#have you considered that there is more to them than meets the eye and you have to get to know them and see their story to find that
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“You ready, Lou?”
“Duh.”
“Cecil? You’ve got full faith in your cabin?”
“Yep.”
“What about you, Will? Were your threats successful?”
“My bribes went wonderfully, thank you.”
“Then I think we’re a go.”
“Gods, this is going to be great.”
———
Knockknockknock.
Nico locks in on his game. He is so, so close to finally making it through this stupid quest, he can feel it, and if he doesn’t beat The Imprisoned before Percy he’s going to set the camp on fire.
Knockknockknock.
“Just — hold on a second!” He spams B, cursing loudly to himself, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from holding this position for so long. “Fuck, fuck, come on.” He clenches his teeth, knuckles white against the Wii remote, until finally — the boss falls. He cheers.
Fuck yes. Take that, Percy.
Tossing the remote on his bed, he jogs over to the door, sliding open the three bolts and unlocking the chains. On his porch is a blur of movement, hair frizzy and pulled-on, shirt rumbled.
“Oh, hey, Annabeth.”
She barely acknowledges him, focusing intently on pacing back and forth on the stone porch at the speed of light. He settles against the door frame, stretching out his spine, watching her mutter to herself.
“Chiron is leaving,” she says.
Nico raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware.”
“With Mr. D. To some conference.”
“I heard.”
“He’s gone until early tomorrow evening.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He left me in charge.”
“Probably wise.”
“I need an allegiance, Nico.”
“Slow down and tell me what you mean, first.”
She sighs, coming to a stop in front of him. Her fingers still drum across her biceps, and her eyes dart around, evaluating. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip.
“Camp’s a lot of work,” she says finally. “I’ve never been in charge of so many people at once before, and like hell am I gonna let Chiron think I can’t handle it. I have a Plan, and you’re a part of it.”
Nico resists the urge to groan. Chiron leaving is supposed to mean he gets the next day or so off — no classes, no socializing, nothing. Just him in his cabin and the genuinely disgusting amount of junk food he has amassed.
(…And Will. Maybe.)
“It’s nothing crazy,” she promises. “I just need you to lurk.”
“…Lurk?”
“Yeah, you know. Chill in the shadows and scare people into complacency. You don’t even need to do much, just that thing where you stare at people like you know the exact day they’re going to die.”
“I do love lurking,” Nico admits. And to basically have a free pass to scare the shit out of whoever he wants… “I’ll do it.”
She smiles brightly. “Thanks, Nico! I knew I could count on you. I’ll meet up with you right after Chiron heads out, okay? To give you a list of people to keep your eye on.”
“Sure. Bye, Annabeth.”
“See ya!”
He closes the door and pads back to his setup, shaking the remote to get it going again. He can’t quite shake the smirk off his face.
The next twenty four hours are going to rock.
———
“Swiper No Swiping, initiate phase one.”
“Roger that, Sunny Dick.”
“…I’m revoking your code name priveledges.”
“No no no, I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”
———
Before Chiron leaves, he gathers them all in the amphitheatre.
“Children,” he calls, adjusting the bow slung across his back. “I am leaving now for my conference. I will be back before the sun sets tomorrow.” He gestures towards Annabeth, standing stiffly beside him. “Annabeth is in charge. Consider all my authority transferred to her before I return, am I understood?”
“Yes, Chiron,” courses the camp, some with significantly more attitude than others. Across the gathered crowd, Will catches his eye and winks. (Well, tries to. He has yet to catch on to the fact that he cannot, actually, wink, and instead just blinks really intentionally. Kayla and Austin have sworn him to secrecy.) Nico rolls his eyes, ears burning, and looks away.
“Good. Regular rules; no maiming, killing, or injuries above level seven. Any arson will result in a revoking of dessert privileges. Yes, Julia, even if you help in putting out the arson. It is the fire that is the issue, you understand. Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “I am looking forward to one day of peace. Try to avoid ruining it for me too quickly. Goodbye, children.”
With a wave and a fond squeeze of Annabeth’s shoulder, he trots over to Half-Blood Hill, ignoring Mr. D’s loud complaining about how long he took. With a snap of Mr. D’s fingers, they disappear. For a brief, uncanny moment, everything is still.
“Alright,” Annabeth shouts, clapping her hands together. Nico jumps. “Dinner is in an hour. Whoever is the first to fuck something up will be doing dishes. I will be watching. Dismissed.”
Wading through the swathes of ambling teenagers, she walks by where Nico is leaning against a pillar, half-hidden in the shadows.
“Lurk,” she orders, passing him.
Nico shoots her a mocking salute, fading into the shadow behind him. He barely catches her grin before he dissolves into the darkness.
———
“Phase two in effect. Ready to go, Sabrina Spellman?”
“Prepped to go, Teletubbies Sun Baby.”
“I hate both of you.”
———
“Halt!”
Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.
“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”
Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.
“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.
Annabeth stomps over to them, fists clenched at her sides, entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.
“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.
The three stooges exchange a look.
“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”
“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.
“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”
“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.
“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”
“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.
Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point. Idiots.
Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”
“Annabeth!” Will cries, hand to his chest, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”
“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”
Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.
“Tape off.”
Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.
“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”
With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name. Annabeth glares at the boxes with perhaps more disdain than the situation calls for.
Then again.
It is camp.
“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”
Like a hound dog locking in on a bleeding squirrel, Annabeth’s eyes narrow. Her lips spread into wide, frankly maniacal smirk.
“Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”
Caught.
“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.
“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”
“Do you three think I’m stupid.”
“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”
Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.
Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.
“Boo,” he whispers.
She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes.
“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.
On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.
“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”
“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”
Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.
Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.
Understanding dawns on her quickly.
“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”
They squirm harder.
“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”
“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”
“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”
“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.
“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”
Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”
“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you, how’s that for fun. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”
“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”
Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”
“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”
“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a wide grin and two middle fingers.
“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”
Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.
“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”
“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.
“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.
“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.
Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.
He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.
———
“Is he still looking?”
“No.”
“Okay, Phase Three, let’s go let’s go let’s go —”
———
Every time Nico wakes with the sun, he sets aside twenty minutes of his morning routine to curse Apollo, his father, Apollo again, Phanes, and Prometheus. In that order.
He does like the bonus of getting breakfast. Usually he sleeps through it and has to hope Will saved him coffee cake, which he does, every time, because he wants to bribe his way into Nico’s affections. But there is something to be said about camp coffee cake when it is still warm, crumbly on the top and soft on the inside. It is a rare and occasionally worth-it treat, and on his bleary walk to the dining pavilion, Nico tries to keep this in the forefront of his mind. Fresh coffee cake. Fresh coffee. Fresh fruit. And Will, probably, not that seeing him is worth getting up early or anything. (So what that he gets all excited and energetic when he sees Nico up in the morning. If anything it’s embarrassing for him.)
For once, he’s actually early enough that there are very few people already at breakfast. He sees most of the Athena kids, still half-asleep over their mugs, and pretty much every camper under the age of eleven. A few head counsellors, too, watching out for the little ones or catching up on a rare moment of quiet. Nico makes a beeline for the breakfast spread, cutting a slice of coffee cake to leave on the platter and putting the rest of it on his plate. He puts a single strawberry in the middle of it so no one can accuse him of being unhealthy, then ambles over to the Apollo table.
“Neeks? Where’re you going?”
Nico pauses. He shifts his plate to one hand, rubbing at his bleary eyes. He looks at the Apollo table. He counts one, two, three heads — Kayla, Austin, and…Cecil?
“Nico? You good, babes?”
He turns, slowly, to face the voice. Picking at a plate full of pineapple, next to Reika Onason, Lou Ellen's sister, is Will.
“I know mornings are hard for you, but you’re meant to eat at your table,” he teases. “Come sit, doofus. Unless you’re taking advantage of Chiron’s absence to make friends elsewhere, I guess, but it seems unlike you.”
“You’re — what’re you — what?“ Nico says dumbly, struggling to reconcile the imagine in front of him.
For some reason, Will is eating his breakfast at the Hecate table.
And that is not all.
For some reason, his camp shirt does not say head medic. For some reason, he is wearing black jeans. For some reason, dozens of Celestial bronze rings adorn his fingers, carved with sigils. For some reason, his hair is clipped back, and there is black eyeliner around his bright blue eyes, and his nails are painted darker than Nico’s, and he is sitting at the Hecate table.
“What are you doing?”
“Having…breakfast,” Will says slowly. His lips turn down in concern. “Nico, are you okay?”
“I’m fine! It’s — you’re the one acting weird!”
Will and Reika exchange a look.
“Maybe you should go see Cecil,” Will suggests carefully. “Did you sleep okay last night? Maybe you hit your head —”
Nico looks desperately back at the Apollo table. They watch him strangely now, too, and after a second Cecil gets up from his — Will’s — seat, and walks over.
“Everything okay?” he asks, impish expression almost serious. “You look pale, Nico.”
“I’m worried,” Will says. “He’s acting — confused, Cece, maybe there’s a —”
“I’m not confused,” Nico scowls. “You two are — doing something.” He gestures vaguely between them. “As revenge for yesterday.”
Will snorts. “What, the potatoes? Don’t let Lou hear you discredit her like that. If you think she’d plan some revenge prank on you this early, you don’t know her at all.”
Nico’s head starts to hurt. He sets down his plate, rubbing his temples. Why would Lou Ellen be so bothered by that? Why isn’t she here, with her sister? What the hell is going on?
“Both of you — cut it out. Whatever dumbass prank you’re pulling is just stupid.”
“Did I hear something about a prank?” Bounding over from the camp store, arms laden with contraband junk food, is Lou Ellen, smiling brightly. “Whatever it is, I want in!”
“Oh, thank the gods, you’re back.” Will makes grabby hands at the pile. She tosses him a pack of twizzlers off the top, rolling her eyes as he tears into like he didn’t just polish off two and a half entire pineapples and three bowls of oatmeal. “I was going through withdrawal.”
“I’m not helping you when your stomach cramps up,” Cecil promises, snorting. His eyes follow the candy ropes in their harried journey towards Will's gaping maw. “You can sit in your misery.”
“Bleh bleh bleh.”
Nico narrows his eyes at them. Clearly, they’re all in on this — bit, or whatever it is. It’s a little too coordinated to be a quickly-planned revenge prank. They must have had a backup to the potatoes, although a pretty weak one. Unless they somehow managed to bribe the entire camp into agreeing to act along with their dumbassery, and Nico knows none of them can come even close to affording that, then all it takes is one person on Nico’s side before their little ruse is broken.
“It’s too early for this,” Nico says, interrupting their bickering. He picks up his breakfast and trudges off to his actual table, ignoring Will’s pouting. He has to brush the dust off the bench, but it’s worth it to avoid whatever headache the three of them will inevitably give him.
Coffee cake, save him.
———
“It’s not looking good, Katara —”
“I actually like that one.”
“— he’s totally onto us.”
“Just stick to the plan. Power onto Phase Four.”
———
To Nico's great satisfaction, many other people do double takes as they walk into breakfast.
As the Athena table, minus Annabeth, who is likely putting out a literal or metaphorical fire somewhere, wakes up, they start to notice the strange seating situation. It starts with Malcolm, who stares at Cecil in a lab coat with the same expression Nico has seen him wear when attempting to solve the Hodge conjecture. He leans over to murmur something in his brother’s ear, and then all seven of them are looking between the Hecate, Apollo, and mostly-empty Hermes tables with suspicious frowns and furrowed brows.
Nico catches Will’s eye, smirking.
Game’s up, he mouths. Will only shrugs innocently at him.
It’s Annabeth who finally puts a stop to the nonsense, striding in at the tail end of the rest of the slowly-waking crowd. She has grass in her hair and murder in her eyes.
Excellent.
“I swear to the gods, I just dealt with you three,” she snaps, raising her voice so they all can hear her. Coincidentally, it attracts the attention of every other nosy person at camp, which is everybody. “Just ‘cause Chiron’s not here doesn’t mean the rules go out the window. Back to your tables, let’s move.”
“We’re at our tables,” Cecil protests. “Why do people keep saying that?”
Annabeth takes a very deep, very long breath. She has a whole day of this, too. How unfortunate for her.
“Maybe because you are full of shit, Markowitz. Go sit with the rest of you troublemakers.”
Kayla clears her throat. “Annabeth, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Her thin eyebrows are drawn tightly together, lips turned down into a frown. “Cecil is exactly where he’s supposed to be.”
That gives her pause.
That gives a lot of people pause. Nico sets down his coffee cake.
“Cecil’s at the Apollo table,” Annabeth says slowly.
Kayla meets her gaze, face creased in concern. “...Yeah, I know.”
“Cecil is a Hermes kid, Kayla.”
She snorts. “Yeah, sometimes I think so, too. But as much as I would absolutely love to trade my brother —”
“Hey!”
“He’s a healer, Annabeth. He got claimed and everything.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Annabeth says, dragging her hand down her face. “Kayla, I don’t know what they paid you —”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” With a clatter of plates, Will clambers on the table, clapping his hands. “Your attention please, everyone!”
Without so much as a pause, Will claps his hands together. Immediately, a ball of green light expands from them, flashing almost too bright to look at. Nico watches, slack jawed, as he tosses it into the air, making it explode into a thousand little sparkles, descending gently over everyone’s heads. The little kids laugh in delight, reaching for them like they’re bubbles.
“Does that settle things?” he demands.
Silence rings for one, two, three seconds.
The camp erupts.
Dozens of voices overlap, all shouting over each other at once. Hands gesture wildly at Will, at Cecil, at Lou — trying to piece things together. Will is their head medic — isn’t he? Then why is Cecil wearing scrubs? And why is Lou chilling at the Hermes’ table, chatting with Julia over a bowl of cereal? Something isn’t right.
“Just — everybody quiet!”
It takes a minute, but everyone settles down, sitting back in their seats and fidgeting, looking around with half-confused, half-amused smiles. Like they’re laughing at a joke they’re half convinced is real.
“Who thinks this —” Annabeth makes some vaguely indicative movement at Will, Lou, and Cecil — “is weird? Raise your hand.”
Almost all hands go up. Only a handful stay down — Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil, of course, but the entirety of the Hermes cabin stays oddly silent, as do Kayla, Austin, Reika, and, shockingly, Clovis.
“Stoll,” Nico demands before Annabeth gets the chance, “you’re buying this?”
“Buying what?” Connor says after a moment. He shrugs, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m just chillin’ with my sister, Nico. Cecil is great, but he hasn’t been in our cabin since he got claimed.”
The rest of the Hermes kids nod in agreement. Whispers filter through the tables — first Kayla, now all the Hermes kids?
“If I may,” interjects Clovis, yawning. “There’s an…energy, around.”
“Gods, yeah, I was feeling it too,” Will agrees frantically. “Almost a…blanket, of some kind. Something heavy and stifling.”
Malcolm looks over with interest. “You think we got cursed, or something? The whole camp?”
Will shrugs. “Maybe? Can’t think of any other reason you guys are remembering things weird.”
“It could be a god’s interference,” Nyssa suggests, raising her voice to be heard from the Hephaestus table. “I mean, that’s what happened to Jason and Leo and Piper, right? Their memories got fudged.”
“Yeah, but camp-wide…”
“Could still be possible.”
“There’s no way! They’re fucking with us, come on —”
It doesn’t take long for the arguing to start up again. This time, though, more people looked spooked — more people look to the dumbass trio themselves, eyes wide like they’re looking at ghosts.
Like they’re believing this shit.
Nico scowls, shoving away from his table and stomping over to his boyfriend.
“You are so full of shit I can smell you from across the room,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He wiggles his fingers in Nico’s direction. They spark with the same green light. “Want me to switch your eyes and ears again?”
That sounds horrifying. “Try it and die.”
“Alright, grouchy.” He holds his hands up, stepping back from Nico’s glare. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
Alarm bells go off in Nico’s head. This is more than just strange, it’s wrong. And not just ‘cause he looks different — so what if he looks different. Will could shave his head bald and tattoo himself purple, Nico wouldn’t care.
But his aura.
The essence of Will, that Nico has grown so used to be stopped noticing. The quiet, warmth strength, the feeling of a soft breeze in the summer, of walking past a window in the late afternoon, of smokey August campfires and scratchy guitar, is gone. Is different, rather; almost blocked. It feels like a cloud blowing over the sun, making everything warped and off and shadowy.
Something is afoot. Something is wrong, and not just some vague, made-up spell like the Trickster Trio would have the camp believe. Something like smoke and mirrors, something shadier.
He watches Will fall into step next to Cecil, ducking away from his ruffling hand. He frowns.
If there’s one thing Nico can do, it’s wade through the shadows.
———
next
#can anyone guess what these dumb ass mother fuckers did.#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#will solace#nico di angelo & will solace#solangelo#established solangelo#will solace & cecil markowitz & lou ellen blackstone#annabeth chase#nico di angelo & annabeth chase#my writing#fic#longpost
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The Alchemy
AU where Harry is the star quarterback at his college and y/n is an English major.
Based very loosely off The Alchemy by Taylor Swift
CW: Smut
Word Count: 6,871
Leaving my family to go to University was a bittersweet decision. My heart tugged at the thought of being away from them, but my passion for mastering the art of English pulled me towards my dream. My family had always been my biggest supporters and I wanted to make them proud by becoming an English professor. This meant leaving behind my comfortable life in a small suburban town in Florida to study abroad at one of the most prestigious universities. The campus was nestled in the very heart of where literary greats had once roamed and created their masterpieces. It was as if the walls exuded inspiration and creativity, urging me to chase after my dreams with even more fervor. Though I missed my family dearly, I knew that this journey would lead me to become the best version of myself and honor their unwavering support and love.
It was a whirlwind of experiences as I made my way through the unfamiliar streets. The currency conversion was a constant challenge, with every transaction feeling like a game of guesswork. And then there was the driving - on the opposite side of the road no less - which required all of my concentration to avoid any mishaps. But perhaps most daunting of all was the non-stop partying at pubs, a culture shock for someone like me who had grown up in a small town in America.
Thankfully, I was able to find a flat that was within walking distance from the school, and even luckier to have another American girl as my roommate. Mia was a sweet, bubbly girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas, embracing every aspect of British culture including the pub scene and the charming local lads.
Living with Mia meant constantly having people over, and it seemed like every night brought new faces into our home. I didn't mind too much, mostly enjoying the lively atmosphere and meeting new people. However, there were definitely some moments that tested my patience, like when one of Mia's friends named Arthur ended up getting sick and leaving his mark in our kitchen. Despite these occasional hiccups, I was grateful for this experience abroad and all the unique encounters it brought my way.
Though Mia's social butterfly nature could be trying at times, I appreciated her warm companionship in this foreign place. It was on one such night, after we had cleaned up the remnants of Arthur's ill-fated escapades, that we found ourselves cozied up with mugs of tea and watching the rain patter against the windows.
Mia was unusually pensive as she stared out into the drizzly Manchester night. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the wrong dreams. My parents wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, something stereotypically successful, but I just wanted adventure. Now here I am, living it up in England, but it all feels...empty, like I'm still searching for meaning."
I nodded thoughtfully, sensing the vulnerability in her words. Though Mia put on a bubbly facade, there was more depth to her than met the eye.
"I think the great thing about being here is that we have time to figure it all out," I offered gently. "We're writing our own stories, not just following someone else's script."
Mia smiled, some of the spark returning to her eyes. "You're right. That's exactly why I love being here with you."
As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Mia and I sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Mia turned to me with a curious expression.
"Do you ever have doubts about your dreams, too?" Mia asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.
I considered her question for a moment before responding, "All the time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right path or if I'm just going through the motions."
Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of uncertainty. "It's scary, isn't it? The idea that we might wake up one day and realize we've been chasing a dream all along."
I placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder. "It is scary, but it's also part of the journey. We're allowed to question and evolve along the way."
She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting back to the rain-splattered window. "I guess that's what makes life interesting, right? The uncertainty of it all."
Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Mia got up to answer it, revealing a group of our friends who had decided to brave the rainy night for an impromptu gathering.
"Come in, come in!" Mia exclaimed cheerfully, ushering everyone inside. The room quickly filled with laughter and chatter as our friends settled in.
As I looked around the group, my eyes landed on a few familiar faces who have crossed paths with me several times before. Among them was Arthur, a friendly face that always brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. As everyone piled into the room, my gaze wandered to him - Harry Styles, the renowned quarterback of our school's football team. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at being in the presence of such a well-known athlete. When I first arrived from the United States, I had assumed the term "football" referred to what we call soccer back home. But as I soon discovered, American Football was just as beloved and popular in the UK.
Harry noticed me looking his way and met my gaze. There was an intensity in his green eyes that made me quickly avert my own, focusing instead on my friend Grace who was animatedly sharing a story next to me.
I tried to tune into her words, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome footballer across the room. By all accounts, Harry was cocky, brash, and a bit of a player. And yet, I couldn't deny there was something magnetic about him. He carried himself with a self-assured swagger, his athletic frame filling out his clothes in a way that betrayed his strength.
I scolded myself internally. Just because he's nice to look at doesn't change the fact that he seems like an arrogant jock. Still, when our eyes met again, I felt a flutter in my stomach I couldn't ignore.
Harry said something to his friend that made the group erupt into laughter. He flashed a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I quickly looked away once more, but the image of his smile lingered in my mind.
Get it together, I told myself sternly. Harry is off-limits. With his reputation, getting involved would only lead to trouble. I turned my focus back to Grace, pushing all thoughts of Harry's eyes, smile and broad shoulders out of my head.
For the rest of the night, I avoided looking in Harry's direction, though I could feel his gaze on me periodically as the hours wore on. By the time people started trickling out, I felt certain I had avoided any direct interaction with the dashing footballer.
That is, until I went to lock the door behind the last guest and found him standing there. He flashed that crooked smile again as he leaned against the door frame. "See you around, Y/N," he said, holding my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the night. I stood frozen, my heart racing as I replayed those five simple words in my head.
As I stood there in shock at Harry's unexpected presence, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. His parting words echoed in my mind, leaving me slightly breathless and unsure of what to make of the situation. Gathering my composure, I locked the door behind him and turned to find Mia watching me with a knowing smile.
"Looks like someone caught your eye, Y/N," Mia teased, nudging me playfully. "Harry Styles, huh? Quite the charmer."
I flushed slightly at her comment, trying to brush off any implications. "Oh, come on, Mia. It's not like that," I deflected, hoping to downplay the significance of the moment.
But Mia wasn't convinced. "Sure, sure," she replied with a wink. "Just remember, not all that glitters is gold."
Her words lingered in my mind as I bid her goodnight and retreated to my room. Sitting on my bed, I couldn't shake off the image of Harry's smile or the way he had looked at me in that brief moment by the door. The conflicting thoughts swirled in my head, leaving me restless and contemplative.
The following day at school, as I made my way through the bustling halls, I noticed a familiar figure leaning against the lockers up ahead. It was Harry, his usual confident demeanor on full display as he chatted with his friends. As our eyes met briefly, he flashed a grin in my direction before turning back to his conversation.
Feeling a surge of boldness, I approached him tentatively. "Hey, Harry," I greeted him, trying to keep my tone casual despite the flutter in my stomach.
"Hey there, Y/N," he responded with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Didn't think you'd show up here again so soon."
I felt my cheeks flush at his words. Clearly he was referring to my abrupt exit last night after our brief encounter at the door. I scrambled to think of a clever response.
"Well, we do go to the same school," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice light despite the nerves I felt.
Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regarded me with amusement.
"True enough," he conceded. "But I got the sense you were trying to avoid me last night. Did I make you nervous?"
His bluntness took me aback. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Harry's eyes danced with mirth at my flustered state.
"Cat got your tongue?" He teased.
I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. "You wish," I retorted, hoping the bravado in my voice sounded more convincing than I felt.
Harry laughed, a rich warm sound that made my knees weak. Our eyes locked and in that moment, it was like the noisy hallway melted away and there was only the two of us.
"Feisty. I like it," he murmured. Before I could respond, the warning bell rang, snapping us both back to reality.
"See you around, Y/N," Harry said with a wink before disappearing into the swarm of students heading to class.
My body froze in place, heart thudding against my ribs as I gazed at the infamous Harry. He exuded an undeniable air of trouble, and yet, as our charged banter replayed in my mind, I couldn't deny the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With a determined stride, I made my way to class, refusing to let this boy be the cause of my tardiness.
I took a seat in my Studies of Shakespeare class, the one subject I truly loved. The works of William Shakespeare never failed to captivate me, and if you could understand the Elizabethan lingo, his witty humor shone through brilliantly. Unfortunately, this particular teacher seemed to have a talent for draining all the life and humor out of these masterpieces.
I tried to focus as the professor droned on about the themes in Romeo and Juliet, but my mind kept wandering back to my encounter with Harry. Something about our charged banter had awakened feelings in me that I didn't quite understand.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a folded piece of paper land on my desk as if taken out of a scene from a movie. I looked around furtively before opening it. In an unfamiliar scrawling handwriting it read:
"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." - H
I felt a thrill run through me and quickly tucked the note into my bag before the professor could notice. So Harry was in this class too? I scanned the room subtly until I spotted him a few rows behind me. He caught my eye and gave me a roguish wink.
I turned back to the front, trying to ignore the simmering exhilaration I felt. Over the next few days, the notes kept coming during Shakespeare class, each with a quote or two from the Bard himself. They were usually cheeky and flirtatious, hinting at some blossoming rapport between us.
I found myself anticipating each one, my heart skipping a beat when I would spot a new folded note on my desk. Our eyes would meet across the room, a hidden smile just between us.
After class one day, as I gathered my things, I sensed Harry approach my desk. "So when's our study session?" he asked nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something more in his eyes. I hesitated, knowing I should keep my distance, yet unable to deny I was intrigued.
I nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I don't know... I've heard you're not the most dedicated studier," I teased, giving him a playful smile.
Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I may not look like it, but I'm quite the Shakespeare aficionado," he replied with a grin.
I raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we could arrange a study session... if you can prove your expertise," I challenged, a hint of challenge in my tone.
His grin widened, accepting the challenge. "Consider it done. How about we meet at the library tomorrow after school?" Harry suggested, his gaze unwavering.
I hesitated for a moment, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. "Alright, it's a date then," I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Harry flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the bustling hallway. My heart raced with both nervousness and exhilaration as I packed up my belongings, eager for our upcoming study session.
The following day at the library, I found myself anxiously scanning the room for Harry. My pulse quickened when I spotted him sitting at a table in the corner, a stack of Shakespearean plays spread out in front of him.
I made my way over to him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside me. "Ready to impress me with your Shakespeare knowledge?" I asked with a teasing smile as I took a seat across from him.
Harry flashed me a charming grin. "Just watch and learn," he said confidently, picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipping to a random page.
As he began to recite lines from the play with passion and flair, I couldn't help but be captivated by his enthusiasm. His eyes lit up as he delved into each line, bringing the centuries-old words to life in a way that was both mesmerizing and captivating.
By the time our study session ended, I found myself completely enthralled by Harry's interpretation of Shakespeare's works. As we gathered our things to leave, he turned to me with a twinkle in his eye, he knew a lot more about the works than he let on to.
Harry turned to me, “So now that I’ve shown you i’m smart, I know Shakespeare, when are you coming to one of my games?” he asked confidently.
I was taken aback by his forward invitation. Attending one of his football games felt intimate in a way that made me nervous.
"Oh, um, I don't know..." I fumbled over my words, suddenly feeling shy.
Harry tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even give you a personal tour of the field afterwards," he joked.
I bit my lip, considering it. There was no denying I felt drawn to him, despite trying to keep my distance. And the thought of seeing him command the field sent a little thrill through me.
"Alright, I suppose I could stop by," I finally conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously.
Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant! Our next game is on Friday. I'll leave a ticket for you at will call," he said eagerly.
I nodded, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then," I replied softly.
Harry gave me a dazzling smile and I felt my knees go weak.
Friday night arrived and I found myself filled with nervous excitement as I made my way to the football stadium. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to come watch Harry play. As I approached the ticket booth, I gave my name and they handed me the ticket Harry had left for me.
I found my seat in the packed bleachers and waited anxiously for the game to start. When the players rushed onto the field, I immediately spotted Harry's mop of curly hair. He looked focused and determined as he took his position on the field.
As the game began, I was immediately drawn in by Harry's commanding presence on the field. His movements were fluid and precise, each pass and dodge executed with passion and skill. With each successful play, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, mirroring my own excitement. It was impossible not to join in, jumping to my feet and cheering for Harry along with everyone else.
At halftime, Harry made his way over to the sidelines, sweat glistening on his forehead and tattooed arms, his chest heaving from exertion. As he scanned the crowd for familiar faces, his eyes locked onto mine and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved enthusiastically, causing my cheeks to flush as I shyly waved back in return.
In the second half of the game, Harry's presence seemed to radiate even more brightly. With each touchdown he scored, his fists pumped triumphantly in the air. The crowd roared and cheered as he ripped off his helmet and hoisted it victoriously above his head, his teammates swarming around him in celebration.
As the stadium emptied out, I stayed behind with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see Harry once again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the locker room, his hair still damp from his post-game shower but his eyes shining with joy.
"So, what did you think?" he asked eagerly as he approached me.
"You were truly spectacular out there," I gushed earnestly. A wide grin stretched across Harry's face.
"Come on, let me give you that promised tour," he said playfully, offering me his arm. Laughing, I happily took it and followed him onto the empty field, my heart racing with excitement and admiration for the amazing athlete by my side.
Harry led me onto the empty stadium field, the night air crisp and cool against our skin. He pointed out spots on the grass where pivotal plays had happened, describing them with a passion that revealed his deep love for the game.
I found myself enthralled, leaning into him as we walked, his arm solid and warm beneath my hand. When we reached the middle of the field, he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, searching my face in the dim glow of the stadium lights.
"You know, I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight," he admitted quietly.
I tilted my head. "Why's that?"
He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "You never seemed to like me much before. I figured I wasn't your type."
Heat rose to my cheeks. He wasn't wrong - I'd unfairly judged him as arrogant and cocky. But tonight had shattered those assumptions.
"I guess I realized there's more to you than meets the eye," I said softly.
Harry's smile widened. He lifted his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught at his touch. Slowly, he leaned in. I let my eyes fall shut in anticipation...
But suddenly, the stadium lights flickered off, plunging us into darkness. We jumped apart in surprise.
Harry laughed. "Guess that's our cue to head out."
He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and led me towards the parking lot. I walked close beside him, hyper-aware of his palm pressed against mine.
As he towered over me, Harry's eyes scanned the street, searching for a car. "Where did you park?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.
I shifted nervously on my feet, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Uh. I didn't drive. I just live around the street," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The thought of navigating English roads was terrifying to me.
A warm chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he looked back down at me. "I can drive you home, love," he offered, extending a hand towards me. His scent wafted towards me - a mix of cologne and something woodsy - and I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at his closeness.
As Harry and I walked towards his car, our hands still entwined, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation build within me. "So, tell me more about this amazing game-winning touchdown," I teased, trying to break the silence that had fallen between us.
Harry laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at me sideways. "Oh, you mean the one where I body-slammed the other team's runner into oblivion?" He pretended to flex his muscles playfully. "That was pretty epic, if I do say so myself."
I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're such a show-off," I said with a grin. "I bet you were the star of the school playground too."
Harry snorted. "Hardly. I was more of a loner growing up. Spent most of my time with my nose buried in books."
"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And here I thought all jocks were brain-dead."
He laughed again, his laughter echoing through the empty streets as we walked towards his car. When we finally reached it, Harry unlocked the door and gestured for me to get inside. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly he filled the driver's seat - broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs. The image of him all sweaty and wet from a shower flashed through my mind, making my cheeks heat up again.
"So," Harry began as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "tell me more about yourself."
I felt myself blush even harder at his directness but decided to play along. "Well," I said slowly, thinking quickly. "I'm a huge bookworm too - Harry Potter is probably my favorite series ever."
Harry chuckled softly as he glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I can see why you fit right in here in England then."
We drove through the quiet streets in companionable silence for a while before Harry spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to act all tough around me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road as he slowed down at a stoplight.
I turned to face him fully now, surprised by his words. "I wasn't trying to be tough," I said defensively. "I just didn't want you to think that... well, never mind what I didn't want you to think," I muttered under my breath.
Harry's face softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear once again - a gesture that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car interior. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly as he took my hand in his once more and squeezed gently before letting go when the light turned green again.
The rest of our drive was filled with more easy conversation punctuated by moments of awkward silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing and occasional traffic noises outside. When we finally pulled up outside my house I found myself hesitating before opening the car door knowing that this was goodbye.
Under the dim glow of the street lamp, I tentatively turned to face Harry. "Thanks for...for tonight," I stammered out, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.
His emerald eyes twinkled mysteriously as he simply nodded and began unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes never left mine, setting off a simmering warmth between us that was hard to ignore.
"I should probably walk you to your door," he said softly, accentuating each word with an inexplicably seductive lilt. My heart pounded in my chest as we exited the car and made our way towards my apartment.
Once at the front door, we stood facing each other in silence, the air around us thick with unspoken words and desires. I felt his strong fingers gently cradle my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity of this simple touch sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling heat in places I hadn't even known existed.
"Can I come inside?" His voice was barely a whisper but it echoed loudly in my ears.
My mind screamed caution but my body had other plans. “Yes,” I breathed out, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.
Inside, Harry's lips found mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His tongue teased against mine, creating a warm and delicious friction that sent shivers down my legs. As he pressed his hips against me, I could feel the unmistakable hardness growing between us. Our hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring new territory and seeking pleasure through every touch.
Harry's fingers made their way to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips and letting it fall to the ground. He lifted me up onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading my legs slightly as he stood between them. The feel of his fingers brushing against my inner thigh caused me to gasp and arch my back in anticipation.
Harry pulled back abruptly,“I’m sorry,” He started, “that was really inappropriate.”
As Harry apologized, his eyes were drawn to the hint of my arousal peeking out from between my legs. His hesitation vanished as his fingers brushed against my wetness once more, this time without pulling away. He groaned in approval and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine once more. I craved him in the worst ways.
Our tongues tangled as he pushed me back onto the table, spreading my legs further apart. His hands found their way under my shirt, skimming over my stomach before lifting it up, exposing my bra-clad breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent and trailing his fingers lightly across one tight nipple.
"Harry," I moaned, cavinginto his touch. "Please don't stop."
He smirked wickedly down at me before pulling back slightly. In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside carelessly. Grabbing hold of both sides of my bra, he pulled it down too with such force that my breasts were freed from their confinement.
I gasped at the sudden rush of air hitting my sensitive nipples but before I could catch my breath, he took one of them into his mouth sucking hard while pinching the other between two fingers, teasing it mercilessly.
"Fuck," I whimpered, clawing at the table underneath me as pleasure coursed through me like lightning. The intense mix of pain and pleasure sent waves of desire crashing over me as I felt myself becoming wetter with every passing second.
Sliding one hand down towards his pants, I slowly undid the button and zipper before slipping my hand inside his boxers to grip him firmly around his growing erection. He groaned into my breast at the contact sending shivers down my spine.
"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against my skin leaving a trail of saliva along my collarbone as he ran his tongue upwards caressingly .
"Yes," I breathed out between parted lips unable to form complete words due to the intensity of emotions running through me.
My heart raced as his erection throbbed in my hand. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, mixed with the desire that seemed to emanate from him. His other hand slid down my back, over my ass cheeks, and gripped them roughly, pulling me closer against his hardness.
"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? You and your little shy good girl act" he growled into my neck, nipping at the skin there softly. With one swift movement, he lifted me up onto the countertop, pushing my legs apart with his hips. His mouth trailed kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and on my breasts.
I arched my back slightly offering myself to him more fully as he took a hungry mouthful of one of my nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while pinching the other between his fingers causing a sharp intake of breath from me which made him smile devilishly before moving on to devour the other one.
My body trembled with anticipation as he bit my neck playfully, his rough hands sliding over my hips and ass cheeks before pulling me against him. His cock twitched against my wet core, making me whimper in want. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."
"Harry," I moaned, my voice reduced to a desperate whimper as he continued teasing me with his words and touches. "Please..."
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasional moan. I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my body responding eagerly to his movements. His hands were everywhere, tracing over my curves and gripping me tightly as he pounded into me.
My own hands were roaming his back, digging into his flesh as I tried to hold on to something amidst the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through me. Every inch of my body felt on fire, and I couldn't get enough.
"Fuck," he grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so good."
I whimpered in response, unable to form any coherent words as he continued to move inside me relentlessly. My whole world had narrowed down to this moment – his body against mine, the sound of our bodies coming together in a perfect rhythm.
My mind was blissfully blank as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. I could feel my climax building up within me, like a fire threatening to consume me whole.
And then it hit me like a tidal wave – intense and all-consuming. My back arched off the counter as I cried out his name, my body trembling with pleasure as every nerve ending exploded with ecstasy.
He followed soon after, letting out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside me. We stayed still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and bask in the aftermath of our passion.
But eventually reality came crashing back around us. Panic started creeping up inside me as I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of what had just happened.
As I lay there, my heart still pounding in my chest, he gently pulled out of me and straightened up. His eyes, dark with desire just moments ago, now softened with a mixture of tenderness and regret.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our heavy breathing. "I shouldn't have let things go this far."
I sat up slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me – confusion, guilt, and a lingering sense of pleasure that refused to dissipate.
"It's not just your fault," I murmured, avoiding his gaze as I tried to gather my clothes around me. "I wanted this too."
He reached out a hand to touch my arm, but hesitated before making contact.
"We should talk about this," he said finally, his tone serious. "About what it means for us."
I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settling between us. What had started as a moment of passion had now morphed into something more complicated, something that demanded attention and discussion.
As we dressed in silence, the air in the room felt charged with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The intensity of our physical connection lingered like a ghost between us, refusing to be ignored.
We began to gather our clothes from around the room, now tainted with the evidence of our reckless choices. Harry buried his face into his shirt before pulling it on, perhaps ruminating on what just occurred, or maybe trying to drown out the reality with the lingering scent of his cologne.
"Y/n," he started after a long silence, pulling his trousers up. His voice sounded strained, an indication that he was struggling with the right choice of words. "I... I didn't mean for this to... I mean, I like spending time with you." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face between his large palms.
I remained silent as I fastened my bra. The finality in his voice was suffocating, making it harder for me to breathe with each passing moment. I felt my heart thumping loudly in my chest – a crude reminder of the complication we had willingly dived into.
"I like you, Y/N," he said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air between us, hovering like a dense fog, obscuring any clarity that might lie beyond.
I stopped fumbling with my blouse, my fingers stilled by his confession. "Harry," I began, my voice barely audible. Fear clung to me, making my words tremble.
"I know," he cut me off before I could finish what I started. "I know we're both in different places... Me with football and you with your studies." There was a tingling silence after his statement, as if he was waiting for me to confirm or deny his declaration.
I sighed heavily, tugging at the hem of my blouse, feeling the cool fabric against my still heated skin. "It's not that simple Harry," I admitted, blinking back tears that had started to sting my eyes. "This," I motioned around the room, encompassing our discarded underwear strewn haphazardly around the room - a silent testament to the passion that had just consumed us, "this complicates things."
He ran his hand through his tousled hair and nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied, a hint of resignation etching lines onto his face. His gaze was heavy with something akin to regret as it met mine.
My breath hitched in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I wanted desperately to reach out and ease the burden that seemed to weigh heavily on him. But reality was an insidious shadow that lurked in our midst, reminding us of the impracticality of our desires.
"I think it's better if we keep our distance for now," Harry broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. His words were like cold water dousing the fire that our bodies had kindled only moments ago.
A feeling of sudden emptiness clawed at me. His words, though probably said in goodwill, felt like a punch to my gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.
I nodded, unable to bring myself to utter a word. He stepped towards me and for a moment I thought he would pull me into his arms one last time. But he merely extended a hand that I shook lightly, the gesture felt impersonal after the intimacy we had just shared.
Without another word, he turned and left the room. I stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of his departing footsteps echoing in my ears long after he was gone.
Mia came home later that night, oblivious to the charged atmosphere that still lingered, suffocating and heavy in the air. Her chatter about an extra credit assignment she’d completed was a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped the room just hours ago.
“Y/N, are you okay?” she asked suddenly, noticing my distant gaze. I gave her a weak smile in response before excusing myself to bed.
As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Harry's words echoed through my mind. "I think it's better if we keep our distance for now." His voice was etched into my memory, roughened by regret and something else I couldn't quite place. His face bore an expression that told me this was as hard for him as it was for me.
The next day was a blur. My classes seemed trivial compared to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My interactions with others were mechanical and flat as if I was watching myself from outside my body.
Football practice was going on when I walked past the field on my way back from the campus library. My eyes instinctively sought out Harry among the sea of players. I found him focused on his game, every muscle in his body straining as he kicked the ball towards the goalpost.
His world seemed unchanged—still revolving around football—while mine felt like it had been knocked off its axis.
The following weeks were no easier. Everywhere I went, I could feel his presence like a phantom pain - a dull ache that refused to fade away. In every conversation, every song playing in the background, every corner of campus - Harry was there.
I knew we had made a rational decision, given our circumstances. But my heart couldn't comprehend what my mind had already accepted.
Months passed and winter set in, blanketing Manchester in white. Serene and beautiful yet so melancholy it mirrored my mood perfectly. The once familiar campus looked different under the soft glow of the snow as if to mirror the change that had occurred in my life.
One evening, as I was walking back from the library, I spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, bundled up in a thick coat, his breath misting in the frigid air. His eyes were trained on the football field, currently blanketed by snow, and his hands were tucked into his pockets, his usual energy replaced by a pensive quietness.
I hesitated, weighing my options. We hadn't spoken since that night – the night when our worlds collided and then abruptly fell apart. But something drew me towards him – an inexplicable magnetism I had been fighting for so long.
Stepping tentatively closer, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. "Harry," I said softly, trying not to startle him.
He looked up at the sound of my voice, surprise flickering across his features before they settled into guarded neutrality. "Y/N," he responded with a curt nod, but made no move to invite me to sit.
Taking a leap of faith, I lowered myself onto the bench next to him, maintaining some distance while also bracing for the icy cold through my jeans. For several minutes we sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the snowy field.
"I've missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He turned toward me then, his emerald eyes soft and searching as they met mine. His lips opened as if to say something but closed again as if reconsidering his words.
"Y/N..." His voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued. "I’ve missed you too."
Relief washed over me at his confession but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sadness as I realized that missing each other wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us. Our realities were still the same - he was still the star football player with ambitions bigger than Manchester itself and I was still an English major trying to carve out a place for myself in academia.
“Do you ever think about…?” I started, swallowing hard as I tried to voice the question that had been eating at me.
“Us?” He completed my sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was heavy but he held it steady, openly showing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden beneath his star athlete facade. “All the time.”
The honesty in his confession hit me harder than I expected. We were both stuck in our respective worlds, looking at each other from afar but never truly reaching out.
I took a deep breath, feeling the biting winter air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. “We can’t keep doing this, Harry,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.
He looked at me then, his gaze filled with understanding and something else I couldn't quite place. “I know,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.
The future was uncertain and full of challenges. But if there was one thing I had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that some chances are worth taking. No matter how daunting they may seem.
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Springtime Fushiguros♪
Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.
Summer daze :- cozy afternoon naps and picnic with gojo and the fushiguros
You cleared away the empty cans into a plastic bag, putting them aside, then closing the lid of the emptied bentos, you prepared this morning.
Gojo streched himself on the blanket, he spread earlier, looking much chirpy and vibrant.
Last few days has been really hectic for Gojo. The higher ups are really driving him up the wall, building up his hatred even more. You didn't want him to get stressed because of those shitty people, thus you recommend to spend this holiday in mizumoto park having a picnic day.
You woke up early today, making different items, including a lot of foods that has a slight sweet hint to it, not forgetting to carry extra candies for him. You also made Megumi and Tsumiki's favourite foods so no one's left out. You are not that of a picky eater, so all these items were enough to please you.
'Hey, that was mine!!' Megumi whines as gojo picks a candy that was particularly reserved for Megumi.
'So what? I paid for it.' Gojo flicks an eyebrow at him, scoffing in superiority.
'That doesn't counts, give it back to me!'
'well, I've already popped it into my mouth. It has my saliva over it....still want it back?'
'Y/n-san!!' Megumi calls for you, 'oh come on 'toru! Teasing Megumi is not considered to be a part time hobby.'
Gojo straightens up, flicking his sunglasses with a swift movement. 'call me that again?'
You couldn't reciprocate for a moment that seemed long. 'um....'toru..?'
He looked at you for a while, intently and steadily, then layed down with a soft chuckle. You couldn't process his response, maybe he found the nickname silly? Ahh I shouldn't have called him that. You smacked yourself mentally.
You were about to explain yourself that it was not something cheesy you made up with and just an involuntary action, when—
'megumi-chan you can have mine.' Tsumiki being the kind hearted angel she is, offers her candy to Megumi.
'Its fine 'miki, you have that, I've got some more of those for you guys. Here.' You hand out the candies to the kids. 'we will leave before evening, wanna have a nap till then?'
'yes!' chirps tsumiki, 'lay down then.' you shift your body weight, lying on the right side while your upper arm supports your head, using the left hand to patt the area beside you, indicating the kids to lay down.
Megumi was going to take the spot beside you, but gojo pulls him beside him instead. Megumi groans, trying to squirm to get out of gojo's grip and run to you. Unfortunately, he isn't strong enough to do that. You laugh a bit, as Tsumiki lays beside you.
Warm rays of sunlight pools over, through the crown shyness, slow breezes cause the branches of the trees, above you guys dance loftily. The sound of the birds, insects and the scent of soil forged a serene environment.
Gojo was fondled megumi's hair, while he slowly drifted in his dreamy slumber. Tsumiki was fast asleep too.
'what was that before?' you said softly keeping your voice low, not to wake the kids up.
'hm?'
'why did you make me repeat—'
'Cuz, i wanted to hear it again.'
'why? Do you think it's silly?'
'You know, what's the most melodic thing to my ears in this entire world?' he smiles softly. His blue eyes shone like the point where the sun rays meet the vast sea. 'It's my name from your mouth.'
You felt a thousand butterflies in your stomach. This simple confession felt more intimate than any subtle physical moments you've had.
He continues, 'Don't know much about nicknames, but you've surely made me silly.....in love.'
#jjk#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk smut#gojou satoru x reader#jjk megumi#jujutsu kaisen x megumi fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen x satoru gojo#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#springtime fushiguros#jjk satoru#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk gojo#jujutsu megumi#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi fluff#megumi x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x you#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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The Fortune in The Fortune Teller
This is an isolated look into this specific episode.
The Fortune Teller is the 14th episode of book 1 of Avatar: The Last Airbender. It is famous for supposedly developping the show's romantic subplot between Katara and A\ang. The episode does two things: A\ang attempts to flirt with Katara, and Katara is finally willing to consider him as more than just a friend.
However, I believe that this episode could have masterfully foreshadowed the pair not getting together in the end. In this essay I will detail how each step the episode takes towards a Kat@ang endgame is actually foreshadowing the opposite.
1. Katara and the Nature of Destiny
In the beginning, the Gaang meets a person getting attacked by a bear. He is acting incredibly passive, simply dodging the bear's attemps at his life. Then, A\ang and Appa interfere to help the man. When the Gaang questions him on why he was so passive, he says it's because the Fortune Teller told him he'd have a safe journey. They then have the following exchange:
The man's logic is obviously flawed. If the Gaang didn't interfere, if the man continued to passivaly dodge, the bear would have attacked him. Fortune and destiny come from agency – from actively shaping them.
However, Katara is delaited at the prospect of seeing the future. Her and the Gaang go to meet the Fortune Teller, Aunt Wu. Aunt Wu tells her she'll marry a very powerful bender. Later, she comes back asking more details about her future husband. Remember her excitment, fantacising about her future husband:
After that, Katara becomes somewhat reliant on Aunt Wu's prophecies. She goes as far as to ask her what she should eat.
And she obeys her "prophecy", despite not wanting to. She became like the man from the beginning. She knowingly follows the fortune even though it doesn't make sense. She had given up on forging her own destiny.
Although by the end of the episode, she is no longer in this state of reliance, she still believes in the prophecies. Then, Sokka says that A\ang is a very powerful bender. This reminds her of what Aunt Wu said about her future husband. I don't want to cherry pick, so I took 4 different pictures of her face when she realizes A\ang might be the powerful bender she is to marry:
With the look in her eyes, with her mouth tilted down and with the ominous music, this could easily be read as disappointment. Especially when remembering how she fantacized about the powerful bender earlier in the episode. She doesn't smile, but looks concerned. As if she doesn't want this. Earlier in the episode, she says this:
A\ang is like the papaya. The fortune says he's right for her, but Katara doesn't want him. Now, she isn't like the man, passively dodging the bear attacking her. She shouldn't sit and wait for the prophecy to come true point blank. She has the agency to shape her own destiny and not to choose A\ang as her future husband.
2. A\ang, Meng, and First Crushes
In this episode we're introduced to a girl named Meng. Aunt Wu told her she'd end up with someone like A\ang, and so she developped a one sided crush on him. Throughout the episode she attempts to talk to him, all to no avail. Because A\ang is not interested in her.
Interestingly, her one sided crush is directly paralleled to A\ang's crush on Katara.
Exhibit A:
Exhibit B:
Exhibit C:
Please note that in exhibits B and C in particular, there is an emphasis on the other party not reciprocating their feelings.
In this parallel the show draws, A\ang is Meng, the younger, shorter one the one who is in love; and Katara is A\ang, the older, taller one who... *checks notes*... doesn't reciprocate.
But in the end, A\ang and Meng have a heart-to-heart.
Sometimes you'll like someone, and they aren't going to feel the same way, and even though it's hard, it's okay. They're young, just kids having a crush. A\ang responds to this with "I know what you mean". Because he, just like the audience that watched the parallels, knows that Katara likely doesn't return his feelings.
———————
In conclusion, The Fortuneteller could have been brilliant foreshadowing to Kata\ang not being the endgame couple, and it would have done so through beautiful, mature lessons about first loves and destiny. Thank you for reading.
#anti kataang#zutara#atla critical#anti anti zutara#pro zutara#zutara analysis#zutara evidence#zutara forever#zutara meta#zutara nation#zutara should have been canon#zutar#zutara supremacy#zuko x katara#katara x zuko#katara#meng
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not even going anon for this. horny on main always pls. offering a lil Rolan headcanon I've been stewing on recently. I plan to make something of it eventually, but perhaps you can drabble from it now to sate me :)
Rolan is usually one to prefer softer sex - unending eye contact, kisses, more "romantic" positions.
Tav finally convinces him to take her from behind, and he's hesitant at first - until the sight of him unleashes something filthy and primal within him. It's as if he snaps, quickly shifting from slow, hesitant movements to desperate thrusts filled with raw desire. Soft kisses along her neck turn into love nips and then full on mating bites as her hips arch back into his - yeah. Just full on, animalistic urges, breathy grunts in her ear, Rolan 🥲🥵
AHHHHH making a usually soft man absolutely feral? Yes please 🥵
From Behind
It wasn’t that Tav was disappointed in her and Rolan's sex life. No it was quite the opposite actually. Rolan was a more than attentive lover, always taking into consideration Tav’s pleasure over his own. Always making sure that she reached her peak at least once before he even considered climbing towards his own.
Whilst in town one evening, shopping for a particular book, Tav had overheard a rather, intimate natured conversation that two women were whispering and giggling over.
“-from behind? And does it feel any different?”
“Oh quite! Much better if you ask me. Hits that spot almost every time.” The woman murmured to her friend whose face held utter astonishment.
“I’ll have to see if Maldor would be willing to try.”
Tav’s face blushed a deep color at the realization of just what the the two women had been chatting about. She quickly grabs what she was looking for, pays and leaves, face never changing shade from the deep flush from earlier.
Later that night, as Tav tucks into bed beside Rolan, and settles in to sleep, the wizard rolls over to pull her back against his chest like usual. Tav's breath hitches when his hips settle against her ass, her mind immediately shifting to what she had overheard at the shops.
"Are you alright?" Rolan leans up on his elbow, eyes looking over her to check for discomfort.
Tav startles at the sound of his almost gruff voice, "Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm alright."
"You're quite skittish, dear, did I do something to upset you?" the wizard gently pushes on her shoulder, getting her to roll over onto her back so he can get a good look at her face.
Her face which is flushed all over again, with eyes that are pointedly trying not to meet Rolan's.
Rolan moves his hand away from her shoulder, not wanting to cross any boundaries, even if he's unaware of any. Tav worries her bottom lip with her teeth, before meeting his concerned gaze.
"No, no you didn't do anything, my love. Just a long day is all." the lie leaves her mouth suspiciously quick, and Rolan notices the way she nervously swallows after speaking it.
"Tav, if you need your space, I am more than happy to give it to yo-"
"It's not that!" she cuts him off, "I just thought of something... specific, when you, well, you pressed against my ass."
The tiefling raises a brow at her, "What- Tav what are you talking about?" He's utterly confused at the way she's stumbling over her words over something so simple.
Tav sighs in defeat and avoids Rolan's gaze while speaking her next words, "While at the shop this evening, I overheard two women talking about their, well... intimate lives. And well, one of them mentioned how good it feels to be- well, to be taken from behind." She finishes and takes a breath before meeting his eyes once again.
"Is that something you'd like to try?" he asks so casually that it throws Tav off for a moment. Rolan was one who preferred more intimate positions, usually favoring missionary. He liked being able to watch Tav's features as they contorted with pleasure and reacted to his ministrations, liked being able to lock eyes with her as she came apart around him.
"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to it, I suppose. Only if you would be okay with it of cour-mmph." Rolan's lips meet Tav's in an abrupt kiss, affectively cutting off her anxious rambling.
"I am more than willing to try this with you, dear." he mumbles between kisses, his hand beginning to roam down her side to rest on her hip.
Tav deepens the kiss, tongue darting out to meet his, her hands coming up to rest on the ridged planes of his chest. Her fingers trace over the infernal ridges, before coming up to rest on his broad shoulders. She gasps into Rolan's mouth when she feels his fingers trail down her belly, toying at the edge of her panties, before dipping inside and gathering her wetness on his middle finger.
"So wet already. Just from the thought of me fucking you." he murmurs against her jaw, kissing along the bone.
"Please-" Tav begs. For what? She's not entirely sure.
"So needy." Rolan teases as he swipes his finger in little circles around her throbbing clit. His rhythm steady, his touch light. Tav's thighs tense, then instinctively fall open a bit more, the sensation almost too much.
"Want you to come for me before I fuck you from behind, can you do that for me?" he whispers against her lips, finger dipping to her fluttering hole, wetting itself to continue circling her.
"Mmhm." Tav whines desperately, her own fingers clasping around his forearm, already climbing to her peak. It's not long before her thighs begin to shake, her core clenching as she tumbles over the ledge. She throws her head back as Rolan finally dips two of his fingers into her spasming cunt. He fucks her through her orgasm, lips pressing wet kisses to her exposed throat, whispering praises against the taut skin.
"Always so good for me. Now I want you on your knees sweetheart." He holds a hand out for her to take as she lifts to her wobbly knees. As she kneels before him, he gets into position behind her.
One clawed hand traces up Tav's spine, making it's way up to the back of her neck to grip and push her down into place. Her elbows meet the mattress. A shocked sound huffs past Tav's lips, and Rolan's hands caress over her hips, kneading the plush flesh lovingly.
He reaches down, taking his length in hand, he drags the tip through her wet folds.
"Are you ready to take me, dear?" he asks lovingly, notching his head in her entrance. Tav nods, looking back over her shoulder to meet his amber gaze.
When he pushes into her, she gasps. The head of him instantly brushing against that sweet spot nestled deep inside her. Rolan bends forward, an arm scooping around Tav's middle to pull her up against his chest. His thrusts pick up speed, his hips rutting into her frantically.
"Is this what you wanted? To be fucked like this?" he almost hisses the words. The hand wrapped around Tav, gropes at her breasts, squeezing the flesh and teasing at her peaked nipples.
"Yes yes yes." Tav chants breathily as he relentlessly pounds into her g-spot. She can feel her second orgasm building in the pit of her stomach.
"Gonna fill you up like this. Gonna fill you with my cum." Rolan groans into her neck, his free hand coming up to rest on her belly. "I'm so close."
"Come in me. Please, I wanna feel you fill me." Tav whimpers, holding onto his forearms.
With a guttural moan, Rolan releases into Tav, his seed flooding her walls being the thing that triggers her own orgasm.
Rolan thrusts a couple of more times, riding out their highs, before gently pulling out of her. He takes her into his arms, carefully laying her down to rest. Tav lays her head on his chest, making attempts to catch her breath.
"So, was it what you hoped it would be?" Rolan laughs as he tries to catch his own.
"Everything and more." Tav dopily smiles.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#rolan x tav#holy rolan empire#bg3 rolan#rolan#rolan x reader#Rolan x tav smut#Rolan x reader smut#Rolan x tav angst#Rolan x tav fluff#baldurs gate#baldurs gate 3#bg3 oc#baldurs gate tav#rolan fanart#rolan nation#tiefling
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Oh Baby, You Part 50 - Cherry
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Idly, you watch the digital, red numbers above the elevator go up one by one. You’ve sometimes wondered if Mingyu hates the chairman’s office, considering its spot on the very top floor, and his genuine fear of heights. Then again, the building is an entirely closed space— he’s more of a bungee jumping scaredy cat than an Empire State Building one.
You look down at the container of cookies you brought. They’re not his favourite, since you didn’t have all the ingredients for that, but you hope they’ll do. Before Mingyu’s complete integration into chairmanship, you used to bake together all the time. You know he’s better than you, (always has been,) but ever since that time you ended up in a baking summer camp together all those years ago, he’s insisted your cookies are the best.
Of course you know he’s being nice, but that’s just another great thing about Mingyu.
You’re wearing a mask over the lower half of your face, and Jeonghan said there’d be no one around to see you. Still, you walk through the halls with your head lowered and only lift it when you come upon Jeonghan’s desk.
He eyes the container. “You sure about this? I’m not even supposed to be going in there right now.”
“Don’t worry,” you say with a smile he can only see in your eyes. “If he’s truly upset, I’ll just leave him the cookies and go. But I promise I’ll try some other time to get you the vacation days you deserve, okay?”
“It’s really not that important…”
Playfully rolling your eyes, you head towards Mingyu’s office. “Whatever you say, Jeonghan.”
You pull on the thick metal handle of the door without knocking, and as soon as you walk in, Mingyu speaks without moving his eyes from his computer screen. “Not right now, Jeonghan. Just tell whoever needs me to—”
“Hey, stranger.”
His face immediately lights up upon seeing you, and you pull down your mask with a smile. Yeah. There’s your best friend.
“Sunshine!” Mingyu pushes himself to standing and quickly rounds his desk to pull you into a hug. “What are you doing here?” He retracts a bit to look at your face in obvious confusion. “I thought you and Jeonghan agreed we shouldn’t meet up here because of… you know.”
You step back and hold out the plastic container of cookies between you. “About Jeonghan…”
Sighing, Mingyu lets you put them in his hands. “Please tell me this isn’t about the whole ‘vacation’ thing… You know I can’t, Sunshine.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just not how things are done.”
“‘How things are done’? Mingyu, you’re the chairman. If there’s anyone who can change the way things are done, it’s you. Especially for someone who’s spent a good third of your life doing his best to help you.”
He sets the cookies down behind him and takes one of your hands, letting your joined fingers dangle between you as he leans back onto the edge of his desk. “Look, I’d love to give Jeonghan some time off. I really would, but we’re in the middle of a lot right now—”
“You’re always in the middle of something here.”
“��and,” he continues, countering your little dig with a wry smile, “I as much as I wish I could give everyone here time off, I’d need time to find a suitable person to fill Jeonghan’s position while he’s gone. That’s where the four months come in.”
You tilt your head, trying to summon those eyes that Mingyu would say he can never refuse. The problem is, you’ve never really been in control of whatever expression it is that he sees. “Surely you could find someone in less time than that.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know if you understand how good Jeonghan is at his job.”
“I have a pretty good idea,” you say with a roll of your eyes.
Mingyu glances at the door, and you turn to it as well, but nothing happens. “Speaking of,” he says quietly, returning your attention to him. “Where is Orion? With Soonyoung?”
“Actually, he’s at a daycare for a—”
“A daycare? Jeonghan didn’t tell me he arranged anything.”
You blink. “Well that would be because he didn’t. I set it—”
“What? Why?”
Pausing for a moment, you make yourself remember that this is exactly the thing you, Mingyu, and Jeonghan are always worried about. Oftentimes, you the most. Having some stranger spend just enough time with Orion to see his resemblance to Mingyu.
“Orion will be preschool age within this next year, so I thought maybe I’d transition to some in-person classes while he attends. The daycare would be for emergencies, or things like weekend exams, or…”
Or when you don’t want to burden your only friends for the rest of Orion’s younger years.
Mingyu rounds his desk again and bends over in front of his computer. “What’s the name of this place?”
“Dream Daycare. It’s near—”
“You know that was careless, right? You should’ve asked Jeonghan or I to—”
“I looked into it. I went over like six places before—”
“Jeonghan would’ve—”
“He has enough on his plate—”
“—taken care of—”
“Mingyu!” Your raised voice manages to shut him up, but he only meets your eyes for a second before he goes back to his computer screen, investigating the daycare’s website. “I did the research. They had no idea who I was — not that anyone really does, since Jeonghan’s done such a good job keeping me anonymous thus far — and seeing as the place is mostly run by some sweet old ladies, they probably have no idea who you are, either.”
He sighs out through his nose. “Are they good?”
“What?”
“Good caretakers,” he clarifies, and you see the genuine worry in his eyes now.
Of course. You should’ve known that the revelation Orion’s true identity wasn’t Mingyu’s primary concern; his safety is.
Exhaling, you try to give Mingyu a reassuring smile. “Yes, Mingyu. They’re excellent. I only chose the place I thought was the best, safest, and kindest for him. He’s my son, after all.”
It’s small.
It’s so small, so short that you almost don’t see it, hear it. Almost miss it entirely.
But you’re certain that Mingyu… scoffs before he says, “Is he?”
For more than a few seconds, you’re frozen. Just slightly, your mouth parts, but you can’t seem to find the right words. Did you even hear him right?
“What… What is that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head, still scrolling. “Nothing.”
“No,” you rebut. “No, tell me what you meant by that.”
“It’s really nothing.” Straightening himself up, Mingyu fixes you with an uneasy look. You just stand there, cross your arms, and wait for him to cave. It only takes a few seconds. “It’s just, with you telling everyone…”
You let out an affronted sound. “I did not tell everyone. And for that matter, it wasn’t exactly my choice to tell anyone anything at all.”
“Look, forget it. Just pretend I never—”
“But what does any of that have to do with Orion being my son?”
Mingyu takes in a deep breath, his hand coming up to his tie like he wants to wrench it loose, but he only fidgets with it. He looks away, then meets your eyes again. “With this many people knowing he’s not your son—”
“But he is! He is my son, Mingyu. And I am good at taking care of my son.”
It’s too hot in this room. Mingyu’s shoulders rise and fall with another sigh, and for some reason, you can’t stand the look in his eyes.
“I need a breather.” By the time the words come out, you’re already turning and walking towards the door of his office. “Don’t follow me,” you tell him, only because you know your best friend would.
Jeonghan stands up when you shove the door open and storm past his desk, a mix of concern and shock on his face. You must look as upset as you feel.
“I just need a second,” you say, and so he just watches you as you walk off, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.
You have no clue where you’re going, but you think you had the right idea when you made that excuse to leave Mingyu’s office, so you look around for some sort of outdoor exit. A balcony, or something similar. Eventually, you find a staircase, which leads to what looks like a small terrace of sorts.
Only, when you pull the door open and breath in the cool, fresh air, you turn to the right and see someone leaning against the railing. His distant silhouette isn’t the most familiar, and he’s facing away from you, but considering this place, and the only people you know in it…
“Mr Choi?”
He turns, a white stick poking from his lips.
“I’m sorry,” you say, apologizing for interrupting what must be his precious alone time. Still, you really don’t want to go back inside yet. “I…” Your feet pull you a couple hesitant steps toward him. “...didn’t know you smoked.”
While his eyes focus in recognition, Seungcheol’s hand rises to pull the stick from his mouth. The motion reveals the head of a bright red, spherical lollipop.
“Oh. That’s…” You want to say out of character, but you trail off. If you think about it, there isn’t much you know about Choi Seungcheol. “Sorry for assuming. I just wasn’t expecting…”
He says nothing for a little bit, just looking at you as you approach. His eyes seem to study you, and you resist the urge to squirm. When you settle next to him, resting your arms on the railing like he is and keeping your gaze on the cityscape, he finally looks away from you and peers at the lollipop instead.
“...I bought them for him,” he says.
You turn your head, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Who?”
“Your son.”
It’s a weird confession, to be sure, but he can’t know the way those two words affect you in that moment. That’s right. Orion is your son.
“But,” Seungcheol continues, unaware of the reason you needed the fresh air in the first place. He lets out a deprecating huff of a laugh, his head dropping for a second before he faces you again. The lollipop gets brought back up, and he taps it twice against his smiling teeth. “I might’ve gotten myself addicted.”
You can’t help it. You laugh.
Turning again to the skyline, your fold your arms on the railing and drop your chin to rest on them with a sigh. What a beautiful day.
Tap, tap.
You look at your elbow, where Seungcheol pokes a wrapped lollipop. Cherry. Your gaze rises to meet his.
“Something’s wrong,” he says simply, holding the candy out closer to you, silent but insistent.
Maybe he isn’t so unaware after all.
Wordlessly, you take the lollipop with a shy nod and a smile.
You don’t know why, but as soon as you close your mouth around the sweet, artificial cherry flavoured candy, the tears start to form. You hate that it’s now, with one of the very dangerous people to be vulnerable in front of, but you can’t seem to stop the blazing heat in the corners of your eyes. You don’t sob — don’t let yourself — but the tears fall despite your resolve.
It’s irrational, you understand, to be this upset. But it’s hard to believe yourself to be a good parent when you start doubting whether you’re a parent at all.
“Would you…” Seungcheol’s wary voice returns your attention to him. “...like to leave?”
You let out a laugh, embarrassed. He must be uncomfortable. “I probably should.”
As you push yourself off the railing, though, Seungcheol does the same. “Alright,” he says, then takes your hand, and you realize as he leads you back inside and through the building all the way to the ground floor: he’s not wary of you, but for you. “Let’s go, then. Somewhere nicer.”
For some unknown reason, you just swallow down all your trepidation, gently take your hand back, say, “Okay.”
And follow.
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oby tagging 1, 50/50: @shiningstar-byulxx @shuabby-woowoo @90s-belladonna @xavi-in-kpopland @xmessaroundx @chwevernonlover @kwanisms @dalamjisung @crazywittysassy @butterfliesinthenightsky @ddaengpotate @vanishingboots @potatofrieswithketchup @minhwa @oncecaratorbit @royal9 @doodlelibrary @yksthings @amosmortese @jaeskz @woozarts @my-chaos-in-stars @yoonychoik @ksywoo @kellesvt @candidupped @sharkipoonis @wooahaeproductions @hellodefthings @winterwallacehenderson @jvhoons @woo8hao @sxftiell @thewooziverse @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @nonononranghaee
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I can offer you an idea of yandere alastor.. What would it be like if alastor as a child knew the reader... Like I imagine alastor as a child not knowing how to act properly like a human, and the reader as a good best friend helping him seems more human (and not because the child reader is scared of him) ... Actually, what would happen?
Wrote this instead of working on my finals hope you enjoyed it!
Yandere! Alastor x Childhood friend! Reader
Warning: Animal death, blood, its YANDERE
WC: ~1.5k
Charlie dragged the whole hotel for another ‘trust’ session, this time, she had the great idea for the sinners to share stories from when they were alive. Granted, some of them were eager to share, namely Nifty and Angel Dust, Husk would share some here or there, although it's mostly due to Charlie and Angel pushing him to. Alastor on the other hand kept quiet during the whole ordeal, until the topic of childhood friends came up.
“I had a childhood friend once, such a sweetheart. Wouldn't leave me alone to play with others!,” Alastor let the statement linger in the air, casually sipping on his coffee.
The other members of the Hotel look aat him with mouths agape, shocked and surprised at the fact that THE Alastor, Radio Demon, Dealmaker, HAD FRIENDS? Moreover, a childhood friend?? Someone stayed friends with him since they were children???
“Don't look at me like I am incapable of having proper friendships, and no, you cannot ask them about me as a child because they're simply not a sinner! Oh imagine my disappointment when I didn't find them down here,” his eyes glazed over in slight rage as he thought about how you weren't here.
Very disappointing that I will never be able to hold my beloved again. What I would do to be able to chain them to my side once more…
“Well don't leave us hangin’, whose this sweetheart of you’s?,” the white spider interjected.
He tells them your name, sighing dreamily as he starts to reminisce about the times you were together when you were children.
You were the child of one of his momma's clients, a bubbly little thing, always eager to play with him regardless of how cold he is to you.
His momma was your family's personal tailor, and by God were you a spoiled little thing. Every week you would ask for 2-3 outfits to be created for you, although it looked more like costumes than everyday wear but he doesn't complain, as long as your family treated him and his momma with respect.
Nonetheless, he refuses to be close to you, considering you as a bother, but of course, he would never admit that to you, lest he wants his momma to get in trouble.
He hasn't always looked forward to when his momma brings him to your house, namely due to you clinging to him every time you meet. There's one thing in your mansion that he’s quite fond of though, once he manages to escape from your grasp, he sneaks into the woods behind your house, gazing at all the wildlife roaming around your property.
One time, he found an injured bird crying close to him, it tried to get away from him but he eventually caught it in a tight grip, it chirped and cried but Alastor just gripped tighter and tighter until, pop!
Blood trailed down his hands and onto the forest floor below, unbeknownst to him, he had a huge grin on his face, too pleased with the mutilation of the poor bird. A gasp resonates behind him and he quickly drops the bird, face stilling at the fact that he got caught.
When he turned his body to you, your eyes were full of tears staring at his hands that he didn't bother to hide. He prepared himself to hunt you down to make sure you wouldn't tattle on his momma but your next words made him stop in place.
“Are you okay???” you rushed to his side, pulling out a handkerchief and started to wipe off the blood coating his stained hand.
In response, the child looked at you aghast, stupefied at the concern you were showing, marking yourself vulnerable to the predator towering over your much shorter build. He could kill you if he could, he can lie and tell your parents that a bear found both of you and killed you, that he tried to save you but was unable to. But then again… as you fret over him, a thought passes through his mind.
You are too kind for your own good, just like momma. Don't worry I’ll protect you.
Alastor raises the now somewhat clean hand, and he notes how you didn't even flinch at it, and just looked at him with your wide, innocent eyes. The hand lowers to pat you on the head, ruffling your hair a little bit.
“I am fine, I tried to save a bird but it was too hurt to be saved,” he shows off the bird, face devoid of any emotions.
You frowned at it and suddenly went on your knees and started digging a grave with your hands.
Alastor furrowed his eyebrows and questioned what you were doing, you responded with, “I’m digging a grave for the birdie, I don't want them to die without a proper burial.”
The boy helped you after a few moments of silence. Once you were done, you clasped your hands together, covered in dirt and blood, silently looking at him to do the same. Look at you, as a child of a rich man you shouldn't be on your knees covering yourself in filth, but perhaps he should indulge his angel for a little bit.
As you started praying he couldn't help but let the bitterness consume his mind. God wouldn't care about frivolous things like this, prayers do nothing, if it did, how come he and his momma are still at the mercy of that monster of a man he calls his father?
“Amen.”
You offer your filthy hand to him, gazing at him with a smile that could rival the sun. Perhaps the only good thing that God has done, is sending down an angel for him to play with.
“You should smile more, you look very pretty,” he raises an eyebrow at that, startled by your bluntness. Admittedly, he can feel himself flush at your compliment.
“Do you like it when I smile?” he hums, taking your hand. Both of you started to walk back to your manor.
“I do! Mommy always said ‘you’re never fully dressed without a smile’ and that's why I always smile!”
“Then I'll smile a lot for you,” he tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.
“You're doing it wrong! It's like this,” you show off your smile, toothy and wide.
He tries again and ultimately fails, you pout at him cutely when he failed, and he couldn't help but smile, genuinely smile at that. In response you shout out ‘like that!’, and start vibrating in excitement that you managed to make him smile.
It was almost nightfall when you eventually managed to get home safely, albeit covered in dirt and grime. What greeted you both were your father, stressed beyond belief, and his mother, on the verge of tears. They both rushed to you guys and hugged the both of you, fretting and scolding at how worried they are, they asked you and Alastor what happened and you, being the loudmouth you are, told them the story that you know.
Both adults are relieved to hear that you both are safe, they rushed you to clean yourselves up. Ever since then, Alastor has been looking forward to every visit they had to your house. And every single visit has been a learning moment for him, day by day he learns what you like and what you don't like.
You like gentlemen? The next time you meet, he offers you his arm to hold. Do you like poetry? He memorizes your favourite poems to recite whenever you're bored. Do you like food and cooking? He begs his momma to teach him her infamous Jambalaya and other comfort foods to cook for you.
Alastor molded himself to become your ideal man, the most perfect gentleman that ever existed in your life. But then…
“Then what...? But then what??” Angel exclaimed when Alastor trailed off with a cliffhanger. Everyone leaned towards him, captivated by the story he shared. He smiles cryptically, but still doesn't respond.
“Oh well, it seems like it's almost supper time, I should work on it, wouldn't want to be late for dinner hmm?”
Everyone collectively groaned at the cliffhanger, they wanted to know what happened after, but they couldn't complain much lest they want to be part of Alastor's radio broadcast.
Alastor turns away from them, humming to himself as he walks towards where the kitchen is.
But then you had to die as a saint. You had to marry that disgusting excuse of a man you called your husband, and now he killed you. My beloved, was I not enough? Was I not perfect for you? You would have been safe if you were with me… Don't worry, I made sure that ‘husband’ of yours regretted ever hurting you. May this be an offering to my angel.
A haunting scream pierces through hell, amplified by the speakers scattered around the pride ring.
Support me here so I would be more likely to write more fics 🤭
#yandere x reader#yandere hazbin hotel#yandere hazbin hotel x reader#yandere alastor x reader#yandere alastor#hazbin alastor x reader#alastor x you#Hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel
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Ooohhh how about different eras of luke (ROTJ is my fav if doing one is easier) and maybe some modern dilf!luke 👀 reacting to you laying your head on his shoulder when you’re tired or have a headache pre-relationship?
Anonnn, you don't understand, I'm obsessed with this ask. I just HAD to do every single Luke era plus the Dilf AU as the cherry on top because it's been so long since I last wrote something wholesome😩
also it reminds me of the posts I used to do when I first started writing and ngl I'm feeling a little nostalgic
• sweet ANH Luke with his open smile and honest eyes is so easy to approach and befriend, resting your head on his shoulder comes almost naturally
• though unbeknownst to you he'd immediately be on the brink to loose his mind
• already he tends to be a little jittery with nerves whenever you randomly appear in the same room he is in
• even more so now that he's finally admitted his major crush on you to himself
• so just imagine his excitement the moment you decide to sit next to him
• as soon as your head touches his shoulder he goes bright red and doesn't dare to move in fear of accidentally shooing you away, his heart beating wildly in his chest
• for a slight moment he forgets how to breathe, though it's not like he minds
• this is the best day of his life
• not only does he finally get to feel the warmth of having you so close by his side, but also your soft hair aginst his cheek if he dares to tilt his head just a little bit
• when eventually he manages to somewhat normalize his breathing, his thoughts will start to wander
• he's SO proud you're clearly comfortable and feeling safe with him
• but should he strike up a conversation? Ask how you're doing? If everything's okay?
• maybe he could make you laugh
• your hands look so soft; what if he were to reach out and just take them in his?
• would you mind?
• he's not sure, his aren't as pretty and smooth as yours
• you smell very nice
• wouldn't your current position make you look like a couple to an outsider passing by?
• what if, and he feels very bold just considering, but, what if you...like him?
• quickly enough he has a very hard time remaining calm
• and how could he? He needs to tell someone about this RIGHT NOW
• good luck trying to catch ESB Luke sitting still for even once
• though should you be as lucky to catch him during a moment of rest and manage to lean on him, he'll feel similarly as ANH Luke; excited, a little nervous even, though not as much as his younger self would have been
• still he has to fight off the blush rising into his cheeks and will absolutely deny ever changing colors should someone (especially Leia, Han or even R2) point it out
• at the same time he wishes for as many as possible to witness this very monumental moment, hoping everyone will see that you're leaning on HIS shoulder
• HIS!
• yeah that's right! In your face, (add in name of random rebellion member that also takes an interest in you)!!!
• if he's feeling extra bold, he may use the chance to put an arm around your shoulder
• but very carefully so; he's afraid to overstep any of your boundaries
• after all he's not sure if you'd even like to be held
• there's only one problem: how is he supposed to do anything now?
• he has places to be, things to do, an Empire to fight!
• he's getting kind of warm too
• more than that actually
• Force, are you hiding a heater under all of your layers of clothing?
• also he just remembered; isn't there a meeting he has to attend?
• shouldn't he be working to improve his x-wing?
• he'll check on you out of the corner of his eye, trying to get a feeling for how long you plan to stay like this
• he needs to come up with a way to notify the others of his delay
• because there's no way he's moving even a single muscle
• he's not leaving you behind
• he simply can't!
• not when he was just chosen as your designated spot to rest your pretty but, admittedly, very heavy head
• but not to worry, of course he can handle it!
• he'll be here as long as you need him to be
• RotJ and post RotJ Luke is hard to keep tabs on and thus hard to find
• all you can hope for is to encounter him by pure chance, as he seems to simply have evaporated whenever you wander around searching for him
• though despite his withdrawn ways he's always welcoming and inviting should you happen upon him
• he, above anyone else, understands the importance of rest during a busy day
• he smiles mildly to himself as soon as you settle down and scoot close enough for your arms to touch
• the emotions you are unconsciously emitting, may it be nervousness, excitement or shyness, amuse him a great deal and he's keen to see whether you'll overcome them this time or not
• I don't think he'd tell you outright that he enjoys your presence, that it tends to calm him down and to ease his mind, until much later
• but despite what he is or isn't saying he can't help but feel a little warm inside whenever you come across him during the day
• despite that he can never not worry at least a little bit about your well-being and immediately feels the need to check in on you either with words or a gentle probe with the Force to make sure you're okay
• if he has the time to stay with you for a while he asks if you'd like to lay down
• see, he can shuffle to the side a little and then you could rest your head on his thigh instead of on his shoulder
• wouldn't that be more comfortable?
• he doesn't have a blanket in case you're cold, but maybe you could use his cloak?
• it's not the best, maybe a little rough and still a little dirty from his last trip as he didn't have the time to wash it yet, but it does a good job of keeping a person warm
• he doesn't show how happy he is should you follow his invite and agree to rest beside him, though maybe Leia would notice
• and possibly so would you by how he'd start to absentmindedly stroke your head and play with your hair whenever others are around to keep him properly distracted
• I think Dilf!Luke's reaction would really depend on the current situation/ on how far your relationship has already developed at that point
• here it's important to note though that he'd never tell you off or send you away for initiating contact, not even after just recently getting to know you
• yes he's standoffish and withdrawn, cold in demeanor, seemingly displeased with your presence in his house
• but when it comes down to it he is kind, always has been, even if he hides it away to protect himself
• his behavior towards you is nothing personal; the emotions you call forth are his to deal with
• he may try to at first but ultimately knows deep down that he can't hold you accountable for how his past still troubles him
• he's a father, deeply caring in nature
• no matter what, he could never bring himself to deny anyone his child's age comfort
• though he might be a little confused about why you chose him, of all people, to rest your head on
• after all it's not like he's been going out of his way to be peculiarly inviting or nice - quite the contrary actually
• he'll remain very still for the duration of your vicinity, involuntarily stiffening not only out of surprise but because it's been so long that anyone outside of his immediate family initiated intimacy
• he's so touch starved, so used to rarely feeling a person's warmth, that your simple act catches him off guard
• suddenly he has no idea what to do, how to continue on after
• for your own good and his child's sake he wants to keep you at an arm's length and yet...
• if he wasn't enamored with you before, he is so now
• he thinks back to those moments of doubt and insecurity frequently
• but where they once haunted him, they now serve as a reminder for how far he's come and what he was able to finally leave behind
• he's proud of himself too, yes, but most of all to call you his
• every little touch of yours, and may it be one as innocent as laying your head on his shoulder, fills him with joy
• never, in a thousand years, would he once have believed to be in a position to reciprocate your gentle displays of trust and affection
• but now that he can, now that everything feels a little less like a dream, it's all he wants to do
• (and he does)
• (forehead kisses are his favorite way to, he can't help it)
• (not when you placed yourself so conveniently)
#ask#luke skywalker#luke skywalker x reader#luke skywalker x you#luke star wars#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars headcanons#star wars a new hope#star wars empire strikes back#star wars return of the jedi#dilf luke#dilf luke skywalker#star wars au
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PAC: What Can You Do to Pass Your Finals?
Hello beautiful people! It is about that time of the year again where us students are struggling to meet deadlines & have to study for the dreadful finals. Well, I’m here to give you all some tips on how to pass your final exams this season. I will be using my True Heart tarot deck for this reading per usual. If you resonate with this reading enough to want to book with me, please read my guidelines and dm me for a reading! Without further ado, please select your academic weapon!
Left-to-Right: Pile 1-3 (Elle Woods, Dionne Davenport, Jade the Brat)
Pile 1: I feel like this pile really needs to consider having a study buddy. That would help you tremendously. Doing things like going back and forth to repeat formulas, coming up with sufficient answers for mock trials and practicing for a foreign oral exam with another person can be some of the things that you do. Study dates are absolutely necessary. I feel like you also need to change the scenery. Go somewhere that you’ve never been before, particularly near a body of water. And another thing that you can do to help you achieve academic success is chewing gum while you study. It’s scientifically proven that chewing gum can improve your memory & can boost your test scores (only if you put the effort in though beforehand lmao).
Cards Used: Death, 7 of Cups, Princess of Cups, Knight of Cups.
extras: being by the water. trees. hair twirler. fidget spinner.
Pile Two: I think the best thing that you can do is ask for assistance directly from the source. I feel like this is specifically for those who are struggling in their math or science classes. I get the feeling that you don’t want to take this class ever again. So, you need to get situated and fast. I feel like this pile may be going through a separation/breakup from their partner. It may be affecting your ability to focus on school. But it is best that you not only seek academic guidance from the source, explain your situation to them so that they can understand what you’re going through. They may direct you to some mental help. I feel like another thing that you could do is practice grounding exercises. Surround yourself in nature. Go bicycling or hiking. Go to a conservatory. Lastly, another thing you could do is go for a swim. I feel like you need to get moving. You need to get physical before/while you’re getting ready to study.
Cards Used: 7 of Cups, 9 of Discs, 2 of Cups, Judgment, Queen of Cups, 5 of Cups, Page of Cups.
extras: pull ups. heartburn. feeling helpless. “unusual.”
Pile Three: This pile feels very extreme. It’s a crucial moment in your academic career that could either make or break you, it seems. I think that this finals season determines whether or not you will have to go to summer school or whether you will get into that school. Maybe even going to the next grade or having to retake that particular class. So, you have to buckle in. I am seeing someone crack their knuckles and stretch out their neck. I don’t get the feeling that this is a traditional final. It could be a project or a paper that’s graded harshly. It could also be a collaboration. Whatever it is, I feel like your mother figure could help you a lot with this. She knows more about this subject than you think. Allow her to help. Another thing that can help you is reaching out to people who have done the same project as you in previous years or the semester prior. And lastly, take really good notes from people who are well-versed in this subject. They will come in handy & you won’t regret that you did it.
Cards Used: The Tower, 10 of Discs, The Lovers, The Moon, The Empress.
extras: “it’s gametime.” “appealing.” sweaty hands. marnie. beats headphones. deep breath in & out.
#law of assumption#manifesting#neville goddard#hoodoo#tarot#tarotreading#astro notes#pick a card#pick a pile#divination#tarot tumblr#tarot witch#free tarot#daily tarot#tarot deck#tarot reading#tarot cards#pick an image#pick a reading#tarot pac#pac reading#tarot pick a card#tarot pull#spirituality#tarot community#channeled message#intuitive readings#black tarot readers#pick a photo#tarotcommunity
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my new Ninjago OC!
more information ↓
I haven't come up with a name for him yet bc I suck at those but I've got a backstory
- He was outcast by his species before the merge because of a reason I haven't fully flushed out yet (thinking of making it so that he can't do any shapeshifting at all and making it an entire allegory), but he deals with a lot of feelings of inadequacy because of this and he thinks he's failed as an Oni
- he was outcast before March of the Oni and was lost between realms trying to find a way back home to the first realm without the power of the darkness to guide him. essentially the realm crystal is the EASIEST way to travel realms but it isn't the only way, and he spent a lot of years alone
-When the merge happens he's forced to live in a world he doesn't understand at all and a lot of people during this time are struggling to figure things out. He manages to find a job at Chen's Noodle House and starts to enjoy the life as someone who serves food so eventually he leaves with enough money saved up and opens up his own restaurant
- I like the idea of someone gaining weight when they're happy bc he used to be really emaciated and could barely eat even 3 times a week due to how hard it was to survive but now he's got a healthy relationship with food and his body and he's generally a pretty sound guy and pretty mature considering things. It doesn't look like he's fat in the image but from experience an apron will hide a lot of that lol
- He does a lot of introspection and his outlook on life is that "it's complicated and messy but at least it's life," and he usually looks at things from a realistic perspective while hoping for the best.
-He still gets irrationally angry at a lot of things though and often he'll find himself taking it out on inanimate objects and then he'll feel bad about it afterwards. He doesn't do it a whole lot in front of people, especially customers, but if he's comfortable around you you'll see him swearing and breaking things (usually with his claws on accident) a lot more
- Meets Lloyd a few weeks after the merge when he just started his job at Chen's and initially Lloyd is weary at first because yk he's an Oni and Lloyd had subconsciously associated Oni with bad and everything wrong in his life, but [name I haven't come up with yet] is essential to something Lloyd is trying to figure out so they need to interact and Lloyd figures out through sheer power of being exposed to something that HEY you dumb idiot your ancestry isn't evil or bad
- He had severe issues for awhile with meeting people's expectations and he constantly ran himself ragged trying to keep himself in multiple places at once. He felt like he had to depend on only himself for a while because of the fact he let down his Oni tribe and because of the fact he lived so long in isolation away from others. When he's hired by Skylor he burns himself out within the first week because he doesn't take a break except to go home and sleep.
- Y y y es this is meant to be an OC shipped with Lloyd but they're both demisexual here bc I will always make my favs be on the ace spectrum no matter what
-Hes 21 when the merge happens and by the events of s1 he's 27 (2 years older than Lloyd). He was outcast by the Oni when he was 15 years old (around the events of season 1)
-fun fact, Oni still have pupils in my hc you just can't see them very well. they're kind of like the changelings from mlp where they do have pupils once you look closely but they blend in so well with their irises that you can hardly see them. most Oni eye colors are red, purple, or blue. some are occasionally orange, yellow, and pink. [name I haven't come up with yet] has purple eyes
- he has so much fur/hair (think kind of like mohair on a goat) that he has to stuff a lot of it in his shirt and then use pins to hold it in place and he spends like 30 minutes each day just combing it
- he works out every other day to help clear his mind and to calm himself down but Oni are naturally pretty big anyways and really strong
- despite the fact he knows how to cook he has the worst appetite known to man and will not hesitate to eat the nastiest things ever. I like to think that anytime Lloyd gets offered gross food (as he's somehow done a lot in the show) he pretends to "steal" it but he does genuinely enjoy every single food he comes across and it's not just something that comes from his life of being outcast it also comes from his Oni biology. Though, he seems to be a lot more inclined to eat certain things even for an Oni
if it's not poison, it's food!
- has abnormally large ears for most Oni and he can hear slightly better than most people. it's also another reason why he stretch himself too thin while working when he first started because he believed everything he heard needed his attention and he was constantly trying to get to multiple places and do many tasks all at once
okay now imma go to bed hehe this was actually really fun
-has a better work/life balance in the future at the very least lol so dw
-has digitigrade feet! they're not very exposed bc he wears baggy pants all the time but if you look down you'll see he's never wearing any shoes and his paws are just out
#lego ninjago#ninjago#lego ninjago fanart#ninjago oc#original character#lloyd garmadon#ninjago lloyd#fanart#art#ninjago dragons rising#dragons rising#its so me to come up with all this lore and never give my characters a name#oni#oni oc#rossartisting
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Happy birthday to me!!! 🎂
Yeah. Hi. It's me.
Middle-aged Aziraphale fangirl did his next big step in the direction of the big 50.
Wahooooo!
Not really…
I hate my birthdays.
Always did.
Even as a child.
Now as this middle-aged queerish-dude I am still having a hard time, standing in the middle of things and being cheered on by others.
I was born. Great. Get along, people, nothing to see here. Can you all just go home please?
"Well, what the f*ck are you doing here then, right now, with this post, in the middle of an internet platform in front of a bunch of strangers?!?"
some of you might ask.
And rightly so, I must add.
Way more than 12 hours before - it is now past 10 pm in Germany - so this morning after I woke up to be exact, I had seriously contemplated the possibility to call in sick on my birthday, and hide myself from the world, quietly sobbing on my couch.
For the first time in my working life of 24 years. I had always been to work on my birthdays. No exception.
But the past months had been hard. I never really felt in control of things, still don't.
Those who know me closer, know that I like to be in control.
Always a plan at hand. Always prepared…
Only that it didn't really work out…hasn't for quite a long time.
I just never admitted it to myself. Always kept on going.
My family was always good in repressing things.
Don't show weakness.
Keep on functioning.
What will the others think?
People depend on you!
My family also never really considered me being "a success story" by their standards.
I am unmarried. Don't have children. No big career.
Ok, I've put enough on the side to live a financial solid life in a nice appartment.
But the first part really nagged at them, and through them at me.
So I was already unhappy for quite some time.
Together with an ongoing above-average and ever growing work-load at the office, this feeling of unhappiness turned slowly into dread and then deep sadness, until I felt close to breaking with the beginning of today.
Now, almost 15 hours later, I am here, writing this sappy stuff and am genuinely happy for the first time in months.
"What changed?"
Well, I was thinking about this a lot in the past hour. While sitting in the bus and later while walking home.
Honestly? Nothing really changed.
I got my eyes opened and my perspective adjusted by someone very dear to me.
That's what friends are for, and she is the best of them. My bestie.
She is the one who got me addicted to Good Omens last year and pushed me onto this hellsite.
She brought me Doctor Who and the Tardis (yeah, I know, shame on me, coming so late to the game…).
She makes me constantly re-think my opinions and keeps opening new windows to look through on things I had missed or never noticed before.
She is challenging me on a daily basis to be more than I normally would go for or did for many years.
She became the closest friend I have ever had in my life.
Sure, I know lots of people a lot longer in years. Some since Kindergarten.
But none of them digged themselves so deep into the darkest corners of my soul.
Places not even my brother or my parents ever got to see.
She made me, a life long rather shy introvert, open up, despite the fact that she is even more introverted than I have ever been.
I still don't fully understand all of it, but here I am, writing all this to an unknown audience, as proof.
A year ago, this wouldn't have been possible, not even in my wildest dreams.
"So, you didn't realize this before?"
I did. It just got pushed aside by all the negative spiralling. Sometimes you don't see, what's right in front of you.
After work, I walked her home. I like doing that. Sometimes talking all the way. Sometimes just walking in silence side by side.
At her place she handed me 2 presents and just like that, it clicked.
Sometimes, it doesn't take much, if it comes from the heart…
People, meet my new Michael Sheen mug!!!
So, we basically bonded over Good Omens and as faith would have it, we are exactly Aziraphale (me) and Crowley (her) coded.
100%.
It makes me beyond happy, knowing that everytime I'll sip my coffee with my beloved Sheeny, on the other end of town she will sip her hot cocoa out of her corresponding new David Tennant mug.
Good Omens was not the only thing we found out to have in common.
The common ground sometimes is really breathtaking and we still regularly stumble over new things it contains.
So many things that we equally love. Books, movies, music, long walks, just sitting there in silence and taking in a beautiful view…
On the other hand, we are so different in so many aspects, but with the feeling of it rather complementing than dividing us.
She loves to chrochet, I can't even hammer a nail strait into a sponge.
Speaking of which, meet my 2nd gift: Audrey!!!!!!!!!
We watched "Little shop of Horrors" (the 1986 version with Rick Moranis) a few weeks ago. Both for the first time. Loved it.
I immediately fell for "Audrey", the flesh-eating alien plant. Didn't speak anything out loud, still it didn't go unnoticed…and, yes, it is hand-made!!!
*sigh*
"So, what am I trying to say here?"
Good qestion…
Life can be cruel.
Life will be hard at times.
It will make you cry, like, a lot.
Try to not go through all this alone.
Sometimes those that you least expect it from, turn out to become your anchor in the stormy sea or the lighthouse showing you the way.
Build your own little family of friends (even if its just one).
Hold them tight, once you found them.
Love them with all that's in you.
You will get it back ten fold.
To quote the great Neil Gaiman:
Why?
L🥰ve!
@uncleadelheid-will-eat-your-soul , thanks for being all that for me, little introverted geeky metal edgelord office girl, and thanks for enduring my annoying love for bad jokes and even worse puns…
P.S.:
Sorry btw for the storm, lighthouse, anchor metaphors with you hating all that's related to the dark blue sea…I still didn't edit them out…maybe we'll be getting there. At least I left out fishy fish…
🐟🐠🐡🦈🌊🦑
#happy birthday#ineffable friendship#besties#love your friends#platonic love#little shop of horrors#seymour krelborn#audrey ii#michael sheen#good omens#david tennant#doctor who#tardis#friendship#friends#why#love#neil gaiman#sappy ramblings#optimistic#from the heart#personal#up close and personal
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The Gratitude Series
A Lee Minho Fanfic
Prequel to "A Modern Love Story"
WC : 2.8k words
Pairing : Lee Minho X Fem reader
Genre : Fluff
Triggers/Warnings : Repetitions of two particular words and mentions of brownies; read at your own risk of temptation
A/N : This was inspired by my own conversations with my friends when they told me to stop thanking them. I hope each of you who reads this, gets someone who'll thank you from the bottom of their heart.
m.list
“Some days I adore you a little more than a human being can adore” – Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera
To Lee Minho, you were an enigma of sorts. You were like a ball of yarn, threaded with your secrets. And he was the cat, ever curious. Each thread that unravelled, satiated his curiosity, until he wanted more. Until he knew it was never going to be enough. It was more of a depraved hunger than anything, but you didn’t have to know that.
i.
Minho had always considered his part-time job as a barista at the local café just as a way to spend his time wisely and earn some money. He did not expect the best people to be the customers, nor did he think the café was particularly interesting. It just…..was.
But that was his opinion before you came into the café.
The first time he’d seen you, you had ordered a milkshake and sat down at one of the tables, book in hand, the nearly empty café a reflection of your quiet, poised state.
When he’d come to serve your milkshake, you’d stopped reading your book, the original volume of Howl’s Moving Castle he’d observed, as he approached you.
You read his name off his name tag, gifted him, a complete stranger back then, a dazzling smile and said “Thank you.” with the calmest voice he’d ever heard.
He had been surprised. Not because you’d thanked him, more so because you stopped what you were doing just to acknowledge him and thank him, face to face.
He hadn’t known what to do. Receiving thanks or compliments had always been awkward for him.
And so he gave away his embarrassment with the tips of his ears glowing red, muttering something incoherent in reply, and your smile had become a little bit wider.
Just a little bit, but he’d noticed it.
That is how he remembers his first encounter with you, with him completely flustered by you and your bright smile.
ii.
After you had left the café that day, he had come in extra early to work every day, in hopes of catching you if you were an early riser. But to no avail.
After two days, he thought himself stupid. He barely knew you. And you would’ve probably forgotten his name, he reasoned with himself.
Still, his nights were filled with thoughts of you. He thought long and hard about you.
Did you thank everyone that way? Or was it just him you thanked that way?
He had hoped, foolish as it was, that it was the latter.
Had you found him attractive and hence given him your attention?
The question wasn’t entirely baseless. Lots of people frequented the café just to flirt with him. But he knew that it wasn’t the case, he would have remembered you if you’d come there before.
Would you come back again? Would he see you again?
And so, he’d tossed and turned. He couldn’t get his mind off you.
The two days turned into four weeks and the study group he was in at University, had set up a meeting at the music club.
When he’d asked Chan, the person who had organized everything, why they hadn’t set up the meeting in the University’s large library, the latter had unashamedly said that the library wouldn’t allow food in and hence the spot was selected.
Even on the walk to the meeting, Minho rolls his eyes.
The library would have been much quieter. With no rules to maintain silence, he had no idea how to protect his ears from his group of extremely loud friends.
He arrives minutes before the meeting. The tiny room was packed and he was already assessing the number of decibels emitted from the inside.
Taking a breath, he pushes the door open and walks inside. The entire study group had assembled for the first time, and there were a lot more people than he’d expected.
As soon as he sits down, Chan who had been chatting with someone next to him, turns and greets Minho. Minho nods in acknowledgement, looking away and that’s when he sees you for the second time.
You sit in a corner of the room, nose deep in a book, just like the first time he’d met you.
Today, you’re decked up in a long winter coat, and a lemon-coloured scarf wrapped around your neck.
Just like the first time, you’re smiling as you read your book.
Just like the first time, you manage to take his breath away.
And just like the first time, he doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to do.
Despite that, he knows that he might not have a chance to see you again and thus, musters up all his courage and approaches you, which is exactly when Felix decides to announce that he brought brownies for everyone. Minho has to clamp his mouth shut to stop a groan from escaping him.
Great, he thinks, now he would never ever have a chance with you again and he would die an old cat gentleman.
Even in his head, he thinks it sounds ridiculous. He reminds himself not to hang out too much around Hyunjin. The dramatics were rubbing off on him.
Shaking his head, he goes back to retake his seat when he notices Felix distributing scrumptious looking brownies (that he knew were delectable) to the large group of people, by himself.
He also notices another box, and maybe it is because he’s gotten so used to serving people, he takes the box up and starts distributing brownies to the other table.
Felix offers him a cheery thanks and Minho just waves him off.
When he gets to your table, Minho holds his breath. He expects you to have forgotten him, but you lift your head and say,
“Hey, Minho right? We meet again.”
and all the practice he’s given himself goes down the drain. Clearing his throat, he pretends he isn’t affected by the fact that you remember his name, and extends a brownie towards you. You look at his outstretched hand and take the brownie, and just as he’d predicted, you look up at him, still smiling, and gift him a:
“Thank you.”
He’s just as bothered, with the base of his neck going red at the words. However, in a burst of courage, he’s taking a chance with you just to lengthen the conversation.
“I’m not the one who made them, Felix did.”, he informs you and you tilt your head slightly.
“I know, I’ll thank him later.”, you reply, “I’m thanking you now.”
“Why?” he asks. He doesn’t know, why you did it. He wanted to know.
“Because”, you say, your words slow and deliberate, like you had all the time in the world,
“you could have let him distribute them to everyone, all the thirty five students, all by himself. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. But you chose to help him and give some of us a brownie, when you could’ve eaten yours first. So, thank you.”
He’s stunned. Both by the sincerity of your words and the honesty you delivered them with.
For a moment he stands there, absorbing your words. Before he can respond, one of them asks if they can have one more cupcake and he gets to his senses. You smile and wave him off.
The second time too, he thinks, was just as delightful as the first.
Maybe Chan chose the right spot after all.
iii.
Slowly, Minho eases his way into your life until you’re both latched together, like two sides of the same coin. He makes you milkshakes even when he’s not in the café and you smile and thank him for it, every time.
He’s grown used to your words of gratitude, but he knows that you don’t throw the words around lightly. So, he makes space in his heart for all your thank yous, and slowly learns how to respond to them too.
He wonders whether it is because you two aren’t close yet, that perhaps you feel the need to thank him for every little thing. He shrugs it off, feeling like you might stop your adorable habit once you fully get to know him.
But mostly, he wants you to stop looking at him and smiling at him like he’s the candle burning on your desk at dawn, the only source of light when you need it. Because, he feels like it might never be enough when he falls for you.
It was so easy to fall in love with you, your entire existence a balm to his soul effortlessly.
He thinks about it then, when he jogs to get you your water bottle from your bag, placed at the very end of the basketball court you were running in to get your daily laps in.
Just as he’d predicted, you tell him:
“Thank you.”
His chest feels too tight, like he’s been running for an hour, when he’s only been jogging for twenty minutes.
He wants you to stop.
He wants you to tell him those words for the rest of his life.
Minho feels like collapsing in the middle of the basketball court, to hit his head hard enough. Just so he can stop this heady feeling from consuming him whole.
iv.
Minho feels himself flying in love with you. Why? Because he sees you are already in love with him too.
It’s unmistakably your eyes search for him whenever he comes into a room.
It’s in how you always try to say yes to all his plans even though he tells you it’s okay if you feel otherwise.
It’s in the way you smile at him, something only for him to see.
But mostly, he knows it because of your eyes. Your eyes light up at his arrival, and they are transparent pools of your love for him, as clear as daylight.
And that, he learns, makes all the difference.
v.
Before you, Minho had a hard time trusting words.
Why?
Because they were grand and promising at first, but empty if they weren’t followed by true actions.
Most of the people early in his life only talked and talked, empty words with thoughts of what could’ve been, except they never were.
But with you, Minho knew they were true to their meaning.
He’d seen you bear the weight of them when you stayed behind for two hours in class to help a failing classmate.
He’d seen you fulfil them when you stayed up for hours writing something for the highest grade you had ever gotten, even if it was for extra credit.
He sees you stay true to them when you call your mom every single day like you’d promised, and when you call him without fail each time you go to the department store to ask him if he wants something.
All he sees is you.
You were an exception to his every agenda, every single time.
He has no complaints.
vi.
One week before the finals, you're holed up in your room, ignoring all his calls, and Minho knows what's up.
Your Psychology exams are what’s up.
He drops by to your place and lets himself in, shoes placed in your shoe stand, just the way you do it. Going in, he gives a shout to let you know of his arrival. You holler something back & he takes it that you know.
Wandering to the kitchen, he spots a fruit bowl. Thinking that you could use a snack after all the studying you've done, he takes a few oranges from it and heads to your room.
The sight of you hunched over your desk, buried in your books, your glasses barely hanging off your nose is what greets him.
For a moment, all of it ceases to exist except him and his thoughts and you.
He'd read all about the pinings of writers and poets who'd sworn that their lovers and muses were capable of taking their breath away at any time, even when they might look unflattering to the rest of the world.
Minho had disagreed. One had to look unpresentable when they were buried in work and gave no thought about maintaining their appearance, right?
Wrong.
He's rendered wrong.
So, so, wrong.
Because the sight of you then, bare-faced and bespectacled, puckered lips and furrowed eyebrows elicits an emotion he doesn't know how to name.
It's strong, this little feeling and every time you purse your lips or scrunch your nose, it grows stronger. He doesn't know what to do with the stubborn feeling, but he knows it's there to stay.
You were so engrossed in your reading that it took you a good three minutes to find out Minho was in the room.
After you do though, you abandon your textbook on the study desk and turn your attention to Minho.
“Oh hey. Need something?”
He chuckles, running a hand through his silky, wine-red strands as he takes you in fully, eyes subtle but greedy in their perusal of you.
“I should be the one asking you that, you being buried in work and all.”
He gestures to your growing pile of papers, notes, and books.
You let a whine in response.
“Don’t remind me of that. I’m taking a break. Seriously, I don’t get why I need to know the names of all the medical records used in the world. How am I supposed to treat other people, when I myself am slowly going insane?”
You punctuate your rambling by sinking further into your chair until it shakes.
He doesn’t know how to respond to that. But he does know how to make you feel better, that’s one thing he prides himself in.
Coming to stand in front of you, he slowly reveals the arm behind his back and flourishes the oranges he’s fetched, like a magician exhibiting a miracle.
You’re a magician of your own, giving away one of your dizzying smiles that he can see in his head for days on end.
He slowly sits down on the floor, and starts peeling an orange. You join him and reach for one, but he swats your hand away. You frown, but abandon all thoughts of oranges when you remember your assignment, still very much unfinished.
You abruptly get up, startling Minho out of his trance. He flinches before glaring at you. You cheekily smile down at him.
“Sorry Min, I have to get this done before nightfall.”
“Okay.” He says, even as gets up to shove a piece of fruit in your mouth.
“Mo, yw don undastan-“
“Don’t talk while you’re eating.”
You glare at him, but do as he says.
Even in your disgruntled state, you manage a quiet “Thank you.”
You know how Minho left the comfort of his home just to come to cheer you up, even when he’s a homebody. And you’re grateful for it; you would’ve holed up in your room until you disintegrated into bits otherwise.
He just shakes his head.
Silence prevails in the room for a while, unless interrupted by the clicks of the keyboard and the quiet chewing as he feeds you slices.
“You don’t have to say thank you to me all the time, y’know?” Minho begins, leaning beside you on your mahogany desk.
You absently hum and finish typing the sentence. Only then do you fully process his words.
“Huh?”
“We’re friends now, or at least I think we are. So, you don’t have to thank me for every little thing. It feels like you’re being formal with me.”
This is the longest you’ve spoken with me, and it’s because of my thank yous. Isn’t that reason enough for me to tell you those words every time?
The words are at the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. They weren’t for now, this moment.
You just exhale and give his head a ruffle. He dodges it, and glares at you, reminding you of his cats.
Your mouth curves upwards.
“What are the words ‘Thank you’ for then?
I don’t think they exist just for a half-hearted appreciation for someone I barely know.
I think they exist so I can try and convey my gratitude to the people close to me. I won’t ever be able to fully convey the feelings in words, but I can try.
So think of each of my thank yous as a two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.
Is that better?”
You duck your head down, shy after your sudden outburst of emotion.
I won’t ever be able to convey my gratitude fully, but I can try.
A two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.
Good god, he believes you’re an angel at that instant.
You were ethereal in every way, whether that be the way you talked, the way you walked or the way you looked at him with thoughtful eyes, like he was the star in each one of your universes.
No ordinary person could be like that, could they?
He’s at a loss for words, like usual. And that doesn’t surprise you. He was a man of a few words anyway.
Stealing an orange slice, you get back to work.
This time, Minho thinks, even the word ‘delightful’ doesn’t cover it. He’s sure that no word can encompass even a sliver of your essence, except maybe the words ‘Thank you’.
And he hopes that now you’ll let him tell you that every single day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration to character. They do not reflect the real people in any way.
#+booksndpoetry#straykidsland#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids#skz imagines#stayblr#skz lee minho#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#lee minho x y/n#skz fluff#fluff#lee know fluff#writing#lee know#friends to lovers#writeblr#and shes done#im kind of proud of how this fic turned out#please give it lots of love
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Rei is late for the first time since he's started working at Poirot.
Neither terrorism attacks nor hostage crises have affected his being on time. Not even a runaway horse managed to keep him.
But he spends one night with Akai Shuichi, and his perfect record is ruined. Asshole.
Despite his calling ahead, Azusa gives him a worried look. He stops briefly to give her a mock-embarrassed apology, turning up the charm. Promises he won't be late again. Then he's off to the storage room.
He needs to fetch his ingredients and get to baking.
Rei's going to find Akai and strangle him, just as soon as his shift is over.
.
Roughly 12 hours earlier.
There's a gun aimed right between his eyes.
That in itself is nothing unusual. The situation could be worse, really.
After all, his own gun is pointed right back at Akai Shuuichi's annoyingly smug face. At this distance, he'll be able to read his movement, react in time. He'd rather talk, but if the sniper fires, Rei will drag him into hell too.
Blood for blood. Mutually assured destruction.
(His excitement is slightly dampened by the fact he's rather certain Akai won't kill him.)
"Caught you." Rei can't help the satisfaction slipping into his voice.
Finally. After three years, their game of cat and mouse is over. He'll have his answers.
The most pressing of which-
"Where's Scotch?"
The words cut into the silence, sharpened by fear. His best friend might still be dead, after all. (If he isn't, why hasn't he contacted Rei?)
It's not like he has much to go on to suspect he's alive, besides the fact that Akai himself came back from the dead. Rei can only hope he brought Hiro along.
Before Akai answers, there's a click. The world becomes dizzyingly bright, expanding past the muzzles of their guns.
Rei blinks the disorientation away. Spots silhouettes from the corner of his eyes. He hasn't met them before, but he's familiar, of course, with the owners of this house. How long have the Kudos been watching them?
While he's busy processing that revelation, Akai holsters his gun. Part of Rei hates how nonchalant Akai is about all of this, exposing himself so easily. Like Rei isn't a threat, won't put a bullet in his head because of a couple of witnesses. (Hates that he's probably right.)
"I propose a trade. For old time's sake."
(The words leave a bitter taste with Rei. They haven't exchanged anything, not goods, not words, not warmth, in years.)
Akai snaps open a cheap flip phone - likely a burner. His thumb hovers over the call button. The fingers of his other hand, long and dextrous, wrap around the barrel of Rei's P7M8, tugging gently, but insistently.
Rei considers his options. He holds no illusions - without his gun, he won't be able to dispatch Akai. But he's more than capable of holding his own for long enough to escape, if need be.
(He could just fire, right now. It wouldn't have to be lethal. Could take the phone by force. But chances are, whatever information Akai has, he'll be much less willing to share it with a bullet wound.)
Rei looks up at Akai, meets his green, green eyes. The part of him that shows genuine emotions, some days. (Not that Rei is one to talk.)
Finds Akai looking...tired. He wears a small smile, but it's worn around the edges. There's no open mockery, no quiet amusement. It's just the two of them, and an offer.
Rei lets go of the gun. He hopes he won't be needing it, tonight.
.
Akai helps him up, his hand warm and steady. As soon as he's upright, Rei lets go - he can walk perfectly fine by himself, thank you very much.
The FBI agent shows him to the living room, tells Rei to make himself a home. After all, the Kudos have promised to give him some privacy, for his chat.
For a moment, the sniper lingers, gaze caught by the phone. Then Akai casts his eyes down, and leaves Rei alone.
Silence, if not for the crackle of the damned fireplace, fills the room. Rei hesitates for a moment. Then he presses 'call' for the only number in the directory.
The phone crackles with static, beeps as it establishes connection, then-
"Hi, Zero."
The world stops moving. Relief floods his system, sapping the tension from his muscles. He leans against the soft backrest, breathing freely for the first time in a good long while.
.
Their talk is short. Rei asks some questions to establish it's truly Hiro, not an imposter (though that would make a very poor basis for the negotiation the Kudos have planned).
Hiro tersely explains some things, although he isn't allowed to give away much. He's in the FBI's witness protection program. That they're talking at all is a massive bending of the rules, authorized only because of Akai's insistence. He claimed it was of critical importance to their mission.
It certainly is, to Rei.
.
The next hours are a blur.
The sofa dips when Akai sits down at his side, the Kudos already having taken their seats on the other side of the small coffee table. (He wishes Akai would sit farther away. That he be less reasonable in his assumptions and demeanour.)
It's somewhat surreal to think that celebrity actress Kudo Yukiko of all people gives him a steaming cup of chamomile lavender honey tea. Good thing working with Vermouth has knocked most of the starstruck behaviour out of him; his younger self would have made a fool of himself.
He can't afford that. After all, they are seeking him out in an official capacity, requesting PSB senior agent Furuya Rei's cooperation.
It certainly is strange for them to reach out through him, considering his known enmity of Akai. But he's a professional - he might be reluctant to work with the man, but it's not his decision to make. He'll relay the offer, unless it's utter garbage.
So he pays attention while they share what they can of their plan to take down the organisation. Listens to their pledge for equal contribution, and their promise of crediting the PSB with a successful operation; an obvious play intended to soothe the wounded pride of the Japanese, after years of illegal activity. But it's the least they can do.
If one were to ask Rei, the offer is certainly worth considering. The PSB has been working the case for five years now, and while they have gathered intel, and managed to place Bourbon as a vital asset, they're barely closer to shutting the organization down than when they started. It's sprawling, interconnected with various businesses, and, worst of all, active internationally. If they don't cut off all its heads at the same time, odds are the members will simply flee to a different branch. Maybe lie low for a bit, and then go about their business with renewed vigour.
It seems like an international cooperation might just be necessary to achieve this task. So he'll be their messenger; it's above his pay grade to decide whether to take them up on the offer or not.
Though privately, he hopes his superiors agree; every day they lose ground to the organization. By this point, Rei doesn't really care anymore whose plan it is that finally does the organization in, as long as it gets done. (And as long as he and the PSB are finally treated with the appropriate amount of respect.)
Still, he can't help thinking they wouldn't be having this conversation now, if these foreign agencies had respected the official channels ahead of time. Maybe Hiro could be hiding in Nagano then, with his brother, instead of being confined to the other half of the globe. In the US, of all the terrible places to be. He shivers.
.
By the time they're done it's very late. Rei is already half-dozing off, despite his best efforts to stay awake. It would be highly irresponsible to drive in this state, so he's asked their hosts for a coffee (he's sure a place housing Akai will have more than enough of it to go around). He'll just rest his eyes for a moment, until they're back.
.
Something light is being dropped on him, almost stirs him to consciousness. But it's warm, soft, and smells of huddling together in an abandoned apartment.
(Of long-forgotten small comforts.)
Not a threat.
Thus satisfied, his body collects its due, and he's dragged back under, into deep, dreamless sleep.
.
Which brings Rei to the reason he's late.
Someone, and he has a very good idea of who it was, put his phone in airplane mode, drew all the curtains shut, and kept the rest of the house quiet.
(Let him sleep for as long as he needed to.)
So Rei wakes up with a start, in a barely familiar place, the digital clock on the wall indicating it's way past opening time for Poirot. Shit.
He grabs his belongings, pistol, clothes and keys and all, and dashes out the door. He swears he can see Okiya - no, Akai, he was right, damn it - look down on him from that favourite window of his. Asshole. Contrary to him Rei has a job, a cover to maintain. He'll get back at him, yet.
.
It should probably worry him that he can perform the drive to Poirot on autopilot. Too many late-night stakeouts turning into impromptu naps, requiring him to drive straight to work after. So much trouble, over nothing. If Akai had just cooperated sooner-
Then, what? Rei hadn't managed to track him down before his supposed death, and the less interaction there is between Okiya Subaru and Amuro Tooru, the better for both of them. He grinds his teeth, barely manages to brake in time for a redlight.
(Hates that he understands the caution, to a degree.)
.
The universe really is conspiring against him, today.
After the lunchtime rush, a certain pocket-sized detective is ushered in through the door, followed by his guardian and her best friend. The kid gives him odd looks all throughout ordering lunch, too sharp in a way that makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand in up. Rei gives him his sunniest smile, and an extra packet of sugar. He's played games with Gin and Vermouth in worse conditions; he won't yield to a particularly precocious six-year-old.
Despite getting more sleep than the last three nights combined, he's not feeling too well. A single good night's rest can't undo weeks of insomnia. If anything, it only makes apparent what he's lacking.
He finds his mind wandering, glad the preparation of food comes automatically, by now. Whisk and mix and pour. Fry, remove from the pan...
"...uro? You seem unwell."
Too-familiar green eyes stare back at him, bags under the eyes and all. Rei barely manages not to flinch.
Of all the people to catch him spacing out, it just has to be Akai's little sister. The gods must truly hate him.
"Ah, miss Sera. I apologize, I was just pondering some new options for our menu." He winks, gives her his most dazzling smile. "The chamomile lavender honey tea cake has me under its spell."
In response, she just wrinkles her nose, unimpressed. Squints at him with those jade eyes that always see through him too easily.
"Are you sure you're not running a fever? It seems a little warm in here already, yet you're working in a sweater."
Rei blinks at that. The temperature seems fine to him. Azusa hasn't said anything about it either.
"I appreciate the concern, but I assure you, I'm perfectly fine. Now, what can I get you?"
One slice of red velvet cake (of course - why did they even keep that on the menu?) and a macchiato later he's rid of her.
For now, at least - she's joined her friends at the window seats, and judging by the way she keeps sneaking glances at him when she thinks he isn't looking, he hasn't seen the last of her yet.
Still, her questions are odd. Surely he doesn't look that terrible?
(Vermouth has taught him some of her secrets; he's been concealing the shadows under his eyes for a while now. Nobody's ever found him out. Why is it now that people notice?)
.
He continues to work mindlessly, unfocused. This damn shift just doesn't seem to want to end.
He just about manages to avoid knocking Ran out for leaning over the counter, into his space. She remains blissfully unaware of the danger she just escaped, smiling brightly, kindly.
"Excuse me, I have a question."
Rei closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, counts to four. Smiles at the girl. "Go ahead", he says, continuing to whisk some cake batter.
Ran leans in closer, conspiratorially.
"Masumi is too shy to ask" - that's a bold-faced lie, if he's ever heard one, and he's something of an expert on the matter - "but she'd love to know where you got that sweater."
Now, Ran's a lovely young lady, always eager to help. It's a pity she's being manipulated for Sera's gain. Because there has to be more to the question, even if Rei can't see it yet.
Of course, he can't tell the girls the truth - Kazami bought it for Bourbon's cover. But the best lies are closest to the truth, so-
"I apologize, but I do not know where it was bought. A friend gave it to me." His best calculated-apologetic smile smoothes the blow, hopefully.
"Oh. I see." Ran visibly deflates. Still, her good manners prevail. "Thank you, though!" And with that, she's heading back to her table.
Strange. What could Sera possibly want with his sweater? If she wanted to track him down, surely there's more efficient ways, and it's not like he doesn't have a dozen similar cream sweaters-
Wait. Cream?
Rei's pretty sure he dressed in black to infiltrate the Kudo manor. He's not been home and he hasn't changed for work.
He manages to supress a groan, but he's sure there's some unpleasant emotion visible on his face.
...he must have grabbed the sweater along with the rest of his belongings in the morning rush.
Now that he's looking at it, it's clearly a little too large for him. It's also warm, fuzzy, soft, and utterly unoffensive. That's probably why it didn't register, before.
The sweater does smell decidedly of Akai - cigarettes and a hint of his obnoxious aftershave. The warm scent of curry is new - though unsurprising, given his foray into cooking. Great. That's why they've been staring at him. Sera probably recognizes the sweater and Conan spends enough time with Akai to recognize the scent.
His gut instinct is to go change, right now, get rid of the damning piece of connection to the man he has too many conflicting emotions about. But a long-sleeved black turtleneck is hardly appropriate work attire for Poirot. Besides, if he changes now, the pair of detectives watching him will just have their suspicions confirmed.
So he grits his teeth, takes in a deep breath that smells too much like Akai, and gets back to work.
.
Rei does change out of the sweater as soon as he's done with his shift.
(It doesn't help. The scent lingers.)
.
He's tempted to just toss the sweater, but can't help feeling like it would be a waste. It's quality craftsmanship, well-worn but taken care of - this kind of sweater would pill, otherwise.
It really shouldn't be faulted for its owner's flaws.
So he puts the sweater in a bag, intending to have it dry-cleaned and give it back later.
He should really hunt down Akai, too, but if he's honest, he's just too tired. He probably shouldn't even drive, in his condition, but he needs to get to a safe place, to think about the developments of the night.
.
He reports to Kuroda, showers thoroughly, and falls into bed.
.
Rei can't have slept long. The sunset colours the world in blood red hues by the time he wakes up, out of breath, heartbeat too fast.
Visions of smoke and ash cling to him. Explosions, destroying him one by one, until nothing remains but death alone.
Hagiwara and Matsuda, taken by violent flame.
Hiro's remains, crushed and burnt beyond recognition.
Akai's smile, grimly defiant, as he's shot by Kir. He too finds his end in a blaze, lacking glory.
They're gone.
Consumed by the inferno that seems to follow Rei around. Which burns everything he cares about, leaves him freezing in its wake.
(He can't even cry, his tears evaporating in the heat.)
Rei shivers, draws the blankets closer. Hopes for a little bit of cover, a little bit of warmth.
Please. If he could just shake off the nausea. If he could stop his spiralling thoughts. Logically, he knows that's not all true, even if his heart burns. Akai and Hiro aren't dead.
It's a lie, they're alive, it's a lie, they're alive, it's a lie a lie a lie a lie-
A set of sharp barks rips him out of his thoughts, back into the present.
Oh. He's woken Haro.
The little guy stands in front of his bed, ears tucked back and hackles raised. A defiant ball of fluff that cares so much, trying to growl the nightmares away.
(It might just work.)
Slowly, shaking and somewhat off-balance, he reaches down to scoop up his dog. Wiggles the blanket off his shoulders so he may cradle the whining bundle of fur to his chest. It's soothing, to feel the warmth of another living being by his side. They sit, the silence permeated by Haro's huffed breaths. His body heat seeps into Rei's chest, nestles in his heart.
"I apologize for worrying you. I'll be fine, soon."
He's not alone.
Haro nudges his hand, demands to be pet. Rei obliges, of course he does.
He's not alone.
.
Still, the headache is a pain. He won't be able to go back to sleep like this, will need to grab a painkiller.
He makes his way to the kitchen counter, keeping to the walls because he's still somewhat unsteady, carrying his bundle of warmth along.
The dog throws a fit as they pass the bag with Akai's sweater, growling and yapping at it. Despite the circumstances, Rei can't help but smile.
"I'm glad to see we feel the same way about him."
Wait.
Inspiration strikes in the form of a very stupid idea.
Because that sweater, with its stupid mixed scents, reeking of Akai, is proof he didn't just imagine last night's events. Tangible and olfactory and physical proof. If he were to wake from a nightmare, with it by his side...the anger at Akai would surely keep the pain at bay.
It's worth a try.
.
When he goes back to bed, Haro lies down beside him. Rei keeps petting him, one-handedly. With the other, he holds on to a cream sweater that isn't his.
When he breathes, it smells of too-long stakeouts in windy apartments.
Of Rye's extra blankets, the ones he started to bring when he noticed Bourbon always freezing; irritating to no end, how he was always better prepared for cold weather than Rei.
(It smells of Bourbon's cooking, given in exchange for soft blankets.)
Scents of a tentative alliance, as thread-bare as the fabric between them.
Grounded between the warmth of Haro, and the scent of Akai, Rei falls asleep, waiting for the dog days to finally be over.
#we're tackling the original sin#the tea party (dun dun dun)#i'm a little sad that “personalized heating unit (read: Haro)” got left on the cutting room floor#anyways I have a migraine but I want this out so here you go#i realized that I mostly write rei taking care of akai. have some implied akai taking care of rei in this one#sweater weather AU#akam#dcmk#long post#(i would like to formally apologize to squad leader date btw. I promise rei isn't any less upset about his death#but we are having a fire/explosion themed nightmare. i couldn't fit him in. I'm sorry)#(also rei. bit of dick move not to let akai talk to hiro...)#oops you are right mi although I'm not quite sure how to tag for that#um#mention of canon character deaths#specifically matsuda and hagiwara#iris writes fic
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You Can Always Find Me Where the Skies are Blue (BuckTommy fic) - 1/4
Summary:
Soulmates are rare. So rare that it's actually incredible that Buck has two soulmate couples in his life. Statistics tell him it's very unlikely for him to meet his soulmate. Of course, then he meets Tommy. Too bad it happens at the worst possible moment.
Canon compliant soulmate AU where Buck is still a mess and Tommy is still very understanding.
Words: 4,378
Ao3
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Part One
The truth was that Buck never quite got an understanding for how the whole soulmate thing worked. His parents were soulmates which was strange to think about considering his childhood, but then Buck hadn’t known about the older brother he’d been born to save, the one he’d failed to save.
From what he’d learned in school, soulmates had been more common in the past. They said it was something to do with population growth or something about cultural life experience and technology.
There was a lot of research on why soulmates had dwindled, but no one had concrete answers. There was some kind of database where soulmates had to register. So while it wasn’t impossible to find a couple that were actually soulmates, more often than not people settled down with someone that wasn’t their soulmate. A lot of them were happy.
Buck thought that one day, it would seem like some kind of myth. Instead of viewing Aristophanes’ speech in Plato’s symposium as an explanation, it would become legend. It would no longer be an early explanation of soulmates. It would be like Plato’s allegory of the cave, a thing to consider without real life application.
And so, before Buck had even reached the age of eighteen, he was sure that he would never find his soulmate. He wasn’t resigned to it, he just knew enough about statistics and probability. Most people wouldn’t meet their soulmate. It was just how math worked.
When he joined the 118, he couldn’t deny that a part of him had been surprised when he learned that Hen was married to her soulmate. He’d asked so many questions that Hen had eventually banned him from continuing to ask.
It hadn’t stopped Buck from thinking that it was amazing. More surprising was his sister and Chim and how Buck had missed the whole thing even though he was the one to introduce them. That whole thing had made Buck well aware that even among soulmates things could be complicated.
So, when Buck followed behind Chim and Eddie onto the tarmac of LAFD Harbor station air operations, the worry in his gut growing and growing the more he thought about Bobby and Athena being unreachable and Hen being correct about the need to go out and rescue them, he didn’t expect to meet his soulmate.
In the books, it never described what it was like. It only said that you would know it if it happened to you. The book was right.
Buck knew it the moment their eyes met.
It was the world snapping to focus, narrowing down on that person and saying: “this one is for you”. It was a feeling in his gut. Tommy Kinard missed a step and as for Buck, he froze on the spot. What felt like minutes translated to seconds, but it was enough for them to both know.
They were soulmates.
Chim was explaining, expanding on what he’d said to Tommy over the phone as their uber driver drove them to Harbor. Tommy was nodding, but his eyes were on Buck and Buck couldn’t look away from him either.
It was only when Tommy looked away that Buck dropped his eyes from Tommy. He tried to shake it off, remembering why they had faked stomach issues and left in the middle of a call. Yes, he might have found his soulmate, but it wasn’t the time or place. Of course, what they were about to do was verging on stupid and reckless…but if Hen was right — and she most likely was — then they had to and Buck couldn’t complicate matters because their pilot turned out to be his soulmate.
He could tell that Tommy seemed to have decided the same from how quickly he began directing them to a helicopter.
“Thanks again, Tommy,” Chim said. “We’ll for sure owe you one. Collect from any of us.”
“That would require I know who exactly I’m allowing onto my helicopter,” Tommy said.
Eddie stepped forward first, hand out to shake Tommy’s. “Eddie Diaz,” he said.
“I’m Evan Buckley,” Buck said, and he knew his voice was shaky.
None of them noticed because it seemed that Hen had arrived. Tommy’s hand touched Buck’s shoulder. “Get situated. I’ll get Hen.”
His shoulder felt warm, it was in Buck’s head, but still it lingered even as he climbed in first. He took a few breaths to center himself. They would have time to deal with it later. He had to focus on that. By the time they were in the air, that got a little easier. When Tommy mentioned that they might all die, Buck felt the loss of what he’d just found and he wanted to scream. In a way, it also made perfect sense for his life. Of course he would meet his soulmate, get into a life or death situation, and perish.
When they found the capsized cruise ship, he almost felt relieved, followed by the fear of what they would find once they got down there. Bobby and Athena had to be alright, they just had to be.
Focusing on the work kept him from thinking about Tommy and about everything that came with it because there were so many layers to get through. It was a while before Bobby, the kid, and Eddie had climbed into the back of the helicopter, leaving Buck to sit up front.
Tommy glanced at him right as he settled himself in and he smiled a smile that scrunched up his nose and the corners of his eyes. Buck shouldn’t have found it so endearing, then again, this was his soulmate. Buck smiled back and he wanted nothing more than to bring it up, to confirm with Tommy what they both knew to be true. He couldn’t, though. He didn’t want to do it over the open channel. So, instead, he turned away, admiring the clear blue skies and the water below. It was as if the storm they flew into hadn’t been there at all. When he looked back at Tommy again, it was even harder to look away, but he forced himself to when the helicopter touched down on the ship.
His mind couldn’t quite wrap around it. He had a soulmate. He, Evan Buckley had a soulmate and he’d met him. Him. His soulmate was a dude. A man. It was hitting him secondary to the initial thing, that he had a soulmate at all.
Same sex soulmates were a normal thing, Buck knew, it was just that in most instances soulmates were romantic and Buck wasn’t gay. He loved women. He slept with women. He was attracted to women.
Bobby walked ahead of them and Buck heard Hen calling out to Athena. Buck stopped to watch as Bobby and Athena ran into each other’s arms and he was caught up in the moment. He hadn’t gotten a lot of time with Athena when Tommy first landed the helicopter on the capsized ship, but he’d seen her worry for Bobby. That was the devotion and love that Buck wanted…what he’d been searching for and failing to find for years.
Athena and Bobby weren’t even soulmates, though they may as well be. They had always given Buck hope that he could be happy without a soulmate…but now he’d found his soulmate. Tommy.
Eddie was next to him, but Buck was a little more focused on Tommy approaching. It all still felt like the wrong place or time and as Eddie headed towards the other side of the ship, leaving them seemingly alone, Buck had no idea what to do. Slowly, he turned to look at Tommy. Tommy was smiling wide. He looked beautiful. Buck didn’t think he’d ever thought that about a dude before and yet it was true. Their shared look was enough to confirm what Buck already knew.
“You’re—” Buck managed to get out, his throat closing in on the word.
“Yeah…we are,” Tommy said. His eyes were shining.
Buck’s mind went blank, words and thoughts jumbled up in a way that had never happened before. Tommy seemed if not similarly affected, then willing to wait for Buck to be the first to say something. Buck also realized that he didn’t mind just losing himself in staring at Tommy.
He only looked away when Eddie was back, bumping into his shoulder and delivering a bottle of water to him and Tommy each, entirely oblivious to what was going on between them. Buck’s hands shook as he opened the bottle, but he was grateful and drank almost all of it in one go.
Eddie was talking about their ETA back to LA when Chim appeared at Tommy’s side.
“Can’t thank you enough, man,” he said, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.
Tommy laughed. “I’m always a call away, Howie. But, thank you…I really…thank you.”
Chim just shook his head, but Tommy’s eyes were on Buck and Buck inhaled a breath. He’d have to thank Chim too, eventually. It wasn’t lost on him that he had introduced Chin to his soulmate and that Chim had now introduced Buck to his.
Bobby and Athena approached, arms still around each other. They looked exhausted, but happy.
“I was so glad to see you two,” Bobby said, directed at Buck and Eddie. Then, he turned towards Tommy. “And you…thank you, for helping these guys out.”
Bobby reached out a hand and Tommy grasped it and Buck could tell he was shocked by Bobby pulling him into a quick but meaningful hug. Athena for her part just pat Tommy’s shoulder.
It should have bothered Buck that he had yet to have a single moment alone with his soulmate, but he liked having him there among his family. They would talk about it, figure out what it meant later. It gave Buck a bit of time to think, too. He had a soulmate. His soulmate was a man. His soulmate was Tommy, a ridiculously impressive LAFD pilot.
Buck was an ally. He always put a rainbow up on his social media in June. He’d gone to a few pride parades since living in LA. He’d never dated a guy before, though, never even thought that it was a possibility for him. Looking at Tommy, he wondered if Tommy had known that men were an option for him. All that Buck really knew about the guy was that he’d been with the 118 as far back as when Chim had become a firefighter and that he hadn’t stayed too long after Bobby took over as Captain.
Maybe they were meant to be platonic…have some deep understanding about each other that no one else could ever comprehend. A little like he and Eddie, maybe. That wouldn’t be too bad.
He stole glances of Tommy as Bobby and Athena started to tell them exactly what had gone down even before the hurricane. Buck was having a hard time focusing, but the few things he caught did make it seem like it had been far more eventful than any cruise had a right to be.
He couldn’t deny that Tommy was attractive. He was tall and his arms were kind of huge. Tommy’s attention was wholly on Athena and Bobby, eyebrows a bit furrowed as Bobby explained how it had felt when the ship capsized. Buck’s attention was on the way Tommy’s mouth moved as if out of surprise for what Bobby had just said. His attention was drawn to Tommy’s storm colored eyes and on the slight curl of his hair.
“I wish you had been there to see him, Buck,” Athena said.
Buck refocused. Eyes reluctantly going to Athena.
“Well, if Buck had been there, he would have been the one doing that climb,” Bobby said. “I’m going to be sore for days.”
“I don’t think that’s the only reason,” Athena said.
Tommy was called away before Buck could find a reason to explain wanting to talk to him on his own and then the next time he saw him, he was saying a quick goodbye and heading back to the helicopter. Buck watched him as he took off and wished that somehow he’d had a reason to go with him.
“Cool guy,” Eddie said.
“Yeah,” Buck said and he knew he sounded awestruck.
—
Tommy had known from the moment he saw him.
When his phone rang and Howie’s name appeared, Tommy had sort of known that Chim probably wanted something from him. It was why he called at all these days, but Tommy didn’t mind. He wasn’t wrong and as Chim explained something about Hen having a hunch and how she was probably gonna not pull off whatever she was thinking she was doing, Tommy had already mostly agreed to help. After all, Chim did save his life and he had a lot of respect for Hen too.
Then, Chim arrived with two firefighters in tow. They both looked the part, strong and sturdy kind of guys. Attractive, though Tommy tried not to notice that type of thing while at work and most definitely about colleagues. It wasn’t until they had gotten nearer that Tommy got a better look at them, a better look at his soulmate.
Tommy had never known that he would ever replicate the feeling of flying while on solid ground, but if asked to describe it later, that was what it felt like when his eyes landed on his soulmate right before he paused mid-step and almost lost his balance. He didn’t even know his name.
Chim was giving him a more in depth explanation about the cruise ship and storm and Hen’s part in it, but while Tommy could hear him, he couldn’t process the information. He led them to the helicopter, glad it was already out on the tarmac and that it had been refueled just a few hours earlier.
“Thanks again, Tommy,” Chim said. “We’ll for sure owe you one. Collect from any of us.”
“That would require I knew who exactly I was allowing onto my helicopter,” Tommy said, sure that if he didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t get to know his soulmate’s name.
“Eddie Diaz,” the one that wasn’t his soulmate said, reaching his hand out for Tommy to shake.
“I’m Evan Buckley.”
Evan. Tommy repeated it inside his head. Evan.
They didn’t shake hands like he and Eddie had, and Tommy had heard how shaky his voice sounded. He also didn’t miss the slight pink on Evan’s cheeks. It was horrible timing. He could see the shock and awe in Evan’s face, but it was going to have to wait. So Tommy did the thing where he pushed aside the personal to focus on his job. He got Hen to the helicopter where the others were already stashed and then they were in the air.
Tommy had been flying for so long that his focus didn’t need to be on it 100% of the time. It let him linger on the moment from earlier, what it had been like to see Evan Buckley for the very first time. He held onto that moment as they flew, even as he realized that what they were doing verged more on the dangerous and reckless side than anything he’d ever done. He had to get them through it, even when he had to make awful fake static noises at the chief and ignore his orders to get back to Harbor.
In the end, it all worked out.
They found the cruise ship and they were lucky they did, none of them talked about how easy it would have been for them to miss it. It was hours of work after that, not that Tommy minded. Eventually, he made a final trip to pick up Bobby, the kid he’d rescued, and Eddie and Evan.
Evan wound up up front and maybe it was presumptuous to think about how good Evan looked right there at his side. Tommy hoped it would happen again and soon. With the skies having cleared up, the sun shone through and in the moments that Tommy allowed himself to take Evan in, there was no denying how gorgeous this boy was especially when the light hit him just right.
With everything going on, they didn’t get more than a small moment to acknowledge it once they were on the ship and Tommy felt warm because it was real. He had a soulmate.
It wasn’t until he was back at Harbor that he realized he hadn’t exchanged numbers with Evan — not that it was a big deal. He’d just have to call Chim. Yet, as much as there was an urgency, Tommy was still at work and he still had to write up a report about the night and explain to his Captain exactly what had gone down before he could finally end his shift.
He texted Chim as he walked to his car almost an hour later, but got no response. When his phone did start vibrating, it was an unknown number. He picked up at once, heart in his throat because it had to be Evan.
“Hello,” he said and hoped he sounded normal.
“Hey, Tommy, it’s Eddie.”
He tried not to be disappointed, but of course he was. It was nothing against Eddie…it was just that he wanted to hear from Evan.
“Got your number from Chim. I hope it’s okay I’m calling. I was just wondering if you’d want to meet up sometime,” Eddie said.
For one very strange moment, Tommy wondered if Eddie was trying to ask him out. He probably had no idea that he and Evan were soulmates and…but, no, he didn’t think that Eddie had seemed interested in him like that. Tommy did wonder if it would be rude to ask Eddie for Evan’s number. He missed something that Eddie said, but caught:
“....drinks or something. Maybe as a thank you for helping us get to Bobby and Athena.”
“Uh, sure,” Tommy said.
“Cool. Cool. How about later tonight?”
Tommy wasn’t great at saying no to things. He also had no reason to put Eddie off. “Yeah…yeah that sounds good. And if you want to invite anyone else from the 118 that’d be great.”
Eddie chuckled. “I think they’re all pretty beat. It might just be us two, unless you want to bring along a friend or something.”
Tommy wanted to ask about Evan. He wanted nothing more than to beg Eddie to bring Evan along. Knew if he did he would be giving away what they were or even just his interest in Evan. He couldn’t do that.
“I’ll text you when and where,” Eddie said. “Just gotta secure a babysitter.”
“Okay,” Tommy said. “Sounds good.”
Chim still hadn’t answered. Tommy texted Hen next. No response. Maybe it would be Eddie that would give him Evan’s number…Tommy would just have to show up for that hang out and get the number out of Eddie. Or maybe, Evan would call him first. He hadn’t known that this was going to be complicated and actually it kind of wasn’t, it was that he was impatient.
Tommy managed a nap out of sheer exhaustion. He’d learned a long time ago how to sleep almost anywhere, which didn’t change that sometimes he just couldn’t sleep. Yet, despite not having contact with Evan, there was peace in knowing he was out there and knowing that he was his soulmate.
Evan didn’t call. Chim and Hen didn’t respond. Eddie texted him the name of a bar that Tommy knew well. Some of the guys from Harbor liked going there to play pool. They also had Karaoke night every Wednesday night and trivia on Thursdays. Maybe he knew a little bit too much about that bar. So, he texted back a thumbs up and got ready to meet up with Eddie. Eddie was already at the bar when he arrived, a beer in front of him while he made small talk with the bartender. He looked relaxed, in a way that Tommy almost hadn’t expected him to be.
“Hey!” Eddie threw out. “Glad you made it.”
He took the stool next to Eddie, ordering a beer and then turning to him. “How’s it going? I was surprised to get your call.”
Eddie smiled easily. “Well after Buck turned me down for drinks, I thought maybe you were like me and needed this a bit after everything.”
He usually didn’t. Not that it wasn’t welcome. The bartender passed him his beer.
“Evan turned you down?” Tommy asked.
“Uh…yeah, guess he was really tired.”
“Right,” Tommy said. “It was a long night.”
A longer night than Eddie knew. Tommy took a gulp of his beer and tried to figure out a way for him to keep the conversation on Buck…Evan. He was Evan to Tommy especially knowing that everyone else seemed to use the nickname.
“Well Bobby is kind of like a father to Buck, so even though he didn’t show it…he was really worried.”
“Oh,” Tommy said. “It’s actually like a family over there.”
“You could say that,” Eddie said with a smile. “I guess it wasn’t that when you were at the 118?”
“Farthest thing from it,” Tommy said. “I guess I left right before things changed.”
He had never once regretted leaving when he did. Tommy had always meant to get back in the air. It was where he was freest and the thing he missed the most after leaving the army. So, when he had completed the required years as a firefighter, Tommy had started looking for a transfer to any of the air operation stations. His experience as a pilot helped, and he’d found a place where he belonged. He felt freer than he ever had and it had allowed him a brand new start. One in which he could explore parts of himself he hadn’t ever thought he would.
“I should say I’m sorry you missed out, but I’m sure you love what you do.”
“I do,” Tommy said.
If there was one thing, it was Evan. Would he have met him earlier if he stayed? Of course there was no changing the past. There was also who Tommy had been then and Tommy could admit to himself that he hadn’t been ready for a soulmate, much less Evan.
Eddie drew the conversation in another direction. They started exchanging stories then. Stories about their time at the army which led into conversations about what it was like to return to a civilian life. It was hard, Tommy knew, to talk about it with regular people that hadn’t served and hadn’t seen the things they had. It was clear almost right away that Eddie didn’t have anyone to talk to about stuff like that. Tommy did still have a few friends from back then, but they weren’t all that close anymore. He figured it was exactly why Eddie had reached out.
Past that, though, they had other things in common and it wasn’t that Tommy forgot about Evan — he was always there in his mind — it was that Tommy found himself having a good time with Eddie. They got talking basketball when the scores of a game were being reported on the tv, and when an ad for a MMA fight came on Eddie made a comment about how he missed going to see fights live.
“Shift ran late when tickets went on sale,” Eddie said. “Didn’t even get a chance to try and get at them.”
“I have tickets for this one,” Tommy said.
“I hate you right now,” Eddie said, but he said it with a grin.
He hadn’t bought them. A buddy of his had asked if Tommy wanted to go and then because he was a promoter, given him the two tickets. Tommy had meant to ask someone from Harbor if they wanted to go with him, but he’d forgotten.
“Hey, you want to go with me?”
“What? Wait, are you serious, man?”
“Yeah. I mean, it was gonna go to waste, so why not? Fight’s in Vegas. I can probably fly us there.”
Eddie’s grin grew wider. “Hell yeah, that sounds amazing.”
“Yeah?”
Eddie’s hand landed on his shoulder. “You just made my night, man. This is awesome.”
They talked MMA fighting for a while and he could tell that Eddie had probably dabbled in it a bit.
“So,” he said two beers in. “Is this the norm for you and Evan? Going out after a shift?”
“When my kid allows,” Eddie said. “Half the time we’re at my house or his apartment with Chris. Marisol’s gotten used to it.”
“Marisol?”
“My girlfriend,” Eddie said.
“Ah. And uh, what about his…partner?”
Tommy braced himself. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that Evan would be involved with someone. It was one of those things that you heard about, people that were happily in a relationship and suddenly one of them met their soulmate. It wasn’t like most people were out there waiting for their soulmate convinced that it was something that would actually happen.
Eddie laughed. “He broke up with his last girlfriend a little while ago. She was a death doula if you can believe that’s a real thing.”
“I can’t actually,” Tommy said. “But clearly it didn’t work out.”
“Nope,” Eddie said. “He has the worst luck.”
“Maybe that’s changing,” Tommy said.
The conversation shifted again somehow and Tommy couldn’t ask more questions about Evan without giving away that he was looking for information on him. Tommy didn’t want to tell Eddie about Evan being his soulmate, not without first speaking to Evan. He did garner that Eddie and Evan were close, but despite trying several times, didn’t manage to finangle a way to ask for Evan’s phone number.
He felt a little bit pathetic. After all, who met their soulmate — a rarity in itself — and then not insist on taking a moment to talk even in spite of the circumstances? Insist on exchanging numbers?
By the time he made it home, a little buzzed from the beer, he realized that somehow he’d made lots of plans to hang out with Eddie and none with Evan. He was a mess.
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I absolutely adore your thoughts on Buggy and Sea Shanties. So I'd like to share an inspiration and a thought, Tale of the Shadow by Sail North.
What if that's the treasure Buggy seaked when he was younger and just as the lyrics he found it but the crew he put together was not loyal like his cannon lot so they where killed but the Shadow took a liking to Buggy after he survived. I'm imagining him flirting with the ship helped in that regard. Buggy captain of the Shadow.
Okay but that would he SUCH a good take. ((I love Sail North honestly you are fueling my obsession yesss)).
Consider maybe instead of Buggy actively SEARCHING for it, he stumbled across it. And the Shadow being less of a Prize To Be Sought and more of a grim omen, a harbinger of sea stories, among the many Buggy knows by heart.
His first crew, the ones cobbled together so soon after his first abandoned him - I'm honestly thinking they were sort of thrown together and Buggy took charge as he tends to do. And the rest fall in line at a surface level but only insofar as completing their goals. Buggy knows, he can see it, but really the only people he's ever had in his life who took him and his wants semi-seriously are dead or dead-to-him at that point. He doesn't care. It's a means to an end, he tells himself. He's using them as much as they're using him - no, he's using them more! In the flashiest of ways!!
And then they happen across a fog. And Buggy can Feel something out there that's Looking and Searching and Calling. He is absolutely not about that, no sir. He gives the orders to sail westward, navigating by the stars and not the log pose which is wobbling steadily to that Other Presence. The crew, if they can even be called that, are not happy with the order.
Buggy by this point is young still, maybe sixteen thereabouts at most, and he is the youngest on the ship. And the smallest. And seems the weakest.
He is not, the group learns terrifyingly quickly. He is thin, fast, skilled with a blade and smarter than he pretends to be. He's got experience under his belt and on his side against opponents bigger, stronger, better than him - and he's used to being outnumbered too.
The fight takes time and Buggy soon gets hit with a lucky shot, sending him sprawling to the deck and nearly crushed beneath ratty boots and cruel laughter. He is panting against the wood, straining to get up, to move, to fight or flee-
And he freezes.
The Presence is back and it's stronger than ever, right on top of them. It's only his resistance to Conquerors Haki which keeps him from so much as fluttering an eyelid under the sudden pressure choking the men and women alike on his ship.
Not many have the nerve to approach my hull with so little awareness.
Buggy goes still at the soft voice while the other's scatter, scramble, search for the interloper. They shout demands for the person to show themselves. Buggy merely pushes himself up enough to bow properly. That is no person, he knows, not in the way these bozos think.
There's a sudden whirl of air, rigging springing into motion, ropes and sails unwinding to snatch bodies and cut voices into choked gargling frenzies.
Buggy does not move. His head aches, his body sore, but his mind is racing over contingency after contingency. He needs to think, needs to figure out a way to survive this unholy clusterfuck of a situation-
He freezes as he catches a black intangible hem from his periphery.
A hand touches his head, soft despite the carnage swaying above by their will.
So small you are, little star, and yet so brightly you shine in the gloom...
A hand takes his chin, tilts his head up. Buggy squeezes his eyes shut.
Look upon me, star child.
"N-No," he declares decisively, though not impolitely. "It is disrespectful for mortals to meet the gaze of Spirits."
Ohhh, how bright you are, little star. What say the waves to my hull, what say the winds to my sails, that by which you are known?
He thinks for a moment, carefully, then answers. "I am called Buggy."
Oh, my sweet, my darling, how interesting you are, how clever, how wise for your sweet short years. By what means have the Fates forged a mind and soul like this? Such a gift to my heart, so intriguing.
"... what..." He licks his lips. "What say the sea, the winds, to that which you are called?"
... I am called many things, my junebug. But now? This Era knows me as The Shadow... but you knew that, didn't you?
"..."
Hm~ Yes. You will do nicely.
"What- aAA-!!"
Shhh, sleep, my sweet, let my love fill your pores and lungs. Dream sweetly under my spells and carry the blackened blessing of my Self with you into the Beginning and End. You, sweet Buggy, are destined for great things. I will carry you there, so long as you carry me in turn...
Buggy screamed into the wooden planks as blackness swallowed his senses, burning and baptizing his cells. The only thing he was aware of was the soft hand in his hair, the whispered assurances like dripping ink, and the pain.
Buggy was swallowed whole on a ship in the fog, cradled by a faceless being and guarded by corpses.
He awakens some time later on his ship, battered and damaged, dirty but warm under the warm, blazing sun. The rigging is damaged, the bodies gone. Buggy is alone, but, he finds sometime later, not unscathed. Staring back from the backs of his hands are two inky stylized emblems. The eyes stare into the air and space, offset by his skin.
He shudders.
He takes to wearing gloves.
He doesn't notice until weeks later that sometimes his shadow will smile at him, warm, loving, intelligent.
He learns more in the ensuing time, but not a word of it is ever breathed to another person.
One does not speak of deals with the fae, after all.
#buggy the clown#thank you for the ask ilysm#i maaaay have gotten too into it whoopsies~#buggy baby beloved#one piece#shaking the bars of my cage#i love he#witchy answers!!#my bean#buggy d clown#pirates pirates pirates#sea shanties
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Take care of him (Patreon)
#Doodles#Wander Over Yonder#Commander Peepers#Watchdogs#Lord Hater#Wander#He's very important don't you know ♪#I may or may not have been reading sickfics where the Watchdogs take care of Peepers in his moment of weakness hehe#The Watchdogs really swing between brutally competent and hilariously frivolous they have no middle slider haha#I really like them <3 They're such a cute bunch!#Never getting over all the Watchdogs all stuffed into that one carnival ride on Bingleborp lol#So many eyes and all single-seeing there's just something Very about them hm ♪#I can't decide which I like more - the Watchdogs kinda just putting up with Peepers or actually admiring him#I can have both since there's so many! A Peepers fanclub? Haha ♫#I don't think he'd be comfortable with it tho - at times his actions make me wonder if he even considers himself a Watchdog#He does a lot of bullying and gets bullied in return - The Cartoon as an example of the latter haha#He truly is more competent than the average foot soldier which is y'know - why he's a Commander in the first place lol#But to the point of comedy (and yes of course I know it's a comedy show lol) - the divide is very stark! He feels very separated#I like that about him :) He has visual differences and spacial differences - his own room - and competence and just ah! He's interesting!#He rises to meet his desires!! I like him very much ♪♫#More on the sickfic train lol a bit of a role reversal - a careful Hater and a lackadaisical Wander haha#Peepers is so small and breakable in Hater's arms! Treat him gently! Whereas he's barely smaller than Wander lol#Maybe they went out drinking together and he needed to return him to his room haha - so many identical doors#Normally he'd know but it's funnier to drag him around lol#The usual sleepy doodle <3 Gotta do it haha#A couple silly ones - I wanted to try the X eye shape but I didn't want it to stick haha though they do use it when they fall down sometimes#Almost X-shaped when he squints really hard! How cute haha
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