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#it’s been years since I’ve been actually physically anxious to go to work tomorrow
clarenecessities · 1 year
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10/3/2022
unexpectedly heavy time in therapy today. i’ve been cleaning my room (of my own volition) but i shouldn’t have mentioned that to my mom bc it’s not going quickly enough for her, so she was like, let’s ask the therapist for ways to manage this situation
our therapist of course was like “okay, well, why so slow” which it hadn’t occurred to my mother to ask. i suspect because she’s accustomed to me being a One Speed, for good reason, as i do things at my own pace and will not be enticed to do them faster no matter how much advice she offers.
& i was like well. it’s difficult to make myself start when i know how many breaks i will need to take and how much stuff i’ll have to carry up and down the stairs, and it’s going to require a lot of standing. but she pointed out i was conveying this with a lot of negative language and describing myself as lazy/a bad cat mom etc. and asked why i thought my mom wanted to discuss this
so i told her, you know, we’re going to have some random neighbor kid feeding the cats while we’re at erin’s wedding & she doesn’t want the kid to see my room, because she’s ashamed of me and my lifestyle. and the therapist turned to my mom and asked how she felt, clearly expecting an “i’m not ashamed of you”, which, more fool her, mom just said she was anxious and wanted to help because it’s unsanitary because x and y etc. but i shut down her advice and am known to be extremely territorial so she’s not sure what she can do
(eventually i acceded to having her carry stuff up and down the stairs for me. she managed to sneak ‘vacuuming the ceiling’ onto the list which became ‘vacuuming (part of) the floor’ in short order but she did clear out when i asked & i’ve made good progress since.)
our therapist was like. man. could just hear the gears clicking in there. she was on the ball too, usually it takes way longer for them to catch onto the shame issues (except susan, but susan is a genius & had the unfair advantages of letting me pet a dog every week and being gay). and my mom after was like “i feel bad for appealing to your guilt so often” because that was her go-to until i was 14 and told her the only thing i had to live for was my neopets friends (i was grounded from the computer bc of the atrocities) when she realized it wasn’t working. she still does it pretty frequently but it’s much less overt, especially since we started therapy.
it turns out appealing to my guilt does nothing when i am still physically or mentally incapable of doing something lol
anyway. i have to wake up in like six hours to go pick up a badge for a job on weds. so i guess i’ll also be like, actually watching the training video/setting up my payroll account tomorrow as well
OH ALSO! ALSO! I found my copy of billy hatcher??? which i thought was lost to the fucking ether for the last 10 fucking years?? so i’m very excited about that and it’s going to take all my willpower to continue cleaning instead of just. bein a little egg guy
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yeonjuins · 2 years
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oh yay!! I’m glad the anxiousness is subsiding now ♡︎ and yeah no I honestly feel that. I’m doing a lot better now so I’ve just been thinking about the things I could do during my summer break and for my future and such but maybe analyzing ? could be a good word?
oh that seems like a really good idea,, yes it does make sense ♡︎ I promise I know what you’re trying to say SKDKDK ( im trying to give an explanation back to show I understand what you mean but I can’t put into words I just have a mental image-) but did doing that satisfy you? Or make you think of other things that could make you content on a rest day?
That’s okay because we all have our moments where we feel like that, we just have to take a step back and look at things the we have done so far and just go along with that, (I hope this is making sense,, I’m sorry if it’s not or if it’s like a little hard to grasp) if it helps try looking at the things you do have together and let that motivate you to get back on track and realize you’re doing a good job. Even though it doesn’t feel like enough, you have your whole life ahead of you to do more so just try to ease up on yourself for right now ♡︎
and please, no need to apologize, I really appreciate that you were comfortable enough to tell what’s on your mind ♡︎ I didn’t feel burdened or anything :) I hope getting all of that out gave you some relief ♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎
Yes we will and just know I am so proud of you and I am giving you lots of hugs ♡︎♡︎♡︎
AH YES! You showed her 😤😤 I’m so happy for you!! and oohh okay,, good luck with your scoping :)
yess I do have exams coming up and it’s during the first week of May and I am actually not as anxious about them as before (honestly just ready to get them over with) I have been doing fairly well :) ♡︎ since it’s nearing the end of the school year, it’s not much to do now so not much to complain about now KSKSK I’m also in the process of moving out of my dorm, the last day to move out is May 7th but I want to be done by the end of the month just to get it over with and because I can technically be moved out by then since all of my exams are online instead in person
ahhh you thought of me JSJSJ I totally didn’t mind the wait though ♡︎ but yes humming <3 shuffle has been neglecting that song for me because it has NOT been coming on :( I’m gonna go listen to it now since it’s on my mind and I haven’t heard it in a while SKSKDK ( also unprompted but I literally don’t know why (maybe i was in my yj feels that day or something SKSKSK) but when I first listened to humming it reminded me of yeonjun-
also also hiccup by valley came on shuffle (I couldn’t remember if it was one of your songs or from a playlist of song recommendations that my friend gave but eventually figured out it was yours since I went to your audios page) and I really liked it, it caught my attention when it first came and I had to play it back another time since I enjoyed it so much
Also another random thing (I tend to ramble when I’m in a good mood KSKSKD) I tried to copy and paste a picture in the ask just to test it out and it would say that there was a problem with submitting so I guess you can’t trick them with copying and pasting pictures- KAKSKS
(lengthy response!)
hello my love !!!!!! i just wrote your letter hehe i'm going to send it off before work tomorrow... hopefully it should arrive to your house in 2 weeks or so?? my handwriting is like... horrible and i was trying to fit everything i wanted to say within this small tiny card so i apologize if i sound a bit off? there was literally no physical room for me to be as animated as i usually am online D:< but i tried my best
ouu your future... god thinking about the future always gets me excited as well (": as of late, i haven't been doing so just because there's so much currently in the present i have to do (hustle culture 🤺🤺 kill it, abolish it, i simply want to LIVE in peace !!!!!!!!!!!!!!) what have you thought of so far? usually whenever i was in a big rut, i used to 'manifest' my whole future and look forward towards it whenever i could achieve it... i haven't done that recently but perhaps that's because i'm living in the future i once wanted (": in terms of what i want my future to look like now? i'm not quite sure ;0 perhaps i'll write to you about that in my next letter or ask once i figure that out PAHAHHAH
mmm doing that did satisfy me for the time being. i guess being able to visualize it is nice but one of the biggest things i've learnt is that, ahem, self awareness does not equate to self improvement. i don't say this to undermine any realizations or... whatever (LOL) things i've come too, but i feel as though for several years i've been very self aware yet the improvement was quite marginal regardless. (i sound very pessimistic right now- i'm not i swear ASHDUOJALWM i'm just being honest !!)
): thank you my love... i rmbr on new years eve, an anon wished that the new year would treat me more kindly and gentle... for some reason, those words stuck with me a lot. 'i hope xyz treats you more kindly and gentle' sounds so warm... ): i feel as though i am a huge bundle of emotions and i don't now how to control any of them ;; but i guess that just all comes with maturing, and i'm frankly not as mature as i paint myself to be
i hope you know, it put a smile on my face reading how you prepping for your next exam isn't making you as anxious as it did previously (": i'm very glad for you my love.... ahhh it really is ending the near of the school year for you isn't it ;; in canada (and in highschool) you end school within june... seeing people graduate before i do makes the senioritis levels go even higher and i'm slightly dreading it if i had to be honest ):< regardless, the school year is still ending for me too (just at a slower rate) and i'll be graduating... insanity !!! moablr gets to witness me graduate LMFAO !! ouu are you more of an online person or in person learner? definitely when covid first hit, i was MASSIVE chilling because i'm attached to my computer all the time... so this gave me an even bigger excuse to be more attached LMFAO i still think i'm an online learner but i like the routine of going out once in a while to get some sun and touch some grass (":
i love hiccup sm (i didn't even know i recommended you that song... that song is on my 'songs that remind me of mark' playlist LMFAO) especially the line where it says "like that night we have in toronto, when you pulled me up in the roof" my brain (unfortunately /j) goes to him... 🤺🤺 i'm glad you liked it though my love hehe
pls pls ramble on ! it makes me happie you're in a good mood mwuah but NOOOO hmm i think you can probably copy and paste in the link to the image instead? instead of the direct image itself? mayb try that and see how it goes ;0 i do not mind copying and pasting images to see it (a little bit of a surprise on my end PAHHAHA)
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after-witch · 3 years
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Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]
Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]
Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?
Word Count: 8955
notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters
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Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.
That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:
“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”
It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?
You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.
He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.
“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”
His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.
“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.
He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.
“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.
He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.
But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.
So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.
A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.
**
"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."
You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.
But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.
The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.
"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."
The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.
"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"
Fucking. Ransom.
"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.
You have to call Ransom.
You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.
You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.
You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.
"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"
"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"
His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.
"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."
He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"
You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."
"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"
He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."
"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.
Fucking. Ransom.
You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.
"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”
"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."
You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.
**
The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.
But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.
You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.
Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 
The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”
So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.
The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 
But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.
The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.
Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.
Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.
You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.
You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.
**
“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”
You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.
So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”
“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”
You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.
Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.
You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.
The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.
“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”
You don’t get a chance to finish.
“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”
You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.
“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”
“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”
Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”
“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”
You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.
“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”
He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”
He hangs up. Your hands shake.
You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.
You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.
Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.
Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.
But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.
The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.
Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.
Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.
Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.
Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 
No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 
Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?
You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.
A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.
There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.
“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”
Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.
“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.
Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.
He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.
“We have to let you go.”
The words don’t register.
“Go where?”
It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.
“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”
Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.
Ransom was here.
“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”
You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.
You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?
“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.
Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”
He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.
It takes all of your effort not to cry.
You don’t have much effort left.
**
Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.
You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.
To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.
The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.
You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.
But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.
The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”
“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”
“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”
You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”
The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.
“Is there another card you can give us?”
“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”
“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”
You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.
“Yes.”
You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.
The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.
You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”
The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.
Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.
You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.
At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.
You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.
But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.
Your stuff is gone. All of it.
You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.
“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”
Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”
Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”
You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.
At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.
You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.
You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.
All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.
You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  
You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.
Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.
Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.
For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.
But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.
You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.
But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.
“What the fuck?”
He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.
You text him: What??
He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P
It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.
His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.
“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”
“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”
You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.
“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”
He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”
You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.
His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.
“Why do you think?”
To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?
“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.
“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”
You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.
He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”
He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.
“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”
He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “
He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.
It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.
His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.
Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.
Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.
Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.
“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.
You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.
But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.
You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.
Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.
“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.
His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”
You feel your eyes practically bugging out.
“What the fuck, Ransom?”
He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.
“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”
Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.
You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.
He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.
Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”
You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.
“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.
“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.
“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”
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theladyofdeath · 3 years
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Tempting the Fates {Chapter 4}
Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?
Word Count: 2550
Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.
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Apollo
– God of light, prophecy, inspiration, poetry, the sun, music and arts, medicine and healing
Aelin tried to convince herself that she got up and got ready two hours early for class because of her busy schedule. She kept telling herself it was for the meeting she had with her advisor, about a possible internship at the end of the semester.
She knew that both reasons, while extremely important, were full of shit. She knew she’d showered, blow dried and curled her hair for Rowan. It wasn’t that she was trying to impress him. She’d already done that and the chance she had to be with him had come and gone.
No, now it was about proving to him that even though this class may be a gen ed, she was taking it seriously.
Dropping the class had crossed her mind. She really didn’t need to take it, she could still find a different one to pick up. But she didn’t want to think about the sort of impression it would leave about her.
If there was anything to know about Aelin Galathynius, it was that she was not a quitter, nor did she run from her problems.
Or heartaches.
With one last look in the mirror, and a whistle from Lysandra, Aelin was out the door and hurrying across campus. She grabbed a coffee on the way, but avoided her usual place, knowing full well that Rowan enjoyed the same famous cafe that she did.
He wasn’t there yet when she got to the hall, but she took the same seat she had the class before.
She wondered if Rowan would be looking for her this time.
She quickly shook the thought away.
With her hot coffee on the corner of her fold up desk, she was pulling out her notebook and a pen, waiting anxiously for class to begin.
For him to walk through the door.
Apparently he liked to be right on the dot, though, because students continued to wander in, but he did not.
She was tapping her pen against her notebook, doing her best not to stare at the clock. She was just anxious for her day to start. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Rowan.
Professor Whitethorn, she amended in her head. She had to quit thinking of him as Rowan. She couldn’t think of him like that anymore, his body pressing into hers, lips on her neck, as he—
Shaking her head, Aelin sighed and suddenly realized that the rest of the class had hushed. She was so focused on reprimanding herself for her highly inappropriate thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come through the door and begin setting up for class. When she dared to glance towards the front, she found his eyes on her. He quickly looked away, going back to his laptop and setting up the PowerPoint on screen.
Maybe he hadn’t been looking at her.
Maybe it had all been in her mind.
But she didn’t think it had been.
He had been watching her.
“Happy Thursday, class,” he began, as the title page of his presentation flashed onto the board. “Glad to see you all showed up again. Must mean my first class didn’t suck.” Quiet laughter thrummed through the room. Aelin couldn’t muster a laugh, though. “On Tuesday, we covered the basics. So, today… Sorry, we’re doing that again.”
More laughter, especially from the pretty, flirty girls up front.
Aelin couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
Which, when she settled her eyes back on Rowan, he definitely saw.
Come on, get your shit together, she chastised herself. With her back straightened, she gave him her full attention.
She took dutiful notes, but his slides didn’t hold much in the way of information. They were mostly headers, with a few bullet points. Most of the important information, information she knew would be critical for homework or exams, came straight from Rowan’s mouth.
It was clear that he loved mythology, that it wasn’t just a class his aunt had tossed his way and told him to figure it out. He was a trove of knowledge and she noticed he had a habit of going on slight tangents when he got going on a topic he was clearly interested in.
After a student asked him to clarify what he meant about Hercules not being Zeus’ only son, he ended up talking for nearly twenty minutes about what the beloved Disney movie had gotten wrong. Aelin had stopped taking notes and was watching him go on and on about how Hades, while god of the underworld, was not necessarily a villain. He just had a job to do. A job that had rules that must be followed, or the consequences could damn not only him, but others involved. His eyes found hers again and the amused smile on her face fell as she made the correlation between their own situation and the story.
They held each other’s gazes for far longer than was appropriate, and Rowan cleared his throat, going back to the PowerPoint, and the  predetermined lesson plans he’d made, which didn’t include children’s movie breakdowns.
She watched him.
She listened.
And she found it all fascinating. 
Rowan peeked at the clock after going on and on, and stilled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’ll end there. There is an assignment due by tomorrow evening. You can find and submit it online. It’s an opinion piece. I want a little insight as to why you were so interested to take this class, or what you’ve found fascinating so far.” He sat on his desk, his legs hanging over the side, his feet nearly touching the ground as he leaned back on his palms. Aelin found it charming. “You’re going to write a short essay telling me of your favorite deity. It could be one I’ve talked about so far, or one I haven’t. It’s your choice. But, tell me why they are your favorite. Give me a little depth. And, remember, this is a college course. Grammar counts.”
The clock struck nine-thirty and everyone began packing up. Aelin had been so captivated by his voice that she had to snap herself back to reality.
She quickly packed up her bag, alongside the other students around her. She noticed then how young they all were, and she was willing to bet that she may be the only senior on the roster. As she was descending the stairs, she found Rowan’s eyes on her again, but he looked away as his attention was taken, thanks to the group of girls who’d been sitting in the front row. She heard vague questions of whether they could all write about Aphrodite, since they all related to her.
The scoff Aelin thought she’d kept to herself had apparently been out loud, since not only Rowan looked at her as she passed, but so did the three girls. With his attention on her again, she decided to give him a little wave.
“See you later, Professor Whitethorn.”
If there was some extra sway to her hips, it wasn’t on purpose.
At least that’s what she told herself.
Two and a half hours later, Aelin was starving. She’d just gotten out of an extremely complicated lab and she could barely focus over the growling of her stomach. Twice, the instructor had looked over at her, half expecting to find a dog stashed under the table she was working at.
So when the class let out, she was hurrying toward the cafeteria ready to get a salad from the salad bar and a big ass slice of pizza.
It was all about balance. 
As she was waiting in line to fill her plate with salad, she heard a voice behind her.
“Are you actually getting lettuce or just filling your plate with ham, cheese, and croutons?” 
Aelin looked over her shoulder to find Chaol, her ex, suppressing a smile.
Aelin chuckled. “If it’s the same price, you may as well pile up on the good stuff.” 
Chaol gave her a small smile. “Fair enough. It’s good to see you, Aelin. You look good.”
Things hadn’t ended the best between her and Chaol, but that had been just after freshman year. At least now when they ran into one another, they could have nice little conversations like this one.
No hard feelings.
“You too,” she said, and he did. He’d been in an accident the year before. They weren’t sure he was going to walk again. In all honesty, it was just good to see him on his feet.
“How long until your class?” He asked, sliding his tray along behind hers.
She glanced down at her watch. “About forty five minutes. You?”
“This is my long break,” he sighed. “I’ve got an hour and a half, but didn’t feel like leaving campus. Want to have lunch with me?”
“Sure.” Her smile wasn’t forced, it was easy and she was glad they could even do this, when three years again, they could barely be in the same room.
“I assume you’re getting a piece of pizza after this,” Chaol said with a smirk, nodding towards her plate. “So I’ll grab us a table while you get the rest of your lunch.”
She scoffed but nodded, and went off to get a slice of pizza. When she ordered her pizza, she also got a slice of cheesecake. It was his favorite, something she hadn’t forgotten, but it didn’t hurt that she liked it, too.
Finding him in the cafeteria, she sat down at the table across from him. “How’s Yrene doing?”
He blushed, and Aelin had to admit it was adorable. After his accident, he’d fallen for his physical therapist, and she was just as smitten with him. It must have been all the one-on-one sessions, because Chaol had never been one to let someone in. Aelin had met Yrene early in her med classes, but Yrene had specialized in PT and graduated in less than three years, taking as many classes as she could manage and even studying through the summers as well.
“It’s going good,” he said, at last. “We, uh, just moved in together, actually.”
Aelin lifted a brow. “That was fast.”
Chaol shot her a look.
Aelin laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, good for you. I like Yrene. A lot. You two are good together.”
Chaol cleared his throat before taking a bite of his salad. “Thanks.” 
Aelin chuckled, taking a bite of her pizza.
Chaol blinked. “What?”
“You get so uncomfortable when it comes to feelings,” she said. “Always have.”
His eyes narrowed at her. “That’s not true.”
Aelin stopped mid-chew and raised a brow.
Even Chaol couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What about you? Seeing anyone?”
Aelin hesitated, then said, “No.”
A slow grin appeared on Chaol’s mouth. “Didn’t sound so sure about what one.”
Aelin shrugged. “Better be nice or I’m not sharing this magnificent cheesecake with you.”
Holding up his hands in placation, Chaol went back to his salad. Rowan was a dangerous topic, one she wouldn’t share with anyone but Lysandra, so she summed it up quickly. “Met someone I thought I hit it off with. Turns out we didn’t work.”
He slowly nodded. Aelin knew he’d had a couple failed relationships between her and Yrene. “I get it, I’m sorry. Still sucks.”
Shrugging again, she turned to her salad. “It happens. Not a big deal. So if you’re living with Yrene, does that mean you and Dorian broke up? Or is he playing house with you, too?”
Chaol leveled her with a look. Chaol and Dorian had been best friends long before they came to the University of Orynth. They were both from Adarlan, both trying to get away from overbearing fathers, and decided college across the country was the way to do it. They’d been roommates every year and Aelin couldn’t even imagine Chaol living with anyone except Dorian. But now he was. “He moved into an apartment with Manon this semester when I moved in with Yrene.”
Aelin blinked. “Blackbeak? He moved in with Manon Blackbeak?”
Nodding, Chaol went on. “Apparently, they’ve been dating for about a year, without anyone noticing.”
Something in the way he said it told Aelin that he had noticed, but when Dorian had his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. And apparently, he’d decided to date one of the most terrifying women on campus.
Aelin’s response was eloquent. “Wow.”
Chaol grinned. “I like it when you’re caught off guard. It’s satisfying.”
With a scoffed she nudged his leg with the toe of her sneaker. “Well, I don’t. Dorian will be getting a very angry phone call this afternoon.”
“I’ll be sure to give him a warning,” Chaol promised.
Aelin chuckled, taking the last bite of her pizza. “It’s good to see you all happy, though. Really.”
Chaol’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Aelin.”
She nodded. “Even if I am terrified that Dorian will get eaten alive.”
Chaol laughed, and she had forgotten how nice Chaol’s rare, hearty laugh was.
She meant it. She was so happy for them, both of them. It was interesting how things changed over the course of a few short years.
Their conversation continued, as did the laughs, and before she knew it, Aelin glanced down at her watch. She had less than fifteen minutes to haul ass back to the nursing building for her next class. Chaol, who had much longer to sit with nothing to do, assured her that he could handle her trash and told her to get to class. With a hug, and a promise that they’d have dinner soon, all of them, even Manon, Aelin was hurrying out of the cafeteria building.
Somehow, the entire time she’d been having lunch with Chaol, she hadn’t noticed the set of pine green eyes watching her.
Rowan’s own break had been at the same time as hers, but the gen ed building was much closer than wherever she was having to run off to, so he had longer to sit and— there was no denying it— brood. They were halfway across the room, so he couldn’t hear any of their conversation. He had no clue who the tall man was she smiled at so often, but clearly they were very familiar with each other with how easily they talked. And he made her laugh. A lot.
Rowan wasn’t sure why that was what grated on his nerves the most, but it unsettled him.
Seeing Aelin with someone else, someone clearly her own age, it all unsettled him. He didn’t like it. Almost as much as her parting words in class had.
See you later, Professor Whitethorn.
It’s like she was mocking him, yet at the same time, she clearly wasn’t. She was doing exactly as he’d asked of her, seeing him as her professor, not as her boyfriend.
No, he reprimanded himself. Not boyfriend. Hookup.
They’d had sex one time, that didn’t give either of them any claim over the other. It was a hookup and nothing more. And she was his gods-damned student.
She was off limits, in every way possible.
Yet he couldn’t figure out why seeing her with someone else, someone she should clearly be interested in instead of him, had him seeing red.
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nastylittleman · 2 years
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Hey. As some of you may know - I’m from Ukraine. From Kyiv. I know I haven’t been on Tumblr for years, but I would like to share this here as well. The post will be long and it will contain about 1% of what I would like to say.
On 24.02.2022 at 4:40 AM I have woken up unexpectedly after the restless sleep. I’ve been anxious for weeks now, our whole country was, with the continuous reports about the russian imminent attack. The first thing that I did was checking my phone for news. I’ve started following russian telegram channels to track the shit that was happening there as well, to be prepared, to have some glimpse into what’s going on there as well. And here he was, hitler 2.0 himself declaring a war with Ukraine. The spineless shit didn’t even have the dignity to call it a war, it was just a special military operation, to “free us from our nazi regime and demilitarise our country”. I couldn’t breathe. After that countless messages started popping up in the other chats about explosions in Odessa, Kyiv, Kharkiv, Lviv. Basically all over our country. You cannot imagine the horror, I thought I was going to be physically sick, I felt my body going completely numb. I’ve tried to wake my boyfriend, told him the war has started, but he was half asleep telling me to go back to sleep because we need to go to work tomorrow. I’ve called my mother, my father, they couldn’t believe it as well. For 20 minutes I wasn’t sure the war has actually started and it wasn’t another russian trick to spread the panic among us. I’ve checked our official news channels on social media, turned on our TV, but there was nothing there, everyone was asleep. Just like hitler - putin has started his war early in the morning.
A few people believed this would actually happen, even though the countless facts stated otherwise. If you didn’t know we’ve been at war with russia since 2014, after they have annexed Crimea and tried to occupy Donbas region, installing their puppet regime there, supplying them with weapons all these years. Shooting and bombing their own positions and civilians to try and blame it on Ukraine. With countless russians closing their eyes, saying they are above politics and with even more russians celebrating the Crimea annexation. Only few of them had the dignity to actually call the things for what they were, the rest were acting just like their fascist leader.
I understand it’s easier for some of you to live in a simple world where putin is solely responsible for this war. It’s easier to live with the thought that one person is the embodiment of all that is evil, not millions of people. But it’s not putin who drops the bombs on Ukrainian cities, not putin shoots defenceless families trying to evacuate, not putin bombs animal shelters, not putin forms fucking Zs all over the fucking russia, often times using the children for this, even with the dying ones in their hospices. Hundreds of thousands of people were at their rally today, praising russia, their killer soldiers and putin himself. Did you than more than 70% of russians support putin’s invasion? Did you know that poor-poor russians living in the "rotten western countries", are harassing the refugees in Europe right now, specifically in Germany, Moldova and Estonia? People who had to leave their homes, their families, their loved ones? Fleeing without nothing, sometimes without even shoes?
To understand the hate first you need to understand how sick their society is. We all know how horrible stalin was, killing millions of people, sending more to the concentration camps. But did you know that there were more than 5 millions denunciations made by "regular russians" during his reign? Betraying their own neighbours, sometimes even families, sending them to their deaths? Was Stalin solely responsible for that? Fuck no.
We are dealing with incomprehensible danger here - just look at these insane pictures. Would you be telling jewish people during WW2 to stop hating on Germany? With thousands being massacred right now in my country, millions in the grave danger, it’s simply heartbreaking to see anyone trying to divert attention from that and to protect the poor russian victims. This is beyond ridiculous.
We are eternally grateful for the World’s support and I’m moved beyond my words daily! Just please don’t help spreading kremlin’s agenda trying to humanise the literal fascists destroying my country right now, trying to erase us from the face of the Earth. These people have been trying to steal Ukraine’s history, language, culture, identity and freedom for centuries! Believe me, I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. They are ruthless aggressors who have been harassing our peaceful country for as long as we can remember! If you don’t believe me ask the people of Poland, Finland, Hungary, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Chechnya, Georgia, Syria and many more. Ask them how they feel about russians.
Russians complaining about hurtful comments on the internet and IKEA or McDonalds closing down? In less than a month of this escalation they have killed thousands of my brothers and sisters, hundreds of kids, more than 6.5 million people had to move across Ukraine to safer places, 3.2 millions had to leave the country (including myself), millions are separated from their loved ones, thousands of residential buildings destroyed, our infrastructure, our schools, our hospitals, our churches, our heritage. And they are silent, even those who do not support this war. There are more than 140 millions of them and only thousands protested. So please don’t tell us we cannot be mad at russians for all the horrors we are going through right now. Their taxes sponsor the rockets falling down on our children this very moment.
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the-modernmary · 3 years
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you’ll always know me || aaron hotchner x reader
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Summary: "I would have stayed... If you asked me to.
After your high school graduation, you left without saying goodbye to Aaron Hotchner, your best friend, and nobody had heard from you since. Years later, you're back in DC, and catching up with Aaron brings more than you could have possibly hoped for.
Warnings: mentions of weed
A/N: I really wanted some soft Hotch content in my life after all the angst in my best habit, and this is about as soft as I can get. Inspired by Taylor Swift's "dorothea". Honestly, I was listening to evermore, blacked out for about three hours, and this is what came from that. There is no other explanation for this. It's written differently than my usual style, but I hope y'all like it still!
read on ao3 || masterlist
~~~~~~~
“What’s got you in such a rush?”
  Rossi eyes Aaron carefully as the latter circles around his office, double and triple-checking that he didn’t forget anything. The last thing he wants is to have to come back to the office and cut his day short.
  Aaron shoves a few case files in his briefcase. “An old friend from high school is in town and I’m meeting up with her.”
  Rossi perks up at the word ‘her’ and he leans against the door frame. Aaron notices this, too, because he shakes his head quickly. “It’s not like that. We both got sent to boarding school for being problem children and we became quick friends. I haven’t talked to her since graduation. She just packed up her stuff and left the very next day.”
“You sound bitter,” Rossi points out.
  “Not at all,” he lies, trying to forget the hurt of running to your dorm for your weekly breakfast together, only to be met with an empty room and a singular polaroid. “I knew she hated it there and her goal was to travel and see as many places as she could. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s back stateside at all. Last I heard, she was doing some art apprenticeship in Italy, but that was years ago.”
  “You sound like you have a long evening ahead of you, so I’ll get out of your hair. And have some fun tonight, Aaron. You deserve it,” Rossi adds on as an afterthought. 
  The corners of Aaron's mouth lift slightly. “I will. Try not to let the building burn down while I’m gone. Reid is back on his physics magic kick, and I think I heard something about a lighter.”
  Rossi gives Aaron a two-finger, half-hearted salute in acknowledgment, which is all it takes for Aaron to shut his office door and head towards the elevator. Knowing that you’re just outside, he has to make a conscious effort to slow his pace from an excited jog to just an anxious speed walk. The elevator ride is slow, seemingly stopping at every single floor on the way down, which gives his mind ample time to wander and think back to graduation day.
  “There you are!” Aaron shouts from across the football field as he runs up to you, shoving through bustling groups of families trying to take pictures. He has so many stoles and cords and leis around his neck that you can barely see the suit he’s wearing underneath his gown. It’s a stark contrast to you, with only a singular chord for academic achievement, although a 3.2 wasn’t much of an achievement in the eyes of most people at boarding school.
  “Here I am!” you laugh, throwing your arms around him in a hug and breathing in the smell of his cologne.
  “Where’re your parents? Didn’t they come?”
  “Of course they didn’t. They’re not ones for celebrating something as trivial as high school graduation, not when it’s just expected of me.” You roll your eyes. “What about you? I thought you and Haley were going to do the whole ‘meet the family’ thing today?”
  Aaron is oblivious to the bitterness in your voice, although that’s nothing new. “We are, but I just wanted to give these to you.” It’s then that you notice the bouquet of flowers in his hand, although it’s now being pressed into your arms. “As a congrats. And a thank you for being there for me this whole time. You’re my best friend.”
  You try to ignore the ache in your chest at his words. “Thank you, Aaron. I… I didn’t get you anything, I’m sorry.”
  “Don’t be,” he waves it off. “If you want to get me something, breakfast is your treat tomorrow.”
  “Okay, deal,” you agree, the smile coming back to your face. Selfishly, you don’t want him to go back to Haley or his family just yet. You want him to stay there with you so you don’t feel so lonely in the crowd of happy graduates. “God, I can’t believe you’re staying in D.C. for college. We always talked about getting out, seeing the world and never coming back.”
  Aaron shrugs, and you watch as he brushes away a piece of his hair that falls into his face. “I’m hoping that going to GW for undergrad will make it easier to get into law school there.”
  “And Haley Brooks is still here for another year,” you point out, half accusatory.
  “Yeah, that, too.” Aaron chuckles uncomfortably before quickly switching the conversation. “What about you? Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
  “There’s an art school in Glasgow I’m thinking of going to. But, you know… George Washington also has an art program. It’s pretty nice, too. I’m still deciding.” You trail off, looking straight into Aaron’s eyes, giving him every chance in the world to make the decision for you.
  Aaron hesitates, fighting an internal battle. “Go to Glasgow!” he says, fake enthusiasm in his voice, but your disappointment blocks out anything but his actual words. “Then I’ll have an excuse to visit Scotland.”
  “Yeah, that’s what I was leaning towards, too,” you lie. “Aaron, I—”
  You’re cut off by a voice calling his name. You both turn around to see Haley Brooks waving him over, her other hand holding 7-year-old Sean’s hand. She looks like spring personified, her blonde hair in bouncy curls and her pink sundress swishing around her long, slender legs. Her smile is so big that it could have parted storm clouds, and you want nothing more than to hate her with every single fiber of your being.
  But then you see Aaron, returning her megawatt smile with his own, one you rarely ever saw, and how can you hate somebody who makes him so happy?
  “I have to go, I’m sorry,” he says, although there’s not even a hint of regret in his voice. “But I’ll see you for one last Sunday breakfast tomorrow?”
  “I’ll see you then,” you lied.
  How Aaron could have missed the signs of your unhappiness, he’ll never know. At that time, all he knew was that you left without ever saying goodbye, leaving behind only a polaroid of the two of you from your weekend trip to Virginia Beach, both of you drunk and laughing with your arms wrapped around each other. He still has it, buried in his nightstand somewhere, but he hasn’t had the courage to look at it for a few years now.
  As Aaron steps out of the FBI building, he recognizes you instantly, even though it’s only the back of your head, and it causes his breath to catch in his throat. He calls your name and watches as you turn around, your hair whipping around you, and the fact that you still have that same mischievous glint in your eyes is enough to make him feel like he’s sixteen again and nervously skipping class with you holding his hand and pulling him towards the school gates.
  “Aaron!” You jog up to him and throw your arms around him in a hug, which he happily reciprocates. You press a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away, and Aaron’s entire face burns.
  You keep your hands on his biceps, holding him at arm’s length, as you study him. He looks almost exactly the same as he did all those years ago, with soft hair and the slightest bit of stubble, but he looks less carefree. He seems more mature, like life had aged him 100 years. Still, as cute as high school Aaron was, it had nothing on how good he looks now. “Look at you, Mr. FBI, all suit and corporate-looking! I never thought I’d see the day.”
  “Yeah, I guess I’ve changed quite a bit,” he admits, and the sight of his dimples makes you want to melt right there into the sidewalk. “It’s really good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”
  “Oh, I’m sure you barely thought about me,” you joke, but hurt flashes through your eyes.
  Aaron wants to argue, to tell you that he thinks about you all the time, but decides against it. He doesn’t want to spend the precious few hours he has with you bringing up old issues. “Are you hungry? Because there’s this diner a few blocks down with giant milkshakes.”
  “Why are we still standing here, then? All you had to say was milkshakes, they’re my favorite.”
  “I know. I remember,” he says, and that all-too-familiar pang in your heart comes back like it had never left. “Come on, we can walk and cut through a park.”
  The two of you start your walk in comfortable silence, listening to the bustling city around you. Every once in a while, your hands would bump into his, and you were doing everything you could to ignore it.
  “So did you ever go to that art school?” he asks suddenly, looking over at you.
  You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. “I did. You were right, I loved Scotland.”
  “Where did you go after that? Nobody heard from you.”
  Your eyes sparkle as memories of your life the past few years flash through your mind. “Everywhere. Literally. I took a bunch of odd jobs and spent my time traveling,” you admitted. “I taught English in Vietnam for a year, worked on a cruise ship that went around South America, was an au pair for a French ambassador, went on research expeditions… Even dated a pilot for all of six months. Anything I could do that would let me see the world.” You laugh to yourself, shaking your head fondly. “I really put that private boarding school tuition to good use, huh? My parents were pissed.”
  “It sounds like you were living the life you dreamed of,” Aaron says softly, looking down at you.
  “It was,” you agree, your voice a little sad.
  “So then why are you back here in DC?”
  You shrug, your hands clasped behind your back, and you step down on a particularly crunchy leaf. “I’m just passing through. I’ve been going around the US and looking for a place to settle down. Finally. Figured I might as well put that art degree to good use. Maybe I’ll open a gallery or something.”
  Aaron nods slowly as the chill of autumn runs through his bones. It’s nice, though, in a weird way. He’s always preferred the fall over spring. “Where have you looked so far?”
  “Lots of places. San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Atlanta, San Antonio, Miami… I’m heading up to New York next. Nothing’s felt right so far. But enough about me, how are you? I heard you married Haley Brooks.”
  That same bitterness you felt in high school when you talked about Haley comes back with a vengeance. It’s unfair, and you know that. How was Aaron supposed to know that you were practically in love with him in high school if you never told him? Even now, you’re sure that he hasn’t put together the pieces.
  You watch as his gaze falls slightly. “I did. She died a few years ago.”
  “I’m sorry,” you whisper, and you reach out to give his hand a small squeeze.
  “We got divorced a little while before it happened,” he explains, unsure why it’s so important to him that you know that. “I blamed myself for it for a long time. But I’ve, uh… I’ve made peace with it now.”
  You give him a comforting smile, fully aware of the fact that you’re still holding his hand. “Aaron Hotchner, making peace with something in his life? I never thought I’d see the day.”
  Aaron chuckles and bumps his shoulder to yours. “I’ve been known to do it a few times. But only a few. Haley and I have a son, though. His name is Jack. He’s 8 now.”
  You shake your head in disbelief, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “And you’re a father? Wow, you really have changed.”
  “Is that a bad thing?” he asks, and you shake your head wordlessly.
  “I like every version of Aaron Hotchner,” you promise. “Besides, change is a good thing. Especially since this city hasn’t changed a bit.”
  Aaron looks around, eyebrows furrowed, like he’s seeing DC for the very first time. “It’s actually changed quite a bit. But it’s subtle. Only people who have been here as long as I have would even notice it, probably.”
  The words cut through you both as a painful reminder of your abrupt departure from DC, and the silence settles over the two of you like a thick fog. This conversation was going to have to happen no matter what, you knew that going into this meeting with Aaron, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon.
  “I would have stayed,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “If you asked me to.”
  Aaron shakes his head as his Adam’s apple bobs. “I thought about it. But I couldn’t do that to you. I knew you wanted to see the world, and you said it yourself. This city had nothing left to offer you.”
  You pause, rubbing your thumb over your fingertips with your freehand. “It had you,” you reply, and Aaron feels like he was just stabbed in the heart. “That would have been enough.” Seeing Aaron’s dejected face, you quickly keep talking. “But I get it, don’t worry. You were head over heels for Haley Brooks. Everybody knew you two were meant to be together.””
  “What does that have to do with you leaving?” he asks, more accusatory than he intended.
  “Everything.”
  Aaron breathes out your name, unsure of what to say until he settles on: “I’m sorry.”
  You wave him off, forcing a laugh. “Don’t be. I was 17 years old with a crush. We do stupid things, like want to stay at home for a boy. I’m glad I left. Besides, Haley Brooks was clearly the love of your life, and far be it from me to try and break up the golden couple.”
  The two of you stop in front of the diner and you drop Aaron’s hand, much to his disappointment, although you’re still close enough to him to see your reflection in his brown eyes. “I didn’t know you felt like that about me,” he says.
  “Which is surprising, because everybody else definitely knew. But you’ve always been a little clueless when it comes to stuff like that,” you tease, flashing him a toothy smile. “But it’s in the past. So come on, I want to hear about this FBI stuff and drink a milkshake so big it makes my stomach hurt.”
  Twenty minutes later, you and Aaron find yourselves smushed together in a corner booth covered in cheap vinyl, splitting a chocolate milkshake and laughing as you stroll down memory lane. 
  “You know, I ran into Stephen yesterday! A little coffee shop not too far from here,” you tell Aaron.
  Aaron almost drops the fry he was about to eat. “Do you mean Stoner Stephen? What is he doing back here?”
  You take a sip of the milkshake, and Aaron’s gaze is intense as you wrap your lips around the straw. When you pull back, he’s still staring at the soft pink your lipstick leaves behind. “Apparently, he’s lived here for years. Also, did you know he’s crazy smart? Like… graduated 4th in our class, went to Brown undergrad and Columbia graduate, smart.”
  Aaron’s eyes go wide in disbelief. “And this is the same guy who, completely sober, tried putting his mattress in the pool so that he didn’t have to sleep in his own dorm?”
  “The very same one. He’s like a lobbyist now or something for some activist group.”
  “Wow, I did not expect that. Do you remember when he got so high that he thought his joint was going to catch the dorms on fire?” Aaron asks, the words barely discernible through his laughter. “So he warned campus police that the whole school was going to burn down.”
  “Yes!” you giggle, your head thrown back in laughter. “They thought it was an arson threat and they had to evacuate the whole school. I was taking an English final during that.”
  Aaron’s shoulder pressing against yours makes a shiver run down your spine. You idly wonder how much closer he can get to you if he really tried.
  As if reading your mind, Aaron turns towards you a little more so that your knees are touching and you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. “We went to the beach that weekend,” he says quietly, unwilling to break eye contact with you. “Drank cheap beer. You got stung by a jellyfish. I had to carry you back to the car.”
  No, no. You were not about to fall for Aaron Hotchner’s charm again that easily. Not again. It took you too long to get over him the first time. Still, you were leaning closer to Aaron, and Aaron was leaning in towards you, and your noses brushed as you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly and—
  And his phone rings. Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips one last time before pulling away, giving you an apologetic look.
  “Hotchner,” he answers, and you pull your coat tighter around yourself as realization sinks into you. You feel like you’re 17 again, desperately waiting for Aaron to ask you to prom, only to hide in your dorm for days on end when he asked Haley Brooks.
  When Aaron hangs up, he immediately reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, setting enough cash on the table to cover the tab and tip. “That was work. We have to fly out to Arizona. I’m sorry.”
  You nod understandingly. “Gotta catch the bad guys. When do you leave?”
  It’s silent for a few torturous moments before he finally answers. “An hour, at most. We brief at the office and then get on the plane.”
  “Wow,” you breathe. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you live out of your suitcase. Can I walk back with you, at least?”
  Aaron smiles, a small smile that makes you wonder how often he actually smiles now. It used to be a lot, but from what he’s told you, it seems like he’s had a rough go of it the last couple of years, and has a lot less to smile about. It makes you sad because when you were traveling the world, his smile was the one thing you missed the most.
  “I’d really like that.”
  The two of you make small talk on the way back, swapping stories about Jack and your various adventures around the globe. The autumn air is crisp with leaves falling all around you. At one point, there was a big gust of wind, and leaves and pine needles got blown onto the two of you, and you took your sweet time running your fingers through his hair, bushing it all off him. 
  When you get to the entrance of the FBI building, neither one of you says anything. You just stand there, both unwilling to say goodbye. You turn to face each other, just as close as you were in the diner booth.
  “Oh, you have a…” Aaron delicately reaches his hand to your hair. His fingers in your hair make your stomach do flips, and you’re almost positive he can hear your racing heartbeat. His eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, never blinking. “Pine needle,” he whispers, holding the offending object between his fingers.
  “Thanks,” you breathe, and you’re not sure if it’s the autumn chill or his hand reaching to cup your cheek that sends goosebumps throughout your body.
  As if he were magnetic, you rise onto your toes, bringing yourself closer to him, and you press your lips against his. Aaron deepens the kiss and runs his thumb across your cheekbone. His other hand wraps itself around your waist. The kiss is slow and sensual and better than anything you could have dreamed of — and you dream of Aaron kissing you more often than you’d like to admit.
  All too soon, the two of you pull away from each other, both wearing matching smiles.
  “I should probably… get in there… before my team sends out a search party,” Aaron says reluctantly, pointing towards the entrance. 
  You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Go save lives. I’ll probably be around for a few more days before heading up to New York. If you’re back by then.”
  Aaron purses his lips, deep in thought. “You’re definitely settling down somewhere? Done with seeing the world?”
  “That’s the plan.”
  “Have you… Do you think…” Aaron takes a grounding breath, trying to gather the words he was too afraid to ask back at graduation. “Have you ever considered settling down here? There’s a pretty big art community here.”
  You shrug, ignoring excitement building in your chest. “I think my work is a little too experimental for the people of the capitol.”
  “You’d be surprised,” he chuckles.
  You bring your lower lip between your teeth, chewing nervously at it. “I don’t know… I left for a reason. I just don’t know what DC has to offer me anymore.”
  Aaron spreads his arms out at his side, palms facing you in an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. “There’s me,” he offers, and, when your eyes go wide, he adds, “And Stoner Stephen, if I’m not enough.”
  A laugh bursts out of you uncontrollably, which seems to put both you and Aaron at ease. “That makes it a very tempting offer,” you tease.
  “And I have a coworker who flips houses. He’ll be able to tell you where to get the best deal on an apartment,” Aaron presses as if you need any more convincing. As if your mind isn’t already made up.
  “First, I need to know that there’s more than one good place to get milkshakes,” you point out, shoving your hands in your coat pockets. “You’ll have to show me around when you get back.”
  Aaron’s lips quirk up in a hopeful smile. “It’s a date.”
  He makes his way towards the entrance of the Hoover Building, but you call out his name, stopping him once more. “We’ll also need a new Sunday breakfast place. Since our old one is closed down.”
  Now, his smile is one of pure joy, and his eyes are sparkling in a way you haven’t seen in years. “I know just the place. As long as you don’t up and leave without telling me again.”
  “Never again,” you promise, and for once, the idea of staying doesn’t terrify you.
  “Then we’ll get breakfast together as soon as I get back.”
  You smile at him, already missing the feeling of his lips on yours. “I’ll see you then.”
328 notes · View notes
cno-inbminor · 4 years
Text
domus
a/n: here we have another short drabble dump! i wrote this up very quickly -- i’m still working on that long fic i’ve been talking about! i apologize for taking so long to put it together. pls take this short fic as an apology for now. stay hydrated, wear your masks, and be safe! love you all so dearly <3 
plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else. 
characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi 
wc: ~3.7k, will probably have other parts in the future.
genre/warnings: angst with dashes of fluff; mentions of alcohol
pt. 2 | pt. 3
edit: now crossposted to AO3!
When you’re in love, you spend weeks and months wondering why time won’t stop. You sit and ponder over why you’ll have to die someday and leave behind the person you’ve dedicated your entire soul to, or what might happen if your death came early and you didn’t get to say goodbye. You wonder why the seasons seem to pass you by so quickly, that in the blink of an eye, you go from enjoying a cup of iced tea on the porch to holding a mug of hot chocolate inside watching snowflakes swirl in their journeys to the ground.
But when love ceases to exist, time seems to stop. The days drag for longer, the seasons crawl at a turtle’s pace, and the inevitable end feels less terrifying. You no longer fear the eventual sagging of your skin or the spider legs that grow at the corners of your eyes. You no longer cling onto a hope that there will be a lover’s hand holding yours at your bed of eternal sleep. You simply become, just you. Solitary, single, independent you.
It’s no longer you and someone else. The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, a whimper leaving your throat. You shakily reach over for the next blouse and fight back the tears, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. The skin is chapped and broken to the point that you would need layers and layers of chapstick to save any semblance of it, a terrible habit that you wish you hadn’t possessed. It’s muscle memory, the way you fold the blouse in half, fold the sleeves in, bending it over your arm before it lands in a neat stack of other tops in your suitcase. Your eyes take a glance at the clock, and you gather you have about another hour before you needed to leave for the airport and make it on time for your flight.
You ignore the male figure hunched over on the edge of your bed, tuning out his pleas and broken promises. He begs you to give him time, to implore that it’s all his fault and he’ll make it work for the two of you. Tetsuro promises that he didn’t mean to and that it wasn’t anything you did, but you feel so empty inside that you can’t even find the energy to argue, to turn on him and say that he was pretending to take all the blame so it’d be a better explanation to all your friends. A relationship involves both parties, and while there were special exceptions, this wasn’t one of them. Something was clearly wrong with you, and you were okay with that. You were just tired of Testuro attempting to take everything onto himself.
“I thought it’d be best to come clean with you,” he says, throat hoarse from lack of hydration. “I know you would question it and I haven’t done anything, I swear, I know you’re amazing and don’t deserve to live a lie and—”
“Do you want me to say ‘thank you’?” You interjected quietly, morosely. Your hands slide open the underwear drawer and take out a week’s worth of underwear, bras, and bralettes. “Do you want me to express my gratitude in your honesty for telling me that you don’t love me anymore? You can easily buy a trophy online and make the inscription yourself. ‘Most honest man alive’? Is that what you want?” You ask, tone flat and not possessing the least bit of amusement and humor.
“Can’t you give me some time? I’ll try, I’ll try to figure out what went wrong, and I can love you again. We can still get married and everything, but please don’t leave.”
“I’m not leaving forever, Tetsu. I’m just gone for a week, maybe more.”
“Where are you even going?”
“That’s none of your business,” you quickly reply, defenses back up as you make a beeline for the bathroom. You pick up all the toiletries you can, the ones that would be allowed in your carry-on. Strangers won’t care about your missing skincare routine and your complexion not looking its best.
“What if you get lost? Or kidnapped? What if people ask—”
“Easy. Just tell them I had a last minute business trip, family emergency, whatever floats your boat.”
“Can’t you see that I’m trying? I—”
“This isn’t just about you!” You snap, whirling around to look at him for the first time in the last hour or so. Testuro notices with a pang in his heart that your cheeks have sunken in slightly since he broke his revelation to you just last week, the eye circles darker than ever. But your eyes are soulless, dead, no shine or spark that he’d wake up to every morning even muddled with sleep.
“You can’t just expect me to be okay and continue to bend over backwards for you without question. The least you could do is give me my time, give me some space to think about all of it. That’s the bare minimum.”
And with that, you zip your suitcase shut, grab your passport (even though you probably don’t need it), keys, wallet, and phone, and walk as quickly as you can to the front door. The scheduled Uber will arrive in just a few minutes, and as you slip into a pair of flats, you can hear the creak of the bed and Testuro’s padded steps nearing you.
“Just be careful, okay? Call me if you need anything, anything. You’re still one of the most important people to me, so just – text me at some point. Let me know you’re alive at least.”
“You need to rest. You’re on call tomorrow,” you digress while opening the door.
“(Y/n)—”
“I’ll text you. Promise.”
And the door shuts behind you.
-
Your relationship with Akaashi Keiji is…hard to explain. In fact, you’re not even sure what to refer him as in your life. Anytime you spoke of him or attempted to explain, you’d fumble over words and draw blanks. While it was irritating and aggravating at times, you learned to just accept it.
Akaashi Keiji was the neighbor down the street, two years older, and someone who had known you since you were 8. Your moms were attached at the hip not longer after you moved to Tokyo, and that meant holidays were spent together, impromptu get-togethers and dinners were a common occurrence, and you saw him frequently at school. He was a quiet soul, gentle, but reserved. In fact, most of the things you knew about him were secondhand conversations from your mother talking about the family, because honestly his mom was basically your second mom now, and your mother trusted you with everything. His past, his troubles, his personality all relayed through your mom from his own, and when you saw him in the hallways, he wasn’t much of an enigma to you. Many other girls had found the mysterious air around him to be attractive, that the pretty setter who only ever smiled around his volleyball team and kept a tight circle of friends had something significant beneath the layers.
Keiji grew up with you, playing Smash on the Wii to pass time as your parents gossiped away. Sometimes, you’d play an intense game of Monopoly with him, a game that typically tipped in his favor. He never said much about himself, always relayed more about others that overlapped in your lives. The most he ever spoke to you about was when it came to teachers at school, even giving you some of his old notes and pointers. But even you could tell that he kept his guards up, and you wondered if he even classified you as a friend.
Your go-to explanation of Keiji’s standing in your life was a family friend. But that insinuated you were close with him, which you weren’t at all. No matter how many times he walked home with you (mainly at the pushing from his mother), no matter how many times he was forced to entertain you at dinners and holidays, no matter how many times he gave you a small smile in school, there was such a large gap between the two of you. He always seemed so different around his team, like they had the privilege of knowing the real him, and at times, you felt…jealous.
And the weird thing is that you can rely on him somehow – whether it be because he’d get an earful from his parents if he didn’t help you when you asked it or out of the goodness of his heart, he was simply always there. Sometimes, you were bold enough to text him about a show he talked about in the past, and he would reply quickly as if your unexpected, rare text about something benign didn’t faze him at all.  
Yet despite the distance, despite the lack of any semblance of an actual friendship with him, he was the first one you thought of when all this happened. He was the one you wanted to see – maybe it’s because he was the closest thing to home, and you didn’t want to go back to your parents explaining everything. It’s been a while since you’ve been back in Tokyo, ever since you moved to Sapporo for your job and Testuro got matched for a residency at a hospital there.
At 7PM on a Friday afternoon, past the baggage claim with the sunset beaming in through the sliding glass doors, you stare at Keiji’s contact on your phone, thumb hovering hesitantly over the call button. You could count the number of times you’ve called him on one hand, but this was an emergency, right? Is this why your heart is pounding against your chest, so anxious that you feel like you’ll break into a cold sweat any time soon?
You jump into the deep end.
Your hand nervously brings the phone to your ear, waiting with bated breath as the dial tone echoes in the chamber of your brain. Part of you wants him to miss the call so you can avoid this awkward conversation, but another part of you desperately wants him to pick up as if he’ll be able to save you.
Oh god oh god oh god, you panic as the tone stops, there’s a pause, a rustle, and then a hesitant, “—Hello?”
You didn’t plan this out. You’re not ready for this. Shit, what are you supposed to say?
“—hello? (Y/n)?”
“Have you had dinner yet?”
Wow, you’re a terrible conversationalist.
“…um, I haven’t actually. I was about to warm up some leftovers?”
Your eyes focus on the taxis driving by, picking up passengers as they get waved down. Maybe you should just find a cheap hotel nearby, continue this conversation tomorrow.
“Well…I’m in town, actually. I just landed about 30 minutes ago and realized I didn’t have anywhere to go and I don’t really want to call anyone else and I don’t exactly know who else to call so I just, um, thought about calling you and asking if you’ve had dinner? Which if you’re busy and stuff, that’s totally fine, I should’ve texted you beforehand instead of springing this on you and—”
“(Y/n), it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. I’m not busy, so you can stop by. Did my mom ever give you my address?”
Keiji’s brief attempt to calm you down works, surprisingly. You allow yourself to take a deep breath despite the stale airport air, but it was some much-needed oxygen. This is going to be okay, Keiji doesn’t hate you quite yet.
“N-no, she never did.”
“That’s fine, I’ll text it to you. My place is about 30 minutes from the airport, I’d recommend getting a taxi instead of an Uber. I’ll order some delivery—”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“You still like the miso ramen from that shop not far from your house, right? They opened up a second store not far from where I live.”
How did he remember that? You’re pretty sure your own mother had forgotten that fact by now.
“Y-yeah, I do,” you smile to yourself. “I still think about it sometimes.”
“Sounds good then. Get here safely then.”
“Okay. Thank you loads again. I’m sorry for all this—”
“Don’t worry about it. Keep me updated, see you later.”
“Yeah, bye.”
Not 30 seconds later, a text arrives to your phone with an address, a keycode for getting past the main door, and other relevant instructions.
-
Keiji’s apartment is exactly as you expect it to be – prim, proper, neat almost to a fault, with minimalist decorations. The apartment complex he lives in is rather high-end, if the security guards standing outside the main entrance indicated anything. You almost feel completely out of place or like a bug on the wall as you step in after him, a rather comfortable silence between the two of you. His kitchen is spotless and almost sparkles back at you, and the only thing that seems out of place are the containers of your ramen he so kindly ordered for you.
“Your place is really nice, it’s really…you,” you comment, setting your stuff down at the door. Keiji indulges you with a quiet laugh, making sure that there wasn’t anything that would be in your way. His glasses are perched on his head, an old monochrome t-shirt on his shoulders and sweatpants hung low on his hips, yet in this apartment that almost seems like it should be in an interior design magazine, he looks at home. His ethereal beauty, the softness in his eyes, the gentle up-turned strands of his hair – he belonged here.
“The ramen came not too long ago, so it’s still hot. I’ll go ahead and put it together, you can put your jacket on the couch.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Instead, you fold your jacket over your suitcase and quietly make your way into the apartment. Straight across from you are doors to a balcony – darkness had long taken over the city, so you see nothing but your reflection at first. But as you near the plexiglass, the reflection disappears into the view and you almost gasp from the beauty of it.
Blinking lights, flashing billboards, and the brightly lit Tokyo Skytree peer back at you. It only hits you now how much you’ve missed home, and that even though Sapporo was one of the largest cities in Japan, it still wasn’t Tokyo.
“I never get tired of it,” Keiji chimes in while carrying your bowl of ramen to the dining table.
“It’s an amazing view, I can see why you’d live here,” you reply while moving away from it. The table also has two empty wine glasses, and just as you’re about to ask him why they were there, he returns with a newly opened bottle of chardonnay.
“I haven’t had a lot of time to restock the wine fridge, but I knew I was going to kick myself for not having a bottle of that dessert wine we had before you went off to college,” he said with mirth and amusement. “You remember that one?”
“Yeah,” you nearly splutter, almost flushing that once again, Keiji was remembering details about you that you didn’t even know. “Your mom wanted to throw me a graduation dinner and you made it back in time after finals. And she had a bottle of it and between the two of us, we probably drank most of it. Our parents said it was too sweet.”
He nods and sits across from you, elbows on the table as you mutter, “Itadakimasu,” and start eating. You finish your meal silently for the most part, making small talk here and there. Keiji refills both of your glasses and the two of you sip the wine demurely, and while he seems okay with the lack of an explanation, you’re struggling to find the right words.
“So what’s with the impromptu trip to Tokyo? Are you going to see your parents?”
“Should I try to lie to you?”
“It’s up to you.”
Oh, okay then.
But he looks expectant, as if he knows you wouldn’t lie to him – in fact, you’ve never lied to him before. There was never any need to, but did that just mean neither of you ever cared enough?
“Something happened with me and Testuro. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but at the end of the day…I just needed to get away, as cliché as it sounds,” you laugh brokenly. Keiji continues to carefully observe you with a stare that you can’t escape. “I don’t want to tell my parents – you know them, they’ll ask a million questions. Without thinking, I booked a ticket to Tokyo and…now I’m here.”
That was a lie. How are you supposed to tell Keiji that he was the first person you thought of in an effort to run away? You and Keiji have never gotten personal before, he made sure of that. The last thing you want to do is weird him and scare him off.
“…did he cheat on you?” Keiji asked. His voice is darker in his inquiry, deeper than you’ve ever heard before. He has his hands folded in front of his lips and his eyes harden. Testuro may be an old friend to him, but you were in his life longer.
“Nonononono,” you quickly wave off. This isn’t the time to slander your…boyfriend? Could Tetsuro still even be your boyfriend if he no longer has any feelings for you? “Nothing like that.”
“That’s good to hear. If you want, you can tell me another time then. You’re welcome to stay here until you go back to Sapporo.”
You look up at him, eyes incredulous. Could Keiji really be this comfortable with you?
“I wouldn’t mind staying tonight, but I can stay in a hotel for the rest of the week that I’m here.”
“Nonsense,” Keiji refutes, standing from the table and taking your wine glasses to the sink. You follow with your bowl and he starts washing them before you can even offer. “Mom would kill me if she knew I let you pay for a hotel when I have a perfectly functioning bed you can stay in.”
“I mean, if it’s not a bother…”
“It’s not. The futon’s pretty comfortable, I’ve definitely fallen asleep on it plenty of times.”
“We can switch, I would never let you sleep on the futon for a whole week.”
“If you say so then. But for tonight, you can take my bed. Let me grab you an extra towel so you can shower. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” he says while drying everything off, folding the kitchen towel neatly before heading off to his room. He returns with a large, soft grey towel and you shyly take it from him with a word of thanks, but he stays there in front of you, waiting for something.
“I’m really glad you picked up the phone,” you whisper softly, feeling the effects of the alcohol. You’re entering uncharted territory for the two of you, and this could either kill or strengthen this odd distant friendship. “I meant it when I said I didn’t know who else to call. You were the first person that came to mind and just…I don’t want to make this weird, like you can kick me out,” you begin to ramble. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to take me in because your mom would be disappointed if you wouldn’t, you’ve already put up with me for over 15 years and it’s fine, I can be on my own and—”
Smooth, calloused hands delicately hold your face, large palms and nimble fingers cupping your cheeks. Your words die on your tongue as Keiji stares straight into your eyes, holding your gaze until your breathing calms down to a steady, languid pace. “You’re my friend, (y/n). So it’s good that you called me.”
“I’m your…friend?” You ask unsteadily, feeling a sense of disbelief.
“Yeah,” he confirms with the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “We’re friends.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Now go shower.”
“Okay.”
-
You’re fast asleep before Keiji finishes his own shower, his bedroom door left ajar as the hallway light beams through. He pauses in the midst of drying his hair with a towel, letting it bunch and hang off his neck as he cautiously pushes the door open. Keiji notices your even breathing and how much more relaxed you look in sleep. You’re curled up on your side with the blanket pulled up to your face and he can’t lie: it’s adorable and cute, and he shouldn’t really be thinking these things.
He sits on the edge of the bed in the little space that’s provided, lithe fingers reaching out to brush back a few stray wisps of your hair. Watching you sleep pulls him back into a fond memory he’s kept of the two of you, one that might’ve held very little significance to you but meant something so much more to him. He knows you know him well, he knows how much his mother babbles on about him, and adults were more prone to gossip than the rowdiest of teenagers – he’d be painfully oblivious if he didn’t think you knew that much about him, or more than the average friend.
But it’s comforting to him, sometimes. Knowing you, how kindly you think of others, he might not have to explain what he’s feeling in the moment. You would be able to know, and that soothes him to some degree.
Maybe he had a little bit too much wine as well, but ever so subtly, motions steady and unhurried, he deftly leans closer and closer until his lips brush the apple of your cheek. He lingers for no more than a few seconds and sits back up, gazing at you before standing. His hands adjust the blankets and make sure you’re properly tucked in. He pads away, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible as to not wake you.
And when he’s found a comfortable position on the futon with his most comfortable throw blanket, he realizes, begrudgingly, that this week will fly by too fast for his liking.  
995 notes · View notes
headheartbellarke · 3 years
Text
LIGHT A FIRE IN MY EYES | Owen Patrick Joyner
PAIRING(S): Charlie Gillespie’s sister!Reader x Owen Patrick Joyner
WARNING(S): fluff, angst
WORDS: 3.4k
SUMMARY: where Y/N is charlie gillespie’s sister, and while living with him and owen, unexpected feelings rise up. (im so bad at these)
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READER’S POV
    A rhythmic knock on my bedroom door breaks me out of my trance. I push my glasses further up my nose and close my physics textbook, dropping my pencil between the pages to bookmark it. Pushing myself off the chair, I stretch my arms above my head – I’ve been sitting at my desk for about five hours now, trying to revise everything for my exam tomorrow. I walk over to my door, and unlock it, and I’m greeted by my brother, Charlie. He takes in my appearance and frowns.
     “I thought you were still sleeping. When did you get up?”
     “Uhh…” I trail off, looking behind me at the clock mounted on the wall opposite to me. 10:30 AM.  “About 5, yeah.”
    I turn back and notice my brother widening his eyes. “Are you okay, little one?”
    I’m not a morning person, under no circumstances ever. Growing up, I’ve always been the last person to wake up – Charlie being the first. So, I guess it’s awfully unusual for him to hear this.
     “This is college, honey. You wouldn’t know.” I shrug at him and he grins. I’ve always hated the fact that he got a free pass from college, since he’s an actor.
    That is also the reason why he’s here. We grew up in Canada – Charlie, me, my two other older brothers and my twin sister Meghan. Growing up, Charlie, Meghan and I were inseparable – since we’re closer in age – Charlie’s only two years older than Meghan and me. But I had to leave home for college – I got into Caltech, and that was not an opportunity I was about to give up, even though Charlie protested so many times that I’m apparently the baby of the house and I shouldn’t go to another country alone.
    Now, he’s living with me – he is shooting for his show, Julie and The Phantoms (proud sister, here), and they have a couple of scenes and some recording to do in LA, so he’s staying in my apartment for a week, along with his friend, co-star and roommate back in Vancouver, Owen. Previously, they lived with me for more than a month when they had to go through musical bootcamp or something for the sake of the show. (So proud.)
    That was also when I’d developed a massive crush on Owen.
    Charlie was living with me for a good two weeks when, one day, he took me out to meet the rest of the cast. (Who were all lovely, by the way.) On the drive there, he told me that Owen had been living in a hotel since he’s originally from Oklahoma, and that Charlie’s thinking of asking him to come live with us, if I was okay with that. Of course, I had said yes. I had ample space in my duplex apartment and living alone is boring. So, Charlie introduced me to Owen and we immediately hit it off. Of course, I thought that he was incredibly attractive when we met. But I meet a lot of attractive people at university.
    Then, we started living together, and I realized how amazing Owen actually is. He’s an absolute dork – but he’s also funny, very kind, thoughtful, compassionate, altruistic and so, so nice. Both of us have a lot in common, and there’s always been this unsaid, unacknowledged chemistry between us that a lot of the other cast members had picked up on. (Not my brother, though. He would have killed Owen.) We had so much fun when we were together – he turned everything into an adventure. The best part was that I got to be myself, completely, whenever I was around him. I got to talk about whatever I wanted with him – he never, ever judged me.
    Before they went to Vancouver when production for the show began, we had a last night out with the rest of the cast and a bunch of family members – except the kids. We went to this bar near my college. I was so, so drunk and then I suddenly started feeling queasy and Owen offered to take me home since Charlie was in the same position. There was so much traffic and Owen and I kept singing whatever song was on the radio to pass the time – LA traffic – when we were both leaning across our seats and we started kissing. I remember feeling like I would burst from the happiness and the softness, the affection, the admiration that he had in his eyes when he looked at me.
    Of course, I fell asleep pretty soon after the traffic dissipated and woke up next morning to find him packing for his trip. That was when I’d realized that no matter how much I liked him, we could never be together. First of all, long distance relationships almost never work out, and secondly, he’s my brother’s best friend. That was why I chose to just give him a quick hug goodbye and head to college – without even bothering to drop them off at the airport, or even talking to him.
    He texted and called a couple of times after that, too. But I never responded, never even opened any of his texts – because I knew that once I do that, I would definitely call him. That went on for a week, and the only time we spoke was when he’d texted me from Savannah’s phone: why are you ignoring me? I texted back all the reasons why we couldn’t ever be together, and I didn’t hear from him for another week, until Charlie called me the day before yesterday, telling me that they have a couple of scenes to do in LA, along with some recording stuff, and they’ll stay with me for a few days. I had to approve, or else Charlie might figure out everything.
    They arrived yesterday, and I think that I’ve done a pretty good job of ignoring him so far.
    Charlie’s voice breaks me out of my train of thoughts. “You have exams or what?”
    I nod. “Applied physics, tomorrow. Are you going out?” I ask, pointing at his dark blue jeans.
     “Madi and I are writing this song together. You’ll love it.”
    I smile at him. “If I’m not the first one to hear it –”
    He hums, a chuckle escaping him. I lean against the doorframe, as he continues, “Owen just woke up. He doesn’t start his scenes until tomorrow, so I told him to take care of you today, while I’m away.”
    I ignore the way my heart skips a beat at the mere mention of his name and flatten my lips. “I’m 19, Charlie, I can –”
     “Take care of yourself, blah blah blah. I don’t care.”
    I roll my eyes, and playfully shove him forward. He stumbles a few steps backwards and furrows his brows at me. “Ouch!”
     “Are you taking my car?”
    He nods. “Where –”
     “In the magnetic key holder on the fridge.”
     “Okay, sis.” He smiles at me, leaning forward to ruffle my hair – which makes it even messier than it already was. “Go away!” I grumble, trying to pat his hand away. “Never!” He calls out, turning toward the kitchen to grab the keys.
    I shake my head and laugh. “Love you!”
    He shouts back, without looking behind at me. “Love you most!”
****
    The delicious smell of pancakes reminds me of the fact that I haven’t eaten since last night. I drag my feet to the kitchen, mentally preparing myself for the person I’m about to encounter in there.
     “Uh, hi…” I hesitantly call out, entering the kitchen – and notice a very shirtless Owen, with his very shirtless back turned towards me. He turns around at the sound of my voice, and a few strands of golden blonde hair fall across his eyes. I long to reach my hand across and push those away.
    Instead, he himself does that as his eyes flit over me, and a look of pain flashes through his eyes. I hate that I’m the cause of that.
     “I was wondering how you would ignore me when we’re living in the same apartment.”
     “I deserve that.” I walk over to the stove to stand beside him.
    He ignores me and goes back to flipping golden brown pancakes which smell amazing, but all I can focus on is the curve of his back, the hollow space between his collarbones, and the way his hands grip on the pan a little too hard. I feel a warmth course through my body and find myself missing the way he used to wrap his arms around me from behind in the mornings when Charlie was still asleep.
     “Owen,” I whisper, and he inhales sharply at that. “Please. I don’t want things to be like this – I don’t want us to be like this.”
    He uses his spatula to lift the pancake and puts it atop other pancakes on a plate beside the stove and turns it off. He turns around to face me, biting his lip and I think I just had an aneurysm because of the intensity of his gaze.
    He sighs, leaning against the counter. “Y/N. You made it pretty clear that there would never be an ‘us.’”
     “I know. But we can still be friends, right? Like we were before… everything.”
     “See, that’s the thing. I can’t. Y/N, do you have any idea what you’ve put me through for the past two weeks?” He snaps.
     “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” I reply, hotly. “Owen, it broke me inside to ask you to stay away. Do you have any idea how much I care about you?”
     “No! I don’t, because you don’t talk to me, Y/N.”
     “I told you, there is no point in doing long distance –”
     “That’s bullshit, Y/N, and you know it, too. I think you’re just too scared to be with me because you think that I’d break your heart, leave you alone or hurt you. But that’s the thing, Y/N – I won’t do any of that to you, because that’s exactly what you’re doing to me.” He crosses his arms across his chest.
    I breathe out shakily, running a hand through my curls. “That’s not true –”
    Owen scoffs. “Please, Y/N. I know you.”
    I lower my eyes from his because I can’t handle the way he’s looking at me.
     “Y/N, do you know how fucking hard the past week’s been for me? I can’t even talk to anyone about it, because the only person I wanna talk to is your brother and we all know what will happen if I do that. He’s my best friend, and I’ve been lying to him for weeks, pretending that I like this hairdresser, when in reality, I’m head over heels for his sister. I can’t tell him that I can’t stop thinking about her, and that she’s the only person that can calm me down when I get anxious on set. I can’t tell him that she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and it’s killing me inside to not talk to her!”
    He finishes, breathing out heavily. I look at his eyes and notice that they’re gleaming.
     “Wait, what hairdresser?”
    He scoffs, annoyed. “Seriously, Y/N?”
    I shrug and breathe deeply, trying to stop myself from taking his hands in my own. “You know, there are so many guys at school that ask me out, but I can’t go out with any of them, because guess what, they’re not you. I like you so much, Owen, so, so much, but I can’t do anything about it – because you’re right. I’m scared. I’m terrified that you’ll leave me, because I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a really long time. I’m so scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize that I’m not who you want anymore. I’m scared that maybe you’ll hurt me or meet someone else in Vancouver. I’m scared about so many things because that’s exactly how much I care about you, Owen!”
    I take a step further and we are standing mere inches apart. I can feel him breathe out raggedly and see the curve of his nose and his darkened eyes flickering to my lips.
     “I would never, ever do that to you, Y/N. You mean a lot to me. Please, please believe me.” He whispers out, and I tell myself to stop, to turn back, to go into my room but instead I just stand there and watch him exhale out, and I know he’s feeling anxious. I lift a hand to his face and cup his cheek in the palm of my hand and he leans his face onto my hand, resting his right hand over mine. The gesture calms the both of us down, and I know, in that moment, that I believe him. That he, us – is a risk worth taking.
     “Your hands are so cold.” He whispers. I nod. “Yours are warm.”
    Both of us stand there, in the kitchen, trying to make sense of what just happened – trying to hold on to this moment. A silence engulfs the both of us, as I sort through my thoughts.
     “Owen,” I whisper. He flicks his eyes to mine. “Promise me you won’t do any of that.”
    He raises his left hand, jutting out his little finger. I raise my other hand too, and he wraps his little finger around mine and whispers back, “Pinkie promise.”
     “Okay.” I whisper, neither of us daring to uncurl our fingers or look anywhere else.
     “Promise me that you wouldn’t leave me for some future tech billionaire.”
    I scrunch my face up at that. “What? No!”
     “Promise me you’d call –”
     “Every single day, Owen. You too.”
    Both of us nod together, and he lifts his other hand to tuck a curl that had previously escaped from my actually-messy-and-not-cute bun. “You’re so beautiful.”
    I smile, and a tear escapes my eyes – Owen rubbing it away with his thumb. I lean forward, standing on my tiptoes and rest my hands against his bare chest for support as I press my lips to his. He smiles against the kiss, and I feel as if a zoo has gone wild in my stomach. I feel warmth and happiness course through my veins as Owen deepens the kiss, the intense longing in the both of us for each other clawing its way out to the surface. It’s almost as if I’m drinking water for the first time in a week. He tastes like banana pancakes, chocolate syrup and everything good in the world. I press myself against him, wrapping my arms around neck while he does the same around my torso. It frightens me a little how well our bodies fit against each other – but it makes me feel strong knowing that I have an amazing person who genuinely cares about me.
****
CHARLIE’S POV
    Charlie unlocked the door to his sister’s apartment, mentally noting to remind her of the fact that her car desperately needs a wash. He enters the foyer, and drops the keys in a bowl, kicking off his shoes.
    Suddenly, he pauses, noticing how incredibly quiet the apartment is – which is unlike Y/N. She always has music blasting or the TV running – she hates the quiet. He quickly walks into the living room and almost screams in surprise.
    His little sister and his best friend are curled up on the sofa, their backs towards him. Y/N is lying on Owen’s chest and she has an arm wrapped around his torso while Owen’s arms are interlocked at the front, holding her against his body. Their tangled legs peek from underneath the quilt that Charlie and Y/N’s mother knit for her youngest daughter last Christmas. She laughs at something that Owen whispers into her ear, and he presses a kiss to her forehead, and they look at each other with so much adoration that Charlie has to look away.
    He sighs, mentally cursing himself for being so, so stupid. How could he have ignored the signs? Charlie remembers Y/N and Owen meeting, both in a daze, both smiling a little too much and Y/N walking with a skip in her steps. He remembers them talking for hours on end, binging Brooklyn 99 on weekends, and always hanging out with each other whenever they went to the same parties. He remembers that morning three weeks ago when he’d woken up late, and gone to the kitchen only to find the duo springing apart from each other, both erupting in a flurry of coughs and laughs, as if he’d just walked on them robbing a bank – Owen had explained that he had apparently broken a glass. He remembers the way Owen would look at her, as if she had just done something miraculous. He remembers the way Y/N would look at his best friend, as if he was made of everything good in the world.
    Most of all, he remembers how Owen sulked whenever he was alone back in Vancouver. He remembers how Owen constantly declined to go out with that cute hairdresser. He remembers how Owen sometimes seemed out of it. He remembers how Owen would sprint whenever Charlie called his sister. He remembers how Owen would keep checking his phone every few minutes in between takes.
    Charlie also remembers his sister asking about how Owen is when they talked on the phone, and how her voice seemed like she was asking something that was forbidden, something that was evil. He remembers how she would always hang up the phone whenever she heard Owen’s voice. He remembers her always declining his invites to go to Vancouver.
    How could he have been so dumb? The signs were right there. He lived with Owen, for god’s sake! Charlie feels an array of emotions. He’s always hated Y/N’s choice in men, despised anyone putting their hands on his baby sister’s body.
    But, to see them like this – to see Y/N look so safe, so comfortable in Owen’s arms, he can’t help but feel relief flood into his system. Because he knows his best friend, and he knows what kind of person he is. And now, he thinks just how much sense they make together. Sure, Owen is kind of stupid, reckless, impulsive, and clumsy – but so is Y/N – well, she’s not stupid, he thinks. She’s the smartest person in their family. But she has a fire within her – and his best friend matches that fire. Charlie thinks of the fact that they complement each other so nicely, both are caring, passionate, and kind-hearted. Of course, they would fall for each other. It just makes so much sense – they make so much sense.
    Still, Charlie feels hurt that neither of them bothered to tell him about it. (even though he won’t admit it, it’s understandable, really – considering the way he’s bugged his sister about her previous relationships.)
    He clears his throat and the duo on the couch jump apart, both flushed and with their eyes widened. Owen stands up, moving away from couch, while Y/N looks at her brother as if he’s a ghost.
    A silence falls over the apartment. Y/N finally says, “How’d you – how’d you get in?”
    He shrugs. “I had a spare key.”
    Owen looks between his girlfriend and his best friend, with widened eyes. “Charlie, I’m so sorry –”
    Suddenly, Charlie laughs, swatting at the air. “Pfft. You think I’m gonna be the weird brother who kills his best friend for dating his sister? Come on, this isn’t a TV show. I’m actually really happy for you guys – I ignored all the signs these past weeks, but I see them now. Of course, it’s really weird for me, but I love the both of you so much. Owen, relax, I’m not gonna kill you. Dude. Just don’t kiss or anything in front of me, cause that’s gross. Ew. You know what, don’t do that at all. And I’ll kill you, Owen, if you ever hurt her, I swear. I’ll put poison in your waffles. I just don’t understand why –”
    Charlie is cut off by his sister tackling him in a hug. He wraps his arms around her body, as she whispers, “I love you, big brother.”
    He murmurs, “Love you most, little one.” He catches Owen’s eye who looks at him with gratefulness and a little smile.
 **** 
READ ON AO3 WITH OC!
drop an ask or a message to be in my jatp taglist!! requests also open <3
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easily-infatuated23 · 3 years
Text
The Nanny
request: “Hello, could you write something where a few years after the death of his wife Draco hires a new nanny for Scorpius and ends up falling in love with her... could have anguish, but the ending would be happy? Please!My first language is not English I'm sorry if you got confused.” - @trouxa2x  
a/n: i hope this is what you wanted! and your english is great don’t worry :) also-there is a phone call which is in italics and song lyrics for La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf in italics
pairing: Draco Malfoy x Nanny!Reader
word count: 2.2k
warnings: mention of death for like a moment
summary: After the birth of his son and the death of his wife, Draco Malfoy needs a nanny 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The day Draco Malfoy’s son was born was the happiest and saddest day of his life. His loving wife Astoria had been diagnosed with a blood curse that killed her moments after Scorpius was born. His first breath, had been her last. Although he knew this would be the likely outcome, it was still crushing. Draco didn’t like to talk about his emotions and knew the only way to get over his wife’s death would be to burry himself in his work as a Healer. But with a baby, he couldn’t just shut out the world. He needed help. It was obvious he was struggling.
During the long process of making amends after the war, Draco had some how become close to the golden trio he had despised so much as a child. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had all come by to meet Scorpius and check in on Draco. He looked awful. The bags under his eyes were worse than during the war. “I have a friend who is looking for some work as a nanny, she’s great with kids, babies especially. I’ll get you her number” Hermione said, rummaging through her purse looking for her contacts book. Draco nodded slightly. He had considered getting a nanny but the idea of another woman acting motherly toward Scorpius made him feel sick. However, Draco politely took the number and thanked Hermione.
As the months continued on Draco found it easier to care for Scorpius. He had taken up a job as a consultant for the hospital so he could spend most of his time at home with his son. But as the months stretched into years, Draco grew depressed. Scorpius became fussier and fussier and the hospital was begging for him to come back as a full time Healer. “It’s time” Draco thought. He looked through the drawers of his desk until he found the phone number Hermione had given him nearly two years prior. He dialed the number, feeling anxious and unsure of exactly what to say.
“Hello?” a female voice answered.
“Hi um is this Y/F/N Y/L/N?”
“This is she, may I ask who is calling?”
“Oh yes um this is Draco Malfoy. I’m a friend of Hermione Gran- I mean Weasley’s.”
“Oh hello! I remember she mentioned a few years back you might be in need of a nanny.”
“Yes! Well, I had been handling it pretty well but now I am finding myself in need of some help so I can go back to work…”
“I see. Let me guess, those ‘terrible two’s’ are in full swing right about now” she chuckled.
“Yes exactly! I was wondering if you would consider interviewing to become a live-in nanny for my son Scorpius. I am not sure for how long or what I would pay you but-”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” she interrupted. “I’m sure we could conduct a formal interview as well but may I come over and just meet Scorpius first? I find that sometimes the baby will tell the parent whether or not the nanny is the right fit, even before an interview.”
“Yes of course. Can you come over around 11 am tomorrow?”
“Yes. See you then. Good day”
“Thank you, cheers”
He hung up the phone. He looked over at Scorpius sitting in his high chair. The baby gurgled and threw some cereal to the ground. Then seeing his cereal on the ground, Scorpius started to wail at an incredible volume. The interview couldn’t come soon enough. The next day at 11 am sharp, Y/N knocked on the door. When Draco opened it, she was met with the chaos that had become his daily life. The house was a mess and Scorpius was screaming. “Hi, welcome. Sorry about the mess” he stammered, showing her into the house. “Nice to meet you Mr. Malfoy” she replied cheerily. Seemingly unfazed, she walked into the living room, put down her purse, and sat down next to the screaming baby. Draco watched her as she began to rub the baby’s back and started to softly sing. The baby slowly began to quiet down until he was quiet enough for Draco to hear what Y/N was singing.
~Quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu’il me parle tout bas. Je vois la vie en rose. Il me dit des mots d’amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça m'fait quelque chose….~
The baby began to smile as Y/N picked him up and cradled him, still singing.
~Il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause. C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie. Et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon cœur qui bat..~
She then began to hum the tune more quietly and sway lightly. Scorpius’s eyes fluttered closed as he drifted to sleep. She smiled and looked up at his father. Draco was standing with his hand over his mouth, tears falling from his icy blue eyes. “Are you alright Mr. Malfoy?” she whispered. He nodded. He cleared his throat quietly before speaking. “La Vie en Rose was the song Astoria and I used for our first dance at our wedding”. “Oh I’m so sorry, if I had known I wouldn’t have…” He shook his head at her. “No it’s alright. I just… miss her”. She tilted her head sympathetically. “From what I’ve heard of her, she sounded lovely. I wish I could have met her.” Draco nodded and looked down at his shoes, trying to hold himself together.
“If you would tell me where his crib is I can put him down so we can start the formal interview. If you’d like” she said, knowing a subject change was what needed to occur. Draco nodded and gestured for her to follow him. Once Scorpius was in his crib, the adults went to the living room to discuss the particulars of the arrangement. Y/N told Draco about how she discovered her love for child care when she worked as a nanny for a short time while traveling in France. “When I came back to England, I worked for a few other Wizarding families including Hermione and Ron for a short time. Ron actually nick named me ‘the baby whisperer’” she said chuckling. “After what just happened, I’m inclined to believe him!” Draco replied. Without needing to consider it, Draco offered Y/N the job.
A year later Draco was still kicking himself daily for not hiring Y/N sooner. His life and mental health had improved drastically since she moved in. He was able to go back to working at the hospital full time and help people like he had always wanted. The two had developed a close friendship and Y/N became part of his family. The house felt almost foreign when she was gone. Though she was a live-in nanny, Draco still encouraged Y/N to take days off, and when she would go, Draco missed her terribly. He could tell Scorpius missed her too.
“You’re falling in love with her!” Hermione teased. She had come over to see Y/N and Draco and knew immediately. “What? No, she works for me. That would be highly inappropriate” he replied defensively. Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco looked across the room at Y/N. She was holding Scorpius near a window and was pointing at something and talking to him. Scorpius was giggling loudly and clapping his little chubby hands. Draco couldn’t help but smile. There was no doubt that he was fond of Y/N, but did he love her? She was great with Scorpius, she understood Draco’s feelings (sometimes better than he did), and she was beautiful. But her beauty wasn’t just external, she had a truly beautiful soul. Another six months went by before Draco was sure. He had fallen for Y/N. He hadn’t meant to fall for her, but she was easy to love. He tried not to act differently towards her but after the realization of his feelings, he couldn’t help it. It started with lingering glances and lead to going out of his way to have little moments of physical contact with her. Whether that was reaching for the same toy to give to Scorpius, or squeezing her hand to get her attention while Scorpius was sleeping. There was not a doubt in his mind about it. He loved her, whole heartedly.
Draco woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of Scorpius crying. He rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed. He walked down the hallway and into his son’s room, only to find that Y/N was already there. She was standing with her back to the door, rocking Scorpius and singing to him. Draco stood outside of the room, leaning on the door frame as he watched Y/N calm the crying child. He couldn’t help but smile at her. Eventually, she stopped singing and spoke to Scorpius. “You are so loved Scorpius. Your dad loves you, I love you, and your mama loves in all the way from heaven.” Draco continued to smile but in a more melancholy way. Y/N had always made a point of talking to Scorpius about his mother, even though she knew the baby didn’t understand what she said. Draco still found it difficult to talk about Astoria, but Y/N had always insisted that Scorpius know how much his mother loved him, even though she was gone. She rocked him a few more times before placing him back into his crib. When she turned to face the door she smiled at Draco. “I’ll see you again in an hour or so” she joked. She walked past him and exited the room, making her way down to the first floor. Draco watched her walk away before returning to his room. Scorpius didn’t cry again that night but still Draco couldn’t sleep. He decided to go down to the kitchen and fix himself a sandwich, besides, if he was awake he might as well do something to pass the time. As he made his way down the hall to the stairs, he noticed a light was on in the kitchen. He walked down and found Y/N sitting in the kitchen. She was sitting at the kitchen counter eating a bowl of pasta and reading a book. She looked up when she heard him enter the room. “Can’t sleep?” she asked. He chuckled and nodded. “Welcome to the club. Look I even saved you a seat!” she joked, gesturing at the chair next to her.
He rummaged through the pantry and complied his sandwich. He then joined her at the table. She put her book down and angled herself in his direction. “You seem different” she said. He looked down at his plate, feeling a pit in his throat. He gulped. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You just seem…I don’t know, happier recently. I can’t put my finger on it”. Did she know about his feelings? Was she trying to bait him into admitting it? He forced himself to look at her. Even at 4 in the morning she was beautiful. He took a deep breath and decided to answer honestly. “I recently decided that I’m ready to open myself up to the idea of love again. Astoria wouldn’t want me to be alone for the rest of my life and something just told me its time” he said. Y/N smiled. “That’s really great Draco. I’m so happy for you”. She had a slight glimmer in her eye, she had to know. He eyed her a bit suspiciously. She laughed. “Ok ok don’t give me that look! Hermione might have mentioned to me that you had found someone and I had to ask! Whoever she is she’s a lucky girl” she turned back to her book.
Draco couldn’t believe what he heard. Y/N, the girl who some how knew him better than he knew himself, didn’t know he was in love with her! He smiled and rolled his eyes as he stood up and leaned his back against the counter, putting his hand over Y/N’s book. She looked up at him, some what puzzled. “Y/N, it’s you. I’ve fallen for you. Totally and completely” he said, hopefully sounding more courageous than he was feeling. Her jaw dropped. She couldn’t speak. She mouthed “me?” and pointed to herself. Draco’s smile widened and he nodded. She grinned. He cupped his hands around her cheeks and leaned in closely, so closely it was a wonder their eyelashes didn’t brush against each other. He waited for her to give him permission to close the gap between their bodies. “Kiss me” she whispered. He closed the gap and their lips touched, gently but still passionately. She stood up from her chair and rose to her tip toes as her hands played with his hair. The kissing became laughing as they came up for air. “I didn’t think it was possible to kiss someone and smile at the same time” Y/N said. “With you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop smiling”. There was a comfortable silence as they rested their foreheads against each other, enjoying being close. “I love you Y/N”. She looked up and into his eyes. “I love you too Draco”.
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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years
Text
Stranger Danger ~ KTH [Request]
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WORD COUNT: 3.7K
PAIRING: Taehyung x Fem!Reader
GENRE: This takes place in 2013/2016 when the boys debuted and then three years later, just so no one is confused, strangers to lovers, online friends, cute, fluffy, 
A/N: I hope this is okay for you, I sort of left it like this so that you could come up with your own extension of it <3 
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Taehyung clicked through the in-game chat as he waited for the game to finish, he'd just died and was waiting to see if his team would still win without him. He'd been playing in the same lobby as someone with the name 'XxChickXx' for the last few hours and they were one of the best players on his time. They'd been a good teammate instead of just looking out for themselves, they helped Taehyung out as well and he was trying to find a way to contact them outside of the game so they could play together again, 
Tae: @XxChickXx game tomorrow? 
The small message was blinking on your screen as it notified you that someone mentioned you, you smiled softly before typing out a reply to the name you'd seen. 
XxChickXx: Sure! But add me on steam first? You attached the same name as your Gamertag and smiled to yourself as a friend request came through at the bottom of the screen as quickly as you sent the message. You exited out of the game then went onto steam ready to message whoever this 'Tae person was. He'd been playing great, one of the best players you'd had the pleasure of playing alongside with.
XxChickXx: Never had someone play so nicely before, most people are selfish & rude! Nice to meet you, I'm Y/n. 
Taehyung smiled brightly as the message came through to his screen, he checked the time. He had some time to talk to you before he had to go to practice so he began replying to you. Smiling brightly as he thought about making a new friend, he'd only met a couple online before and then he had the boys he was practising with but that was it really. He'd always been too shy to communicate with anyone else properly.
Tae: Most people are the worst, I'm Tae...Obviously, lovely to meet you XD
You laughed softly as you saw the message and then you began typing out to him again wanting to talk to him more before you headed out for your shift at the local cafe. There was an exciting feeling in your chest as you got the message from him, it was just something simple but it still had your heart racing.
XxChickXx: Tae? Short for anything? Or a nickname...I've never had one before, don't really like going by 'chick' that much. 
Taehyung chuckled to himself checking the time once again as he got up from the desk, installing the app onto his phone so he could keep texting you while he was on his walk to practice. The front door to the small apartment opened and Jimin walked over to the fridge, placing the small container of Kimchi and rice cakes inside. His grandmother was always making sure Taehyung was well taken care of since he'd moved out of his family home. Jimin always let himself into the apartment since he had the spare key for "emergencies" but who cares.
"What's got you smiling so much?" Jimin questioned as he walked up to his best friend, Taehyung physically jumped up. Almost dropping his phone onto the floor as Jimin scared him, he groaned as he began straightening out his clothes again.
"Nothing! Let yourself in why don't you?" His voice was seeping with sarcasm as he stuffed his phone into his pocket as he went to grab his keys to the apartment before they left for practice. Namjoon would have their heads on sticks if they were late again that week, they'd already been late five times.
"I always do, I brought rice cakes from Grandma," Jimin mumbled as they began heading out of the door together but Taehyung wasn't paying attention, his head was back in his phone as he made his way out of the apartment. He never wanted to stop talking to you and he'd barely even begun to get to know you, he could already tell there was a friendship blossoming between you. 
Tae: Maybe I can come up with one for you, favourite colours, fruit, food, place, and clothing item? 
A small frown appeared on your face as you stared at the message, what did any of those have to do with giving you a nickname? You smirked before typing out a response to him, getting a little flirty but it was all fun and games. It wasn't as if you knew one another or would ever actually meet so you just went for it. 
XxChickXx: Trying to find out where to take me for our first date Tae? ;) 
Tae: ...Maybe...You'll find out sooner or later, answer the questions 
Giggling to yourself you stepped into the elevator of your apartment building to see a couple together, both of them holding hands as they waited for you to step in. You brushed down the light pink diner dress you were wearing and took your phone out from the front pocket, this was going to be the only thing helping you get through the shift at the diner. 
XxChickXx: Hmm, you'll have to give me a second to think about it...What about yours though? 
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The text messages continued to exchange between you both for six months, you'd grown closer with time with exchanging messages. Learning lots about one another, coming up with some cute nicknames as well as gaming whenever you were both free. There was one thing you never did though, you would never video call or voice call since you were too anxious for that and Taehyung was far too shy. Neither of you minded though, you would text non-stop as often as you could with one another. Morning, noon and night. During your shifts, you would sneak a look at your phone while you hid it in your apron and Taehyung would check his phone whenever he got a break from dancing in the practice room. Jimin giving him nothing but small jokes and banter whenever he could and tonight was no different. Taehyung had been dying to get on his phone throughout the practice but Namjoon had taken it from him, placing it into the drawer so he couldn't be distracted by it.
"All I'm saying is you live your life on that phone and you don't even know what this girl looks like." You heard someone say as you served a table in your section, you finished pouring the coffee before making your way over. Smiling at the two boys in front of you who had taken some seats in your section, 
"Welcome, I'll be your server. Is there anything I can start you off with?" You questioned, looking at the blonde boy who flashed a pearly white smile at you and the brown curly-haired boy who was shyly smiling at you. Jimin glanced at your nametag and smiled showing off to Taehyung how easy it was to talk to someone outside of a phone screen.
"Hi Caroline, I'll take a coffee to start with and I think my friend needs a reality check." You laughed softly not wanting to get involved in their conversations and how he'd used the fake name on your tag. You'd left yours at home and instead of telling your boss you'd forgotten part of your uniform, you switched the tag for someone else's who wasn't there. Jimin smiled at you, trying to get you into the conversation some more. Customers would do it a lot whenever you would serve a table. Most people would stop talking but there were a select few customers who enjoyed bringing others into their conversations. 
"We don't serve that, can I interest him in something else?" You turned to the shy one who was now avoiding your gaze but nodded, looking over the drink options. 
"I'll just take some sparkling water," You hummed at him before leaving and going to get their drinks, smiling softly as you left their table. It would give them enough time to look over the food menu while you checked your phone to see if there was anything from Tae, he'd messaged saying he would reply slower than usual. That his job was making it harder for his replies to come through.
Tae: Finally out from work. Heading for something to eat and then home...Game later? You smiled at the small message on the screen, you hadn't been gaming for a while together so it would be nice to get home and do that after a long shift. Quickly writing out a response to him you glanced at your boss who was staring at you, hands on her hip but you ignored her quickly hitting send.
XxChickXx: Got an hour shift left, I'll message you as soon as I'm online. 
Walking back over to the table you set their drinks down and began taking their food order, while they were ordering you couldn't help but feel as though you knew one of them. The shy one just reminded you so much of Taehyung despite never having met him or heard his voice. There was a feeling in your chest as the shy one spoke to you or looked up at you, it made your heart leap. Just like whenever you got a message from Taehyung over the app. 
"I think she likes you," Jimin whispered to Taehyung as you walked over to the counter, helping a customer as they dropped their food all over the floor. 
"I'm not interested-" Not true, he'd been checking you out while you and Jimin weren't looking. Trying to ignore the thumping in his chest whenever you would smile at him or the tight feeling he would get in his chest whenever you would look into his eyes for longer than ten seconds at a time.
"No, because you're only interested in Y/n...How do you even know she's real? She could be some creep on the internet, ever thought of that? You never call or facetime...It's weird." Jimin mumbled as he took a huge gulp of his coffee, he was going to need it to get through the night. He was helping out at the shop with his grandma that afternoon/night to make up for going to practice today when he was supposed to have a shift.
"I know she's real, why would they keep up a fake profile for the last six months if she wasn't real?" Jimin rolled his eyes at how naive his friend was being, the internet was full of strangers with weird intentions so who knew what this Y/n person was after. Maybe she knew Taehyung was trying to make it in the industry and this was why she'd tried to contact him. But no one knew about that. No one was allowed to know they were working on debuting unless they were involved in the industry. 
"Just be careful...With our lives, we don't know who we'll be able to trust...Don't tell her who you are, don't give her personal information-"
"Jimin, I'm not an idiot," Taehyung grumbled as he got up from the table, paying for the food and drinks while leaving a big tip for the waitress that had been helping them out, glancing over at you as you began laughing softly to someone. He looked down at his phone as he walked out, messaging Y/n to let her know he was on his way back to his apartment and would be on soon. 
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There was always one last game and one last text but nothing had prepared you for losing contact with Tae. The messages had slowly begun to stop three years ago until the point neither of you could talk. You'd gotten busy with work and studies and Taehyung had debuted so he never had time to check his phone or game anymore. He hated it but he never once forgot about you. There was never a day that went by when he didn't think about what you could be doing now. 
"It's been three years and you still haven't stopped thinking about her...Why don't you try to contact her?" Namjoon questioned as he walked into Taehyung's dorm room. He'd noticed how glum Taehyung looked lately and decided to find out what was going on with his band member and friend. Of course, he knew of you. Jimin eventually told Namjoon what was going on with Taehyung during practices, he thought he had the right to know since he was the leader of the group. 
"I don't even know if they still-" Just as Taehyung was about to mention about you playing games anymore you logged onto the steam account. Sending a small notification tone to come through his computer speakers, 
"Oh." Taehyung began to blush as he saw your name still hadn't changed over the years, he stared at the screen for a couple of seconds. Debating messaging you or just inviting you to a random game, he didn't know if you would hate him for never replying to you again. 
June 13th 2013: 
XxChickXx: Hey...Game later? 
June 16th 2013:
XxChickXx: Game...? 
July 26th 2013: 
XxChickXx: Hope you're okay if I did something to piss you off I'm sorry. 
An invitation came through on the screen making you jump up as you looked over at the screen, you'd just moved into a new apartment building and it was the first time setting up your gaming PC in a couple of months. You'd never had the time before, between moving into the new apartment building and your job you'd not had the time but this week you had some time off. Choosing to get back into old habits. 
Tae Invited You To A Game. The message made you frown, three years after your last message to him he just randomly invited you to a game. No message to explain where he'd been. Not even a small emoticon to tell him if the invite was meant for you or not. 
XxChickXx: You okay? I haven't heard from you in a while... 
Taehyung smiled softly as he stared at the message, setting up the game as he waited for you to join in. Your character appeared next to his and he smiled, it had been so long since he'd done this it felt good to be relaxing again. 
Tae: I've been busy...A lot. Life is weird now...I'm sorry 
XxChickXx: Don't be, just glad to know you're not dead or something XD
He chuckled to himself and shook his head before looking over his shoulder, Namjoon was no longer in the room so he was going to do something he never thought he would be able to do. But being who he was was giving him a confidence boost, 
Tae: I'll explain it all...Maybe over a facetime call? Or I could meet him for something to eat? 
The thought of finally meeting up with him was both scary and exciting to you, you'd always been warned about stranger danger and never meeting up with someone you didn't know but, meeting Tae had been something you'd always wanted to do. You wanted to get to know him. 
XxChickXx: You're not just some creep right...Meet me at Daisy's Diner, booth six.
A public setting was better for you to meet him, it would be a lot easier to meet him somewhere public. The diner where you worked was perfect since everyone you knew would be there, watching out for you in case it was some creep or you were stood u.
Tae: I can be there in ten.
Stepping into the elevator you looked up to see the shy boy from your diner all those years ago, you looked back down at the floor not wanting to make it seem as though you were staring at him. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, some brown shorts with a hat and glasses on. 
Taehyung glanced at you before going back to his phone waiting for time to pass. He'd seen you around since you worked in the diner he and Jimin always frequented, you weren't in your uniform though. This time you were dressed in some black skinny jeans, a white blouse and you had a warm looking jacket on. He glanced down at himself, hiding his face from you as he pulled the hat down properly on his face. He didn't want the paparazzi to find him, they could be anywhere at any moment but that didn't stop him from wanting to go out. Nothing was going to stop him from finally getting to meet Y/N for the first time. 
The whole walk over Taehyung had been behind you, frowning whenever you didn't turn off somewhere and continued in the same direction, he didn't want it to seem as though he was following you when he wasn't. Then when you walked into the diner he thought maybe you'd started a shift but then if you had, you would surely be in your uniform. That was when you turned into a booth, the same one he'd arranged to meet Y/n in and it made him chuckle deeply at the thought of it all. After all these years he'd seen you many times, talked to you a lot without even knowing it. Talking to you, exchanging polite conversations even after all the years of not talking to "XxChickXx" he'd still been talking to you.
"Is this seat taken?" You slowly looked up at the shy boy, not wanting to hurt his feelings, this was the most he'd ever spoken to you without his friend there. 
"W-Well I'm waiting for -" Before you could say you were waiting for a friend he decided to cut you off politely,
"Tae? I'm assuming you're Y/n...XxChickXX?" You saw the blush spread across his face as he questioned you to make sure his intuition was right about you.
"Tae?! It's been you this whole time?!" You laughed loudly gaining the attention of a few people but he chuckled, sliding into the booth and sitting across from you so he could talk to you properly.
"I could say the same, I can't believe I never put it together. I know you had the same name but...I just figured it was a coincidence." He chuckled as he remembered seeing your name on your nametag before but it could always be a coincidence. The world was full of them. 
"Well, it's nice to finally meet you after all this time...I'm sorry for the radio silence." He whispered as he looked at you, wondering if he should tell you or not about his lifestyle, you knew they were singers since Jimin regularly told you about their jobs.
"So singing is why you've been so busy?" You questioned, turning to your boss and ordering your favourite along with Taehyung's since you knew it by heart. 
"Yeah, I never knew you moved into my apartment building though." He chuckled thinking back to living above you, the world was really trying to make you guys see that it was meant to be sooner or later. 
"I only moved in a few months ago, after all these years we've been so close." You laughed softly shaking your head as you thought about it. 
"Tell me about your singing? I want to hear everything in detail. Especially since we haven't spoken much in a while." He smiled, getting comfortable in the seat as he looked into your eyes wondering where to start with it all. 
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Your head was hanging low as you walked into the back entrance of your apartment building, Taehyung doing the same as you walked side by side laughing together about something he was telling you about Jimin. The whole night you'd spent together catching up and telling one another about your lives. It was late, later than Taehyung was supposed to be out since he was getting non-stop calls from Namjoon to tell him he wanted him back at the apartment since it was currently 1 am and they wanted to know what he was doing out so late.
"Jimin had a crush on you at one point, wouldn't stop going into the diner for hot chocolates." You laughed remembering Jimin coming into the diner about seven times a day just to buy the same drink from you whenever you were on a shift. 
"Is he over that? No offence to Jimin but he's not my type and I...I kind of like someone else." You whispered as he opened the door to the apartment building for you, looking around he lead you over to some of the seating they had in the main lobby. His heart sinking at the thought of you liking someone, someone that wasn't him. He knew he should be happy for you, after three years he couldn't expect you to like him...Or even still want to be friends with him. 
"You like someone?" He questioned trying to ignore the way his voice cracked just like his heart, felt as though it was doing when he had no real reason to feel this way.
"Yeah, I had a crush on him a while ago...It's growing more after finally meeting him." You whispered as you looked up into his eyes, hoping that he would get the obvious inkling that it was him you were referring to but by the sunken look on his face he hadn't gotten the hint.
"You." You whispered as you heard the elevator ding to let you know someone was coming, you glanced up and saw it was someone around Taehyung's age so you acted fast. Leaning close to Taehyung and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 
"Call me when you're out of trouble." You teased him, kissing his cheek again before jumping into the elevator right as the boy got out. Watching you as you waved at a blushing Taehyung who couldn't wait to get back to his dorm room and call you. Ask you out on a real date...Right after he got out of the scolding session he could feel coming from Namjoon who was storming over to him with a look of both disappointment and happiness on his face. Namjoon was never able to stay long at him for long so he knew he could get out of this soon and be able to call you.
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Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @bisexualmess007​ @sw33tnight​ @innersooya​ @sweeneyblue1​
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147 notes · View notes
justkeeptrekkin · 5 years
Note
Prompt: Crowely tells Az he loves him by accident while going on a big long rant about (dealers choice) Az catches right away and just smiles and waits as Crowely comes to the realization of what he said
Anon. Anon. I love you for this. 
***
“See, thing is-”
Crowley’s words elude him- as they have a habit of doing, the sneaky buggers. He watches the white lines in the middle of the road streak by, feels the tarmac roaring beneath the car. It’s a rainy evening and they’re driving home from a restaurant north of Watford that Aziraphale has been banging on about for months. Since the world had ended- and then promptly not ended- the angel’s zest for food hasn’t lessened in the slightest. In fact, it’s only gotten bloody zestier, as if their near-apocalypse experience has made Aziraphale realise that life is too short. Even an immortal life such as his. 
Crowley loses his track of his thought entirely. “Thing is…”
“You were talking about-”
“KINDLES!” Crowley exclaims, taking his hands off the wheel to celebrate this eureka moment. Aziraphale straightens out beside him nervously and grabs a fistful of his corduroy trousers. Crowley slaps the leather of the steering wheel enthusiastically as he continues, “Kindles. Are not. Demonic! We didn’t come up with them- that was all you, I’m certain!”
“Why on earth would I invent the Kindle, dear boy? Do you even know me at all?”
“You-plural, not you-singular. Angels you, Heaven you.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t sanction it.”
“Alright but- listen- what’s the problem with kindles? Why’re- what’s the problem? I mean really, it’s a book, isn’t it. Just a book on a screen. What’s the problem?”
“The problem-” Aziraphale begins confidently, bordering aggressively. Then the wind appears to be knocked out of his sails. “Well,” he tries again, a little weakly. “The problem, the problem lies therein. In that. Well-”
“See! See, it’s clearly a good thing, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about- all these people going ‘oh, ho-ho, oh dear, books aren’t physical anymore, what a travesty! Let’s all- grab our pitchforks! And lament the loss of our children’s education’.” He adds a mocking, whinging voice to this last bit. 
Aziraphale tuts, stretches his legs out in front and crosses them. 
“No, you’re wildly misinterpreting the argument, Crowley.”
“You know it’s true, don’t deny it! People are only against them because humans don’t like change- they get all squirmy and anxious about it. As if, you know, as if the transition from a physical book to a little screen is the end of the world- and! Now that they’ve actually had a taste of the apocalypse, they really haven’t gained any more perspective, have they? I mean, you’d think they’d start worrying about global warming properly, but instead they’re just sad about kindles and- oh! That’s another thing, kindles aren’t paper! Less deforestation! Clearly- listen, come on, that’s got to be angelic work.”
Aziraphale pouts and averts his gaze, brows slightly raised in indignance. 
Crowley snorts. He notices the lines of the road streak by a little slower, presses down on the accelerator. 
“Aha!”
Crowley flicks his gaze over to Aziraphale, who’s turned his whole body towards him in his seat eagerly. A smug finger pointed in his face. 
“What? No,” Crowley shakes his head. “You- don’t try and argue with me on this, I’m absolutely certain-”
“Amazon! Kindles are owned by Amazon, notoriously corrupt!”
Crowley scowls, rolls his head wearily. “No, angel, they weren’t always bad, we only got to them a couple of years ago. You can’t argue that-”
“Amazon. Invented. Kindles! Thereby, kindles are evil. The end, full stop. Fin.”
“That’s just- you’ve been around long enough to know that’s not how it works.”
“And you can’t honestly argue that books are bad just because they’re made of paper. Books are knowledge! Books are the weapons against the armies of ignorance! Righteous tools-”
“Righteous tools,” Crowley snorts.
“Against the dark forces of evil!”
“Not this bollocks again. Look, books are fine, books are all well and good, but not everyone’s into them, are they? Times are changing, angel, you can watch things like Netflix or whatever it’s called and, listen to podcasts and- the way people share knowledge is different now. Listen, I love knowledge, love the stuff. You know I do, I was the one who got Eve to eat the apple after all, but even then, even then I’ve never really read books, unless I really have to, the only reason I read Pride and Prejudice is because I love you, and admittedly, yes, it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever put myself through- actually, I think trying to read A Tale of Two Cities was what really did it for me, Charles Dickens- Christ alive, did you ever run into Dickens, angel? Miserable sod.”
Crowley drums his fingers against the steering wheel expectantly. The road side lights cast an orange glow in the car- brightening and darkening, brightening and darkening as they drive past one after another. Aziraphale is silent. 
And it’s only then that Crowley realises his mistake. 
It dawns on him the way a glass fills up slowly with water in the washing up bowl and sinks to the bottom. Slowly, then a sinking feeling. And then hitting rock bottom. 
He keeps his eyes on the road. His fingers tight on the steering wheel. 
“You…”
“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t. Just don’t. Alright?”
“But Crowley-”
“I said don’t.”
Quiet fills the car. There isn’t even the sound of Freddie Mercury to assuage the nauseating pain in his stomach, the feeling of his throat closing like he’s having an allergic reaction. He wants to cry. He wants to cry for the first time in a very, very long time. He blinks away the feeling, and holds himself together with pure will power, just like he held together this car a few weeks back. 
Only, he’s been holding himself together for roughly six thousand years. It’s getting close to too much. His metaphorical knees are buckling. Atlas only wishes he were as resilient as Crowley. 
Aziraphale exhales- a long, shaky breath. Crowley doesn’t turn to look, can’t bear it. 
Besides, he’s known him- loved him long enough that he can see him in his mind’s eye easily. Eyes sometimes dreamy, brows sometimes pulled together in concern. Lips sometimes twisted in disapproval, sometimes beaming with so much unreserved joy that Crowley has to tease him. Just so he doesn’t end up gazing, bathing in the brightness of that smile. 
And then Aziraphale huffs to himself- a determined little noise that sets Crowley on edge. And he’s already too close to the edge to handle. He’s only just got a hold of himself as it is, hands shaking on the wheels and knee bouncing. The threat of tears still there, threatening to make him choke on his breath- it gets stuck in his throat. 
“Crowley,” Aziraphale says. So gently. 
That’s almost what does it- it’s almost what makes Crowley lose control, teeth grinding painfully and eyes stinging. The motorway stretching out in front of them, empty. Time stretching out even further. 
Then the angel speaks again. “You can go faster, Crowley.”
The words trickle through his brain slowly, like drops of water building at the rim of a tap. Then- drip. Understanding. Crowley’s throat clicks as he swallows, painfully. 
“That is- of course, only if you want to,” Aziraphale rushes, waves his hands desperately, “You can- drive- go- uh, you can go as slowly as you like, only, don’t feel obliged to go slowly on my account. Anymore.”
The angel clears his throat. And Crowley turns to look. 
He’s smiling. He looks absolutely bloody terrified, eyes a little wide and watery just like that day-
You go too fast for me, Crowley. 
-except now he’s smiling. A quiet, wobbly smile to himself as he stares out of the rain streaked window. Crowley watches the way the orange street light passes through his silver hair, making it appear more like brass. He watches him bite his lip, then continue.
“We could. Oh, I don’t know. We could do that picnic we talked about. Or, perhaps a walk through Wimbledon Common. Together. Or.” He pauses. “Or, if you wanted to, you could drop me off and come in for a night cap. I have some rather nice port hiding somewhere in my office.”
Aziraphale turns to meet his eyes. A look filled with welcome and kindness and understanding. Light catching his face like a Vermeer painting. And Crowley lets himself stare. 
“Eyes on the road, my dear.”
He only realises that his mouth is hanging open when he tries to forumlate his next words. He shuts it, then says, “What?”
“Eyes on the road, Crowley. Before we both get discorporated.”
It takes another moment to register. But then his head snaps forwards and he looks ahead again, the road continuing into the dark towards London. He can feel all the air rush out of him like a balloon. And then something else replaces it- something lighter than air, something that makes his mind feel like it’s drifting to another plane. Something weightless. 
“Picnic,” Crowley eventually says, nodding to himself. He scratches his chin nervously. “Picnic then walk. Or, walk then picnic.”
Because- and Crowley can’t quite believe himself for this- he thinks a night cap might be a bit too fast for him. 
“Lovely,” Aziraphale says. The word comes out in a whisper. “You can pick me up at midday tomorrow. If that’s-”
“That’s.” Crowley stalls. Nods his head compulsively like a nodding car-toy. “That’s. Yeah. Midday’s good. Midday it is.”
“Crowley?”
“Angel,” he replies seriously, business-like.
There’s a moment of hesitation. Aziraphale breathes deeply beside him, like a man stepping off the train from London to Cornwall, taking in the countryside air for the first time in years. 
“I do love you. An awful lot.”
Crowley continues to nod. But he can feel the facade slip. He can sense his bottom lip wobble, so he clamps his jaw tight shut. To no avail. He continues to drive them down the M25, although at this point he could be in St James’ Park, or in the middle of a desert, or on another planet- his mind is entirely elsewhere. 
It’s not a conscious decision to stretch out his hand over the gear stick towards Aziraphale. It’s something desperate in him, something needy and disbelieving. He feels Aziraphale take it without pause, his clasp warm in his own.
21K notes · View notes
amelialincoln · 3 years
Text
So Close
(I know this timeline doesn't made sense but oh well)
Amelia sat in the stiff, plastic chair in the waiting room of the OB/GYN floor, her fingertips gracing the underside of the small bump that had formed over the last couple weeks as her second trimester progressed. Link was late, as always. Probably jogging through the corridors of some random floor of the hospital. His ability to get lost in a hospital he’d been working at for the last three years was almost admirable. Sometimes she’d find him wandering through vacant stairwells and poking his head into random offices, completely disoriented and probably holding a string of patients up. She did enjoy when he’d get lost on the neuro floor because it meant that she’d probably get a short visit if he managed to find her under the pile of paperwork that had formed since Edwards had left. Her fellow had always taken care of that type of stuff. Amelia had completely forgotten how to function without her. She glanced at the clock again.
“Hey!” Link’s voice snapped her out of her daze and she glanced up to find him leaning on the doorframe of the waiting room.
“Hi,” she breathed, giving him a nervous smile before focusing behind him on the cheesy poster that outlined some medical miracle about a set of triplets that were supposed to not have made it out of utero. She found herself shuddering at the thought.
“You okay?” Links brows were knit together in concern and he quickly closed the space between them. “You look worried.”
“I just have this pit in my stomach,” she responded, staring at the ground and trying to physically shake off the feeling that she’d woken up with that morning. “I feel like something is wrong.”
“Like nauseous?” Link was trying to understand, he’d noticed the change in behavior as they’d woken up that morning but had been late for work and wasn’t able to check in on her. She shook her head in response, interlocking her fingers together at the curve of her stomach. Link was about to question further when he was interrupted by the sound of their names being called into Carina’s examination room
“She’ll be in shortly." The nurse smiled softly, as she closed the door gently behind her. Link held out his hands to his girlfriend as she awkwardly hoisted herself up onto the reclined chair.
“Moving much today?” He asked, trying to distract her from whatever she was in deep thought about. Amelia shook her head, surprising him.
“They’ve been pretty still.” Link had finally been able to feel a kick a couple of days ago and was still completely mesmerized by the idea. The flutters had started a little while before, shocking her at first because it was something that she never actually experienced with Christopher, despite the tricks her mind had played on her.
“Ciao,” Carina greeted them as she entered the chilly examination room and slid into the swivel chair beside the ultrasound machine. “Good to see you guys again. How are we feeling? Eighteen weeks now, yes?” Amelia nodded, Link could tell she was nervous as she swallowed uncomfortably.
“What’s wrong, Mia?” He said aloud, receiving a look of confusion from Carina. He wrapped his warm hands around her cold ones and could tell that she was on the verge of tears.
“Everything’s probably fine,” she shook her head uneasily as Carina and Link hesitated in silence. Finally she picked up the light blue bottle of ultrasound gel and spread it over her stomach carefully. “Can we get this over with? I have surgery and I still need to get lunch or Link will attack me for not eating enough.” She tried to smile at him but he could tell that she was internally freaking out. When he didn’t return her enthusiasm she looked away, fixating on the ultrasound which had just whirled to life. Carina expertly guided the wand around Amelia’s abdomen before glancing at the couple worriedly. Amelia felt as though time stood still when the obstetrician bit her lower lip and turned the monitor slowly out of their view. Link’s grip on her hand loosened and he muttered something incoherent in confusion. He didn’t understand what that meant or what was going on like she did. He didn’t know that the way Carina was staring at that screen meant that something was undoubtedly wrong. She wouldn’t either if she hadn’t experienced that same look before, worn on her best friend as she delivered Amelia the news that resulted in one of the worst days of her life.
“What’s wrong with them?” She finally broke the silence. “What’s wrong with our babies?”
“I should get a second opinion,” Carina finally responded, tearing her eyes away from the screen and looking at the anxious couple. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t understand.” Link felt like he was a million miles away and that everyone in the room knew something he didn’t.
“What do you think it is?” Amelia found the words slipping out of her mouth before she decided if she even wanted to know the answer.
“TTTS,” Carina replied, hoping to god that she didn’t have to spell it out for them. The way Amelia recoiled made it obvious that she didn’t have to. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Which one is weaker?” Amelia asked so fast that Link had barely processed Carina’s response.
“The girl,” the OB replied, glancing at the heart beat once again to confirm before nodding.
“Have you done the procedure?” Her pregnant co-worker’s voice was as fragile as a china doll.
“Dr. Robbins is the only one who has successfully completed multiple solos in North America,” Carina forced herself to continue. “She’s overseas at a conference. Wouldn’t be able to make it to Seattle until tomorrow night if she got on a plane immediately.” She could tell that her male co-worker was in a daze, trying to understand what the pair were even talking about while also stealing nervous glances at girlfriend.
“I need to call Addison, can you just give us a second?” The neurosurgeon begged. Carina nodded, stepping out of the room and thanking god she could finally breathe again. Amelia picked up her phone with shaky hands and found Addison’s name almost immediately, willing for her ex sister-in-law to pick up.
“Amelia, what?” Link’s voice made it evident that he had finally made the connection that something was wrong.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” she willed her voice to stay level. “Addie?”
“Hey, Amy!” Addison’s voice was light and cheerful as were most of her friends who lived in L.A.
“Have you done a twin endoscopic laser ablation?” She found herself blurting out, not knowing if she had the mental ability to engage in small talk. Link had gone so white she thought he might pass out beside her.
“I’ve watched a couple and assisted on a couple when I was working under Kypros in the U.K.” Addison’s voice was suddenly solemn. “Why, do you have a friend?” The phone’s static crackled as Amelia tried to find a way to put everything into words. “Amy...no.”
“Yeah,” her voice cracked into a million pieces and Link regained enough composure to tug her into what he hoped was a comforting embrace.
“I’m getting on a plane,” Addison’s voice rang clear, loud enough for Link to understand. “We’re going to fix this. I’ll read every article there is to read on my flight and we’ll fix this, okay?”
“Okay.”
[][][]
Link wasn’t known to get aggressive but it took everything he had not to punch a hole in the wall of the room that the couple was frozen in after finally learning the seriousness of the position they were in.
“Even if the surgery is successful, it’s rare that the donor twin will survive,” Amelia added numbly, as Link led her into an on-call room.
“Addison’s going to come,” Link didn’t know what else to say, “and she’s going to figure this out.” He guided her onto the bed and allowed her to burrow her head into the crook of his neck. He undid the clasp to the bra that she’d been complaining was getting too small for weeks now and placed it beside them gently. It was the fact that she was silent that worried him the most. There were hardly any secrets or hidden passive aggression in their relationship. Everything on Amelia’s mind was almost immediately blurted out and he was barely ever kept in the dark about how she was feeling. “Do you want to talk?” He asked, not knowing what else to say. Amelia shook her head, closing her eyes and letting out a long shaky exhale. Link sighed, dropping his hand into her hair and massaging her scalp gently.
“Feels good,” she mumbled, her hands travelling over her stomach. She wanted to pray to god that they were both okay but she was trying to push every thought that entered her mind away. She knew about the syndrome enough to know that if one had died the other one would follow quickly, their little blood supply completely interconnected. She glanced up to find Link’s eyes teary, so deep in thought that it seemed like he was a million miles away. “Do you understand what’s going on now?” She found herself asking but in no way wanted to explain it to him.
“My mom was pregnant with twins,” Link’s voice was soft, “After me. Something went wrong.” His brow was furrowed, as if he was trying to remember the event that had happened years ago.
“Oh,” Amelia replied. “I’m sorry.”
“I was too young to really remember.” Link shook his head. “Is this genetic? Is this my fault?” He looked at her in a way that made it evident that he had begun to blame the entire situation on himself.
“No,” she forced out quickly. “It’s not genetic.” She waited until he relaxed. “It’s not your fault. It's not either of our faults.” That thought had been running through her head since they’d found out the news and she was still trying to convince herself it was true. Link relaxed beside her and pressed his palms into his face. He didn’t like when she saw him cry, she knew that well enough. They stayed that way for what felt like hours, both trying to hold back tears by holding each other instead. Every flutter inside her gave her hope that they were doing okay and every so often she’d press Link’s hand to her abdomen, hoping that he could feel them too.
[][][]
Addison, still buzzing from the three iced coffees and adrenaline of practically rolling out of bed on her day off and catching a plane to Seattle, entered the examination room breathlessly. Link was cradling Amelia’s small frame in his arms, whispering something inaudible to her into her hair. It was the type of exchange that physically hurt to watch and she felt frozen in time for a millisecond.
“Hi,” she found herself saying from the doorway. Amelia lifted her head in response and wiped her red, irritated eyes on Link’s scrub top. “I’m so sorry.” Amelia shrugged, Addison could tell she wanted to make some inappropriate and emotionless joke but couldn’t piece anything together.
“Here we go again.” Was all she could manage to say, in a tone that made Addison want to cry herself. Link allowed her enough space to pull Amelia into a hug.
“We should do an ultrasound now. Carina hasn’t filled me in yet. Can you--”
“Last time we checked they were still doing okay,” Amelia interrupted. “Or were still alive, I guess I should say. The donor twin, she’s the girl, her heartbeat was slowing down. The boy's was still beating strong last we checked.”
“Okay,” Addison muttered, picking up the familiar instrument and spreading gel over Amelia’s stomach. “So I don’t have to give you the speech on how the procedure, if done right, should be successful for the recipient twin? We can hope that the girl will survive but the odds are less.” Amelia nodded.
“I remember from when you assisted on the one at St. Ambrose. I think I was living with you at the time. You talked about it at dinner. It was a miracle they both survived.”
“You and your insane memory.” Addison smiled, cupping her shoulder and giving it a light squeeze for support. Amelia held her breath as the machine whirled to life. Addison found their boy’s heartbeat easily before focusing on their baby girl. Amelia glanced up at Link with teary eyes, not wanting to watch as Addison moved the instrument around expertly. Finally the sound of a slow thunder echoed through the room and the pairs entire bodies relaxed a little. “We need to get in there now,” Addison sighed. “No need to book an O.R. and waste time, it’s very minimally invasive. The first one I watched was performed in a practice.” She motioned to one of the nurses, who was waiting outside, to enter the room. “Let’s sterilize the room as best we can. Get Carina in here, she should observe and I need all the equipment now.” The nurse nodded quickly before going to complete Addison’s orders. “I’m going to inject the aesthetic, you’ll feel a little pinch.”
“Relax, babe,” Link said softly, placing a hand on Amelia’s tensed shoulders as Addison snapped a pair of gloves on and picked up the needle.
“Alright, one, two, three,” she muttered quickly as she swiftly inserted the needle and placed a small piece of gauze over the injection site. Amelia winced as the long needle entered her stomach and looked away. Carina appeared in the doorway with the nurse and handed Addison three long instruments. “Alright, Amelia, just look up at the screen for me okay? We’re going to see your babies in just a second.”
“Can you count down again?” The neurosurgeon asked, knowing that Addison was trying to distract her from the large rod she was about to stab into her abdomen.
“You should barely feel it with the anesthetic...but of course,” Addison responded. “Just look at the screen, okay?” She glanced at Link who was looking queasy despite his speciality being one of the goriest. “One, two, three,” she stabbed the sharp end of the rod into the side of Amelia’s baby bump before pushing it in gently and sliding the scope inside. “You see his hand?” Amelia nodded, mesmerized by the image of the screen.
“This is always my favourite part,” Carina interjected. “Seeing the little ones in utero. So peaceful.” Link nodded with his eyes, alike Amelia’s, focused intensely on the screen.
“So now we just have to decipher which blood vessels belong to which baby,” Addison announced, guiding the scope down below their son.
“Can we see her?” Amelia asked.
“Of course,” Addison glanced up at her sister and could tell she was trying to catch a glimpse of the second baby. “You can get a look at her before we pull it out.” Addison and Carina’s voices were hushed as they turned the screen towards each other, deciding which blood vessel belonged to which and not wanting any input from the worried parents. Addison took a deep breath and allowed time to slow. She tried to block out the fact that this wasn’t just any worried mother but it was the person she’d already delivered awful news to once before. After nodding a final time to Carina, she started the laser.
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hey do you know any johnlock fanfictions, that are very slow burn and at first it's just sherlock being sad that him and john are never going to get together (maybe after the wedding or something) but have a happy ending? (possibly with 100k+ words)
Hey Nonny!
Ahhhh I like to argue that ALL my slow burn recs are especially painful, LOL LOL!! I didn’t have a lot of over 100 K ouchie-burn fics, so I’ve decided to quickly go through all my fics tagged “slow burn” and give you all the fics I KNEW gave me too many feels when I read them because of the burn!! So I hope that’s okay!!
And as always, Lovelies, I’ve certainly missed a lot of fics because of improper tagging or just too many sleepy nights skimming my bookmarks, so feel free to add your faves!
BURN SO SLOW IT HURTS
See also:
Love Confessions / Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. (Fluff Version)
Falling In Love / Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. || [MOBILE POST] (April 2019)
Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. / Falling in Love Pt. 3 (Nov. 2019)
Slow Burn / Dev Rel. Pt. 4 (Apr 2020)
Mutual Pining
Pining Sherlock || [MOBILE FRIENDLY VERSION]
Pining John
A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.
You fit me, Sherlock Holmes by orphan_account (G, 10,077 w., 1 Ch. || It’s An Experiment, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Questionable Science) – An unfortunate series of events leads to John accepting being a part of Sherlock's study in physical intimacy. As the days pass by, John realizes he might be in for more than he bargained for. He doesn't entirely mind.
Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.
The Slow Burn by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,097 w., 4 Ch. || Romance, Emotional Infidelity, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Fix-It) – John smiles, something small and private and for him alone, and Sherlock just...he knows. With a heart-stopping certainty, Sherlock suddenly knows. It feels like falling off the edge of a cliff. It feels like falling off the edge of the world. It feels like flying.
Merlot by Itsallfine (E, 14,844 w., 17 Ch. || Christmas, Pining Sherlock, Wine, Slow Burn, First Kiss / Time, Love Confessions, Wine, Holmes Family) – Sherlock and John work toward becoming something more as they prepare to host the Holmes parents at 221B for the holidays. Part of 25 Days of Fic-Mas 2015.
Pleasure to Burn by scullyseviltwin (E, 17,863 w., 1 Ch. || Firefighter AU, Firefighter John / Arson Investigator Sherlock, Slow Burn, Pining, Case Fic-ish) – “If you’d kindly stop knocking about in there and destroying all of my evidence, it would be most appreciated!” John groaned and for a moment rested his head against the side of the truck. Of course he was the only captain left on the scene, which meant he would have to be the one to deal with the arson investigator.
Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.
Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...
whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.
Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.
The Sexual Awakening of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson by suitesamba (M, 24,579 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, H/C, First Kiss/Time) – Sherlock owes Mycroft a favour. Mycroft calls in that favor by offering Sherlock's consulting services in a charity auction. Sherlock and John soon find themselves at the country manor of Mrs. Ives-Patton Smarmington III - not very coincidentally a long-time friend of Sherlock's mother - where they are reluctant participants in her Murder Mystery Weekend. It's a play within a play for Sherlock and John, and their roles for the weekend event bleed over into their real lives, waking the sleeping dragons within.
Tomorrow's Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealous Sherlock) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)
State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w., 4 Ch. || S3 Fix It, Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance, Humour, Masturbation, Love Declarations, Bottomlock, Brief Suicidal Ideations) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.
Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Rel., Roadtrips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk. “Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”
The Kissing Disease by cottonballz_of_death (E, 30,856 w., 15 Ch. || Sickfic, Angst with Happy Ending, Case Fic, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Jealous Sherlock, Body Image Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional H/C, POV Sherlock, Oral / Anal, Thong, Frottage) – John brings home a boyfriend, shocking Sherlock, who long ago gave up hope that his straight flatmate would ever take a romantic interest in him. In a bid to reconnect with John, he tries to infect himself with a "harmless" virus. Neither of them is prepared for the emotional fallout that results.
An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31,059 w., 4 Ch. || Vampires AU || Vampire Sherlock, Misunderstandings, Bat!Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Humour, Magical Realism, Fluff and Angst, Blood Drinking, Holmes Family, Slow Burn) – At Montague Street when Sherlock was forced to sate his body’s needs, he was at least able to wander about the flat as much as he pleased. At Baker Street, it was mini-bags in a mini-fridge and bedroom confinement.
The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching, Mycroft is Dying) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical.
Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (T, 31,987 w., 11 Ch. || College/Uni AU || Professor John, Ph.D Student Sherlock, Pining John, Poetry, Falling in Love / Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.
Five Times They Kissed for a Case, and One Time They Kissed for Real by fleetwood_mouse (M, 32,406 w., 6 Ch. || 5+1, Slow Burn, Fluff / Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers) – A stolen ring! An artful blogger! And many more adventures for your enjoyment.
carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.
LHR-HNL by scullyseviltwin (E, 35,066 w., 7 Ch. || Hawaiian Vacation, Post-TRF, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Just Talk Already, Drinking, Mutual Pining) – In need of an endangered flora sample, Sherlock and John must make a trip to an unexpected destination.
The Boy Who Drank Stars by kinklock (E, 36,157 w., 4 Ch. || Howl’s Moving Castle AU || Witches and Wizards, Slow Burn, Magic, Jealous John, Happy Ending, Bed Sharing) – “I’m looking for a castle,” John informed the scarecrow. “A moving one.”Except that, as it turned out, it was not a moving one at all.
A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.
Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w., 4 Ch. ||  H/C, Injury, Slow Burn) – When John's left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she's about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.
Left by lifeonmars (M, 45,153 w., 9 Ch. || Magical Realism, BAMF!John, Slow Burn) – John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible.
The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series
Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w., 12 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Case Fic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage, Angst, Anal, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Spas / Massages, Shampoo, Jealousy, Fake Relationship) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.
The Norwood Love Builders by flawedamythyst (T, 47,798 w., 9 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Post TRF Angst) – Sherlock and John go undercover to solve the murder of Joanna Oldacre, but things are complicated by the many feelings John has been repressing in the wake of Sherlock's faked death and return.
The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth
Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.
Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w., 14 Ch. || Character Injury, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Sherlock POV, Toplock) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.
In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w., 12 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary, Selective Mutism) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing...and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes... and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they're both so very, very rubbish at talking.
Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w., 14 Ch. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings, Bossy Bottomlock) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family's private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it's time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.
Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w., 26 Ch. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”
Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.
Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) –  Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.
A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space
The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w., 2 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it's all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia
The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (E, 62,006 w., 25 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || First Person Sherlock POV, Pining, Angst, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Sherlock Learns About Himself, Happy Ending) – Sherlock struggles with his feelings for John, makes a mistake, and learns just how important he and John are to each other. Non-BBC Mary / John, but it’s a *complicated* relationship.
Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?
You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w., 17 Ch. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.
Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.
Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.
The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.
Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?
Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?
The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series
Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 97,884 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...
The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w., 12 Ch. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.
The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.
Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w., 71 Ch. || Future AU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say:Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC
Eyes Up, Heels Down by CodenameMeretricious (E, 107,845 w., 43 Ch. || Sports Equestrian AU || Fluff, Angst, Humour, Rider!Sherlock, Groomer!John, Show Jumping, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) – Sherlock is a top eventing rider currently training at Baker Farms. John is the new groom who's been told to steer clear of the surly rider and his horses. Part 1 of Baker Farms
between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat
A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?
The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball
Colors by Quesarasara (E, 140,537 w., 17 Ch. || Pleasantville-Inspired AU || Soulmates, Colour Bonds, Alternating POV, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Case Fic, Medical Procedures) – Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We're all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception. Part 1 of The Colors 'Verse
The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.
How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w., 31 Ch. || Changeling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he's destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.
Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role
Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place
Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w., 83 Ch. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl -- but cannot be ignored. Oh, and...porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy
Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.
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lofitojii · 3 years
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ONE SHOT: Tokyo Ghoul Quirk
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Summary: You have a quirk that is similar to the Kagune in the anime, Tokyo Ghoul. This is how Todoroki, Kirishima, and Kaminari would react once you were to show them what you are really made of.
Word count: 2.6k total
Content: uhh fluff i guess lol. minor swearing 
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this was a lot of fun. i hope you enjoy :)
TODOROKI 
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Imagine your quirk to be like Hinami Fueguchi’s Kagune
When Todoroki found out about your quirk, it wasn’t exactly the reaction you were going for nor the one that you expected. To be honest, you had no idea how he would react. He was a man of very little reaction, giving you a sliver of insight to how he would react to your quirk. None of which you were correct about. 
The day was clear, sunny, villains lose in the street like any other day. This took place before you had started dating, being the first time he ever really took notice. It happened when your agencies intertwined, working together to take down a villain who was much too big to deal with on your own. For the most part, you relied on the physical strength from your quirk rather than the actual Kagune that would sprout out of your lower back. You tried your best to rely more on physical strength, due to the side effects and the physical effect it had on your body. It was draining on your body and the only way to make it stronger was to intake blood from a living human, which was hard for you to do living in the life of the normal world. Yeah, blood banks are a thing and open to heroes with hero licenses but the look you would get buying blood from a bank. Not to mention, you did pretty well for relying only on the physical strength of your quirk.
The villain stood about 15 feet tall, hovering over even the biggest member of the heroes. It felt like you had been relentlessly trying to take this guy down but he had yet to successfully would the giant villain. 
You were given no choice when Todoroki was taken hostage, bound by the villain in sight. You reacted emotionally rather than trying to strategize. Your Kagune was quick to grow from your lower back, your right eye reacting to your growth, becoming a deep black color intertwined with blood red stressed veins. “Let him go, you bastard.” It was a risk bringing out your Kagune, the darkness held within your quirk’s core pulsating as your emotions were heightened at the situation. 
“What is some slimy little octopus going to do to me?” he laughed, his grip tightening around Todoroki. You could see Todoroki wince in pain causing your Kagune core to throb with hatred. It’s not like you were dating him or anything but it was definitely one hell of a crush. 
You were quick to use your speed to your advantage, using the city lights as a crutch for you to swing off of. Your Kagune sprung out sharp, red arrows, being followed by the scale itself for a greater impact. Each arrow struck the arm of the villain, the final blow of your long scale Kagune to his shoulder, forcing him to release his grip on Todoroki. You used your right Kagune scale to take hold of Todoroki’s shirt, gently placing him down behind you. 
“You damn hero,” the villain spat, bleeding from his mouth as he tried to lift himself. He was unsuccessful, more arrows flying from your possession, pinning him to the road beneath him. He was unconscious as you approached, your Kagune retracting back within your body. It had taken quite a toll on your physical structure, causing you to collapse to your knees. 
“Y/N, are you okay?” His touch was so sensitive as he crouched down to examine your injuries. You looked up to see Todoroki, eye level with you, almost too close for two people who work together. You could feel your face heat up, your cheeks rosy with embarrassment. Neither of you pulled away, his intent focused on you.
“I’ll be okay. I just need to rest. How are you? Are you hurt?” He smiled, being so close to your face you couldn’t help but feel yourself blushing more. His smile was intoxicating, so inviting and warm. 
“I’m okay thanks to you.” He was quick to scoop you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. Everything was happening so fast you didn’t have time to react. To be honest, you didn’t want to. You liked being this close to him. “If you’re not busy tomorrow, maybe I can take you out to dinner? A thank you for saving me?” 
You were disappointed in the ‘saving me’ reason, knowing that this date would probably be a friend or co worker thing but you smiled and agreed anyways, trying to shift your body in a way that wouldn’t let him know you were bummed. 
“By the way, you have a really powerful quirk,” he stated, sitting down next to you in the back of the on sight ambulance made for heroes. He took your hand in his, making sure that you were looking at him and only him. He pressed his lips to the back of your hand, your face flaring up due to how flustered he was making you feel. “You’re quite amazing Y/n. I’ll be looking forward to our date.” 
He was truly amazed by your power, always asking questions, examining the Kagune when you two were alone. He was mesmerized more than anything, thinking that both you and your quirk were insanely beautiful. He would recommend working together, being a hero couple under the same agency. He loved seeing you in action, how you became more comfortable using your Kagune in battle. It was thanks to him really, you couldn’t really take the credit for that one. Your entire life, your Kagune was called ‘ugly’ ‘evil’ ‘villainess’. To have one person accept you, to call you beautiful and admire it made a difference within you and your confidence. That one person was Todoroki. 
KIRISHIMA 
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Imagine your quirk to be like Ken Kaneki’s Kagune.
Kirishima knew about you and your quirk even before you had known who he was. When you were younger, Kirishima took notice of you when you had defended one of the other kids from a playground bully. You had sprouted your Kagune instantly, defending the small child who had been pushed around. Kirishima was amazed, in complete awe at how powerful your quirk was. 
You had never been embarrassed of your quirk and using it frequently when you were younger made it so you were comfortable within your own skin and with your own power. As you grew up, your Kagune became more powerful, growing with you and your physical strength, as well as Kirishima’s admiration for you. He was a silent admirer, keeping his awe at a distance. You had no idea who he was until you went to UA together. 
That’s when he introduced himself to you, first day of class. You didn’t know he had always known who you were, as far as you were concerned, this was the first interaction you had with him. You became quite close with him, considering him to be your best friend at UA. He was the one to defend you, stick up for you when someone would say something negative about your quirk. It’s not that you couldn’t do it yourself, Kirishima was always the first one to react before you could. 
Over the years, your relationship grew. You had grown to like Kirishima’s humor more than anything. He had become a really good friend to you, but you knew your feelings were deeper than that. You feared rejection over all else, meaning you never had the courage to walk up to him and ask him out. You also were afraid that if you did that, it would ruin your friendship with him. You really had no idea he felt the same way until after you became Pro Heroes together. 
He ended up applying at the same agency as you, meaning the two of you were to work together. You didn’t mind, you worked really well with him. He was your biggest supporter, always cheering you on when you brought out your Kagune. He was your number one fan and also your closest friend which made it all the more special to you.  
“Hey Y/n?” Kirishima asked, walking alongside you after a long day of work. He had asked to walk you home that night, following alongside you on the dimly lit sidewalk. “Do you mind if we make a stop?” 
“This late at night?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “And for what?” 
“Don’t give me that!” he jokingly raised his voice. “The moon is pretty and I want to show you something.” His cheeks became a rosey shade of pink. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact until the very last moment, his eyes painted over with a thin layer of gloss that caused a small twinkle to form. So you agreed, following him towards a small path across the river, heart racing at how intimate it had become once you were alone in a park, under the moon.
He took your hand in his, lifting you up on a stone bench so you could sit next to him. He just stared up at the moon, his thumbs twiddling together like he was struggling to form a conversation. You could tell he was anxious but for what reason? You had known him for years only seeing him like this when he was about to ask someone out. “Hey Y/n, can I tell you something?” 
“Always Kiri,” you replied, giving him a reassuring smile. He became flustered by your actions, trying to laugh it off but you insisted he told you anyways. 
“Well,” he sighed, lowering his head. “To be honest Y/n, I really like you. When we were kids, I saw you save this kid from being bullied and ever since then, I’ve kind of been a secret fan. That’s why I was so quick to introduce myself on the first day of school, and why I joined this agency with you. I think you’re cool as fuck Y/n and I really want to take you out and make you mine.” 
You had an idea that Kirishima liked you but you never really thought too much about it. You loved Kirishima, adored who he was as a person. He was insanely strong and it had been quite the trip watching him grow into his power alongside you. You didn’t act on your hidden feelings you had towards him because you were more scared of scaring him off than anything, but to hear him now reassured your own feelings you had been denying for years. 
You didn’t respond, instead you took his head in between your hands, pressing your lips to his. You thought it was going to be a small peck but Kirishima took advantage of your advance, wrapping his left arm around your waist, the other coming up to caress your cheek. When pulling away, you looked up at Kirishima, a small laugh leaving his lips. “What?” you finally spoke, confused at his reaction. 
“Nothing! Your eye is just black and red again.” He knew what that meant, meaning you were either ready to fight or that you were flustered with high emotion. You were quick to look away, becoming nervous at the action. He gently turned your head back towards him, dipping down so he was eye level with you. “I think it’s cute.” 
“Shut up!” you joked, swatting him away. He just laughed, pulling you into his side as he rested his head on yours. “Thank you, Kiri.” It was a simple saying but it had such a heavy meaning. He was not only your best friend, but the person you fell in love with. 
KAMINARI 
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Imagine your quirk to be like Ayato Kirishima’s Kagaune
You had to keep your quirk a secret because of who your father was. Your quirk was considered a ‘Ghoul Quirk’ meaning it came from a villain who was defeated a year or two after you were born. You knew the consequences that came with showing your quirk and even though you weren’t raised under a villains roof, your quirk had yet to be accepted by the civil world. 
That was until you privately auditioned to be put into the hero course at UA high school. You presented yourself to the staff, telling them our story of how you were raised by normal civil family, not knowing of your birth family's ability, life, or well being. The school looked into your life, forming a background check before you were accepted, but alas, you were accepted. 
That was when you met Kaminari, the walking car battery. Okay, that is what he had called himself when he introduced himself to you and for some reason, it has stuck with you all this time. When he asked about your power, you just shrugged and said you weren’t able to activate it unless you were training on the battlefield due to the schools requests. They were uneasy about your power, knowing what it was and where it came from. No doubt the rest of the school knew about your family's history, maybe even more than you did. But you weren’t your family, you had considered yourself to be the only living part of you. 
When the time came to train, you had no choice but to show your Kagune to the rest of the class, having the dragon like tales sprout from your back. Both your eyes turned black and red when you activated your quirk by the snap of your finger. You quite literally had to break your finger in order to activate your quirk but having a ‘ghoul quirk’ meant you regenerated 100x faster than the human body. 
You were quick to show the class what you were made of, using both your physical strength and Kagune to do the given task. When you had completed the objective, you received a silent stare from your fellow classmates. You knew that they would react in some way, assuming the worst when they found out who you were. But that didn’t stop Kaminari from approaching you. 
“Hey Y/n! Good job today! Your quirk is amazing!!” He had his big, goofy grin plastered across his face when he approached you, Kirishima by his side. “I didn’t know you had a ghoul quirk. I thought they were wiped out a long time ago.” 
“They were, but I wasn’t raised by them actually. I may be the last living person but I’m not like the other ghoul quirks,” you hesitated, becoming nervous from the topic of conversation. You found yourself stuttering when the topic of your quirk was being talked about. 
“Still, that’s bad ass!” You looked at Kaminari who was nothing but genuine in his reaction. Your face felt flushed as you admired his expression, your cheeks feeling hot as he continued to talk to you. Kirishima shook his head, letting out an annoyed groan.
“Oh my god this is so sad. Y/n, Denki wants to ask you out.” 
“KIRISHIMA BRO? what the fuck?” Kaminari was flustered, spazzing out to his friend standing right in front of you. He whispered the last part, barely audible to your ears but you heard it, which caused you to let out a small giggle.
“Okay bye! I’ll see you around Y/n!” Kirishima waved the both of you off, leaving a frazzled Kaminari awkwardly trying to find his footing. You were quite ruffled yourself, unsure on how to react to what Kirishima had said, knowing it was true due to Kaminari’s reaction. You looked up at Kaminari who was quick to take a seat next to you. 
“It’s true,” he sighed, rubbing his thighs as he struggled to form words. “I do like you and uhh I just… I’ve never asked out a girl and had it go right. But I really like you!” he repeated, finally turning towards you. “Will you go on a date with me, please?” It was the please that made you laugh, knowing he wasn’t trying to sound desperate. You found him cute, especially with how nervous he was. “I’ve never asked someone as amazing as you out before so I understand if you don’t want to.” 
You didn’t know whether to be upset that he was asking you out because of your quirk or to be excited because someone was actually interested in you because of your quirk. In the end, you couldn’t be upset. Kaminari was sweet but he was just as dumb, meaning that he wasn’t asking you out cause of your quirk, he was asking you out because he saw the real you and liked what he saw. You smiled at Kaminari, agreeing to his proposal. “I would love to.”
“Wait really?” You nodded. “Not a joke?” 
“Nope.” He got up and fist bumped the air before running off. He was quick to stop himself, turning around to speak to you. 
“I’ll pick you up tonight?” You nodded, watching the boy run off towards his friends. “Guys! She said yes!! NO I’M NOT KIDDING!” 
Kaminari wasn’t great about expressing himself thoroughly or in a way that people could understand. He was simple in how he expressed himself but others usually saw it as mindless thinking. Not you though, you saw him for who he was. He was more than just an air head, he really had genuine feelings about the things he cared about, not just about you. And that’s why you had fallen so hard for him. He was genuine, real, truthful. He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life but he was an honest man. 
That’s why you said yes, regardless of what your quirk was. He wasn’t scared of you, nor did he think you were evil. He saw you for who you were, thinking you were the most beautiful superhuman he had ever known.
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maevemarethyu · 3 years
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Unexpected (3/?)
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(Not my GIF)
You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.
That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.
Bucky Barnes x Reader Fic.
You were a whole new level of anxious as you wait outside the diner for James. Matt and Foggy were already inside and you could tell how worried they were by the looks on their faces. On the bright side, they didn’t seem murderous so you would have to thank Karen later.
Then, you see him. Well, not so much him as the crowd parting for him like the red sea to avoid him; doing nothing to hide their fear and disgust. You roll your eyes at the ridiculousness of it. It would seem that no matter how much good the man did; people would still look at him like the Winter Soldier.
It really pissed you off and did nothing to help the migraine that had taken residence in the back of your head; crying all night would do that to a person. You probably looked as bad as you felt and you feel self-conscious despite your best efforts. You weren’t here to look good. You were here to get started on your divorce and get home to Laysa. If you were feeling generous, you’d try to talk Matt down from hunting Patrick.
Speak of the devil. Your phone goes off in your pocket for the tenth time this morning, another good morning/have a great day text from your loving husband. You used to think that him finding the time to send you a text was a sweet little gesture, now it made you sick to your stomach. How could he just lie to you like this?
A warm hand on your shoulder jolts you out of your thoughts and your phone slips from you hand and onto the concrete.
“S-shit sorry. I didn’t mean-“ You wave James’ apology off with a tight laugh.
“It’s not your fault.” You mumble as you pick up the phone. By some miracle, the screen had yet to shatter. “See? No harm no foul. This phones been through a lot.”
Up close, he looked good. His blue eyes seemed brighter and the stubble on his face brought out how sharp his jawline was. Seriously how could anyone take a man like James Barnes for granted?
From the corner of your eye, you see Foggy notice you and the man you were with and his face twists into an amusing mixture of shock and worry. “Are you ready?” You ask, flashing him the papers in your hand like a child showing off a good grade and he shows you his.
“As I’ll ever be.” He radiates discomfort so you lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“I know this is gonna be hard but, I know this is what’s best for me. I’ve been with Patrick for nearly fifteen years, he’s basically all I’ve ever known. And yet, I know I’ll never be able to forgive him for this. Divorce isn’t for everyone; some couples manage to be happy after working through these situations. Today is just to see whether or not you think this is the right path to take.” Once your spiel is complete, a small smile graces his face before he nods his head towards the door.
“I needed that. Thank you… for all of this.”
“No need to thank me.” You shrug, plastering a smirk on your face. “We’re basically best friends by circumstance. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
You meant it because, even though the way you met was awful, you didn’t want to go your separate ways after today. You needed a friend to vent to too.
“Me too. I mean you too- I just... I’m here for you too” Once again, he’s stumbling over his words and, in the morning light, you can see a blush take over his cheeks. It drags a genuine laugh from the deepest part of your stomach; James Buchannan Barnes, the ex-Winter Soldier, was a shy giant. A teddy bear.
A teddy bear that reaches over you to hold open the door. “After you.”
Matt and Foggy are out of their chairs and flagging you down as soon as you step into the building. God, you loved these two.
You unconsciously grab James’ metal hand to drag him towards your friends and, much to his surprise, you don’t flinch or recoil. Claire always complained that his hand was too cold.
“James, these are my friends Matt Murdock and Franklin Nelson. Guys, this is James Barnes.” You introduce and purposefully ignore Foggy’s wide eyes. You were sure Matt’s eyes were wide as well but, they were hidden behind his dark glasses. You could see they had a hundred question but, ever the professionals, they stay quiet.
“It’s good to meet you” James greets awkwardly.
The waitress comes to take the drink orders and you’re thankful for the momentary distraction. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.
“I guess you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today.” You start and Foggy snorts.
“We are actually.” Matt nods, whilst elbowing Foggy’s side. “Is everything okay?”
“Uh. No. Not really.” You stall, throat closing at the mere thought of explaining what happened to two of your dearest friends. The last thing you wanted to do was release the Devil of Hell’s kitchen in front of an Avenger. Your hand ball into fists subconsciously and you only notice when your hand is engulfed by James’.
“You’re bleeding.” He whispers, probably thinking it was quiet enough to go unheard by Matt and Foggy but, you knew better. A quick glance at you palms show he was right; your nails had managed to cut through the flesh of you palm.
You know you should pull away but, the warmth of his hand relaxes your tense shoulders and allows you to unclench your jaw.
With a deep breath, you turn to face your friends once more.
“Patrick is cheating on me with James’ wife. I want a divorce but, I want the papers in my hand before I confront him.”
Just as you expected, Matt’s face twists into something terrifying and a shiver runs down your spine at the sight but, to your surprise, its Foggy that starts.
“That fucking piece of shit! I always told you he wasn’t good enough for you.” He growls, pulling out his phone. It took a lot to get Franklin Nelson to the point of belligerent rage. “I’ve had those forms ready for the past six years.”
That had you choking on your water. You knew they didn’t particularly like Patrick but, having your divorce planned out since the day of your marriage?
“You what?! Who are you calling?” You ask and he waves off your question.
“Hey Marci? Can you print the file on my computer labeled When Y/N finally wises up? Thanks hon.”
Next to you, James chuckles and it’s enough to warm your face. This was not how you expected breakfast to go. You look towards an unusually quiet Matt for answers but, his eyes are on the man next to you.
“What about you?” He asks, directing the question at James. “The papers in your hand tell me you and Y/N have the same plan.”
If James is shocked by Matt’s intuitiveness despite his handicap, he doesn’t show it and you give his hand a thankful squeeze.
You interject. “Actually, he just came here for information on-“
“Yeah. I want a divorce too.” He nods, leaving you dumbstruck. “It’s what’s best for me.”
Hearing your words on his lips made your traitorous heart skip a beat and the way Matt shifts in his seat tell you he noticed. Damn him.
He hands Foggy the small stack of papers and the lawyer in him wastes no time; skimming through the pages with a pensive face. The waitress returns to take everyone’s orders and your face scrunches up when James asks for tomato juice with his omlette.
“Seriously? You drink that stuff?” You tease, a welcome reprieve from the seriousness and the man physically relaxes for the first time since you’ve sat down.
“Yeah actually. It’s good for you.” You open your mouth to retort when Matt cuts you off.
“Don’t act like you don’t eat tomatoes like apples. You literally ate enough cherry tomatoes in one sitting to send you to the hospital.” He reminds you of the time when you were in college and ended up in the ER because you’d managed to burn a hole into your stomach lining because of the amount of tomatoes you ingested. Who’d have thought you could throw off your stomach acid’s pH by eating four cartons of cherry tomatoes?
“You did what?” James grins. “And you don’t like tomato juice?”
“It’s the texture.” You defend while adding a shiver of disgust for good measure.
“This is an air-tight contract. Whoever wrote it up was good.” Foggy hums. “One of Stark’s lawyers I’m guessing. Is there any particular reason you aren’t using one of them?”
James didn’t actually have a reason. He supposes he could have used one of Tony’s multiple lawyers but, when you had asked him to come with you today, he had agreed without putting too much thought into it. Coming here with you just seemed like the right thing to do.
It was a good call too. Claire worked in the compound, and secrets never seemed to stay secret there for long. If word got out that he was talking to a lawyer, she’d track him down and he didn’t think he was strong enough to confront her. Not yet.
“Uh- Claire works with me. This was the easiest way to go about it without her finding out.” He explains, suddenly aware of your eyes on him and the fact that his hand was still wrapped around yours. Neither of you make a move to break the contact.
The answer seems to satisfy Foggy but, Matt doesn’t give anything away and you have half a mind to kick his shin under the table. He wasn’t here to intimidate Barnes. Thankfully, it was clear James wasn’t so easily discouraged.
“We could probably have yours done the day after tomorrow.” In reality, two days is extremely fast for things of this nature but, this meant that the two of you have to keep this to yourselves for two more days. You had to pretend to be loving spouses for the next thirty-six hours. It would be torture.
Foggy starts going through what the process was for filing a divorce and you’re so engrossed in it that you don’t notice Matt pull out his phone until you hear him
“Hey Siri; call Frank.” Matt orders and all the blood drains from your face. No.
“Matt please don’t-“ You beg, tightening your grip on James’ hand. “He can’t find out.”
“He has to know Y/N.” Foggy affirms in a much gentler voice and you can feel James’ eyes burning into the side of your head. Panic had gripped your voice and he wanted to know why.
“Can we please wait until after I confront him?” You plead. “I’m not six anymore. I can handle this.”
“Yeah Murdock?” A gruff voice speaks from the device and your breath catches.
You hold Matt’s blank gaze firmly, neither of you yielding until-
“Sorry; meant to call Hank. You know how Siri never gets it right.” He lies and you exhale in relief.
“Whatever.” The phone murmurs before disconnecting just in time for the waitress to set down your table’s food.
“If you don’t tell Frank, I will.” Matt warns once the waitress is out of earshot and, with a roll of your eyes, you unlink your hand from James’ to pull your plate of Belgian waffles towards you.
Your friends begin discussing how to handle both yours and James’ divorces when the latter leans in towards you.
“I’m guessing Frank is that scary friend you warned us about?” He asks, once again keeping his voice low, not realizing just how futile it was.
The answer to his question was yes and no. Frank was scary but, he wasn’t the only one. Unbeknownst to the Avenger, one of your scariest friends was sat across from him, white cane folded on his lap, discussing the legality of your situation.
Matt Murdock played the perfect civilian but, you were one of the few people who knew who he really was.
“That’s putting it lightly.” You mutter, loading your plate with enough syrup to have James’ teeth rotting by just looking at it.
“You really like your sugar, huh?” He chuckles as he watches each pocket of your waffle fill up with the golden brown delicacy and you hum.
“Need it to keep me awake. Can’t stand the taste of coffee and energy drinks just keep me exhausted with an accelerated heartbeat.” Once you’re satisfied, you hand Foggy the syrup out of habit without looking up from your plate and he takes it with a quiet thank you.
“So, how’s Laysa?” He asks and a bright smile crawls onto your face despite your full cheeks.
“She’s doing a lot better.” You say after swallowing. “It was touch and go for a while but, she’s on the way to being a normal, healthy, baby.”
“Good! Because Marci and Karen want to fawn her with gifts and attention. Even Elle admitted to wanting to see her.” Matt grins, finally dropping his glare and conversing like a normal person.
“Elle?!” You snort in disbelief, turning to James to explain why you were shocked, words catching in your throat when you catch him staring at you. There was a look on his face you couldn’t quite describe; the best you could come up with was awed. You felt heat creep up your neck at the sight of it and you quickly focus your attention back to your food.
It was a ridiculous thought. Why the hell would James Buchannan Barnes be in awe of you? You were just you.
“I’ve gotta ask.” Foggy flashes a sardonic smirk. “How are you gonna do it? I’m partial to you setting all of his shit on fire and tossing it off the GW.”
You knew he meant well but, all his words did was make your skin crawl with the realization that you were going to have to confront Patrick and it wasn’t going to be pretty. There would probably be yelling and crying. God, you hated crying.
“I’m… not sure.” You say quietly. “I’ve never had to do anything like this before. I almost want to leave his stuff at the station and text him but, I know that’s cowardly.”
“And you are anything but a coward.” Matt reminds tenderly. You sometimes forgot how well your friends knew you but, you were always grateful they did. He was right. You were not a coward.
That didn’t make this any less terrifying.
“Steve had to talk me out of leaving a letter on Claire’s desk and moving back to Romania.” James admits and the ridiculousness of it lightens the weight on your heart. You weren’t sure if it was true or if he said it to make you feel better but, you decide it doesn’t matter.
“Why don’t you guys do it together? Two birds one stone and all that.” Foggy suggests through a mouth full of hash brown. You and James share a look.
It wasn’t a bad idea. You two could be a united front against your soon to be exes and, having him there wouldn’t allow you to back out, or worse, take Patrick back. Your husband always had a way with words and you always fell for it.
“Are you-?” James begins.
“Yeah… you?” You interject.
“Yeah. I mean yes- I-“
“Okay its settled, you’ll do it together.” Matt finalizes with a slight frown. It was obvious he wasn’t fully behind it but, knew better than you fight you on it. You were stubborn. “I want a call as soon as it’s over.”
Foggy chokes on his food when he garbles Live Stream It and you can’t stop the roll of your eyes. It’s been like this since you met them while studying at Columbia. You could practically picture Foggy’s long hair and hear Matt’s shy voice. A voice you hadn’t heard since you graduated.
Even when you continued your education at a more specialized school, you hadn’t grown apart and it irked Patrick to no end. You were glad that who you hung out with was the one thing you never compromised with him.
“So…” You turn to James. “How are we going to do this?”
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