#i will probably never see LA and i live in the same god damn country as it but a plane is three hours and a car ride is three days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ultimatetrashyfanfic · 3 years

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Non-despair AU! And ever since I watched that thirty minute anime clip with Nagito’s perspective on things, I’ve really liked the idea of him being buds with Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko. And Nagito openly talks about his past trauma on a plane so… what better way to bond than bonding over trauma? Anyway, I love these three so much. Also Komahina because I love them - Circle

(Also forgot to add this, sorry, but it’s on AO3 too) https://archiveofourown.org/works/33483538

Warning: descriptions of panic attacks, nausea, motion sickness, very mild vomiting (like barely any).

Fuyuhiko always thought Nagito was spouting a whole load of bullshit when he lamented about his talent being useless; he would’ve loved having Ultimate Luck right now.

“Haha! You got the short straw, Fuyuhiko!” Akane crowed. “Tough luck!”

“Wait, no! Can’t we do a best of three?”

“Somebody has to sit with them, man,” Nekomaru said. “You guys are already friends, it’ll be a great bonding experience.”

“I don’t want to bond with them in that situation. Because you all know it’ll be a shit show. That’s why we’re fucking doing this,” Fuyuhiko growled, glaring at each of his classmates in turn. Only two were missing, the pair who’d triggered this whole unfortunate drawing of straws in the first place.

“Why can’t you sit with them, Hajime? Nagito is always hanging off you anyway. And Kazuichi is your friend too,” Fuyuhiko said.

“I’m afraid I can’t, Fuyuhiko.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I didn’t draw the short straw.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Fuyuhiko stomped away, his classmates’ laughter echoing behind him. This class trip was already more trouble than it was worth and it hadn’t even started. He was almost tempted to skip the plane journey with the rest of them and hop on a different flight to Novoselic, just to show them. It wasn’t like he needed Sonia to pay his way. But she’d been so enthusiastic about taking her friends to see her home country, and Fuyuhiko couldn’t think of any way to tell her without causing offence. He couldn’t really say he just didn’t want to be stuck babysitting Kazuichi and Nagito on a flight.

It wasn’t that Fuyuhiko didn’t like Kazuichi and Nagito. Sure, Kazuichi could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, and Nagito would go all weird and self-deprecating if you didn’t watch out, but Fuyuhiko still considered them close friends. But the flight to Novoselic was long. Kazuichi could get motion sickness on a fucking bicycle, and Nagito hadn’t set foot on a plane since his parents died on one right in front of his eyes. There was no way it could possibly go well. Fuyuhiko pictured hour after hour of Kazuichi puking and complaining and Nagito… well, he wasn’t sure what the hell Nagito would do. He’d never seen Nagito get flustered before. Hell, that was much more terrifying. He had to get out of this.

In the days before the trip, Fuyuhiko kept trying to convince his kinder classmates to take responsibility for at least one of the other men. “It’s gonna be impossible to help them both,” Fuyuhiko said. “It’ll be better for them if you help me.”

“You could sit between them,” Mahiru said. “And I’ve already promised Hiyoko I’ll sit with her. Sorry.”

Asking Twogami was a no-go too. “It’ll be more considerate to the other passengers if they’re both in one area,” he said. “To limit the disturbance if they become distressed.”

“I’m the one who’ll be feeling fucking distressed,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

Peko overheard, and came over at once. “I’ll take your burden, young master.”

“No, not you!” Fuyuhiko hated the whine in his tone - and he hated the smirk on Twogami’s face too. “You don’t have to do it. You sit with Gundham and pet his hamsters or something. I… I want you to be happy,” he mumbled, blushing fiercely.

Damn it. He could be as bad as Kazuichi sometimes.

There was no way to wriggle out of it. The morning of the trip dawned bright and sunny, and Fuyuhiko’s ticket set him directly between Kazuichi and Nagito. Fantastic.

At least check-in and security went by reasonably peacefully, the walk to their gate quiet. Only Akane and Nekomaru seemed to be properly awake this early in the day, and they stuck with each other. Fuyuhiko glanced at his two friends. Kazuichi still seemed half-asleep, curled on one of the uncomfortable chairs by the gate, watching the planes take off and land in the distance through the huge windows. Nagito was much more concerning. He was smiling brightly… but he didn’t look happy at all.

“Hey, Fuyuhiko, want to know how a plane engine works?” Kazuichi asked.

“No,” he said, but he sat down with a sigh as Kazuichi started talking anyway. He tuned out after a second, though Nagito looked like he was listening.

“Seeing you talk about your ultimate talent is so inspiring, Kazuichi,” Nagito said - and smiled. That weird smile again, desperate and strained.

“It’s nothing. I just think planes are interesting. From an engineering point of view. I really wish I didn’t have to fucking ride one,” Kazuichi groaned.

“Aha, I can’t help feeling apprehensive too. The last time I was on a flight, both my parents died.” Nagito spoke emotionlessly, as if reciting a shopping list, but that smile was still fixed on his face. “But it’s okay. That bad luck brought me a lot of good luck later on. You just have to have hope that things will work out.”

Kazuichi stared at him, mouth open. “Um. Okay. Sorry.” He caught Fuyuhiko’s eye and mouthed what the fuck? Fuyuhiko wasn’t sure if Kazuichi was just now hearing the story or if he was confused by Nagito’s weird behaviour. He shrugged helplessly.

There wasn’t much conversation after that. You couldn’t really carry on your casual chit-chat right after somebody brought up their dead parents. Fuyuhiko kept an eye on Nagito. He was bolt upright in his seat, his eyes staring straight ahead, hands clasped so tight in his lap his knuckles bleached white. With his pale hair and ashen face, he looked like all the blood had drained out of him completely.

Their flight number was called far too soon, and Fuyuhiko dragged his motley crew to the right aisle, pondering where to put everyone. Kazuichi should probably be on the end if he’d be passing vomit bags to some poor stewardess. Fuyuhiko needed to be in the middle, so that left Nagito by the window. He’d have to keep the shutter pulled down.

Hajime passed them on the way to his own seat, and stopped short when he saw Nagito’s face. He leaned right over Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko, ignoring their complaints and curses, and took Nagito’s hand. “Are you alright? You look… off.”

“Don’t worry about me, Hajime.”

“Your hands are clammy.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. How disgusting for you,” Nagito said, smiling. Always smiling.

“That’s not what I meant… Look, do you want to sit with me?”

“Can we move it along please?” somebody called irritably down the aisle.

“You’re holding up the line, Hajime. Don’t worry about me,” Nagito repeated. Hajime looked like he was worrying dreadfully, but he was forced to move along. Nagito clasped his hands again and fixed his gaze on the seat in front, smiling smiling smiling. It was freaking Fuyuhiko out. He looked like he was wearing a mask and his eyes were the only real part of him, swirling with turmoil.

“Hey.” Kazuichi nudged Fuyuhiko’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Are Hajime and Nagito… you know. A thing?”

“Mate, you told me you’ve seen them leave Hajime’s cabin together in the mornings.”

“They could just be having a sleepover. As bros.”

“I don’t think it’s that, Kazuichi.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want Hajime to get a new best friend,” Kazuichi said.

Fuyuhiko sighed. “I think you’re safe.”

There was a pause. Then another shoulder nudge a second later. “So Hajime and Nagito? Seriously? Am I the only person on my own in this class?” Kazuichi muttered.

Fuyuhiko was spared from responding by the flight attendants starting the safety briefing, demonstrating how to use the oxygen masks and the life jackets in case of emergency. He had to admit, it was pretty eerie to think that you could, however unlikely it may be, crash into the ocean or need extra oxygen to live long enough to get to land. He glanced over at Nagito nervously. His arms were now curled across his chest, hands gripping his elbows. His head was bent, a cloud of puffy hair hiding his face. Maybe that was for the best.

“Can you try not to puke as long as possible?” Fuyuhiko whispered to Kazuichi. “I feel like I might have a situation to deal with.”

“I’m never trying to puke,” Kazuichi said, but he seemed worried too, glancing past Fuyuhiko. “Hey, Nagito, you doing alright?”

“Don’t worry about me, Kazuichi,” Nagito said, eerily calmly.

“That’s not the same thing as saying you’re fine, is it?” Kazuichi whispered to Fuyuhiko.

“He’s clearly not fucking fine,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

“Should I ask Hajime to swap?” Kazuichi asked.

Fuyuhiko nodded, but before Kazuichi could even undo his seatbelt, the plane jerked and started reversing out of the gate. Fuyuhiko heard Nagito draw in his breath sharply - then he was the one fumbling for his seatbelt, standing unsteadily.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Fuyuhiko yelled, catching onto the back of Nagito’s coat as he tried to clamber over the seats. “Sit down!”

“I’m afraid I need to get off,” Nagito said, voice still calm despite his frantic movements.

“It’s already moving, for God’s sake! Sit down before a flight attendant sees you!” It wasn’t hard to force Nagito back into his seat - he seemed light enough for a strong gust of wind to knock him over - and Souda hastily got the belt fastened again just as the plane rolled onto the runway.

“Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine,” Fuyuhiko gabbled, trying hard not to shout or swear or scream at all his classmates for making him deal with this. “Just sit still and… I dunno, plug your ears. The takeoff part is the worst.”

There was a cacophony of whirring as the engines roared to life and Fuyuhiko would be very grateful for all that noise in a second, because Nagito started to laugh. Dry, hysterical laughter, his eyes over-bright and manic, lips bared in that grisly parody of a smile.

“Has he lost his fucking mind?” Kazuichi asked, sounding genuinely frightened.

“You must really hate me, Fuyuhiko,” Nagito gasped. “To restrain me here… You must despise me.”

“I’m not restraining you!”

“Then let me off.” He locked eyes with Fuyuhiko and for a second the manic grin faded. “Please…”

The engines roared to a crescendo and the plane shot forward so quickly everyone was pinned to their seats with the force, zooming on and on until they could feel the entire structure lurch into the air. Kazuichi groaned softly, shutting his eyes, but Fuyuhiko was far more focused on Nagito. He had his eyes squeezed shut too, but his hand clamped hard onto Fuyuhiko’s arm. Really fucking hard. Shit, maybe Nagito wasn’t as weak as he looked. Fuyuhiko cursed as his terrified companion started digging his nails into his skin, actually drawing blood. The pain prompted Fuyuhiko to try prying the hand loose a little, but Nagito clamped on harder, carving several new scratches. Fuyuhiko didn’t dare attempt again; he’d get his arm cut to ribbons.

When the plane was flying high and the swirling, disoriented feeling had eased, Fuyuhiko checked on both men. Kazuichi had his head in his hands, but he gave a shaky thumbs up when Fuyuhiko prodded him.

“‘M okay,” he mumbled. “Got through takeoff. Gets better when it’s levelling out.”

“Right, good. Try to stay that way, yeah? I’ve got a lot to handle right now,” Fuyuhiko sighed. Nagito was still shredding his arm up, but he could feel one finger tapping for attention.

“What? What do you need? Please, no bullshit, Nagito. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do,” Fuyuhiko said. He was practically yelling in his panic, and the people across the aisle turned to glare.

It was several seconds before Nagito could gather enough breath to speak. Fuyuhiko saw that awful smile stretch across his face again, like somebody had twisted his frown the wrong way round. “Aha, I’m sorry to trouble you, Fuyuhiko, but I think I might be having a panic attack.”

“What?” Fuyuhiko felt like he was going to have a panic attack too. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t seem to catch my breath. And the cabin has been spinning for several minutes.”

“Jesus Christ! Why didn’t you say anything?” Fuyuhiko hurriedly pushed Nagito’s head down as far as it would go before it bumped the seat in front. “Fucking… think of things you can see or something? Shit, I don’t remember.”

“Five things you can see,” Kazuichi chimed in. “Is he really gonna pass out? Hajime is gonna kill us.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him for leaving this shit to us! How stupid can you get?”

“Ahh, I’m such a nuisance. If I’d known I’d react in such a shameful way, I’d have been sure to take a seat away from all the Ultimates. Why are you taking care of someone like me?”

“Nagito, shut up, this isn’t your fault,” Fuyuhiko said shortly. “Stop babbling on about ultimates and do the panic attack thing. Listen to Kazuichi, he knows how to do it.”

Nagito did as he was told, working through the grounding techniques with Kazuichi while Fuyuhiko held onto his shoulders feeling helpless. Nagito was shaking so hard it was difficult not to drop him altogether. He didn’t pass out, but even after the grounding Nagito looked far from what you’d consider calm. He was grey-white when Fuyuhiko carefully hauled him back upright.

“Are you okay..?”

The smile came back, though it seemed a lot more tired than manic this time. “Ah… I don’t think so, Fuyuhiko.”

“Well. At least you’re honest. Can you tell me how you’re feeling? Physically, I mean. Clearly I see you’re fucked mentally. And please stop smiling like that, you’re creeping me out,” Fuyuhiko said.

Nagito finally released his grip on Fuyuhiko’s arm, his nails coated with blood. He bent forward slowly, carefully, like he was terrified any sudden movements would send him spiralling again, and let his elbows rest on his knees. “I still feel slightly lightheaded. And nauseous. I’d still like to get off.”

Fuyuhiko examined the long scratches on his arm, sighing and mopping the blood with his sleeve. “Well, you’d have a long drop if you tried to get off now. You should cut your damn fingernails too. I’m going to get Hajime.” He turned to Kazuichi. “Watch him for a minute, okay? I don’t fucking care about drawing the short straw anymore, I can’t handle this.” Fuyuhiko scrambled over Kazuichi’s lap into the aisle, ignoring the flight attendant yelling for him to remain in his seat until the seatbelt signs went off.

“Hey! What did you mean drawing the short straw?” Kazuichi called behind him. Fuyuhiko didn’t look back.

“Hajime!” Fuyuhiko yelled when he was still more than six aisles away from the startled man. “You’re swapping with me!” He lowered his voice when he reached Hajime’s seat, but only marginally. “I can’t handle this. I don’t know how you expected Komeada to react to this shit, but whatever you thought, it’s worse. Way fucking worse. And I can’t help him. So go fucking do it yourself.”

“Well, I was going to swap as soon as the seatbelt signs were off,” Hajime said pointedly.

“I don’t give a shit. Look at my arm! Your fucking boyfriend nearly ripped it off at the elbow.” Fuyuhiko brandished his scratched, bloodied arm, and Hajime looked genuinely shocked.

“Oh my God…” He stood up hastily, clinging to the seats in front as the plane was still slightly off-balance. “I’m sorry, Fuyuhiko. I didn’t expect him to panic so much. He never said anything much about it when I asked.”

“Yeah, well, no offence, Hajime, but you can be as thick as three short planks sometimes. So if he implied anything, I don’t doubt you missed it,” Fuyuhiko snapped, taking Hajime’s empty seat - next to Chiaki, thank goodness. She hadn’t even looked up from her Switch this whole time. Perfect.

“I have taken some offence…” Hajime mumbled, then turned to go back down the aisle, trying hard not to catch the eyes of the other passengers staring like they were all part of a circus act. He was pretty sure the whole class was going to get banned from this airline. Gundham had been in trouble already for taking his hamsters out of their little travelling cage - several times. He was insulted by the insistence of the staff that all pets had to be contained, both by their labelling of his hamsters as mere pets and from their implication that his dark devas could ever be contained.

Hajime followed the sounds of more disgruntled passengers to Nagito’s seat. He was in the middle now, hunched over one of those white sick bags, while Kazuichi awkwardly patted his back. He looked relieved to see Hajime, beckoning frantically. “Come help me! I think he’s gonna spew. Weird that it’s not me for once.”

Hajime sighed, struggling to shuffle past his friends to get to Nagito’s other side, squashed by the window. Nagito didn’t acknowledge him. Hajime could see he had his eyes closed, his face strangely calm and smooth, though his breathing was erratic.

“Hey, Nagito? You hearing me?” Hajime called, tapping the other man’s pale cheek.

“Did I drive Fuyuhiko away?” Nagito said, voice strained. “I’m not surprised. To bother the Ultimates with the problems of an insignificant nobody like me.”

“Dude, shut up,” Kazuichi groaned. “Nobody thinks that. Stop being so weird. Fuyuhiko just doesn’t know how to look after people.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up? I doubt you’ll throw up, you wouldn’t eat anything this morning,” Hajime said.

At that exact moment, almost as if to pointedly prove him wrong, Nagito made a choked retching sound and ducked his head down further, cringing.

“Oookay. Or not. Um. You’re okay,” Hajime muttered, placing a wary hand on Nagito’s hair to keep it out of the way. It was strange hair; soft yet thick at the same time, and it poofed up determinedly no matter how many times Ibuki tried him out with different hairstyles.

The seatbelt signs were now off, so Kazuichi stood up hastily, trying to shield Nagito from the people hurrying up the aisle to the bathrooms. Hajime was grateful, but part of him wished he could switch places with Souda. He didn’t think he’d be having to coach Nagito through something so strangely intimate so soon into their… relationship? They’d never come out and actually said they were boyfriends, not even to each other, but their classmates seemed to think they were a couple.

As Nagito really hadn’t eaten much of anything all day, the actual vomiting didn’t last too long, but the dry heaving continued for several agonising minutes, and the nausea remained indefinitely. But Nagito felt safe to lift him head, his pale cheeks dusted with pink. He smiled shakily at Hajime. “How embarrassing. I caused a scene in front of all these people. You must be lamenting the day you set eyes on me.”

“Stop,” Hajime sighed, taking the soiled bag and handing it to Kazuichi.

“Hajime!” Souda squealed, hastily handing it off to a flight attendant, who offered a bottle of water for Nagito in response. Her smile didn’t slip once. Hajime was impressed by her poker face.

“Drink,” Hajime prompted, forcing the bottle into Nagito’s hands. “I want you to try eating something later too. You’re going to pass out.”

Kazuichi sat down again, glancing at Nagito. “You feeling… okay now? Like as okay as you can?”

Nagito took a long drink of water, eyes blank. Then he smiled again, that strange, forced smile. “I really am pathetic, aren’t I? Causing such a dramatic spectacle over something that happened years ago. I don’t deserve such attention from the Ultim-“

“Stop!” Hajime took Nagito’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. Hajime thought he saw something flicker in them, some semblance of an honest emotion. “Nagito, can you please stop trying to act like you don’t have feelings. I know you’re scared. And you know what? It’s okay. It’s completely fucking normal to feel like this right now. I shouldn’t have left you. That was me being dense, and I’m sorry. But you can stop pretending. It’s just me here - and Kazuichi, but he’ll understand too. He’s scared of everything.”

“I am not!” Kazuichi cried, outraged.

Hajime didn’t break eye contact with Nagito, both breathing heavily. Nagito glared back at first, his face twisting into a scowl, but Hajime didn’t falter.

“Let me in,” Hajime muttered. “I know you, for God’s sake. You’re not gonna scare me off. It’s okay to need help. Please.”

Another silence for several long, tense seconds. Then - finally, amazingly - Nagito made a soft frustrated noise, lunged forwards and wound his arms around Hajime’s neck so tightly that for a second Hajime thought he’d messed up so badly Nagito was trying to throttle him.

“Hey, careful,” Hajime said, but his voice was gentle and he didn’t try to pry Nagito off. Nagito let his forehead rest on Hajime’s shoulder, his hair falling to shield his face completely. Hajime snaked his own arms awkwardly around Nagito’s slender waist. He could feel Nagito shaking, feel the warm puff of his breathing against his shoulder. The shaking never eased, but as time passed the breathing seemed to calm slightly.

Nagito didn’t speak as he clung to Hajime for dear life. Not a single word. But Hajime hadn’t really expected him to. This was already a degree of vulnerability that Nagito was completely unaccustomed to showing anyone, let alone his almost-boyfriend, his classmates and an entire plane full of strangers. It was a good place to start.

Kazuichi watched them slightly bitterly. “It’s alright for some. I wouldn’t mind someone to cuddle up to,” he muttered.

“That’s your other talent. Ultimate Third Wheel,” Hajime quipped.

Their row of seats was reasonably peaceful after that, though Hajime could hear the laughter and yelling from their classmates further back. He hoped the sensible members of the group could stop them causing too much trouble. Hajime couldn’t go tell them to knock it off himself; whenever he moved at all Nagito would tighten his grip.

He sat there, hour after hour, until he had to pry Nagito off him for a bathroom break. It wasn’t easy. Nagito fought him and clung on as much as he could, though Hajime explained he’d be back in five minutes.

“Look, cling onto Kazuichi while I go pee,” Hajime suggested. Kazuichi didn’t look overly enthusiastic about that idea, but he didn’t protest.

Nagito sighed. He slowly drew back his arms, and whispered three breathy little words into Hajime’s shirt before he went, perhaps the most raw, vulnerable words Hajime had ever heard Nagito say: “Please come back.”

“I will. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured.

Nagito shifted shakily in his seat, turned to Kazuichi and lunged at him too, wrapping his arms around his neck. Kazuichi squealed and whined that he was being strangled, but he didn’t shove Nagito away. Hajime almost felt like they were new parents, passing their newborn between them: “I’ll hold him for a bit, you go to the loo.”

There was a queue for the tiny airplane bathrooms. Hajime stood impatiently, wriggling his cramped shoulders and rocking back on his heels; he was glad Nagito seemed to be trusting him more, but he was pretty stiff after sitting in the same position for hours.

Two women ahead of Hajime in the queue seemed to be having an animated discussion about something, and when Hajime caught the word “school” he started to listen properly.

“I don’t know what sort of school they come from, but they’re a strange bunch,” one lady hissed. “There’s an odd boy in the row ahead of me, one of that lot, who has a collections of rodents, all free from their cage! Running all over the seat trays! Well, that’s not very hygienic, is it? But when I told him as much, he gave me the most incredibly rude answer.”

“Young people have such foul mouths these days,” the other lady agreed.

“No, he wasn’t swearing. It was ever so strange, almost as if he was… well, you’ll think I sound silly. But it was like he was cursing me.”

It was a good job for Hajime that the toilet became available and the lady rushed inside, because he was biting his cheeks to contain his laughter. When he’d used the loo himself and gone back to release Kazuichi from Nagito’s vice grip, he recited the story for both of them.

Kazuichi laughed, poking Nagito gently. “There you are, Nagito. No need to worry. No matter how weird we are, we can always count on Gundham to be weirder.”

Nagito didn’t respond, but Hajime saw a hint of a smile - a real smile - on his lips before he buried his face in Hajime’s neck again.

#super danganronpa two #danganronpa 2 #emeto tw #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #kazuichi souda #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #panic attacks #past trauma #komahina #fear of flying #non despair au #mod circle #our writing

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crystxlclear · 3 years

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sudden desire

chapter six: previously on: chaotic stupid

part seven of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / masterlist

in which two best friends won’t admit they’re in love so decide to have a baby together instead.

pairing: marcus pike x original female character (coraline meyer)

word count: 8.2k (oh yikes)

warnings: no beta read, brief mentions of pregnancy i guess?

author’s note: this took me weeks to write oh my god

Coraline hasn’t told anyone about Marcus’ offer. Not even Loren, when they’d met for the first time in months, when her boyfriend finally got a night off work to look after Maisie. Not even when they’d drunk too much wine and her head was so fuzzy that she probably would have told anyone anything, if they’d asked. She’s not even sure where she’d start.

Coraline has never been the best at keeping secrets. At least, not her own, and definitely not when she was younger, and she’s always wondering whether that’s why the media seem to think she’s easy prey for their rumours. It never seemed to bother Scott; he was the same, so open and willing to talk about anything and everything with anyone who asked. But it’s different with Marcus. He’s private by necessity but he’s also private by choice, too. She wonders if he’s always been like that, if before the heartbreak he’d told her about occurred, if he’d opened up to people. If what had happened to him had made him closed off. He’s never seemed like a closed book before (and, hell, maybe he isn’t, maybe he just doesn’t want to relive those times; and he doesn’t have to tell her anything, anyway) but he’d opened up to her after he’d made his ‘baby suggestion’. And all she can think of now, since he’d recounted the stories, was that those women - the ex-wife who’d claimed he was too ‘nice’, who’d claimed he was too ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’, and all that utter bullshit, and the one who’d left him for another man, left him alone in D.C. without a single person to lean on - must be completely insane to think that he isn’t good enough for them. Marcus Pike is too good for anyone, she thinks. He’s the best person she knows. Marcus Pike makes Coraline want to be a better person. They didn’t end up ordering takeout that night, like they always did. Coraline had found herself reaching to the back of her cupboards, searching blindly for some ingredients she wasn’t even sure she had, just for him. Marcus loves breakfast. Like, he really loves it, she’s come to find. And at any time of the day, really. And there’s a diner he frequents; it’s near his office, on the other side of town, tucked away just out of Cora’s reach. Though, he has taken her there once before - just after they first met, when she’d tagged along with her older brother to the FBI debriefing, to check his gallery was secure; she’d thought it was a date, until he’d prefaced his offer with an insistence that it was ‘just as friends’; Marcus had spent the whole time raving about the pancakes he ate every Friday — a treat for a long week’s worth and a change from his usual burger and fries — how he’d found the place by accident and it was part of his daily routine, now, until Coraline had given in and let him order for her, since he knew the place better than she did - most of the time, they see each other when it’s late, when he’s already been for his almost daily pancake-fix and she’s collapsed to the sofa with her legs draped over the armrest. They haven’t been back since, though she’d jump at the chance if he ever asked again. Coraline may be a pretty awful cook, and she may not be able to make pancakes as good as the ones he likes, but surely it’s just the sentiment that counts. He’s spent far too many evenings eating greasy Chinese food at her behest, insisting that he’s fine with it, because it makes her feel better. It’s the least she could do. She’d spent an hour making perhaps the world’s worst pancakes - even as Marcus insisted that she didn’t have to cook for him, that they could just order pizza or something if they wanted a change - pancakes so bad that she’d had to drench the damn things in syrup just to disguise the odd sour taste that somehow tinged every mouthful. Marcus had eaten it without issue, even as she’d apologised endlessly for her dreadful culinary skills and insisted that he didn’t have to eat them if he didn’t like them. They’d made him smile, though. And it melted away the last dregs of awkwardness between them. That was the pancakes’ purpose. It didn’t matter that they were utterly terrible, borderline inedible and a little lumpy.

But, when Monday rolls around and her older brother, Daniel, comes to her with his regular insistence that she brings that ‘nice FBI agent she’d made friends with’ to their weekly dinner at his house, she took him up on the offer, for a change. She’s never asked because she’s always assumed he would say no; they weren’t dating and it was a little weird. Surely an invite to weekly family dinners was something couples did.

She always ignores Daniel, used to the persistent insistence to ask him. Relenting — finally — comes with the sense that she feels as if she owes him now, though. To make it up for her dreadful pancakes with Daniel’s wife’s cooking, which was always amazing. To make up for the week of unforgivable ignorance. To help them move past the ill-thought-out offer of a baby. She’s sure he’ll still say no, when she calls him on his lunch break, when she knows he’ll be sat at the counter in that same diner, enjoying that brief moment of time away from paperwork. Their lunch breaks line up, those rare and all-too-rare moments when they have time to relax, the tension in their shoulders owed entirely to their morning workloads melting away at the soft sounds of the other’s voice.

His voice is pleasant, like it always is; Marcus Pike’s voice is like serenity to her, all gentle and familiar, and, this time, he sounds amused when he answers the phone. “Well, this is a nice surprise.” His voice crackles through the phone. The reception in the diner is terrible - it’s the only thing he ever seems to complain about - but she can still make out the sound of the smile in his voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Good afternoon to you, too, Marcus.” Coraline hums, shoving the last of her laundry into the washing machine, her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. “I’m calling with an invitation.”

“An invitation?” He ponders, musing over the idea. “To one of those glamorous celebrity parties you’re always telling me about?”

She scoffs. “Oh, you wish, Pike. It’s an invite to my brother’s for dinner. Incredibly glamorous, I know.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments. She almost regrets asking. She does when he replies. “Are you sure?” He questions. “I’m not sure-”

Coraline nods as if he can somehow see her through the phone. “I’m sure,” she insists, “Besides, Daniel and Kimmy want you to come.”

“Coraline, I don’t know-”

“Marcus, don’t make me beg.” She chuckles, but it’s a nervous chuckle. She knew he would say no; that’s why she hasn’t asked him, to avoid this awkward conversation between them when he was uncomfortable and looking for a subtle way to turn her down without hurting her feelings. “Please.”

There’s another pause as he lets out another muffled laugh. His tone is teasing when he speaks again; she can practically see the smirk as he sips his coffee. “And what’s in it for me?”

She bites the inside of her cheek, stifling a giggle.

She could think of a lot of ways to repay the favour.

Cora pushes through the onslaught of entirely… inappropriate thoughts, especially to have about your best friend and offers up the most innocent of offerings, though her voice slips to find that low, rumbling register reserved only for the discrete. Mundane words tipped in something intriguing. “I’ll never make you pancakes again.”

“Deal.” He snaps far too quickly through the phone.

Her mouth falls open. “Marcus,” she gasps, mock offence in her voice.

There’s silence for a moment. “Sunshine,” Marcus calls out through the static, like he’s sure he’s actually offended her. Like he could ever do that. “I thought your pancakes were great.”

Even a lie sounds like the truth coming from his lips.

“Damn right they were,” she insists.

When she lies, even when it’s laced with laughter, it sounds like one. She’s glaringly aware that’s a complete contradiction, given her job.

“Pancakes- real pancakes, diner pancakes- on me for a month.”

“Tempting.”

“...Two months?”

“Fine, fine. If you insist.”

The rush of breath that escapes her in relief is so embarrassingly loud, she’s sure he can hear her. She’s glad he’s not there, watching her, so he can’t see the wide, uncontrollable, entirely tooth-filled grin that splits across her face; she’s sure she looks maniacal, sat in her trailer on set, covered in thick dustings of fake mud from that morning’s scenes.

She’s never been more thankful for the solitude of a phone call before.

“I do insist. I’ll pick you up at five.”

Amusement, again, peeks through in his tone. She’s sure he’s eating pancakes — those blueberry pancakes with mountains of ice cream — because they’re the only thing that makes him happy like this, especially on a heavy workday. “In that super-fancy car of yours?”

She’s had her car for twelve-years. But it’s even older than that, fixed up by her father in his garage for what seemed like years. It’s an old run-down black Camaro from the seventies that she’s had since she was sixteen; far too trusty and sentimental to let go of, driving her cross-country from LA to DC without a hitch those six-months ago. It lives in the private parking lot down the street from her apartment complex, tucked away, out of use most days, because the traffic of DC is far too heavy in the mornings and it’s easier to walk or take the Metro instead. Weekly nights spent at Daniel’s on the opposite end of the city gave her an excuse to pull her car from its designated parking space and navigate the busy streets to the comforting hum of the engine.

Coraline knows Marcus loves her car, as much as he jokes about it. It’s evident in the way his face lights up when he sees her sat there, parked down the street outside the FBI headquarters; his smile illuminated by the harsh street lamps overhead, cutting through the darkness alongside the bright nearby office lights and flickering neon signs that cast stained glass shadows on the sidewalk. He’s watching her as she taps her fingers in time to a song she doesn’t recognise on the radio.

Marcus ducks into the car with a ‘hello’ lingering on his lips and ducks to kiss Coraline’s cheek; it’s a friendly gesture that lingers, not unfamiliar as a display of friendly affection between them, but still swelling that giddy sense of happiness in her chest like it’s the first time.

“I brought the beer.”

Coraline glances over at him warmly as she starts up the car. The engine rumbles to life, almost sounding unhealthy. She reaches over and squeezes his shoulder a little, fingers falling down his arms.

Marcus had insisted he bring something; a repayment for dinner, for Daniel and Kimmy inviting him over. She’d insisted he didn’t need to — neither of them would mind; they just wanted to meet the lead in so many of Coraline’s stories, for real this time — but then he’d insisted that he had to, that his mother would never let him live it down if she found out he forgot his manners and turned up without a thank you gift. So she’d told him to bring beer (not wine, definitely not wine, for Daniel’s sanity’s sake). And he’d obliged.

Not just that cheap beer, either. But the expensive kind, the kind you could only find in certain places if you were looking for it. He’s spared no expense.

He doesn’t need to impress them, though. They already like him well enough, on the basis of Coraline’s endless stories.

“Is what I’m wearing okay?” He questions as he smooths his hands over the front of his suit jacket. “I didn’t have time to change.”

He’s still wearing his work clothes — somehow still relatively undisturbed even after hours of the paperwork he’d been half-complaining about to her the night before — yet he still looks great. He’d probably look great in just about anything. Coraline looks entirely underdressed next to him; just blue jeans and a white shirt, and the thin golden pendant her mom had given her the night before her wedding hangs against her chest. She doesn’t wear it much anymore, not since the divorce. But Marcus had seen it the other day, while he was waiting for her to finish getting ready, perusing the expanse of her drawers, intrigued by the jewellery that hung from a stand. He’d said it was beautiful - with the delicately carved bird in the middle, surrounded by flowers - and she found herself reaching for it every morning since.

She’s not sure why. She just likes to wear it, now.

“You look great.” As always.

He scans what she’s wearing, casual and, as the wheels being their customary groan when she sets the car in reverse. “It’s not too much?” He’s shuffling awkwardly, hands tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket. Is he nervous?

She watches as he moves, shifting slightly in his seat; she’s watching from the corner of her eyes, half her focus on Marcus, the other on pulling out onto the busy road. He’s staring straight ahead, out at the car ahead of them, like the license plate is somehow the most interesting thing in the world right now. His brows are furrowed. The air between them is thick with anticipation and it’s like something has changed; for good or bad, she’s never sure with them anymore, not these past few months, but his hand is gripping his knee and somehow everything seems heavy again.

He’s met Daniel before, it’s not that. Briefly, sure. But that couldn’t be it. He’s usually so relaxed and laid back, especially around her, never worried about making a joke or goofing off. She doesn’t like seeing him like this.

She reaches over and squeezes his hand; he steadies himself and tilts his head towards her. Her smile is warm and bright and comforting, and the gentle brush of her fingers over the hand that grips his knee relieves the inexplicable anxiety that has strangled him from the moment she’d invited him to dinner. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know what it means, what any of it means. Why things are suddenly so different between them after six months of being nothing but friends.

Why he, for some godforsaken reason, thought suggesting they have a baby together was a good idea.

Did he really want that?

Either way, he’s pretty sure Coraline doesn’t. Not with him, at least.

Cora hums, eyes dropping to herself and the wrinkled jeans she’d fished out from the back of her wardrobe. “Least you made an effort.”

…

Daniel Meyer is seven years older than Coraline. He’d always been fiercely protective of his younger sister when they were growing up; not in that abrasive, overbearing and destructive way, the way when your life is governed strict and rigid, but Daniel Meyer didn’t take kindly to people hurting his sister. Growing up, he helped her deal with things - the bullying in high school, the heartbreak of her first breakup - so it only seemed fitting that, when she’d moved to D.C., the same place he’d called home with his family for eight years, that he would do the same. That’s how their weekly family dinners were born, from his insistence to help his younger sister settle into her new home, in a new city she barely knew.

For the longest time, Scott Meyer was public enemy number one to him. Sometimes she wonders, now that it’s all over, the divorce is final - now that he’s out of her life for good - if he still is. Or if they’ve really all moved on like she thinks they have.

The second they arrive at his front door, greeted warmly by the smell of pie and a grinning Kimmy, wearing an apron and slightly flustered, looking just as welcoming as always. Her blonde waves - the waves Coraline has always been so jealous of - are pinned up haphazardly out of her face, half-spilling down her back from the clip that tries to hold it in place.

“Good evening.” Her voice sounds like a song, light and sweet, and her smile is even wider than usual as she glances between her sister-in-law and Marcus, who stands a little behind her, radiating that familiar confidence that Coraline is used to. The half-hour drive had relaxed him enough that, now he’s met with Kimmy’s friendly face, he’s the one that’s comforting her, with a gentle hand on her back and the silent reassurance that things will be okay.

Coraline is mostly worried about him. She's still not entirely sure he wants to be here. She doesn’t blame him.

Kimmy leans forward and kisses Coraline’s cheek in greeting, the usual gesture.

“This- well, you know Marcus.” Cora ushers towards her best friend beside her when she pulls back.

“Marcus, of course!” Her face lights up even more. “I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.” Kimmy’s tone is amused. Her eyes waver towards Coraline, a knowing look in her eyes.

“It’s great to finally meet you, for real this time.”

Kimmy’s eyebrow quirks up at Coraline for a moment, the hint of a smirk as Marcus introduces himself, that same FBI Agent-trained surety tipping the edges of his voice, before she finally ushers them inside. It’s starting to get cold; the evening chill is creeping in from the river beside the house, reaching out towards them. Coraline is glad she’d tossed a coat onto the backseat of her car before she’d left and Marcus tugs his suit jacket tighter around himself. “Come in before you both freeze to death.”

The house is alive with the joyous yet shrill screams of children. Coraline’s nephews, to be exact. It always is. Every night. Every week she turns up and they’re running around, playing whatever game they deem fit that evening. Half the time, Coraline gets pulled into their games, whenever she’s not helping Kimmy in the kitchen (which isn’t often, because she’s hopeless at it). Of course, today’s no different.

The two of them are darting around the living room, screaming bloody murder as they wear themselves out; Finley, the oldest, is chasing Elliot, his curls falling haphazardly over his eyes. She can’t tell what they’re yelling about - she never can; it’s just a tangled mess of screamed words - but Elliot is giggling so much that he has to stop every couple of minutes to catch his breath. Finley stops with him, pulling himself from their games for a second to wait as they both regain their composure and carry on. They wear themselves out before dinner and then everything seems to go off without a hitch.

Cora hangs her coat on the hooks by the door and kicks off her sneakers, and Marcus follows suit with his jacket and dress shoes. He looks to her for guidance, that immediately understandable hesitation of being in an unfamiliar house, and this silent agreement settles between them as she sweeps her way into the living room. Her footsteps were light; so light, in fact, that she reached her nephews without disturbing them, startling Elliot when she scooped him up in her arms and spun him around. He complains at first, ducking his head away as she tries to kiss his cheek, letting out the most dramatic and exaggerated noises. Eventually, he gives in and curls his arms around her neck, pulling her close for a second, before he starts to kick again, restless in her arms.

Finley takes to wrapping himself around her right leg and suddenly the three of them end up sprawled out and giggling brightly on the carpet.

Marcus watches from the doorway. He thinks she’ll be a great mom someday. It’s the little things she takes in her stride.

“Hello to you too, Cora.” The low, amused voice of Coraline’s brother, Daniel, comes from inside the living room.

“Hey there.” She’s still giggling. She can’t help it. Finley and Elliot unhook themselves from her and each other and resume their endless laps of the couch.

Daniel stands over her with raised eyebrows. His tie has long-since been discarded and he cuts a casual figure as he cradles the youngest of the Meyers, Piper. She’s only six months and the smiliest baby Cora has ever seen. Usually, she’s asleep by the time Coraline arrives, either cradled in her father’s arms or tucked away in the crib upstairs; today, her legs are kicking back and forth and her hands are fisting into his dress shirt. She’s restless - she knows sometimes that she is, that when they finally cradle her to sleep, it’s best that they leave her or risk jolting her awake for the rest of the night - but she’ll let her wriggle around in her arms for hours if it means catching up on the time she’s missed with her niece all those nights she’s been asleep.

“I brought Marcus.” Cora points towards Marcus as he leans against the doorframe, watching her with fond eyes. She tilts her head back to look at him; he’s smiling and she wants to reach for him. She reaches for Daniel’s extended hand instead, pulling herself up from the floor. She groans uncomfortably, her back aching a little. “Marcus, you’ve met my brother, Daniel.”

Coraline reaches out for her niece; that brooding feeling swells bright and burning again when she takes her, cradling her close into her chest, and she can’t help but glance up at Marcus as Daniel moves to greet him - just barely acquaintances but familiar enough to avoid those awkward initial introductions. He’s watching her, still, as she says ‘hello’ to her niece and gently rests her cheek against the top of Piper’s head. It’s like they’re both wrapped up in that moment where it’s just the two of them - all too fleeting, cut short by Daniel’s greeting and the persistent shouting of children - but it feels lovely. Even if this moment is all they’ll ever get.

Coraline savours the moment with her niece because it’s rare and often fleeting; her, Daniel and Kimmy’s schedules are crammed tight with work and unavoidable commitments and that weekly dinner is the only time each week they can spare to see each other. If Piper is asleep, then Coraline won’t get to say ‘hi’ to her niece. It’s an unfortunate consequence of their careers.

“That’s Elliot-” She points her finger at her smallest nephew. “-and that’s Finley-” Then to the tallest of the two. “-and this… this is Piper.” She bounces the tiny baby lightly in her arms, turning her body so Marcus could get a glimpse at the small smile that pulled at Piper’s lips as her small fist grabbed at Coraline’s shirt.

She’s already told him about them all before. He knows their names. But this is the first time he’s ever met the kids. And it’s somehow maybe the most terrifying thing he’s done in a long time, including that one warehouse shootout his team found themselves in a few weeks earlier.

He feels overdressed and a little ridiculous, just stood there, looking like a lost puppy in the entryway, in his suit and tie. Unsure what to do with his hands or his eyes, or what the hell to say to cut through his quiet. He usually brought a change of clothes to the office if he knows he has somewhere to be but, somehow, in his blind panic at the idea of meeting the family, he’d forgotten to grab anything to change into. And that ease in meeting new people, that effortless skill he’d built up over years of practice, the perks of the job, just seems to have melted away the second he stepped into the house behind Coraline, under the well-meaning scrutiny of Kimmy. This is all normal for her - this weekly routine she’s fallen into - but it’s unfamiliar territory for him.

It almost feels like something it isn’t. Meeting the family. That point in a relationship when you first realise things are serious. Only this isn’t a relationship. And he’s already met Daniel and Kimmy before, even if it was briefly, and while he was working and distracted with planning a stakeout. And Coraline. Always Coraline. But something about her smile just commanded attention, back then - it still does - even when she tries to blend into the background. Once he noticed her. Sat alone at an empty conference table, comically-oversized name badge pinned to the front of her dress, her lips curling up a little as she sipped the sour FBI coffee.

Everyone else had passed the glass-walled room without even a second glance.

He, on the other hand, was convinced he’d just seen a ghost. She’d almost startled him, breath leaving his chest. An utter cliche.

Marcus had recognised her face from TV - though, admittedly, he wasn’t really up-to-date on pop culture, definitely lingering a couple of decades behind, age and time catching up on him, spare time buried beneath a mountain of paperwork to distract himself from Teresa and the unfamiliarity of D.C. - but he always remembers thinking she was pretty. Really pretty. But he always finds it a little embarrassing how much she a hold over him that day, how he’d had to take a second to psych himself up, talk himself down from that nervous ledge he was staring over, before he even thought about entering the room.

It’s weird, looking back, thinking how much has changed. But the changes keep coming, thick and fast, and sometimes it becomes less and less obvious what they are anymore.

“Marcus.” Daniel reaches out a hand for him to shake. He shakes it graciously and says his hellos. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

That’s the second time he’s heard that today. Coraline rolls her eyes a little. It’s not the first time she’s heard it, either. It almost makes Marcus laugh but then she smiles again, half-concealing a grin, and he forgets what he’s thinking about for a moment.

But then he wonders what she tells them about. Whether those stories are good or bad, whether they paint him in colour or in black and white.

With Coraline, he figures it’s probably the brightest landscape of technicolour, regardless of who she’s talking about.

“I’m glad Cora finally asked you to come.”

“Well, you talk too much. I didn’t want to bore him.” Cora shrugs, her full attention on Piper.

“More like scare him away.”

He’s not sure she could ever scare him away.

“Finley is terrifying,” she admits with a giggle but she seems distant. She looks up to raise an eyebrow at him again. Her words are slow, almost drawn out. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to get out while you still can.” It’s meant to be light and joking, and Daniel laughs at her words. Given the way she’s looking at him, he’s not sure.

She just keeps looking at him like there’s no one else around.

She can’t help it. She keeps trying. It isn’t working.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Daniel insists as the boys rush past Marcus; he has to step out of the way to avoid them, smiling as they manoeuvre around him and race out of sight into the back of the house. He smiles fondly as they pass. “They’ll calm down in a second.”

“You hope they’ll calm down.” Coraline jabs her older brother in the ribs playfully. He chuckles as lightly as he can but it's obvious he’s tired; his shoulders slump and his eyes linger closed a little longer than normal, Coraline notices. He’s been working flat-out at his gallery every day, then running home to help with the kids. And Piper is a restless baby - difficult to get to sleep which means that, if she’s asleep when she arrives, she can’t say hello for risk of waking her up - so, unless Daniel or Kimmy are holding her while the house is still alive and humming around her, she refuses to fall asleep. “I think-” She looks towards Marcus. He’s inched closer into the room, now, but he’s still lingering like he needs to be invited in. “-you’ll just have to get used to it.” She hums.

“I’m still not used to it and they’re my kids,” Daniel grumbles, almost to himself.

“Piper seems okay with it.” Marcus points out. He watches as his best friend cuddles the tiny baby close to her chest.

Piper’s looking up at Cora with the brightest eyes. They’re Coraline’s eyes - Daniel’s too, he assumes - that light emerald green that sparkles beneath the warm living room light. Her mouth is in an ‘o’ shape, fascinated, as she stares. She looks utterly transfixed by her aunt’s face as she carries on their idle, gentle conversation, lightly bobbing her up and down, cradling her softly to sleep. Her eyelids were drooping, sleep gently pulling her in. She’s humming gently, whenever she’s not speaking; Marcus isn’t even sure she realises she’s doing it. That it’s just some subconscious instinct inside her, telling her to sing to the baby so she can sleep. She’s drawing gentle circles on her back through her onesie. Slow, idle circles that slow the wriggles and the kicking of his legs, lulling her off to sleep ever-so-slowly.

It’s like she’s a natural. She knows exactly what to do every time; with Piper, with Maisie. It’s like second nature and there’s this even brighter glow, brighter than usual, when she settles into the role. She takes it all in her stride and seems to forget the world around her just for a moment.

“How do you do that every time? Can you come and do that every night?” He jokes. But he doesn’t seem to be entirely joking.

She hums. “Perhaps-” She rests her cheek against the top of her head as lightly as she dares without disturbing her. “Perhaps I’m just a superhero.”

The yells of kids echo through the house, the hammering of feet pounding against the wood floor. Kimmy’s muffled exasperated calls for quiet come from the kitchen, falling on deaf ears as the boys continue to charge through the back of the house.

Coraline catches her brother’s gaze. “Go and help.” She’s noticed the way he’s been watching his daughter anxiously, worried that she won’t fall asleep through all the noise and excitement and the gentle hum of Coraline’s made-up song. “I’ve got her,” she insists.

“Are you sure?”

Piper is slowly drifting off to sleep, even despite the noise. Just at the warmth of her aunt cradling her and the gentle hum of her sweet voice lulling her asleep. “I’ve got her,” she repeats. “Go and help Kimmy.”

Daniel’s shoulders slump in relaxation. He mouths a ‘thank you’ as he jogs from the room, calling out to his sons to stop them from charging around, insisting that they wash their hands and settle down for the sake of their sister.

Now, it’s just Coraline, Marcus and a half-asleep Piper left alone in the living room.

The tension in the air is thick and heavy for a moment.

“Marcus, you’re staring,” she points out. She’s not even looking at him, just can just feel the weight of his kind gaze and it sets her heart racing at a hundred miles an hour. “I’d let you hold her-“ She says as he steps a little closer; now Daniel is out of the room, he’s relaxed. It’s like, without him there, he can pretend it’s just the two of them and Piper curled up content against Cora’s chest, even despite the yell of children’s voices and the unfamiliar surroundings. “-but, if I did that, we’d never get her off to sleep.”

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “I think she’s happier with you.” He settles beside her.

Coraline’s thumb brushes over Piper’s cheek and the baby smiles a tiny smile, eyes still close and fisting her hands tighter into the white material of her shirt. There’s a blissful silence that settles between the three of them — just for a moment — when she looks up at him beside her, watching the pair of them sway gently to a seemingly silent song. The weight of the moment engulfs them like a tidal wave.

“Marcus-“ she breathes out, barely loud enough for him to hear. But he does, in the relative silence, and the way she says his name rips the air from his lungs, like the first time she’d surprised him the day they’d met. Her green eyes are wide and wild and she��s looking between him and Piper like they’re the only things left in the world.

They could do it.

He knows what she’s going to say, if she had the chance. If Daniel hadn’t returned, calling out to them that dinner was ready.

They could do it. He knows they could, she knows they could. They could have this fleeting moment for as long as they both live. Their own little version of paradise, together. No matter how terrible the idea seems to be, they could. But Coraline knows she can’t stay in that world forever. It’s temporary and, as much as she wants that, all day, every day, for herself and not through someone else, she knows she can’t let herself get too in over her head.

Still, Marcus really does think she’ll be an amazing mom.

...

After much persuasion — and the promise of candy after dinner — Finley and Elliot finally settled down long enough for them to eat. Coraline had set Piper down to sleep in her crib upstairs, lingering perhaps a little too long to marvel down at her only niece, wondering what it would be like if she was looking down at her own daughter.

She knows it’s a hopelessly bad idea. That the feelings will catch up with her and pull her under again. Sometimes she just can’t help it.

She returns with that fake smile Marcus has become a pro at noticing. She looks wistful, longing in her eyes, disguised by the small smile that takes over her face when she slides into the seat at the dinner table beside him. She smooths out her shirt and jeans, wrinkled from the baby. Another smile, an assurance that Piper is okay and sleeping soundly upstairs, and the conversation moves on to mostly idle chatter, and Daniel asking Marcus questions about himself. Coraline keeps shooting her brother glances whenever he asks a new question that almost seems too personal. He doesn’t mind one bit, though.

Marcus finds Coraline’s free hand under the table and squeezes at some point. She doesn’t want him to let go.

“Auntie Cora?” Finley asks, leaning his chin on his hand to stretch across the table. His questioning call of her name breaks through the idle conversation they’re all having, like he’s demanding all their attention, and not just Coraline’s.

It steals a moment of quiet between them all.

“Nephew Finley?” She replies, mimicking his stance and the curious, furrowed-browed expression on his face.

“When are you going to have a baby, like Piper?”

It’s a loaded yet completely innocent question on his behalf. He’s merely a curious five-year-old with no ill intentions, and no reason to believe it’s anything other than a normal question; Coraline doesn’t even flinch, even when Kimmy scolds her son sharply and insists he eats the rest of his dinner. Though, Marcus still sees the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Instead, she just smiles and laughs that brightly enchanting laugh, tilting her head to the side in response to her nephew as he sinks back into his chair and pokes at his potatoes.

“Well, I don’t know,” she replies truthfully, “Soon, maybe.”

Marcus almost thinks her eyes waver towards him but it’s so quick that he reasons that, perhaps, he’s seeing things.

“Soon?” Daniel catches up with her words. “You seeing someone?”

“Oh-“ Coraline swallows thickly. She shakes her head. “No, no, not at all. I’m just- optimistic, I guess.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” Kimmy poses.

Coraline hums. Marcus doesn’t see the way her gaze trails towards him. “I’m sure there is.”

...

The rest of dinner passed without any more questions on the matter, Finley’s attention switching towards Marcus instead. He was persistent, firing questions at him across the dinner table like he was leading an interrogation, but Marcus kept answering just as enthusiastically as the first time. He’d skirted around the facts a little - it wasn’t exactly a great idea to tell a child, seemingly without a filter, that you were an FBI agent - but the whole exchange had been wonderful. Coraline was sad to see it finish when Kimmy announced the boys could have dessert and they'd leapt from their seats to race towards the cookie jar.

Marcus had offered to help Kimmy wash up as a thank you but she’d brushed him off, and, eventually, he’d resigned to the living room with Daniel. It had taken Coraline months to convince Kimmy that she should let her help clean up, there was no way she would have accepted Marcus’ offer immediately.

Instead, it’s just Coraline and Kimmy, working in tandem to clean the dishes, while Daniel spends time with the kids after a long day at work, and pulls Marcus into their conversation like an old friend.

“I’m sorry about Finn. He’s-” Kimmy shakes her head as she sets another plate down in the drying rack. “He’s been going through one of those... phases lately.”

“It’s fine, Kim, truly.” Coraline sets a couple of dry plates down on the counter and turns to smile at her, before carrying on her job. Sometimes Kimmy jokes about how ridiculous it is that they use so many plates since Piper was born. “He’s just curious,” she insists. “And he makes everything a little more colourful.”

Kimmy chuckles. “That he does.” She washes down another plate. “So, Marcus is great.” She hums, changing the subject towards her with a quirk of an eyebrow and a small, knowing smirk on her face.

Coraline smiles. Though, it’s more to herself than Kimmy. “He really is, isn’t he?”

“Are you two… y’know… is there anything there or-?”

“Oh, no! No, no. We’re just-” Friends. “Just friends.”

“Well-“ She quirks an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. “-maybe you should? Just see how it goes. One date at a time.” Kimmy’s suggestion is as innocent as Finley’s question over dinner. She doesn’t understand the weight it holds. And she doesn’t expect her to, anyway. They’re close but just barely close enough. “Things might surprise you and it’ll do you good to get back out there again after, y’know-“

“No, we-” She shakes her head and turns to finish putting away the plates in the cabinet. In the quiet, she hears Marcus laugh from the living room. It’s one of those whole-hearted laughs, when his head lulls back and his eyes screw shut and crinkle at the corner. She wonders which one of them made him laugh like that, or what made him laugh like that. She hopes Daniel hasn’t pulled out the picture albums; he’s worse for that then their parents. But, since Daniel had made his fortune as an art buyer, eventually to the point he’d made enough to buy his own art gallery, a year ago, Coraline should have known that he and Marcus would get on. They had a lot in common. She’s so glad he likes him, though she can’t imagine a reason why he wouldn’t. “Friends. Friends.”

There’s another silence and she can feel Kimmy’s eyes burning into the back of her head. She turns to see the tail-end of a raised eyebrowed glare, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, you never know unless you try, Cora.”

“There will be no trying,” Coraline insists, jabbing Kimmy in the side with her nail. She grins and lets her blonde tresses fall over her shoulder. “Of any kind. He doesn’t see me that way.” She finishes.

“Do you see him that way?”

Another pause.

“No.”

Maybe that’s a lie.

Maybe Kimmy knows that.

Maybe Marcus knows that.

Coraline isn’t sure whether she knows that, though.

“Sure about that?”

Coraline scoffs and turns to continue packing dried, clean plates into the cupboards. “You’re worse than Dan, sometimes.”

“Oh, I take offence to that.”

“Shut up and finish the dishes.” Coraline chuckles, crossing her arms and scowling at the lack of crockery left to dry.

“Just don’t write things off so quickly,” she insists, “It might surprise you.”

...

Daniel and Kimmy had tried to persuade them to stay for drinks late into the evening. The boys were shipped off to bed at the usual time, complaining that they wanted to stay up instead, as usual. But Marcus has work in the morning and Coraline has a long string of interviews; the idea of a late-night sounds less than ideal, her eyes already stinging at the idea of staying up any later than they had it.

Instead, they’d make their excuses and leave, ducking away into Coraline’s car with an exhausted groan. The boys had run wild right up until they went to sleep, nagging Coraline and Marcus to play with them every five minutes, even as Kimmy and Daniel insisted that they settle down and get ready for bed. It’s still late when they leave, though. D.C is eerily quiet as they weave through the roads, small crowds of people scattered through the repeating streets of suburbia.

The car ride home is silent of their voices. Not that uncomfortable silence, from before, when things had been awkward between them and neither of them were sure where the other stood. But that kind of satiated, happy and, admittedly exhausted, silence that pools over them. The low hum of the car engine and the radio is persistent in the space between them. Marcus keeps stealing glances over at her as she drives; he can’t help it, but he doesn’t think she notices, her eyes far too focused on the road ahead of her. And, if she does, she doesn’t mention it. Just keeps letting him glance over at her as the street lights illuminate the gentle angles of her face.

He’s glad she never mentions anything. He’d be too embarrassed if she did.

Instead, she’s lost in the music. That blissful flicker of emotion that crosses her face when she hears a song she likes, when her eyes light up at the sound of one of her favourite songs. Her radio is always tuned into some old rock station - he has no idea what it’s called, it’s usually just a continuous loop of different songs cut with the low gravelly voice of a man who sounded like he’d smoked one too many cigars - and most of the songs are the same songs she’s playing on her record player when he arrives at her apartment and she’s dancing around the kitchen while she cooks. He recognises a lot of them from his college days, songs he used to play with his band. It makes him feel old, sometimes, when she tells him they’re songs she spent her teen years with, even though there aren’t too many years between them.

It’s I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that plays now; she’s a sucker for those objectively-cheesy rock ballads. They’re her mom’s favourites, too. And, maybe he won’t admit it, but Marcus has heard her favourites enough to count them amongst his, now. Maybe he just likes the way they make her smile. Coraline is humming along, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm against the top of the steering wheel idly as her eyes follow the road ahead. Every so often, a flicker of neon tints her in colour when they pass a takeout, the only things still open and busy. The curve of her profile and each curl of her hair is highlighted in red.

It’s these moments of distracted bliss, when everything seems to exist without a care in the world, that he likes the most.

It never lasts long enough.

He insists she just parks in the garage she usually uses, by her apartment building, and he’ll walk her home. She protests - because of course she does - offering to drive him all the way home instead, but it’s dark and even in this quiet, well-off part of town where the streets should be safe, you never know who might be lurking. Maybe it’s the things he’s seen and heard of in the FBI - everything he’s seen during his training, heard through whispers and stories in the office - but sometimes he can’t shake the simple action of making sure someone is safe.

It’s still silent between them as they near Coraline’s apartment complex. That short two minute walk down the quiet, tree-lined street that sparkles with chains of fairy lights. It’s lethargic and lingering, each step heavy with the weight of something that echoes through the quiet neighbourhood.

“Cora, I’m sorry.”

It comes out of nowhere and it worries her. And Coraline has absolutely no idea why Marcus is apologising to her. As far as she’s concerned, he hasn’t done anything wrong. At least, not that she knows of.

“For what?” She questions, brow furrowing up at him as they walk. Their hands keep brushing but she doesn’t have it in her to move her hand away.

“I had no right to drop the baby bomb on you like that,” he admits. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably. When his hand drops, his fingers brush against her knuckles. “I’m sorry if I made you feel trapped. It was a terrible idea. I should have thought-“

“Yes,” she blurts it out before she can stop herself. She’s not entirely sure she’s thought this through. But she can’t help it.

“Yes, what?”

“The offer.” Her whisper is loud in the suddenly-stifling silence of the street. “If it’s still on the table- yes. I’ll have a baby with you.”

“Coraline-” He gulps and stops dead in his tracks. They’re outside her gate, now. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t.” Coraline insists. She steps closer to him, sea-green eyes staring up at him with heavy expectation. He’s the one that suggested it. He’s the one that had laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, losing precious moments of sleep as his brain swam with questions, wondering whether he should suggest this to her in the first place, or if it was an awful idea. But, somehow, he can’t seem to convince himself that this is a bad idea, that he should just let her down easy, now. It’s seeing her with Piper, seeing her with Maisie, seeing how she lights up around them.

If he can make her that happy, every single day, why the hell would he turn that opportunity down?

Besides, he’s pretty sure it would make him equally as happy. He’s thought about having kids since he was just a kid himself. And god knows the world seemed to have it out for him when it came to love, things aren’t happening any time soon; he can’t really think of anyone better than Coraline to have a baby with.

And, as much as Coraline knows how recklessly stupid the whole idea is, she can’t bring herself to want anything more or less than this. Than him. “It is a terrible idea, y’know?” She finds herself insisting, blinking up at him with those beautifully-wide eyes.

“Truly awful.”

“And there are a hundred different things that could go wrong.”

“Hundreds.”

“But-“

“Maybe we should… try? Maybe just for a little while. See what happens.”

“Maybe we should.” He exhales long and deep out of his nose. “Maybe…” He tilts her chin up towards his with one finger and suddenly he’s kissing her. His fingers brush her jaw, curving up towards her ear and brushing into her hairline at the nape of her neck. Even the soft touch of his hand against hers as they walked was driving her insane but this, this is on another level.

It’s more than the first time they kissed. Less of a brief touch of lips, more of a wave of relief flooding through them both, unfamiliar feelings surging up inside them. This kiss is full of urging anticipation. She’s pulling him closer to her before she can stop herself, their chests flush, lips and hands strong and insistent against each other.

The fumble to her front door seems like the most practised thing they’ve ever done. Familiar when it shouldn’t be, even as they bump into things on their way.

taglist: @wheresthewater

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike #sudden desire #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x oc #the mentalist #original character #oc

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aewriting · 3 years

Note

Tell me about the Vegas AU?

The “Vegas AU,” as I call it, involves Jesse pretty much blackmailing Michael to leave town and leave Alex alone. Michael ends up going to Las Vegas, and does not know that Alex has been injured. Alex ends up moving in with Greg. This is one that gets a bit fuzzy after that setup. There are aspects I still really like about it, but I’m sitting on it until I can think up some next steps for it. I haven’t worked on this one in a while or posted about it in a while, so if anyone wants to read what I’ve posted so far of it, it’s below the cut.

“Another round, Roberto!”

Roberto eyes him warily. “I dunno, man. Maria said - “

“Maria loves me,” Michael says, waggling an eyebrow and leaning over the bar. He sees Roberto swallow nervously. “We go way back. Class of ‘08, Roswell High,” he says, and slams the rest of his shot.

“I’ll handle this, Roberto,” he hears, and there’s DeLuca suddenly, looking... well, hot as fuck, honestly, but also pissed as hell.

She snatches Michael’s empty glass off the bar. “The fuck are you doing, Guerin?” She wrinkles her nose at him. “You’re so past shitfaced right now, even for you. And you can’t afford it. You were already in the hole - “

“Would have remembered that,” he says suggestively, just to be an ass about it.

“Oh my god,” Maria mutters. “That’s it. You’re done.”

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

“Nope, you’re done,” she repeats. “You’re done tonight.” She shoves his hat toward him, across the bar. “And don’t come back till you can pay. In full.”

“How much does he owe you, Maria?”

Michael’s eyes narrow, because Maria’s just frozen. She’d looked angry, before, fiery. The anger’s still there, but now it’s... cold. Contained.

Jaw tight, she glances at Michael, then at the man behind him. “Including tonight? $90, give or take.”

Michael’s eyes widen as two crisp fifty dollar bills are placed on the bar, quickly followed by a third.

“That’s to cover his tab. And your troubles. With whatever’s left, I’ll take two glasses of your best whiskey. For me and the young man, here.”

Michael can see Maria’s need for cash warring with her evident dislike of this man. He sees the moment she decides, quickly palming the money, holding the bills tight in her clenched fist.

“Coming up,” she says tightly, casting a quick little glance toward Michael before she goes that looks almost... concerned?

No matter. Michael heaves a sigh. Some old guy wants to buy him a drink, the least he can do is lay on some charm. “I’m awfully grateful - “ he starts as he slowly turns around.

Freezes.

Because it’s Jesse Manes behind him, looking at him with those cold eyes.

“Hello, Michael.”

Michael hates the panic that starts rising in him. He grabs his hat, begins to stand.

Feels Jesse grip his hand, the left one. “Sit. Down.”

He could snap every finger, right now. It would be nearly effortless. If they were alone, he might do it... might do worse. But Maria’s watching them, out of the corner of her eye. This is so public.

And there’s Alex.

Alex who... Michael takes a moment to calculate in his fuzzy head. Alex who is probably back on base by now. Maybe. Preparing to fucking deploy. Alex who is still uncomfortably intertwined with his monster of a father, and while Michael doesn’t mind causing trouble for himself - hell, that was his whole purpose in coming to the Pony tonight and getting brain meltingly drunk - he’ll be damned if he causes trouble for Alex.

So he sits down.

“Good boy,” Jesse says with a smug little grin, like Michael’s a goddamn dog.

“Here,” Maria says curtly, placing two glasses of whiskey on the bar in front of them, frowning as she stares at Jesse’s strong hand covering Michael’s wrecked one.

Jesse gives her a little nod as Michael tugs his hand away, flexing it unconsciously. Jesse picks up a glass, takes a small sip. Stares at Michael. “Drink up.” Michael just looks at him, so tense. Jesse shrugs a little. “Didn’t take you as one to turn down free liquor.”

He’s managed to avoid Jesse Manes for over seven years. He, he’s seen him a few times - walking around town, at the Crashdown, one memorable morning at the Sheriff’s station while Michael was still in the drunk tank. But there was no avoiding now. Michael picks up the whiskey, drinks a little. The burn is worse than usual, despite the improved quality.

Jesse narrows his eyes at him. “We need to talk, Michael.”

Michael keeps his mouth shut. Frowns.

Jesse leans in a bit, and Michael tries hard not to instinctively back away. “You’ve been messing around with something that belongs to me,” he says, voice low and cold.

And at that, Michael can’t contain himself. “He doesn’t belong to you,” he says harshly, probably too loud for this particular setting.

Jesse raises an eyebrow. “Well at least you’re not denying it.”

“Nothing to fucking deny.”

Jesse’s mouth twists a bit. “No. Suppose you don’t think so, the way you rub everyone else’s face in your own filth.”

How dare he. Michael... Michael could hurt this man. Wants to hurt this man. Thinks of the the ways he’s hurt Alex. Thinks of the way Alex makes Michael hide their interactions, be so careful.

Jesse takes a small little sip of his drink, shakes his head. “Thought I was very clear. Years ago,” he says, looking pointedly at Michael’s hand. “This thing between the two of you needs to stop.”

Michael swallows down his own fury, his own intense bitterness and hurt. It feels... bizarre to be having this conversation with Jesse Manes, of all people, when he’s never talked about it with anyone else. Not even Alex, really.

“There... there’s no thing,” Michael says, hating how wounded he sounds. Because there isn’t. Not... not that there ever was, not really, but Michael had at least had hope before, at times. After this last time, though, the things he and Alex had said...

Jesse scoffs, shakes his head. “I followed you. To the motel.” Michael can feel his stomach drop. “Heard the two of you. Like... like animals,” Jesse says, tone dripping with revulsion. He looks right at Michael then. “Saw some of the marks you left him with, that he tried to hide.”

Michael’s willing his breath to remain even, willing himself not to shatter every glass in this damn bar. “What did you do to him?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.

“Not a damn thing,” Jesse says. “Drove him back to base so he can ship off to Iraq and continue to serve his country like the decorated airman he is.”

Michael scoffs, rolls his eyes.

Jesse glares at him. “Do you know what he’s risking? Every time he’s with you?” He shakes his head. “Has he told you?”

Michael’s looking at him blankly.

“That’s what I thought,” Jesse says tightly. Leans back in seat a bit. “I kept up with you over the years. So I know about the drunk and disorderlies, the petty theft, the lewd behavior and indecency charges.” He narrows his eyes. “Alex know how often you’re down here, drinking cheap liquor you can’t afford, leaving with anyone that’ll have you?”

Michael can feel his face flushing, the sting of tears just below the surface. He looks down, sniffs, plasters on a shit eating grin. “You have been keeping a close watch. Could make a guy wonder,” Michael says, cocking an eyebrow.

He sees the tick of Jesse’s jaw. “Wanted to see who my son was risking his entire career for.” Jesse looks him up and down, seems disgusted. “And it doesn’t reflect well on you. Or him.”

Michael shakes his head a little, looks away. He... he’s used to being told he’s a piece of shit. Lives down to it. But this, Jesse bringing Alex into it...

“You’ve done a lot of the work for me. Thought my son had finally gotten his head on straight and realized that there was no future with his hometown...” Jesse’s eyes narrow as he gestures at Michael. “Whatever you are to him.” He takes a little sip of whiskey, eyes Michael. “Thought it was done, actually, till the motel.”

Michael swallows. “There’s nothing there, okay?” Michael says, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. “Alex... Alex is smart. Knows there’s nothing for him here.”

A waste. That’s what Alex had said, what he’d called him, this last time. A waste.

Jesse studies him. “Then maybe it’s time you and I got on the same page,” he says, taking out an envelope, fat to the point of bulging. Opening it up. Flashing the neatly folded cash. “This is the easy way to do this, Michael. There’s a hard way, too. What do you say?”

Michael’s just blinking. Once. Twice. Looking at the cash. There’s... so much there. More than he could make for months at the ranch. “I... I don’t...”

Jesse rolls his eyes, shuts the envelope. “There’s ten grand in there. Take it and leave. Don’t contact my son again. You do and... and I make things worse for you, okay? You know I could do it,” he says, looking deliberately down at Michael’s hand.

And Michael’s angry now. “What the fuck man?” he exclaims, eyes flashing. “You... you think you can just come in here, flashing cash, and buy me off?”

Jesse scoffs a bit. “You’re asking? Seriously? Yes,” he says meanly. “You are a drunken day-laborer that lives in a trailer. You’ve got holes in your shirt and shit on your boots. So yes, I think I can give you ten thousand dollars and give you a new start somewhere of your choice. Somewhere without my son.”

Michael clenches his jaw, pushes back from the bar, too fast, and the stool clatters to the ground.

“Michael?” Maria asks, startled, but Michael’s too angry to reply.

“Fuck you,” he says, leaning toward Jesse, baring teeth.

Jesse’s eyes narrow. “Michael,” he warns.

“No.” Michael says, shaking his head. “Fuck you, Manes,” he says, itching to reach out with his powers, put Jesse through the goddamn wall. “Fuck you and your money,” he says.

And he can’t help it this time - he nudged Jesse’s stool off balance, just a little, sending it - and Jesse - to the floor.

He starts walking - doesn’t stop when he hears Maria shouting, doesn’t stop when he hears Jesse Manes’s damnable voice assuring Maria that he’s fine. Michael pushes through the crowded Pony, exits the bar, and heads straight for his truck at the far side of the lot.

He pulls the door shut, locks the truck with his powers, and reaches for a bottle of acetone, only to find it drained.

“God damn it,” he mutters, and such a stupid little thing, it pushes him over the edge. Fuck... fuck everything. This shit is just... too much. It was already too much, had been too much for years. But the past few days, with Alex leaving for a fucking war zone, their fight, and now Jesse Fucking Manes confronting him at the Pony and trying to buy him off? No wonder he’s drunk right now.

Shit.

He’s... fuck. He’s really, really drunk right now. Too drunk to drive, he knows. He could call Isobel. But then she’s ask questions - why hadn’t he replied to her texts the last few days, where had he been, why was he shit-faced?

Michael sighs. It’s not too cold tonight. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s slept it off in the Pony lot. Unbidden, he imagines what Alex would say, if he could see him now, sauced and weepy. Probably the same thing he’d said to him before he’d stormed out of the motel. You’re a waste, Guerin.

It’s the last thing a Michael thinks as he nods off.

***

“Michael.”

“Mmm, don’t go.”

“Michael!”

“Stay, please.”

“Michael, I am not fucking around - get up right now.”

Michael startles awake, out of what he thinks was a dream. It’s too bright, too loud, and, fucking hell, Max is here, rapping on his window with a fucking flashlight.

“Fuck,” he mutters, letting his head fall back against the cracked leather of his seat.

Max shakes his head, starts pounding the flashlight against the window again.

“Hold on one fucking minute, okay?” Michael rubs at his eyes, tries to orient himself. He’s certainly hungover - maybe even still drunk. His mouth is dry, fuzzy, foul tasting. And, Jesus, is Max about to pound on the window again? He reaches low on the door, begins to manually roll down the window.

He does it slowly on purpose, taking his time on each revolution. Max looks ready to burst. As soon as the window is low enough, Max leans in close, as if he’s trying to physically shove his face into the car.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Michael?” he grits out, voice low.

Michael looks at him blankly, and Max leans in even more.

“Getting into a fight with Jesse Manes? In public?”

Michael lets his head hang, shakes it a bit. So this is why Max is here? “I didn’t lay a fucking hand on him, Max.”

Max’s frown deepens. “Well you don’t have to, do you?” he says, barely audible.

Michael snorts a little. “You don’t have a fucking clue,” he says, immediately regrets it. Because Max doesn’t know the history here, and Michael doesn’t want him to, just wants him to go away.

But Max doesn’t press for detail, just looks stern. “Michael, cut the attitude. This...” He falters. Actually looks a little... worried? Scared? “This is serious, okay?”

“What are you talking about?” Michael asks, and he takes a look around for the first time since being woken up.

There are three police cruisers here. Surrounding his truck. He sees Max’s partner, the hot blonde, talking to Maria. Maria who... who looks like she just got pulled out of her bed. She has a silky camisole and shorts on, with flip flops. A thick patterned blanket pulled around her shoulders to stave off the cold. It keeps slipping, and Michael can see her nipples through the thin material. He swallows hard. He’s long thought she was attractive, going back to high school, really, had idly wondered what she’d look like in a morning-after situation. He hadn’t intended to find out like this. He meets her eyes, briefly, and she looks away quickly. She looks... she looks worried.

Further away, he sees Michelle Valenti and... shit. Jesse. Jesse’s nodding solemnly at the moment as he speaks with the Sheriff.

“What the fuck is going on, Max?”

Max’s shoulders slump. “Do you really not know?”

Michael shakes his head. “Is this about me parking at the Pony overnight? Cause I’ve done it before and Maria’s never busted me over it. Seems excessive,” he complains, glancing quickly in her direction. Again, she looks away as soon as they make eye contact. “Like, would she have rather I drove drunk?”

Max is just staring at him. “We have dozens of witnesses that say you and Jesse Manes has an altercation in which you repeatedly yelled ‘fuck you’ at him and mentioned money.”

Michael sniffs, narrows his eyes. “And?”

Max’s eyes dart from side to side, and he leans in close. “Michael, if you did it, just tell me and I’ll try my best to help you, okay? Just tell me where it is.”

Michael feels cold. “What?”

Max bites his lip. “Manes says you stole his wallet last night. We’ve got a search warrant for you and the truck.”

“Fuck,” Michael says, and he knows. Knows that Jesse’s screwed him. On instinct, he whirls around in his seat, looks to the other side of the lot where Jesse is standing.

And smiling. Right at him.

He turns around in his seat. Looks at Max. “I didn’t do it, Max. We fought in the bar, yeah,” he says, and he sees Jesse and Michelle walking toward the truck. “Just words,” he adds hastily. “And, um, I knocked him off his stool. With my powers.” He sees Max’s disapproving face, presses on. “But I didn’t steal his wallet.” He remembers, then, the way Jesse had referred to Alex. “I didn’t take anything that belongs to him,” he adds quietly. “I didn’t.”

“Mr. Guerin?” Michelle Valenti is standing right next to Max now, looking serious. “Could you please step out of the car?”

Michael mouth twists. “Do I have a choice?”

“We have a warrant,” she says.

“So I’ve heard,” Michael says, glaring at Max. With a sigh, he unlocks the truck, opens the door, and steps out. Watches as the Sheriff begins rummaging around in his glove box. Max’s partner - Jenny, maybe? - has hopped into the bed of the truck, is combing through his blankets, his tools. She stops, frowns.

“Sheriff?” she calls. Michelle walks around to the side of the truck and Max’s partner holds up a small item. Michael’s stomach drops. It’s a wallet.

Sheriff Valenti looks at it. Frowns. “Jesse?” she calls, and Jesse quickly walks over.

Jesse’s eyes widen as he gets closer. “That’s it, alright.”

The Sheriff nods. “Could you check it for me? Make sure there’s nothing missing?”

“Of course,” Jesse says. He opens it, eyes the cash, the cards. “Everything’s here, thank goodness. Thank you, Sheriff.”

#WIP meme answer #my fic #las vegas au #malex

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do-you-have-a-flag · 3 years

Text

Destiel shippers come get ya’ll juice!

SO @deadwright and I were inspired by Some Tumblr Posts and the twitter Roadhouse Wedding stuff and keep writing headcanons about Thee Destiel 2021 Married Ever After S16 SPN Romantic Event Of The Season, so here’s that.

Arranged in order of marital chronology and cutting out us keysmashing too much:

oh man imagine all the burgers they get catered for the reception dean got it done himself he would’ve been so particular about the catering bridezilla cas would probably be THEE bitchiest bridezilla

it's also definitely that trope where all the other hunters ect KNOW that that many of them and the wedding party are essentially a target for trouble so everyone spends the 24 hours leading up to the vows taking out every beastie who shows up on a revenge kick out of sight because they'll be damned if they let ANYTHING stop this wedding and Dean and cas are both having their marital jitters oh god im not good enough what if something goes wrong about mundane things while monsters are getting their ass kicked outside AWWWWWWWW for sure for sure, they’re hunter royalty this wedding is a big deal like half the attendees are nursing injuries but grinning widely

they don't do the can't see eachother before the wedding thing because you KNOW dean would be fixing cas' tie last minute

dean wears a blue pocket square to match cas' tie cas wears a FLANNEL SQUARE

I’m obsessed w the idea of cas giving dean a little bit of his grace in a small bottle on a chain for him to wear or like a wing feather or some part of him god the grace in a bottle breaks me every time in fic dean probably builds cas something but every time i try to think of something specific i choke up

i was thinking like what if trading grace is as close to a romantic gesture as angels have and he's like..... technically i left some grace behind in your mark when i dragged you from the pit and dean is like ARE YOU SAYING WE'VE BEEN MARRIED THIS WHOLE TIME?

they are so sweet i’m on the verge of tears the ability to do anything by halves in their relationship was burnt out by like the second return from the dead moment they are too insane to be anything less than All In And Then Some

at one point someone was like hey cas do you want to run your vows by someone as practice? and he started reading what he'd prepared and it devolved into Biblically Grand Statements Of The Power Of Love And The Redemption Of - ect ect ect and it's because unlike the confession scene he's had TOO much preparation and overshot into uncanny angelic vibes he makes some edits because he know the expressions he gets when he reads it aren't what he intended

dean writes page after page after page of unused drafts, none of them are particularly floral

he does the cliche of ripping up his vows and improvising at the altar, something he gets mercilessly teased for because he swore he wouldn't but it classifies as a chick flick moment

THAT’S SO PEAK HIM OH MY GOD and you knoooooow you just KNOW it’s beautiful and emotional and everyone is crying

god the NOVELTY of dean being emotionally honest in front of people......im gonna faint YEA yeah... ONE TIME ONLY DEAL he thinks loudly at Sam's smug expression

anyway, at the wedding dean is the one who spends the whole ceremony with like crying cat meme eyes after the confession scene i’m pretty sure the minute the vows start cas is in the same boat USELESS HUSBANDS dean gets passed a handkerchief for his tears and immediately goes to use it on cas' face and they both laugh sob love the idea that everyone individually thought they were too tough to cry but they all broke at various stages yeah sam definitely starts to choke up just standing up there with his brother sam chokes up before the ceremony even started, like probably when he was pinning on dean’s corsage

anyway, Jack dancing with his two dads at the reception CAS’ BEST MAN / FLOWER BOY FLOWER MAN let him heelie down the aisle with the flowers LITTLE MAN GO NYOOM who makes him a little flower crown he wears with a proud lil smile? claire ofc, with those hair braiding skills? she makes it BEAUTIFUL flower crown: on nails: painted dads: MARRIED!!!!

when they say i do and kiss and everyone is cheering you can't convince me that someone doesn't let off what is either a gun or a dubiously legal firework in celebration jack pops a few lightbulbs in his uncontrollable joy

Dean and Cas can't let go of each other, it's at LEAST one point of physical contact for the rest of the reception PERIODT

CAN YOU IMAGINE THEM DANCING TO AIR SUPPLY

they definitely didn't do the wedding gifts thing but a few mysteriously show up anyway; discuss waffle iron from sam bc he remembers the becky incident meanwhile claire gets them flavoured lube because she’s an insane little mean girl she gets them a sampler package with like novelty flavours, gotta spring extra for a wedding PIE FLAVOURED LUBE

it’s gonna be the party of the century omfg you KNOW it! that dancefloor going OFF the BAR is FLOWING

dean gets dragged up onto the bar to make a speech and there's a moment at the end where he drags cas up there too and they're being playfully yelled at not to scuff it and there's hooting and catcalls as dean and cas kiss and dean gestures rudely before almost falling backwards off the bar before cas grabs him and climbing down is less romantic or dignified but he couldn't care if he wanted to

meanwhile sam and claire are outside defacing the impala with silly string and lewd graffiti and tin cans tied to the bumper for the going-away oh it is one hundo percent a just married atrocity there's enough condoms hidden in the car that they're still finding them months later

anyway wanna hear my disgustingly soppy honeymoon roadtrip concept? YOU KNOW I DO OKAY SO

you know at some point dean must have said some sad thing like for the longest time he never thought he'd live long enough to get married and the only circumstances he could imagine was hooking up drunkenly with a stranger at some vegas wedding scenario like that's the best he would ever get and he thinks it's mostly forgotten but then during their cross country honeymoon roadtrip castiel does in fact navigate them to las vegas and quietly mutters that the legal veracity of the little chapel on the city limits is dubious at best and they're already married so it couldn't do any harm and they get officiated by an elvis impersonator and a woman wearing more sequins than fabric throws cheap confetti over them

and after that they stop into every venue they can find that would be friendly to them to pretend they're eloping and at one point dean even pulls out the fbi id badges and the officiant is under the impression he's facilitating some sort of covert workplace romance

one place is a kitchy little house that's clearly just the couple who run it opening their strange home to anyone who needs it and have been since the 70s and Castiel thinks for a moment when they're asked to pin something to the collection of stuff on the walls and ceiling before pulling the receipt for the pie they'd shared earlier in a dinner out and scrawling his and dean's name on it to be added to the clutter

and at one point they stand ankle deep in a pond while some old hippie lady wraps their clasped hands together with soft fabric and chants something that dean knows isn't real magic but hey he's not going to tell her that and after the ceremony they sit on the grass and feed each other sweet bread to complete the binding or whatever and it's nice but it doesn't compare to the ranch where they both tossed their cowboy hats in the air and were given a horse to ride to their camp site

i thought about riverboat gambling for point one seconds and now i know in my bones that one of their many weddings was on a riverboat, they made the captain officiate after cornering him on deck in like five minutes, the crew sent them complimentary champagne and they threw fries at the birds following the boat while sharing it straight out of the bottle

if destiel can go canon multiple times they can get married multiple times CHANGE MY MIND THEY GET MARRIED SO MUCH the MOST married i just want them to get gay cowboy married

eventually i want them to end up at the beach bc dean has canonically never been to the coast their road trip is to get to the other coast

they send just married postcards back to sam from every stop sam stops feeling hurt he was left out of their vegas elopement wedding by the third wedding postcard he recieves sam saves them ofc bc GOD can you imagine them looking at the postcards on their 30th anniversary or s/t 🥺 showing their grandkids and recounting the story of each wedding there's a seashell taped to the last one

cas gets a terrible sunglasses tan and dean gets burnt on the tips of his ears and there's sand on sand on sand in all their clothes and at one point dean is blinking away salt water and cas is gripping his arm and saying something about the coral by them in the water and dean thinks that he likes floating beside cas a lot better than flying

dean has cas pick ice cream for them from a truck and hustles at carnival games enough to win them both big novelty foam hats and they both go back to their room and pass out immediately post shower sprawled across the bed and still smelling like sunscreen and salt water

dean tucks a little cocktail umbrella behind cas’ ear

cas spends most of the next day in dean's zepplin shirt and a pair of shorts they only picked up once they got there because neither of them thought to bring beach clothes, they sit on the balcony and dean sips his beer and idly plays with the ring on cas' finger and they play a game of what fictional monsters could they beat in a fight

cas’ true form is the size of the chrysler building he can fight king kong easy that's what he says and dean's like okay but what about mothra and castiel is like how would YOU defeat mothra and dean just goes "bugspray." GDJSGSHSGSHDSJ DEAN WOULD

in honour of misha putting his whole pussy into the role, cas wears a dress in at least one of their weddings

it's at one of those theme parks that's just historical re-enactments and people get their vows renewed there and there's costumes for the photobooth and the staff are like how long have you been married? castiel says two weeks, three days, eighteen hours, and twenty five minutes................ approximately. and the photo is cas in a classical wedding gown and dean is wearing the veil with his old timey suit and there's a moose head on the wall behind them wearing the top hat he was given and they send that print with an arrow pointing at the moose with sam written next to it

i keep thinking bitch!!!! you KNOW WHAT!! you KNOW that dean is the type a guy who's heart races every time he feels his wedding ring/is always fiddling with it in the weeks after the wedding, like an anchor to remind him they really got married this is real he would NEED that physical reminder that he can have good things

he’s never ever going to take it off, the tan line will be permanent

how funny it would be if dean gets injured on a hunt and the monster guy is about to kill him and then the lights blow out and the monsters are like what was that and dean is just like "[spits blood] that's my husband." and nek minnit cas has just ripped through them thanks to teleporting in angel style and is just like Cas: [heals dean] "you're late for movie night" Dean: "Well if you'd gotten here earlier i would have been on time." Cas: >:| [kisses him]

cas is like i didn’t burn the popcorn this time you BETTER be alive to see it

#destiel #supernatural #long post #supernatural season 16 #twitter roadhouse wedding about to pop OFF #destiel wedding #deancas

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princecharmingmendes · 4 years

Text

Valentine's Day | Shawn Mendes

“Valentine’s Day is always hard for some people that are single, but it’s harder you have a loved one that’s on another country, but lucky you, he always had his ways of making everything better”

Hiiii! I’m going to try to post this weekend other to Valentine’s Day oneshot, but the other two will be one with Raul and the other with Peter, they’ll all be called the same {Valentine’s Day} and that’s it, hope you guys like it!

Peter | Raul (coming soon)

Word Count: 3.7K+

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex and a lot of fluffy boyfriend material Shawn.

Posted: February 15th, 2020.

-*-

You love Shawn with every single cell in your body. I mean, how could you not? He’s everything anyone could possibly ever want. He’s the kindest, sweetest and most loving person you’ve ever met, he would literally run a marathon barefoot just to put a smile on your face and he would say that to anyone who was close enough to hear it. You’ve met him three years ago and been together practically all these time. You two met at a common friend’s birthday party and he couldn’t stop talking to you or trying so ridiculously hard to make you giggle just to hear it, at the end of the night, you had a date on the next day. And you couldn’t stop seeing him ever since and it was magical, for the first two months.

I mean, not that he changed or something, he’s still the same doofus cheesy 6’3 guy I fell for, it’s just that he’s not just Shawn, he’s Shawn fucking Mendes, a sweetheart with two identical brothers and a rockstar for a living.

The only thing that makes it hard is when he’s away. He tries his best to compensate with FaceTime calls and sending me surprise gifts and stuff, but that doesn’t make things easier. He also suffers from it, even though he doesn’t want me to see that or to think that, I know he does, his parents and friends told me that sometimes it gets harder for him and he just spends the hold day in a bad mood. But still, whenever he’s back from the road, everything’s better and it’s lime he never left. He clings to me like a giant teddy bear and follows me around like a lost puppy and I’d do anything he asks me with those hazel orbits and when he holds me, I just know things are going to be okay.

But right now, things don’t seem to be okay.

I mean, between us, things are great, he’s been as present as he could as he was working his ass off in LA on his next album. But on the rest, it was all just a big mess. My parents are constantly screaming at each other due to a family thing on dad’s side, my brother left the house for college recently and wasn’t actually talking to anyone and work and college were trying to kill me, and the cherry on top was this stupid project I had to finish and publish that was a huge part of my final grade. Everything’s falling apart and I haven’t been able to talk to my boyfriend for real for like, two days. I know it’s ridiculous, but I needed so bad just to hear him saying “you’re going to be okay, honey, you’re the smartest person I know”. But I can’t call him and stuff his head with my shitty problems, I don’t want to keep his mind away from his work. So I called his brothers instead.

Peter told me he could stop by at the end of the night if I felt like I needed help, and Raul offered to take me out to dinner to relax a bit since I’ve been going mad over this. And I love them for trying, but it’s simply not the same thing. So that’s why I’m sitting in Shawn’s living room (since he asked me to move in the past month and I did) surrounded by papers, textbooks and my computer on my lap, running my temples and trying to get some work going when my phone started ringing and my computer screen stopped working, Shawn’s face appeared all over it as he called me on FaceTime.

“Hey” I said as soon as I picked it up.

“Hey, baby, God, I missed your pretty face”

“You called me two days ago, weirdo”

“Still missed you tough”

“Okay, so... what’s up?”

“Hm, nothing, just got back to the apartment and I’m so tired and I miss you”

“I miss you too, kinda wish you were here”

“I’ll be back soon, I promise”

“I know” I said sighing and placing a few strands that fell of my messy bun behind my ear.

“What are you doing?”

“Just some stupid project”

“Apparently not that nice”

“No, it sucks, I have to submit it until noon”

“Tomorrow?”

“Uh, yeah”

“Oh shit, am I interrupting? Shit, I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t even considered the possibility of you being busy or something, I just needed to see you”

“No, hey, it’s okay, I was about to take a break, it’s okay”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry”

“Hey, bubs, it’s okay”

“Okay, so what are you doing tomorrow after submitting it?”

“I’m gonna go grab lunch with Peter and then work, probably later than I should, but you know my boss and his lovely situation with his ex, so he’ll probably keep us late due to Valentine’s Day to keep his mind busy, but after that, Raul is coming over for dinner since he’s single and you’re not here, Pete’s got a date”

“With that girl he likes?”

“Yeah, that’s the one”

“I think he’ll actually have something with her”

“So do I! He’s very happy whenever he talks to her or about her”

“He’s Peter”

“That’s true, what about you?”

“Me? Oh, just work stuff, I was curious about you to see if I could call you or something, but you seem to have way to many plans”

“No, you can call me after I leave work, I can text you, letting you know when I park or leave work so you can call me, Raul wouldn’t mind”

“I doubt that, but I don’t really care about what he thinks about it, text me when you leave work and I’ll call you”

“Okay, any new songs to show me?”

“Not yet, I want you to see only the finished product”

“Boring”

“You still love me” he sang song and I couldn’t stop myself from giggling at his boyish side.

“Bubs, I’m so sorry, but I gotta hang up, Kate’s calling me to help out with a thing I’m struggling with” I said sighing as my phone started ringing again.

“Hey, it’s okay, I should probably try to get some sleep, I have to be up early due to a meeting”

“Yeah, so should I but... Not finished, no sleeping” I said motioning to the paper on my lap.

“You should really try to sleep, honey, it’s late and I’m pretty sure the project is practically done, you’re just attached to details”

“Oh, you know me so well”

“Of course I do, I’m your boyfriend after all”

“That’s true, okay, I really gotta go now, Shawn, I’m so sorry”

“Don’t apologize, there’s nothing wrong, now stop worrying, add your finishing touches and go to bed”

“Okay, sir, goodnight”

“Goodnight, baby, I love you” he said chuckling.

“I love you too” I said smiling at the camera before hanging up, trying to call Kate back to get some help with some of the things I was not happy about before I could fall asleep.

-*-

Waking up on the other day was torturous since of the lack of sleep, but stepping outside was worse. I don’t get bitter on seeing other people happy, I really don’t, but seeing couples with flowers and holding hands broke my heart into a million pieces, because that was just a reminder that I wasn’t going to see Shawn for another week, which meant he was away for a month already. And it was everywhere.

When I was able to just hand my teachers a copy of the project and leave, it was like a thousand pounds left my shoulders and I could finally breath again, so I fished my phone from my pocket to text Shawn, but finding out he had already texted me early in the morning. This paper was eating me alive and I didn’t even noticed ‘till now.

“Hey, can you talk?” I said as soon as Shawn picked up the phone.

“Yeah, anything wrong?”

“No, everything went smooth apparently, I just left college and I’m going to meet up with Pete now”

“That’s great! Are you feeling better now?”

“So much better, I just called you to thank you for... I don’t know, being so supportive, I guess, and for texting me ‘good luck’ this morning”

“Oh, sure, that’s my job!”

“No it’s not, you’re just perfect and I fucking love you”

“Love you too, baby, but I gotta run now, I’m sorry”

“No, it’s okay, I’m sorry, I won’t hold you back”

“You don’t, relax for a bit, and thank you for calling me, I love hearing your voice, and soon I’ll hear it again personally”

“You’re too cheesy for your own goo, Mendes, goodbye” I said and I head his laugh through the phone, making me smile almost instantaneously.

“Bye, honey” he said hanging up.

-*-

The rest of the day was fine. Lunch with Peter is always amazing, he always now crazy and random facts about everything and he is way too sweet. Going to work sucked a bit cause my boss was being a bitch the whole day and just finding flaws were there weren’t any, but nothing that I couldn’t handle. When I left, I went to a grocery shop to buy some stuff for my dinner with Raul that he asked and sent a message to Shawn telling him I was going to be home in thirty minutes, and he replied with a simple ‘kay, baby, talk to you later’, which I found weird but tried not to read too much into it. He was probably busy anyways.

But what sucked was parking at the garage and calling Raul, only to find out he was not going to make it.

“Hey, Raul, I just got home and I can start the food if you want”

“Oh shit, I completely forgot to tell you”

“Tell me what?”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N, but this kid come into work today and his situation is pretty bad, I can’t leave him alone, I’m so damn sorry, I... shit, I don’t even know what to say!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s not your fault and I’m not mad, you’re not bailing to go drink or something, you’re working and saving a child’s life, Raul, chill, dude, I’m not mad!”

“Thank you so much, you’re the best, I gotta go now, Y/N, again, I’m so incredibly sorry, thank you so much, bye” he said hanging up.

“Bye” I said into the empty lot and opening the door to grab my bags.

I pressed the button of the elevator and got in, holding the bags with one hand to text Shawn with the other one a quick ‘hey, Raul’s not coming, I’m at the elevator, you can call me anytime you can now xx’. When I got to my floor, my phone started ringing and it was Kate calling, so I picked it up.

“Hey, Y/N, are you busy?”

“No, it’s okay, how are you? By the way, thank you so much for the help yesterday, I really appreciate it” I said as I placed the phone between my cheek/ear and my shoulder to fish the keys in my bag.

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks, so... I’m calling you exactly because of the project”

“Oh really” I felt my heart going to a stop “something wrong?”

“The only think wrong with your project is in your extremely perfectionist brain, dummy”

“What do you mean, Kate?” I said finally being able to place the key on the lock and turn it.

“Bitch, you got an A, YOU GOT AN A, do you know what that means?! Your project is perfect! You don’t even need to do the test if you don’t want to! God, I hate you so much right now”

“Holy shit, Kate! Are you kidding me?! How do you know that?!”

“Mr. Saltzman just published the grades”

“I can’t believe it!”

“I know! And you know what happens to people who get an A on this thing?! YOUR ARTICLE IS GOING TO BE PUBLISHED! I’m so damn proud of you”

“I can’t believe it” I said finally getting out of my trance with a wide smile on my face as I got into the condo, closing the door right behind me, still trying to balance everything I was holding and lock the damn door.

“I know, I mean...”

“Wait a second, Kate” I interrupted her as soon as I heard a noise coming from the empty apartment “I think I heard something.

“Is everything okay? Where are you?”

“I just got home and I heard something, but the door was locked, so I don’t know, it’s probably nothing, I’m just overreacting” I said as I paced to the kitchen to get rid of the grocery bags, my heels echoing on the empty rooms.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come over?”

“No, it’s oka... shit” I said as I almost dropped my phone and I suddenly felt the bags being pulled from my arms from behind, I was at the verge of losing my shit when I saw his reflex on the big window on his kitchen

Standing behind me was the 6’3 rockstar teddy bear that I got to call mine holding the bags that were almost falling from my arms for me as I just stared at him completely shocked. He just grinned at me through the reflection and I almost lost it, but kept frozen in place.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” Kate’s voice sounded clear now through the phone.

“Oh shit, sorry, Kate, I almost dropped my phone and I... I gotta go, I just found out Shawn’s home, I, I’ll talk to you later, bye” I said as I hung up, turning around in shock as I stared at him.

“Hi” he said barely louder then a whisper, placing the bags on the counter and picking up the bouquet of tulips that he picked up from the counter.

I couldn’t even understand what was happening, but my body decided to take the natural lead and jump on him, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face on his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around me to keep me off the ground and in his embrace. I wrapped my legs around his torso and just took my time to process the information that he was actually here, with me. When I finally pulled back from his neck, I could only stare at his eyes that were already on me, with a look of pure love and adoration, so I just did what felt right, I crashed my lips on his. And all was right in the world again. The kiss was so passionate and so in sync that only made the fuzzy warm feeling I always have when I’m around him intensify a million times. I only noticed that I was crying when I felt his hand coming up to caress my cheek softly while his other arm kept me tightly in place.

“What the hell, Shawn?” I asked as soon as I pulled back for air.

“Hi, lover, I love you too and missed you lots”

“You do know I love you and you also know I missed you so bad, but what the hell? Weren’t you supposed to come home only in a week?”

“Well, that’s what everybody told you cause I asked them, you really thought I was going to leave you here alone in Valentine’s Day?!”

“Wait a second, Mendes, everybody knew you’re coming home today?!”

“Uh yeah?”

“So Raul wasn’t going to be with me at all?!”

“Nope” he said popping the ‘P’.

“Did he lie to me about being at work?”

“No, but he also never cancelled his shift today to be with you”

“So why the heck did he sent me grocery... is that why I have all the ingredients for chocolate chip muffins?!”

“Uh, maybe?” Shawn said with a sheepish smile on his face “don’t get mad at me, I wanted to surprise you”

“Mad at you? How could I be mad at you, bubs?”

“I don’t know, I can do some pretty stupid things”

“That’s true”

“Outch, you weren’t supposed to agree to that”

“Sorry, but I thought we didn’t lie to each other”

“Okay, I’m going back to LA” he said threatening to let me go.

“No! I’m kidding, I love you and you know I can never get mad at you, cause even though you make same stupid things, they’re never harmful and always innocent, so no, I’m not mad at you”

“Good, cause I have a whole night planned”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t like to go out, so I grabbed your favorite Italian dish, you bought the wine, I’ve set up our room, we can take a bath and then cuddle while we watch Harry Potter or Grey’s Anatomy and eat our food, then we’ll go to bed and I’ll cuddle the fuck out of you”

“You’re so weird, dude” I said and he chuckled, placing me on the ground again, but still not letting go of me.

“Yeah? Then why are still with me?”

“Because you’re the Shawn Mendes” I said and he laughed holding me tighter.

“Is that all?”

“Well, pretty much, of course, you’re pretty and stuff, but yeah, your career is all that matters to me”

“Thought it was my bank account... so if I go ugly and my voice disappears you’ll dump me?”

“Obviously” I said tapping his strong chest playfully and he held my wrists, bringing my hands up to kiss they’re back, so I took the opportunity to cup his jaw gently “but for real now, I don’t care if you loose your career, bank account and all your hair, it wouldn’t change a thing for me. Of course it’s amazing to be dating someone who gets to play in sold out arenas and travel around the world with a guitar case in his hands, you’re really talented and I’ve told you a million times that you always mesmerize me with everything you put on, you’re fascinating for sure”

“Thank you” he mouthed in the middle of my speech and I couldn’t contain myself from standing on the tippy toes of my shoes to place a sweet peck on his lips.

“Where was I?” I asked as soon as I pulled away “oh yeah, but honestly? That’s not what’s best about you. You’ve got the kindest soul I’ve ever met, you’re so caring and loving, you always put everyone that matters first and always makes me feel special, even on the toughest days, you do not measure consequences when it comes to pleasing someone you love and also, you’re the best person I’ve ever met and I’m so lucky to able to call you love of my life, I love you, Shawn Mendes, not only for the fame and the amazing...”

“...sex?” he suggested with a smirk on his face.

“Well, no, but that’s actually right as well. Anyone, and the amazing music you make, but for the real Shawn, the guy the grew up in Pickering and that watches rom-coms for a living” I said and he smiled softly, attaching his lips to mine again in a sweet kiss.

“I was the one supposed to make you a speech, I was not expecting that but thank you” he said kissing my forehead “ and also, thank you for being patient with me and allowing this relationship to work out”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything” I said softly as I caressed his cheek with my thumb “thank YOU, Shawn”

He smiled down at me and kissed me again, this time, deepening the kiss faster than before, quickly grabbing the back of my thighs and picking me up as he licked into my mouth, making my head go dizzy with the sensations.

-*-

After the bath, pretend to watch whatever we picked to put on the TV while we made up for the lost time on his couch and then ate or food to recover, we finally decided to head back to our room, cause after all, he got on a plane today to see me and my work was exhausting. We were laying in bed, Shawn in his underwear, and me in only his shirt laying half on top of him. He was gently running his fingers through my hair as I drew mindless circles on his bare abs, minds far away as we laid close just enjoying each other’s warmth and company.

“I forgot to get your present, it’s on my suitcase” he said more to himself then to me.

“You shouldn’t have”

“Ooh, shush, I like to buy you presents and spoil you, and you never allow me to do so, I just have to grab every opportunity I have”

“Fair enough, yours are on the closet”

“We can do that tomorrow when I’m making you breakfast”

“You?”

“Yeah, learned how to do pancakes!”

“Really?! I’m so proud of you, bubs” I said and he smiled, kissing my forehead.

“Thank you”

“Hey, Shawn” I said lowly after a while, breaking the silence again “thank you so much for coming home and doing all of this, it means the world to me, every single detail was perfect, and I can’t believe you actually bought me tulips! They mean...”

“They mean ‘declaration of love’” he said complementing what I was going to say “yeah, I know, Peter helped out on that one, not gonna lie”

“Just the fact that you took your time on asking what each flower meant it’s enough to make me love you even more” I said pecking his soft lips delicately.

“You should sleep, honey, you seemed tired when you arrived”

“I am”

“So sleep, I’ll still be home when you wake up”

“Do you promise?” I asked nuzzling my face further on his collarbone.

“I promise” he said softly “I promise I’ll always come home to you, happy valentine’s day, honey” were the last words I heard before I drifted off to dreamland, in the arms of the man I love with every single cell of my body.

-*-

Happy belated Valentine's Day!

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes, I had to finish this in rush to post it on time.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

... : @fivefeetapartt

222 notes · View notes

hhsaryrud · 3 years

Text

I ran and turned into another street

It would have been interesting to peep into nike air max thea atomic pink that little pondering head and to see the mixture there of quite childish images and fancies with serious ideas and notions gained from experience of life (for Katya really had lived), and at the same time with ideas of which she had no real knowledge or experience, abstract theories she had got out of books, though she probably mistook them for generalizations gained by her own experience. “My queen,” growled Skahaz mo Kandaq, of the shaven head. I was afraid to. Her quiet, good-natured face encouraged me. But all was still, and there was no sound of footsteps. No lions would walk with her today. The more Quentyn heard of Daenerys Targaryen, the more he feared that meeting. His opening arrays were different every time, yet all the same—conservative, defensive, passive. 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soyforramen · 4 years

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Kill Your Boyfriend

“A little girl wants revenge; a real woman moves on while karma does her dirty work for her,” Alice said primly as she set another bowl into the cabinet.

“Did you read that in Reader’s Digest?” Gladys asked sourly and shifted the steak on her face. A scowl be more apt, but it would only pull at the skin around her eye, and she’d had more than enough pain for the night.

She lowered it only for Alice to swoop in and press it further against Gladys face. This time Gladys did scowl, damn the pain. With a smug smile, Alice returned to emptying her dishwasher (oh how far she’d come from hand washing dishes in the back of the Wyrm; and yet Gladys hadn’t moved an inch). If it wasn’t for their shared history - intimate and professional - Gladys would have sucker punched Alice and taken the good silver on her way out.

“Platitudes are all well and good, but I’d say now’s the time for a reminder as to why men shouldn’t hit women.”

“It’s also a good time for you to think for once,” Alice snapped. The china dishes let out a scream as she slammed another plate onto the stack. She reached for a large butcher’s knife and shoved it into the block. (Eighty, ninety bucks easy for a slab of wood, Gladys thought. Bougie wood for the bougie, upscale lifestyle Alice had been scheming her way into since kindergarten.)

“If you go after him now -“

Gladys leaned back as the steak knife in Alice’s hand came too close to her face. She reached out and pushed Alice’s wrist down towards the kitchen island least this problem be solved by an inadvertent stabbing.

“-you're the only suspect,” Alice continued. “Keller will have you in handcuffs and behind bars -“

She held up a hand to keep Gladys quiet. Instead of saying every dirty little thing she was thinking - about Keller, handcuffs, and Gladys’ past indiscretions with the blonde woman - she let her smirk say it all.

“-and who would look after your son? His father in the ground, you in the pen. He’d be in foster care in a day.”

Gladys mused on this, wondering if it was too late in life to start writing country songs. She sucked on her teeth and winced. One of the back ones was lose, probably courtesy of when she’d been thrown against the bathroom sink. God damn FP and his alcoholic fits. It was one thing for a man to hold his liquor; it was another for him to pour it out onto his wife.

The Cooper kettle screamed (robin’s egg blue, polished and shiny as if it had never been used; 45 easy from Box and Keg, with coupon). Alice turned her attention towards it and began making the suburban equivalent of a shot of good whiskey. Gladys would have killed for a shot of anything right now, but PTA, Home & Garden Alice frowned on fun like mixing valium and alcohol. Serpent Alice would already have three prozac and a tequila sunrise ready for her.

“So what would you suggest, since stabbing him through the heart is off the table,” Gladys said. She turned the steak over and sighed at how cool the other side was.

Alice pursed her lips while she loaded the dishwasher full of pots and pans from the earlier family dinner. The one Gladys had crashed by knocking on the backdoor, blood streaming from her face, her eyes red and clothes torn, a sleeping child cradled in her arms. Before the in-laws could see, Alice had whisked her upstairs for a change of clothes and first aid. Gladys didn’t know what had been said, but it wasn’t more than a few minutes before Jughead had been laid down in the crib next to Betty, and she’d been taken downstairs and seated at the island, a hearty slice of apple pie a la mode set in front of her.

“Stay here a few days. Let it be known you’re out of the house and you’re not going back. Spread a few rumors about who F.P.’s been working with,” Alice said. “Maybe pick up a night shift at Pop’s.”

Her focus was on the caked on grease that defiled her pristine life, but Gladys knew the gears were turning in her head. Alice always was the schemer, the planner. She’d had her entire life planned out when reality sunk in that the Smiths weren’t in the same zip code as the Cleavers, let alone the same country. If one wanted a plan, one that wasn’t necessarily foolproof, but smart enough to fool ninety percent of the population, Alice Smith was that person.

There was one small hitch, though.

“Where am I going to stay in the meantime? The trailer park’s out, and couch surfing with a two-year old tends to get old real quick. Especially since most of my friends are more likely to have needles lying around than milk.”

Alice waved off her concerns. “Hal’s going on some retreat, Find Your Inner Masculine Self, or some other insecure ego trip for the next month, so the basement will be free,” Alice said. She let the water drain out of the sink and picked up two cups of tea. One she sat in front of Gladys; the other she took with her as she sat down at the island. “And I could always use some help with the girls.”

It was tempting. A stable roof over their head and three squares a day. More than F.P. ever provided them.

“What’s the catch?”

Alice shook her head, a coy smile on her face. “No catch. Only …”

Gladys raised an eyebrow. She set the steak down on the styrofoam container. “Only?”

“You let me help make F.P. disappear.”

“There a history there I should know about?”

Alice blew on her tea and took a small sip. Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor. Gladys’ question hung in the air, unanswered.

xxxx

Dead tired, feet aching, Gladys punched out from her ten hour shift at Pop’s. It hadn’t been terrible, pretending as if F.P. didn’t exist. She’d been acting as a single mother for the last year and it was easier when she didn’t have to pick up after him as well.

It was actually quite nice. Or at least, playing house with Alice was. While they’d both respected each others boundaries, there were plenty of times Gladys wanted to break them, and Alice didn’t make it easy. Whether it was a rekindling of old flames, or whether it was Gladys’ own complex about people who treated her kindly, it didn’t matter in the end. Alice was married (ten carrot ring, rose gold, priceless and worthless depending on who you asked), and disgustingly happy about it, and Gladys refused to take that from her.

She bid Pop’s a good night and stepped out into the humid night air. Right on time, Alice pulled up to the diner in her eyesore of a wood paneled station wagon (not even worth casing, it was so ugly). Gladys sunk into the faux leather seats and let her eyes shut, the smell of grease and burnt coffee staying with her even after they’d crossed the railroad tracks. Tonight, though, Alice took a left instead of a right.

Gladys cracked an eye open and watched the quaint brick work turn into tall, dark pines. She turned to Alice whose expression never wavered.

“Al?”

“Do you still want to go through with this?”

Gladys sat up in her chair and stared at Alice. She didn’t need to ask what she meant. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

“Alright then.”

Alice pulled off the road just outside of Greendale, the road lit by the light of a hole-in-the-wall bar. Rows of motorcycles lined the parking lot. The drunks had spilled out of the double wide building and were lounging around the porch, loud enough to wake the dead. While they waited for the party to die down, Gladys wondered how much time Alice had spent tracking his movements, how much energy she’d expended on this side project of hers.

Country rock whispered around them, punctuated with the hoots and hollers of men all too eager to spend their meager paychecks on booze and women.

“Why do you care so much?” Gladys asked. She didn’t expect an answer.

“About him? Or you?”

Gladys chuckled. Of course Alice would see right through her. She always had been able to.

“Both. Neither. It’s not like we parted on good terms. And I didn’t exactly keep up with the Christmas cards.”

Alice pursed her lips, her gaze still laser focused on the horde of people, escaping their own problems. These were the people they’d been raised with. In other parts of the country they’d be white-trash, rednecks; here they were blue-collar workers who’d been left behind as corporations moved overseas at the behest of ever growing profits. They’d been left to fend for themselves among the corpses of dying towns, unwilling to leave behind the lives their father’s had left them.

“There he is,” Alice said.

She shifted the car into gear and let it idle as F.P. swayed down the ramp and greeted everyone he passed. Gladys always said he’d be good in politics, if he wasn’t so easily swayed by a shot and an easy fix. Five minutes later and he was at his bike. It took him three tries to start it up, and she knew he was at least ten beers in. He roared out of the parking lot and the station wagon quietly followed behind.

“Now what?” Gladys asked as the darkness enveloped them again.

Alice was quiet, focused on her prey. The dashboard light illuminated the cab, casting eerie blue shadows around them.

“All right, surprise party it is,” Gladys said.

Bored, she put her shoes up on the dash. Alice swatted them down.

“I just had it detailed.”

Alice took a sharp breath in as the motorcycle came to a slow stop off the road. The station wagon passed it, and Gladys turned to watch as F.P. staggered to his feet. They turned right onto an off road, and Alice pulled over to the side. Calmly, she turned the engine off and stepped out of the vehicle.

The gravel crunched beneath Gladys’ plain white sneakers, loaned to her from Alice’s full closet, as she followed Alice around the car to the trunk. Gladys let out a low whistle at the sight. Everything from a crowbar to a battery operated jump starter to an emergency blizzard kit. Hal Cooper made sure to take care of his wife’s every on-road need.

Alice reached in, her grey cardigan riding up as she reached for the shovel tucked neatly in the back. Gladys took it from her and watched as Alice surveyed her options. After a moment, she picked up a tarp and an axe, the sharp edge gleaming in the brake lights. It lay naturally in Alice’s hands, another well worn tool in her arsenal of getting what she wanted out of life.

In the red brake lights, Alice looked like a macabre angel of vengeance. Grey cardigan, black cigarette pants, pearl drop earrings. She was dressed for a potluck.

It was that moment that Alice’s plan revealed itself, and Gladys couldn’t help but chuckle at its perfection.

Alice Cooper, helicopter mother of the year, had selflessly takin in a childhood friend after she’d been battered. Caring, kind Alice, who spent two Sundays a month volunteering at the homeless shelter, trying to get her friend back on her feet. Vicious enforcer of her HOA and PTA rules, Alice would turn in her own mother-in-law for rolling through a stop-sign, had picked up Gladys from work and driven off, presumably to take her back to the picture perfect lifestyle on Elm Street.

How on earth could anyone imagine that she’d let a dangerous person near her family, let alone aid and abet in a murder?

With a smirk reminiscent of the old Alice, the one Gladys would eagerly kill for, they stepped into the woods where F.P. was last seen.

“Let’s go kill your boyfriend.”

#parentdale #tw: domestic violence #gladys/alice #for halcooper #for introducing me to how perfect these two would have been

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mytrashs-blog · 5 years

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Movie Star

Pairing: BFF! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Angst, SO MUCH ANGST, swearing, Tom being an asshole, there’s a mention of an injury...

Summary: Tom is your best friend, but fame can change a lot of things.

Word Count: 2,609 (Probably the longest one piece I’ve done)

A/N: So! This is an entry for @unholyhaz and @spidey-waffles11 #marvellouswafflescelebration writing challenge. I am actually quite proud of this baby and how freaking painful it is. I was having a hard time with the prompt because I kept wanting to write it the same way it happened in the movie, so yeah, I’m very happy with this. Enjoy! (Please if you do like it, reblog it so it can be read by more and more people).

Part two

(This pic doesn’t belong to me, I took it off google, but I did edit it a little)

You never thought your friendship with Tom would end up like this. Ruined. Potentially forever, and the worst part is that you can’t even be mad about it. He’s been dreaming about becoming big in the movie industry since you were like 7 and dancing ballet at the studio everyday, so him getting big should be something to be happy about, right?

Only it isn’t. And not because he’s always busy and barely even texts back, not even because he never has time to hang out anymore, nor is it because he seems to always be in the other side of the world either filming another damn Marvel movie or any other movie, or promoting his work. No, all of those reasons were not enough to wreck your friendship. What finally did it was the fact that he became so full of himself that you couldn’t stand hearing him talking when you did get to see him. He’s kind of an asshole now.

So you snapped. You were out in a pub with him, Harrison, the twins and a couple of your friends, Tom was telling you about how unacceptable it was that his manager tried to get him, to spend a night in LA in a 4 star hotel instead of a 5 star or a damn Airbnb apartment, how he was tired of this neglecting behaviour from a person that eats from the 5% of his paycheck, and you lost it.

You may be bestfriends with this guy, but you definetely didn’t have the same economical status, and you have to work a normal job like everybody else, you don’t get 5 star hotels ever, for gods sake you don’t even get to travel that often, the only time you’ve been out of the country was when Tom took you to Atlanta to do some reshoots back when the first Spider-Man happened, so you made well sure to tell him he was behaving like a brat, posh and whiny rich kid. And he didn’t like it, so he called you a jealous uptight bitch that’s bitter because an ankle injury killed off her career, which was a low blow. So you stormed out of the place.

It was a pretty public scene and there were a few videos from different angles of nearby tables at the pub and a few pictures of both of you screaming at each other, and of you getting out of the place while fuming, and of Tom getting his car a driving off while visibly pissed. It’s been the story of the moment (at least in your life). All your social media was full of Tom’s fans calling you a fake friend, a bitch, a brat, whore, slut… some even sent death threats, which was a bit disturbing, but not surprising.

Of course Tom wasn’t helping at all either, he stopped following you, but didn’t block you so you could see him liking all the rude messages directed to you, and he was being very very vocal about the importance of having real friends and how loyalty is a very important thing and how he had to learn that the hard way very recently. So yeah, like a whiny rich boy.

You were scrolling down instagram, trying to focus on something else, but the notifications were still blowing with comments and tags on rude posts, so decided enough was enough and you started an Instagram Live, not even 1 minute in and you already had a handful of people watching and commenting snake emojis and very strong language words, but you ignored it as you started talking.

“Hello everyone, thanks for all the lovely wishes, I apreciate them a lot, you don’t wanna know. So, I’m here because, since I don’t go around doing interviews for a job, I have to find an outlet to let out my side of the story, because all stories have more than one side and one shouldn’t decide on a side unless you’ve heard all sides of it- the story, I mean.

Tom and I became best friends since day one of us meeting, that was 16 years ago, we were always inseparable and I always knew I had someone to rely on and he had someone to rely on in me. Pretty strong bond. I always knew he wanted to be an actor, the best actor he could be, and I always knew he would make it, because he’s always been so incredibly talented and dedicated and he was very determined, so when he finally got his big chance being casted as Spider-Man I was the first one to celebrate him. As his fame and recognition started growing, he started hanging out with a lot more celebrities and he started picking up on personality traits that aren’t that cool, but at the beggining it was so minimal that I’d just ignore it.

By the time he was filming Far from Home, I think, he was a full on movie star. Every place we’d go, a few cameras would follow and fans would show up, and he loved putting on a show for everyone, to the point where he’d ignore anyone that’s with him. But that’s no the worst part. I can forgive him for having an ego, we all have one, some are bigger than others and that’s cool, but what’s not cool is being condescending to the people who work with or for you. I dont’t believe in people from first or second class, for me everyone is equal and everyone’s work is just as dignified and worthy as anyone else’s, that’s why I finally lost my respect for Tom, because he started treating people that don’t have the same level of privilege as him like they’re less than him. That’s not the way we were raised, those are not the values that my best friend has and I know it’s all because of all the media attention he has.

You all give everything to him in a silver platter, so he now became a bratty movie star, another self centered celebrity that feels entitled. So congratulations. You have created a celebrity, but you have wrecked a human being inside. And I don’t feel like I deserved to be attacked this way for not wanting to put up with being belittled and treated like a peasant. Thanks.”

You finished the live and you broke crying, of course. It hurts to know that your best friend is no longer, that you’re never gonna have all those amazing midnight adventures. Like when you escaped from your houses at 15 to go to that crazy party all the school was attending but your mothers wouldn’t let you go. You remember how you got drunk after just one or two beers and ended up walking and giggling back home at 3am. You were in so much trouble the next day.

Or when he got casted as Peter Parker and you were so happy that you spent the whole night laying in his bed talking about all the hard work you both had done to make your dreams come true. That night he told you how he was proud of you for working so hard on your dancing career and how you were his favourite dancer ever. And you told him that you always knew he’d make it. You promised each other to always be there for the other.

He was the first to arrive to the hospital when you had the accident onstage that ended your career, he held you on those long nights when you’d cry and cry, he was there when you were angry at the world for not letting you have your dream. He helped through everything and never left your side until you were back on your feet and you had a new plan for your life.

He’s not here now though. He’s the one holding the gun on your back and you were the one that threw the first punch. You feel guilty. You ruined everything. You should’ve told him that he shouldn’t behave that way. Of all people, it should’ve been you holding his feet on the ground, and now it all went to shit because of you. It’s all your fault and maybe you do deserve the furious fans and the creepy reporters jumping on you every now and then, and maybe you deserve all those messages because maybe you were a fake friend.

You really don’t have the evergy to get out of bed for the days that followed. It could’ve been just two days, or a week, maybe even months for all you knew; but you stayed in bed, you would cry, eat and sleep and nothing more. Your phone was in some unknown place of your house, you hadn’t even attempted to find it and maybe it ran out of battery long ago, but who cares? definetely not you. You were walking around in your pajamas, looking for ice cream in your freezer or maybe some chocolate bars, or chips… or whatever came to view first, but you were interrupted by the ring of your doorbell and then a knock on your door, you thought about ignoring it, but then they knocked again so you brought yourself to the door and opened it.

You froze when you saw Tom on the other side of your door, looking probably just as destroyed as you do, red puffy eyes, messy hair, he was wearing sweatpants and an old shirt, an unusual look since now he’s always trying to look his absolute best. This guy in front of you resembled your best friend since childhood more than any of the high fashion versions of Tom, but it still ached in your heart that he was in this state in your front door unannounced.

“Tom… w-what are you doing h-here?”

“I uh… read a rumor and I needed to see it wasn’t true.”

“What?” You suddenly feel your blood boiling. The only reason he came was because of some rumor he read, he doesn’t regret anything, he doesn’t miss you, he just wants to see if some stupid rumor is true. You go to close the door in his face but he pushes the door.

“You wanna know what it was? Y/N listen to me, please!” You try to push harder, but he’s way stronger than you are so you give in and let him in, but the frown never leaves your face and you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m listening.” You really don’t want to get your guard down, but the way Tom is looking at you right now makes it really hard. He looks at you the way one looks at a youth treasure you found after years of longing. The way you look at a flower that grows against all odds in the middle of a desserted field. And it’s making you feel very aware of him. You notice how the bags under his eyes are deeper than ever, his skin doesn’t look as flawless and polished as it did the last time you saw him, you can even see some spots around his forehead, you notice how he’s still unable to tame that eyebrow and how they also look a little unplucked, you can also see the tarce of a beard, the kind that tells you that maybe he didn’t shave this morning and even the day before that, and his hair is not only messier but it’s also longer. And it’s grounding to see him look so human, vulnerable and real right in front of you.

“There were some rumors going around that you might’ve… that you maybe… y-you had..” For some reason he was unable to look you in the eye, and every time he tried to speak he’d take a small step closer to you. “That you maybe had… comitted… suicide…”

You froze where you stood, and maybe your jaw fell slack, and maybe you even stopped breathing, where the fuck did he read that? What the actual fuck are people saying? your blood started boiling with rage, not even at Tom anymore, but at the world, why does everyone suddenly feel entitled to say those terrible things and why? Because you haven’t been on social media in a long time? People seriously need to understand that other people exist outside the internet and the have lives outside social media.

“I seriously hate people. Well… here I am, alive and well, is that everything?” you ask as you raise a brow, expecting him to say something else, but he looks at you taken a back, he’s at a loss of words because he was expecting this to fix things.

“Umh… yeah?”

“Okay then, I’ll walk you to the door.” You say flatly and start making your way back to your front door.

“Y/N wait… I do need to say something else” He grabs you by the wrist and turns you around, you end up mere inches away from him, his hand still holding you. His gaze roams all over your face, he looks down at your lips while licking his, but then he looks up to your eyes. “I’m sorry. About everything. I was a dick, and maybe I am an idiot for realizing I don’t want to lose you until I read those terrible things and it hurt as hell to even imagine a world without you in it. I don’t want to live the rest of my life without your surprise texts when I’m away filming, or your weird gif replies, or our film nights and crazy getaways. You’re the best friend that I have. And I love you, Y/N. I really, really do, and I’m sorry it took me so long to admit that to you.” If this had happened a few months ago, you would have kissed him already. You loved him for such a long time, it almost hurt you, you had all those feelings for him stored inside you and at times it felt like they couldn’t fit anymore and you’d just explode, but that changed. You changed. And so did he.

“I accept your apology, Tom.” you took a long pause before speaking again, and you could see in Tom’s eyes that it was killing him to wait, every second feeling longer than the previous, until you spoke again. “But it’s gonna take a lot more than that to fix our friendship. I’m sorry I don’t share your feelings, but I received death threats over twitter, so many hate comments coming to me everyday… and you were liking them, encouraging people to keep attacking me! You expect me to just forget about that and act like it never happened? And you expect me to just throw myself at your arms and live happily ever after? It really doesn’t work like that, Tom. You have to go now.” He stayed looking at you for a moment, and you could see the heartbreak in his eyes, but your own heart was breaking aswell. Maybe you could fix this, but it would take more than this, and right now you could not see him in your apartment.

“Please leave Tom” Your voice was just a pleading whisper at this point, but Tom did let go of your wrist and you sighed when you felt the cold breeze hit the skin where his hand had been. He walked past you and opened the door, taking one last look at you as one single tear fell from your eyes. And the door closed.

---

Tagging a few people that might be interested so it doesn’t flop :)

@caeruleum-in-caritate-lupus, @softstarkk, @peterparkerbabyy, @dottirose, @legit-fandom-trash, @carostar2020, @appreciating-chase-brody, @mvmakki @madmadmilk @hollandrecs @starksparker @sunshinehollandd

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theforce · 4 years

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presumptive horrible rotten case of corona: symptoms

presumptive bc i couldnt get a god damn test i live in new york and while there are testing sites all over the state and our state govt is doing what they can now, i don’t want to be the person taking away a test from someone else especially now that i am mostly better, most of this went down at the beginning of the month and i’m still dealing with the effects of it.

there was a lot of confusion here even as recent as 2 weeks and we are the state that’s testing more than the rest of the entire country so here is my account of what went down w me, and honestly, what might go down with you or someone you know as soon as this reaches your state

1) i threw up all night long, thought it was a stomach virus, had a lot of stomach issues for like 24 hours, very strange i haven’t had a stomach virus in YEARS since i was a literal child, anyways right before i started puking up my life i developed this weird cough, it felt like it was from my throat, like i was trying to clear it? but it was often and annoying

2) after my 24 hours of hell i felt feverish and exhausted but i chalked it up to being on the floor of the bathroom all night, exerting my esophagus and body to throw up the devil himself, i tried to sleep it off, i woke up a few hours later in a fog, i was shivering but i was also burning up, i couldn’t tell left from right, up from down, my fever was 100.3, at this point i had my mom call my doctor and make an appointment, she made it for me w the receptionist, everything was fine until 20 minutes later i got a call back from my actual doctor not the receptionist who was like, oh no not you’re not coming here with those symptoms baby and i was like ?? ok cool thanks, she said to keep watching my symptoms, slam some tylenol and if i felt shortness of breath to call or text her personal cell phone and she would get me set up at the nearest hospital i said ok sounds fucked up i mean i didn’t say that bc i was too fucked up to even speak, she also gave my mom instructions to keep me in my room, to not go near me, to give me a designated bathroom, to have food and water delivered to my door, my mom was like u dont gotta tell me twice (she has lupus) during this time my cough become dry and horrible, i could feel my lungs rattle, i would cough so hard and for so long i’d wake from my feverish coma to kneel over my bed and just let loose on the world, it felt like i was drowning, i couldn’t get enough air everything hurt, everything was sore

3) things continued on like this for 5 straight days, i was literally in and out of consciousness, my fever got up to 102 and my mom said that if it raised at all from there we were going to the fuckin hospital and i was like listen la rona i know u wanna take me out but i havent even ever eaten a krispy kreme donut, please let me survive this i can’t leave this way, in that moment i literally had a fever dream of god herself, i said take this from me and i’ll stop being such a cunt in life. i started slamming hot toddy’s, i’d drink as much water as possible in between the time i wasnt literally trying to expel my lungs by way of my mouth

4) woke up from that whole ordeal drenched in SWEAT from my feet to my head i was soaked, it was gross, at that point i still had a sense of smell so let me tell you my last and final symptom should have kicked in a bit earlier but i checked my temp and it was normal! i didn’t feel like my head was going to explode! but i had new things going on i had a new stuffy/runny nose, my cough was producing some liquid which i proceeded to throw up into a mcdonalds cup i took a shower, i brushed my teeth, i felt like a brand new woman, i had cold like symptoms but i can live with cold like symptoms, i had an appetite for the first time in a week, felt like i could eat my whole family out of house and home given the opportunity, i’d lost 20 pounds in less than 2 weeks and ya girl was honestly, looking good but THAT’S A BAD WAY OF THINKING disregard please thank you, at this point i went into my doctor with a full on mask, gloves, hair pulled back, she gave me every test you can think of, most importantly a flu test which is all she could do since getting a test was impossible at this pint, which of course came back negative

5) things continued like this for weeks, up until right now actually, exhaustion was gone, fever gone, cough still here and there but not like how it was, i’ve put on makeup in my room, i’ve watched every season of law and order svu, i’ve gone on drives in my car just to drive, i’ve tried to keep myself as busy as possible, 3 days ago the strangest, most inexplicable and hopefully last symptom arrived, a complete loss of smell and bc of that taste, i’ve tried smelling candles, essential oils, laundry detergent, canned meat, my brother lit a match with my back turned and asked me what the smell was, i ate extra hot cheetos, raw onions, shot of vinegar, there’s nothing there, i just hope it comes back

during this time i haven’t been even close to my mother, who has lupus or my sister, who has asthma, i stayed in my room, i’m still in my room actually 14 full days out from the last time i left the house, one month since this whole thing started, i eat in my room, i use a different bathroom than my whole family, everyone talks to me from my door frame besides my little brother who also was sick but recovered super fast, he bleaches the bathroom after i use it, he puts all my food on single use plates, he brings me jugs of water and reminds me of what it’s like to at least talk to another person.

on a more serious note, i haven’t touched another person in 20 days nobody has even been within 6 feet of me besides my doctor who was administering the only tests she could administer, fully decked out in a hazmat suit, she was scared for me, i could tell, she was trying to put on a brave face and downplay the severity of my symptoms but thank god for her, she’s checked up on me, she’s tried everything, she’s put in calls, she’s made herself as available as possible even though she’s probably going through the same thing with countless other patients, i worry for her, i’ve worried for my family, i’ve stressed beyond the point of no return which has for sure slowed my recovery and i was one of the lucky ones! all of this and my case was considered mild because i never really had trouble breathing beyond being choked by my own coughing.

people have been there for me during all of this, in ways that are further reaching than touch, i have been very vocal about not liking when people touch me but i do look forward to the day i can hug my mom, where i can tell my friend to take a sip of my drink to see if she likes it, to have someone pat me on the shoulder and tell me to keep my head up or whatever

hopefully im on the other side of this, my more at risk family members are about to be 14 days from the last time any of them were near me or my brother, they’re at the end of a long tunnel and i’m just so happy that maybe soon we’ll all see the light

take care of yourselves

#tw for like puke and losing weight and just overall grossness

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mysticsandwich · 4 years

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what was it, around may of 2014, I sold my truck and all of my camera equipment, probably for way less than what it was worth. I bought a bunch of random hiking and backpacking/camping gear and a bus ticket from orlando all the way across the country to spokane washington. I had decided to volunteer on a vineyard/family farm thru wwoof, worldwild organic orginzation of farmers. you basically work like 4-8hrs a day and in exchange you get some form of housing and food. I’d be staying in a tent and get 3 meals a day. I really didnt know what to expect except I was ready for some kind of adventure and was miserable where I was. I had no idea what I was doing and about $3k in my bank account. I was an emotional mess, duh. I rode the bus for 94 hours, it was insane. I barley slept, the bus stopped about every 1-2 hrs for bathroom breaks and stretch/snack stops. I remember leaving atlanta around 12am, the random girl next to me kept falling asleep on my shoulder and waking me up. I didn’t get off of the bus until Chicago. I had an 8hr layover to the next bus. I bought a pack of menthol american spirits and walked around downtown chicago for like 6-7 hours. it was great, besides the exhaustion. it was the first time I had really walked around the heart of a real big city in my adult life. I got on the next bus and endured another 45hrs or so of bus riding to spokane washington. god I was beat. I got picked up by leah, the woman who kind of ran the whole wwoofing operation her husband and her ran. She picked me up from the greyhound station in spokane around noon, her firstborn son, henry was in the back of her truck asleep, I think he was two years old or so. She is very chatty and friendly. she hugged me upon meeting me and was very welcoming. after almost 4 straight days on buses with strangers it was very nice. she chatted as we drove out of spokane northwest to the small town of hunters,wa. after an hr and a half we arrived at a small gas station, the first store in about 30 miles. her dad owned the store/small mechanics garage all the locals got their trucks and equipment fixed at. I met her mom who ran the shop part of the store and dad who ran the store and mechanics garage. then we headed to the farm. we arrived and i met john, leahs husband. john and leah were 30 and 29 at the time, respectively. they had a house on an absolutely gorgeous 45 acre piece of land overlooking the Columbia river, a huge river that flows from canada all the way to Oregon. the property was amazing, small mountains or hills overlooking a sharp 200-300 foot drop to the wide river. they showed me my tent spot, right on a cliff below their house overlooking their house. it was amazing and gorgeous. i set up my tent and unpacked my backpack. i had to be back at the house around 7pm for dinner. i arrived and john was cooking while leah cleaned up. henry was just running around the garden that was their backyard. their entire house they built themselves. it looked like a house, kind of slumped and lopsided but normal enough. but they built it from bales of hay, wrapped in chicken wire, with spackle on the wire to look like normal walls. hardly any wood, mostly built of hay. it was very cheap to build, john did all of the wiring and plumbing hisself and hay has absolutely amazing insulating capabilities, so it was never too hot in the summer and never too cold in the winter. amazing. the first night there dinner was salad hand picked from their garden, we all just chatted and got to know eachother. I slept in my tent like a baby, the first nights sleep in like 4 days not on a bus in a seat constantly being woken up, with the sound of the nature and river below. the next day was the first day of work and learning the farm. most of the work I did there wsa trimming grape vines with john. leah would go to the gas station/country store her parents own and work, so in the morning i’d scramble up the hill to the house and john would make breakfast for me him and henry then we’d head out the vineyard. most of the work we did while I was there was trim vines. you have to snip off the weakest vines and keep the strongest ones to get the most grapes. so everyday me john and henry would go out to the vineyard, it was 10 acres big, not very big but big for two guys and a baby. me and john would each get a row of vines, we’d go down a trim and leapfrog each other, trimming all the extra vines off. henry would sleep in a stroller or waddles around john, sometimes coming to me to hangout. me and john would usually work at the same pace once I go the process down, and we’d talk the whole day till about lunch or 1pm. then go back to the house, he’d make lunch and then we’d get a break for about 2hrs. I’d usually go down to the river or take a nap in my hammock. then we’d meet around 3pm and work on another farm project, maybe fixinga a drain or a fence, etc. then leah would come home and we’d all make dinner. these people were so kind and just took me in and included me in their lives and family and farm, gave me good advice, etc. they told me of their adventures from their earyl 20′s. they both went to new zealand and traveled and worked for about 2 years. leah was a white water raft guide and john worked on bikes. they did that and hiked thru new Zealand. they went bak to america and saved money, then hitchhiked down the entirety of south america for a year. then decided to return to leahs parents hometown and start eh vineyard. amazing people, very warm and kind and hardworking. i was so lost at this point in my life and they gave m a good goal of how I wanted to be or at least were very positive role models. so went about 2 months, working with john mostly, hanging with leahs family, meeting their friends, working hard, learning about growing wine grapes, learning alfalfa farming, hitchiking to town, reading a lot. then late june hit, and john and leah got 3 more WWOOFers. 3 girls from rhode island, culinary students on a summer road trip, wwoofing to see where organic food comes from. two were very pretty and all 3 were very nice. they set up thier tent and I became their tour guide, showing them how all the work was done, how the farm and house worked. they liked to drink and party, were all older than me. we had a good time, though my work ethic kind of went ot shit, distracted by a bunch of girls haha. it was nice to be the only guy around them. they were there for about 3 weeks and then were heading to another farm in northern california. they invited me to go with them. I loved the farm in spokane..but 3 college girls when you’re 19...duh. so they left and I said my sad goodbyes to john and leah and hit the road with 3 college girls. we stopped all over down the west coast of the country. we all went skinny dipping in a pool in portland, one tried to sleep with me and I was too stupid to realize it. huge regret. story for another time. we finally reached pescadaro, CA. an absolutely beautiful little coastal town. the farm was owned by an absolute lunatic who thought he could talk to aliens and grew a a LOT of illegal weed. all we did for about a week was smoke weed and hangout with crazy vagrants the farm owner brought in, the absolute opposite of john and leahs farm. I liked the 3 girls but I missed john and leah a lot then. I was supposed to go visit my bestfrind, Gabe, in texas at some point that summer and after a week at this sketchy “farm” I decided to leave. the girls, katie, becca and kristen were awesome and i was pretty much in love with katie, but it was time to go. so they drove me to san fransisco and I got on a greyhound bus around midnight around the end of july and headed for texas. before I left the farm in pescadaro the head “farmhand” there gave me about 2 ounced of weed as a parting gift. being 19 and dumb I took it. I put the damn thing in my backpack and got on the greyhound. I slept from san fran to LA and from La to around new mexico. more bus riding, yay. I got to el paso, tx.

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{2oz weed story]

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years

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Dancing With Ben Week 1

A Ben Hardy x Reader Story Opening Night - Foxtrot

Summary: Reader is one of the pro dancers on Dancing With the Stars. It’s her second season on the show, and this time, her partner is none other than Ben Hardy. Will they win the Mirror Ball? Maybe they’ll win something even more meaningful!

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: I know this story seems odd, but I wanted to do something unique! Also, for each part, I’ll embed the routine I have in mind, so you other visual people can imagine it as well. The video will be found in the part of the fic where they dance for the best flow, I suppose. Also, her previous partner is a person I made up. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy this!

Tag List: @psychosupernatural @someone-get-a-medic Let me know if you want to be added!

Week 1 let’s go!!!

A shiver of excitement traveled down your spine. You opened the door to the studio to begin your second season as a pro coach on Dancing With the Stars. Your last season went so well, you weren’t sure you could top it. Your partner was James Tyler, a soccer player, who you adored. Together you had made it to the semi-finals before being voted off. It only made you want the Mirror Ball even more, having been so close.

This year, you hoped you had a partner who was just as dedicated, and you had a similar - if not better - connection with. You were all finding out your partners today, so your stomach already had butterflies. You were so ready to start this new season.

You walked into the hallway where Sasha and Emma promptly pounced on you, gathering you in their arms. You shrieked with fright at first, but it turned quickly into laughter as the couple embraced you. They were like your parents. Or your really cool aunt and uncle.

“Welcome back, Y/N!” Sasha said sweetly.

“Thanks, Sash,” you replied.

“Are you ready for the new season?” Emma asked.

You clapped your hands and rubbed them together. “I’m ready to find out who my freaking partner is!”

They laughed.

“Soon, babe,” said Sasha.

“Any guesses who yours will be?” you wondered. “Another gymnast for Sash, I bet.”

Emma snickered.

“Hey, they’re always really good,” Sasha said.

Next, you saw Val and Jenna, who you hadn’t seen since their wedding. You hugged each of them and kissed their cheeks.

“You guys look so happy,” you said. “Is there such thing as newlywed glow?”

They smiled and told you how happy they were to see you, and thanked you again for your attendance at their special day.

You greeted the rest of the pros as you all gathered, only to be dispersed into rehearsal studios to meet partners. Some of the pros were traveling to meet theirs, so they were receiving those instructions from producers. You went into your designated studio, where a producer quickly got a mic on you and then you got in place to begin filming your package.

“So, tell us what you’re most excited about this season,” said the producer behind the camera.

“Oh, I’m coming for that Mirror Ball,” you said, challenging. “I got so close last year, and I have a good feeling that it’s my turn.”

You continued to talk about the training you had done before the season started, so you developed a ton of new ideas for choreography. You just hoped your new partner was ready for it.

“Have you spoken to James since last season?” the producer asked.

You released an irritated huff. It seemed everyone thought you and your old partner were an item. You knew, however, that James was gay. He told you that in strict confidence, off camera, late after rehearsals one night. He was not ready to come out since it was tough for athletes to do so and be accepted. You had kept your word and said nothing. Only, more and more rumors swirled about the two of you being in a relationship.

“James and I do talk,” you said. “But we’re just friends. He’s busy, I’m busy, and he lives on the other side of the country.”

“Do you think he’ll be jealous of your new partner?” he pressed.

You frowned. “No, I think he’ll be excited for me and cheering me on.”

The door to the studio creaked open. You whipped around eagerly, at last coming face to face with your new partner. You gasped and covered your mouth when you saw who it was. He grinned at you as he came through the door.

“No way!” you cried. “Ben Hardy?!”

“Hi!” he returned, opening his arms to you.

You ran up and hugged him, jumping up and down a little as he laughed. He was so much handsomer in person. His eyes were such a vibrant green. His blonde hair swooped perfectly across his forehead. His smile was to die for.

“Oh my God, I am having such a fangirl moment right now,” you said, breathless as you broke apart. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

You shook hands.

“It’s great to meet you,” he said in that deep, smooth voice of his.

“You too!” you almost yelled. “God, I loved Bohemian Rhapsody, it was so amazing.”

“Are you a big Queen fan?” he asked.

“Hell yeah!” you assured him.

“Favorite song?”

“Radio Ga Ga. You?”

“White Queen.”

“Oh, bold choice.”

He laughed. “I like to be bold.”

“I guess that’s why you joined us here on Dancing With the Stars,” you said. “Have you ever danced before?”

He shook his head. “Not even a little bit.”

“Well, good! That’s what this show is about!”

You continued to chat back and forth for a few minutes to get a feel for each other. Of course, Ben was ridiculously handsome, but there was something beneath that. He was passionate and kind. Smart and funny. You got all this in the first five minutes of knowing him. Eventually, the producer urged you to talk about the competition.

“So, for our first dance, we have a foxtrot,” you said.

“Okay, I’ve heard of that,” he replied.

“Great,” you said through a chuckle. “If you’re ready, let’s get started.”

“I’m so ready!” he said enthusiastically.

You started off talking about frame. When people who had never danced before started, you found they get so caught up with their feet that they forget about the hold. You drilled that into James when you first started with him, and you would do the same with Ben. You walked him slowly through the basic steps, watching him in hold. You pressed a hand to his chest, and you gasped a little. He shot you a questioning look.

“That’s...that’s firm,” you said, pink creeping over your cheeks. “Oh! I’m sorry, can I touch you?”

“Yeah, do whatever you need to,” he assured you.

“Okay, let me know if something makes you uncomfortable,” you said, glad the moment of awkwardness had passed.

He nodded and you resumed your lesson.

“Just doing the frame, I feel like I’m using muscles I didn’t even know I had,” he said after you had been at it for a little over an hour and were taking a water break.

“Just wait until we get to the footwork,” you said. “Then you’ll really feel it!”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he replied.

“So, why did you decide to come on the show?” you asked, knowing it would be good footage for the video package.

He considered it for a moment. “Well, I’ve never done it before. I like new experiences and challenging myself. I like finding new things I can strive to be good at. In school, I played all kinds of sports to keep myself occupied. I was injured enough times that I had to stop, and then I found my passion for acting. Which was - again - something new and exciting.”

“I like that answer,” you told him. “What about dance drew you in?”

He also had to think about that one. “It’s athletic, but more than teamwork.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Elaborate on that.”

“It’s partnership,” he explained. “You really have to trust each other. And you’re creating art instead of scoring goals. I like that.”

“That was very insightful,” you remarked. “Although, in this competition you earn points, so keep your competitive edge.”

“You got it, coach,” he said with a cheeky salute.

“You can call me -” you stopped yourself. “No, continue to call me coach.”

He chuckled.

You spent the rest of the afternoon on the basics. Most of it focusing on getting Ben’s body to do what it was supposed to before getting into choreography. You had two weeks to learn the first dance, which you appreciated, especially for people like Ben who had no experience. He picked up on things quickly though, and you were impressed. It helped that he was athletic and an actor. It meant he had a lot of awareness about his body, and he had control of it. That came in handy when instructing him. It also meant he trusted his body to do what he was telling it to. He kept his head up in hold, although he didn’t always look to the left. You reminded him though, and you were sure he’d have it down in time for the premiere.

You called it a day around nine that night. He seemed disappointed as he removed his mic pack and gathered his things.

“I still don’t feel like I’m any good,” he said.

“You’re not going to be perfect in one day,” you reminded him. “But if it helps, you were pretty damn close. My last partner was really good, and you’re already leaps and bounds ahead of him.”

He smiled and your heart skipped a beat. You shook your head. Yes, Ben was attractive, but you would not and could not allow yourself to go there. Not after all the drama and speculation around you and James. It would be too much.

“I’m not quite ready for this to be done,” Ben said. “You wanna grab dinner?”

“Sure,” you agreed before thinking. You mentally kicked yourself. “Although, it needs to be somewhere casual so we can go y’know, looking like this.” You gestured to your leggings, sports bra, slouchy crop top, and sneakers.

“You probably know LA better than I do,” he said. “You choose.”

You picked a casual sushi place you visited regularly. It was lowkey, but the food was great. As you sat across from him at the booth the hostess led you to, you opened your menu and began looking it over, although you always got the same thing. You felt Ben’s eyes on you. After several minutes of trying to ignore him, you looked up.

“What’s up?” you asked.

“I want to know more about you,” he told you.

“Ben, the show is about you,” you reminded him.

“We’re not on the show right now,” he argued.

You sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“What got you into dance?” he asked.

“Oh, I’ve been a dancer since I was a little girl,” you said. “I started with ballet, but switched quickly to ballroom when I was eight or so. It’s just...I dunno, it’s a way to express myself and be creative and have fun.”

“I looked up your dances from last season and watched them,” he said. “Each one was amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said. “But it was James who was amazing. He was like you, he had no experience, so he had to work really hard. It was my first season as a pro instead of in the troupe, and we got to the semi-finals. I was so, so proud.”

You held his gaze for a long moment.

“I’m gonna get you that trophy, Y/N,” he said.

You reached across the table and took his hand. “Is that a promise?”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s a promise. Even if we lose, I’ll steal it for you.”

You laughed. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The next day, before rehearsal, you had a promo photoshoot. All the stars and pro pairings had to go and take photos that ABC could blast over social media for the official announcement of the cast. This was also the time when you chose your team name and hashtag. You and Ben had discussed at dinner and decided on Team Queen. It worked for both of you because Ben was in Bohemian Rhapsody and Queen was your favorite band.

You sat in hair and make up, your favorite part of this whole process. It made you feel like you were being pampered. Like a queen, so to speak. Your hairdresser was putting the final touches of spray in your curls when Ben walked over.

“You look great,” he said.

“So do you!” you returned, looking him over.

Everyone had on all silver outfits. Ben just had a loose button down that was not buttoned, exposing his toned torso. He also had on billowy silver pants and shoes. You had a leotard with a poof on the butt and heels.

“You’re ready, Y/N,” your hairdresser said.

You checked yourself in the mirror once more before Ben helped you out of the chair and together you walked over to where the photographer had a background set up. Sharna and her partner were wrapping up and you and Ben were on deck.

“What kind of poses should we do?” Ben asked. “Should we go all senior prom or do I need to look tougher than that?”

“Just do what comes naturally,” you said through a giggle. “We just need a few of us interacting and then a few looking intense and sexy at the camera. The photographer will instruct us through it.”

“Right, I can do that,” he said.

When it was your turn, you took his hand and you walked up together.

“Aren’t you two a cute couple?” the photographer remarked.

You resisted a brutal urge to roll your eyes.

“Okay, Ben, I want you behind Y/N, arm around her waist, free hand by her neck,” she instructed. “Kinda look like you’re sniffing her hair.”

You and Ben followed her instructions. You felt his breath on you and goosebumps popped up where it hit the skin of your neck. You were to look down at the floor, while Ben looked at the camera. You took a few like this. Then she wanted a couple of Ben dipping you. He held you securely and you kicked your leg out and let your hand drape to the floor above your head. Then she had you right up against him, your leg up on his hip, his hand securing it on your thigh. You had one arm wrapped around his neck and your free hand rested on his chest. You both looked at the camera.

Being this close to someone was not unfamiliar to you. After all, you had danced with many people throughout your career. Ben felt different though. You were already friends, and you felt that through the easiness of his presence. But you had not yet gotten this close, pressed up against each other and smoldering, even if it was at the camera. It made your heart rate quicken and your stomach do a flip.

When the photographer was satisfied, you went to get changed so you and Ben could go to rehearsal. You needed every second you could get to practice. While the foxtrot was not a terribly difficult dance, you were still working on the basics, and you had to have a routine down in two weeks.

“You guys look really good together,” Lindsay as you entered the women’s dressing room. “Ben’s so handsome.”

“I am drinking a lot more water in rehearsal than I used to, that’s for sure,” you joked, and she snorted.

You drove Ben to the studio with you. On the way, you went over the things you’d be working on that day. You even allowed him to reach into your purse, take out your notebook, and flip through the notes you’d written down and the sketches you’d done.

“Does your mind ever stop?” he teased.

“I’m winning this year, so nut up, Hardy,” you returned.

“Yes, coach,” he agreed, smiling.

You arrived at the studio and got straight to work. You went over the things you’d already learned and introduced new material as well. Ben was incredibly focused, hanging on your every word with those beautiful eyes of his. You did your best not to lose yourself in them while you were explaining something. You must have been doing a decent job because he seemed to be learning the steps.

The two weeks seemed to fly by this way. You instructed Ben, he made you a little flustered at moments you least expected it, and he somehow learned the foxtrot routine you put together. It was simple, but with enough substance to be entertaining and tell a sweet story. You and Ben bonded quickly. You spent a lot of time in rehearsal laughing together as you took him through each step, each section of the dance until he could put it all together. He got it right every time.

When it was time for camera blocking and dress rehearsal, Ben shifted nervously beside you in his seat. He was watching the other couples perform their dances, and you could tell it was shaking him up. He gulped and looked at his hands in his lap. You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you said. “Don’t worry about what they’re doing. You and me have something else entirely. Stay focused.”

He could only nod, but then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

When it was your turn to practice on the ballroom floor and do camera blocking, you weren’t worried. You ran through it and he performed it exactly how you rehearsed it.

The next day was show time. You were buzzing with excitement to show off Ben and all his hard work. You were going third, which you liked. Sasha and his partner were first, followed by Lindsay and her partner. You clapped and cheered for your friends, Ben along with you. You honestly couldn’t stop smiling. You could feel him shaking with nerves beside you.

Finally, you and Ben were up. Your video package began, and then you would dance together. He looked on edge now, despite the high energy of the night, so you pulled him into a hug, lifting yourself to whisper in his ear.

“Ben,” you said. “You’ve done this a hundred times and nailed it. It’s just like rehearsal. Ignore the cameras. Ignore the crowd. Just look at me, okay?”

He nodded again, and you kissed his cheek. It was not something you had done before but it felt quite natural.

“Give me everything you got,” you said, offering one last assuring smile.

Then you led him out to the dance floor, taking your places as the video package faded to black. You looked at each other, standing a few feet apart. The music began, and you made your way to Ben’s arms.

youtube

You danced. You held his gaze whenever you could and mouthed a few steps and counts to him. But he didn’t miss any. You floated through your foxtrot, feeling like a princess as you went. Ben was excellent, and as you swept across the dance floor, you actually laughed with joy at this moment. You twirled, turned, and dipped. When you hit the last beat, ending up enclosed in his arms with your hands against his chest and your foreheads touching, you beamed at him. You were out of breath. So was he, but then he picked you up and spun you around.

“You were incredible!” you told him. “I don’t even care what the judges say, I’m so proud of you, Ben!”

Tom Bergeron ushered the pair of you over to receive judges comments. Carrie Ann was blown away by how great Ben was on night one, and advised him on his posture. Len liked the amount of “real foxtrot content” and said Ben needed to work on fluidity. Bruno adored it, praised Ben’s natural talent, and only told him that his lines could be better as well. They all scored him a seven.

You jumped and hugged him again. He squeezed you gently before setting you down so you could both go to the skybox to do your post-dance brief with Erin Andrews. She greeted your warmly and also told you what a great job you’d done. She looked at Ben.

“How are you feeling after that first dance?” she asked.

“Oh, incredible,” he answered. “I never thought I’d do something like this, but it’s all because of Y/N. She’s honestly the greatest coach and so patient with me. I just want to keep dancing with her.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” Erin cooed as you hugged each other again. “You guys are adorable. Y/N, how do you feel?”

“I just - I can’t even describe it,” you said. “He’s so much fun and I hope we can keep dancing together too.”

You left as she started telling the audience how to vote for the two of you. You led him away from the cameras and hugged him again.

“Do you see how amazing you are?” you asked.

“I want better scores,” he admitted.

“Then keep doing what you’re doing,” you said. “We’ll be getting a perfect score before too long.”

He smiled at you. A smile that was different from what you had seen before. It had youthful, exuberant energy, with a pure joy. It made your heart stop. You could dance with him forever if he would keep smiling at you like that.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #bohemian rhapsody #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap boys #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #Queen #queen imagine #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you

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johannesviii · 4 years

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Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2018

I’m kinda sad this series of posts is coming to a close, especially with two mediocre years for the kind of hit songs I enjoy.

I was very depressed in 2018 so I thought maybe it was the reason why I didn’t like most songs I heard, so I revisited the entire catalogue of 2018 hit songs from the year-end lists and... no, it wasn’t just me.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

As I mentioned before I was super depressed in 2018, which wasn’t helped by the death of two family members including one I was super close to, and by catching a mysterious infection on a finger that doctors didn’t seem to be able to cure and which made my left hand hurt all year long, until I had to have an operation in early 2019 to fix the issue (plot twist, it wasn’t an infection, which is why nothing was working). On the plus side, my s.o and I decided to get married but it only happened the next year.

Ok so, hit songs weren’t that good (stay tuned for that), but albums? Some great stuff dropped in 2018. Unfortunately, Eminem’s Kamikaze wasn’t among those great albums and at that point he was basically dead to me. BUT! A Perfect Circle came back, which was completely unexpected! Nine Inch Nails released Bad Witch which contained the excellent and super hypnotic Over And Out! Mike Shinoda released Post Traumatic and every single Linkin Park fan was like “oh god what a mood”! Moby, which I hadn’t liked for years at that point after loving his stuff so much when I was 15 or so, released Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt and it was unexpectedly good! And The 1975 released A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships, which, in my opinion, isn’t quite as great as their second album (I refuse to write its super long title again), but still super good. Just like the previous one, a lot of songs had crossover potential and I’m very sad it didn’t happen. Stay tuned for the unelligible songs.

But you know what? The album of the year, at least to me, was always going to be something much darker. Fortunately, the end of the year was when VNV Nation decided to drop its best album of the entire decade, Noire. In these trying times, an album about the fight between light and darkness was exactly what I needed to hear. I was super emotional when I first listened to it. Armour might just be the best song on the album. Collide explodes into a million colors after a super slow start. Wonders is a big mood. Lights Go Out is a super angry song which basically says ‘we’re dancing while the apocalypse is happening because they won’t let us do anything else’, and we need more stuff like this. When is the Future was a super solid first single and yeah, exactly, where is the future we were promised as kids? Only Satellites became one of my fight songs in record time. And All Of Our Sins is terrifying and super good. Just an amazing album all around. I certainly hope they make more in the future, but if they don’t, that would be a super high note to finish on.

As for unelligible stuff, there’s Chun Li (Nicki Minaj) which I found super weird at first, but it grew on me a lot as the year went on. I’m very surprised it’s not on the US year-end list, by the way. And I wish more stuff from Indochine had charted... again, I know. Apart from that, it’s all The 1975. Love it if we made it should have been a hit but wasn’t a safe bet for a leading single so it kind of makes sense. TOOTIMETOOTIMETOOTIME despite its stupid title was a much more convincing hit, and yet, it wasn’t one, and that pisses me off more. And It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You) is one of their best songs ever. Catch me on the right day and I’ll call it better than The Sound, even. This should have been a hit. I’m so angry it didn’t happen.

But hey! Their new album is getting released in just a couple of days! Maybe 2020 is finally going to be their year? Wait and see.

Holy shit there hasn’t been a shorter list of honorable mentions since my 2008 list.

Remind Me To Forget (Kygo) - Good but (ironically) a bit too forgettable to be on the list.

Later Bitches (The Prince Karma) - So bad it’s good at its finest right there. Not enough to put it higher though.

High Hopes (Panic! At The Disco) - Tiptoes the line between good and super annoying too much to be higher. Not even the best song on the album (that would be Say Amen (Saturday Night)). Not sure why this was more popular.

Sicko Mode (Travis Scott) - God I want to love this song so bad. I tried so hard and it never completely clicked for me.

Next To Me (Imagine Dragons) - Believe it or not, this was the last cut from the list. I sincerely hope that Imagine Dragons will make good music again in the future and that their new songs will stop sounding like a person dragging themselves accross the wet sand of some post-apocalyptic beach covered in ashes.

So how do I know this was a bad year for hit songs? Well I not only struggled to find ten songs for this list but also struggled to find a suitable #1. Then I just went “I’m gonna put the only 2018 song I ever put on my mp3 player at #1 by default.” Does it make 2018 as bad as 1990? I’m not so sure. The top 3 I made for 1990 contained two songs I absolutely adored, including one of my favorite songs of all time. On the other hand, it was a bit easier to find ten songs I liked (not loved) in 2018. So... I don’t know.

I should also mention that Bohemian Rhapsody made the French year-end list again, at #83, and that is hilarious, but putting it on the list feels like cheating. Consider it to be an alternative #1!

10 - Finesse (Bruno Mars)

US: #14 / FR: Not on the list

I know. Everybody likes this song. I’m no exception, and I love its aesthetic, but I also like it wayyyyyy less than 24k Magic.

9 - New Rules (Dua Lipa)

US: #16 / FR: Not on the list

Basically, same thing here. I like it but I’m using it mostly as filler for this list. The lyrics are pretty great, though.

8 - This is America (Childish Gambino)

US: #51 / FR: Not on the list

This would be much better if the radio version had kept the gunshot sounds from the music video, but on the other hand it would have been pretty terrifying to hear gunshots on the radio while driving, so eh... this was probably the right decision to make. Apart from that, this song and this video have already been analysed by countless people on the internet and I don’t see what I could contribute after all this time.

7 - Sweet but Psycho (Ava Max)

US: Not on the list / FR: #42

This sounds like a song from the bygone era of Bad Romance and to be honest, it would have been annoying several years ago but in 2018 that was genuinely a refreshing blast from the past.

6 - Speed (Zazie)

US: Not on the list / FR: #74

To be honest, I never expected Zazie to show up on one of my lists again, but 2018′s general quality forced me to do it. This is a song that starts super slow and keeps getting faster, and it’s mostly about overcoming depression. Everything I needed that year.

5 - Let You Down (NF)

US: #29 / FR: Not on the list

I don’t think I know a single other person or critic who likes this song, and yet it charted super high. I don’t love it, and the chorus is grating, but there’s some damn powerful lyrics in there, and a lot of it is extremely relatable.

What can I say, in this day and age, if you give me a super-watered-down version of early 2000s Eminem, I’ll take it.

4 - Marry Me (Thomas Rhett)

US: #76 / FR: Not on the list

Yeah, it’s a slow emotional song and I tend to dislike those, but I heard this song only maybe four times in total and it destroyed me every single time.

No, I don’t have anything else to say about it.

3 - Un Été Français (Indochine)

US: Not on the list / FR: #67

I do not like this song’s chorus, it’s a mess and a half. There’s a lot of much better songs on the 13 album. 2033 should have been a single. But this is the one which charted instead. And you know what? I’ll take “super messy and clunkily written song about how the far right is gonna destroy this country if we let it exist any longer, sung over a nice tune” over everything I mentioned previously on this list.

In a better year, this wouldn’t have climbed higher than the honorable mentions. But yeah, I’m not gonna repeat my entire 2017 lecture about Indochine. It takes a lot for me to dislike one of their songs. Even at their weakest, their hearts are in the right place.

2 - Flames (David Guetta & Sia)

US: Not on the list / FR: #13

We’ve finally reached the songs I genuinely love and uh, yeah, there’s only two of them. This is sad. But this song is a lot of fun! And the music video is absolutely ridiculous in all the best ways.

It was also a super useful song to me. You’re being super sad and unenergetic, you’re climbing into your car to buy some food, you’re turning the radio on and suddenly you’re hearing “Go, go, go, figure it out / Figure it out, you can do this / So my love, keep on running / You gotta get through today / There my love, keep on running / Gotta keep those tears at bay / Oh my love, don't stop burning / Gotta send them up in flames” over a super good beat and yeah, definitely. You can do this.

1 - La Même (Maître Gims & Vianney)

US: Not on the list / FR: #1 (!! holy shit quality wins for once)

This might just be the weakest #1 I’ve ever put at the top of one of my lists, since the only criteria that put this one there was “this is actually on my mp3 player and none of the other songs are”. Also, somehow, I only discovered it last year even though it was the biggest song of 2018 in my country, apparently...

Even so, that’s a fantastic song with great lyrics and a wonderfully catchy tune and that would have been enough to put it at #1 on its own, I think. But look at those lyrics! (here’s a rather good translation) It’s about how society judges people by their looks in public. The chorus literally goes “If what I am bothers you, well, tough”. That’s even the title. And I like the music video a lot, with this white box in which people are put and as soon as they aren’t in it anymore you notice how different they act or look, like the buff guy who turns out to have prosthetic legs, or the grandma who turns out to be covered in tatoos. Simple but cool idea.

It may be a weak #1, but it’s an extremely useful song, because having “si je vous gêne, bah c’est la même” (”if I bother you, well tough”) turning in your head like a playground taunt, it really does wonders for your confidence.

And to think some French friends thought making these lists would make me hate Maître Gims’ music once I discovered it.

Next up: the last list?! It’s been a wild ride.

#Johannes’ bad not good pretty terrible music lists #music #long post #eye contact tw #fire tw

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rosesandrorys · 4 years

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✧･ﾟ( demeter + alexa demie + cis female ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !! have you seen ( veronica “rory” flores ) around ? ( she ) have/has been in kaos for ( two months ). the ( twenty four year old ) is a/an ( bartender ) from ( los angeles, united states ). people say they can be ( hot-headed ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be ( steadfast ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of ( iced coffee at nine pm, the smell of the earth after rain, a four leafed clover poking out of a crack in the road ). ･ﾟ✧ ( penned by neha, 21, est, she/her ).

hiiiii everyone first of all i am so happy to be here the main is b e a u t i f u l and gives me so much greek god inspo! i’m neha this is my bby rory!! i’m going to add my big bio/about blurb that was in my app so if you want to you can read all about her, but if you don’t have time here’s a little tldr; for you!

rory is my LA club kid QUEEN, she basically grew up super poor but going to a school wanting to fit in with the rich popular kids, long story short she started selling club drugs n stuff to them, gained the friendship and money but once hs ended it, everything ended and she basically had to start over, only now she had the uphill battle w/ addiction to drugs/partying/bad decisions to also handle! she’s on the island bc her mom met a rich guy and he has a villa on the island he wants her to fix up, which is also doubling as a kind of ‘get clean’ retreat tho it ain’t rlly working even tho sgenuinelynunienly sometimes want to do better. she’s a hustler and has a sharp tongue, but on the inside she has a heart of gold and rlly just wants to be loved for who she is for like the first time ever <3

PLOTTING STUFF: she’s been on the island for two months now, but lil girl is all about having those connections bc she thinks its the only way she can have value (ugh poor kid) so lmk!! they could’ve met through the whole partying/drugs route, at the bar where she works at a bartender, or maybe at the hardware stores that she frequents because she’s fixing up the villa! i have more specific plot ideas but i don’t want to make this post too long so hmu or like this post for me to come to you!!

ok, that’s my two pieces said, now here’s the longish bio section if you want to learn more in depth about her :)Tw for abuse, drug use/dealing, addiction

B I O G R A P H Y

Rory is from LA born and raised! Her mother is a single mom and it was just them for a long time, with the rotating cast of her mother’s boyfriends. The two could just never seem to get close to financial stability and she grew up rough, never having enough money to keep up with the kids at school, then having to fend for herself once she got home because her mother worked nights.

At home, it all depended on what boyfriend out of the rotation her mother was currently seeing. The best strategy for all of them was avoidance, so Rory spent her days on the streets or at work, never really wanting to deal with the boyfriends. Throughout the years, she suffered abuse and neglect from these men, and though she tried to tell her mother, who was always just a little too busy, a little too high, or a little too blind to the effects. Besides, they needed the extra money that the various boyfriends gave.

Despite it all, at school Rory shined. She was smart, that much was clear, and she exuded a certain aura of warmth that could make anyone, even the girls with birkin bags and ice cold hearts fall in love. Her school was a dichotomy of rich and poor, and if she worked her ass off and put in maximum effort, it seemed she could fit in with both. But she didn’t want both, didn’t want the stigma of her background to follow her everywhere. She wanted to live in the world of marble countertops and athleisure accessorized with diamonds. So, with extreme effort, she pulled herself up to the social ranks of those girls in school, always going over to their houses to study, pretending she never learned how to drive so that they wouldn’t know she couldn’t afford a car, let alone the mercedes and italian sports cars they drove to school.

But keeping up has its price, and that price began to climb as she was integrated deeper. Rory needed money for twelve dollar salads and fifty dollar spin classes, and the money from her job (which she said her mom forced her to do to learn responsibility) wasn’t cutting it. She was a scrappy kid turned into a precocious young adult and she’d been scrambling all her life, this was just another bootstraps moment. She had the connections from her neighborhood, and what did rich kids like more than drugs? The answer was nothing, and Rory made the leap easily, starting off small and gradually building up a mini drug empire in her high school. She finally had spending money, but more importantly she had friends and people who cared about her, and she wasn’t going to give that up for the world.

Rory wasn’t dumb, she knew this couldn’t last forever, so she was also making solid plans to further herself in life. But an addictive personality ran in her veins as evidenced by her mother who was addicted to it all - drugs, boyfriends, and bad decisions. The moment it all started to go south could be pinpointed to the moment she herself started to use the drugs. Her friends were doing it after all, and she didn’t want to be a buzzkill. The drugs were an escape from her shitty life that was going nowhere, after all. They let her put on the rose-tinted glasses that she’d been denied since birth, and Rory ate it up.

But with every ascent, comes a crash and as the lag time from the drugs started to affect her performance in everyday life, grades started to slip, dreams fell to the wayside and prospects started to vanish. By the time she finished highschool they’d say - what a fall from grace. Because she’d forgotten one very important thing. If her friends made a mistake, it could all be very easily swept under the rug and forgotten by way of their parents’ money. Rory, however, had no safety net, and at the end of highschool she was left in the lurch: same terrible grades and attendance as her friends, but no large donations to get her into prestigious schools. Or, for a fact, any schools. She’d peaked, and what followed graduation was a spiralling descent back to where she’d started. The friends she’d been so fiercely loyal to moved on to college and beyond and she was left with nothing but the endless LA party scene filled with people she didn’t care about and worse and worse decisions by the day.

If it’d gone on for a couple more months, she’d probably have died. But the money started to dry up as her friends left, and the final blow was a drop gone wrong - high as a kite, she’d decided that handing off a major package to a much larger man in a dark alley was a good idea, and the inevitable tussle and robbing left her hurting. She was high and dry with no income and no savings. Twenty-two years old and nothing to her name. It was time for that scrappy kid to scramble once again, but that kid now had a mild drug problem and a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas.

It wasn’t going to be easy. But one thing Rory was always good at was cultivating her connections. Though her friends had moved on, Rory’s combination of dimples, winning smile, and just enough ass kissing had created just enough opportunities with the people in their lives, and the people at the parties she frequented. She had an in to the rich, and damn if she wasn’t going to exploit it. Odd jobs here and there was her life now, just enough to keep her drug addiction alive, just enough to keep her name in the back of the minds of the wealthy. She knew this would change her life somehow, she just wasn’t quite sure how yet.And who could’ve predicted how it happened.

It was mundane, a job making drinks at a classy party, one of those ones where the host barely shows up, where the adults sip their martinis and the kids do blow in the bathrooms. The party wasn’t anything remarkable, but what followed was. She was getting picked up by her mother, and the host of the party, a middle aged salt and pepper type man recognized her mother. They had gone to school together or something, Rory was exhausted and didn’t really care, but apparently her mother turned on the same charm inherent in Rory, and the next Friday had lined up a date.

Things progressed extremely quickly from there on out, with lavish dinners and getaway weekends for the two lovebirds. It was astonishing to watch, and the whispers of ‘gold-digger’ from the country club ladies couldn’t even come close to puncturing Rory’s mom’s thick skin. Both women had been to hell and back after all, had worked all their lives for pennies, and finally something serendipitous had happened. All the toxic exs were dropped within the first six months, the crappy two bedroom within a year, and after a year and a half marriage and a kid on the way - though nobody could quite say which one came first. It was a strike of lightning, transforming the tiny flores family immediately. Call it fate or fortune, but Rory was finally back in that world that she’d strived to be in.

This time, when the spiral came it was well supported and well recognized by Rory’s new step-father. He’d already been through the gambit of raising rich kids, two who were now nearing their thirties, and he could see the signs instantly. Bloodshot eyes, partying all night, sniffles and gaunt features. Rory was getting pulled in again, and fast, but this time there was finally someone looking out for her. She couldn’t escape the lure of the partying and the drugs alone, and this marriage had essentially busted it wide open for her, kicking away any barriers that had been there before. They couldn’t control her, really. She’d been scrambling so long that cutting off the money didn’t matter, she had her connections and her grit that had gotten her this far.

What Rory needed was an out, a way to escape the vicious cycle addiction had pulled her into and her step-father had just the thing: a house on a tiny island in Greece, a fixer upper that needed some love. Of course, he could easily drop a few thousand down and have it renovated much quicker, but he knew Rory had lost her purpose, so he offered it to her on a silver platter.Pride almost kept her in LA. The thinly veiled excuse to get her out wasn’t fooling anyone, but the last straw came when her step father asked her a very simple question: “What’s left for you here?”. For her whole life, LA had only given her pain, hardship, and drugs. Now, the latter was the only thing left. So, she took the deal, and the girl who had never left LA booked a ticket for the other side of the world.

Now, Rory has been on the island for five months. It’s not exactly rehab, but the drug usage has diminished bit by bit, She’s starting to find her footing and become part of the community. She still has that chip on her shoulder, but putting her energy into building something feels good. She’s never built anything in her life, and the house with its extensive gardens needs a lot of work so it’s keeping her extremely busy. When she first got there, the first thing she did was immediately pick up a job as a local bartender because she hates being dependent on her step-father’s money, for fear of him taking it away (trust issues much). The LA dust and glitter is slowly clearing from her eyes, and she’s discovering a much kinder and greener world.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Rory is super charismatic and thus far has been turning on her charm in order to further things in life. She doesn’t have to do this anymore, so her genuine warmness is starting to shine through more. She’s been stung by basically all the relationships in her life, so she holds real companionship extremely close, loyal to the end and extremely passionate and protective.

Bitch has trust issues and a bit of an edge though, so getting to that deep companionship is really hard.She’s also a rough kid, had to claw and fight her way through her life, so she’s definitely a little rough around the edges. She doesn’t open up quickly, and she has a quick temper that acts as a learned defense mechanism. She definitely has a nasty streak when it comes to defense mechanisms, and can be quick with her wrath.

Years on drugs leading up to this quieter life have made Rory a bit antsy, and though she still does some drugs she’s transitioning to chasing an adrenaline high - her addictive personality is always going to be her fatal flaw.

#kaos:intro #like this if you want to plot i'll come to you!!#about

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tfw-no-tennis · 4 years

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hxh RESUME

back at it again w/the hxh, heres my recap of the last few eps

ok so i totally forgot to recap that one ep at the end of the hunter exam arc lets see what i remember from like 3 wks ago lollll

i thiiiiink i left off in the middle of ep 21 lol. i really dont remember much tbh so im gonna skim the ep to refresh

exposition time! its so wild that if you lose ur hunter card That It like u cant get another or retake the exam hgabjdfuhasjf Ls

also the fact that you can sell it is rlly interesting

leorio & kurapika backing up gon as he confronts illumi again :’) good lil family

illumi u fool. gon is a shounen protag. he can do anything he sets his mind to

the fact that gon thanks illumi for telling him where killua is....hes literally THAT polite like...what a perfect boy

hisoka just fuckgin stepping out of the shadows....ok bitch

the fact that gon fucked up illumis arm that bad with one hand....boi is STRONK

AUGH AUGH AUGHHHH HISOKA IS SO CREEPY AUGHHH I HATE THIS BIIIITCH

ok but like is illumi implying that hisoka is a fr p*do bc uhhhhh thats so nasty oh lord. pls stay away from gon, and killua, and like everyone as a matter of fact

EWWWWWWWWWW I HATE HISOKA HES SO NASTY. PLS STOP MAKING P*RNO FACES IN RELATION TO 12 YR OLD BOYS.

no but rlly what IS hisoka gonna do now. im assuming he’ll show up p soon (tho probs not in the zoldyc arc like i thought bc its shorter than i thought)

ok the fact that they have the internet is hilariously wild to me for some reason....it just seems like this would be one of those fantasy shounen worlds with very little tech (a la one piece) but lol nope we can just google shit hvbhjdhjdfks

gon: it was fun when you beat me up for 3 hours and broke my arm! seeya dude!

i love gon he is so chill and doesnt seem to hold grudges except when it really matters (like hisoka and illumi)

hanzo has.....ninja business cards....thats amazing hvbhsdjkujfnd

dont worry pokkle, leorio was basically carried thru the hunter exam by various people and also won by default. he still deserves his license tho

an exotic game hunter sounds pretty cool! i wonder if we’ll see pokkle again. kinda doubt it? that sounds pretty firmly non-combat based, and therefore probably pretty far from any plot lol

so gons dad is a bigshot huh.....whatever hed be a bigger deal if he didnt abandon his son tbh

gon swinging his feet on the bench....sooo cute

so ging could restore a bunch of ruins but he couldnt raise his son...ok

im just gonna be bitter at this guy for abandoning the most perfect boy vhbhjfbsjhdhbfsk sorry dude but being a good hunter doesnt make up for being a shit father

gon is so precious ;_;

WHAT WAS SATOTZ GONNA SAY TO GON???

why does it look like theyre googling things on MS paint

ah yes, padokea, on the continent of Africa But Sideways

idk if i talked abt it before but the world map is WILD lmao i love how its all the continents/landmasses scrambled around.....im super curious abt that weird island in the top center of the map, thats the only thing that immediately sticks out as not having a real life equivalent

the music in this show is so charming :’) i love the main theme sm

gon is sooo precious i literally cant get over it. and his hurry to rescue killua is so sweet....and i love how naturally charming/charismatic gon is....pretty much everyone he meets likes him, especially leorio and kurapika, who basically adopted him after knowing him for like a day, and continue to be completely taken by him

ok wtf is satotz & co talking abt......do they know something abt ging that they arent allowed to tell gon???? shouldnt gon have access to the same info now that hes a hunter? i need ANSWERS

i bet this whole thing abt the hunter exam not rlly being over is a metaphor abt the hunter exam NEVER truly ending bc youre always being tested, or st

ok the ED continues to be So Much like especially the last shot where the 4 main characters look like theyre posing for a JC Penny catalog while the singer goes FULL metal-screamo

ok ruth and i just rewatched the next two eps woohoo

i love that there are tourist busses that take people to the front gates so they can like pose for pics and stuff vhbhjafdsfkj and its like ‘ah yes here are where the local assassins live!’ thats so funny yet it makes so much sense

i love that leorio passed tf out during the bus ride. big big mood

gon is so cute...hes like ok yes i understand that we’re not supposed to go in but i think they can make an exception for me bc im very polite.

those 2 dudes r so ugly and so dead god bless

that bigass buster sword....sir please

ruth and i rlly thot that the old guard guy was gonna turn out to be grandpa zoldyk or st lol

the fact that the dog managed to eat All their flesh but left some clothes....skill

also the dog is named mike but it sounds like the guy is calling him miku hvbjdfssk

this cant be the first time some morons have been killed here likeeee

i cant believe nobody has visited the zoldyk estate in 20 years damn they all rlly b havin no friends. depressing

the whole gates thing is wild. also that part where gon gets the math wrong on the weight.....BIG mood kiddo

ok the part where gons on the phone w/the butler is soooo good oh man. i love how gon just calmly dials the phone again after hes hung up on the first time and then YELLS....and leorio and kurapikas faces r so good

also the butler guy unfortunately has a point, it isnt foolproof that gon is here Legit....but he IS let him see his tiny bf :(

as ruth pointed out, the butler guy is reminiscent of kuro from one piece. same vibes

maybe if leorio was jacked like he is in the manga/1999 anime he couldve opened the gate that first time around....Ls

god i love this shows approach to Everything so far,....as ruth put it, half the time its like ‘oh wow they should do [x]/i wish theyd do [x] but ofc they wont cause its a shounen’ but then they DO do [x] and its like damn thats dope

anyways i love how gon is increasingly approaching situations with his Plucky Shounen Protag Attitude in full swing, and he pretty much gets shot down every time. BUT his general determination to see killua bc killuas his FRIEND and hes gonna RESCUE HIM is still a good and pure motivating force

like here, when hes climbing over the wall and hes like whatever i dont wanna have to deal w/being tested thats bullshit, i wanna see killua, my intentions are pure, im gonna try my luck with the dog....i was like ok yeah he’ll get over and like tame or defeat the dog and the guard will be suitably impressed bc nobodys ever done That before, and then gon will continue on to get killua

but NOPE instead the guard calls him down and explains that gon Will Die if he tries that, and then the guard will die too for letting that happen. and gon is like oh shit my actions have consequences for people other than me, wow.

and THEN the guard takes them in to meet the dog. and hot DAMN that is a scary creature. not even really a dog tbh. they did an excellent job making the dog Legit Scary and not just like, big and flashy looking....those eyes are so soulless, and the proportions are freaky

and the guard says exactly what i was thinking - that gon would use his Country Boy Woodland Creature Skills to workaround the dog....but then the subversion - this creature is NOTHING like the woodland critters gon is probably used to dealing with. theres no way gon stood a chance here. the guard just saved him from a really unfortunate death

i love all the Super Heavy Stuff in the servant house that seems so inconvenient vbhjdkfasjfld. also forgot to mention earlier but the guard guy being Absolutely Ripped was wild and kinda funny

training montage! gon continues to be so cute. and i love so much how leorio and kurapika are like no, you rest, we’ll take care of this. good parents!!!!

and then!!!! they sync up and use the power of gay love to almost open the gate. but then gon uses the power of Improbable Shounen Protag Healing Speed to toss that arm sling off and help out

i feel like leorio was side-eyeing gon like w8 a sec u broke that arm like a few days ago that aint right.....

oh man i almost forgot abt that scene with the zoldyks torturing killua :( :( this poor kid he doesnt deserve that

also mom zoldyck seems truly awful but i must say her aesthetic does fuck. the victorian-lookin outfit paired with the futuristic cyclops visor thing....excellent. also im betting this face bandages are from killua cutting her face

this family is so fucked up hvbsjdhjfbakdfn

killua telling his mom that gon is definitely gonna make it there :’) hes got such unshakable faith in his bf thats so good.....

back w/the gang, and immediately they run into more trouble in the form of the young girl butler, whose name i dont know, but i love her....her design is SO good oh man. a non-caricature black person? who also isnt sexualized? in MY anime??????

i love how gons approach to conflict is currently ‘let more powerful person beat me up for hours straight in hopes that they get tired or something idk bro’ like....i love him lol, is it in an effort to show how determined he is? he doesnt even try to dodge her blows or get around her....id be tryin to hop that fence lol

oh shit the tiny zoldyk kid from earlier is spying on them....she was w/the mom so im sure thats not good

when he punches the rock part and it breaks....strong boiiii

oh man that little flashback from when killua first came back and told her that he made a friend ;_; bruh

i love butler girl :( she wants to let gon but knows it isnt allowed....and as soon as she starts to waver BAM here comes mom zoldyck JFC that was so sudden and jarring....im assuming butler girl isnt dead cause that would be lame and anticlimactic

also IS THAT NEN??? NEN>>>??? NEN??? HM? NEN?????????

im so annoying abt nen i need to make one of those ‘is this a pigeon?’ memes w/’is this nen?’ bc thats me anytime anything remotely weird happens lmao

i do think its rlly nen this time tho

anyways shit is wild, cant wait to meet the full zoldyck family

PREDICTION CORNER:

as i said above i doubt hisoka will show up now bc this arc is a lot shorter than i anticipated. also im doubting that illumis even gonna show up honestly

i think we’re gonna have this OP for a while, as the part just at the end shows gon and hisoka fighting in what looks to be an arena, and ik the next arc is the heavens arena arc, which im assuming is the tournament arc....

also i have no idea what that weird building in the OP is but my guess is that its the building w/the heavens arena in it bc its tall and,,,,heaven

i predict there wont be much fighting in this little arc bc how tf else is it so short. at this point i rlly think gon is just gonna grab killua and go lmao. im super curious abt how thats gonna go down, considering that killua is currently strung up just bc he wont apologize...so i cant imagine his family would just let him leave w/gon. i wonder if killua will fight them, or if gons determination will impress them and then theyll let killua go (doubt it)

thats basically it....we’ll see abt the next few eps holla

#lj watches hxh #hxh #woohoo continuation

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