#drew this last april and have just gotten around to posting it now

[dykefive]

we don’t talk enough about allison’s s3 jumpsuit…

#god she’s so hot #@emmy you can call me anytime my number is 123- #also. we don’t talk about her throat scar enough #remember how she almost fucking DIED #if you saw this posted a few weeks ago on instagram first… no u didn’t #i’m bad about remembering to post to both #s3 allison had her ups and downs but lord have mercy. she looked good doing it #if you rb this i’ll give u a kiss (chocolate or real) #(your choice) #drew this last april and have just gotten around to posting it now #allison hargreeves #allison hargreeves fanart #tua #tua fanart #the umbrella academy fanart #art art art #.k #.k art

[alaskasmonsters]

𝐀 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 | 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

✎...it was likely that you and gojou had been friends before this curse incident that had lead you to wake up with amnesia, the last few years of your memories gone. but why was he so unbothered by your memory loss then?

part two

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojou satoru x gn!reader

𝐰.𝐜: 7.716

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: none

𝐚.𝐧: this was supposed to be posted on april fools because gojo is a joke :p (affectionate) but seems like the only person i was fooling was MYSELF. anyway i wasn‘t completely happy with how this turned out so i rewrote it…like three times. and split it up into two parts hehe. second part will be coming next week.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑. This could only be a bad joke.

“Right,” you giggled, expecting him to join in but his lips curled into a mildly amused grin as he watched you lose your mind quietly.

At his eerie silence, your laughter died in your throat. You stared up at him, brows furrowing as the information he’d just given you started to sink in.

He said you’d been influenced by a curse.

The man that had greeted you when you’d woken up after that incident — tall and lanky and eyes covered with a blindfold — was apparently a teacher, a teacher, at a school training students to fight these curses. Had you mentioned he was a teacher? A teacher talking about fucking curses…

Maybe you had found yourself in a mental asylum and he was one of the other patients who had managed to sneak out of his room and was now trying to pull a prank on you for a giggle.

You remained silent as you collected yourself, hoping the feeling you might be losing your mind was merely temporary and nothing to worry about.

“You’re not…joking?” you asked him, slowly, carefully, eyeing him with caution.

You weren’t one hundred percent certain whether or not to question your mental sanity or his as he started snickering at your confusion.

“No, I'll give you my word.” He drew a cross on his chest with his finger, his grin wide and lopsided.

You watched him with narrowed eyes. What a weird guy.

“So…curses?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

You frowned. He must be lying. There was no way he was being serious. But the man’s face — at least the part that was not covered with a silly blindfold — didn’t give away any sign he was lying. Although his smile was a little unsettling. But if he wasn’t a patient in an mental asylum maybe he was just one of the goofy kind.

Or, since you’ve been apparently affected by a curse, maybe he has been too. You had been attacked. He might have a concussion.

“Okay, I am confused,” you admitted. Because if he really wasn’t lying how did plain and boring you get involved with this guy’s little fantasy world story? You told him such.

The man cocked his head to the side, a thoughtful expression on his face. His eyes, although you couldn’t see them, seemed to examine you from behind the fabric of his blindfold. Your eyebrows twitched together at that. What a weird guy.

“You see, Y/n. You did have a little curse accident. No biggie. That’s why you’re at the hospital wing now!” At the sight of your panic-filled eyes he quickly put on a wider grin and waved his hands around “Like I said, no biggie. Don’t get your panties in a twist. You are fine! For the most part…”

You swallowed down the knot in your throat, looking nervously at the guy before you let your eyes dart across the rest of the room. He was the only one here. There wasn’t an actual doctor. Or a nurse. And what about your parents? If you’ve gotten into an accident — curse or not — why weren’t they here?

Your stomach churned with anxiety.

“For the most part?”

You had no idea what a curse was exactly. Or what they could do. You hadn’t even known curses existed until five minutes ago and you still weren’t completely sure if you should trust the man with the blindfold. He seemed serious but at the same time, he gave you an icky feeling. There was something about him that set you off. And you couldn’t tell why.

You glanced down at your body, examining and searching for injuries. Lifting the blankets to take a look underneath you didn’t find anything that looked off at first glance. You didn’t seem to be actually hurt so…what had the guy meant? For the most part?

When glancing up again his face was drawn into a comical frown. “You might have lost some of your memories...”

Your brain scratched to a halt.

“What?”

“Tell me, Y/n, how old do you think you are right now?”

You blinked a few times to catch up to what the guy had just told you, shaking your head. This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be possible. Where were your parents? Where was the doctor? The nurse?

“Y/n,” the man’s voice pulled her back.

“I’m 20.”

He nods, a soft snort escaping him. You frowned. Rude. Did he not believe you?

“That’s 6 years.”

You stared at him, confused.

“Of lost memories, sorry, you forgot about 6 years.” He sounded so nonchalant, completely unimpressed by the bomb he had just dropped on you.

You were frozen. You knew you shouldn’t believe him, not after he kept insisting that there were such a thing as curses. This was insane. Crazy. But if he was telling the truth… If there were curses and one of them had attacked you and now six years of your memories were gone… Why was this man acting as if it wasn’t anything worth getting riled up over?

Why didn’t he show an ounce of sympathy?

Your heart squeezed together in your chest and hot pressure built behind your eyes. You didn’t notice you were shaking until the guy lowered his head and brought your attention to your hands that gripped onto your sheets so tightly your knuckles stood out white.

“You—” You choked, voice dying as the first tear escaped your eye “—You’re a jerk. Don’t make that sound so casual!”

The man hummed in thought as he continued to stare — or could you even call it staring if you couldn’t even see his eyes? — at your tense fingers and the tears that were dropping on the sheets.

You bit your lip, forcing any sounds — whimpers or sobs — to stay inside but your chest was so tight and there was barely any room left to keep them contained.

You had forgotten six years of your life. That was the majority of your twenties that had been completely erased from your mind. Your college years, relationships, friends, vacations, a job and infinite amounts of experiences. All of that was gone now because of something you haven’t even known existed until a few minutes ago.

You looked down at your hands, stiff and clenched into fists and you noticed the scars running along your knuckles. Scars that had long faded but you didn’t remember getting.

Slender hands entered your vision. Long elegant fingers wrapped around yours and squeezed them. You glanced up at the man who had left his former spot at the end of the bed and walked over to you, looming over your form as he leaned forward.

You swallowed thickly when his sudden proximity to you started sinking in. His face was so much closer than it had before so now you were able to examine his sharp jaw, the soft curve of his lips and his dominant adam apple…

Your cheeks warmed when you realised that you were checking the guy out in the middle of a breakdown. Great. Awesome. You had priorities set, like always.

You hated to admit that the guy you had titled a jerk mentally was very attractive as well. You could only imagine how beautiful the eyes he was hiding must be…if he still had eyes that was. Maybe a curse snatched them away, just like one had done with your memory.

The man’s lips curved up in a teasing smile and you swore that even with the fabric over his eyes he could see everything that was going on in your mind and on your face — like he had noticed your blush and was now basking in the attention.

You didn’t know how it would have been possible but the feeling that the blindfold wasn’t actually blinding him become more and more persistent.

“Now now,” the man mumbled, voice rattling in his throat. His fingers carefully pried yours away from the sheets, massaging your stiff muscles without facing away. “No need to cry, Yn.”

“Why not?” You asked a little whiny as more tears escaped your eyes.

“I haven’t said anything about your memory loss being permanent, have I?” He scolded lightheartedly, smile widening as your eyes grew big.

Oh…You had just assumed. You perked up, a spark of hope alighting in your chest.

“It’s…it’s not permanent?” Your voice was quiet and you blinked away the remaining tears that had caught in your eyelashes, setting them free.

“Very likely. It’s completely dependent on you of course.”

You frowned, disregarding his fingers working the muscles in your palm to glare at the man’s face. Could he stop speaking in riddles? It was slowly getting on your nerves. Would you get your memories back or not?

“What do you mean?”

“How much do you want your memories back?”

You groaned, pulling your hands from his grip, contemplating hitting him on the head for a second, before you decided against it, resting your hands in your lab, instead.

“Are you an idiot? So so much!”

The man laughed and then he bobbed you on the nose, unpertubed by your bewildered expression as you reached up.

“Then you shouldn’t worry about it,” he told you in a sing-song voice.

He straightened his back and…wow, he was tall. His legs were long and slim, making him look like he towering over the bed and you.

“I’m Gojou Satoru, by the way. Since you don’t remember my name anymore.”

Your head snapped back into his direction, neck giving off a loud cracking noise at the sudden motion. You blinked, eyes wide as your hand dropped into your lap.

Did that mean that…you knew each other?

Or rather, did he know you while you had forgotten him?

Your eyes darted across his face, then the rest of his body, desperately trying to search your brain for information about the man. When you met, where you’d met, your relationship. But you came back blank.

Not even a shadow of familiarity.

Gojou waited patiently until you were done examining him, but didn’t seem all too disappointed when your eyes stayed void of recognition.

You grit your teeth. Him knowing you made his nonchalance worse. Did he not care that you didn’t remember him? Maybe you haven’t been close. But even then you were certain if the roles were reversed you wouldn’t be able to stay neutral.

This was frustrating. You had to suppress a groan as you pressed the heel of your hand into your eye. Waiting and hoping, ridiculously enough, this was all it took but your mind was still blank.

You blew out breath through your nose in a sigh. You couldn’t let this get to you yet. Gojou said getting your memories back was entirely dependent on you. So you wouldn’t stop trying until you had gotten back every single minute of those 6 years.

—

A week had passed.

It had been almost seven days to the minute since you’ve woken up without your memories. You were none the wiser now. Your brain had remained in the same state of unknowing you had first awoken with in the hospital wing, the tall figure of Gojou leaning over you.

It wasn’t due to a lack of trying either — your persistent amnesia. You had started several attempts, including remeeting colleagues and friends, or who Gojou told you had been your friends before this, and all of them had failed. It was so much harder than you’d expected.

You blamed most of the difficulty of the task on Gojou himself, though. As he had made up some bullshit rule that prevented the help of any outer influence in the regaining of your memory.

Which basically meant that neither Gojou nor any of the other people who’ve known you were allowed to give you any information about yourself or your former life besides the basics.

Somehow you had thought that despite this rule you’d be able to get something out of Gojou if you just pried with enough consistency. He didn’t look like someone who could keep a secret but to your disappointment he had been the most quiet about your past.

One week had passed and you still knew nothing about your occupation other than you and Gojou worked together. You didn’t know who your closest friends were, either or about your relationship status.

There was only one thing you were certain of. Whether Gojou had been a friend or only a colleague, you had definitely been attracted to him. Because you were attracted to him now and you doubted that much could have changed during the 6 years you were missing that your taste in men had changed so radically.

After all, Gojou Satoru was probably the most gorgeous man you had ever had the pleasure of meeting. He had the height and stature of a model, tall with long legs, broad shoulders and striking features. His smile, pearly white and straight, was as perfect as his soft-looking white hair. He looked like an angel that heaven sent down on earth. Unfortunately his personality needed some work though…

The man could be fucking annoying.

Still, you wouldn’t be surprised if a 26-year-old you had developed a small crush on him. Small because you really hoped you had grown out of the habit of falling for manchildren like him.

Gojou didn’t seem that bad. He was a jerk at times, always amused by your annoyance and giggling delightfully whenever you pulled a face at his antics. At his core he seemed decent enough, though. And his looks really made up for the one or other stupid joke.

Jokes that were not — and you refused to tell him anything else — funny.

He liked to think otherwise. In his own delusional world he seemed to have gotten the impression that you thought he was hilarious and that everyone else did, too. No matter how much you denied it.

You could probably deal with that kind of annoying stubbornness better if you and him weren’t in each other's space all the time. Almost uninterrupted for the last week.

Gojou was constantly tagging along wherever you went. You blamed most of it on the amnesia. He had probably been assigned to keep an eye on you. Today wasn’t an exception, either.

The two of you were currently sitting in your apartment — or rather 26-year-old you’s apartment. It was the first time your pleading has had any effect on the man, enough so he had agreed to come back here with you. He had refused at first, thinking it might be a little too much at once. You hadn’t stopped bugging him until he had given in.

Now the man was sprawled out on the couch while you sat on the floor in front of your bookshelf, your gaze shifting to him every now and then. He had his arms crossed behind his neck, facing the ceiling. His long legs were sticking out over the armrest, hanging in the air. He didn’t seem to mind, humming a tune which melody sounded familiar.

You made a mental note to get a bigger couch, then you startled as you caught yourself in the thought. You didn’t remember the apartment, neither did you Gojou, and still, your first instinct was to make adjustments to the place because of him. Only because a man who didn’t remember couldn’t fit your couch.

You shook your head. At least you could be certain those thoughts were yours, crazily enough. No way older you had thoughts that could rival the one of a lovestruck teenager.

You averted your attention. You had been going through the selection of books in the bookshelf before you had let yourself be distracted by Gojou. Again, you hated to admit.

You picked up another book, fingers brushing the cover as you tried to remember details about the story or the reason why you’ve purchased it or maybe it had been a present? The spine was broken and the colour of the title had faded and when you cracked the book open, flipping the pages, you found some of them filled with your scribbled notes. Despite the evidence that you had definitely read the book before no memories came up.

You snapped the book shut and pushed it back into the empty space on the shelf.

“How long have I had this place?” You turned to look at Gojou, who interrupted his humming shortly to glance in your direction.

Looking at him you remembered a question you haven’t dared to ask the man yet. One that had nothing to do with you but with him.

Why was he wearing a blindfold? And was he truly able to see through the fabric without issue? Or was he just getting lucky pretending?

During the week you’ve known him it has become more and more clear to you that he must be able to see through the blind fold as clearly as you did through air.

“About 3 years I think?” Gojou guessed, tapping his chin with his finger as he made a thoughtful face.

You let your gaze shift over the contents of the bookshelf one more time. You did remember getting and reading some of the books, but most of them were unfamiliar and some you had only freshly bought were showing traces of usage. It was kinda like travelling through time. And that was a very upsetting feeling.

You let out a sigh, turning back around and leaning your back against the shelf, eyes glancing through the rest of the living room. You’ve only searched half of it and although you hadn’t remembered anything your head was still starting to ache from how hard you were trying to focus.

Maybe you should go through the drawers of the desk standing in the corner? Your eyes shifted towards it. You frowned when a candy bowl reating on top of it caught your eyes.

“And I live alone?” You ask.

Gojo’s grin was wide. “Memories of a love affair entering your mind?”

You knew he was teasing but something about his tone set you off. His eyes followed you, or at least you felt them on you, as you crossed the room, everything else forgotten.

Maybe the comment, although it sounded like a joke, was just Gojou’s subtle attempt at giving you hints. Since he wasn’t allowed to tell you information directly. Maybe he was starting to pity you — finally — you have been trying your best to gain his sympathy for days. Not knowing if the man had any left to give.

You reached for the bowl, picking up a single piece of candy and turned it around between your fingers. Your eyes narrowed.

Gojou who didn’t notice anything amiss with your action sat up and clapped his hands.

“Sharing is caring,” he announced before he held out his hand towards you.

You rolled your eyes, dropping the candy into his palm.

The man hummed happily as he unwrapped the paper and put the sweet into his mouth.

You watched him in silence, the noise of the cracking of the candy shell the only sound. He bit the hard shell instead of letting it melt on his tongue. Like a heathen.

“I’m allergic to these,” you said, pointing at the bowl with the candy inside, leading Gojou to stop chewing for a moment.

“If I don’t live with someone then I must keep them around for someone who comes to visit often,” you shrugged, an innocent smile on your face, “Maybe a boyfriend?”

Gojou grinned, tilting his head to the side.

“I see.” He put his face into his hand, looking up at you in a way that made your skin prickle. “Is that something you’d only do for a boyfriend?”

There was something about the slight tilt of his voice and the innocent tone that irked you. It almost seemed like he was teasing you again, he did that a lot. This time, though, you had no idea what the teasing was for.

Did he have a suspicion when it came to your future relationships about details the 26-year-old you hadn’t yet disclosed to him? Maybe he was trying to tickle something out of you. Or was this an attempt to help you, nudge you into the right direction?

It was hard for you to tell the man’s intentions when half of his face was hidden behind a mask. You’d blame it on that. Not on the fact that you didn’t know him, no matter how hard you tried.

You let out a sigh, turning to look over the bowl of candy again.

“I can’t speak for the 26-year-old me.” You dropped in the chair at the desk, eyes absentmindedly shifting across the surface and the cardboard hanging on the wall, noticing pictures pinned to it, “But that’s a lot of candy I can’t eat in my own home.”

Gojou hummed. You felt his eyes on you as you leaned forward and closer to inspect the pictures. There was one from your childhood with you and your parents and a few with friends from college. Some of those you remembered taking, others weren’t old enough to reach your memory.

The pictures that caught your attention, though, were of the people you had met in your new life, the one that was filled with curses and amnesia spells.

It was only two photos, both hung central. The first picture showed you posing with Gojou and Shoko — a young woman Gojou introduced you to a few days back. She had been very gentle with you, gloomy when you had told her you really didn’t remember her, but she had made you promise to inform her if Gojou did something she described as his usual “inane and irritating“ behaviour. She had glared at Gojou and told you she'd make him regret it, the man had only laughed at her and tried to poke her cheek. Shoko had almost bit his finger off.

You had taken a liking to her in that moment, especially after you had seen Gojou pout. A sight you had enjoyed not because he had looked cute, no, not that, it was not that at all.

The picture of you three had been taken in front of the school. You were in the middle, smiling brightly. You were hooking your arms through Shoko’s whose smile was barely visible. Gojou was leaning into the frame on your other side, holding up a peace sign and poking at your cheek with a finger. Instead of the blindfold he was wearing sunglasses, a smile just as bright and wide as yours decorating your face.

You looked like friends in the photo. All three of you. Smiling and posing and in each other’s personal space. Gojou was in your personal space. Poking at your cheek and looking so extremely joyous in the moment it warmed your heart in the present.

But if you had been friends…why had Gojou been so nonchalant about your amnesia. You would hate your friend forgetting you.

Your eyes darted to the second photo. It was of you and Gojou, Shoko nowhere in sight. It was a selfie that Gojou had taken. He was grinning up at the camera, arm raised high in the air. The angle was forcing you both to look up with your heads thrown back. Gojou was holding up bunny ears behind your head. You were sticking out your tongue, your nose scrunched up and your eyes sparkling. In this picture, too, Gojou was wearing sunglasses.

You hummed in thought. You looked to be close in those pictures. Really close. Comfortable and happy, and although you had noticed that you enjoyed having Gojou around, even now, it was strange to see the evidence of it.

You reached for the picture, the selfie of you and Gojou, removing the pin that was holding it up and pulling it closer to get a better look at it. It was cute. You looked cute. Gojou looked cute, too.

“Ah! I remember that!” Gojou called from the couch and you snorted in amusement at his enthusiasm.

You leaned closer to the picture, eyes focusing on Gojou’s face. There was something bright sparkling behind those glasses of his. He must have blue eyes. Really blue eyes.

So he still has eyes, you thought. Unless something had happened between the time those pictures were taken and now.

You pinned the photo to the board again and leaned back in the chair, a sigh slipping past your lips.

“Still nothing?” Gojou got up from the couch and walked up behind you.

“No! It’s so frustrating!”

He chuckled lightly. “Ahh come on now, lighten up. The memories will return…probably.”

You scowled. His unbothered tone had been annoying before, but now that you were almost certain you had been friends before, close friends as it seemed, it only managed to press your buttons. Why didn’t he care?

You wanted to turn around and scream it at him, grab him by the collar and shake him for good measure.Why didn’t he care? Why? Why was he so cold?

“You’re a jerk,” is what you allowed yourself to say instead.

Gojou shrugged, his face relaxed and unbothered once more. He leaned over you and snatched another candy from the bowl, opening the wrapper and popping it into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

You watched him with narrowed eyes, A weird feeling started spreading in your stomach, foreign and warm. You didn’t know why.

“You like them that much?”

Gojou perked up, looking at you in confusion before he pointed towards the bowl of candy, realization smoothening his features again.

  “Oh, these? Yeah, they’re my favourite.” He laughed in that silly way of his, hand scratching his neck.

“Oh,” you responded dumbly, before shrugging “Help yourself then.”

You didn’t think he would take that as an invitation to dig his whole hand into the bowl, fish out as much candy as fit in his hand — which was a lot — and then proceed to stuff it into his pockets.

You watched him with wide eyes, mouth falling open but your shock was quickly replaced with annoyance and you reached forward to hit Gojou in the arm, growling at him.

Gojou pouted.

“Don’t eat so much candy! It’s not good for you, Satoru!”

Gojou cocked his head at you, mouth falling open in a surprised “Oh” and you thought you had magically managed to shut him up for once. You raked your mind, trying to figure out what you had said to achieve that miracle — hoping you could use it again in the future — when you realized exactly why he looked so taken aback.

Your face exploded with colour as you fell back into your seat, quickly gaining some distance between the two of you.

“Oh, I mean- Uh, I didn’t- Gojou-san.”

His expression didn’t change for several seconds. His face was a mixture between surprise and whatever the slight twitch of his lips meant. Amusement? Annoyance? You couldn’t possibly tell.

You huffed in embarrassment. His silence was worse than whatever teasing comment he could have made, you decided. You scolded yourself for slipping up like that with a strang- a person you didn’t remember anymore.

Gojou smiled then, for the first time since you woke up in the hospital wing. It looked kinda funny on his face. A face that was perfect for wide grins and cocky smirks but seemed unfit for the softest lift of lips.

As he bowed his head and the sound of a chuckle ripped through the air, sounding joyous, your eyebrows drew together. Now you really were confused.

“Guess old habits really die hard.” His voice had lost the teasing tilt of it and you watched in fascination as the man appeared to be almost… sombre. “You always scold me when it comes to such trivial things, Y/n-chan.”

Your stomach churned at the nickname.

“Satoru is fine, it’s what you call me anyway.”

He turned around then, walking towards the other end of the room and opening the front door, glancing back at you, frozen in your seat.

“I’ll grab us something to bite, keep looking around and focus on remembering!”

He gave you a peace sign before closing the door behind himself and leaving you alone in your own apartment you didn’t remember with thoughts that were muddled with the image of whatever facial expression Satoru wore just before he left.

—

You’ve been staying at your apartment for the last two days. Gojou was a hard nut to crack but you had been persistent in your conviction. You just needed some time alone with your thoughts if you really wanted this temporary amnesia to be just that — temporary.

Jujutsu High was great and all, you liked spending time with Gojou even if he shushed anyone who tried to talk to you and covered your ears whenever he feared a detail about your past would spill from their lips. He was being dramatic and most of the time it resulted in the other person, mostly Nanami-san or Shoko, looking close to actually smacking the man. But that was just Gojou, you had learned. He had a talent for behaving in a way that made him look so absolutely smackable.

Regardless, if you wanted to get done with this whole amnesia situation you had decided it was more productive to spend your time in a place that was all you surrounded by only you.

Well, mostly you.

Gojou came over every day. He would bring food and spend hours on your couch, humming to himself as you tried to ignore him. Most of the time, though, you were alone, looking at your belongings and trying to remember.

It was becoming monotonous, you must admit. Your apartment was small. There was only a living room with a kitchen in the corner, your bedroom and a tiny bathroom. There was only so much you could find and explore in this little space.

You often found yourself wandering back to your desk and the pictures at the cardboard. Everytime you would remove the selfie of you and Gojou from the wall and look at it. And everytime your glance would shift over to the bowl of candy. Like your brain was recognizing a connection between the two but unable to connect the dots.

You wondered what kind of pictures you had on your phone. Or other secrets the device may hide. Contacts, notes, chat histories and more. Unfortunately you hadn’t been able to get into your old phone. You didn’t remember the password anymore.

When you had told Gojou about it, frustrated with your 26-year-old self for not choosing a simple passcode like your birthday or at least write it down, he had just looked at you with confusion and a tint of judgement. Then he had asked you why you hadn’t installed face ID. You had no idea what that was but you were guessing future you wasn’t a fan of it.

At the end Gojou was forced to get you a new phone so you were able to call and text him if you needed to. “For emergencies only”, he had teased you with a smile. In the end he was the one who spammed you with texts.

Funnily enough, Gojou texted just the way you’d expect from him. Lots of emojis and no proper punctuation.

Your phone chimed. Thinking of the devil.

Text from: Satoru 🤨

i‘ll come over bringing some food 😁😁😁 Take out‘s fine right????? 🤔🤔

You quickly typed out a reply, telling him it was fine, then you pocketed your phone again. You sighed as you let your head fall back to the carpet, eyes trained at the ceiling. Lying on the floor was weirdly grounding.

It has been one and a half weeks since you‘ve lost your memories and the only thing you‘ve been able to ‘remember’ so far was that you and Gojou were on first-name basis. It was more a reflex rather than actively recalling a memory anyway. An instinctive reaction to refer to him by Satoru.

Satoru.

The name felt familiar when rolling over your tongue. But so did Gojou. You had no idea what to make of that.

You’ve already tried so much to spurr your memory, actively this time, but came up empty. It was almost like you didn’t want to remember, which you knew couldn’t be it.

You sighed again, then pushed yourself up into a sitting position. If Gojou was coming over any minute with food you should probably get out some plates. Your eyes shifted through the rooms, wondering where you had put them and-

Your gaze got stuck on a piece of paper on the ground under your desk. You hadn’t noticed that before…

Crawling over to the desk you reached for the paper, a sticky note tgat must have fallen from your cardboard and behind your desk. You turned it over, not knowing what to expect, but it wasn't a chibi doodle of you.

You blinked in surprise at the art. The chibi you was sticking out their tongue. They were standing in a field of flowers, stormy clouds above your head and a rainbow, too. It wasn’t a very good drawing but it wasn’t bad either, it kinda looked like a child had drawn it. You wondered why you’d hung it up at all.

Maybe a kids from Jujutsu High had drawn it? Gojou had mentioned the students knew you and liked you. A boy called Megumi had come up more than once during conversation as Gojou was his caretaker. How anyone could put that man in charge of a child was beyond you. Poor boy.

You pushed yourself up and placed the sticky note on your desk, before you changed your mind and stuck it to the candy bowl. After Gojou had come to visit so often it was half-empty.

He really did like rock candy…

The plates were in a cupboard right above your stove as you found. You pulled out two and placed them on the table along with a coke, just in case. Gojou loved that sugary stuff.

You dropped on the couch as soon as you were done setting the coffee table. Face down and with a sigh, you hit the pillow. Maybe you should just lay here until all your memories returned, just give them a chance to come to you instead of forcing yourself to remember.

You were ripped out of your thoughts by the jiggling of keys in a lock. The door was pushed open and when you looked up none other than Gojou Satoru came marching into your apartment. He was dressed casually today. His uniform and blindfold replaced by a simple jeans-and-shirt getup and sunglasses.

At the sight of your wide eyes and confused face the man gave you a wide grin and a wave. Then, as if his casualty wasn’t enough already, he greeted you in a signsong voice, only stopping when he finally seemed to notice your perplexed face.

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

Unbelievable, you thought, pushing down the urge to make a comment about this being the first time you were even close to catching a glance at his eyes, and instead focused on the actual priority here. Thank you, brain.

“How did you-” you waved your hand at him, having trouble to hide your disbelief, “did you take my key without me noticing?”

Gojou set down the boxes of take-out on the coffee table and stared emptying the contents onto your plates.

“No! I have a key, too!”

You tilted your head to the side and watched him with curiosity.

“What? Like I gave you one?”

“Something like that?” He chuckled and pushed a plate into your hands before dropping down next to you with his own.

The smell of your favourite food filled your nostrils and you hummed in delight at the realisation. This had to be a coincidence, that he picked out your favourite for you. Was it? Or was this just another piece of the puzzle that was your and Gojou’s relationship?

Noticing the food had momentarily distracted you, you turned your attention back to Gojou. He watched you with a tilt of his lips and you narrowed your eyes at him as you changed your sitting position until you were sitting cross-legged.

“Did you steal my spare key, Satoru?!” You pointed your chopsticks at him.

“Maybe…” he chuckled, giving you the most innocent smile.

You huffed. Of course. He had probably stolen your key before you lost your memories. You can imagine that 26-year-old you had simply accepted their fate and let him keep it. Even after only a few days of knowing him you were certain Gojou pulled stunts like this all the time.

You placed the plate into your lap, clasped your hands together and mumbled a quite “Thanks for the meal!” Then you both started eating in silence.

During the meal you found your gaze shifting to the man next to you more than once. Now that he had finally gotten rid of his blindfold you couldn’t stop trying to catch a glimpse of the eyes he was trying to hide. They were blue, you knew that from the photo. But what kind of blue? As bright as the sky or as deep as the ocean?

Unfortunately Gojou was sitting with his face turned in a way that didn’t let you catch a glimpse of them behind his glasses. And now that he wasn’t wearing the fabric over his eyes his hair that was usually sticking up, had fallen down and helped conceal the sight. It looked softer now, the way it was framing his face. And it looked brighter, too.

You wanted to reach out and card your fingers through it, feel how silky it truly was.

“Is there a reason you can’t take your eyes off me?” Gojo teased you, voice quiet and raspy.

Heat rose to your cheeks at being caught so shamelessly oggling him and then your skin became even warmer when you remembered your longing thoughts regarding his hair. It wasn’t your fault really, Gojou was stupidly attractive and you were just human.

Trying to play down your embarrassment you glared at him. He laughed and poked at your cheek with one of his chopsticks. You batted him away with your hand, annoyed at his amusement.

But now that he had brought up your staring, this was the perfect opportunity for him to just ask him. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just his eyes. It was normal to ask yourself why you never saw Gojou with his eyes on display. And how it was possible he still saw with the fabric covering his eyes. You didn’t know why you hadn’t already.

And why you felt so nervous about it, even now, stomach churning and heat pooling in your chest.

“I was just wondering why you cover your eyes…”

Gojou stopped mid-chew, turning to look at you in surprise. His eyebrows disappeared under his hair but not fast enough for you to notice they were white as well.

“And you keep thinking about my gorgeous eyes why?”

Your cheeks exploded with colour.

Gorgeous eyes. Your mind started supplying mental images of the most beautiful shades of blues. Entirely unhelpful in your opinion.

You swallowed around your food, trying to will your voice to function normally.

“It’s just… you always wear the blindfold and now you’re wearing glasses. You wear them on the pictures, too,” you motioned over your shoulder towards the cardboard, “You seem to be able to see even with the blindfold on, too. Which is odd, but so are curses…i guess.”

He hummed, nodding along.

“It’s my curse technique. My eyes are sensitive. They easily tire out if i don’t cover them. So the glasses and the blindfold, it’s just to prevent overstimulation, basically. And everyone loves a mystery, of course.” He waved his hand, sending you a cocky smirk that managed to ease the tension in your shoulders.

“Makes sense.”

You turned back to your food, ready to let the topic go. Of course, you could ask him to take the glasses of and show you his eyes. The curiosity was still gnawing at you. But now that you knew it brought him discomfort you didn’t want to press it. It wasn’t worth it.

Gojou chuckled and for some reason the sound was much closer than before. When you turned your head you found that that reason was that Gojou had scooted closer and angled his body towards you and his face was now only inches away from you. Your breath hitched as Gojou lowered his face and his eyes peeked out from behind the glasses.

“If you want to see my eyes so badly, you could have just asked.”

You were frozen in place, embarrassed to find all your breath had left you in a gust. Gojou hadn’t been exaggerating. His eyes were gorgeous. Breathtaking in the most literal way.

They looked like the sky. It wasn’t just the colour of it. Looking into Gojou’s eyes was like you were literally looking right at the bright blue sky. And like his eyes weren’t already making your mind dizzy enough, his lashes, soft and long, were the colour of clouds.

What kind of man did you have in your home?

A weird sense of deja vu waved over you.

“Did you- did this happen before?” you asked, not intending for your voice to sound so out of breath. But that is what tends to happen when one stopped breathing.

Gojou hummed in thought, tilting his head to the side, eyes not leaving yours. You were aware that you were still staring and slowly blinked your eyes to regain some of your dignity.

“Did you just remember something?“

“More like Deja vu.“

He sighed. Then he returned to his previous seat and continued his food, turning around without another word. You frowned, watching his sudden retreat with your eyebrows knitting together.

Maybe you had been wrong when you had thought Gojou was acting too nonchalant about your memory loss. Maybe it wasn’t nonchalance. No. It felt more like he was…withdrawing himself.

You didn’t comment on it. Not the way he had distanced himself from you. Or the disappointment at your still missing memories.

You kept eating in silence, both of you facing away from each other, your stomach forming into knots.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want your memories back. You did. You wanted to know what Gojou meant to you. You wanted to remember your friends and your job and the last six years of your life. You wanted to remember the first time Gojou had pulled down his glasses and revealed his eyes to you.

Because telling from his reaction this has happened before. Maybe he had even repeated that moment on purpose, hoping it would cause a memory to resurface. But it hadn’t. Only a stupid sense of Deja vu.

You finished your food in silence. Not exchanging another word as you piled up the dishes and brought them to the sink. Gojou was carrying the plates while you collected all the boxes to throw them in the trash.

When you returned you found the man standing in front of your desk again. He held the sticky note in between his fingers. The one you had found earlier on the floor.

You stopped in the doorway, feeling like if you entered now you would intrude on something. What that was you didn’t know. It was just a silly sketch. There was nothing more to it. The expression on his face made you doubt your own thoughts. It was unreadable but for some reason it made you want to turn around and run away.

But you didn’t run away. Instead you stepped into the room and towards him, joining him by the desk. As you leaned forward to look at the sticky note you noticed the gentle grip he had on the paper.

“Oh, that?” You kept your voice neutral. “I don’t know, i found it behind the desk. It’s cute.”

“I can’t believe you’ve kept that…” His voice was calm but his tone held something more. Something you didn’t recognize.

A feeling crept up on you.

“Did you draw that?”

“Yeah.“

You shook your head, confused.

"Why would I-" You paused, eyes glancing back at the bowl of candy. Gojou's favourite candy that you were allergic to.

Then you looked back at the sticky note between Gojou’s fingers and the pictures hung on your wall.

Oh.

Oh.

You looked back at Gojou who was eyeing you with interest. Your stomach churned. Did he realise what you just realised? Did he figure it out? Had he known all along?

"Did you remember something?"

So he was assuming you had stopped talking because a memory had entered your mind. That was good. Very good. You stopped yourself from letting out a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't getting any ideas.

"Uh, no, i just remembered i need to stock up on the candy," you tried to deflect, pointing at the bowl on the desk.

Gojou cocked his head to the side.

"For your maybe secret boyfriend?"

You swallowed thickly. Fuck, you were nervous now. In front of him. If you didn’t get a grip he’d see right through you.

"Would be a pretty bad secret boyfriend,” you joked, voice airy, “The only person who's been with me at this apartment the last one and a half weeks was you."

Gojou hummed, lips twitching.

"Maybe he is busy."

"Too busy to check up on his amnesiac significant other?" you asked.

"Maybe he is a dick."

You laughed at his bluntness.

"Only if 26-year-old me lost all their amazing taste in men."

"You think you have amazing taste in men?"

You shrugged, innocently. "There is room for improvement certainly."

Gojou snorted, soft laughter escaping his lips and you smiled.

Taglist: @crystal-lilac​ @duf3h6237​ @hufflefluffslytherin​  @chucky-26o1​ @lordbugs​

#gojou satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo oneshot #gojo fluff #gojou x reader #jjk one shot #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #jjk fluff

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn 

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature 

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road 

You bring me home

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #ybmh #so!!!! that's all folks <3

[broadwayandnetflix]

Pick Me Up - Bill Hader x Reader

Theme: Fluff, with some Angst

Warnings: Language, Use of Alcohol

Summary: Bill wakes up in the early hours of the morning with a request to pick up a rather drunken you.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I started this ages ago, I still really dig some of my word usage in this fic. Once again, Maggie Carey and Bill will not be married in this fic. Thanks for dealing with my sporadic fic posting.

It was just supposed to be one drink. Even if you could remember that rule, you were pissed off and needed to forget everything for a while. Just enough for the alcohol to slip into your system and make you feel somewhat fixed for the night.

Except one drink became two, and three, and soon five. I think it’s important to note that you were an incredible lightweight when handling alcohol.

Usually, you’d have a friend by your side, but this bar wasn’t that far of a walk from your apartment. It would almost be quite the resource, but you rarely tended to turn to drink.

Except that is, until you found out that your boyfriend of five years cheated on you. You were crushed, obviously, but you had almost seen this coming. Or maybe you didn’t; it just didn’t seem impossible for him to pull this act on you.

After booking a job as a cast member on the thirty-eighth season of Saturday Night Live, you often found yourself becoming busier than you had ever been. You would frequently come home late and not have enough time for your partner as you had imagined.

Except, Justin had been so understanding. Why wouldn’t he? He was a surgeon at Lenox Hill and would always take night shifts to keep things afloat.

He was charming, kind, and always knew how to surprise you. You could still picture your future wedding and marriage so vividly; he was the man of your dreams, but was he really?

He probably wasn’t when you had found him fucking a random girl senseless in your shared bedroom. That’s beside the point, everything felt floaty and fuzzy, and the bartender looked concerned.

“Want me to call someone for you?” she suggested as she leaned against the counter. One hand flipping a pen, the other sneaking up to the phone beside her on the wall.

Justi-no, just no, you stopped yourself quickly.

You swallowed carefully, looking at her with an emotion swirling within you that you couldn’t quite place. She cocked an eyebrow, just waiting for your answer to flop into her fingertips.

“His name is, um, he’s a friend. Just a friend, yeah, sure. Okay, hmph. His number is-,”

—

He had just gotten to bed finally, or so he had thought, almost perfecting not focusing on the way his breathing was lulling him to sleep. It was way too late for this anyway; he would definitely make a pick me up at the local joe’s the next morning.

That was until he heard a faint buzzing come from his bedside table; he rubbed his eyes with annoyance. At this hour, who the hell was disrupting him was his first thought, that was until he saw an odd number.

Seth had always told him not to accept calls like these, but something didn’t sit right. Hopefully, he was wrong; it could very well be someone ‘butt-dialing’ him.

“Hello?” damn, he sounded gruff, was this new?

“Hi, I’m here with Y/N; she’s currently here with me at April’s Brewery on 16 W 51st street. It’s getting rather late, and we are closing up soon. She said I should call you, Bill, right?” she confirmed, the information twisting around in his drowsy mind.

“Oh, um, yeah, I am. Is Y/N, okay? I mean, yeah, I’m coming as soon as possible.” he stammered, hanging up before she could even speak, rushing out the door, and calling forth a taxicab.

Why did Y/N pick him of all people? He was him, and you were well you! He didn’t even think you were even that close, well, maybe you were. Things between you and him were pretty nice; you could make him laugh like no other. You made his days better, even if it was with something small and not that big in retrospect.

Except then again, wasn’t this Jus-whoever’s job? Your boyfriend’s job to pick you up? Why were you even drinking in the first place? He had many questions.

The cab pulled to a halt, and he paid the necessary change. Giving the driver a tight-lipped smile, he hopped out and made his way into the destination he was given.

The bar looked reasonably deserted at this point. Still, there you sat looking absolutely crushed, or what appeared that way, nursing what seemed to be a glass of something that didn’t quite look like water. Lost in some conversation with the women who he assumed had called him, her eyes catching him in what looked to be a sense of relief.

She had whispered something to you, but instantly you poked your head up. Immediately locking eyes with him, you pulled yourself up, an excited grin dashing upon your lips.

“You came, oh Billy!” you squealed, rushing over to him before slipping, his arms rushing over to hold you up.

Billy? he thought with much amusement and, of course, concern.

“Woah Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this...” he drew on his words, your head tilting in confusion. 

“I’ve never seen you this drunk,” he admitted finally only to have you burst into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, Billy, you are so fucking funny. Do you know that? You make me laugh so much, like a crazy amount. God, you are so cute!” His eyes widened. Were you cheating? No, no, he couldn’t do this.

“Y/N, sweetie.” he began while sliding the bartender a couple twenties, leading you out the door. Steering the two of you to a nearby pocket of space between the bar and a convenience store.

“You have a boyfriend, I sincerely hope you didn’t forget,” he stated only to see you deflate at the thought.

“No, not anymore, or at least I don’t think so.” you cried the tears coming down faster than he could’ve imagined.

Wait, really? He sure as hell didn’t see this coming; you two had been together for what had appeared to be a long time. Judging by your conversations at work, things seemed to be fine between you two, rusty, but okay.

You shifted your feet, looking anywhere but him, he gulped, taking hold of your quivering hands that tugged at each finger anxiously. Eyes widening, you looked up at him, something settling in your eyes that he couldn’t quite process.

He smiled softly, lifting up his thumb to wipe away your tear stained cheeks. That’s what friends did, right? You sniffed, pulling back a little farther.

“I don’t think I can go back home tonight; Justin cheated on me with someone from his work.” you huffed, feeling everything come back at full swing.

“Oh Y/N/N, come here,” he whispered, beckoning you into his arms. It absolutely crushed him to see you so....broken.

Slowly but surely, you fell into his arms and sobbed quietly. His hands rubbing soothing circles onto your back, whispering sweet nothings to you. Anything to help, god, he hoped he was helping.

“God, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” you choked out after a while, clearing your throat and pulling away from him.

His eyes darting between yours and the way your hands twitched anxiously. The sky now a deep violet speckled in navy clouds, stars peeking out from the city fog to illuminate your surroundings. The neon lights of the convenience store sitting behind you showing just how late it was. The way it hit you all at once, lighting up the way your cheeks were stained from your tears.

He had never really had a chance to tell you how beautiful you were. It wasn’t even like he was trying to start trouble; you just were.

Whether it was in weekly meetings, bright and early, the buzz of the day settling into the cast. He’d notice it, the way your lips curved into that gorgeous grin you always seemed to carry on you. The way you did your hair, how it complimented your features so effortlessly. How your eyes would filter in appreciation of everyone in the room, how you’d stop shortly at his. The crinkle in your eyes, a smile beaming at him, offering a little wink.

Mornings with you were never dull, or at least that’s what he thought. He always knew you were out of his reach, so his heart stayed far from him, like a buoy sinking up and back down into the waves of his consciousness, always there but never willing to commit.

Even now, in your current state, he was in awe of your beauty. Yet, it wasn’t polite to stare, and he had to make sure that you’d get some sleep and a cup of water and painkillers by your side the next morning.

“I have a spare bedroom. Honestly, it’s way too late, and I don’t mind it.” Bill gestured, trying to focus on any signs of protest that could erupt from you.

“O-okay,” you whispered in agreement, rubbing your eyes as fatigue started to settle in. A motion that Bill definitely didn’t miss while he looked you up and down.

He gave a toothy grin before motioning you to follow him, standing before the bustling streets of Manhattan. Even at night, cars buzzed and honked past at moderate speeds. His hand outstretched to catch the attention of taxis, one hand reaching out to take ahold of yours.

It felt nice when he touched your little hands slip into his somewhat larger grasp; it felt normal almost. God, he was such a freak, you just got cheated on. You were just friends, nothing else. Get it together, Hader.

A car pulled close to the curb, and within seconds the two of you settled in. He gave the address and buckled in. You looked rather comfy with your face smudged against the cab window.

He smiled softly, as slowly but surely, you fell asleep. The city blurring around the two of you, bright lights and street signs becoming one. He always admired New York City at night, the way it never really stopped moving. Despite the early hours of the morning, people still bustled amongst the streets.

It was still fairly early into his departure of Saturday Night Live; his face was familiar, but not quite famous like his other costars. He could walk the streets with ease and get stopped only a few times. He didn’t know how long it’d last, but he enjoyed the sense of invisibility he carried.

You, however, were admired by many. Bill could remember your first few days on set, those who were not married or dating setting bets on you. Hader often scoffed at the idea of winning your heart amongst his coworkers, you were a constellation, and he was light-years away. That is until you mentioned that you were dating some doctor, and the competition died down.

Yet every now and then, his stomach would grow a flutter, and his cheeks would blush when you’d lay your head on his shoulder, a familiar friendly feat you’d perform after long hours in 30 Rock. He hated that he crushed someone who was taken; he never once stopped hating himself for that.

The car halted to a stop, Hader’s apartment complex sitting right outside. He eyed the cash monitor for the second time that night. In an instant, he paid the acceptable amount, tipping the driver for good measure. Almost standing up before remembering how you had fallen asleep against the window.

He huffed anxiously, wondering how on earth he would do this. The driver was obviously tired and not pleased with the hold-up between his departure towards his own comfy mattress. Grabbing his stuff, he slipped out of his side before going around to opening your door.

Your figure slumping towards the pavement before he scooped you up in his arms. Internally cursing himself if you were to wake up, and want him to rid you of himself at once. Instead, you peeked one eye open, his body heaving anxiously. Y/E/C peeking up at him in dazed confusion, before murmuring something and nuzzling deeper into his hold.

It was a skill that he hadn’t perfected, getting someone into his house, without making much noise. Not to mention the fact that you were asleep in his arms, chest rising in perfect rhythm. He nudged the cab door closed and made his way up to his apartment door. Victoriously managing to slide his hand out from underneath you and into opening his front door.

Slipping into the building, he quietly kicked the door closed behind him. You only stirred, which promptly stopped him dead in his tracks, before continuing on towards the spare bedroom he owned.

Gently he laid you down onto the bed, your body curling up at the contact of the comfortable mattress. He smiled before digging around to place a blanket over you, fitting it, so you were well adjusted to sleeping.

His heart heavy and mind slowly beginning to beg for sleep, his feet padding towards the door of the guest bedroom. That is until he heard a rustle and a soft murmur escape your lips.

“What was that, Y/N? Did you say something?” he wondered aloud, his eyes trying to adjust towards the room now blanketed in darkness.

“It’s-just, I’m not used to sleeping alone anymore, you know? I’m so tired, though, could you stay until I fall asleep?” you admitted softly, playing with the sheet covers on top of you.

Bill’s eyes widened into the size of saucers; he didn’t see this coming. He shook his head before quickly nodding in your direction; you yawned without much thought and laid back, dozing off.

He stood there absolutely puzzled on what to do, except stare, which was definitely not inappropriate whatsoever. His eyes darting anywhere in the room, but you, he focused on an old rocking chair that his mother gave him when he first moved in.

It looked comfy enough. It would do, if that’s what you wanted, that’s what a friend would do. God, he hoped that’s what a friend would do in this case scenario.

The chair creaked noisily, and he cringed every single time until you stirred once again, thrusting your hand upward into the air. He sat puzzledly until your finger flicked up and down to signal him to join you.

He gulped, “please, Bill, just for tonight?” you said with a slight whimper.

Timidly he shoved the covers outward to create space, sliding into the bed, stiff as aboard. You couldn’t help but murmur something sleepily before rolling over beside him.

He froze, but he couldn’t stay awake forever. Your head now resting upon his chest, curling into his side, you smelled nice. He let you stay put before trying to get situated himself, sleep soon beginning to overtake him.

Friends totally did this, yep, of course, they did, Bill.

#@broadwayandnetflix #bill hader x reader #bill hader #fluff #bill hader x you #angst #alcohol #2020 #bill hader imagine #snl

[savannahsdrabbles]

Ocean Song - Part 10/11

Rating: PG

notes: 2.9k words. A03 link can be found here. I can’t believe I’m almost done with this fic! <3 Big thanks again to my beta-readers, @starfiretheninja and @rusty-wayfarer. 

ALSO! I posted character references of the boys here, and @bakedbananners over on Twitter drew them! <33 I may or may not have cried. <3 OK! Now on with the fic! :D

***

“Ay-puh-ril, nicetumeetchu Dawn-ee, Cay-see. I Don-ee, Cay-see, Ahpril nicetumeetchu,” the turtle hummed softly under his breath, still rolling the words over and over in his mouth. He squinted, brown eyes straining to focus in the dim light as he used a claw to trace abstract patterns in the dirt. It had been at least thirty minutes since Casey’s departure, and with their main light source being the soft glow from April’s phone, the two unlikely comrades had settled into a quiet reverie beneath the pine trees. “Don Dun Dunntello Don Dondon Dawn-ee… April?”

“Yes, Donnie?” April glanced down at her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, her teeth working impatiently on her already cracked and sore lower lip. When the screen only blinked back a warning of low battery, she tucked the device into her pocket and drew her knees to her chest. It was getting chilly out – hopefully Casey was doing okay without his hoodie.

“Cay-see go?”

“Mh-hm. Remember? Casey went to rent a boat, and then you’re going to guide us so that we can take you home.” She cast her eyes sideways, watching as Donnie furrowed his brow and bobbed his head to show he was listening. “Right now we’re just waiting until he texts and says that the boat is ready.”

“Tehks?”

“Yup,” April tapped the phone-shaped outlined in her pocket, then bit her lip and mumbled a silent prayer that he didn’t ask for a further explanation of technology and digital communication – she’d had a difficult enough time explaining that to her grandparents. “Until then, we’ve just got to wait here.”

The turtle tilted his head and squinted at her pocket for a long moment, his expression clearly saying that he had more questions, but finally nodded and turned back to his doodles. “Bōto o matsu.”

April blinked.

Bōto o… wait for boat? Okay, so not only had he understood, but he understood enough to respond in another language. Cool, cool, okay.

She brought a hand to the bridge of her nose and squeezed, trying to ignore the migraine that had been building behind her eyes over the past few hours. How in the …? She knew he’d used a few Japanese phrases when they had first spoken in the lab, and logically she knew that living in Japan that would be the language he was most exposed to – but in the same vein, none of this made any logical sense. What kind of person could imagine a multilingual, anthropomorphic mutant turtle, accept that as fact, and then continue about their day?

Before her brain could wander any farther down that trail of thought– what next? Aliens? Superheroes? - April felt her phone buzz and heaved a grateful sigh of relief. “That should be Casey – time to get moving!”

The turtle perked up, his head swiveling like a periscope to search the surrounding shadows. “Where-?”

His question was cut off as April surged to her feet, her hands carefully grasping and guiding him upwards alongside her. The turtle yelped in surprise and grabbed for handfuls of her top once upright, wobbling slightly as he tried to balance himself.  

“Here – Casey’s hoodie is going to help keep you covered, okay?” April reached down to grab the jacket from the ground, bundled it up in her hands and then gestured for the turtle to raise his arms. He did so reluctantly, then yelped once more as she quickly pulled the material over his head and began to guide his arms through the fabric. “There likely won’t be too many people out at the marina on a school night, but we want to make sure we don’t draw any extra attention – plus there’s plenty of security cameras out there and it’ll be impossible to completely avoid those.”

“Mmmf!” Was Donnie’s only response, his arms starting to pinwheel frantically before April caught hold of them. A stretch of the hoodie’s neckline had gotten caught on the turtle’s snout, partially obscuring his eyes and totally covering his mouth. April adjusted the fabric with a chuckle, freeing the creature from his polyester prison, and then took a step back to examine her work.

Even compared to her relatively average five and a half feet, Donatello was short – if she had to guess, he probably wasn’t any taller than four foot ten. Considering that the hoodie he now wore was made to fit Casey’s nearly six foot self, it was hard not to see the turtle as a toddler playing dress up in his parents’ clothing. The way that the fabric hung and draped over his body made him look even smaller, if that were possible; should he sit down, he might get lost amongst the apparel. Were it not for the glinting metal collar around his neck and the look of growing discomfort on his face, April would have thought he looked ready to curl up in bed.

“Hmmm,” Donnie hummed pensively, clearly not feeling the comfort that April was perceiving. The turtle gave his fabric-obscured hands a hard shake, eyes wide and increasingly nervous noises emanating from his mouth as he rapidly rotated his limbs in search of his missing appendages.

April giggled and started to step forward to help him roll up the sleeves, but then held back when a quiet voice in her mind chided. Let’s see if he can figure this out.

Donnie glanced up with a piteous whine, looking as if he had her thoughts and realized she wasn’t coming to his rescue, then hesitated. April could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he stared at her rolled sleeves and free hands, then turned back to his own predicament. After a brief moment of thought and one more comparative look, the turtle raised an arm to his mouth and bit down on the sleeve, then gently tugged until his hand slowly slipped free.

“Hoo-dee!” he chirped triumphantly, holding up his free hand and waving it in delight.

“Right, you’re wearing a hoodie!” April grinned, then reached around the turtle to guide the hood over the back of his head. He didn’t seem to mind now, attention already turning back to the process of freeing his second hand. “We’d better keep the hood up for now, but look at us! Just two normal teens on the beach!”

The turtle’s eyes lit up at her last word. He dropped his sleeve in surprise, then turned to point a claw in the direction Casey had disappeared. “Beach!”

“Yup! Now let’s get you home!”

***

Donnie’s heart pounded as he stumbled along behind April, her warm hand holding him steady as the ground beneath them slowly transitioned from poky greens to the tan, shifting sands he knew so well. He’d been able to hear the ocean for a while now, but the moment they pushed through the last bushes and stepped out onto the beach - suddenly everything felt real. The cool, moist air, the promise of water and food and Home and his family – he was so close!

With every step towards the illuminated Human structures in the distance, he felt the urge building in his system – the desire to break loose from April’s gentle guidance and take off running towards the ocean. A familiar tugging sensation pulled incessantly at the back of his mind, calling out in the voices of Father and his brothers.

“This way, Clever, this way! Almost there! Almost Home!”

Their voices were like a siren’s song, beckoning him closer and closer with promises of healing and reassurances that he would soon be safe in their arms.

A breathless half-sob caught in his throat, and he swallowed thickly before trilling in response, his voice echoing out across the beach. “Wait for me; I’m coming! I’ll be Home soon!”

No sooner had the call left his mouth when April shook his hand gently, calling his attention back to the situation before them. He sighed and slowly drug his eyes away from the shore. As much as he wanted to release April’s hand and take off running… something told him that he needed to wait and stay with the two Humans. They had gotten him this far, and if the danger was imminent enough that he and Brothers were going to have to relocate…

“It looks like there’s a few people out on the marina, but I think we’re good,” April spoke in a low voice as she gestured towards the fast-approaching structures with her free hand. Two rows of buildings stood tall amongst the rolling dunes, serving as a departure from the otherwise untouched beach. Sand made way for a long wooden platform that served as the buildings’ foundations and stretched almost a mile out into the ocean. “My dad brought me down to the pier a few times when we first moved to Osaka - it’s pretty fun during the daytime. There’s a few shops and restaurants out on the board walk, and during the summer they host a carnival.”

Donnie nodded absently, his focus already drifting back out across the ocean. “Casey?”

“We’re almost to him. His text said that he was under the –”

A long, shrill whistle suddenly cut through the air, followed by a loud ‘YO!’ that snapped Donnie back to attention. He startled slightly, the sharp movement shaking the hood from his head and sending it sliding down his shoulders.

April heaved a sigh.

“And that would be the Master of Subtlety himself.” Even without looking, Donnie could imagine the way that the girl’s eyes were rolling and her shoulders slouching. He’d seen that exasperated look – and worn it – whenever his brothers did something foolish. With a sigh and a tug on his hand, April headed towards a shadow-y area tucked under the edge of the pier. “Come on.”

The turtle nodded obediently, his pace quickening and heart fluttering they moved closer towards the shoreline.

***

“You know, the point of texting was supposed to be that we kept quiet,” April called out as they approached the pier. She squinted, searching the shadows until they slowly began to give way to separate, more distinct shapes. “You could have at least waited until we got closer before you let the whole beach know where you were.”

“I wanted to make sure that you guys found me,” Casey replied, his voice already sounding smug– clearly a sign that he was up to something. There was a soft grunt as he pushed against one of the pier’s support beams, and then he and the boat slid out of the shadows.

April opened her mouth, hesitated, and then closed her eyes. The headache from earlier was returning. “Casey – what in the world is that?”

“Oh, you mean this beauty?” the teenage boy patted the side of the boat, an impish grin on his face, and then threw out his arms as the tiny, rust-ridden vehicle slowly began to tip towards the right. He flailed wildly for a moment, water splashing as the boat continued to rock from side to side, then finally froze with arms outstretched in a T-pose. “Er – she’ll be much more steady once you guys get in and help distribute the weight.”

“Mh-hm.” April cocked an eyebrow. “I can deal with unsteady; I’m more concerned about getting tetanus, or that thing sinking the second I put one foot in.”

“Yeah, well apparently it’s pretty expensive to rent a nice boat to go ‘somewhere in the ocean’ and come back ‘at some point’,” Casey stuck his tongue out, but kept his arms outstretched. “The shop owner guy looked like he wanted to kick me out more than anything, but I managed to make a deal with him. Apparently they were planning to send this boat to the scrap yard tomorrow morning, so the Jonesman – that’s me - offered to take it off of their hands and save them a trip.” Casey moved to fold his arms across his chest, but then threw them out once more as the boat rolled beneath him. “I was – oh boy, one sec – thinking of naming it the O’Neilmobile, but with that attitude I just might have to reconsider.”

“How will I ever deal with such a loss?”

“I guess Jonesmobile: The Squeakquel will have to do.”

“Casey.”

“It’s Captain Casey now.���

“I’m not calling you that– do you think that thing will stay afloat with all of us? Maybe we should rethink our plans –”

Suddenly and without warning, Donatello dropped April’s hand and surged forward.

“Don-?”

The turtle stumbled heavily as he cleared last few feet of sand, clearly too frantic to think out his steps, but the moment his claws touched foam something seemed to click inside.

“Water – look! Water-water-home!” Breathless words and excited sounds spilled from his lips like a pot bubbling over, coming quick and fast and soon dissolving into a symphony of hums and noises that April could only think to call laughter. He tipped his head back, eyes closed and body shaking with the sounds as he kicked and frolicked through the surf, sending salt water splashing in every direction. “Beach-water-Family-water-water-Home!”

April cast a nervous glance over her shoulder, half afraid that his mirth would attract unwanted attention, but Casey waved the thought off.

“Just… give him a minute,” he smiled, eyes following the turtle as he danced amongst the waves. “I think he needs this.”

April hesitated, but she couldn’t help the smile growing on her face, nor the relieved laugh she gave as Donnie turned towards to them. He grinned widely, eyes shimmering, and then flopped backwards into the water.

“Look! Look water!” His chest heaved as he laughed breathlessly. “Water!”

“I’m happy for you, Bud,” Casey said, nudging the edge of the pier once more so that the boat drifted closer. “We’re so close to getting you home.”

The turtle nodded and laughed again, then pushed himself up into a sitting position. Rivulets of water ran down either side of his face, congregating under his chin and then dripping down to the already soaked hoodie that now hung heavily from his shoulders. He gave a slight shake of his head, sending droplets skittering across the water’s surface, and then lifted a hand to pat his chest. “Donnie.”

Casey cocked his head, eyes sliding to April. “Donnie?”

“It’s short for Donatello,” she smiled and held out her hand towards the turtle. He stood and took it gratefully, eyes gleaming with renewed energy and more life than ever before. With a little tug, she drew him alongside her and stepped closer to the boat. “He needed a special name.”

“Kind of a hard name for someone just learning English,” Casey leaned down to grab a few items from the bottom of the boat and then shifted backwards to give them more room. “I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘Bill’ or ‘Casey Junior’.”

“Pfft - as if,” April held the edge of the boat steady as Donnie scrambled over the side, then plopped himself by Casey’s feet. When the boat didn’t immediately capsize under the weight of a second passenger, she pulled herself in and settled on the bench seat opposite Casey. Now that she was actually in the boat, tucked beside the two guys she was on this adventure with… it suddenly didn’t seem so cruddy. No, this boat was just right for what they needed. “Hey – did you get life vests?”

Casey turned to face the motor and straddled his seat, the movement causing the boat to rock dangerously. “Naw, we’ll be in the boat the whole time, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. Plus you and Donnie can swim.”

“Wait – can you not?”

“And off we go!”

The engine took a moment to roll over as Casey tugged on the pull cord, but eventually started with a loud roar that sent Donnie scrambling for safety against April’s legs. She reached down and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and then they were off! The little boat began to power forward at a steady speed – not as fast as she would have liked, but enough so that April’s hair began to tangle around her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, spitting a strand out of her mouth and suddenly wishing that she’d brought a hair tie.

“Here – take this!” Casey called over the sound of the engine. April opened one eye, then grinned when she saw what Casey offering. “Coach said I’m only allowed to keep my hair long if I pull it back during practice, so I always have extra rubber bands on hand!”

“Thanks!” April took the present gratefully and quickly pulled her hair back into a tight bun. Now that that problem was solved… “By the way – did you end up grabbing food like you mentioned?”

The boy’s eyes lit up, and he bent down to grab the objects he’d moved to make room for Donnie. “Oh, yeah! I hit up the McDonald’s on the board walk right before I went to the boat place. I asked the cashier what she suggested for my ‘pet turtle’ and she said suggested a head of lettuce. They were out of that at the moment though, so…” He passed a brown paper sack to April, and then extended a small box to the turtle. “Donnie, can you say ‘chicken nuggets?’”

“Chih nuddets.”

#savannah drabbles #sea turtles au #tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt fanfiction #april o'neil #casey jones #tmnt donnie

[ghost-in-the-hella]

J: “Join me for a swim?” with PriceMarsh, because I can't get enough of this ship.

Some soft pricemarsh for these troubled times. Enjoy.

---

Kate says a silent prayer before she approaches the woman sitting on the beach. She suspects that Chloe’s not the praying kind, and given the way people in Blackwell and around town never seem to have a kind word to say about her she’d be surprised if anybody else spoke to God on her behalf. And maybe Chloe prefers it that way. They haven’t talked about religion much in the few weeks of their budding friendship, but she’s pretty sure that Chloe is an atheist. “What kind of God would take my dad away when I was only fourteen?” For some people, tragedy brings them closer to God. For others, it pushes them away. But Chloe doesn’t make fun of her for being religious (unlike most people at Blackwell) and Kate doesn’t try to dissuade her from her own beliefs, so they get along beautifully. Everyone has their own path to walk in life, after all.

Kate’s path leads her toward Chloe’s slumped back and bowed head as she sits in the cooling sand and the fading light.

Chloe’s head doesn’t turn as Kate approaches, even though Kate’s footsteps in the sand aren’t exactly silent. It does raise slightly in acknowledgement, however, and Kate assumes that’s as close as she’s going to get to a greeting tonight. 

Kate’s not sure how long Chloe’s been sitting there, staring out at the slow waters of the bay. Chloe had texted her three times after midnight, which Kate of course didn’t see until she woke up at eight. Kate’s texted her five times since then at careful intervals so as to not seem too concerned, and Chloe hasn’t responded to a single one of them. She even tried calling Chloe despite phone calls not being a standard part of their friendship at this point, but she didn’t try again after it went immediately to voicemail. 

Kate’s never regretted not learning to drive so much before. It’s been sort of nice, actually, since Chloe’s got her truck and loves driving. Kate not wanting to ride the bus everywhere has been a good excuse for both of them to advance their friendship beyond “casual but amiable acquaintance” to “person I actively go out of my way to spend time with.” Today, however, not being able to drive has been a serious hindrance. It’s hard to search for someone when you’re reliant on small town bus routes and schedules. Once she started to really worry about Chloe’s silence and start looking for her, it took her nearly three hours to track her down at the beach.

She stops and stands next to where Chloe’s sitting in the sand. “Hey,” she says evenly, as if she hasn’t been clawing her hair out trying to find this woman half the day. 

“Hey,” Chloe answers without looking at her.

“...I got your texts.” Chloe doesn’t respond, so Kate continues, “I didn’t see them until I woke up; I’m sorry. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Chloe nods thoughtfully, processing this. “My battery died. Didn’t want to go home to charge it.”

Kate can’t blame her for that. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Chloe turns to her then and looks at her with those clear blue eyes. It doesn’t seem fair that such beautiful eyes should have to hold such sadness. The light isn’t great, but Kate’s pretty sure she sees a smudge of a bruise beneath one, and that makes her stomach twist all the tighter. “Sure, whatever.” Chloe trains her eyes on the bay once more, but Kate can still feel them piercing her heart. 

Kate tucks her skirt around her legs carefully as she settles by Chloe’s side. The sand is damp and the warmth of the day is mostly gone from it. She looks at the woman beside her. She’s not wearing her beanie for once. She’s wearing short sleeves and her pale, too-thin arms are covered with goosebumps. Without even thinking, Kate removes her cardigan and drapes it over Chloe’s bare shoulders. Chloe glances at her in barely masked surprise. Kate thinks for a moment she’s going to object, but she just wraps her arms around herself and tugs the borrowed cardigan a little tighter around her shoulders.

Kate feels like she should say something, but Chloe breaks the heavy silence while she’s still trying to piece her words together. “Kinda late to come to the beach. Sun’s almost down. ‘Most everyone’s gone home.”

“I didn’t come for the beach. I came for you.”

Chloe’s brows lift then furrow. “Why.”

Because when she woke up to Chloe’s texts and saw how long ago she’d sent them, Kate had almost immediately gone into a panic spiral. Because Kate had texted and called and couldn’t reach her. Because Kate was terrified that Chloe was hurt and had nowhere to go and no one to talk to. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t at the junkyard or the diner, so I thought you might be here or maybe the lighthouse.”

“Not a whole lot of places to go in this town,” Chloe says, and maybe it’s a trick of the non-light but Kate would swear that her expression softened when Kate told her she’d been looking for her. “I used to come here all the time,” Chloe continues. “My dad used to take me and my friend Max here every weekend in the summer. When we got old enough, we’d take the bus by ourselves and stay here all day. We practically lived in the bay.” She chuckles softly to herself. “She - Max - used to tease me I was going to turn into a mermaid because I spent more time in the water than on the land.”

Kate can picture that. Chloe’s got long arms and longer legs, built for swimming. Her hair wouldn’t have been blue when she was a child, Kate assumes, but Kate can imagine how it would look now: blue and purple locks flowing with the waves, fanning out around her head like a soft halo. The vivid reds and greens and blues of her tattoo extra bright against the pale of her skin, all shimmering under the water and glittering with reflected light. Long fingers cupping brackish water, lean body moving through the bay like she was born to do nothing else. “Punk rock mermaid,” Kate says a bit dreamily, already picturing how she would draw her. 

Chloe huffs a small laugh. “Nah, not when I was a kid. I was a pretty big dweeb if you can believe it. Super into science, major anime nerd, drew comics, all that stuff.”

Kate can believe it, actually, but she keeps that to herself. 

The smile that had been growing on Chloe’s lips fades away. “Rach loves swimming, too. After Max left - her family moved to Seattle; same day as my dad’s funeral, can you believe that shit? - I didn’t go swimming for a long time. Probably for the best; I would’ve just drowned myself.” She picks at the cuticles of her chewed up fingernails fretfully and Kate suppresses the powerful urge to pull her into a comforting embrace and stroke her hair like her father has always done for her when she’s upset. “But Rach is a Cali girl, so even though our bay’s nothing compared to the Pacific she just has to go swimming. Like, constantly. Day and night. The girl’s blood is half salt water, I swear.”

Kate’s got this anxious bubbling in her stomach that she doesn’t know how to quell. She knows of Rachel Amber, but she doesn’t know her. She went missing last April, three months before Kate moved into the dorms. Everything she knows about Rachel she knows from the unavoidable gossip in the dorms, the graffiti scattered around town - some of it doting, most of it unrepeatably vile, and Chloe. 

She actually met Chloe because of Rachel Amber, oddly enough. Or, more precisely, she met Chloe because Rachel Amber went missing. One day Chloe happened to be hanging up missing person posters around campus while Kate was putting up flyers for the abstinence club, and when Kate saw what Chloe was posting (when she saw Chloe’s eyes) she had offered to help her distribute them. They’d gotten to talking as they worked, and by the time the posters were all hung they’d exchanged numbers.

Kate owes this friendship (this crush) to Rachel. And Rachel’s been missing for five months now. No matter how many posters they hang, no matter how many prayers Kate sends up for this lost girl to be found, she’s been missing for almost half a year. Chloe still talks about her like she expects to see her coming around the corner any minute now sometimes. Kate doesn’t know whether encouraging Chloe’s hope does more good or more harm at this point. Women who go missing for this long, beautiful young women like Rachel Amber… Kate wants to have faith in Rachel’s safety, but her mother’s been telling her horror stories about what happens to girls like her since before Kate was even old enough to understand.

“So we go swimming together a lot. Not now, obviously. But… yeah. Total punk rock mermaids.” She scoffs lightly, but Kate can hear the sorrow in her laugh. “I… I haven’t gone swimming in months. Not since she…” Chloe sighs. She shakes her head and tries to sound annoyed rather than heartbroken. “Missed the whole fucking summer. Now it’s probably too cold to swim. She’s probably been off surfing in Cali all summer, and I’ve just been staring at the bay like she’s coming in on the next boat. How pathetic is that?”

“It’s not pathetic at all. You miss your friend.” Kate reaches out a tentative hand and is relieved 

when Chloe accepts her touch without so much as a flinch. 

“I miss the bay,” Chloe says suddenly. “I miss the way it felt to just run out into the waves and not give a fuck. I miss feeling weightless and small and like if I swam far enough I could step out into a pirate’s treasure cove, or on some forgotten island, and start a new life. I miss feeling free.”

Kate’s never been swimming in the bay. She spent her summer here ingratiating herself with the local parish, learning the bus schedule, breaking in her library card. She stands carefully, dusting the sticky sand off her skirt. 

Chloe looks at her askance. “Heading home?”

Kate shakes her head. She reaches out a hand to Chloe. “Join me for a swim?” Kate asks, and her voice hardly trembles even though she’s beyond nervous. 

Chloe stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head and then she laughs in disbelief. “Are you for real?”

“Very much so.”

“You got a bathing suit on under your clothes, Kit-Kat?”

“Do you?”

“No.” Chloe tries to leer, but it’s so uncertain it falls apart before it can look properly devious. “You askin’ me to go skinny dipping? I thought you were supposed to be a prude about that stuff.”

“I’m not a prude,” Kate protests, her face reddening. “But no, I’m not asking you to go skinny dipping. Or at least I’m not going skinny dipping; you can do as you please.” She slips off her shoes, and good Lord, this really is a terrible idea, isn’t it. She’s not dressed for swimming in the slightest. Her blouse is white, and her skirt is, well, a skirt, but it’s too late to back out now just because she’s had a sudden attack of logic since Chloe’s already taking her hand (and oh Lord Chloe’s hand is so cold and so strong and so perfect) and hauling herself up to her feet.

“Gonna be a weird ride back to campus,” Chloe says with a grin that’s building in its certainty. “Wet jeans are hell to drive in. You know my heater doesn’t work, right?”

“I’ve ridden in your truck before, haven’t I?”

“True that.” Chloe removes Kate’s cardigan and folds it with surprising politeness by her shoes before tugging off her boots and dropping them haphazardly into the sand. She empties her pockets onto the pile of clothes: a crumpled cigarette pack, some loose change, a parking ticket, a key, a lighter, her phone. Kate places her handbag beside them. “You ready to do this thing?”

Kate nods quickly before she can chicken out. “Are you?”

The smile that lights up Chloe’s face is the most radiant thing that Kate’s ever seen. “Hella ready.” Chloe reaches out her hand again, and Kate takes it. 

The water is cold, and swimming in a skirt is just as difficult as Kate feared. It’s completely worth it.

#life is strange #fanfic #my writing #ghost writes #pricemarsh #chloe price #kate marsh #prompt fill #prompt fic #prompt ghost

[twomoonstwosuns]

surprise.

pairing: pedro pascal x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, nothing explicit

word count: 2.4k

a/n: a little belated, but very obviously inspired by pedro’s birthday last week. i really hope i did this right, this is my first time posting anything i’ve written on tumblr. i really really hope you enjoy it but if you don’t please don’t be harsh. if anyone has advice or knowledge for posting on tumblr they’d like to share that would be really amazing :)

i hope everyone is staying healthy and safe and keeping their mental health in check. we’re all in this together and we’ll come out strong on the other side. my inbox is always open if anyone needs to talk :)

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“Baby, the dishes can wait ‘til the morning.”

You were at a crossroad: do the dishes now and not have to worry about anything except a lazy morning with your boyfriend, or do them in the morning and see what kind of nighttime activities you and your boyfriend could get into.

After a busy day, Pedro was all yours again.

The morning of his birthday started with making him breakfast in bed, a task you had gotten distracted from when Pedro walked into the kitchen in nothing but his briefs and pressed salacious kisses to your neck while his hands made their way underneath your pajamas. Eventually you made it back to bed with breakfast, but the sweet taste of berries as you traded kisses soon ended up with you in his lap and empty breakfast dishes falling to the floor as the bed moved.

You sent him out in the afternoon with Oscar and his wife Elvira, claiming you couldn’t join them for a late lunch because you had to do a couple of things for work. Instead you went and picked up everything you had stashed at a friend’s house for the surprise party you were throwing for Pedro; food and drinks and decorations. You had set up trays of food and non-alcoholic beverages on tables and set up two makeshift bars in your living room – one with beer and hard liquor and the other a Jack Daniels whiskey bar. You knew Pedro would get a kick out of that.

The surprise went off without a hitch. Oscar and Elvira had brought Pedro back to the apartment right on time and the look on his face at the sight of thirty of his closest friends and family showed he was completely oblivious to your plan. He found you immediately, pressing a kiss to your lips and wrapping an arm around your waist as he made his way into the apartment. He greeted everyone, thanked him or her for coming and asking how they’d been doing. And then the party really got started.

Conversation flowed, food was eaten, and a lot of alcohol was consumed. Someone had tried to get people dancing, but everyone was too caught up to care. The air was cool, as it typically was in April in New York, but that didn’t stop people from going out to the balcony to enjoy the view of the skyline on the river. You, ever the host, made your way around the party, seeing if anyone needed anything and stopping to catch up with people you hadn’t seen in awhile and people you’d seen just a few days ago.

Wherever you went, you found yourself occasionally glancing around at your boyfriend. Whether you wanted to know what he was up to or just wanted to admire him from afar, your heart swelled whenever you saw Pedro laugh. You felt his eyes on you several times throughout the evening as well, and you shot him a flirty smile whenever you caught him.

His eyes would even be on you as you stood next to him, chatting away with his friends. He would glance down at you as you stood by his side and listened intently at a story you had heard a thousand times before. He stared at you with a soft and loving smile as you and your guests sang ‘happy birthday’ to him. You smile widely in return, mouthing ‘I love you’ as he blew out his candles with a subtle wink.

He adored you. You adored him. And after having to share him for the evening with his family and friends, you were happy to finally have him all to yourself.And showing him for the third time that day just how much you adored him sounded much more appealing than cleaning.

The dishes could wait until the morning.

Pedro gently pulled your hand, bringing you forward as he walked backwards towards your bedroom. You swung the door shut behind you and were immediately pulled into Pedro’s arms. He drew you into a deep kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Thank you for today.” He murmured as he pulled away, his lips hovering over yours close enough where you could feel the words he was saying. “Every part of it was perfect.”

“I’m glad.” You said, pulling back slightly to cup his face in your hands and looking into the sparkling brown eyes on the other side of his clear-rimmed glasses. “You deserve it.”

Pedro smiled and placed his forehead against yours for a few seconds before letting you go to get ready for bed. You both moved seamlessly around each other as you readied for bed – one brushed their teeth while the other undressed and then you switched. Domesticity was a good look for your relationship.

“You were surprised, right?” You asked, walking up to the bed. “Or did you totally know? Because you looked surprised but you’re also an actor.”

Pedro shook his head as he climbed into your shared bed, but the humorous look he gave you made you think otherwise.

“What’s that look f—did Oscar tell you?” You crossed your arms over your chest with a half smile and a scoff. “He did, didn’t he? I bet El $20 that he’d blab—“

Pedro’s laugh interrupted you.

“No, I was surprised. How did you keep it a secret?”

You shrugged with a smirk on your face.

“Very careful planning and timing. Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”

Pedro extended his arm, an open invitation for you to join him. After turning off the light you did just that, settling in next to him against the headboard, your entire right side pressed against his left, one of your bare legs draped over his clothed one, and his arm around your shoulder, neither of you quite ready to sleep.

“Do you remember when we met?” Pedro asked seemingly out of nowhere, his fingers now combing through your hair. “When you stole my coffee?”

You scoffed, but still had a smile on your face.

“You stole my coffee too,” you said, poking him in the stomach.

“But you grabbed my cup first.”

“They don’t write anything on the cups to differentiate them, how was I supposed to know it was yours until I opened it to put sugar in?” You argued playfully, lacing your fingers with his. This conversation, no matter if you were dishing it out yourselves or trying to tell people the story of how you met, always ended up with playful banter. “Also, I’m pretty sure we both grabbed the cups at the same time.”

“I still think you did it on purpose.”

“Uh huh, and why would I have done that? You know I don’t mess around when it comes to my morning coffee.”

“I don’t know but it got you to talk to me, didn’t it?”

“You flirted with me first, though.”

“That is a fact.” Pedro said, kissing the top of your head. “I’m glad you thought that was flirting.”

“I thought you were so charming. That’s why you walked out of that coffee shop with my phone number. Whatever you thought it was clearly worked because you’ve got me.”

Pedro sighed contently and you knew there was more on his mind by the way he inhaled, paused and opened his mouth, like he had something more to say. But he said nothing.

“What’s up?” You asked, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

Pedro pressed a kiss to your temple and leaned his head against yours, taking a deep breath.

“My stolen coffee.” You laughed loudly and you felt Pedro move with laughter beneath you. You had seriously considered calling the coffee shop to thank them for not writing your name on the coffee cup. “And also you.”

You cuddled into his side, but a quick squeeze of your shoulder and him pulling away made you turn to look at him with a furrowed brow. You were confused; everything was lighthearted and affectionate up until now. The look on his face was almost serious, but he still looked at you like you were the brightest star in the sky. Which is why you still had a little bit of a smile across your face.  

“You ok?”

Pedro ran a hand through his hair, messing it up just the way you liked it.

“I wanted to have this big speech prepared when I did this,” Pedro said, grabbing your hand, squeezing it and caressing his thumb across the back of it. “But I realized tonight, with everything you did to make my birthday special that I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

Your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest when you realized what was happening. Pedro reached behind him into the bedside drawer and pulled out a box. He held it in the palm of his hand and you stared at it as tears gathered in your eyes.

“I love you. So much. All of my best memories from this past year have been with you and I want a million more. You put up with my weirdness, my goofy faces, my questionable fashion choices, and my awesome dances moves—“

You let out a watery laugh and nodded in agreement. All those things were true, and you loved every single one of them. And Pedro smiled with you because he knew.

“And most of all you know all of my quirks, my habits, and my insecurities…and you still love me.” Pedro’s tone turned serious and you saw his eyes get a little glossy. You knew he struggled with insecurities like everyone else, but being an actor put people’s opinions of him in the public eye and it wasn’t always easy to avoid the comments they made. He had opened up to you about them, and you told him you loved every part of him, more for you to love for yourself.

“You’re the one I want to spend all of my birthdays with.”

Pedro opened the box and you gaped at the ring inside, a tear sliding down your cheek. A single round diamond sat centered on a thin silver band. It was simple and classic. It was you.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you said without pause like it was obvious, and it was. You looked from the ring to Pedro’s face. “A million times yes.”

A wide smile spread across his face; the one that made his eyes light up and crinkle at the edges. The smile you fell head over heels in love with. You smiled back, a happy laugh escaping your lips. Pedro wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in a tender kiss, the kind of kiss that made you feel butterflies in your stomach and left your eyes closed for a couple of seconds after he pulled away. When your eyes finally opened again, you saw Pedro looking at you with all the love and adoration in the world. You’d seen that look from him multiple times when you were together and it melted your heart every time.

He pulled you into him, halfway into his lap, a tangle of limbs where no one could tell who was who. Pedro slid the ring on your finger. A perfect fit. He kept your hand grasped in his, the both of you staring at your ring as if it weren’t real.

“I don’t—“ you murmured, shaking your head and looking up from your hand to Pedro’s eyes. Your fiancé’s eyes. You gently pushed his messy hair back from his face. “I don’t know what to say that can express how happy you make me. I love you. With all my heart. God, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. It sounds cheesy and cliché, I know, but it’s true.”

Pedro wiped the remnants of your happy tears away before pushing your own hair back behind your ear.

“But you know all the surprises were supposed to be for you today, right?”

Pedro gave you a look as he wrapped his arms around your waist and flipped you suddenly onto your back, smiling at your laughter as he hovered over you, the ring box bouncing off of the bed.

“That may be, but having you as my wife and my partner and my best friend for the rest of my life is the best birthday present I could ever have. So if I needed to surprise you to do that, then so be it.”

You brought your head up to kiss Pedro, your tongue slipping into his mouth as your hands moving down his waist to bring his shirt up. He tossed it aside and brought his lips down to your stomach, placing soft kisses up to your chest as he moved your shirt up with it.

You may not have had the words to describe how happy and excited you were to be Pedro’s for the rest of your lives, but you knew exactly how you could show him. And as you removed each other’s clothes, Pedro stopping only to place a kiss on your ring finger, the band cool against his lips, you allowed one fleeting thought to pass through your mind:

You were glad you decided to ignore the dishes. 

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fluff #surprise oneshot #pedro pascal fic #fanfiction

[carolyncaves]

This probably exists in the same post-CQL cinematic universe as my fic Senseless, but that doesn’t matter. My mental logic was April Fools -> “court jester” + vague semblance of a prank? I did not want to try to wrangle in the actual holiday, forgive me.

1071 words, Wangxian, Lan Qiren. Fluff, good-natured pranks, marriage proposals, mild background Lan family angst.

With Lan Xichen in seclusion, Lan Zhan and Lan Qiren had been sharing the duties of administering the Lan Sect in his absence, and though they were very different people, they were doing so with a reasoned lack of conflict and respect for Lan Xichen’s absent authority that would be admirable by anyone in the cultivation world.

That was the public appearance, anyway. Wei Wuxian was blessed with a more intimate view of the current state of Lan Sect politics, since he was now a permanent inhabitant of its Second Young Master’s jingshi and its one bed. No proper Lan could be said to bicker – that was certainly against the rules – which meant Wei Wuxian was presently witnessing two very proper Lans definitely not bicker over what was in his opinion a particularly minor point, even for them.

This was fairly routine. Wei Wuxian had learned to appreciate it, because Lan Zhan’s ears turned pleasantly pink when he grew sufficiently frustrated. Wei Wuxian’s wandering mind was snapped back to the conversation when Lan Qiren punctuated one of his arguments with, “… I will consider it just as soon as you get this court jester out of Cloud Recesses!”

It wasn’t loud or angry, and Wei Wuxian had long since given up on being anything but hated by Lan Qiren. Still, it was uncalled for given that the reason their disagreement had nothing to do with him (this time), and it would be aggrieving to Lan Zhan. Almost despite himself, Wei Wuxian felt his hackles rise. “Master Qiren …”

“Uncle,” Lan Zhan said severely, interrupting him. There was a long, tense pause. “Wei Ying will not be leaving Cloud Recesses. He is my court jester, and I intend to keep him.”

Wei Wuxian rounded on his dear companion, spluttering in outrage. “Lan Zhan!”

But Lan Zhan was doing something that transfixed Wei Wuxian mid-motion, half twisted and mouth agape. He was removing his headband, his sacred Lan headband.

“I intend to keep him,” Lan Zhan repeated, “if he will keep me as well.” And then he offered the headband to Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian didn’t know what to do. His heart was flying in his chest. He touched Lan Zhan’s headband sometimes as a joke. Not when they were saying serious words like these. And he would never dream of doing it when Lan Qiren was present! What was happening?

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan prompted. “Will you?” He reached out slowly, taking Wei Wuxian’s left hand in his right.

Wei Wuxian looked fearfully to Lan Qiren, expecting rage on the verge of near-violence. Instead he found a complete absence of that, or even an ounce of the confusion Wei Wuxian was experiencing. Instead, the Lan Master bore a whisper of something that might have been … amusement.

“You studied here as a youth,” the old man scolded, when Wei Wuxian kept staring. “Did you never learn the traditions for promises of marriage?”

Promises of … This was a trick. He was getting engaged. Lan Zhan had decided he would formally ask for his hand by playing a joke on Wei Wuxian. Lan Qiren was helping Lan Zhan play a joke on Wei Wuxian.

He thought he might be about to faint, and not for the usual reasons people fainted when they were accepting a betrothal.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan prompted again, a little more strained this time. Wei Wuxian was being too quiet for too long. Lan Zhan was getting worried.

Wei Wuxian squeezed Lan Zhan’s hand very hard. “Lan Zhan, you surprised me! It’s not a joke, is it?” His voice sounded a little wet, so he tried to reign himself in, since Lan Qiren was present. “This isn’t part of the joke? It’s not, Lan Zhan, I know you wouldn’t. Tell me it isn’t a joke.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Lan Zhan said, slowly and calmly. “I hope to marry you, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian wrapped his other hand – which was trembling very badly – around the outstretched forehead ribbon. At that point he lost it completely, Lan Qiren or otherwise.

Once he’d actually verbally accepted (it seemed very important to Lan Zhan that he do, so Wei Wuxian vowed to reaffirm their promise to marry every day until the wedding), and the headband had been wound artfully around his wrist, and he had gotten his emotions at least mostly back under control, Wei Wuxian felt compelled to wander over and acknowledge Lan Qiren, who – for some unfathomable reason – was still present.

“Master Qiren, you agreed to this?”

Lan Qiren scoffed severely and narrowed his eyes, reminding him of the Lan Qiren he was more accustomed to. “Wei Wuxian. Do you think I hate you more than I care for my nephew?” Wei Wuxian was taken aback by that, but Lan Qiren wasn’t finished. “I watched him grieve for you for thirteen years. And … it has been shown that you did not do the terrible things I once believed you to have done. And he did not ask for my consent, since he would certainly have done this regardless,” he muttered as an addendum.

“And this way you at least got to call me a court jester in the process,” Wei Wuxian reasoned out. It almost – almost – made sense.

“His brother could not be here, and as Sect Leader he approved the marriage.” Wei Wuxian could hear the implied ‘unfortunately’, though in the name of bare minimal courtesy it remained unspoken. Lan Qiren drew himself up straighter. “In his stead, I stand beside Wangji as a member of his family.”

That was an interesting compromise – between the desire for there to be a certain order of things in his family, and a steadfast loyalty to it regardless. Wei Wuxian was grateful he had finally reached it, for Lan Zhan’s sake. He felt some bad blood toward Lan Qiren for the long years he was less understanding, but perhaps it was another example of what he himself had demonstrated – as long as you’re alive, it’s possible to make things better in the future.

“Well, thank you, Uncle,” Wei Wuxian said – and was delighted by the near-apoplectic expression that passed over Lan Qiren’s face when Wei Wuxian referred to him as a member of his family.

The old man might have played this one very good joke at Wei Wuxian’s expense, but Wei Wuxian was certain he would have the last laugh.

#untamed spring fest #wangxian #fanfic #the untamed #cql #day 1 #i was like 'i can't think of anything good for today's prompt guess i'll skip it and just enjoy' #then i was like 'damn' lol #is it in character for lqr to participate in this? #... probably actually not but i tried #all right back to work #my ficlet

[paradiselostbythedashboardlight]

Quarantine, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Wrote 430,943 Words of Prose in a Year

As we are coming up terrifyingly fast on a full year of quarantine with no end to the pandemic yet in sight for most people, I’ve been taking some time to reflect on the last year of my existence in a state that most people now refer to as quarantine. Since March of 2020, I, like most other sane people in my country, have stopped traveling, going to stores, seeing all but a limited group of other humans, and begun having recurring nightmares about being in crowds without a piece of cloth over my nose and mouth.

Suffice to say, it has been a bit stressful.

The other thing that I have done since COVID-19 began rapidly spreading across the globe last year is write over 430,943 words of fiction. 

The number seems insane to me still. That is (approximately) one Gone With The Wind, one entire Lord of the Rings series, or the first four Harry Potter books. That is still sadly not yet War and Peace (but who knows… the pandemic isn’t over yet).

So now that I am looking back, I find myself with one question: how did this happen? Why did I do this? What does this mean about my life this year?

Since apparently I answer best by writing a lot, let’s begin at the beginning. Let me tell you a story. I’ll keep it short, I swear.

Part 1: Blast From the Past

In March of 2020, I was still in the midst of an academic semester. There was a long academic document to write and a class to teach. However, as quarantine abruptly robbed me of most of my usual commitments, I was suddenly thrust into the position of having more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. Consequently, I decided to break out the Nintendo Switch I’d gotten for Christmas and revive a childhood interest in video games.

And boy did I. I played the games I owned for all they were worth. I played them during the evenings when I had no social engagements to attend. I played them during the Zoom meetings I was already struggling to pay attention to. By the end of March, I had finished one game, and it had set the wheels turning in my brain.

Here’s a fact about me: I don’t usually tend to write or read a lot of fanfiction about things that I consider really really good. Basically, fanfiction for me has always been an impulse born from incompletion or imperfection. I see no need to add to a perfect story (although I happily consume and create fanart). But for something enjoyable and yet slightly unsatisfying? That’s fanfic territory, bud.

So by April, I had developed a sort of epic fanfiction for this video game I was playing. It was one of those magnum opus kind of ideas, a grand retelling of the story with a huge sprawling plot and Themes (™). 

At first, it was merely a thought experiment that lived only in my head, a sort of entertainment to ponder in the hours before falling asleep. What changed? Well, a friend of mine decided to also write a fanfiction on the same video game and she kindly consented to let me read it.

Suddenly, I was ravenously hungry to read and to write and to share and to consume. I wrote a hundred thousand words of this fanfic in April and into early May, sending each chapter to my friend and being spurred onward by her kind comments. 

The fic became a gargantuan endeavor full of strange little challenges I set for myself. It was a canon-divergence, requiring plotting, worldbuilding, a darker and grimer tone. For some reason, I decided to write each chapter from a different character’s perspective, making the final product into a series of essentially short story character studies which together formed a plot.

By the end of May, the story was published for the world to see. It was well-received, although not particularly popular by fandom standards. And that was the end. I had gotten out my pandemic crazies, the semester was over and now I could move on. I had made my peace with the source material, plumbing all of the little details that I wanted to examine and creating a narrative that I found satisfying.

It was over.

Part 2: Summer Lovin?

Except that it wasn’t.

Confession: as I had been posting my giant fanfiction, I had also begun to explore the fan community itself, mostly curious to see some nice art and gather a bit of demographic info about what was popular within the community. As a result, I found a fanfic recommendations page. Among the recommendations was one author who kept popping up and i finally decided to give the fic a read.

Woah. It was good. Like, really good. Like, professional quality writing and themes that seemed designed to appeal to me. I devoured everything that the creator had posted in a week and then subscribed to eagerly wait for more.

As June rolled around, I realized that I had a problem on my hands. My great big gen masterpiece was finished, but this author had gotten me hooked on something else, something with a nefarious reputation online: shipping.

The term du jour for this seems to be “brain worms” so let’s just say that reading other fanworks had given me some brain worms. Inspired this time not just by the source material of the game, but now the fan community itself, my mind began to develop another idea.

I wrote the fic, about 11k, in a single afternoon of frantic writing. When I finished it, I knew it was one of my strongest pieces. It had just come together, a combination of all the thought that I’d been brewing up and a stylistic execution that just worked with the story I wanted to tell.

I posted it on a new account. Shipping seemed vaguely shameful to me still and my mom reads the other account.

To my surprise, the fic blew up. It got so much more attention than my long fic ever had. Even more significantly, a fan artist actually drew a gorgeous comic of the pivotal scene, completely out of the blue! I was essentially thunderstruck. Honestly, it was probably the first time in my life that I’d ever received so much positive reinforcement from a piece of writing.

While I’d written short stories for undergrad workshops, they’d never been particularly good and I’d never gotten particularly great feedback on them. I’d applied and been rejected by more MFAs and literary magazines than I could count. I’d pretty much resigned myself to writing for an audience of me and me alone (which I don’t mean to sound tragic about, writing for you is great and fun!)

But receiving so much support and praise and feeling like I’d made other people happy or sad or moved? There’s nothing better.

This makes my decision to write another fic for the ship sound vaguely cynical, the action of a person driven by an addiction to praise. I mean, no lie, aren’t we all a little addicted to approval?

But my next fic was another long one, an 80k passion project modern AU that I dreamed up while spending a slow summer alone with my books and only able to leave the house for long rambling walks in the woods. The premise was essentially about characters attending a five year college reunion, something that I myself had missed due to COVID in May of the same year. The fic quickly became a way for me to process thoughts on a lot of topics in my life ranging from relationships to politics to mental health to classical literature.

This fic was also received with far more attention than I was used to and, as a result, I finally joined the notorious Twitter dot com where I found people talking about my fic unprompted, eager to follow me and like my every random thought.

I can’t say that this process was not without its ups and downs. Fandom has changed, in many ways for the better, since my last engagement with it during the 2013 Supernatural days on Tumblr. While fan friendships are often idealized or demonized, they are pretty much like any other human friendship (okay, maybe a little bit more horny on main). There is potential for amazing connection as well as pettiness. But in a year where many people suddenly had no social spaces that were safe anymore, I’m glad that I found a new line of communication with the world.  

So I kept writing fics for the ship, producing a lot of work that I am genuinely proud of and making connections with other people who enjoyed it enough to leave a comment.

To conclude this section, I was in fandom again. While I had not seriously engaged with a fan community since around 2014, I was back with a vengeance. And I had discovered an important truth about what unlocked my ability to write more than I ever had before: community support.

Not simply the kudos and the views. It was the comments. The discourse. The discussion. To add and contribute my thoughts and ideas to a greater network of thoughts and ideas that fed off of one another.

Often I had seen people complain about there not being enough fanworks for particular media or characters. Now I knew the secret. The comments and the community created the works. If I commented on other people’s fics, the more likely they were to write more. I made a resolution I have tried to keep, to comment on any story that I legitimately enjoyed reading, even if I had no particularly intelligent thing to say about it.

Part 3: A Novel Idea

By late October, I had produced a considering oeuvre for my ship of choice and was enjoying slowing my pace as I planned a few future projects.

Remember, though, how I mentioned not having engaged with fandom for the past 5 years? Well, that didn’t mean I hadn’t been writing.

For the past 4 years, I have won NaNoWriMo and completed 4 novels of over 100k each in length. These projects have been massively fun and improved my confidence with executing stories at the scope that I desire.

And so in November 2020, I settled down to write another novel. November is always a sort of terrible time write a novel if you work in academia, but this year, I had more time than usual. I set out to write a comedy fantasy novel, something mostly lighthearted and full of hijinks in order to pretend away some of the quarantine blues (which by this point were well established in my psyche).

This year in particular, I was reminded that writing a novel is… harder than fanfic. That seems like a very obvious point, but I’d written novels before. Suddenly, though, I was realizing how much a novel requires you to set up the world and the characters, while fanfic can be pretty much all payoff all the time.

While the fanfic flowed in wild creative bursts of energy, the novel required diligence of another sort. I wrote 2,000 words every day for two months. It was a grind. Sometimes, it was a slog. 

And sometimes it just wasn't good. The thing about writing your own novels is that the first draft is way more likely to be not good. You’re balancing a lot and it’s easy to let a few balls that you have in the air drop for a chapter or two, with no recourse but to go back and edit later.

I finished the novel by writing a final speedrun of 6k on new years eve, ending my 2020 with another project under my belt. No one has read it. Not even I have reread it.

I’m still glad that I wrote it. I’ll write another one next year. No one will read that one either.

Sometimes, we write for ourselves and no external validation is necessary.

Part 4: Where are they now?

January of 2021 is somehow now behind me, which is terrifying. I’m still writing. Mostly fanfic, although occasionally I go doodle around with some original ideas that are more conceptual sketches for the next novel.

As for the fanfic, I think I still have a few more good ideas left in me, but  I will probably leave it behind before the year is out. That feels a little bittersweet, a sort of temporary burst of fun and friendship that I wonder if I’ll ever experience again.

Coming to the end of this reflection, I suppose I should make a summative statement about what it all means.

In the end, it might not mean a lot. There are some small takeaways. 

It turns out that encouragement makes you write more! Who knew? Also, more free time makes you write more! Wow!!!!

The point that I think this reflection exercise has shown me, the point that I think matters more than any other, is that writing is a way to process my thoughts. Even if it is through the lens of ridiculous video game fanfic or novels about sad wizards, my writing is my way to make sense of my own mind. 

And sharing that is special. If you share it with online strangers, with your family on Christmas Eve, with your close friend who has become even closer and dearer to you since she let you read her work, or just with your mom (the one personal legally required to read your damn novel if you want to share it). To share writing is to give someone a little peek at your beliefs about the world.

And right now? When we’re still isolated and bored and scared and in desperate need of distraction? Binge some TV, play Nintendo, read a book. Take in other people’s thoughts.

But put down your own somewhere as well. It’s a conversation.

And for once, it’s a conversation that doesn’t have to take place on fucking Zoom.

#writing #personal rambling #fanfiction

[jolinar]

A Very Star Wars Fictober (in April!) Day 22

Prompt number: #22 "and neither should you"

Fandom: Star Wars

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings/Tags: Paige Tico death mention, angst, Rose and Poe are friends

Word Count: 1338

Summary: Rose and Poe try to come to terms with their shared trauma. They also enjoy some delicious cookies.

(Yes, I’m still fighting to the finish, just a few more prompts to go. I actually posted this one a bit ago, but never cross-posted to tumblr)

Read it on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763721/chapters/75719579

Rose ran into the domed atrium, a heavy pack swinging across her back. She ran straight into the railing and peered down at the ground floor some 40 feet below. Standing smack in the middle of an ornate mosaic floor depicting flowers in spring was Poe, waving up at her, a small wrapped package in his hand. Rose grinned and waved back. Then she pushed back from the railing and began winding her way along the round corridor and finally down the first set of stairs.

All around her, servitors, proxies, and courtiers stepped carefully out of her way as she bounded down the steps. Each carried a slight curl of the lip at her impudence, but Rose just laughed. She found the prim outlook of the Naboo staff more amusing than anything. Let them think whatever they wanted of her. She had seen too much to care.

Poe met her halfway down the bottom grand staircase and held out the box with a flourish.

“Otomok sunflower cookies, as requested, compliments of the Resistance's official pastry chef," he said. Then he grimaced, as though remembering something. "Or the Re-Founded Republic's pastry chef, I guess I should say. Still haven't gotten used to all the names."

Rose nodded, still listening but focused on the box in her hands. She carefully lifted the lid and drew out one of the twelve circular cookies nestled there. It looked just like she had envisioned...so many memories wrapped up in a tiny cookie. She turned it over in her hand, studying the ridges. It was perfect. Just like home.

“You’re doing okay, right?" Poe asked. He leaned back against the staircase railing, affecting nonchalance, but studying her face closely. "I know it’s a...day, today.”

Rose’s hand slipped and she almost dropped the cookie. She hadn't expected him to remember. She recovered quickly and beamed up at him. “I’m fine. Better than fine, now that I have these. How are you doing, Poe? Or should I say," she paused, mischief creeping into her voice, " Senator Dameron ?”

Poe barked out a laugh and self-consciously smoothed his impeccable hair. “Yeah, I guess. And I’m fine, too, you’re sweet to ask, I just…”

“What?” She broke the cookie in half and held part of it out to him. He accepted it with a grateful little nod.

“I hope I can do the job, you know? I’ve led Black Squadron, sure, but this?”

“Don’t forget, you're also a General.”

Poe shrugged self-deprecating and replied, “I think everybody became a General during the last parts of the War."

“I wasn't," Rose pointed out.

“What, seriously?" Poe exclaimed. "Well, we’ll make you one now. My first act as Senator will be to name you General Tico. You want me to bow? I can definitely bow - hold on..." Poe popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth and flicked the crumbs from his fingers. He swept into a formal bow. "How about it, General"

He grinned up at her and she shook her head, giggling a little. “No, no, stop, stop ! I could never keep a straight face if people talked to me like that. Anyway, you earned it. The promotions and...everything." She nodded fiercely. "You earned it."

But Poe shook his head again. "All that stuff during the war was one thing. I did what I had to do, we all did. And I didn’t always make the right call and my people paid the price. Today of all days, I'm remembering that.”

He avoided her eyes as he said this, and Rose felt a pang of sympathy. She passed him the other half of the cookie. He took a big bite of it and closed his eyes, savoring it this time. "I remember…the first time I had these. Washing them down with some of that awful Hayes Minor rotgut."

“I’ve got some of that too, if you’re interested,” Rose said, holding up her bag. Poe made a face.

“I’m still hungover from the last time, at Paige’s --” he stopped, a full-body motion that sent all his easy-going inertia crashing to a halt. He looked at her, face suddenly drawn and serious. "I'm sorry, Rose. I...I don't think I've ever said--"

Rose knew immediately what he was going to say. She also knew that she didn't want to hear it. Didn’t need to hear it. She held up a gentle hand to stop him.

“There is no blame." She tilted her head up at him. "There never was. Least of all for you. It was a war. There's nothing for you to be sorry for."

"That doesn't make it better," he said quietly. "Doesn't make it less my fault…” he trailed off, and she knew he was still leaving the door open for her.

Rose hesitated but didn't speak. She couldn't find the words.

"You…" he looked down at the cookie in his hand, the neat little leaf pressed into the dough with a big bite taken out of it. "You've never let me apologize. Please... Rose, give me that. I'm sorry."

Time seemed to halt. Around them, the crowds thronged, parting sometimes with a glare at the two people standing stock-still in the middle of the staircase. They had never discussed it, there had never been time. And after a while, the silence had become an unspoken rule between them.

He still would not meet her eye so she studied the fall of his perfect hair instead. It would have been so easy to hate him, after what happened to Paige. To blame him. Or General Leia for putting them there in the first place. Or to blame the First Order. Or Kylo Ren, the man who now called himself Ben Solo. Oh yes, it would have been so easy. The dry tinder of pain and loss surrounded her. All she need do was light a spark -- not of hope, but of cold fury -- and the Resistance would become a conflagration. There was so much hate and anger, just a word away.

And yet...she remembered what Leia had told them when she and Paige had tried to throw their lives away:

"You can lash out, you deal out a bit of cathartic destruction. But it won't make a lasting difference. Do you want to lash out? Or do you want to make a real change?"

War had taken her world and her family and her sister. But it would not take her. She let the pain and anger and fear and loneliness slip away, releasing them until all that was left was light and peace.

“I don’t think of it that way...in terms of what we’ve lost. And neither should you. I think of life in terms of what lies ahead, and what we choose to do with the time we’re given. No matter what happens next," she said to Poe. "You'll have people around you who care. Lean on us, we'll get through this together."

He nodded, swallowing hard, shutting his eyes. Rose ignored the tiny tears that squeezed out of the corner of his eyes. Wordlessly, she pressed another cookie into his hand.

“You, ah, going to the shindig tomorrow?" She asked. "The big victory celebration?"

“Oh, yeah. I am,” Poe said, thrown by the sudden change of subject, but recovering quickly. “Uhh, you?”

She smiled brightly and nodded. “I’ll be there. Until then,” she swept into a low bow, “Senator Dameron.”

“General Tico,” he said with a firm nod and wide, pompous eyes. Then they both broke into a fit of laughter. It was deep, cathartic laughter and there was a lot there that passed between them, unsaid. As they both straightened up, he squeezed her shoulder. She put her hand on his, squeezing back, looking up into his face and smiling. He nodded again, fondly this time, then walked off, waving from behind.

She felt tears well up in her eyes and willed them away; she had promised herself she wouldn’t cry today. Not on Paige's birthday.

#Mae writes #a very Star Wars fictober #sw fanfiction #Rose Tico #Poe Dameron #fictober20 #I just really like writing Rose #Star Wars fanfiction

[fics-not-tragedies]

Early mornings

©

This fic is based on this request I got and hopefully that’s what anon wanted! Also I couldn’t help myself with throwing this onto the April-Santino-fics pile, so I’m posting it now 😏

SUMMARY: You wake up from a naughty dream that Santino decides to turn into reality. Words:  2556; Warnings: smut, some gentle morning love;

Readers tag list:

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You couldn’t quite tell the time when you found yourself slipping back into reality, but there was barely a sound nearby. A creaking here, a muffled conversation here, but most of all, it was your heartbeat that drew your attention to it more than anything else, and it took a moment for you to realize how heavy your breathing was, and that your forehead was slick with sweat, as well as your neck.

Shifting and untangling your legs from Santino’s under the warm cover of the blanket, you realized why. A dull throbbing sensation between your legs and you exhaled shakily, your mind still hazy with sleep, but slowly allowing you to go back a few minutes, seconds even, to the sensuous dream you’d been having, lying in bed just like you were now, but with Santino on top of you, his hair falling into his eyes, his soft moans, his eyes wide, loving, full of lust as he stared down into yours while he was driving himself deep inside you, over and over again and drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

That sinking feeling was slowly ceasing now, your orgasm slipping away and you licked your lips, turning to lie down on your side, a smile tugging the corners of your lips upwards as your eyes fell on his face, half buried in the pillow, half visible, his features soft and peaceful, and he was absolutely gorgeous, slightly sweaty from how close he’d been holding you and you pulled the blanket down slightly, your eyes wandering down his bare chest, his breathing quiet, his arm still draped across your body.

You blinked several times, your lids feeling heavy with sleep and you couldn’t help your thoughts from wandering back to your wet dream, the idea of it irresistible to you now and you turned your head to the nightstand to check the time, realizing now that it was so quiet around the hotel because it was still early, too early for anybody to be up.

It was your last day, you’d have to check out in a few hours and then you’d be on the plane back home, back to work, back to stressing about everything, away from that idyllic paradise, that gentle bubble you’d gotten comfortable in over the past few days, only you and Santino, and nothing to worry about.

You were sure that the events of last night had prompted your dream, Santino having teased you all throughout dinner, until he’d finally given in and taken you upstairs without insisting on the dessert he’d been looking forward to, but it’d been worth it, you couldn’t remember him ever taking you as good as he had the second you’d gotten into the hotel room, pressed up against the wall, then bent over the small table, too lazy to move.

And now you were sore, but that didn’t mean you didn’t want more, aching for him to fill you up again, to hold your body in his hands, to show you just how badly he wanted you, and then, you suddenly felt a shift beside you, a soft whisper of your name.

You turned your head back to face Santino, shifting his head to look at you, mumbling something incoherent before clearing his throat, but his voice didn’t get much louder, “Are you alright, bella?” He whispered, his voice merely a hint.

You shuffled closer to him again, his arm tightening around you to pull you in and he angled his head to the side, reaching out lazily to pull your face closer to his on the pillow before pressing a sleepy kiss to your lips, soft and gentle, his lips briefly brushing against yours.

You moaned quietly, instantly desperate for more, the simple taste too promising to stop and you ran your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly on it, keeping him as he was and deepening the kiss, giggling as his lips parted and he breathed shakily against your lips, drawing back for air.

“Bella…” he whispered, blinking continuously, his tired eyes searching for yours, then his lips curled into a smile, “Mmm, you are absolutely insatiable, my love…”

You pressed your lips together, sighing guiltily. There was no hiding anything from him, he knew you inside and out, and there was nothing you could get past him, “Mmm, I had a dream” you confessed, your voice smaller than you’d expected, raspy and thick with sleep.

A little giggle bubbled from his lips, husky but the softness in his eyes as he watched you lovingly took away from any sort of teasing, “C’mere, bella…” he whispered, his own voice still sleepy and he wrapped both his arms around you, shifting onto his back and pulling you on top of him, your chest pressed against his, the warmth of his skin against yours, the way he held you, the softness in his eyes making your heart swell with happiness. He smelled so uniquely like himself, clean and familiar and so damn intoxicating.

You hadn’t bothered with anything but a pair of panties, sighing quietly from the feeling of your hard nipples brushing against his bare chest, feeling his heart pounding, now faster than usual.

“Oh, bella, you’re…” he mumbled, lifting his thigh slightly, brushing up between your legs spread on either side of it, “Soaked through your panties, love…”

You whined softly, rolling your hips needily, hardly in control of your lust-fueled movements, a whimper escaping your lips when he pushed his thigh up to meet the grinding of your hips. “I-I…”

“Oh, bella…” he muttered, biting his bottom lip and swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple straining against the sensitive skin of his slender neck and you laid your cheek against his shoulder, attaching your lips to the side of his throat, sucking lightly, a soft moan falling from his lips, “Oh, cazzo, bella…”

You’d started grinding shamelessly against his thigh now, the sound of his moans only making the fire in your stomach grow further, the ache between your legs growing more prominent. You needed something, and his thigh rubbing up against your clit, even if it was just the slightest bit of friction was the next best thing.

Santino could barely comprehend what was happening, having been dragged up from a dream of his own right into yours, your warmth, your scent, your lust clouding his mind, the way your breasts were pressed flat against his chest, the way he could feel your wetness against his thigh, he was gone, and you could feel that he wasn’t unaffected as well.

You reached down to cup the bulge in his boxers, starting to palm him slowly to the fabric, biting down gently on his neck when another moan fell from his lips, louder this time and you started grinding your hips harder against him, the stimulation not nearly enough to satisfy you, but you were needy and desperate for some sort of friction.

“Oh, bella…” he whined, his own hips lifting off the mattress to meet your touch and you reached quickly inside his boxers, your cheek still resting against his warm skin, pressing little kisses to his neck now as you wrapped your fingers around his now hardening length, sighing at the feeling.

The thought of him filling you again, thick and throbbing and you contemplated for a moment if you should just get on your knees and take him into your mouth instead, suck and take him until his fingers were pulling at your hair and he would release into your mouth but you were desperate, too far gone to let go of the thought of his cock filling you up and stretching your empty walls, desperate for something to satisfy that desire.

One of his hands ran slowly down your side, flat into your panties at the back and squeezing your ass before nudging your legs apart with his knuckles, his rough fingertips brushing up against your folds, making you shudder.

“Santino…” you whined softly, pushing your hips back into his touch, “Mmm…”

He chuckled sleepily. “Oh, cazzo, bella, so wet for me…” he gathered more wetness onto his fingers before pressing them to your clit, trapped between his leg and your eager grinding and you moaned louder.

“S-Santino!” You cried when he pressed his thumb against your clit, nudging into the spot, over and over and over, making you writhe desperately, a string of whimpers and cries of his name falling from your lips and you attached them to his neck again to silence yourself, making him groan again.

“Bella, I need you…” he choked out, swallowing hard, his hand leaving you desperate again as he pulled it out but before you could protest, before you could beg for him, his large hands gripped your hips and you smirked, straddling him, giving his cock a few more tugs and you pushed yourself up with your other hand steady on his shoulder, licking your lips.

He looked irresistible, his hair messy, hanging into his eyes as he looked up at you needily, his cheeks flushed, his forehead sweaty, “Need to be inside you…” he whispered, his blue eyes wide, begging you.

You sat up and pushed your panties to the side, too impatient to get up and take them off, instead gripping his cock and slowly lifting your hips to let him sink inside of you, the way he filled you up, so tight and delicious, your walls stretching around him, it brought tears to your eyes.

“O-Oh…” you whined, biting your lip, your eyes falling shut and you threw your head back.

Santino let out a strangled moan, his hips instantly lifting off the bed again to sink deeper inside you, his hands sprawled out over your hips to force you down on him further, his face scrunched up with pleasure, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, darling … what a fucking picture…”

He never swore little, rarely stuck to simple words and as much as you loved his eloquence, his intelligence, reducing him to mess of profanities and soft groans, repetitions and sleepy mumbles, it was even more satisfying. He attempted to lift your hips and you complied, opening your eyes and sinking right back down on him, his cock once again filling you up all the way, your walls clenching around him and continuing to draw moans from his chapped lips and you started to bounce up and down on his cock, watching him closely, always a sucker for the hungry look in his eyes when he watched your tits bounce, his cock disappearing inside of you, your hair falling over your shoulders, your face blissful and desperate as you writhed in his lap.

He groaned loudly, snapping his hips up once again and you gasped, would have fallen forward had he not wrapped his arms around you and he pulled you flush against his chest again, cupping the back of your head, his other hand sprawled out across your back.

“O-Oh, Santi…” you moaned, cut off by his hips snapping up over and over, his cock hitting just the right spot, making you gasp every time your hips collided and you attempted to keep up, rolling your hips on him, grinding eagerly, without any rhythm, just desperate for more friction, more of his cock.

“You’ve got me so close, bella, I’m gonna…”

“M-Me too” you cried out, surprised you’d even lasted a second after his cock had filled you, so worked up after that dream, “F-Fuck, Santino…”

Your movements were sloppy, his and your own, just grinding away on each other, not awake enough to focus on anything but feeling each other, reaching that point of release together that you both desperately craved, warm and safe in your bubble where nothing else mattered.

Santino shifted to move his hand down between your legs, effortlessly finding your clit and starting to rub it in rhythm with the way he was driving inside you, tight and and warm and drawing you closer and closer to orgasm and you lifted your head, propping yourself up enough to bring your face up to his, watching him for a moment and he broke out into giggles before you could even press your lips to his, the soft cackle bubbling from his lips contagious and you couldn’t help yourself, resting your forehead against his, your eyes falling shut as he drove inside you again.

“Mmmm, no, bella…” he sighed, giggling breathily, his chest rising and falling fast, his heart pounding in his chest, “Baciarmi.”

Your heart melted, you were so close, could tell that he was too but he took a moment to let his hand wander slowly up your back until he cupped the side of your face, kissing you deeply, loving and passionate, the feeling consuming you whole.

He bit down gently on your bottom lip, delivered another deep thrust and flicked your clit and with that sending you spiraling, your lips fell open, breaking the kiss and moaning into his mouth obscenely, your eyes once again squeezed shut as the waves of pleasure washed over you, your walls squeezing tightly around him, the burning sensation so good, so intense and you fell limp against him, holding onto him tightly.  

Santino whimpered, your orgasm triggering his own and you felt his hot release inside you, the movements of his hips slowing, his breath hot and heavy, his grip on you tightening, praises of your name falling continuously from his lips and he held you close, his arms wound tightly around you, not showing the slightest intention of ever letting you go, guiding your head to his shoulder.

You both panted out your orgasms, little aftershocks shooting up your bodies with the slightest move of each of your hips, your skin sticking to his but you didn’t ever want to move, felt so sheltered and secure in his arms, so loved and appreciated.

“Santino…” you whispered, pausing in order to be able to catch your breath, pressing a little kiss to the side of his neck.

You instantly had his intention and he angled his head to look at you, a soft, loving smile spreading across his face. “Yes, love?” He asked shakily, nudging your nose playfully with his, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the giggle that followed.

“I love you so much.”

His smile grew wider, impossibly bright and the sparkle in his eyes made your heart flutter. You had so much love for him, so much adoration, snuggling closer to him, aching for the physical intimacy to match. There was no way possible to be closer to him and it almost hurt.

You were stuck together, tangled up and as connected as you could be, and you knew there was no way you’d feel more comfortable, more joyful, more content than right in this moment, his fingers moving to brush through your hair soothingly, his scent and his warmth having taken over you completely.

“Bella…” he rasped, his voice soft despite the deep of it, his blue eyes focused on you and the look was only too familiar, it never failed to make you feel like you were the only girl in the world, like you could do anything, “Bella, you know…” he hummed, licking his lips, “You know, I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

#Early mornings #santino d'antonio #santino d'antonio fanfiction #santino d'antonio fanfic #santino d'antonio fic #santino d'antonio oneshot #santino d'antonio imagine #riccardo scamarcio #riccardo scamarcio fanfiction #riccardo scamarcio fanfic #riccardo scamarcio fic #riccardo scamarcio imagine #riccardo scamarcio oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #oneshot #santino d'antonio x reader #santino d'antonio x you #santino d'antonio/reader #santino d'antonio/you #santino x reader #santino x you #santino/reader #santino/you #kr:oneshot

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew 1x16

Oh my God you guys it has been so long since I have been able to watch a show that is so well written that has clearly been planned out from the beginning where the viewers have been able to theorize and have it pay off and Jesus Christ it is GLORIOUS. If I ever write for a show I would want to work with these writers on a show like this.

Before anything else let me start off gloating that I started calling Nancy as Lucy and Ryan’s daughter back around episode 9 or 10 and I am so fucking vindicated right now, I have been riding an otherwise unattainable high nonstop for the past three days. @kat--writes is this how you feel when you accurately predict things??? Because it feels AMAZING.

For the rest of the episode first can I just say how horribly tragic Lucy Sable is? Kudos to the writers because it was a stunning plot twist that I never saw coming but for some reason it’s almost worse than a murder to me? If for no other reason than how it has affected and will continue to affect everyone around her. Ryan who is now going to be even more guilt ridden about not getting to the ice cream parlor on time, Karen and Josh trying to avenge a murder that never even happened, Tiffany Hudson who died for nothing, Nancy who will be forever wondering if her mother slipped and fell or if she really did kill herself right after Nancy was born because if anything will give you an abandonment complex it’s that.

And hearing Carson say what happened that night with Lucy (PHENOMENAL acting by the way, maybe best scene of the season so far) makes rewatching the earlier episodes, especially 7/8 where Nancy was accusing Carson of murdering Lucy so much more tragic. This girl who he and his wife clearly cared for and felt sympathy for, begging him with her last words to take care of her daughter, knowing he looked away for less than two seconds and probably spending weeks if not months if not years questioning if he’d just looked up a half a second sooner if maybe Lucy would still be alive. Seeing Lucy’s daughter, his daughter, accuse him of murdering Lucy had to be a gut punch and it gives his character so much more depth. I just hope this doesn't put too much of a strain on his relationship with Nancy because they have finally gotten to such a good place and as far as Carson is concerned Nancy is his daughter, and he wasn’t trying to lie to her about Lucy. All he was trying to do was respect Lucy’s dying wish and protect her from the Hudsons. I mean he was willing to go to prison for murder before admitting what happened on the bluffs that night, that should count for something.

Moving away from the Shakespearean levels of tragedy for a moment.

God I fucking KNEW Owen was shady I have known it since the beginning. Granted I do not have absolute confirmation yet BUT: him being in his car outside the Claw when he said he would be out of town, holding a piece of Lucy Sable’s skull? (As far as the skull goes though, loved that bit of Bess/George/Nick teamwork to casually hide it from the cops.) Creepy bastard, thy name is Owen. I have no idea how it will play out yet but I hope to God that it will. But also that is going to be a bit of a blow to Bess, finding out her cousin is whatever he is, and also Nancy who literally just had sex with him.

Speaking of.

Much as it pains me to admit, the writers are clearly taking several steps away from Nancy x Nick for the moment, probably to give Nick x George a fighting chance. Side question. Why is Nick sleeping on a couch when he has over four and a half million dollars? Like he could afford to build a house with that much money. But I digress. I think it will be good for George to have a love interest who is A her own age and B not married, especially someone who she already had a good friendship with. Maybe since Owen is a Confirmed Shady Motherfucker the writers will either keep Nancy single for awhile or pair her up with Ace because their chemistry is off the charts. And as long as we’re on the romance topic, Bess. BESS. My sweet queer daughter. Where are Lisbeth and Amaya? Last time we saw Lisbeth they admitted they were kind of falling in love and slept with each other, last (and first) time we saw Amaya I fell in love and she and Bess had more chemistry than a high school sophomore. GIVE ME MY ON SCREEN BESS ROMANCE DRAMA WRITERS. And am I the only one who finds it a little bit weird that Bess is apparently so good at other people’s relationships when she has never really had one before?

I’m going to take a quick minute to be sad about Nancy x Nick so if you don’t like that you can skip this paragraph. NED NICKERSON. How the FUCK can you be so totally fine with Nancy sleeping with Owen when you two are clearly soulmates and you never liked him anyway? After the inevitable Owen betrayal possibly one of two things will happen with Nancy. She will regress and start to push people (read: love interests) even further away than before, OR she will finally really start to open up to Nick and they will find their way back to each other. Admittedly the second one is unlikely since Nick and George literally just got together but you never know. Just as long as Nick doesn’t cheat on George with Nancy because those two are finally friends and are really good friends to boot, and also George deserves way better especially post Ryan Hudson affair debacle. Maybe she and Nancy can bond over having shady not good for them older boyfriends.

On the topic of Ryan being Nancy’s biological dad every time George complains about Nancy asking favors I want her response to be “you had sex with my dad” every time.

Now we will talk about the promo for the as of now untitled next episode and also what the rest of the season and possibly season 2 have planned.

In episode 17 Ryan will clearly be Going Through Some Stuff, and will also find out that Lucy was pregnant. Whether he realizes she had the baby or thinks it died with her remains to be determined, but that shot of Nancy with a busted lip and her hair cut off in a car being driven by Ryan makes me think maybe he snaps and kidnaps her? It’s a bit of a stretch but it would certainly be interesting. I think we’re also going to see more of the Aglaeca coming after Nancy for not paying the toll, because for a minute we can see Nancy sort of choking and putting her hand to her throat like she’s about to throw up again. Maybe it’s going to keep coming after Nancy until they finally let the Aglaeca have Owen, or maybe its going to try to kill Nancy as punishment for saving Owen. I don’t know but I can’t wait to find out.

For the rest of the season/next season there are a couple threads not related to Ryan finding out Nancy is his daughter. There’s the new detective but I’m not talking about him. Joshua Dude, Lucy’s brother. He is still out and about wherever he is, and does not know his sister killed herself. This will probably not exonerate Ryan in his mind as Ryan’s family is part of what drove Lucy to suicide. Maybe he will come back and decide to sort of take revenge on A the Hudsons or B the town of Horseshoe Bay as revenge for what they did to Lucy. (Sort of like the Black Hood from Riverdale but you know, well done.) There is also Everett Hudson. Last time I checked he had just been arrested for sinking the Bonny Scot and racketeering and insurance fraud and stuff, what the hell is he doing at a yacht club? I can only assume he got out on bail so maybe we will see Nancy (possibly together with Ryan) work to put him behind bars for good. Maybe Carson Drew will finally leverage some of that dirty laundry he has on the Hudsons, or better yet that Grecian urn thing Ryan has will finally be put to good use. And then in the future although there is zero proof of this I still want A for George to become clairvoyant/psychic like her mother and B for George and Bess to be cousins. I don’t think I’m asking for too much here.

Finally, because of how much of a staple character he is in the books I refuse to accept that Chief McGinnis is gone for good. My very being rebels against it. But before you scream at me about how different the show is from the books (those two or three of you who have read the books anyway) even if he were an original character I would want him to stay. He is a fantastic character, he was just starting to get depth, I adore his relationship with Ace and on top of everything else he’s good Native American representation.

I ALSO WANT VICTORIA TO COME BACK. I HAVE NOT SEEN HER SINCE 2019. WTF WRITERS. YOU CAN’T JUST MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH A DYSFUNCTIONAL PSYCHIC ALCOHOLIC MOTHER LIKE THAT AND THEN ONLY PUT HER IN TWO EPISODES.

Dead Lucy should also continue to stick around, maybe she can teach Nancy how to hang from ceilings or they can bond over how much Everett Hudson Sucks. It’s just that Lucy spent all this time trying to show Nancy that she is her biological mother, and for her to move on after sticking around for 20 years right after Nancy learns the truth? It would be too - and I fully recognize I have used this word too many times but I am going to use it again - tragic.

The wait for April 8 is going to be an agony unlike any other but at least after it comes back there will only be six episodes left, and so it is very unlikely the show will go on another hiatus before the season is up. Let me know what you guys think will happen in season 2/the rest of season 1.

#Nancy Drew #Nancy Drew cw #George Fan #Bess Marvin #Lucy Sable #Dead Lucy #Ned Nickerson #the haunting of Nancy Drew #Ryan Hudson #Carson Drew #Nick x Nancy #Nick x George #Nancy x Owen #sorta Nancy x Ace #if you squint

[mutated-green-things]

In Circles

I commissioned this picture from @shellsweet awhile ago and ended up writing a whole fic for it! Only I’m a slow well editor so I’m only just getting around to posting everything. I’ve been thinking about this idea, this story and image for a long time though, and wanted to make sure it was something special. Mostly for me if I’m honest, because I think about these two all the time, but also so I could give something special to everyone else who loves this ship.  Anyway, I hope you all like it, and again thank the amazing @shellsweet for the artwork. You can click the read more to look at the fic or you can simply go to the AO3 link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896832

Leonardo glanced up, stared for one, two, three beats, and then trained his eyes back onto the grass outside the farmhouse. April and Casey had chosen an amazing spot for their summer wedding, and though Leo and his brothers had drawn some seriously unwanted attention to the event, everything seemed to be gliding along smoothly now.

Music was playing, alternating between upbeat and slow. Paper lanterns hung from the large green trees and were filling the air with warm, buttery light. People, mutants, aliens were all talking, dancing, laughing. April and Casey were the spotlights of course, and their beaming faces just seemed to make the space glow even brighter. Michelangelo was dancing alone, but every time a fast, poppy song came on he'd tear up the floor and then bow for his adoring crowd.

Raphael and Donatello were even better off. Raph wasn't graceful, but Traximus must have learned how to dance somewhere because the way he led through every slow ballad looked effortless.

And though Donnie wasn't dancing with Leatherhead, they were both making eyes as they chatted in the corner, just outside of the lantern-lit grass dance floor.

Leonardo, well, he was watching it all unfold. He fit well into the shadows of the trees, and there was a lot to sit back and contemplate. Or worry about if he was being honest with himself. That attack had been troubling for starters. He was glad Karai had finally laid their vendetta to rest, but it seemed that even with the foot out of the picture, and even on a peaceful celebratory day, they'd always have enemies.

Worse was as much as Leo tried to focus his family's future, on strategy and battle plans, his mind and eyes kept wandering to the presence of a rather unexpected guest.

He still wasn't sure how April had gotten an invitation across dimensions to Usagi Miyamoto. The process of opening the portal must have been complicated enough. Leo could only guess how she had managed to hunt down that info. Mikey was his first guess, and that was only if his little brother had decided it was worth it to memorize the symbols and the chant. In the end, it mattered little how she'd managed it. Usagi was here. He'd shown up with a gift in his arms and a smile on his face.

A smile he'd directed at Leonardo. Leo had returned it despite his nerves. He was just glad that a customary greeting for Usagi was a bow. Leo's hands were already clammy enough without them touching. And after all the pleasantries and that crazy, dangerous, eventually calm ceremony, here he was, trying, and failing, not to stare.

Leo's choice to be on the exact opposite side of the dance floor was exactly that. A choice. His nerves and the way had been skirting around exactly what their relationship was had made the last few months... weird.

Usagi had been... well relieved seemed like understating things when he'd found out that Leonardo was still alive and had simply spent that past year locked away in the future. They had missed each other so much that Leo was sure the longing looks and subtle touches would come to a head.

That moment never came though. Usagi had seemed... hesitant, had looked away when one of them stared and pulled away at the briefest touch. Whatever doubts Usagi had reverberated, making Leonardo unsure, lost even. A few months ago he'd been confident in his feelings and Usagi's. He was just looking for the right time to confess. When Usagi shied away though, Leo began to doubt himself, and his confidence crumbled until he was left with what he had now. An awkward friendship and a lot of questions about what exactly the samurai had been thinking and feeling.

Leo flicked his gaze back up. Usagi was still there, chatting away with their other extra-dimensional guest, Gennosuke. Leonardo contemplated the rhino. He'd shown up with his own volition, inviting himself before Usagi could say no. Or at least that's what Usagi claimed when Leo and his brothers had given Gen strange looks.

Ugh no. Being confused was one thing, second-guessing Usagi's motivations and words was another. They were friends, no matter how messy Leonardo's feelings were at the moment.

Leo banished those thoughts and turned his mind outward, letting his gaze drift again. From Gen to the object of his tempestuous emotions. As he did, Usagi's eyes turned too, and for a few intense moments, they made contact. The soft light of the lanterns flickered against the pink of Usagi's irises. Leo was transfixed by the way the light moved, no danced in his gaze. Leo broke away. The cool, dark grass welcomed him, steadied him as his heart pounded in his ears and through his body. All he could focus on was the thump thump thump of it. He tried to take deep, calming breaths, but each one shook out of him as he lifted his head again. Usagi wasn't there. Gen looked perplexed, and Leonardo found himself even more confused.

He scanned the crowd for Usagi, head whipping here and there, but the stark white of his pelt was just... gone. He wondered briefly if that stare had made things worse, if Usagi had perhaps left the party early, left this world even. Leo was about to accept that theory, about to stop looking, when soft footsteps against soft grass drew his attention.

He spun, hands on his swords. It was the natural reaction of a warrior, and he's unsurprised to find Usagi mirroring him, a hand tightly clutched around the hilt of his katana. Of course, as soon he recognized the white fur and wry smile, Leo dropped his hands to his sides. "Usagi-san."

Usagi dropped his fighting stance too and then frowned. "Leonardo. What are you doing out here?"

I could ask you the same thing. Except he couldn't when Usagi has asked him to drop the formal 'san' so many times he'd lost count, and when he was certain why Usagi was there. So instead, he tried for a half-truth that seemed believable. That seemed the most like Leo. "Watching over the party. I just want to make sure we don't have to deal with any more funny business."

Usagi paused and blew out an amused breath as the wry smile slid back into place. This time though, there was a sadness behind it. A little dimness in the fire that sparkled there. "Can't you do that while celebrating the happy couple? Or at least a little closer to the festivities?" Usagi stepped closer, not waiting for permission to lean into the tree Leo had chosen as his lookout spot.

Leonardo didn't scoot away. He was tempted to at first, but his mental conflict left him indecisive, so he ended up staying put, close enough for their shoulders to just press together. Not much, but enough so Leo could feel Usagi's presence rather than just sense it. That alone was enough to make his head spin, so it took him several moments to realize he needed to say *something*. "I uh..." He could only manage that at first, but he cleared his throat, and more words tumbled out. "This gives me a better vantage point. To spot anyone sneaking in from the woods."

Usagi didn't protest, nor did he comment on the pauses. "True enough. But perhaps I could stay here and watch for you. I promise I'll be vigilant."

Leo didn't doubt that. Truthfully Usagi's long years of spotting ninja made him an exceptional lookout for their tricks, maybe even better than Leo himself. They've discussed many a time how much knowing a ninja's mind factored into thwarting them. "I know but..."

Leo tried to think of an excuse, but all he kept coming up with is the fact that the person he wanted to celebrate with was right next to him.

"But?" Usagi prompted.

"I have no one to dance with." It wasn't the truth, but it was close enough that when he looked at Usagi, his pink eyes widened just the littlest bit.

"Michelangelo? He seems..." Mikey had taken a break, breathing heavily and drinking water as he waited for another jumpy techno number to come on, but they'd both seen his moves.

Leo shrugged. "He always outperforms me here. I don't have the rhythm to keep up with him. Plus, we can't exactly dance together to every song." Leo splayed out a hand, referencing the couples swaying in the soft light.

"I see."

Another pause filled with beats and melodies, ballooning out and out until neither of them could stand it.

"I'm sorry Leonardo-"

"Usagi I understand-"

They stared into each other's eyes, stunned for one, two beats, and then they laughed together softly. Leonardo was struck by that laugh, by how much he missed the warm connection that used to hang between them. Before things had gotten messy. Before he'd been filled with doubts.

Usagi spoke through his last couple chuckles. "I suppose we have a lot to talk about. I... just wanted to apologize Leonardo. I know..." he trailed off and stared at his hands, fiddling with the fur between his paw pads. "I know I've been cold recently. It was an overreaction on my part. I did not... I still want to be your friend. I want to be close like before. I just hope you can forgive the way I backed away from you."

"I understand." Leo tried those words, but they sounded wrong coming from his mouth. "Well I don't, not really. But I..." He looked over Usagi. He seemed to shimmer in the dim light. Pink eyes and glowing fur dyed soft orange and yellow by the flickering flames. "I want your friendship Usagi. I always have. And I will gladly give mine if that's truly all you want."

Usagi nodded, but it seemed weak, sad again, the light dimming as he forced a smile. It wasn't enough, or maybe Leonardo just didn't want to believe it. He reached out, setting his heavy, calloused hand on Usagi's soft shoulder. Leo spoke as they gazed into each other's eyes. "No, Usagi. Is that really all you want?"

"I..."

"Because if that's the case then I understand. I just. I need to know."

Usagi kept his gaze focused on Leonardo's face, searching it, eyes scanning each wrinkle, each small scar. Then he turned and watched the lights, and the dancing couples, the soft, slow music coursing through them.

When he looked at Leonardo again, his gaze was still sad, but there was a fire dancing again in his pink irises, a determination that made him reach up and touch the hand Leonardo had laid on his shoulder. The next couple moments were a little awkward, as Usagi tried to tangle their fingers together, but eventually, they managed the spacing, and for the first time they were tangled together intimately.

Leo looked at him, dumbstruck, but smiling. Usagi was smiling back and then speaking, each word sugared with excitement, contentment. "I saw your interest from a mile away. Even before I started... dropping hints that I felt the same." Leo beamed at that. He'd been right after all, and the confirmation made his chest, his shell fill with bubbling warmth. "But we are friends, and what started forming between us. The long looks, the letters, the way you'd sigh and smile just being in my presence. That was equal parts amazing, and terrifying." The warmth stops, still there, but held with trepidation. Terrifying? Why?

Usagi didn't let go of Leonardo's hand as he dropped his gaze to the grass. "I have told you how my last relationship ended, but I don't know if you knew how close a friend Mariko was before she became my lover. Moreover, you do not know of the countless people my pilgrimage has led me away from. The path I walk is usually lonely, Leonardo, and I was afraid that, and the complications of romance, would leave our friendship torn and tattered. I'm still afraid, in fact. I..." He turned his eyes back up, that determined blaze shining again. "I want more. I do. I won't lie to a friend. But I also still fear losing one because of my desire."

Leonardo mulled on that for several moments, not moving, still holding onto Usagi like a lifeline. "We're you afraid that you were seeing things? That your attraction was blinding you and making you think..."

"Niceties were flirtations?" Usagi finished the question, then shrugged. "Of course. All the time."

"And you worry jealousy or anger or fear or the simple march of time may drive us apart?"

A simple nod.

Leo looked out, past the party, past the lights, into the dark forest beyond. His gray-blue eyes grew dark and heavy, stormclouds billowing inside them. "I fear it too. I fear I'll make mistakes. I fear my responsibility as a leader, as a brother may become more important than you. I fear I will drive you away, or worse, hurt you."

"But..." he looked back at Usagi. The storm behind his eyes calmed. "If we share that much. Then I can assume you feel what I feel. The electricity in the air, right now, just from touching you this much. The way your chest gets tight and warm and feels like it will burst when I tell you I feel the same way you do. The way your lungs clutch for breath when our eyes meet. The hunger in your gut to touch more, to hold and squeeze me close." He took a staggering breath. Then spoke, asked with desperation behind each word. "You feel that too, right?"

Usagi Miyamoto was rarely speechless. He didn't ever run his mouth, no he was far too polite for that, but he'd always had a talent for putting the right words in the right places. Now though, with yearning the only thing in Leonardo's face, in his words, he could only gulp down his nerves and nod. Leonardo clasped his other hand over Usagi's, and held it tenderly, carefully. Like a fragile treasure.

Leo smiled, and the amusement danced up into his eyes. "So we've been torturing ourselves, scared and worried at what the other might say. Which definitely seems like us."

Usagi's little laugh made Leo's heart and stomach flip places. "Yes, the two of us, always so determined to suffer in silence."

Leonardo took just a moment to rearrange his body back into place, just a breath, and then he continued. "Yes and..." He had to keep his stare down at his own hands clasping Usagi's. His bright smile was too much. It kept leaving Leo speechless. "And if we were to step away. To stay too scared to try. Well, then we'd still suffer. We'd question every day if we let a golden opportunity slip through our fingers."

"So..." Usagi said it tentatively, but when Leo glanced up, his eyes looked so bright and sure.

"So we try it. We get closer than ever before. We..." Leo didn't turn his head, but his eyes flicked back to the party. "We dance?"

Usagi laughed again, and gods above it was worse this time. Leo had to remind himself to breathe. "That sounds like a good start yes."

So they stood. Their nerves, overflowing emotion, and the soft light made it all seem surreal to both of them. A dream neither wanted to wake from. But with their hands still entangled, they walked down the hill, to the dance floor. It welcomed them with warm lights and knowing smiles. Mikey even winked at them. Not that the teasing mattered. Leonardo was too happy to be embarrassed, and Usagi only had eyes for his dance partner. They would care later, when the slow music, the glowing lanterns, and the sensation of sliding close, of soft fur against coarse scales, had faded away. All they could think about in that moment was the fact that now, finally, their futures were tied together.

#tmnt #katanashipping #leosagi #Leonardo #usagi miyamoto

[atths--twice]

Hey there. It seems that from Home Again to Babylon, we have a small time jump. Maggie passes in February and it seems the walk on the porch is in the spring, judging by the clothes and the weather. Therefore, we will be jumping along with it. 😊

Chapter Twenty Eight 

A Smart Move 

After Babylon, Scully thinks of the similarities between the case and her mother passing away. She is also faced with a decision for her future. 

April 2016

Watching the water drain from the tub, Scully sighed. She tied her robe tighter around herself and then took the rubber band from her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. The past couple of months had been hard and this recent case had hit close to home.

She walked into her bedroom and her eyes landed on her suitcase. She had been too tired to deal with it last night when they returned from Texas. Walking over to it now, she cleared it out, before putting it back in her closet. She took her toiletries to the bathroom, putting them back under the sink for the next trip out of town.

Going back into her room, she put on some comfortable clothes as she thought about the past few days. Working with agents that she could not help but see a strong similarity to, was different. Agents Miller and Einstein, were an interesting pair. Einstein was a bit rough, but Scully understood. God, did she. Twenty three years had passed since she entered that basement office, but the bureau was still very much a man’s world. A woman had to be tougher and harder most of the time.

Seeing them, then hearing Einstein call him Miller, made her smile. Not every partner called each other by their last name, but to her and Mulder it was the norm, so much so that her first name was almost foreign to her. She was Scully, but only to Mulder, and vice versa. Hearing it in other agents always made her curious about their relationship, work or otherwise.

She walked into the kitchen for a glass of water, leaning against the sink as she drank it, thinking of how she enjoyed working with Agent Miller. He was attentive, interested, and cared not only about the outcome of the case, but the person involved. His care and keen interest was what drew her to call him and ask for his help.

Sighing, she set her glass down in the sink, thinking she wished she tried to speak to her mother, the way they tried with Shiraz before he died. It was experimental, and the brain activity they witnessed in Shiraz could have attributed to him dying, but Scully chose to believe he could hear them. He experienced more activity when Agent Miller spoke in Arabic and then even more when he heard his mother’s voice.

Thinking of her own mother, she sighed again, the recentness of her death sitting inside her like a weight. She remembered the silence around her in the hospital room, the heavy sadness as she sat by her mother’s side. Her thoughts were scattered in those moments, wondering what to do, and how to help her mother come back to them. Scully spoke to her, watching the monitors and her mother for any signs that she heard her. There only seemed to be a response when her mother’s advance directive was mentioned, as though her mother was trying to speak.

Charlie’s voice had done the job, rousing her mother from wherever she had been, just as Shiraz’s mother’s voice did for him. Charlie’s voice doing what Scully’s could not, would have felt hurtful, if she was a more sensitive person. Scully understood, though, she did. Charlie was her mother’s regret and ache that never went away.

He was her William.

Scully closed her eyes, tears threatening to fall. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head, stopping the thoughts of William that were closer to the surface more these days than they had been in the past.

Hearing her phone ringing in the other room, she opened her eyes, wiping them as she walked into her room. She frowned as she picked up her phone and answered a number she did not recognize.

“Hello?”

“Dana? Uh, Doctor Scully? It’s Alan, from the hospital.”

“Alan! Hello! How are you?” she asked with a smile. “It’s been, well, it’s been a while.”

“Yes it has,” he said with a chuckle. “I should be asking how you are. Working hard at saving the world?” She laughed at his joke and he laughed with her.

“Yeah, we’ve had some interesting cases so far, but what’s going on with you? I’m sure you’re calling out of the blue for a reason, and not just to see how I’m doing,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah, you got me,” he sighed. “It’s … well, it’s going to seem so odd when I ask you, but it’s a serious proposition.”

“Alan, we already talked about this,” she joked. “You and I would never work out. You’re gay and well, I’m in love with my partner.” He laughed and she smiled, glancing at her cat alien pillow and sighing.

“Oh, well, yeah, none of that’s changed,” he laughed again. “And it’s not that kind of proposition, lady.” She chuckled again and then fell silent. He sighed and she waited. “I applied to Doctors Without Borders and I’ve been accepted.”

“Alan! That’s fantastic!” she exclaimed. “Talk about saving the world.”

“Yeah, I’m actually really excited about it,” he said and she could hear the excitement in his voice. “But, it’s come up unexpectedly and I’m in a bit of a dilemma. I have to leave ASAP and this is where you could help me out.” He paused and her mind raced at the possibilities of what he could be suggesting.

“Okay, what’s the dilemma?” she asked curiously.

“Well, I bought a house recently, and I can’t have it sitting empty for the length of time I will be gone. I thought of who I would want to stay in it and honestly, I love all my friends, but those bitches can’t exactly be trusted,” he said, causing her to laugh. “So, I was calling to see what your situation is these days and, if you would be interested and consider house sitting, or more accurately, living here for a while.” She was quiet, as she looked around her sterile and rather sad apartment. She liked it there, but was curious about what he had to offer.

“Well, my situation hasn’t changed- much. We’re still separated, but … it’s, well, we’re …” She trailed off, not really sure how to address what they were to each other right now. “It’s been almost two years since you and I first talked about it over drinks and dinner that night, and Mulder and I are still … we’re complicated.” She sighed again and he laughed softly.

“What love isn’t?” he asked quietly and she sighed again, nodding even though he could not see her.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“So, what do you say? You want to come over and check the place out? If you don’t want to do it, I need to choose which of these dummies will be a good second choice,” he grumbled at the end, making her laugh.

“Okay, I can come and check it out. Are you home now?” she asked.

“I am. Oh, this would be wonderful if you could do it. Seriously, I wouldn’t worry about the place knowing you were here,” he said with relief. She laughed again as he gave her the address and she said she would be there soon.

Pulling up to the house a short time later, she raised her eyebrows. It was beautiful and made her feel peaceful. She got out and looked around at the front of the house, already liking what she saw of the place.

The front door opened and Alan walked out, smiling at her. She stepped over to him and gave him a hug, saying hello as she did. He laughed as he hugged her back.

“It’s so great to see you,” he said as he stepped back. “You look really good.” He smiled and she smiled back at him. “Yeah, you leaving the hospital and going back to the bureau was a good idea. It’s made you happy and light, I can see it.” She smiled wider and nodded.

“Well, let’s head inside and I’ll show you around, see if you think this is something you want to do,” he said, gesturing toward the house. She nodded and walked toward the front door.

Stepping inside the house, she raised her eyebrows. “Wow, this place is beautiful. Very clean and modern.” She walked into the kitchen and looked around at all the modern appliances and decorations. It was a truly stunning place.

He showed her the dining room, living areas, and bedrooms. Everything was so beautiful. It looked like a place Mulder would have, if he was physically able to not clutter every space with papers, books, pictures, videos and any other thing that struck his fancy.

Everything about the house made her feel comfortable and welcome. The fireplace looked inviting and she could imagine sitting in front of it with a glass of wine after work. The colors of the place were masculine, but not overwhelmingly so, and she loved the look of it. Again, it reminded her of Mulder, like his old apartment.

“Alan, I love it. It’s beautiful and I feel immediately at home here,” she smiled at him as they stood in the living room. “It’s a great house.”

“Wait, you haven’t even seen the best feature,” he said with a grin. Motioning her to follow him, he showed her the panel by the front door. “This controls everything: lights, heating, alarm, radio, computer, security cameras, everything. It’s all accessible remotely and it’s been amazing to have, especially with my schedule.” She stared at him wide-eyed.

“It’s a smart house,” she said quietly.

“It is indeed,” he said proudly. “It’s all hooked up to my preferences, which we will change to yours. If you want to do it.” He looked at her and smiled while she let it soak in.

“This is very different than what I’ve been around for half my life. I knew a trio of guys who would never live in a place with this kind of accessibility. I can imagine the talking to you would get for it too. The amount of times I would hear the word kid or son, from all of them would have me rolling my eyes,” she said with a laugh and a shake of her head. “You would have gotten a kick out of their conspiracy theories.” She smiled sadly as she thought of the Gunmen, missing them and their crackpot ideas. He smiled kindly at her and nodded.

“Anyway,” she sighed. “I like it here. It feels comfortable and familiar, reminds me of home, but with my tidiness.” She laughed and he joined her.

“So … you’re saying you want to stay here?” he asked hopefully. She smiled and nodded and he heaved a huge sigh of relief. “That’s great. Thank you so much, Dana.” She laughed and he led her to the kitchen to discuss what needed to be done.

Over a couple of cups of tea, he explained the features of the home to her and wrote everything down so she would be able to look back on it, in case she had any problems.

“Feel free to move anything around, make the place your own and we can always move it back later,” he said as they walked through the house again.

“Oh no, I like it all as it is, it’s beautifully decorated. And honestly, I don’t have much I’m attached to at my place. I’ve got my clothes, my bed, and a few little things there, but everything else could be sold and I wouldn’t really mind,” she said with a shrug.

“Well, we could move the mattress and put it in the guest room and then it would be ready to add yours,” he suggested. “That’s an easy fix.” She nodded and looked around the master bedroom, noting her bed would fit on the frame.

“Yeah, that would work out,” she agreed as they walked out of the room.

“We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon,” he said and she huffed in disbelief. “I know. I told you it was a time crunch, but they needed us quickly.” She looked at him with her eyebrows raised and he grinned. “Oh, did I not mention that I’m going … with my boyfriend?”

“No, you failed to mention that I believe,” she said with a grin.

“Oh did I? Huh,” he said, stroking his chin, making her laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been seeing him for a couple of months now. We both signed up, but didn’t know the other had until we each got a call. Turns out they need us both in the same place at the same time. It’s either fate or fuckery, we shall see.” Scully laughed and he chuckled beside her.

“So, we’ll move the bed and like I said, feel free to move anything else,” he said, walking to the kitchen again and opening a drawer. “These are the keys to the house, the back doors, and the garage. There is also a garage door opener, but it’s good to have the key. I’ll call the alarm company before we leave and your emergency password will be set to Queequeg as you asked. Weird name, but whatever.” She smacked his arm as she took the keys and he laughed. “Thank you for doing this Dana, it means a lot to me.”

“I’m happy to do it and actually I think it’s what I need right now. A change, but not too much of one,” she said with a sigh. “How long will you be gone?”

“Nine months to a year, but more likely a year,” he said and she nodded, looking off into the distance.

A year. It sounded like a long time, but also perfect. A year out and she and Mulder could be in a better place. She hoped they would be.

“Fate or fuckery,” she whispered and he nodded with a quiet chuckle. She looked at the keys and nodded. “I’m choosing fate.” He smiled and she took a deep breath.

_____________________

The next afternoon, Scully drove over to see Mulder. She was missing him and wanted to hear from his own mouth, what exactly he thought he was doing taking those pills Agent Einstein had given him. What he could possibly have hoped would be a good outcome to taking something he knew nothing about.

She shook her head and smiled. He was a middle aged man, and yet he still acted like a curious child. Some things never change, she thought, as she pulled up to the house, and she saw him on the porch.

He raised a hand to her as she stopped the car and she smiled again as she walked up the stairs, watching him take out his headphones and wrapping them around his phone. She smiled at him and he smiled back. God, he was handsome.

“Talk to me, Mulder.”

He smiled at her as she leaned against the railing of the porch, folding her hands together. “Oh ... where to begin?”

“Why didn't you tell me about your little scheme?” she asked, pushing her hair back from her face.

“Y-You were on your own mission,” he said pushing his sleeves up.  “And you would've never bought that.”

“Absolutely right. I have to applaud her, though, on her clever trick with the placebo,” she said, glancing around before looking at him with a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking down. “Yeah. How did that work?” He asked, raising  his eyes to her.

She smiled broadly at him and shook her head. “Wonders never cease with you.”

He nodded and licked his lips. “I saw things, though, Scully.” She took a deep breath at his words. “Powerful things. I saw deep and unconditional love.”

She smiled softly at him. “I saw things too. I witnessed unqualified hate, that appears to have no end,” she said, looking away, the hatred still forefront in her mind.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “But how to reconcile the two? The extremes of our nature.”

“That's the question,” she said, looking away before meeting his eyes. “Maybe the question of our times.”

He smiled at her, giving out a quiet laugh. He got up slowly and reached for her hand.

“Walk with me, Scully,” he said as she reached for his hand with both of hers, squeezing before dropping her left hand.

They began to walk down the stairs, toward the grass. “This whole thing has got me thinking. Thinking about God,” Mulder said, his hand warm and familiar in hers.

“You, Mulder? Thinking about God?” she asked skeptically as they stepped onto the grass. The wind blowing softly, the smell of spring heavy in the air.

“The angry God of the Bible. The Tower of Babel and Babylon, scattering people violently, so as never to speak a common language,” he explained as they walked.

“Punishing man for his hubris,” she agreed.

“Well, that lesson didn't stick. But the anger sure remains,” he said.

“That's the same angry God as in the Koran. Ordering death to the infidels,” she stated, reminding him that it was not just an angry God in the Bible.

“What exactly is this God saying? Worship me and my great anger?” he asked her, trying to understand that anger.

“Well, that's a good question, Mulder. One for the ages,” she said to him.

“Well, think about the immense power in those prophecies, the power in those words to convince young men to put on suicide vests today and murder for their angry God,” he looked at her, his words serious.

“What are you getting at?” she asked, wondering where he was going with his questions.

“Those boys, they just swallow the pill,” he said, looking at her. “It's the power of suggestion.” He explained and she squeezed his hand to stop them walking. She looked at him with a smile, happy to see him more like the old Mulder.

“Is this received wisdom from your magical mystery tour?” she teased as he took both her hands in his.

“Mm, yes. Courtesy of ... the shrooms, something else, something to ... trump all hatred: Mother Love,” he said, holding tight to her hands.

“Whoa,” she said, his words heavy.

“I refuse to believe that mothers are having babies just to be martyrs. I want to believe that mothers have a greater purpose for all of us,” he said.

“I agree. A child is not a tool to spread hatred,” she agreed, knowing he was absolutely correct.

“But where does the hatred end, though?” he asked as he looked at her.

“Maybe it ends where it began, by finding a common language again,” she said, her words holding weight. “Maybe that's God's will.” She added, keeping it to what they were discussing.

“How can we really know? He's absent from the stage,” he questioned.

“Well,” she said quietly with a smile. “Maybe it's beyond words. Maybe we should do like the prophets and open our hearts and truly listen.” She said, the double meaning pertaining to them not lost on her.

He nodded, closing his eyes briefly and taking a breath, lifting their joined hands. She laughed softly and he smiled at her. Then his expression changed, and he looked around, to the left and right.

“What?” she asked with a confused smile as he kept looking around.

“What?” she asked again, staring at his face.

“Did you hear that?” he asked incredulously.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said watching him looking up. “Do you seriously hear something or are you messing with me?” She smiled at him and he looked down at her.

“I swear I can hear trumpets, Scully. You don’t hear it, really?” He looked up again and she watched him, his hands in hers. When he looked down, he stared in her eyes.  

“I really don’t hear it, Mulder. Maybe it’s a side effect of your magical mystery tour,” she grinned and he laughed softly. “How are your wounds?” Nodding toward his neck, he shifted uncomfortably. Letting go of her hand, he pulled the neck of his shirt down a little, and she sucked in a breath. He fixed his shirt and shrugged his shoulders.

“Did you put that antibiotic cream I suggested on it?” she questioned him.

“I did last night, yeah.”

“And today?” At the shake of his head, she sighed and turned toward the house. “Come on then, I’ll take a look at it and fix it up for you.” He tightened his grip on her hand as they walked and she smiled.

As they walked up the steps, she gestured for him to sit back down in the chair outside, and she continued on into the house. She found the cream sitting on the kitchen table. Washing her hands at the sink, she dried them on a paper towel, sighing as she looked around. She missed being in this little house, being with him, but she also felt it was still not the right time to come back. There was something still holding her back, and she would continue waiting until she figured out what it was.

Wetting down a paper towel and grabbing a dry one, she picked up the cream and went back outside. He had taken off his shirts so she could get to his wounds easier, and she had to stop herself from moaning out loud. She always had appreciated his physique and now when she could not run her fingers freely over the muscles she saw, she appreciated it even more.

“Figured this would be easier,” he said with a shrug as she stepped closer to him.  

“Hmm,” was her answer as she handed him the antibiotic cream and the dry paper towel. Stepping even closer to him, she dabbed gently at the red angry welts on his chest. He hissed in pain, and she whispered an apology. She took the dry paper towel and fanned it to dry his chest enough to apply the cream.

“So, not only did you see Shiraz and his mother, you had a whole stoned fantasy sequence going on, huh?” she asked, glancing at him. “Ending with you marked by a whip wielded by Agent Einstein, no less.” He kept his head down and she hid her smile. “Wonders truly never cease with you, Mulder.”

He shook his head and looked up at her, her expression serious, eyebrows raised in question. “Scully,” he breathed out in exasperation.

“What? I’m just speaking the truth. She told me you said she was “fifty shades of bad.” Fifty, huh?” she said, touching his skin delicately, making sure it was dry. She tried to take the tube of cream from him, but he would not let go of it. “You want to do it?” she asked and made to step back, but his hand grabbed the back of her thigh and stopped her, keeping her between his knees. Handing her the cream, she smirked at him.

His hand was still on the back of her thigh, and she had to work at keeping her breathing steady, despite the fact that her heart was racing. His other hand moved to her other thigh and caused her to stumble slightly, catching herself on his shoulder. When he looked up at her, her mouth went dry.

“I didn’t choose what I saw in my vision,” he said, his fingers massaging slowly on her thighs. “Scully, I wore a cowboy hat. I was line dancing. I shimmied and did a back flip. Does that sound like me?” She tried not to laugh, but she failed, chuckling as she started to dab on the antibiotic cream.

“It doesn’t, no, but neither does the being whipped by, what I can only assume, was a dominatrix Agent Einstein,” she countered as she slowly rubbed in the cream, hearing his breath catch. He sighed, and she knew she was right. Looking back up at her, he gave her the sad eyes he did so well. Rolling hers, she knew when to stop pushing him to answer her on a certain topic.

“So, who else was there? Skinner, I know. But who else?” she asked, rubbing the cream into the other welt. He rubbed his thumbs against her thighs and she kept her attention on his wound, avoiding his eyes.

“Skinner, yeah, and the Gunmen. And lots of women dancing around our table,” he said, closing his eyes, sighing loudly.

“Hmm,” she said, feeling his hands open and scratch lightly at her thighs. The cream was completely applied and so she started waving her hand over his chest again, drying the cream before he was to put his shirt back on. “I wasn’t there this time? Didn’t save the world from the Nazis?” Smiling as she asked him, remembering his declaration of love for her last time he had a vision, and her response of ‘oh brother.’

“No, you weren’t there this time,” he said, his eyes still closed, his fingers kneading softly at her thighs.

“I see,” she said, watching his face and waiting. His eyes opened and he stared in hers.

“I didn’t need you there, Scully,” he said softly, and her stomach dropped. Didn’t need her there? She tried to step back and once again he held her from moving. Staring at her, his hands firm on her thighs, her hands on his shoulders, he shook his head with a smile. “I didn’t need to envision you, Scully, or fantasize about you. No fantasy has ever lived up to the real thing. Not ever.”

She took a deep breath as his words made her stomach clench. She looked at his lips, felt his fingers push her closer, and her nails pushed into his shoulders. His eyes dropped to her lips and she started leaning in toward him, aching to kiss him after so long, when she heard her phone ringing.

Pulling back, she frowned at him as she reached in her jacket pocket and took out her phone. Alan’s newly added name and number was on the screen and she stepped away from Mulder completely as she answered the phone.

“Alan, hi. Everything okay?” she asked and she saw Mulder out of the corner of her eye, with his head back and his hands in fists on his thighs.

“Dana! Yes, everything is fine! Needed to verify the house code you wanted. Password is Queequeg I know, but the numbers for the keypad, do you have a preference? I can’t remember what you said,” he asked her.

“Oh, um, yeah. My birthday, 0223, that should be good. Easy to remember, anyway,” she laughed.

“Great. Okay, I’m changing the code now and then Brian and I are heading to the airport. Thank you again for doing this, Dana. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I’ve left the instructions for everything on the dining room table. See you in about a year!” he laughed.

“Yeah. See you,” she laughed with him and hung up.

“Who was that?” Mulder asked behind her and she turned to him. He had put his shirts back on and she sighed, disappointed that the mood had shifted.

“Uh, it was Alan, a doctor from the hospital. He uh … he’s going … wow, I don’t remember which country he said, but he’s doing Doctors Without Borders and he’s leaving today,” she said, putting her phone in her pocket as she watched his face. “He asked if I would watch his place while he’s gone.” He raised his eyebrows and then frowned.

“Watch his place. You mean live there? While he’s gone? For what, like a … year?” The way he said year made her ache inside. His eyes were once again sad, but this time in a different way. After what almost happened a few minutes ago, she could understand his confusion.

“Yes, it’s probably for a year, but …” she sighed and brushed her hair back. “It’s only a year, and … is it so different than me being at my apartment?” He stared at her, his eyes traveling over her face. His shoulders dropped as he nodded with a half smile that did not quite reach his eyes. She took his hand and laced their fingers together.

“It’s a pretty great house,” she said, squeezing his hand and tilting her head.

“You say that, here? Where she can hear you?” he said, nodding toward the front door. “She didn’t mean it, girl. You’re a great house.” He touched the side of the house, shaking his head at Scully and huffing out a sigh. She laughed and squeezed his hand again before letting it go.

“Do you want to come and see it?” she asked, walking over and picking up the paper towels and cream. “I got the keys yesterday and had the tour. It’s really a nice place.” She looked at him, and he shrugged noncommittally. Raising her eyebrows, he nodded, making her smile. “I’ll put this away, and we can head over, then grab some lunch?” He nodded and she went inside, smiling as she did.

_______________

The sun was turning rosy golden as she drove away from dropping Mulder back at home. She laughed as she thought of his huge eyes upon seeing the smart house. His head shaking as he looked around.

“Scully,” he said, looking at her. “What would the guys say about this place? Frohike would have to wear some specially made Kevlar type suit in order to visit you. Head to toe, no joke.” She laughed, and he shook his head again.

He looked all around, and she watched him, wondering what he was thinking. Finally he stopped in the dining room, his hand lightly touching the table. Turning to her, he sighed and shook his head again.

“Why is your house so much nicer than mine?” he asked with his sad eyes, and she laughed.

“It’s not my house, Mulder,” she said with a smile. “I like it, the modernness of it, but … it’s not the one I would choose to live in forever if I was given the choice.” She held his gaze, knowing he would understand what she was not saying. He nodded and turned to look around again.

They discovered a hot tub in the enclosed private backyard and she saw his eyes light up for a second then flick to hers, asking her a silent question. Yes, she did, her eyes quickly answered him, she did remember the night in a different hot tub. How it felt as she slid down his length, the warmth of the water around her, his fingers squeezing her hips as she started to ride him.

Yeah. She remembered.

Walking back inside, he glanced her way again and sighed. After gathering their things, she set the alarm and they walked to the car, ready to get some lunch. She started the car and squeezed his knee. He sighed and covered her hand with his, giving it a squeeze before letting it go. He looked at her and smiled, his eyes only slightly sad.

Over lunch, he agreed to help her move her clothes and bed over when she was ready. “We’ll rent one of those trailers that attach to the car. I’ve always wanted to use that trailer hitch, it’ll make me feel manly,” he said with a chin nod to her. She laughed, and he smiled.

When they drove back to Farrs Corner, he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. He smiled and looked out the window, squeezing her hand as he did. Pulling up to the house, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, looking in her eyes. She smiled at him as he let go and got out without a word.

He walked up the steps and turned to give her a wave, which she returned before backing up and heading back to her apartment. She let out a sigh, a soft smile on her face. This had been a good day, bittersweet at times, but good. The past few months of working together were up and down. Some days she wanted to walk away, never looking back. Then some days, she wanted to crawl into his lap and kiss him until they both ran out of air. She missed him, God, she missed him so much.

But, she thought, then there were days like today. She smiled at the sweet way he smiled at her, the feel of his hand in hers, his hands on her thighs making her pulse race, and his lips pressed to her skin. She sighed with a smile at how he could still give her butterflies in her stomach after all these years.

“A year isn’t so bad,” she said quietly into the car. “Not if it means there will be days like this one. Better than any fantasy.”

Then she remembered the hot tub at Alan’s and her breath caught. Thoughts of possibly using that with Mulder at some point, clothing optional, gave her more butterflies.

Well,” she mumbled through a grin, as she got on the interstate. “Almost any fantasy.”

__________________________________________________

So, the smart house is used in Rm9 for a reason, I know, but maybe this was how it came to be. I love Alan and the decor of the smart house always seemed rather masculine to me. Scully’s previous place was always cozy and inviting and this place, while beautiful, doesn’t feel “Scully” to me. So, I’m going with it’s a buddies place, with some of her stuff added as she lives there for a while.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #X Files Novel #Babylon #Season 10 #Making a move #Smart House #Slowly making their way back to where they belong #That porch scene though...

[youllallriseintheink]

The death and rebirth of Susie Campbell

Alright, you asked for this and I’m glad there was an interest. Contact me if you think it needs a trigger warning and I’ll add one.

---

April 20th, 1941.

Susie stared at the door to Joey Drew's office. This was it. She'd spent all morning going through scenarios in her head as to why Joey had called her here.

She was getting laid off, surely. Joey Drew had little in the way of voice work for her now that she couldn't play Alice anymore, so he was going to lay her off. Adding to that the little accident she'd caused with Bendy a week ago, it seemed like that was the most likely reason.

At least, it would have been, if he hadn't called her in at 11:30. He'd done that a bunch of times over the past eight months, and it was always for the same reason: to take her out for lunch, then give her the afternoon off to head to his house and into his bed. She'd convinced herself that there was no problem with it. Sammy wanted to wait until marriage, and, well... well, Susie couldn't quite find a justification that didn't make her out to be a monster. She didn't know why she always fell for his charms, and eventually she stopped even planning to resist. Joey made her feel like the most desired girl in the world, and she just never knew how to say no.

And she always wanted there to be a next time, even if she wouldn't always admit it to herself. She remembered the first time it happened, he'd called her to his office and apologized the next day. He even called her Ms. Campbell- a show of distance and respect. He'd called their affair inappropriate, and an abuse of his power over her. Then, as she was leaving, he'd said, "And Alice?" She'd turned around. "I'll see you around." He'd had a vaguely predatory look on those electrically, intensely blue eyes of his, and it made her heart race. Susie liked it. Since, she'd always paid attention to what he called her: Ms. Campbell (I'm hanging my head, keeping my distance), Susie (we've forgotten last time, right?), or Alice (I'm coming for you). It was fun. Was he all torn up about it, or was he just keeping her on her toes?

The thought of all that made her teeth grind. Thankfully, he'd been smart enough not to do anything of the sort in the last three weeks. He'd be the most tactless man in existence to try such a thing after taking her role away without even telling her to her face. She, however, had tried such a thing. She'd taken him out drinking, gotten him nice and drunk, and asked him: "why did you start pursuing me?" His answer?

He'd just been diagnosed with post-polio disease. He felt powerless. And then he saw a tiny woman, pretty, barely over half his age, under his employment, and in a relationship. He saw a way to feel powerful again. And Alice (he'd called her "Alice" while drunk. She'd taken notice) had just folded like putty in his hands. A little flattery and a little charm was all it took. He did it once on impulse and thought he could leave it at that, but he was wrong.

Susie had left him right then and there and taken a cab home. Needless to say, there was plenty of screaming that night. She wasn't sure Joey even remembered his confession the next morning.

One thing was for sure, though: whether Joey called her Ms. Campbell, Susie, or even Alice today, she was going to summon her inner Alice and take it with grace. If he wanted lunch, she'd slap him. If he wanted to fire her, she'd accept it without a fuss. She'd never show him tears. Never.

Alright, she thought to herself, time to do this. She briskly opened the door and took a seat across from her boss, meeting his eyes with a blank stare on her face. Joey was giving her a warm smile.

"I know how much that part means to you, Susie," he began. Good, her neutral name. "Alice means a lot to me, too. All my characters do! In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I, too, really believe my characters are more than just drawings. They’re alive. They’re a part of us. And I want people to know them as well as I do. I want people to be able to shake their hand, spend an afternoon with em’. Love them. Susie, I’ll be straight with you. I’m putting together a small project… a little ceremony. If it works, a lot of dreams will come true. And I want you to be a part of it. I want you to bring Alice to life once again. What do you say?"

"Ceremony? Well, I- can Sammy come with me?" Susie had no idea what this "ceremony" business could mean, but first and foremost, she wanted to make sure there was nothing lewd about it.

"Why, yes. In fact, he's already coming."

So it wasn't about getting her undressed. This was real- she was going to be Alice again! Susie's heart fluttered at the thought. "Perfect! I won't miss it for the world!" she sang. She got up to leave.

Then, a thought came to her. "Wait," her voice turned cold as steel. "Why me? Why aren't you giving this to Ms. Pendle? I thought you wanted her to be Alice!" Susie grit her teeth and glared at him.

Joey reached over and lifted her chin. "Susie, look at me. All I want Allison to do is stay cooped up in that recording booth. I want that because I have bigger plans for you. You're a better Alice than she ever was, and after this ceremony? Well! Not only are you going to be remembered as the face of Alice Angel for years- no, decades- you'll make her character more famous than you could ever imagine! Someone has to voice her, but you... my real Alice? You'll be her."

Susie could practically feel herself tearing up. "Thank you. I'll do it. Come Hell or high water, I'll be there.

"Good. Sammy will pick you up at 7:15."

---

"So, what is the ceremony going to be like?"

Sammy knew that the ritual was for the best, but looking upon his girlfriend, he couldn't help but feel guilty. "Well, sweetheart, it won't be pleasant," he warned.

"Oh, I don't even care!" she said dreamily, draping herself over him in the back seat of the taxi. "I'm so happy. I'd been agonizing for weeks, hatin' him because I thought he replaced me. But it turns out I'm his favourite after all!" she chirped, adding in, "I'm Alice Angel!" in a sing-song voice.

Sammy smiled. It was good to see Susie so happy. It always was, but especially since she'd been so bad-tempered lately. They really were like twins: two essentially happy people with serious bad sides (hers, admittedly, harder to arouse but harder to live with). That was good: it meant they knew how to handle each other. "Well, that's good. Now, listen. This is going to change more than you think, but I promise, it's gonna be what's best for you. It's going to make you and a lot of other people happy. I can explain the whole thing afterward. Oh, and here we are."

Sammy could feel Susie's nervous anticipation as they entered the building, but it was clearly a pleasant anticipation nonetheless. He led her to a small, empty room, where they met Joey Drew. He smiled warmly. "Good evening to you two! So, Susie, are you ready for our ritual tonight?"

Wanting to look independent, she let go of Sammy's hand. "Yes," she said with confidence.

"Step one, put on this blindfold." He handed her a white piece of cloth. Susie obeyed without hesitation. Joey struck out his fist, allowing it to end up inches from Susie's nose. She did not flinch. Satisfied that she was blinded, he turned to Sammy. "She's ready. Guide her down to the special room with me, alright?"

Sammy nodded. They traveled down to the giant ink machine and went inside of it, finally arriving at a room containing four glass pillars. One of them had a pentagram drawn before it. This did not surprise Sammy: he'd helped draw it. He even knew what kind of pentagram it was. Unlike a revival pentagram, which with a demon's help could revive the dead, or sacrificial pentagram, which sent the slaughtered straight to the Gods, this was a binding pentagram. Joey Drew retrieved a bottle filled with liquid and containing a rag from a cabinet kept on the side of the room. "Alright, Susie," Sammy began. They'd decided ahead of time that he should be the one to guide her through this step. It would be the most difficult part for her. "We're going to put a cloth over your face. All we need you to do now is to breathe in, alright?"

"But why?"

What Sammy supposed to do? Lie to her? "Susie, it's hard to explain. But just trust me that it won't be painful in any way. I promise. Ready?"

Joey put the rag over her face. Susie collapsed, and he caught her and lowered her to the ground.

"Joey! She hadn't agreed yet!"

"Oh, my bad."

"Damn right, your bad. I'm not doing this to her without her consent. We're waiting until she wakes up to try again."

"Consent? She already agreed to this! You were just asking if she was ready. And if we wait until she wakes up, then she'll know that we're using chloroform on her. Come on, let's just get this done."

Sammy hesitated. Then, he gathered up all 95 pounds of his girlfriend and carried her over to the pentagram. She'd agreed to this earlier. This wasn't wrong. Joey took a razor-sharp blade and a strange, hand mirror-shaped object out of the cabinet. Sammy got the paper with his lines out of his pocket. "Ancient Gods of the world, I summon you. Bind the soul of this sacrifice to the ink. May you reign eternal, amen." He repeated the lines over and over as Joey approached Susie with the knife. Elsewhere in the studio, two carefully tended shrines were glowing.

Then, Susie stirred, subtly at first, then violently. Joey wasn't sure what to do and simply put a hand on Susie's chest, centering his weight over her so she couldn't get up. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice raised in panic. Sammy was stuck chanting. If he stopped mid-ritual, God knows what could happen- spells like this were finicky and dangerous. Susie's cries for help made it a serious test of willpower. Joey looked over to his grimacing friend and began to recite the lines with him. Glad to be able to stop, Sammy went over to his girlfriend and cupped one hand around her face.

"Sh... it's okay. It's gonna be okay. This is only gonna hurt a moment, alright?"

"What's going on, Sammy?"

"Normal procedure. Everything is according to plan. This going to hurt, but only for a bit."

The thought occurred to Sammy that rituals probably weren't meant to be this time consuming. Could something as simple as that disrupt the spell? He didn’t want to find out. He nodded to Joey. Susie tried to say something, but Joey began to slit her throat before she could speak. Her cries turned into gurgles as the blade sliced ear to ear. She took over a minute to faint from panic. Joey got out the seeing tool and held it up. By now, his voice was shaking as he recited the lines. It was only his second time murdering someone, and hadn't gone cleanly. Sammy was so distressed that he wasn't sure he could take over for him. It took several minutes for her to bleed out. When she did, her soul escaped, and, watching its movement through the seeing tool, Joey caught it. He pressed his palm against the glass tube. "Ancient Gods of the world, I summon you now," he said. Ink flooded the tube.

The two men stood in silence for several minutes. Once the shock of the situation wore off a bit, Sammy spoke up. "That. Was an unmitigated disaster!"

"Yes. Next time, I'll make the chloroform five times as strong, and we won't waste time arguing," Joey said blithely. Then, he noticed how upset Sammy looked and realized he ought to show some empathy. "You alright? I'm sure Susie will be ecstatic."

"Sure. I'm fine," Sammy answered, sounding not at all fine. "Does it get easier, Joey? Killing?"

"Well, I can only speak for myself, but this one was actually a lot harder for me. The last one I just knocked out with a paperweight and had his throat slit in not even a minute. It was almost... fun."

Sammy hoped it didn't become 'fun' for him, or Wally Franks would be dead eight times over. A lot of other people, too. He glanced at Susie's corpse and felt like he was staring into the abyss of what he could become. "Well, let's go to the ink nozzle. She'll be coming out soon," Sammy said.

When she did, however, all that came out of the ink machine was a shapeless blob of ink. It fell to the ground with a plop and began writhing, attempting to figure out how to move. It emitted a cry like a baby. Sammy gasped. Joey was first to speak. "Don't worry. I'll figure this out. She won't look like that for long. Just help her back onto the pentagram, Sammy."

Sammy gathered the slug-like ink creature up in his arms like a baby. It-she, he supposed- was heavy, cold, wet, and ugly, and he could feel cold ink running down his shirt, but by now the situation had put him in such a daze that very little could have upset him. Walking back to the room with the pedestals, he looked down blankly at what was supposedly Susie, and gave her his best attempt at a comforting smile. Once he was back at the pentagram, he plopped down with the creature on his lap.

"Done!" Joey called from the other room about a minute later. "Twist in the film, is all. This time, I promise it'll work!"

Sammy got up, moved Susie's corpse, and gently lowered the creature onto the pentagram. "Sorry about this," he said, before repeating the process as before: the chanting, the throat-slitting, the capture and use of the soul. He then went back to the ink machine and held his breath that Susie would turn out alright this time. In minutes that felt like hours, the slender figure of a woman appeared from the machine, panting and shaking. She looked at her hands, felt all over her body, then turned to Sammy with a shocked, ash-grey face. "Sammy, what happened!?" she cried as tears began to fall from her eyes.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #joey drew #susie campbell #sammy lawrence