know. You don't need to have a word that fits right away.”
“Thanks,” Kyle nods.
“Anytime.”
“I was so horrible to you in high school, this would be a perfect opportunity for payback. Just goes to show what a good man you are.”
All the levity that this conversation has brought Alex goes right down the gutter, leaving him ice cold. “I'm not a good man,” he says through gritted teeth.
“You are. You're a good friend, Alex. A good person. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Alex sighs and lets it go. It's not a conversation for one in the morning. “You should go home,” he says.
“Are you sure you'll be okay?”
Alex stands up slowly, wishing he had his second crutch for the trip over to his bedroom. “Look, I'll call my therapist, okay? I promise.”
“You do that,” Kyle says, standing up as well. Then, before Alex can completely process it, he opens his arms and closes them around him, careful not to make him lose his balance. Alex stiffens, unused to the contact, but it feels good. Safe. He relaxes slowly, bit by bit, and awkwardly pats Kyle's back with his free hand. “We'll grab a beer sometime this week, okay?”
“Sure,” Alex nods in Kyle's shoulder. “Would be nice.”
“I'll text you tomorrow.”
Kyle lets him go and fishes out his keys from his pocket, turning to leave.
“Hey, Kyle?” Alex calls after him quietly.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for tonight.”
“You're very welcome,” Kyle smiles sweetly.
*
Despite his exhaustion, Alex doesn't fall asleep for hours, and when it does, it's to restless slumber, full of vague nightmares. He drags himself out of bed at nine, two hours past his usual wake-up time, and spends the morning trying to force his aching body into submission with a mix of PT exercises and yoga, that turns too easily into a punishment. A hundred push-ups, for being so weak. The voice in his head is his father's.
As he stares at his counter come eleven, an hour before Maria is supposed to be there, he remembers something. He still doesn't have tomato sauce. Or pasta, for that matter, since he never got to pay for his groceries last night.
“Fuck this,” he murmurs to himself, almost smirking at the joke that is his life. There is nothing he wants less than to spend the day with Maria. He doesn't have anything to cook her, and the Crashdown is closed on Sundays.
No. He's not going to do this.
He eyes his phone, thinking of coming up with some bullshit excuse to Maria. He can think of a dozen that would work well enough off the top of his head, though she's sure to give him hell for it later. At the thought of even seeing her later, Alex grimaces.
No. He sticks his phone in his back pocket and grabs his wallet, his keys and his crutch.
Right before he leaves, on a whim, he grabs a pen and a pad of sticky notes and writes SORRY. HAD SOMETHING TO DO. in capital letters. He sticks the note on his front door and sets the alarm.
Maybe this is his breaking point.
*
Forrest looks truly surprised when Alex shows up on his doorstep. He had to look up the actual address, since Forrest doesn't actually live in the barn where they met, and the Longs have several properties in the same area. He wouldn't want to knock on an random door and run into Wyatt.
“Hi,” Alex says.
“Is that voice in your head already gone?” Forrest asks.
“Not exactly. I just...thought you should hold all the cards.”
Forrest stares at him for a moment, thinking. “Alright,” he says. “Come in, then.”
The house is really more of a cabin, small and wooden all around. The inside is very different from Jim Valenti's cabin, though, and it screams Forrest. It seems this man really is what he shows to the outside, an open book.
The opposite of Alex, in a way.
“Sit down,” Forrest says. “I was just making coffee, you want some?”
“Sure. Black, please.”
Alex sits down on a comfortable couch covered with a patterned comforter while Forrest pours them both mugs in the tiny kitchen area.
“So, what did you want to say?”
Alex takes a deep inspiration. Despite his coming here being a heat of the moment thing, he's tried to practice his words in his car. He's not good with words, but it all comes down to what Kyle said last night.
“You asked me about my PTSD triggers, yesterday,” he says.
“Yes,” Forrest agrees carefully.
“You know, the funny thing is that no one's ever asked me that before. Beside my therapist, I mean. Most of my friends don't know I have PTSD, and the one who does usually doesn't need to ask.”
“Alien guy?” Forrest asks curiously.
“No. My relationship with Michael is more complicated. He has his own issues.”
“Okay. So you want to tell me about your triggers?”
“How they relate to what we talked about,” Alex says. “Being closeted. It's not that I don't want to come out. Sure, I wasn't out in the Air Force during DADT and that was hell, but here...I haven't been in the closet in this town since early high school. Everyone who knows me here knows I'm gay, and I'm fine with that.”
“Then what is it?” Forrest asks.
Alex bites his lip, then takes the plunge. “The last time I really pissed off a homophobe, it didn't end well for the guy I was with.”
“What do you mean? Did you get assaulted?”
“Yeah, you could say that. He went at my...boyfriend's hand with a hammer.”
Forrest covers his mouth with his hand in shock.
“I was seventeen,” Alex continues. “It was my father.”
“Fuck, Alex, I−”
Alex waves it off. “Don't apologize. I just...I wanted you to know. I'm not in the closet. But ever since that day, I haven't been able to be with someone and feel completely safe.”
“Of course,” Forrest murmurs. “Was your father generally abusive? Or did he snap?”
“He didn't start hitting me until he figured out I was gay, but he basically raised us−me and my brothers−as if we were in basic training,” Alex says. “After the...accident, he made me enlist, and I didn't come back to Roswell until a few months ago.”
“That's, wow, that's a lot. I thought my family was bad.”
“There's no comparison to make,” Alex shrugs. “You're brave enough to be proud of who you are in spite of them. I...I'm trying to get there. But it's hard.”
“I get that,” Forrest nods. “I understand it better now. Something didn't quite make sense about you.”
Alex thinks of Michael, of aliens and the secret lab and his classified work. He thinks of his father in the hospital, and being unable to just let him fall. He thinks of last night in the supermarket. “I don't make a lot of sense,” he says. “Which is why I completely get that you don't want to try something with me. I just wanted you to know.”
Forrest pauses and looks him up and down. “You know, maybe...I've put my standards very high, because I've been burned too many times, but so far you met everyone of them easily, except for this one. Maybe it's unrealistic. Maybe I shouldn't let you go, just because you're not quite ready to kiss me in public.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I like you Alex. I really like you, and I'm guessing the fact that you came all the way out here means you feel the same. So maybe those standards were just me closing myself off from opportunities. Maybe I should give this a chance.”
Alex smiles.
#roswell new mexico#alex manes#kyle valenti#forest long#forlex#2x08 coda#anti malexa#trying to tag appropriately#tell me if i miss something#rnm s2#rnm fanfiction#mine#echo's fanfiction
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Sushi fun!!
I'm going to do my own Sushi story that @roninhunt0987 did. Yet I have to be honest that there was hardly ANY SUSHI EATING!!! And I'm bumped and Suzuki is pissed so. I'm making my version where there is actually sushi eating. Sorry dude your storys are usually on point but this time it was a miss. I know you were tired.
Gen’ichi and his family were having a nice lovely evening. Ninjara was getting ready to start making dinner while gen was keeping the kids in the living room. (since they didn't want the kids to get hurt in the kitchen when dinner was being made)
Ninjara: *walks into the living room tying her apron* ok everyone I’m about to start what should I make for mom dinner night?
The kids were getting all excited because they were HUNGRY!!!!! Gen'ichi and Ninjara had 8 kids. Septuplets and one little baby. Ran, Rei, Reiko, Rika, Miwa, Nori, Gen'ichi jr and Lil Geni. They began to say what they wanted
Ran: Burgers!!!
Rei and Reiko: Pasta!
Miwa: mac and cheese
lil Geni:....ham
SUSHI!!!
Everyone paused...
Gen'ichi: who screamed sushi?
All of a sudden, there aunt Suzuki bust down the door and made a very heroic post!
Suzuki: I said Sushi!!
Kids: Auntie Suzuki *They all run to her as there dear mother looked in horror*
Ninjara: My front door!!!
All 8 of the kids fox piled there Auntie Suzuki pushing her to the ground all laughing.
Suzuki: hehehehe ok ok you little nuggets your got your auntie Suzuki *she said as she was getting up from the floor*
Gen’ichi: Hey sis, why you yelled Sushi?
Ninjara: And why did you break down my door?!
Suzuki: Oh good questions, and let me answer with “Who wants sushi for dinner!?”
Kids: sushi!
Gen’ichi and Ninjara: sushi?
Suzuki: Yes, I know this great sushi belt restaurant and I am taking you all for some sushi tonight!!
Kids: Yay, Sushi sushi sushi!! *all the kids began to cheer*
Gen’ichi: well that's very nice of you sis. But why sushi? You never really this excited for Sushi?
Suzuki: what? Can I just invite my favorite brother and his lovely family to dinner? I’m hurt bro I am so hurt! *Suzuki was being a bit dramatic*
Gen’ichi and Ninjara: *raised there eyebrows*
Suzuki: ok ok This Sushi place if you eat more you get more chances to win a prize, last time I went there alone I ate 40 plates of sushi and won twice and the prizes were the same a tiny sushi keychain but i wanted to see what other prizes they have...you know me bro....I have a weakness for prize games.
Gen’ichi: there that wasn’t so hard huh Suzuki.
Ninjara: well sushi those sound nice, and I know if you want to go back the food has to be good.
Suzuki: Sooooo?
Gen'ichi: kids get your shoes on we are going out tonight!
The kids cheer and began running all over the house each one trying to find and get there shoes. After finally getting there shoes on the family fallows Suzuki to “Tai’s Sushi” a restaurant that appeared several months ago. As they walk in they are meet with the host who took them to a LARGE booth where Mikey and Raph were there.
Gen’ichi: Mikey? Raph? What are you guys doing here?
Mikey: Sis invite us to this sushi party!
Raph: Yeah, sorry sis dad, Leo< and Donnie could not make it.
Gen’ichi and Ninjara look at Suzuki was a glare and Suzuki just shrug. She though she could get a bit more help. Wow Suzuki you are crazy for prizes. Everyone has a seat and GJ looked confused.
GJ: were are the menus?
Suzuki: oh its here this pad *Suzuki points to the pad which she was right next too* here you can order specials order but if you don't want that you can grab anything from the belt see all the food.
Since Suzuki finally mentioned it everyone notice a conveyer belt full of sushi they even notice a screen above the belt where the game was and above that was the prize box.
(closest pic I can find but with booths)
Suzuki: Any way the more you eat the more chances you get at winning but it not easy they make it a lucky draw. So its mostly lucky. So is everyone ready to try this place?
Everyone: yes!
Suzuki grabbed the pad and order some simple type of sushi for the kids. Like tuna, salmon, cucumber rolls and crab sushi too. After the special order arrive Suzuki began to take plates of the belt and placing them on the table. There must have been one plate for every kind of sushi at that table. Everyone began to chow down.
Geni: *see some werid green paste* what's this?
Ninjara: oh that is wasabi honey. It's a spicy paste you put on sushi. *puts a piece of Uramaki in her mouth*
Before anyone can react Geni puts the whole blob of it in her mouth.
Gen'ichi: Ahhh sweetie!!!
Suzuki: oh furball no!!
Geni: what....? *feels no pain*
Everyone: huh?
Suzuki: wait, Geni your not crying from the spice?
Geni: no, it those not taste anything to me
Mikey: really? Maybe wasabi is not so spicy *pics up a picese of wasabi*
Raph: Mikey-
Suzuki: No!
Mikey stick the whole piece in his mouth and that moment he knew....he ...fucked up! Mikey began screaming from the pain and began to run all over the restaurant, people were videotaping Mikey making a ass of himself.
Suzuki: *makes a cup of green tea* Mikey!! Drink this!!!
Mikey gets the cup and gulps it down in a sec. It taste bad to him but it stopped the pain. Mikey was on the floor pants from running and from the pain. The kids all laugh and Suzuki speaks up.
Suzuki: dont become your uncle mikey kids.
Mikey: Hey!!
After the excitement they all got a good stack of plates and were ready to see if they will win.
Suzuki: ok 5 plates for each try
GJ: can I try frist
Ninjara: of course sweetie all you kids will get a turn.
GJ moved his seat and sat on his dad lap so he could reach. He put the 5 plates in the machine and a little cartoon appeared on the screen under the prize machine. The cartoon says....loser.
GJ: awww
Mikey: sorry little dude
Raph: it is a game of luck.
Suzuki: it's ok bud *runs GJ's head*
Rei: Me next me next!!
Rei had a go...lost
Rei: dang it!
Gen'ichi: it's ok sweetie we have more plates
Soon it was Reiko...lost....Ran....lost....Miwa...lost.
Ninjara: I'm starting to think this is rigged.
Geni: My twurn *push the plates in and won!?*
Kids: huh!?
Geni: yay!!!!
Suzuki: good job furball you won.
Geni won a cutie little kid bracelet from the prize box it fit her wrist with little plastic charms on it.
Geni: hehehehe
After seeing the prize there little siblings got the septuplets were determined to get some prizes too. After doing the game more of the game Nori got a prize. It was a keychain of a ramen bowl it looked every cute.
Gj: we need more plates!!
Ninjara: arent you kids full?
Ran: No mama
Rei: we
Reiko: want
Rika: to
Miwa: win!
Gen'ichi: I guess we need more sushi *took some sushi off the belt*
After about 30 mintues of more eating...from what Suzuki can tell they have been there for over and hour and won twice. They got more plates from the kids eatting every sushi that lands on the table. Gen'ichi worst fear....Suzuki was teaching his kids her guilty pleasure.
After so many games each child finally got a prize. How much sushi did they eat...over 200 plates and won 9 prizes. Suzuki of course got one. Everyone walked out of the restaurant super full.
Raph: I never want to see a tuna roll again...
Mikey: *covers mouth because he felt like her was going to barf*
Ninjara: ok kids let's go home *she said as she holds some of the kids*
Geni: Auntie Suzuki?
Suzuki: yes honey?
Geni: can we come back here again?
Suzuki: *smiles*yes
Gen'ichi and Ninjara: NOOOO *both scream*
The End
Bonus
Mikey: *bards in some bushes while raph pats his back*
Raph: let it all out bro
Mikey: Bleeeeeeeeeeeegggggggggghhhhhhhh
@roninhunt0987 here you go dude
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deleted scene(s) from “Into the Fall”, vers. 3
I forgot to mention that Into the Fall is rated E so these scenes do contain mature language/situations.
And now onto another version of a scene that was deleted. This one features a lot of Juri and the fairytale aspect is a little different in this one, but I hope you enjoy.
note: anything in italics is from the published version.
deleted scene, vers. 1
deleted scene, vers. 2
Version 3: Friendship & Fairytales
“So what, are you and Kang-tae back together again?”
Moon-young nearly chokes on her drink. “What?” she wheezes.
It’s Sunday, and the cafe where they’re having brunch is loud and busy. They’re sitting on the patio, being warmed by a summer breeze, and Moon-young thinks she might need to order another bubbly drink to have this conversation.
“It’s a valid question,” Juri declares as she twirls pasta around her fork.
“Why would Kang-tae and I be back together?”
Juri levels a look at her. “Are you seriously going to try to deny this?”
Moon-young just blinks at her.
Groaning, Juri sets her fork down and begins to count fingers. “First, you spend all your free time with him. Second, you go to him when you’re sad. When you’re happy. When you’re bored, even. Third, you depend on him for a lot more than manuscript edits and orgasms.”
“It’s not like that. It’s casual. We’re friends,” Moon-young stresses.
“No, we’re friends,” Juri retorts. “But you and Kang-tae? Whatever you are, it certainly isn’t friends. Co-workers to friends to lovers to ex's to friends-with-benefits to...what?”
“It’s complicated. There’s history there.”
“You always say that. That it's complicated between you two,” Juri says. “I’ve never quite understood it, because it seems like you could easily uncomplicate things. You don’t want to be with him? Then stop hanging around him. If you want to be with him, then just be with him.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, actually, it is,” Juri counters.
“No, it’s not,” Moon-young counters. “Have you forgotten that we’ve already tried to be a couple? That we already gave it a shot. And where did that lead us? We were miserable when we were together.”
“But will this be enough for you? Enough for him?” Juri presses. “This non-relationship?”
“Maybe this is just the best we can do.”
Juri sighs before reaching for her glass. “You know, for two people who are so clearly in love with one another, you two really are the biggest idiots.”
Moon-young’s fork hits the ground.
“You know it won’t be enough, right?” Juri says finally. “That one day he’ll want more. And that the reason why he’s even putting up with this stupid non-relationship is because he’s in love with you.”
“And although you call me your best friend, even I know that title belongs to Moon Kang-tae. But don’t worry, I’ve gotten over it, thanks for asking.”
Moon-young’s head is spinning, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol she’s consumed.
So it isn’t entirely a surprise when Moon-young ends up on Kang-tae’s doorstep. He lets her in without a word, almost as if he had been expecting her.
They’re sitting at the kitchen counter, cups of cooling tea before them. They’re just sitting, sometimes exchanging words but mostly just sitting in the moment, sharing the space together. Silence stretches on between them, but it isn’t empty nor is it burdensome. It occurs to Moon-young that he is the only person that she feels comfortable enough with to not have to say anything at all.
Kang-tae is sitting by her side, nursing his mug and waiting to listen to anything that she might say. His usual suits and coiffed hair are replaced with casual t-shirts and a pair of thick glasses. On the table next to them are notes from some manuscript, the red scrawls from his pen bleed across the page.
“I’m sorry for interrupting. You were working,” she says, only just piecing together that he might have been busy when she arrived at his door.
He waves her off. “It’s not important.”
They lapse into silence once more.
A single thought runs through her mind.
Does he love me does he love me does he love me?
“Moon-young,” Kang-tae says finally, reaching for her hand. And the way that he’s looking at her, all his affection and all his love for her reflecting in his eyes, and she doesn’t need an answer.
She snatches her hand back.
“I have to go,” she says abruptly, standing from her seat.
“Don’t do this,” he tells her, trying to hold onto her. “Moon-young!”
“This was just supposed to be sex,” she cries. “You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me!”
“I’ve always been in love with you!” he responds.
“What?”
“I can’t help it,” he holds her by the shoulders, hoping against hope that she’ll stay. “I’ve always loved you.”
She feels the world tilt on its axis and it steals her breath. “I have to go.”
And she runs, right out of that kitchen, right out of his apartment, and down the block until he’s no longer calling her name, no longer trying to follow her.
One week passes.
Then another.
And Moon-young thinks of Kang-tae every day.
“What did you do now?” Juri says by way of greeting when Moon-young enters the apartment.
“I think, something very bad.”
The smirk falls off Juri’s face. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Moon-young’s face crumples. “No.”
She proceeds to tell Juri everything. About that night at Kang-tae’s apartment. How she had run away. The way he had looked so devastated. Moon-young talks about the regret, the overwhelming guilt, and most of all, the sudden understanding of what she was about.
She did care about him.
No, it was more than that.
Moon-young loved him.
Had always loved him. Was still in love with him.
And she missed him so much.
Juri’s advice?
“Grovel,” she states, nodding her head while taking a slice of pizza from the box. “Grovel, beg, apologize.”
Moon-young blinks at her. “That’s it? That’s your advice?”
Juri pauses mid-bite. “And hope like hell that it works.”
“That’s shit advice.”
“It’s solid advice,” Juri counters. “You want some advice? Fine. You and Kang-tae are the biggest idiots I have ever met. It is so obvious that you want to be together, but for some reason, you two keep creating obstacles for yourselves. And then both of you throw tantrums at the first sign of trouble.”
Moon-young opens her mouth, but Juri cuts her off.
“You are so scared that you’ll be too much for him. That one day he’ll find that he can’t deal with you anymore, so you hold him at arm’s reach. You keep him at a distance. You want things to be easy and fun, and take a sign of trouble as a reason to give up before you get hurt. If you want something real with Kang-tae, something that lasts, then you have to have faith that he’ll stay by your side. That he won’t abandon you.”
Her words pierce Moon-young straight through the heart.
“And,” Juri continues, “you have to fight for him.”
“Fight for him?”
She nods. “Yes, fight for him. At this point you’ve broken his heart now not just once, but twice. He needs to know how you feel.”
“How do I do that?”
“I don’t know, you’re the creative one! Write him a poem or something.”
Now it is Moon-young’s turn to make a face. “I am not going to write some shitty love poem.”
Juri just rolls her eyes. “Fine, write him a freaking book for all I care. But if he is worth it to you, then you have to do something. He has to know that you’ll fight for him. That you’re willing to put in the effort for a fresh start.”
Moon-young doesn’t say anything else, but nods as she considers Juri’s advice. She picks up a pizza slice.
“You two are really annoying, you know that, right?” Juri grumbles between bites. “I swear I think you do this just for the drama of it all.”
“Juri.”
“Hm?”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
A pause. A short smile, a small shrug.
“Well then at least you know you tried.”
Moon-young spends the next few days writing a new story.
Of a princess with a heart one size too small. And how she kept everyone in the world at a distance, because she was scared that her small heart wouldn’t be able to bear it if anyone got too close. And of a boy, who respected her boundaries and still chose to walk next to her. Over time, the distance between them on these walks grew smaller and smaller, until they were almost touching. But that scared the princess because the closer the boy got to her the faster her too-small heart would beat. The princess would worry that he would hear the rapid flutter of her small heart, and he would know that she was different. And then he wouldn’t walk with her anymore. So she had him kicked out of the kingdom to prevent him from discovering the truth about her. Only the princess realized that she missed the boy. With no one by her side, she was incredibly lonely. She realized that she had made a grave mistake because she had gotten used to her small heart beating in double time whenever he was around. Without him, it felt like her heart was beating too slowly. Everyday the princess waited for the boy to return to her and bring with him the other beat of her heart. And when he did not return, she wondered if she was too late. So she wrote a letter that the boy might hear from her directly, disguised it as a bird song, and sent it off to find him. Then the princess waited for the boy’s response.
It is a fairytale.
For an audience of one.
It will never be sent to her publisher. Never be sold in any bookstore.
Still, it is the most important book she’s ever written.
She mails the fairytale off and waits.
The next day, Moon-young receives a call from the agency with some big news. First, Moon Kang-tae is no longer her agent. Effective immediately. Second, she would now be represented by a Lee Sang-in.
“Excuse me,” she interrupts, “could you tell me why the change? What happened to Kang-tae?”
“Oh, right,” the voice on the line hums. “I forgot to mention that.”
“Unfortunately, Moon Kang-tae requested for the contract to be terminated.”
When Juri arrives at Moon-young’s apartment, she comes bearing gifts. Gifts by way of bright green soju bottles.
“Screw Moon Kang-tae,” Juri slurs.
“Fuck him,” Moon-young agrees.
Later, Juri holds Moon-young’s hair back when she gets sick and wipes her tears when she can’t hold them in anymore.
[MY to visit KT’s office the next day]
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Not Nineteen Forever (21) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega
a/n: omg i’m emotional. guys, welcome to the last chapter of n19f. this fic has been the absolute best fun to write and i truly love these girls and the journey they’ve been on so much. big big huge thanks and love to every single person that’s ever left a note, hit reblog or left me lovely anons, DMs, comments or tags, they’ve all meant the absolute world to me and i love u so much. obviously i can’t let things go, so keep an eye out for some form of sequel coming in the next few months or so (patience is a virtue xo). for one last time…….let’s go, lesbians!!!!!!!
please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!
tw: bit of weed in this one. no zoos, dw xo
summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.
last chapter: the girls all went to the beach, Scarlet and Yvie made plans for after uni, and Scarlet got the degree classification she so desperately wanted.
this chapter: it’s Brooke’s graduation day.
***
Brooke looked around at the chaos that was their kitchen. The kitchen utensils (which were all Nina’s that she and Yvie had shamelessly used as if they were their own over the 2 years they’d lived together) were wrapped up in bubble wrap and packed neatly into cardboard boxes which sat on top of the dining table. Yvie’s kitchenware- a blue bowl with a chip out of it, a huge white plate, a Tigger mug, and a mismatched fork, knife and spoon- had been inelegantly packed into an orange Sainsbury’s bag and left on the counter. Brooke had already packed up her own belongings and had moved them into a corner of her room so they wouldn’t take up space in the already-tiny kitchen. All their store cupboard food was in the process of being packed up for the foodbank, which was inevitably going to be flooded with the discarded super noodles, tinned soups and flavoured teas of the migrating tenants of student flats.
Yvie let out a snort from her position in front of their food cupboards, and Brooke’s heart gave a twinge at seeing them so empty. Top shelf had been hers: pasta, rice, stock cubes, and emergency maple syrup tin. The middle shelf was Nina’s: loaf of white bread, tins of tuna, ryvita, breadsticks, crisps. And Yvie’s food had occupied the bottom shelf: chocolate digestives, Ainsely Harriott cous cous, peanut butter, and sour patch kids. All gone. Except, Brooke noticed, for a jar of Marmite which had sat on the middle shelf and that Yvie was holding in her hand.
“Whose was the Marmite?” she asked, an amused tone to her voice. Nina shrugged from her position on the sofa.
“I’ve never once eaten Marmite.”
“It’s on your shelf, girl,” Yvie shrugged, her eyebrows questioning. Nina gave another shrug.
“I know. It’s always lived there. I swear to God it just turned up one day and I left it there. Thought it was one of yours because Christ knows you’re both too lazy to put it on your own damn shelves,” Nina reprimanded them both. Brooke laughed.
“You know you’re going to regret being so mean to us when you don’t live with us any more and we’re adults and it takes 9 months to clear our schedules for one singular coffee,” she raised her eyebrows at her flatmate as Nina pouted and let out a groan, held out her arms for a hug which Brooke fell into.
“Don’t! This is already too heartbreaking, I can’t believe we only have two days left here.”
“I can’t believe we’re actually organised with this moving out process.”
“I can’t believe we have a phantom jar of Marmite that nobody’s claiming,” Yvie piped up, peering at the jar with interest. “Brooke, you like this shit, right?”
“Marmite is Satan’s black fecal matter and I’m offended you think I eat it,” she deadpanned, shifting to get comfy in Nina’s lap whilst attempting to be as inconvenient as possible to her friend.
“Get the hell off me. Only my girlfriend is allowed to sit on me for so long that I lose feeling in my legs,” Nina huffed, shoving at Brooke until she relented and sat beside her. It didn’t stop her from putting her cold feet on her bare thigh though, and Nina hissed and jumped away. “I take it all back. I’m not going to miss either of you idiots at all.”
“You’re a crap liar,” Yvie smiled smugly, binning the Marmite and joining the two girls on the sofa, squeezing in between them both. “Awh, guys…it’s the end of an era.”
Brooke suddenly felt tears prick at her eyes out of nowhere. “Shut up. We’ve still got tomorrow and the next day.”
“Yeah, but tomorrow you’re gonna be doing graduation-y shit and then it’s moving day!” Nina protested. Her voice grew small, dropping to a murmur. “It’s kind of like it’s our last day.”
The girls fell silent. Yvie let out a huge puff of air from her lungs. “Don’t tell anyone I said this but I’m gonna miss you girls so fucking much.”
“Awh, Yves. I’ll miss you too,” Nina sighed, burying her face into Yvie’s shoulder and curling her arms around one of Yvie’s. “But this is good! Change is good, even if it’s scary and different. And you’re gonna be living with Scarlet! That’s exciting!”
“How’s the flat hunting going?” Brooke asked Yvie, who had a little smile on her face. Brooke didn’t know if Yvie knew that she always began to smile a little whenever Scarlet was mentioned. She wasn’t going to mention it to her. She would maybe mention it to Scarlet.
“Like I’d rather shit in my hands and clap,” Yvie groaned, running her hands down her face. “It’ll be fine, though. We’ve got a while. Her lease isn’t up until August so we’ve got a few weeks to keep looking and in the meantime I’ll just stay with her in that Dickensian death trap she calls a flat.”
The girls let out a laugh, Brooke resting her head on Yvie’s shoulder too. There was a small silence.
“At least you and Monet are sorted,” Yvie spoke again, Nina nodding in agreement. Buoyed by how well Yvie’s suggestion to Scarlet had been received, Nina had been determined not to fuck up another relationship milestone with Monet and had asked her to move in with her as well. The answer had been an emphatic yes, and the pair of them had used their terrifying teacher-levels of organisation skills to find a cute two-bed flat in a nicer, only slightly more expensive part of the city. They both knew their relationship was still new and fragile, so they’d agreed a room each was a good idea to give them their space when they each needed to work or wanted a bit of time on their own to simply do nothing. Brooke knew the two girls were joined at the hip though so they probably didn’t need that sort of contingency plan, but it was a sensible decision nonetheless.
“I can’t wait to get the keys and just vomit up a bunch of fairy lights and candles in every possible room,” she beamed, excitement radiating out of every pore. “It’s going to be so fun- we’re going to take turns cooking, and build pillow forts, and blast our songs on a Sunday morning and clean the whole place-”
“Fuck. Adulthood’s fully got you. Brooke, quick, if we run we can still save ourselves,” Yvie deadpanned, Nina giving her a whack as Brooke laughed.
“I personally can’t wait to go round and visit at every available opportunity. I’m going to move in,” Brooke smiled, and Nina gave another sad kicked-puppy pout.
“I wish. Canada is so far away,” she sighed, a little knife going through Brooke’s heart at the thought of moving back. She didn’t want to think about it, but it was just inevitable. It was happening, and it was fact. She was going back to Canada. She didn’t really know what she was doing, she hadn’t found herself a flat, and she didn’t have a job to earn money and pay the rent with even if she had, so she was flying home.
She really didn’t want to think about leaving. She didn’t want to think about leaving the city, constantly busy with tourists and families and drunk students and Very Important Working Adults. She didn’t want to think about leaving the park, with the cherry blossom trees that lined every path and fond memories of barbecues and picnics and drinking in the sun with the girls. She didn’t want to think about leaving uni- because as stressful as all hell her degree had been, she’d loved studying fashion design, loved making prototypes, loved learning about something she loved, even though her degree was fuck all use to her trying to get an actual job. She didn’t want to think about leaving the flat: the shower with its drippy head, the hob with the one gas burner that didn’t work, the carpet in her room with the incongruous red faded stain, the fucking Sports Direct mug. The girls that she loved so much her heart felt sore if she thought too much about it: Nina singing obnoxiously early as she got ready for placement, Yvie making the kitchen into a war zone trying new recipes, the ridiculous squabbles they got into about the washing up, pre-pre-drinks where they shared a bottle of pink Gordon’s and splashed mixers into their mismatched glasses and sang along to Ariana Grande at the top of their lungs.
Tears stung at her eyes again, and she swallowed the big lump in her throat to shoo them away. It was too late though, as Nina had seen her glassy eyes and reached over to hug her. Her own voice was thick with tears as she spoke.
“Oh, girls,” she let out a shaky breath, Brooke giving up the fight as she felt her own tears drop down onto her hoodie. “Change is good…but it’s shit.”
“Fuck you both, I’m not crying,” Yvie said, her breathing all shuddery and letting them both know that was a lie. The girls all sat and held each other as they wept quietly, mourning the death of their student careers and this life they’d lived for three years that they’d all too often taken for granted.
Brooke was the first to dry her tears, giving one decisive sniff and sweeping under both her eyes with determination. “Right. I’m putting a stop to this, we’re not spending our kind-of last night in the flat sitting crying like a bunch of babies. We’re going to order food, get high as St Peter’s balls and watch shitty game shows that make us yell at the TV. Okay?”
She was happy that Yvie and Nina both snorted a weepy laugh and nodded at her. “Okay.”
And the three girls did just what Brooke had suggested. There was, however, bickering about where they should order from. Yvie wanted sushi from the tiny little place tucked away in a back street that did bento boxes with prawn katsu and salmon maki which were like little rice parcels of heaven. Nina wanted Chinese from their favourite takeaway that delivered from out in the suburbs and where, for about fifteen points all in, you could get a banquet of sweet and sour chicken in sticky red sauce, crispy golden salt and chilli chips with huge red jewels of chilli and slices of garlic, chicken fried rice in a rich Cantonese gravy which bound everything together and chow mein with soft spring onion slices and huge chunks of onions all tossed in soy sauce. Brooke’s selection won in the end though as her argument was the strongest- “I might not taste any of this again, Canada is a long fucking journey, okay?!”- so they ordered burritos and chips and salsa from the incredibly-overpriced-but-worth-it burrito bar on campus. They finished the last of the weed that had been wrapped in tin foil and cling film and shoved to the back of the broom cupboard along with the bong, and they made horrifying cocktails from the dregs of their leftover spirits and mixers. The burritos arrived and they stuck Challenge TV on and shouted at the Catchphrase contestants who couldn’t get the most obvious fucking catchphrases Brooke had ever seen in her life.
The evening was perfect.
They talked about Brooke’s graduation tomorrow, Nina and Yvie both saying how proud they were of her. Brooke was glad she had the girls, since her Mum’s flight over to see her graduate had been cancelled because of freak winds back in Canada. Brooke had already cried to her over facetime about it, but Yvie had managed to find the link to the livestream that was only meant to be shown on campus, and she’d sent Brooke’s Mum the link so Brooke knew she would be watching even if she couldn’t properly be there. As soon as they’d heard the news, the girls had all agreed on the group chat to set up camp in the union and watch the livestream (as Brooke and Plastique would be graduating at the same ceremony) and then take photos with them both afterwards outside the great hall as if they were a gaggle of proud Mums. Even though it wouldn’t be what she’d planned, Brooke was still looking forward to it.
It was around midnight before Brooke took herself off to bed, and just as she got cosy underneath the duvet her phone lit up with a notification. She couldn’t help the smile that involuntarily shot to her face when she realised it was Vanessa.
V: hey what’s ya fav Kanye West album mine is GRADUATION!!!!!!! How you feelin about tomorrow boo? xxxxxx
Brooke let out a laugh, muffling it too late with her hand when it came out louder than expected. Christ, she loved the girl so much.
B: Kanye West is a misogynist pig and i won’t stand for him xxxxxx
B: Stronger is a bop though xxxxxx
V: You got that one right xxxxxx
B: And I’m good! Big jumble of feelings. Big happy/sad vibes xxxxxx
V: I know it’s bittersweet af xxxxxx
V: Me n Scar just held each other and cried once the ceremony was over xxxxxx
Vanessa and Scarlet had graduated last week, as had their other friends. Brooke and Plastique’s graduation date was the latest and so they were graduating last. She didn’t mind that, though. The longer she could stay being a student the better.
B: Lol we just had a big cry as a full flat xxxxxx
V: Don’t lmao idk what we gonna be like when our lease is up xxxxxx
Brooke scrolled up and looked at all the texts they’d exchanged from the past two months, the same signature of six kisses at the end of them all. They hadn’t really spoken about where they were relationship-wise since the night in the library. Maybe Vanessa didn’t want to. Maybe it was for the best. Brooke’s heart hurt as she realised she was going to be on the other side of the world in a matter of days, and maybe Vanessa didn’t want to see her ever again. She frowned at her own thoughts before tears had a chance to start welling in her eyes again. It had been good to truly get back to where she’d been before with Vanessa- just texting random garbage, having deep chats about the future, being ever-so-slightly flirty with each other. She thought about confronting the issue head on over text, but it wasn’t the medium through which to have that kind of conversation.
As if Vanessa could read her mind, however, another text came through.
V: When do you fly back again? 20th? xxxxxx
Brooke’s heart felt sore.
B: 12th xxxxxx
V: oh right
Brooke’s pulse froze at the lack of kisses. Her fingers ghosted over her screen, trying to figure out what to type. Vanessa sorted the problem for her.
V: fuck I wish you weren’t leaving xxxxxx
Brooke’s heart swelled up then popped. Was this the time? No. But their time was running out, she knew that much. Maybe she could see her before she left. She’d see her after her graduation anyway.
B: I wish I wasn’t either xxxxxx
B: But you’re coming tomorrow yeah? Xxxxxx
V: Wouldn’t miss it for the world baby xxxxxx
Fuck, she would miss her so much. She’d already told Vanessa how much she meant to her, just how fucking incredible she was in every way, and yet Brooke felt like doing it again.
She didn’t, because it would be too weird. But she wanted to more than anything.
V: You gonna look so beautiful and clever tomorrow I just know it xxxxxx
Brooke smiled to herself, blushing on her own at the compliment. Vanessa seemed to be firing risky texts to her left right and centre, so Brooke took a risk of her own.
B: Not as beautiful as you xxxxxx
She almost threw her phone away once she’d sent it. A reply came back almost instantly.
V: Stop with the lies xxxxxx
She was leaving in two days so she sent another risky one, caution truly pissed into the wind.
B: You’re honestly the most beautiful girl in the world xxxxxx
At that point Brooke put her phone face down on her bedside table and decided to sleep, her heart full of butterflies and her thoughts filled with the ridiculously massive crush she had on the girl she’d been idiotic enough to let go the first time.
When Brooke woke up, her phone was blowing up with messages. The one she checked first was from Vanessa in reply to the one she’d sent last night, and was simply a series of heart eye emojis. The next one she opened was a text from her Mum, paragraphs of pride and love for her daughter that made Brooke want to cry already. The others were all from the chat- Silky, Akeria, Vanessa, Scarlet, Yvie and Nina all spamming it with messages of luck and love for her and Plastique, and promising they’d be watching the screen and waiting outside for them when the ceremony was done.
Brooke got ready in a dream-like haze. She took her smart black tailored dress out of the cupboard where it had been hanging for the past month, the garment more ready for graduating than she was. She showered then dried her hair, curling it and brushing out so it made waves down her back. She put on her makeup- browns and nudes with only the tiniest bit of highlight. When she stepped into her dress and heels and looked at herself in front of the mirror, she hardly recognised herself.
She looked like an adult. A woman with her life stretching out in front of her, ready to be whatever she made of it.
Brooke phoned a taxi- it was raining just a little, even though it was already July- and pulled on a smart black coat when she saw it pull up outside, dashing carefully down the steps of the stairwell and out into the new day.
Graduation wasn’t til 11, but Brooke had arranged to meet up with Plastique beforehand anyway, just so they could be excited together. When Brooke pulled up at the taxi rank outside the square and the huge ceremony hall, she could see Plastique and her Mum there already, standing bickering amongst the growing gaggle of students and families. The sight only hurt Brooke a bit, until she remembered the girls would all be watching, and her Mum would be watching too no matter how far away. It would, after all, be about one and a half hours of waiting for Brooke to walk across the stage, take a scroll and shake a hand, and then it would all be over.
It was scary to think that that was all that was separating her and the adult world.
Trying not to get too deep and to instead just enjoy the day, Brooke excitedly paid the driver and dashed out of the taxi, Plastique spotting her running towards her and giving an excited squeal. She opened her arms out for a hug which Brooke crashed into.
“Bitch! How are you!” Plastique cried, Brooke only squeezing her tightly in response. “I’m so excited! And sad. And excited! And emotional.”
“Yeah, I can tell!” Brooke teased, Plastique laughing as she stepped out of the hug and gestured to her Mum, dressed very glamorously in a blue dress, blue heels and a pink fascinator. The occasion didn’t really call for it but Plastique’s Mum was always one to embrace the potential glamour in every situation, and so she had gone all out.
“You’ve met my Mum, right?” Plastique smiled. Brooke nodded and waved her a hello. She’d met her once at their second year showcase, the woman keeping her in stitches with her hilarious stories.
“I have! Nice to see you again, Alyssa.”
Alyssa, throwing formalities out of the window, instead pulled Brooke into a crushing hug. “And you too, my angel! Awh, Lord, ‘Tique told me all about your Mama’s flight. My heart is absolutely breakin’ for you, honey. I would’ve sent a plane over for her but nobody’s flying out of there come hell or high water.”
Brooke suppressed a laugh, finding it unbelievable that “I’ll just get her a plane” was on Alyssa’s list of options. “It’s okay Alyssa. Thank you, though. She’s going to watch the live stream, Yvie hooked her up with a link.”
“Well I’ll be your Mama just for today, girl. I am so proud of you both!” Alyssa cried, putting both her hands on Plastique’s shoulders and sighing. “Look at my intelligent daughter, out here gettin’ degrees and lookin’ so beautiful at the same time.”
Plastique smiled at her Mum lovingly, the two of them sharing one last hug before she and Brooke took themselves off to pick up their robes. It was surreal actually wearing the gown, all billowing and black, and helping each other fix their hoods, light blue with fringes of pink. They went to get their graduation photos taken, Brooke surprised that they were given a prop degree to hold as she’d always thought it was her actual degree she’d be holding. She laughed as Plastique moaned to her about not being able to see the photo until it got mailed to her, and the fact that her Mum ordered about twenty four copies so even if it was horrible she wouldn’t ever be able to escape it. Alyssa texted Plastique to tell her she’d gone into the hall to get a good seat, so her and Brooke decided to just go and sit ready anyway. They had to say goodbye to each other briefly until the end of the ceremony, as everyone had to sit in alphabetical order. As she waited for the ceremony to begin, Brooke scanned the huge crowds all seated in the hall’s three tiered levels. Her eyes fell on each empty seat and her heart broke a little more each time she saw one.
Nobody she truly loved would see her graduate in person. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t absolutely gutted. But at least she had Plastique, and of course, Alyssa.
Before she knew it, the ceremony had begun. She tried to pay attention to the Dean’s address and the chamber choir singing in Latin but she couldn’t help feeling like a 16-year-old in her school assembly, bored and just full of anticipation. Eventually, the awards began. Brooke clapped for all the other students crossing the stage, her eyes trained on the way they walked. She swallowed down the panic she felt, banished the thought of tripping over to the back of her mind. It reached Plastique’s turn, and she gave a huge cheer as her friend walked across the stage with all the grace and poise of a supermodel. She could hear Alyssa’s voice shouting from the balcony- “That’s my baby! That’s my girl!”- and, for a moment, she thought she heard the yell of a voice she knew all too well.
No. That was crazy. She must have imagined it.
E in the alphabet turned to F, then G, and eventually, H. Brooke didn’t have many others to sit through, and eventually there was only one girl separating her and her degree. The moment these three years had led up to, finally being lived out.
“Brooke Lynn Hytes.”
She heard her name and smiled as she walked carefully across the stage, shaking the Dean’s hand tightly and collecting her scroll all wrapped up in its little embossed tube. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she walked to the other side, heard the claps, heard the cheers, and heard…
“Love you, Brooke Lynn!”
Stop.
“Go Brooke! Love you, girl!”
It was her. It was actually her. Vanessa’s voice, soaring above the crowd and reaching Brooke like an arrow.
What the fuck was she doing here, at her actual graduation ceremony? As Brooke dismounted the stage she scanned the room like a meerkat, the place far too packed to distinguish Vanessa from any other of the little blobs of people sitting in each row. But she knew it was her. Vanessa had seen her graduate, had seen her collect her degree and had cheered for her.
Brooke didn’t know how she’d managed to get a ticket - they were all reserved for families- but she suddenly couldn’t wait for the ceremony to end.
She didn’t have long to wait, as time flew by and everything was over before it could all sink in. Brooke and Plastique emerged from the hall to the crowds outside and, just as they had promised, the girls all rushed forward to crush them in ridiculously tight hugs, Silky yelling at the top of her lungs how proud she was of them both and Akeria shaking a bottle of five pound cava until the cork opened easily and sprayed the fizz all over the two girls. Brooke clung to Plastique and laughed, unable to stop the smile that was plastered on her face.
“I can’t believe it! You both did it, congratulations!” Scarlet cried cheerfully, Brooke pulling her into another hug.
“Did you see me shaking when I walked across the stage? I thought I was going to trip and fall off the damn thing!” Brooke laughed, the other girls all laughing too.
“You looked like a confident, graceful, successful queen,” Nina told her, Brooke wanting to cry at her friend’s compliment. “And you are all of those things! Fuck, I can’t believe we’ve all graduated now. What the hell are we going to do?!”
“Aw, let’s not think about that,” Akeria shushed her, a proud smile on her face. “Well done, ladies. We’re all proud of you. You did that shit.”
Plastique hugged and thanked them all again before making her excuses, saying she’d be right back, and dashing off to Alyssa. As she left, Yvie took Brooke’s hand and squeezed it.
“So, have you not got some big, teen-movie speech to make, or something?” she quipped. Brooke frowned, looking at her with confusion. The rest of the girls all waited for the penny to drop excitedly, and Brooke saw Akeria’s eyes land on someone just over her shoulder. Brooke turned around and, through the crowd, saw Vanessa waiting beside the hall. Their eyes met, and Brooke could see her try and then fail to suppress the smile on her face. Brooke turned back to the girls, pointing over her shoulder at the girl waiting for her.
“How did…you were all-”
Akeria rolled her eyes, gave her a gentle shove. “Go get your fuckin’ girl, idiot.”
Brooke hardly had to be told twice. She turned around, took two steps, then three, then four, until she realised she was almost jogging over to where Vanessa stood. And suddenly she was in front of her- her hair wavy and falling over her shoulders, her outfit exactly what any graduation guest would be wearing- a smart red dress that accentuated Vanessa’s collarbones and dark eyes and the bright white of the smile she was flashing Brooke’s way.
“Hey,” Brooke began, faltering slightly. She didn’t know where to start, so she chose the obvious. “You were there.”
“Yep!” Vanessa smiled at her proudly.
“How did…how?” Brooke stuttered out, still completely at a loss. Vanessa let out a laugh, charming beyond anything Brooke had heard before.
“I messaged your Mama. Got her number off Yvie after she sent her the link for the livestream. Basically said “hey Ms Hytes…can I grab your ticket and see your daughter graduate so I can surprise her”?” Vanessa grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Brooke couldn’t believe it. Her own Mum had been in on the whole thing and hadn’t let on. She was going to kill the woman the moment she touched down in Toronto.
“Oh my God. You’re amazing,” Brooke gasped, taking a little step forward so they were closer. She felt like crying. Vanessa was here, in front of her for what was maybe the last time. She had to do something. She couldn’t lose her. Not again.
“Amazing, huh?” Vanessa asked shyly, looking to the ground. They both knew the question meant so much more than simply what it was, and Brooke, without knowing where her confidence had emerged from, took both of Vanessa’s hands in hers. Vanessa’s gaze shot up, and their eyes met.
“Can I kiss you?”
“God, please.”
Without waiting a second longer, Brooke tipped her head down and met Vanessa’s lips. It was somehow just like the first time, even though in many ways it wasn’t at all. This time, Brooke knew every single inch of Vanessa’s body, she knew her ambitions, her fears, she knew what it was like to have almost lost her and be lucky enough to have her come back again. But most of all, Brooke knew that she was in love with her, so fucking in love with her, this one of a kind girl who she was desperate to keep in her life no matter if Vanessa chose her to be hers or not. Their kiss was gentle and urgent and passionate all at once, and Brooke wanted to hold onto the moment forever. When Vanessa’s lips were gone and Brooke was all at once looking at her again, she had tears in her eyes.
“Hey, hey, ‘Ness. Come on, this isn’t…don’t be upset.”
“I am, though! I’m an idiot. These past two months we could’ve been kissing like that and going on cute dates and planning the future and having fuckin’ insane levels of sex but I left you hanging like boo boo the fuckin’ fool when I knew what my decision was the moment we had that conversation in the library, because it’s you, Brooke, fuck, it’s always been you. I love you so much,” Vanessa sniffed, frantically wiping her tears away as Brooke pulled her against her chest. Vanessa’s voice murmured against her, the most hopeful, plaintive question. “Do you still love me?”
“Fuck, Vanessa, of course I love you. You’re just…the person I was meant to meet, you’re the person I’m meant to have in my life. I love you so much.”
Brooke felt like an idiot as tears began to well up in her own eyes. She looked down at Vanessa and she looked back up at her.
“You’re leaving,” Vanessa let out a tiny sob, her forehead hitting Brooke’s chest again.
“I’ll come back,” Brooke said immediately, meaning it. “Honestly, I will. I’ll book my flights as soon as I’m home. I’ll look for flats and jobs and we can start again. We’ll make it work. I want to be with you.”
Vanessa looked up at her, her happy, grateful smile at Brooke’s words all she needed. She let out a tearful laugh. “Brooke Lynn, will you be my girlfriend?”
Brooke laughed too, taking her both her hands and squeezing them. “Hey, fuck you, I wanted to ask first!”
They both laughed then leaned in for another kiss. Brooke didn’t need to answer. Vanessa hadn’t needed to ask.
As they broke away and wrapped their arms around each other, Brooke felt the tears spring up in her eyes as she looked over at the girls. There was Akeria, making some quip about something, and Silky howling at whatever it was she’d said. Monet had joined them all and was swigging the cava out of the bottle, an arm around Nina who was looking at her with adoration. Scarlet and Yvie were telling them both a story, their hands intertwined and their bodies close. Plastique had dragged her Mum over to meet them all and her face was animated as she spoke to her, so full of happiness and excitement.
“Fuck, Vanessa, I can’t believe it’s all over,” Brooke let out a small sob. Vanessa reached up, swept her tears away with a gentle finger.
“Hey. Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”
Brooke smiled down at her girlfriend. Her girlfriend. There was nobody she’d rather have spent the past three years with.
“You wanna go steal that cava back from Monet?”
Brooke giggled and nodded. Joining their hands together and giving them a little squeeze, they walked back over to be with their family.
#rpdr fanfiction#branjie#scyvie#ninex#ortega#not nineteen forever#n19f#college au#university au#lesbian au#s11#brooke lynn hytes#vanessa vanjie mateo#scarlet envy#yvie oddly#nina west#monet x change#silky nutmeg ganache#akeria davenport#plastique tiara#alyssa edwards#tw weed
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Hi! Could I get Asra, Julian and Lucio as travel/bus partners? I'm going on a week long vacation tomorrow, and I'm stuck on an airport bus for 4 hours, sigh
🚌Asra, Julian, + Lucio - Bus Buddies
modern au
Asra
Gets to the bus station early - when you arrive, he’s already sitting in the terminal with his pink and purple jelly backpacks
Brings the weirdest assortment of activities, including travel Scrabble, a macramé kit, one of those 2000s portable DVD players and some pirated movies, and an extra set of headphones, but forgets his fucking charger
If he’s not knitting, he can’t sit still
The other backpack is stuffed with snacks: corn chips, shrimp crackers, tiny oranges, sour gummies, even sodas
Loves I Spy, the license plate game, all the old standards, but he usually gets distracted
Wants to talk about everything you’re going to do when you get to your destination, pulling up restaurants and attractions on his phone
Julian
Brings you coffee or tea when he shows up to ride to the station together (although stopping did put him ten minutes behind schedule)
Insists you take the window seat, so he’s not throwing elbows into your ribs the whole time
Has several medical journals with tabbed articles he’s supposed to be reading, but he spends the whole trip talking to you, instead
It starts off with funny stories about med school, and slowly progresses, either through childhood stories to him getting choked up about Portia’s new job and how proud he is, or through ER & OR stories that take him to a knife-handing diatribe about public healthcare
Makes friends with the people sitting across the aisle from you and the conductor who checks your tickets
When the train stops and he stands up, he sounds like a pickup truck running over a box of dry pasta
Lucio
Makes fun of you for not buying first-class while he upgrades your ticket
Pouts if you try to put in headphones and ignore him, but listens and laughs at all your stories
The business bros sitting in front of you lean their seats back so hard they almost take out your kneecaps, and he throws his iced coffee on them
FaceTimes his pet-sitter at least once and makes them hold the phone up to Mercedes, Melchior, and Camio
Falls asleep on your shoulder after the first two hours, and doesn’t wake up until a pothole throws him face-first into your lap, smearing eyeliner all over your clothes
Spends the last twenty minutes of the trip grouchily fixing his makeup in the reflection on his iPad screen
☕ Ko-Fi | My AO3 ☕
#the arcana#the arcana game#the arcana asra#the arcana julian#the arcana lucio#the arcana headcanons#the arcana game headcanons#asra the arcana#the arcana game asra#asra the arcana game#asra the magician#asra alnazar#julian the arcana#the arcana game julian#julian the arcana game#julian devorak#lucio the arcana#the arcana game lucio#lucio the arcana game#lucio morgasson#count lucio#my headcanons#my requests#mod cups
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