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platypanthewriter · 3 years

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Hook Possum 1/4

Art by @monsdasarah for Harringrove Big Bang!

Steve had told the manager of Camp Butternut Springs every year of his life that the mildewed, papier-mache-masked, six-foot-tall opossum mascot was terrifying. The mask was chipped and patched, fixed with different colors of gray over the mangy glued-on fur. Its long, stained rat tail had drug through the red camp dirt for decades, and by the summer of 85, the dirty thing looked like it had been dyed with blood.

Hook Possum looked more like a zombie than a possum, with its mesh eyes staring in their ragged, uneven sockets, its lovingly molded teeth half broken off and stained with grime. Inexplicably—but later, retroactively, mythologized by a ton of camp folklore—it had a hook hand off a pirate costume, gleaming in the sun.

Every goddamn year the goddamn manager had the goddamn Hook Possum outfit on some poor camp counsellor, out greeting campers—the goddamn moron—and every fucking goddamn year one of the already-homesick and worried new campers burst into sobs at first sight of the horrifying thing. Steve wondered whether the manager was actually in the huge, blank-eyed Hook Possum costume this year, like a prick, because it was even bigger than usual—as tall as Steve, with its ripped ratty ears, and broad-shouldered in a way Steve suspected wasn’t padding.

The hook hand didn’t exactly help.

Steve grabbed the first wailing child he saw around the waist, then two more, and stomped over to the damn possum. “Here, look, Hook Possum’s not scary,” he said, and they all screamed, because it was so clearly a lie.

Hook Possum, somewhat to his credit, dropped to a crouch, his shoulders hunched, and Steve thought maybe it wasn’t the manager, just some poor camp counsellor that got roped in, because the manager probably would have roared like a lion—just for fun—and the kids would have wet themselves all over Steve’s lap.

“Hook Possum just lives here!” Steve told the screaming infants he was holding. “If you get scared at night,” Steve shouted over their desperate wailing and struggles, “—away from home? Hook Possum is here to keep you safe. Right?”

Whoever was playing Hook Possum flinched, and its creepy head jerked around to look at him.

“HELP!” shrieked the kid under his arm, his voice nasal, because he was holding his nose against Hook Possum’s fug of mildew and B.O.

“Nobody has ever yet been murdered by Hook Possum,” Steve gritted out. “Right?!” he prompted the moron in the mascot suit again, nudging a fur-suited leg with his shoe. “Hook Possum is like a...camp guardian! Right?”

Hook Possum stared at his face, which was chilling—after Steve’s first visit to Camp Butternut Springs, Hook Possum had featured in every one of Steve’s childhood nightmares, and the costume was even worse after nearly two decades of wear—but Steve was as tall as the thing now, and he set his jaw.

“Hook Possum is friendly, right,” he growled, and Hook Possum gave a jerky nod, making a weird choking noise, like maybe it had already eaten a couple of kids.

“Y-ye-ahssss,” the thing hissed, and Steve was tempted to push the whole mess, including the person inside, under a bus. “Safe as houses,” said the possum, just as strangled-sounding, but it was better than staring silently, so Steve grinned ruefully at the kids, who were quieting as they realized they weren’t murdered—not yet, anyway.

“You’ll get used to Hook Possum,” he said cheerfully. “We all do. Eventually.”

It had occurred to Steve one night when he was fourteen, and firmly over his terror of Hook Possum, that the perfect cover for an actual serial killer would be a terrifying full-body costume everyone was trying to ignore. He and Tommy had followed the costume around every time it had someone in it, looking for suspicious behavior. Years later, he’d donned it himself, and for the first time in his life didn’t fear getting murdered by Hook Possum. He only worried he might die of heatstroke in padded fur boots, gloves, and a bodysuit in July in Indiana, except for a few startling glimpses of himself in the mirror over the sinks.

His suggestion every week in the suggestion box was still ‘burn the Hook Possum costume and bury the ashes under a rock’, though, because he was a rational human being who understood what needed to be done.

When he’d talked Robin into applying with him at the camp instead of the video store, he’d snuck the costume on and leaned into her cabin. She’d screamed satisfyingly, and nearly killed him with an oar. She’d argued for burying the ashes of Hook Possum in seven different locations around the US, lest it rise again, and they’d put that in the suggestion box, to no response whatsoever.

It was pretty obvious the current Hook Possum wasn’t used to the cheerful voice necessary to offset its...everything, so Steve did his best. “Are you guys telling me you’re afraid of possums?” he teased, and the littlest kid, a girl, reached out and lightly batted its nose. The smell of cigarettes wafted up.

“I’m afraid,” said the boy, thickly, and Steve nodded slowly, feeling nothing but respect for a smart child.

“Hook Possum protects you guys,” he told them, sitting them on their feet. “From whatever, you know, else.”

“What could be out there,” the scared boy whispered, his eyes widening, “—that’s worse than—”

“...yeah,” said Hook Possum, in a weird squeaky voice like a Disney mouse. “Yeah, that’s what I’m here for, I’m here to protect you guys from...nightmares?” he suggested, glancing at Steve, who shrugged, nodding, because it was a pretty good idea.

“You’re soft,” said the littlest kid, grabbing one of the other snifflers by the wrist, and shoving it into Hook Possum’s fur.

“You stink,” said the boy, and Steve elbowed him.

“I’m a possum,” hissed Hook Possum, and the kid nodded.

“That makes sense.”

Steve muffled his laughter, but he was pretty sure the possum heard, because his crooked, whiskery mask jerked up, and his terrifying mesh eyes stared into Steve’s soul. He smelled like long winters in a damp shed, and cigarettes, and B.O.— because it was worn every year in the summer in Indiana—but the smallest kids were gathering around and asking questions about possums, and Steve had to call upon his knowledge from years past, and explain things like how possums were too awesome to get ticks.

Hook Possum listened intently—or maybe just glared at him, smoke drifting from its eye mesh—until Steve was a little annoyed, and mentioned that mother possums carried babies around on their backs. That was probably way too mean, because the whole horde of children grabbed hold of Hook Possum’s every appendage, and he flailed his hook only once before vanishing in the giggling pile.

“Here, here, no—” Steve yelped, unable to watch a human being consumed by piranha, and he reached into the laughing, yelping pile and hauled Hook Possum up by the arm, dusting him off. Two small children dangled from his other arm, and one had him around the neck. “You have to be nice to Hook Possum!” Steve told them. “Who’s he gonna stay up protecting, huh? The kids who’re nice to him, or the little, uh, cusses that knee him in the...shins?”

“...the nice ones,” came a small, grumbly voice from one of the criers, and “Probably the nice ones,” from a little girl who sighed heavily, and another kid just said, “Fine.” The dude in the possum suit just panted against Steve’s shoulder for a second, and Steve let him, familiar with getting dogpiled by small children with weaponized knees.

“...jesus,” came a faint whisper from in the possum suit, and Steve pinched him, even though he was grimacing with sympathy. He lifted the kids off Hook Possum—once the littlest ones had decided he was safe, they tried to drag him around and show everyone how brave they were—and the human in the suit tried to wipe his face, or something, and smacked his hook-hand into the head of his costume. He sighed, and Steve squeezed his shoulder, and patted his back, ushering the kids away.

“What are you doing here,” Hook Possum wheezed, as Steve pushed him back to sit on one of the picnic table benches. “What are you doing here,” he repeated, sounding bewildered.

“My dad owns the place,” Steve said in a low voice, as the littlest boy ran back to the buses, screaming about how he’d met Hook Possum, and Robin and Nancy looked over, resigned. “That’s why it pays so well. We went to him and told him he could have a staff that would work hard, or he could have three underpaid girls who want it on their resume for becoming teachers, and the second week they’d all have nervous breakdowns. Why, do...do I know you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the blank mesh eyes, and trying to place the weird squeaky voice.

Hook Possum nodded slowly, but Steve was pretty sure he was still staring. Maybe it was just the mesh eyes. “...oh,” he said quietly. “Your...dad. Owns...it.”

“Yep,” Steve said, shrugging. “I mean, he owns the company that owns a bunch of camps, you know, but—anyway, you’ve never been a counselor before, right? I can show you around, if you want. What’s your name? How d’you know me?”

Hook Possum stared at him some more, and then said, even higher, like Mickey Mouse, “He’s, like, the owner’s boss?” he asked weakly. “...name’s Hook Possum.”

“What the fuck,” Steve muttered, staring back into the mesh eyes, but then he saw Robin’s arm fly up as she was consumed in a wave of children, and he clapped Hook Possum on the shoulder and ran off.

He saw the guy later, too, still in the costume, even though it was July in Indiana. He was talking to Max Mayfield, so Steve wandered over. “You need some help getting out of that?” he offered, because nobody would stay in a horrible hot stinking furry sweat bag by choice.

“No,” said Hook Possum, too quickly, and Max groaned into her hands.

“Uh,” said Steve, who was starting to wonder if they’d found some possum-obsessed weirdo for a counselor. “You must...really like possums.”

Max burst into giggles, laughing harder than Steve had ever seen her, and Hook Possum’s long face swung to look at her, then at Steve, then back at her, and then he stomped away. Because the costume had big, dirty, saggy fur paw-booties, he had to lift his feet high, like a cartoon, and Steve started snickering too.

Hook Possum hunched his shoulders, and scuttled around the edge of one of the cabins, out of sight.

“Oh my god,” Max cackled. “He’s finally found his true identity! Trash rat.”

“Is...is that...Billy,” Steve asked, the thought of Billy Hargrove, camp counselor, hauling off and punching kids, or murdering them, suddenly much less funny. “What—isn’t he back in Hawkins?! How’d he get here?!”

“Uh, no! No, no,” Max said quickly, grimacing and waving her hands. “Definitely, um, not, no. It’s, ah, he lives on my street. He’s, um, saving money to move out.”

“Oh,” Steve said, relieved.

“The pay’s really good here,” Max explained, too fast. “—and, uh, mmmm...hiiiis dad’s kinda shitty, so he needs money to get out of his house.”

“Well, he should be able to,” Steve told her, giving her two thumbs-up so she’d make a face. “We’re practically all seniors, that’s what a lot of us are doing, that or paying for college.”

“...yeah,” Max sighed. “He can...move away. Finally.”

“Sounds like you’ll miss him,” Steve said, grinning at her, “—he the brother you never had?”

“...yeah, he um. He sort of is,” she said, swallowing, and Steve patted her shoulder gingerly.

“Uh,” he said cautiously, “Um, you...you know you can always give me a call, right?”

“Thought you had kind of a problem with my family,” she sighed, and he shook his head.

“I’ve got no problem with you.”

“...yeah, that’s what we thought,” Max muttered, maybe, and Steve frowned at her. “Go away,” she told him, sighing, “It’s fine.”

They got everybody sorted into cabins, and Steve saw Hook Possum ducking into a bunk in the counselor’s cabin. He stared for a long moment, watching the enormous possum negotiate its tail and its creepy, vacant-eyed mask and lie down on the lower bunk.

“It’s hot as Satan’s asshole in here,” he groaned.

“...what are you doing,” Steve hissed. “They cannot be paying you enough to stay in that thing. There is not enough money in the world to stay in that thing for more than a couple hours.”

“Ah, fuck,” said Hook Possum, sitting up and smacking his head on the upper bunk. “Shit fuck,” he groaned, “—I can’t see in this thing—”

“Then take it off,” Steve told him, sitting next to him on the bunk and reaching in to feel for the ties behind the guy’s neck, but Hook Possum grabbed Steve’s hand, scrambling back.

“No! No, uh,” he stopped, then tried again. “I need the money,” he said softly. “I need it—”

“Okay, okay, did you agree to some—some massive bonus bullshit to keep this damn costume on? Because you’re gonna die of heatstroke in there,” Steve told him. “I don’t care how much he offered you, you can’t wear that thing all summer—”

“No, I did, I agreed to—to bonus bullshit to keep the damn costume on,” Hook Possum whispered, the fingers in his paw-glove squeezing Steve’s arm, hard. “I can’t take it off. He’s—he’s giving me a huge bonus.”

“Fuck,” Steve breathed. “You’re gonna die in there, I’m not kidding. You can stay in the shade, or—and we can bring you ice, lots of ice, you could try an ice pack on your neck—”

“I need this job,” the guy said, and Steve nodded, letting him go.

“Okay, okay. We’ll figure this out, but if the manager comes out, I’m kneeing him in the balls, because—”

“No! I need the money,” Hook Possum hissed, the weird cartoony voice even odder in a serious conversation.

“Jesus,” Steve said, sighing. “Okay. I’m gonna check in with you, alright? If you start to keel over, I’m taking it off, we’ll figure out something to tell the manager.”

“Don’t take it off,” said Hook Possum, like he was the last soldier holding the line, and Steve got caught up in it, like a moron.

“I’m not leaving you in there,” he said, like the trenches were getting shelled. “I’m not letting anyone die in a possum costume,” he said, to remind himself they weren’t at D-Day. Hook Possum sighed, his shoulders slumping as he growled. “And you can’t sleep in that thing, jesus,” Steve said, “At least change at night.”

“You’d—somebody’d see me,” Hook Possum said, and Steve shook him, a little.

“We aren’t possum spies, nobody’s gonna tell.”

“How do I know you’re not possum spies,” Hook Possum hissed back, and Steve started snickering.

“Okay, okay, um, curtain? What about a curtain, we’ll just staple it up here and nobody’ll see your, uh, late night transformation.”

“Oh,” said Hook Possum, snickering a little, like he did realize how ridiculous it all was, and looking around. “That...might work.”

“Gonna transform out of your outfit like a shitty Cinderella,” Steve sighed, and Hook Possum laughed harder. “You’re gonna have to shower in the dead of night,” Steve told him. “I’ll let everybody know it’s just, y’know, just our resident possum. Creeping around.” He started laughing again, and Hook Possum elbowed him. “How are you gonna eat?”

“Shouldn’t be feeding the wildlife in the cafeteria anyway,” Hook Possum pointed out. “There are signs everywhere.”

“...you know you’re a human, right,” Steve told him, trying not to giggle.

Hook Possum shook with laughter against him. “I’ll just climb into a trash can and knock it over at three am. It’s the way of my people.”

“Oh my god,” Steve wheezed. “I’m gonna get in trouble for feeding the wildlife and letting a possum nest in here, aren’t I? I’ll sneak you burgers, I promise.”

“Why,” Hook Possum laughed, edging away. “It’s not your problem, Harrington—”

“Hey, Max likes you, you’re part of the weirdo family we got going on,” Steve said, clapping the guy’s shoulder, and the possum mask swung towards him again.

“...does she?” he asked, snorting softly.

“She does,” Steve confirmed. “She said.” Hook Possum stared like a creepy puppet, and Steve was unable to resist reaching up and patting the dusty, greasy fur between the costume ears. “You’re one of us, now.”

“...once you feed wildlife, it can create a dependency,” Hook Possum said, batting Steve’s hand away, but he was laughing audibly now. “I read that in a flyer.”

“I can’t believe they handed a possum a flyer about possums,” Steve said, and Hook Possum snorted.

“Right? Like who the fuck deals with wildlife by handing them flyers, what a moron.”

“I didn’t know possums could read,” Steve said, and Hook Possum kicked at him, completely missing. “What a smart possum you are.”

“Fuck you, if I could see in this thing—”

“Oooo, you gonna murder me with your little—your plastic pirate hook hand?” Steve asked, and Hook Possum laughed harder, letting himself fall sideways to curl up on the bunk.

“Fuck you,” he mumbled again, wheezing with laughter.

Steve wondered who he was—whether he’d defended Max from Billy, or just showed her some skateboard tricks. Whether he was younger, maybe—Steve didn’t know most of the freshmen—and what he’d look like in about ten minutes when he gave up on the incredibly stupid idea of living in a possum suit for the whole damn summer.

Steve got hauled into setting up the welcome dinner, sitting the tables out, and putting cleanish rocks on the stacks of napkins to keep them from blowing away. Hook Possum was useless at it—he nearly dropped the plates, and then bumped into a table because he couldn’t see, almost overturning it, and finally Steve put both hands on his furry possum shoulders and walked him over to a group of smaller kids who were milling around, bored by the orientation speech.

As he wandered by later, he heard Hook Possum telling them “Possum Facts.”

“Possums are gonna be the next police dogs,” he was saying, as Steve stared over. “They’re gonna yell ‘Fly, my pretties!’ and the perp will be overwhelmed by possums.”

“That’s good,” said one solemn little kid, softly. “I’m afraid of dogs.”

“Hook Possum is here to protect us,” said another one. “You can find him if you’re scared of dogs.”

The first kid nodded, wide-eyed, and Hook Possum stared at one, then the other. “...uh, yeeeah,” he said, slowly. “Sure.”

“He’ll fight the dogs, Robin said,” said the first kid, and Hook Possum’s mask jerked towards her.

“Wait, what?!” he hissed, and Steve ducked away, smothering snickers.

Dinner was uneventful, as usual, in that there was so much chaos Steve was deadened to it, automatically reaching in to stop Dustin from using his spoon to catapult peas at Erica Sinclair and starting WWIII.

He snuck off when he saw Hook Possum tiptoeing away like a stealthy cartoon. “D’you need me to feed the wildlife?” he asked, and Hook Possum yelped, spinning around, so his tail whipped Steve in the legs.

“Holy shit,” he panted, in his weird squeaky voice.

“Sorry, forgot you were a possum on the edge, man,” Steve told him, clapping a hand to his shoulder, and Hook Possum started laughing again, cigarette smoke trailing out of the eyeholes of his mask. Steve watched it. “...you have no idea how fucking creepy that looks,” he said. “It’s eerie.”

“Creepier than my big blank eyes?” Hook Possum asked, and Steve wished he could see the expression of the person in the suit—whether it was resigned, or entertained, or what.

“D’you want me to get you some food?” Steve asked. “I can’t see you using the tongs, or like...seeing the buffet very well.”

“Also, I’m filthy,” Hook Possum said, raising a dusty paw.

“That too,” Steve agreed.

“...I can get something later,” Hook Possum said, laughing a little.

“You still have to eat, man,” Steve told him. “And drink some water, at least.”

“What’s going on back here,” came Max’s voice, and they both swiveled. She had a tray in her hands, and her eyes narrowed.

“Harrington was offering to feed the wildlife,” said Hook Possum, and she snorted.

“You’re a camp counselor, set a good example,” she hissed, waving Steve away. “Didn’t you see the flyers, Steve? You can’t feed possums.”

“Everyone saw the flyers, they even gave them to him,” Steve said, pointing. “Possums probably can’t even read.”

“I barely can, in this,” Hook Possum admitted. “I had to hold it up over my eyeholes.”

“Hrm,” said Max. “Okay, Steve, go away, Nancy said to tell you you’re on dishes.”

Steve sighed, and left them to it.

When he was done, he found an old tatty camp flag in the storage shed, half faded and ripped—he remembered somebody getting in trouble, in years past, for leaving it up all winter—and nailed it up over Hook Possum’s bunk with pruny fingers from the suds in the cooking tent. He put a hook where the grommet could lift it away, in case Hook Possum’s struggles with his mask caught on the fabric, and then stepped back to look at his handiwork just as Robin wandered in.

“That’s...really something,” she said, raising his eyebrows. “We all get one of those?”

“No, it’s for the possum guy,” Steve told her, hooking the flag’s bottom corner up to show that the bunk was slightly easier to climb into. “He’s like...contracted to wear the damn thing 24/7. He gets a bonus or something.”

“That’s bullshit. He’s gonna die of heatstroke,” Robin said, and Steve nodded, shrugging.

“That’s what I said. Anyway, I told him I’d hide the bunk so he didn’t have to, like, lie there in the costume all night.”

“Playing possum,” she snorted, and Steve grinned, imagining the dude in full possum array, sprawled on his back like roadkill.

“Sexy,” he snorted, and she waggled her eyebrows.

PART ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

#harringrove big bang #harringrove #monsdasarah #!!!#Amazing arts!#Mistaken identity #Of sorts #Idiots in love

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soulmate-game · 4 years

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Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 2: Father Daughter Bonding

Marinette had known her father was Bruce Wayne since she was thirteen, and the man showed up on her balcony one day in full bat-attire exactly one month after Hawkmoth appeared. He had apparently spent the whole month sorting through all of his magical contacts and trying to figure out who the heroes were so he could offer help—only to realize that the apparent leader of the duo of heroes was his biological daughter that he never met or told about his existence.

Okay, so the majority of the month was actually spent on him trying to figure out how to deal with the daughter he had never met becoming a superhero, even a leader of a team, without his assistance or influence whatsoever. But. Regardless. It ended up with him taking a Zeta tube at midnight in Gotham, and ending up on Marinette’s balcony as she got ready for school.

That was when Marinette learned about Bruce Wayne being both Batman and her biological father. After, of course, a brief heart attack at seeing a stranger outside her trap door.

But besides that short visit, Bruce had largely respected Marinette’s order request to stay out of Paris. He understood, after all he held a similar policy for metas in Gotham. Didn’t mean he was happy about leaving Marinette to deal with her supervillain without any reliable backup, but he stayed out of the city nonetheless.

But, there was Marinette’s lack of training to see to. She was not completely untrained, she knew at least two types of martial arts pretty well and her gymnastics ability was second only to Dick himself. But for a superhero? No, she needed a lot of teaching still. So Bruce had arranged for her to spend some holidays and a weekend or two that she could get away with over at Gotham (via Zeta tubes or other portal of course) for him and the other Bats to personally instruct her. Now, three annoying years later without any solid evidence to land Gabriel in the brig (though they all knew by then that he was definitely Hawkmoth), Marinette decided to switch things up.

She landed on a gargoyle’s head, on one of her rare patrols with Batman. She wasn’t Ladybug there, instead deciding to go by the simple name Rouge Wing, as both a play on her native language and the fact that red bats are considered lucky in China. She didn’t wear her Miraculous on these patrols, instead using the rare opportunity to develop her natural skills. And prove once and for all to her stupid brother that, yes, she could keep up with him. And, no, it didn’t matter if she didn’t grow up in a temple learning how to kill, she can still hang him upside down by his ankles if he upsets her one more time—.

Right. The gargoyle.

Batman landed on the rooftop behind her, raising an eyebrow under his cowl. “Don’t you usually make fun of me for perching like that?” He asked, crossing his arms. Robin landed on that same rooftop a moment later, choosing just to sit on the lip of the building and swing one leg lazily over the edge. He and Marinette tended to get along at least half the time nowadays, which Bruce considered An Accomplishment. Marinette only hummed, blue eyes hidden behind her red domino mask as she gazed over the dark city.

“I’ve just been thinking—“

“Nothing new there,” Robin interrupted. “Should I be on the lookout before you run into a wall again?”

Marinette tossed one of her batarangs at him, which he only had to duck to dodge. Sticking her tongue out like a Mature Teenager, she continued. “You guys do things really differently here in Gotham. Which makes sense, of course, because Gotham is a lot different than Paris. But…”

“But?” Batman prodded, deciding to sit on the rooftop and lean one arm on the lip of it so he could lean towards his blood children.

“But it’s been three years. You hardly ever get out of Gotham besides JL meetings or missions, Dad. And, well, if you promise to keep a handle on your emotions—“

Robin snorted, before realizing where this discussion was going. His eyes widened behind his mask in disbelief. “No way.”

Marinette glared at him half heartedly for a moment before completely turning around on her gargoyle and facing Batman. “We don’t see each other enough. And it’s not easy for me to come to Gotham all the time. So maybe, just this once, you can come to Paris and patrol with me? Next week, maybe?”

Bruce couldn’t talk for a moment, just staring at his daughter with his mouth slightly agape. Marinette had been very specific: no non-miraculous heroes in Paris. Period. Not him, not Robin, nobody, because she wasn’t sure she and her partner would be able to win against an Akumatized hero with years of experience.

Robin tossed a birdarang at Batman, which he dodged on instinct. “Well, he’s still alive,” he remarked to his sister. Rouge Wing had scooted closer somewhere during Batman’s shock, looking minorly concerned.

“What brought this on?” Bruce finally asked, making his daughter sigh in relief at the proof of his consciousness.

“Well, multiple reasons. For one, I know now that I am capable of at least restraining you until I have the chance to break an akumatized item, so there aren’t too many worries there anymore. And I only see you once every month if I’m lucky—“

“And her birthday is next week,” Robin supplied easily, smirking at the glare his sister sent him at that.

“Traitor,” Marinette grumbled, puffing out her cheeks a little. Considering the two of them were only a month apart in age, with Damian being the older of the two, it wasn’t unusual for Bruce to forget about one or the other. Summer birthdays in general were hard for him to remember, what with all the spring birthdays that he strained to keep up with.

“Oh, oh,” Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand over his cowl-covered forehead. “That’s right. I’m sorry, of course I’m more than happy to visit Paris next week. Maybe we can even do more than one day?”

Marinette relaxed, nodding. “That would be nice. Just, not in your civilian persona. Bruce Wayne is too recognizable, even in Paris, but a visit from Batman would be shrugged off as just us getting help. But, in order for everything to work, it would probably have to be a day patrol.”

Batman flinched a bit. That’s right— his daughter was a day hero. He wasn’t looking forward to patrolling in full daylight, but he owed her this at least.

“I’ll be there.”

—*—*—*—*—*

When Batman arrived on Marinette’s balcony (actually expected, this time), it was to see the poor girl covered head to toe in ribbons and balloons that all had some variation of “sweet sixteen,” “happy birthday,” and “16!” On them. She hadn’t even been able to transform yet, her Kwami just munching on a cupcake and giggling at her expense. She even had a party hat on her head, but judging by the way she was trying to wrestle it off it hadn’t been put on her head willingly.

“Need help?” Bruce asked when he entered her room, peeling his cowl back and grinning a little at the awkward sight she made. Marinette groaned, looking at him with the most pitiful expression ever.

“Please! Maman and Papan always like celebrating my birthday, and they’ve gone over the top a few times, but I think they went a bit…” she pulled at one of her pigtails, releasing a waterfall of glitter. “Crazy this year.”

Bruce chuckled, walking over and helping to untangle the various ribbons, streamers, and other celebratory restraints that had trapped the petite Parisian. Then, once she was completely untangled and only stubborn confetti and glitter remained, Bruce hung a small box to one of her pigtails by one of it’s bow-loops. She let out a surprised laugh, rolling her eyes at him before pulling it off and looking at it properly.

On a little white card it said: “Happy 16th, Marinette!” In Bruce’s handwriting. It was a small, black box with silver ribbon tied around it in a bow. Marinette couldn’t help but snort at the color choice, sending her dad a knowing look that he dutifully ignored. Carefully removing the bow and unwrapping it, she opened the box to see two little silver, bat-shaped hair pins. Carefully taking them out, she could feel that they were real metal, and surprisingly sharp.

“You can wear them however you want in your hair, to hold your bangs back or in your pigtails,” Brice decided to explain. “They have trackers in them—no, don’t give me that look. They only activate if you tap SOS on one of them. If you hold down the back of the clip, you can extend small blades if you ever need to cut yourself out of a trap or defend yourself.”

“You gave me mini batarangs for my hair,” Marinette teased, but immediately clipped them to her pigtails. “I love them. Ready for patrol?”

“Whenever you are,” he agreed before pulling his cowl back down.

One transformation and some travel later, and they were at the Eiffel Tower to plan their route.

“Obviously, Paris is too big for me to patrol the whole place on my own alongside school and Akumas,” Ladybug explained. “Even with Chat Noir’s help, it’s too big. So, just like you guys back in Gotham, we have routes that we rotate out. But the police here actually do their job and can handle most criminals, so our patrols follow a different logic than in Gotham.”

Batman nodded, holding his chin as he considered that. “That makes sense. Instead of focusing so much on the more crime-heavy parts of the city, especially since Hawkmoth hasn’t akumatized any criminals yet, it makes more sense to focus on areas around schools, tourist sites and other hotspots for recreation, and the general residential area.”

Marinette nodded. After talking a bit more about how she and Chat normally patrolled, and why, they actually hit the rooftops. It only took thirty minutes before Marinette had to intervene, grabbing Batman’s shoulder before he could punch a purse snatcher. The criminal in question, clutching a sparkly holographic purse in utter terror, couldn’t even muster the courage to run in the face of the famous Dark Knight. Ladybug glared at the older hero for a second before turning to the thief and shrugging with a lopsided smile.

“Sorry, he’s still not used to Parisian crime stopping. I’m reigning him in though, no worries,” she assured him. Just as the thief began to back away though, her yo-yo sprung out and wrapped him up head to toe, allowing Ladybug to grab the purse with a smile. “Thank you, I’ll take that. Remember Batman, minimal force. This isn’t Crime Alley.”

Batman grumbled. “It was just gonna be one punch,” as he zip tied the guy and dragged him to the corner for the police to pick up. Ladybug returned the purse.

“See? A daytime patrol isn’t that bad,” Ladybug remarked as she ran over the rooftops with Batman, deciding that sticking closer to her dad was more important than going as fast as possible. Batman grunted, but Ladybug saw his minuscule grin.

“I still prefer the night.”

“Only because you don’t stick out like a sore thumb at night,” she teased. And then the Akuma Alarm went off.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette panted as she lay sprawled over her bed, catching her breath. Bruce was slumped in her computer chair, cowl off and head curving over the top of the headrest. After a moment, Marinette spoke up;

“You look peaceful.”

“When I’m winded?” He cracked an eye open to shoot her a tired but still deadpan look. She snorted.

“No. With your eyes closed. And cheer up, it was only Gigantitan. Not anywhere near the worst we could have gotten.”

“I think you’re forgetting that I don’t have magic helping me out. Fighting giant children is not something I do often.”

“Oh please, you’ve fought way worse.”

“... that is true.”

“Dad?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Thanks.”

“Of course. Want to go back to Gotham with me and get ice cream before you have to be back for dinner?”

“Read my mind.”

—*—*—*—*—*

hi! Let me clarify something real quick guys. These one shots are for Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month. Meaning, there are 30 prompts, one for each day of september. These one shots will NOT be connected unless previously stated! This one, as you could probably tell, has NOTHING to do with the story for Day 1. I’m just exploring a bunch of possibilities and letting my imagination run wild for these. Nonetheless, I will definitely tag you if you want. Thanks!

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #platonic brucinette #platonic daminette #B!dbwm #Day Two

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zayray030 · 3 years

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Don't Mess With Shiratorizawa's setter

Summary: Semi didn't appreciate having his boyfriend ogled by a bunch of boys. It was time to set things straight.

Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou

If those absolute assholes did not shut the fuck up in the next five seconds someone was going to get whacked by his chemistry textbook and then stabbed with a whisk.

And that was the least descriptive killing method that the Shiratorizawa team had for killing the asshole, homophobes that sat on the table in front of them, shit-talking Shirabu, whilst said boy had gone to get a book

“Satori, I need your help to help restrain myself from injuring these boys. I would much rather not inform my father that I have regressed to methods such as punching to let out my anger,” said Ushijima, the usually stoic teen having a demeanour of complete rage surrounding him.

“You're funny, big guy if you actually think I'm going to stop you from killing those brats.” came Tendou’s tight response.

“Semi-San? Are you okay?” asked Goshiki. The poor boy was probably the only thing stopping the team from committing first-degree murder but they could tell it was all being reluctant.

“If one more thing about my boyfriend comes out of those prejudistic assholes and it has to do with the size of his ass, or his clothes, or anything to do with sex then I will personally admit to being guilty at the trial.” Semi threatened darkly and Goshiki resisted the urge to shudder. His Senpai was scary when it came to their setter.

“As his best friend I allow this,” muttered Kawanishi, equally as dark. He did not appreciate hearing that shit come from those boys. Shirabu might be a brat but he was his best friend dammit and nobody was allowed to say anything about him.

Okay, so like let's fast forward a couple of hours ago before the Shiratorizawa boys volleyball team had begun to discuss torture methods on how to kill the idiots talking about their bratty yet adorable setter.

~A few hours ago~

Semi was going to go into cardiac arrest. He was sure of it. That was the only excuse for why his heart had begun racing to the point he was sure he would have to go to his doctor as quickly as possible.

Or maybe it was because seeing his boyfriend (yes! Boyfriend! God, he was never going to get tired of saying it) of three months in an adorably oversized, pink pastel sweatshirt and shorts so short you couldn't see them below the sweatshirt. Along with this ridiculously adorable look, his salty boyfriend had a pair of golden round glasses on and his cheeks were flushed.

Semi Eita would gladly die right here and now and be quite happy with his life. After all, this image of his boyfriend was enough to check everything off his bucket list.

The rest of the team seemed to have the same thought, all of them just staring at his boyfriend as if he was an angel and if they weren't used to his normal saltiness they would have all assumed him to be an angel. Even Ushijima seemed to find his boyfriend angelic cause the normally stoic teen seemed to have his jaw unclenched. And in Ushijima language that practically meant his jaw was dropping.

All except Kawanishi seemed to have trouble thinking as they stared at Shirabu. Kawanishi, the little fucker, had had the nerve to just simply waltz up to the work of art and hug the smaller boy. The boy replied with the same energy as a tame cat turned savage and he aimed consistent kicks at his best friend's ankles.

“Put me down you savage.” the boy hissed and Kawanishi snorted before finally releasing the boy.

“I'm going to ignore the hypocrisy just this once.” said the taller boy.

When Shirabu merely touched he turned around and threw a smug look at Semi, the expression rare on his normally deadpan face. The look screamed, ‘Ha, I get privileges as his best friend that you don't get and you're his boyfriend, bitch.’

Okay, so Semi might be over-exaggerating but it was clear that the second year had it for him, especially after he had started dating Shirabu.

It wasn't that Kawanishi wasn't supportive of his best friend. In fact, he had been ecstatic when the two setters had announced their relationship cause it meant that Shirabu wouldn't be talking about the older boy constantly and asking whether he liked him or if he would be kicked out of the team for being gay and if the team would tell anyone and if it would be like with his dad.

He was glad that his best friend was no longer second-guessing himself but he had seen Kenjirou at his most vulnerable and he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to see him like that. If Semi wanted to earn the right for him not to be a prettier brat than even Shirabu then he would have to earn the gingers trust.

(Who knew that that time would come in like, the next two hours.)

“Eita,” Kenjirou said, usually monotone voice happy as he walked over to his boyfriend. He'd gained more confidence over the course of their relationship and had started initiating things first now.

Semi had to suck in a deep breath when the small boyfriend wrapped his arms around him. ‘The sweater is as soft as it looks.’

“Baby,” he answered back, with his usual smirk and internally cheated when the boy blushed and puffed out his cheeks. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Tendou clutch his chest and he couldn't blame him, Shirabu was adorable.

“Loser,” he mumbled, face still burning and stud on his toes to peck his cheek. The boy quickly turned around, cheeks flushing and walked away, making a show of making everyone follow him. Semi followed, with a giddy grin on his face. He so wasn't going to get used to that.

Everyone, although still slightly shook at seeing their feral setter in such adorable attire, followed the shortest player.

“So, Kenjirou~” began Tendou, leaning into his Semi’s boyfriend. Out of a fit of jealousy and not really thinking about it, he pulled the younger onto his lap and shot Tendou a glare. His boyfriend however seemed more reactant to the surprising touch, if the immediate blush didn't say anything.

The redhead on the other hand simply smirked at the reaction before turning to the boy with uneven bangs.

“I didn't know you couldn't look so cute!” he teased. Wrong thing to say, which was made clear when Taichi immediately tensed and winced.

“Problem?” Shirabu answered testily and Tendou knew he accidentally stepped on a nerve far too raw to be touched.

“Well, I wasn't going to say it's bad. Just different. Which suits you.” he says, trying to salvage the situation and make the air less tense and awkward.

That wasn't enough for one Shirabu Kenjirou however, and he continued to scowl, turning back to his text.

“What Satori is trying to say,” and Ushijima, ever the peace-loving farm boy he was, decided to help Tendou with indirectly apologising to their underclassmen. “Is that you do indeed look different. But you also look cute and content. And I feel like that should be enough.” his normally blunt voice softened a degree as if to not scare the boy that idolised him so much.

Kenjirou just blushed and everyone present wished that they had the ability to sneakily take pictures on their phones.

Semi simply cuddled Shirabu’s back and continued to work on his assignment, adamant on both ignoring his boyfriends best friends glare and cuddling with his boyfriend. It was peaceful and quiet, and everyone in the Shiratorizawa volleyball team felt themselves relaxing a significant bit.

However, that all changed when Shirabu got up to grab a book from the shelves to help him on one of the essays that he was stuck on and too stubborn to ask help for.

“You know you can always ask, right?” asked Reon, apparently one of the fastest to recover but nor completely. He at least had the human decency to not stare at Shirabu as if he was an object.

“Hmph,” replied Shirabu, already moving away. Everyone around the table chuckled at the sheer stubbornness before returning back to their studies.

Or at least that's what they would have wanted. Instead, they began being subjected to a bunch of immature boys talking about Shirabu.

“That ass looks tight.” one of the guys jeered, annoying voice lowered down enough so the librarian couldn't hear.

“I know right? Always knew that little brat was a slut.” another continued.

“Think we could corner him later and see if he is as tight as he looks?”

“I doubt he is. But, why the fuck not. Would love to see him put in his place.”

A small snapping sound came from the table where the volleyball team were at and Eita realised it was because he had snapped the pencil in his hand. And it had been his favourite one as well.

And that's how we got put in this situation.

“Bet you his volleyball teams already had a go at that ass. There's no other way he could have possibly made it on to this team without having to bend over for them.”

Semi stood up after hearing that. No way were they going to insinuate that his boyfriend, the guy who worked his ass off day and night to stay on as first string and to also keep up his grades, was only on the team because they were fucking him. No fucking way.

Nobody tried to stop him as he walked over to those boys. Taichi even looked excited at the thought of Semi beating them up.

“Hello there.” he greeted, flashing them all a bright smile.

Immediately, they all stiffened. He could faintly hear an ‘oh shit’ but his grin just became sharper. They wouldn't be feeling regret in the first place if they had kept their damn mouths shut.

“So I couldn't help but hear you guys talk about my boyfriend, Shirabu Kenjirou?” he questioned sweetly, but everyone could see the venom on his eyes, daring them to say anymore. Seems like some of the students at Shiratorizawa had death wishes.

“Oh yeah? And what about it? You gonna invite us to fuck his tight ass?”

Everybody stared at the boy, all wondering how in the great Lord's name he had managed to get into Shiratorizawa.

“No. I'm giving you an opportunity to shut the fuck up before I beat you into the next century,” he replied sweetly and he could see a few boys scooting away from the one who had been oh so stupid to try and provoke Semi. At least some seemed to be getting their survival instincts back.

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to about it you fag-” the boy never got to finish his sentence and he doubted the boy would ever be able to speak again, out of fear or physical inability who knew, as a fist connected into his mouth. The boys around them didn't say a peep but their eyes widened and they all huddled together scared. Good.

“Here's out it's going to go, k buddy boy? You are going to never look, talk or think about my boyfriend or me again? If I ever hear you say any of those words I will find you and show you the true power of the Shiratorizawa volleyball team.” his voice had gotten deeper and he could hear one of the boys whimpering.

When the boy who's collar he was holding nodded in fear he let him go and he fell into a crumpled heap on the floor.

“That goes for the rest of you,” he added back to the boys behind him who were trying to escape. Immediately they all nodded, all in fear. Immediately he flashed them all a grin that caused the fear in their eyes to grow. “Perfect! Hope to never see you assholes ever again,” he said brightly before making his way back to his table.

When he finally got there he was swarmed with quiet congratulations however Taichi stayed silent. After everyone finished praising Semi he spoke.

“If you hurt my best friend I will make you wish for death. Currently, I am holding you in high respect. Fuck that up and you'll be lower than those assholes.” and that had to be the most passion the normally dead inside boy had used.

“Got it,” Semi said, giving him finger guns. The look of utter disgust on the redhead's face made him let out a small laugh.

“What's gotten you so happy in a library?” came a voice from behind him and when he turned around it was his own personal angel.

“Nothing, sunshine,” he said, pulling the younger in between his legs and wrapping his arms around him. “I'm tired. Can we go back,” he whispered into the ear, hands grasped tightly onto his hips.

He could hear Shirabu tsk but his boyfriend complied. “Fine. Let's go you lazy, cute, jerk.” he huffed, cheeks blazing.

Semi just chuckled, bending down slightly to give the boy a kiss on the cheek.

He quickly packed their stuff up and waved bye to their friends. After that Shirabu went up to the librarian and asked to check out the book he had gotten for their studies.

Once they were outside Shirabu turned to him, face a mixture of gratitude and annoyance.

“You know you didn't have to do that, right?” asked Shirabu, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“If somebody tries to talk shit about the people I care about they will get the shit beat out of them. A fair system if I do say so myself,” said Semi, not even bothering to beat around the bush.

Shirabu stared at him and it was clear the boy was about to have a go at him before he yawned. “We'll finish this off when I don't feel dead on my feet, clear?” threatened Shirabu.

“Pfft, sure darling. Meanwhile, I'm going to take you to your dorm. And don't bother trying to argue with me.” he added when he saw Shirabu opening his mouth in protest.

The copper blonde shot him a glare before walking ahead. Semi merely chuckled, before going after him, slinging an arm around his waist.

By the next day, it seemed everyone had found out about the library incident. Semi managed to get away scot-free since there wasn't any evidence against him and soon the whole school learned not to fuck with the people on the Shiratorizawa team.

Well unless you wanted to die young.

#semi x shirabu #semishira #semi eita #shiritorizawa #shirasemi #shirabu kenjirou #ushijima wakatoshi #tendou satori #taichi kawanishi #goshiki tsutomu #Reon #Fluff #Protectiveness #Don't fuck with members of Shiratorizawa #Shiraby wearing pastel clothes is my favourite headconon

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snelbz · 4 years

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What Happens in Vegas... {2}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre x Rhysand, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Summary: For Feyre’s twenty-first birthday, her best friend took her to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun she could never forget. She’s going home with a lot more than memories.

@snelbz / @tacmc collab

What Happens In Vegas Masterlist

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

I still had a massive headache, but it didn’t seem to be near as painful as anything my father was feeling. The afternoon, and well into the evening, had been pure chaos. After I had come clean about why reporters were constantly flooding the front lawn of my childhood home, I had gotten a talking-to that made me feel like I was fifteen and caught sneaking out of the house.

Again.

And after the scolding had come to an end, we were all just exhausted, and trying to wait it out. The police had shown up on multiple occasions, clearing the yard of people and cameras, but it didn’t stop them from coming back, or from reporters knocking on the front door, asking questions. The landline had rang so much that my father had unplugged it, which should have been done years ago, considering how far the modern world had come, but I could tell it caused him physical pain.

“Dad-.”

“You should go to bed,” he said, quietly, as he rubbed his temples from where he sat on the couch. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“I’m not tired,” I mumbled, although it was a complete lie. Yet, I couldn’t imagine going to sleep.

His cell rang, cutting off anything else that he would have said. At this time of night, a call on his cell couldn’t be a good thing.

“Hello?”

I heard the faintest of voices on the other line.

His eyes snapped up, pinning me to the spot where I sat. I felt my blood run cold.

“No, sir, I think we all completely understand under the circumstances.”

No.

No, no, no.

“Yes. Yes, sir, you as well.”

He slowly pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call. “That was Beron Vanserra. Your internship has been cancelled.”

My eyes fell shut as my head fell back and rested against the plush couch.

His voice wasn’t angry, and that made it all the more worse. He was disappointed. “He feels that, considering your current situation, it could bring the wrong kind of attention to his business.”

A banging on the door interrupted our conversation, but by this point a banging on the door was white noise. There’d been people banging on the front door all day.

It wasn’t just paparazzi out front, there were also tons and tons of fans. People were crying and screaming and holding signs. They ranged from proclamations of love for Rhys to depicting my death in graphic detail.

Apparently, later they were planning on burning me in effigy.

Which was fine, I wanted to die.

A voice came from the other side of the front door. “Ms. Archeron?”

We ignored the voice since, once again, people had been screaming my name from the other side all day. However, this voice wasn’t screaming. It was calm, cool and collected.

“Ms. Archeron, Rhys sent me.”

I blinked and made my way to the door, fearing my mother would hear me hollering and wake up from her Xanax induced sleep.

“I’m calling the cops again,” I announced.

He quickly said, “Please, ma’am. I have him on the phone.” I paused. “Just crack open the door and I’ll hand you the phone.”

Yeah, right. “Why should I believe you?”

Murmuring from the other side of the door. “He said to ask you about his t-shirt.”

I blushed. I’d washed his vomit covered shirt before we left Vegas and it was still damp in my backpack by the door.

I shook my head, though I knew he couldn’t see me. “Not good enough.”

More murmuring. “He said he still didn’t want the… excuse me, miss… ‘fucking ring’ back.”

Yep. That sounded like my darling husband.

I crouched down and unlocked the mail slot in the door and flicked the door open.

A sleek black phone was handed through.

I sighed as I took it. “Hello?”

I was met with loud music and endless voices in the background of wherever Rhysand was. Unlike myself, it seems our marriage hadn’t thrown him off his typical routine.

“I hear you’ve gotten famous overnight,” a familiar voice purred. “You may want to lay low for a while until this all blows over. Trust me. So, I sent Kallias to come and get you.”

I blinked, not sure if I was hearing correctly. “Sorry, what?”

“Kallias, the guy on your front porch? He’s head of my security team. He came to bring you back to me. And we’ll, uh, figure something out when you get here.”

I laughed, not only because it was a ridiculous request, but because my life was a running, never ending, unimaginable, cosmic joke, and I was having an incredibly difficult time making sense of it.

“You want me...to be brought...to you?” I said, slowly, making sure I had it right. “I don’t know you, much less where you even are.”

“Look,” he began, with a sigh. “There’s divorce papers and shit to sign anyway. You may as well come here so we can get this all taken care of.”

As much as I really, really didn’t want to go, I wanted to get this fiasco away from my parents house and their poor front lawn. I also wasn’t looking forward to my mother waking up and having to tell her I’d lost my internship.

My five year plan went out the window. Hell, so did my ten year plan. It was pretty contingent on the five year plan and that was contingent on this internship. But I could see a new plan forming.

I’d worked at the same art supply store for years. Painting was my true passion, the thing I yearned for more time for. I never seemed to have it, and without this internship, my architectural dreams were over. I could pick up more shifts at the store, maybe come on full-time. Alis would love that.

She wouldn’t, however, love the horde of crazed fans I’d bring to her quaint, little shop.

He sighed, and even over the phone, I could feel his eyes roll. “What else are you going to do? Hide in your parents’ house?”

I stood up straight. “How do you know I’m at my parents’?”

“Because I’m watching the live stream on TMZ.”

Decision made. I had to get out of here for the sake of my parents.

I unlocked the door, even as my father said, “Feyre, don’t.”

I opened the door a hair, just enough for Kallias to see it was open and slip in. He did so and shut the door behind him quickly.

Rhysand remained quiet on the other side of the line as I looked at my father and said, “I’ll be back, but when everything calms down. You and mom don’t need this, and I need to take care of some stuff.”

Rhysand’s hum reminded me that he was, in fact, listening yet to our conversation.

“You can’t trust him,” my father snapped, begging me to see reason. “You don’t even know him! Look at all that’s happened. This is not what you need.”

I stared at him for a moment, suddenly becoming sad. I had no idea what I needed.

“I’ll be back,” I repeated, and Rhysand had become quiet, because he had lost interest or because he was so fascinated with my father and I’s vulnerability, I didn’t know.

“We can handle this here,” he said, trying to reason with me. “You’ll need your own lawyers and-.”

“It’s not like I have anything to lose, dad,” I breathed. Which, I didn’t. My poor husband was inheriting nearly fifty thousand in student loans. I’m sure he’d appreciate that.

A change in his face told me he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“I’ll be alright, I promise,” I said, not caring if Rhys was still listening or not. I couldn’t really keep that promise because I had no idea what I was walking into.

He shook his head, but said “I think you’re doing the wrong thing. But call me if you need anything. If you want to come home, I’ll organize a flight for you right away.”

I nodded. “I will.”

“I’m serious,” he rested a hand on my shoulder and looked in my eyes, the eyes I’d inherited from my mother. “Call me and I’ll get you home.”

“Feyre?”

So apparently he had been listening. “Yeah?”

Rhys said, “Give the phone back to Kal.”

I did as I was told and the man watched me with eyes the color of fractured ice. I could hear Rhys rattling off instructions, Kallias dutifully nodding and saying yes, sir where appropriate. And then he hung up.

“Ms. Archeron, the car is waiting.”

I nodded and glanced back to my father.

“One call,” was all he said. Instead of replying, I threw my arms around him and held him tightly.

His arms came around me, but then he cleared his throat and stepped back.

Moment over. Got it.

I picked up my backpack and turned around to face Kallias and the front door. He was patiently waiting.

“Ready?”

No.

“Yes.”

He opened the door and we rushed out into the chaos.

I was surprised at how many people were still on the front lawn. People screamed at me from all different angles, some in encouragement and love and adoration, and some out of pure hatred. A girl a few years younger than myself called me a cunt and told me I didn’t deserve Rhysand’s love. The fact that she had my husband’s face on her shirt was the first sign that I shouldn’t take anything she said seriously, but in the moment, that was harder than it should have been.

Once I was in the car, the door shut behind me, I let loose a breath. Kallias was in the car a moment later, only to be followed by people banging on the car windows. I groaned, sinking lower into my seat.

I was over it.

I wanted it to be done.

And it had only just begun.

As the car moved, fans began running alongside it, and I wondered why anyone in their right mind would want to be famous.

Eventually, we began to move too fast, and we left everyone behind.

I had just nearly gotten comfortable in the backseat when I realized I wouldn’t be comfortable for long, because I was on my way to see Rhysand.

My loving husband.

—————

I was asleep before we were even in the air.

We’d boarded the most lavish private plane I’d ever seen, Kallias had offered me champagne — which I declined — and then I found myself a nice corner to sit in.

Next thing I knew, Kallias was tapping me on the shoulder. “Ms. Archeron, we’re here.”

The private jet had landed on a runway on the far end of the town at a small airport. I supposed not having to go through the chaos of a big airport was a perk in all this.

One of the very few perks, anyway.

After being led off the plane, I was brought to another car and driven through town. The nightlife was lively, people walking hand in hand down the streets of downtown, or in large groups.

I rolled down my window to hear the music as we passed by bars, and the hustle and bustle of excitement and conversation.

Nearly twenty minutes later, we were driving down a long, winding driveway, up to one of the biggest houses I had ever seen.. If I hadn’t been so exhausted and shell shocked, I would have loved to admire it. As it was, I was too busy taking in the crowd around me.

The doors were open and people were spilling out. There were two girls making out on the front steps and Kallias stepped around them as if they were ornamentation on the front lawn. I did my best not to stare.

There were people everywhere, milling about, talking, drinking, dancing, making out. You name it, it was happening in the house. For the first time in twenty-four hours, I wasn’t the person everyone was staring at.

Except for one person who had noticed me and he had a grin on his face.

Kallias headed towards him and as we approached I noticed how huge he was.

With a sigh, that nearly seemed annoyed, Kallias began, “Feyre, this is-.”

“Cassian,” the newcomer said, hand outstretched. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

My cheeks heated as he shook my hand, his hand nearly crushing my own.

“Um, nice to meet you,” I stammered.

“You too,” he said, his grin growing wider. “It’s nice to finally meet my best friend’s wife.” I opened my mouth to reply with a protest, but Cassian was turning to Kallias. “Don’t worry, Kal. I got it from here.”

Kallias looked at me, brow raised, and I gave him a curt nod before he disappeared to tend to whatever duties he had for the remainder of the night.

“Like parties?” Cassian asked, turning his back and starting to walk. I took it as a hint to follow.

“I-.” I’m not one for parties. Especially not parties like this, I was going to say, but thought better of it. “It’s pretty extravagant.”

“Almost as extravagant as a quick wedding in Vegas,” Cassian crooned, looking back at me over his shoulder.

If I thought I couldn’t have blushed any more, I would’ve been mistaken. My cheeks were burning.

“I always thought I would be his best man,” Cassian went on. “Shame. Although, I also thought he would’ve known his wife for more than three hours before he said his vows. So.”

We walked in silence for a few minutes, but that’s not to say it was quiet. It was anything but. Everywhere I looked, I saw someone else that I vaguely recognized and then it would dawn on me that I was staring at the model from a billboard back home or the actor from that new action movie Joey had wanted to see.

A leggy blonde wearing a poor excuse for a dress bumped into me and nearly knocked me over. Cassian stopped and frowned at her as her tall frame walked away. “Some people have no manners. Come on.”

He led me towards the back of the house, through the dance floor, around a game of beer pong being played with champagne flutes — didn’t seem very efficient to me, but no asked, so — until we stepped out onto a porch.

And there he was, leaning against the iron railing. The strong lines of his face were in profile. Holy shit, how could I have forgotten? There was no explaining the full effect of Rhys in real life. He fit in with the beautiful people just fine. He was one of them. I, on the other hand, belonged in the kitchen with the waitstaff.

Before we could take another step closer, a tall, sun-kissed blonde in a bikini with a silver belly chain came up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Rhysand didn’t look directly at her, but, instead, he took a sip from his glass bottle.

A feeling surged within me, and I hated that feeling. It nearly felt like jealousy, although I knew that was absurd, because I couldn’t possibly feel jealous.

Could I?

No. It wasn’t jealous. Definitely not jealousy.

Not jealous.

I shook the feeling off, although it lingered, as Cassian said, “Rhys! Look who I found!”

Rhysand’s eyes found Cassian’s, then mine.

“Um, can you take me to my room?” I asked Cassian, under my breath.

Cassian looked at me, lifting a brow. “You don’t want to party?”

“I’m tired, it’s been a long day,” I answered. Not necessarily a lie, not at all. “I prefer to just go to bed.”

“Feyre.”

The sound of my name on his lips had me turning to look at him.

He was looking at me, that bottle still in his hand, the other one was gripping the iron railing he leaned on, rather than where it had been seconds before, on bikini girl’s hip.

Not that I noticed.

“Hi,” I breathed.

Cassian snorted. “She doesn’t say much, does she?”

“She speaks,” he said, eyes not leaving mine. The tone in which he said it made it clear that he wished I wouldn’t ever again.

I had expected things to be awkward, tense even. But outright disdain was something I was not used to.

The slender blonde pressed her body — including her obviously fake boobs — against Rhys, eyeing me. The chain around her waist made a tinkling noise. I guess she decided that since I was his wife, I was about to steal him and ruin her night.

Like that would happen.

I took a second to look at Rhys, to really look at him. It should be illegal to make a black t-shirt and ripped jeans look that good. He caught my gaze and straightened. His black army-style boots were crossed at the ankles, easy as you please, because he belonged here. I didn’t.

He glanced at Cassian. “You mind finding her a room?”

Cassian snorted and crossed his arms. “Do I look like your fucking butler? You’ll show your own wife to a room. Don’t be an asshole.”

“She’s not my wife,” Rhys growled.

“Every social media site and news channel in Prythian would disagree with you there.” He turned and gave me a little wave. “Catch you later, Feyre.”

He walked away and Rhys disentangled him from the blonde. She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest, effectively pushing them up, but he paid her no attention. “Come on.”

He gestured toward the door and my eyes caught on something on the inside of his forearm that I hadn’t noticed that morning. In black ink, still red around the edges was one word:

Feyre .

“What?” His gaze followed mine and he said, “Ah, yeah, that. It’s whatever. Let’s go.”

“Hurry back, Rhysie,” the blonde cooed. I could have sworn I saw him roll his eyes, but he was off, heading for the door before I could be sure.

I pretended I hadn’t heard it, although the words replayed in my mind. I followed Rhysand inside, then through the crowd of people. I almost felt ridiculous, refusing to attend a party attended by the world’s elite. But, it wasn’t who I was, and I wasn’t going to pretend that I belonged there.

Hallways spread out in both directions up on the second floor. We went left, down to the end. He threw open a door and there my bag sat, waiting on a big king-size bed. Everything in the sumptuous room had been done in white: the bed, walls, and carpets. An antique white love seat sat in the corner. It was beautiful, pristine. Nothing like my small, cramped room back at the apartment I shared with Joey, where between the double bed and my desk, you had just enough room to get the cupboard door open, no more. This place went on and on, a sea of perfection.

“I’d better not touch anything,” I mumbled, hands tucked into my back pockets.

“What?”

“It’s lovely.”

Rhys looked around the room with nil interest. “Yeah.”

I wandered over to the windows. A luxurious pool sat below, well lit and surrounded by palm trees and perfect gardens.

“Listen, some people are going to come to talk to you about the divorce papers. They’ll be here at ten,” he said, hovering in the doorway. His fingers tapped out a beat on the doorframe. He kept casting longing looks down the hall, clearly impatient to be gone.

“Some people?”

“My lawyer and my manager,” he told his feet. “They’re rushing things, so… it’ll all be, ah, dealt with as fast as it can.”

“All right.” Rhys sucked in his cheeks and nodded. He had killer cheekbones. I’d seen men in fashion magazines that couldn’t have compared. But pretty or not, the frown never lifted. Not while I was around. It would have been nice to see him smile, just once. “You need anything?” he asked.

“No. Thank you for all this. For flying me down here and letting me stay. It’s very kind of you.”

“No worries.” He took a step back and started closing the door after him. “Night.”

He turned and opened the door, was halfway out, when I said, “Rhys, wait, shouldn’t we talk or something? About last night?”

He paused and said, “Seriously, Feyre? Why fucking bother?”

And then he was gone.

“I will,” I said, although it was far from true.

Again.

At least he hadn’t slammed the door this time, and I counted that as progress in our relationship. I sighed, letting out the breath I’d been holding. I was surprised to feel...disappointed. It’s not that I was expecting to hang out with him while I was here, but I didn’t expect to be sent to my room like a naughty child.

I made my way over to the window and looked out. A luxurious pool sat below, well lit and surrounded by palm trees and perfect gardens. Two people were in the water, making out. The woman’s head fell back and her breasts bobbed on the surface. Oh, no, my mistake. They were having sex. I could feel the heat creep up my neck and I almost turned away.

I would have, if I hadn’t noticed another couple heading for what I assumed was a pool house. The man was Rhys and the blonde hung off of him, tossing her hair over her shoulder and swaying her hips a little extra as she walked. She hurried ahead of him and stood in the doorway, before untying the strap of her top and letting it fall. She didn’t try to cover herself and he didn’t try to look away, just kept walking at the same pace until he’d reached her.

And when he did, he turned around and caught my eye.

I ducked around the wall and held my breath, feeling the blush creeping up my neck again. Not only had I caught them sneaking off to do the gods knew what, but he had caught me spying.

Except I wasn’t spying, I was just...appreciating the landscaping. Which is what I would tell him if he ever asked me about it.

If he ever spoke to me again, that is. I didn’t think that was too likely.

I looked around the room and was overwhelmed by the expense put into it. I’d be willing to bet this room alone cost as much as my apartment. I was scared to touch anything, to even sit on the white bedspread.

Who the hell has a white bedspread?

I dug through my backpack and plugged my phone in knowing it had died long ago and meandered into the bathroom. There was a large jacuzzi tub in the corner, a massive double vanity and a huge, walk-in shower. I whistled once and turned around making another lap around the room.

Rhys hadn’t asked if I wanted to stay and party, nor would I have likely taken him up on his offer, but I couldn’t stay cooped up in this room. Not after the last thirty-six hours of my life. Thankfully, I had been invited to the party downstairs, courtesy of Cassian.

No one paid me any attention as I crept downstairs. I slunk into the closest corner and settled in to watch the beautiful people at play. It was fascinating. Bodies writhed on an impromptu dance floor in the middle of the room. Someone lit up a cigar nearby, filling the air with a rich, spicy scent. Puffs of smoke billowed up toward the ceiling, a good twenty feet above. Diamonds glittered and teeth sparkled. You couldn’t get better people-watching if you tried. No sign of Cassian, sadly. At least he’d been somewhat nice.

“I don’t know you.”

I jumped slightly and turned, finding a man with blonde hair and a finely cut suit watching me while he sipped on a glass of amber liquid. I gave him an awkward smile and turned my gaze back to the room.

“You know, if you scoot half a foot to the left, you can hide behind that fake tree,” he said, gesturing to it and taking a sip of his drink. “Then you can disappear entirely. No one would see you.”

“Good to know,” I said, not turning back to him. I also didn’t deny that I was hiding. That was very clear.

He smiled at me and took a step forward, officially entering what I considered my personal space. No matter how nice his suit was, this guy creeped me out.

“I’m Tamlin.”

“Feyre.”

Another drink. “Nope, I definitely don’t know you.”

I shot him an incredulous look. “You know everyone here?” I gazed around the room. “There are a lot of people here. That’s impressive.”

“There are,” he agreed, tossing the rest of his drink back in one large swallow. “And I know them all. Everyone except you.”

“Rhys invited me.” I didn’t want to drop Rhysand’s name, but I was being backed into a corner, both figuratively and literally, as Tamlin closed in on me.

“Oh, really?” He purred. To anyone else, the tone may have been seductive. It gave me goosebumps, and not in a good way.

“He invited me to stay a few days, so,” I started looking for Cassian, Rhys, Kallias, anyone that could save me from this conversation.

Tamlin apparently couldn’t take the hint. “Well that was nice of him.”

“Yep.” I was being rude, but I didn’t care. I really wished I hadn’t left my phone upstairs. Even if it was dead, I could have pretended to take a phone call.

“Which room are you in?”

“The white one,” I said, looking for a way around him. “Speaking of, I’d better get back.”

“The white room? My, my, aren’t you special?”

I didn’t know what that meant and I didn’t want to know. “Aren’t I just? Excuse me.” I gave up on social niceties as I pushed past him.

He must not have been expecting it, or he was more fucked up than I thought, because he stumbled back a step. “Hold on now, wait a second.”

He reached for my arm, but an arm looped around my waist from behind me, pulling me out of Tamlin’s grasp. I looked up and found Rhys standing there. His face was hard. “We got a problem here, Tam?”

He shook his head, that cool smile coming back. “Not at all. Just getting to know Feyre.”

Those violet eyes narrowed. “Yeah, well, you don’t need to know Feyre.”

“Not like you to cockblock, man,” Tamlin replied, his blonde eyebrows lowering. “And didn’t I see you with the lovely Ianthe out on the balcony earlier? Why don’t you go find her, get her to do what she’s damn good at? Feyre and I were kind of busy here.”

“No, we weren’t,” I said, but neither of them heard me. But then I wondered why Rhys was back from his play time with Little Miss Belly Chain so soon? Surely, he couldn’t have been concerned for his wife’s safety.

“Heard you invited her to stay in my house,” Tamlin asked, ignoring me completely.

“I was under the impression Hybern rented this place for all of us while we worked on the album.”

“Album has taken so long that they were threatening to pull the contract, and I liked the place. So I bought it.”

The way he said it, I knew the dig about the album was directed at Rhys. He didn’t even flinch.

“Great. Let me know when the deal goes through and I’ll be sure to get my shit out. In the meantime, my guests are none of your concern.”

Tamlin looked at me again and I saw recognition light his green eyes. “This is her, isn’t it? This is the one you married, you stupid son of a bitch.”

Rhysand completely ignored him. “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and began dragging me toward the staircase.

With a laugh, Tamlin called after him, “Any one of us could have fucked her up against a wall at a party, but you decided to marry her?”

Bullshit they could have, especially not him.

Rhys’ fingers tightened around my hand.

“Look at her, Rhys. Jeans and fucking t-shirt at a party. She’s nothing but a groupie. Tell me this marriage didn’t come courtesy of vodka and coke.”

Rhysand’s iron tight grip on my wrist disappeared and before I could turn to tell Tamlin what I really thought, Rhys had rushed him grabbing him by the lapels. The smirk on Tamlin’s face wasn’t helping the whole situation. The room hushed, the bumping bass the only background noise.

“Did I hit a nerve?” He breathed.

Rhys didn’t look ready for back down, but neither did Tamlin. Rhysand was seething. “Go ahead, show me who the star of this show really is.”

He looked ready to do just that. He tensed and looked ready to swing-.

“Rhys!”

Surprised eyes turned to look at me. Even I was surprised to have spoken. Tamlin looked at me smugly, but when Rhys turned to look at me, I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

I breathed, “Please.” I didn’t know what I was trying to accomplish, avoiding a brawl, I guess.

He turned, grabbing my wrist and marched us up the stairs. I heard Tamlin laugh from behind us, but he didn’t say anything else. Neither did Rhys. An elegant woman with long dark hair took a step forward, her hand outstretched. Distress lined her lovely face. “You know he doesn’t mean it.”

Rhys snapped, “Stay out of it, Am,” and continued up the stairs.

As soon as his attention was off of her, the woman was glaring at me. Not only did she look like she disliked me, but she was looking at me as if I were to blame for Rhysand’s current attitude. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was.

I didn’t have too long to think about it, though, because Rhysand dragged me the rest of the way up the stairs, and down the hallways toward my room. I had a feeling he was pretty pissed that I had left my room to begin with. Perhaps he would trap me inside, find a way to make sure I didn’t leave. Tamlin’s groupie comment repeated inside of my mind, making me fully aware just how underdressed I was, how out of place I looked.

Rhysand was probably embarrassed of me.

Halfway down the hallway, I finally managed to jerk my wrist free of Rhysand’s grip, before I completely lost feeling in my arm.

“I know the way,” I said. “I can make it there myself.”

“Still wanna get some, huh? You should have said something, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” he said with a false smile. “And hey, you’re not even shit-faced tonight. Chances are you’d remember.”

I scoffed. “Ouch.”

“Something I said untrue?” he asked, eyes ablaze.

“You’re being a prick,” I snapped.

He froze and turned, eyes wide and, surprisingly, shocked. “Me? I’m being a prick? For fucks sake, you’re my wife!”

“No, I’m not. You said yourself, right before you went to go play in the pool house with your little friend.” Though they hadn’t stayed long, only five, maybe six minutes. I almost felt bad for Little Miss Belly Chain. I know I would’ve been disappointed in such a lackluster performance. That wasn’t service with a smile.

He shook his head, a dark laugh leaving him, but there was no humor to it. Clearly, he wasn’t my biggest fan right now. It’s okay, the feeling was mutual.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Should I take you back to Tamlin?” He cracked his knuckles like he was preparing for a fight.

“No, thank you.”

“That was real nice, making fuck-me eyes at him, by the way. Out of everyone down there, you had to be flirting with Tam,” he sneered. “Classy, Feyre.”

“That’s honestly what you think was happening?”

“What with you and him getting all fucking cozy in the corner?”

“Seriously?”

“I know Tamlin and I know girls around Tamlin. That’s definitely what it looked like, baby.” He held his arms out wide, that tattoo with my name on it standing out, red and angry. “Prove me wrong.”

“I don’t even know how to make fuck-me eyes. And if I did, I definitely wouldn’t have been making them at that tool downstairs,” I snapped. No wonder so many marriages ended in divorce. Marriage sucked and husbands were the worst.

“Trust me, you absolutely do,” he breathed, and the tone of his voice had me looking up into his eyes. What I saw there unsettled me, especially considering what he’d just accused me of.

“It’s funny,” I started, crossing my arms. “My best friend begged me not to break the band up when I came out here, but I think you and Tamlin can handle that on your own. Your band issues might be even worse than your wife issues, and that’s saying something.” Slowly, I shook my head. “Thank you for offering me the opportunity to defend myself. I really appreciate it. But you know what, Rhys, I’m just not convinced your good opinion is worth it.”

He flinched.

I walked away before I said something worse. Forget anything amicable. The sooner we were divorced, the better.

#what happens in vegas #snelbz whiv #feysand #snelbz tacmc collab #snacmc #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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tangledstarlight · 3 years

Text

i’ll say it with petals (you’ll ink it in my skin)

julie works at her families flower shop and luke works in the tattoo parlour next door. one time he plays his music a little too loud, one time julie decides to have a word.

it just a lil flower shop / tattoo artist au

i honestly had so much fun writing this one and it really truly did get away from me. i didn’t mean for it to be 11k words long, my bad. it also lowkey covers the ‘how do you passive aggressively say fuck you in flowers’ prompt, so the flower meanings are at the end.

but anyway please enjoy!!!

also on ao3 (in source!)

trigger warnings! death mentions (julies mom), mild swearing, underage drinking (literally a single beer) needles.

When she was little Julie remembers always being excited to get to go to work with her mom at the flower shop. Because she liked to spend time with her mom, but also because Julie really loved all the flowers.

Walking into the shop when she was little always felt a little like walking into a magical world. Somewhere full of bright colours and loud scents and soft instrumental music always playing in the background. It felt a lot like home too.

With her mom singing and her tia laughing and Julie trying to join in with both. She remembers, when she was little, always pulling one of the tall chairs up to the counter, greeting customers with a gap toothed smile and asking in her best voice ‘what can I help you with today?’ but she’d a little bit of a lisp and the chair would wobble and the customer would smile politely but ring the bell for her mom or tia to come bustling out.

Walking into the shop still feels a little bit magical even now she’s nineteen and no longer full of childhood wonder, but it’s also tinged with a melancholy feeling that has her sitting at the front counter on one of the tall chairs and humming quietly to herself.

When Julie thinks back on her childhood now, it’s full of music and laughter and flowers. When she closes her eyes, when the shop is quiet and she’s alone in the backroom, she can almost hear her mom singing about flower names to her and hear tia talking away to a customer and her dad dropping by to kiss her hair and leave lunch. It used to hurt, and sometimes it still does, but mostly it just makes her smile.

Until the sound of heavy drums and a loud guitar breaks her peaceful afternoon.

Julie accidentally snaps the stem of the lily in her hand as she glares at the wall that connects their shop to the tattoo parlour next door. For the last two weekends this has been happening on and off. The music would start blaring at random points in the day and abruptly stop. Only to start again a little later on.

Now see, despite what people at her school might have said in senior year, Julie still loved music. She liked to play it just as loud as the next person, and she didn’t even mind whatever band it was that was playing. They had some very catchy riffs and melodies, from what she could hear.

But when your music echoed through the walls so loud that someone next door could hear the words, your music was too loud.

Putting the snapped lily down, Julie wipes her hands on her apron and glares a little more at the wall, like the person on the other side would be able to see her, when there’s no change she glances at the clock. Twelve o’clock. So much for having a quiet lunch break and watching an episode of Schitt’s Creek. The only silver lining was that the music didn’t normally last for long. Twenty minutes at most.

By one o’clock, when the music is still blasting and she’s starting to gain a headache and she’s started looking up obscure flowers that could mean ‘shut up’, Julie decides she needs to do something.

The tattoo parlour has been in business next door to Petal Pushers for the last six years and as far as Julie knows there’s never been any issues between them. (In fact, Julie knows that her mom had gotten her last tattoo there and that her tia often gave them leftover arrangements for their front window and four years ago, when the flower shop had undergone a rebrand, one of their artists had designed their logo.)

All she had to do was go next door and ask whoever it was to turn the volume down. Easy.

She finds herself waiting another half an hour, just in case, but she can still hear the crashing of drums and the pulsing bass.

So she slips her phone into her back pocket and picks up her keys, turns the sign on the door to ‘back in ten minutes!’ and walks the eight steps to the right, pushes open the door to Etched in Ink and is immediately attacked by music. There’s a more authentic feeling to it now she’s in the shop, something alive about it, but it might just be the volume and how she can see the bowl of lollies on the front desk actually vibrating.

“Hello?” Her voice gets lost in someone singing about time moving slowly as she steps further into the shop, eyes glancing around. She’s been in before –– she came when her mom got her tattoo and she’s dropped off flowers on occasion –– but it’s been a while. There’s some new art work on the walls she thinks, and band posters. Fingers tapping on the desk she shouts a hello again but isn’t surprised when it’s once again swallowed by the music

Rolling her eyes Julie steps around the desk and through to the main area of the shop where the music is impossibly louder, but there’s still no one around. Honestly, it would be so easy for someone to walk in and rob the place.

Her fingers walk along the arm arm of a chair as she walks through the space and towards a slightly ajar staff door at the back. Julie knocks, to be polite, but huffs out a breath when there’s still no response. Honestly, she can barely hear herself think in this place, let alone hear someone at the door.

Pushing it open, her mouth opens to reprimand whoever is inside but instead she’s left standing both thoughtless and speechless at the guy bouncing around the room.

He’s wearing black jeans and an orange beanie that contradict with the sleeveless band shirt covering his torso. Because that’s all it’s covering, and doing a poor job at that. Julie watches, a little transfixed, as his biceps flex, sleeve of tattoos dancing with the movement as he plays along with the guitar riff of the song on the electric in his hands.

Idly, in the back of her mind, she finally understands why the music had felt different when she stepped into the shop.

He nods his head in time with the music and the crashing of a cymbal, eyes shut tight and biting his bottom lip in concentration.

And okay, Julie knows she came over to yell at the asshole playing his music too loud and is now just gawking at him. But in her defence, she didn’t know he was going to be so hot.

Julie’s still standing in the doorway staring at him, her mind trying desperately to regain control, when he opens his eyes and looks right at her. His eyes widen a fraction in surprise, and she notices his fingers slip, just a little on the frets, before a smirk curls at the edges of his lips.

In mild horror and joy, Julie watches as he takes a step closer to her, fingers moving across the strings as he follows along with the song and stares right at her.

Swallowing, and trying to ignore how warm her cheeks suddenly feel, Julie crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow at him as the song finally seems to come to an end.

“I knocked!” She blurts out the second he hits pause on the cd player in the corner of the room and she resists the urge to move hair in front of her face when he looks at her with a single raised brow. “But it’s no surprise you couldn’t hear me over this racket,” she waves vauley to his guitar, careful to avoid eye contact with his arms.

“You work next door, right?” He asks, sitting on top of the table in the middle of the room, his feet resting on the chair while he rests his guitar on his lap, folding his arms on top, muscles flexing and oh god. She really needs to stop staring at his arms.

“Mhm,” she manages to get out along with a nod of her head, eyes darting up to his face. But from the look in his eyes Julie’s pretty sure she’s been caught staring.

“I’ve seen you around,” he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and he smiles and Julie thinks that might be worse to look at then his arms. Fucking hell, “I’m uh Luke, by the way. Started here a few months ago.”

“Right,” this conversation was not going the way she anticipated. Pushing aside his employment history and his name –– though she is grateful to have it –– Julie clears her throat and pulls herself up a little straighter. “That’s great. I came to ask you to turn the music down. I can barely think next door.”

“You don’t like the songs?” There’s a slight pout on his lips that almost distracts her and has her saying she does like the songs.

Instead she shakes her head, “It’s not exactly the soundtrack I want when making a funeral arrangement.”

Honestly, she had been expecting him to nod in understanding, apologise for the loudness and promise to keep it down. She didn’t expect him to let out a laugh –– which was bright and clear and made his eyes crinkle in such a cute way that it totally distracted her from his biceps –– or lean towards her with a grin.

“Are you kidding!? A song about how life is short and you’ve got to live it like it’s now or never––” he sings the line and suddenly Julie is hit with the knowledge that the music she’s been hearing over the last few weeks is apparently his, ”Is the perfect soundtrack for a funeral arrangement. Also possibly christenings. But I don’t know if flowers are a thing for those.”

“Of course there’s –– No, no stop,” she closes her eyes, throwing her hands up before she really loses track of the conversation, “I’m not here to talk about flower arrangements. I just came to ask for you to please turn the music down,” she pauses, eyes darting to his arms and the guitar they’re resting on before pointing at the amp its plugging into, “And if you’re going to play, to do it at a 1, not a 10.”

“Even if I play something arrangement appropriate like You Raise Me Up?” Luke leans a little more forward, pushing himself to the edge of the table until his guitar is almost touching the back of the chair.

“Even if you played Danny Boy,” Julie doesn’t know when she’d copied him, tilting forward at the waist so they were almost eye level, but when she notices she can make out the details of the book inked into his skin she realises they’ve drifted closer. Cheeks warming, she stands up straighter and brushes her hands down her apron.

“Just–– keep it down. Please,” she turns to walk out the door but hesitates, turning to look at him over her shoulder, eyes firmly on his face, “If not for my sake then for your own. Anyone could walk in here and rob you, and you wouldn't hear a thing.”

“Hey wait! You didn’t tell me your name! Can’t spend the whole conversation staring at my arms and not give me something.”

Julie pauses, lets her eyes wander from his fingers resting on the neck of his guitar, up his inked forearms and biceps before landing on his face, quirking her lips a little, “Think of it as payment for disrupting my lunch.”

She’s halfway through the main room when she hears him stuttering out a laugh and calling after her again, and it takes all her willpower not to turn around.

Unfortunately that means she’s a blushing mess by the time she makes it back into her shop, shaking her head as she tries to stop smiling.

After their first encounter Luke doesn’t play his music too loud anymore, but Julie suddenly starts seeing him all the time anyway.

A Tuesday morning when she’s opening up, blinking back a yawn and fumbling with her keys and he’s wandering up with a wide grin and too chirpy hello. She’s fairly certain she grumbles something about daylight and needing coffee before dealing with him and an amused smile on his lips. (The next Tuesday when he’d strolled up he’d had a carrier with two take out cups and handed one to her without a word. Julie had stood stunned for a few seconds before her brain kicked in and she’d opened the door with a muttered thanks.)

A Thursday evening when she’s lugging a bag of garbage out to the bins at the back of the shop and Luke’s sitting on the old deck chair in his shop's yard, notebook open on his lap and pen tapping on his knee. He’d gotten up, pen tucked behind his ear and book stuffed in his back pocket, and come over to help her. After she’d said thank you they’d hesitated in each other's space and shared a smile before going their separate ways. (Later, Juile wrinkles her nose when she realises it’s the first time they’ve both smiled at each other and it had been next to the god damn bins.)

A Friday at lunch time when she’s bringing out a tray of flowers to give to the hearse driver parked on the street and Luke walks past humming the tune to Danny Boy under his breath, making her burst into a fit of giggles that makes him grin and the driver frown and her blush. (She sees him walking past again half an hour later and waits until she’s sure he’s inside before hitting play on their sound system, You Raise Me Up starts blasting through the shop and she grins to herself when she hears something hit their connecting wall.)

A Sunday afternoon when she’s collecting all the leftover bouquets from out front of the shop and Luke walks past her, hands in his pockets and guariar case slung over one shoulder. He pauses as she straightens up with a collection of rose bouquets in her arms, she raises an eyebrow at him and Juile could swear he blushes, but it’s probably a trick of the dying light. He’d given her a two finger salute, muttered something about having a good afternoon and then hurried away. (Julie had spent the last hour of her shift before closing thinking about the way the denim jacket he had been wearing did very little to hide the definition of his arms.)

So Julie’s used to seeing him around now.

To their little quips and shared coffees on Tuesday mornings and the way the ghost tattoo at the bottom of his bicep seems to dance whenever he shoots her a wave.

But she’s used to seeing him outside.

Never inside Petal Pushers surrounded by flowers or tilting his head as he listens to the softly playing music.

But on a Wednesday afternoon as she comes out of the back room when someone rings the bell on the counter she’s greeted by Luke doing just that. He’s got one hand pushed into the front pocket of her jeans while his other is idly tracing a pattern on the counter top, it’s only when she gets a little closer that she realises he’s tracing music notes.

“Hi, welcome to Petal Pushers. I’m Julie, how can I help you today?” The words leave her mouth before she can stop them, mind working on autopilot at the sight of a customer.

A slow smile spreads across Luke’s face as he looks down at her, his fingers stilling on the counter, “So you’re name’s Julie,” he says and Julie doesn’t think she’s ever heard anyone say her name like him. Like it’s the lyric to a song they’ve been trying to finish or a missing puzzle piece.

Letting out a sigh she gives him a nod, chewing on her bottom lip as she really looks at him. Over the last few weeks Julie has learned that he doesn’t work Wednesdays, that he has a real aversion to sleeves and when he knows no one is booked in for an appointment he uses the time to practice for his band. She’s also learnt that he bites his lip way too much for her health, has a tattoo on his ribs that she’s dying to fully see and that he rubs the back of his neck when he’s nervous.

Like he’s doing right now.

“It is. Did you just come in to finally find out or did you need some flowers?” She tilts head at him and smiles.

“I uh––” his hand is still rubbing at his neck and Julie watches his tongue run over his lips and she has to blink quickly to refocus her eyes when he starts talking, “I heard that flowers have different meanings, right?”

“Uh yeah,” she nods, still blinking, but more in confusion now. This isn’t quite what she thought the conversation was going to be.

“Okay cool. So um, how would you say fuck you in flowers?”

Julie blinks, opens her mouth to say something only to close it again. Huh. Really wasn’t what she expected him to ask.

“Well, do you want to say it subtly? Passive aggressive? Just a straight up fuck you?” Her mind is already thinking about possibilities and what they have in stock.

“Straight up fuck you,” he nods once before muttering, more to himself then her, “I don’t think Bobby would even understand subtly.”

Squinting for a moment, Julie knocks her knuckles on the counter top once before pushing away from it and starting to move around the shop. She picks out a few pink peonies and pale pink geraniums, she looks at the different carnations they have out, pursing her lips in thought.

“What exactly has this Bobby done? Dumped you for someone with better biceps?” She teases, glancing at him over her shoulder as she deliberates between the yellow and purple.

“I wish. That would have been better,” he sighs and Julie frowns at him, brows drawing together as she watches him tap on the counter. “He uh he used to be in my band? But he left because of ‘creative differences’, which was basically because he wanted us to sell out to the first big name label.”

He looks up at her, eyes wide and disgusted at the mere thought of it. And well, she understands that. From the little she’s heard of their band through the walls Julie’s fairly certain they don’t need to sell out to make it big. So she nods at him, tilting her head and hoping he gets that she understands.

“So he left and that was–– it was shit really because we’d all been friends for years. Me and the boys, we tried to keep in touch with him because he left the band but we didn’t think it meant we’d stop being friends, y’know?” Luke moves away from the counter now, wanders over to her and fingers the brushing gently over the petals of a rose as he frowns, “But he cut us off. Found out why yesterday.”

He pauses, fingers still moving over the rose and Julie takes the opportunity to pick out a few of the orange carnations, mentally deciding to fetch two sprigs of meadowsweet from the back when Luke starts talking again.

“He signed with some big shot label and has an album coming out in November. Seven out of the ten songs on it are mine,” as he says it he pulls a little to hard on the petal, tearing it in half, “Fuck, sorry.”

Julie waves away his apology, picking the damaged rose out and adding it to her arms. There’s a dull sort of roaring in her ears as she walks back to the counter, still trying to wrap her head around his story.

His friend had stolen his songs. Had stolen his songs and sold out.

She looks down at the flowers on the counter, stupidity and disappointment and uselessness and anger. Glancing up at Luke, who’s wandered back to the counter, hands pushing into his pockets and looking a little lost.

“He really stole your songs?” She asks gently. It’s been a long time since Julie played her own music, even longer since she wrote a full song, but she knows how much it would hurt her if someone ever stole them from her. Especially if that person had been her friend.

“Yeah,” Luke breaths, resting against the counter and shrugging at her.

“Okay then.”

Holding up one finger she hurries into the back room, picks up a roll of cellophane and the worst ribbons they have, two sprigs of meadowsweet and plucks a single orange lily from the bucket against the wall. Luke’s still leaning against the counter where she left him, staring at the collection of photos on the wall behind it. Most are just photos of their most popular bouquets but mixed between them are photos of her and her mom and her brother and her tia and her dad.

“Your aunt owns this place, right?” He asks casually. Too casually. Like he already knows the answer. Glancing up at him she hums, waiting to see where he’s going with it. “That’s cool. She brings us flowers for the front sometimes. Willie did your logo design, I think.”

Julie smiles at the mention of Willie, he’s a year older then her and had been working at Etched in Ink for the last four years, her mom had picked his design out she remembers. The rough sketched dahlia with music notes hidden in its petals and a rose in the centre. A combination of her moms and her tia’s favourite flowers and music that had always brought their family together.

“My mom said he really managed to capture our family business in it,” she chuckles, moving a carnation and adding one of the meadowood springs. Which might have been true, but Julie also knows they’d picked it because her mom only had a few months left and her tia wanted their new logo to still have something of her in it.

“He’s pretty good at doing that,” Luke agrees and the way he smiles at her lets Julie know that he knows about her mom. And she’s glad he doesn’t mention it, doesn’t try to offer any condolences. “He’s helping Reg re-do our bands logo.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow though her eyes are still on the flowers. In go the peonies and geraniums, colours clashing.

“Sunset Curve. You should uh––” he hesitates for long enough that Julie looks up at him, at the faint blush on his cheeks and one hand at the back of his neck. “You should check us out. We’ve got a few videos on youtube. Or I could uh I could get you a copy of our demo.”

She looks at him for a heartbeat, at his pink cheeks and the way he’s biting his lip despite smiling and the blank space of skin on the underside of his arm. Julie gives him a half smile, eyebrows flicking up as she teases, “Okay, Sunset Swerve, right?”

“I’ll go back to playing our demo super loudly,” he tries to glare at her, but it's ruined by the way his lips stick out in a pout and the lock of hair falling across his forehead.

“Mhm, and I’ll just call the police with a noise complaint,” she grins at him.

“If you were gonna do that you’d have done it already,” he points out and yeah. He has a point there.

“Maybe,” she concedes looking back at the flowers and sticking the lily straight in the middle. No better way to say fuck you then with an orange lily. Without measuring she cuts off a length of the bright lime green ribbon and lays a section of cellophane on the counter top.

“That’s a terrible colour,” Luke points out mildly and when Julie flicks her eyes up she sees him grinning. She wraps two elastic bands around the flower stems and cuts them all down to the same size before laying them on the plastic wrap and rolling them together.

“Can you––” she gestures with her finger for Luke to hold the ribbon and cellophane in place while she ducks down to find a packet of flower food to attach. She might not like who the flowers are going to but that doesn’t mean the flowers should suffer the price. Tying the ribbon into a bow over Luke’s finger, she taps him lightly with her pinky to move it before pulling the loops tight.

“Do you want a card?” She asks, wondering which of their options would suit this type of bouquet best. Maybe just one of the plain yellow ones.

“Oh yeah. Can it say ‘Hey Bobby, fuck you’.”

Julie pauses with her pen hovering over the card, waiting to see if he’s going to add anything else.

“Just–– just that? Nothing more?” she looks up at him but Luke just shakes his head, nodding down to the card for her to finish. Shrugging she does, using her best cursive so he knows the sentiment is meant. She holds it up for Luke to inspect and when he grins she slots it into the flowers, stepping back a little to admire her creation.

It’s absolutely horrendous. It’s perfect.

“This is great,” Luke grins as his eyes roam across the flowers and Julie’s pretty sure he has no idea what any of them mean. But he’s definitely picked up on how awful it looks which seems to be good enough for him. “How much do I owe you?”

“Do you want them delivered?”

“Yeah that would be good,” he pulls his wallet out and Julie has to bite hard at her bottom lip to stop from laughing as she notices the chain attached to his belt.

“That’ll be $15,” she presses a few buttons on the cash machines screen, the card reader lighting up as she waits to see how he’ll be paying but Luke’s just frowning at her.

“That can’t be right. It says the orange and purples ones alone are like ten dollars.”

“Mhm, I’m only charging you for delivery,” she can tell he’s about to argue so she’s quick to speak, “As someone who once thought of herself as a musician, anyone who steals songs deserves worse than an ugly bouquet of flowers. Fifteen dollars Luke.”

There’s a different look in his eyes as he taps his card on the reader, something assessing. Like she’s just handed him another piece of a puzzle when he thought he’d completed it. Julie looks down at the card reader, ready to tear off his receipt so she doesn’t have to wonder what he’s seeing when he looks at her.

“They’ll go out this afternoon, be with Bobby by seven pm at the latest,” she says, pushing the post-it note with the address firmly onto the cellophane and gives Luke a smile.

“Thanks,” the smile he gives her in return is a lot softer than she’s used to from him. But she likes it. “I’ll uh, see you tomorrow?”

It’s a question, hesitant and careful. Almost like he’s worried she won't want to see him tomorrow. Which is silly. Seeing Luke, even briefly in passing, has quickly become her favourite part of the day. Not that she has any intention of letting him know that. That would be embarrassing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Luke.”

“Bye. Julie,” and there’s her name again coming from his mouth that’s curving up into a smile. All she can do is wave awkwardly as he leaves.

A gasp of air leaves her lips as the door shuts behind him and she slumps forwards on the counter, nudging the flowers with her elbow, “Oh fuck.”

The saturday after the fuck you flowers Julie is handed an envelope by Victoria when she walks in for her shift at twelve o’clock. Julie gives her credit, she doesn’t start asking questions about ‘the puppy eyed boy’ until after she’s at least put her bag down.

“He all but pouted when I said you weren’t in yet, mija,” from the way Victoria wags her eyebrows Julie gets the feeling she might have ‘accidentally’ let slip when she was due in.

“I think that’s just his face tia. He made the same one when I said pizza was overrated.” Which was the wrong thing to say as Victoria’s eyes light up.

“And why were you talking about pizza?” She leans on the counter, handbag slipping down her shoulder at the movement.

“Because he mentioned he was getting pizza with his friends, that’s all. Nothing is going on between us, we’re just friends,” Julie tries to put as much stress on the word friends as she can. But Victoria just lets out a small hum, a knowing smile on her lips that Julie doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“If you say so Julie. Right, I’m off. See you for dinner tomorrow?” She pushes herself off from the counter, pushing up her bag and pointing one manicured hand at Julie.

“Papi’s making enchiladas, so there’s no need to bring anything.”

“Of course,” but they both know she’ll still bring something, perhaps a salad. Perhaps a whole meal. Victoria blows her a kiss and then turns in a flurry of skirts out of the door, leaving Julie shaking her head after her, a smile on her lips.

As soon as she’s sure that Victoria isn’t going to come bustling back in having forgotten something Julie unseals the envelope and pulls out a cd case with a post-it note stuck to the front. It takes her a while to work out what it says, but it’s easy enough to see the number scrawled at the bottom in a different handwriting.

It makes her smile, thinking about Luke writing the note and then asking one of his friends to write his number, like he wanted to make sure she could clearly read it. It almost makes her think he really wants to know her thoughts.

Making sure no one's about to come into the shop Julie slips into the back room and over to their sound system, taking out the cd of classical music and replacing it with the Sunset Curve demo. It doesn’t take her long to recognise the opening guitar riffs as the song that Luke had been playing along too when they’d first met, laughing a little to herself, she goes back to the front. Pulling one of the chairs over, she sits down and flips through the little leaflet that the cd came with.

Three faces looking out at her and one scribbled over in black sharpie. She’s going to hazard a guess that that’s Bobby. There’s writing underneath the photo and peering at it closer Julie sees that someone's someones written their names. Alex, Luke and Reggie. She shakes her head at the way he’s added his own name for her, just in case.

“Idiot,” she mutters fondly.

Luke doesn’t come back in, which is probably for the best because Julie keeps his demo playing for the rest of the day.

By the third play through she’s started to memorise the lyrics and by the fifth she’s adding in imaginary keys to parts of the songs and by the sixth she can harmonise along with them.

Around four, when she’s waving goodbye to a customer who came in asking for something blue she decides to take a break, turning the sign on the door as she presses Flynn’s name in her phone. She’s just turning the volume down on the sound system when her best friend answers.

“Okay, what’s the latest with Mr Arms?”

“He left me his demo and number, Flynn,” she whines, flopping down on the lumpy sofa, head hitting the wall softly.

“Is it bad?” Flynn asks and she can practically hear the frown in her voice. After the flower incident Julie had driven to Flynn’s dorm room and told her everything, and then they’d spent two hours looking through youtube for their videos. And they were good. Really good.

“No. It’s great. Amazing. Listen,” Julie pulls her phone away from her ear and hits the speaker button as the chorus of Late Last Night starts and she quietly sings along with Luke’s voice.

“Oh this is catchy,” she mutters, voice echoing through the room and Julie nods before remembering this is a phone call and her friend can’t see her.

“I know,�� she groans, “Flynn. He’s hot, he plays guitar like a rockstar, he’s funny and helps me take out the garbage and his arms, Flynn. His arms!”

“I know babe. He’s got the arms of a greek god. You’ve told me,” there’s a teasing note in Flynn’s voice that just makes Julie groan again, slipping further down the sofa.

“What am I going to do?”

“Well, now hear me out, you could just text him. And ask him out.”

When she says it like that it sounds so simple. Julie frowns a little, absentmindedly nodding her head along with the outro to the song as she thinks about it. Texting him. Asking him out. Because what if he doesn’t like her like that? Sure they’ve been sort of flirting for a few weeks but he probably does that with everyone. With his face and personality, not to mention the whole band thing, he could get anyone he wanted, so why would he go for her?

“Okay Jules stop, I can practically hear you spiralling through the phone.”

“He might not even like me like that. He probably just wanted an opinion on his music,” she tries but it sounds weak even to her.

“Right, first of all you are hot. And anyone would be lucky to go out with you, more than lucky, they should be honoured that you’re even considering going out with them,” Julie laughs a little, but there’s no stopping Flynn when she’s on a roll, “Second the boy has taste if he’s asking for your opinion on his music because you have amazing taste. And third, they’re playing a show tonight at the Grange so meet me at mine at eight so I can judge your outfit.”

It takes Julie a moment to register what she’s said and then she’s blinking, pushing herself up on the sofa until she’s sitting up straight, “What? How do you know that?”

“They’re on twitter. And they really need some help on that front because there are so many typos,” Flynn trails off for a moment before her voice is back, “If it works out between you and Mr Arms I might consider offering them my services.”

“Isn’t the Grange a 21+ club?” She asks as her last argument but she already knows what Flynn is going to say. The fake ID in her purse is practically laughing at her.

“Fakes baby. Eight o’clock. Bring some of your dad's brownies.”

Julie doesn’t have a chance to think of any reasons why she can’t go before Flynn is saying “Love you bye!” and hanging up. She makes sure to carefully put the cd back in its case and slip it in her bag before locking up for the night, if they’re going to see them play Flynn should get to hear the whole demo.

The club is already busy when they show their ID’s to bouncers and wander in. Bodies press into each other on the dance floor in front of the stage, moving along to whatever the dj is playing so loudly it just sounds like bass to her. Flynn wraps a hand around her wrist and tugs her over to the bar, pushing through a group of boys around their age until they’re leaning on the counter.

“This place is smaller than I expected,” Julie shouts, shooting the bartender a smile as he puts down two beers in front of them and takes Flynn’s money.

“I guess unsigned bands can’t be picky,” Flynn grins at her as she picks up her drink and the two of them weave back through the crowd to one of the tables off to the side of the dance floor. There’s no chairs, but they don’t mind standing, “I wonder what time they’re on,” she taps the screen of her phone to check the time and Julie peers over as 9:32 flashes up.

Julie looks around, idly taking a swig of her drink as she watches a group of girls dance, laughing and giddy. The one downside to opting to take a year off before college is that she’s missing out on all this every week.

The sneaking into clubs and drunken dancing and shitty beer and new friends. Flynn always invites her when she goes out and she’s gone a few times, but it’s not the same. And anyway she’s meant to be using this year to decide what she wants to do. Who she wants to be. She’s pretty sure she’s not going to find it at the bottom of a bottle or on a sticky floor.

She pulls at the hemline of her black high waisted shorts, wiggling her hips a little as she tries to pull them down while trying to keep her lilac off shoulder crop top from riding up. It’s a delicate balance and she’s feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“Hey,” Flynn’s hand appears in her line of sight and Julie follows it up to her face where she’s peering at her through gold shimmering eyes, “You look amazing. Stop fussing.”

Julie blows out a breath, dropping her hands from her shorts and lifting her drink to her lips and drinking. Flynn’s growing smile is enough for Julie to try and relax. And then the DJ is pausing the music and announcing the last band of the night, there’s a loud cheer from the gathered crowd as the three members of Sunset Curve stroll onto the stage.

The dark haired bassist, Reggie, waves at the crowd as he checks his bass is plugged in, throwing a wink at someone in the front row with a grin. Alex seems to be looking for something in the crowd and finds it if the wide smile on his face is anything to go by. But Julie doesn’t really spare them much more than a sweeping glance as her eyes land on Luke.

Apparently the lack of sleeves extends to the stage, as does the beanie –– which makes zero sense and she will be teasing him about it if she doesn’t melt into a puddle of goo by the end of the night –– , but there’s an ease to the way he walks up to his mic, guitar strap across his body and plucking a pick out of his mouth. He grins at something Reggie says that none of them can hear, and his face lights up and Julie knows that whatever they’re about to see is going to be incredible.

“Hey, thanks for coming out tonight. We’re gonna kick this off with something from our upcoming EP. This is Now or Never.”

Luke nods at Reggie and Reggie nods at him and then they’re playing. She’d thought their demo was good, had thought their badly recorded covers on youtube were good, had even liked the little she’d heard through the walls three weeks ago, but hearing them live is another feeling altogether.

They’re better than good and amazing doesn’t feel strong enough. Their whole performance is high energy and makes you want to get up, to dance, to sing along. So they do.

Julie downs the rest of her drink and then clutches Flynn’s hand as she pulls them through the crowd until they’re in the middle of the floor. Bodies pushing in around them, all jumping and swaying and some even singing along when they know the words. She lets herself get lost in the music, in the feeling of the drums through the floor and how the bass line reverberates through her.

It’s when they start In Your Starlight that Luke’s eyes find her in the crowd.

She knows the moment he does because his eyes widen a little and his fingers slip, playing the wrong note as he stumbles a half step backwards. And then he’s smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners as he nods at her, tongue sticking out slightly between his teeth before he starts to sing. While looking directly at her.

Maybe it’s the alcohol in her system or Flynn’s pep talks have finally clicked in her head, but she doesn’t look away, she sings his song back to him. She liked to think the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks by the end of the song is because of that.

They close with a cover of Everybody Talks and when Luke raises an eyebrow at her and nods to the side of the floor where the booths are she doesn’t hesitate to nod with a grin.

“Thank you! We’re Sunset Curve!” Luke shouts into his mic, wiping sweat off his face as he grins out the crowd.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie chimes in, winking at someone and then they’re walking off the stage and Julie is pulling Flynn over to the booths. For a moment, she hesitates as she looks at them, not sure where to go because they’re all occupied. And then a familiar face is waving them over and Julie breaths out a sigh and a smile at the sight of Willie.

“Molina! I didn’t know you were coming!” He grins as Flynn slips into the booth first and Julie slides in after her.

“Sort of a last minute thing,” she laughs nervously, because now that she’s here and knows they’re about to come out she’s suddenly second guessing everything. “This is my best friend Flynn. Flynn, Willie, he works at Etched in Ink too.”

“Oh! You did the logo right?” Flynn asks and then they’re talking about designs and colours and how sometimes a simple line drawing is better. Julie’s half listening, trying to feign interest but her eyes keep going to the side door that she knows leads to backstage, waiting for it to open.

Somehow, despite constantly looking, she still misses them coming out because suddenly a pair of arms are around Willie’s neck and a blonde head is pressing a kiss into his cheek. Julie looks up to find Luke already grinning at her, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Hey,” she thinks he’d have probably whispered it if they weren’t in a crowded club that’s started blaring music again.

“Hi,” and she waves.

God, why did she just wave at him? Before she can do something else embarrassing, like hiding her face in her hands, an arm appears around Luke’s neck and Reggie’s face is next to his grinning from ear to ear.

“You must be Julie.” Something about the way he says her names makes her want to run, like she’s walked into a trap without realising it. Instead she nods hesitantly.

“That’s me. You must be Reggie,” she tries to imitate the way he said her name but she’s not sure it works, but Luke elbows his friend in the side and then he’s sliding into the empty space next to her.

“I’m Alex. Ignore Reg. What he meant to say was we’ve heard a lot about you,” Alex smiles at her and there’s a teasing sort of tone in his words that makes her think she’s missing out on a joke. But she focuses on the other bit of information and turns to look at Luke.

“Aw, you’ve been talking about me?” She nudges his knee with her own, only realising just how close they’re sitting after the fact.

Luke shrugs at her, but he’s smiling and there’s a flush to his face that could be left over from their performance but she doesn’t think so, “Course I have.”

The simple way he says it, accompanied by the unbroken eye contact is enough to make her blush.

“I’m Flynn by the way. Julie’s best friend,” Flynn cuts through, leaning on the table to look directly at Luke who finally looks away from her and there’s definitely a flush on his cheeks.

“Did you uh, like the show?” He asks, and it’s to the table, but he glances at her.

“You guys were awesome, as always,” Willie says, lifting his hands that have been linked with Alex’s since the three boys sat down and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“You were better than I expected you to be,” Flynn shrugs and Alex lets out a disgruntled sound as he looks at her which starts a debate on what she thought they were going to be like. But Julie isn’t paying much attention and neither is Luke, because he’s looking at her expectantly for her answer.

She considers for a moment, tilting her head as she looks up at him, “You were–– you were amazing up there. More than amazing but I don’t know the word to describe it. All of you, but–– I liked watching you the most. You’re–– spectacular.”

“Really?” His eyes are searching her face, as if he can tell just by looking at her if she’s lying, but she just nods her head at him and smiles, he nods his head a little, biting his lip as he smiles too.

“Though I do have question why the fuck you’re wearing a beanie.”

“I told you it was stupid!” Reggie shouts and his hand is reaching across the table to hover in front of Julie’s face, waiting for a high five. Luke shakes his head at her, but she grins and claps her hand to the bassists.

“I thought we were friends,” Luke whines, a hand over his heart as he pouts at her.

“The beanie is so stupid,” is all she says, giggling as he pouts more and pulls the hat off his head, hair sweaty and a mess and she tries really hard not to look at his arms as he runs his fingers through the brown locks. Biting her lip again as she looks away, her eyes catch Alex’s who shoots her a knowing grin and she’s suddenly very grateful for the low lighting as she blushes.

“You really liked the show, though?” Reggie asks, bringing them back to the original question.

“You guys were great,” she smiles at him and Alex, “I especially like the drum solo in Lakeside Reflection? And oh my god the way you go back and forth in the bridge for Late Last Night, is amazing. Have you ever thought about mixing up the order you come in on it?”

She glances over at Luke as she says it, and there’s a moment, where their eyes meet when he’s got this soft sort of look on his face, like she’s once again handed him another puzzle piece and then she blinks and it’s gone and he launches into talking about their songs.

Later, after Flynn has unlocked her dorm room and the two of them have collapsed on her bed giggling and exhausted, Julie pulls her phone out of her bag and finally texts the number she saved hours ago back in the shop.

Luke replies within seconds and Julie clutches her phone to her chest with a giddy smile as Flynn teases her for being in love. She doesn’t even know what to say to deny it.

They start texting a lot after that. Silly memes they see and questions about if modern rock is better than classic and do different coloured roses mean different things.

It feels –– and Julie hasn’t said it out loud but she thinks it an awful lot –– like they’ve become real friends. Which makes it so much more awkward as her stupid crush on him grows. Because now he’s more than just the hot guitarist next door that she occasionally talks to. Now he’s Luke, the hot guitarist from next door who she talks to every day and is her friend.

Flynn just laughs at her, insisting there’s really no issue here and that she should just ask him out already so that she can sort out their social media situation without seeming pushy. Julie pointed out she could just offer but Flynn has said that would be weird.

And okay so, logically, Julie knows that he probably does like her. They’d spent the whole night after his show pressed together in that booth, knees touching and talking about whatever came to mind and she’d finally gotten a chance to look at the tattoo on his side.

(The detailed heart and a gramophone horn and the music notes that she’d hummed out loud. She could swear his eyes dipped to her lips as she did so and Julie had almost reached out to trace the lines inked into his skin. Instead she’d looked at his arm, at the tattoos littering his skin and listened as he explained some of them to her. The story of his life, really. She’d started tracing the outline of the guitar on his forearm, the year when he’d first met Alex and Reggie inked at the base, when she’d started talking.

“My mom had tattoos. We were supposed to go and get one together when I turned eighteen,” she’d trailed her finger tips up the neck and over the scrap of cloth attached to it, vaguely noting the way he seemed to shiver, “We had the designs all picked out and I promised her I’d still get mine. But… I’ve been putting it off,” she’d smiled ruefully up at him then, nose wrinkling.

Luke had put his hand over hers on his arm, thumb gently running over the back of her hand as he’d said, “When you’re ready to do it, book it for a Saturday.”)

And he’d started lingering on Tuesdays when he passed her her coffee, to talk about their weekends and if they had busy days and if she wanted to come watch them rehearse on Wednesday and how Bobby had apparently tried to reach out after the flowers. None of them had responded because now the ball was in their court and when they got to initiate the cutting off it was better.

And if she looks at it all. The little moments and touches and smiles and lingering looks, Julie logically knows that he likes her. But there’s still a chance, small as it might be, that he doesn’t.

And it terrifies her.

Surprisingly, or really, unsurprisingly, reassurance comes in the form of a drummer and bassist strolling into the shop on Tuesday morning two weeks after she saw them play for the first time. Julie smiles at them, albeit a little awkwardly, closing her pen in her notebook as she takes in the coffee holder in Alex’s hands and the way Reggie looks around the place in wonder.

She hadn’t seen Luke this morning, though he’d sent a text to say he was sick and wouldn't be around, but that doesn’t explain why she has two members of Sunset Curve in her shop.

“Hey guys, you need anything?” she raises an eyebrow at them, folding her hands on top of her notebook.

“Nah, just here to drop this off for Luke,” Alex smiles at her, freeing the coffee cup and putting it down in front of her.

Julie blinks at it, mouth parting slightly before looking back at Alex confused and chokes out, “What?

“He said he brings you coffee on Tuesday mornings and asked us to do it today because he’s being all dramatic in bed over the flu,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond sort of tone in his voice that does little to help her confusion.

“But he–– I don’t…” Julie trails off as she frowns at the coffee. Luke was sick and he was still worrying about her getting her coffee? She feels like the world is spinning on a different axis.

“Can you make me a yellow bouquet for under $20?” Reggie pulls her out of her spiral and she blinks up at the two of them, catching the tail end of the glare Alex shoots at him and the shrug Reggie gives in response. But it pulls her out and she blows out a breath, pushing thoughts of Luke to the side as she nods.

“Any flowers in particular?” She asks.

Half an hour later the boys leave, with Reggie clutching his little posey of various yellow flowers –– that cost over $20 but if she could change Luke only $15 on a $50 bouquet, she could make an exception for the happiest bassist she’d ever met –– and Alex sniffing the twelve roses he’d bought for Willie. But not before they’d both leaned on the counter as she tied a bow around the posey and Alex had stated, “Luke’s pretty dumb sometimes.”

Julie had fumbled the ribbon as she looked at them confused.

“What we mean is,” Reggie cut in “He’s our best friend, and the best song writer we know. But when it comes to his feelings and doing something with them, he’s dumb. And always pretty terrified.”

She’s still thinking about it an hour later as she sweeps up cuts and hums along with the radio. She taps her pen on her notebook as she looks down at the page she had been doodling on, and then throws it down to pick up her phone. It only takes a few minutes of googling for the number she needs and ten minutes later she’s got plans for next Saturday at one thirty.

“Julie,” Victoria’s voice cuts through her thoughts and she turns from where she’d been staring at a bucket of sunflowers to blink at her tia.

“Hm?”

“You’re going to be late mi ciel,” and she nodded to next door, eyebrows raised. Blinking, Julie glances at her phone to check the time and swears.

“Fuck. Right. I’ll um, I’ll come show you when it’s done,” she smiles at her aunt who smiles back, dropping one eye in a wink before she gets out the door.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll see it tomorrow at dinner,” Victoria blows her kiss before the door shuts and then Julie is on the sidewalk and Etched in Ink is eight steps away. Blowing out a breath she pushes her phone into the back pocket of her dungarees and walks.

When she opens the door there’s music playing faintly in the background and she smiles at how different it is from the last time she was stood here. This time she recognises the Sunset Curve poster on the wall and shakes her head at Luke’s shameless promoting. Like last time there’s no one at the front desk as she walks up to it, leaning her hip on the edge as she tilts her head to try and hear for someone in the back.

“Hello?” she calls and then there’s something crashing to the ground and someone letting out a string of curses before Luke comes stumbling through the archway and up to the desk looking breathless.

“Hey!”

She’s not as taken off guard by the sleeveless shirts and curling hair and teasing smirk as she was last time, but it still takes all her willpower to not just stare at him. Especially as he leans his hands on the desk, muscles and tattoos on display. She’s starting to think he does that on purpose.

“I have an appointment,” she breathes, looking at him and they’re so close she thinks she could count his eyelashes if she had time. God she wanted time to count his eyelashes.

“I know, I saw,” he smiles softly at her as pushes off from the desk and gestures for her to walk into the main room, “I was just getting things set up. Come on.”

Luke guides her with a hand on the small of her back over to the area he’s got set up, wagging his brows a little as she sits down that makes her laugh. Julie looks at the collection of inks and needles and bottles on the little tables next to her chair, chewing on her lip with a growing sense of trepidation.

“So,” Luke plots himself down on the stool, feet on the bar as he spins to face her with a smile, “You got a design for me to follow?”

“Oh! Yeah, right,” she sits up to dig through the front pocket of her dungarees and pull out a sheet of plain paper that’s been folded and refolded too many times to count over the last three years, she hands it to Luke, suddenly nervous about what he’ll think.

Carefully, as if he knows how important it is, he unfolds the sheet of paper and smooths it out on the arm of her chair, biting his lip as he looks it over and quietly, she can hear him humming the notes to himself as he tries to work out what the song is.

“It’s um––” Julie clears her throat as Luke looks up at her, gesturing to the drawing and starts singing faintly, “You are my sunshine.”

Luke looks at her with wide eyes and an expression she can’t quite understand and looks back at the page, quick to fill the silence, “Mom was going to get ‘my only sunshine’ but–– it’s what she used to sing to me when I was little and wouldn’t go to sleep, and it’s the first song I learnt on piano so it’s y’know, sentimental I guess.”

He still hasn’t said anything and Julie’s starting to get worried she’s done something wrong when he blows out a breath and blinks at her, small smile on his lips, “It’s beautiful.”

Then he turns to the table, gathering supplies and pulling on gloves and when he turns back to her he seems to have gotten control over his emotions again and is grinning at her, antiseptic wipe in one hand and numbing gel in the other.

“Are we feeling brave?” He teases and Julie rolls her eyes at him, laying her arm flat on the arm rest, wrist up and flipping him the finger before relaxing them back down.

“Just start stabbing me in the arm with a little needle Patterson.”

“Ooh brave it is huh.”

Gently, he holds her wrist with one hand as he cleans her skin and doesn’t let go when he turns to throw it away and to pick up the tattoo gun. His fingers tap on her palm as he looks at her, raising an eyebrow, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” she blows out a breath and nods at him. But he still hesitates for a heartbeat, searching her eyes before he smiles gently and brings the gun down to her skin.

At the first stab of pain Julie hisses in a breath, fingers of her other hand gripping at the spare armrest and when Luke looks up at her she nods her head with a smile that’s almost a cringe, “I’m okay. Keep going.”

And he does.

After a while it doesn’t hurt quite so much, and she loosens her grip on the arm of the chair. She still hisses in a breath on occasion but it’s bearable, and she can sort of understand why people like getting tattoos. It doesn’t hurt that from this position she has a clear view of his bare arms and can stare at them shamelessly for as long as his head is bent over her wrist.

“Is that––” Julie lets out a laugh, eyes squinting as she tries to peer a little closer as the tattoo above his elbow, “Is that a hotdog?”

“Huh? Oh,” he looks up, blinking at her and then at his arm, joining in with her laugh as he shakes his head. “Yeah. Me and the boy got wicked bad food poisoning from some bad dogs when we were seventeen. Almost died.”

Julie blinks at him and tries really hard to stop her laughter, but it keeps bubbling past her lips, “So you got a tattoo to commemorate the time you nearly died?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, grinning at her before going back to work.

They make idle chit chat for the rest of her tattoo, talking about music they love and films they want to see and how Willie’s been trying to teach Alex to skateboard for 2 years and can still barely stand on the thing.

“And you’re done,” the buzzing suddenly cuts off and it takes Julie a moment to get used to lack of it, blinking at Luke who’s nodding down at her arm.

Carefully, slowly, she lifts up her arm to inspect his work. Five lines spanning the width of her wrist with little music notes dotted along it and she hums the tune to herself, blinking back the tears that fill her eyes as she just looks at it.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers, biting her lip as she looks at him. “Thank you.”

Luke shakes his head, pulling the gloves off his hands and balling them up before throwing them into the bin and picks up a roll of plastic wrap, tearing off a length to spread on the arm of the chair, patting it for her to put her arm back down on, “Nah, all I did was basically trace your work.”

“No for––” she gestures with her free hand around them, trying to encompass everything of the last two months. For the coffees and the laughter and the music and the conversation. “So much,” is what she settles on, and just hopes he gets it.

When he’s finished wrapping her wrist he trails his fingers up to her hand, squeezes her fingers once and then stands up, and she hurries to follow, not wanting him to let go of her hand just yet. Julie follows him back to the front of the shop, their fingers still linked and she tries to listen to him talk about aftercare and which creams are best and what to avoid. But all she can really think about is the calluses on his fingers and how she wants to know what they’d feel like brushing across her lips.

So Julie pulls them to a stop before they reach the desk, blowing out a breath as she looks up at him. She’s just gotten her first tattoo and only cried at the end, she’s feeling brave. She can ask the hot guitarist out.

“I was wondering if um you maybe–– if you wanted too––” she stutters, brows furrowing a little as she tries to get the words out and Luke just smiles at her, which isn’t helping. “Stop doing that with your face, I’m trying to ask you something,” she mutters.

It just makes him smile wider, and his fingers are detangling themselves from hers and she honest to god lets out a small whine at the sudden loss of contact. Luke’s smile turns into a smirk as he hears it, tailing his fingers up her arm and over her shoulder and up her neck and suddenly he’s cupping her cheek and Julie thinks she’s forgotten how to breath.

“Jules,” he whispers, leaning towards her and she can feel his breath ghosting across her face as she lets out a noncommittal sound, “Can I kiss you?”

A breath rushes out of her and her hands skim up his biceps and around his neck, “God please do.”

And he does.

It’s soft, just a press of their lips against each other at first and then Luke brushes his thumb across the top of her cheek and she lets out a sigh, pulling him closer as he slips his tongue into her mouth.

There’s teeth nipping at lips and her fingers running through his hair and Luke chuckling at her whine of protest when his lips leave hers to trail across her jaw, down her neck where he sucks and she moans and he has the audacity to laugh again.

So she pokes her fingers into his sides, grinning triumphantly when he tries to wiggle away, scrunching his nose up as he looks down at her.

“That’s rude,” he mutters, but there’s no heat behind it and he presses a kiss into the corner of her mouth.

“Hm, I’m sure I can think of some way to make it up to you,” Julie purses her lips, pretending to be in thought before leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him, slowly, drawing it out.

When they break apart this time they’re both a little breathless and smiling giddy smiles.

“What were you going to ask me?” he whispers, brushing his nose across hers as he tries to pull her closer and it takes Julie a moment to understand what he’s asking, her mind blank on anything that’s not Luke lips on her skin or his fingers trailering over her neck.

“Oh. Um I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner. With me. Like a date,” she wrinkles her nose at how awkward the question comes out but Luke leans back a little to grin down at her.

“Julie Molina, are you asking me out?”

“Oh shut up, you kissed me first,” she grumbles, tilting her head forward to hide in his chest and Luke laughs, she can feel it rumble in his chest and it makes her giggle a little too.

“Yeah I did. Best decision I’ve made since playing my demo way too loud,” he sounds proud and he presses a kiss into the top of her head, “I’d love to go get dinner with you.”

“Hm,” Julie agrees, trying to hide her smile in his terribly pointless shirt. Honestly, she’s never been more glad that he played his music too loud, it was totally worth the headache she had for the rest of the afternoon.

“Hey Luke,” she pulls back a little to look up at him, and he raises an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah?”

“Did I ever tell you I have a thing for guitarists with tattoos?” She smiles innocently up at him and is rewarded with the same curling smiling on his lips from the first time they met.

[ flower meanings: - pink peonies: passive aggressive anger - pink geraniums: stupidity - dark purple carnations: disappointment - meadoweed: uselessness - orange lilies: hatred (if i got any of these wrong please let me know i got my information from google fghdj) ]

ao3 link

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie molina #luke patterson #julie molina x luke patterson #jatp fic #alex mercer #reggie peters #willie #flynn #*fics #people i had a freaking blast writing this lemme tell ya #bobby is mentioned but im afraid he is a dickhead my bad

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bluesylveon2 · 3 years

Text

My My, I Could Never Let You Go

Summary: Sasha Zoe just wants her dad to walk her down the aisle. There is only one problem: she doesn't know who her dad is! Sasha invites 3 men in hopes of finding out which one is her father. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Levi x Hange, Sasha x Niccolo, and other background relationships

Disclaimer: This is a Levihan Mamma Mia au. This fanfic is inspired by Mamma Mia which is directed by Phyllida Loyd, written by Catherine Johnson, and uses music from the pop group ABBA. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

A/N: I’m alive! I would insert a sob story, but I’ll spare you the details. I RECOMMEND looking up Mamma Mia Dancing Queen by Movieclips on Youtube to get a feel of the end (look for the ******). Enjoy!

Need to catch up? Catch up here!

Ch 5: Dancing Queen

Rico and Nanaba were out drinking again at a nearby bar while Hange was away. Hange mentioned how she had to grab some things from her goat house, so Rico and Nanaba took it upon themselves to drink some more and talk to the locals.

Rico looked up at the bartender in front of her. She recognized him as one of the men who had helped her and Nanaba earlier. This man was way taller than her, and definitely over 6 feet. He had long, light ash-brown hair styled in a mullet, and he had small, intense golden-brown eyes. It almost gave him a vicious look. This time the man was shirtless and only wore swim trunks. It's a good thing wearing swimwear on/underneath clothing was considered normal on the island.

“Here you go, one cocktail for a beautiful woman like you.” he slides the drink over to Rico and gives her a wink. Rico grabbed the drink and gave the man a flirty smile. Definitely not vicious. He seemed like a nice and flirty guy to her.

Maybe husband number 4? Rico smirks as she drinks her cocktail. Don’t get Rico wrong now. She knows what is out of line when it comes to choosing her future husband. However, a little bit of flirting won’t hurt.

“Thank you…” Rico trailed off. Shoot. She never got the guy’s name.

Jean grabs a wet rag and starts cleaning off the bar “Jean. I’m also one of Sasha’s friends.”

“Ah, I heard of you!” Nanaba yells out suddenly. She looks at Jean with excitement. Nanaba loves learning about the bits and pieces of Sasha’s life. After all, it’s been years since she has last seen her. “Sasha has talked a lot about you! You’re Niccolo’s best man, right? Have you been on the island this whole time?”

Jean nodded “Yes and no. Yes, I am Niccolo’s best man. No, I haven’t stayed on the island the whole time. I actually came back a few months ago to prepare for the wedding. I’ve been busy with college studying for art before coming back. I'm currently staying at the old house that I share with my friend, Marco.”

Jean is a Fine Arts major at the Paris College of Art. He agreed to study in France because of his mom. You see, Jean originally lived in France before moving to Kalokairi to be more independent. He was from Strasbourg, which is about 500 km away from Paris. It’s a long drive, but it is worth it for him to see his mom’s smile every time he visits. Jean also works part-time in the bar in Kalokairi to help pay for his expenses. Jean is lucky his old boss let him work again, or else he would be doomed.

Jean reminisced when he first came back to Kalokairi. He was excited to see Sasha again and for the wedding. Jean views Sasha as a sister he wishes he had, and he was genuinely happy to be a part of her wedding.

Jean smiled at the memory. He was strolling through the island, greeting the locals and familiar faces. In fact, Jean was too busy reminiscing to even hear the sound of running footsteps heading towards him from behind. It was then when Jean’s peace was ruined by Hanami jumping on his back. She loudly proclaims her excitement for them working together for Sasha’s wedding (she is Maid of Honor, and he is the Best Man).

Jean sighed as he finished wiping off the bar. That woman is gonna be the death of him one day.

Nanaba looked up to find Rico studying Jean, who was lost in thought. Oh no. Here comes Husband number 4 already.

She rolls her eyes and looks at Rico's drink. It had a peachy color, decorated with an orange wedge on the rim and a mini umbrella. It looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t put a name to it. The orange slice meant it’s definitely fruity. Ironically enough, Nanaba is not a big fan of fruity drinks. She likes a fruity smell in her perfume though. Nanaba prefers drinking beer or hard alcohol like whiskey.

Nanaba grabs Rico's attention. “Hey Rico, what kind of drink did you get?” She proceeds to drink her beer.

“Sex on the beach,” Rico replies nonchalantly. This causes Nanaba to almost choke on her drink. She began to have a coughing fit.

Rico repeatedly slaps Nanaba’s back until she stops coughing. “Did I say something wrong, Nana? Why did you start coughing?” Rico raised an eyebrow.

Jean, noticing Nanaba’s coughing fit, stops making drinks for other customers, to give Nanaba a napkin. She thanks him, and Jean nods and returns back to his job.

Nanaba wipes her mouth and turns to Rico. “Are you trying to imply something by ordering that specific drink with him? You're staring is not exactly subtle, you know." She quickly darts her eyes to Jean, who was busy doing his job and not eavesdropping on their conversation.

Rico laughs and takes a sip of her drink. “Take your mind out of the gutter, Nana.” Rico smirks “I just wanted to order a drink. That’s all. Unless...maybe I am?" She winks at Nanaba and laughs.

Nanaba rolls her eyes and smiles at Rico. She wasn’t surprised that Rico took the opportunity to mess with her. Nanaba looks over to Jean to make sure he is busy. She places a hand on Rico’s shoulder and looks at her with a serious face.

“Don’t mess with the poor boy, Rico. You’re old enough to be his grandmother,” she says with the most serious tone she could come up with. She takes her hand away and takes another sip of her beer. Rico lightly slaps Nanaba’s shoulder in fake offense and laughs again. Of course, Nanaba would point that out. Rico was ready to make a comeback but stopped as she heard running heading in her direction.

Both women turn around from their seats to see an exhausted and frightened Hange run up to them. Hange’s hair was messier than normal, and her glasses were slightly crooked. One of the straps of Hange’s overalls came loose too. She looked as if she ran a marathon or was practicing for the Olympics.

“Where’s Sasha?” Hange asks as if her life depended on it.

Jean, who noticed Hange's appearance, answers for Rico and Nanaba. “I think she’s at the beach with the other girls.” He goes back to his job but doesn't question Hange’s looks. He doesn't want to die before the wedding.

“What’s up?” Nanaba asks tenderly and reaches up to fix Hange’s glasses. Now that Hange was up close, she noticed how red her eyes were and the tears that were ready to spill.

Hange was overwhelmed with emotions. She has to juggle running the hotel, Sasha’s wedding, and now deal with her past lovers! This was not how she wanted Sasha’s wedding to go. She couldn’t bear the idea of having both sides meet. What would the men think? Heck, what would Sasha think? Hange has been vague about Sasha’s father for years now. Would Sasha hate her for keeping them a secret? She doesn’t even know who Sasha’s actual father is!

Hange felt her dam begin to burst and some snot running down her nose. Hange ignored Nanaba’s question and ran off to the nearest bathroom. She ignores Nanaba and Rico calling out to her. Hange ran into the nearest open stall, closed the door and the toilet seat, and sat down to cry. She didn’t want the whole island to see her at the moment, so crying in the bathroom was the best thing to do. Hange grabs a part of her overalls to blow her nose.

Meanwhile, Nanaba and Rico (who brought her purse and her drink) followed Hange to the bathroom and called out her name. Sadly, there was no reply. She only heard the soft cries coming from the nearest stall. Nanaba runs to the front of the door. Rico closes the bathroom door and sets her stuff down before joining her.

Nanaba knocks on the door and turns to Rico with a worried look on her face. There was no response again except for Hange blowing her nose.

“Talk to her,” Rico whispers to Nanaba. Nanaba nods her head and turns back to the door. She leans towards it and takes a deep breath.

“Hans.'' She starts with Hange’s nickname from college. Nanaba spoke to Hange with a tender and caring tone. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Nanaba places her ear against the door and waits to hear anything from Hange. She only hears soft whimpers instead. This caused Nanaba to frown. She turns to Rico and moves her hand in a hurry-up motion. She already put some effort into this. Now it's Rico’s turn.

“Oh, right! Uhh…” Rico was unsure about what to do. She hasn’t seen Hange cry like that in years. The last time Rico heard Hange cry like that was after Levi left, and it was over the phone too! She glances at Nanaba who kept encouraging her to go.

Rico was unsure about what to say. She’s not the best at comforting people, but she will at least try. For Hange. “I’ve never seen you with so much sorrow, Hans."

Nanaba turns to Rico in realization and grabs her shoulders "and the wedding is tomorrow!"

"We have to see Hange!" She whispers to Rico.

Rico nods in agreement and takes Nanaba’s hands off of her. "Good plan. You go on all fours on the floor, and I'll stand on your back. You look from the bottom, and I'll look from the top."

Nanaba looked at Rico with disbelief "Are you crazy? It's logical for me to be on the top. I'm the tallest!"

Rico pinched the bridge of her nose, causing her glasses to move up slightly. She sighed while Hange’s crying continued in the background.

"Now is not the time to be comparing heights, Nanaba. Hange is not emotionally stable right now, and she needs us to help. Besides, it's logical for you to be on the bottom. You're heavier than me."

Nanaba wanted to punch Rico for playing the weight card, but she did have a point. She also knows about Rico’s cleaning standards (which aren’t as high as Levi’s, but only Hange knows that), so she won’t go down on the floor unless she has to.

Nanaba sighed. Now was the time for arguing. They needed to focus on Hange and can deal with Rico later.

"Fine." Nanaba moved to go on all fours on the floor. She tilted her head towards her back "Hop on."

Meanwhile, Hange continued to cry into her palms. She was too depressed to even hear what was going on the other side of the door. The memories with all three men kept replaying in her mind nonstop. Hange can recall cuddling on the beach with Erwin. She can picture dancing with Mike underneath the night sky on his yacht. She also remembers the time when Levi kissed her forehead when she pretended she was sleeping one day. Hange continued to cry but stops when she hears a thump on the door.

Hange looks up to find Rico staring down at her and holding on to the door. Now Hange was confused. Rico is too short to look over from the top. Unless…

She let her eyes fall downward to find Nanaba looking at her from the bottom. Both she and Rico had a concerned look on their faces.

"I hate to see you like-” Rico gestures to Hange “-this."

Hange looks up at Rico as she continues on. Hange felt ridiculous. Here she was crying over 3 men on the toilet. She knew she looked like a mess. She needs to get up from the toilet first in case her friends suddenly burst into song.

Nanaba adds onto Rico’s statement, "Hans, you can't deny that you're sad. It's just...We haven't seen you this sad since- ahh!" She and Rico scream as Hange suddenly opens the door.

Hange runs out to the bathroom door and to the nearest sink. Nanaba and Rico quickly stood up and went to either one of Hange’s sides. Rico and Nanaba patted Hange's back to comfort her. They didn't want to force Hange to talk. She can talk when she is ready.

Hange looks at herself in the mirror. She looks and feels like shit. Ironically, it made her think about Levi. What was that nickname Levi would call her besides Four Eyes? Shitty Glasses. Hange looked at herself in the mirror. Now her whole face played the part too. It almost made Hange laugh. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she could see some snot dripping down her nose. Hange wipes it off with a tissue Rico put out in front of her. Hange’s clothes looked disheveled too. She couldn't recognize herself in the mirror.

Nanaba leaned her head on Hange’s shoulder. Hange smiled and put her right hand on Nanaba’s cheek as thanks. Rico leaned on Hange’s other shoulder, and Hange placed her head on top of Rico's.

"You're our best friend, Hange," Nanaba says softly. She uses Hange’s actual name instead of her nickname. That's how Hange knew Nanaba was being serious.

"You can rely on us" Rico replies next with a soft tone as well.

Hange begins to cry again. What did she do to deserve friends like them? They saw Hange rise and fall in life, yet they stayed by her side no matter what.

Nanaba and Rico, who noticed Hange’s waterworks appearing again, turns Hange away from the mirror. They push her up to sit on the sink. Nanaba and Rico sat down on the sink next to Hange after she was situated.

Rico speaks up first after a moment of silence "You’re usually so sure of yourself Hange. Now, look at you. You look so broken." She looks at Hange with concern. "Just know that it's ok to cry. You’ll be up and dancing again once your pain ends" She rubs Hange’s arm and Hange smiles at the gesture.

Nanaba leans towards Hange to fix her overalls, and Hange turns to look at her. "I hope we can patch up whatever is going on, Hange. We just want to see you happy again." Hange smiles at Nanaba’s words.

"That's it!" Rico suddenly says "you just need a little pick me up. That would help cheer you up!" Rico turns to Nanaba. "Help me out her Nanaba."

Both women jump down from the sink. Rico goes to her purse, which was nearby. Nanaba takes off Hange’s glasses and stands ready for whatever Rico has in store.

First, Rico hands Nanaba some tissues to wipe Hange’s tears and snot. Nanaba wipes Hange’s nose until Rico starts throwing one too many tissues at Hange.

Second, Rico grabs a breath spray freshener. Nanaba opens her mouth for Hange to mimic as she takes off the cap. Nanaba sprays it one time, but Hange starts coughing from the spray entering her throat.

Third, Rico grabs some perfume and hands it to Nanaba. Hange was expecting a few sprits of perfume not bathing in the whole bottle! Hange sneezes because of the perfume. Maybe she would smell good enough to be up to Levi’s standards? Hange rolls her eyes at the thought.

Finally, Rico grabs her cocktail for Hange to drink. Nanaba works to redo Hange’s ponytail. Hange reaches over to grab the drink, but Rico moves it out of her reach. Rico places the drink on Hange’s lips and tilts the glass up to a point Hange might as well chug the whole thing. Hange moves her hands up and takes the drink away from her mouth.

"OK! I appreciate the help, you guys!" Hange cries out. She sniffs and wipes her nose with her arm. She might as well confess and get straight to the point

"It's her dad," Hange confesses.

Nanaba and Rico were confused. "Who's dad?" Rico asks.

Hange looks at Rico with a serious face. "Sasha’s dad" she clarifies

Hange stares at her friend’s faces but was met with silence. She decided to continue with her story.

"Remember how I told you it's Levi, the supposed mystery guy who is actually a millionaire? The man who left to get married."

Nanaba and Rico nodded to show they are following Hange’s story.

"Well, there were two other guys. Around the same time. You already met one of them before."

Hange looks up at Nanaba. Although Nanaba was looking at the floor, Hange could see the gears turning in her head and the puzzle pieces fitting together. Nanaba realized who she was talking about and how he and Hange did more than just ‘go on nightly boat rides.’

"The man who accidentally ran into you that day...the boat rides...” She looks up to meet Hange’s eyes. “One of them is Mike. Isn't it?"

Hange nods and looks away in shame. She didn't want to see Nanaba’s reaction. Hange suspected Nanaba had a crush on the guy, but she noticed it too late. Hange’s mind was clouded by her summer romance to even notice Nanaba’s longing stares at Mike. Hange still feels guilty and selfish about it to this day.

Rico placed her hand on Hange’s cheek so she can face her. "Why didn't you tell us?"

“Well, I never knew I would ever have to really! I don't even know who Sasha’s actual father is!” Hange confesses.

Nanaba placed her hand on Hange’s shoulders for support. Hange didn't see any hatred in Nanaba’s eyes after confessing about sleeping with Mike. Bless Nanaba’s heart. “Well, we already know Levi and Mike. Who’s the third guy?”

Hange takes a sip of her drink before responding, “A man named Erwin Smith. I don’t think any of you know him. He left Kalokairi before you guys arrived.”

Nanaba takes her hand off of Hange’s shoulder and shakes her head “The name does not ring any bells.”

Hange looks at Rico expecting the same reaction as Nanaba. What she did not expect was Rico’s mouth wide open in shock.

“Erwin Smith. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a face that looks like he starred in a movie? That Erwin Smith?” Rico asks as if she was in a trance

Hange looked at Rico with surprise. “Yes?”

Suddenly, Rico broke out of her trance and jumped with excitement. Hange and Nanaba looked at her confused.

“I’ll take that you know Erwin Smith?” Nanaba asks after Rico calmed down a bit

“Of course! Who doesn’t know who he is?” Rico said

“Apparently me,” Nanaba mumbles to herself, but Rico hears her anyway.

Rico sighs after calming down a bit. She takes out her phone and googles Erwin’s name. She pulls up the first image of him and shoves her phone to her friend’s face.

“Of course you wouldn’t, Nanaba. Erwin was on the cover of People’s: Sexiest Men Alive a few years ago and was in the Top 10 of the Most Handsome Faces in TC Chandler!”

Rico looks at Hange and Nanaba’s faces. She was expecting an exciting reaction but was met with her best friends just staring at her.

Rico continues instead “His dad was a successful university professor and is known for his contributions in research and activism. Erwin is similar to him, except he is a lawyer. Overall, Erwin is a very influential person in New York, and he has a good looking face”

Rico turns off her phone and pockets it away, and turns to Hange. “Hange, you’re a lucky gal to have slept with him. I gotta say that I’m impressed. You gotta introduce me to him sometime.”

Nanaba rolled her eyes. Hange couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I knew he was a lawyer, but not all of that!” she waves her hands around to emphasize it. She ignored Rico’s suggestion for now.

Rico gave Hange a sympathized smile “Well, you’ve been so focused and dedicated to your hotel and Sasha. I’m not surprised you don’t pay much attention to everything outside of Kalokairi or even Greece.”

Meanwhile, in Nanaba’s head, she was trying to fit all of the puzzle pieces together. She didn’t see any of the men when she and Rico first arrived on the island, nor did she see them while heading to the hotel.

So that means they arrived after us, Nanaba thought. The question is, where are they now?

“Hange” Nanaba interrupts Rico and Hange’s conversation. Rico had asked Hange who she thought was the best out of the three she slept with. Nanaba could tell who she picked based on Hange’s small yet goofy and Rico’s 'are you serious?' face. “Where are the men now?” she asks carefully.

Hange’s face became horrified. She last saw them in the old goat house, but what if Sasha came back from the beach? How would she react?

“The old goat house,” Hange says. She looks at both of her friend’s faces “We can’t let them meet Sasha!”

Nanaba and Rico quickly grab their things as Hange puts the drink down and jumps off the sink. The three ran off towards the goat house, but not too fast to avoid any suspicion from any onlookers.

Meanwhile, Sasha and her friends peeked up from their hiding spots to find Rico and Nanaba entering the barn. They went back into hiding as soon as Hange entered.

“Don’t let them hear you!” Hange whispers as Rico and Nanaba climb up the steps to the attic.

Nanaba opened the hatch and looks inside first. Rico and Hange followed after only to find nothing.

“There’s no one here,” Nanaba says in shock.

Rico turns to Hange. “Are you sure?” she asks questioningly.

Hange rolls her eyes. “Of course, I'm sure! Do you think I would forget my daughter’s dads?”

She sighs. “They were all here. Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, and Mike Zacharias.”

Sasha takes a quick peek from her hiding spot with Mikasa to find her mom walking down the steps from the attic. Nanaba and Rico followed behind her.

“They must have gone on Mike’s boat,” Hange says as she walks out of the barn. “I hope they hit aground and drown.”

Hange enters the hotel and goes up the stairs to go to her bedroom. “What are they even doing here? It’s like fate just hates me today,” she says and throws her hands up in the air.

“Do they know about Sasha?” Nanaba asks as she runs up the steps.

“What are they, psychic?. Of course not! I never told a soul.” Hange turns to face Nanaba before heading into her room.

“Not even Pieck?” Nanaba asks and puts her purse down.

“I never told her too,” Hange says as she paces around near her bed.

“Oh Hange, you kept this to yourself all these years,” Rico says sympathetically and puts her stuff down.

Hange stops pacing and heads to her balcony door. “It doesn’t matter to me.” She closes the door. “The only thing that matters is that Sasha does not find out.”

Rico puts her hands on her hips and watches Hange walk around the room. “Maybe she might be cool with it?” she suggests.

Hange walks up to her bedroom door and closes it. “Cool with it,” she repeats. When would Sasha ever be cool with something like that? She might react the same way Hange reacted to Eren and Connie accidentally breaking her vase from Ms. Alexandra. It was not a pretty sight.

Hange chuckles nervously and walks over to her friends. “You don’t know Sasha as I do. This would be like a bombshell.

“But Hange, they’re gone!” Nanaba argues

“I don’t know that! They could be anywhere for all I know!” Hange runs her hands through her ponytail and moves to sit in front of her vanity.

She looks at herself in the mirror “I did this all to myself because I was stupid and reckless little slut.” she says and glares at her reflection.

Rico and Nanaba both gasped. “A slut?” Rico questioned. “You sound like your mother, right Nanaba?” Nanaba nods and laughs

Hange quickly turns around “I do not!” she says offensively.

“Yes, you do,” Nanaba says as Rico laughs this time.

Rico walks over to Hange’s stuff and grabs a feather boa and a ridiculous-looking hat. She then turns to Nanaba and gives her a familiar look that only Nanaba could understand. Nanaba caught on to Rico’s message and took her phone out of her pocket.

“Whatever happened to our Hange? The life and soul of the party.” Rico says dramatically. She puts the hat on top of Hange’s head and the boa around her neck.

“Yeah, the one who would talk your ears off about her research but can convince you to do a random musical number in the middle of campus? I’m astonished by how many men agreed to join." Nanaba adds as she was scrolling through her phone.

"Exactly, Nanaba! I remember how our Hange would attract so many guys with that back in New College." Rico laughs at the memories of different men walking up to Hange as she studied. Hange was too engrossed in her research to give most of them the time of day!

******

Hange could tell what Rico was trying to do. "Well, I grew up." She says as she recalls how much she has changed since.

Nanaba nudges Rico and steps away from her to give them some space. Rico smiles. "Well, you need to grow back down again Hange."

Rico jumps in her spot to face Nanaba and points to her. "Hit it, Nanaba!"

Nanaba presses play on her music app and pocket her phone away to where Hange could still hear the music. The familiar tune of “Dancing Queen” fills the room.

Hange watches her friends as they move their arms in a goofy manner, shook their hips, and sang their hearts out to the song. At one point, Nanaba and Rico faced one another and they sang to each other before directing their attention to Hange so she could sing along.

Hange squealed when her friends poked her sides. She ran to her bed and laid face down to avoid them. She moved her head up slightly to peek at her friends from her spot behind her blanket. Instead, she found her room empty, but the music continued to play.

Hange watched Rico and Nanaba rise up from the floor, go back down, and repeat the process a few times as they sang. The two eventually moved around Hange’s room and used multiple objects as props for their performance. In Hange’s opinion, Nanaba and Rico’s singing and dancing looked pretty ridiculous, but she knew they meant well. "Dancing Queen" is one of Hange’s favorite songs, and people at New College witness Hange dancing at parties. She was known as the Dancing Queen back in her college days. She wasn’t the best dancer, but anyone could tell she was having fun with one glance.

Hange started tapping her foot to the beat as she continued laying on the bed. She started reminiscing about her college days when she would go out and have fun, all while learning about biology. She remembered how she and her friends would let loose and just live life to the fullest. Hange wanted to explore and discover new parts of the world. It was one reason why she left for Kalokairi on her own all those years ago.

Hange sat up and pulled the blanket towards her. She watched as her friends go through her drawers to grab random articles of clothing to put on. Rico put on a puffy dress over her clothes, and Nanaba grabbed a random shirt and tied it around her head. Hange felt her mood change, and now she wanted to join in on the fun.

She sets the blanket aside and jumps during the song’s refrain. Hange felt as if she was the star of the show, her bed was the stage, and her friends were her audience. Hange felt alive! She felt like she was 22 again performing onstage with her friends. Hange even did a split in the air! Hange continued dancing on her bed before she had an idea. She grabbed her forgotten boa and ran out of her room.

“Where are you going?” Rico calls out while laughing.

Hange was running down the steps of the hotel, stops, and turns around to Rico. “I feel like singing today. Might as well do a musical number just like old times.” She winks and laughs as she continues running down the stairs.

Rico and Nanaba look at each other with glee before following Hange. They got their Hange back!

Hange, Nanaba, and Rico jumped around in sync as they passed the courtyard. The locals who watched nearby laughed. It looks like the trio was back at it again.

You see, before Hange had met Mike, Hange and her friends did a few performances in Kalokairi to help Hange deal with her heartbreak. Occasionally, Hange would invite the locals to perform with her, and the island would break out into a big musical (which never happened until Hange and her friends came along). The island was quiet after Hange had met Mike and her best friends left. Ever since Sasha’s birth, the locals would often find Hange singing those old songs to herself as she strolled around with her daughter. It was a sign to them that the Hange they met was still there, just dormant for now.

Hange stopped dancing once she reached a group of locals sitting around a table playing a board game. She places her boa behind one of the elderly men and lets the boa slide across his shoulders, much to his shock. The Hange he usually saw was too busy with her hotel to start dancing around for fun. Hange then places the boa across her back and on her elbows as she sang.

Meanwhile, Nanaba and Rico were out recruiting some locals to join them. It’s a good thing they were familiar with Hange and her group, or else the whole interaction would have been really awkward.

The group marched across the hotel grounds as the music continued to play good Nanaba’s phone. Hange skipped past the entrance with everyone following her. Nanaba and Rico would occasionally leave to gather more people to join as she led the group through town. Other locals were drawn to Hange’s group after seeing her singing and dancing again. Everyone singing along helped amplify the song, and everyone was in sync.

Hange was having so much fun and was having the time of her life. She skipped and sang as leads the group through different parts of the island. It felt like old times when she used to perform with her friends. Now here she was singing "Dancing Queen" with practically the whole island!

Hange started heading towards one of the piers. At this point, the group had doubled in size. A local piano player and an electric guitar player accompanied the song from their boats. The group stopped moving on the pier and continued dancing and singing to the beat. Everyone followed Hange, Nanaba, and Rico’s lead.

As the final parts of the song started to end, everyone who joined started to face Hange. They wanted her to end the song with a bang. Hange took her hair tie out of her hair and let her hair loose. She whipped her hair back and forth a bit and laughed cheerfully.

Hange came up with a good idea to end her little musical number. She looked to her left as everyone sang the final note to see Rico, who was the closest to her. Hange suddenly ran up to Rico and pushed her into the water. She then turned to Nanaba with mischievous eyes.

"Oh no, you don't!" Nanaba laughs as she attempts to run away from Hange. Nanaba didn't get far before Hange pushed her into the water too. Hange jumped in after her. Thank goodness for the invention of water-resistant cell phones. Everyone else jumped into the water after Hange.

Hange felt much better now than an hour ago. As she trod on the water, she couldn't help but think of her memories with the three men. She has happy memories with Erwin and Mike. She wishes she could say the same for Levi though. Hange felt pain thinking about him although she spent the most time with him. He was the one who broke her heart the most. Yet, swimming in the water reminded her of one time when she took off Levi’s clothes and pushed him off a pier and into the water. Hange's plan backfired when Levi grabbed her wrist to drag her with him. The goofy smile returned for just a slight moment, but it was long enough for Nanaba and Rico to catch.

Nanaba and Rico glanced at each other while treading on the water. Their plan worked for the most part. However, Hange Zoe still had some lingering feelings for Levi Ackerman.

Author’s Note:

The “Dancing Queen” scene was the hardest to write for me. I hope you like it and understand what is going on.

I apologize if any character is OOC and I know I portray Greece inaccurately.

I changed the character’s ages based on the school year in Greece (Sept 11 - June 15). Everyone is 20-21 and Armin is the oldest. Sasha’s bday changed to May.

I appreciate ANY feedback (especially after this chapter). I hope you have a good day, and everyone affected by today’s earthquake is safe.

#levihan #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction #nicosasha #erwin x hange #mike x hange #mikenana #aruani #hitch x marlow #marco x mina #pokkopikku #snk #aot

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woulddieforsamwilson · 3 years

Text

Paper Rings

It wasn’t like he didn’t know who James Barnes was, he just had no reason to become friends with the boy. He didn’t think they’d be very good friends anyway; James was always with the stronger kids, the ones that would beat Steve up at the end of the day, and that’s where he belonged. James was strong and sturdy, both reasons that half the girls in their class swooned over the boy. But despite all this, James never picked on Steve for being as thin as a stick or beat him up for fun. And Steve swears that one time, during art class when Steve was being praised for his work, James smiled at him.

It was probably nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet

Now I've read all of the books beside your bed

Steve didn’t know what happened, one second he was walking home so he could clean before his ma got home, the next he was pulled into a familiar ‘ally.

“Hey there Rogers” Robert, a boy a few years older than Steve who looked 10 years older, “how’s old dad?” Steve glared and squared his shoulders, Robert laughed, “‘think if I were married to your ma with you as a kid, I would want to die too” Steve growled and clenched his fists, ready to hit the boy in front of him, but before he could try, James-fucking-Barnes strolled into the ally.

James was smiling brightly like the best thing in the world just happened to him, which, from what Steve could tell, was probably true, “hey Rob what-” James’ face fell as he saw the scene before him, “what are you doing?” Robert turned and looked at James, “just talking to Rogers. I think we’re gonna be best friends!” Robert and his goons laughed loudly, but James didn’t.

“Right well… why don’t we go get some pie down at Anne’s, hear she’s got a new apple pie out” Robert smiled, “sure James, but first, wanna ‘talk’ too little Stevie here?”

“No, now can we go?” Robert rolled his eyes, “fine, let me just finish up our chat, then we can go,” Robert kicked Steve in the leg, sending him toppling to the ground, Steve groaned as his head hit the trash can behind him, but he always got up.

Steve opened his eyes and pushed himself into a crouching position and looked up just in time to see James punch Robert in the face.

“What the hell!” Robert yelled as blood poured from his nose, “pick on someone your own size!” James yelled, crossing his arms and standing protectively in front of Steve, “you’re crazy Barnes!” Robert said, turning away and running back to whatever hellhole he came from, his goons followed.

When they were all gone, James turned to look at Steve, his gaze was piercing and comforting, like the look, his Ma gave him when he came home with bruises. “Are you okay?” Steve glared and pushed himself fully up, “I’m fine,” James looked instantly relieved, but Steve continued, “but you don’t have to stand up for me, I can take care of my self” James scrunched his eyebrows like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, “you call getting your ass kicked ‘taking care of it’?” Steve rolled his eyes, “yes, because if you would’ve given me a few more minutes I would’ve had them right where I wanted them” James laughed-and for a moment Steve’s heart stopped-but then it was over and he was talking, “right, see ya later Stevie” Steve sputtered in protest, because the only person who could call him Stevie was his Ma, but James was already gone, possibly taking Steves heart with him.

That night Steve made it his life goal to become friends with James Barnes.

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

Bucky was an idiot. He’d been working up the courage to talk to Steve Rogers since he first saw him, but he could never muster the strength. But of course, his stupid brain chooses to introduce himself to Steve at the worst possible time.

And now, he lost half his friends.

Was it worth it? Probably. His ‘friends’ shouldn’t have picked on Steve. Steve who weighed less than his book bag, who was always sick and bruised, who only had a mom, Steve who was perfect in every way.

The next day, a Saturday, Robert and his goons showed up at his door. “Barnes. Can we talk” Bucky nodded and stepped out of his house, closing the door behind him slightly.

“Is this about yesterday? Cause if you think I’m gonna apologize-” Robert rolled his eyes “yeah we figured you wouldn’t apologize. But we still want to be friends” Bucky smiled, these guys weren’t as bad as he thought, “but we don’t want you to talk to Rogers anymore” Bucky’s smiled faltered, he didn’t want to stop talking to Steve after he just got up the nerve to speak to him, but he also didn’t want to lose all his friends in one swoop. He could go back to just admiring from afar, like before, “alright, but only if you stop picking on other kids, especially Steve” Robert nodded and held out his hand, ignoring the rock at the bottom of his stomach, Bucky took Roberts hand and they shook.

Bucky was the worst person ever. After he defended Steve, the younger boy had tried to approach him several times, always nervous-and as time went on-expecting the worst. Bucky wanted to be friends with Steve, but Robert was somehow always around, and so Bucky always shut poor Steve down.

Eventually, Steve stopped asking.

Bucky was walking home again, he could already smell the dinner his Mama was making back home, and his stomach growled in anticipation. “Wow your little crush on Barnes must be huge, no other reason you would keep talking to him even when you know what we’re gonna do to you” Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, Robert had promised, he wasn’t going to hurt Steve-or anyone else, but baby steps-Robert may be many things but a promise-breaker wasn’t- ”I can do this all day!” He heard Steve’s voice call out, surprisingly confident considering his situation.

“Hey!” Bucky yelled, stepping into the now-familiar ally behind the movie theater, “thought we promised?” Robert sighed, clearly exasperated, “c’mon James, have you not seen how this fairy has acted around you? He’s in love with you! Wouldn’t you beat him up if he was in love with us?” Bucky glared, “no” and then he punched Robert for the second time.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Kiss me once 'cause I know you had a long night

(Oh!) Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

Three times 'cause you waited your whole life

(One, two, one two three four!)

Years later they had graduated high school. Bucky was working at the docs and Steve was taking art classes.

One night Bucky came home completely exhausted. He sloppily untied his shoes and undid his shirt buttons. Once he was done he wobbly walked over to the couch where Steve was sitting, a drawing pad on his lap and a pencil in hand.

Steve looked up at Bucky’s disheveled self and blushed, but didn’t comment. Bucky flopped down on the old couch and sighed at the comfort that enveloped him.

“Buck?” Bucky hummed, acknowledging he heard Steve but not opening his eyes, “could I kiss you?” Bucky’s eyes shot open, staring up into Steve’s own eyes, which were full of fear, before his mind could even process what his body was doing, he was nodding excitedly.

And then, for the briefest of seconds, Steve’s lips were on Buckys, and then they were gone.

But Bucky wasn’t done. He sat up quickly and looked at Steve, “Steve?” the younger boy nodded, “could I kiss you?” he nodded again, and that night was filled with small kisses and happy feelings.

I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings

Uh-huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh-huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want and

Paper rings and picture frames and dirty dreams

Oh, you’re the one I want

“Marry me?”

It was a question both had thought about before, but neither brought up, too afraid to scare the other.

But on a particularly rainy afternoon, it was blurted in the middle of the kitchen.

“What?” Steve asked half in shock.

“Marry me” Bucky stared at Steve, love, and devotion clear in his eyes.

“We-I” Steve took a second to control his thoughts, “we can’t get rings,” he said simply. “Steven Grant Rogers I would marry you with paper rings,” Steve’s heart melted, but quickly broke when he thought of all the terrible things getting married would do.

“Steve? It’s okay love we don’t have to I was just thinking…” Steve looked up at Bucky with tears in his eyes, “I can’t do that to you! You have your entire life ahead of you, I could die any second! You deserve someone better, someone, who could take care of you and love you till you grow old! I can’t do that Buck!” Steve cried out, all his insecurities leaking out.

It was silent for a full minute before Bucky stood up and walked toward Steve, for a second he thought Bucky would slap him, but instead, Bucky grabbed his face and kissed him harshly.

“Stevie, you’re the one I want. No one else, just you” Steve looked at Bucky’s face and knew it was true, “yes.”

Bucky froze, “what?” Steve took a deep breath, “yes, I’ll marry you” Bucky’s face broke out into a beautiful grin as he laughed, Bucky picked Steve up and spun him around, making the blond laugh giddily.

A day later, in their small apartment, they were married.

I want to drive away with you

I want your complications too

I want your dreary Mondays

Wrap your arms around me, baby boy

The Grand Canyon was going to be their honeymoon. They had been saving up all year to go anyway, but since their wedding, they had decided to make it an unofficial honeymoon.

A week before they were going to leave, Bucky received a letter telling him he was drafted.

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alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom · 3 years

Text

THE MASTERPIECE: CHAPTER 5/5

Pairing: Modern!IVAR x Reader x Modern!HVITSERK

Spotify playlist: here (only for those who like latin urban music)

Warnings: strong language

Words: 2432

a/n: OK dear readers, I hope you get finally all the answers you needed. I hope you enjoy it as much as @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie and I did.

Summary:

Ivar and Hvitserk had always prided themselves in being the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. They had a comfortable life full of everything they wanted: houses, cars, money, and the most beautiful women. And with all of that came the security of always having the upper hand. But what happens when a bewitching girl from Ragnar’s past arrives into their lives claiming his fortune?

“So, you don’t remember half of the night?”

“Only bits and pieces,” Ivar admitted, with a mortified countenance.

“Wow. Well, I’m happy that you finally fucked yourself into oblivion, little brother. Welcome to the club.” Hvitserk’s grin made Ivar’s lips twitch in annoyance. “Anyway, I just called you here to say that this morning I gave her that painting that dad loved so much and she said she would give us our inheritance back in exchange. We should be fine now.”

“Wait a moment. You did what?!” He could feel his blood boiling with every question that he shot at his sibling. “Couldn’t you tell me that at home? And would you like to explain to me why you didn't consult it with me first, you idiot?” Ivar stood up fast as a lightning bolt. One of the bones in his leg gave a considerably loud creak but he masked the pain by wrinkling his face in anger.

People started staring at them but as always, Ivar didn’t care what others thought of him.

“I don’t get it. What’s this frenzy about?” Hvitserk was pretty proud of the deal that he had sealed with Y/N and he currently felt embarrassed by Ivar’s behavior. “Please sit down, Ivar.” He spoke softly avoiding his eyes.

“No! Shut up and listen to me! In that fucking picture you gave her there was a key hidden behind the frame. It opened up a locker or a box, I don’t know! But something valuable for sure! Father put it there so no one could find it. I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. I thought we could take the painting with us if our plan to talk to her failed and she left us without any money. She wouldn’t notice it anyway. Father must have stored a lot of important papers and expensive things somewhere. Now that we are one step closer to being poor, they wouldn’t be a bad thing to have.”

“But how did she know it was that painting for sure?”

Ivar looked like he was putting together some clues inside his brain. “Wait a second…” His expression fell in an instant and he knew himself to be the biggest fool. “I think- I think she drugged me...”

“Druggedyou?!” Hvitserk’s olive eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. The second time we met. I remember feeling very strange after she served me that wine and she started asking questions about father. Then the rest of the night passed in a blur.”

“That makes no sense. Y/N asked me for that painting before she drugged you.”

“Well, we still don’t know how, but she knew our father at some point... Maybe she remembered that Ragnar liked it and I was the idiot who told her it had a key in the back...” Ivar offered the best explanation he could think of. His teeth clashed together in anger.

“At this point,” Hvitserk rubbed his forehead with exasperation. “I don’t care. It doesn’t really matter how she knew. All that matters is that she probably beat us to that locker and took everything that was inside.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” Ivar found it uncomfortable to ask Hvitserk that question because he truly didn’t want to know.

“Last night. She slept in my room.”

“Meaning you slept withher,” Ivar emphasized and rolled his eyes.

Hvitserk ignored his bitter comment.

“You know there’s something I still don’t understand.”

“And what’s that?”

“If you guys slept around so much, she could’ve easily taken the key when you weren’t looking. Why did she have to wait a whole fucking month?”

Hvitserk straightened up in his seat and looked at Ivar with a strange expression. “Uhh... Well... Before Y/N left this morning, she told me something...”

Ivar raised an eyebrow urging him on. “Go on.”

“I mean...” Hvitserk exhaled and grimaced slightly. “You really wanna know? I know you fell for her, brother...”

“Didn’t you?” Ivar deflected swiftly with a quick scoff.

Hvitserk shook his head calmly. “No. She was just great in bed. Although I can’t really blame you.” His tone was much softer than before.

Ivar glanced at the dirty dishes in front of them and wished with every bone in his body that Hvitserk would remove his eyes from his face so he could bask alone in his shame. “So, what did Y/N say?”

“She told me that she liked me a lot but that it was time we stopped seeing each other for good. Maybe... maybe she wasn’t ready to let go before?”

“Are you implying that she didn’t leave before because she fell in love with your pathetic ass?”

“Maybe... I don’t know.” Hvitserk heard Ivar's choice of words very well but he didn’t insult him back. He rarely took the bait anymore.

The fact that Hvitserk’s voice hid no hint of arrogance or pride anymore only made it worse because that meant he was being sincere.

“Or maybe...” Ivar spat back with animosity. “Maybe she was just a sadistic cunt that enjoyed playing with us until she got bored.”

Hvitserk shrugged. “Perhaps...”

“In any case, we need to find out where she is now.”

“So, call her!”

Ivar put a hand inside his pocket and clawed around until he produced his phone. He dialed the number and waited, fingers trembling with rage.

“You have reached a number that has been disconnected. If you feel this is an error, please check the number and try again.”

They exchanged a look, seemingly reading each other’s minds. Ivar threw a bill on the table and they hurried to get to their car.

Yet it was useless. They searched for her in her house but she was nowhere to be found. The neighbors swore they hadn’t seen her so they rushed to the car again until they reached their home. Even though they knew that technically, ever since Y/N signed those papers, everything they owned had ceased being theirs, nobody prepared them for the sight of the bare walls of their house.

There was a big crew working diligently to empty the mansion of all the furniture and art pieces. Their clothes hung from movable racks and every utensil, down to the most insignificant silver fucking spoon was packed in boxes.

“Ivar and Hvitserk Lothbrok?” A stuck-up-looking guy with a load of documents in his hand addressed them.

“Yes?” Ivar answered since his brother was too occupied staring ahead as if he’d fallen into a trance.

“Ms. Y/N Y/L/N sold your house and will be keeping all the profits since, as you know, the property belongs to her. You can come to collect your personal belongings at this warehouse tomorrow. Along with the deed to your new house.” He produced an ivory-white card with the name of his company on it.

“H-house? What house?” Hvitserk finally pulled himself together for long enough to stutter out a question.

“As this document states, this house is located in...” The real estate agent ran his index finger over the paper searching for more details. “...in Kattegat.” He stated plainly.

Ivar couldn’t believe his ears, his voice raising considerably high. “You mean, father’s abandoned farm in the middle of fucking nowhere? The one that smells like cow piss and pig shit?”

The man raised an eyebrow sternly. “Oh, so you already know the house, that’s great. Y/N specified that the cottage was to be your only part of the inheritance.”

Ivar took a shaky step back in surprise, his legs wobbling in the process when thinking about how that nasty hateful woman had managed to utterly destroy their lives in less than a month.

“Now, could you kindly exit this estate? You’re trespassing on private property. Thank you.”

~~·······~~

Y/N’s POV

Dear diary,

I realized last night that I had been avoiding taking the painting because I was afraid of what I could find. But it was time to face the truth and unfortunately, I also had to say goodbye to my boy toys.

It took me less effort than I expected to find that locker. I made my way to the biggest bank in the city and once there, everything was easy. I just had to show them the key and the inheritance certificate and they led me into a room where the big bulletproof box was set in front of me. It felt cold and lifeless. The metal walls of the room with no windows made me feel like a caged criminal. Some probably would say that of me, but I’m only reclaiming what I’m owed.

My restlessness was evident in the way that my hands were trembling and my legs felt spongy.

I popped the lid open and I saw that the box was almost empty. Just a few stacks of money, some pieces of jewelry, and two yellowed letters.

One was already open and I recognized my own handwriting. But the other envelope was brown and the writing had faded, barely readable anymore but I would recognize Ragnar’s handwriting anywhere in a pinch.

I took the first letter and eyed the familiar words.

~~·······~~

Dear Ragnar,

I hope you are doing well. I saw the contact details from your company in an ad. So, I decided to take a chance to tell you everything that’s on my mind since you disappeared overnight and I never heard from you again.

I know about Aslaug and her rich daddy. I know marrying her must’ve seemed like too perfect an opportunity to pass up but you owe me an explanation, Ragnar.

You know very well that all that you achieved at first was because I used my magic skills in your favor. When no one else believed in your dreams, you turned to me for aid. Don’t forget that it was me the one who helped you build your empire before you turned greedy and married that pale emaciated chick. And don’t forget that I was the one who satisfied your every addiction, with my herbs and with my body, just the way you liked it.

You once promised me that you would never leave me. That you would always be by my side.And then you failed me.

I’ll never forget how you told me that I was your Valhalla on earth.

So, I’m waiting for you, my love.

With love,

Y/N

~~·······~~

I wrote that letter years ago, just a few months after he left me and I’m still as empty as I was back then. My tears fell one by one on the sheet of paper and the letters in them dissolved. Reading these lines again hurt. I felt the same sorrow as I did then until my tears of sadness turned into tears of anger.

Then I blew the dirt away, read my name at the top of the second letter, and started reading with eager eyes and an accelerated heart.

~~·······~~

Dear Y/N,

I never forgot about all of those words. You were the best thing that ever happened to me but you have to understand that I had to think of things to come. I wanted my future sons to be the emperors of a world that I would carve for them. I wanted the Lothbrok name to go down in history. And Aslaug was a necessary part of it.

But I regret all of it now. I see that perhaps it’s best if they make their own path. I regret ever leaving you and I’m sorry for the pain that I caused you. That’s why I’ve decided to leave everything to you once I die, in the hopes that I can right the wrongs I did and that you will someday forgive me. Please, treat my sons kindly. They don’t deserve to pay for my mistakes. I know you will do the right thing and not leave them in complete destitution.

My heart will always belong to you, Y/N.

All my love,

Ragnar

~~·······~~

Ragnar thought that by leaving me all of his money I would forgive him for his abandonment. But even though I love him, I could never forgive him. He was a simple and humble farmer, but greed corrupted him; it made his soul fester inside. And when he left, my heart turned to ashes. I thought I could feel something for Hvitserk but I was wrong. It’s impossible for me to love anyone ever again.

Ragnar is still a coward to me. He just used me to get high, or whenever he needed a good fuck. He exchanged me for the pretty daughter of some wealthy art collector who would help him get access to the highest corners of society. In my book, that could only mean that he never cared about me at all.

He chose to discard me like a used doll as if he hadn’t spent the longest days in my bed, consuming every intoxicating herb and exotic potion that I put in front of him, and loving every second of it. Ragnar fucked the best whenever he was high, and lucky for me, in those days, he was always high.

I played the same trick on the boys I used on Ragnar. Seeing my naked body and perfectly rounded breasts always got him in the perfect mood and he could only focus on me, forgetting about everything around him.

He never wanted his new family to know about us because I was the one supplying him with his drugs and his good luck. But he never saw me as a necessary part of his life. I don’t understand why I had so much faith in him. How could I be so stupid?

Ivar and Hvitserk deserve to suffer. Since I can’t make Ragnar bend over in agony, they will pay in his place. I will call my lawyer and by the time they get home, they will be out in the streets.

I will never regret any of the things I did. They had to be done. Unfortunately, I will be too far away to see the stupid look on their faces when they realize that our old muddy farm, where Ragnar and I used to live when we were younger, is the only thing they will get to keep. Hard work and misery are the only things they will know from now on...

My name is Y/N, and this is the story of how I ruined the Lothbrok dynasty.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x reader #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #kattegat

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disaster-fruit · 3 years

Note

could you tell us more about the brarg family au with the 3 babies and trans luci?

I definitely can! This au has been living rent free in my head since i started that drawing and I was actually sketching more stuff for the AU right before I got this ask so- I definitely can ramble more about it

This was supposed to be just a collection of a few hcs and now it’s a multi-pages word document the size of a fanfic so – Im really sorry.

I didn’t think a lot about their backstories tbh, though I have it in my mind that Luciano transition in his late teens and that he and martin either met after that or knew each other before luciano came out, lost all contact, and then met again after (and you can blame oxiosas fic for that yeah im not even subtle)

But I imagine them having some sort of meet cute and kinda progressing really fast in their relationship without realizing – yk, its just a fling, no big deal, yeah ive met his parents, yes I basically spend every weekend in his apartment, yeah I have a spare key now, ops I guess we’re adopting dogs and plants together- oh I think we’re married. Yeah. We’re married.

Ok but for real Luci does the proper proposal-with-a-ring-and-knelt-down-on-a-special-day thing and Martin is just bright red saying yes over and over again

It is Afonso (port) the first to be all WHERE ARE MY GRANDCHILDREN like… the night of their wedding.

They live in a house in a not too big city with two dogs, one cat, one parrot and all the birds that Luciano feeds and names that aren’t actually theirs. Still, they choose the house with two spare rooms because they always talked about having two kids.

In this AU they can buy a nice house and don’t have to worry about money and can raise kids like the world isn’t ending.

I think right after they got married they got in line for adoption. However, everything indicated that it would take a long long time so they started talking about the possibility of trying to have a biological kid. I think luci was the one to suggest it when he noticed martin had been thinking about it but not saying anything for a while.

Lots of boring doctor visits and confused doctors looking at luciano and trying to process it like the dumb cishets they are. Boring exams and all that, but everything is on track eventually, luci pauses his hrt and keeps his jockstrap on the drawer and they’re googling the best positions for fertility on those weird cishet sites and doing it like bunnies etc etc

Getting pregnant the natural way after years of testosterone is not the easiest thing in the world, so it takes a while. But eventually it works.

Both of them are kinda freaking out with this whole first pregnancy thing. Martin is the ultimate protective husband, and spends way too much time on the internet finding out what luciano can and can’t eat, what exercises he should do, and going to every single doctor visit. He’s very committed to it.

Luciano has to drink non-alcoholic beer and hates life. There’s a single teardrop shed every time he buys it. And drinks a lot of lemonade like it’s the same as caipirinha. Poor guy. Martin doesn’t help on that, life isn’t fair, he buys his own beer.

But he also has to drive absurd lengths to find the weirdest fruit or make the most hideous, blasphemous pizza toppings because Luciano is constantly craving absurd shit. But poor baby actually really NEEDS that chicken M&M pizza at 8am.

They’re super proud daddies though, and both their instagrams at this point are just baby belly pictures. Luci had top surgery on this au on my hc so also. Lots of shirtless pics. He looks like an old uncle with a beer belly and he’s PROUD. Just. Baby bellies all over.

Martin picks the entire baby layette. Because of course he does.

Their baby shower is a huge deal though. Their dads are there, Antonio brings an entire trunk filled with diapers and tells everyone how many tincho used to need when he was a baby, Afonso is cooking for everyone and talking about how he’s gonna be a grandfather (!!!). Iracema (pindorama) is scolding Luci about his bad habits while also quietly being a super proud grandma. Zola (angola) bought toys because she knows that’s what kids actually like, Samero (Mozão) keeps asking if they installed all the necessary security stuff in their house – we will, chill, we still have some months to go – Vera (Tomé) is teasing Simão (Timor) about him no longer being the family baby, Fatima (g.bissau) is another one who bought a huge amount of diapers, Rosinha (cabo verde) is taking pictures of everyone and everything, Sebas and Dani are discussing if the kid should speak Portuguese or Spanish, Maria brought a huge pink plushy as a gift, it’s quite a party.

Once they’re late in the pregnancy, Luciano mostly spends his time on Martin’s oversized t-shirts asking for foot rubs and not getting much sleep because the baby keeps moving. Martin on the other hand is a little nervous about being a dad, but absolutely loves feeling the little kicks and talking to the baby all the time, except when its 3am and he wants to sleep but Luci cant because of it so he just does his best to keep him company. He mostly ends up falling asleep on his chest though and doesn’t help much

I wrote all of this but I still don’t have a name for the girl lol Anyway, she’s finally born, and if martin was overprotective when Luciano was pregnant, he’s ten times more with his baby girl. Tbh theyre both kinda going crazy with this whole parenting thing, both are overprotective, tired, and have no idea what theyre doing.

Zola and Sebastian are the girl’s godparents. Sebastian isn’t very good with kids so when he takes care of his niece he either puts on a tv show and lets her eat whatever crap she wants, or relies on Daniel to do the actual taking care, since he is good with kids.

Luciano and Martin are very much neurotic first-timers and have all this schedule of what their girl can eat and when and when she has to sleep etc etc.

When Zola takes care of her, she just ignores it and does it her way. She helped raised Luci since he was a baby anyway, he survived just fine and even married and reproduced, she knows what to do better than both the dumbasses, and they never even find out.

Afonso on the other had follows everything when he’s with his granddaughter, determined to be a better grandfather than he was a father, and the baby loves him so he’s doing a good job.

They’re a very cute family yes yes

She grows up well and happy, a bit shy maybe but very smart and sweet, loves the dogs and her aunts and uncles and granddads (afonso more than antonio though)

By the way, Iracema is soft like butter with her granddaughter.

When she’s about four or five years old they start talking about having a second one, considering the age difference and all. So back to doctors, Luci stops the hrt again and they go back to trying, but again it’s not the easiest thing in the world to do it naturally after years of hrt.

But god listens to the prayers of such good catholic family, and right after they start thinking about a second child, they receive the news they will finally get to adopt a baby.

Luciano is the one to receive the news, he’s working at home when the social worker comes to tell him they can finally adopt. He’s extremely happy, he hugs the poor lady and is barely able to concentrate as she explains the paperwork that is left and the details of it because he can’t stop smiling.

He immediately texts martin saying something like “CALL ME RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO TALK” and it’s in happy caps but martin understands it wrong and thinks someone is dying or dead but then his phone is what dies so he gets home as fast as he can thinking all the worst scenarios just to find luciano jumping on him with a smile for ear to ear. It’s such a shock he takes a while to react but when he does you have two idiots so happy they can’t function.

It’s another girl, she has big brown eyes like her sister and it’s a few months old.

They quickly reassemble the crib and paint the second room to get everything ready in time to take her home, and the next week or so it’s nothing but all the family visiting to meet their new baby.

Since they managed to adopt, they decided to stop trying to have another kid. Luciano goes back to the doctor do some routine exams so that he can go back to testosterone and the doctor just awkwardly explains that, well, that won’t be exactly possible. Not for the next eight months, at least.

He’s quite shocked at that, and takes him a while to tell martin. They just got a new baby and do they even have space to raise three kids? Eventually it just escapes from him and martin is shocked as well, but ultimately both of them are just worried about their place being too small, and once they relax about that they can’t shut up about having another baby on the way to anyone.

Still, it’s not easy to manage, martin is just as worried as he was with their eldest, except that this time he’s simultaneously worried about their new baby and about Luci’s pregnancy. Poor dude needs a break asap. So he’s trying to do most of the work of caring for a little baby to spare luciano from the stress, while also taking care of him as well as he did the other time.

Luci is more chill about being pregnant, he’s done this before, he’s fine. He’s even a little too chill about it, as shown in the art, he still wants to carry their kid on his shoulder and having a few sips of martin’s beer is no big deal and honestly he’s fine, he can help with the baby, and Tincho just needs to relax and it will all be fine.

Again, poor tincho needs a break.

Some things don’t change though. Them being super proud daddies who do nothing but take pictures of their kids and Luci’s belly every chance they get. And they’re really happy and excited to have their house full and this big family.

Just a good cute family AU where nothing bad ever happens thank you very much. Yet it took me almost 2k words to say it. I have no self control and I’m very sorry. However, if anyone has their own hcs to add about this whole au, I will be more than happy to hear and talk about this AU even more than I’ve already done.

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kindrednerdspirit · 3 years

Text

Sometimes a Thing Feels so Right: Part 4

Excerpt: This revelation, however, is not without its issues, because Casey now finds herself in the tricky situation of knowing it’s best to avoid private moments with Iz, but she also wants private moments with her.

Monday, first block. Casey’s perspective.

It’s 20 minutes before track practice starts and Casey has one goal: avoid any potential private moments with Izzie. Her decision is influenced by her most recent talk with Elsa. In a bizarre turn of events, the universe decided Casey would connect with Elsa on a deeper level twice in one week. Their first talk about Casey’s grandma helped her understand Elsa’s helicopter parenting and why she gets, well, annoyingly intrusive. Their second talk was an accident. A host of Izzie feelings reached a boiling point for Casey and her Izzie issues spilled out in front of Elsa.

For context, this is how it all went down:

The smell of roast fills the Gardner house. Sam works at the kitchen table as Elsa takes dinner out of the oven. He is sketching a new piece for his art class.

“Sam, honey, do you mind telling your sister that dinner is ready?” Elsa asks as she cuts the roast.

“I do mind. I have to finish this sketch by tomorrow.”

Elsa is not surprised by her son’s very literal answer. He had been in flow for hours, sitting in the same spot since he got home from class. This is not a battle she wants to take part in, so she walks up the stairs to get Casey. Strangely, the door is ajar by a few inches. Curious in a way that any parent is interested in their teenager’s “secret” life, Elsa peers in before announcing dinner is ready. Casey is lying on her bed, curled toward the wall and sniffling.

She acts like she hasn’t been spying, and quietly knocks. “Case, dinner is ready.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll be right down.” Casey’s voice is soft.

Don’t meddle, don’t meddle, don’t meddle. Elsa repeats the phrase over and over in her head as she walks back into the kitchen and takes dinner into the dining room. A few minutes pass before Casey makes her way downstairs.

She sees Sam drawing at the kitchen table. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“I need to finish my sketch. It’s due tomorrow.”

“So, take a 10 minute break, eat, then finish it.”

Sam avoids eye contact and looks at the table the entire time he speaks. “Professor Shinerock says you have to find your peak time to achieve flow. My peak time is in the afternoon around 2:30, so this is when I have to start working on my art, because it’s when I’ll be at my most creative and productive. Professor Shinerock says to continue working in flow state for as long as possible.”

“You know what else helps creativity and productivity? Not starving.”

“Of course, starving ruins creativity and productivity, because you’d be dead!” Sam tilts his head and furrows his brow. “That’s a ridiculous thing to say.” Without another word, Sam puts on his headphones and returns to his sketch.

“If you’re not eating by the time I’m done dinner, I’m pretending you’re an egg.” Casey walks away with a smile, knowing that Sam did not hear her warning. She sits at the table with Elsa and starts helping herself to potatoes. The two sit in silence for a minute, save for cutlery clanging against their plates.

“Sweets, I know I shouldn’t meddle--”

“So don’t.” Casey finishes.

“--but I’m just going to say one thing, then nothing else. Promise.”

Casey rolls her eyes but let’s her mum continue. Elsa takes a deep breath to collect herself. “You just found out that UCLA is interested in you, but you seem sad. And you haven’t had Izzie over in weeks, you mope around the house, you’re unexpectedly crotchety...”

“Mum!” Casey groans. “Please, get to the point.”

“I don’t know if Izzie is jealous about UCLA scouting you, but whatever is happening between you two... it will sort itself out. Try not to fret too much.”

Casey stares at her plate and pauses to mull over her mum’s words. “How do you know?” She’s afraid to look at Elsa. Afraid that if she does, all her emotions will flood out.

“Because of how you two look at each other. It’s special.” Elsa smiles, reflecting on when she first met Doug. When they first met, they shared the same long stares and goofy smiles as Casey and Izzie. Boy, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Thanks.” Casey is surprised by her mum’s kind words. “I don’t know if it will, though.” Her voice cracks. She shuts her eyes, because she can feel the tears forming. Elsa practically leaps out of her seat to embrace her daughter. She kisses Casey’s head, then soothingly brushes back her hair with her fingers.

“She’s… embarrassed to be seen with me.” Casey murmurs.

Elsa nods, knowingly. “I’m sorry, love.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “Not everyone is as confident and comfortable with themselves as you.”

Casey smiles sheepishly and swipes away the tears. Of course, Elsa feels protective of Casey. She doesn’t want anybody breaking her daughter’s heart. At the same time, Elsa also understands Izzie’s situation to a certain extent, making her feel like a protective momma bear toward her, too. They have the shared experience of growing up with an absent parent, and perhaps, similar insecurities. Not to mention that both Casey and Izzie are just beginning to understand their sexual identities, so it's not surprising that this self knowledge is leading to difficult feelings.

Elsa is suddenly very grateful for reading up on parenting tips for LGBTQ+ kids. She chooses her next words carefully, so as not to imply to Casey that she knows about Izzie’s home situation. “Give her time, hon.”

“I think I love her.” Casey sniffles.

“I know.”

“Love who?” Doug walks into the room looking for dinner. He just got back from work, and somehow slipped into the house without the girls noticing. The question hangs in the air a few beats too long.

“Uhm, Izzie.” Despite not wanting this conversation to happen in this moment, Casey looks her dad in the eye.

“Yeah, I love her too!” He grins and pulls out a chair, completely oblivious to what is going on. Casey is not sure what to do, so she looks at her mum. The two watch as Doug happily sticks a fork into the roast beef, then proceeds to scoop carrots. The girls stifle some laughter. Maybe it’s best to let this one slide, considering Casey and Izzie’s relationship status is currently unknown.

“What?” Doug asks after noticing the girls’ looks.

“Nothing, Dad. Girl stuff.” Casey looks at her mum as she says it, knowing it will mean something more to her. She then grabs her plate and excuses herself from the table before dropping her dishes in the sink. Sam is still in the kitchen, completely absorbed in his art.

“I warned you!” Casey shouts. “Prepare to be egged!” With that, she scrambles onto Sam’s chair and sticks her butt on his head.

“Hey, stop! What are you doing?!” Sam protests.

“Don’t blame me. You’re the one who compared me to a penguin, so now, you’re my egg.”

“Why would that make me an egg? That makes no sense! You ruined my flow!” They continue squabbling, wrestling, and yelling.

Meanwhile, Doug looks at Elsa with a bemused but impressed expression. “Girl talk? Really?”

Elsa cannot help but beam.

***

Needless to say, when Casey found herself stretching on the field 20 minutes early, it was a calculated move. It’s amazing how saying something out loud can make things so clear. Once she told Elsa that Izzie was embarrassed to be seen with her as her girlfriend, something clicked. Casey could never pretend to be just friends with Izzie, it would never work out. She simply wasn’t the type of person to pretend, the type to play a role, even if it meant keeping Izzie close.

This revelation, however, is not without its issues, because Casey now finds herself in the tricky situation of knowing it’s best to avoid private moments with Iz, but she also wants private moments with her.

While she works on her quads, Izzie jogs past and veers off to stretch on her own. She’s wearing the tight Adidas shorts that show off her beautiful curves. Casey always considered her own muscular legs to be tall and lanky, but Izzie’s… they were shapely in all the most appealing ways from her legs to her hips. The same hips she held onto whenever she pulled Izzie close. She fit so comfortably in her embrace, with her delightful warmth and faint smell of vanilla beans.

The best part was when Iz was really close and her chin would dip up. Casey would look down and see the same desire in her eyes as she felt all over her body. A shiver would go down her spine, her breathing would quicken. And everything else would just, sort of, disappear. Fade off into the background. Iz would smile, showing off her button dimples and Casey would want to devour her right then and there for being too adorable.

Oh. My. God. Casey! You have one job. Actually, two jobs. No private moments with Izzie and no getting turned on by Izzie because it’s a slippery slope, my dude. Quick, think of gross things. Zahid kissing Gretchen? Zahid in a robe? Ew, ew, ew! Too far. Poor Zahid. I love the guy for being Sam’s friend, but he’s a serious vagina mood killer.

Izzie looks up from her stretching and their eyes meet. She has the longing eyes and Casey knows exactly what she wants. Shit. It’s too hard, so she looks away. Much too hard. The rest of track practice follows a similar pattern of eyes meeting and diverting.

***

After 60 minutes of failing miserably at ignoring Izzie, Casey is relieved when Coach blows the whistle. She hustles to the locker room with a few other teammates. Casey is talking to another teammate when Iz jogs over, her high ponytail bouncing with each step. She cannot help but disassociate from the conversation, because she sees the infamous Adidas shorts. And just like that, she’s done for. Blood rushes toward her southern regions. The Zahid tactic fails. Once again, Casey curses her body and heart for betraying her brain.

“Yo, Newton! Wait up!” Iz shouts.

At the sound of her voice, Casey wavers for a millisecond. She decides to continue listening to her peers, pretending not to hear. But Iz is persistent. Casey’s words from the other night with Elsa race through her head.

She’s embarrassed to be seen with me.

The words are upsetting. There’s so many reasons why, it’s hard to pick only one, but she mostly feels frustrated. Frustrated that she cannot hold or kiss Izzie in public, that she cannot share her love with the world, despite their mutual feelings. Worst of all, she feels the immense hurt that comes with knowing she cannot pretend to be just friends. She hates that it has to be all or nothing. But to do otherwise, would be to betray herself. All these complicated emotions build up inside her until she finds herself towering over Izzie.

“I don’t know how to make this more clear. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Her cold tone surprises even her. She watches Izzie’s eyes widen, then feels her heart clench in response. Despite everything, her instant reaction is to make Iz feel better. And she easily could. Casey could slip her arms around her, up to the small of her back. Then, she could gently pull Izzie toward her and lean in. She could hover in front of her lips to tease Iz, the two sharing the same, delicious air.

“I--”

“Please, don’t follow me.” Casey cuts off Iz with a firm response. She gulps--that was close. Her feet hurry toward the locker room, whisking her away as quickly as possible. She hated feeling like an overdramatic school girl or like she was in some terrible rom-com. Big deal. Just be friends, right? At the same time, though, she knew there was no other way.

#cazzie #casey gardner #izzie no last name #casey and izzie #fanfiction #atypical fanfiction #just kiss already #more on the way #elsa and casey feels

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

Please give us something where Nancy and the wheelers do not take Steve/billy coming out well, I mean it’s the Regan admin in the 80’s, so in comes good bro Jonathan. He supports Steve/billy, because he likes that Will now gets to see a healthy m/m relationship and gets to feel less alone. I just want Jonathan, Joyce and Hopper loving and supporting Steve and billy. I want Jon talking sense into Nancy, while Joyce goes feral mom on the wheelers. Our boys need more awesome family.

So, a LOT of homophobic, ignorant language. Karen is awful (I HATE her in canon, so this just gave me an excuse to make her even MORE terrible).

Also I don’t think I’ve written Mike before. It was kinda fun.

This is not the most Nancy positive piece also.

Read on ao3!

“I don’t want you around that Harrington boy anymore.”

Mike blinked. He didn’t know when his mom stopped referring to him as Steve with that disgusting fucking dreamy quality to her voice, and switched it out for practically spitting his last name.

Maybe it was around the same time he and Billy got outed by Billy’s shitty dad.

Basically, Neil had come home to find Billy and Steve messing around. He had slapped Billy around, and kicked him out. Steve’s parents did the same when Neil got a hold of Mr. Harrington’s secretary to track them down on vacation somewhere in Europe. Apparently they had come home as soon as possible and Steve was crying in the Hendersons’ spare room, his cheek bruised.

Billy had been taken in by Joyce and Hop, in the new, slightly larger house they had bought for their combined family, had insisted he was fine on his own, until Joyce put her foot down, said she would not take no for an answer, it was either move in, or she lived on the streets with him. He moved in that same afternoon.

“And we know he’s at the Hendersons’. We don’t want you going over there.”

“Why not? You think he’s gonna turn me gay or something?”

“Well, Michael, we just don’t want you in a situation with someone like that. We’re trying to keep you safe.” Mike made a face.

“If he was gonna do something gross to me, he would’ve done it by now. You know how many times he’s driven me home? Alone?”

“And it makes my skin crawl just thinking about what could’ve happened, Mike! Your father and I are just trying to protect you. Claudia practically threw a fit when I told her it wasn’t safe to have that boy in the house with Dustin. Don’t you think their relationship is, odd? I think he’s, well I think he’s already gotten to poor Dustin, and that boy is just, he’s too scared to say anything.”

“Are you serious? Steve’s a nice guy! Kind of a dumbass, but he’s nice. He wouldn’t do that.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You can never be sure with these people. They can’t control themselves. And it’s more than that! We don’t know if he has that, that disease. Nobody knows how it’s spreading!”

“Aren’t you forgetting that he dated Nancy for like, a year? Wouldn’t she have gotten it?” Mrs. Wheeler literally shivered. Acted as though a fucking ghost passed through her.

“Oh, believe me, I’ll be taking Nancy to the doctor myself. And while we’re discussing it, I don’t want you at the Byers’ either. That Hargrove boy is with them and that’s who Steve was caught with.” Mike’s eyes bugged out.

“But, El lives with them! Are you seriously saying I can’t go over to any of my friends’ houses, or see my girlfriend?”

“No, you can go see Lucas. He’s not contaminated.” He just scoffed at her, stomping up to his room, passing Nancy on the way.

“Can you fucking believe her? She said we can’t go to the Byers’ anymore because Billy is there, and I’m not allowed to see Will or Dustin or El, let alone Steve.”

“She’s just trying to keep us safe.” He gawked at her.

“Not you too, Jesus Nancy!” He made sure to slam his door behind him.

The next day he told his mom he and Lucas were going to The Hawke. They rode their bikes over to the Byers’ instead.

Mrs. Henderson’s car was out front behind where the Camaro sat under a tarp. Billy hadn’t been taking his car anywhere, it was too recognizable for this town. Steve’s car was still in the drive in front of his parents’ house, scratches in the side from keys, an F-word of choice spray painted over the hood. Steve was told not to touch anything his parents had provided for him when he had to pack his shit and leave. Jonathan had had to pick him up and drive him to Dustin’s.

They left their bikes out front. Max’s skateboard was on the porch. The two boys raised their eyebrows at one another. Max was forbidden to see Billy, was really playing with fire.

“Hey boys!” Mrs. Byers greeted as they slammed their way inside, “Everyone is in Will’s room.” Will had a nice setup at their new place. Jonathan and Billy were sharing the largest room, and had been getting along well, much to everyone’s surprise. El had taken the small room, said she wouldn’t know what to do with herself in too much space, so Will was able to squeeze a table in his room, used it for his art and DnD games. When they went inside, El and Max shot up to hug their boys. Billy was sitting the squashy chair by the open window, smoking with Steve perched in his lap. Will and El had been lounged on the bed, Jonathan sitting against the wall on the floor, on music duty. Everyone waved lazily at them.

“My mom’s officially cracked. She told me I wasn’t allowed to be here anymore. Or your house.” He nodded to Dustin from where he was sitting at the little table, going through Will’s sketches.

“Yeah she came over to our place and yelled about how Steve has obviously been molesting me and has AIDS and stuff.” He said it lazily.

“Yep and it was really funny and I love reliving it.” Steve huffed, taking the cigarette from Billy’s hand, taking a drag and blowing it out the window.

“She told me she’s gonna take Nancy to the doctor to get tested for it.” Steve stood up, storming out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

“She wasn’t so nervous about this shit when she was trying to fuck me last summer.” Billy flicked the butt out the window, following Steve yelling Princess, slow down, would ya?

“What did Nancy say?” Jonathan had stopped flicking through tapes. Mike shrugged, stealing Billy and Steve’s spot in the good chair.

“She just said Mom was trying to keep us safe.” He furrowed his brows.

“She really, she said that?” He stood up. “I have to make a call.” He swept out of the room, no doubt going to confront his girlfriend.

“This whole thing is really hurting Steve. I can hear him crying most nights. He thinks he’s quiet about it, but he’s never quiet.” Dustin shuddered. “The things I’ve heard.”

“Happy screams?” El laughed as Dustin mimed throwing up.

“I’d like to clarify that I don’t think it’s gross because they’re both guys, but hearing your brother have sex is not ideal in any situation.”

“Don’t let Steve hear you call him your brother, he’ll probably cry over it.” Max laughed dryly from the floor. “I didn’t know someone could cry so damn much.” Dustin rolled his eyes.

“He’s a sensitive soul! And he’s going through a lot. Don’t make fun of Steve.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Stevie?” Billy found Steve outside, sitting on the back porch. He sat down next to him, lighting two cigarettes, passing one to Steve.

“I just, just can’t believe she would, would say that.” His hands were shaking. “About, about Nancy.”

“She’s a bitch, Baby.” He tucked Steve under his arm. “But she shouldn’t have, shouldn't have said that.”

“It just makes me feel like shit that the kids have been pulled into this now.”

“I know, Baby. Me too.” He kissed the top of his head. “But we’ll figure this out. Once I graduate, we’ll get the fuck outta here. Take the kids with us if we gotta.” Steve chuckled

“I think we could all do with at least four fresh starts, each.” Billy laughed into his hair.

“You boys doing okay?” Joyce had poked her head out. “I heard some banging around.

“Sorry, Joyce. Steve was being dramatic.” Steve slapped Billy on the chest as he pulled away.

“Sorry, Joyce. Just got mad.” She came and sat down with them.

“Anything I can help with?”

“Not unless you want to slash Karen Wheeler’s tires with me.” Steve slapped Billy’s chest again.

“What? What did she do?”

“She just said some stuff to Nancy and Mike.” She raised an eyebrow at Steve. He sighed. “About, about how she doesn’t, doesn’t want Mike over here, or at Dustin’s. She said, said it’s not safe or something.” He couldn’t look her in the eye.

She was immediately, righteously, furious.

“She said it’s not safe? You know, I was wondering why she would never come down my line at Melvald’s anymore. That awful woman! She doesn’t even know you two! It’s been wonderful having you around. Both of you.” She was looking at them, eyes wide and sharp.

“We just, we feel bad bringing all this onto you, your families.” Billy offered.

“Well don’t. You two are our family. No question about it.” Steve’s eyes were welling up. “And in this family, we care about each other, protect each other, and don’t listen when the Karen Wheelers of the world are saying stupid, stupid things.” Steve launched himself at her, hugging her tightly. Billy joined in, both boys smothering her with their combined weight.

She patted both their cheeks when they pulled back.

“Plus, I’ve always gotten this feeling about Will. I think you two are good for him. Show him he can be happy.”

“Hello?”

“Nancy? Hey, it’s Jonathan.”

“Oh, Jon! Hi! What are you up to?”

“Well, nothing much. I was just informed that your mom may have said some shit to Mike about Billy and Steve?”

“Wait, is he there? He’s not supposed to be-”

“You don’t, you don’t agree with her? Do you?” Nancy sighed down the line. Jonathan’s heart sank.

“Well, I don’t quite know what to think anymore, Jon.”

“So accusing Steve of being a child molester is the what you’re going with?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think he would, but, it just, it makes you think. He was always, kind of, I don’t know, obsessed with the kids.” Jonathan nearly slammed the phone back onto the receiver.

“Are you fucking kidding? You’re serious? He likes the kids because they like him! He likes taking care of people! The kids need him!”

“Well, and maybe, maybe a part of me feels kind of, hurt. I mean, he dated me for a whole year Jon, and then, acted all hurt when I broke it off like, like that’s not what he wanted the whole time!”

“Some people like both, Nancy! He loved you and was hurt when you broke it off! Now he loves Billy, and that has nothing to do with you!”

“But he lied to me! For that whole time we were together!”

“What would’ve happened if he had told you? What if I said I like guys too, what would you do?”

“Jon, don’t be gross.”

“See! He couldn’t have told you. It’s not safe for people like them!” He laughed coldly. “How many times has Steve saved our fucking lives Nancy? The kids lives? I can’t believe, after everything, you would just, just do this.”

“What? Worry about the safety of my little brother? You think I don’t worry about you sharing a room with Billy every night?”

“You know what we do in that room, Nancy? We talk about our shitty dads, and get high, and listen to music. We don’t, he doesn’t make moves on me. Gay people aren’t inherently rapists.”

“I never said they were!”

“No, you just implied it heavily. Look, Nancy. Why don’t we take some time. You can make up your mind about your friends, and we’ll talk when you decide if you’re going to be a decent person or not.”

“Wait, are you, are you breaking up with me? Over this?”

“This is a serious issue, Nancy! I can’t be with someone who thinks that way!”

“Is this, are you trying to tell me you’re like them?”

“No, Nancy. I’m not trying to tell you anything. What I am telling you, is that I don’t want to date a bigot. Call me if you ever decide not to be one.” He slammed down the phone, chest heaving.

“Did you just dump her?” Will’s eyes were wide in the doorway.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“She said some really shitty stuff about Steve and Billy. And by extension, all gay men.” He could see Will swallow.

“And you, you dumped her for that?”

“I can’t date someone who hates people for who they love. I don’t need that in my life.” Will was blinking hard as he stumbled toward Jonathan. he hugged him tightly. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I, I’m good.” He smiled at him before walking back towards his room.

#yikes writes #steve getting kicked out and living with the hendersons is HUGE for me #Claudia henderson is a good fucking mom and LOVES her weird sons #harringrove #harringrove fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove drabble #harringrove ficlet

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