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stylistiquements · 3 years

Text

Day 9 : Scronch'love.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : a lovely afternoon and an ancestral question; when are you going to join the dream smp?

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.5k

𐐪𐑂 Warning : swearing

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

“Have you been here for a long time?”

Time bends and twists into unknowns shapes when well spent. So, you’re so not sure. Long enough for your fairy garden to start looking like at least a proper garden, long enough for your feet to start fidgeting, brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket ever so slightly and softly.

“Can you share your screen?”

“I’m just picking flowers, there’s nothing much to see,” you warn but it never does the proper job.

“That’s fine, I like watching you play.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yeah. You’ve been playing for years and you’re still dog water. It's almost soothing,” you hear him grin through the silkiness of his voice.

You smile evasively, palm gripping the mouse and executing on memory. Soon, Sapnap’s satisfied noises hovers and everything is just how it’s supposed to be. You spend a while humming the music of days and nights of the game while building your project. Sap helps from time to time, giving advice when his attention is there and leaving trails of compliments on his way. You don’t think the garden is necessarily that good, you don’t mind either.

“Do you think the tree should go on the left or the right of the pond?” You ask, fingers drumming back and forth between the two options. Right he says. "What about the roses, do I plant some or not?"

“It’s just a detail, don’t hurt your brain too much on that,” he says in a light tone, but you disagree.

“Details are what make things important. Like when you remember I prefer warm pillows so you give me yours, it’s just a detail but it makes me happy.”

“Of course I do; you’re a baby,” he murmurs teasingly.

With an arched eyebrow, you retort, “says you,” and silence follows for a second as you plant the tree on the right of the pond.

“Yeah, Dream already made sure I was aware of that.”

“Not sure why the piss baby thinks he’s qualified to have this conversation, buddy,” you note and Sap chuckles are as vivid as contagious. “Why would he call you a baby anyway? What have you done?”

“I-I’m not telling you.” As soon as the mumbles fades, your phone sends loud vibrations on your desk. You abandon your character to the night and the wildness, picking the phone as you murmur a low oh, okay. Whether it’s to your phone or Sapnap, that, isn’t really clear. Still, Sapnap’s words sound more distant, more of what wonders are made of. On the screen, a twitter notification of a certain Karl Jacobs.

“You’re not even listening to me anymore,” Sapnap whines.

“I don’t listen to whiny babies, sorry.”

“We’re on the verge of divorce, yn and it’s your fault.”

A scoff skitters out through teasing lips, “But you still talk about me all the time, don’t you?” Your voice drags through different lands, unknown and musky.

“So what?” He splutters all awkward like it’s some kind of confidence that shouldn’t have left his thoughts and, somehow, you’re surprised the almighty confidence has left the game. “Who said that?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re obsessed with me, admit it,” you demand and though you don’t notice it, too tangled with the moment, the atmosphere is tinted with a different nuance like it’s suddenly dawn at the end of a summer party.

“So are you.”

Now, your heart drums a strange yet familiar rhythm. Something made of secrets and uncertainty, something you decided to leave unnamed a long time ago. Sapnap, you reason, can’t be lied to. He knows better than words half meant, half made up and it’s annoying, really, but he just does somehow. If you dare to lie, he would know and then it would be even more annoying.

“Yeah, you’re living in my head rent free but at least I’m not trying to hide it.” No answer. You peek at the game, you’ve been slain by a spider. “Karl said that,” you resign yourself. “He said he was about to join the vc by the way.”

Before the conversation can carry on, the sound of Karl joining the call resonates. Being in this Discord server is like living in a house with 10 siblings, that’s what you understand from the way Sap exhales heavily.

“Oh, I am interrupting something?” Karl says, struck by a peculiar energy.

“Besties time Karl, besties time,” Sapnap mumbles beneath his breath and it chimes a little like disappointment.

“Well, too bad I guess,” Karl exclaims. “It's about time I meet miss Bunnyshow.”

Karl is like that gif of a cat sitting in a tiny box with the caption “if it fits, I sit”.

“Does that mean our passive aggressive subweet arc is over?” You ask, faking the dejection when your smile grows wide.

“Oh god, I hope not. That’s my favorite part of the day.”

"It means a lot to me. Especially coming from my comfort streamer Karl Jacobs," you confess.

Satisfied, your attention gets back on the game; flowers rooting gracefully into the dirt and hives ready to host the beloved honey bugs as Karl and Sap catch up on time being apart. Everything is quiet and peaceful like the end of an afternoon well spent.

“I like your garden,” Karl points out and you hum a thank you beneath your breath.

“So you can take Karl’s compliments but not mine.”

“We’re besties you’re honor. Sapnap you can leave now, thank you,” Karl giggles and you follow along.

“Sorry Karl, there’s only room for one man in my heart and that has to be Sapnap.”

He fakes a cry to keep the theatrics before adding without transitions, “You know if you asked Dream he’d probably let you on the SMP.”

“No thanks,” you grin.

“Sapnap, your girl doesn’t want to play with us.”

“She’s already been whitelisted for months now,” Sapnap informs but fails to comment on the first part of the complaint.

He’s not lying, but you feel like it says more about Dream’s stubbornness than it says about you. As for your best friend, he understands better than anyone that wish for privacy and it’s something made of respect like yours for his career. You’d rather see him shaped by all the light than being touched by a glimpse of it. He does, after all, deserves it all. So, that’s the contract you made with yourself because it made sense; being a supportive shadow. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that you’ve never considered streaming before. It’s that it’s his world more than yours.

Karl, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to think the same way, “This is unacceptable, I gotta send a few texts.”

“Lost cause, dude, lost cause,” you grin but stubbornness seems to be a pre required trait for those mcyts.

Before you have time to find a suitable comment about the newborn group chat, a new person joins the call and Sapnap's annoyance is even more palpable, "No fucking way dude. We can't even have a second of peace on this server."

"Why would you be in a discord call if you want peace. You're just dumb," Quackity retorts with an energy he and he only can ever own.

Then George joins and Dream follows on his heels and soon your ears are filled with conversations that are as loud as scattered. Your shoulders sink in the back of your chair as soft fingers try to brush the upcoming migraine away. This is why you can't join the SMP; -not really but still- too much energy that has to be processed at all time. And you should know better, being friend with a very chaotic boy for the last 15 years, but you're not somehow.

"No, fuck that," Sapnap mutters. "I'm out."

"You can't leave now we have things to discuss," George exclaims. "Bunny, explain to me how Sapnap's proposition is more appealing than mine."

"Because I know her more than you do," he defends, and he's right. Money isn't of you interest. Love, on the other hand...

"Because she's like scronch'love," Karl giggles mindlessly.

"The fuck does scronch'love mean?" You ask, amused.

"It's very simple," Quackity intervenes. "If I offered you the same thing, would you even consider it?"

"Of course I would. What kind of question is that?"

"Fine. So, if Sapnap keeps his offer, here is mine; you become the president of Las Nevadas in addition to what he said."

"What?" Sapnap takes offense.

The call brims with an agitated confusion as you smile deviously, heels rooted into the floor to make your chair spin lightly and your fingers drum on your desk.

"I don't think you wanna do that," George corrects.

"Yeah, you absolutely don't," you confirm.

"Fine," he retorts. "So Sapnap's offer plus a Las Nevadas citizenship. How does that sound?"

"Like an offer I'll confider," you sigh. "So who's scronch'love now?"

"Still you," Dream answers. "Except you're also a big dummy."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

A/N : helloooo,, how are you??? this part very self indulgent and I think this fic will be in general but I hope you liked it anyway. I love the idea of c!quackity always being too much and always having something to add to be even more over the top. I'm having more trouble than I thought about Bunny's and Sap's friendship because I want them to have a very special friendship but I hope it appears as such. idk. lmk what you think and thank you for reading it it makes me very happy <3 Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge ; @tinyegg ; @qnfdnf ; @paintingpetalsforyou ; @notjennaleigh ; @victoria-a567 ; @washy-washy ; @moneybagmarvel ;

#129 days #Sapnap smau #sapnap x reader #smau #social media au #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n #mcyt smau #sapnap series #sapnap fluff #mcyt x reader

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gryffindorcls · 3 years

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Step In The Light

Summary: While on patrol, Adrien notices that his Lady is nervous and upset, so he gives her a good luck charm that had been gifted to him by a "very good friend". In return, she helps him realize that he was in love with the giftee all along. Length: 5,936 words Hello, lovely readers! This was written for the 2020 JV Art and Fic Trade on Discord. There is accompanying art for this fic by @supergirl9130. Be on the look-out for it soon! The song featured in this is "Extra Ordinary" sung by Lucy Hale from “Cinderella Story: Once Upon A Song”. Enjoy! (Shout out to my betas for this fic, @falling-oceans and @chanceuseladynoire!) --- AO3

Fanfiction

“Hey, Chat, do you think we could skip patrol tomorrow?” Ladybug’s words stopped Adrien in his tracks.

Worry poked at the back of his mind as he gave his partner a once over. He could feel a crease setting in his brow as he watched Ladybug look at the ground and shift between her feet.

“Is everything alright?” He took a step towards her. “You never cancel patrol at the last minute.”

Ladybug clutched her yo-yo against her chest and shook her head. “I’m fine! I just have to do something tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? You seem kind of upset.” She looked like she needed a hug.

With a groan, she slumped and buried her face in her hands. “Ugh, yeah. Please don’t worry about me. I’m just really nervous. It’s something I’ve never done before, and I hope I don’t make a complete fool out of myself.”

Adrien slung his arm over Ladybug’s shoulders and pulled her close. “My lady, you are one of the most amazing people I know. You’ve shown the world time and time again that you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Her muscles relaxed under his touch, sending his heart into a frenzy. Even though he was doing his best to move on from his crush, there were still some residual feelings that caused a few involuntary reactions. However, Adrien knew that Ladybug needed him to be his friend, and he was determined to fill that role.

He was grateful for how his friendship had evolved with his partner since she’d become the Guardian in Master Fu’s stead. Even though they had been comfortable around each other for a long time, now that their mentor was gone, their trust in each other had increased exponentially, and lately, his Lady seemed to enjoy their casual touches far more than she used to. Today was no exception.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Chat, but I’m not so sure I can do it this time.” Ladybug scooted closer to him and nuzzled against his side.

He swallowed and tried not to focus on the feeling of her head pressed against his collarbone. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m a klutz, and I just know something is going to go wrong.”

“You a klutz? No…”

She laughed. “Yeah, Tikki definitely helps me stay on my feet. I’ll have you know that when I’m not wearing a magical suit that enhances my reflexes, I’ve been known to trip on air. One time, I walked into the same door three times after spilling coffee on my best friend and dropping all my books down the stairs.”

“Oof.” He stifled a chuckle. “I’m sorry to hear that, but if it’s any consolation, clumsiness is an endearing quality.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup, there’s this girl in my class who’s kind of clumsy, and I know she gets embarrassed, but it’s honestly adorable.”

“You might think it’s adorable, but it seems to get worse when I’m nervous. I don’t know how cute it’s going to be if I wind up tripping and destroying everything in the room. I’m a disaster.”

“An adorable disaster.” He corrected, his lips curling into a smile that hurt his cheeks. “Just like Mar...I mean, my friend.”

“It sounds like she and I would get along.” Adrien could still hear the worry in her voice.

“Probably. You two are a lot alike.” He tapped his chin. “Well, except for the fact that she always seems to freak out when she’s around me. She’s amazing though. She’s smart, talented, generous, and an incredible friend. You would like her.”

Ladybug pulled away from him, crossed her arms, and smirked. “Ooooh! Does someone have a crush?”

Heat rushed to his cheeks, forcing Adrien to turn his head away from hers. “No! She’s just a friend.”

“Ugh, if I had a euro for every time I heard my crush say that about me, I’d be richer than he is.” She leaned back. “Poor girl. You’ve probably broken her heart every time she’s heard you say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“My brain stops working every time I’m near my crush, and if she’s as nervous as you’re saying she is, this girl is probably madly in love with you.”

Adrien fixed his eyes on the ground below and tried to process Ladybug’s words.

I can’t be in love with Marinette.

True, she’s the kindest and sweetest girl he’d ever met in his entire life, and he’d be lying if the idea of dating her hadn’t crossed his mind in the past. But she’d told him that she didn’t have feelings for him...unless she’d been lying. She didn’t like him like that. Marinette was…

“Just a friend,” he whispered to himself.

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Ladybug nudged him with her elbow. “Just something to think about, kitty.”

“But you’re the only girl I’ve ever fallen in love with. I mean, it’s different now, but still, I’ve never really loved someone the way I loved you.”

“I’ve recently learned that love comes in many different forms. Even the romantic kind. Maybe you love her, too, and you just haven’t realized it yet?”

“Hmmm...I guess that could be true. But what do these other loves feel like?”

“I don’t know. I think it depends on the person. Honestly, I wish someone had this conversation with my crush. It sure would have made things a lot eas...OH NO.” Her hands flew to her face and all the color drained from her cheeks. “That’s going to make things even worse!”

Startled by her reaction, Adrien pulled her back into a hug. Her body trembled in his embrace, driving a wave of panic through his chest.

He held her tighter. “What’s wrong?”

“My crush.” Her rasped words barely made it past her lips. “He might be there. I don’t know, but if he is...I can’t do this, Chat.”

“Come here, my lady.” With his arms still wrapped around her, Adrien held her until the tension in her muscles began to subside. “I’m here.”

“I can’t even get through a sliding glass door when I’m with him! I really am going to ruin everything!”

“No, you’re not.”

“I might.”

“Well, if you’re anything like the girl I know and you do break something, I can guarantee that your friends will still like you. I think it’s literally impossible to not like her.”

“Yeah, but I’m not her.”

It would be nice if you were. Adrien shook his head. NO. Stop that! Marinette is just a friend. Ladybug is sad. FOCUS.

He wracked his brain for a solution to her problem.

What would Marinette do?

The idea hit him like a truck. “Sounds like you could use a good luck charm.”

If his lady needed a little extra luck, he was going to give it to her.

“I’ll be right back. Wait right here!” He hopped onto his feet, scurried behind a chimney, and called off his transformation.

“Kid, what are you doing now?” Plagg groaned. “At least tell me you brought some cheese for me to eat before you make me transform you back.”

Adrien shook his head and reached into his coat pocket. “Ladybug needs my help.”

“Uh-huh.” Plagg crossed his arms. “And it’s not something you can do while you’re still Chat Noir?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll transform again before I go back.” He fished around for a few seconds before pulling out his “Marinette Lucky Charm” and waving it in front of his Kwami’s face. “I just needed to get this.”

Plagg’s eyes grew wide. “Uhh, what exactly are you planning on doing with that?”

“I’m going to give it to her.”

“To who?”

“Ladybug.”

“Oh, no, Adrien, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You could accidentally…” Plagg was cut off by a shrill ring that pierced to the silence.

Adrien fumbled around his pockets until he found the culprit behind the noise. He pulled his cellphone into the night air and silenced it by smashing his fingers against the screen.

“Whew, that was a close one.” He repocketed his phone and looked at Plagg. “Okay, what were you saying? I have to get back to Ladybug soon.”

"Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was going to say..." Plagg was cut off again.

Adrien’s phone buzzed in rapid succession, prompting him to take it out once more. He swiped his fingers across his lock screen, he squinted as the space around him illuminated.

Nino: [20:17] dude

Nino: [20:17] DUDE

Nino: [20:17] why aren’t you picking up ur phone??

Nino: [20:17] DUDEEEEEE

Nino: [20:18] I need to know if you’re going to the masked singer jr thing @ school tomorrow

Nino: [20:18] alya is about to buy tickets

Nino: [20:18] she needs to know if we should get 2 or 3

Messages continued to bombard his phone as he desperately tried to type out a response.

Nino: [20:18] do you think ur dad will let you go?

Nino: [20:19] alya is telling me that she needs an answer RIGHT NOW...like immediately

Nino: [20:19] bro?????

“What is it now?” Plagg hovered above Adrien’s phone. “Don’t you have to get back to patrol?”

“Yeah, I do.” With a frustrated huff, Adrien pulled out a wedge of Camembert and tossed it to his Kwami. “But I just need a few minutes, okay? Then we can talk before I go back.”

Plagg shrugged, landed on Adrien’s shoulder, and began devouring the cheese. "You know what, kid, do whatever you want. It's about time we moved on from all of this nonsense anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean? If you have something you need to say, just say it. I’ll stop texting and listen."

"Doesn't matter anymore. Carry on."

Doing his best to ignore the chewing next to his ear, he finally managed to compose a response before Nino had the chance to send any more messages.

Adrien: [20:20] Tickets for the what?

Nino: [20:20] THE BOY LIVES

Nino: [20:20] alya was getting ready to BLITZ ur phone

Nino: [20:21] you lucked out my dude

Nino: [20:21] can u come with us??

Adrien: [20:21] I don’t know what you’re talking about

Nino: [20:21] it’s for that singing competition based off that tv show

Nino: [20:22] there’s been flyers for it all over the school

Adrien closed his eyes and tried to picture one of the flyers that Nino was talking about, but nothing popped into his mind. He’d been relatively out of it over the past few weeks. His father had pulled him out of school for countless photoshoots, and every time he’d actually attended class, he’d been too tired to function. However, with his father out of town and his evening free from patrol duties, the thought of unwinding at an event with his friends sounded really nice.

Adrien: [20:23] I still don’t know what that is, but it sounds cool!

Nino: [20:23] so that’s a yes???

Adrien: [20:23] Yeah

Nino: [20:24] SWEET! it starts at 8

Nino: [20:24] alya is making signs for us to wave

Nino: [20:24] she’ll give you one when we meet up tomorrow

Adrien: [20:24] Signs?

Nino: [20:25] yeah for marinette

Marinette.

Just reading her name on his screen made his heart skip a beat.

Marinette was going to be there.

Ladybug’s words rang through his head, but he shook them away. Marinette was definitely just a friend. He was looking forward to seeing his friend, and he knew that the feeling in his chest was a totally normal response to his excitement.

Nino: [20:25] marinette lost a bet or something and now she’s singing tomorrow

Nino: [20:25] that’s why alya is trying to snag these last minute tix

“Chat?” Ladybug’s voice carried across the rooftop, giving Adrien the push he needed to wrap up his texting conversation. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I’ll be right there! Don’t come over!” Adrien called back, tapping his fingers furiously on the keyboard.

Adrien: [20:26] Sounds good! I’ll see you tomorrow!

He shoved the phone back into his pocket, called for his transformation, and ran back to Ladybug.

As he approached her, he noticed that her eyes were filled with concern. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You were behind the chimney for an awfully long time.”

“Oh, yeah that...don’t worry about it.” He waved his hands dismissively before holding out his lucky charm in an open palm. “Anyway, this is for you. I think you need it more than I do.”

Instead of seeing the smile on her face that he’d been expecting, Ladybug stared intently at the charm in his hand, as if she were waiting for it to explode or spontaneously combust. She sat quiet and unmoving, and Chat began to fear that she had been turned into a statue by an unseen Akuma.

“M-my lady?” He swallowed in an attempt to combat the desert that had suddenly appeared in his mouth, but his efforts proved to be fruitless. “Did you want to borrow it?”

Her eyes remained locked on the charm. “Chat, where did you get that?”

“Well, I got it from that friend I was talking about. The girl in my class?” Using his other hand, he scratched the back of his neck. “You know, the one you think I have a crush on.”

“Oh my God.” She opened and closed her mouth a few times. “This isn’t happening.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to take it.” He closed his hand around the charm and began to retract his arm.

“No!” She grabbed his hand. “I want it, but…”

“What is it?”

“I-”

“My lady, are you okay?”

Her eyes flitted up, locking their gazes together. “I need to know something.”

“Ummm, okay?” His internal body temperature rose under her unwavering stare. “What...uh...what is it?”

“Have you ever imagined yourself in a romantic relationship with the girl who gave you that charm?”

“I don’t understand.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay, let me put it this way, have you ever thought to yourself ‘I wonder what it would be like to go on a date with her’ and then played it out in your head?”

Of course, I have.

“I, uhh…” He swallowed again.

It’s Marinette. But she’s just a friend.

“Chat, I need an answer.” The desperation written on her features did not ease his frazzled nerves. “Please.”

“She’s just a friend.” His words were beginning to sound like a lie. “She’s always been just a friend.”

She leaned in. “Are you sure?”

“No.” His response tumbled out before he had the chance to censor his thoughts.

Adrien clamped his free hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. She’s just a friend. Marinette is just a friend. There was no way that she was anything more than just a friend...right?

“You love her.” Ladybug looked away, smiled towards the heavens, and released a tear-filled laugh. “You really love her.”

“I...love her?”

His brain was slowly arriving at the solution to a problem that had been plaguing his subconscious for months. Loving Ladybug had created a hazy and beautiful cloud that consumed his thoughts and dreams, but embracing the idea of loving Marinette swept the confusion away. True, he’d always love his Lady, but he could no longer deny the ever-present voice screaming the truth in the back of his mind.

“I love her.” He arched his back, held up his arms, and declared it to the heavens. “I love her!”

“Yes, you do. You really do!” She launched herself at him and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy!”

“You are?”

“Yes! I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. I just...I never thought it would happen like this. Oh, Chat I…” She stopped and pulled away. “I might cry.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you’d be so happy to see me paired off with someone else.” He snorted. “Should I be insulted?”

“No! No, I just...I’m sorry. My words...I…”

“My lady, are you okay?”

“What? I’m freight! I mean grine! I mean...NO…” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m fine. I’m just so happy. You have no idea.”

“You sound just like her right now.”

He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to wander back to Marinette. A familiar warmth filled his chest and made his heart soar. It was a feeling that he’d lost the day his mother disappeared. It felt safe. It felt secure. It felt like home.

But his happiness proved to be short-lived as a second realization hit him like a tsunami. “But she’s in love with someone else...just like you are. I can’t go through something like that again.”

“She’s not.” Ladybug shook her head. “You keep comparing her to me, and, kitty, if she’s anything like me, I can promise that she loves you.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” She reached out and gently pulled the charm free from his grip before standing up and unsheathing her yo-yo. “I’m suddenly feeling a lot more confident now. I have to go, but I promise to give this back to you the next time I see you.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Chat hopped onto his feet. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“No, thank you, Chat Noir.” She clutched the charm against her chest. “For being the coolest cat I know.”

“I guess I am pretty paw-some.” He pretended to flip his hair, eliciting a giggle from his partner.

“My wonderful, dorky, Chaton.” She tossed her yo-yo and hooked the wire around a chimney on an adjacent rooftop. “See you soon.”

“Good luck tomorrow!” He called out as she swung off the roof and into the distance.

***

That night, sleep became his enemy as thoughts of Marinette bombarded his mind. Adrien tossed and turned for what seemed like an endless number of hours before falling into a fitful, dreamless slumber. When the alarm on his phone woke him up, he wanted nothing more than to throw it across the room and sleep for another week.

But he knew that staying in bed was not an option. If he didn’t get ready, he wouldn’t be able to go to school. If he didn’t go to school, he wouldn’t see Marinette. And if he didn’t see Marinette, then there was a good chance that his head might explode.

With a groan, he pulled himself out of bed, brushed his teeth, and managed to find an outfit that matched before grabbing a piece of toast and hopping into his family’s car. During the short journey, he closed his eyes and rested against the cool glass.

By the time he reached the school, he was half asleep and was barely aware of his surroundings as he made his way to the classroom. He’d grumbled a few half-hearted hellos to his friends before slumping into his chair and putting his head in his arms. It wasn’t until Marinette came barreling into the classroom five minutes after class started that he snapped out of his sleep-deprived haze.

Despite finally feeling awake, school was a nightmare. The knowledge that Marinette was sitting behind him drove him to the brink of insanity. She was only a few feet away, and there was nothing that he could do about it in the middle of class.

At lunch, she’d run back home to finish her costume, leaving him with no other option but to go home and eat. As he sat alone at his dining room table, he considered how life would be different with Marinette as his girlfriend.

If they’d been a couple, then he most likely wouldn’t be sitting by himself in an empty, loveless room. He’d probably been dragged over to her house and been allowed to watch as she excitedly put together her costume for the show. He’d have been granted the opportunity to become a part of her inner world, a place that he knew was full of creativity and wonder. He’d have been there to celebrate her little victories and encourage her through her downfalls. He wouldn’t have been alone.

And he didn’t want to be alone anymore.

He wanted to be with her.

He was going to ask her out.

Adrien dropped his fork on his plate and pushed away from the table. He rushed back to his room, flopped into his desk chair, and turned on the computer.

“Oh, good. You’re back.” Plagg whizzed into view and landed on the keyboard. “We’re almost out of cheese. It’s time to order more.”

“Not right now.” Adrien opened a new browser and began a search for local flower shops. “I only have a few minutes before I have to go back to school.”

Plagg looked at the screen and crossed his arms. “That’s not cheese.”

“That’s right.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m pretty sure Marinette would rather have some nice smelling roses over a stinky wheel of Camembert when I ask her out after the competition tonight.”

Plagg flew in front of Adrien’s face and blocked his view of the monitor. “Please tell me you’re serious.”

“I am.” Adrien shifted his body to get a better view of the screen. “Why do you care? Usually, you make fun of my...oh how do you usually put it? ‘Stupid human love rituals’.”

“Have you really moved on from Ladybug? For real this time?”

“Yeah.” A burst of happiness coursed through his system, causing a smile to form on his lips. “I guess I have.”

“Then tonight is going to be even better than I thought it was going to be.”

“Why are you being so cryptic lately? Last night and now this. What are you talking about?.”

“Oh, nothing!” Plagg dove into the trashcan next to the desk. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here for the show.”

He rolled his eyes and resumed his search. He didn’t have time for his Kwami’s cryptic shenanigans. He was on a mission.

Adrien was determined to make tonight perfect.

***

That night, Adrien got to the school within five minutes of the first act going on stage. After taking his time choosing an outfit and picking up the roses he’d ordered, he knew he’d be cutting it close. Luckily, his friends were waiting patiently on the school steps upon his arrival.

If he hadn’t been so nervous, he’d have been infinitely more impressed by the way the crew of the Masked Singer Junior competition had transformed the courtyard. At one end, there was a stage with a black backdrop that almost looked as if it was studded with stars. Large speakers had been placed at either end of the stage. The rest of the space had been filled with rows of folding chairs.

The school had managed to get Alec Cataldi to MC the event, so as each act was ushered onto the stage, he riled up the crowd with jokes and charm. Throughout the competition, Adrien had been vaguely aware of the other performers, but he’d been focused on his mission--Operation: Ask Out Marinette. He tapped his foot as the anticipation built in his gut. He didn’t know how he’d feel when he finally saw her, but he didn’t know if he could wait much longer.

After over a dozen acts, Alec once again sauntered into the spotlight with the next contestant in tow. The singer wore a black cat mask that covered half of her face, a rhinestone-studded tiara that sparkled under the lights, and an electric green dress with a flared skater skirt that ended just above the knees.

Alec waited for the courtyard to fall silent before bringing the microphone up to his face to speak. “Is everyone having a good time so far?”

Everyone around Adrien screamed and clapped.

“I can’t hear you!” Alec held the microphone towards the crowd and held his other hand up to his ear.

The audience released a deafening roar.

“Excellent! Our next contestant calls herself Princess Kitty! How are you feeling tonight, Your Highness?” Alec put the microphone in front of the girl’s face.

“Purr-etty good, Alec!” Adrien’s ears perked up at the sound of her voice. “I was feline kind of nervous before, but now I’m cat-tastic!”

Everything came to a screeching halt.

He knew that voice.

He’d heard that voice tease him countless times.

He trusted that voice with his life.

That was his lady’s voice.

And she was dressed like him.

“She looks so good!” Alya held up her phone and snapped several pictures. “I can’t believe she pulled all of that together in one night! My girl is the best!”

“Your girl? Alya, who exactly do you think that is?” Adrien shifted nervously in his seat. “You don’t know that person, do you?”

“You really can’t tell?” Alya switched her phone’s camera to video mode. “And here I thought you’d recognize her right away. You did buy her flowers after all.”

Marinette.

He shook his head. “No, that’s impossible.”

They can’t be the same person.

“Of course it is!” Alya laughed dismissively. “I helped her get ready earlier tonight. I just didn’t realize how cool all of that was going to look under the lights.”

Adrien knew in his heart that the girl on the stage was his lady, but his mind told him that his partner couldn’t possibly be that close to him in real life. There was no way he’d fallen in love with the same girl twice. He wasn’t that lucky.

Or was he?

Marinette was his every day Ladybug, and he’d often thought that she’d make an incredible Miraculous holder. He’d once told himself that he’d love whoever was behind the mask, but he knew deep down that was a lie. Every time he’d scratched the surface of the truth behind his lady’s secret identity, he’d only been happy when Ladybug was Marinette.

He wasn’t just in love with any girl.

He was in love with one girl.

I’ve been in love with Marinette all along. The burst of clarity eviscerated the remaining fog and struck him with an overwhelming sense of admiration that brought tears to his eyes.

Of course, it was her. Of course, he’d fallen in love with the same girl twice. Of course, Marinette was Ladybug.

“Wow!” Alec’s voice cut through his thoughts, forcing him back to earth. “What’s the secret to all of your confidence, Princess Kitty?”

“Well, last night I was a tiny bit nervous, and I was given a good luck charm by someone very close to me. I already had one from him, but having a second one is making me feel extra lucky.” The girl on stage held up two colorful, beaded charms that were both held together by red string.

“See!” Alya snapped a picture, blew it up on her screen, and showed it to Adrien. “That’s the charm you made her for her birthday. She carries that thing everywhere. And I’m guessing that the other one is the charm that she gave you.”

“Yeah.” Adrien couldn’t take his eyes off the image on Alya’s screen. “It is.”

“Hold on...she just said that it was given to her last night. Did you two see each other last night? Wait! Is that why you got her flowers?” Alya grabbed his shoulders and turned him towards her. “Are you two secretly dating?”

“I...uh...I…” There were too many things happening all at once for Adrien to properly process Alya’s questions. “N-no?”

“But you did see her last night?”

“Ummm...well…” He found himself breathing a sigh of relief when he was cut off by another roar from the crowd.

Alya switched her phone back to video mode and shook her head. “You’re off the hook for now, Sunshine, but I know there’s a story there.”

Adrien returned his attention back onto the stage, mesmerized by the love of his life.

She flashed a dazzling smile to the crowd. “Tonight’s song is dedicated to the coolest cat I know, and I’m just hoping he catches on before the performance is over.”

Me! his mind screamed, She’s talking about me! She’s doing all of this for me!

“Ooooh! Sounds like we have a romance brewing tonight! Any chance we could get the name of the lucky guy?” Alec winked at the crowd.

She chuckled. “A lady never tells.”

“A lady? Pardon me, Your Highness, but I thought you were a princess.”

“Purr-haps I’m both.” She turned her mask-shrouded gaze towards the crowd, but Adrien felt as if her eyes were fixed on him. “Maybe I have more than one mask.”

“How mysterious!” Alec’s laughter bounced off the walls surrounding the courtyard. “Well, good luck, Princess Kitty! The stage is yours!”

A hush fell over the crowd as the music started blasting through the sound system.

I'm imprisoned, I'm living a lie

Another night of putting on a disguise

I wanna tear it off and step in the light

Don't you, don't you?

The voice that rang through the courtyard was clear and pure, sending the audience into a frenzy and rendering Adrien speechless.

So now I'm knocking at your front door

And I'm looking for the right cure

I'm still a little bit unsure

'Cause I know,

Yeah I know

That most people see me as ordinary

But if you look close you'll find I'm very

Interesting and hard to know

You can never tell where this might go

'Cause I'm not your average, average person

I don't know much, but I know for certain

That I'm just a little bit extra, extra

I'm just a little bit extra ordinary

As the first refrain came to an end, another revelation hit him at full force.

This was a declaration of love. Marinette loved him. Out of all the people in the world, she loved him.

All this time, he was the other boy.

Even without his good luck charm, he was the luckiest person in Paris tonight.

I can see it from the spark in your eyes

You believe in all the things you deny

You wanna fly and leave your worries behind

Don't you, don't you?

Well now I'm knocking at your front door

And I'm looking for the right cure

I'm still a little bit unsure

'Cause I know,

Yeah I know

She was reading his soul with a song, and while he felt exposed, the familiar warmth returned to him once again. Her sentiments wrapped around him like a blanket and promised him a life filled with love and devotion. He wanted nothing more than to love her just as fiercely in return.

That most people see me as ordinary

But if you look close you'll find I'm very

Interesting and hard to know

You can never tell where this might go

'Cause I'm not your average, average person

I don't know much, but I know for certain

That I'm just a little bit extra, extra

I'm just a little bit extra ordinary

He didn’t think he could love her any more than he already did, but he was wrong. As the song came to an end, he was struck with the sudden and urgent need to go to her. Adrien stood up and tightened his grip on the bouquet. “Hey, I need to go do something. I’ll meet up with you outside.”

Worry flashed across Nino’s features. “You okay, bro?”

“Yeah.” Adrien swallowed against a dry throat. “I just need to go ask out Marinette before I lose my nerve.”

An ear-shattering shrill emanated from Alya as he turned and quickly made his way through the crowd. The rest of the world faded away with each step. He kept his gaze fixed on his destination, determination driving every cell in his body forward.

His feet kept moving until he finally saw her. She was sitting on a chair behind the makeshift stage with her mask in her lap and her chin resting on an open palm.

“Marinette,” he called out, “I need to talk to you.”

Her head snapped in his direction. “Right now?”

He took several long strides towards her until they were only inches apart. Adrien took her hand and gently coaxed her out of the chair.

“I came to get my lucky charm back.” He laced his fingers through hers and couldn’t help but smile as he watched the tips of her ears turn bright red.

She turned her head away and bit her lip. “That’s all?”

“No.” He held out the bouquet for her to take. “I was also hoping that you’d finally accept a red rose from me.”

Her breath hitched. “With all of it’s intended meanings?”

“Yeah.” He took a step closer to her and leaned his forehead against hers. “Did you mean what you sang?”

She took the bouquet and held the flowers against her chest. “Every word. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“I love you so much, Marinette. Both in and out of the mask.” Tears that had been building in the corners of his eyes threatened to fall. “I don’t know where this will go either, but I want nothing more than to find out.”

“Oh, Adrien. I’ve loved you since the day you handed me your umbrella, and when I thought you loved someone else I tried to move on, but I couldn’t. And if it weren’t for that, I would have fallen for Chat in a heartbeat because he’s not only the greatest partner I could have asked for, but he’s also the most wonderful person I know.” He watched as her gaze flitted to his lips, and without hesitation, he closed the remaining space between them.

Their lips crashed together in a dazzling explosion of electricity that awakened every inch of him. Fireworks exploded inside him as his heart pounded against his chest. He lost himself in the sweetness of her lips and the faint scent of vanilla that clung to her hair. Kissing her immediately became his favorite thing, and he never wanted it to end.

All too soon, Adrien reluctantly pulled away, only to alleviate the burning in his lungs. He cursed his need for air.

“Wow.” She was just as breathless as he was. “Can we do that again?”

“My lady, we can do that whenever you want.” As he spoke, he felt the soft brush of her lips against his.

Adrien moved in for a second kiss, but the sound of Alec calling for the contestants to return to the stage stopped him in his tracks. He groaned under his breath.

Marinette looked up at him and smiled. “How about you come over tonight and we can continue this conversation without a hundred people looking at us?”

“I’d like that, but I don’t think they’ll let me stay out much later.” He deflated. “I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

She leaned in and whispered into his ear. “Who said I was inviting Adrien over?”

Her warm breath against his skin sent a shiver down his spine. “What?”

“I’ll leave the hatch unlocked.” She pecked his cheek, winked, and began walking towards the stage. “See you tonight, kitty!”

Adrien traced his fingertips along his cheek, the skin still tingling from the touch of her lips.

Wow, he thought, unable to hide his excitement any longer, I really am in love with that girl.

#miraculous ladybug #my fic #step in the light #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #adrienette #ladynoir #identity reveal #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ml fanfiction #prompt #masks #song fic #the masked singer

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khaotic-kitsunes · 3 years

Text

Forged of Love

You were most certainly not too late! In fact, just in time because I’m pretty sure you were the last request before I closed my askbox...so good timing??? And as for this request? *Chefs kiss* I have so much love for this?? How dare you present me with such a fun ask??? I rarely write for Eijiro but he’s actually super fun to write for??? He can either be so soft and fluffy and just...yes?? Or he can be that hot, frustratingly sexy pro you wanna bang.

Either way, I hope you enjoy this scenario! I was gonna write headcanons but the request caught me in a scenario-writing mood. So, yeah.

Let me know what you think!

I would also like to note that I was gonna schedule this for the 27th since I’ve got posts ready to go for the 25th and 26th...but fuck it, I put four sleep-deprived hours into this and I wanna post it now.

🥃 AO3 🥃 || ✉️My Askbox✉️ || 💬Discord💬

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

“Thank you again, Mr. Kirishima”

Eijiro smiled warmly at you as you curtsied in front of him, holding the package that he had taken great care to wrap for you earlier that morning, containing the latest request you had made of him; small enough for him to allow you to take it back to your home without him accompanying you, but large enough to fill your arms.

Any bigger and Eijiro would have insisted on carrying the heavy iron item back on your behalf, it wouldn’t be proper to allow someone such as yourself, a well-known aristocrats daughter, to carry such a thing home.

“No problem! And hey, I thought we agreed that you’d start calling me Eijiro? You’re here often enough for it to be normal, Miss. (Name)” You tilted your head at his cheery words, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you glanced back towards the carriage that awaited your presence. Not nearly enough time for a casual chat, but maybe for a cheeky remark here and there; at least, until your next visit.

Which, judging by the condition of your horses’ shoes, would be considerably close. Not that you would complain about such an opportunity, you had been using every chance you had to come see the charming, young blacksmith that had surfaced in the town. Errands or requests that you made simply to see him, it didn’t matter.

Anything was enough.

“Well in that case, you should be calling me (Name) and not Miss (Name)…right?”

The corners of Eijiro’s mouth stretched out into a large grin as he laughed at your statement, giving a nod of his head before rubbing at his neck sheepishly; the action causing the muscles in his arm to flex impressively, drawing your thoughts to an inappropriate place.

“Yeah, sorry about that. You’re right! I guess I’ll see you another time (Name), make sure you take care. Alright?” You gave a simple nod in response to his words of care, turning to make your way towards the carriage despite how much you wished that you could stay and chat with Eijiro a little while longer; however, there was only so long you could stay outside of the house. Any longer and your father would grow concerned, perhaps even look into what had caught your attention as of late and that, was the last thing you wanted.

“Goodbye, Eijiro.”

~ ~ ~

“So, I saw you with that cute little lady earlier”

Eijiro frowned as he shoved his latest work in progress into the burning hot forge, making sure to bury it beneath a healthy layer of coals before lifting his gaze to look over at his best friend and greatest rival; Tetsutetsu.

More than a little surprised to see him in his Smithy at such an hour when usually, his rival’s own business should be booming.

“Tetsutetsu? Uh, yeah, (Name) had some stuff to pick up this morning.” Eijiro shrugged off Tetsutetsu’s remark, looking back towards the flames before removing the sword and moving to rest it on his largest Anvil, reaching towards his sledgehammer so that he could make the necessary adjustments. He wasn’t sure why Tetsutetsu was bringing you up, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity; he only hoped it wasn’t because he had feelings for you.

“Strange, don’t you reckon? For a young aristocrat’s daughter, of a marriageable age, to spend all her time in your shop?” Eijiro frowned at Tetsutetsu’s question before hammering the sword in front of him as he needed, using the noise-filled time to think on why his friend was chatting about such a topic; it made no sense to him. None at all.

“Not really? If you need something, you go get it. Right?” Eijiro grunted with effort, setting the sledgehammer down before moving to dunk the sword in the bucket of cold water nearby, closing his eyes tightly to stop the steam from making his eyes sting; that had been one of the first things he had learnt early on during his apprenticeship days.

“Really? So, you don’t think it’s odd that she comes in every second day? With a new request, or to pick something up? That she doesn’t just send a butler or a maid to run the errand instead of herself?” Eijiro sighed loudly, lifting the sword from the bucket before putting it down on a nearby bench, turning to face the curious looking Tetsutetsu; unable to focus on his work when you were the topic of conversation.

“What are you trying to say Tetsutetsu?” His friend scoffed at his question, laughing at the confused expression that Eijiro wore, apparently finding what he had said to be amusing in some way, shape or form; though how, Eijiro wasn’t sure.

“Tetsutetsu!” The man standing across from him slowly stopped laughing, letting out a sigh as he crossed his arms, observing Eijiro for a moment longer before giving a shake of his head; almost in disapproval.

“I can’t believe you don’t see it Eijiro…the girl is head over heels for you!” Tetsutetsu’s words had his mouth dropping open in shock, about to protest the idea of such a claim before a frown began to form on his features, his thoughts running over all of his encounters with you; the pieces slowly clicking into place.

“Well look at that…penny finally drop, did it?” Tetsutetsu grinned, watching Eijiro before chuckling and moving closer, patting the red-head’s shoulder firmly; almost managing to make the strong man stumble. Almost.

“You should see the look on your face man, it’s priceless!” Eijiro blinked quickly at Tetsutetsu’s words, shrugging off his hand before reaching for the sword he had been working on moments ago, wanting to get the commission finished and now having a good reason to get it done early; he had an interesting conversation to have and little patience to wait for it.

“Shouldn’t you be at your own shop? Or you gonna give up on your store, come be my apprentice?” Eijiro laughed when he felt Tetsutetsu’s fist against his shoulder, the hit not enough to hurt but enough to make the point that his rival wanted to make; there would be no apprenticeship.

“Laugh it up, at least I can tell when a woman is interested in me!”

~ ~ ~

“Oh, good morning (Name)! Isn’t it a bit early for you to be here?”

You jolted in surprise as you stepped into Eijiro’s Blacksmith shop, offering a small smile in greeting to the grinning young man that seemed to be putting the finishing touches on something that you couldn’t quite make out.

“Good morning, Eijiro…I suppose it might be, but you see, my horses need new shoes and who else could I trust to do such a thing but you?” You tilted your head curiously as he chuckled to himself, looking over at you with a mischievous grin decorating his face; his smile easily reaching his eyes as you so loved to see.

“New shoes? I can have them done today, my day clears up in a few minutes” Eijiro chuckled at the confused look that formed on your features, finding it to be more than a little adorable; he was still surprised that Tetsutetsu had been right the other week, but now that he was aware of your feelings, it was easy to see.

“A few minutes? Am I interrupting you then?” He shook his head in response to your question, setting down whatever it was that he had been working on before making his way over to you, his grin still present on his lips.

“Not at all, I just had something I wanted to ask you” You nodded your head in response to his explanation, a sign for him to go ahead with whatever question the cheerful man had for you; you had no idea what that question might be, but your curiosity was beginning to get the better of you.

“(Name), would you allow me to court you?” His question immediately threw you off-guard, causing your mouth to drop open in a mild form of surprise before you quickly closed it, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the reaction from him; though it was easy to see that it was too late for that.

“(Name)? If it’s about your father, I already went and asked him for permission to ask you…apparently being the best Blacksmith in town has its perks” Eijiro chuckled nervously as he rubbed at the back of his neck, anxiously awaiting your response; your silence filling him with unease, fearing your rejection.

“You…you went to my father? And he didn’t kick you out?” You stared at him incredulously before shaking your head, a soft giggle spilling past your lips. Even though you hadn’t expected Eijiro to go to your father, it was something that shouldn’t have actually surprised you; Eijiro was a hard-working man, an honest and up-front man.

Visiting your father for permission to request such a thing would be nothing to a man like Eijiro, it was one of the things you loved about him most.

“No…? I thought he might, but we had a drink together and he asked me some things…in the end, he gave his permission. Ah, but he was very clear that if you rejected me, that would be the end of it” Eijiro shuddered at the memory of his visit to your father, intimidated by the threat that he had been given should he disrespect you in any way, shape or form; however, Eijiro had no plans to do such a thing.

“How unusual…you’re not the first man to ask him something like that…” You trailed off into a curious whisper before shaking your head to clear your thoughts and stepping closer to the man that held your affections, reaching out to take hold of his warm hands; a soft smile decorating your lips, easing his nerves more than he thought possible.

“I would love it, if you would court me Eijiro…” Your soft murmur of agreement made his grin return ten-fold before his arms wrapped around your waist gently, a chaste kiss placed to your cheek; thankfully leaving you free of soot as he hadn’t fired up any of his equipment just yet. Unusual for his line of work, but then again, perhaps he had other plans.

“I promise you (Name), I might not be as wealthy as your family, but I will treat you like a princess!”

“Silly man, I care for you just as you are…you don’t need to spoil me for my affections, you already have them.”

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edie-k · 3 years

Text

Living Legend (R/Hr, PG-13)

Title: Living Legend

Summary: Harry confronts his legacy as The Boy Who Blocked

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Not mine; just having some not for profit fun.

So, based off discussion of this awesome piece of art shared on the Romione Discord, I wrote this fic. It started as very tongue in cheek idea and ended with some heart.

Harry entered the crowded pub and glanced around. He’d been held up almost an hour completing paperwork at the Ministry so he expected he was the last one to arrive. It didn’t take long for him to focus on the boisterous group in the back and he made his way towards the table with a grin.

“Hey, there he is!” said George, with a raise of his glass and assorted greetings joined in from the rest of the group.

“Oi, thank God, you’re here Harry,” said Seamus. “These two,” he said, gesturing at Ron and Hermione, “are getting gross.”

Hermione gave an indignant snort and Ron glared at Seamus but he was smirking. Harry laughed as he dropped into the empty seat next to Ginny and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He glanced around the table at the crew - George, Angelina, and Luna were already seated at the other end and Dean was plopping down on the other side of Ron, next to Parvati. There was still an empty seat with a half drank glass in front of it and glancing around the room, he spotted Neville at the bar. He gratefully accepted the mug his girlfriend had slid in front of him. “And what do you expect me to do about the two of them?” he asked, as he took a swig of his drink.

“Break out some of that cockblocking magic you’re famous for,” said Seamus. The entire table burst into laughter. Harry was so shocked that he momentarily choked.

“Honestly Seamus!” said Hermione, although she looked much more amused by the comment than Harry would have expected.

“What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?” Harry asked.

“Do you not know what cockblocking is? The term seems pretty self explanatory but it’s when-”

“I know what it means, Seamus,” growled Harry.”I just don’t know what you mean.”

“I believe that’s his colorful way of talking about the fact that you were the main obstacle preventing Ron from progressing beyond friends with Hermione,” suggested Dean.

“Uh, in the name of gender equality, he was also the main obstacle preventing Hermione from making a move on Ron,” said Parvati. Dean tipped his drink in her direction in agreement.

“Human birth control, if you will,” suggested George.

“The opposite of an aphrodisiac for the two of them, if that’s a thing,” said Ginny. Harry gapped at her, startled by her comment.

“It is, it’s called an anaphrodisiac,” Hermione supplied.

“Oh, that’s interesting. What things are considered anaphrodisiac?” asked Angelina.

“Alcohol, right?” said Dean.

“Not in my experience,” said Seamus, wagging his eyebrows.

“That’s not what Cara Johnson told Padma,” said Parvati.

“Alcohol and tobacco and some other elements that go into pain relieving medications and potions. There was also recently a study around licorice of all things.”

“Red or black?” asked Neville, who had just returned from the bar with a fresh pitcher.

“Hmm,” said George thoughtfully. “Licorice wands but droopy. There’s a Wheeze in there somewhere.”

“Dabberblimps are also said to have an impact on sexual desire but I think that’s more due to the smell,” said Luna.

“No, wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait,” said Harry, completely aghast. “Are you all saying it took Ron and Hermione two years to get together and it was my fault?”

“Look, Harry, no one should be saying you were the main obstacle in it. Hermione and I certainly could have done more to rise above it,” said Ron in what he thought was a consoling tone.

“Honestly, everyone at this table could have done more,” said Neville, gesturing to the group who nodded in agreement.

“But it is fair to say that Harry carries most of the blame,” said Seamus.

“Outside of Ron and I,” Hermione clarified.

“This is unbelievable,” said Harry.

“Look, Hermione and I have talked about it and there’s no hard feelings. It all worked out in the end.”

“You’ve talked about this?!” Ron shrugged. “Hermione,” Harry turned to his friend with a pleading tone. “You are the most rational person I know. You can’t seriously agree with this?”

“I pluck up the courage to ask Ron out and you created as much noise as possible and practically threw a bowl across the room before I could clarify it was a date.”

“It was awkward!”

“Are you saying we’ve never done anything awkward for your sake?” Ron chuckled.

“No but… come on, it was obvious that was a date!”

“I told you I thought she asked me as a friend and you never said anything!”

“Wait,” said Angelina. “Harry, there was a misunderstanding between them that you knew about and you didn’t say anything to clear it up?”

“It was awkward!”

“Not only that,” said Hermione. “I asked him why Ron was angry with me so I could fix it and he knew why but he didn’t tell me.”

“It… was awkward,” said Harry weakly. “And! And! The reason Ron was angry with you was ridiculous. You had snogged Krum two year ago. I didn’t want to make him look stupid.”

“Yeah,” said Ron dryly. “You really kept me from looking like an idiot in sixth year. Cheers.”

“I’m sorry,” Parvati said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Are you saying that if you had one awkward conversation, we would have avoided the entire debacle that was Lavender and Ron?”

“Yes,” said Hermione.

“Pretty much,” said Ron.

Parvati turned to Harry. “Potter, there are hours, days, WEEKS of my life that I will never get back that I spent dealing with that nightmare.”

“What, do you think it was a picnic for me?!”

“No! That makes it worse!” cried Parvati.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” exploded Harry. “Just go up to Hermione and say, ‘Ron is jealous as hell that you kissed Victor Krum You should go talk to him and get this sorted before Slughorn’s party’?”

“YES!” shouted the entire table.

Harry noticed that Ginny had joined the chorus and rounded on her. “What about you? You could have stepped in just as well as I could have!”

“I was mad at Ron and for good reason!” she retorted. “But yes, I could have done more. I’ll admit, part of it was that up until the point that you kissed me, I was a little worried that you were doing it because you had a thing for Hermione. I was worried that if I helped get the two of them together, you would totally spiral.”

“I thought that was why you were doing it too,” said Dean.

“You did?” said Ginny with a smile. “You never told me that. I guess we were pretty compatible back then.”

“Hey! Am I not getting dealt enough blows?” said Harry indignantly and the table laughed.

“Harry was never interested in Hermione,” said Luna with a tone of declaring the matter settled. “I did suspect he fancied Ron though.”

“Wha- okay, Luna, no,” Harry sputtered. “So I’m apparently responsible for the dumbest fight the two of you ever had but-”

“Not responsible for the fight but you showed a lack of accountability in resolving it,” clarified Hermione.

“Fine. So why didn’t you get together after Ron and Lavender broke up? You didn’t kiss until the final battle. How was that my fault?”

“Didn’t Ron tell us Harry tried to break up that kiss too with some sort of snide comment?” George said to Angelina.

“Snide comment?” Harry asked disbelievingly. “I reminded them that there was a war going on. THERE WAS LITERALLY A WAR GOING ON!”

“It was coming to a natural conclusion,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“So that was really the first time you two kissed?” asked Dean. “Because when we uh, met up that spring, it seemed like something was going on.”

“Well, we certainly made some progress to understanding we were on the same page,” said Hermione. “But things were complicated.”

“It was miserable and it really would have been pretty awkward to start something with Harry around all the time,” said Ron.

“Good call,” said George. “After tonight, I think we all know that Harry’s boggart takes the form of awkward interactions.”

“At the point we found Dean and Luna, we both knew it was inevitable but we also had to finish helping Harry,” said Hermione.

“Plus, you want to talk cockblock? Harry has nothing on Griphook,” said Ron. Dean nodded sagely and Hermione wrinkled her nose in agreement.

“Finished helping me? You weren’t picking up my dry cleaning, we were saving the world!”

“Harry, you are taking this way too personally,” said Hermione. “We don’t think you were truly trying to keep us apart but your desire to stay out of our relationship and your mild self-absorption caused a lot of complications.”

“I don’t know why someone would take being called self absorbed personally,” George remarked and Ginny snorted.

“Hermione, you don’t get it. You’re letting him off the hook too easily because you’re a woman. A man does not prevent a friend from getting laid. It’s basically an Unbreakable Vow that’s entrenched in our DNA,” said Seamus.

“Ugh,” scoffed Parvati. “I honestly don’t know why we hang out with you.”

“No, really,” insisted Seamus. “Take tonight as an example. Dean and Neville. You two are solid mates, yeah?” Both men nodded. “Right, so Dean goes up to the bar to get a new pitcher. Who comes up to wait on him but Hannah Abbott. Suddenly, Neville needs a glass of water. And what happens next?”

Neville turned red. “I uh, I went up to the bar to ask Hannah for a glass while she was waiting on Dean.”

“And as soon as Neville appears and starts talking to Hannah, I gave him a nudge and say ‘I have to hit the head. Can you bring that back to the table?’”

Harry scoffed. “How does you sticking Neville with the tab help him?”

“You never did read that book I gave you, did you?” said Ron, incredulously.

“I didn’t take a piss, I came back to the table so Neville could chat up Hannah. And?”

Neville gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m taking her out tomorrow,” he admitted.

“Ha!” Seamus punched the air triumphantly. “One friend getting another friend laid. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a first date,” Neville protested. “We’re not going to-”

“We’ll work on it,” Seamus assured him.

“Ron’s never tried to get me laid!” Harry shouted desperately. This comment was met with general revulsion.

“Whoa! Come on,” said Dean, his face contorted.

“That’s his sister,” said Neville.

“For fuck’s sake man,” said Seamus disgustedly. The idea that Seamus was disgusted with him made Harry even more defensive.

“Hermione is like my sister!” insisted Harry.

“To be fair to Ron and it pains me to do so,” said Ginny. “Ron really only got in our way that one time after we broke up and as pissed as I was at the time, I think it came from a genuinely good place.”

“And I had no idea you liked Ginny until you snogged her right in front of me!” said Ron.

“You never said anything about Hermione until we were in the woods!’

“Oh, Harry, really?” said Ginny with pity. “I don’t think that’s the way to go.”

“Yeah, okay, but - hey, what about that one time with Cho?” Harry said accusingly to Ron.

“I called Cho out for being a bandwagon fan one time when I was 15 and now I’m doomed to a life of interrupted shags,” Ron appealed to the room.

“You’re together now,” said Harry weakly.

“Despite your best efforts,” joked George.

“And yet you haven’t relinquished your title as The Boy Who Blocked,” said Ron.

“You do have extraordinarily bad timing,” said Hermione.

“Back to Seamus’s original point, you two are pretty gross.”

“I’m sorry, are you saying that I still am-”

“In a much more literal sense now,” said Ron. Hermione gave him a playful smack on the chest.

“Give me an example!” Harry insisted heatedly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look that was familiar to Harry but he didn’t recognize. “Harry, it really isn’t a big deal,” said Hermione reassuringly.

“Well, last weekend, right?” said George. “At Shell Cottage for Fleur’s birthday. You wanted to get Ron so he could try those beignets Gabrielle brought and we told you they would be back soon but you insisted on walking down the beach and…”

“Yeah, and I found them past the alcove and - wait,” Harry stopped suddenly. “Is that why you were-?” Harry made a gesture too vague to interpret but Hermione squirmed in her chair and Ron inhaled sharply.

Harry’s jaw dropped. “And last month when Ginny and I were over to listen to the Cannons’ match and you were so weird when I came in the kitchen to see why the snacks were taking so long…and Thursday? Hermione is that why you…” He trailed off as Hermione bit her lip and looked away while Ron rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh my God,” said Harry incredulously.

“Harry, we’re so sorry if we made you uncomfortable,” said Hermione, sounding sincere for the first time all night.

“Oh my God!” Harry repeated louder, this time, disgusted.

“We were making up for lost time, which you have a part in,” Ron pointed out.

“Oh my God,” Harry said a third time, his tone full of realization.

“Are you okay Harry?” asked Ginny gently.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said distractedly. A quiet set over the group within the roaring pub.

“So Neville,” said Angelina in a voice full of forced cheer. “Where are you taking Hannah tomorrow?”

“Oh, you should take her to this great new place in Hogsmeade. Padma and I had lunch there last week and the dinner menu looks amazing,” Parvati said.

Harry looked glumly at his drink, barely noticing the glances his two best friends were exchanging.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Harry?” came a familiar voice from the fireplace.

It was the next morning. Ginny was off to practice and would be staying the evening with her team, as she did the day prior to every match. The standing tradition was that on these days, he had lunch with Ron and Hermione. As much as he loved Ginny and knew that Ron and Hermione did too, he liked having time as just the three of them.

But he had cancelled this morning, citing a hangover and crossed his fingers that Ron would be able to persuade Hermione to leave him be.

No such luck.

He heard a whoosh, followed by a second. “Harry?”

He sighed. “In here,” he called quietly from his armchair. Both of his friends popped around the corner. “Couldn’t hold her off?”

Ron sank into the chair across from him, threw his legs on the ottoman and grinned. “Actually, I didn’t even try.”

Hermione tapped Ron’s feet and he scooted them over to give her enough room to sit on the ottoman. “Harry, why are you avoiding us?”

“‘m not,” he mumbled. “Just drank too much last night.”

“You got there after everyone else so you missed the first two rounds of shots Seamus forced on us and I only saw you refill your glass once.”

Harry shrugged. “I had a couple drinks when I got home.”

“Look, we didn’t mean to upset you. Like Hermione said, we had a few before you got there and we were just having a go,” said Ron.

“Yeah but it was true,” said Harry sullenly.

“Well,” said Hermione, flattening her skirt nervously. “Yes, all of those things happened. But it was a long time ago. We’ve been together almost three years now. And we were certainly exaggerating a bit to have some fun. So there’s nothing for you to be upset about.”

Harry straightened up in his chair. “You don’t get it! Since I started at Hogwarts, you two have been the most important people in my life and you still are, plus Gin and Teddy. And you cared about me and you two always tried to do what you thought was going to help me and be best for me and last night I realized...I didn’t do that for you!”

“Harry, you know that’s not true!” said Hermione.

“Yes it is! I thought about how Cho and I couldn’t even look at each other anymore and I didn’t want that to happen to you two. It was always best when it was the three of us and I didn’t want anything to mess that. You were right, I was so self absorbed!”

“Harry,” said Ron, rolling his eyes.

“Of course you were,” said Hermione dismissively.

“Okay, now I am regretting letting you come over here,” said Ron.

“We all were!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Harry, Ron and I were so wrapped up in our own drama sixth year that we didn’t realize the depth of your fixation with Malfoy until you had practically murdered him!”

“Well, whose fault is that? There would have been no drama had I said something! And all our friends think I didn’t say something because I was in love with Hermione. I mean, you must have thought that too,” Harry said miserably, gesturing to Ron.

“I never really thought you were interested in Hermione but I was terrified Hermione would fall for you,” said Ron.

“What’s wrong with me that you didn’t think Harry would be interested?” said Hermione in a teasing tone that was clearly meant to lighten the mood, flicking Ron’s foot.

“Absolutely nothing. This git doesn’t know what he’s missing, thank God.”

Harry ignored them. “Had we cleared that up the year before, we could have avoided a few devastating weeks during the hunt, yeah?”

“Harry, there’s no way I’m letting you take responsibility for what the Horcrux said or for me leaving you two,” Ron said.

“We’re certainly not re-litigating any of that,” said Hermione. She turned and looked at Ron. “But when we were talking about all of this at home last night, we both agreed that once we were on the run, we made conscious decisions to not start anything until the war was complete.”

Ron nodded. “It’s true, I felt the same.”

“Great, I did it again,” Harry moaned. “You two were worried about me instead of enjoying your evening.”

“Harry, we still enjoyed our evening-”

“Twice,” interrupted Ron.

“But you’re our friend and we are always going to worry about you,” Hermione finished, paying Ron no mind. “It actually made me realize that we maybe could have had a relationship and taken care of you.”

Harry groaned.

“Harry, you took care of us too,” Ron said. “I mean, in the end, you didn’t want Hermione and I to stop being friends because you knew that would make us just as miserable as you. And you weren’t wrong. And I don’t know, maybe this was all just the way it was supposed to be. Maybe Hermione and I are better because we got all the petty shit out before we were together. Maybe the three of us are better friends because we focused on that for so long. So we’re okay, if you’re okay.”

Harry sat silently for a moment. “I’m going to try to be better about the .. you know, blocking. But seriously, I know we have a bit of a don’t ask, don’t tell on the subject but you could have clued me in,” Harry complained to Ron.

“Fair enough,” laughed Ron.

“Or you could not shag at parties.”

“Just… if you suddenly don’t see us, wait at least 10 minutes before you come and look for us,” suggested Hermione.

“Oi! 10 minutes?” said Ron, offended.

“Harry,” Hermione sighed. “It is apparently very important for you to know that Ron satisfies me sexually.”

“I assumed that once I figured out you were willing to do that for him there on Thursday,” Harry said.

Hermione blushed. “You’re making that sound much worse than it was. And you keep biting your tongue!” she finished, pulling her legs up and shifting back so she was sitting in the chair next to Ron.

“I didn’t say anything!” Ron said, although he looked very pleased with himself. “Now, can we please go get lunch?”

“All right, you two figure out where to eat. Give me 10 minutes and we’ll go,” Harry laughed, standing up from his chair.

“Harry, have you learned nothing? Make it 20,” said Ron.

#ROMIONE #fanfiction #fanfic #hp fanfic #romione fanfic #ron x hermione #ron weasley #hermione granger #trio friendship

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cookiedoughmeagain · 3 years

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Haven fanfic

Inspired by a conversation in the Haven discord. Duke and Nathan get hit by an animal transformation Trouble. Cuteness ensues.

“Hey I think there’s a ….” Duke stopped on his way into Audrey and Nathan’s office, distracted by an odd ‘POPPP!!’ sound behind him. He turned around to where Stan had been, and found a small and slightly startled-looking pony in his place.

“An animal transformation Trouble, yeah,” Audrey finished his sentence without stopping to look up from the paperwork she was frantically rifling through. “We think Nathan might be …”

‘POPPP!!’

They both looked over to the other side of the room. Nathan had been standing behind his desk flicking through more paperwork and now he was … not.

“Nathan?” Audrey cried.

They ran round either side of Nathan’s desk to find his clothes in a pile on the floor. Something was moving frantically inside the fabric. Duke reached out carefully to pull a shirt out of the way and jumped back in surprise when a startled rabbit appeared from underneath it. The rabbit launched itself away from them in alarm, darting this way and that for a while in the small space available to it, before finally retreating to a corner where it continued shaking in apparent fear.

“Nathan?” Audrey asked gently.

“It must be him, right?” Duke replied. “But why’s he so …?” he finished the question with a little panicked mime.

As the rabbit looked this way and that, his whiskers caught on the wall and he jumped in alarm, cowering away from it as though bitten.

“He felt that,” Audrey realised. “This Trouble must have turned off his old one. He can feel again and everything must feel completely strange. I’d be freaking out too.”

“Detective, the Principal is on the phone for you,” Rafferty called through the increasing chorus of animal noises outside the office.

“Ah!” Audrey jumped up, startling Nathan further. “I have to take this, that’s who we were trying to get hold of. Just try to calm him down and Do Not let him go anywhere,” Audrey told Duke sternly.

“How am I supposed to …?” Duke asked in ineffective protest.

Audrey called out a “Thanks,” as she went and shut the door firmly behind her.

Duke turned back to the rabbit, to Nathan. “Hey, buddy. It’s gonna be fine. Audrey’s gonna fix it.” He held out a hand cautiously, trying to remember if he knew anything at all about rabbits and deciding that, no, no he did not. He watched Nathan shake for a moment, shivering as though cold or - more likely - completely overwhelmed by a flood of new sensations. He was a small rabbit, with a mix of white and light grey fur; evidently appearance did not follow through from human to animal. The only thing that looked remotely like Nathan were the bright blue eyes. Otherwise, he was soft and fluffy, with floppy ears that looked like they might get in the way if he were trying to do anything besides hide in a corner. His nose twitched and his eyes darted warily around him but for the most part it looked like he was trying to move as little as possible.

Duke moved his hand a bit closer, and thought perhaps the scared shaking was slowing slightly, and that maybe the twitching little rabbit nose directed itself towards Duke’s hand. “You smell something?” Duke wondered. “What do I smell like, huh? Engine oil? Kitchen grease?” He kept talking, soft and low, assuming that Nathan couldn’t understand him but knowing that tone of voice was important with dogs, so maybe it would help here too. He kept his voice calm, and his breathing calm, and then he reached out slowly to carefully run his hand over the rabbit’s ears and along his back in a gentle stroke.

Audrey spent longer on the phone with the Principal and talking to Rafferty than she expected, but by the time she returned to the office she thought she knew who the Troubled person was. She opened the door carefully, in case there was a frightened rabbit behind it, so was pleasantly surprised to find that both Duke and Nathan-the-rabbit were now on the sofa, Nathan on Duke’s lap. The shaking seemed to have slowed and the rabbit looked a lot calmer, Audrey thought. Duke had one hand resting against the rabbit’s side, the other making long slow strokes over his back. Audrey took a moment to watch, slightly calmed herself just by the sight of Duke’s careful fingers in the soft rabbit fur. His hands were almost as long as the rabbit was, she noted, and Nathan in bunny form really was rather adorable when you stopped to look. She shook herself out of it - this was a serious Trouble that had already put two people (and three currently-animals) in the hospital, she didn’t have time to enjoy the view.

“OK, I’m pretty sure this is the Troubled person,” she told Duke, brandishing a piece of paper with an address written on it. “I’m going to go speak to them now.”

Duke nodded and held a finger briefly to his lips before replying in a much calmer tone of voice than hers. “OK.”

“Is he … himself?” Audrey asked, quietly.

Duke looked down at the rabbit. “Pancakes are a terrible breakfast food,” he said.

The rabbit huffed through its nose and shook its head once, annoyed.

Audrey took that as a yes. “Nathan I am going to fix this. OK? I’m going to find the person with the Trouble now, and I am going to fix this, alright? You two just … stay there.”

It took her longer than she’d hoped, but a little while later Audrey made her way back through town, watching various different animals turn back into various different people, most of them apparently none the worse for the experience. She walked through the station and said hello to Stan, now back in his uniform and busy checking how many of HPD were currently animal-shaped, then she made her way on towards her office.

“OK we should be all good, people are turning back, it might just take a little while before … it gets … everyo...,” Audrey’s sentence faded as she closed her office door behind her. She had expected to find Duke still on the sofa with Nathan still on his lap. One or both of them possibly asleep, but probably still there. She hadn’t been gone that long.

But all that was on the sofa now was Duke’s shirt and a broken pile of necklaces. In the middle of the office sat a big cat - a panther maybe? Or no - a cougar, pale brown with darker fur around its eyes as though wearing the neatest eyeliner imaginable. It sat up as she came in, looking not-at-all surprised to see her and really quite pleased with itself.

“Duke?” Audrey asked, amazed.

Duke-the-cat turned around to look down at Nathan-the-rabbit next to him, who now hardly seemed to be shaking at all. Duke leant down towards the rabbit, stuck out his big cat tongue and licked the side of Nathan’s face with enough friendly force that the rabbit nearly toppled over.

“Nathan?” Audrey stepped forwards concerned at the effect such enthusiastic grooming might be having on the tiny rabbit. Nathan righted himself easily though, and looked at her with a little nod. Duke put a large paw on Nathan’s other side in a kind of hug, and Nathan leaned into the contact, not at all startled now.

“Well OK then!” Audrey replied with a laugh. “Good job boys!” She sat down on the sofa, tired from all the running around town. “I can’t believe all it took for you two to stop snarking at each other was to get turned into animals. Actual animals,” she repeated to herself, surprised. She probably shouldn’t be surprised by this town any more, but there was always something. They should be turning back into their human selves soon, she would just rest here for a little while. No one would mind if she closed her eyes for a moment, surely.

A moment later she felt more than heard the big cat move up to her, and opened her eyes in time to see it carrying the rabbit carefully, as though Duke were the mother cat and Nathan one of his kittens. Duke dropped Nathan gently on Audrey’s lap, where he hopped up a little closer to her and rested his head against her hand. Duke jumped up on the sofa next to her and curled up with his heavy cat head warm on her knee.

Audrey reached out to scratch both of them behind the ear, amused as both of them leant into her touch at the same time. “You’re both so soft,” she told them. “I could get used to this; fluffy bunny and big cat snuggles. We’ll just stay here until you turn back,” she decided.

Nathan bristled slightly at being called a bunny, but the way Audrey was stroking his head meant he was inclined to forgive her. Audrey leant back and closed her eyes, and after a moment heard what she suddenly realised must be the sound of a big cat purring.

It hadn’t been the best start to the day, but there could have been a lot worse ways for it to end.

#haven syfy #haven fanfic #haven maine #duke crocker #audrey parker #nathan wuornos #nathan the rabbit #duke the big cat

19 notes · View notes

adiwriting · 4 years

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Sunday Morning 11/?

This fic morphed into something much bigger than a “Sunday Morning” fic, so I am going to be trying something new. I’ll be posting this as a Sunday Morning fic, then this evening I’ll post a special follow-up “Sunday Night” fic. Don’t expect that to be a regular thing, but I figured this fic would require a follow up and our boys shouldn’t have to wait a whole week to resolve things.

Shout out to my people over at the 18+ Discord for helping me talk through this one!

Gif by the lovely @manesalex

Week 11

It’s Sunday morning and somehow, they’ve been roped into attending brunch with everyone, though Michael doesn’t really understand how. They’ve made it pretty clear to everyone that Sundays are off limits for any and everything unless somebody is dying. And looking around the table, nobody is suffering from a medical emergency.

Yet, here they are. Sitting around Isobel’s patio with the entire “I know an alien” fan club while Kyle tells some story that Michael isn’t interested in. He looks over to Alex and glares, not understanding why they’re here instead of in bed together like they should be. All he knows is that he’d been woken up by Alex and told to get dressed. When he’d complained, Alex had made it up to him with an incredibly enjoyable blow job, but the positive effects of his orgasm wore off the moment he stepped into Isobel’s backyard and saw just how many people are here.

He loves them all. He does. But he also knows them all, and there is no way they are getting out of here in the hour that Alex promised him this would last. And they can’t even use the excuse that they have to go home to take care of the dogs, because Isobel had demanded that they bring them along. Currently, Bell is at home, still not up for leaving the house. The rest of their fur babies are each being held and spoiled by their aunts and uncles. So no, Michael is about as likely to pull Alex away from the passionate conversation Liz is having with him as he is to be able to pull John out of Max’s arms or Wendy out of Isobel’s.

So here he is. Grumpy after a long week of rude customers and one transmission problem too many. He sits in silence, eating his omelette and listening to his family discuss their own stressful week. And so he’s able to notice several things.

For starters, he notices the way that Liz keeps glancing over at Max with a smile and the way that he keeps winking back at her. So he knows that those two idiots have gotten back together. He’ll never admit it, but he’s relieved. Max deserves some happiness in his life and Liz is good for him. He’s glad they finally decided to forgive each other for all the drama several months back. They’d both been idiots and caused a lot of pain, but hopefully they’ll be able to move forward and do better, like Michael is moving forward with Alex and doing better.

Then there’s the other thing, the more important thing… the way that Alex keeps looking over at Maria with a look that can only be described as longing.

Michael feels bad. He doesn’t know the entire extent of the weirdness that has happened between them, but he knows he’s to blame for at least a chunk of it. Alex and Maria still talk, but there’s been this noticeable tension between them ever since Maria broke up with him. Alex won’t talk to him about it and neither will Maria, so Michael is at a loss as to how to fix it.

Michael leans over to whisper into Alex’s ear, “You should talk to her.”

Alex shakes his head.

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Somehow, Michael doubts that is true. He’s known Maria for long enough to know that she adores Alex. She also isn’t one to avoid confrontation. Alex on the other hand is notorious for avoiding conflict. He’s gotten better at it, but between the two of them, Michael is willing to bet that Alex is the one avoiding having whatever difficult conversation they clearly need to have.

“Maybe she doesn’t think you want to talk to her?”

“Maybe you should stick to fixing cars instead of trying to fix people,” Alex says. He’s smiling at him, but Michael can hear the bite in the words and raises his hands in surrender. He’s certainly not going to spend his Sunday fighting with Alex, even if he feels like he should push. If Alex wants to sit here missing his best friend who is sitting less than six feet from him, let him.

“Do you see Peter right now?” Alex asks, changing the subject and Michael lets him. He glances over at where Kyle has Peter in his lap and has to laugh at the way that Peter very slowly puts his head on Kyle’s plate and steals a bite of egg without Kyle noticing.

“I’m pretty sure that he’s eaten 2 whole pieces of bacon and half that omelette,” Alex tells him.

“He definitely learned that level of thievery from you,” he teases.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Guerin,” Alex says, to which Michael snorts. He reaches over and takes his own mug out of Alex’s hand. Alex had stolen it earlier while Michael wasn’t looking.

“No?” he asks, giving him an amused look as he sees the mug is nearly empty.

“Nope,” Alex says with an adorable smile that has Michael rolling his eyes.

He downs the last little bit of coffee before standing up and heading inside for more.

“Pour me a mug?” Alex says, causing Michael to let out a surprised laugh.

“Pour it yourself,” he says, though they both know that he’s coming back with two mugs.

Michael is standing in the kitchen adding cream to Alex’s coffee when Liz comes inside carrying a handful of plates.

“I see you finally took my advice on Max. Only took you a month. I thought you were supposed to be the smart Ortecho,” he teases.

Liz rolls her eyes. “What makes you think I took your advice on Max?”

“I don’t know,” he says, peeking through the blinds to point at where Max is sitting with the biggest smile. “The dopey look on his face? He hasn’t looked like that since before you left for California.”

She moves beside him to peek out the window as well and once she does, she practically swoons. He rolls his eyes. As subtle as a sledgehammer, those two idiots. Did they really think nobody would notice?

“You gonna try and tell me you aren’t back together?” he asks, crossing his arms and fixing her with an amused smirk.

“Fine. We are. But what makes you think it was your advice that did it?” she asks, using her hip to push him out of the way so that she can wash off the plates in her hand.

“Was it?” he asks and her glare is answer enough. He laughs. “I’m glad you two got back together. I don’t think I could have handled another one of Max’s sad drunken monologues.”

She pulls up the blinds to let the natural light in before turning on the sink and starting the process of washing the dishes.

“They’ll fix things too,” she says, handing him a clean but wet plate. Apparently he’s drying.

“Who?” he asks, grabbing a towel from the stove and drying the plate before putting it back in the cabinet.

“Alex and Maria.”

Michael doesn’t say anything at first. He doesn’t think that Alex will appreciate it if he tries to get details out of Liz that he hasn’t been ready to share himself yet. But he wants so badly to ask her what she knows.

“They aren’t fighting over you,” she tells him.

He gives her a look. Does she think he’s a complete idiot?

“They aren’t fighting entirely over you,” she corrects herself and that sounds more accurate.

“Why are they fighting at all?” he asks, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

Liz looks at him out of the side of her eye for a moment or two before sighing deeply, clearly resigning herself to something.

“They got into a fight while she was still in the hospital,” Liz explains as she continues to do the dishes and pass him the finished ones to dry. “It started over you. Alex thought that Maria broke up with you because he got kidnapped and you went after him. He felt guilty. Then he found out that she was refusing to wear the bracelet, and that’s when things got heated. Alex and Maria don’t fight often, but when they do it isn’t pretty. They both said some things they regret.”

“Alex is mad at her because she won’t wear the bracelet?” he asks.

It makes sense. Alex doesn’t like being out of control and Maria playing with fire would certainly press at those buttons. Michael gets it. He too has had to wrestle with figuring out how to accept Maria’s stupid decision to risk brain damage just so that she can have access to her visions. The risk far outweighs the reward, but Michael could never figure out how to get her to see that.

Or maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough. After all, his issue isn’t about control, it’s a fear of abandonment. And he’d always been too afraid that Maria would leave him to push her hard enough on the issue. Alex wouldn’t have had that fear though. He would have pushed and pushed and…

Yeah. It doesn’t surprise Michael in the least that they’d ended up having a blow up about it.

Liz finishes the last of the dishes and hands it to him, shutting off the sink and turning to lean against the counter and look at him.

“Maria broke up with you because of the bracelet. But mostly, because she knew at the end of the day that you would always love Alex more even if you weren’t planning on ever admitting it,” she explains.

“Okay…” He’s not sure why she’s telling him about his own breakup. He knows exactly why Maria broke up with him. He was there.

“Alex thinks that the reason you are with him and not Maria is because of the bracelet.”

Michael takes a moment to process that, trying to figure out what she’s getting at.

“Alex doesn’t want much,” she continues. “He never has. He learned not to expect much as a kid and doesn’t aim high. He wants Maria safe. She’s his best friend. Through everything, he’s always had her to rely on. So he can’t lose her. But he also needs you. Can you see how those two things might be in competition with each other?”

“He thinks he’s my second choice?” he asks.

Liz looks at him like he’s an idiot and maybe he is. Because here he’d been thinking that everything has been going great between the two of them. How could Alex honestly still doubt what they have together?

“That’s why he wouldn’t tell me what they fought about,” he says. Alex isn’t the kind of guy who voices his insecurities easily. Of course he wouldn’t want Michael to know that he feels like he’s a consolation prize.

“The two of them will work themselves out in their own time, they always do,” she says. “But it would be easier for them to fix what they broke if you fix what you broke first.”

His body tenses and he opens his mouth, about to defend himself when she holds up her hand. “Talk to Alex. If you want him to make up with Maria sooner than later, then you should make sure that he knows he doesn’t have to choose between either of you.”

“Even if I convince him that he’s not a second choice, it still won’t change the fact that Maria is gonna wear the bracelet when she wants to and not a moment sooner. It won’t fix the issue,” he argues.

“Perhaps,” she agrees. “But it would be one less thing weighing heavy on him and making that first step back towards her harder to take.”

She pats his shoulder in sympathy before walking towards the door, stopping once her hand is on the handle and turning back towards him. “That was my sisterly advice to you. So we are even now. Sí?”

Michael shakes his head. “That’s not how this works, Ortecho.” She gives him a curious look and he continues. “We’re family, right? We don’t have to keep score.”

She smiles at him brightly and Michael can kind of see how Max becomes completely hopeless around her. “I never wanted a brother, for the record. But I guess you’ll do, Mikey.”

He groans, grabbing the two coffees off of the counter before following her out onto the patio. “Mikey? Still?”

“Always and forever.”

She heads over towards where Max is currently playing a game of bags with Jenna while Rosa stands beside Max, giving him shit, trying to mess up his game. Michael heads in the opposite direction where Alex is currently sitting in a chair, watching as Maria and Isobel have what looks like a photoshoot with their puppies.

“Do I even want to know?” he asks, reaching over Alex’s shoulder to place the mug in his hand and a kiss to the top of his head before sitting down at the empty seat next to him.

“Our puppies are Insta-famous apparently,” Alex says, taking a sip of the coffee and smiling in a way that makes Michael feel all warm inside.

“I don’t remember consenting to that,” he says.

“Apparently Isobel started photographing them weeks ago and they have a following.” Alex hands Michael his phone and he scrolls through the pictures that Isobel has been posting under the Instagram handle @FaithTrustPittieDust. She’s been posting pictures on the regular, apparently. He scowls when he sees a picture of Peter wearing a tiny black cowboy hat.

“Well she’s banned from puppy-sitting,” he says, handing the phone back to Alex.

“One hundred percent,” Alex agrees, pocketing the phone before shifting around so he could look at Michael more fully. “You were in there a long time…”

“I got distracted, sorry,” he says, nervously. Unsure how Alex is going to react to the news that they’d been talking about him. However, he knows that it’ll be better to just be upfront about it. “I was talking to Liz,” he says with a meaningful look.

“Okay?” He looks confused.

“She told me about the fight with Maria.”

Alex grumbles and shakes his head. “She has no concept of minding her own business. Never has.”

“I want to talk about this,” he says. Alex looks around the yard at their family and he sits up in his seat. His body visibly tenses and he prepares for a fight. It’s been awhile since Alex got defensive like this around him, but he still recognizes the signs of Alex closing himself off. “But we can talk later when we are alone.”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief, even if his body doesn’t relax completely. And that’s on Michael. He should have noticed sooner that Alex wasn’t feeling entirely secure in their relationship. But it’s also on Alex for not being honest with him about their feelings. Clearly they’ve still got a ways to go in terms of figuring out how to make this thing between them work.

They may not have the ability to have the conversation completely right now. But there is something Michael can say and he doesn’t want to wait.

“I want you to know, right here, surrounded by family, exhausted as fuck, and spending the entire time complaining because I want to be in bed with you instead? This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. The most settled. And it’s important to me that you know that.”

Alex doesn’t say anything, but he does relax a bit further in his chair and Michael takes that as a win. He reaches out his hand and smiles when Alex reaches back and they can lace their fingers together.

Peter obviously comes over and tries to pull Michael off of Alex, angry that he’s not the one getting all of his daddy’s attention, but they don’t let go. Michael isn’t planning on letting go of Alex ever again. And he hopes Alex feels the same way about him.

Follow up fic to be posted tonight ;)

Tagged: @callieramics @redstalkingdeath

As always, if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.

#roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex fic #fic: sunday mornings #michael guerin #alex manes #liz ortecho #doggy daddies #found family #mentions of maria deluca

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 6

Chapters: 6/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can't help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

"Do you really hate Keats that much?" Martin asks Jon, sounding faintly betrayed. They're sitting on a pile of cushions in front of Gerry's big window, while the man himself stands painting nearby.

There has been no previous mention of Keats since they arrived several hours ago, nor in the entire course of Gerry knowing them together.

Granted, he had barely been awake when they had arrived, having rolled out of bed just seconds before the knock came, but Gerry thought he had been keeping fairly decent track of the overall conversation.

He had thought Sunday brunch was a great idea when Jon suggested it during the week. Only remembering half-way through his shift the previous night that he was normally dead asleep during that time on a Sunday. But needs must, and after coffee and food, he was feeling downright perky at having two cute boys in his apartment.

Jon and Martin had settled into the pillow pile to occupy themselves while Gerry wandered off to paint, and they had spent several hours each engaged in their own artistic endeavors, simply enjoying the energy of one another's company.

Jon had started out reading but kept getting distracted by the way the light in the studio catches in Gerry's dark red hair, tied up in a chaotic messy bun, and had idly been strumming Gerry's old acoustic guitar for a while instead. Martin had been writing in a notebook, tongue often caught between his teeth in contemplation, glasses pushed up onto the top of his hair.

Jon stops playing abruptly and Gerry winces at the discordant note the guitar lets out in protest.

"I think Keats is pretty cool," offers Gerry cheerfully.

"Thank you, Gerard, very helpful," grouses Jon in return, glaring at him. Gerry blows him a kiss and returns to his canvas.

"I don't hate Keats, Martin." Jon's voice is slow and soft in the way that indicates that he's actually trying to be sensitive, "I just think he's overrated. After spending so much time in uni pouring over his boring symbolism, I'm just sick of him."

Jon's English literature degree, which Gerry remembers with some humour does not qualify him for a job at a library, had been a pain to get, and he doesn't always remember that part of his life with any great fondness.

"I know, but-" Martin cuts off abruptly and there's unexpected silence for a moment.

"Gerry, do you have a cat?" Jon's voice is incredulous and somewhat delighted at the new development.

"Yes," Gerry replies, very casually. He looks around to find that the cat has indeed wandered in and is sitting in a shaft of sunlight, black fur shining. "Jon, Martin, meet Saturn. Saturn, this is Jon and Martin."

Saturn blinks at them, before abruptly standing, showing them his butt, and then walking over to twine between Gerry's legs. Gerry deposits his painting supplies nearby and reaches down to scoop Saturn up, before carrying him over to sit with the others.

"He's not always great with new people, but hopefully he'll warm up to you. He can be a great cuddler when he wants to be." Saturn eyes them all speculatively before sitting on his own cushion and curling up in a fluffy ball.

"So he's like the Jon cat?" Martin asks, sneaking out a finger to scratch Saturn's fluffy little ears. He purrs lightly and Gerry grins to see them getting along.

"Well-" Jon splutters indignantly, face warming beneath his tan.

They both laugh and Gerry leans towards Martin to whisper conspiratorially, "He's not even embarrassed about being bad with new people. He's shy that we know how good of a cuddler he is."

Jon presses his lips together with a long-suffering expression, also reaching out a hand to pet the purring feline. Saturn rolls over towards him and gets a belly rub for his efforts.

"There we go," Gerry mutters happily. "All my favorite boys, getting along so well."

There's more sputtering from both Jon and Martin at that, but Gerry only laughs and leans over to kiss the tops of their heads.

***

Jon sighs and rubs the back of his neck, trying to release the burning tension sitting in all the joints of his spine.

It's 1 A.M. and the library is long, long closed, doors locked and lights turned out. He doesn't know how he gets here sometimes. Elias has certainly never overtly demanded he work overtime, and yet Jon always feels the need to push a little harder, do more than anyone would consider even remotely reasonable.

He accepted a while ago, that his irrational drive for perfection in this job stems from his self-doubt and fear of inadequacy.

And yet, that understanding does nothing to get him home at a reasonable hour, even when he remembers the two men who always seem to be around when he needs them.

It's unfathomable to Jon how he managed to find himself in a relationship with not one but two incredibly understanding and supportive men who love him. He considers it a downright miracle that they also seemed to be finding their way towards loving one another. Although, who wouldn't love Martin and Gerry?

He checks his watch again. Martin is definitely asleep, and even just stumbling in to lie in bed with him would disturb him. He knows the sweet man would say he doesn't mind, but he feels like if he can't get back at a reasonable hour, he doesn't deserve to sleep next to him at all.

Gerry, on the other hand, is mostly nocturnal. A quick check of his phone shows that it's actually Friday, and he is working at the bar for another hour or so.

While Jon has his phone in his hand, he opens up their text chain.

Gerry: Don't work too late. Martin and I want you functional so that we can drag you out to that street market this weekend.

Jon: I won't.

Gerry: Yes, you will. But try to keep it pre-midnight ;)

'He's awake,' Jon tells himself firmly. 'He'll be happy to see you, even if you did work even later than he predicted.'

So Jon packs up his stuff and leaves the library. He considers a cab, but it's only a few blocks and he thinks the fresh air and exercise will unlock the tension in his poor abused spine.

He arrives at the bar just before closing. Gerry is busy charming a few drunk regulars out the door with promises of undying love and that the bar will be back tomorrow afternoon. After they stumble off, he turns to find Jon walking slowly towards him. Gerry is wearing combat boots, dark jeans, and a loose leather tank top, over a lace undershirt. He has his favorite hoop in his nose, and the light glints off the many piercings in his ears.

"Why, Gerry Delano, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Gerry grins at Jon's teasing tone and echoed words, no sign of recrimination about him.

"I always am." Jon reaches Gerry at that, and they draw together, pressing tired lips against each other gently.

Gerry's hair has faded out a bit from the moody red, and Jon slips his hands into his hair to hold him close for a moment longer. They rock together on the street for a long, frozen moment.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Gerry asks, pulling away and sliding his hands down Jon's arms to connect their fingers.

"I missed you," Jon confesses shakily, emotion spilling out of his voice.

"Good, I missed you too." Gerry drags him into the bar and fills the air with stories from his shift while he and his colleagues clean for the evening, closing up the bar.

They walk home arm in arm, Gerry flirting with him mercilessly. Jon sheds the day's tension as they go, and by the time they arrive at Gerry's loft, he's warm and relaxed.

He supposes he should probably go back to his own flat, but it's not a place he spends the night very often anymore, and he fears the creeping insomnia that will take him without Martin and Gerry around to soothe him into sleep. Besides, Gerry is right here with him, and he seems so pleased to have him around.

"Are you going to paint now?" Jon asks as they shed their work clothes. Jon is sorry to see the lace shirt go, but Gerry makes up for it by simply throwing a kimono over his bare chest. He throws him a T-shirt, so Jon wears that and his boxers as they settle on the couch. Gerry is still wearing his jeans, but both their feet are bare as they tangle on the coffee table.

"I'm not sure, do you want to?" Gerry asks as he lights a cigarette and offers Jon one.

"What? Do I want to paint?" Jon's voice is taken aback. He takes the cigarette and lights it.

Gerry shrugs as if it's obvious. "Sure, you used to draw with me when we were younger."

"Yes, but…"

"But what, Jonathon? You're too old to paint now? Too proper and straight-laced to get charcoal under your nails? No more piercings, no more creativity?" Gerry sways into his shoulder, drawing smoke into his lungs and letting it out as he speaks.

"No, it's not that." Jon grouses back. Gerry hums derisively in return. "I just don't see the point of wasting your drawing paper when you can do that." Jon gestures wildly towards Gerry's most recently completed painting.

Gerry eyes it critically. It's the commission that he's been slogging over petulantly. It's large and impressively done, he can accept that, but he doesn't like it very much. He hates the subject and composition Peter Lukas has demanded and compensated by pouring all his best technique into it. It makes him sad and sullen to look at, and Gerry will be relieved when it's finally gone.

"For every painting like that I've ever done, Jon," Gerry spills all his affection into the name, and Jon can feel it, "I've done a thousand ridiculous sketches and colour studies. Art is time, and diligence and joy as much as it ever is masterpieces. You don't sit down one day and magically just know how to be a maestro."

Jon looks over and up at him with big green eyes. Gerry can't help but lean over and slide his hand into Jon's hair, pressing their lips together for a moment. "So Mr. Sims. Can I tempt you to make some art with me?"

***

What they create in those soft early morning hours can only generously be called art, even Gerry's efforts. But they laugh and kiss and somehow get covered in charcoal and acrylic paint. Gerry even allows Jon to choose the Spotify playlist. Slow piano music with nature sounds play softly in the background of their impromptu art party, reminding Gerry of nothing so much as Jon himself.

The dawn is just breaking through Gerry's massive bank of windows when he allows Jon to drag him off to bed, and they collapse together in the soft morning light.

***

Late the next morning, Martin lets himself into the flat and bounces down onto the bed between them, sending Saturn flying off in a huff.

"So, I heard there was a slumber party. I brought breakfast."

"Fuck off," Gerry slurs, but rather undermines his own point when he pulls Martin down and tucks himself around him. Jon does the same from the other side, and Martin finds himself in the middle of a very sleepy man sandwich.

Gerry seems to instantly fall back asleep, but Jon eventually drags himself to consciousness, even buried in Martin's neck. "What's time?"

"Almost ten," he responds, very cheerfully.

"WHAT-" Jon flies out of bed in a blind panic, desperately looking for his phone, which is dead when he finds it anyway. "I'm already so fucking late!"

Gerry groans.

"Relax Jon." Martin tries to soothe him but is hindered by the fact that Gerry is still clinging to him in a very enjoyable way. "Gerry, love, let me go. Jon is having a meltdown."

"How unusual," Gerry mutters very unsupportively, Jon manages to notice. He flops over onto his other side and attempts to bury himself in pillows instead of Martin.

"Jon, breathe." Swinging up to sit on the edge of the bed, Martin uses his best man-disaster steadying tone. Gerry has come to realize what that tone is, but he doesn't mention it to anyone. "It's Saturday."

Jon slumps and drops the pants he was desperately trying to wrangle himself into.

"It's Saturday?" He asks.

"It's Saturday," Gerry confirms from the pillow fort.

Jon glares at Martin in a very put upon way. Martin smiles at him brightly.

He turns and wanders off to the bathroom in an effort to collect himself. Martin resumes his spot in the middle of the bed, and drags Gerry towards him, tucking himself into his back.

"Hmmm. So much noise on a weekend." The goth mutters as he attempts to resettle himself in Martin's arms.

"I'll make it up to you later," Martin promises, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

"You let that happen on purpose, didn't you." It's not a question. "Just to see that look on his face."

"Yes," Martin says, chuckling into Gerry's pillow.

"Very good, sir."

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #gerard keay #also on ao3 #fic

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sheliesshattered · 3 years

Text

Welp.

I made that #process thoughts post earlier, and just as soon as I’d finished it, Kitty had a four-alarm-fire sort of emergency that took Jack and I working together quite a long time to sort out. Personal stuff on impending loss of a pet below the cut. Thoughts and prayers and the like are appreciated, but it is what it is.

The emergency was a whole horrid thing, the sort of digestive failure that can happen with end-stage illness, but I won’t burden anyone else with the details. Working together we were able to take care of it and get Kitty comfortable again, though it probably took about an hour and a half. She’s resting now, a bit miserable but doing okay, all things considered. We knew the end was rapidly approaching, but that just made it really clear that we’re down to hours, not days anymore.

In the middle of all that, realizing how sick and uncomfortable our poor old cat is, I asked Jack to let me handle her and instead go make the phone call to set up the appointment for her final arrangements. Our vet recommended a really wonderful company that offers a service to allow pets pass at home, and between how sick she is and the restrictions for covid meaning we can’t even go into the vet’s office with her, it is by far the best answer to our situation.

That’s scheduled for 1pm tomorrow, and I am... doing okay with it, I suppose. I was up with her in the middle of the night last night -- as I have been every single night for more than a year now, these last few weeks have just required a bit more hands-on attention from me to get her through her routine of eating and using her box every ~4 hours -- and I spent the 30 minutes or so that I was awake with her engaged in my own strange style of prayer.

I went back to actively embracing my pagan and witchy leanings about three years ago, and since then have established a very close relationship with two goddesses in particular. I don’t talk about it much here, or with anyone. Jack knows a bit about it, my sister is a little aware of it, but otherwise it’s just a very personal thing. When my grandfather died a year and a half ago, I took my grief to these two goddesses in particular, and received quite a lot of comfort from them at the time. In the last week or so I’ve been thinking a lot about the answers to prayer I got from them back then, and thinking how similar it is with Kitty now.

But last night I got that and then some, and some advice I really needed to hear, I think. Advice about not trying to control life and death with a clenched fist, and knowing when to let go. So by the time I woke up this morning, I was feeling ready to face facts that Kitty wasn’t going to make it to the end of the week -- we’d already figured she wouldn’t make it to the end of the month, but have been reluctant to pick a day. Jack and I had a long conversation about it, and I told him about the answers I got last night, and we made plans to call the at-home service later in the day, and take Kitty for a carried adventure outside to see the birds and the trees one last time, and just roll with whatever timing the service was able to offer us.

And then she got emergency-sick, and the rest of the day ended up being about that. She hasn’t been well enough to be moved, other than changing out her bedding frequently (so much laundry has been done already, and more will be done in the next 18 hours), so carrying her around outside is off the table for right now. If she seems to be feeling up to it tomorrow might we might try for it, but we might also just spend some time with her on the porch, instead.

At one point late this afternoon -- after a second round of clean-up and a third round of laundry -- Jack told me I didn’t need to feel guilty if the thought of all this just being over was more of a relief than anything. And I was able to confidently say that I don’t feel guilty, and that a lot of that is probably down to having that moment of prayer to work through all this before the emergency-sick hit. This has been an exhausting day, but I’m glad to do it for Kitty because of how much I love her. The decision to put an end to things tomorrow isn’t because I’m tired of dealing with her, it isn’t about my comfort at all. It’s all about Kitty’s comfort, and not drawing this out for her any longer than we have to.

I know I am going to be sad when it comes down to the last hours and minutes tomorrow. I have already cried a lot, and I know I’ll cry some more. I’ll be sad this time tomorrow evening, and the day after that, and the week after that. We have no intention of getting another pet again anytime soon, probably not at all as long as we still live in this little place (if/when we have the big life change of moving to a bigger place with a bunch of land, we’ll re-discuss then). It is what it is, and what it is is the death of the wonderful little creature who has put up with me calling myself her mother for the last eleven and a half years, who I have seen almost every day of those years. I’m going to be sad, there’s no getting around that.

But I also know now that I’m not going to question if I rushed into this decision because of selfish reasons, if I cut her life short when she might have had a few months yet if I’d just been willing to do more to help her. I have done everything I can physically do, I have done everything within my witchy powers to do. My goal was to get her past Jack’s birthday, which was last week, and give her as much care and comfort as I can, and a gentle passing. I have succeeded on every front. That’s the best I could possibly hope for, and while I will absolutely miss her, I’m not going to be carrying any guilt or second thoughts going forward.

I think I’ll probably end up sleeping a lot after tomorrow afternoon, just to recover from the physical toll this has taken on me. I am going to try my very best not to let that tip over into a listless depression, and I think having Christmas plans with Jack to look forward to, and finishing the story I’m working on, and various on-going craft projects will all help. I’m going to try to keep my queue functioning here, but I may scale back the number of posts for awhile, to give myself a breather, and I may be slow to respond to any messages.

Thank you to everyone who has expressed sympathy about Kitty’s situation. The friendships I’ve established here on Tumblr and over on Discord have been such a lifeline in this weird year, and I know it’ll be a comfort as I come out of this, too. ❤️

#personal #please don't reblog #this is my real life #tw: pet death #tw: grief #2020 mood #Kitty Pryde #somehow in between clean-up 1 and clean-up 2 Jack and I managed to take a break nearby and edit the first ~4500 words of First Christmas #but it'll be a minor miracle if I'm able to get any writing done today #I think I'm going to go make myself hot chocolate and curl up with a comfort movie of some sort #❤️

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sennextheassasinkingoflight · 3 years

Text

Not Anymore?

Cursed (TV 2020) General audience pre relationship Lancewain. Takes place in the same universe as Sunsets, and before it. Both can be read as stand alones.

Cross posted here: AO3

"Sorry." Gawain says softly, kneeling beside the grand piano and picking up the scattered papers. The sound of music cuts of abruptly the last discordant notes rining in the quiet room around them. "I didn't mean to startle you. It's just, you were playing so beautifully I didn't want to interrupt you."

He picks the stack of papers and the sketchbook up off the floor and hands them to the young man sitting on the piano bench. It takes him a moment to respond, eyes blown wide with fear or shock and rimmed with dark eyeliner. Peeking out from beneath the hood of his sweatshirt are dark curls. Gawain recognizes him from the english course he had last semester. Of course, that was the point.

"Lancelot right?" He asks as he stands, papers still held aloft. Lancelot's eyes track the movement, deep wells of blue threatening to drown him if he looks any longer. Finally he let's go of the stack of papers in his hands certain they won't return to the floor. Lancelot nods at him.

"What were you playing? I'm not sure I've heard it before." He asks in what he hopes is a conversational tone. Lancelot turns to the piano and folds down the cover. Then he stands, pushes his papers into his bag and steps behind the bench. Head bowed, turned away from Gawaine while he tucks the bench in. Lancelot responds quietly,

"You wouldn't have. I wrote it." The words are barely more than a mumble as he stares at the floor. "It's rubbish anyways. Sorry if I bothered you." He continues quickly thrusting his hands into his pockets as he turns to leave.

"No it wasn't! Lancelot that was beautiful, just like the backdrop you painted for the play last semester." Oh, gods, had he just said that outloud. That was not how this was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to know anything about this man. Now he probably seemed like a creep.

Lancelot stops and looks over his shoulder at him, the look is somewhere between disbelief and a glare. Under its intensity Gawain can't stop himself from continuing.

"I just didn't realize you were a musician as well as an artist." He smiles brightly and rubs the back of his neck nervously. This was going so well.

"I'm not." Comes an off-handed and casual reply.

"Sounded to me like you are."

"Not anymore. I should go." Lancelot tucks his chin and holds his bag closer to his side.

"Wait please. I'm sorry. It's just, uh well... I saw your ad on the bulletin board and recognized you from that English course last semester. I was going to text later but since I ran into you... Are you still looking for a roomate?"

Lancelot turns back towards him, looks him up and down. Then worries his lower lip, rather adorably, between his teeth. Selfconsciously Gawain straightens his posture and fidgets with the strap of his backpack. He'd always found Lancelot attractive, but right now he feels a little like a trapped animal. Moments ago Lancelots eyes had been pools of refreshing water, now they were daggers made of ice, calculating and certain.

With a stiff nod Lancelot breaks the tense silence between them,"Yeah, I am."

Gawain settles his weight On his back foot, waiting. He's uncertain what the next step is.

"Soooo….?" He shifts his weight forward slightly. Its unlike him to be this outwardly nervous but Lancelot seems to calm as he observes the demeanor.

Lancelot licks his lips then loosens the grip on his bag and shrugs.

"I've still got boxes everywhere, but you could come check the place out. No one else has really been…." He pauses shrugs noncomittely again, " interested after meeting me."

"Let's get coffee on the way." He responds with a smile. He needs a place, and Lancelot needs a roomate.

It's two days later as they're carrying boxes in that Lancelot asks him why he needed a place so desperately that he was already agreeing to anything Lancelot said about living arrangements halfway to the apartment. He sighs. Lancelot is not very talkative but when he does ask questions it's like he can see exactly what you don't want him too.

"My parents kicked me out." He says simply, hoping that's the end of it.

"Why?" The softness in Lancelots voice is starteling. It's quiet enough he could pretend he hadn't heard, instead it compels him to answer.

"I come from a long line of lawyers and politicians. I want to be a doctor. My parents didn't appreciate that very much, or that I'm not attending the school that they chose for me."

Lancelot sets down his box on the dresser. And turns to him with scowl, head tilted to the side. He shakes his head and let's out a sigh. Whatever he was going to say he chooses not too.

"That the last of it then?" He says instead and Gawain nods, just what he had acquired last semester in his dorm and what he'd been lugging around in his car after leaving home.

"Lance? Maybe I'm prying a bit… but what did you mean not anymore? I saw your keyboard in the living room and I'm just curious. You dont have to tell me though.." He rushes out the last bit fast enough he almost stumbles over his words and Lance shakes his head softly.

"Quid pro quo huh?" Lancelot raises an eyebrow at him and then brushes invisible dirt from his band tee and crosses his arms. Gawain can only shrug and half turns to read the label of the box behind him.

"I played with a group of friends from junior high through highschool. Only, I realized I wasn't a friend to them, just someone who could play the instrument they wanted played and design flyers and album art. I stopped playing after that."

Gawain nods. They used him like a commodity, ignored his humanity and in the process stripped him of a joy and a talent. He hears soft foot falls as Lance curts back across the room. Gawain smiles and turns to Lance, now at the door.

"For whatever it's worth, I think you play wonderfully and you shouldn't let their mistreatment of you steal something you obviously enjoy."

Lancelots eyes fall to the ground and he worries his lip, fidgets his fingers against the door jam.

"I'll….consider that," anything else he was going to say cut off by Gawains phone dinging.

"Ahh pizza guy is here. Says he doesn't know which apartment."

"They never do."

If it was possible to kill someone by rolling ones eyes, Lancelot would have done so as he left to find the delivery guy.

#cursed tv #fanfiction #lancewaain #prequal to sunsets #college au #gawain #lancelot #the green knight #the weeping monk #why can i sometimes put in a read more on mobile and not other times #might just cry over this #im sorry

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fatalezr · 3 years

Text

Secret State - Part 5

"Mr Beresford and I were having an interesting conversation"

Rebecca looked between Marcus and George. Marcus's eyes were narrowed and his fist was curled into a ball. He seethed annoyance. "I think it's time for you to go home now, George," he said.

George did not move from his seat. "On the contrary, I believe I need to speak to Miss Davidson immediately, is that not right?"

Rebecca opened her mouth but Marcus gently pulled her arm and she found herself face to face with him. "You don't have to do this" he told her, "you really don't".

She found herself torn. She was still cold and wet after running from the Passion nightclub and the adrenaline from her fight was subsiding, giving way to just pain from some of the bruising hits she had taken on the ground. She squeezed Marcus's arm but pulled herself to the middle of the room. "Perhaps I can change and then all three of us can chat?" she offered.

"By all means," George said. She turned to Marcus, who nodded.

"Right," she said, "and maybe...maybe a cuppa and a bite too?"

"Sure," Marcus said. Rebecca squeezed his arm again. Giving him a task to do would keep him and George from each other's throats. She had some spare clothes in Marcus's bedroom and she stripped off her wet pantsuit, shoulder holster and underwear, opting for a pair of baggy joggers and a large hooded sweatshirt instead. She rinsed her face in the bathroom and took a few seconds to stand by the radiator, enjoying it's warmth. She looked at herself in the mirror and tried to sort her hair. It was time to play the diplomat.

When she returned to the living room, Marcus had followed through on his promise with a cheese and ham toastie and a cup of tea waiting for her. She sat on the sofa, Marcus to her left and George on the armchair to her right. They both looked at her expectantly whilst she took a bite from the toastie. It was delicious. Being a spy certainly built your appetite, she thought. She kept the two men waiting until the silence became farcical and she started to giggle. George joined her and Marcus too. 'Yes' she thought, 'time to bring these two together'.

She took another bite and began telling them of her story throughout the day - their arrival at Heathrow, the uneventful afternoon in the hotel, Umarov and his guard heading to the Passion club, their meeting with Romanov and her eventual escape and fight with the bodyguard. Both men listened respectfully and in silence until she finished. Marcus was still silent afterwards, a look of deep thought on his face while George began questioning the details of her story, helping her recall any details that might be useful to them.

"And the recording?" he asked finally, "have you listened to it?"

"Not yet" Rebecca said. She took her phone out of her pocket and played it. The audio was not perfect but you could hear the deep Russian voices despite the techno music playing from downstairs in the club.

"Excellent work" George said, listening to it, "most excellent indeed. I'm very proud of you, Rebecca".

"Proud?" Marcus finally spoke and leaned forward, "she almost gets fucking killed and you're proud?". There was an anger in his voice that Rebecca had not heard before and a far cry from the kind and gentle man he was normally.

"Yes, proud". George's voice was still calm. "You successfully completed your mission and gained valuable intelligence".

"And almost got taken by a foreign state in the process" Marcus was not letting this go.

"But Mr Beresford," George countered, "at the weekend you knowingly walked into a terrorist attack. You were the first man in a building that could have been wired with explosives, seeking to find an enemy that may have been armed with any kind of weaponry".

"That's different" Marcus argued, cutting George off, "I'm fucking trained for that shit, I signed up for it and I'm backed by my fucking team behind me. This - this shit...you wouldn't care if anything happened to Bec. She's just a fucking pawn to you".

George narrowed his eyes and looked at Marcus. "I assure you that is not so".

"Look Bec" Marcus ignored him and took her hands. Rebecca was aware of the tension in the room, "you know you're a badass right? A badass boss who I love more than anything, but look, this isn't Mulvaney. This isn't you and Kate and me and Sunita taking on a crime lord. This is just some fucking elitist twat getting you to do his dirty work that he wouldn't have the guts to do himself". He let go of her arms. "I'm begging you, let it go. Walk away. You don't need to do any of this".

Rebecca felt tears well in her eyes. He spoke to her with a passion and a love that no-one else in her life could compare to. She considered what he was saying, that George and MI5 were using her as a disposable asset. She remembered the way George had helped her after her first encounter at Webster Communications. The two didn't add up and yet she knew that Marcus was speaking from a place of genuine concern. It was all far too messed up and emotional. She thought of the lives she had helped save at Borough Market but also of the lives lost at the power stations, the growing crowds of extremists in the streets, the angry discord on social media and on television. Could she really walk away now, after everything?

"You're right" she told Marcus, "I don't need to do this....but....I want to. I can't just leave it be now, not after everything that's happened". She saw the disappointment in his face. "But I love you" she told him sincerely, putting her hand on his face, "I love you and I want this to work too".

"Me too" he said, "and I'm not trying to wrap you up in cotton wool and all that patriarchal bullshit Bec, I'm not. It's just....this....I can't tell you I'm OK with it when I'm not".

"I know" she said, and a tear fell from her eye as she spoke, "but I need to do this anyway and I think we....we probably both need to take some time....to think things through". She could not believe she was turning him away and yet she found herself doing so. He looked crestfallen too and she kissed him. "I love you Marcus" she told him, "I really do".

"I love you too" he said, "I'll always be in your corner Bec, always".

"I know" she said, and pulled away. She used her sleeve to wipe tears from her eyes before turning to George, who had remained sitting and silent throughout. "You want to go analyse the recording?"

He nodded and stood to go get his coat. Rebecca went to Marcus's room and packed up her wet clothes and gun. She opened the drawer where the rest of her things were and considered packing them too but stopped. No, she thought, I'll be back, we'll be back. She returned to the living room and kissed Marcus again. It was painful but she also knew she had another request for him. "Don't tell Kate" she asked him, "please".

He paused for a few seconds but nodded and she knew he would keep his word. He squeezed her hand as she walked out, neither one of them wanting to say goodbye. There were tears in his eyes too but he still attempted to smile and wink at her as she left with George.

------

"A bird called Harmony here to see you, sir?"

Rebecca heard the bartender talking on the phone and wasn't thrilled to hear herself referred to as a 'bird' but pretended not to notice. She looked into the security camera above the bar to make sure she was showing her face clearly - she had a feeling that the man she was meeting would recognise him. The bartender carried on talking over the phone but eventually hung up and turned back to her. "Sure" he said, walking out from the bar and unlocking a door marked 'private' that was nearby, "you can go down".

Rebecca thanked him and headed down the corridor, considering how much had changed since her last trip here. For starters, she wasn't armed this time. She wore a smart red dress over her tights and carried her coat in her arms. She reached the door at the end of the corridor and entered. "Hello Simon" she said, smiling.

Simon Selwick rose from his chair wearing a bright pink shirt and electric blue trousers. "Ahh!" he cried in a flamboyant manner that made it seem like he always thought he was performing in a cabaret, "my dear Rebecca! How charming to see you". He kissed her on both cheeks.

"How's business this winter Simon?" she asked him.

"Well" he said, looking rather pleased with himself, "it turns out that this is now the hottest place to spend a Friday night in London now certain other establishments are out of business". He winked at her and Rebecca knew he was still thankful to her and Kate for torching Kieran Mulvaney's high-end brothel a few months ago. "All strictly above board, of course", he added.

"Don't worry Simon, I'm not here as a detective this afternoon" she assured him.

"I am glad to hear it - far too late on a Friday for such things" he joked with her. He beckoned her to sit on his leather sofa. "You should stick around for this evening - lot of A-list celebrities in town for their winter shopping. I could happily make an introduction?" he offered.

"Thanks, but I'm afraid this isn't a purely social visit".

"Oh Rebecca" he said, with an overly camp disappointment in his voice, "you work too hard my girl".

Rebecca giggled and shook her head. "I need your help" she said, "I'm wondering if you've ever had the patronage of a certain Arkady Romanov?"

Selwick looked shocked. "Are you asking me to reveal the details of a possible customer? I could never do that" he said playfully.

"Oh please" said Rebecca, playing along and fluttering her eyelashes at him, "not even for a good friend".

"Well I suppose if I knew it could remain between us...." Rebecca nodded and Selwick giggled. "...then I could tell you that yes, Mr Romanov has been known to frequent some of my establishments and from time to time enquire about our other...executive services".

'Executive Services' was Selwick's polite way of talking about his range of high-class escorts that could sometimes be spotted in the car with various celebrities and high-powered individuals as they attended a gala or function. Rebecca had seen several glamorous models next to Romanov in her research and she was glad that her hunch had proved correct. "And what do your executive services think of him?" Rebecca pressed.

"That he's a perfectly nice and genial fellow. He doesn't really ask them for much, just a nice bit of company for an evening whilst he dines. Sometimes the evening progresses further...other times it does not. He pays on time, treats them well...a perfectly good and happy customer". He looked at her with concern. "Please tell me I can keep relying on him as a good and happy customer?"

"Don't worry about that" she assured him, "he'll still be a loyal paying customer for a long time. Where does he take the girls? Have they ever noticed anything out of the ordinary?"

Selwick thought long and hard. "Dinners mostly...ballet once or twice when a Russian group is in town....to Wembley a few times for the football...." His face furrowed, "in fact" he said, remembering, "this was a little strange from my remembrance. Normally he's pretty consistent in wanting girls who can speak Russian, someone he can have a conversation with but I think on two of those nights..." He got up, walked behind his desk and pulled out a black folder from beneath it. "Let me see, let me see...ah yes, here we are. Yes, on a couple of those occasions he specifically requested an English girl with no Russian".

Rebecca frowned - what did that mean? "How good is his English?"

"Pretty poor from what I've heard," Selwick said, "which is why I remember my girl telling me it was a slightly strange evening. He disappeared for quite a while during the match, missed a full half of it from what I recall. Is this the kind of strangeness that interests you?"

"It is," Rebecca said. It made sense to her - a non-Russian girl would not understand any conversations he was having and she supposed a match at Wembley would see all eyes trained on the pitch rather than if anyone was missing from the luxury boxes. "Has he made any requests lately?"

Selwick checked his notes. "It appears he has - for Tuesday evening during the England and Turkey friendly. Ah yes, English speaker only please it says".

"Have you got a girl lined up?"

Selwick sighed - he understood the subtext behind Rebecca's question. "I had" he began to say, "but I suppose she might feel poorly over the weekend and have to be replaced". He spoke slowly and deliberately. "He does...erm...like to inspect the girls before we make a formal match...purely for his...erm...aesthetic pleasure".

"He likes to inspect?"

"He likes to see the girl...in action generally". Simon threw his arms up. "I do not presume to judge the wonderful nature of my clients, you see, if they are honest, if they pay on time, if they treat my staff well, who am I to say what a man might find desirable?"

Rebecca sighed. "And when is his next inspection due?"

Selwick gulped. "Tomorrow evening".

Rebecca smiled. "Then I guess I'm seeing you tomorrow?" Selwick nodded. "And you said I don't come around here enough Simon". She gave him a wink and he laughed nervously.

------

"A bit of oomph?"

Rebecca looked back at the woman, who was looking at her breasts as if sizing them up under her jumper. "Yes" Rebecca repeated to her, "a bit more oomph please". Despite being on her own, she could sense that if Kate were with her, she would be smirking.

"I know just the thing". The young shop assistant was thorough and walked Rebecca through some of her options. She was back in the Agent Provocateur store in London that she had gone to with Kate over the summer. She remembered how that day had ended - with them killing a couple of Russian spies for George and then getting drunk at a local pub. She still had Kate's words ringing in her ears telling her that she needed larger breasts and she cursed herself that she was still listening to that, but also admitting that if it could help her seduce one of the world's richest businessmen, a bit of extra 'oomph' might come in handy.

She had finally gotten round to withdrawing some of the cash from her MI5 account and was using some shopping time to treat herself and refresh her wardrobe with some high-class pieces. Nicer underwear was a way she could do that, she reasoned. It wouldn't be obvious to her colleagues but instead was something she and Marcus could enjoy. She frowned thinking about Marcus. They had exchanged a few messages but she knew that for now the best thing for both might be to take a few days apart. She had been non-commital to her mother when she rang offering him a chance to join them for a family Christmas in a few weeks. December was around the corner and she knew her family would be in festive mode already with a tree assembled and lit up in the front room.

She went into the fitting room and tried on several of the sets that the shop assistant had helped her pick out. She used the time alone to think back on the previous week. After she had left Marcus's house on Tuesday, she and George had travelled straight to Thames House where the recording from her phone could be uploaded and analysed. They had next spoke on Thursday. Once the audio had been cleaned up, a translator had been sent to work and a transcript provided. Romanov had been asking Umarov when his next payment would come for him and what seemed like another group of people he was working with. Umarov calmly responded that all would be settled soon. Romanov seemed disappointed until Umarov had mentioned that something called 'Redbeard' would be moving to the next phase soon and to make sure all arrangements were in place for the next meeting he was hosting, before a telling joke about him bringing a different girl to each one led George and Rebecca to expect he was known for using escorts. They resolved she would meet Simon Selwick to find out if he knew about these supposed secret meetings Romanov was attending and to try and infiltrate Rebecca amongst it.

'And now here I am, finding an outfit or two to try and seduce someone again' thought Rebecca, finding the thought amusing but also painful as she was now alone with no Kate to support her. She tried on several matching sets and a couple of suspender belts that she knew could also double as a makeshift holster if needs be. One or two bras certainly gave her the extra lift she had been looking for and the rest would be perfectly acceptable underneath her work clothes. She admired her figure in the mirror and smiled with confidence. She could look really good when she wanted to.

After paying, she wandered around some other shops in Covent Garden, buying a couple of cocktail dresses that could look good at festive parties, some smarter shoes around the office and other work clothes that could project confidence as a detective. London's streets were busy with people doing shopping and by late afternoon the Christmas lights were on and the streets were packed. Rebecca took the bus back to her home and ate some food. Simon had told her to report to one of his clubs in Mayfair at 8:30pm so she had some time to get ready first.

She spent some time preparing her hair and makeup and started to wonder how on earth she could seduce one of the most powerful men in the city. What should she do? 'What would Kate do?' she asked herself. Kate would be perfect for this kind of situation but the idea of having a conversation with her would just lead to more questions. She dressed in a lacy black set she had bought, slipped on a black dress whose skirt came down to her knees and headed down to Mayfair.

Simon Selwick was not at his usual club - this one was a much more discreet affair with no sign on the front of it. The building was of the old style of a former hotel that now housed offices for consultants and lawyers upstairs but there was a staircase to the side of the building that led to the basement area. Selwick welcomed Rebecca and led her down the stairs. Everything was modern, with a series of discreet rooms that had different coloured hues to them. Selwick led Rebecca to a changing room with mirrored lights on the wall where she could put her coat down.

"Oh don't you look gorgeous!" he told her as she revealed her black dress. "Now, wait here and I'll send for you when he arrives". Rebecca thanked him and settled into a seat. A few other women popped in from time to time to adjust makeup and for one to reapply some clothing that had got lost. They gave Rebecca a sly eye but kept to themselves.

After twenty minutes of waiting, Selwick re-appeared in the room, carrying a tray with a champagne bucket on it. "He's in our blue room" he said, "now go put on a show and seal the deal".

Rebecca breathed deeply and clenched her fist. Time to do this, she thought. She picked up the tray and tried to walk confidently out of the room. The Blue Room was exactly as it's name suggested. There was a neon blue light all around the edges of the room casting light onto metallic tables and a blue sofa. Romanov was alone in the room, wearing a simple grey jumper and blue jeans. He was texting on his phone as Selwick and Rebecca entered but looked up at her as she walked in. He looked at her and she smiled.

"This is Harmony" Selwick introduced her before bowing his head and leaving the room. Romanov kept looking at Rebecca with a blank face as she set the champagne bottle down and poured a glass. He looked disinterested in it and picked up his phone. Rebecca saw there was a pole on the back wall and walked slowly towards it, trying to make her rear swing as she did.

She reached the pole and slowly swung herself around it. She had never learned to pole dance and this was the first time she found herself regretting that fact. She faced Romanov and instead decided to strip, slowly removing the straps of her dress off her shoulder. She turned around and undid the zip on her dress before dropping on her knees. 'This is harder than it looks in the films' she thought. Why had she not rehearsed a routine? She stood up tall again and eased the dress off her, letting it drop to the floor and revealing the black lace that was hidden beneath. Rebecca turned around - Romanov was looking at his phone again and not paying her any attention.

She tried to dance slowly, running her hands over her breasts and moving her body. She stroked her stockinged legs. Romanov glanced up but appeared bored. Rebecca cursed herself - she was losing him.

'What would Kate do?' she asked herself, and her colleague's voice seemed to magically appear in her ears. "Be a badass and take control of the situation". 'Take control' thought Rebecca, 'take control'. The revelation hit her. She flung herself around the pole with force and used the momentum when she let go to stride towards Romanov. He looked up from his phone just as she was almost on him. Rebecca grabbed the phone from his hand, tossed it behind her and straddled him. She bit her lip and stared him in the eye - he could not look away. She grinded her crotch into his and felt him stir. She reached behind her for the champagne glass and drank some, her mouth inches from his face.

He was staring at her, almost transfixed. He said something softly but Rebecca could not understand it. He looked at her. "Russian - you speak?" Rebecca shook her head. He nodded, as if in thought. "You..like...er...football?"

"No" Rebecca whispered softly back to him, "but I do like you". She pulled on his jumper and kissed him passionately. He kissed her back but then broke away.

"Da" he said, and pushed her gently off him. He wandered to the door of the room and exited. Rebecca observed him talking to a man in a black suit outside before the door shut again. She wondered what had just happened - had she managed to blow it? What did it mean? She sat back on the sofa and decided to finish the glass of champagne that she had started drinking.

A few minutes passed, the only noise being the loud music that filled the underground club and rooms. She was about to leave when Simon Selwick returned. He looked at her and smiled. "Well you certainly made quite the impression!" he said jovially, "and you've earned yourself a ticket to Wembley with him on Tuesday". He walked to Rebecca's table and poured himself a glass of champagne. "I'd call that a pretty good night's work, wouldn't you?"

Rebecca cheersed his glass and smiled back. She had found her way in.

#hitwoman #silencer assassin #silencer hitwoman #women with guns #story #secretstate #female assassin

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult.

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better.

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face.

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions.

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery.

Wait, hold up, it gets worse.

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that.

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance. I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

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illusionsofdreaming · 4 years

Note

Just saw your post stating you take summoner requests so...Prince Xander confessing their affections to their Summoner pls? I refuse to go on anon I will die of fluff in public like I should.

Notes: *SALUTES TO THE BRAVE ONE*

Ft: Xander

“I give!” You collapsed backwards on the dusty training grounds, throwing aside the training sword with much more vehemence than it probably deserved as you wheezed pathetically for breath.

It had barely been fifteen minutes but you’ve been introduced to the ground more times than you cared to admit. Everything hurts and you’re sure your bruises have bruises.

A shadow fell over you. “You’ve improved.”

You scoffed, glaring balefully at the prince who didn’t even have the decency to pretend to be slightly out of breath. And after dragging you into this mess in the first place.

“Yeah I think I’ll stick to studying tactic books instead.” You groaned as you slung an arm across your forehead.

Curiosity had you agreeing to indulge in his request to spar but unlike most warriors here who seem to learn deep things about their opponents in trading blows you gained no such special insight, only painful reminders that you’re still not hero material.

Xander chuckled as he sat down next to you, golden perms still as perfect as ever. The Nohrian Prince opted to dress down for the bout, dressed in simple loose white shirt and tanned pants, which you observed did not take away from his regal look. It looked nice on him.

It was still early in the morning so the training grounds were empty aside from the two of you. The silence observed as you caught your breath however was not at all awkward. It seems the time you’ve spent around one another have made you comfortable to each other’s presence.

You were close to drifting off when Xander spoke. “After all this time I have yet to thank you properly.”

You blinked awake, drowsiness dispersing at his words. “What?”

“For bringing me into the order,” he clarified. “despite having fought on opposite sides once.”

You turned your head to look at him and thought about all the other shady heroes in your company who probably warranted some serious background checks. “You’re thanking the wrong person, it’s all Breidablik’s idea.” And you delighted in the chuckle it drew from him.

Still, you believed his words probably deserved better than your poor attempts at levity. “It’s a feeling I suppose.” You started slowly as the gravity of the topic seeped into you and you had to pause to sort through your thoughts on the matter. “War has always been larger than the individual, I cannot judge a person fighting for their ideals when we’re doing the same. I saw how you treated Veronica, I believed you’re not a bad person at heart.”

“That’s..” He seemed to think about your words. “Pardon my words but that’s quite naive.”

Ouch. You winced and looked away. Goes to show that not everyone can spout idealistic words and get away with it like most of those blue haired lords. You forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so. I am still quite new to this.”

“But I don’t dislike it.”

You were moving to sit up but paused when he said that, surprised as you turned to him and found him smiling.

“From the way you struggle with weapons, to your frantic reactions on the battlefields and genuine treatment of others, I can see that you came from a world that’s peaceful, without bloodshed and war.”

“We’re not without war.” You corrected softly, crossing your arms around your knees. “We’ve had wars so great it encapsulated the entire world, it scarred the lands and lost so much... Even now there’s still discord in certain parts but at least most of us can claim to have the privilege of being able to grow up in an environment where we do not have to face the effects of one.” It was true. Perhaps some heroes might think this made you weak and vulnerable in this world. After all, back home you never had to lead lives, you didn’t have to worry about survival, you never had to watch people you know get cut down before your eyes.

Warmth blanketed you and you reached up to touch the material, you briefly wondered when he got up to grab his cape from the side.

The prince sat down, his shoulder brushed against yours and despite yourself you felt comforted by the contact. “To be able to live without fear of tomorrow and to grow up without the need to be adept at wielding any kind of weapon or staff.. That’s what I wish to bring to my people as well.“

It’s an ambitious dream. A dream that, you knew, many of the heroes here shared. “It’s not going to be easy.” It’s going to take a lot of sacrifices and bloodshed. It might not even be accomplished by him. You didn’t have to voice that out since you knew the prince would understand this far too well.

You found yourself desperately wanting to understand the look in his eyes as he glanced down at his hands. You wondered what he saw in his palms, in the scars and callouses of his fingers. “There are days where reaching this dream seemed impossible. Times when the stain of lives stolen wouldn’t leave my hands. The burden of my decisions and role crushes like a mountain and there have been moments I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve thought of giving up, to instead let others carry this weight.”

“Xander..”

“Then there’s you picking up dropped biscuits and eating them-“

Wait what- You spluttered, completely thrown by the sudden change in direction of the conversation. “That was one time and there’s this thing called the three seconds rul-“

“And losing your head when Alfonse sudden sat up-“

“There’s no such thing as magical healing in my world! I thought he died!”

Xander laughed as you grabbed his shirt to shake him and his hands wrapped over yours gently, holding you in place. “What about when you couldn’t figure out the right side of a dagger-“

“That dagger was sharp on both ends!”

“And that time you called his highness Gustav, ‘Dad’.”

Blood rushed to your face as you dropped your head against his chest in mortification. He promised to never mention that horror story ever again!

Xander’s laughter filled the air and you’re surprised there aren’t people rushing into the training grounds to investigate what’s got the normally collected Nohrian crown prince in fits. When he finally calmed down there were tears in his eyes and his cheeks were flushed.

His hand reached out to ruffle your hair which you very petulantly slapped away and he chuckled. “You’re the best example that proves that peace can be the norm, perhaps it’s not inaccurate to say that you’re an embodiment of my dream.”

For some reason you felt your cheeks flush at his words even though you knew that wasn’t what he meant. “You’ve become cheesy Xander.”

His smile was wide as he tugged you closer and you hoped he didn’t notice how your breathing stuttered. “You have that effect on me.”

Your throat is dry as you narrowed your eyes, heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears. “Are you criticising or complimenting me?” You still remembered how to sass even if everything about this situation was turning your mind blank.

His lips twitched at the corners. “I can’t begin to imagine what would prompt you to question my sincerity. I’ve only got the best compliments for you.” To which in response you scoffed at.

The smile on his face was patient and amused as he leaned over to tuck a strand of hair around your ear and warmth blossomed across your skin where his finger lingered. “You’re adorable when you’re oblivious.”

“But it’s alright. I can wait.”

#imagines #fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #fire emblem fates #feh #fe14 #fe15 #xander #fluff #confession?#summoner #uh #in typical illu style #i got sidetracked from answering the actual prompt #oops #feel free to request again if this isn't what you wanted oops #i need to stop going deep for imagine requests lmao #also this took me forever + 1 to respond to #i hope it's still relevant

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malakhai-ozera · 3 years

Text

Insatiable Collision || Khoman 💔

Discord thread featuring: Khai and Roman @romanbeckett

When: December 28th 2020

Mentions: Quentin & Aaron @aaronhart93

Description: Khai and Roman talk about about whats been going on between them. Khai finally admits he needs help and Roman confesses he has fallen in love with someone else. 😭

Trigger Warnings: Major whacks with the pain stick!!

Khai. Things between Roman and Khai had been so tense lately. Ever since their little lovers quarrel and finding out they had to move away from each other. Things just seemed to be so awkward for them. Of course they both still loved one another, and they feared loosing what they had between them. But with Khai’s current drug addiction, and Roman’s constant state of worrying about him. It was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Khai never wanted this for Roman. It was never his intention to put such a heavy weight on his boyfriends shoulders. He knew he was the cause of all this tension and he so desperately wanted to fix it. He couldn’t bare knowing that he was the reason Roman was falling into a deep depression. All he ever wanted for his best friend was to make him happy and give him the love that he deserves. Now, sitting across from him at the dinning room table. He could feel the intensity of all his mistakes. He had to do this, he had to make this right. Not only for his sake but for Roman’s as well. It was time to let go, and even though just the thought of doing that hurt so damn bad. He knew it was the best thing for the both of them. He needed to get help, and admitting that he couldn’t do that on his own was eating him up inside. “So... I know things have been kinda tense between us... Awkward even. But...” he reached across the table to take his boyfriends hand in his own as he nervously licked his lips. “I know it’s my fault. I take full responsibility. I think we’ve been needing to talk about this for a while now, and I’m so sorry I’ve been pushing it off. I’m just... I never wanted to hurt you Roman. This is just really hard for me. I think I need help” he finally admitted out loud. His eyes glossing over as he gazed across his home cooked meal into his boyfriends eyes. “I can’t keep doing this to you. You deserve so much better.”

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Had Roman known that things between him and Khai were changing? He’d be stupid not to. It was something obvious that hung in the air like a dark cloud, a pending heartbreak that neither one of them wanted to admit out loud. So, when Khai reached for him across the table, Roman knew exactly what was going to say. Still, being prepared didn’t make it sting any less, loving someone else didn’t either. Regardless of what they were both going through, at the end of the day, this was his best friend, and the first person he’d ever loved. He’d be dead inside not to feel something. His gaze shifted from Khai’s intense hazel eyes when he admitted that Ro deserved better, something he wasn’t sure he believed, but it wasn’t going to change the outcome of this conversation. “Are you breaking up with me then?” He asked, staring down at his food that now just made his stomach turn.

Khai. The pain on Roman’s face was clear as day. He would have to be blind not to see it, and right now he kinda wished he was. Not that being blind would actually make this any easier. Roman was displaying a sheer reflection of exactly how he was feeling inside as well. He hated this so much, and he wished he could just simply erase everything bad that had happened and start over. “I...” he chocked out and then got up from his seat. Placing his napkin onto the table before making his way over to his boyfriend and kneeling down beside him. “Listen. This isn’t what I really want, okay?” He tried to keep his voice from shaking. But the lack of drugs in his system and the overwhelming emotions were truly making that hard. “I just don’t want to hurt you anymore, Roman. I fucked up, and I hate admitting that. But I really hate hurting you even more. It’s like... I made one stupid decision after another and I really don’t know how to fix it.” He looked down at their still joined hands and felt a single tear stream down his cheek. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this” his voice shook. “I don’t know why I thought I could handle this and still... “ he stopped talking and brought his free hand up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Clearing his throat and trying to get a grasp on himself before speaking again. “You mean the world to me, Roman. You deserve someone who can put you before everything else, and love you despite their own addictions. I’m not saying I don’t love you, or that I’m not in love with you. I’m just trying to say, I love you enough to know I’m hurting you and to let go. I need help, and I don’t expect you to sit here and be miserable while I do that. We don’t need to be boyfriends to know how much we love each other. I’m always going to love you no matter what. You’re my best friend. My soul mate.” It took everything in him to get those words out and by the end he was practically sobbing. This hurt so much and he so badly wanted to change his mind. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Not if he wanted to salvage anything they had left.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman was finding it hard to keep his emotions in check as Khai got up, and crouched down at his side. This beautiful man, so beautiful inside out, even despite his flaws, could make Roman feel so many things at once, all the fucking time. Their relationship had been nothing but a rollercoaster during its short span, but all the actor could really see now was his best friend who was hurting. He was being honest, something Roman had been struggling so hard to be. He had to respect that. “Khai.” The taller lifted a hand to cup his lover’s cheek, thumb running along the soft skin just below his eye as he too felt his eyes begin to water. “I’m glad you’re getting help. My main concern this whole time has been you, and your health. As long as you’re focusing on that, I’m okay.” Both of his hands were now at Khai’s jaw, thumbs trying to catch his tears as they fell. “I love you. I’m always gonna love you, and be here for you. I understand...and I’m not upset with you. Okay?” His breath shuttered as his watery green eyes were darting over Khai’s face. “I’m proud of you actually. Really fucking proud.”

Khai. Somehow even in the midst of all this, Roman was still able to carry him. He knew he was breaking his best friends heart, but here he was trying to comfort him. He leaned his head into Roman’s touch and closed his eyes as his tears continued to flow. His hands moving to hold desperately onto his friends wrists as he took a deep shaky breath. Opening his eyes once again as he looked deep into Roman’s teary orbs. “I know” he nodded. “...and I hate that I put you through any of this. I never meant to” he choked out. His thumbs rubbing the back of Romans hands as he tried to keep himself from crying any more. “I love you too. I love you so fucking much... and I’m so sorry. So so sorry.” He moved closer to his best friend and wrapped his arms around him. Holding onto him like it was the last chance he would ever get as he nuzzled his face into his chest to breath him in. “I don’t deserve you. But thank you” he whispered. Turning his head look up at his friend once more before forcing a soft smile. “I promise. I’m gonna get better and I’m still gonna marry you one day.”

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman hated seeing Khai cry. It was probably the worst feeling he’d ever experienced. That sounded dramatic, but like...Roman Beckett was really damn dramatic. There was no shock there. However, when Khai mentioned that he was still going to marry him one day, Roman pulled his hands back just for a moment. Guilt. That was what he felt more than anything else, because he didn’t know if he’d be able to give that wish to Khai. He was in love with Quentin, and on top of that, he also had feelings for Aaron. He’d really gotten himself in a huge cluster fuck. “You don’t wanna marry me.” The actor heard himself say, as if he was hovering above his own body in the moment, watching this whole thing go down without any control over what happened.

Khai. The smile Khai felt becoming more real than forced was quickly wiped away when Roman pulled back. A state of confusion falling over him as he looked up at his best friend. “What? Of course I do” he said a blindsided. Why would Roman say that? Did he really think he didn’t want to? “I love you, Roman. Why wouldn’t I wanna marry you?” He wasn’t sure what was happening right now. But the look on Roman’s face was making him feel like maybe he fucked up more than he thought.

Roman. Roman shook his head, feeling the bile come up the back of his throat as his stomach seemed to be doing fucking acrobats. Why couldn’t this just be easy? Why couldn’t he let Khai break up with him without making it five times more complicated. Roman usually was so much better at conversing than this, seriously, he was disappointed in himself. “Khai I’m not as perfect and innocent here as you think. This isn’t all your fault.” Roman sucked in a deep breath before shaking his head, and closing his eyes. “Listen jus’ — focus on getting better, and I’ll be here every step of the way. Promise me you won’t give up on getting help, no matter how hard it gets. Okay? That’s all I want.”

Khai. These two definitely never made anything easy. Maybe that’s why they hit it off so well in the first place. They brought out a side of each other that no one else ever could. It was because of that deep connection that Khai knew Roman was holding something back. “Roman... I never said you were innocent. But you are perfect to me. Even with your flaws. They don’t matter. We all fuck up.” He pulled back himself and got to his feet as he stood beside his now ex boyfriend. Just looking down at him for a moment as his mind ran through all the possibilities of what could be going on here. “I won’t give up. I promise. I don’t even know who I am anymore and I really do wanna be better. Not just for you but for me too” he assured. His hand reaching out to caress Roman’s cheek as he continued to just kinda stare at him. “You fell in love with someone else didn’t you?” he asked calmly. It wasn’t even like he could really be mad about it. He was doing god knows what with god knows who while completely oblivious. Could he really expect Roman not to turn to someone else?

Roman. Roman kept his eyes closed while Khai stood and questioned him, ultimately letting a few more tears roll down his cheeks, and onto his lap. That loaded question, one that was weighing on him heavy enough to feel like it was crushing his chest, making it impossible to breathe. It was a lot, and something he didn’t honestly want to answer. His heart was racing, mind going numb from all of the overwhelmingly fast thoughts now forming in his mind. He didn’t want to hurt Khai. Ever. But, he’d been so honest with Roman, the least he could do is be transparent with him in return. “Yes. I fell in love with someone else.” The barista confirmed, choosing to look down at his lap as soon as his eyes opened, instead of face whatever expression was currently flashing across Khai’s face. “I didn’t mean to, I jus’...it happened, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” The man put his head in his hands, crying now more freely as everything hit him. He’d been trying to run from reality for so long, he was bound to take a long fall.

Khai. When Roman finally answered him, it did hurt. He could feel the knife being pushed into his heart and turning slowly. Roman couldn’t even look at him. He couldn’t blame him. That took a lot for him to admit, even Khai knew that. Roman wasn’t the type of person who would just run around purposely hurting people. So he knew his best friend really meant it when he said he didn’t mean to. “Babe...” he breathed out softly. Grabbing the back of Roman’s chair and pulling him back a bit from the table. He straddled himself over his lap and placed his hands over top of his to pull them from his face. “It’s okay. It sucks, yeah. But it’s okay. We both... we fucked up. Maybe we rushed into this. I don’t know. But what I do know, is I still love you. I’m always gonna love you. I just want you to happy. I wish so much it could have been me. But you always have me. Don’t cry. I promise it’s okay. I’m not mad.” He pulled Roman into his arms and just held him against his chest. Raking his fingers softly through his hair as he tried to comfort him. “Remember what I said? We don’t have to be boyfriends to know we love each other.. and you never know what the future might hold. Either way. You’re stuck with me for life.”

Roman. Roman didn’t expect Khai to be so understanding, to try and comfort him in a way he knew he didn’t deserve. Maybe he was right, they probably did rush into this, but he didn’t change how he felt about the smaller male. This was his first love, the first person to ever have his heart, and to bring him out of his shell enough to even attempt a relationship. He trusted Khai so fucking much, and that’s why it was so hard to let him go. “Trust me. I’m not complaining.” Roman managed to respond as he wrapped his arms around his friend, and pressed a cheek to his chest. “I love you, Khai. Always.” He whispered, voice hoarse from emotion as he squeezed his eyes shut once again to let out the last of his tears.

#chats:roman #chats:discord #{Roman Beckett ;; my peanut butter chocolate cake with Kool-Aid}#//THIS right here seriously made me CRY

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himbowelsh · 4 years

Note

winnix/ amnesia?

a little fall of meme can hardly hurt me now ( no longer accepting )

His footsteps echo through the long corridor. They ring out discordant somehow, as though Dick’s practical Oxfords were not made for polished marble floors. To be fair, they weren’t. This place --- this swaggering mansion, with it’s high ceilings and plated glass windows, modern fixings and furniture dating back to the last century --- is not made for him. In the lap of luxury, Dick is an outsider. Never has that fact felt so painfully obvious.

The monochrome walls leer at him. Dick squirms in his own skin. Were he not accustomed by now to impossible situations, he might not be able to keep going, off-key footsteps carrying him all the way to the room at the end of the hall. The heavy oak door is closed, but he has seen behind it plenty of times before; he knows just where the dresser is, the position of the bed, the heavy curtains and cluttered desk by the window.

The difference those times was that he was invited. With Nix beside him, leading him in, he never felt like a stranger.

Now, what else could he be called?

He raps firmly on the door — because even if Nix always professed a “personal disdain for knocking”, that was only ever an excuse to not do it himself — and waits. After too long a moment, he hears it. Behind the door, someone shifts; a bed frame creaks; and over the silence, a rough voice calls, “Come in.”

Dick forces a deep breath, and opens the door.

The room is dark, curtains drawn — the better for his head, the doctors explained. It’s sweltering outside, but Nix’s bedroom, like the entire Nixon estate, is air conditioned. His bedclothes are rumpled. A set of silk slippers sit on the floor, ignored. Instead of the usual chaos, Nix’s heavy oak desk is clear; it’s only decorations are a bottle of white pills, and a rubber ice pack, long since lost its chill. The doctors left fresh bandages, some ointment, and more equipment for their next visit… but until then, the patient’s been left to recover alone.

That’s what drove Dick in here, against doctor’s orders: the thought of Nix sitting alone in the dark, aching and confused. When he was a child, Dick would fall prey to the inevitable winter flus and summer fevers, like all active kids; his mother never left his side for a moment. Nix’s mother isn’t even in the country, and his father… isn’t the ‘vigil by a bedside’ sort.

Whatever Dick expects to find in this lonely room, he still ends up surprised.

Nix is awake and sitting up — against doctor’s orders, certainly — with a glass of water in one hand and a fistful of blanket in the other. His posture is casual, almost bored. He stirs in bed just enough to swallow without choking, then sits up a bit straighter, cradling the glass like a finger full of scotch. It’s impossible not to notice the stark white bandage twined around his head, the exhaustion lining his face, or the dullness in his eyes… but besides that, he looks remarkably Nix-like. Exactly the opposite of what Dick expected, and so familiar that it hurts.

Lew takes one look at him, up and down, before settling back in bed. “Let me guess — executor of the will?”

Dick blinks, ignoring how the words twist in his gut. “No.”

“Sorry. You just… look like the sort of guy who’d show up a few decades too early.” He waves his hand, gaze meandering out the window as though there were a movie playing out in the front lawn, far more interesting than anything right in front of him. “Or a few days. Who knows? Head injuries — tricky things.”

Dick remembers the plink of a bullet bouncing off a metal helmet in Holland, the way his friend fell; he remembers the tiny bruise on Lew’s forehead, the way his eyes were so dark and so wide as he looked up at him. “I’m alright! Am I alright?”

“Quit looking at me like that,” Lew says out loud, jarring Dick from his thoughts like a lightning strike. “If you’re not a lawyer, and you’re not a doctor…” No Nixon-employed physician shows up empty-handed, Dick supposes. “Who are you? A compassionate well-wisher?”

“You… could say that.” The words taste sour in his throat. Dick wants to vomit, swallowing back sour bile as it rises in his throat. “I do wish you well, L— Nixon. Mister… Captain Nixon.”

“Wow. Going through the whole cycle, there.” The amusement in Nix’s eyes lingers for a moment, chasing away that dull listlessness… but it returns a moment later, like pain radiating from a fresh wound. “I’m a Captain?”

Dick has to clear his throat before he can answer. “You are. I had the honor of serving beside you in Europe… through Normandy, Holland, and Bastogne.” He lets the words linger for a moment, as though they could possibly jog some shadows of memory. Nix’s face remains blank, though, brows knit and scrutinizing. If there were any flicker of recognition there, Dick would catch it; but there’s nothing at all.

“What’s your name?” Nix finally asks, in the same tone he did in OCS school, so many years ago.

“Richard Winters,” Dick answers, in that same familiar voice.

“What do your friends call you? Dick?”

You do, Dick thinks, but doesn’t say so. “Yeah.”

“Nice to meet you, Dick.” Like a balloon hit with a pin, Nix’s tone has gone suddenly flat. “Or — meet you again, I guess. Sorry I can’t offer you some hors d'oeuvres, or a nice drink…” He gestures around at the messy bed, the chaotic room. “You’ve caught me in-between dinner and supper at the moment.”

“It’s fine. I don’t drink anyway.”

“One of those? Huh,” Nix says, without a hint of judgement. The exact same wording, in the exact same tone. Dick remembers this conversation; he could cite every line as though their first meeting were yesterday, instead of lifetimes ago. However much they’ve both changed, some things have still stayed the same.

Then a shadow passes over Nix’s face, gaze wandering, and Dick is forcibly reminded that this is not the same conversation at all. “Guess I oughta know that, huh?”

“It’s okay.” He isn’t used to feeling so uneasy in Nix’s presence. Where any other day he’d find a chair and sit in it, now Dick just stands at attention, shifting his shoulders to relieve some discomfort. “You’ll remember.”

Nix holds his gaze for a long moment. His eyes are impossibly dark; one is shadowed, almost from an injury. When he fell, he hit the train tracks hard; if his head could bounce off steel, it’s not inconceivable to think he might have bruised other things on the way down.

“So, Dick,” he finally says, in a tone that’s just too casual. “Tell me… how bad is it?” When Dick’s brows shoot up, Nix just regards him, unflinching. “They say it isn’t good, but they won’t tell me exactly how bad. Given my raging headache, and the fact that I didn’t recognize my own sister…” He swallows, and his throat bobs with it. “I’m gonna guess it’s really bad. So… give it to me straight, won’t you?”

Dick hesitates, breath stalling in his chest for an agonizingly long moment. There’s no right answer; there’s no way to go from here that won’t bruise Nix even more. If the Nixon family have decided to keep him in the dark until his memory returns — if it returns, that horrible, omnipresent if — who is Dick to contradict them?

Nix’s friend, that’s who. Even if he might not remember it. If Nix didn’t trust him to give the truth, he’d never have asked.

At last, Dick heaves a sigh, lowering his head just enough to not look the other man straight in the eye. “Do you remember Normandy, Nix?”

His blank expression doesn’t change.

“Do you remember OCS? Sobel? The paratroops?” At each question, shot out like individual bullets, Nix doesn’t falter. There’s no spark of recognition, no sudden lightness of memory, and desperation clamps like a vice around Dick’s heart. “German liquor, this little Irish guy named Harry, my footlocker… the lake in Austria…”

Nothing. Nothing at all.

He didn’t really expect otherwise, but it still feels like his heart’s been torn from his chest.

“Sounds like I missed quite a party,” Nix remarks, his voice flat. He doesn’t try to meet Dick’s eyes again. “How many years?”

Dick swallows. “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“I remember school — not Officer’s School. Little place called Yale.”

Six years, at least. “You’ve… missed a lot, Nix.”

He looks up suddenly, seizing Dick with his gaze like a hand around his throat. Dick is left helpless in the face of Lewis Nixon’s stare. “That’s what you call me, huh?” As always, his words have a way of burrowing under your skin, getting straight into your nerve and bone. “I call you Dick, and you call me Nix. How about that?”

“How about it,” Dick agrees.

“We must be pretty good friends.”

“Yeah,” Dick replies, tasting something bitter in his throat again. “We are.”

A curious resignation lingers in Nix’s eyes as he slumps back against the pillows once more. Dick doesn’t know what to make of it, but it leaves him feeling tired, and very, very alone.

“Who knows? It’s a long life. Maybe we’ll do it all again sometime.”

Nix doesn't remember, doesn’t know, and can’t imagine. A part of Dick — the part that has seen his friend’s hollow-eyed stares, watched his hand tighten more and more around the mouth of a bottle — is almost glad.

“Yeah,” he mutters, summoning a soft smile for Nix’s benefit. “You never know. Maybe we will.”

#ehhh... he'll be fine #winnix #lewis nixon #richard winters #band of brothers #my writing #boasamishipper

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