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subqtaneoussmut · 1 year

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The Tea Girl's Gambit, Chapter Twenty Two

In my dream, I was a girl.

I wasn’t a floating consciousness, tethered to the vague assumption of a body. In fact, I wasn’t detached in any way.

I was my body, embedded, embodied. I swirled with thick, vivid vortexes of sensation, attraction, pleasure. The relieved realization that this was my waking body now, too, bubbled lightly in my torso.

Another girl pressed up against me, warm tingle of skin on skin. The euphoric flutter of being wanted in this way. Her leg pushed between my legs, and the emptiness in that juncture, the smooth, hot, firm fit of my crotch with her thigh, rocketed solidly right up into my brain as right. Her lips moved on my ear and—

I woke abruptly, blinking in the lamplight. There was a kettle whistling. Pasha was moving around in the kitchen.

My pussy pulsed with a pleasant aching. I pushed down the urge to touch myself, and struggled upright in the hammock. I glimpsed Pasha observing me impassively. I tried to swing my legs out but my toe caught and I tipped over, spilling to the floor with an undignified squeak of alarm.

Hot-faced, I struggled up. Pasha’s back was turned again—he was attending to something on the stove. The aroma of toasted grain wafted over.

“There are clothes for you by the hearth,” he called over his shoulder.

I felt a hitch of excitement. Finally, clothes that were for me! It took me a few minutes to sort the pieces into an outfit. There seemed to be stockings, underwear, a shift, headscarves, a plain, black dress and a crisply starched apron.

I thanked Pasha excitedly, and received a non-committal grunt for my trouble. My glow faded somewhat as I realized I was going to have to change right here in the middle of the room. I sighed. Good thing I’d gotten so much practice being naked in front of a handsome boy I didn’t know very well, lately.

I shucked my old clothes into a heap as quickly as possible and began the ungainly process of getting into unfamiliar clothes for the first time. Donning the stockings and panties went as well as could be hoped, but the catch for the bra stopped me in my tracks. I flailed and reached, hyper conscious of Pasha, spooning porridge and watching me struggle. Finally I heard him sigh and scrape his chair as he stood.

“Drop your arms.” I flushed in embarrassment and obeyed. He stopped right behind me.

“Turn towards the light, this way.” A tingle of goosebumps raced up my scalp as deft, warm fingers wrapped around my upper arms, rotating me. My pussy clenched and I submitted to his touch unthinkingly. He repositioned me with easy firmness and I found myself staring into an oval wall mirror that I hadn’t noticed before.

I watched, entranced, as the nearly naked girl in the reflection blushed and shivered. Behind her, Pasha frowned in concentration. Wonder rushed through me like a great wind, tugging at and buffeting my insides.

“I hate these things,” he muttered. “There. Done.”

He brusquely helped me don the shift and dress. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the mirror, as I watched my reflection peek back at me from inside of each new piece of clothing.

It was finally happening. I could scarcely believe it. The clothes were plain, and rough, but the way they held to my body felt good. And the way they made me look...

My brain stuttered, even as my heart soared like a great-winged bird spiraling on a thermal. I could feel deep connections forming below my conscious awareness, like submerged puzzle-pieces clicking into place.

I wanted to moon, wide-eyed, at myself forever, but Pasha was clearly impatient. He let me wolf down some porridge, before herding me outside into the chill, pre-dawn gloom.

Just as I had last night, I stumbled after him through narrow, cobbled streets that all looked the same, until I had lost all sense of direction. Finally, we crossed a bridge arching over dark, rushing waters. On the other side was a frosted meadow, with a wide path leading through it.

I followed Pasha into the woods, my breath blooming pale in the cold air. To the east, the sky was lightening. My head was bustling with curiosity and questions, but I bit them back. Pasha clearly didn’t want to talk to me.

Was it because he knew I was kuffa? But he seemed impatient with me, not disgusted. I wondered about his relationship to Aralia. Was she holding something over Pasha’s head as well? I tried to remember last night. Hadn’t she seemed to be the one in charge?

Looking ahead at his straight back, I felt a pang of loneliness—a strange counter weight to the lift and lightness bubbling in my breast. I really was alone here, now more than ever.

I felt like I’d stepped out onto a springy, sloping fir branch, only half-expecting it to bear my weight. And yet, it had? I could only hope that it would hold under the next step, and the next. I was walking between treetops, with a long way to fall, and no going back—even if I wanted to, where could I go?

I drew a deep lungful of the fresh, chill morning air. A clear certainty was blooming in me, edged with all the glittering sharpness of survival.

I had to keep going, keep following the dark, clear openings of light in my belly, keep taking what stumbled-on chances I could find.

I couldn’t count on Pasha, couldn’t really count on Aralia, despite all that I owed her. The bottom line was that she had me in a position of complete vulnerability. She could do whatever she wanted to me, and I had no recourse, no defense, no allies.

My immediate priority had to be keeping her happy, and not giving her any reason to rethink her decision to burden herself with the risk of hiding me. Beyond that, if I could survive long enough, maybe I could find some scrap of leverage or protection for myself.

The starkness of my position should have felt meager, and yet right now, breathing the damp, clean air of the woods, finally clad in clothes that made sense to me, I just felt tensely alive, wired with determination and buzzing with marvel.

I shook my head in amazement. I had finally done it—I had transformed.

I got to be a girl, now.

I was absurdly lucky to have even gotten this far, and yet it felt like nothing could assail the sheer, breathless wonder inside me—not the razor edge of danger, not my doubt and loneliness, not even the terror of getting caught. I felt an absurd urge to whistle.

The trees thinned, and I began to glimpse the soaring towers and graystone edifices of Harmine. We circled the edge of the massive sprawl, until we came to a newer-looking building, built of red brick, boasting four sprawling wings extending from a central hub.

Pasha led me to a basement door, below ground level. He pushed it open and released a warm blast of steam, smelling of laundry chemicals. We entered a rabbit’s warren of narrow corridors with doors leading off of them.

After some twists and turns, Pasha knocked on one of the doors, and I heard a strong, chipper voice call, “Hullo!”

He turned to me. “Wait here a moment.” The door closed behind him.

I looked curiously around. I could still smell laundry, and there was the telltale clunk and hiss of a boiler—too loud to eavesdrop. Down the corridor, a door banged open and a raucous voice spilled out, followed by two figures carrying hampers full of crumpled sheets.

“—and do you know what that little cunt said to me?”

They turned and began marching towards me. I flattened myself against the recessed door to give them room to pass.

“She said—and, listen, I know everyone’s always telling me, ‘Roz, you exaggerate’ and ‘Come now, Roz’ but no, this is what she actually said, I shit you not, she said ‘I thought you liked it that way.’”

The other person snorted. They were both dressed as I was, though I took note of the different way they wore their headscarves. I felt a tremor of trepidation as I saw how much they were each carrying.

They bustled right up alongside me before one of them looked twice at me.

“Hey! A new girl! What’s your name, lass?”

My heart gave a rousing thud. “Hi,” I said shyly. “I’m Ellie.”

“Ellie! That’s a sweet name,” said the raucous one. “I’m Roz.”

“Batisse,” said the other shortly, and shrugged her load up a little. “First day is always hard. Keep your head down and you’ll get through it.”

“Luck!” called Roz, over her shoulder.

Then they were gone. I sagged in relief, hope blossoming inside me. I had passed as a girl. I’d even said something, introduced myself. Maybe I really could do this.

The door I was pressed against abruptly opened inwards, and I staggered backwards, stepped on the hem of my dress, and sat down hard on the floor.

Pasha was looking down at me, mouth twisted in exasperation.

I blushed, and scrambled upright.

I was in a long, rectangular room. There was a small kitchen at one end, a desk and filing cabinets at the other, and a long table between them that boasted more scars and stains than any alchemy workstation in the labs.

Sitting at the table was a young, powerfully-built woman with a shaved head and the most beautiful, plump cheeks I’d ever seen. Her cheeks entranced me instantly. I wanted to have cheeks like that. She had a ledger open in front of her, with quill and ink and penknife beside it, but she was looking straight at me.

“Sit down, Ellie.”

I heard the door close, and looked around to find Pasha gone.

Oh.

I sat down in the nearest chairs, heart sinking, careful not to trip over my dress again. Who was this? What had Pasha told her about me? Was he coming back?

“I’m Jaques. You’ll be working here under my supervision. If you have any questions, or have any problems, or you get into some kind of situation you can’t handle, you can bring all that to me, got it?”

I nodded quickly.

There was an expectant pause, and I hurried to fill it. “Yes.”

Then uncertainly added, “Thank you.”

Jaques raised her eyebrows at me. “You’re a skittish little thing, aren’t you?”

I nodded nervously, and she laughed. It was a bright, unrestrained sound, with no mockery in it. It reminded me of Kisma, and I felt myself untense a little.

“Well, then. I’ll lay it out for you straight, since you’re one of Pasha’s, and he’s asked me to look out for you.”

My heart jumped a little. Pasha wanted me looked out for? And had spent a favor to make it happen?

“Our little warren down here might seem below the notice of Harmine’s power plays, but don’t be fooled. Every one of us owes something to someone else and may be looking for any chance to take on another master, or trade up to a more powerful one, or game both ends against the middle, or broker information for a freelance price. I’m proud to say we’re not as cutthroat as some other staff departments, and more loyal to each other than most, but it pays not to tempt anyone, as they say.”

She looked at me frankly. “Apparently your only assignment is to keep your head down and not cause any problems, not draw too much attention. I guess I’m even starting to believe that. So. If anyone—student, teacher or staff—comes asking for favors or offering coin, just stay tight-lipped and ignore them. I run a tight ship and I’ll see that nobody takes it amiss. If you can handle that much and you don’t get too ambitious or rent your mouth to the rumor mill, you’ll do fine here.”

I blinked. “Okay. And thank you, miss.”

“And she’s mannered, as well! The last warning is also the most important: stay away from the Stormcroft Prefect, Penelope Caul, and anything to do with her. Her web is very sticky and very dangerous and very hungry. Don’t let yourself get eaten. Understood?”

I swallowed. “Yes. I think so.”

“Right,” said Jaques, rising. “Come with me and we’ll set you up.”

I followed her out.

“Most of us live in town, but I’ve been told that’s not an option for you.” She stopped at an intersection and turned to face me. “Down that way, there are a dozen or so sleeping cells. Feel free to pick an empty one.”

We continued on. My head spun with all the rapid newness as I tried to absorb everything Jaques was saying.

“Down that way is the staff laundry supply, take whatever you need from there.” She stopped at the bottom of a stairwell. “I trust you can work a mop? Good. You’ll be doing the whole third floor for me today. There are broom closets on each floor, by the stairs. Come back down at shift break, come find me and we’ll get you fed and watered. Any questions for me? No? Right then,” she shooed me, turning back the way we’d come. “Off you go.”

I took a deep breath and began climbing the stairs.

~ ~ ~

I dipped the mop into the bucket, lifted it into the wringer, squeezed, and watched the mostly clear water sluice away. There had been barely any dirt on the floor to begin with.

Mopping normally didn’t bother me. It was simple enough, and I liked the clarity of it—there was no uncertainty with mopping, you always knew what you’d completed and what was still left to do. I liked that I was finally alone with my thoughts and safe. Was I safe?

I’d tensed when students began to wake up and leave their rooms, but they had all ignored me completely, and soon my shoulders had dropped their tight guard again. I had even tentatively tried humming to myself. After a dangerous, high-stakes whirlwind, I seemed to have landed fine.

I liked it here, I decided. It was much better than Oakridge House. There were fewer students, and all of them were girls. I knew it was foolish to let that comfort me—I had certainly glimpsed no lack of allegiance insignia on their bags and brooches, hats and cloaks—but I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t feel at least a little better.

At least here, I was presenting basically as myself—even counting the obscuring cover of my legend and much moreso than if I were still trapped in boy zoo, pretending to be the old me.

Now, if I could only convince my body to finally relax…

Gradually though, a different kind of tension began to stew and seep inside me.

I wondered what Alexi must think, now that I’d been gone almost a whole day. My mind slipped back to the last time I’d seen him, the way he’d pulled my head back and slipped his thumb into my mouth, the way he’d smirked as I moaned and lapped breathlessly.

I shook a little, as heat flashed through all my limbs. My hand, clenching his shirt as one of his arms circled my shoulders and the other moved between my legs, pumping two slick fingers in and out of me.

‘What, nothing to say for yourself?’ Alexi mocked, right into my face. ‘I asked you a question, Ellie.’

‘S-sorry,’ I whimpered, glazed and red-cheeked.

I was going to miss his cock, and his hips with their easy, liquid rhythm that could coax me into a dripping, convulsive frisson of mewling and whining.

I took a shuddering breath.

I wondered if, next time I saw Aralia, she would taunt me again. I squeezed the mop.

Would she do more to me? The thought of her hand on my throat, her thumb pressing down on my tongue—a soft, strangled moan escaped me. Why oh why was I craving to be treated this way?

In a flushed haze, I finished the rest of the floor for that wing, and walked to the far end of the next, little drops of moisture running down the inside of my thighs. With a longing look at the washroom door, I began mopping. I probably wasn’t supposed to use the student washrooms. But what if I just popped in quickly, and…took care of myself?

I hadn’t seen a student in almost a full bell. Just as I was deciding that it was probably all right, I heard a door open, further up the corridor, and footsteps.

I turned to look, and immediately stiffened. I felt the blood drain from my face.

It was that noble, the fox-faced one that had grabbed me across the stockroom counter, and behind her was—

The dark-eyed girl from the courtyard, the one I’d spent all term avoiding in Apomasaics.

Both of them. Together.

My heart spiked with terror. They were watching me, conferring quietly with each other. The tall one had a jar—

Oh, no.

The hair she’d taken from me. It had to be—

A dowser. There was no fooling a dowser.

They had certainly recognized me. They would know I was kuffa.

I was so fucked.

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faemytho · 2 years

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Wizard/Licorice,

“I just had the terrible realization I might be in love with you and I’m still processing what that means.”

(Send me a prompt) and a ship and I'll write you a drabble!

Wizard is an adult. Though they don't appear other than being mentioned, Gingerbrave and Strawberry are adults as well.

Word Count: 1,126

"I just had the terrible realization I might be in love with you, and I'm still processing what that means."

Though the sentence should have landed heavier than it did, it simply echoed around the room, light and free and easy, like a bird on the wind. It was murmured, a train of thought that passed unthinkingly through chapped, cracked lips in the dim morning grey of Wizard's tower. Wizard himself, though similarly as tired as his companion, froze in place, the sentence murmured in unconscious, half-asleep stupor successfully beating back his own exhaustion. He couldn't possibly have heard that right.

"Sorry," Wizard said, his own voice sounding far away. "Run that by me again?"

Wizard knew that Licorice was by no means an academic. He was a dark sorcerer, an experimental mage, and they both knew why he was here. The Cookie Kingdom would not spy on itself, after all. Wizard was no fool, and neither was Licorice. Though they were both fond of finding countless ways of pissing each other off, they both knew it would be quite insulting to their respective intelligence to pretend Licorice wasn't here for the reason he was.

Wizard wouldn't call Gingerbrave stupid. Overly trusting, perhaps, but his friend was not stupid. When Licorice had approached the Cookie Kingdom all those weeks ago, claiming to have turned against Dark Enchantress and wanting a place to stay, Gingerbrave hadn't hesitated to believe him. Strawberry had been appropriately cautious, but she was content to follow Gingerbrave's decisions. Wizard hadn't been convinced, but even he couldn't find any way to persuade his friends that this was a bad idea, and so, Licorice was allowed to stay.

Wizard had been expecting the sorcerer to cause trouble. There was barely a day that went by where some incident did not occur, Licorice finding his way out of the blame each and every single time. What Wizard had not been expecting was to discover the absolute trove of magical knowledge Licorice carried with him. While Wizard learned from books, the dark sorcerer had learned his craft by simply, as he put it, 'fucking around and finding out'.

It intrigued him, and for reasons Licorice had been frighteningly vague on, the sorcerer had agreed to share his knowledge. Initially, Wizard had been hesitant to share the tower he called his home away from home, especially with an enemy who was poorly hiding under the guise of a friend, who knew that he knew. But now, it was very often they found themselves shut in the tower, debating over magic circles and some topic in magical theory, such as the proper way to invoke the dual magic of the moon.

It was a near daily occurrence by now that the grey light of dawn crept up upon them, startling them both out of a debate or research into a new spell that they would swear up and down they had just started doing after dinner. It was now, after Licorice had dumped a pile of books on the desk Wizard had sat himself down at without a word. Though Wizard's tower was typically never quiet with Licorice around, it had been oddly silent for a while, and Wizard had merely wondered out loud what could possibly be on Licorice's mind to keep the whiny sorcerer quiet for so long.

Licorice didn't seem to realize what he'd said, which wasn't really unexpected. They had both stayed up all night again, and they were both tired. Wizard was content to write it off as a simple case of mishearing what exactly Licorice had said, but apparently the sorcerer could never make things easy for him.

Across the room, Licorice's pale eyes widened, and he dropped the book he'd been inspecting the cover of. It hit the wood floor of Wizard's tower with an echoing thud, and the sorcerer whirled around to meet Wizard's gaze.

"I," Licorice said, strained and quiet in his raspy nasal voice, "I didn't- I said- Just forget you heard that."

Wizard's eyes narrowed. Why the sorcerer hadn't taken the easy way out by saying something else or changing the subject, the way Wizard had practically handed to him on a silver platter, it was beyond him. Licorice, in love with him? A laughable idea, and Wizard would have thought Licorice thought the same, were the sorcerer not practically choking to request Wizard forget he had even said the words at all.

And yet, as Licorice nervously wet his dry, chapped lips with a darting tongue, Wizard found his eyes following the movement. The sorcerer's lips were often chapped. He would know, because he'd been catching himself staring at them often, in the middle of their debates, their conversations, and right now.

"We both know I'm smarter than that, Licorice," Wizard pointed out, turning in his chair to properly face the sorcerer. If Licorice hadn't wanted Wizard to know, he wouldn't have asked him to forget. He wouldn't have lingered on the topic. He wouldn't have been honest about saying the words at all. "What are you playing at?"

The sorcerer bristled, the way Wizard had long since recognized to be a tell of Licorice's indignation. The sorcerer would yell, or deflect, or throw petty insults in the exact way that dug under Wizard's skin. It had almost become routine, the way they would argue. What Licorice would not do was look cornered, face scrunched up in an emotion Wizard didn't recognize. What he would not do was shake his head and turn away, and rush out of the room as though there were a thousand wild cream wolves on his tail.

Wizard sat there, half in shock, half exhausted from the night of no sleep. Three stories below, he heard the tower doors rattle open and shut, and he was left alone in his tower for the first time in a long time.

Though Licorice was still an enemy, taking advantage of Gingerbrave's kindness to spy on the Cookie Kingdom, Wizard would have liked to think he knew the sorcerer well enough by now. Licorice was a coward, a liar, a twister of the truth, a master at deflecting the facts and making you see things his way in a graceless verbal maneuver that somehow worked. That he would pass up the chance to lie his way out, or deflect the words, or just simply not acknowledge them, Wizard didn't understand. If it was an act or a trick, Licorice surely would have attempted to stick by the behavior Wizard knew him best by.

But instead, Licorice had acknowledged the words by asking Wizard to forget them, and fled when asked why. Wizard couldn't make sense of it.

Then, a gear shifted into place.

Oh.

#wizard cookie #licorice cookie #wizorice #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #mae writes cookies #my writing

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variousqueerthings · 1 year

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its taking so much self control not to search for all the messy trap, BJ, and hawk fics (that I hope exist!). also that bridget jones video is amazing, its so easy to forget how awkward real life fighting actually is lol. Im picturing BJ as darcy and trap as cleaver. side note, I also read your hawk/lyle and it was honestly so good, well written and soo hot!

oh hai, I didn't see you there!

EDIT: So this is not what your ask is about and I'm sorry, I went on a post-finale watching tangent, I apologise for not being funny anymore, even though the original post was light-hearted. GFA spoilers

It's funny, because now I've seen the finale, I feel like I need to wallow for a bit in the version of the story in which BJ and Hawkeye never see each other again.

It's got that sweet, sweet bitterness to it.

It's also funny, both my flatmate and my partner -- although I will hazard not to put words in their mouths -- are, let's say, not fond of BJ, because, well... he does many a highly questionably thing in response to the Horrors, especially to Hawkeye, but to me at least that ending, it's very much offering a final understanding of that character that softens him just a tad (to me, my feelings).

He undoubtedly, unthinkingly, several times messes up with Hawkeye within those two hours alone (which is worse: bringing up babies to the guy who's just had a breakdown brought on by the death of a baby, or leaving without a note, possibly knowing some element of the way that Trapper left, if not the entire thing???)

And then when Hawkeye, in a particularly harrowing way, reaches out to him (what would you do if I were bleeding out in your arms -- paraphrased) he brushes it off, because he's steadily become more depressed and therefore self-centred in how he gets through it all, and has used Hawkeye to project more than been able to look at him directly, to absorb any of Hawkeye's pain on top of his own. And here's Hawkeye invoking the most terrible, final goodbye he can think of, and BJ runs away from it. It's terrible!

And then!

And then he does it!

He does the one thing that Hawkeye asked of him, in the way he could do it. He left him a note. He made it as big as possible. He said the only thing that really needed to be said in it: goodbye.

Is it enough? After all of that? Maybe that's not really what the question can be (after all, a better man is not what Hawkeye's ever asked for from him, and in many ways BJ's bitterness about being a replacement for Hawkeye's pain about Trapper is not unfounded either -- the projection goes both ways, even if one is more overtly aggressive).

But he did it.

It's funny too, I was saying around s10 that I was really missing the big gestures of s7 -- I have yet to confirm on this my second watch (and feel free to let me know if there is an example I've forgotten), but I don't think BJ ever does anything as big for Hawkeye as he does in s7ep2, that sort of declaration, it was gargantuan in its scale and continued to exist in metaphor in those faded, pink pieces of clothing BJ kept for most of the rest of the show. I confess I missed the moment they were no longer there, but I believe at least not throughout the entirety of Goodbye, Farewell and Amen.

And this was a gesture, it was the thing I'd been wondering about the absence of and missing, and hoping BJ might in some way find it in himself to return to -- to not be so blinded by what he thinks he needs (to keep his eyes firmly on home and Peggy and Erin), but to value what he's had here, to value Hawkeye enough to grant him that goodbye.

SO after all of that thinking about BJ and Trapper potentially meeting (and tbh I think once I'm past this initial stage of just... sitting with the finale for 5 to 100000 business days, I will go back to thinking about it, the scenario is fantastic), I am currently, as it turns out in reaction to that ending, far more focused on the importance of goodbyes.

#❤ anon #❤ alan alda #i do apologise for this i dont control the brain #bj hunnicutt #trapper mcintyre #hawkeye pierce #MASH #this is not about *redemption* or anything trite like that -- it's not about if bj is essentially good enough or not for hawkeye #it's that they were both very broken and they allowed themselves in the last moment to offer healing to one another #just a smidgeon...#goodbye farewell and goodbye #MASH season 11 #I PROMISE I WILL ANSWER TO THE ACTUAL ASK AT SOME PONIT #POINT*#OH ALSO I WENT BACK AND JUST REREAD YOUR ASK: THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENT TOO #hi I'm... like this....#it's quite late apologies for any errors #long post #ive watched MASH

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punkscowardschampions · 1 year

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Buster & Rio Pt.3

Buster: [‘I’m so close to cumming inside you’ could not be more obvious but he can’t believe this is happening so he’s gotta say it, impossible though every word is to get out coherently and we all know it’ll take him forever, still not having his freakout about that yet tho because too in this moment and feeling too much else]

Rio: [‘you have to, I’m yours’ whilst doing more to get you even closer because it’s mutual and you’ve honestly outdone yourselves lasting this long ‘you own me’ using his hands to grab you wherever he wasn’t already because we’re feralling now]

Buster: [permission to be feral has been beyond given at this point so he’s likewise being and doing the absolute most here now, but taking a second to grab her hand before it’s gone and doing a pinky swear as if either of you have any need or anything left to promise to each other, before y’all are back to grabbing saucily again]

Rio: [we would swear to anything and everything right now and you can tell that by how we are making INTENSE eye contact with you during this pinky promise and then after because let it sink in]

Buster: [kiss her throat and then bite her necklace so you don’t say ILY boy, you have from the back before but not the front or side so gotta and if you accidentally break it being feral that’s subtle and not something the fam would be connecting the dots over but you’ll also be buzzing you get to buy her a new one]

Rio: [actually seeing you do this and THAT close will be everything and we’re not okay ‘you could hurt me’ as a statement like you’re strong but also like you could and that’d be okay, we love a double meaning moment]

Buster: [‘All you have to do is ask’ because he’ll only ever hurt her in ways she wants not sad ways]

Rio: [‘You’re so good to me’ because always giving us what we want 😍]

Buster: [‘because you’re so fucking good’ like full stop in every way we love you]

Rio: [you’re gonna have to cum, we cannot keep doing this]

Buster: [and her doing it will make him because it’s everything]

Rio: [on these stairs, trying to wrap your head around what just happened, you think you’d be used to it by now but no, not at all]

Buster: [he’s as much in a shooketh daze but nevertheless redressing her unthinkingly, even if it’s literally just the dress and his jumper with underwear and bra temporarily forgotten, because that’s the sort of gentlemanly bitch he is and he doesn’t want her to freeze to death in this cellar]

Rio: [just letting him baby you entirely, being very unhelpful, hopefully one item of his clothing is within reach so you can at least put that on him]

Buster: [soz there’s no fucks given about moving again once he’s got her dressed and sat on him because there’s holding her and stroking her hair to do and that’s a bigger priority atm]

Rio: [just looking up at him with so much love, playing with the fingers on his hand that isn’t in her hair, getting our breathing and heart rate slowly back to normal, doing a final shaky sigh with a sheepish smile ‘I’m going to stay with you’ not clarifying what and when we mean by this]

Buster: [‘good’ with his own massive heart eyes and low-key a sigh of relief that he’s trying to bury in her body and hair to hide it because if either of y’all had freaked out after that it would be understandable so he was expecting it from her can’t lie ‘I want that’]

Rio: [‘you better’ like it’s all chill and bants, and would not be so awkwardly devastating if you just fucked off now, which with how fractous it all was before, we also wouldn’t be totally surprised, just gutted ‘you promised’ quietly but poutily, like you must look after me forever bye]

Buster: [an amused smile to play along like it’s bants but he’s so so serious as he cups her face and kisses her pout away as if it’s in her expression fully too not just her voice and does another pinky promise mid kiss like yep I did and I promise again ‘you know I mean every word I’ve said since the day after my birthday’ forgetting in this loved up moment any he said in anger that he absolutely did not mean lol and only remembering the feelsy important ones]

Rio: [keep smiling into this kiss because we’re too happy, making cute noises at your cute antics, putting our own hands through your curls ‘why would you lie?’ because we know that you aren’t, even if we’re both caught up in our feels right now, still not untrue ‘and you know, what I mean too, yeah?’]

Buster: [‘There’s loads of reasons I could and perhaps would’ve, but a more important reason why I’m not right now’ because if she was anyone else there’s a chance he would be exploitive and manipulative, we know what he’s been like before and how he’d been living but she’s her and he cares too much about her obvs ‘Yeah, I know exactly what you mean to me’ as if that’s what she meant by that]

Rio: [‘You hardly need to’ like the deed is done, and was gonna be done, whatever spin you put on it, shrugging yourself up slightly]

Buster: [‘No, I don’t’ because matter of fact about this as he is about most things, put her down so you can actually get dressed and not freeze to death]

Rio: [find your bra and pants, even if you’re pocketing them more at this point, check your phone momentarily]

Buster: [have a mooch through this cellar and see if there’s any booze you wanna steal, not that either of you really need to get any drunker but hey, bring back whatever you deem worthy]

Rio: [sit back down on a step and put your hand out like go on then]

Buster: [give her the bottle of whatever and pick her broken necklace up from wherever that fell off and just be playing with it for a sec]

Rio: [watching him and going red at the necklace reminder ‘doesn’t matter’ like he’s said sorry for breaking it]

Buster: [‘I’ll buy you a new one’ but dropping this broken one into her palm and closing her fingers around it like an unspoken but you should keep this because y’all are both sentimental af]

Rio: [hand him the bottle after you’ve had yours and shake your head ‘don’t need to’]

Buster: [shaking his own head because he does need to and he will, taking a drink looking at her like you know me better than that gal]

Rio: [‘that’s not all I care about’ like an FYI, just in case you think that, now playing with the necklace yourself]

Buster: [‘I know that, and I’m not saying it’ because not calling you a gold digger clearly when he hardcore supports her career success]

Rio: [make a non-commital mhmm sound ‘what do we do now?’]

Buster: [getting even closer to her than he was and doing a little nudge when she makes that sound like oi/come on ‘What do you want to do?’]

Rio: [‘I don’t know, what if it’s weird?’ as a blurt out moment]

Buster: [‘weird with them or weird with us?’ looking at the cellar door when he’s referring to the fam and back at her when he means y’all, cos needs clarifying what she means]

Rio: [‘well, both now’ like how do you think it might be weird]

Buster: [pulling her onto his lap and kissing her dramatically ‘did that feel weird to you?’ said against her lips how they do]

Rio: [shake your head as dramatically and then kiss him again ‘cos no it did not]

Buster: [have a lil makeout sesh because the novelty of that still hasn’t worn off yet ‘I don’t think there is a what if with them, things feeling different when we go back up there is the price we pay for this’ when he can bear to pull away, because the tea is things were worse than weird between y’all when you weren’t acknowledging this vibe between you so it’s one or the other weirdness between y’all or the fam ‘and it’s worth it to me’]

Rio: [‘I feel like your name really is written all over me now, you know’ like it’s THAT obvious, how could it not be to the fam when it’s all that we can think or feel ‘I know I’m just freaking out because if it was then it’d stop everything again’ because we do not wanna go back to how things were between y’all aka nasty or non-existent, we cannot ‘of course it’s worth it’ brushing his lips with your fingers ‘you know what I want’]

Buster: [pulling her even more into his lap and closer to him than she already was ‘We’ll stay together until it’s time for my flight, by then the ones left standing won’t be any state to notice anything, except what a good night they’ve had’ giving her a look like do you trust me but not giving her a chance to answer because he knows she do ‘I’ll prove it’ and ferally doing a lovebite that looks as much like a B as possible somewhere that isn’t blatant af but is visible if you weren’t too pissed to 👀]

Rio: [‘don’t even tell me when your flight is’ because we know you won’t be hanging about long at all, and never long enough for our liking but moping about that is not an option when you go in for this move, dying in your lap and doing our most inadvertently to kill you too with the movements we have to make about it ‘take a picture for me’ because you can post that on your private accounts anyway, no fam 👀s should be there lol]

Buster: [the confidence of this boy at all times with everything meaning he’ll take a single pic of her and know it slays despite how distracting she’s being, send that to her and remember you never saw those profiles properly because she wanted to show you in person which never happened, so waiting to see if this is the moment]

Rio: [‘does it suit me?’ not at all casually, like should I be covered in your initial yes or yes lmao, LOOKING at him for his reaction to the photo instead of looking for yourself]

Buster: [LOOKING back at her as always because we know how into it he is, hence doing the slowest and most dramatic nod because YES, as he draws his last name initial on her wrist with his finger not at ALL casually because gotta take it up a notch which really hits different now that it’s the same as hers]

Rio: [staring at your own wrist, that breathing getting heavy again]

Buster: [I’m assuming she has at least one tattoo at this point because she’s had her 18th so touching and kissing it/them wherever they are/it is because thinking about her getting his name or initials tatted on her cos how could he not be]

Rio: [Yes I’m sure you’d have a few, won’t commit to which or where but for sure so go ahead boy, we’ll be here having the same thought of course and DYING, nudging him with our head like stop it you 😳]

Buster: [Can’t and won’t stop so kissing her 😳 now as well]

Rio: [just be saying his name in the most indecent way now ‘you want it’ accusatory but not not true lmao]

Buster: [‘I want what you want’ because she always says it, it’s like their catchphrase at this point, one of many lol]

Rio: [doing your own dramatic nod in reply because only appropriate response ‘always’]

Buster: [manoeuvring her rn immediately to bring back that face sitting vibe of the OG convo because he would as it’s his fave thing and this time we can bring the added trying to spell his name with it so that’s a fun added little detail]

Rio: [always caught by surprise and then killed by it in the most dramatic ways, audibly and physically ‘you want me to fall in love with you’ like I swear]

Buster: [we all know he does want that so doing everything possible and being beyond extra as per]

Rio: [gripping onto his legs so tightly so you don’t fall because you’re that overwhelmed]

Buster: [don’t let her fall that wouldn’t be a mood lol, it’s fine, we know you’ve got this sir despite all your concentration being on being feral]

Rio: [we’re just showering you in all the praise in as feral a manner]

Buster: [he’s always gonna love that, shamelessly living his best life rn and being as loud as he can be whilst not chilling out on his antics for a single sec]

Rio: [‘You’re gonna, I can’t-‘ pushing away slightly but not moving far enough away to really stop you]

Buster: [the tiniest pause to say ‘you can’ because that’s like another catchphrase of theirs at this point tho tis usually we but you know, using his strength to v easily move her back to where she was and keep her there and carry on killing her]

Rio: [so SO into it and the entire energy of that ‘daddy’]

Buster: [he’s into that word always as well as how into it she is when he’s acting like that so being even more feral somehow idk how you have the energy but I respect you for it, try and spell that out too like you did your name earlier]

Rio: [we’re leaning into it and just riding your face now because it’s clear that you love it]

Buster: [excuse us fam, they gotta do this, if you hear anything, no you don’t]

Rio: [y’all stay partying this is none of your business because we’re having to scream rn ‘I’m going to…if you don’t stop’ knowing damn well he won’t]

Buster: [will pause long enough to go back over a lovebite he did when he gave her oral before which would feel like forever ago but then he’s right back at it obvs though first gotta say ‘I’ll never stop’ for how his voice sounds]

Rio: [‘don’t’ so definitive like we cannot and must not ‘I’ll do anything to keep you’]

Buster: [kill her for that please, you’d love hearing it so you simply must hun]

Rio: [soz not soz for the absolute mess being made, you know what was coming boy]

Buster: [likewise soz not soz that like in the OG he isn’t giving her any recovery time at all before he’s initiating another hookup here because he’s too turned on by everything that just occurred, we know that about him]

Rio: [kiss him to hold onto some sanity because we’re feral af right now and have no chill ‘you’re fucking incredible’ through a mess of kisses all over]

Buster: [he has NO chill either so I cannot stop him saying ‘fall in love with me’ now that he can speak because really does want that and doesn’t count as an ILY so it’s FINE and we can’t talk about how utterly feral this hookup immediately is compared to y’alls first]

Rio: [STARING at him with the most intense energy and your mouth open because we all know]

Buster: [STARING back at her and saying it again in an even more indecent way, going even harder with this hookup like he needs to emphasise each word as it comes out of his mouth]

Rio: [‘you know’ 🥺]

Buster: [‘Tell me’ because he wants to hear that L word, ready or not]

Rio: [say it against his lips so you can close your eyes because one thing at a time ‘I already love you’]

Buster: [obviously kissing her in such a dramatic way because !! about this]

Rio: [lose yourself in this dramatic kiss lads, even if you’re moaning so much into his mouth ‘cos casually can’t shut up once you’ve started syndrome]

Buster: [thank god it’s mutual and he’s also being a noisy bitch because imagine if he was like um shh please, but he’s just lowkey throwing her around this cellar as well as, making even more noise about that because feral o clock]

Rio: [it must be extremely awkward and I’m sure has happened to both of y’all, just getting with someone with entirely the opposite vibe, thankfully that is not the mood and y’all are on the exact same wavelength, as is v obvious rn]

Buster: [Winnie says knock the bottle over from before because he’s an absolute chaos bear and we know y’all won’t care or even notice so]

Rio: [he loves the drama and the mess]

Buster: [he does, I stopped him from fully having y’all destroy a case or shelf, that is too loud and too much mess]

Rio: [that would be bad, they’d know you were banging someone when you inevitably had to pay for all that lmao]

Buster: [mhmm, take it down a notch lil bear, I say as I have him say ‘I could fall in love with you too, you know’ because close as I’m allowed to get to that L bomb]

Rio: [‘it’s rude that you haven’t’ with your own hot lol because can’t be too serious and FUCK YOU about this, not the vibe at all, but it goes without saying that we’re doing more to challenge you to fall for us, duh]

Buster: [can’t help joining in and doing his own hot lol even as he’s giving her the biggest heart eyes for hers which turn into a LOOK when she’s doing what she’s doing because it’s getting to him exactly how it’s supposed to, of course ‘I don’t have your manners, if I did…’ are you leaving it there because there’s no need to finish that sentence or because he’s moaning and can’t or both]

Rio: [‘can’t you behave?’ A LOOK of our own to match the energy ‘just once, for me?’ doing more to elicit more moans from you and ourself tbh]

Buster: [‘don’t you like how I’m behaving for you?’ as he uses whatever hot moves are necessary to switch up their position into an even more feral one]

Rio: [‘I love it’ emphasising the LOVE by then giving him a love bite because it’s been a while, wherever we can reach in this position we’re now in]

Buster: [the SOUND coming from him 1000% emphasising how much he loves that, giving her a matching one wherever it is like when they did proper twinning with it earlier, hopefully you can reach too or find a way to]

Rio: [pressing on his hard because you want it to bruise for longer nbd]

Buster: [of course he loves that, telling her what a good girl she is in every possible way however incoherent that is rn as he is once again throwing her all about because all the bruises 5ever thank you so much]

Rio: [so here for it, it always makes us feral so enjoy because we’ve had no respite so we were fully off the edge before we even started ‘I wanna make you cum, I need to make you happy’]

Buster: [‘you love me’ his tone making it clear he doesn’t mean that in the well duh of course kind of way he could and is instead just feeling the full effects of her saying it before and him getting to say it now cos never gonna be over it or more into anything she’s ever said, which she’d be able to feel as well as hear in his voice because cannot possibly be thrusting any harder than he is and is back doing the most to pull on those nip piercings at the same time ‘make me’ frantically since he’s so close to losing it, not elaborating if he means cum or happy or make me love you too because we know it’s all of them nbd]

Rio: [pulling his head closer to yours despite the fact you’re gonna be headbutting each other with the force of everything going on currently ‘I love you, Buster’ in his ear, barely audible because we’re so close as well and everything is heightened to fever pitch ‘it’s what you want’]

Buster: [she said it again in an even more !! manner so we all know what that’s gonna do to him and thank god because y’all can’t keep this up forever, he’s basically gonna collapse onto her with the force of this anyway so don’t accidentally crush her to death please with your body or millions of bottles of wine]

Rio: [lying here on the cold hard ground because now y’all need to take several moments]

Buster: [mhmmm they do, recover and calm yourselves down slightly]

Rio: [making no effort to move you though, squashes or otherwise]

Buster: [it’s fine, he’s too much of a gentleman to not move as soon as he’s physically able, but he will pull her close to him again immediately in a non squashed manner because not trying to have any distance between y’all ever]

Rio: [just be looking at him sneakily, nudge him in the side like you okay babe]

Buster: [looking at her not at all sneakily like ? as if she’s nudging you because she needs something or has something v urgent to say]

Rio: [shaking your head and smiling like I’m good ‘you just fucked the shit out of me’ like he’s not aware and you need to state it to believe it yourself]

Buster: [you can’t not smile at that and you should be proud of yourselves tbh lads, smugness is allowed]

Rio: [😍 at your smile, tickling you like you’re remotely offended]

Buster: [immediately must use his strength for evil and easily pin her and win this tickle fight before it has even started]

Rio: [again, the lack of a fight being put up because we wanna be pinned by you]

Buster: [we all see him going from tickling her to kissing her so fast]

Rio: [climb on top of him to keep kissing him]

Buster: [biting her lip as if he’s fuming she moved from being pinned but gently because he isn’t really obvs]

Rio: [pouting into it so you can bite it even more]

Buster: [needs no encouragement so y’all are just having a lovely time with this]

Rio: [pushing down against his crotch ‘I’m never getting tired of you’]

Buster: [‘you're not allowed to’ because gotta be a dad about it always]

Rio: [‘tell me what I am then’ laying our head down like it’s a story]

Buster: [telling her about feral antics y’all haven’t done yet tonight but will wanna as things she’s allowed to do]

Rio: [just giggling like oh okay ‘we’ve still got time’ picking up his wrist to look at his watch and see what time it actually is]

Buster: [when he knows what time his flight is obvs but she didn’t wanna know so just deliberately not looking and giving her heart eyes]

Rio: [‘You’d not be sober enough to get on a flight for ages yet’ like lol, your parents aren’t that keen to be gone ‘It’s good, that they came’]

Buster: [giving her a look like excuse you because who is drunk this boy but who’s the kind of drunk that says they’re not drunk also this boy ‘Of course I’m sober enough’ simply not true but I respect you for lying like this because that was me too hun, a shrug to the second bit because yes it is for many reasons but we’re not trying to think about how sad baze are atm again rn or ever if he can help it ‘I’m glad to see you too, babe’ playfully like yeah glad you don’t regret me being here after all this, that’d be rude lol]

Rio: [shaking our head like no, you are not but in a guess you’ll have to stay playful manner, as well as it just being true lmao ‘I wasn’t talking about you’ for the bants of maybe I’m not glad to see you but also because we know what we were saying]

Buster: [can and will be tickling her again for all this sass that’s happening ‘you’re thinking about me though’ because always true]

Rio: [escaping the tickling by lowkey throwing yourself into his arms like he isn’t the one doing it ‘yeah’ whilst giving you hearteyes from within this snuggle because no lie detected]

Buster: [snuggling her protectively also like he wasn’t the one doing it lol]

Rio: [‘I’ll be thinking about you for a long time’ like how am I getting over this, I’m not]

Buster: [A nod because hard same, likewise never getting over this, forlornly sneaking a glimpse at his watch when she’s in the snugg still and cannot see because tonight does have a time limit on it sadly and he doesn’t wanna know but also simply must it’s that dilemma, but then he decides fuck it and puts it on her because now is a good moment to be giving her this even though he’s not leaving yet, while they are on the subject of time and missing each other]

Rio: [just be twisting your wrist around in the light to look at this watch and give him a sad smile, without moving your face towards him so maybe he doesn’t fully see it either but of course we know what’s being said here ‘Easter isn’t far away’]

Buster: [just staring at how adorably big on her that watch also is because it looks so cute so it’s making him happy and sad at the same time lowkey ‘Be here before we know it’ as convincingly as he can manage to say that when it already feels like it’ll be forever before you can see each other again]

Rio: [get on top of him again so you can force eye contact regardless ‘I promise’ because so serious ‘and I won’t do anything but study and work and miss you the whole time’]

Buster: [holding that eye contact because always ‘Me too’ as seriously ‘Well, except for the suggestion I’d go out and get a job, obviously’ making a face like who me, lol no ‘I’m not promising that’]

Rio: [smirking like oh you ‘You have to get into Trinity, I don’t’ with a shrug]

Buster: [‘I will’ with his own smirk that once again can’t help but become a more genuine smile at the idea of it because still as buzzing as ever about this ‘and you have to be there to wake up and go to sleep next to, so I can start and end my days right’]

Rio: [when you know he’s so in love with you and you can’t handle it !! start kissing down his body because you can’t even look at him you’re that overwhelmed now, just like you’re showing him how he can start and end his days]

Buster: [being as !! with his noisy and enthusiastic responses to this like y’all have never done this before because never over any of it]

Rio: [‘I’ll look after you so good’ as you’re going to the effort to prove it as enthusiastically as he’s responding]

Buster: [‘I know’ sincere af because she’s putting that effort into everything she does and he sees and loves it]

Rio: [‘You want that, don’t you?’ it is a question despite being pretty sure, we still wanna know and hear it from you]

Buster: [‘We aren’t going to be a perfect couple if you don’t’ just saying you wanna be a couple here nbd]

Rio: [‘we’re going to be a couple?’ after a NOISE because unexpected but beyond into it]

Buster: [‘I can’t think of anyone else I’d want my first girlfriend to be’ how cute and how true]

Rio: [‘I love you’ as a reason she’d be a good girlfriend as well as the only response we can blurt out other than starting to cry or whatever else emotional mess]

Buster: [kissing her because he has to but in between all of said kisses telling her that he’s never called anyone baby and angel before and that he’s never said what other extra shit he’s said as if that wasn’t blatantly obvious because have to let her know how special she is without saying ily yet]

Rio: [‘I want you so badly’ fully said against his lips because we can’t remotely try to move away or stop]

Buster: [1000% instigating the most loving hookup of all time rn as if y’all didn’t have a really feral one not at all long ago because of course he is]

Rio: [the way we’re not looking or moving away from you at all this entire time, no matter how much we have to moan and bite and suck and say whatever unhinged emotional thing comes into our head]

Buster: [unhinged and emotional is clearly the vibe for this one, which is harder to get across for a boy, even though you’re clearly an intense af one lol]

Rio: [we all know what’s going on here ‘be my boyfriend’ with the same energy as his love me from before]

Buster: [‘You’ll never want another one’ literally ever because he’s gonna be the perfect bf forever is the vibe]

Rio: [‘I only want you’ ‘cos that’s already so true]

Buster: [‘As soon as we’re living together in the same city you won’t want for anything’ always just letting her know he’s gonna give her everything like she could forget]

Rio: [‘be a part of each other’s real life’ instead of this fantasy dreamlike moment of just seeing each other on holidays and then not for ages]

Buster: [‘We’ll build a real life with each other, you at the centre of mine and vice versa’ because yeah that’s what y’all both want already however extra it is]

Rio: [‘It’s like I made you up, I swear’]

Buster: [‘I’d have to have made you up’ as if he’s SO much older than her when it’s like a month haha, but also the he’s god/you’re mine vibes that we’re always bringing to the table with our giant ego]

Rio: [‘fine, it still means we fit perfectly’ because we’re down, obviously]

Buster: [doing the absolute most to show her how perfectly y’all fit together rn ofc like yep we do]

Rio: [just nodding exaggeratedly to agree ‘yours’ as the only vaguely coherent word we manage]

Buster: [giving an ‘all mine’ back as coherently as he can manage]

Rio: [‘no one else can have me, not whilst you want me’]

Buster: [‘they can’t ever have you then’ not at all casual]

Rio: [please kiss his neck dramatically so you don’t say anything else because there’s no word to describe how far gone you are]

Buster: [me like please shh your damn self sir but he can’t and won’t ‘I’ll put a ring on every finger, no one else can compete with that, there won’t even be room for them to try’ because I like when he said that in the OG convo it was so extra and I’ve somehow made it more so because y’all haven’t even mentioned weddings in a bants way like you did before he’s just saying this out of the blue]

Rio: [it was everything and is shamelessly going to get us in this moment because even more extra and even more unexpected like you said, just swearing and getting progressively louder and quicker with the stream of profanity casually, holding onto him for dear life]

Buster: [you did not need to say that boy but we all know you don’t have a single regret and especially not when he gets that reaction, doing his own ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ with all the feeling]

Rio: [there are no regrets here, just trying and failing to catch our breath and regroup a little ‘you’re better’ soz shit nan]

Buster: [the hottest hot lol because he can’t catch his breath either and what a compliment ‘you bring out the best in me’]

Rio: [making a little satisfied noise like I know that ‘nothing but’]

Buster: [a nod like yes exactly, before he’s burying his face into her neck like ily but accidentally on purpose breathing on her skin so dramatically because the nature of how much y’all have not had a sec to calm it yet]

Rio: [pulling him closer to you and cuddling him ‘til you start to feel almost normal, for tonight’s standard, anyway]

Buster: [mhmm, what a fever dream this whole fam function would feel like, but y’all have gotta chill out a bit here and now or you’ll pass away]

Rio: [find another drink because the other bottle went RIP, as dramatic as you’ll be about untangling yourself and moving away at all]

Buster: [he’ll be pulling her back to him as soon as she’s found one before she’s even had chance to open it because it’s clingy o clock]

Rio: [doing a little lol like hey ‘you missed me?’ as if you went anywhere]

Buster: [‘yeah’ as he opens the bottle for her like the gentleman he is]

Rio: [offer it to him first like you better have some of this then]

Buster: [have some yourself and then pour some into her mouth purely because you can]

Rio: [just drinking your way through the pub’s store, nbd lads, don’t worry about it, y’all are having a nice time and that’s all that matters ‘bit rude no ones looking for us’ like lmao okay fam]

Buster: [immediately pushing her up against this cellar door with a hot move like maybe we need to be even louder and closer to this fam haha, please don’t also spill the 2nd bottle of stolen booze thank you ‘now say it’ as if they’re gonna hear you this time and be so offended, but he’s saying it in a hot way too, obvs]

Rio: [widening our eyes and flashing you a mischievous grin because we know how you feel about this, take another swig of this bottle before tentatively banging your fist against this door, like hi, anyone there?]

Buster: [shaking his head like ugh y’all suck when nobody reacts to her lil knock as if they would, kicking his foot against this door but barely because it’s just a move designed to play footsie with her again actually and also we’ve all seen his outfit and his silly impractical prada slip on shoe, that’s not making a loud sound]

Rio: [looking down at y’alls feet like oh no, as if you remotely want this to work and to be disturbed ‘Buster’ in a faux-appalled-at your-behaviour type way just so you can say it, louder than you need to but still, no one is hearing]

Buster: [taking off her shoe and throwing it at the door to make a bigger bang that still blatantly won’t attract anyone’s attention in this rowdy af pub but we know it’s really cos he wants to do the most to and with her then bare foot because he did a bit of that when y’all were hiding behind the bar but he couldn’t go fully in kissing it and being indecent af when there were peeps around]

Rio: [if it didn’t feel good enough now in the moment, the memories of being behind the bar, that somehow feel forever ago, have us squirming ‘that tickles’ but not at all in a stop sort of way, fully the opposite]

Buster: [doing even more than he was and also lifting up her foot even more so she’ll really have to lean against this door to not fall because the you almost could fall through this door like when we fell in and out of that bathroom earlier of it is a big mood]

Rio: [making a big deal of falling against this door to steady yourself, being as loud as possible about it, the ‘fuck!’ being part of it]

Buster: [likewise making a big deal of grabbing her waist as if to steady her when really he just wants to do that hard enough to leave marks behind and also shamelessly push her harder against this door with it]

Rio: [making so much noise about it, pushing our foot further into you as if we also need to to steady ourself rn]

Buster: [0 hesitation in starting to touch her like he did the first time except so much more indecently somehow because they aren’t at a party this time and there is nobody else here and we have peeps behind the door we’re acting like we need her to be screaming for]

Rio: [‘you’re gonna get caught on your knees for me’ so insistently like it really will happen, with how we’re reacting to you]

Buster: [‘one of us absolutely will’ like idk sis it might be you, only time will tell]

Rio: [‘alright’ but giving full challenge accepted vibes with it]

Buster: [could not be making more noise because he’s also using his body to try and push her through this door rn whilst still touching her v hardcore, hello? fam where are you tbh]

Rio: [the way this door is rattling, there’s no way it’s not rickety af down in the cellar, doing the minimum of pushing back against his force so you don’t fully bust it down but you’re still clearly giving in to what is happening here]

Buster: [it’s ghosts everybody, lord knows there’s enough dead fam members who could be haunting y’all and we’re not done killing peeps off, soz, saying her name and every other nickname he’s given her so far tonight because simply must]

Rio: [and I oop lollll but for real, god bless parties for just being that loud consistently that no one is clocking anything, despite your best efforts being put in, obviously have to d word you now in response]

Buster: [god bless is accurate because he’s being TOO loud in saying ‘cum for your daddy’ like that’s in any way acceptable, sir you stop it]

Rio: [‘I want to cum for you again’ just gotta put it out there how many times you already have, casual]

Buster: [doing everything possible to make that happen and her to say the most dramatic things very loudly ‘because you love me’ not a question at all, absolutely a statement]

Rio: [‘so fucking much’ with 0 control of how loud that is, or how indecent it sounds]

Buster: [biting her as if she’s not already a giant walking lovebite at this point because can’t cope with how into that we are]

Rio: [‘I want to kiss you�� because you can’t reach by being still standing, barely]

Buster: [you know the boy do be whipped by how quick he moves so she can, will be on your knees just like she said hun, we all see you]

Rio: [we’re kissing with all the urgency in the world, as if you’ve been waiting forever, never mind the barely it really is]

Buster: [giving that same intensity and drama back always, matching it to how feral his hand is still moving of course]

Rio: [moving yourself as ferally against his hand ‘you’re such a good boyfriend’ punctuating between every syllable with equally feral noises]

Buster: [‘I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend’ because she’s perfect and he’s always said that]

Rio: [‘what do you want?’ very much with I will be the best and give it to you energy]

Buster: [‘I want it to be Easter tomorrow’ because the levels he wants to stay with this gal forever]

Rio: [‘I don’t want it to be tomorrow though’ like don’t go]

Buster: [kissing her again and putting EVERYTHING into it because he doesn’t wanna go ‘we’ve still got time’ with entirely different energy to the cute and carefree way she said it before because tis running out and y’all gotta make the most of every sec]

Rio: [‘we’ll make it’ as if you can conjure more out of thin air just by wanting it badly enough ‘we don’t have to stop, ever’]

Buster: [proving that by not stopping kissing her ever, even though he’s doing the thing of trying to so he can take a breath or say something extra but then he’s just immediately kissing her again like nope gotta just keep on, soz]

Rio: [not mad, definitely matching the energy, even if we inevitably keep clashing teeth because we’re smiling too big about it]

Buster: [it’ll make him smile big too, it can’t not he’s as happy as she is and it’s that contagious]

Rio: [the most loved up loling is occurring rn]

Buster: [agreed because that’s adorable and I love it for y’all]

Rio: [‘you’re so handsome’ and kissing your face some more about it]

Buster: [‘I’m running out of words for what you are’ because he gets speechless when he’s feelsy and the feels could not be higher]

Rio: [‘you can just show me’ actually whispering instead of being as loud as possible for once because necessary]

Buster: [‘Can I?’ also whispered]

Rio: [nod as you’re moving your body closer to him ‘I know’]

Buster: [such a dramatic breath as he presses his body even closer against hers if they haven’t been ridiculously close to each other this entire time]

Rio: [doing the intake so you’re that in synch about it, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing so tight]

Buster: [‘you really do make me want to break every rule’ like he’s emphasising it from when he said the same thing earlier because can’t believe how true it is and how unlike him it is]

Rio: [‘when I know how good it will be for you…’ like yeah, I do, not soz ‘you should, we should’ as if you’re not currently but you know]

Buster: [‘I should…?’ like he’s waiting for an instruction from her rn of what feral antics he should initiate, getting even closer to her somehow as he says it]

Rio: [‘You should be inside me’ because always going to be the answer to that question]

Buster: [barely letting her finish her sentence before he is, with a !! GASP because it always feels like forever ago since he was even though it’s literally been no time at all y’all are just insatiable]

Rio: [the satisfied ‘yes’ that is just coming out because damn ‘this, always’ like please and thanks]

Buster: [doing his own ‘yeah’ like an echo because agreed]

Rio: [‘I don’t wanna cum without you’ so seriously]

Buster: [‘you won’t’ as seriously ‘I’m inside here too’ kissing her head as he says it ‘so much of me, now’ as if you were gonna run out of thoughts of him before this feral evening but I know what you mean hun]

Rio: [‘we don’t need to imagine now’ ‘cos before it was all guesswork and now it’s legit memories to look back on]

Buster: [‘I didn’t do you justice then anyway’ could sound vaguely shady but we know he means however good it was in his imagination this is even better]

Rio: [‘how could you know how good I would feel wrapped around your cock?’ like it’s okay, some things need to be experienced]

Buster: [the most dramatic MOAN about it as if he’s experiencing this for the first time]

Rio: [‘I never knew dick could be this good’ as we’re shamelessly tracing our fingers over your teeth when you moan, STARING at you]

Buster: [it goes without saying that her fingers are going in his mouth because if we can be more extra we will, doing the absolute most with all of them as usual, and maintaining eye contact as usual]

Rio: [doing your own moaning ‘show me what that tongue can do, baby’ because we all know it’s your fave]

Buster: [it is his fave and he never needs any encouragement so here we are, putting on a complete and utter show purely for her benefit and the love of]

Rio: [it’s beyond obvious how turned on we’re getting watching this ‘you treat me like a princess’]

Buster: [as turned on as he’s getting doing it which is why we love y’all ‘you are a princess, my princess’ no need to say that but he can never shh]

Rio: [but we’re buzzing off it so worth it, taking your fingers back and using them to touch yourself]

Buster: [still not shutting up and calling her ‘daddy’s little princess’ now which I hate thank you but we get it, you’re saying you approve of this behaviour]

Rio: [doing even more by touching yourself and him within the same movement, obviously working with the thrusting that’s happening like yes, so good, see, praise me]

Buster: [kissing her, also in sync to everything, because who is he if he’s not overstimulating this poor girl as much as poss at all times, but obvs all the praise ever being said as coherently as he can in between the kisses]

Rio: [just dying and now entirely unintentionally making all the noise ever against this door]

Buster: [the way y’all weren’t actually trying to be setting up the haunted cellar vibe and yet are somehow being even more loud is sending me]

Rio: [can’t be helped, can’t be tamed lmao]

Buster: [I also love that he could be saying cum with me or come with me like get on this plane with me and come and live at the baze residence for the foreseeable and we’re not clarifying which one we mean in this moment]

Rio: [whether we understand or dare to dream the double meaning there, the former will definitely be happening, loudly and forcefully because it’s been A LOT]

Buster: [mhmm y’all are really using this cellar to your advantage, we love to see it, there’s no way he’s not also gonna die because of how !! she did but that’s okay you’re allowed to be overwhelmed too sir]

Rio: [yet again, thank the LORD that it is this exact day at this exact time and place because you can get away with all this feral behaviour and you really need to when you’re this overwhelmed by everything you’re finally able to do]

Buster: [it’s not happening at easter lads, whether we decide to cockblock you with a baze fam hol or not, this level of feral is for a very specific set of circumstances only and you’re welcome for them during all these firsts]

Rio: [mhmm honey]

Buster: [picking her up anyways and going back to get comfy as y’all can sat on a cellar step before she falls through this door for real because gonna pass out if you don’t stop overstimulating her like this mr, really wrapping her up in his jumper like she’s a tiny bub]

Rio: [allow yourself to be cradled and snuggle into this jumper, obviously smelling it and rubbing it between your fingers for comfort, look up at him to check he’s okay, of course]

Buster: [for the love of god actually allow yourselves some time to just snuggle and don’t get feral again in like a minute’s time, I beg you, he’s gotta give her heart eyes and run his thumb over her wrist how he do and again die about her wearing this watch while avoiding looking at the actual time and play with her fingers how they do in such a soft manner in direct contrast to how extra he was being when they were in his mouth before]

Rio: [do a happy sigh but a sigh nonetheless ‘sorry it’s not very comfortable down here’ as if it should be and it’s not storage space lmao, cuddling him some more so this jumper is being shared more equally ‘I could get us blankets from upstairs’ because when you do the whole shut-in vibe for the family who cba to get home, there’d be some going spare for this]

Buster: [‘I’ll get them’ because you know damn well if she ventures anywhere she’ll get talking to the fam and won’t be able to escape for a thousand years and we’re not trying to waste precious time like that]

Rio: [just nod because it is true, tell him where they are likely to be, probably in the hall bit before you go up to the flat vibes]

Buster: [go get them because the sooner you do the sooner you can properly snuggle which 1. Is adorable but more importantly 2. We need if we’re ever gonna end this convo]

Rio: 🍀🤞☘️💛

Buster: I’ll be right back, baby

Rio: Good

Rio: I miss you

Buster: Don’t, tell me about your necklace

Buster: Do you want an exact replacement or another surprise?

Rio: assuming you won’t listen if I say I don’t need either

Rio: I like surprises, you know that

Buster: You’ve assumed correctly, but I didn’t want to make one that the necklace you decided to wear tonight didn’t mean anything, or as much as a gift from me, at least, when I know you must’ve picked it for a reason

Rio: You’re cute

Buster: I just know you well, that’s all

Rio: No, you’re definitely cute

Buster: Definitely?

Rio: 100%

Buster: I can’t argue with how good you are at maths, as it’s something else I know about you

Rio: Is that a subtle way of asking for tutoring? Idk if we have THAT much time 😏

Buster: I definitely don’t have that much subtlety at my disposal when asking for something I want

Rio: I know that about you, more than I already did before

Buster: Good, I’d hate for you to doubt how badly I do and will always want you

Rio: 🥰

Rio: how is it up there, feels a whole world away

Buster: Our world doesn’t have any competition from it, I can say that with total confidence

Rio: You won’t get distracted then

Buster: No, not unless you’re planning to distract me

Rio: Tempting…

Rio: I’ll behave

Buster: It’s as tempting to dare you not to, but I’ll behave as well

Rio: 🥺

Rio: now I don’t want you to

Buster: What do you want?

Rio: You know

Buster: Ask me, you know that’s all you have to do

Rio: Please come back

Buster: [do, with these blankets and wrap her up whilst giving her the biggest hug ever as if it’s been a thousand years]

Rio: [set up this nest around y’all, casual sleepover moment you’d have 0 explanation for if anyone came down, pop off]

Buster: [tbf y’all had 0 reason to be as snuggly as you were under blankets at christmas but it didn’t stop you and nothing is now either, soz not soz fam, it’s cosy and loved up time]

Rio: [it’s more the cellar of it all, not a cosy vibe, so we all see you wanting that privacy but it’s fine, everyones too busy to come and find you so enjoy]

Buster: [we’re letting you live tonight and not being evil for once]

Rio: [it had to happen eventually honey]

Buster: [can’t relate to y’all falling asleep in an uncomfy cellar but I’ve never been as feral as y’all in a saucy or partying manner so, you do you lads]

Rio: [we can leave y’all here snoozing and snuggling until the notification/texts that it’s time to go start popping off]

Buster: [he’s v organised so he’d had set a million phone notifications up that’ll wake y’all it’s fine, except NOT fine because he doesn’t wanna leave, but you know, untangling himself anyway and having to take his jumper back off her because can’t be explaining to anyone why she’s wearing that whereas a watch is at least hideable in her bag and thus slightly more discrete]

Rio: [meanwhile, we’ll just be sat here in a sad sort of daze, don’t mind us]

Buster: [it would definitely look and feel like he’s doing a middle of the night/morning after sneak out because he’s just getting re-dressed etc in silence since there’s so much he wants to say that he doesn’t know where to start and nothing is coming out]

Rio: [find and put on your clothes if you need to, I’m not sure how dressed you are right now but I’m sure you need to to some extent lol]

Buster: [just doing his trademark gentle wrist grab and pulling her to him despite the fact she’s in the middle of that]

Rio: [‘hey’ v soft and as an are you okay?]

Buster: [looking at her because he doesn’t know how to verbalise that it feels 1000% more real that this is the end rn seeing her get dressed than it did when he was in a daze doing it himself so he simply had to stop it for a sec like no no]

Rio: [actually looking up at him because you were trying to not but you’re not going to ignore him when you can feel he’s attempting to make eye contact ‘its-’ but fully cracking after that one word so just shrugging for the rest, the least convincing its fine ever]

Buster: [‘fine isn’t the word’ as if she said it because we know what you meant, but nevertheless smoothing her hair and clothes for her because both helpful and meaningful]

Rio: [shake your head like no ‘but it has to be’ on a sigh, tilting your head into his hand on your hair]

Buster: [‘not yet’ because it’s the first thing he said therefore I must but also we don’t have to pretend it’s fine and we’re not gonna be gutted before I’ve even left esp when he’s still here to comfort her and he’s doing that with his soft hair and face strokes]

Rio: [shaking your head still, slowly so you don’t look insane ‘I can’t-’]

Buster: [‘I know what you’re capable of’ because he do, he knows she can handle this and pretty much anything]

Rio: [‘I’ll just get overemotional and pathetic’ abandonment issues coming out lol, thanks Caleb and shit boyfs]

Buster: [shaking his head because even if she had a literal breakdown here and now he wouldn’t view it through that lens as much as he can be a asshole sometimes ‘There’s no such thing, unless you’re my sister and everything you do is designed to provoke the biggest reaction possible’ she is very much not Nancy nor a flop so]

Rio: [do a little lol ‘not the memory I’m going for though’ like I don’t want you to think I’m that dramatic]

Buster: [‘You love me and I’m temporarily leaving you, neither of us are likely to forget that’ because be sad if you feel sad hun it’s okay, he gets it and you both know who the other is and who they are not + this is undeniably a dramatic situation]

Rio: [‘but it’s only for a bit, I’ve waited longer to see you again’ shaking him off you casually in a pulling-self-together type of vibe ‘we’ll be good’]

Buster: [‘I don’t care about any of that and you don’t have to act like it’s especially relevant to you right now either’ because he really does not, it feels like forever and we are gutted]

Rio: [‘but I do or I’ll cry’ an exasperated laugh as we’re blotting our eyes so we do not]

Buster: [using the jumper he’s back wearing again to do the same gesture, so softly ‘we’re the only ones here’ like you can cry in front of me it’s okay]

Rio: [just hug him so your face is hidden so we don’t know either way]

Buster: [hug her back and either let her or just have this moment regardless]

Rio: [just allow yourselves this moment, lads ‘who’s going up first?’]

Buster: [‘I am’ obviously volunteering to go first because he’s a gentleman and she can stay and get her shit together emotionally down here for as long as she wants, he’s the one with a looming flight]

Rio: [nod because it’s practical as well as it is a gentlemanly gesture as per ‘I’m not saying goodbye’]

Buster: [‘Of course not, this isn’t goodbye’ so sincerely because he means it with his whole heart and we need you to know]

Rio: [manage a smile about it ‘alright, you better go before they’re looking for you’ giving him the smallest push towards the stairs and the door]

Buster: [a nod because true, and actually moving for the same reason even though that push alone would never have done it he’s too big and tough and it was too halfhearted, but we know he’s getting to the literal first step and doing such a dramatic look back as if they are miles apart now]

Rio: [the cinematic way we must run this miniscule distance to kiss you goodbye dramatically]

Buster: [it HAD to be done or who are either of you honestly, I don’t even need to say that he’s kissing her back as dramatically but I do need to let everyone know that he’s saying ‘I’m sorry’ so quietly and breathlessly when they break apart for a sec because of how rarely he ever says it and how much he means it for having to leave]

Rio: [‘it’s not your fault’ between the kisses also because it isn’t but we do appreciate you saying it hun]

Buster: [kissing her harder because he knows that logically and he also knows that there isn’t anything else he can say or do even if it was entirely his fault, so giving this final makeout his all is really it]

Rio: [we are likewise going in, running our hands through your hair that has invariably been fixed, pushing you against the wall so we don’t fall down this step]

Buster: [aww his cute cute curls, god bless, he do so love when she pushes him against things even though she’s so smol, what a glorious cinematic throwback to when she did at the party right at the beginning of things, hence saying her name for the final time with as much !! as he’s ever said it because CAN’T DEAL]

Rio: [that’s why I did it baby ‘you have to go’ because we do not want you to and there is no time for this, obviously still being said through kisses]

Buster: [‘Yeah’ said while he makes no attempt to leave and every attempt to keep this makeout going]

Rio: [say his name back]

Buster: [not this boy fully biting the inside of her mouth rn like she do when she needs to shh because needs her to now that he’s absolutely dying about that]

Rio: [the noise we have to make about this, soz about it when it’s the opposite effect]

Buster: [he’s the opposite of mad about it though, we all know that, even if I’m fuming because of how many times I’ve had to stop myself writing ILY, especially at this point, swear with all the feeling instead because of how hot that was and how he could not be doing more to try and make her make more noises like it instead of leaving]

Rio: [my boo says shut it please, meanwhile we’re pushing you against the wall again like we mean it as go when really we just like that you like it]

Buster: [he can’t and won’t shut it, saying ‘I should be inside you’ in an even hotter way than she said it earlier because he’s that !!! rn even though there is no time for this]

Rio: [‘please’ moving very deliberately to show how easy it could be initiated]

Buster: [y’all are gonna have to have the quickest quickie I can’t stop you and he definitely isn’t ignoring a please]

Rio: [we know you’re both emotional so it will be insane]

Buster: [permission to be the most frantic and feral you’ve ever been because the clock is ticking here but we know you’ve gotta do this, and he will be taking her underwear as a memento after the fact so mind your business about her not wearing any everyone]

Rio: [simply gotta, soz everyone but not at all, casually the most turned on we’ve ever been]

Buster: [but then you have gotta leave and be in shock that all of that happened and is now over for the entirety of this flight and lowkey until you see each other again]

Rio: [lol nbd my boo says]

Buster: [like, how would you just leave? I die]

Rio: [we all die, truly, probably have to go home or somewhere because you can’t just stay]

Buster: [Somehow he’s gotta just walk out that cellar as if it’s nbd and I’m sure the reason is more notifications popping off like okay really gotta go this time, but still, it’s wild, just like k then bye]

Rio: [I mean you literally have to at a point but still, headfuck]

Buster: [soz lads but I am proud of us for making it to the end and not giving up because we did do some good work here]

Rio: [slay]

Buster: [we know he’s sending her a replacement necklace so that can be the next jumping off point when he wanna do them again so we’re not being totally evil and making y’all wait for an IRL easter convo/cancelling Easter plans convo, even if it won’t be a long one because keeping busy and not distracting each other is the vibe]

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sixknight · 2 years

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Rouxls Kaard Fluff Alphabet 2

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Everything! But he especially adores your wit, strength, bravery, laugh, and soul.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your eyes, lips and arms. He thinks your eyes and smile are beautiful and he loves to feel your arms.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

His favorite cuddling positions are "spoon" (where he's big spoon), "half spoon", "sweetheart cradle", and "lap pillow"

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

A long walk in the dungeon followed by a candlelit dinner he made for you, then the two of you go back to his room to read and either play a board or work on a puzzle before crawling into bed together and cuddling up to each other.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He's very expressive to begin with so he has no problem expressing himself around you. He'll wink when flirting or being playful, and smile genuinely at you. You can even tell when he's uncomfortable or angry despite always smiling because of his tone.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He's… not that great with kids. He's not sure he actually wants any of his own. Considering Lancer already sees him as a kind of dad, he thinks that's enough, especially since the two of you have to look after him together now. He might be more open to the idea of having a kid if you really want one, but it will be much later in the future.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

LOVES to get gifts and give them! He likes to surprise you with things like flowers or your favorite treats. He maaay also try to gift you worms from time to time… he says they are the finest worms in the land and he picked them out specially for you.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He likes to hold your hand while you two walk and while reading or doing puzzles together. He loves to interlock fingers, but of you're at the table doing puzzles then he'll rest one hand on yours.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Freaks the fuck out! Humans and monsters are similar enough to each other that he knows things that could hurt him will definitely hurt you, but he doesn't fully understand the pain threshold difference. Sometimes monsters can take a hit that might kill a human depending on how they're built. The moment he sees blood coming from you he panics and grabs you, teleporting you away from the danger. He spends a few minutes panicking before he decides to take you to a doctor because he's truly not sure if he should apply the same treatment to you that he would to someone who resides in the castle since you're a lightner.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He does like to joke around with you and loves to tell dumb jokes that will make you laugh that cute little laugh of yours. He says he's played pranks on you before, but you know he's lying. His puzzle pranks were real puzzle attempts, but you just let him believe you thought they were pranks to save his ego.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

He loves deep, passionate kisses on the lips but he also enjoys giving quick, sweet kisses the top of your head and the back of your hands.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

He shows it through actions. PDA, gifts, acts of service. He loves doing things for you and leaving you sweet personalized calligraphy notes in fancy envelopes with blue, glittery wax seals that have diamond symbols on them.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The first time he ever heard you say "I love you." to him. It was a whisper because you were so tired, you had started to rest your head on his shoulder and unthinkingly uttered those words in a sleepy haze before falling asleep leaning against him soon after.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Losing everything. His puzzles. His status. Lancer. You. He doesn't want anything to happen to any of those.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Do I have to say it?

He talkeths likest thise.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Answered in the first Alphabet under N!

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Answered in the first Alphabet under A!

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

No answer for this one. I guess his theme?

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Answered in the first Alphabet under H!

T = Time (how long would it take you to get together?)

A few months. Once he realizes his feelings for you he starts to pursue you, but it takes you some time to adjust to… him. He's cute and all, but he can be a bit too dramatic and arrogant at times, so it takes you a while to ease into a relationship with him.

U = Upset (how do they act when you're upset?)

If you're upset at someone else he will offer to throw them in the dungeon for you, then offer to make you some food and maybe something strong to drink. If you're upset at him however, he'll act like the world is ending because he "hast madeth his beloved upseteth and ist the worsteth!" He'll try to do everything he can to make it up to you, food, roses, new puzzles, jewelry, apologies. He practically begs you to forgive him.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He's proud of his puzzles, his intelligence, his status, and of you! He loves to show you off! He wants everyone to see his amazing and beautiful/handsome S/O!

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

While he does admire your strength he'd prefer you not fight too much because he's scared you'll get severely injured. He'll fight for you in a verbal sense, but when it comes to actually throwing down with someone he's a coward who runs away when someone looks like they're about to start punching. If you insist on getting into a physical fight he'll be your cheerleader and your escape plan, but he's probably not going to throw any actual punches at anyone anytime soon.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Answered in the first Alphabet under U!

Y = Yearning (How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?)

When you're gone for a while and he starts to miss you he'll write you love letters. Think 1800-esque type love letters. If he can't mail them to you then he'll leave around special places he knows you'll find them. He also keeps a picture of the two of you together in a diamond shaped locket in his coat pocket that he'll occasionally pull out to look at. He also brags about you to anyone who will listen and drape himself over furniture dramatically and proclaim how he misses you so much and how he can't wait for your return.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Running his shop helps him feel at ease. He loves when you want to help out too, your presence is calming as well so having you help makes him feel at peace.

#Rouxls Kaard #Deltarune #headcanons #fluff headcanons #fluff alphabet #fluff #my writing #Rouxls Kaard x Reader #deltarune x reader

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michaelgovehateblog · 3 years

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Piggy in the Middle

Queen Elizabeth x Michael Gove, Michael Gove x Matt Hancock, 1500 words

“Michael Gove and Sarah Vine to divorce.” She knew it was bad, but Elizabeth’s heart couldn’t help but skip a beat when she saw the headlines. She had spent years forcing herself to ignore how she really felt about Michael and pretending the flirty looks and comments they shared were meaningless or all in her head; after all, they were both married, and publicly at that, especially in the case of her and Philip. And it’s not that she didn’t love Philip, because she of course did, but there was something about Gove and his pig-like face that just drew her in. And now she was rid of Philip, and Michael and Sarah were splitting up – maybe there was a chance for them.

Not that they would be able to go public with it if anything even did happen between them. As far as the country knew, Elizabeth was still mourning Philip, just putting on a brave face and soldiering on without him. The public probably wouldn’t be able to deal with her moving on so soon. She sighed – her life as a parasite was so difficult.

Elizabeth was so lost in her thoughts she almost didn’t hear the knock at her door, and subsequent voice.

“Your Majesty? It’s 12, we’re scheduled to leave now.”

“Of course, I’m coming now.” She responded, and stood up to leave, making sure to glance in the mirror to check she still looked presentable. Everything was still pristine: icy white grey hairs all perfectly in place and nude lipstick completely un-smudged. She was wearing a long royal blue (her signature colour) coat with large buttons of a slightly softer blue colour, all of which were done up. This was worn over a classy floral-patterned dress, which wasn’t visible under the jacket. Perched on top of her head was an elaborate hat made from material the exact same colour as the coat and adorned with white and blue flowers. The shoes she wore were a standard pair of elegant black heels and the look was finished off with a pair of black gloves.

Satisfied the outfit was perfectly uncreased as always, Elizabeth left the room to head to the whatever event it was this time, she didn’t really care. Mostly she just showed up at these things for a bit of good PR and so people would continue believe she works hard and really cares about the common people (Which she didn’t obviously. Why would she.) Although, she was certain that someone had told her that this event would have many politicians also in attendance, so she was hopeful that she might encounter a certain cabinet member.

As per usual, Elizabeth was finding the event mind-numbingly boring, just endless shaking hands with forgettable people she was supposed to pretend to be interested in. But then she spotted him. And at the same moment she saw him, Michael glanced in her direction and they were making direct eye contact. She gave him a shy smile, which he returned as he started walking towards her, not breaking eye contact.

“Your Majesty,” said Michael, extending his arm to shake hands, “How are you today?” They shook hands, Michael noticing how dry and wrinkly Elizabeth’s felt, and her in turn mentally noting the bizarre clamminess of his, both of which only increased each person’s attraction to the other.

“I’m doing wonderfully,” she responded, “And thoroughly enjoying this lovely event.” she made sure to add, aware of how many people were probably in earshot. “But what about yourself? I heard the news. It must be a difficult time for you.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing this; he couldn’t believe that the Queen actually cared enough about him to pay attention to the news about him and his (soon to be ex) wife. He had always felt there was some kind of connection between the two of them but told himself he was imagining it – what other option did he have. But unusually for his cowardly personality, he got a sudden burst of confidence, and was shocked to hear himself talking.

“Ma’am, I think I need to step outside to get some fresh air. Would you be interested in joining me for a walk?” He hadn’t had confidence to do anything like that since his coked-up days of 20 years ago. Well, he always said 20 years ago, but those close to him, such as Matt Hancock, knew he was prone to enjoy a smidge of the substance of an evening.

“Yes, I would enjoy that a lot.” replied Elizabeth, much to Michael’s delight. He offered out his elbow, purely out of politeness, of course, which she accepted, outwardly calmly but very eagerly inside. A walk outside would probably mean time properly alone, where other people couldn’t hear them, something they had probably never had before.

They continued small talk for a while, about the event and such, until they were far enough away from the general crowds for more intimate conversation.

"How have you been coping, Ma'am, without the Prince? Such an unexpected shame, his untimely demise like that. It was truly a shock to all of us."

Right, 'untimely'. Elizabeth often forgot that Philip's death was supposed to be something entirely unexpected for her, not something she knew would happen down to the exact time and place.

"Missing him, of course, but life has to go on. And it's strange to remember that I am single again, after all these years. That's not been the case since I was 13 and Philip was an adult."

"Yes, it's the same for me, minus the questionable age difference. I’ve been married to Sarah for so long that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to meet other people - and be with other people...” at these words the two made eye contact, neither knowing what to say aloud but having an entire unspoken conversation.

“Mr Gove… Or Michael, may I call you Michael? Would you be interested in visiting the Palace for dinner sometime soon? I could give you a personal tour of the grounds.”

“Yes, Ma’am, of course you can call me Michael,” Almost unthinkingly, the pair faced each other and reached for each other's hands. “And I would be honoured to visit the palace, Ma’am.”

Elizabeth let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding, “Please, no need to bother with the formalities, at least not whilst nobody else is listening. Call me Elizabeth. Now, we should probably head back inside to the event, we’ve been out here a while, people will be missing me. They basically worship me. But I’ll get someone to contact you about your visit to the palace - I’d do it myself, only that sort of thing is far beneath me.” A smile spread over Michael’s pig-mannequin hybrid face as they made their way back inside.

What they hadn’t realised during their encounter, was that it wasn’t as private as they had thought; in fact another politician had been lurking and watching the entire scene.And he wasn’t happy about what he saw. As soon as Elizabeth and Michael walked off in separate directions, Matt Hancock quickly grabbed Gove by the arm and dragged him into a quiet corridor.

“Hancock.”

“Gove. I saw you outside just now, heard you talking with a certain monarch. The two of you seemed quite friendly.”

“Oh. Right. I hadn’t thought anyone else had been outside. You won’t - you won’t tell anyone what you saw or heard, will you?”

“I won’t. But only because it’s you, if it had been anybody else, I would be telling the sun immediately. The queen’s new love interest, I couldn’t hope for anything better to get the tabloids off my back. But because it’s you - I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

“Matt, what do you mean? Why are you making an exception for me?”

“Govey, as if you don’t know. You must have realised how I feel about you.” Hancock stepped closer to Gove and in his mind’s eye, imagined the Sims social interactions menu, and pictured selecting ‘kiss’. (It was from looking at the characters in the game, after all, that he learnt to kiss in the first place. The mindset and techniques stuck with him.) To his delight, he felt Michael kissing him back. Matt deepened the kiss and their tongues battled for dominance. Suddenly, Michael pulled away and stared, speechless, at Matt.

After about half a minute unable to muster any coherent thoughts (not even coherent by conservative standards) Gove turned away and briskly walked to an empty room, where he could sit alone and process all of what just happened. Not only was he certain now that Elizabeth felt the same spark that he did, but Hancock, whom he had secretly had a low-level affection for for many years, had just snogged him out of jealousy? He didn’t expect to be wrapped up in a love triangle the very day his divorce was announced, and yet it seemed that was what was happening. His years of being an incompetent and sleazy politician had clearly earned him some admirers.

If you made it to the end, I'm only partly sorry for what you just read. I would be willing to write a second chapter if for some godforsaken reason somebody actually would want to read one. This took me far too long to write for something that is honestly not that many words but I feel like it's understandable, given the subject matter. k bye

#i dont know if the title is actually funny but i found it funny #because of gove being a pig #also does anybody happen to have an ao3 invite they would be willing to share cos i kind of want to post this there but i dont have an acc #i have not proof read this at all so it might be complete nonsense lmao #anyway here is the promised fanfic please enjoy #uk politics #i will be reblogging this at some point because i put far too much effort into this #michael gove #matt hancock

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burneddownthegym · 3 years

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When do you think Buffy and Spike started developing feelings for each other? I think for Spike it started in season 2 which has been kind of confirmed by Dru, but what about Buffy? Their relationship seemed to change after Spike let Glory torture him to protect Dawn, but I like to believe Buffy had unregistered feelings for Spike way earlier. I don’t know what’s true though. She let him live many times when she shouldn’t and that could just be the writers wanting to keep Spike but it could also be read as Buffy not wanting to kill him for some reason. If I were Buffy I would have at least been attracted to him from the start but I’m not Buffy. What do you think?

oh god. i started writing this and it just got more and more unhinged until i was left with a novel. but here’s my headcanon under the cut.

i think for spike it started in season 2, yeah. kind of immediately. i mean in his second episode he already has like ten tv’s mounted on the ceiling to obsessively watch buffy fight? ok weirdo. obviously the writers weren’t planning on spuffy at the time but it all fits with the dru retcon in “fool for love”. i think any feelings he had were super repressed in him for a while though, and were probably closer to obsession than anything (where does one draw the line between obsession and love? much to think about!!). tbh, and maybe this is controversial, i kind of think it’s not until “intervention” that he really understands just how in love with her he is, or what it really means to be in love with her. he definitely thinks he’s in love, he has a raging, identity-crisis crush, but i don’t know, something just feels different after that episode. i feel like it’s when his feelings for buffy really become less about him and more about her. like, less about having her or wanting her to recognize him, and more about wanting to be what she actually needs. less about *loving* buffy and more about loving *buffy*, maybe. so even though his feelings before then are real, they feel real in a different way to me after “intervention”.

buffy is harder. personally, i don’t think she was ever consciously attracted to spike until maybe s5. (buffy being immediately attracted to him in fic is actually a huge pet peeve for me; it doesn’t feel in character at all and can even make me stop reading). i think there was latent attraction, but spike was just so far outside the bounds of who she thought she would be attracted to that it doesn’t register that way (reason #34095 spuffy is a lesbian ship, obv. also it’s why her being attracted to him immediately can turn me off in fic, bc it makes the relationship feel less gay, and that’s kind of important to me). i think she finds him tacky and annoying and lame and just not a sexual object. he’s a soulless vampire and you don’t sexualize those. and so anything sexual she felt toward him she dismissed the way you might dismiss a weird sex dream about someone you’d never want in real life (jane espenson apparently had notes on her desk pre-s5 saying buffy had sex dreams about him, which i totally buy, especially after “something blue”). i think one of the reasons she freaks out so bad in “crush” is that suddenly spike isn’t in the non-sexualizable category anymore. like, what, vampires and slayers are sexualizing each other now? like in real life not just innuendo? you broke the rules, what am i supposed to do now? it’s why she’s so weirded out when he tries to kiss her in “fool for love” and goes on about how people can’t love without a soul in “crush”. spike isn’t fitting his sexual category and she doesn’t know how to deal with it so she tries to stuff him back in. long story short, i think it’s only after “crush” that she actually consciously thinks about his attractiveness, because before then he just wasn’t someone on the table for her to think about that way.

(oh i should also add—i think spike’s “crush” moment with buffy is “who are you?” when faith comes onto him. because it was sort of a similar thing for him. even though he was attracted to buffy before that episode, it was something he repressed or treated as kind of a game. innuendo and eroticism as a battle tactic but not something you’d actually follow through on in real life. but he thinks buffy breaks the rules in “who are you?” and suddenly makes herself real-life sexualizable. so i think his attraction becomes more conscious after that, even if he’s still trying to act like it’s something that disgusts him, like buffy post-“crush”.)

(also, this is why it’s so easy to read violence and murder as sublimated desire in a gay way with spuffy. it’s not really about murder and violence. it’s about them expressing romantic/erotic desire within the bounds of what their roles allow, because they can’t conceive of each other in other roles.)

but i do think buffy did still have some sort of draw to spike before s5. i feel like instinctually she saw him as more of a person than other vampires pretty early. definitely not consciously, and definitely wasn’t love. but she talks to him like he’s a really annoying guy more than she talks to him like some sort of mindless enemy. she doesn’t bother telling other soulless vampires that she violently dislikes them, or mock them about their breakups. i think the only other soulless vampires she sort of treats that way are harmony and holden in cwdp, which makes sense since both of those are vampires she knew before they were vamped. she didn’t kill harmony either, and wasn’t excited about having to kill holden. but spike is the only “stranger” vampire she sees that way, and i think that’s interesting! i think a lot of her conflict over him is due to this too, tbh. he instinctually feels like both a person and not-a-person to her, and that’s hard for her to process.

i have zero canon to back this up, but i think the first time buffy kind of sort of falls in love with spike is in “the gift”, when he says he’d protect dawn until the end of the world. i mainly think this because i don’t think it can be understated how important dawn is to buffy, or how telling it is that she kisses spike in “intervention”. other people have said this, but she just doesn’t kiss people every time they do something nice for her. i don’t think she would have done that unless she felt some sort of latent *something* for him, and unless he’d done something that really deeply affected her. him being willing to sacrifice himself for dawn’s sake, or protect her above all, affects buffy first: because of how self-sacrificing she is. she’s always the one who has to die or put herself on the line for other people. and second: she’s the only one who cares about dawn the way she does. no one else goes into a coma or threatens giles or vows to protect her until the end of the world…except spike.

so the fact that spike would understand the self-sacrificial and protecting-dawn parts of her, or help her with them in the same unthinkingly committed way, when no one else is, i think hits her where she lives. he understands and is not just supporting, but *embodying* this hugely important thing to her at the time when it counts the most. so she falls a bit in love with him. maybe just a second, or a minute, and then she ignores it and saves the world. but that’s the first time it happens.

then as far as s6 goes, i pretty much take buffy at her word when she says she has feelings for him, but that they’re not love. i think she has really intense and confusing emotions around him and for him, but they just don’t cohere into something that could be called something clear-cut like love. and that’s sort of the tragedy of that season? it has all the potential and intensity and chemistry for love, but she doesn’t like or trust herself and she doesn’t trust him, and he isn’t in a place where he can understand the guilt and self-hate she’s going through, or be moral without her guidance, and so in a lot of ways her lack of trust really is justified. so it just can’t quite reach the realness of love, where you want and want to care for the other person’s whole self. but (adding this edit based on a comment by marinxttes!), i totally agree that a lot of her breakup with spike is about her feeling enough for him that it doesn’t feel right to use him anymore. i think that’s the decisive moment when she stops being confused about whether he is or isn’t a person (and whether *she* is or isn’t), and decides he is one. maybe not one she thinks she can love yet, but one she genuinely cares about doing right by, and that’s a huge shift.

i believe her in s7 too when dawn asks if she loves him and she says she feels for him. i don’t know when exactly that whole mess starts cohering into something that really is love for buffy, but i feel like it’s happening the whole season. like air condensing into water. all the pieces have been there, amorphously, for a long time, and finally they’re allowed to take form. so when she says “i love you” in “chosen”, it’s at once something new, and also something that’s been there all along.

#ship: spuffy #do i have evidence to back up 90% of this? no #am i going to post it anyway? absolutely

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owl-with-a-pen · 2 years

Text

Nia’s heart was racing so hard from their latest group dance that she almost didn’t notice when the music abruptly changed pace.

It was only when Alex swept Kelly into her arms on the first beat of the new - slower - song that was playing that Nia realised what was going on at all.

After that, the rest of the guests didn’t need much encouragement to start pairing off, quickly following suit around the brides, swaying together in a matched rhythm to the soft plunks of piano keys that soon overtook the lively music that that had preceded it.

It was a warm and gentle instrumental cover. One that Nia quickly recognised.

“Dream A Little Dream of Me?” She smirked, shaking her head. “Seriously?”

“Purely coincidental, I’m sure,” a voice said from behind her.

Nia’s smirk grew to a full-fledged grin in a heartbeat.

She was still getting used to it. To seeing him and knowing that he was actually there, for real this time. Not just an illusion her sleep deprived mind might’ve conjured up in the early hours of the morning, not a voice of a stranger in a crowd she’d mistaken for his one too many times when she'd been out alone.

No, this time when Nia turned, it was the Brainy she had been far too afraid to imagine as a substitute that greeted her. A Brainy who was alive and well, who was present and with her in that moment – a Brainy who was smiling just as brightly as she was.

And, as she glanced down, she realised that he had his hand extended out towards her.

Nia took it immediately, squeezing him tight. “Oh, really?” she teased.

“Indeed,” Brainy said, offering a secretive smile. “After all, what are the odds this song was requested for the express purpose of having the opportunity to slow dance with the love of my life?” With that, Brainy tugged Nia’s arm above her head, directing her into a quick yet expert spin that sent the world tumbling out of focus.

Not that she minded. So long as Brainy was holding onto her, she knew that he'd never let her fall.

Nia's face warmed as she stumbled the final step into Brainy’s arms. She was practically moulded into his chest from this distance, the familiar warmth of his life projectors blossoming across patches of her dress. Brainy watched her with a tender smile, opening his embrace up to her when she pressed herself tighter against him, tucking her face into the welcoming curve of his shoulder.

She breathed him in, closing her eyes. “I’m sure you could tell me those odds,” she murmured, her lips teasing a wayward strand of blond hair that had curled by her boyfriend’s ear. “No more secrets, remember?”

Electricity danced up her spine when Brainy’s hands slid across her back. “Then, I concede that the odds were incredibly high,” he admitted, his mouth lingering for a long moment by her jaw. “And would be an absolute certainty... if you believe this to be an acceptable romantic gesture.”

Nia’s fingers dug appreciatively into Brainy’s shoulder. “It’s perfect.”

They fell into step with each other then, the rhythm of the music guiding them just as much as their own bodies. Nia had always seen dancing sort of like fighting in a weird not-so-much kind of a way. Both mediums involved a certain level of dexterity and practice, but to get it just right with a partner... you had to know that person intimately, you had to feel them at your side, every step of the way.

And so, for every step Brainy made, Nia was there to fill the space he’d left behind. It was simple, certain, performed as unthinkingly as breathing, and yet just a year or so ago, Nia knew they would have struggled finding their balance.

Now, she could have stayed like this forever.

As they both sank into the soft melody of Brainy’s chosen song, Nia let her fingers explore Brainy’s suit, running over the bumps and swirls of embroidery along the fabric. Every intricate detail was wonderful to her, because it only further cemented in her mind that this was happening at all. That this was all real.

She’d imagined Alex and Kelly’s wedding a million times in her head over the last few weeks, in equal parts dreading it as much as she’d been excited. A part of her had felt jealous to see them get their happy ending after everything they'd been through, and she’d hated that part of herself so much for trying to bring down an otherwise momentous occasion for her found family.

She’d felt so hollow standing in that green just a few hours ago, watching as Winn had walked around the corner with a lump in her throat large enough to choke her.

Stars fading but I linger on, dear Still craving your kiss I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear Just saying this

Even without the vocals being present, the memory still prompted phantom lyrics to play inside her mind. The meaning behind them was oddly telling, after all, speaking not just for how she’d felt in Brainy’s absence, but what Brainy himself had surely been going through as well.

Neither one of them had known how the other was doing, had yearned for that peace of mind, to find themselves together again even when time and space had had another ending planned.

Still, the lyrics continued in her head:

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you But in your dreams whatever they be Dream a little dream of me

The afternoon sun was low enough in the sky to cast deep tones of red in patches of the grass, warming the atmosphere into a fuzzy glow that seemed to cancel out the people around her. Nia found it easy to imagine that they were alone together in that moment, two bodies swaying in motion under the twinkle of fairy lights, the enticing smells of a fresh cut lawn and candle smoke tantalising their senses.

But, Nia didn’t have to dream any more, didn’t have to imagine anymore.

And, just like that, it really seemed to sink in.

This wasn’t just her reality for the moment, but for every moment that followed, even after the wedding was through. This wasn’t temporary, a means to draw out an already staggered and heart wrenching goodbye.

No longer did they have to spend their days together living on stolen time.

She had him now until forever, for however long that might be. The future they’d dreamt of building really and truly started today.

The sun had finally found them both, and Nia’s heart swelled with the knowledge that this was only the beginning, that there would be thousands of moments just like this one to come.

Impulsively, she pressed her lips into Brainy’s throat, grinning when he tightened his arms around her in response, burying his nose into her hair.

For the first time in three weeks, she couldn’t wait to see what the next day was going to bring.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #brainia #nia nal #brainiac 5 #dreamdox #querl dox #brainy #dansen #my writing #can you believe that in all the prompts i have yet to do no one has asked me to do a slow dance one yet??#so. i just wrote it myself.#VERY quickly i might add. i just wanted to do something as a bit of a filler while i work on some bigger more exciting stuff.#but this idea wouldn't leave me alone and i thought it was cute so enjoy!

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peggyrose19 · 3 years

Text

What Happens in Vegas Doesn’t Always Stay There

i was gonna do homework but i got inspired and wrote this instead. i also took a 90 minute nap at 6pm so now i’m bouncing off the walls and can’t actually make myself focus for longer than 30 seconds.....what was i saying? anyways this really got away from me wow. i have no regrets.

characters by @lumosinlove

@im-oknutzy-trash, @wonder-womans-ex

cw: mentions of characters being drunk, swearing, idiot gays

Alex wasn’t sure how on earth they’d gotten on the topic of marriage. But conversations were always chaotic between the three of them so really he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Besides, if he was being honest with himself, he’d been thinking about it far more than he cared to admit.

He enjoyed the idea, the three of them being married. Making the commitment to each other. It wasn’t legal, but that didn’t matter. They could still be married in spirit. Maybe one day it would even happen.

“Y’know, Alex and I are married,” Kasey said casually, raising the bottle to his lips. Natalie gaped at him.

“You what?”

Alex laughed. “I forgot about that.”

Natalie glanced between the two of them quickly. “Please explain.”

With a laugh, Alex just shook his head. “We were playing Vegas in 2015, right after they legalized gay marriage, right? Both of us got shit-faced drunk and, in our drunken state, decided that getting married was an obviously very sound plan.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, after we had sobered up, we had kind of....forgotten it happened.”

“Then a few days later I was going through some pictures on my phone for whatever reason, and found one from that night, of the two of us holding a marriage certificate. Alex found it in his suitcase when we got home.”

Alex and Kasey both watched Natalie expectantly. For a long moment, she just stared at them in disbelief, mouth open almost comically wide. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” she cackled. “I cannot believe you two.”

Kasey shrugged. “We never got around to getting it annulled. I suppose neither of us particularly wanted to. We could now, I guess. If you wanted us to.”

Nat’s laughter faded. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well what about you?” Alex asked before Kasey could, as synced with him as he always had been.

“What about me? I don’t need a piece of paper to say I’m in love with you two, not to mention it’s impossible anyways. One day we can have a ceremony with our family and friends and it’ll be dramatic and over-the-top, but for right now? I don’t need anything else.”

Alex very nearly melted at that. He glanced over at Kasey, unreadable to most everyone else, who was smiling that half smile Alex loved so much.

“You wanna get married someday?” he asked quietly.

“Hell yeah, I do.”

Alex had never spent a whole lot of time with Sirius Black. He was a bit of an enigma to him, someone so well-known in the media but so secretive in real life. These days, everyone knew Sirius as the first gay NHL player, and the first player to be married to his own teammate. Alex had gotten to know him as Kasey’s teammate, as a good player and captain. So when he found himself beside Sirius and Remus in a crowded bar, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say to the two of them. He could have gone and joined Kasey and Natalie, somewhere on the dance floor together, but he had never been one for public dancing.

“So. How does it feel to be married?” he asked the pair, who immediately glanced at each other and grinned sappily.

“Really good, man,” Sirius replied, not-so-subtly grabbing Remus’ hand. Alex smiled at the gesture. “And being on the same team is great, I mean we get to see each other so much more now.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Alex replied unthinkingly, remembering playing with Kasey even before they were together and relishing in the closeness it brought, the long hours they spent together both on and off the ice. He’d missed having that recently.

“What?”

Alex burst out laughing before he could stop himself, receiving a confused look from Remus and a glare from Sirius.

“You good?” Remus asked warily.

“Fine, fine.”

“What d’you mean ‘it’s cool’?” Sirius asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Ah jeez.” Alex shook his head at himself. “Well, might as well get this over with.”

“Get what over with? Alex what the hell are you talking about?” Sirius looked bewildered, watching him with equal parts suspicion and confusion. Remus too was frowning, but there was a knowing look in his eye, as if he was starting to catch on.

He sighed heavily. “It’s possible Kasey and I got married like, six years ago.”

“What.”

“Yeah. Back when we were on the Rangers together, we were playing Vegas when gay marriage was legalized. And the two of us got shit-faced drunk and decided getting married was a good idea. Then we promptly forgot about it in the morning and once we finally remembered, never actually bothered to annul it. So. We’re still married. Technically. According to the state of Nevada.”

Sirius and Remus both stared at him, expressions strikingly similar to Natalie’s. Alex eyed them warily, unsure what was going to happen now.

“You mean we’re not the first NHL players to marry each other?” Sirius asked, and he seemed so genuinely disappointed Alex had to fight back a laugh.

“Uh, I guess not?”

“Merde,” Sirius swore. Remus just looked at him.

“Does that really matter?” he asked amusedly.

“Of course it matters! We’re the first, Remus! This is a very important development.”

“Okay,” Remus laughed, nodding along. “Whatever you say.”

Sirius just grumbled under his breath.

“Hey Harz, how attached are you to your brother exactly?” Sirius asked at practice the next day, and Kasey glanced over at him. Alex had filled him and Natalie on their conversation the night before, and Sirius’ newfound knowledge was not likely to lead to anything good.

Finn frowned. “He’s alright. Why, what’d he do?“

“Got married, the little fucker.”

Finn dropped the jersey he’d been holding. “What, he’s married? Since when?!”

“Did Nat finally propose?” James piped up.

“He’s not married to Nat,” Sirius said.

If possible, Finn looked even more confused. “He’s not married to Nat?”

“No he’s fucking married to Winters.”

Finn just gaped at Sirius. James looked positively delighted. “What- our Winter?” he asked. “Like, Kasey Winters... the Lions goalie?”

“Standing right here,” Kasey added. He fought a smile.

Finn glared at him. “Explain yourself right now.”

Kasey squirmed a little under the sudden attention, but he couldn’t fight a laugh. Of course this was how they were all going to find out.

He sighed. “Long story short, Alex and I got ridiculously drunk one night in Vegas and decided to get married for shits and giggles, and then we never did anything about it.”

“What the fuck.” Finn was the first to break the silence. “What the fuck what the fuck.” He grabbed his phone from his stall and opened it, aggressively tapping at the screen. “Alex!” he very nearly shouted into his phone. Kasey could hear his bright laughter through the phone. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t bug him, Finn,” Kasey tried, but the red-head would hear nothing of it.

“Alex O’Hara, you get your ass down here now,” Finn demanded into the phone, and then promptly hung up. Kasey just shook his head and went back to getting dressed. A few moments later, the locker room door squeaked open and Alex stood before the team, wearing his Winters jersey and fighting a smirk.

“Something wrong Finn?” he asked with feigned innocence.

“Yes, you little shit. Sirius said you’re married? To Kasey?”

Alex’s eyes danced. “It’s possible.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Prove it.”

“Finn how the fuck do you propose I do that?”

He jerked his head towards Kasey. “Kiss him.”

Alex frowned. “Dude, we’re literally together, you know this.”

But Finn’s jaw was set stubbornly, and Kasey knew that look never meant anything good. So Alex sighed good-naturedly and crossed the room to Kasey, stopping in front of him.

“Okay?” he asked quietly, meant only for Kasey’s ears. He nodded minutely.

Alex smiled softly, then leaned forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, one hand coming to rest on the small of Kasey’s back, the other cupping his cheek. After a moment he pulled away and looked expectantly back at Finn, staring at the two of them with a mixture of shock and approval.

“Satisfied?” Alex asked smugly, staying tucked against Kasey’s side. Kasey would never admit it, and certainly not in front of the team, but he rather enjoyed having Alex here, feeling his warmth even through the pads, knowing he’d later be watching the game and cheering him on.

“Fine,” Finn grumbled. “But I still can’t believe you kept that a secret.”

Conflicting emotions crossed Alex’s face, there and then gone, invisible unless one knew to look. Kasey knew the unintentional pain Finn’s words had on his brother, and knew Alex was far too polite to get into it with Finn right then.

“Talk to him later, baby,” Kasey whispered to Alex, hiding it by pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

Alex nodded, hiding the pain with a good-natured smile. But he stayed pressed against Kasey, and that told him all he needed to know.

“Hey Finn!” Alex called out, jogging down the hallway to catch his brother, leaving with Leo and Logan.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked distractedly, still glancing down at his phone.

“I need to borrow you for a moment.” Finn looked up at him, eyes narrowing, before murmuring something to his boys. They both nodded and kissed him before continuing on towards the exit.

“What’s up?” Finn asked, clicking his phone off and sliding it into his pocket.

“I um...” Alex trailed off, finding himself suddenly without words, despite thinking over what he wanted to say earlier. “Just wanted to talk.”

“If this is about before, you don’t have to worry about it,” Finn interrupted gently before Alex could continue. “It’s okay. I get why you kept it a secret.”

Alex released a breath and stared at his little brother. He felt like he was just now seeing him for the first time, and seeing the man he had become in the past few years. He’d never noticed before, the understanding and kindness behind Finn’s lighthearted gaze.

“How did you know?”

Finn shrugged. “You’re easy to read.”

When Alex got home, he found Natalie watching television on the couch, Kasey seemingly asleep on her lap. She smiled when he appeared in the doorway, beckoning him over silently.

“You talk to Finn?” she asked silently as he slid in on her other side. She let him lean into her, tossing the blanket over him as well.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Alex shrugged. “He was... surprisingly understanding about the whole thing. I didn’t even have to say anything. He just seemed to know.”

“Yeah, he’s like that sometimes,” Kasey mumbled, and Alex jumped a little.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Kasey didn’t bother sitting up, but he opened his eyes and looked blearily up at the two of them.

“Yeah. Was just resting.”

The three of them fell silent then, letting the comfortable silence settle over them.

“Hey Nat?” Alex broke the silence after a while.

“What’s up?”

“Were you serious about the whole marriage thing? Do you really want to get married at some point? Like, not married married. But, you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” she replied sincerely. “Maybe not yet. I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. But at some point.”

“I’d really like that,” Kasey said quietly.

“Me too.”

She smiled. “We should go to Vegas. Bring the whole thing full circle, y’know?”

Kasey huffed a laugh, “Whatever you want.”

#o'darwin #alex o'hara #finn o'hara #alex and finn being brothers #idiots in love #natalie being the amazing being she is #sirius being dramatic #marriage talk #kasey and alex being drunk fools #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove

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itsclydebitches · 2 years

Note

This is a quote from your analysis of the Qrow vs Tyrian vs Clover fight "He’s not stopping Qrow from attacking Tyrian because he wants to save the serial killer or something equally ridiculous. He’s making use of openings in a fight where he’s outmatched two to one." To me, this is an exact summation of the "unthinkingly following orders" mindset. No thinking person would give Qrow equal priority to Tyrian. They would have either teamed up against Tyrian or let the two weaken each other.

They would if Qrow had attacked them. Which is precisely what happens.

What's frequently ignored in this fight is that Qrow made an unambiguous enemy of Clover. Originally, Qrow wanted to talk to Ironwood about this perceived mistake, which is something they can easily do if they simply treat the arrest as a formality. 'Arrest' Qrow by bringing him to Ironwood.

Qrow: Cut it out! Both of you. We're almost back to Atlas. Let's talk to James personally and—

But then Tyrian says they should stop talking and start this "show," Robyn agrees, she shoots at Clover, and Qrow immediately joins in, sighing "Fine" and swinging his sword twice before trying to talk Clover down:

Clover: I wish it hadn't come to this.

Qrow: It doesn't have to!

For me, this is the exact same nonsense as Ruby telling Harriet that they need to work together after having just overtly started a battle with her. 'We don't have to fight each other,' Qrow says, as he continually swings his sword at Clover, helping Robyn start and maintain this fight. If he actually believes they don't have to fight, then how about he, idk, not fight? Help Clover subdue Robyn who is the one needlessly acting out—she's not even under arrest—and then figure out how to compromise with Clover without her. But Qrow doesn't do that. He takes the course that tells Clover, 'Oh shit, Qrow is no longer my ally.'

Then, after they've crashed, Qrow makes it even more clear that he won't compromise and yes, he will fight him, no matter what Clover wants:

Clover: I enjoyed working with you, you know. Even with that endless cynicism of yours.

Qrow: I'm usually proven right.

Clover: We don't have to fight, friend.

Qrow: You don't know my friends. That's how it always goes.

At this point I'd be like, 'Okay. I have to defend myself from this guy. He's made it clear twice over that he means to take me out in order to avoid this arrest. He no longer considers me a friend and is treating me like an enemy. I'll have to do the same in order to keep myself safe.' And then just to top things off, Qrow willingly teams up with the serial killer, which Clover sees him do. I really am endlessly confused by the criticism against Clover defending himself against two fighters, both of whom have attacked him, whereas Qrow agreeing to work with Tyrian is treated as some sort of justified necessity.

So to recap: Qrow attacked Clover first, reiterated his belief that fighting was the only solution/they're not really friends, and knowingly helped Tyrian of all people break Clover's aura, leading directly to his murder. At what point in all this is Clover allowed to defend himself without it being brushed aside as, 'He's just following orders'? Keep in mind, if Qrow was this desperate to avoid arrest and was actually willing to prioritize a peaceful option, he could have flown off at any point, especially post-plane crash. But he chose to fight Clover to the point of breaking his aura, out in the middle of the tundra, while Robyn is unconscious, and while Tyrian is right there, poised to murder him. Clover's initial 'I need to arrest you' has no bearing on Qrow's phenomenally stupid decisions here, the decisions which directly lead to Clover treating him as an additional enemy—a lost ally. Arrest in Remnant is not an equivalent to an arrest in real life. Qrow is in no danger from Clover, his friend. He, as of right now, has no reason to think he's in danger from Ironwood either, also a friend. As far as he's aware, this arrest and Ruby's five second message is some massive misunderstanding that can be cleared up through a personal chat. So why not do that, just with some symbolic cuffs on his wrists? Has Qrow already forgotten that the last time he was arrested he was immediately freed and forgiven, with Ironwood shrugging off their actual crime? Here, Qrow knows he hasn't done anything, so from his perspective there's nothing to be afraid of. This Volume has taught Qrow that arrest in Atlas just means being taken directly to Ironwood's office and working things out through conversation — the exact thing he claims he wants.

So the fact that he so quickly set that option aside to instead go, 'Yeah, Robyn's got the right approach. If someone does something you don't agree with, just attack them until they stop' highlights how these characters are written solely to support whatever new plot is being put forth. Their personalities and ability to make decisions outside of what that plot needs is all but nonexistent. I mean, what was Qrow even planning to do post-fight? Take on Tyrian by himself after he failed to beat him during their last 1 vs. 1 and now he's tired from fighting Clover? Leave Clover out in the snow where the cold will supposedly kill him without aura? Try to put Clover in cuffs, march him all the way back to Atlas like that, also without his aura, only to go to Ironwood's office like he originally intended just to say, 'I wanted to talk to you from the get-go, but I took the time to help crash the ship and beat up my friend first'? There's no possible outcome here where Qrow wins this fight and is in a better position than he would have been just agreeing to the arrest. He doesn't know that Ironwood won't go back on the order, that it's not a misunderstanding this time, so Qrow is needlessly making a slightly inconvenient and mildly insulting situation into a deadly one. He never should have helped Robyn, which is what gave Tyrian the chance to crash them. At the very least, he never should have cornered Clover and started the second round. Just fly off the moment he wakes up, send help for Clover and Robyn, a team to re-capture Tyrian, and then start a mini-quest to figure out wtf is going on that Ironwood would want him arrested.

Clover, meanwhile, has no more context for the arrest than Qrow does. That's really crucial here. He doesn't know everything we know about the office scene and how wrong (according to the show) this arrest is, nor does his loyalty to Qrow outweigh his loyalty to Ironwood. As far as Clover is aware, this arrest sucks, but it poses no threat to his friend and it's probably just some big misunderstanding that they'll clear up as soon as they get back. If he can talk Qrow into just going along with this, they'll work it out. Or hell, he can't be sure that Qrow hasn't done something to justify the arrest.

I want us to imagine for a moment that Weiss got a text from Ruby. 'Arrest Harriet,' it says. That's it. No other context. All Weiss knows is that her leader, someone she trusts and has worked with for years, has said to arrest an ally of theirs for yet unknown reasons. Don't we think she'd do it? Don't we think Weiss would attempt to hold Harriet and bring her in, trusting that Ruby gave this order for a good reason, no matter how much Weiss personally doesn't like it? Don't we think her loyalty to Ruby would outweigh a professional friendship that's only lasted a couple of weeks? Don't we think that if Harriet's response to Weiss trying to peacefully bring her in was to go into full-on attack mode, that just might imply that Harriet is not, in fact, trustworthy? This is the post-Lionheart age. Salem gains footholds largely through turning heroes without anyone else knowing. If Weiss got that order and was attacked by Harriet when she tried to arrest her, she'd probably go, 'Ruby was right. Something's up with Harriet. She might be a spy. Regardless, I need to defend myself now and ensure I bring her in as requested. Because I trust Ruby's decisions. She'd never order me to arrest our ally unless there was a very, very good reason.'

That's Clover's situation with Ironwood and Qrow.

It's not Clover's fault Qrow decided that the only solution to any problem is to attack the person you disagree with. The fact that Clover died partly as a result of Qrow's choices, only for the show to go on and say a) it's actually Ironwood's fault, b) Qrow is so much better than evil Clover, and c) actually getting revenge on Ironwood doesn't even matter, let's drop that two Volume plot point with a single sentence, just highlights for me precisely how badly written the Atlas arc is.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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levihantrash · 3 years

Text

Just People | levihan (post-Return to Shiganshina)

on AO3 here: link (~800 words)

-----

Moblit saved Hange’s life by dying. Levi saved Erwin’s life by letting him die.

When their friends die, Hange and Levi have only each other to grieve with.

-----

The forest should be a place of danger. If instincts take over, the threat of titans will become second nature. Unless—you are on the canopy. Hange finds themselves having escaped there, unthinkingly, with one trembling hand on a gas tank.

It was a reckless decision, but at the very least, not a life-threatening pitfall.

The soft landing of two other feet on the wide branches follows swiftly behind Hange.

They do their best to pretend. If they ram their eyelids shut, cover their ears, maybe the world will disappear. For once, Hange wants to taste the intoxicating sin of letting go. Of shirking responsibility.

“I’m tired.” All the air in the forest for this one, inconsequential line. A selfish line because everyone is bone-dead exhausted. Some, if not most, are actually dead. The weight, so unbearable, is pressure that can easily break the thick branch they are sitting on, feet dangling metres above the ground. Hange will gladly, cowardly, accept the descent with relief. It’s fate. To be given an extended lease of life in this world, is a curse. To be granted the burden of life in replacement of another, of someone important, is tasting ash in your mouth. The ash of your comrades piling up in the back of your throat, waiting for answers.

The worst part of it all, Hange thinks, is the biting sensation that fills them with shame. It’s the part where Hange is glad to be alive, in some twisted form.

Levi confirms this feeling, laying a tentative hand on their shoulder. In a way, he had the uglier side of the ordeal. He had a choice to make. A sick game, dabbling with mortality. A sick game that led to an unprecedented decision—arguably a more humane one. It wasn’t a binary between rationality and emotion. It was rational; to let go of someone who was ready to leave. It was rational, to take into account the emotions of Erwin, the dreams and hopes of a friend. Still, it was emotional to make the rational choice.

Even if it was an inevitably painful choice, Levi is not one to take life lightly. Rather, he is the one who grits his teeth and orders people not to die.

“Don’t you fucking die too.” The cover of harshness bleeds into pleading. He has no more strength for bravado, and frankly, neither does Hange.

The suddenness of death is never something that either of them can get used to.

Gas is a force that hurls the Scouts forward, at first, towards titan napes and away from jaws; now towards human flesh and away from bullets. Maybe it’s apt that gas is what everyone who ever lived breathes, till their last breath. To Hange, it’s an ominous conjecture that comforts them to an extent. That’s why the gas is precious. It holds heart. It holds fear. It isn’t unwavering, and it doesn’t last forever. But surely, it is enough to move forward a few more stops, before rest.

Hange firmly believes this will be their last break. This fleeting, forest escapade. The hand on their shoulder is a warm reminder that she isn’t utterly alone, and the squeeze that comes moments later is more than what they can ask for from someone in the depths of grief.

For that one night, in the shaky presence of each other, they allow each other to rest. Time trails on slowly, granting them this one luxury.

“Do you think we’ll get to sit under the trees again?”

Levi doesn’t want to break the brevity of tranquillity, so he remains silent. He doesn’t know what to do with the ache buried in his chest, stuck in a dingy corner that he cannot wipe away. Instead, he rephrases his previous imperative, deciding that the privacy of the forest gives him the courage to be just a little selfish.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“There are a lot of people we want alive,” Hange says immediately, like they wish to deliberately maintain the impression of miscomprehension.

Levi tries again. “There are a lot of people I don’t want dead. He tugs at Hange's shoulder. They don't resist, eventually facing him. "Most of all, you.”

This time, Hange cups his face with a gaze concentrated with so much longing that the aching in his chest flutters, gaining momentary lightness. Their lips press on the area between his eyes—half-closed, glazed. They leave traces of unsaid affection all over. His calm face is laced with a sort of desperation that only lulls in the bristling of leaves surrounding them. Desperation that comes with the knowledge that in the next waking consciousness, there will be no space for these small snatches of bliss.

“Let’s live a little longer. For us.”

“For us,” he agrees, capturing his tiny world in another teary, yearning kiss.

Is it joy? Is it peace? Is it sitting in partial darkness, sharing the dreary pain of loss?

Perhaps, it is simplicity. Tonight, they are not soldiers, heroes, or killers. Not even people stubbornly trying to conceive of a world less terrible than it is now.

Tonight, they are people sitting in the forest; people who need reprieve. Just Hange. Just Levi. And for tonight, being just people, is enough.

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

Text

Artistic Instinct Chapter Eight

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 5,600

Warnings: Language as always, mentions of drinking, alcohol and drunkenness, mentions of sex OH AND HEARTBREAK

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

The right person, the wrong time.

The right script, the wrong line.

The right poem, the wrong rhyme.

And a piece of you

That was never mine

K Towne Jr.

Chapter 8

The black topped streets of Lewisham radiate the day’s spring sunshine as if intent upon sending the heaven sent warmth back up through Marcus’ soles. The evening’s golden light creates a love song in his heart - one that morphs from the irritation and melancholy of the morning to a happier more uplifting tune.

When did that mood change? Oh yes, that embrace.

Nush.

Marcus hadn’t realised just how low his battery was for touch until you threw your arms around him. How much much he’d needed your body close to his again. Feeling your softness against him, inhaling your intoxicating scent. How he’d longed to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair in that cuddle. Remembering the pain of breaking that contact, plastering on a smile and kicking himself for it.

Constantly having to watch his need for your touch and tempering it within the normal parameters for a working relationship, Marcus has found himself reaching out for you- making excuses to touch you as you passed him, finding imaginary eyelashes on your face. Being around you felt like a breath that he was unable to release, continuously having to dampen down his natural instincts to hold and stroke you.

Kiss you.

Taste you.

Had he been back in the States, he would have said fuck it and asked you out, but that didn’t exactly go well last time. The pain of knowing exactly what he wants and it just being beyond the reach of his fingertips plagues Marcus daily with the dream of coming home to be loved, nurtured and protected and offer it in return. How do you ever allow yourself to become vulnerable to that risk of failure again? One thing he is certain of, is your current ignorance of the true level of his feelings. The kindness you show others - so much care for everyone around you, albeit through a thinly veiled layer of sarcasm and swearing- and the love your friends show for you, demonstrate that you would be nothing but clear if he was to reveal his true feelings.

Squeezing politely through the crowds, between the narrow shack-like stalls of the fairy-light illuminated market, Marcus heads towards the Highline where Andy had told each of you to meet him. Before he could start climbing the staircase up, a large hand grasps his upper arm, another patting the space between his shoulder blades. Marcus spins, slightly surprised by the touch, to be greeted by Andy’s grinning face.

“Looking good, Sir. Bit sharper than at lunch today,” Andy observes, giving Marcus’ leather jacket, Henley and indigo jeans a once over, “and before you complain, I am going to get you a beer because of the day you’ve had. You can do your management thing of buying the first round in a bit, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

With Andy’s face explicitly telling Marcus not to disagree with him, he nods, definitely needing that drink. As they head together towards the bar, they are both absorbed into the throng of a hundred voices holding loud conversations as they compete with the soundtrack from the decks. The crowd is a mixed bag of teenagers, students and families - the children chasing or trying to catch the sparkling spotlights as their parents reminisce over large gin and tonics about lie-ins and late nights not hunched over a crib.

Winding their way through the laughing and dancing bodies, they head in the direction of the alcohol to order some locally brewed ales, bumping into an already buzzing Kiritopa at almost the front of the queue. After a round of handshakes, back slaps and hearty laughs, they edge ever closer to their goal of amber nectar. Before their drinks are poured, Marcus’ eyes scan the market for the rest of the team when they are caught by a flash of colour. Bright turquoise stockings, a mustard corduroy pinafore, red and white striped T-shirt - oh, it isn’t you. Your wildly coloured legs bring so much colour to his day and they are the first thing he checks as he enters the office. Elbow nudges and a pint glass from Andy brings his attention back to the men in front of him for a quick cheers-ing of glasses before heading out of the melée.

The table on the Highline that Andy had reserved was utterly perfect. It afforded a bird’s eye view of the market - a true dream come true for any avid people watchers, whilst also allowing everyone to talk and be heard by each other with its one storey elevation from the thronging crowds. Andy and Kiritopa are animatedly talking with each other lounging amongst the piles of cushions and blankets on the pallet seating, while Marcus leans against the walkway, clutching his beer, staring off into the urban sprawl of concrete car parks and fried chicken restaurants but only looking for one face.

“Hey, what time do you call this...Whoa - Nush, is that makeup? On your face?” Andy’s eyes are utterly saucer-like in this discovery.

“Hush your mouth - she did it to me,” you jab your finger in Dian’s direction, pouting your lips at the indignation and as Andy goes to make another quip, you add- shoving some chips in his mouth, “Dirty masala fries- thought we’d need something to line our tummies this evening. Although equally, they’ll do a wonderful job of keeping some people’s mouths shut!”

“I think I did a great job- she looks stunning!” having put three portions on the table, Dian steps back to admire her handiwork as you pull a duck face pout at her.

She always looks beautiful.

“So, what’s on these fries?” Marcus asks as he desperately tries to avoid the other thoughts running through his head of how that pencil skirt runs along the curve that falls and rises from your waist to your hips beautifully or the horizontal stripes of your t-shirt - an outfit winning in its quest to distract.

As for that goddamn red lipstick…

It would leave a mark all around my-

“Ok, so they’re skinny French fries with spices shaken over them and a dollop of channa masala on top. Oh and that white shit is garlic mayo to dip them in,” you grin broadly as you pass him a portion - the picant vibrancy of the food telling stories of the fresh, bold flavours to come. Always being a believer in food being one of the ways that you can love a person, the mouthful of potatoes, spices and chickpeas envelops Marcus in an all encompassing hug. His belly sings with happiness with each mouthful he consumes, his tongue delightfully tingling from the chilli powder.

“Y’know Nush. Not had one of your curries for a while,” Andy not-so gently hints.

Marcus can’t help but raise his eyebrows, “Nush, you make curries? How many other hidden talents?”

“She also plays the piano and did ballet until she was fifteen,” Andy adds, ducking as you lob a cushion at him - your face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

“Badly according to my mother,” you say, rolling your eyes as you shove another mouthful in, “Mine aren’t particularly elegant but they are edible. Well they are now anyway - there was one, a keema matar, that I made as a kid where I didn’t realise that chili develops over time. Put in roughly five tablespoons by the end. Could have been used for chemical warfare. Never lived it down but it got me out of cooking for a while.”

The table explodes in uproarious laughter, earning several odd looks from the patrons nearby.

“Well, I’m considering this an invitation to try one of your edible curries as you so eloquently call them,” Kiritopa rubs his belly in anticipation, chuckling at your modesty, “When can we get a date in the book?”

“I love a good curry, so count me in,” Dian chimes in as she pops the chickpeas like sweets into her mouth.

Marcus watches you shift uncomfortably in the spotlight of demands from your co-workers, “If I do this, I need a bigger space to work in as I can’t fit you all in my flat. I’ll need to borrow somewhere that can fit more bums.”

“Could use my apartment to cook and host, if you like?” Marcus proffers, secretly hopeful at trying some of your dishes and perhaps more than a little excited at the thought of spending some one on one time with you.

“Shall we do Sunday evening, if nothing turns up from work?” Kiritopa asks hopefully.

Marcus shrugs by way of confirmation, catching your gaze, drinking in the swirl of colours in your iris, to give you a nod.

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, you exclaim, “Andy- what the fuck have you started? You’ve all grossly overestimated my skills, and now I am going in search of alcohol to dull my senses and make poor decisions,” you dramatically announce with a theatrical bow, “What can I get everyone?”

Seeing an opportunity open up, Marcus touches your arm as you go to leave, “It’s my round. Help me carry them?”

“Deal,” Marcus feels his heart grow as he sees your smile reach every corner of your face.

Before reaching the top of the stairs, Marcus moves himself around to walk in front of you. His body on an autopilot of manners. On reaching the bottom step, he reaches back - unthinkingly - to grab your hand so as not to lose you amongst the multitude drinking, eating and dancing the night away. The momentary panic that spread at the thought of you rejecting him recedes as your fingers thread between his.

Sending a warm smile at you over his shoulder, you follow in the wake of him quietly.

The people near the bar are flowing like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but twirling, swirling around them nevertheless Marcus guides you through, never letting go. The noise of the chatter and throb of the music surrounds you, not allowing for much verbal communication so he settles for small movements and gestures with the hand that is holding yours. When you finally arrive at the queue by the bar, that is when you can speak a bit more freely albeit in theatrical whispers in each other’s ears.

Marcus watches how the evening breeze kisses you, blowing the strands of your growing-out fringe into your face. How you gaze around and observe people whilst also managing to make him feel like he’s the only person there. The way your eyes crease into crescents when you laugh or smile and how much he wishes he could thank all those people jostling you into him. But like all moments with you, it ends too quickly as soon you’re both heading upriver against the current with your trays of drinks.

“Nush, I’ve always thought it was some kind of miracle that you never spill alcohol,” Andy teases you as you bring the drinks to their owners.

“Hah! I don’t waste the good stuff,” you mutter indignantly, “Although perhaps if we want to protect the office carpets, I should…”

“No,” Marcus mock-sternly interjects at the thought of you being drunk and the chaos that would bring, “No day drinking at work, Nush. I’d prefer the coffee stains.”

Your pout and subsequent upward glance through your eyelashes, makes Marcus turn towards the railings, hiding his thoughts in his beer.

Fuck, Nush.

If you only knew what you do to me.

“Hey Kiri, isn’t it? You playing in the tourney tomorrow?” a deep, cut glass accent calls out, cutting through the crowds surrounding them. Marcus turns towards where the sound is coming from and as he does, he catches a strange look cross your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here and how the fuck do you know Kiritopa?” The tone of your voice, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow makes Marcus turn back towards the group inquisitively.

“Nush! Haven’t seen you in a long time but you are looking amazing,” the voice is attached to a face, the kind that would stop anyone in their tracks, “can barely recognise you with makeup on- you should wear it more often.”

You breathlessly mutter, “Fuck off, that’s never going to happen.”

Good girl. Don’t put up with that BS. You’re better than that.

“I know Seb through rugby training,” then tilting his head quizzically, Kiritopa asks, “How do you know him?”

“Since school isn’t it, so what? Roughly twenty years? Through her brother, Adam as we played rugger together. Although, despite such a long time friendship, you wouldn’t let me in your knickers until more recently,” Seb shoots you a wink from over his beer.

The words burn through Marcus as he considers your connection with this man - his eyes narrowing, lips thinning. Loneliness echoing through his racing heart. He hadn’t considered you seeing anyone else- even for the briefest of dalliances but then not everyone is a serial long term monogamist.

Of course you’d have needs, you are an adult woman.

I just wish you’d explore them with me.

“Every now and then it’s nice to have an orgasm attached to a pulse that isn’t delivered by a battery,” you deliver, utterly deadpan.

Seb pretends to be mortally wounded by your words, playing dead into the chair next to yours, languidly flopping his limbs around. Oh, how Marcus would like to wipe that stupid smug smirk off his face!

For fuck’s sake, Pike. Why didn’t you sit next to her when you had the chance?

White knuckles wrapped around his nearly empty pint glass, Marcus silently watches as Seb desperately works to get your attention whilst you chat animatedly with Dian and Andy while Kiri downs the rest of his beer. He hasn’t noticed the pretty young woman with bouncing corkscrew curls observing him from amongst her friends on the next table along.

“Hey. You look like you could do with a drink, can I get you one?”

Abruptly removed from his poorly concealed glowering, Marcus raises his eyebrows in surprise at this question, pausing for some time before realising that it was aimed at him.

“Oh, look don’t worry. It was just a silly thought...” the beautifully tight curls go to withdraw from view and return to their friends.

“No, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” Marcus offers apologetically, “It’s been a day from hell. Let me get you a drink.”

“Wanted to talk to you as I was a bit concerned that you were about to break that glass with how tightly you were gripping it. Glass is an arse to get out of wounds so thought it better to save your hands before you come visit me in A&E,” she gently proposes, “There are better places to spend Friday nights!”

Welcoming the pretty distraction from his destructive thoughts, Marcus’ cheeks dimple as he nods, “I can imagine. Are you a doctor?”

“Yeah, for my sins,” she amusedly huffs, “And on a rare night out, so shall we go get that drink? I’m Kemi, by the way.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Oh, how you long to rip the makeup from your face! As a child, it had been a form of let’s pretend that turned into a mask to hide behind as a young adult as you experimented with finding your true self. Now, that you are established in your womanhood, you feel no need to add layers to your face other than when you are convinced it would be fun by a fast-becoming firm friend.

When Sebastian made a remark about how pretty you looked with the makeup, it made you want to run to the loo right then and there to claw it from your skin.

And what the ever loving fuck is he doing here? Fucking Sebastian of all fucking people, who you accidentally keep finding yourself fucking. You’d just come around to the idea that it might be ok to occasionally go out with people from work but when they meet people from your everyday life - your home life - that isn’t ok. Especially when that person is just a hate fuck. Great in bed but an odious human being as you can’t be that handsome and a decent person, it seems.

Unless you’re Marcus Fucking Pike.

Who is now grabbing a drink with an absolute goddess of a woman.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it had hurt so much when he’d walked off with her but there was such an ache deep in your tummy that could not be ignored. Between that and the appearance of fucking Sebastian, you just want to jump on the 178 home and throw on your jammies, curling up under the shit crocheted throw that you’d made during your leave - more holes than stitches. If it wasn’t for Dian, you would already be on your way there, demolishing something unhealthy from UberEats, glugging a wine or two.

Dian seems to pick up on your drop in mood and decides that it’s time for a trip to the tequila bar. With Andy’s husband now joining your rag-tag gang, you agree to chase some bitter hits of alcohol. As you wind your way among the dancers and drinkers, you see him standing by one of the upturned kegs, laughing at something she has said. You catch his eye, plaster on a smile and send him a wink in the hope that your wish for him to have fun seems genuine.

You sign to him whether he wants a drink but a small shake of his head tells you all you need to know before Dian tugs your hand back in the direction of the bar. Standing in front of the bartender, a moment of sadness washes over you until Kiri passes the salt, Seb licks your hand and the rest of the evening finally takes a softer tone after one, two, three.

The tequila in your tummy makes it hard to concentrate on what Dian and Kiri are chatting about while the three of you curl tipsily upon the comfy cushions as a large fluorescent pink, plastic sign declaring TREAT YO’SELF looms large over your heads. Excusing yourself to the loo, you walk past Marcus - steadfastly refusing any eye contact but ensuring he sees you. As you go to repeat the action on the return journey - not entirely sure as to why you feel the need to seek your boss’s attention - a hand goes to balance you as you walk down the final step.

“Whoa - steady, Nush,” you look up to see Marcus’ concerned face looking down at you.

“Hah! I’m ok. You having a good night?” You ask, your eyes searching his, “She’s truly stunning.”

“Yeah, um, were you guys doing shots?” he enquires, brow still furrowed.

“Yup. It's a really good tequila bar upstairs - should have joined us,” you jab him in the chest with an index finger, “So good that the world just looks like an impressionist painting. All swooshy and a little bit blurry.”

You watch Marcus scratching his neck, “Anyway, what on Earth are you doing here with me? Go get her, idiot.”

“Ah, here you are Bad Idea Puppy- thought you’d fallen asleep on the loo. Although that wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Sebastian brays, stepping between you and Marcus as he grabs your hand to lead you onto the dancefloor. Allowing yourself to be led away, you look back over your shoulder at him, mouthing go get her with a wink as if that would soften the pain that had appeared with her.

The music flows through you - the clearest way to communicate you have ever known- your body rolling and swaying with the sensuality of the music. Sebastian moves effortlessly around you thanks to his mother, who having had only sons, deciding that her youngest would get the dance lessons that she’d hoped the daughter she never had, would take. The two of you vent in movements all of what you could never be said between you or to anyone else aloud. As you twist together under the orange stained hazy night sky, you notice the goddess’ hand on Marcus’ face, stroking his cheek. The poisonous ache returns to your tummy and however your face contorts, causes Seb to pull you closer, cradling your head into his neck. You know how the night will end and the loneliness stings.

✪✪✪✪✪

His mouth bone dry, Marcus awakes fully dressed, on top of the comforter, with a cool bed surrounding him. Reaching for his phone, pulling the charging cable from it, he flicks through messages and emails trying to work out what had happened from when Kemi had left him in the bar to rejoin her friends. Her words still ring in his ears - you didn’t come alone tonight - when she had watched his eyes trace your path out of the market. How he’d initially thought about taking her up on her offer to help him forget, wanting to obliterate last night from his memory and lose himself in her eyes and lips. Her final words to him, cutting him to the core- she must be really special and if she is as special as you think she is, you fight for her.

Bloodshot eyes and deep creases stare back at him from the mirror. More grey. They say that age exchanges beauty for wisdom but they are the same mistakes he keeps repeating. A strangled gasp escapes him as he tries to regulate his breathing, lifting his chin trying to fill his lungs with more oxygen. His shoulders are racked by gut-wrenching sobs and like an overwhelmed dam, the tears spill in hot torrents down his cheeks. Marcus slides onto the floor, allowing the grief to pour forth.

His first marriage was too much, too soon, too young. An art historian and an artist in love with creating and observing beauty until the former decided to change tack after being recruited by the FBI. The long hours of training at Quantico, the subsequent hard days and irregular nights as he worked his way through the ranks of the Art Crime department, wrung the patience from his wife. Gradually growing further and further apart until all that was left were two strangers constantly at odds, her cutting comment about how she felt that he gave her only apathy - never coming to her when she needed help or affection. She hated him for the choices he made - feeling that his work was merely interacting with the meaningless. The law enforcer spent more time at work to hide from the inevitable ending until the artist found someone who appreciated her and the beauty she created.

As for Lisbon. Was she really ever his? Wasn’t he really just a footnote in the Patrick Jane story? The whirlwind romance that progressed and extinguished again at such a heart attack inducing pace, emphasised by that stupid-ass move to DC. Although, if it wasn’t for that move, he wouldn’t be here in London now. Oh yeah. That was out of the skillet and into the fire, Pike. Another excellent career move.

So much love to give and nowhere, no one to give it to. The lessons he has learnt and is still learning but oh, just to find that person with whom you can drop that mask and enjoy togetherness, warmth and serenity.

The side of the bath offers a solid cool support to Marcus as he sits there on the herringbone tiled floor, sobbing into his arms. There is only one voice he needs to hear right now. Grabbing a tissue from the side to noisily blow his nose into, he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes before putting his glasses on. Phone in hand, he dials the number he knows better than his own name.

The familiar dial tone is like a lullaby in his ear, “Mamá?... Hey! How are you doing?... I’m sorry Mamá - I forgot about the time zone difference... I’m ok, just missing you… It’s just been a long week and... Yeah, London is awesome and I managed a trip to France this week which was incredible to be back there. So weird having so many different countries within such easy reach…Come visit me soon?... Thank you... I miss you… Te quiero mucho Mamá… I’ll ring you in a couple of days. Hasta luego.”

Hanging up, everything feels a bit more manageable and less painful- I wish I could bottle my Mamá’s voice. Hauling himself off the bathroom floor, he turns on the faucet to splash icy water on his face. Sniffing his t-shirt, realising the shower could wait - perhaps a good run to get the endorphins pumping would be his best move. Or perhaps a text to Nush to check what ingredients he’d need to have in for the curry tomorrow?

Stop it, Pike. You’re just fucking torturing yourself.

Opening a drawer, he pulls out basketball shorts, a clean t-shirt and a pair of sneaker socks to throw on, discarding last night’s clothes in a heap by the washing machine.

AirPods in and classic nineties dance anthems to pace himself to, he gives his quads and hamstrings a quick warm up by the front door before it is time to convert the emotional pain into miles.

One of the many things that Marcus loves about London is the constant greenery with every second corner a park or stretching heathland. Texas is so proud of its big sky country status and yet, there are parts of central London where you could lie down and not see anything but skies around you. It is truly hard not to fall in love with such a beautiful, historical and spacious city.

Pounding the pavements towards the park, his feet hit the concrete slabs softly, sending small shockwaves to his brain. Whilst Marcus knows that the power in his thighs could have him across the park in seconds, he savours each step. The precision in his movements is perfect as he takes lungful after lungful of the sunshine filled air. It feels like part of a meditation - a mindful prayer. Dodging around errant dogs and small, clumsy yet terrifyingly aggressive children on scooters, he winds his way through the avenues of trees until he comes across a small lake.

He pauses the thrumming music in his ears to just soak up the tranquility of the moment as he stretches out his limbs. The lake is the kindest of nature’s mirrors, never truly showing exactly what is above, but converting it to an image so beautifully smudgy. The weeping willow stroking its branches elegantly across the skin of the water, the clouds gliding silently above as a host of waterfowl paddle effortlessly through the cool, clear pool, all become a priceless Monet hanging in The National Gallery – all free for the looking. Sure, it is transient, changing by the day - unlike the fixed in a moment of time pieces by the grumpy old Frenchman - but that's what makes it all the more precious.

There’s a family by the water’s edge. Marcus can’t help but be amused by the toddler’s antics as they threaten to jump in and become irritated that they can’t, especially when they have their wellies on. Can’t fault that logic! The older child is gathering sticks to make a “campfire” with their dad - discarding most of their parent’s choices with withering looks and expressive rolls of the eyes. The dark-haired mom, whilst trying to reason with the toddler, is swaying with some sort of baby carrier tied around her - a tiny one clutched tightly to her chest. The infant is virtually invisible from the passes of material, only two tiny socks and its little woolly hat peeking free. A collie is also darting between and around them, rounding up his flock of sheep, taking his role as protector very seriously.

The scene makes Marcus smile as he stretches out his muscles. Whilst he can’t help but watch and yearn for something similar in his life, the mom looks up and over in his direction,

“Are you going to come over and say hi or just be a park weirdo that lurks in bushes pretending to stretch?” a familiar voice curtly teases.

Nush - what the fuck?

“Your face is a fucking picture! Take a breath - these are three of my five niblings - big one is Sophia, middle one that keeps threatening to swim in the pond is Alexa and this little dot is Oscar. As for that blundering idiot, this is Adam, my oldest brother- their dad,” gesturing towards your brother you giggle, creasing up in laughter at the sheer shock then relief on Marcus’ face, “Ads, this is Marcus, my new boss that I told you about.”

The male version of Nush outstretched his palm, offering a sympathetic look, “Hi Marcus, pleasure to put a face to a name. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with my cowbag-of-a-sister at work.”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at the friendly sniping between brother and sister, reminding him of his own teasing relationship with his sisters back home, “Hey! Your kids are beautiful. Oh, you must be Sebastian’s friend - who we saw at Model Market in Lewisham yesterday, Nush?” he questions.

“As much as Sebastian can have friends… Oh Nush, you didn’t, did you?” Adam’s face scrunches in disgust and judging in the way that only a sibling can do.

“No! Not this time,” Marcus loves the speed and vehemence to which you respond to your brother- and enjoys the sheer relief that is now guiltily coursing through his veins, “To give the man his dues, he won’t ever sleep with me when I’ve had too much to drink. Not that I was going to and not that it is any of your fucking business in the first place.” You add jabbing your brother in the softness of his tummy with every word you say.

“Nush, I was gonna text you this morning about tomorrow, if you’re still on to make the curries?” Marcus gently questions, willing you to agree.

“Hah! You’re trusting her to cook?” Adam laughs heartily at the suggestion, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Our mum still won’t let her near the chilli powder now.”

You growl at your brother, “I was a fucking kid at the time! And yes, I am more than happy to come and cook curries- what time suits you for me to come over? They do take a bit of time to make.”

Marcus struggles to hold back a snort of laughter, “Any time is good - and perhaps while they’re simmering, we can have some classic films on in the background?”

“Ah that sounds perfect,” your smile warming every inch of his skin.

“You sound perfect for her,” Marcus catches Adam muttering under his breath, his eyes widening at your brother’s comment.

“Shut your damn cakehole, twatface,” you slap your brother’s arm hard as you grind the words between your teeth, the two of you glaring with a mirror image of your eyebrows raised at each other.

“Um, I’d better continue my run before I cool down too much,” Marcus manages to spit out between the flushes of heat through his skin, “Great to meet you and your family, Adam. Nush, it’s lovely to see you and I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Marcus,” you smile at him before turning back towards your niblings, who are working together to create a den using an old fallen branch.

“I saw you running earlier,” Adam adds, “You’ve got a really good gait - as a physio, it’s great to see someone not destroying their joints. Do you do anything to support your running through cross training?”

“Uh no, but that’s a good idea as I don’t want any injuries. What would you recommend?” Marcus asks, genuinely intrigued and flattered by your brother’s compliment of his running style.

“Speak to Nush - yoga is perfect for stretching your IT bands, which as a man they’re generally always tight and only get tighter with repetitive movements like running or cycling. She’s the yoga queen and will know of a local teacher who can help you,” Adam grins, nodding towards his sister.

“There’s so much I have yet to learn about her,” Marcus shakes his head as he sorts out his headphones.

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Adam laughs as he pats Marcus on the back, “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your run and hopefully see you again soon.”

As Marcus gradually picks up his pace away from you and your family, his heart that had felt so dark and lonely, now feels light and airy. The release valve in his chest is finally loosened and there is a little bubble of excitement in his belly that he allows to build at the thought of tomorrow. The thought of your presence in his apartment, doing something as domestic as cooking, is truly a salve for his soul.

Perhaps he can just make believe until it becomes a reality.

Tag list of glory: @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppascaledit #pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #the mentalist #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x oc reader #the mentalist fanfic

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blueskrugs · 4 years

Text

That Don’t Sound Like You | Brock Boeser

title and inspiration come from the Lee Brice song of the same name. I like country music, okay? takes place roughly September 2015-August 2019. all games and other teammates are accurate.

because @captainkreider said “what if you write this for Brock” and I immediately had to rethink my priorities on who I will and will not write for. and then this happened.

length: 4.7 words

Girl, I’m glad you called

You met Brock early in your freshman year at University of North Dakota. He was always surrounded by people, popular and charismatic, even as a slightly awkward 18-year-old, but it seemed like he could, and would, talk to anyone who would listen.

You found that out for yourself when he plopped down a couple seats from you in some 100 level English lecture before leaning across the empty desk between you to introduce himself.

“I’m Brock,” he said with a grin.

You took a moment to assess him. His blond hair was tucked beneath a backwards snapback, looking every bit like a douche college athlete, but his blue eyes were kind, and his smile seemed genuine. You shot him a quick smile of your own before turning back to your notes.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered. Brock was still watching you closely; you flipped the page of your notebook.

Any further conversation was cut short by your professor coming in, his typical five minutes late. It was already the third week of class, and Brock had never sat near you before, usually choosing to sit more near the back, but you buried your confusion in favor of focusing on the lecture.

Brock kept sitting next to you, though, would start a conversation with you most days. It was a week and a half before he asked for your phone number, another week before he actually texted you to complain about how he didn’t understand an assigned reading. In the meantime, you’d learned that you hadn’t grown up far from each other in Minnesota– just a couple towns away from each other outside Minneapolis, his favorite color– blue, but only one highly specific shade, and how he’d been drafted by the Canucks but was still trying out the whole college thing.

“So,” Brock started one day in October. You hummed in response, not looking up from your notes– you were trying to review for the test you had after this lecture was over. Brock nudged your elbow, but you still didn’t look up at him. “Hey. Y/N.” Brock was starting to whine now, so you glanced up at him. “So, uh, we have our first home game this Saturday.”

You raised an eyebrow at Brock. He looked nervous, fidgeting with a hoodie string and chewing on his bottom lip. You poked him in the arm with your pen.

“Got something you wanna say, Boes?”

“Would you, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Brock, I don’t know. Spit it out.”

“Do you wanna come to the game?” he finally managed.

Now, UND took hockey as seriously as some colleges took football, and you’d spent more than one conversation with Brock discussing hockey, so he knew you liked it. Of course you’d be at the game on Saturday. But Brock wasn’t asking if you were going as a hockey fan. He was asking if you’d come to see him play.

You grinned, and Brock ducked his head and refused to look at you. His cheeks looked a little pink. You poked him with your pen again, this time just below his ribs, and he squirmed and snatched the pen from your hand.

“Yeah, Brock, I’ll be there,” you assured him.

He threw your pen at you.

Brock scored a hat trick in front of the sold-out crowd and swept you up in his arms outside the arena.

That became the new normal for you two. You went to every home game to watch as Brock tore up the league as one of the best freshmen anyone had ever seen. He’d meet you outside the arena, and you’d end up at a diner with the rest of the team with Brock’s arm draped around your shoulder. The team accepted you into their fold easily enough, teasing and chirping you just as they would any other player. There was time spent alone with Brock, too, or as alone as you could get in a dorm building. It had started under the pretense of studying together, but over time, it usually ended under a pile of blankets and Grey’s Anatomy playing on one of your laptops.

Brock kissed you for the first time in early December, after the team swept the weekend against Denver. It was cold, and his breath brushed across your face in a white cloud when he leaned in, but his lips were warm against yours.

Not much changed after that, not really, except for the fact that Brock got much less shy about always wanting to be near you or touching you in some way, whether it was your knees pressed against each other beneath a table on a date, or a hand on your hip or linked with yours when you were hanging out with others.

He did trip over his own feet the first time he saw you wearing one of his hoodies, though.

You surprised Brock in Tampa in April for the Frozen Four finals, where he had the game winning goal, and three more assists to boot. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile as big as when you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist after the game, Stretch and Drake and everyone else still screaming somewhere behind you.

Truck tires on a gravel road Laughing at the world, blasting my radio Cannonballs splashing in the water

Brock called you one afternoon in June, after life had settled down into the lazy days of summer. “What’s up, babe?” you asked, absently throwing a tennis ball for your dog out in the yard.

Brock hesitated. “Do you still wanna come out to the lake with us?”

You had talked about it, a little, back when it was still ungodly cold in North Dakota, and Brock had mentioned that his family was going to try and rent a place on a lake for a week or two in July. It had seemed so far away then, as distant future as graduating or Brock heading off to Vancouver, which feels foolish now, with July creeping closer every day.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

The two of you talked about the future for the first time that week at Minnetonka, between bets of who could make the biggest splash, or turning up Brock’s playlists as loud as you could, yelling the words to country songs up to the clouds.

Brock wanted to stay at UND another year, use it to develop his game, but he whispered in the dark one night that he was scared of making it all the way to the NHL and not living up to expectations, no longer a bright star, but a supernova, left to fade into nothing.

You had dreams of your own, too. Graduating and getting a job in a big city, getting away from Minnesota and small towns where everyone knew everyone. California, maybe, or somewhere on the East Coast like D.C.

(Brock had made a face at you for that.)

You realized for the first time, too, that you just might be in love with Brock. You weren’t sure what to do with that realization, though, just tucked your face a little tighter into Brock’s shoulder, tried not to think about what you would do if Brock ever asked you to follow him to Vancouver. You weren’t sure you could give up your life plans for anyone.

July passed with days in the sun and nights near a bonfire, drowning in one of Brock’s hoodies as you sat in his lap under a blanket. You wished you could live in moments like those forever.

Sophomore year was different for both of you. You were busier with classes, and Brock was more focused on hockey than ever, determined not to let his freshman season be a fluke.

Not that anyone thought it would be.

Brock became an alternate captain. Continued to dominate on the ice, came back stronger after a couple of injuries. Brock Boeser was making a name for himself, and it was only a matter of time before everyone started paying attention.

The day after the team lost to Boston University in double overtime, the defending champs going out on their very first game of the tournament, Brock was home in Minnesota, signing an entry-level contract, and playing his first game as a Vancouver Canuck.

He had kissed you goodbye on Thursday before the team left for Fargo, with an “I love you,” murmured against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair, the promise of “see you soon” unspoken but understood between you.

But you sat on your couch and watched as Brock took to the ice for the team that believed in him against the team he grew up watching, you started to wonder just how soon that would be, and if you’d ever get your Brock back, or if you’d lost his love to the city of Vancouver.

Brock scored a goal that night. You’d always known he would fit right in in Vancouver.

Brock broke up with you that summer. You had seen it coming, maybe since last July, when you realized that your lives were heading in different directions, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. You were supposed to go up to Minnetonka again, but you never made it that far before he was standing on your doorstep, hands shoved deep in your pockets.

Part of you wanted to insist that you could make the distance work, and maybe you could, maybe Brock thought it, too, but you couldn’t think of the words.

“I love you,” you said instead.

You dropped a Target bag full of Brock’s things on his parents’ front porch, hoodies and beanies and other things that were too hard to keep, before you headed back to UND for the fall.

You kept in touch some, congratulatory texts (you) or pictures of the weather (him). You received dozens of Snapchats during All-Star Weekend in 2018, especially of the adorable dog he ended up adopting– you had vetoed changing his name from Cider– but you were pretty sure he was sending them to everyone.

Until you got one simply captioned “would be better with you here.” You stared at the picture– the view of Tampa outside his hotel room window– until the time ran out, and it disappeared. Then another came in, and you opened it quickly, unthinkingly. “Not quite like the last time we were in Tampa together tho.”

The only time you’d been to Tampa had been nearly two years before for the Frozen Four.

The picture disappeared again, and you didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t.

You graduated a semester early and made plans to move to the East Coast and get a job, start your life for real. No one commented on how you were about as far away from Brock and Vancouver as you could get.

You were doing laundry at your parents’ house, packing most of what you owned in your car to move, when you came across a green UND hockey T-shirt. It still smelled a little like Brock, even though it had been buried in your room for years. You spared half a thought to wonder if Brock ever even missed it before you throw it in the washing machine.

You were surprised, then, when you got a text– a real one, too, not a Snapchat message– from Brock later that summer. You had never responded to those messages he had sent during the All-Star Game, and he had stopped sending things after a while. That had been over a year ago.

Brock’s message was simple, just a “hey, how have you been?” You wondered if he even knew you moved, and you were immediately suspicious of ulterior motives.

You left him on read for a couple of hours, before responding, and your message was short, curt. Your suspicions were proved right when he responded within half an hour.

“so” “Some of the guys from UND are coming up north for a couple days” “and they’ve been making some noise about seeing you”

You sighed. You were too tired for playing games, talking coyly, pretending like you were anything more than a couple of exes, practically strangers at this point. You pressed the call button below Brock’s name, realized for the first time that you’d never removed the green heart emoji from his contact.

“Y/N?” Brock sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t been the one to text you first.

“Why now, Brock?” you asked. Why do you still care, is what you didn’t.

“Stetch won’t shut up about wanting to see you, and some of the other guys picked up the chorus,” Brock said. He sounded as tired as you felt. It may have been years since you had last seen some of his teammates from UND, it certainly sounded like they haven’t changed much.

You went quiet, chewing on your bottom lip. Brock rushed to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to come. I just- I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have texted, I’m sorry.” His voice faded slightly, like he’d pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up.

And, well, you were going to blame what you said next on the fact that it was well after midnight and that you’d been awake for too many consecutive hours.

“When is everyone coming up?”

Brock was silent, not even the sound of his breathing coming over the line. You checked to make sure he hadn’t, in fact, ended the call.

“Uh, second week of August,” he finally said.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Brock echoed. You could picture the crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, ‘okay.’ I’ll think about it,” you said.

You didn’t know why you said that.

You didn’t know why you booked a flight to Minneapolis, or why you were actually looking forward to it. Even when Brock texted to warn you that some of his Canucks teammates would be there with the old faces from UND.

You didn’t know what you were doing as you stood in the entryway of a lake house in Minnesota. Out on the deck, you could see some familiar faces, but you had never felt so out of place in your life.

This was a bad idea. No, it was a terrible idea. You weren’t in college anymore. These weren’t your friends, your people. They had all moved on with their lives, and so had you. A weekend on a lake in Minnesota would only bring back the memories and the regrets of years gone by.

You were just debating turning around and pretending that you had never even come when Brock stepped in and saw you standing there, looking like a fool. He looks surprised to see you. You take another step into the house.

“Hey, Y/N!” The surprise is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with what looks like genuine happiness. “C’mon, everyone’s outside.”

You follow silently, taking in Brock’s bare, tanned shoulders, the way his hair looks blonder from hours spent out on the lake. For a moment, you’re both 19 again.

Stetch yells when he sees you first, and then you’re being mobbed by hockey players. You only know a couple from UND– Stetch, Drake, and Josty, to start– and the rest are from Vancouver, introductions blurring together in a mess of faces and nicknames– Tuna, Petey, and Chris, who had definitely been called Dad by at least three different people.

You finally manage to break away and head for a drink, but Brock follows you.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, and you believe him, look into his eyes, painfully earnest and real and blue like the reflection of the sky on the lake. You offer a weak smile in return, not sure if you can say the same, not yet. Brock steps closer and opens the lid of the cooler you’re standing next to. “Jess says you ended up in D.C. after all. How is that? You happy?”

His question catches you off-guard, and you hesitate, too long. “Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, it’s great.” Everything I’ve ever wanted, except you’re not there, is what you don’t say. You wonder briefly if he can still see right through you.

Brock’s head is buried in the cooler as he digs through the ice, but you can still see the way his shoulders go up like they always do when he’s frowning. That’s a yes, then.

“What’s the difference between a White Claw and a Truly, anyway?” he muses instead of calling you out, before surfacing with one of each in his hands. He offers them both to you, and you take the Truly– wild berry, your favorite, not that Brock would have any reason to know that– and leave him the White Claw. He cracks it open and takes a long drink. You tear your eyes away from the line of his throat as he swallows.

“Boyfriend couldn’t make it?” Brock asks pointedly. Damn, he still follows you on Instagram.

You take a drink yourself instead of answering right away. “Couldn’t get off work,” you say. Which isn’t a lie, not really, but you hadn’t even asked, just told him you would be visiting home for the week. You didn’t think he’d love the idea of spending a weekend with a bunch of hockey players, especially when the one who’d invited you happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

Brock just blinks at you for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” he says again, just as honest as before.

When the next person asks if you’re happy in D.C., you’re not quite as off-guard, and you manage to smile when you answer this time. Brock is watching you from across the deck, though, and you wonder if the smile looked as fake as it felt to everyone else, or if it was just Brock.

You’re arguing with Josty about something ridiculous, when Emma, Troy’s girlfriend, sees you for the first time.

“Oh my God, you cut your hair! It’s so cute!” she said before wrapping you up in a hug.

When she lets you go, you sweep your hair over one shoulder, an old habit from when it hung halfway down your back; it barely brushed your shoulders now.

“Thought it was time for a change,” you say, “and my boyfriend really likes it this way.”

Next to you, Tyson frowns and mumbles something about finding Brock. You and Emma both watch him go, a little confused.

I know it’s been a while, I don’t mean to pry But when I asked you if you’re happy, I didn’t hear a smile, and that don’t sound like you

You’re sitting on the dock with your feet in the water that night when Brock settles next to you. Up at the house, everyone is either asleep or on their way to it. You’re both quiet for a moment, just the sound of crickets and the water lapping against the dock.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Brock says lowly.

You breathe out a laugh. “I wasn’t either, not until I was actually here,” you admit.

“Why did you come?”

“Why did you invite me?” you counter. It was the thing that kept bothering you about all this. Why had Brock decided to reach out now, after so long, after you’d moved on?

Brock sighs. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while.” It’s almost defensive, the way he says it.

“Not like you tried very hard to catch up ever,” you say, and it’s mean, because you had stopped responding first, but you hadn’t known what else to do, how else to handle the heartbreak you had to relive with every text.

“You fucking stopped talking to me!” Brock says, and, yeah, you deserve that, deserve the anger in his voice. You don’t expect to hear sadness, too, but you do.

“What else was I supposed to do, Brock? Keep torturing myself with every text I sent?” You can’t bring yourself to be mad. You tilt your chin to look up at the stars instead, pretend you can’t feel Brock’s eyes on you. The stars are so much brighter out here, back home. “You were off chasing your dream, so it was time I went after mine.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, “Why’d you come here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. One last hurrah for when we were all in college? For freshman year when the future seemed so bright? For when I still thought having a good job in a good city with a guy who loves me would make me happy, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong city with the wrong guy?”

You get up before Brock can answer and leave him sitting on the dock in the dark.

Morning comes, and you’re not sure the conversation with Brock even happened, except for the fact that Brock is alternating between watching you intently and refusing to make eye contact. Chris makes everyone breakfast, and you now understand why everyone was calling him Dad. You settle next to Troy, lean your head on his shoulder.

“Did I somehow do something to make Petey not like me?” you ask, watching him talk quietly to Brock at the other end of the table.

“Nah,” Stetch says, taking a bite of bacon. “His English still isn’t great, and his default resting face makes it look like he hates everyone.” He pauses, takes another bite. “Well, and the fact that you broke our boy Brock’s heart. He’s sensitive, don’t ya know?” His tone is light, teasing, but his words make you freeze.

You gasp, too loud for the morning air. A couple people glance over at you, but you’re turning to Stetch, who at least looks like he realizes his mistake.

“Brock broke up with me,” you hiss.

Troy barely glances down the table at Brock, but you still catch it. For a split second, you consider just getting up and leaving, but settle for glaring at Brock, who doesn’t look up. His cheeks still flush like he can feel your eyes on him.

“I no longer want to be a part of this conversation,” Stetch says, making a move to get up, but you grab his wrist. He winces but stays sitting. “Look, he came back for his rookie year and was always kinda quiet-” You scoff. “-but none of us asked any questions, and then after All-Star he said you’d stopped responding to his texts.” Stetch finishes with a shrug.

“I stopped answering because I was still in love with him and stuck in North Dakota after he broke up with me that summer, dumbass. What the hell else was I supposed to do after he told me he wished I were at the All-Star Game with him? I was never going to be able to follow Brock to Vancouver, and he made it pretty clear he never really wanted me to, anyway.”

You didn’t realize that most of the conversations around the table had gone quiet until it was too late. Brock had gone pale. You had never wanted a confrontation, not here, but it was looking inevitable. Everyone else seemed to sense this, too, because soon the table was cleared, and it was just you and Brock.

“Why do you stay if you’re not happy?” is what Brock says first.

“I- what?”

Brock smiles at you, but it’s sad. “Do you think I can’t tell?”

“I am happy,” you say, defensive. And you are, or you will be one day, once you can finally stop thinking about Brock, about all the what-ifs, the possibilities that are long gone. You were getting there, too, before you came back to Minnesota for this weekend and everything came crashing down around your ears. Still, maybe this is the closure you needed.

“Oh yeah?” Brock says in return, and it's a taunt, really, mean in a way that he’s never been with you.

“Since when do you have any right to my happiness? What do you want me to say, Brock? That I always knew we were never meant to work out, but I fell in love with you anyway? That I went to D.C. and got everything I wanted, but once I had it, it didn’t seem right anymore? They say you never forget your first love, and, dammit, it’s really hard when yours is living his dream and tearing it up in the NHL. Is that what you want to hear, Brock? That I’ll never really get over you, even as I fall in love again, resign myself to the fact that someone else is going to fall in love with you someday, and be everything for you I couldn’t?”

Brock is frozen at the other end of the table. You want to jump in the lake, stay underwater until your lungs burn and your tears are hidden. You want to get in your rental car and drive, drive all the way to Minneapolis and keep going until you’re out of Minnesota and never look back. You want to kiss Brock, for old time’s sake, and you never want to see his face again.

He still hasn’t said anything, so you turn and go inside, past everyone pretending like they hadn’t just been watching everything. You’re throwing everything back in your bag when Brock stumbles up the stairs. You pause, cross your arms, and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Shit, wait,” he pants.

You can’t hold back the smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional athlete?” you say, almost without thinking.

Brock flips you off as he leans against the doorframe, but it’s half-hearted.

“You can’t just say shit like that and then fucking walk away,” he says, and it comes out more like a whine. “I just- I had no idea. Should’ve probably, yeah, but-” he stops, collects his thoughts. “What did you mean when you said you could never follow me to Vancouver?”

“Would you even have asked,” you say, which isn’t an answer at all.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about all of your plans, and I never wanted to stop you. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to follow me.” And, finally, for the first time in years, it seems like you two understand each other.

“Of course I did,” you say softly, and Brock looks up at you, surprised. “I just didn’t know that then. And then I didn’t think you wanted me, not when I was just some girl from college.”

“You were never just some girl from college,” Brock says quickly. He rolls his eyes. “You wanna know why I asked if you were happy? You cut your hair.” Brock sounds pained, and you remember all the times he would play with your hair while you cuddled on the couch or in bed. “Since when do you change something like that for a guy?”

“And I wouldn’t have had to change for you? After I’d graduated, if you wanted me to come to Vancouver for you?”

Brock’s recoils, your words like a slap to the face, but it’s not as vindicating as you thought it would be. “It’s not just the hair. It’s the way you talk, the way you smile. What happened to the girl I knew?”

And that’s the problem. You’re not the girl he knew, not anymore. You’ve both grown up, lived life a little more. You might still love Brock, but you love the Brock from North Dakota, not the one who’s been in Vancouver for two years. You don’t know that Brock, and maybe you could love him, but that’s not for you to find out. It’s not fair to anyone. It just took you coming out to the lake to realize that.

So you smile at Brock and say, “She got her heart broken and left North Dakota behind.” But you follow Brock back downstairs, spend the day out on the water, feeling settled for the first time since you got there, maybe since you had last spoken to Brock way back in 2018.

That town, that job, that guy You can leave them behind, girl, you know you’re better than that

The boys build a bonfire after dinner, as the sun sets over the lake, and someone breaks out the ingredients for s’mores.

“Y’know,” Brock says, resting his hand on your knee after you’ve settled into a chair. His hand is warm through the blanket draped over your lap. “For what it’s worth, there would always be a place for you in Vancouver.”

Maybe there would be, but you weren’t sure that that place was somewhere you belonged. You don’t say that, though, just settle your feet in Brock’s lap and take the marshmallow that’s being offered to you.

There’s a life waiting for you on the other side of the continent, and it just might be the one you were always meant to have.

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