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pink-flame · 3 years

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Like You Could Love Me

So...the Angry Flower Squad was making me SO soft over gifs and @mamirugbee wanted porch fluff with kissing and I remembered that @thedeathdeelers and @missjoolee liked my idea of using this post as a Juke prompt and here we are. I wrote this from 12-2am so it’s quite possibly incoherent and I’m not checking for mistakes until tomorrow so take it for what it is, a late night labor of love. Enjoy! 💜

Julie hadn’t slept for almost 48 hours.

Her school was hosting a Los Feliz High After Dark event for the lower grades who didn’t get to attend prom. It was pitched as being just as exciting as the dance but in practice was known to be little more than a glorified sleepover in the school gym with PTA members for chaperones. Flynn had been determined that that year would be different, and had talked Julie into joining her on the planning committee.

The good news was that Flynn had a real flair for party planning and decorating when she was actually invested (see the difference between the dance they tried to forget and the way she had helped Julie’s dad throw together an epic garage party in less than 24 hours). So by the time Julie and Flynn and the other volunteers were done the gym was fully immersed in a carnival theme full of cute booths filled with potential activities and cute backgrounds to take pictures in front of. It was definitely an improvement over the year before which had been an under the sea theme which had consisted mostly of a few blue streamers and Mr. Weaver walking around in an inflatable Nemo costume.

The bad news was that it had taken a lot longer than they had anticipated and they hadn’t fallen into bed the night before the event until close to 2am. Julie hadn’t been able to sleep even after she slipped into bed next to Flynn and heard her best friend start making the small whistling noises that indicated she was out cold. Julie had been kept up with thoughts of what her bandmates were up to without her and if they had lingered a little longer on what Luke in particular was doing right then, well that wasn’t that surprising.

She loved Alex and Reggie but neither of them had attempted to hold her hand and remarked on their “interesting little relationship” or suddenly developed the ability to touch her and instinctively joined her in reaching out to gently cradle the other’s face.

No, Luke was different, not that she wanted to say that in front of him unless she was sure he felt the same overwhelming feelings she did Oddly enough she was much more concerned about the possibility that he didn’t than she was about the fact that he was still..well, a ghost. It wasn’t that she was unaware that his ghostly status could lead to heartache for her later on, of course she was. It just didn’t seem so important suddenly. After what had happened with her mom, what had almost happened with the guys only a couple of months ago...anything could happen at any time. Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed anyway so why deny herself happiness now if she could have it? If she could have it. Because that was still the question.

Because Luke obviously liked her but did he like her? That sounded so juvenile but to call it anything else...well, that was really scary. Evil ghosts and the looming possibility of their return had nothing on the insecurity that came with not knowing exactly how the boy you lo...liked felt about you.

So Julie didn’t get much sleep that night, Flynn’s alarm seeming to go off only moments after she finally drifted off. She had dragged through school that day, trying to match Flynn’s excitement for the night’s upcoming festivities though her own enthusiasm had quickly drained out of her altogether along with her energy. In the end it had been as fun a night as it could be with Julie spending most of it in a semi-exhausted haze. She and Flynn had played some of the games they had set up, and danced to the music they both agreed would have been better if it had been either DJ’d by Flynn or performed by Julie’s band, and when Carrie had sneered something about how tacky the theme was even that had been half hearted and without any real bite.

So it was a pretty good night all things considered and Julie was in a good mood despite her complete exhaustion by the time Flynn’s mom dropped her off early the next morning. Ok, so maybe part of her good mood was actually because of her exhausted state by that point as she found herself feeling giddy and her mind had gone sort of pleasantly fuzzy. That was her excuse for how she found herself half-skipping up the path towards her front door, singing to herself.

We create...perfect harmony

“Somebody had a good time.”

Julie’s head snapped up to take in the figure of the boy who leaned against the pillar of the porch in front of her, a small smile bordering on a smirk tugging at his lips.

Luke.

What was he doing there?

Was he waiting for her?

She had to play it cool.

She had to be normal.

She had to not give away all the feelings that had been swirling around inside of her for the last couple of months since they first gained the ability to touch each other whenever they wanted and promptly both became too awkward to touch each other at all.

She had to…

“I missed you,” She blurted.

One of Julie’s hands flew up to cover her mouth as she took the last few steps up onto the porch, trying and failing to ignore the way Luke’s eyes widened even as that vaguely infuriating smirk grew larger.

“I didn’t mean that,” She insisted once her hand had dropped back to her side. “I mean...I didn’t not mean it but...I just meant it would have been fun if you could have come. Any of you. All of you. Um...yeah.”

Luke let her dig herself deeper, waiting until her stream of words had come to a complete stop. When they finally dried up he pushed off of the pillar with one of his signature little bounces, letting his momentum carry him to within a step of where she stood awkwardly on the porch.

“Did someone spike the punch at this dance?” He asked her, amusement clear in his tone.

Julie shook her head a little too fiercely, indignant despite the fact that she couldn’t exactly blame him for suspecting that she was drunk.

She felt a little drunk.

Not that she knew what it was like to be drunk but she was pretty sure it was similar to this.

Not the point.

“It wasn’t a dance it was a school sanctioned slumber party,” She corrected, focusing all of her energy on not slurring her words or otherwise embarrassing herself. “And nobody spiked anything. And actually nobody drinks punch anymore. Just so you know.”

Luke held up both hands as though he were surrendering but that smirk of his was impossible to deny at this point, a fact that both made Julie incredibly irritated and simultaneously fighting the urge to lean up and kiss it right off his stupid face.

Ok, that was not helpful.

“Not a dance, no punch. Got it,” Luke said, his voice just soft enough to keep her annoyance more or less at bay.

“Why are you out here anyway?”

Julie hadn’t meant to ask that but it felt like any filter her brain generally had was long gone at this point.

Luke tilted his head slightly and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Oh, you know, just taking in the view.”

Julie frowned skeptically.

“Taking in the view?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, gesturing out at the plant filled yard. “Just communing with nature you know? Honestly, I forgot you were even out last night.”

“Oh.”

Julie dipped her head a little so she didn’t have to look directly at Luke as disappointment rushed through her. She was pretty sure she was too tired to keep the evidence of that emotion from being completely visible. She was so frustrated with herself for caring at all. He wasn’t her boyfriend after all. Why would be be waiting for her?

“Julie.”

She reluctantly raised her head to meet Luke’s gaze which was fixed insistently on her. His smirk had fallen away leaving behind a look at once more open and somehow harder to read at the same time.

“I’m kidding,” He told her as he took a half-step closer to her, so close that she had to tilt her head up further to maintain eye contact. “I was waiting for you.”

“Oh,” She said again, very aware that she seemed to have lost the ability to say anything else.

She reached deep down inside and mustered up the strength to pull out one further word.

“Why?”

His eyes somehow managed to soften even more and his voice was oddly breathy when he answered.

“Because I missed you too.”

And Julie knew that the most prudent thing to do was tuck that phrase away as something warm, and happy and precious to examine more closely when she had slept and had the mental prowess to actually determine what it meant for their interesting little relationship.

She knew that.

But she was exhausted not only from lack of sleep but from months spent questioning where they stood. She was happy to hear him say that he had missed her, of course she was. But she also found herself feeling strangely...angry.

How dare he look at her with those big soft eyes and stare at her like that if he wasn’t ever planning on actually putting her out of her misery by telling her how he felt or didn’t feel?

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” The words burst out of her without her permission.

Luke was clearly taken aback by her words, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,’ She hesitated, just enough awareness seeping back in to make her realize what a truly stupid thing she was about to say. “Like you could love me.”

She watched as a whole range of emotions rushed over his face too quickly for her to decipher exactly what all of them were.

“Julie…”

“Forget I said anything,” Julie interrupted, turning towards the front door with every intention to flee the situation. “I’m just really tired.”

“Julie!”

He said her name more forcefully that time and she froze. She didn’t turn back to face him though, the pounding in her chest and the heat spreading across her face giving her all the incentive she needed to keep her head facing away.

Luke wasn’t having any of that though.

He reached out to gently tug her back towards him, one hand settling on her cheek while the other rested on her waist.

If she hadn’t been blushing before she certainly was now.

“Do you not want me to look at you like that because...because you don’t feel the same?”

Luke’s voice shook a little as he gave voice to that question, his thumb seeming to stroke across her cheek without his permission.

Julie was reeling, everything feeling surreal and dreamlike anyway because of her lack of sleep but when combined with Luke’s gentle actions it felt more and more unreal. She couldn’t help but remember the last time he had touched her face, how they had clutched at each other thinking it was the only chance they would ever have. Now they had new chances every day and they had been wasting them.

Why had they been wasting them?

“Wait...feel the same as what? Feel the same as who?” She asked as her brain finally caught up with what he had actually said.

He visibly swallowed and she took some comfort in the fact that apparently he was nervous too.

“The same as I feel,” He paused. “About you. I...I love you, Julie. And if that makes you uncomfortable I never have to say it again, ok? But it’s how I feel and I just wanted to say it. Once or whatever.”

“But…” Julie felt a giggle rising up inside of her as exhaustion and the pure absurdity of the moment settled in. “But I love you too.”

Luke’s thumb froze on her face as his eyes lit up with something close to hope.

“You do?”

Julie nodded, the giggle finally bursting out of her only to be met with a grin from Luke so radiant she wished she could capture it in a photo to look at later.

“You love me,” Luke said again as though he needed to confirm beyond any shadow of doubt.

“I love you,” Julie repeated agreeably. “And you love me?”

Luke nodded, bouncing a little on his heels as he somehow managed to step even more into her space.

“I love you.”

“Well…” Julie sighed happily. “Well, that’s great then.”

Luke let out a bark of laughter that probably would have been loud enough to bring her dad to the porch if anyone but her had been able to hear it.

Before she had time to remark on how obnoxiously loud he could be he was crowding her back until she bumped into the pillar he had been leaning against when she got home. The moment her back made contact with its firm surface he was bringing his other hand up until he was cupping both of her cheeks. She barely had time to adjust to that very much welcome sensation before he was lowering his head and aligning his lips with hers, pressing them together in a chaste peck that was still enough to send her heart racing. He started to pull back as if to gauge her reaction but she was having none of that. She had been waiting for this for so long and as previously established she had absolutely none of her usual ability to deny herself what she wanted.

And what she wanted was her hands on Luke Patterson right then.

She reached up and latched one hand on the back of his neck and the other threaded deep into his hair giving it a little tug just because she could. She had been wanting to touch him so badly ever since that night in the garage when she’d almost lost him and she’d been wanting to touch his dumb, messy hair ever since “I’m Luke by the way”. So she did.

He let out a little pleased sound that was cut off when she stretched up to press her mouth back to his, this time with twice as much force and no intention of separating anytime soon. To his credit he took the hint pretty fast, his hands dropping from her face to wrap around her waist tugging her body to press against his as he moved his lips insistently against hers. And wow...that was something, the sensation of almost all of her pressed up against almost all of him.

He wasn’t warm, not exactly, but he wasn’t cold either like she had feared he would be. It was more like his body was mirroring back exactly her own temperature, leaving it hard to determine where one of them began and the other ended when her eyes were closed as they currently were.

Or maybe that was just them.

Maybe it was like that quote she always saw floating around online about souls being made of the same stuff.

When she was well rested and thinking rationally she had always rolled her eyes a bit at stuff like that but now...she was beginning to see the appeal.

Julie massaged absentmindedly at the back of his neck as she drew his lower lip into her mouth, the sound he made in response enough to have her pulling back with a giggle.

“Come back here,” He mumbled, his lips chasing hers even as she turned her face away leaving him to press soft, wet kisses to her cheek.

“Now you sound drunk,” She told him, turning back to face him and looping both arms around his shoulders. “My dad will be up soon and I have no idea how I’d explain...this...when he can’t even see you.”

Luke groaned as he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers.

“You’re right.”

“I’m right,” Julie echoed.

It was true but that didn’t mean she was happy about it.

They stayed like that for another minute or so, just enjoying being this close to each other with nothing to hide. They might have stayed like that longer but Julie suddenly let out a yawn she couldn’t contain directly into Luke’s face.

Luke pulled back sharply but the soft smile that seemed to always be reserved just for her remained in place.

“You need to get some sleep,” He told her firmly.

She wanted to argue but all that came out was another yawn.

Ok, so there was no arguing with that.

“Goodnight,” She told him, suddenly feeling shy as she backed towards the front door wanting to keep him in her sight just a little longer.

Luke gestured around them to the soft light spilling around her yard.

“Good morning,” He corrected with a grin.

Never one to let him have the last word, certainly not when she was too tired to be embarrassed, Julie leapt forward to press one final lingering kiss on his lips, retreating before he could do more than return the pressure.

Julie backed towards the front door, the grin now firmly on her face and a rather dumbstruck one adorning his.

“Band practice later,” She reminded him. “Don’t be late.”

Then she slipped into the house and up to her bed, incredibly tired and pretty sure of exactly what she would be dreaming of.

#I blame the #angry flower squad #for this #and also my other friends who encourage me to see juke everywhere #you know you are #and I love you for it #feels so good to write dumb fluff honestly #Juke #Jatp #my fics #fanfiction

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rudystopit · 3 years

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24 Hour Diner

[hawks x f!reader]

summary: you're a waitress at a 24 hour diner. a sexy hero walks in after his night shift. he flirts with you the whole night.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, oral (female receiving), riding, overstimulation, and hookup.

wc: 2.4k

the blonde hair pro hair sat in a late diner after a late night shift. he was the only costumer so full attention was on him. a young woman wearing a pale yellow dress uniform walks up to his table. Her name tag say “y/n.” she smiles and hands her the menu.

“How is your chicken, this late at night, Dove?” The girl rolls her eyes at the name, but still smiles hoping his tip will be worth the messed up sleep schedule.

“Ricky is working tonight so they’re gonna be amazing,” you say, turning to place the menu on the counter and pulling out the little notebook. “We’ve got chicken sandwiches, fried chicken, chicken tenders,” you continue through all the chicken items on the menu, but you know he isn’t listening.

“Fried chicken, please,” Keigo smiles and turns to his phone. You scribble down his order and walk back to the window to Ricky.

You could feel his eyes leave his phone and watch how your h/c ponytail sways while you walk. You sigh and lean into the window. Ricky leans over the corner under the window. “The way he’s looking at you, he may tip you big,” he chuckled and tokes the slip. you turn to the coffee pots and pour yourself a cup.

It’s as good as shitty diner coffee can be at 2 am. You lean against wall and watch the pro hero play on his phone. His beautiful golden hair was pushed back with his glasses and his eyes are slowly shutting and opening quickly.

You turn back to the coffee pots and pour another cup. Balancing the creamer and sugar in one hand while trying not to spill the cup was harder than it looks. You make your way to his table. He looks up and gives a confused look.

“On the house, you look like you’re gonna pass out,” Keigo smiles and takes the cup and sugars.

“Thanks little dove,” you roll your eyes while walking to the back.

You hop onto one of the tables Ricky wasn’t using. “He likes you,” you give him a questioning look. “He’s in here every week after his shift and he’s normally cranky and rude due to the being tired and probably starving,” he walks to you. “But tonight he’s sickly sweet and giving you smiles and little pet names,”

You blush a little. Sure Keigo was attractive but you’re just a waitress at a 24 hour diner. You’re covered in grease and your hair is probably slick with sweat. How can this handsome pro hero like you?

“Tell him it’s gonna be a few more minutes and that cake slices are half off due to the hour,” Ricky smacks your shoulder, snapping you out of your daze.

You make your way to the beautiful blonde. His golden eyes snap up to you with this look of a little kid then it drops when he see you don’t have his food.

“Sorry it’s gonna be a few more minutes,” you blush at his magnificent eyes, “cakes are half off. You know we gotta get rid of them before morning shift and my kitchen is filled with leftovers so,” you ramble on and on while he stares in awe.

“Sure, I’ll take a slice, whatcha got left?” Keigo smiles as you shift to look at the case.

“Um, double chocolate, vanilla strawberry, and I think lemon but i can check if you want,” you don’t notice he is 100% starring down your dress as you lean to see the cakes. you turn back to him and he is zoned out looking at your chest. You blush and try to call him back to earth. You clear your throat, “s-so which one would you l-like?” He snaps back to earth with a shake of his head. His large hand makes it way through his hair and he chuckles.

“Chocolate is fine,” there’s a light tint to his cheeks. you rush away to the cakes and he watches you pull out the tray. Keigo smiles when you run back to the kitchen because you forgot a knife and it only gets wider while you try to figure out how big of a piece you think he wants.

“Ricky,” you yell.

“Four fingers, y/n,” you look embarrassed then measured out the piece and made the cut. You put in on a plate and make sure it looks perfect. you round your way to the table.

He notices your coming his way and Keigo quickly opens his phone. He tries to act as natural as possible. He puts the phone down when you place the plate in front of him. He smiles and thanks you as you walk to the back.

You sigh and lean against the table. Ricky is putting the food in the frier. He turn to you with a plate. a beautiful burger and golden fries. You mouth waters looking at it. He hands you the plate. “Eat,” you didn’t have to be told twice. You devoured the burger and fries within minutes.

“Thank you,” you smile as you go to wash the plate. The late 80s music softly playing through the speakers makes you bob your head to the beat. You place the plate to dry and turn to ricky, who just put Keigo’s food on the counter.

You make your way to the front and behind the bar to pick up the plate. a few quick steps and you standing by his booth. Clean plate in front of him. He was leaning against his palm, sleeping. His phone was on instagram on some craft video. You chuckle and place the plate down.

He snaps awake. “Oh sorry, here’s your food,” you laugh. You pick up the cake plate and make your way to go wash it.

“It was delicious,” he slightly yells. You smile and walk to the back. Ricky is eating some fries.

“Leave it; I’ll wash it. Go talk to him,” he pushes you out the kitchen.

“He’s eating,” you push back.

“He’s like a kid. He’ll talk even if his mouth is full of food,” he lowers himself and pushes you out the door. You stumble and Keigo looks at you. You smile and wave then instantly turn to flip ricky off, who is laughing.

You stand behind the bar and start re cleaning it.

“Do you guys get a lot of people this late?” He asks putting a fry in his mouth.

“Mostly heroes and people getting out of work late,” you smile.

“Do you normally work this time?” He asked looking at his chicken, deciding which piece to eat first.

“Um, not really. I work the lunch and dinner hours, but one of the girls said she can’t do tonight so I’m here,”

“That’s good for me, I guess,” he smiles. You start blushing. he eats his food silently for a few minutes. Then he huffs and says, “hey little dove? Can I get a box?” You quickly drive down to look for the box hoping he didn’t see you face fully red.

You slowly remerge with a box and slowly walk to hand it to him. you heart is pounding in your ears. You plop down the box and pretty much sprint to behind the bar. You face the window to see ricky crying laughing at you.

You hear Keigo stand up and make his way to the cash register. you turn around and quickly type in the machine. “$13.19,” you say not making eye contact. He hands you a $20 and goes to leave. You didn’t notice since you were to worried giving back the right amount of change. You look up and he’s gone.

“Run, bitch,” ricky yells.

You make your way out in the cold morning chasing after a handsome young pro hero with $6.81 in hand. He was standing on the corner waiting for a cab. You run away to him.

“Here,” you hold out your hand.

“Your tip?” He says, laughing. Your face turns instantly red and his laugh only became louder. “Oh boy, someone needs to go to bed,”

You make your way back to the diner. Something grabs you waist and pulls you closer to him. His warm chest makes the butterflies in your stomach go absolutely ape shit. His free hand pulls your chin up to meet his wonderful golden eyes. The hint of lust spreads through his eyes and to your cheeks then down your chest to your core. He smirks and pulls away.

Met with the cold air makes you shiver. He opens the car door and gets in. You stood there too stunned to move. His head pops out, “coming with little dove?” He calls out. You rush into the car. Completely living your phone, wallet, keys and jackets at the diner.

His large hand rests on your upper tight as he tells the driver where to go. You rest your head on his large shoulder as his gently leans into yours.

It didn’t take long till you were at his building. It was a four story brick building. Ivy growing up the side. You followed Keigo to the door as he unlocks It and make his way up the stairs. Once you made it to the old white door, he pushes you up against it.

His warm breath travels down your neck. Your hand snakes to his soft hair. One of his hands slowly make its way but your skirt. you whisper “lets go in,” he snaps out of his daze and unlocks the door.

You follow him in and the second the door slams, you up against it. Kisses pepper your neck and soft pants escape your lips. Keigo finds the spot that makes you melt and gives it a little suck. Your hands grab onto his hair and his side. He makes a low groan which sends a shiver down your back. You arc your back bring yourself closer to him.

He pulls away and takes off his jacket and shirt and you pull off your sneakers and shorts from under your skirt. He grabs you hand and pulls you to him. He holds your hand up and his other hand is on your hip. He presses his forehead to yours and starts swaying back and forth. You start laughing.

“Mmm, sounds like heaven,” he whispers and plants a kiss on your lips. You blush and push your body closer to him. He grunts into the kiss and pulls you to the couch. He twirls you and you skirt flares up as you laugh. You fall onto the couch awaiting Keigo to lean down and kiss you. He kneels on the couch and drags his hands up your legs as he leans down to kiss you, “you’re so beautiful y/n” he whispers inches from your nose.

He peppers your neck with more kisses and hickies. His hand slides up your skirt once again and pulls your panties to the slide. He brings his finger to your clit and light brushes over it causing you to mewl. You feel him smile against your skin.

He slides two fingers through your folds and giving your clit and little flick. You moan arcing your back. He sits up and take both hands at your knees. You blush and close your eyes. Keigo slides his hands up your thighs bring the skirt up with it. You are so happy that it was laundry day and wore your “special occasion” underwear. He smirks and puts his finger around the waistband and painfully pulling them down slowly. he gets them off and toss it into the pile he’s already started with his clothes.

He sinks in between your legs and his hot breath sends a jolt through you. Your hand found its way back to his soft hair as he drags his tongue through your folds. Two fingers slide into his mouth and then alined themself to your entrance. He sucks you clit while sliding the two fingers into you. You moan and thug his hair slightly.

he slowly thrusted his fingers in and out at an aching slow pace.

“Ah~ please faster,” you moaned. He chuckled and speed up. You arc your back and your grip on his hair tightened.

“Fuck, little dove, you’re so tight,” he said causing you to blush even more than you already were. He curled his fingers to hit have spongy parts of you that most men normal don’t get.

The sensation hit your core and you let out a breathy, “fuck.” He continued to move his fingers making sure to hit there a few times. His tongue was doing wonders on your throbbing clit. Within minutes you were reaching your climax. he continued his work while you came.

once your death grip on his hair loosened he sat up and rubbed his head. “Ouch, little dove,” you laugh. He pulls off his pants while you sit up and try to unzip your uniform. After a few seconds of struggling he gets up and unzips it for you while planting little kisses down your shoulder and arm. He pulls the dress over your head to join his pants. With a swift movement he unclips your bra and it too is thrown across the room. He sits behind you on the couch and you turn around to see what he’s doing.

he’s sitting there waiting for you to make a move. You climb up onto his lap and he grabs his member. Long, slow drags across your folds then he positions himself in front of your entrance. You sink down onto his lap. The pressure hurts slightly and you grab his shoulders. “Fuck y/n,” he groans. you sit there getting used to his size. You pepper his neck with kisses and bites.

Soon you rocked your hips and his hands fell to your hips. Keigo slowly picks up the pace till you’re practically bouncing on his lap. He’s enjoying the view and the little noises you make. He starts moaning in your ear, he’s almost done. “You’re doing so well little dove,” one of his hands reaches around to rub your clit.

Within seconds the knot starts to build up and Keigo is close too. Soon you’re coming undone and your pussy starts milking him. That was the push he needed and he’s coming undone. You two ride out your high. You fall onto his chest. Both of you are heavily panting.

through pants he says, “my name is Keigo, by the way,”

“Im y/n” you say back.

“I know. Your name tag is somewhere on the floor,” he laughs.

#hawks #hawks mha #hawks my hero academia #hawks boku no hero academia #hawks bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero headcanons #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero smut #smut #hawks smut #my hero academy smut #mha smut #bnha smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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starlightinhumanform · 3 years

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24/7: Chapter One

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Loceit, Platonic Demus, Platonic Logicality

Summary: James (aka Janus) works the graveyard shift at a open-all-night convenience store. Logan is a college student who stays up way too late, way too often. While pulling all-nighters, he often visits the store James works at. As time goes on, James begins to care about Logan as more than just a customer.

Warnings: Moderate Language, Some suggestive jokes, Mentions of ignorant/negative sentiments regarding vitiligo, Mentions of intoxication— some implied to be underage (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: College AU, Coffeeshop AU but weird (that’s literally the best way i can think of describing it), Mutual Feelings, Fluff

A/N: — Janus’ name in this AU is James (mostly because when I began planning this, his name hadn’t been revealed). I may still include his name by writing in a name-change but we’ll see lmao — I do not have vitiligo and do not personally know anyone with vitiligo; Janus’ experience with the condition is based entirely on my research. That being said, I did my best to give an accurate representation but I do not claim that it is flawless in anyway. If there are any improvements you think I can make in this area, please please let me know 🖤🖤🖤 Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

James’ first shift started normally. That is, as normally as he could assume 24 hour convenience store shifts could be. It’s not like he had much experience with it.

Being his first day, he had assumed that the manager would’ve at least stuck around for a while. Instead, the woman had pointed out the bathroom plunger— advising him to not let anyone steal it— told him how to use the slushie machine, and said that if someone tried to rob the store, let them take the money; she even showed him the quickest way to open the cash register. Then she left within the first hour of James’ shift.

James didn’t mind being alone but he couldn’t fight down the frustration at his manager for abandoning him without actually telling him anything useful. He kept worrying that someone would ask a question that he couldn’t answer. What if the customer got angry and then he got reported and lost his job on the first night? Not to mention every time someone walked in, he was ready to bargain for his life with the $225.67 and a random condom in the cash register.

The adrenaline was getting to his head, stirring up usually dormant worries. He couldn’t stop glancing down at his hands. They were warm tan, patterned at random with lighter splotches. He had a condition known as vitiligo which made areas of his skin lose their pigmentation. For the majority of the time, it wasn’t a big deal; the worst part was the weird looks people gave him and even then, he could usually brush them off. Still, there was always the occasional idiot who felt the need to say something rude or inform him that he showed signs of demon possession. He hoped beyond everything that one of those incidents didn’t occur while he was alone in the store.

Thankfully, the only customers for the next few hours were a couple groups of teenagers at varying levels of intoxication and a traveling family made up of two parents suffering from highway-hypnosis and a small child who tried to climb into one of the drink refrigerators.

By one in the morning, the flow of incoming patrons had completely stopped. By that point James had already thrown back an entire 5-hour Energy drink and reorganized the chip rack— twice .

When the entry bell finally rang again at around two, James’ head was buzzing so badly he wasn’t sure if he had imagined the sound or not. A young man walked in— college aged with messy hair and glasses. He disappeared into the rows of brightly coloured plastic bags without a word and so quickly it made James once again question whether or not he was hallucinating.

It wasn’t until the man had made his way back to the counter, setting down a bag of chips and a couple energy drinks, that James was sure he existed. The man’s hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in two days and his dark circles were so deep they could be seen from beneath his squared glasses. Yup, definitely a college student.

Despite the obvious signs of exhaustion, the man was undeniably pretty. Counter to his tired scowl, his eyes were bright and alert, framing a sharp nose. The way he kept his strong chin tilted slightly upwards and walked with purpose gave him the appearance of someone who actually knew what he was doing with his life— so basically, the opposite of James.

James was hardly ever self conscious about his appearance but this man— this stupidly pretty, oddly perfect man— made James squirm just a little bit, made him wonder if he was living on one side of some scale while the customer lounged on the other side. James tried to shrugged it off, focusing on the items in front of him instead.

The man spent the entire interaction at the counter muttering to himself and never once making eye contact. It was a little strange, but he was cute and James was bored so he decided to just appreciate the entertainment while it lasted.

It wasn’t until James went to hand the man his receipt that he seemed to even become aware of James’ existence. James held out the thin slip of paper, apparently causing the man to flinch backwards. His reaction was strong enough to make James wonder if he was one of those people— the type that thought vitiligo was some sort of deadly, contagious disease.

His eyes darted up quickly, his gaze sharp as it scanned over James’ face, “You’re not the normal cashier.”

He was taken aback by the accusing tone in the man’s voice, “No, I guess I’m not? I just got hired; the other guy got let off… something about trying to steal the plunger.”

“Oh,” His face transformed into a noncommittal scowl that James simply could not read, “Expect me regularly.”

The man turned on his heels and walked briskly to the door as James stood frozen and mystified behind the counter, “Oh, uh… see you soon then.”

——————

James woke up to the smell of something burning. He didn’t even remember dragging himself home and collapsing in his bed but based on the smell bothering him he evidently had made it back. No one could burn food quite like his roommate.

“Remus what the fuck are you doing?” James shuffled out to the kitchen where his roommate was poking at something on the stove.

“Making lunch.”

Based on his bed head and near-complete lack of clothes (Remus always slept in booty shorts and nothing else) James could guess that he had woken up only a few minutes earlier himself, “Dude that does not smell like anything humans should eat.”

Remus gave him a wicked grin and James decided not to push the subject. He walked out of the room with a sigh and hoped that the smell would clear up soon.

He made his way into the living room, sitting down and flipping open his laptop. James groaned at the lack of new email notifications. No new emails meant no new job acceptions.

“Guess I’m working the night shift again.”

James was grateful he got the job at the convenience store— no question. Getting a job as a college dropout was both necessary and nearly impossible at the same time. He was lucky to get a job at all and being a graveyard shift, he got paid nearly double the normal wage for his position. For now, his sleep schedule would just have to suffer.

——————

The weeks drifted by and James fell into a dull, but easy rhythm. He would go to work every night, spend the hours rearranging chip bags, guarding the plunger, and— if he was lucky— the pretty college boy would come in for a few minutes to grab salty food and a caffeinated drink.

James wasn’t sure when it became “lucky” for the man to come into the store. Maybe it was lucky because he was entertaining, always preoccupied and wandering around the store like his mind was a hundred miles away. He had this odd sort of duality— somehow both spaced out and intensely focused at the same time. It was like he was concentrating on the dimension beyond the one James was living in. He floated through this world, always preoccupied with world in his head. It was endearing and intriguing and James found himself looking forward to seeing the man. James wanted to see the world inside his head, to know what was so captivating that he had no use or interest for what was outside of it.

The student was quickly becoming his favourite customer— something James never thought he would have— and he genuinely enjoyed having a chance to talk to the other guy. He was handsome, obviously intelligent, and, if given the chance, James definitely would’ve asked him out for a drink.

As it was though, James looked awful in his uniform so he would never have the confidence to make a move the only times he ever saw him.

James started to watch for him. The man came at least once a week, always between midnight and four in the morning. He must have lived nearby because he always walked over instead of taking a car like most of the other patrons. Either that, or he lived further away and walked all the way just for a bag of chips and an energy drink.

It was a Thursday like any other when he walked into the store and James’ curiosity got the better of him.

“So,” James leaned across the counter as the man sat his items down, “you come around here often?”

He tilted his head quizzically, “Yes? I do come here often? You’ve seen me.”

“No I— it was a joke,” James resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. This was… not going the way James would have hoped, “What’s your name? We might as well get on first name basis since we see each other all the time.”

“I’m Logan,” Logan seemed surprised by the question.

“I’m James.”

Logan gave a curt nod, “I know.”

“But— how? I—“

“It’s on your name tag,” And with that, Logan turned and marched out of the store.

——————

Logan laid on his back, arms and legs spread over the entirety of his bed. The only leftover space of the bed was occupied by Patton, one of his housemates.

“So how did the all-nighter go?”

Logan groaned, “Well… it sure as hell did go all night. I’m so fucking tired.”

“This is what you get for viewing the entire American university system as a challenge.”

He squinted up at Patton. With his blond hair and round, smiling face he looked like the direct inversion of whatever pale little zombie Logan currently felt like, “I gotta stop staying up so late.”

“I don’t know, you kind of seem to like it,” His housemate patted his leg and stood up to walk out of Logan’s room, “By the way, where do you keep going? I hear you leaving the house, like, super early all the time.”

Sunlight was streaming through his partially open blinds. It was probably quite pretty but to Logan it just looked like a headache-inducing glare. He threw a pillow over his face, muffling his voice as he answered, “Booty call.”

Patton laughed as he stopped walking, “Yeah right. The day you answer a booty call is the day I will shave my head.”

Logan shifted the pillow slightly to look at Patton again. The man’s hair was his prize possession, like a curly fluffy cloud that he kept as a pet on top of his head. Logan didn’t know how Patton could afford the time and money he put into his hair. What he did know, however, was that Patton would never risk its safety. Logan frowned in (mostly) fake insult, “You really think there’s not a single person who would send me a horny text at three in the morning?”

“Nah I think there are quite a few people who would do that. I just doubt there’s anyone you’d actually find worth answering.”

Was there anyone he would actually answer? Logan stared up at the dark fabric above him. The pillowcase was a deep navy blue and if he really squinted, he could see the weave of the thread, a thousand random threads coming together to make a greater whole. The way the individual pieces created something far larger than themselves was fascinating to Logan. He had never given it much before, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find a random individual worth making something together.

In the darkness covering his eyes, a vision of the convenience store cashier flashed across his mind. The face he saw was light brown and across that warm canvas, lighter portions sprawled. For the first time, Logan began really thinking about that face. He had sharp features, tired eyes, and when he smiled with lips sloped upwards at a lopsided angle. His skin reminded Logan of the glossy photos of nebulae in his astronomy textbooks— bright splashes breaking up the sameness of the night sky. How had he never noticed that before? What was his name? James.

He heard the creak of their old floors beneath Patton as he walked out of Logan’s room. He probably thought Logan had fallen asleep as he lay there in silence. He was far from asleep, though. His mind was racing, trying to find the missed connections and continually finding new ones in the process. His eyes flickered as previously unrecognized thoughts began surfacing. And they didn’t stop. How had he never noticed?

“I’ve been going to that convenience store down the street,” Logan called as Patton walked away.

James.

Maybe there was someone for him.

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thefossilwhale · 3 years

Text

i filled out this super cool button character profile by @extraordinarymage for sabrina! thank you for making this, it was a lot of fun to fill out <3 the bulk of it is under a cut and oh boy is it long !!!

Short, Quick Reference

Name: Sabrina Wiseman

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Love Interest: Kent

Main personality trait: Confidence

Secondary personality trait: Morbidity

Relationship with Nick: Full of love, haunted by unaddressed guilt and frustration. But mostly full of love.

Nickname for Nick: Saint Nick (used sparingly)

Resentful or accepting?: Slightly resentful

Main strategy (interpersonal, insightful, innovative?): Insightful

Ethical or expedient?: Expedient

GENERAL

Name: Sabrina Larkspur Wiseman

Nickname(s): Sab, used by anyone; Sabby, only Nick and Sally; and, of course, Button for Nick.

Birthday: I think I made her an October Libra for the purpose of a template I did months ago, but I’m not sure! No concrete birthday yet, I’m always very slow to nail down details like this.

Age: 20

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hair color + style: Blonde. A little past shoulder length, sometimes wavy. Usually a middle part. For Aeon, tied back in a bun.

Eye color: Blue, entirely because of the section of Frank O’Hara’s “Meditations in an Emergency” that goes, “My eyes are vague blue, like the sky...”

Height: 5′5

Piercings: Multiple in each ear, but a couple have started to close.

Tattoos: None yet! Sab likes the idea of a tattoo but is worried about finding the perfect design, whether she’d end up hating it, that the pain might be greater than she expects and she’ll look like a baby in front of her tattoo artist. I’d like to think she eventually consults Sally and/or Glitch to come up with an idea that she falls in love with, but I haven’t come up with what that would be!

Clothing style: Mostly solid colors, not a lot of patterns. Nothing super bright, but a fairly varied mix of pastels, neutrals, dark colors, black. Partial to denim skirts and sweater tops. Ankle boots. Likes a good turtleneck. She’s bolder when it comes to formal wear, and especially loves suits. Big fan of silk and satin.

Since she has a pretty accurate face claim, I’ll link some gifsets I’ve rb’d for appearance ref if you are so inclined.

STATS

I’m always adjusting minor things and swapping scenes around, but these are from my most recent Sab run! Most scores hover somewhere around these values.

Personality:

Confidence: 53%

Humor: 5%

Morbidity: 22%

Resentful: 57% | Accepting: 43%

Strategy:

Interpersonal: 12%

Insightful: 50%

Innovative: 10%

Ethical: 43% | Expedient: 57%

KEY DECISIONS:

What is Nick’s nickname and why?: Saint Nick, used very rarely. It’s a joking reference to the time she thought Santa was an evil Ment out to ruin Christmas, and a point about Nick overdoing it with the cheer. “Saint Nick” is usually code for “I know you mean well, but please mind your own business.” Otherwise, she just calls him Nick.

What is their favorite type of cookie (and its name and why?): Salted caramel chocolate chip! No special name.

What was their initial reaction to Sally hugging them, as kids?: She just froze. That could just be me projecting adult Sabrina onto her childhood self; I don’t imagine that she was as uncomfortable around strangers or quite as cautious back then. But that’s what I’ll stick with.

How did they ace the ASE test?: The in-game option she takes is “My entire life has revolved around strategic avoidance,” but the one about being just plain smart also sounds like her. If Sab has the chance to thoroughly (over)prepare for something, she will do it. Her mind blindness also has her constantly (over)analyzing situations. So, hard work and relentless anxiety!

Did they manage to win their first assignment? How?: Yes, by having Sally block the door. I’ve headcanoned some slight differences in how it plays out, which I wrote about in-depth here. To summarize, Sab thinks of blocking the door as a desperate last resort, not a clever loophole, and she pushes back against Rosy’s praise because she wishes she could have done it the “real” way. Rosy goes from being impressed to being annoyed that she’s willfully missing the point.

What was the primary emotion Button felt during the Aeon bombing (love, gratitude, etc?): Guilt. She feels very guilty about how much Nick has given up for her in general, but I think that in the moment, it’s on a smaller scale. The fact that Nick was on the phone with her when it happened, coming to her rescue like always, becomes emblematic of their whole relationship for her, and she really fixates on that.

Who drove them home from the hospital from and why?: Glitch. Sab responds to her initial text with “Are you sure?”, and is relieved when Glitch takes that as “Yes, please.” She doesn’t relish the idea of being around someone more connected to her family or Nick at that point.

How do they feel about Nick riding around in their mind?: Worried, at first. Just because it’s so unknown and absolutely insane. After seeing Doctor Amari, she’s excited! Sab is thrilled to be a Pollard Five and intends to take full advantage of it. I am not looking forward to seeing how she reacts when that’s taken away from her.

Why did Button agree to do the undercover mission?: To prove she still deserves to be an MIV. Sabrina feels stupid and reckless for putting herself, Nick, and Aeon in this position, but she knows she’s smart, and she hasn’t worked this hard for nothing. She wants to prove what she could do with a normal Pollard Score and make herself too valuable to give up even when she’s back to Zero.

Told Glitch about your mind blindness?: Depends on the playthrough. I’m constantly going back and forth on whether Sab meets Glitch for coffee or wanders the city with Nick in her second chapter 5 slot (after trying to track down Kent). If she does meet Glitch, though, she absolutely tells her; with how touchy Sab is about privacy, she couldn’t stomach not warning Glitch that Nick could hear everything they said.

Figured out K’s secret?: Nope. She finds enough of the clues to be given the “I knew it!” option in-game, but she didn’t actually put it together. Sab is too angry and embarrassed by learning that Kent is an AMO to find any reason to interrogate it. “The random guy I met before school just happens to be a jerk” is a perfectly sound explanation to her.

Found Noh’s clues?: Not at the metro station. Sometimes she sees the Vengeance brooms in chapter 5 (again, depending on the playthrough), but that’s it.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP:

Love Interest: Kent

Why them?: Sab feels an immediate kinship with Kent after learning about the NPO program. It’s kind of funny how quickly he moves from the least sympathetic position in her eyes (Ment who got past me and read my mind without my knowledge) to the most sympathetic (non-powered child of a prominent family aiming a league above where he “belongs”). A lot of new respect for his competence. Her fate is sealed when she realizes that his kindness at the hospital wasn’t him trying to make up for some wrongdoing, but just him being very sweet. (She had scoffed over “You needed help.” But now she’s like, “Oh. He meant that?! Fuck.”)

As they spend more time together, Sab realizes how weirdly similar they are in other ways, too. And she starts to feel safe/secure around him in a way that she’s extremely not used to. Growing up surrounded by Ments, Sab has a lot of issues about being too much, too difficult, needing to “be worthy” of love. So someone like Kent who is not a Ment, who has no “obligation” to care about her, and whose judgement she trusts implicitly? Being around him and being loved by him mean a lot, and I think will go a long way towards helping her reflect on her other relationships!

What are their first impressions of each other?: Okay, there are like 3 first impressions with Kent. First: he’s tall and handsome and secretly adorable, and they have similar career goals, so she’s drafting a five-month plan to woo him and get his number. Second: he’s a lying, self-obsessed loser who owes her many explanations. Third: oh no, the first impression was true! And he’s been continually, selflessly kind to her in spite of her overt hostility. Scratch the five-month plan, because the crush was only fun when it was entirely superficial; now she really, really likes him and that just sucks.

We know that Button makes a good impression on K by stopping for their dogs, but apart from that... I mean, the “we confused each other” from chapter 7 is very apt. Sab has lots of shifting personas, and Kent sees pretty much every one within 24 hours. The prevailing impression before everything gets cleared up is probably just that she cares a lot? About everything? Her stopping for the dogs, how seriously she takes the first assignment, the way she seems so deeply affected by something he said or did that morning. It’s a rare side of her to meet first because she usually pretends to be above everything.

What feature does your Button find most attractive in their RO (ex. appearance, personality, etc.)?: Probably his composure. And his... steadfastness? The way he seems unruffled by anything, his soothing presence. She really admires that about him and finds the calm contagious.

What do they do to spend time together?: Going on drives together! Kent driving while Sab plays songs she thinks he’ll like, talking or not talking. Cuddling on the couch while reading their own separate books. Museum dates. Walking the dogs together.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: I imagine that the first month or so of their relationship would be difficult, just because they’re both bad at expressing themselves and not used to relying on other people. Kent kind of negates a lot of Sab’s impulses to get defensive or hostile, so instead of arguments, I think there are more likely to be awkward periods where she’s just stewing in something without addressing it. Most of their fights would be, like, one of them becoming really distant for a concerning number of days until the other tries to awkwardly check in on them.

What does their future look like?: Uhh some random lore: I think eventually they do get married, despite neither of them caring that much about it. Sabrina would be excited to have something to plan, and she knows it would make the people around her happy. They have a long engagement; there’s never really an “official” proposal, just an acknowledgement that yeah, they’ll get married one day, and then eventually they get rings. The engagement is almost Sab’s favorite part, honestly. She likes planning and showing off her ring and calling Kent her fiancé, a lot of fanfare on her part for a wedding that ends up being very modest and chill.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Nick: When I first started developing Sab, I thought that with as difficult/prickly as she can be, her relationship with Nick would be worse than it is. Never bad, but certainly strained, with more jealousy/resentment on her side. However, she rejected this. She is resentful, but never towards Nick—she internalizes the negative parts of their relationship so they manifest as guilt instead. And that’s the problem, not resentment. Sab thinks he’s overprotective, but that doesn’t make her angry; it just makes her sad. She wishes things were different and he didn’t feel so responsible for her, but she also doesn’t know how she could manage without him taking on so many of her burdens. So, guilt! So much love, but always looming guilt.

Having Nick in her head has helped. It’s added a new kind of guilt (“I’m a horrible person for being so giddy that people can’t hear my thoughts even though that requires my brother to be in a coma”), but getting inside Nick’s head for once and really feeling his love for her changes things. Makes her feel way more secure, I guess? It’s easier to see her brother as human person, a friend who loves her, rather than a perfect selfless paragon who sacrificed everything to raise her, which is an important shift.

There are also Things happening with self-presentation in the fact that they’re both models, and flirts, and pretend to be shallow. And the ways that they’ve responded to vastly different expectations. And selflessness versus selfishness. But I have no idea how to talk about that yet.

Relationship with Father: Strained and distant. Sabrina doesn’t necessarily blame him for leaving, but she hates how he’s handled it. She’s incredibly frustrated that John insists on keeping them in this miserable limbo of uncomfortable visits, even though moving away was (to her) a tacit acknowledgement that she and her parents are better off without each other. He’s trying to force a relationship that Sab thinks is ultimately harmful for everyone involved. For Nick’s sake, she’s willing to grin and bear the visits, but it never works because John can obviously tell it’s an act. He pushes her, she gets defensive, and so on to infinity.

Relationship with Mother: Like with John, Sab doesn’t resent Hope for the incident itself, or for leaving afterward. It was terrifying, and the idea of being around Hope makes her panic—but she thinks of that as just another irrational anxiety symptom, and she’s trying to work through it. What she does resent Hope for is letting it get to that point at all. Sab is incredibly bitter that Hope will suffer silently to the point of almost killing her (during the incident) and potentially herself (with the BRS), while Sab has no choice but to be completely open. Especially because they’re so similar in that way—she’s almost jealous. “Oh, so your silence is allowed to almost kill me and it’s ‘nobody’s fault’ but I can’t pretend to enjoy a single lunch with Dad without him calling me out for lying?”

And even though she doesn’t hold the incident itself against her, Sab is very hung up on “Why are you never quiet? Why are you always there?” She knows, on some level, that this was not a Personal Judgement against her. But because Hope keeps so much quiet, this is the only honest expression of her mother’s feelings that she can remember! It would take a lot for Sab to believe that Hope was really, genuinely interested in reconnecting with her, rather than just pretending to love her "enough” this time because to do otherwise would reflect poorly on Hope as a mother.

Relationship with Sally: Besties <3 Sally is the only member of the Wiseman inner circle that Sab doesn’t have complicated feelings about. They both have hidden morbid streaks that they bring out in each other, and can laugh about. They both have competitive streaks that work well together because they’re always on the same team. And their wants/needs from the relationship complement each other well, I think. Sally has always felt valued because she’s useful and not because she’s loved, while Sab has always felt smothered by love/care without feeling like she genuinely adds value to other people’s lives. So it means a lot to both of them that they’re able to help each other practically, while also genuinely loving and supporting each other outside of that.

Relationship with Gray: Full of trust and genuine care, but predicated on distance. Sab loves him a lot for being so careful not to cross any boundaries, physical or emotional, with her. She’s grateful that he’s there for Nick in a way that she doesn’t feel she can be. But "I like Gray because he doesn’t push me and is good to Nick” means that any hand he extend makes her defensive, because she’ll either view him as an emissary of Nick or start to panic because their normal routine is being disrupted (she doesn’t tell him about Hope in ch 3, for example).

They get along very well in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way, and bond over being cautious counterparts to Nick. Also, Sab never had a crush on Gray, but she is not immune to tall superhero and thinks it’s fun to fake flirt with him. (You know Isabela’s “You have pretty eyes” routine from DA2? Sab does that to Gray when conversations steer towards things she’d rather not talk about.)

Relationship with Glitch: I’m really excited about these two! They click from the start, and Sabrina feels immediately comfortable around Glitch, which makes her feel distinctly uncomfortable whenever she catches herself. Externally, they have pretty different personalities, but they’re both perceptive and... socially manipulative? aware of their self-presentation?... in ways that they both pick up on right away. So it’s a lot of conversational maneuvering and trying to figure out what the other’s game is, while also genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

Relationship with Kent/Kenna: I could go truly insane here. See the romance section above instead.

Relationship with Kim: Sab wants him to like her sooooo bad. He’s one of the only people to ever really get through to her, re: my headcanon conversation after the first assignment. Authority figures tend to treat her as special, whether that’s negatively because of her mind blindness or positively because she’s such an overachiever. She had no idea how to respond to that not being the case (and didn’t handle it well at first), but chapter 6 solidifies her respect for him.

It also turns Rosy’s opinion of Sab around; he was impressed by her in class but left his office thinking she was self-absorbed and naive. But the bombing is a reality check, and her response is very measured and practical in a way that surprises him.

Relationship with Lev: She doesn’t mind the comparisons to Nick or the “maybe one day they’ll fix you” comments as much as you might think. They aren’t her favorite, but she prefers that sort of thing to the inspirational platitudes belied by coddling that she got from her family growing up. Sab has fond memories of Lev and is grateful that he’s always been kind to her, but doesn’t have any particular feelings apart from that.

Relationship with Clarence: Holds a grudge against him for causing a scene, making her late, and generally being a jerk. But she can’t fault him for being right, after what happened! Mostly she just wants to avoid him, but she’ll be thrilled to lord her success over him if/when she proves herself.

Relationship with Dean Branham: Like Rosy, another authority figure that Sab desperately wants to impress. But without the personal investment she has in Rosy’s validation, more “Oh, this person is in charge, so I should make her like me!” Despite Nick’s and Rosy’s reservations, Sabrina doesn’t really have a problem with being “strongarmed” or manipulated into cooperating; for now, she figures Branham was just doing her job and respects her tactics.

Relationship/attitude towards Ments in general: Mostly just uncomfortable and wary around them. Sab doesn’t want her mind read, and she figures that no Ment wants to be forced to read it either. So she has a pretty strict “no Ments” rule for close personal relationships (excluding Nick, Sally, and Gray, of course. But only Nick really counts because he’s the only one who can hear her thoughts whenever she’s nearby). Not out of hatred or resentment, just because she knows it will be easier for everyone in the long run.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): Not many, but yes! Sab dated around a lot in the 2 years before Aeon (more like year and a half, because she completely shut it down once she was more focused on preparing for the MIV program), but there are 2 relationships that were formative/important for her. A high school sweetheart, and someone Sab met through modeling. She doesn’t keep up with her high school ex, but the model is her best friend outside of Sally and Nick, and they still keep in touch! I’m still developing them/the relationships, and I’ll probably post more about them someday. They’re fun!

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: Confusing and contradictory. She has two main modes that confuse people who meet both (e.g., Kent). She’s either cold, stuck-up, and sometimes hostile, OR she’s charming, frivolous, and sometimes flirty. Mode 1 is tense but stoic and inexpressive; mode 2 is seemingly relaxed but very posed and insincere. Mode 1 is for when she feels uncertain or has no agenda apart from “get to point B”; mode 2 is for when she’s more comfortable or trying to manipulate someone. Her actual personality is a bit closer to the second, but she doesn’t pretend not take things seriously or hide when she’s annoyed.

Strengths: Analytical, methodical, detail-oriented. Very driven and hardworking. May not always act like it, but does have social skills/charisma; a great liar, if you can’t read her mind. Unfailingly loyal and loving to her favorite people, so so so warm and affectionate and supportive if she really loves you. Very perceptive.

Weaknesses: Way too proud. Can be petty and vindictive. Self-absorbed (she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s hard for her to see past herself sometimes). Stubborn, hates being wrong. And... emotional isn’t the word, but strong negative emotions can really cloud her judgement. It ties into her being proud, petty, and stubborn; if she’s really upset about something, she can cling to that emotion instead of re-evaluating it or moving forward.

Phobias: From this ask about the phobias that are planned to show up in-game, there are a few that I could see fitting Sab, but I want to wait to see how they’re implemented before I fully commit. Which is very metagame-y, I know (and I am very metagame-y about IF), but “fear of X” is so broad that it really does depend on when/how it manifests in the text.

That being said, agoraphobia is almost a lock; crowds do make Sab very anxious if she can’t keep track of everyone within a certain distance, and if she can’t leave when she starts feeling antsy. Claustrophobia is a maybe. The choice that triggers it (in chapter 4, about hating MRI machines) suits Sab, but I’m not sure if she hates MRI machines because she hates tight spaces, or if it’s more related to her general anxiety about hospitals, medical tests, etc. Which she definitely has!

What activities/club did they do in school?: She avoided anything group-oriented as far as possible. She took piano (maybe violin?) lessons and did recitals, but wasn’t in orchestra. The one exception was maybe National Honor Society or some equivalent, which she would have joined for her resume’s sake. And I think she would have tutored!

Where do they escape to when they need space?: A little used library corner, where she can people watch without being seen/heard.

How do they feel about/cope with their mind blindness?: Sab hates it but tries not to dwell on it. She knows that it’s no one’s fault, and she mainly just tries to... minimize it? Drown out her thoughts, limit her contact with Ments. And, least healthily, very rigidly managing herself. Because there’s so much of her that exists outside of herself, without her control, she tries to either filter or completely suppress everything else. Part of why she got into modeling, she can perform and be perfect and have total control over the final product of her body in the photographs for whatever campaign. Some Day This Will Be Better. But definitely not where she is in current canon.

How has your Button changed since the Incident with Hope?: Developed many new anxieties and disorders and syndromes :) She also became way more self-conscious, as in literally conscious of and way more tightly monitoring herself, what she’s thinking, what she’s expressing, how she’s sitting, etc. Less emotive face, more rigid posture.

If they weren’t an Aeon student, what would they be doing?: Sab would have beaten herself up forever if she “proved everyone right” by avoiding Unity/Ments entirely, so she’d want to stay in the family business somehow. She probably would have ended up doing scientific research on mental agility. Maybe even working for Mirrortech or some other biotech company, which I imagine would have been an interesting conversation to have with the family.

RANDOM FACTS:

Zodiac sign: Like I said, I assigned her Libra months ago for the sake of a template. But I don’t know enough about astrology to commit. Libra or Leo, probably.

Hobbies: Music, reading poetry, “cooking” (i.e., sitting on the counter and not helping while Nick makes dinner)

Likes: Watching other people (Nick) play video games, dressing up, taking long showers/baths, dark chocolate with caramel, back hugs

Dislikes: Being patronized, hot weather, going to the doctor, driving, doing anything she is not good at

Type of bedsheets: Bamboo.

Drink of choice: Cucumber mint lemonade! For hot drinks, some kind of caramel coffee. For alcohol, she refuses to get drunk because she’s terrified of having even less control of her mental broadcast, but at home/around people she trusts she’ll have a glass or two of wine. Doesn’t know enough to be picky, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

Favorite food: Probably some pasta dish Nick makes with asparagus and tomatoes and a lot of garlic.

Favorite color: Like a light turquoise!

Favorite music: Music to her was another mind-shielding tactic before anything else, so she tends to like upbeat-ish electronic/pop stuff. Catchy and repetitive, and/or with lots of personality to drown out her own thoughts. On the other end of the spectrum, she does have a soft spot for crackly, lo-fi, old or old-sounding slow songs—something about fuzzy recordings simulating a weak telepathic signal.

Favorite season: Hmm, spring and autumn are both good. She likes either side of winter.

Anything else you’d like to share: My heart and a long, fulfilling marriage, with anyone who reads all this 💍

#wow this is so long. insanity luv lit ral insanity #this was super helpful for articulating certain things about sab's character so it's already done its job #pls do not feel pressured to read Thousands of words about sabrina my beloved. but if you read all or even some of this <333 a kiss for you #why am i embarrassed to overshare about my own ocs on my own blog. i live here #oc: sabrina wiseman #also this was very much a stream of consciousness deal but i tried to go back and make it comprehensible. good luck all ye who enter here

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mysteira6 · 3 years

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FukaFlower - (Mother) Flower’s Day

Summary:

She stared at the object in her hands, eyes glued on the two red lines smeared onto the white strip of paper.

Right. She has to tell him. Or rather, she has to surprise him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In other words, wow, we’re going there for Flower’s birthday AND Mother’s Day, aren’t we? :D

… Sorry for being so late. Let’s just pretend that it’s still 9th May, okay? ><;;;

You guys get a heaping amount of fluff at the beginning as my apology for not writing in forever. :’D

Also, fair warning: Flower is notably more feminine here than many people would perceive her. As is Fukase being more mature than most interpretations. Don’t get me wrong; I love tomboy Flower and child-like Fukase, but I also like perceiving them this way too ;3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was just an hour after dawn when she woke up.

Thin rays of gold peaked from the horizon as the indigo hues from the wide expanse of the sky slowly faded away. In the passing minute, the scenery from their window transformed into shades of red, pink and orange while the sun rose, enveloping their neighborhood with its warmth.

Somewhere in that row of quaint houses was where the waking woman lived in. A humble two-floored home consisting of everything she could ever ask for. A kitchen to cook in, a living room to relax, recording rooms for musical expeditions, amenities… And the shared bedroom where she would spend all her spare time with her beloved husband.

The white-haired figure shuffled restlessly, even while lying down on her bed. She took care to not wake the still sleeping figure next to her, but the temptation to just shake him awake was unbearable. After all, how could she stay still? From the moment she fell asleep the night before to the early hours of the morning, she was well aware of how special today was going to be.

And also of how much her heart was pounding as she relayed her plan over her head once more.

Just stick to the plan, Flower. She firmly reminded herself, fearful of the one-in-a-million chance that she would forget about it at the last minute. Leave it in the box, get him to reach in and let the conversation flow from there. Not too hard for you to handle, right?

A minute of silence later and all she could do was sigh in frustration. It was not unjustifiable, however; it was already a known secret between all of their friends that between the couple, she was anything but the fun type. Even after she had spent so much time with the red-haired joker, it was impossible for her to really pull off a fun-filled trick to anyone else, much less to do so at the man who was able to see through her every stoic façade. It would be no surprise at all if he managed to see through her plan too, she realized. And for that to happen would be…

Under the sheets, Flower slowly raised her left hand to her face, slowly sweeping her right fingers across the silver band on her ring finger, as if her subconscious was reminding her of exactly who she was thinking about. Ah, how could she forget? That the man she was about to try and trick was none other than her husband? The one person in the whole world that she had dedicated her life to her secrets, her weaknesses, and even her moments of joy?

As she pondered, she was filled with renewed vigor. This occasion was certainly a joyous one, and whether or not he saw through her procedure to unveil it, she was going to share it with him regardless.

Shuffling a little more on her bed, Flower reached over to the closet-door compartment of her bedside table, occasionally glancing back at the sleeping man on the other side of the bed in case he suddenly woke up. It certainly didn’t help that he had his back facing her, giving her no hints on whether his eyes were wide open and awake or closed in soundly slumber. The young woman eventually gave in to her taking the risk and assuming the latter.

Gradually rotating her body to the side, her hand stretched out to pick up the mostly-empty, cardboard box laying behind the wooden door, taking extreme care to not shake it around even a little bit, knowing that the small object within was sure to rattle if she did.

A quick visual and kinesthetic inspection of the apparatus managed to calm her heart slightly, seeing that everything was still in there (and not damaged in any bit, thank goodness). She spared no second in setting it up properly, placing the box upright and relocating the white, flat item in its proper place. With the preparations complete, it was finally time for phase two.

That is, waking him up and convincing him to play a game.

While she was still a little nervous, to boot.

Flower tried to take in a deep breath to calm herself, though much to her dismay, it could only help her so little. Was this how Fukase felt when he proposed to her? Feeling a deeply rooted sense of anticipation and excitement flowing through his entire body, almost ready to burst out of him while carrying the weight of nervousness on his back like rocks? Was he worried if she’d say no to him? Of course, he would, wouldn’t he? Who could really tell him that his girlfriend of so many years would still say yes to his proposal to be his wife?

Suck it up, Flower. You’re better than this. A last-minute attempt to push herself to go for it; pep-talk. This is Fukase, we’re talking about. Your husband, no less. He’s been with you through everything; singing together, chatting together, spending time together… He devoted his very existence to be with you and do everything with you. Have more faith in-

“Mmrph…”

Speak of the devil. His muffled groans were so sudden that she nearly dropped the box in her hands. Setting it aside on the floor next to the bed, Flower stared at the digital clock on the table again, its digits reading ‘08 30’, the time when they would emerge from their bed and prepared for the day ahead. She heaved a last breath of air for encouragement. Show time.

Quietly, she spun around to face the back of the snoozing redhead, though it was clear that he had moved slightly, as if ready to wake up. The young woman bit back the urge to just glomp on her beloved and beg for his attention on her special day, instead skimming her fingers through his soft, fluffy scarlet curls. A fitting payback for the countless times that he would wake her up by ruffling her own hair.

A smile that rivaled the cheekiness of a little trickster slithered to her lips. “Fukase…” She murmured in the quietest tone she could muster, keeping one hand buried in his hair while another gently held his left shoulder sticking out in the air, shaking it slightly. “Fukase, wake up.”

“Mmm? Fi… Five more minutes…” The groggy young man tried to inch deeper into the covers as if evading her attempts to pull him from the depths of his slumber. Despite the audible beating of her heart, Flower was certainly having none of that, and only advanced in swinging his body back and forth with a little more force. “I don’t have five more minutes, sleepyhead.” She uttered in mild impatience, saying each word bit by bit as if she was hesitating. It was only natural since the usually quieter, shyer Flower was a complete stranger to putting on a cheeky front, but since today was so special, she decided to give it a shot anyway.

“Can you get up? Please?” She pleaded after seeing that Fukase hadn’t moved for a few seconds, thinking that he might have actually gone back to sleep unknowingly. “I won’t stop messing with your hair if you don’t.”

“Go ahead and… mess it up anyways…” He grumbled, though his tone sounded more affectionate than annoyed. “I’ll just comb it back to normal when I wake up-”

“Then… I won’t stop shaking you back and forth. Like this-!” As if to emphasize her point, she propped herself on her right elbow, giving herself more leverage to rock Fukase’s figure even more. Though she managed to sway his body to lie flat on his back, it did nothing to tug his eyelids open, his sleepy chuckles indicating that he was still not waking up.

“Gonna have to…” He paused to yawn before mumbling again. “Try harder… than that… Flowie…”

The mention of his loving nickname for her sent a wave of warmth coursing through her. It was almost enough to distract her from her original objective and coax her to snooze by her lover’s side for the whole morning. Perhaps for the whole day, too, seeing that neither of them had any work to do for a good 24 hours.

Fortunately for her, it was only almost enough. And if she really had to ‘try harder’ to wake him up…

A knowing smirk and a bit of maneuvering later, plus a light pat on the redhead’s temple, and Fukase soon opened his eyes to the most flustered position he could ever be in. Straddling on top of his lying figure was his gorgeous wife, her shimmering violet eyes gazing at him with her loving adoration and a glint of mischief. In the now ivory rays of sunlight, Flower’s snow-white hair seemed to be sparkling, even the black streak sitting atop her scalp and the ebony highlights peeking from her neck. While she remained there, clothed in nothing else but one of Fukase’s shirts and her underwear, a playful grin was written all over her face, fully aware of the growing red blush spreading across Fukase’s cheeks.

No doubt was he wide awake at this point, though it was a struggle to keep his voice from trembling in excitement. After all, Flower just seemed to know exactly how to push his buttons and Fukase considered himself lucky and unlucky to fall victim to her knowing touch. “G-good morning, Flower…” His words came out in an unsure whisper that made Flower’s heart swell with pride. “Um, why are you uh…”

“Hm?” The young lady in question only fluttered her eyes innocently as she leaned her face close to his while gently caressing the intricate scars embedded on his left cheek, a remnant of a fire accident in his youth that caused the entirety of his left side to be riddled with darkened skin. For a long time, Fukase refused to let anyone see his full body disfigured and cursed to look hideous forever, let alone allow anyone to lay a finger on his skin and trigger a flashback of the trauma that was cruelly bestowed on him on the day of the accident. It was one of his defining features when they first met; him being the boy who would pat the shoulders of his friends to comfort them and ruffle the younger singers’ hair as a sign of affection, but would refuse to be hugged or touched by anyone else.

Though as they had seen through the past few years, Fukase’s fated meeting with his wife was the exact cure he needed to fully overcome his past, the exact remedy he needed to allow the love of his life to see beyond his appearance and love him just like any other human being.

As soon as Flower’s fingers left his face, he found himself sighing at the loss of her warmth, aching for it to return. “Fukase…” She cooed flirtatiously, her intense gaze on his ruby eyes making his heart skip a beat. “Is it working?”

“Wh-what’s working?” An uncharacteristic stutter from the usually confident man gave Flower the courage she needed to position her elbows squarely by his head, bringing her face even closer to his and making him anticipate a passionate kiss.

“Are you… wide awake now?”

“Yeah, I am.” He answered quickly, hoping that his voice did not sound shaky anymore. It had only been a few minutes and granted that he wasn’t wearing anything to cover his chest, but having Flower lay on top of him like this was getting him way too excited in the wrong place. “I’m uh, wide awake now, princess.” He hurriedly declared, trying to prop himself on both of his arms as a way to get out of bed fast. His efforts, however, were only foiled by Flower’s asserting hold on both of his wrists, pinning him back to the bed and certainly not helping out in keeping his inner passion in check.

Instead, the redhead was forced to keep watching his angel lean in close, close, closer to his face once more, not breaking eye contact for one single second as her lips barely brushed over his. No doubt it was her way of teasing him so early in the morning, all because he just wouldn’t wake up to the strangely provocative-in-the-morning Flower.

Hm. Something was up, wasn’t it?

Before he could confirm such a thought, and thankfully before he was about to give in to the fire that had been burning within him for a while now, Flower gave him a simple smooch on the cheek and rose from her straddling position, resuming her original spot next to Fukase on the bed, the latter who still hadn’t sat up properly after bearing witness to his lover’s inner seductive nature.

When he finally regained control over his limbs, the young man gradually raised his upper body off the bed, turning slightly to converse with the cross-legged lady next to him. “What, not gonna give me a proper good morning kiss?” He quipped, trying to reclaim his lost confidence.

Flower only giggled in response. “I just did, didn’t I?”

“Felt more like a nip than an actual kiss.” He casually commented, a hand lightly rubbing the spot where she had landed her soft lips on, a milder yet still present redness on his face. “Seems unlikely for you, my dear ice-queen-who-never-seduces-me.”

“Hey! It’s my special day.” The aforementioned ‘ice queen’ protested childishly, shifting her body away from the quipping man. “You have to spare me for being a bit cheeky for once.”

“A ‘bit’ cheeky?” A combination of doubt, suspicion and a dash of jest rose in his tone as he crossed his legs and his arms, facing the now beaming woman. “Flower, do you know how much of a tease you were back there?”

Her answer was in the form of a question, though it sounded as if she was replying in certainty as well. “Yes…?”

“And do you know what I could’ve done if you kept doing it?” Fukase continued, narrowing his eyes at her as if to intimidate her.

A sly wink was his answer. “I know~”

“ … You would be totally fine with me doing it, wouldn’t you?”

He could hear the smile on her face, even if she hadn’t whipped her head around and flashed a cheeky smirk at him. “Maybe~” She cooed before turning around again.

That look on her face, burned into his memory, was both alluring and annoying to him. The former, since it was so rare to see her emit such a daring and downright enticing persona, and the latter since her being such a tease was an even rarer sight for him that he would never get used to. Instead of acting on either of those urges, Fukase opted to crawl towards his wife, wrapping his arms around her petite waist in a tight hug from behind. The sensation of him nesting his chin on her right shoulder, effectively leaning against her face, cued a startled gasp from the unsuspecting woman, though it was soon followed by a melodious chuckle. He loved hearing her laugh.

“You are absolutely insatiable, you know that?” He remarked lovingly, letting out a relaxed sigh.

“So are you.” Came as her spunky reply, though that didn’t stop her from relishing in his warm embrace, placing her palms against those pressed against her waist.

All was still for a while as they sat there, sharing each other’s presence in the silence of the morning. Between their busy recording sessions and composing their songs, such peaceful moments between them seemed scarce, which was exactly why they both had come to treasure them so much.

“By the way,” Fukase suddenly spoke, breaking the momentary silence. “Happy birthday, dear.” He continued, brushing one of her stray hairs behind her ears with his right hand, as if to unveil her beauty to himself.

“Thank you.” Despite her calm composure, the blissful, congratulatory phrase had set a reminder ringing in Flower’s head. Right, how could she forget? A morning of fun-filled quips between the couple had nearly swept her plan under the rug. Her eyes darted to the ground next to the bed once more. The box was still there. And from the looks of it, so did her earlier trepidation and nervousness return to her senses.

The longer she held it off, the more likely she was going to forget about it for the rest of the day. Now or never.

“Ahem,” She slowly began, gradually moving herself away from Fukase’s arms as she approached the edge of the bed. “Before we get today started, because I know you definitely have a plan for today-”

“Only natural if you want to celebrate your lover’s birthday in the best way you can~” He joked, winking at the girl in question while he crossed his arms again, as if recalling his own schedule in his head.

“I figured you would.” She nodded, hands reaching down to finally grab the nearly forgotten box lying on the carpeted floor. “But before that… I need a favour from you.”

“What is it?”

Seeing him willing to comply sent a wave of excitement coursing through her, boosting her confidence in picking up the cardboard box and placing it right in front of her, keeping the opened side of it facing her while the side with a circular hole was facing Fukase. In her usual, straight-to-the-point tone, she spoke. “Just stick your hand in this box.”

“ … What?”

To say that the redhead was confused was a huge understatement, seeing that one, his wife might be seductive or cheeky, but in no way would she ever pull a trick like this, and two, what in the world was even in there?

“Are you trying to copy those reality TV shows or something?” He laughed whole-heartedly, shifting a little closer to the box. “Like when they put a fake cockroach or a live toad in the box?”

When the white-haired girl didn’t reply, only stifling her giggles under her breath, the light in his eyes slightly faded. “Y-you didn’t actually put something absurd in there, did you??”

“Nooo…” If only he could see what was really in the box…! Instead of holding it off any longer, Flower simply held the upright box and nudged him again. “There’s only one way to find out what’s in there so…”

Though he continued his skeptical gaze at her, Fukase went ahead and raised his hand anyway. “I guess it is your birthday, so I’ll comply. But if I get my hand chopped off by a baby alligator-”

“Fukase, do you think I could fit a baby alligator in a small shoebox like this?”

“So it’s something small?” He narrowed down verbally, about to reach in until he retracted his hand at a terrifying thought. “Is it a spider?”

She couldn’t hold back her giggle. “No, it’s not.”

“Is it… slime?”

“You know how I hate touching those things, let alone expect me to leave one in there for you to hold it.”

He held up his spare hand as if surrendering. “Just making sure that you weren’t pulling my leg. Or arm, I guess.” He reasoned, seeming to eventually give in and squeeze his hand through the hole while Flower tried her hardest to restrain her eagerness. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would respond to all this, let alone sit still as she watched him.

From the back of the box, Flower could see a rough coarse left hand swinging around cautiously, as if Fukase had already forgotten how he deduced that the mystery object in the box was likely smaller than he thought. The sight of his fingers skittering across the cardboard walls made her snicker so much that the redhead took the hint and just went straight for the bottom of the hollow space.

Only to come in contact with a flat, rod-like item that rattled every time it moved. Something that was made out of plastic and was quite long. A quick grab-and-drop of the object proved that its weight was nothing to scoff at; for a rod small enough to fit a shoebox, it was rather… heavy… Wait…

“So…?” Flower’s voice shivered a little, likely due to both her nervousness and her anticipation of his answer. “What is it?”

He didn’t respond for a few minutes, the initial cheerful aura that was always present on his face gradually ebbing away, the reality of what he was holding sinking into his head. The young woman’s heart was threatening to sink to the depths of her chest too if it weren’t for his free right hand springing out and latching on hers, conviction dripping from his unusually low tone. “Flower, please tell me if I got this wrong.”

Half-letting go of the box and interlocking her fingers with her lover’s, she spoke softly. “What is it?”

“This… This is a…” As if for further confirmation, his left hand held the object inside once more before dropping it again. “This is a pregnancy test, isn’t it.”

It didn’t sound like he was asking a question but she decided to answer him anyway. “Yes, it is.”

“And today… Today’s also Mother’s Day, isn’t it?”

So the ultimate trickster managed to see through why she decided to tell her today of all days? To that end, Flower giggled again. “Yeap…”

“And this…” The atmosphere in the room felt as if a huge revelation was about to drop on the floor. “This is actually… yours…?”

There was no stopping the brightest expression that was spreading all over her face, through her wide, sparkling smile and radiant eyes, and even to the rapid nodding of her head as her other hand reached into the box in front of her, holding the test kit before the both of them while gently shoving the now forgotten box to the side. The natural lighting of the room was more than enough to illuminate the two very visible red lines contrasting against their pale white background. He didn’t have to look at the guide written next to the small window to understand exactly what was going on.

The fingers clenched around her left hand tightened. For a long, nearly unbearable silence, Fukase stared at the test kit, then at Flower, then back at the test kit over and over again. It was only when his other hand reached for her face that he ultimately spoke in the shakiest voice she had ever heard. “Th-this isn’t a joke… right?”

The overwhelming emotions bubbling inside her rendered her unable to speak, leading her to shake her head enthusiastically enough times for her husband to get the hint that she wasn’t joking. At all. “Y-you’re… You’re really gonna… holy shit-”

What happened next went by way too fast; both of his hands flying to her wrists, exerting enough force for him to pounce on top of her as she laid on her back on the bed once again; his body being propped up on his elbows while his fingers searched for hers, his face dipping low to land a long, very well-deserved smooch on her soft lips as both of them closed their eyes, enjoying the bliss of their intimacy; one lasting kiss following another as he smothered her with physical blessings of his undying adoration of her; his forehead naturally perching itself on top of hers as his eyes shuttered open again, greeting his lover, his wife, his everything with the most tender gaze any woman would envy for.

“Oh my god.” It was a barely audible whisper, but the still flabbergasted look on his face spoke volumes of what he was feeling. So did the small beads of saline water slowly dripping down his eyes. “Oh my god, Flower.”

“I know.” An almost voiceless reply came from the usually sharp voiced singer as a hand shot up to rub his tears away. She couldn’t tell if she herself had started crying too. “I just… I can’t believe it either.”

“You’re going to be a mom,” The sheer joy in his heart bleeded through those words. “And I… I’m gonna be… a dad.”

“Are you nervous, Mr Mad Hatter?”

Though he was still sniffling, Fukase sulked at the childish nickname. “That was from ages ago, darling.” He commented with a single choked up laugh. Even though it was a fitting name for the still humorous and top-hat wearing Fukase, it felt like way too long ago when she would call him that. “Besides, aren’t you speaking too highly for someone who’s been trembling all morning?”

“I wasn’t trembling that much.” She protested, raising a small finger to sweetly boop his nose, musing at how odd it felt seeing that his usual red cross was missing (normally, he wouldn’t have it on until they were out of bed). The red-haired man chuckled at the gesture, returning it by caressing her face as if it was a precious jewel, seeming to wipe her cheeks clean of any remaining tears streaking her face. “I beg to differ. After all, you were trying to pull a trick on me, weren’t you?”

“Like I said before, it is my birthday.” As if mimicking him when he successfully pulled a prank on her, Flower stuck out a tongue like a child would. “And I’m so happy that I got to spend it with you, dear.”

Hearing that cued him to slowly rise from his hovering position, allowing Flower to sit up a second time as he continued. “And speaking of which, now that you’ve completed your plan, it’s time for me to execute mine.”

She laughed amusingly. “Oh?”

“I did have a plan of how to spend your birthday with you, you know.” He winked knowingly as he stretched across the bed to reclaim the nearly forgotten pregnancy test kit and fateful shoe box. “Of course, I’ll need to make some minor tweaks here and there, but I intend to still follow it through, you know.”

Flower could only beam at her husband’s ever-present devotion to make her special day even more special for her. It was one of the thousand of things she loved about him. “I can’t wait.” She gleefully declared as she too approached the edge of the bed, ready to doll herself up for the day ahead.

While Fukase slipped on a spare tee and made his way to the bathroom, a quiet mutter slipped out of his mouth. “Looks like the night plan’s gonna need a replacement…”

“What night plan?”

“N-nothing!!”

The young lady only raised a palm to her mouth as she laughed once more, watching her lover duck behind the door and fully aware of what he meant by those words. Indeed, how in the world did she gain the affections of such an amazing man?

One thing was for certain; it was going to be her best birthday yet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

by the way, I kinda want to have an idea of how much my one-shots have impacted the fukaflower army, so I would appreciate it if you would answer this poll really quickly, thank you!!

https://www.strawpoll.me/45273276

#fukase #vflower #fukase vocaloid #vocaloid fukase #vocaloid flower #flower vocaloid #fukaflower #flokase #established couple #married couple #what's in the box challenge #happy 7th birthday flower!#happy mother's day too!

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blessed-but-distressed · 4 years

Text

#FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU

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also on ff.net and ao3

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Tagging: @katie-dub , @wholockgal , @kat2609 , @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @biancaros3, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @ms-babs-gordon @ab-normality, @andiirivera, @fangirl-till-it-hurts, @onceuponaprincessworld , @natascha-remi-ronin, @kiwistreetswan and whoever else asks me.

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A/N: Part 2 of 2. Surprise, bitch. Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me!

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Killian

How do you feel about improv? ES

Trepidatious. KJ

What if I told you some random just gave me last minute tickets to a Jane Austen inspired improv drag show, and I have a spare? ES

Curiosity alone compels me to say yes. Pleasance? KJ

George Square. ES

Thank fuck. I forgot my umbrella. KJ

If Killian had any sense, he'd approach the month of August the same way Robin did every year. Which mostly amounted to renting his house out to a troupe of Hungarian acrobats for extortionate sums of money and taking off for the south of France, thus avoiding the whole sorry spectacle.

A privilege reserved for those not living out of their older brother's spare room. Nor stuck writing Fringe reviews for his ailing periodical.

He thought his latest was his best yet.

Do you value your time? Your money? Your life? Then walk, don't run, as far from this act as you can. No one this incompetent should be wielding chainsaws, let alone juggling them. I may have been the only one-handed man at the preview, but with this shambolic spectacle set to run for the rest of the week, I expect I won't be the last. 0 stars.

Liam had accused him of being deliberately cruel, but he hadn't seen the show firsthand. The phrase 'culpable and reckless conduct' came to mind. His review went up online, unchallenged.

To his great surprise, his favourite show so far had been the improv show Emma had dragged him along to. It had all the subtle snark and invariable romance of Austen's classic novels, with the added benefit of Emma nearly passing out from laughing so hard. That alone would have justified his five star review, but the cherry on the cake had been when the man dressed as the elderley Dowager had picked August out from the crowd, and made him part of the act.

Killian generally condemned the casual cruelty of audience participation. Indeed, he lived in constant fear of it at every show he reviewed. But when it came for a certain novelist, he found his views on the matter suddenly rather... fluid.

Try as he might, he couldn't see what Emma saw in the man. What hidden virtues he possessed that had provoked such a ferocious loyalty. Killian wasn't stupid enough to voice such thoughts, of course, but that hadn't stopped him trying to figure it out.

The opportunity to continue this study was surely the only reason he'd opened an unsolicited DM from the man himself, when he should have been watching a Swedish comedy troupe send up classic films in a series of skits.

We have a mutual friend in need. How's your schedule looking uhhh… now?

Killian looked back to the stage. He couldn't be sure, but he thought the red streamers might signify blood. They were either up to Carrie or Jaws.

Trouble? Killian typed back.

Emma. The next message read.

We're in a bar in Leith and things have gotten a little… messy.

Killian checked the time. Barely past one in the afternoon. And fucking Leith? That didn't bode well. But at the same time, his review of the show was supposed to be online within the hour.

With a growing sense of unease, he typed out his reply. Which pub?

***

Stepping into The Marksman on Duke Street was not unlike stepping back in time. More precisely, to somewhere smack dab in middle of the Thatcher era, when Leith was a byword for deprivation and whatever comes after heroin chic. It was charmless, grimy and depressing, and Killian might've never understood the appeal until he caught the sign in the window. It opened at 6am.

Trying to avoid the abject stares of the locals, Killian found his quarry sat at the end of the bar on mismatching stools. Emma slumped forward, her face hidden, but August turned around swiftly at his approach, the alarm in his eyes quickly giving way to recognition.

"Oh thank god." August swept off his barstool, his relief so palpable that Killian thought he might hug him. He didn't look well. Thoroughly debauched, if one might say so, and in desperate need of a bath.

"Nice place," Killian remarked drily. "A bit off the beaten path…"

August pinched the bridge of his nose, looking weary. Or… wearier. "It's been a long night. And morning." He glanced back to where Emma sat propped by the bar, apparently still completely unaware of his absence, and drew closer, his voice lowering.

"You know that Graham guy?"

Killian couldn't explain it, but something inside his chest caught. Like flint striking steel. "Aye," he growled, not liking where this was headed.

"Married," August supplied, without preamble. "She didn't know. No one knew. She ran into them holding hands in the Tron. Matching wedding bands. The whole bit. So she threw her beer in his face and called it a day, right? But this morning, no, yesterday morning, the wife showed up. At the apartment. Emma's apartment."

Killian's fist clenched by his side.

"Yeeaah. It got pretty heated. Long story short, it's been a day and a half. I don't even remember how we got here. I'm not sure I even know exactly where here is. I have to be on a train at 4 to King's Cross or my publisher is going to sue my ass. Now, I can trust you? To get her home safely? You look at her like you're half a drink away from belting out Jessie's Girl at any given moment. I didn't imagine that, did I?"

Of all the places to grudgingly admit his feelings, not least in confidence to this man he wasn't sure he even liked, The Marksman was not the venue he would have chosen. And yet.

"There's very little I wouldn't do for that woman."

He was caught by surprise when the man launched forward and kissed him on the cheek, more still when he went back for the other cheek. August grinned enormously, grasping Killian by the shoulders. "Welcome to the family! Please don't fuck it up." And then consulting his phone, "I really need to go."

August made short work of the rest of his goodbyes, pulling Emma into fierce hug from behind, whispering something into her ear as he let her go. Then, with a wink in Killian's direction and a kiss blown at the nearest crusty Leither, he picked up his messenger bag and fled onto the street.

Steeling himself after that prologue, Killian turned back to where Emma sat by the bar, unseeing reddened eyes peeking out from under a tangle of blonde hair. He pulled out August's vacated stool, and took a seat.

"Swan," he began, with an imaginary tip of his cap.

"Jones," she replied, her voice flatter than he'd ever heard it.

"Of all the gin joints…"

She grimaced. Though her frown was so pronounced already, it didn't make much of a change. "We don't talk about the gin."

"At least tell me it was the good stuff."

She tried to smile, but the action seemed to cause her pain. "Don't do that. Don't be nice to me right now."

"Why not? You're not the villain in this story."

A small noise escaped her, half laugh, half sob. "Sure feels like it."

"No, that's the supermarket gin talking. We've talked about this. Nothing good ever came from a clear spirit at 35p a measure."

She sank further forward in her seat, her forehead resting against the bar top. "Don't be cute. Please just leave me alone to die," she mumbled.

He couldn't resist tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, making sure she could see him. "I'm not going to do that. I have a duty of care."

"Why? Because you'd have to find someone else to write a column about?"

"No," he replied levelly. "Because you're my best friend."

That had her lifting her head off the bar, albeit wincing as she did so. "I thought Robin was your best friend?"

He tapped his chin. "No, it's definitely you."

She considered that. Though how much of her internal brain processes had survived the pickling process over the last 24 hours, Killian couldn't be certain.

Of course, it was at that moment their bartender appeared, a middle aged woman with an ill-fitting polo shirt and bright green acrylic nails she drummed against the bar top. "Another top up, hen?" She didn't even glance at Killian.

He put his hand over Emma's glass. "Actually, I'm afraid we're on our way out."

Their server didn't much like that, a hand finding her hip. "Well that's up for the lass to decide, no?"

"It's okay, Tracy," Emma said, managing a consoling smile. "He's a friend. Are we all settled up?"

"We are." She gave Killian a cool once over. "Friend, you say? Mind you keep it that way. Looks like nothing but trouble to me. And you still raw after the last one. Liars and cheats, the lot of them."

Killian thought to take offence, but Emma already had him by the arm, pulling him off his stool. "Thanks, Tracy. Can you call me a cab?"

***

Getting her into the cab took some doing, not least because she had to pause twice to throw up in the gutter, and the first guy had driven off. Fair play to him. Thankfully by the time the second cab arrived Emma's stomach had settled, and she spent the drive curled harmlessly against Killian's side.

"Your lassie alright?" the cabbie asked, as Killian half lifted, half dragged her from the backseat out onto the gravel driveway. "You need a hand?"

It was a testament to how preoccupied he was that Killian didn't even stop to consider that might've been a crack about his prosthetic until Emma was already inside and passed out on his bed.

He texted Elsa first. A simple heads up.

There's an unconscious woman in the house. Don't freak out. KJ

It went about as well as you'd expect.

At least he had sisterly back up when he broke the news to Liam that he wasn't getting his review.

Needless to say, by the time Emma raised her groggy head from his pillow, the house was no longer silent, and it was no longer still. Elsa had insisted on rushing home, and boyish shrieks permeated the air, punctuated by the usual crashing and banging.

Killian sat in his one armchair, an ugly monstrosity of purple velvet which had been forbidden from the rest of the house, sipping his tea as she came awake. It took some time. One eyelid slithered open. Then the other. Never both at the same time.

"Do I want to know why someone is screaming in the next room?" Her voice was scratchy, and he motioned towards the glass of water by the bedside.

"Nephews," Killian said by way of explanation, as she crawled forward to grasp the glass in both hands, shaking with the effort.

She took a long draught, surveying her surroundings. He wondered how much she remembered from the last two days, if anything. If she even remembered his arrival at The Marksman, or August's leaving. She examined the ornate cornices, and floating beams. The collection of spent paperbacks stacked by the bed and the shabby, unmatched furniture.

"Your house. Your room?"

"My room," he confirmed. "We have guest rooms, but they're upstairs. And quite frankly, just getting you this far was nightmare enough. You're heavier than you look."

He earned a pillow to the face for that remark. It still smelled of her, which in her current state, wasn't much of a testimonial.

"Shower?" he ventured.

"Please," she said, rolling over until she could place both feet on the floor.

"Second door on the right. Elsa left some things out. Towels. Fancy shampoo. Paracetamol," he added with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Should be a set of clothes too."

She cringed. "Elsa knows I'm here?"

"Sorry. It's a new house rule of theirs. Radical honesty. Elsa knows you're having a rough time of it, and are convalescing. But that is the extent of her knowledge. Whether that remains the case, is entirely up to you."

"Right."

"Oh," he said, smacking his forehead. He scrabbled around on top of his dresser, before presenting her with a wooden triangle.

She took it automatically, seeming annoyed at herself for doing so. "Uh, thanks?"

"The bathroom door doesn't have a lock on it. Best wedge it under the door. Trust me when I say, you don't want Lachie walking in on you in the altogether. It's stressful for all involved."

"Good tip," she said, with a ghost of a smile.

She edged past him awkwardly to the door, her bare feet silent on the carpet. She'd already slipped into the hallway when her head appeared back around the door.

"Killian?"

"Aye?"

"I'm horrendously hungover so you probably can't tell, but I appreciate, uh…" she waved the wedge around vaguely. "All this."

"Swan?"

"Yeah?"

"I mean this in the nicest possible way, but please do shut up," he said with a wink. "Also, you're taking me out for pancakes after, so don't be too long."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, am I just?"

"You are indeed. Best thing for a gin hangover, in my limited experience. And it was very generous of you to offer."

"Very generous," she agreed, dubiously. "And Killian?

"Aye?"

"You're so full of shit. But... I do love pancakes. And one more thing?"

"Hmm?"

She kicked a toe into the carpet, eyes evasive. "You're sort of my best friend, too." Then she disappeared back behind the door, leaving Killian slack jawed.

***

He'd nearly finished two chapters of his book by the time Emma returned from her trip to the bathroom, shower soft and minty fresh.

"Better?" he asked, putting the novel aside.

"Much," she agreed. "Though full disclosure, I think I just used a $300 tube of lotion, and I kinda smell like a baby Porsche."

"The very best kind of Porsche," Killian assured her, offering her his prosthetic to take. "They're terrors once they hit the teenage years. Shall we?"

They crossed Bruntsfield Links just after sunset, the sky still streaked with pink and orange. He'd always loved summers in Scotland, that neverending twilight. It almost made shivering through six months of winter worthwhile. He was so busy admiring the scene, he nearly missed it when Emma detached herself from his arm, stopping in her tracks.

"Emma?"

She was standing entirely still, her eyes shut.

"Are you alright, love?"

Her eyes flickered open, almost surprised to see him still standing there. "Sorry, just… cataloguing."

"Cataloguing," Killian repeated, deadpan.

"Yeah, smartass," she said, walking forward to loop her arm under his again. "Cataloguing. Sometimes I forget, but this-" she indicated the kaleidoscope sky, the green-gold expanse of grass disappearing into the distant smudge that was Arthur's Seat, the group of laughing teenagers nearby trying to finish their mini golf game before they lost the light, "-Sometimes I still have to pinch myself."

She didn't elaborate, and Killian found himself oddly lost for words. He just reached over to squeeze her hand, and led her back towards the city lights.

For the time of year, they got lucky. The line was short, and it wasn't long before they were led to a red vinyl booth, complete with its very own mini jukebox. They both stared at it for a good minute before Emma fished a spare pound out of her pocket, and dropped it onto the table between them. "Your call. I'm going to the bathroom. Anything but Don't Stop Believin'."

Lord help him, but he thought he might love her.

He settled for a less foreboding tune, which morphed into another, then another, before he was fishing out his own coins to keep the party going. If he didn't know her any better, he might've thought she'd done a runner on him. Fortunately, he did know her better. Or at least, he was starting to.

She came back just in time for the guitar solo in The Chain, her I'm-bearing-up smile indicating she was doing nothing of the sort.

"Ruby texted," she explained, taking her seat opposite him. "About twenty times. She wouldn't stop until I FaceTimed her. I miss anything?"

"Just side one of Rumours. And your drink order." He indicated the glass of fizzy orange liquid in front of her.

She wrinkled her nose. "Fanta?"

"Irn-Bru. Best hangover cure there is."

She cast him a doubtful look.

"I'm serious. There's been studies."

"Oh well, if there's been studies." She slid the glass minutely closer, but didn't partake. Instead she watched as Killian lifted his own glass, and made a face.

He lowered his glass. "What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about how I'm never drinking again. I didn't even know they served beer here."

"They do, but this is Dry Ginger."

She raised an eyebrow. "Ginger ale? You?"

Killian shrugged. "It's something I'm trying. Like a cleanse. But instead of drinking juice and doing yoga, I drink post-mix dry ginger and be less of a twat."

"Sobriety." Emma slapped her hand against the table. "I wish I'd thought of that. But I've barely seen you, when did you decide this?"

"Roughly…" he counted back the days, "43 days ago." When I thought I'd lost your friendship forever. But he didn't have to say it. From the look on her face, she already knew the significance.

"Huh." Emma sat back in her seat, absorbing that. But if she was planning on expanding on that thought, she was saved by the arrival of their waitress, who was all too eager to expound on the daily specials.

By the time they were alone again, Emma had cracked and was halfway through her Irn-Bru.

"I mean, it's not repellent…" she offered, by way of grudging approval.

"Trust me, it works." And then because he felt like they'd danced around it long enough, "So do you want to talk about it?"

She set down her glass, letting her fingers trace along the edge of the table top. "Nope. But somehow I feel like we're going to anyway."

"It was only about eight hours ago you wanted me to leave you to die in Leith's most depressing pub. I feel like it warrants at least a conversation."

She grimaced at the memory. Or perhaps where the memories ought to have been. It was hard for him to be sure.

"I fell in love with a married woman once. If you're worried about my judgement, you needn't be."

He wasn't quite sure where it had come from. This sudden urge to talk about Milah. But it was how they'd always operated, wasn't it? If he wanted Emma to take down her walls, he had to offer up a few bricks from his own. Well, this was more of a boulder, really, but at least he had her attention.

She snorted. "I wasn't in love with Graham."

"So what's the problem?"

"Because," she reasoned, tears springing into her eyes. "It's just so fucking mortifying. To be played for a fool, again. I thought I was smarter than that. I thought I could just, I don't know, flirt with a cute, intelligent guy and feel good about myself for five fucking seconds without it ending with his wife beating down my door demanding to know if I'd fucked her husband!"

She'd gotten a little loud towards the end there, with more than a few wary eyes glancing their way. Killian quickly stood up, and made his way over to her side of the booth, slipping in beside her. It was a tight fit, but it did succeed in sheltering her from most of the stares.

"Alright, so he's a tosser."

Another snort.

"Liam's bookie knows a guy. I could make a few calls?"

She shot him a sideways glance. "Don't tempt me right now. I just feel so stupid. But like, in an angry way."

"You're not stupid for being taken in by him. It's not a weakness to want to see the best in people, Emma. In fact, considering how many people in your life have disappointed you, myself included, I'd say it's pretty bloody brave."

Emma shook her head. "Is it though? I saw red flags. Even from the start he was kind of flaky. I wasn't even sure if I really liked him. It just appealed to my vanity, that he seemed to like me. So don't I deserve this? Just a little?"

"No." Killian wasn't sure where the vehemence came from, but he could feel it, welling up. "No, you don't deserve to be lied to, and dragged into the middle of someone else's messed up marriage without your knowledge or consent. No, you don't deserve being made to feel like the side-piece. You're not the side-piece. You're the heroine. And he's just a fucking wanker. What you deserve..." He looked up to see their server approaching the table, platters piled high with maple syrup topped goodness. He shot Emma a smile. "What you deserve, is pancakes."

***

It would've been remiss of him not to foot the bill, after his earlier declaration about her deserving pancakes, so there'd been a little bit of an argument about that as they wended their way down Clerk Street in the growing darkness. That Emma could argue about not paying for the pancakes he'd goaded her into in the first place, was a testament to the healing powers of Irn-Bru and a triple stack. No truly hungover person would have committed to such a futile battle.

But when they arrived at the beginning of her street, Emma stopped arguing and grabbed a hold of Killian's arm, pulling him up short.

She was shaking her hands out, like she was fighting off an attack of nerves, and Killian was instantly on the defensive. "Swan?"

She stopped when he said her name, plastering on what seemed to him a rather brittle smile. "Hey. Sorry. I'm just wondering, would you do me a favour?"

He had to chuckle at that. "Swan, if the last twelve hours have proven anything, it's that yes, I am available for favours. Unless of course they involve you paying me back for the pancakes. Because I'm afraid I'm rather immovable on that front."

"Great. So umm… Ruby has this theory."

"Ruby has a theory?" he repeated, hoping at some point, things would start making sense. "What manner of… theory?"

"Oh, god this is so stupid," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm just going to say it. I'm just going to come right out and say it: I want you to kiss me."

Something very violent was happening inside Killian's chest, a feeling which was neither happiness, nor disappointment, but a crushing combination of the two. He felt hot and cold. He felt light-headed.

"You want-" he started.

Emma's eyes were screwed shut, as if bracing for a blow. Or in this case, the fallout. She already had regrets. And more than that, it had been Ruby's idea. But why would Ruby…?

Of course.

The best way to get over a man, was to get under a new one. Wasn't that the old adage?

It wasn't about him. It wasn't about them.

No, she'd been clear. I want you to kiss me. She'd chosen him. She trusted him to be the one to soothe her wounded pride. Maybe she'd hoped it would be him. Maybe he was just the most convenient option. In any case, the wondering would certainly kill him.

But not as much as going through with it.

He reached out and took her hand, waiting until she opened her eyes. By Christ, people weren't supposed to look so beautiful by yellow street light. It wasn't scientific. And yet.

"No."

Now it was her turn to look like someone had punched her in the stomach.

"Oh." She made to release her hand from his, but he held firm. In fact, he pulled her closer, just a little.

"No, I'm not going to kiss your bruised pride back into place. Because I promise you, it's going to heal just fine on its own. You don't need a kiss from me or anyone to remind you what you're worth. You never have. It's one of my favourite things about you. Understand?"

Her reply was a little choked up when it came. "Got it."

She gravitated closer, her eyes shining, and he felt like he was losing his mind. He was certainly losing his nerve. He settled instead for raising her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss across her knuckles.

"That's one for the road."

He released her then, though nearly every part of his was screaming at him to do the opposite. Thankfully, she looked just as shaken as he felt. He nearly twisted his ankle in a gutter trying to put a little distance between them. And then he had one perfect surge of stupid confidence, and turned back to face her. She was still standing under the streetlight where he'd left her, looking oddly incomplete.

"Will you do me a favour, Swan?" he called out.

She held up her hands in a helpless shrug. "Sure."

"When the time is right, ask me again."

Then with his heart hammering a million miles a minute, he turned away and slipped into the adjoining street, and back into the night.

#cs ff #cs au #findemmaswanafriend #the emotional return #been a while...

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srhlsx · 4 years

Text

Rewritten & Reposted March 24, 2021

MASTER | Ch. 13 | CHAPTER 14 | Ch. 15

After that night, something changed between you and Bokuto. It was a subtle change, but a change nonetheless. He didn’t kiss you as often as you’d like, and while sometimes that drove you crazy enough to want to pull your hair out, it was enough to just have those moments together, those lingering touches and too-long stares that made your heartbeat a fraction faster.

One change in particular came in the form of regular study dates.

Bokuto was not the most serious student, he was planning on mostly relying on his athletic ability to get him into the school of his choice - or if he was lucky enough, go professional as soon as he graduated. You reminded him that getting into the school was only half the battle, in order to play he needed to actually keep up with his grades. Studying with him was like trying to wrestle a puppy into a travel carrier while also having a toddler balanced on your hip with your hands tied behind your back… oh, and the room is on fire.

“You have got to sit down.” You sighed as you eyed the boy pacing circles around the counter in your apartment kitchen. Baba had offered to have Yua and Eiji over for a few hours that day to allow you time to get studying in without having to worry about them. You’d pick them up for some dinner later if you were ever going to get in the work that was needed.

“But I’m bored.” Bokuto whined, finally collapsing dramatically at the table across from you. He had been banished to sitting across from you rather than next you when for the first fifteen minutes of studying he spent insisting that he would be more productive with you sitting in his lap. He propped his elbow up on the table and rested his chin in his hand as he attempted to give you some of the best puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “Can we take a break, (Y/n)-chan?”

“Don’t butter me up, we just took a break.” You laughed as you looked back to your notes in front of you, the ins and outs of biology were thrilling in their own right but Bokuto had a smile that could probably get you to do anything - so you looked away from him. “We don’t get to take another one for at least 45 minutes.”

Bokuto let out a loud huff and sadly looked back down at his own study materials. They weren’t as sloppy as you might expect them to be, but you were almost positive that was because Akaashi helped him when needed. His handwriting was small and scratchy, but the different colors he wrote in and highlighted with showed that he cared at least a little bit about what was going on in his classes.

At the moment, he was working through some chemistry problems. When you first started studying you went and dug through your past school work and happily handed over your old notes since you’d taken that class a previous year. When he opened up your notebook, his eyes widened considerably and had repeatedly glanced between you and the pages before him. You had looked at him with a closed-eye smile and tried not to blush when he complimented your thorough notes.

“This is amazing,” He had breathed, amazed.

You laughed at his expression and responded confidently, “Yes, they are.”

He shot up then and reached over the table, his hands grasped either side of your head and dragged you clumsily over the table, messing up your neat organization. He smashed his lips against yours, smiling as you momentarily struggled through your surprise. “I owe you,” He grinned after pulling away and sitting down like he hadn’t just kissed you within an inch of your life.

Now though, the thrill was gone for him and every once in a while he would let out a small grunt, like he was clearing his throat. You glanced up at him only briefly while turning the page, keeping your attention where it needed to be. “You need a drink?”

“I need your attention,” He whined again. You would never admit to him that his neediness was almost endearing, the way he looked at you could’ve melted your heart in any other situation.

“Give me twenty minutes on this chapter, then I will help you with your review?”

“Can we play a game?” He asked, eyes lighting up brighter than a firework.

You hesitated, “A game?”

“Yeah, like a study game!” He nodded, attention finally seeming to be productive. This newfound motivation intrigued you, so you humored him and encouraged him to continue to explain his idea. “Well, you ask me a question and if I answer it right you have to take off-”

“Do. Not.” You interrupted, laughing hysterically, while yelling above his voice. “Even think about finishing that sentence!”

“What!” He cried out, seeming defeated that you wouldn’t even consider his idea. “Hear me out!”

“This is not some kind of teenage rom-com, Bokkun!” You continued to laugh as he visibly deflated from your rejection. “I am not stripping my clothes to help you study.”

“What if I strip my clothes to help you study?” He countered flirtatiously, leaning forward on his hands across the table to get close to your face, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“We both know that’d be even more of a distraction,” You mumbled. The thought of Bokuto lifting his black volleyball t-shirt over his head, muscles rippling across his chest, stomach, and arms, had you just about drooling as your mind drifted. But before he could really take advantage of your momentary weakness, you pushed his face away and made him sit back down.

“Worth a shot,” He sighed, which made you laugh again.

“Not going to lie, that last one was a doozie.”

You looked up at Rumi and frowned, your brow creased in confusion at her comment. “You’re the one who said taking an advanced English literature class would be fun.”

“It is fun,” She shoved your shoulder. “The exam itself was just long as ~hello…”

You turned to face forward to see what your friend was looking at. Ahead of you, just at the entrance to your school’s campus, stood two lone male figures looking very out of place.

One was wearing a white shirt, red tie loosened around his neck, black sweater vest, and grey pants. The other wore a white collared shirt and grey blazer pushed half way up his arms, a loosened striped blue and white tie, and black pants. They both could not look more cool but also more out of place in the sea of students wearing the green, black, and pink uniform of your own school.

You smiled at Bokuto and Kuroo both as you walked up to them with a hop in your step, wondering how they managed to get all the way to your school in time for the end of the day dismissal.

“Both Nekoma and Fukurodani dismiss third years as soon as exams are done in the morning,” Kuroo explained when you asked.

“Yeah, we test straight through the day then peace out as soon as we’re done.” Bokuto slung his arm around your shoulders and easily pulled you into him, not having a care in the world that there were plenty of people around.

“You guys are lucky,” You whined, stomping your foot and looking at Rumi who nodded in agreement and was standing close to Kuroo. “We could’ve gotten lunch!”

“Well, maybe one of these days I can convince you to sneak off on your free period and meet me,” Bokuto smiled down at you, pulling playfully at a lock of your hair and laughing when you swatted him away.

“Corrupting girls of others schools?” A voice behind you laughed loudly, making all four of you turn. “Seems beneath the two of you.”

Bokuto and Kuroo both smiled as Daiki led a few members of the boy’s volleyball team up to greet them, all doing some weird handshake thing that guys do. You didn’t miss the fact that one third year in particular made a point to be a little less enthused than the others, completely ignoring Bokuto altogether.

You saw the slight twitch in Bokuto’s face when Shouta deliberately said hi to Kuroo but not him, the look of real confusion made you start to feel like the temperature around you was rising. You felt worry starting to grow in your stomach, Rumi also taking note of your sudden uneasiness.

Being who he was, Bokuto was not going to ignore the fact that he was being ignored and made a point to greet the other third year. “Shouta, ‘sup man?” He held out the hand that was not currently wrapped around you for the other boy to shake but was left hanging.

Everyone stopped, whether they were in mid-conversation or just listening they paused and held their breath. At this point, the rest of the boy’s volleyball team knew that you had rejected Shouta but you weren’t sure if they knew everything that was said between the two of you. It had been a few weeks since the interaction and both your teams were too busy to talk, much less gossip about what was happening between players. You waited, along with everyone else, for what was coming next.

“Bokuto.” Shouta nodded curtly, even though he wasn’t nearly as tall as Bokuto, he gave off an air of looking down on the two of you. “Didn’t think you normally slummed around these parts.”

“Well, yeah,” He smiled, completely oblivious (or at least doing a damn good job acting) to the tension brewing. He looked down at you with an almost loving smile and nodded your way, “I told (y/n) we’d get some food after her exams were over. You guys sh-”

“Listen, man, nobody really gives a raging fuck about why you’re here.” Shouta interrupted, shocking the entire group with his crude choice of words.

“Chill dude,” Kuroo stepped forward. “You brought it up, man.”

You noticed how Kuroo stepped up to stand next to Bokuto, neither of them flinching in the slightest. Even with calm expressions on their faces, you could tell from their eyes alone that they were not going to back down from anything that was about to happen. And they shouldn’t, they easily had the height and weight over Shouta and it didn’t look like the rest of the Shinzen team was gearing up to come to his aid.

You felt a tug and looked over your shoulder to see Rumi pulling on your uniform jacket to get you to step away from the brewing confrontation in front of you.

“Why are you even here?” Shouta then asked, looking over at Kuroo with narrowed eyes, giving him a once-over. “Following around the super star like his little sidekick? Or just fishing around for the next girl to try and sweep up like your buddy here?”

“Shouta- '' You started to warn, noticing Bokuto’s and Kuroo’s jaws clenching but neither of them saying or doing anything.

“No offense, (y/n), but honestly fuck off.” You, along with everyone in the group, gasped in surprise at the hash comment as he enunciated each word. “It’s one thing to be hanging around the creep, but seriously having him come all the way out here to pick you up? I mean, how much attention do you n-”

CRACK-

Before Shouta had a chance to finish his terrible words, and before you even realized what was happening, your fist collided with his jaw. A satisfying crunch sound filled your ears as he fell to the dirt in surprise, looking up at you in shock as he held his jaw in pain, a few tears threatening to spill over his eyes. You were seeing red.

“Fuck you, you bitter bench-riding fuck.” You said in a rage, spitting each word. “Maybe if you were half the man he was you’d get more playing time and girls would actually be interested in you.”

You were about to continue on your spree of insults when you felt a pair of hands grab onto your arms from behind and start to pull you away. “Alright bruiser,” Bokuto’s familiar voice was close to your ear. “I think he gets the idea.”

The four of you walked briskly down the sidewalk, away from the dramatic scene. Bokuto had his arm slung over your shoulders again, holding you close like he needed to keep hold of you out of fear that you’d go back and finish what you started. You could tell he was trying not to laugh, the situation being very serious considering you’d pretty much assaulted someone on school grounds. He continued to lead you away, never looking back to see if anyone was following or going to say something.

Once you’d rounded the corner a few blocks away, Kuroo burst out in a maniacal laugh while Rumi came up to you and grabbed you by the face. “You absolute badass.” She said, laying a dramatic kiss on your forehead. “Fuck that guy.”

You shyly looked away, coming to the realization of your horrific action. You looked down at the hand you had punched the boy with, clenching and unclenching it in a fist. “Damn,” You somewhat laughed, shaking out the lingering sting and looking up at Bokuto. “That felt really good.”

Bokuto smiled and squeezed your shoulders a little tighter, laying a kiss at the top of your head. “That’s my girl.”

#bokuto koutaro #koutaro bokuto #bokuto x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!!#hq

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

inspired by a fic that i cannot find and therefore i feel I hallucinated. also apparently ballsy enough to post this when notifications are in hell

Summary: Different things that happen within the year after Max died.

warning: a lot of sad. happy ending though

ao3

Alex left Roswell two days after Max died.

“Please, please don’t leave,” Michael had begged him, “We need you. Maria and Liz–they need you. I need you.”

Alex had grabbed his cheeks and smiled all sad and beautiful. He’d kissed him and it felt like a goodbye. Michael didn’t try to stop the sob that cracked through his chest and left him aching.

“Is it because I kissed Maria? It wasn’t anything, I swear, I was just–”

“Michael,” Alex said softly, but stern. Michael whimpered at the sound of his name, rolling his forehead against Alex’s collarbone. “This is something I have to do to keep you and your family safe. I’m not angry at you.”

“I don’t want to be safe without you,” Michael whispered, crying harder and clutching tighter.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Alex,” Michael whined one last time, “I need you to stay with me. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’ll come home, I promise.”

“When?”

Alex didn’t give him an answer.

Isobel left Roswell one week after Max died.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Michael yelled, glaring with a level of anger he’d never been able to find for Isobel before.

“I need to get out of this hell hole, Michael!” she screamed back, face red with rage.

“Max is fucking dead! You’re just going to leave me to pick up the fucking pieces?! You’re not going to help?!” Michael followed her out to her car, still shouting at her regardless of what sort of scene they might’ve been causing. Fuck this. Absolutely fuck it.

“My husband was an abusive serial killer and my brother is dead! I need to get away from it!” she told him, slamming the door to the backseat.

“Are you gonna come back and help me?! Are you expecting me to just fucking fix shit?!”

“This isn’t about you, Michael!” she spat, shaking her head, “I’ll come back eventually, I need to get away from this!”

“When are you coming back then, huh?! When are you going to help?!”

“I don’t know!”

She drove off without saying goodbye.

Maria separated herself two weeks after Max died.

“Maria, forget about me and everything, Liz needs you right now.”

“And where was she when I needed her?”

Michael gulped and bowed his head. His hands were shaking, desperate to hold onto someone that he still could. Maria couldn’t run away from Roswell like the rest. He thought that meant he had a chance to try. Yet, even she was done.

“She’s sorry about that, we both are,” Michael insisted, “We’re sorry about everything.”

“You all lied to me about everything, Guerin, for decades,” she said. It wasn’t even bitchy, so he couldn’t even find the right words to defend himself. And, when he tried, she didn’t even let him get past opening his mouth. “Withholding the truth is the same as lying when it comes to this.”

“I know,” he sighed, slumping down further, “It’s just, Liz needs someone.”

“And she has you,” Maria said. When he got up the courage to look at her, he tried to look even more pathetic than he felt. He already felt pretty pathetic.

“You really gonna cut us off completely?”

Maria held her head up high.

“I have to do what’s right for me.”

She kept her word.

Kyle… tried.

“I can, uh, bring that heart monitor over when I get off, but I get off at five in the morning,” Kyle said, his voice muffled. There was something horrifically annoying about a man who worked 80 hours a week.

“Nah, it’s whatever,” Michael grumbled, shuffling the grocery bags from one hand to the other as he tried to make sure he had what he needed. He and Liz were pulling an allnighter in the cave again. “It’s not like we’re doing anything important or anything.”

“Hey, I’m trying,” Kyle argued. Which, he was. But trying was hearing from him maybe once a week. “Also, I’m flying out to search shit with Alex on my day off this weekend, I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

“You still talk to Alex?” Michael asked, feeling his heart ache all over again.

“Yeah, dude.”

“Cool, glad the resurrection of my brother is less important than anything else.”

“It wouldn’t be if he wasn’t such a jackass.”

Kyle kept in touch when he could. He helped when he could. It just wasn’t enough.

Liz showed up at the airstream at three AM two months after Max died.

“Mikey?”

Michael opened his eyes and looked up to the crying girl that had come to him in the middle of the night. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for them to spend nights together, usually falling asleep in bunkers or labs after going 48 hours on nothing but energy drinks. They no longer had anyone to police them, leaving it to just be them two against the world.

Only, tonight was a little different.

Liz hadn’t cried since Max died. He wasn’t sure if it was denial or anger or what, but he’d liked that she was the only one who hadn’t fled. He didn’t like seeing her cry though, so he opened his arms and let her crawl up against him. It only made sense when she told him she was pregnant.

Michael considered breaking down then, considered screaming and cursing a God he didn’t believe in about why the hell they were being thrown another fucking curveball. Why, after everything, was this happening to them? He wanted to let himself break.

However, crying hadn’t made Alex stay. Anger hadn’t made Isobel come home. Guilt-tripping didn’t make Maria stick around. Being passive-aggressive didn’t make Kyle help. None of those would work now.

Instead, he chose to be strong. That seemed like the only option left. Nothing else worked and, at this point, they were all they had. So Michael didn’t cry. He held her close and stroked her hair and promised her that they would figure it out. They had this.

Michael held her as she cried and he held her when she slept. He held her when she profusely apologized for being so dramatic and he held her for a little while longer after that. They didn’t really budge for at least 24 hours. It was the most either of them had slept in months.

“Have you thought about what you want to do?” Michael asked her at some point the following night. It was so dark he couldn’t see her face, but he could feel her breathing against his shoulder.

“I’m weighing my options,” Liz admitted, her voice softer than it had ever been before. “On one hand, this is the actual worst time to have a baby. On the other hand, it… it’s Max’s. It’s what I have of Max. It feels wrong to terminate given the circumstances. And, and I know he’d be so, so angry when he woke up.”

“Yeah, he probably would be,” Micahel agreed. He tried to steer away from politics when it came to Max, but he could assume the way he felt about that.

“But then I remembered it’s my fucking body,” Liz said in a way that sounded a lot more Liz than she had since she came to him the night prior. He smiled.

“Also very true.”

“And then I’m left with the thought that I have no idea what the difference between a human embryo and an alien embryo looks like. What if it’s noticeably different? What if I go to get an abortion and they get freaked out and then I get turned into a science experiment?” Liz rambled quietly. He rubbed her arm and tried not to think about how terrifying that was. It would be scary at any point in time, but it was particularly scary when she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“We could get Kyle to do an ultrasound,” Michael suggested, “See if the difference is. And you’re, what, eight weeks along? You have a little bit of time to decide.”

“Yeah,” Liz sighed, nodding her head, “I just know I can’t give it up for adoption. I can’t put another child who might have powers, might not, into a situation like that.” Michael didn’t say ‘thank you’ but he thought about it.

“Whatever you do decide on, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you, Mikey.”

Liz decided to go through with it three months after Max died.

Michael watched her like a hawk.

Kyle did what he could to watch her, but it was mostly Michael. His focus pretty quickly shifted from reviving Max to making sure Liz was okay. As she crossed over into her second trimester, things began to get a little more worrisome. While the baby looked like a normal fetus and seemed to be growing like one, it was affecting Liz worse than it should’ve.

Normal pregnancy cravings became something intolerable. She couldn’t ever figure out what she wanted so badly and Michael had it in the back of his head that maybe it was nothing she could find on Earth. For a week or two, she became really attracted to the smell of acetone and Michael almost had a heart attack. The cravings would bother her, distract her, and some days she would sit in the corner of the bunker and just cry her frustrations out. Neither of them got much done on those days.

Even then, that felt like the easy part. She would get dizzy multiple times a day and she would get sick even more than that. While they tried to convince themselves it was normal, there was still the fact that it never seemed to stop. Worst of all, it was paired with pains. Liz had originally compared them to period cramps, but they progressively got more and more vicious with time. Some days she couldn’t get out of bed. At some point, she was unable to get out of bed anymore at all.

Michael moved in with her at that stage of things. They got a tiny one-bedroom apartment and slept in the same bed. She would wake him when she needed him and he never minded. She was what he had left and she was ill. He was going to do what she needed.

Each day, she looked worse. She stopped gaining any weight once she hit her third trimester, rather appearing to almost lose it instead. Her face was pale and she would sweat all day and night, consumed with hot flashes that left her a shaking and sweating mess. She was weak and she was in pain and she was hardly even Liz anymore.

“We need to do something,” Michael said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Kyle was coming by to do his weekly checkup and even he was struggling to hide his worry on how bad she was doing. “This isn’t okay, this is going to kill her.”

When Kyle didn’t deny that, it made things ungodly worse.

“What is making her sick, Kyle? What do we need to do?” Michael demanded, “Is the baby even still alive? Is it, like, infecting her or something?”

“Michael, I don’t know what-”

“Well, you need to know!” he snapped, “Liz needs to survive. You’re going to figure out what is happening and if you can’t, then I’m risking bringing her to an actual fucking doctor.”

He went back into the room to find Liz already asleep, her face almost as white as the sheets. It made him feel sick. He crawled up behind her and pulled her hair away from her neck and face, balling it up at the top of her head. He laid with her and tried his best to will her survival into existence.

At this point in time, he had decided he didn’t need anyone but Liz to survive. She was the only one that wasn’t going to leave and he wasn’t going to leave her. And that meant making sure she was okay.

Kyle returned a few days later and said a C-section was the best option.

Ileana Paloma Rosa Ortecho-Evans was born seven and a half months after Max died.

She was tiny.

Michael didn’t really know how to process just how tiny she was. She was the perfect size to fit in his palms and that’s all that was needed. He felt almost unworthy to hold her. Yet, he was the first one outside of Kyle who was allowed to.

He had looked her over extensively and, somehow, she was fine. He’d explained that usually babies born that early had issues breathing at the least, especially when they were that small, but she seemed to be fine. Because they didn’t want any other doctor or nurse looking at her too hard just in case, he gave Michael the assignment to watch her and alert him if he noticed any issues at all. He took it like it was the most important job in the world. And, honestly, it was.

She fit in the crook of his arm perfectly‒it helped that she wasn’t even the length of his forearm. He moved slowly back into the hospital room where Liz was still sound asleep. Already, she looked better. Color was coming back to her cheeks. Arturto sat beside her.

“I bet she’s excited to go back to work once she heals,” Artutro said. He didn’t ask to see the baby and Michael wondered if it was because he was just so focused on making sure his baby was alright.

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed, “She is.”

“And you’re going to help her?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Michael said without hesitation, gulping softly as the baby in his arm wrapped her hand around his finger. She held on tight. “I’m not going anywhere, I swear.” He wasn’t like everyone else.

Arturo nodded and kissed the back of Liz’ hand. “Thank you.”

When Liz woke up and got the first glimpse at her daughter, they both smiled for the first time in a long time. She was still weak from her surgery, but she managed to sit up a little and he sat beside her as she held her baby. It looked right.

“She’s so little,” Liz gushed, sniffling as tears brimmed her eyes. It didn’t even phase Michael anymore. He’d seen her cry so many times now that it was almost just apart of things.

“I know,” Michael said, smiling over her shoulder at Iliana. Her head was a little big and her eyes were even bigger and her skin wasn’t exactly a pleasing color, but, fuck, she was theirs. He couldn’t call her cute, but it took no time to fall in love with her.

Liz leaned into him and relaxed, breathing slow and steady. They both just stared at her for awhile. She was hard not to look at. All Liz’s suffering had ended in a person. It seemed unreal. Well, then again, everything in the last few months had seemed unreal.

“I wish Max was here,” Liz whispered to him a little bit later. Michael chewed on his lip.

“I know,” he said. What he didn’t say was ‘I do too’ or ‘I wish Alex was here’ or ‘I wonder if Isobel would want to meet her niece’ or ‘do you think Maria knows you had a baby?’ because none of those felt like comforting statements. They weren’t comforting statements. They were the ones he thought about non-stop though.

His body ached for the people he’d lost, but he hoped one day he wouldn’t care anymore.

Days passed, though, and things just went back to the way they were. Well, not really. They had a baby now. Iliana slept in a bassinet less than a foot away from Liz’s side of the bed, perfect reaching distance for her even on the nights that Michael was on baby duty.

Occasionally, Michael would lay in bed and wonder if he was doing the right thing. That dark little voice in his head said that he was too happy on some days and that he had forgotten about Max and that he had merely stepped into his shoes. However, then he’d look over to Liz’s determined face and he’d feel like he was going to be alright. Liz was his lifeline.

And, with time, Liz got back to her old self. She was walking around and holding conversations and outsmarting him. It felt like she’d finally come home and he couldn’t have been more thankful. Kyle slowly began to withdraw again once he was no longer needed, but it was alright. They had each other and a baby to focus on.

They were too busy with working and adjusting to parenthood that they couldn’t focus on reviving Max, but, somehow, they were remembering how to be happy.

“Ay dios mio, Mikey, look at that face, she is mean-mugging you,” Liz said as she held the month old baby while Michael shook up her bottle. He laughed at the little glare on her face that seemed to resemble the Ortecho sisters more and more each day, pressing a kiss to her head before handing Liz the bottle.

“You’re going back to work tomorrow,” he pointed out, watching her features morph into a broad smile, “You excited?”

“Listen, I love this, I love her, and I love spending all my time with you,” Liz promised, following it up with a sigh, “But I am so ready. Even if it is just imaging at the hospital, I’m here for it. I need something to do. Also I’m tired of living off a mechanics salary, no offense.”

Michael snorted, “None taken.”

“And you,” Liz prodded, kicking him lightly, “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you?” she asked, eyeing him, “Have you talked to Alex or Isobel recently?” Liz knew everything, every last detail about basically everything that had ever happened. She knew how he felt about Alex and she knew how badly he missed Isobel. However, she also told him he shouldn’t have taken a step away from Alex whenever he felt like he was crashing. She’d told him that was what scared her about her feelings for Max, but it turns out all she needed to do was to give in.

And Michael really was ready to give in.

“Nah, but it’s okay, they made their choice,” Michael said, brushing it off. He wasn’t angry at Alex‒Alex had left for a good cause and his lack of keeping in touch made sense. He was, however, unimaginably pissed at Isobel for dropping off the face of the earth.

“Okay,” Liz said, “You know you can vent to me if you need to.”

“I know, Lizzie.”

She smiled and scrunched up her nose adorably at him.

They went to bed shockingly early that night. Iliana went down at 8 and they were dead asleep before the clock hit 8:30. Michael had taken off the following day so that Liz could enjoy her first day at work without stressing which meant he was also on baby duty, so it meant he couldn’t bring himself to regret going to bed so early.

However, he still had to be kicked awake when Iliana woke up a few minutes shy of midnight.

“Mikey,” Liz groaned, kicking him not too unlike a child, “Your turn.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he breathed, dragging himself out of bed and going to pick up Iliana and take her into the living room to get her a bottle.

He shushed her softly as he held her to his bare chest with one hand, rubbing his eye with the other one. He flicked the lightswitch on and that seemed to assure her even more that she was going to be fed and she slowly quieted down more. He used his telekinesis to make her bottle which Liz had been vocally jealous of even if he used it to help her all the time.

“You know, you’re really lucky you have Uncle Mikey instead of your daddy on nights like this,” Michael said between a yawn, “‘Cause he used to lose it when I woke him up. Now, he’d probably be a whole lot nicer to you, but I’m just saying.”

He’d barely finished making her bottle whenever there was a knock on the door.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the clock, seeing it glaring a bright green 12:04 on it. There was actually no reason for anyone to be at their door this last. Michael did his best to keep his heartbeat still as he walked towards the door and looked through the peephole.

Alex returned to Roswell nine months after Max died.

Michael felt like he was hallucinating.

He opened the door carefully, regulating his breathing and trying not to jump to conclusions about what exactly was happening. Still, when the door was open, it was really Alex. His hair was longer and he was dressed in a way that screamed Alex. He had a nose ring again‒this time it was a stud on the side rather than septum, but still. He looked phenomenal. It took everything in him not to attack him in kisses.

“Hi,” Michael said softly. It took him a few seconds to realize that Alex’s eyes were trained on the baby he was feeding and then it took a couple seconds more to put together that he was probably jumping to conclusions. He left Michael when he was a mess and he returned to see him shirtless with a baby.

“Should I g‒”

“She’s Liz’s,” Micahel clarified. Alex’s eyes got impossibly wide.

“You and Liz‒”

“No! No,” he laughed, his hands shaking enough to get milk on Iliana’s cheek, “Max.”

Alex’s eyes formed sad realization and nodded. Then they just stared at each other for a minute. This didn’t feel real. Michael had been adjusting to a life with no one except for Liz and Iliana and it was weird to welcome someone home. But, god, it felt good to see Alex.

“Come in,” Michael said after a moment. Alex smiled and walked in, looking around.

“When Kyle said you got an apartment, I was impressed,” Alex said, “But now that I see you’re just staying with Liz it makes more sense.”

“Well, we live together, like, permanently,” Michael explained, sitting on the couch and adjusting the bottle in Iliana’s mouth.

“Oh?” Alex asked, sitting on the other side. Michael nodded and then gestured towards the baby. “Is she showing any signs of getting alien abilities or anything?”

“Not yet,” Michael said, eyes drifting off of Alex and down to the baby in his arms. She was still so small. “But Liz had a really horrible pregnancy and I think it was because she’s not completely human. I was reading, like, a ton of research on pregnancies and stuff and I think that her body was registering the baby as, like, a parasite and was sending antibodies to try and kill it which, then, made Liz extremely sick. We don’t know for sure or anything, but that’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Fuck, that’s horrible,” Alex said, “She’s okay now though, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed, looking up to him with a smile, “She’s asleep though. She goes back to work tomorrow, though. Hope everyone’s ready for Iliana spending a whole lot more time with Papi Arturo.”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about that, how did he take everything with Max?” Alex asked, voice hushed. Everyone in Roswell was under the assumption that Max had just up and left. Arturo wasn’t any different.

“Fine, not like Liz really gave him an option to feel any other way. She basically just went up to him and was like ‘I’m pregnant and I’m keeping it and that’s all I have to say on the matter’. He hasn’t mentioned Max.”

“Man, it’s gonna real suck for him if you guys bring him back,” Alex laughed.

Things fell silent again as they just stared. It only broke when Michael propped Iliana on his shoulder to burp her and Alex seemed to remember he had other stuff to talk about. There was a million things to talk about. Michael didn’t even know where to start.

“So, uh, how is everyone? Isobel, Maria, Kyle, I guess,” Alex laughed. Michael couldn’t even manage a smile.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “Isobel left not long after you and hasn’t kept in touch, Maria cut everyone off, and Kyle is just off being Kyle, I guess. It’s basically just been me and Liz.”

Alex frowned, “I didn’t know that.”

“You missed a lot,” Michael said softly.

“I missed you,” Alex blurted out and Michael couldn’t take his eyes away, “Seriously, I missed you so much it hurt. I didn’t know I could ever miss you as much as I did when I was at literal war, but, fuck, I did. If you weren’t holding a baby right now, I would probably kiss you until I couldn’t breathe.” Michael smiled wildly, his cheeks heating up and his heart thudding. It was the best thing he’d ever fucking heard. “Sorry if that was too straight forward, but I’m so tired of wasting time. I miss you.”

“I missed you too,” Michael agreed, suddenly extremely eager to go put Iliana back to bed and make Liz take over, “But you probably shouldn’t make me want to put the baby down. She doesn’t really accept not being held until she’s asleep.”

Alex chuckled, “You guys don’t just let her cry?”

“Fuck no,” Michael said, “I don’t want her to ever think we’re not there.” Alex nodded with the same big smile.

“What’s her name?” he asked, leaning closer to get a look at her, “God, she looks like Liz.” Michael could smell his cologne.

“Iliana,” he answered, nodding his agreement.

“That’s really pretty.”

“I know.”

“Can I hold you?” Alex asked her in a baby voice that Michael had never heard. It struck him to his core and he suddenly felt lightheaded. Michael slowly passed her into his arms.

Alex looked good with a baby. It was annoyingly attractive and Michael wondered if he even would’ve noticed that before Iliana was born. He didn’t remember ever finding someone’s maternal or paternal skills inherently attractive before, but seeing Alex rock her to sleep felt like the sexiest thing that had ever happened.

“Have you guys been working on bringing Max back?” he asked. Michael felt that attraction immediately bleed into guilt.

“Not recently. We’ve been just so focused on her.”

“That makes sense.”

Once she was asleep, Michael promised Alex that he’d be right back out. He placed Iliana on his side of the bed and created a pillow wall around her. He spared a look at Liz too and saw her out like a light. He wondered if she would be happy to see Alex in the morning. He hoped so.

When Michael came back out of the room, he found Alex only a few steps away. He looked serious and his face was illuminated by the bright kitchen lights. Michael hesitantly stepped closer.

“Are you home for good?” he asked. Alex touched him first, grabbing his arms and pulling him in close.

“Yes,” he said, “I’m home for good and I want us to work. I’ve missed you so fucking much, Michael. You don’t know.”

“We need to talk.”

“We will.”

Alex closed the space completely, kissing him like he was coming up for air. Michael kissed him back just as feverently, leading him back to the couch. He was reminded that, while he could survive with only Liz, he was never really living until he had Alex.

Maria listened to them ten months after Max died.

Liz and Michael had both gone to her bar before they opened and decided no wasn’t an answer. Except it made it a lot easier whenever Maria smile at the sight of them.

“Long time no see,” she mused. They both look at each other like they were waiting for the catch. “Look, I can’t hold a grudge that long. Well, I can, but it’s not healthy. I was just waiting for you guys to come see me. I gotta admit, I’m a little annoyed it’s taken so long but I’m glad to see you.”

“I know it’s not really an excuse, but I had a baby and I really lost track of time,” Liz said. Maria’s whole face transformed and she was on the other side of the bar in an instant.

“What? Oh my god, I didn’t know,” she gushed, hugging Liz. Liz folded into her the way Michael had seen her do with Alex a month prior. He always seemed to forget that they were basically inseparable at one point.

“Before you guys delve into the Iliana talk, I wanted to apologize,” Michael said. Maria looked over Liz’s head at him, still not letting go. “I should’ve been completely honest with you and I also should’ve told you what was going on with Liz. I couldn’t do anything about everyone else separating from us, but I could’ve reached out to you. I fucked up multiple times and I’m sorry.”

Maria breathed slow and steady and smiled. “You’re forgiven.”

“That easy?”

“Well, you both are going to have to pull, like, a lot of the friendship weight for a little bit just so I know you’re serious, but I think we’ll be able to get back to good.” Maria assured. Michael closed his eyes in relief.

And he smiled.

Isobel came back to Roswell eleven months after Max died.

“Hi.”

Michael just stared at her. He had never felt so much negativity towards Isobel in his life. Unlike with Alex and Maria, he didn’t feel that urge to hug her and ignore the problem. Because she was the problem. Michael had always gone out of his way to be there for her and, when they needed her, she was gone. He knew she had her own things to deal with, but she should’ve come to him. They could’ve healed together. Instead she was a new level of selfish.

“How did you get my address?” Michael asked. Isobel flinched at his tone.

“Michael, I‒” She paused for a moment and then sighed. “I got it from Alex.”

Michael turned up his nose. He was going to have to talk to Alex about that. It’d been two months of being back together and they were doing good, but clearly he didn’t know when to keep his address a secret.

“What do you want?”

“To apologize,” she said, “I shouldn’t have left.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have left,” he spat, “We needed you.”

“I know and I’m sorry! I just… I needed to escape,” she said. Michael scoffed, shaking his head. Like clockwork, Iliana started crying and left Michael having to deal with his sister wondering why there was a baby crying.

“None of your business,” he said, closing the door a little bit so she couldn’t investigate, “You didn’t want anything to do with me or anyone else, so it’s none of your business.”

“Michael, I told you I was going to come back, I just needed some time,” Isobel sighed, “You don’t know what I was going through.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t even give me a chance to try. I have always been there for you, Isobel, and you just treated me like shit. I didn’t deserve that from you,” Michael said erestly, shifting from foot to foot as he tried to tune out Iliana’s crying. He hated that sound. He just wanted to hold her all the time so she never cried. But he also didn’t want to give Isobel the gift of seeing her.

“No, you didn’t and I’m sorry. I will be paying that price for the rest of my life,” she said sternly. He almost believed her. “Why is there a baby crying? Did you get Maria pregnant?”

“None of your business.”

“Michael, please. Will you just give me a chance to make it up to you?” she begged. He huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, I might’ve if you would’ve come home after a couple of days. You’ve been gone almost an entire year. Fuck that. I don’t need this.”

“Michael! Listen to me,” Isobel said, tears in her eyes as she put her hand on the door. For a moment, she looked like his sister and not the girl who abandoned him. “I think I know how to bring Max back.”

He froze.

“I have spent the last year trying to get stronger and I have. I think I know how we can do this,” she said and his stomach turned. He wanted to turn her away, to tell her no, to say he didn’t need her help.

But the fact of the matter was there was a baby in the next room who might have a chance to know her father if Isobel was being honest.

“I’m listening.”

The next month was full of trying to work with Isobel and not scream about how angry he was. Alex helped. Every time he felt like he was going to explode, he would soothe him. Liz was the best at it though. She also wasn’t too happy with Isobel, but she had mastered the art of being completely passive aggressive and bitchy while also accepting help. It was fun to watch.

However, Isobel really did have a point. She had honed her powers in a way that even Michael hadn’t. She could do all sorts of stuff and she didn’t struggle too much. She helped Michael got to the point he could heal. And, one day, he actually hugged her goodbye.

“Are you gonna forgive her?” Liz asked as they climbed into bed that night. Michael sighed and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, “It feels like she’s really trying and it seems like she put her time away to good use, I just… There’s no reason why she couldn’t keep in touch.”

“I know, Mikey,” Liz said, patting his chest, “I support whatever decision you make.”

Michael stared at the ceiling for a long while, weighing all of the options that he had. It’d been one hell of a year and he was eager for a break, but it still seemed like there was major fuckery in the future. It didn’t seem like anything would ever end.

“Liz?” he asked in the darkness. He didn’t really expect an answer, but he got one anyway.

“Yeah?”

“If we do figure out how to bring Max back, what does that mean for us?” It wasn’t a secret that, if they were successful, there was no way they’d be able to continue on like they had been. They’d shared a bed for seven months now. Even now that Alex was home, Michael spent at least six nights a week in bed with Liz and Iliana. That wasn’t an option once Max was home. None of this was an option once Max came home.

That made him feel empty.

“I don’t know,” Liz replied honestly, scooting a little closer. She put her head on his arm and he just pulled her in all the way.

“I know she’s not my baby,” Michael whispered, “But I don’t want to go back to not taking care of her everyday. I don’t want to go back to not seeing you every day.”

Liz was quiet for a moment, her long eyelashes brushing against his shoulder each time she blinked.

“Maybe we can get like a three bedroom house,” Liz suggested softly, “One for me and Max, one for Illy, one for you and Alex. That could work, right?”

Michael huffed at the idea. “It’d have to be a big house to get either of them to agree.”

“True, but four paychecks‒we could do it.”

Michael sighed and nodded. He hoped they could do it.

And that hope extended to something greater whenever they stepped into the cave during the thunderstorm. Both Michael and Isobel were vibrating with a power-strengthening serum Liz had managed to concoct and they were about to try their hardest to get shit back to normal. Or, at least, normal for Roswell.

Alex kissed him good luck and Isobel gave a reassuring look. He decided he would give it a shot, even if they failed. He looked up to Liz last and saw her give him the biggest smile in the world. She believed in him. If no one else did, she did.

That seemed like the most important thing he’d ever had.

A year after Max Evans died, he took his first breath of life again.

#michael & liz #michael & liz fic #malex #malex fic #echo #echo fic #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm #rnm fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #alex manes #alex manes fic #liz ortecho #liz ortecho fic

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psychopersonified · 4 years

Text

Quartermaster Origin - Series 2 (Ep 3 finale)

An imaginary Q-centric Netflix series

Series 2 Episode 1 & 2 here. Might want to read the first 2 episode first for everything to make more sense.

Series 1 Pilot here.

In this second series, we see Q’s double life and how he juggles them. One as a civilian and the other in service with MI6 - his growth his setbacks; the dramas that follow and which of the two will have to give way.

To make Q’s backstory come to life and the events that happen to and around him seem more realistic, I’ve tried to include as much relevant details including the bureaucracy, politics and technology in MI6 (with a lot of artistic licence). The details all play a role in growing plot and telling of the narrative, I promise.

This is meant to be a plot summary, not a full blown fic. Feel free to furnish with your own details.

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Episode 3

Clock is ticking! ⏳

Q enlists his unofficial minions - interrupting cyberwar night. Together they form a plan to gather evidence. They confirm the findings when they retest some of the components in storage that were marked as released and find that an unusually high percentage do not meet specification. They trace the manufacturers but they have nothing in common on the surface other than being long time component suppliers to MI6. Q wants to dig further by hacking the company databases but is stopped by R who warns him that he doesn’t have M’s approval. The board only approved an internal investigation, hacking a private company without authorisation would put his career at further risk than it already is.

By morning of the third day the team have what they need regarding the inventory system hack and the extent of it. Evidence suggests someone familiar with their procedures and systems. The hack itself not incredibly sophisticated by anyone’s standards - it didn’t need to be, the low level system was virtually unprotected. It’s effectiveness lay in how and where it was used tactically, break the weakest link and the whole system is undermined.

They manage to determine the extent of the breach. About FOUR months. The good news is that it means limited recall of field equipment. Bad news is, the hacker has had four months of skipping around in their system unchallenged. It’s like having an intruder come and go from your house rummaging through your drawers and cupboards for months without you knowing. God knows what they might have left behind - it makes Q feel nauseous and violated. However an idea begins to form in his head....

Timeline check: Note the timeline is now somewhere at the end of Casino Royale, 007 has just infamously resigned with a one sentence email to M.

Q presents all their findings to M and the board. M sends teams to the manufacturers under the guise of a routine audit so as to not tip them off. In one of them, they find a shipment of components intended for MI6. Documents indicate that they passed inspection, but when they are tested, it’s found that they are mostly duds. The CEO denies any wrong doing and cooperates with the investigation, handing over data and recordings. Q runs the employee list through MI6 database and facial recognition, the results come back that the COO has been seen in the company of a certain Mr White (Quantum). With M’s permission, he traces the COO’s financial activities and hacks his secure accounts. He’s been receiving large sums over the course of a few months coinciding with the shipments to MI6.

That’s one piece of the puzzle slotting into place; M now has more evidence on Mr White than a phone number Vesper left for 007 - and that allows her to sanction 007 to retrieve him for questioning.

Meanwhile, Q acts on the idea he had and plans a trap for the hacker. The Q-Minions scramble to move all remaining systems regardless of security level behind secure firewalls; the process isn’t neat or clean and it breaks more than a few WIFI enabled printers and IOT devices, including the fancy video conferencing setup M has in her home; but its a small price to pay to remove easy entry points. Hayden can chew him out for causing the Great Print-pocalyspe later. Now for the trap - a mirror system is left in place, fed with filtered data from the master system now behind the firewall, this is so that it appears that they are still in use. Then they wait…..

Meantime, it’s been over a week since Q had last seen Adam. A quiet moment lets Q slip away to deal with his civilian life that he’s put on hold. He calls Adam who is relieved that Q is OK. Adam is in tears when he tells Q that he realises that he doesn’t even know where Q’s flat is and has gone to the extent of calling hospitals in the city to check if something has happened to him - he was close to reporting Q as a missing person to the Met. Q assures Adam the best he can and they agree to talk in a few days when whatever emergency he’s dealing with is over.

They end the call with Q feeling like a right piece of work. He hadn’t meant to make Adam worry so much, he had meant to check in earlier, text even. So why hadn’t he? Q has a uncomfortable realisation - as wonderfully stable and predictable as Adam is, he lacks the excitement and intellectual stimulation that MI6 provides. His life in MI6 draws him like a moth to a flame, even if it might burn him one day.

Geeky action time! after the break below.

At Q-Branch, the shipment arrives and is put through the normal procedures of logging in new inventory and testing. Not 24 hours later the hacker strikes. This time Q and his minions are ready. As the hacker’s code rips through the mirror system, it changes data and pings its trojans within the system for updates. Q’s team record all the activity but leave the hacker unchallenged.

Instead they chase hacker on two fronts even as the signal is bounced all over the world - the source of the hack as well as the destination of the data packets its downloaded from the mirror system to see if they overlap, hoping to find a point of origin. Both trails end up somewhere between IndoChina-Hong Kong. The source of the hack is harder to pinpoint but the data packets are ending up somewhere in Laos. It’s a poorly secured telecommunications server belonging to Lao Telecom. It’s likely the owners don’t even know they are being used as a data cache to be retrieved later by the hacker.

Time to pull the plug. But before that Q acts on a hunch, he takes over the system locking everyone else out and executes a data grab first - pulling data off the server in Laos and dumping it into a proxy of his own in Philippines. That’s when he realises that it’s not a passive hack using automated code. There is someone on the other end actively watching...

Now alerted to Q’s presence, the hacker fights back. Simultaneously trying to regain control of the server and chasing Q’s data grab. After several failed attempts by the hacker to regain control and protect the data - whoever they were decides to cut their losses. The hacker sends a DDOS attack to the server, overwhelming it and taking with it telecom service in the surrounding region - Q looses connection. Not the most elegant counter by the hacker, but effective. No matter, Q had already managed to grab a sizeable chunk which he’ll examine later. The other trail also ends abruptly.

Q isn’t innocent either, he’s had to initiate lockout protocols to protect the data he’s dumped in the Philippines, so even the owners of the server in the Department of Transportation can’t get in temporarily. If the traffic lights in Pasig city goes on the blink for half a day and causes mayhem…. well Q better hide their tracks.

It’s OVER. There is dead silence in Q-Branch, jarring after close to an hour of frantic activity. It’s as if no one dares to breathe. Q wills himself to calm, his fingers coming up to cover his eyes under his glasses, he finally lets out a long breath he had not realised he was holding. With that, it’s as if a tightly wound string had been cut. His minions take their cue and break into their own sighs and groans of relief. A minion (future R) is retching into the nearest bin, that was how much anxiety and stress was in the room.

All the adrenaline and tension of the last few weeks bleeds out of him and Q feels like he can’t hold himself upright any longer. He braces himself on his work station and slowly slips onto the floor back against the workstation desk. The reality of the situation hits him then - today, halfway around the world, two servers in two unsuspecting nations just became the latest cyberwar battleground and victims of collateral mayhem. Q is treading on eggshells - an attack like this even if indirect could be construed as an act of war on sovereign nations if they ever found out (yes, Q kinda, technically, maybe caused England to declare war on two nations today).

He doesn’t know it yet, but this was their first of a series of live encounters with Raoul Silva. Q hadn’t planned on Silva being on the other end, so the timing of their counter offensive is a huge clue to Silva as to who they were.

*A throat clearing* M and Tanner make themselves known. They were alerted when the hack started but M chose to stand back and let Q and his team handle it while she watched. Q stiffly picks himself off the floor to face M and Tanner. His minions are also rousing from their various states of collapse - future R is still clutching the bin.

Q confirms they got what they needed. Q and his minions can now use the records of the hacker’s activity in the mirror system and compare it with the unaltered data in the master system and locate the areas that were tampered with as well as where the trojans were located. Like comparing two photographs to see what was changed. This will help them weed out the trojans and patch the system quickly, while also allowing them to study the hackers patterns and choice of tools - both as a ‘fingerprint’ identification as well as adapting MI6’s own cybersecurity response.

As for the data Q stole from the server in Laos, by the time the dust settles in Quantum of Solace, they will find that it was not just MI6s’ inventory system that was targeted. Mr White working for Quantum had been paying off employees in a number of defence companies to ship dud components and equipment to law enforcement and military around the world, while Silva uses the same hack to launder the records of faulty equipment. Once the reputation and faith in these companies have been shaken, Quantum would sweep in with their own and monopolise the industry; controlling the supply of a multi-billion dollar market and aligning it to their own agenda.

Weeks later, 007 has removed Dominic Greene and exposed his plans in Bolivia, but its Q’s investigation and stolen data that allows MI6 to get ahead of Quantum’s plan globally. Unknown to him, Q has already thwarted SPECTRE twice before he’s even in full-time service of MI6 (once in the pilot and now). We can imagine the interest that generates within the organisation to find out who is behind it.

(This is also my take on the personalised “Not such a clever boy” message in Skyfall. Silva knew who Q was long before 007 brought him in. And if Silva knew who Q was, so will SPECTRE. Delicious future setup! *rubs hands*)

Q meets Adam for their ‘talk’ in a local animal shelter Adam is volunteering at. Adam is much calmer, resigned even. As they feed and play with the animals, he tells Q that he’s given a lot of thought to their relationship and realises that he barely knows Q. Q has never invited him over to his place, or introduced him to his family or friends, doesn’t know what he does outside of university other than the excuses he gives. Who is he?? Q listens without saying anything.

Q leans against against a wall of cages and watches Adam thoughtfully as he goes about his work around the shelter. Adam who is kind, thoughtful, who likes long walks and conversations, who picks up strays and nurses them back to health. Adam with his strong nurturing instinct and perfect abs, who gives everything to help those in need. Q commits possible acts of war on behalf of a nation, heedless to the damage it causes. The end justify the means and all that... a life that demands secrecy and subterfuge. Adam could never understand that. It is no one’s fault. They don’t deserve one another. They break-up amicably.

Q helps Adam finish his shift at the shelter. As he tries to put the big adult orange tabby he’s been petting all afternoon back in its cage, the moggie refuses to let go. It meows grumpily and clings to his jumper like velcro. He’s a heavy one, rounded head with impressive jowls, ears notched in a few places and some superficial facial scarring. A street brawler before he was brought in for sure, but now a needy cuddle monster shredding Q’s jumper. Perhaps he’s feeling a little melancholy and a bit lonely now that the breakup is formal, he finds the low pitched yowling heartbreaking.

He finally gets the cat to let go by sacrificing his jumper, leaving the clothing inside the cage for it to snuggle in. Q goes to leave, the cat’s continued piteous calls tugs at his heartstrings. He makes it as far as the door before turning back and grabbing the cat’s papers hanging by the cage. Guess he’s not going home alone after all.

The last scene of the finale is M in her office. She’s reviewing all the gathered intel and drawing connections. She recognises that she’s being herded into a corner. Unknown entity (Silva) trying to pull the rug out from under her by undermining MI6 through Q-Branch, while Quantum attacks directly from the inside with an assassination attempt by her bodyguard. This is only the start.

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Notes: I like the idea that Q is more than just a future quartermaster doling out equipment and supplies. He’s also an ‘agent’ in his own right - it makes the conversation when he meets 007 in Skyfall hold more weight. It’s not just hubris, he’s proven himself.

Next on Q... let me know what you’d like to see.

#00q #quartermaster #Q #james bond #00q fanfiction #Q spin-off #would you watch this?

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eloarei · 4 years

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tl;dr and TW: I had a miscarriage (and an ER visit)

So, I haven’t been on tumblr for a while. Let’s see how long. ...Three and a half months. Basically, I haven’t been on since a little before I found out I was pregnant. See, my birthday was January 28th. My last period had started on New Year’s Day, so I was slated to start again on my birthday, and I just kept thinking, “gosh, I would really like to not be on my period on my birthday!” Well, I got my wish. A few days came and went, and I thought, “okay, I’m pregnant.” This wasn’t an overreaction; I’d never been more than 3 days late in the past few years, and I just... felt it. I took the test, and lo and behold, it was positive. A ‘dye-stealer’, even. (A strong positive, where the positive line ‘steals’ all the dye from the control line.) (I’ve spent a lot of time on pregnancy forums; I’m familiar with a whole new world now.) I was happy. Mostly excited, mostly not scared. My husband was the same. We’d been married for 12 years with no kids, no prior pregnancies, and I’d thought for a few years that I probably did want kids-- it just... never happened. We were too careful, until we decided not to be. (Even then, we weren’t trying. We just let things do as they would.) The next 6 weeks were interesting. It was... neat? Neat to feel all the minute changes. Every day I was so aware of my body and what was happening to it. Even though I was almost not showing at all (I could see a slight difference; nobody else would have), I felt so big, and I was exhausted, but it was kind of fun. It was fun thinking about having an October baby; maybe its birthday would end up on my husband’s, or my old bff’s. Maybe it’d be 10-15-20. I thought that would be cool. And I thought about names, about how we’d arrange the house, how we’d afford everything when we have such a habit of just squeaking by. I felt we were up for the challenge. But I read a lot of information. SO MUCH information. So I knew there was a chance it wouldn’t work out. After all, roughly 1 out of every 4 known pregnancies ends badly. And there was no reason why I should miscarry, when I was healthy, and my family didn’t have a history of common miscarriages. But I wasn’t stupid, and I’ve never been the kind of person to say, “it won’t happen to me”. I guess I was lucky that I read so much, that I knew things could go wrong, because they did. Even so, I wasn’t entirely prepared. I started bleeding around week 9, so I read an absolute ton about miscarriages. They all said it happened pretty quick-- maybe a few days of light bleeding before the ‘big event’, and that the event itself was painful-- AT LEAST like heavy period cramps. When I continued bleeding for over a week I thought “...maybe it’s not a miscarriage?” I read some more and determined it could have been a subchorionic hemorrhage-- bleeding in the uterus that is usually not fatal to the baby, often characterized by period-like bleeding: long, slow, not very painful. The whole time I was trying to find a place to get an ultrasound. I don’t/didn’t have a doctor of my own, a primary care physician or an obstetrician. I’ve never really done doctors. Figured I’d wait until about the second trimester to find one, since my readings told me a lot of doctors waited til week 10+ for the first appointment anyway. Unfortunately, all the clinics I talked to wouldn’t deal with me when I mentioned I had some bleeding-- even though it was just a little bit! Less than a period. “Go to the ER”, they said, to which I responded that I absolutely was not going to go to the ER for a non-emergency when hospitals were stuffed with coronavirus patients. Therefore, I just waited while I kept looking, hoping it would sort itself out. In a way, it eventually did. Monday morning, as I was about to go to sleep (I work nights), I had some slightly heavier bleeding. Thought it might have been another small clot. Sat on the toilet for an hour before I felt woozy and decided to lay in the tub before I passed out. Thank god for my husband, because I don’t know if I would have survived the next several hours without him. HERE’s the TMI >>>>>>> I continued bleeding for the next three hours, my husband pouring warm water on me to wash all the little clots away. After a while, I passed a huge clot, size of an egg. Ever done that science experiment where you use vinegar or something to dissolve an egg shell and you’re left with just the innards in a flexible membrane? Well it was like that, but blood. I passed out a little while after that. ....That’s when I knew things were getting weird. It was my second time passing out ever, and I hated it. I think it’s literally my least favorite thing in the world. 5 seconds that feels like an eternity and it feels like you’re going to die but you can’t explain why. Terrible. I still thought maybe we could get through this. It didn’t hurt, it was just... well, losing blood. It was within the realm of what I’d read about subchornionic hemorrhage, so I thought maybe that clot was the worst of it. HMM, I was wrong. I passed another one just like it. Then I passed out twice in quick succession, upchucked all over myself (the smell haunts me, ugh), and apparently turned rather blue. So I told him, “hey, it’s time for the ER”. Boy, that was....... a thing. He called his mom because I said I didn’t want him driving and for me to pass out again when he couldn’t help. I swaddled myself in towels and garbage bags so I wouldn’t bleed all over the damn place, all the while feeling like I might just die at any moment. When we got to the ER, they put me in a wheelchair, asked me some questions I could barely answer, and then took me back. The next 24 hours consisted of being stabbed, suctioned, and pumped with 5 liters of saline solution which left me smelling weird. I was barely conscious for the first half of it, but talking and joking whenever I could-- because apparently that’s how I deal with stress. Anyone surprised? Anyway, they quickly confirmed what I knew as soon as I passed more than one ungodly egg-clot: it was a miscarriage. They removed what was left; I didn’t look at it, but my husband said there... wasn’t really much. Nobody did any analyses, so I’m left to surmise that it wouldn’t have been more than 6 weeks (or possibly anembryonic), meaning it was just in there for 5+ weeks by then, doing nothing but accumulating blood. Insult to injury much? The biggest strangeness of the whole ordeal, the reason why I didn’t expect it was a miscarriage in the first place, was that none of it hurt. Every story I read said it hurt, but this just felt... awkward. I mean, passing out wasn’t fun. Sure as hell didn’t feel comfortable, but I never experienced any pain (except the blood draws; lord did those bruise. Ugh). The whole thing left me feeling exhausted. It took days before I could do more than toddle around the house. It’s been 2 weeks now, but I still feel a little sick when I think about those fucking clots, or the strangeness of the ER, or passing out 4+ times. I’m hoping I don’t have brain damage, geez. I certainly feel mentally slower than usual, like maybe the pregnancy-brain never went back to normal. As for what I feel emotionally... it’s... hard to say. I’m sad. Disappointed, annoyed. But mostly I was scared. And that makes me hesitant. I still want a kid. I wanted that kid. But I’ve always been very careful. We always knew the risks and wanted to wait until the right time. The problem is, now... Now I’m more intimately familiar with some of the risks, and I’m a bit afraid it’s going to make me too careful. Will I ever get another chance? Will I ever give myself another chance? I don’t know. I really just don’t. Mostly though, I am glad to be alive. And while I was more than accepting of the ugly bloated and tired feeling of pregnancy, I’m happy to take the good with the bad now. I hate what I lost, but my body is starting to feel normal again, and... well, that’s nice, I guess. Anyway... That’s partly why I haven’t been online, and what I’ve been up to since. God I hope you guys have all had nicer, less-eventful years so far. (If you wanna catch up, feel free to message me. The IM feature seems busted on my end, so maybe try sending an ask or something instead.)

#elo talks #long post #super long post #tw: miscarriage #tw: pregnancy #tw: emergency room #tw: blood loss #this is a personal post but I don't mind who interacts with it. I hope maybe it'll help someone somehow #sorry to make you read all this crap

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Notebook or Post-It - [Chapter 3] - (Kamjie) - Black_Magic

Hey, guys! Chapter 3 is here! I’m a week late, but that’s not important. Enjoy the chapter.

I woke up hearing someone open a door and walk away. I felt around for my phone, but I couldn’t find it. Then I remembered what happened last night. I smiled and felt a ball of excitement form in my stomach. Did that really happen? I sat up and rubbed my eyes. From the small amount of light that came into my room, I saw the space beside me in my bed was empty. Where did he go? Was it really a dream? I turned on the lamp that hung above my bed. I looked around and saw my clothes were in a pile. I dragged myself out of bed to my pants. I grabbed my phone to look through the notifications. It looks like Vanjie texted me.

I looked at the time. It was 8:24. I sighed and went to the bathroom for a shower. I turned on the water to let it warm up. While I waited, I texted back a few other people. After that, I sat my phone on the sink’s counter before stepping in and letting the warm water soak me.

It did me good to get a shower. I can clean myself off properly and think about last night. I thoroughly enjoyed every second I had with Vanjie last night. Eating the wings. Staring into his beautiful eyes. Playing Mario Kart. The hot sex. I don’t know why we did. I have wondered how good of a kisser Vanjie is. I got my answer last night.

I grabbed the little hotel shampoo bottle to squirt some on my hand. I rubbed my hands together and stepped away from the warm water to wash my hair.

When I think about it, Vanjie is hot in and out of drag. That makes me think about why I was compelled to screwing my friend. Was it looks? Was it because we were meant to? I know I flirt with some of my friends, but I felt like what happened was genuine. I don’t know. I haven’t had a date in a long time. Haven’t had a good hookup in awhile either.

I tilted my head back to rinse off the lemon scented shampoo. As the soap and water run down my face, I came to the realization of what I need to do. I need to talk to Vanj about last night.

******************************************************************************

I put the finishing touches of my small amount of boy makeup for the day. I did a tongue pop and grabbed the essentials: my phone, wallet, and key card. I hurried out the door so I could make it on time. I looked at my phone for the time. I had four minutes. I ran to the lobby doors and walked from there. As I made my way to the kitchen to get food, I spotted Vanjie. He already had a plate with a huge waffle on it. I went into the kitchen to grab my own breakfast. I grabbed a plate and filled it up. I grabbed an omelet, a blueberry muffin, bacon, sausage, and a bottle of water to wash it all down.

Satisfied with the variety of food on my plate, I joined Vanj. He looked up at me and smiled. “Hey, Kam.” He had on similar clothes as me. A pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. He looked comfortable, which contrasts the rest. His eyes revealed to me his exhaustion from last night. The way he sat looked awkward, although I know exactly why.

“Hey, Vanj.” I opened my water so I could drink some of it. “How are you?”

“I’m good, just sore. I expected as much, though. We really went at it last night. How are you? Probably just fine, you bitch.” I smirked, knowing that’s true. Other than the fatigue from yesterday, I’m good. It’s mostly from the performance and a small amount from when Vanjie and I were together.

“You’re not wrong. I do feel exhausted, but that’s just a mix of things.” He nodded to me and we fell silent. I dug into my breakfast. It was good and much needed to get me started for the day. I can see it would be good for others too. I just saw Violet come through, see what I did there. She looked wrecked. I can almost feel her pain. She looked hungover. I kind of feel bad.

“Hey, can we talk? About last night?” I nodded, knowing we have to. I want to. I just didn’t know how to start this conversation. “So, last night happened. I know I enjoyed it. I know what can happen now. I’d like to hear your side first before we decide.”

“I liked it too. I don’t know what lead to it, but yeah, it happened. I tried to think about it this morning myself. I couldn’t come up with anything. A normal person would brush this off and move on.“

"We aren’t normal people, Kameron."

I nodded and wiped my mouth with a napkin. "No, Vanessa, we are not normal people. That’s why I need to know. Are we going to make something out of this, or let it go?”

I watched the gears turn as he thought about what he wanted. I know him very well. We are so much alike. We get attached easily. If we are shown affection, it’s game over. We can form feelings for someone within the snap of a finger. That can be good every once in awhile. It’s mostly bad. Especially because the feelings can be for the wrong person. Now, hold up! I’m not saying Vanessa Vanjie Mateo is the wrong person. I’m saying she’s not the right person. She’s not right or wrong. Am I making sense?

“If you think we could make something out of this, I’m in. I don’t think it can be long term. Maybe a small relationship?"

"That’s not a bad idea. You’re suggesting a tour fling?” He nodded with a smile. He looks so proud of himself, it’s cute. “Then it’s settled. We should set some rules. None of the fans can know. Certainly nobody who would reveal this.”

“I feel a but coming in. What is it?”

“We have to tell someone we trust. The only person I trust is Michelle. That woman should be a detective. She knows everything that happens with the rest of the queen’s on tour. Either she finds out herself, or we tell her now."

Vanjie took a deep breath. It’s not a big decision. The hard part is telling Michelle. Michelle doesn’t agree with everything, especially the color green. What I know she will say is to be careful and to be honest. That’s what she always asks of all the girls. "Ok, we can tell her. Can we do it later? We have to pack up and get into the bus in a few hours.” That should give us enough time to mentally prepare.

Now that we’ve talked and finished eating, we went our separate ways to our rooms. I’m glad we had two hours to back because I only had fifteen minutes to spare. I gathered everything up and the key cards and made my way to the lobby. I checked out and brought my bags to the bus. Looks like everyone else was scattering because they were all running around.

I made it over with my bags and dragged them in. I picked a random bunk and sat them down with a huff. I walked to the couch out front and plopped down, acting like I was dead. I closed my eyes since I heard someone coming in. “Oh bitch, you really asleep already?” I nodded my head and opened my eyes. Vanjie stood in the doorway while the others came in.

“I’m so tired. I could sleep forever.” Vanjie softly laughed at me.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” I barely had time to brace myself before he jumped on me with a Vanjie style battle cry. I grunted from the impact and laughed with him. We were laughing pretty loud, to the point where Michelle had to shut us up. “Sorry, Michelle.” I sat up to make Vanjie get off. We can’t have anyone grow suspicious of us. Anyone but Michelle finding out isn’t an option. We looked at her, then at each other. “Should we tell her now?”

“Yeah, do it now before we have to leave. Stay here and I’ll get her.” Luckily everyone else was either still inside, or making sure they have all of their precious luggage. “Hey, Michelle.”

She spun around and met my eyes. “Yes, my love?” That just warmed my heart. She is such a mom, and I love it.

“Can we talk to you on the couch?” I pointed to Vanjie and got a nod from Michelle. She followed me and sat opposite to us. I felt my heartbeat pick up in speed. My hands were shaky too. I was so nervous about this.

“What’s the matter?” We looked at each other, then back to Michelle for the second time. Luckily Vanjie is a fast thinker and talker. She started for me, which I’m thankful for. It gave me time to breathe and calm down.

“Something happened last night. It was after you left. We had a drink and then went back to the hotel. We played some Mario Kart and joked around. That lead to other things.” Michelle crossed her arms.

Before Michelle could cut in, I finished what we had to say. She should know everything else that happened last night. “We basically had a fun night.” I said, trying to lighten the mood. Then, that woman raised an eyebrow at me. I thought I was done for. “To be fair, you left us unattended.” I heard Vanjie’s attempt to not laugh. It was contagious enough as to where I had to contain my laughter too. Michelle sighed, so I looked up. She had a smile on her face. At least I got a smile out of her.

“So, let me make sense of this. You feel like you had a moment. You drank enough to be buzzed, then left the bar. You returned to Kameron’s room and played Mario Kart. Finally, you teased each other, then had a kai-kai session. Because of all that, you felt the need to tell me.” We both nodded to her. She paused for a moment, no doubt to think about what she was going to tell us.

“Yeah, we talked about this earlier. We knew we had to tell you. If we didn’t someone would have found out and told you. We didn’t want you to be blind sided by this.” I said before she could respond.

“I hope you two realize I can read in between the lines. Somewhere between last night and now, you decided this was going to lead somewhere. I strongly recommend not going for it. Being in the limelight like you are, it’s dangerous. You know the fans can be wild. They want so many of their desired pairs to be together. After Sharon and Alaska split up, the fans went wild. They didn’t care what went on behind the scenes. They wanted Shalaska to be an item again. Vanessa, you know this first hand. The world wanted you and Brooke Lynn to stay together. When they found out about the split, they reacted the same way.”

“I know, Michelle. We’re making sure the fans don’t find out. This will all be private and a secret. We talked about a little tour fling. Just so we can have each other and not have to worry about any strings attached. Just coupley stuff here and there and hooking up when we need it.” When Vanj puts it like that, I think it could work.

“Sweetheart, I realize you want this. Think about it. You still feel for Brooke. Both you and Kameron get attached easily. Do you really believe a tour fling will be enough? I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She isn’t wrong. I looked at Vanjie. He had the same disappointed look as me. “I can’t stop you. Just do me a favor. Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“I promise, Michelle.” I said immediately.

“Me too, I promise.”

“Thank you, ladies.” Michelle kissed us on the forehead and joined the girls in the back. Wow, that was easier than I thought. Now for the next step. Not screwing this up.

#rpdr fanfiction #kamjie #kameron michaels #vanessa vanjie mateo #michelle visage #violet chachki #tour fling #fluff #notebook or post it #black magic

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liquormixintellect-blog · 5 years

Text

Dusk til Dawn

Chapter Two <3

Harry’s raking his fingers through his hair as he’s sat on the edge of his bed. The early morning sun blinding his eyesight as he raises one hand to block it. The events of last night are slowly coming back to him before he realizes....

“Y/N. Shit.” He rips through the mix of blankets and sheets on his bed until he finds his cellphone.

Scrolling through his contacts, he finds your name and sends a text.

Harry: Are we good?

His fingers are tapping the back of the device awaiting a response. He can feel his heart rate speeding up, he’s hoping he didn’t secretly cross any boundaries.

Y/N: Why wouldn’t we be?

Harry’s confused. He could’ve sworn you scurried out of his bedroom the night before full of regret.

Harry: Last night? We... you know? Fucked?

Y/N: I have no idea what you’re talking about H. I’ll see you in class Monday!

Harry takes his index finger to scratch the top of his head. Was she too intoxicated to recall? Did he take advantage of her?

Harry: Y/N, I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

Y/N: Harry. Nothing happened. Okay?

Harry: Got it.

You were just going to pretend like nothing happened.

Harry’s ego instantly bruised. He’d never been told he lacked in the intimacy department nor did he ever allow himself to perform so poorly that the other person would rather have amnesia? You and Harry had always mindlessly flirted, he believed last night was bound to happen. He also secretly wished a relationship would blossom from it, and he’s definitely feeling the opposite of what he thought he’d feel. So if you were going to pretend like Harry didn’t exist, he was going to make himself visible

****

Denver’s been mindlessly rambling about Zayn and the girth of his member for the last two hours. In a way, you were grateful. She was able to alleviate any thoughts of Harry in your brain, but not even Denver at her peak of annoying could run you from the truth. You weren’t sure why you chose to act oblivious, you’ve craved a moment like that since the moment you met Harry, but it still felt so wrong.

“Anyways, I’d hoping you’d come back with me to the frat party tonight. Zayn’s gonna be there!” In typical Denver fashion she has her lips formed in a pout with arms crossed across her chest, and she’s attempting to beg.

“No way Denver! I have a huge test at the end of next week plus piles of other homework. I’m staying in tonight.” You stomp your right foot down in protest.

“You’ve got all Sunday to finish on top of the week ahead of you. You can’t be perfect 24/7 sweets!” Denver sashays to the bathroom to get ready for the evening ahead of her.

There’s nothing wrong with a little perfection.

You slip back into the warmth of your bed and reposition your laptop back onto your lap. You weren’t ready to see Harry.... not yet.

After tackling different assignments for what felt like five hours. Denver walks back into your bedroom with her final form.

“So? What do we think?” She poses as if she was on a runway.

“Amazing D!” You stuff your mouth with the animal crackers you grabbed out of the pantry in between assignments. Not fully ready to commit to an entire meal.

“It’s still not too late for you to come with!” You juggled the options in your head before declining fully. Allowing Denver to bid you farewell and enjoy her evening with Zayn. You close your laptop and set it on your nightstand in exchange for the remote. Navigating your tv to Netflix, you settle on some reruns of Dear White People and before you know it, you’ve drifted soundly to sleep.

****

The exact second Denver walks in, hand in hand with Zayn, Harry immediately diverts his attention to the doorway. Hoping to see you trailing behind, instead he’s left disappointed. Zayn and Denver quickly walk towards him after his reaction.

“Hoping to see someone else?” Zayn’s half chuckling. Mostly for the light heartedness but pity is a close second.

“W-What? No. I just realized I have to see you again.” Harry takes a light jab at Zayn’s arm.

Zayn takes a pregnant pause before whispering into Harry’s ear,

“I promise you’ll feel a lot better if you’re just honest.” Harry avoids eye contact. Instead he pats Zayn on the back and slowly walks to the kitchen with his hands in his pockets.

“Something’s got him down in the dumps.” In a room full of people, it’s still the only whisper he heard.

Harry twists the top off of a brand new bottle of tequila before lining up three shot glasses and deposing the liquid within each. He quickly throws all three back and slams each glass down after every swallow. A look of disgust traveling across his face as his mouth forms a yuck.

“Wow someone’s going through it, aren’t they?” The silhouette of a woman makes itself apparent through a dimly lit hallway.

“Oh, hey Ryan.” Harry swallows to gain some taste back into his mouth. “Just typical frat boy activities, you know me.” Harry’s got his hand on the back of his neck as his temperature is slowly accelerating due to the alcohol.

“I reckon, I’d love to get to know you more.” Ryan was a good fuck, just ask the entire fraternity house. But Harry wasn’t in the mood for a mindless hookup, he wanted Y/N in his arms while they watched silly romcoms and exchanged childhood stories.

His lack of response sparked confidence within Ryan. She took short nips at his neck marking her territory. Harry gave in just enough to give her access to his exposed skin. She lined his neck with prominent bruises. Just enough of a bite that stung and just enough of a sloppy kiss to leave him wanting more. He took gentle squeezes at her bum before she softly took hold of his two fingers and guided him up to his bedroom. Once there, she pushed Harry onto his back, he slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows. His head was pounding from the mix of alcohol and the bass from the stereo playing downstairs.

Ryan’s slowly undressing herself as she puts on a show. Swaying her hips side to side and giving him different views of her body.

Harry’s not paying her any mind though, instead his focus is shifted to his closed bedroom door where he mentally replays the night before. The sound of his slamming your body against the door as he thrusts from different angles makes him salivate at the mouth. Ryan must’ve peeped by now because she yanks his face toward her forcing him to keep his eyes on her.

Harry isn’t in the mood to fight her off, instead he grabs a condom from his nightstand drawer, ensuring this will be the last time he has to deal with Ryan.

****

Monday comes quicker than you anticipated. Today you decide to make a little effort with your outfit, the obvious reason being this would be the first time you saw Harry since that night in his bedroom. So you give yourself an illuminated makeup look and steal Denver’s favorite Fenty Beauty red lippie just to give you that extra umph. Topping it off with a timeless look. Satin creme high waisted trousers, with a knit wrapped top that plunges a bit at the cleavage and the Gucci loafers you splurged on after weeks of saving. Also, you might’ve saw Harry wearing them first and instantly fell in love. Hoping that these would be a conversation piece amongst the two of you in your 9 am.

Grabbing your backpack, you walk out of your front door. Your shared apartment with Denver was still technically on campus and only about a five minute walk so you opted out of your vehicle most days to save the planet. It made you feel considerably warm inside whenever you did decide to do this. Plopping in your earbuds, you listen to your favorite playlist on the way to class. Excitement was bubbling inside of you.

When you finally reach the classroom, you take a deep breath before walking inside. Your eyes immediately divert to the table behind yours hoping to see Harry. And you did see him, more or less. You just didn’t expect to see him like this.

He’s draped in all black with a huge hoodie engulfing his body and black sunglasses to cover his eyes. He looked like shit.

Now you didn’t know if his eyes were on you, but they were. As you confidently walked to your seat Harry watched your every move. Mentally noting how beautiful you looked and how that red lipstick complimented your skin so well. His heart is skipping several beats because he knew you only dressed that way when you wanted to impress someone or something. He was secretly hoping it was him. While his ego would normally allow him to bask in the fact that he finally got you to make an effort for him specifically, it was quickly clouded by the fact that he slept with someone else not even twenty four hours later. Neither one of you were exclusive to one another but he still felt his actions were uncalled for. Denver, Benji, and the remaining stragglers quickly trickle in right before the clock strikes nine on the dot. This Professor was pretty strict on time.

“Oi mate! It’s a beautiful day. Why are you all covered up?” Benji’s voice booms throughout the classroom causing half of the class to turn around. He then rips Harry’s hood off displaying his collection of love bites who, might I add, were a tad bit excessive.

You can feel your eyes grow wide at the site of them quickly turning back around to face the front of classroom. A large lump was forming in your throat that you couldn’t swallow if you wanted to. Shrinking in your seat, you instantly regretted even attempting to look good for Harry. Why would a frat guy even remember one of his many love affairs? But Harry did. And he knew the moment you saw how decorated he was, you’d no longer be interested. You weren’t a fool, and you definitely weren’t going to be one for him. So he slumps down lays his head on the table before him.

The entire class period is spent in silence yet again. Your wiggling your toes in the Gucci loafers you hoped were going to be conversation pieces, silently begging time to move faster so you can get out of there. When the professor finally releases the class, you scurry out before even Denver could get a word out. Harry was beginning to think all he’d ever see you was in a hurry.

****

The rest of your classes go by with ease the moment you rattle any idea of Harry out of your brain. You were never the type to allow another individual get the best of you. That’s how you prospered, being able to shake things off and keep your own life going.

As your released out of your final class for the day, you make your way to the library to hopefully get some extra studying in. Sitting down at a table amongst the shelves a books, you pull out your laptop and begin busying yourself.

That is, until your thoughts are interrupted with a slow but needy tap on your shoulder.

Whipping your head around you meet the same shit looking Harry. You’d be lying if your stomach wasn’t fluttering at the thought of him.

“Y/N I need to talk to you!” His eyes are still covered in his sunglasses, and his hoodie is still up but you can make out just a few of the love bites dancing across his Adam’s apple.

Instead, you give him a solid middle finger and go back to working on your laptop.

He takes the seat next to yours and puts his arm around your chair.

“I know you’re mad at me, but please talk to me.” Harry’s pleading , and you know if his bloodshot eyes weren’t masked at the moment, you’d completely lose yourself over his green orbs begging for forgiveness.

So you turn your body to completely face his silently.

Harry takes his cue to begin speaking,

“Y/N, I know that looked really bad earlier and. I know that you came to class like this,” he points to your entire outfit, “for me. When else have you ever worn Gucci loafers?” You smirk at his observation, he continues,

“Someone told me that I need to start being honest so here goes..” Harry’s voice is escalating in volume which causes the librarian to give him a stern shhhh. He bows his head in defeat and pulls you closer.

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you since the day I saw. I might even love you, I have no idea. Your smile brightens up every single one of my days, your intelligence turns me on, and God, don’t even get me started on that beautiful face.” You don’t realize how big your cheering until you physically force yourself to stop.

“What was I supposed to do when you basically wanted to pretend like nothing happened? So I did what a typical college guy would do and I drank. I drank all of my sorrow until an easy lay was there to make me forget about you. I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t value our time together. I’m telling the truth, you have to believe me.”

It could be his visible desperation that causes you to forget all institution but wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him softly on lips.

“I feel the exact same, H.” A soft giggle leaves her lips and Harry could feel the weight being lifted off of his shoulders.

“God, I adore you.”

He peppers kisses on your cheeks and nose, you finally feel like your in heaven.

****

The news of you and Harry dating was actually received well. Nobody was bold enough to comment on the pairing other than Denver, but she was too wrapped up in Zayn to even mutter a word. So the first couple of weeks was everything you wanted and more, the perfect beginning to the honeymoon stage.

But since you were who you were, you made sure not to get too comfortable. You refused to sleep with Harry again until you were completely ready. You wanted to make sure that he wasn’t using you for sex and actually wanted to spend all this time with you.

He brought you flowers to class a handful of times, as well as invited you over so he could cook dinner for you. Which was surprising, you’d never been to the fraternity house during the week so to see it so clean and empty was refreshing.

Everything was going smoothly, until it wasn’t.

It was typical Friday night. Another party being thrown as usual. Harry had his arm across your chest holding your backside as close as possible to his front. You could feel every movement. His breathy laughs causing the hairs on your neck to stand. Anytime you budged, you could feel his dick twitch against you. It turned you on more than you wanted to admit. The group of guys huddled up on one side of the house with their girlfriends, or whoever they were boning that night secured beside them.

As Harry entertained Benji’s antics, you took a glance around the room. A few guys and girls took glances at your group probably silently wishing they could be one of you. What really caught your attention was a young lady staring directly at you. She was visibly angry, and her directness caused you to shift the weight between your feet, but you stood taller, nobody was ever going to make you feel threatened.

Harry could feel her eyes through his peripheral so he secured his grip on you making sure your as close as possible. Notice Ryan moving closer, Harry excuses himself to grab you two another drink. He presses a gentle kiss on your cheek, and you lift your cheek slightly to share the moment. You also wanted to show whoever the hell was staring at you that he was off limits.

As Harry walked to the kitchen, you noticed the young lady watch him before disappearing amongst the crowd. Something was off.

Harry pours himself another concoction taking a quick gulp to rid his anxiety.

“Someone got cuffed rather quickly.” Ryan appears causing Harry to roll his eyes.

“Why are you here!?” Ryan takes large strides to Harry, leave just enough room between them that each hair on his neck rises slowly after each breath she takes.

“What’s your poor girl gonna do when finds out you slipped up just a few days into your brand new relationship?” She wags her index finger in front of his face letting a few tsk leave her mouth.

“You wouldn’t.” Harry’s grip tightens on his glass.

“Try me.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #hareh styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles preferences #zayn #zayn malik #zayn malik writing #zayn malik fanfic #zayn malik imagine

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ghostjelliess · 4 years

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Holiday Hell 2019

Jake’s dad asked us to join his family for Christmas in LA this year, since we generally split it between Jake’s mom, step dad’s family, and my parents, his dad often gets a few hours at best. This is more understandable because his dad is Jewish (was?? I dunno, it’s weird), so we were like sure!

At 5am Friday morning, we woke up, took a Lyft to the train and rode the commuter rail from Providence, RI to Boston, took the SL1 bus to Logan airport, then got on our flight. Jake had been complaining about a possible ear infection for a few days, I was nervous about flying, but it seemed fine.

We changed flights in St. Louis, got some bagels and were utterly exhausted already. Then we got on our next flight to LAX, and when we landed, half his face was stiff and we thought he had a severe silent migraine (I get those) from the level of the sun shining in his eye and the stress of the travel. He had been extremely stressed and exhausted and we still had to get to the resort where his dad had booked the rooms. We rode in LA traffic for 2 hours quietly panicking, wondering what to do, wait or go somewhere? We do finally have health insurance, so that seemed like a good place to start.

We headed to urgent care after a quick chat with the insurance guys, a filtered list to find who’s open, and a quick drive into the city. The doctor was pretty nice and quickly diagnosed Jake with a viral Bell’s Palsy, in which the nerve that feeds his face is being... problematic for some reason. Half his face is currently paralyzed and it commonly stems from a virus. He’s on meds now, and there’s the fear of Lyme disease, but over all, he’s being a trooper and playing with his nieces and nephews who are having a great time calling him “two-face from batman!”

I’ve never had random medical things like this happen. I don’t know how I avoid them, or if it’s more like a time-and-place problem. We have both had significant injuries leading to a higher pain tolerance, which sounds nice, but actually means the body doesn’t always recognize pain severity. Googling the symptoms brought up tons of stuff and Jake, with his bio/med background, already had an idea of Bell’s Palsy going into the UC. But when you have traumatic injuries, other things seem less... severe. When you face never walking again from a broken back (Jake broke his back in 4 places when he was 16 in gymnastics with a bad coach), the symptoms of an ear infection just don’t seem... urgent. When you walk around with chronic pain, an additional hum in your head just doesn’t warrant immediate action. But this one did, and I’m so happy I can trust him to know those lines, within 5 hours of paralysis, we were at urgent care and headed back to the hotel with some pretty badass perscriptions.

I think I’m writing this mostly for posterity, to put the thoughts and emotions somewhere, to get it out of my guts where it’s scared and confused and worried.

But to the larger world, I suppose the lesson is that love hurts. Someone else lives in another body that is susceptible to problems you can’t do anything about and that’s so scary! On the other hand, people diagnosed will spend days ignoring their denial and hoping things go back to normal - and sometimes they do. The lesson seems to be to trust yourself and what you think is normal enough. For me, digestive issues aren’t a red-flag due to birth issues, pain in my side where my ribs slip out or in my shoulder when I over compensate, in old broken bones when the weather shifts, that’s normal. If you know what’s normal, maybe you can know when to take action.

Right now, I’m just feeling at a loss, like we can never know, the world is always ready to get rid of us, and the system isn’t set up for an easy win. But it wasn’t until I had to deal with it that I realized how tragically painful and lose-lose it really is. We need a better system because we need better people. If we didn’t have insurance (start-ups are spotty), I don’t know that we would have gone in when we did, and I think that’s what scares me most. I don’t know how much of my survival has been sheer dumb luck. How many times have I NOT gotten professional help and things fixed themselves but could have been so much worse. We don’t know when we get lucky until we feel the satisfaction of healing. I didn’t have to have slipped ribs, if I’d gone to the ER the night I broke them all, but I was in college and poor and scared and so I went to the doctor three weeks later, when the damage was done and the rehab road was already forever.

It’s hard to talk about fixing a system, in politics or with family, when so many people have no experience with it, or have only experienced the positives of it. How do we judge or build something better when we’ve all had such drastically different experiences? It’s strange being cooped up with a family that have no idea what being poor feels like, what not having parents who can cover a medical bill does to your health, what a “non-diagnosis” looks like before it kills you - the panic and fear, the consuming imagination and the choice to go or not weighed against the rest of your life - being minimized to “why didn’t they just go to the hospital?”

Life is scary and unpredictable and vulnerable. I’m still pretty shaken and reading the stories people post on instagram is really helpful. The idea that something can just happen with no inciting cause is a realization I have to have every few years - that no matter what you plan or what precautions you put in place, no matter the effort you put in for PTSD OCD recovery or to remind yourself that life happens, it’s literally as simple as that: life happens. It’s not a journey or a road, it’s simply an ongoing experience and I feel like we just got bumped up to intermediate level and we were not prepared for it.

But maybe that’s all adulting really is, being unready for the advanced levels and knowing that it’s okay, taking your time, and facing them one at a time. Maybe that’s enough. That’s certainly what I’m trying to do right now!

Okay, that’s all. It’s been a dramatic 24 hours, I’m tired and have a headache and I’m scared. I just want the man I love to be okay and I want to literally fight the world to make that happen. But I can’t, because it’s a virus and it’s in him and all I can do is wait. I hate waiting. Also, he says I can’t fight him, because he’s already fighting the virus. I can just remind him to use the eyedrops, help him remember the meds, and keep taking care of myself and staying hopeful that he will be okay soon.

This is not the first time something like this has happened, and I would really just like this guy to stop maybe-almost dying. That’s really all. Dramatic imaginations aside, we think he’ll be okay, but all we can do is wait. Thanks for listening and I’d love to hear your stories so I can distract the ever-impending freak outs! <3

#holiday travel #story time #bell's palsy #stress #health #fitness #journaling #blogging #vulnerability #this just sucks #bells palsy #medical #healthcare #healthcare system

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usthegreat-blog · 4 years

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Chronotype - Find your chronotype and Improve Your Sleep & Energy

What is chronotype? There are four different chronotypes: Lion, Bear, Wolf, and Dolphin. Which one are you? So many books focus on what to do. Few of them consider the huge impact of when, which is what clinical psychologist Michael Breus has done, in his book titled The Power of When. In his many years of clinical practice and has specialized in sleep, he has found that people generally fall into four different categories of sleep patterns and biological rhythms called chronotypes. We all have biological clocks in our brains, a bundle of nerves called the Suprachiasmatic Nucleus, or SCN for short, located in the hypothalamus. Morning sunlight hitting your eyes activates the SCN. It can be thought of as a master clock, as it affects dozens of other biological clocks through-out the body. Examples of these are cortisol, adrenaline, core body temperature, melatonin, and blood pressure. People naturally have variations in these rhythms depending on their genetics. Specifically, the length of your PER3 gene determines your sleep drive. Sleep drive is how much sleep you need and your depth of sleep.

The first chronotype we'll be looking at is the

Dolphin chronotype. Dolphins make up 10% of the population. With a low sleep drive, they are essentially insomniacs. They struggle to fall asleep and stay asleep. They wake up feeling unrefreshed and are tired until late in the evening when they suddenly feel an increase in energy. Their daily cortisol rhythms are actually flipped compared to the other types. The same thing is true for blood pressure. Personality-wise they are generally anxious, neurotic, and irritable. But also highly intelligent. They show special attention to detail and perfectionism and are happiest when left alone to work by themselves rather than in groups. Lion chronotype. Lions make up 15 to 20 percent of the population. Their sleep drive is medium. They wake up early with a ton of energy, and they go back to bed early with little energy to spare. Optimistic overachievers, they are society's go-getters. Most CEOs and entrepreneurs are lions. Lions are health-conscious, eating well, and exercising regularly, and have high life satisfaction. They assume leadership roles in groups, despite tending to be introverts. They are usually less creative than others, and they can struggle with social events due to getting tired in the evening. Bear chronotype. At 50 percent of the population, most people are bears. With their high sleep drive, bears sleep deeply and rise with the sun, at which point they wake up in a haze. People with this chronotype Often hitting the snooze button, they wish they could stay in bed for longer. They are hungry upon waking, and often hungry in general. They strive to be healthy, but they don't always achieve this goal. Bears are team players and worker bees and are also friendly and easy to talk to. They generally have good people skills. Wolf chronotype. 15 to 20 percent of us are wolves. Their sleep drive is medium. Wolves naturally tend to wake up late with some serious morning grogginess and go to bed late at night after having an energetic evening. Usually not hungry at all in the morning, but hungry like, indeed, a wolf, after dark. They are creative, pessimistic, and moody. Although comfortable being alone, wolves are often extroverted and love a good party. Impulsive and open-minded, they are most likely to be addicts out of all the chronotypes. They are also the chronotype that is most out of sync with normal society and can be perceived and labeled as lazy because of it. These chronotypes make sense if you look at it from an evolutionary perspective. It made it so that regardless of the time of night, someone was probably awake and able to alert the tribe of imminent dangers. And if nobody happened to be awake, at least there were a few dolphins that would wake up at the slightest sound. Dolphins are Dr. Breus' most common client, since they are the ones that struggle most with sleep, and need the most advice. So for you dolphins out there, 6 hours of sleep is pretty much the best you are going to get, and you should be happy with that. Focus on increasing energy in the early hours to make better use of them, by following the tips that I will cover in just a moment, and decrease anxiety in the evening for a more restful night. You can do this with meditation, yoga, or going through and releasing your anxious thoughts. Avoid naps as it will make sleeping properly at night much harder. If tired, take a short active break, such as walking outside and getting some sunlight. The following is general advice and interesting information that applies to every type: Exercise spikes your cortisol and adrenaline, which are wakefulness hormones. This makes exercise a great choice to start off your day if you struggle with low energy in the morning. When it comes to lions, Dr. Breus recommends you wait until the evening to exercise, since your peak energy already is in the morning and if you exercise at that point it won’t add much energy to your day. Get some sunlight shortly after waking. This will activate your SCN and provide you with some vitamin D which also helps you sleep better at night. Aim for 5-15 minutes of sun, and expose your eyes to direct sunlight for at least a second. Drink a glass of room temperature water and eat your breakfast within one hour of waking, even wolves need breakfast. This, in combination with the sunlight, will synchronize your brain and gut clocks. Have a consistent wake and sleep time. In one study, exposure to bright light and consistent wake time was almost twice as effective as exercise in curing depression. If you stay up late at the weekend, it is highly recommended to still wake up at your regular waking time, to avoid what Dr. Breus dubs "Sunday night insomnia” and the resulting drowsiness and feeling like a zombie on Monday morning. Make your body wake up with a cold shower, which is another activity that triggers wakefulness hormones. A warm shower is more suitable for the evening, as it will cause sleepiness. Carbs trigger sleepiness by increasing the amount of serotonin in your brain. Avoid heavy carbs when you need energy, and instead, eat it for your last meal of the day to help you fall asleep. Lions should avoid heavy carbs with their dinner if they want to have more energy in the evening. Eat the majority of your calories in the first half of the day rather than the second. Researchers at Harvard found that skipping breakfast increased your risk of coronary heart disease by 27 percent, and men who ate late at night had a 55 percent higher risk. In a study where mice had either 24 hours per day access to food or restricted to 8 hours per day, with the exact same amount and type of food every day, the mice that had the 8 hours restricted feeding time stayed healthy, while the 24 hours fed mice became obese and diabetic. So in other words, avoid late-night snacking. Not only does it make you gain weight, but it also disrupts your sleep quality. Alcohol messes with your sleep and prevents you from entering proper REM sleep. Do not drink alcohol. Don’t drink coffee in the morning, but rather wait 3-4 hours until your cortisol drops. Have your last cup at 2 pm. Napping in the afternoon can deliver a huge performance boost. A study found that a 10-minute nap was optimal, and longer than 20 minutes actually impaired performance. This has to do with the sleep cycle and what stage you enter. If you go a full 90-minute sleep cycle then that can be very refreshing as well. Avoid blue light & screens for at least an hour before bedtime. Blue light specifically hinders the production of the sleep hormone melatonin. When we are wide awake and at our peak alert time, is when we are most capable of important analytical tasks. On the other hand, when we are tired and groggy, our creative and brainstorming abilities are amplified. Athletic running performance can be significantly impacted by your chronotype, a study found that people had up to 26% worse performance when running at their off-peak times. Most medications seem to be much more effective when taken during the evening or at night. Chemo drugs, for example, are found to be 7 times more effective at night than in the morning. Of course, check with your doctor before making any changes. Do not fight with your partner if you are underslept, it causes over-reactivity. When you get tired you get more irresponsible. which is why casinos don’t have windows or clocks in them, they want you to stay as late as possible. One last thing worth mentioning is the fact that our chronotypes can actually change over the course of our lives, and certain age groups are predominantly of one chronotype. Infants are wolves, toddlers tend to be lions, grade-schoolers are mostly bears, teenagers wolves, adults are mainly bears and seniors typically become either lions or dolphins. Although you won’t be the same chronotype your entire life, between ages 21 and 65 your chronotype will remain the same. If you didn’t recognize yourself as any of the chronotypes, you can go to thepowerofwhenquiz.com to take a short quiz created by the author of the book. Read the full article

#bearchronotype #bearchronotypeinfo #chronotypequestionnaire #chronotypetypes #dolphinchronotypeperfectday #dolphinchronotypereddit #whatarethe4chronotypes #wolfchronotypeinfo

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lordjohntheshow · 5 years

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John Grey and his boyfriend Stephan Namzten have a great life (and now three dogs) and are considering taking the next big step: marriage and children. Complications arise. This is a Modern AU set in 2019.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

VANITY FAIR, November 2017

A FAMILY AFFAIR

An excerpt from the actor’s forthcoming memoir WILD NIGHTS chronicling his early years growing up to his days as a struggling actor. In anticipation of the Royal Wedding enjoy his take on a wedding among Britain’s upper crust.

By: Percy Wainwright

Imagine my surprise when my stepfather George invited me to his third wedding, in London. He wanted me there with him as he took on his new life and invited me out for the “whole season”. I took one look around my tiny, non air conditioned studio apartment in the Valley and knew I had no other choice. Within 24 hours I was touching down in Heathrow. I wondered a little about why George invited me, but in a small way it made sense: he had no real family himself and didn’t want to feel left out. He let me have the use of his apartment- or “flat” as I learned to call it, having already moved in with his bride to be.

I then did what any self-respecting 22 year old with a large, empty apartment, an allowance, and too much free time would do. I went clubbing. That’s how I first met Kay*. It was sometime past midnight, and the DJ was trying out some experimental trance pop. I saw him before he saw me. He was small, but he didn’t have that obnoxious edge some short men get. Cute blonde hair a shade most boys grow out of. Muscular, but the white shirt and jeans he wore showed he didn’t really care about his appearance. He glided through the crowd, disappearing in the back room for a moment. I lost track of him until I saw him cut through the dance floor to leave. On a whim, I grabbed his hand and kissed it. He looked up at me and laughed, crinkling a pair of baby blues that would have made Paul Newman jealous. I pulled him to me, like he was water in the desert. The music was too loud to have a coherent conversation, but neither of us wanted one.

After three or so songs (who can really tell with electronica?) he was pressing me up against the wall outside the bathroom, kissing my lips, my neck, as if he wanted to swallow me whole. In fifteen or so minutes we were in my flat and I was flat on my back. When I woke up the next morning alone in that big bed, I actually laughed- I’m usually the one that leaves them high and dry.

I still went clubbing, but I didn’t see my blonde boy again. Four weeks before the wedding George invited me out to a dinner with the family. “They’re gentry, you know. You don’t have to bow or anything, but do you know the proper forms of address?” He’d asked me nervously, in the taxi on the way over. “Um.. milord and milady?” I’d said, trying to remember what I’d learned from my days of getting high and watching Downton Abbey. He sighed. “They’ll just think you’re an uncouth American, it will be fine.” He’d huffed in reply. It was cute, to see him so nervous to make a good impression.

How to describe the family. Everyone looked like one of those paparazzi pictures of the royal family on their time off: trying to look normal in jeans and a sweater but the outfit still cost 700 pounds. I suppose I’m not one to talk though, my style’s always been very Gucci via Goodwill.

My new stepmother’s flat also had that rich, lived in feel. There was a couch from 1972 next to what I’m fairly sure was a pair of original Chippendale settee chairs. Every flat surface or shelf was covered by books: leather bound ones in the library and slick, glossy ones in all of the real living areas. Yes, you read that right: this was an apartment. With a library.

We all sat down to drinks in the living room. I chose one of the Chippendales, of course. An actual butler took my drink order. Once everyone was arrayed and properly lubricated, the true conversation began. The son who was obviously serving as Head of the Family grilled me and George about our jobs, hobbies, acquaintances, and was probably about to start on what petty misdemeanors we’d committed when his wife patted his arm and started a real conversation instead of a background check. It was boring, but I was surprised to find I was enjoying myself. Mostly I was enjoying what I am dead certain were a pair of original Degas’ ballerina studies.

Nearly an hour in I was shocked out of my art appreciation when my own tiny dancer walked in. He was out of breath, dressed for work (a boring navy suit, so a professional of some type, I noted), and apologizing profusely, to his mother, his soon to be stepfather, his annoyed brother, and then his gaze fell on me. I’ll say this about him: I’d never want to play poker against him. There’s not a man alive better at controlling his face. For a moment I was certain he didn’t remember me (I mean, I was in a clean cut Oxford, not the neon green mesh tank he’d last seen me in.)

“Hello. You must be Percy. I’m Kay.” He said, warmly, holding out his hand for me to shake. The look he gave me, and only me, had so much heat I thought I was back in L.A.

He sat across from me when we moved to dinner, and chatted politely. I was annoyed to find someone so handsome was also smart, and funny, and kind, especially to his mother and my stepfather. Yet, when he raised his brows to me at the end of dinner- a challenge, and invitation- I was all mush.

The next four weeks went by quickly- too quickly. All the pomp and nonsense of what American hetero weddings have become pales in comparison to An English Society Wedding. There were morning suit fittings, tux fittings, and even normal suit fittings, to make sure I wouldn’t be looked at some poor American cousin. Forget a bridal shower at some swanky country club. There were at least three engagement parties, a trip to the Queen Anne Enclosure of the Royal Ascot (requiring another suit), and multiple days involving skiffs, yachts, polo ponies, and cricket. I was game: it was like being stuck in some specialty park at Disneyworld, and I love to learn the rules so I can break them. Here were a few I discovered:

-You can’t ask people where they go on vacation. You ask them where they summer, or winter, or, for the younger, sportier ones, where they ski.

-An American accent threw them, especially when I turned on the Southern drawl I usually kept safely packed away. If I wasn’t from Newport, or Vail, or New York, I was no one of importance.

-No one ever discussed money, but every conversation was about it: where children were going to school, what new homes or paintings were being purchased, who had just closed what deal.

-And unlike in L.A., where everyone bedecked themselves in the latest runway looks, here you often learned the richest people also had the oldest clothes. The Princess Royal attended one of these parties in a dress she’d had since 1983. I know the year because I asked her.

By the time the wedding rolled around, part of me was ready to go back to the plastic sheen and bounce of Los Angeles. Other parts of me, like my heart, wanted to stay in this weird world forever, because it’s where Kay was. If this world was a weird Disneyworld, than I was its Cinderella. I’d been scraping things together for so long, spent so many nights wondering where the money was going to come from, how I was going to eat, I cannot explain the relief of having that disappear. Of having someone ready to pick up the check like nothing- and unlike a lot of the men I’d slept with, not expecting a quid pro quo.

Kay and I spent a few weeks before we even had sex again- he was busy, and I was being pulled along to every wedding event anyone could possibly imagine. It’s the stolen moments I remember the most. The way his breath hitched when he saw me partially undressed during our tux fitting. How he always made sure I had what I wanted to drink, no matter the party we were at. When his hand brushed mine and we hooked our pinkies together, walking down this hallway or that. And the night we were finally together again: breathing our secrets together in the dark.

I told him I loved him. I didn’t actually say “I love you”, I’m not an idiot. I told him “I’ve never felt this close to someone,” and that “I’ve told you things… I’ve never told anyone before” and “I know this must sound strange.” He soaked it up, and looked at me, those blue eyes full of affection, rubbed my arm. “I care deeply for you, Percy. My heart… I think someone else has that. I can give you everything else.” He said it like he’d pried it out of himself… carefully and painfully.

I wish everything had been enough for me.

The summer swept along, and suddenly it was the day I’d come for all along: the wedding. It was held in a quaint village in a “small, country chapel” that sat the two hundred guests with ease. The interior looked like a florist’s shop the night before Mother’s Day. (Kay’s big brother had to take at least three puffs from his inhaler and everyone had to pretend they didn’t notice it happening.) All the women were arrayed in pastels, or florals, most looking ten years older than they actually were in the severe, pinned up styles the occasion demanded. One of the coach horses ate the fascinator Kay’s girl cousin had talked about incessantly over the summer. But seeing my stepfather trip over his words, bursting with happiness at his new life and new wife was truly one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. In short, it was a perfect family wedding.

And then it was over. They were off on their honeymoon, backpacking in East Asia as if they were 22 and not 62. I’d seen my stepfather off. I knew he would always be part of my life, but that I wasn’t meant to live in his. I finally understood why they call it a flat: that’s all I felt walking around that apartment.

I wanted Kay to say: “I love you. Move in with me. Marry me, when it’s finally legal.” He didn’t. He was still caring, and attentive, and sweet, but we never talked about love or a future. Maybe that’s why I invited the Swede back to the flat on the last night before I left. Why I forgot that Kay was coming over to cook me a farewell dinner. Why I didn’t lock the door.

Turns out, he’s not as good as a poker player as I’d thought. I saw it all. Shock, dismay, pain, but never the anger. He left, never saying a word.

It wasn’t until the next day, somewhere 10,000 feet above Chicago, my suitcase full of a bunch of fancy clothes I’d wear only to auditions that I realized he always got quiet when he was angry.

*names, dates, and details have been altered to protect the innocent

#writing percy is hilariously fun #outlander fanfiction #outlander rarepair #john/stephan #john/percy #lord john grey #outlander modern au #percy wainwright #percy beauchamp

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