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1-800-local-slut · 6 months

Note

I’m rewatching season 9 of Supernatural and it’s making me crave Cas fics. Maybe something where the reader met him as Steve but now he’s back to full angel mojo

Can I Get A Large Slushie?

Season 9 Castiel x Black! Reader

Warnings: drunk reader, heartbreak (on readers end), reader and Cas don't end up together romantically, it's more so an experience, i don't know why I can't write Cas that way but I think he's literally just too majestic for me. He's also weirdly hard for me to write so I'm sorry this isn't one of my better works

1.7k words

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Also sorry this took so long, I got really busy </3

She could still remember that day like it was yesterday. The cold afternoon breeze that blew over her arms that night. The night when it was the beginning of everything she ever knew changed.

Drunk tears streamed down her face, her white dress a muddled mess around her lower body. It was supposed to be her night. It was supposed to be for her, with her friends and family all there to celebrate her engagement. Yet, after half an hour, her ex-fiance was caught with his pants around his ankles and buried in her aunt Nella. All she could do was run. She ran out of that party like a bat out of hell. Where was she even going? Perhaps her location was the gas station.

She ran, until she abandoned her heels in her purse, her flask was empty and the Sun had long since set behind her.

Then she was there. Tipsy, depressed and at a gas station. Mascara streamed down her dark skin in big gooey chunks, and she wanted to rip off her false lashes. Even her wig was bothering her. A chilled breeze blew through the night sky, and she shivered. Rubbing her arms up and down her soft skin she looked up through tear filled lashes at the glowing sign.

If there was any place to wait for her Uber, she supposed it was better than the street. The door felt cold against her bare arms. Looking back, it was a cold night. That night gave her a distinct fondness for the cold. The AC blasted over her, as she looked around. The whiteness of the room blinded her. She called her Uber, probably the least important aspect of her night. She saw him then.

He was standing near the slushie machine, he was certainly handsome. Tall, with brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and pink lips. Perhaps if she wasn’t spending unnecessary time worrying about a man who cracked her heart in two, she would’ve taken a chance with him.

Sliding next to him, she glanced down at her phone again ‘Mickey, 8 minutes away’. How she wished she had more than those eight minutes.

“Is there something you need ma’am?” The voice startled her. She wasn’t expecting him to speak, in her 29 years of living she can’t really remember ever speaking to a gas station attendant.

“Yeah…can I get a large slushie?” She slurred and hiccuped. Oh what a fool she made of herself! If she could go back, she would’ve gone in there perfectly sober and asked for more than a slushie from him.

“Sure, you know if you mix 50% red and 50% blue together it’ll make a perfect shade of purple? Most people end up with either too much red or blue, so if we fill it up to the top of the ‘e’ with the first color, it’ll be a perfect 50%, and the rest will make it a perfect mix.” He enthused, pulling out a cup but dropping a few more on the ground. She flailed in an attempt to grab them, and she followed suit. After a few ungraceful moments her slushie was being poured, half red and half blue. Then, he (with a shocking amount of enthusiasm) shook up her drinking and placed a gorgeous colored concoction.

Maybe it was the liquor that did her in. The liquor that brought tears to her eyes, and made her start to cry once more.

“This is the nicest thing ever, thank you…” with a squint, she leaned in and read his name tag. “Steve. That’s a nice name, I knew a guy named Steve once. He was great, you know. He was a nice guy, dude smelled funky though.” With a pathetic whimper, Steve chuckled and led her away to the cash register.

For some reason, her heart thumped in her chest. Perhaps from the copious amounts of casamigos thrumming through her blood.

“Well hopefully, he smells better now.” Steve chuckled and she took a long and hard sip from her slushie, the cold freezing over her pained heart. With a swipe of her credit card, her slushie was paid for.

“I hope you have a better night than you’ve been having so far.” Steve grinned widely and she chuckled. A smile came over her sore features. How tired she was. Even talking hurt but in her drunken state it was all she wanted to do.

“Why thank you Steve, you’re such a sweetie pie! Oh but my night can’t get better. My life can’t either.” She sighed, laying her arm and head onto the counter. She can still recall Steve’s blue eyes glancing over her face.

“My fiance, or ex, or uncle or something. He plowed my aunt at our engagement party. Sure she’s only like six years older, but that’s still so weird. He already had me, who goes for a downgrade? Here I am. Sad, drunk, kind of sleepy. This slurpee is really good, thank you so much.” Her rant left her out of breath. He really was an angel, to listen to her depressing details of her life. A sigh that seemingly deflated her body made Steve rest his chin on his hands.

“Huh…I’m sorry that happened to you.” The response was earnest.

“I’m sorry it happened to me too.” Whipping tears from her eyes, and the streaks of mascara from her eyes. Her phone buzzed, ‘Mickey has arrived’.

“My Uber’s here.” She swallowed another giant gulp of her slushie.

“Okay, have a nice night!” Steve waved as the woman blinked in confusion, pushing herself off the countertop.

“You’re a very cheerful gentleman.” She waved back with a giggle and stumbled off into the night.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The next time she saw him, it was two weeks later. She went back to the store, craving yet another perfect slushie, and exhausted from the moving process. After kicking her ex to the curb, she was finally completely moved out. A nice little apartment that she’d spend the next three years off her life in even though she didn’t know it yet.

Pushing open the door, the AC blasted against her warm skin once more.Her beeline to the slushie machine was quick, and before she knew it she was faced to face with Steve again.

“Hello there Steve.” He turned around, and grinned at her with a level of excitement someone who loved their job could have.

“Good afternoon, how are you doing today?” He asked her. Something about him drew her in. What was it though? Was it his generosity? Was it his simple naivety? No, but what was it?

“I’m doing just fine.” With a chuckle, she swiped her card. And feeling brand new from just being near Steve for some reason, she went on about her day.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

It had gotten to the point where if you cut her open, she would’ve bled that delicious purple she’d been consuming on a near daily basis. Their conversations, about essentially nothing, were just filled with sweet nothings. It was like speaking to a person with a pure view. For a moment, just a moment each day, it cleared her mind of all the pain she’d been forced to endure. Until one day, Steve’s innocent glee was missing.

“Are you alright Steve?” She asked, while grabbing a pack of gum while she shook her cup around.

“I’m just thinking. Can I ask you something?” He took the gum from her and ran it over the scanner. Taking it back, she pulled out six dollars and prepared for her change.

“Sure, I’ve asked you plenty of questions.”

“When you know you belong somewhere else doing something else, but you’re forced to be something you don’t want to be, what do you do?” A silence settled between the two of them.

“I think you should do what you’re meant to do the best way you can. Even if you can’t do it the same way anymore.” She responded, sliding her gum into her purse.

“I think so too.” He gave her a tight lipped smile and a small wave goodbye. It was the last time for a while that she would see Steve.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

The next time it was six weeks later. Life moved on of course. She still had slushie’s just not as often. Without Steve, there was no point in going every day. Still her heart couldn’t forget him. Nothing ever happened between the two. Nothing more than thoughtful and absent minded conversations. Still he left some sort of gap in her heart.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

“Hi there, my name is Jack Matherson, this is my partner David Kendall. We’re detectives looking into the break in across the street, may we come in?” But when she saw ‘David’ her entire world melted. Instead it was Steve. At her flower shop, standing next to a very handsome man.

“Sure…sure of course you can.” The two stepped in, and Steve or David or whatever his name was seemed to barely notice her. There he was right there, and this entire time she had been wondering where he had gone. What had happened to that silly guy from the gas station? Now here he was, a very well dressed cop in a trench coat.

He looked far more serious now, as if he was intent on whatever his mission was. Even the air around him felt far more cleansing. More so like whatever she had done in her life was judged and forgiven in his presence. He walked around absentmindedly, whispering to his green eyed partner. For a fast moment, they made eye contact.

“Hello there, it’s good to see you again.” She swallowed thickly. Was his voice always so gruff? Was this the thing he wanted to do the best way he could? It seemed like it, the way he was so domineering in the strangest way.

“You too.” With a quick nod, she slipped away into the back. Now she curses herself, for running away from someone who made her feel so oddly full. Not complete, but like a part of her was added, one that she never even knew she wanted.

Now, she was slurping on a large slurpee, her tongue staining purple and she sat on her window sill. Years later, she still thinks about him. She still thinks about how his energy brought many changes. Something about him illuminated something…untouchable? Unique. No, divine. Divine was the only word that could be used to describe the feeling that the presence of Steve brought.

Now she was sitting at her window sill, slurpy finished, and missing that feeling and her Steve more than anything.

#x black reader #black reader #x reader #fem reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #castiel #supernatural x you #castiel x reader #castiel x you

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sam-loves-seb · 4 months

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HellO hi I need to read every single one of the works you listed in the worksinthedocs list because you are literally my fave writer in the history of fanfiction BUT I especially need to know about the babysitting Liam one and the magic au one!! What are they? What era are they from? Can you share a tiny piece of them please?

Thanks ily

omg hi hi hello, you are so incredibly kind thank you 💙💙 in a perfect world someday i will actually finish everything in the worksinthedocs list but in this world i will try my best !

for now i will offer a bit of insight into two of them under the cut

okay so:

babysitting liam:

the babysitting liam fic is slightly misleading considering he's like, twelve in this fic (it's post-canon) and doesn't actually need a babysitter, but the vibe still stands

it's set in a post-canon world where liam lives with lip, tami, and fred (in a very cramped in-law apartment attached to tami's parents house) and there's not a lot of room, or privacy, and fred's teething so nobody is sleeping, and Big Brother Ian swoops in and tells liam he can spend the weekend at his and mickey's apartment if he needs a break from lip-tami bickering and the baby crying all the time

(it's not that liam doesn't like living there, he just needs a break)

so essentially it's like a 3-4 chapter fic of liam spending the weekend with ian and mickey and doing fun things together and generally having quality brother (and brother-in-law) bonding time

and mickey pretends to hate the idea of liam invading their space for a whole weekend, but he's a softie, and next to ian, liam is his favorite gallagher sibling, so of course he caves and ends up having a good time in the end

here's a snippet (in case the fic never sees the light of day)

“How’s the kid?” Mickey asks, grabbing his controller again and exiting out of his game. He pulls up Netflix. “Liam?” Ian asks, and Mickey nods. “He’s… fine.” Mickey quirks a brow. “Fine?” “Yeah,” Ian sighs, climbing over the back of the couch and more or less falling into Mickey’s side. “Fred’s teething. I don’t think anyone’s really sleeping over there.” “Poor kid.” “He’ll be fine. I mean, at some point the teething stops.” “I meant Liam.” “Oh.” Mickey presses a soft kiss to Ian’s hairline. “Kid needs to sleep.” Ian wiggles his way under Mickey’s arm, tucking his face in his husband’s neck. He presses his lips against the warm skin, just holding them there for a minute. He breathes Mickey in, the faint smell of sweat and cigarettes mixing with the fading deodorant from this morning. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. Mickey’s hand sneaks under the hem of Ian’s t-shirt, his thumb gently stroking arcs across Ian’s hip. He gives him a minute, lets him breathe—but he knows his husband too well. “What?” Mickey almost whispers. Ian sighs quietly. “Like you said…” He blinks and his eyelashes brush against Mickey’s neck. “Kid needs to sleep.” Mickey pulls back just far enough to look at Ian’s face. His eyes narrow. “…What did you do?” “Nothing.” “Uh huh,” Mickey says, tongue in cheek, almost biting back a smile. “What did you do?” Ian shrugs, suddenly looking everywhere but at Mickey. “I… may have told Liam he could stay with us this weekend.”

...yeah, so.

i have the first chapter written and part of the second so who knows what'll happen with that eventually

anyway--

magic au

i have no snippets of this to share so have some random thoughts from my unhinged 1k outline that sits in this doc:

this one is set in an world (s1 timeline) where people can have magical powers, but they're rare, so when ian first discovers that he's one of those few people who has magical abilities, he mostly keeps it to himself. lip's known since they were pretty young, helping ian to develop it and train it, and ian tells fiona eventually, but she claims she already knew

none of the other gallagher siblings have powers, and this has always confused ian until he realized his biological father isn't frank, but a guy who lives in a cushy northside house with a successful career and life--no doubt products of some kind of power--and then it clicks

anyway, life largely remains the same as canon for ian and co. because he's only 15 and he still has a long way to go with mastering his abilities and everything, and then: he meets mickey

and ian's powers? well, they're somewhere along the lines of mind control.

and yeah maybe he was going to use magic to get mickey to give back the gun that he stole, and maybe he has a crisis about whether or not he accidentally did use it to make mickey fuck him instead of beat the shit out of him (he didn't), but it all works out in the end because mickey gave the gun back anyways

and mickey keeps ian grounded, because yeah he shows up to the store for a booty call when ian asks, but he always tells ian not to kiss him, and though the rejection stings a little, it reassures ian that mickey is of his own mind when they're hooking up and he's not somehow accidentally under ian's control--because how else is he supposed to explain mickey fucking milkovich suddenly jumping his bones every five seconds when a week ago he wanted to kill him

anyway.

long story short, mickey ultimately finds out about ian's powers after kash catches them, after mickey comes back to the store the next day, after mickey mocks him and tries to rob him again and kash fires one bullet into the fucking drywall, barely missing mickey's head

his finger's on the trigger and his aim's a little better, and that's when ian drops what he's doing and uses his powers

(probably should have mentioned before this that kash already knew about them, something about them having secrets between them (ew) whatever)

ian stops kash from shooting mickey in the store--even though kash is fighting the hold ian has on him--and our story starts (ends?) there because that's as far as i got with that one

so, yeah.

if you're somehow still reading this long ass post, thanks for staying 'til the end. come bully me talk to me about these or any other half-formed fics/ideas from my worksinthedocs list anytime.

#god yeah that was a long one #my bad #ask sam

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princessmisery666 · 2 years

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PM666Reads - Fic Recs - August 2022

Please heed all the warnings on the individual fics. I am not responsible for what you choose to read.

To the authors - thank you for putting in the work 💕no one gets enough recognition so thank you for taking the time to write and being brave enough to share it with us 💟

📖Dean Winchester

All That and More - @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior -Dean comes home looking for the softness Y/N has to offer.

📖Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Angry Rooster HC - @dreamingathighaltitude

This Bed Isn't Made For Two - @lorecraft -

Steamy - @callsign-milano - You and Rooster have been secretly dating, which is why you’re confused when he decides to join you in the showers one day. Bit risky, considering you’re on base.

Self-care Sunday - @notroosterbradshaw -

Stranger In My House 1, 2 & 3 - @writercole - Loss of Feelings for each other

📖Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Servicing Him HC - @writercole and @princessphilly

Lost It All - @writercole - Jake gets served

Husband HC - @bradshawbaby -

Losing His Name - @writercole - every time he does something that displeases you, erase one of the letters of his name from your contacts

Always Bet On Red - @evansrogerskitten - For years I despised Jake Seresin. When I showed up to North Island for a new mission I was horrified to see that my nemesis was there too. I didn’t know what to do until my friend Rooster suggested a way to deal with all that pent up hate.

Kitchen Dancing - @siempre-bucky - soft domestic bliss, dancing around in your kitchen, and Jake watching fondly before joining in.

Lucky Piece - @wildbornsiren - You’ve known Jake “Hangman” Seresin for years. He gets called up, and asks if you’d come with him. Throwing caution into the wind you join him as he trains for a special mission; all the while figuring out how much you really mean to each other.

Slow Ride - @evansrogerskitten - Jake doesn’t get jealous. Not at all. He just wants everyone to know that you’re his girl. So he takes you home and proves it - with his mouth, his cock, and his Naval Academy ring.

📖Robert 'Bob' Floyd & Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Movie Night - @wildbornsiren - Late night movies with Bob and Hangman have become something you look forward to. This time the movie doesn't hold your interest.

📖Will & Benny Miller

As Loved Ones Would 1 & 2 - @charnelhouse - Will dies. Benny clings to you. You need the distraction.

📖Rhett Abbott

Hot & Cold - @wildbornsiren - Summer has hit, and Rhett has a couple ideas on how to keep cool.

📖Eddie Brock & Venom

She's Dying (She's Not!) - @raincoffeeandfandoms - How menstrual cramps are overshadowed by Eddie (and Venom) trying to comfort you the best way they can. But mostly, trying to explain to Venom what it is that’s happening to you.

📖Sam Winchester

Smokers Kiss - @b3autyfuldisast3r - Reader catches Sam smoking weed in the library of the bunker and wants a taste 🤭😜

📖Steve Abnesti

O-B-D-X - @cockslutpadalecki - Obediex. Steve’s triumph. His key to complete control over the residents at Spiderhead— over you.

📖Steve Rogers

Sound Of Silence - @cockslutpadalecki - Steve rescues some public figure’s daughter and she’s a total bratty cunt. Before delivering her home safe and sound steve decides to fuck some manners into her

The Customer Is Always Right - @cockslutpadalecki - Mean!Steve waiting for the food service worker who got his order wrong

📖Robert 'Bob' Floyd

The Line - @writercole - Bob reminds you what you’re missing

Loving Him - @lt-bradshaw - in which two lovers find their way back to one another

📖Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia

A New Hope - @writercole - Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia didn’t expect much from his day off. Until fate stepped in.

📖Chris Evans

She's Mine 1 & 2 - @capevans3000 - Chris Evans’s got competition.

#top gun maverick #marvel #supernatural #outer range #triple frontier #pm666reads #fic recs #hangman #rooster #bob #fanboy #spread the love

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spacerockwriting · 8 months

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The Gallavich Disney Saga

Not done, but here are some Disney World bits from part 3 of my fic Soft Bitch. Thank you to all my lovelies who helped with the ideas. Almost every bit was used, or will be used. :)

Some notes: Franny goes by Finn. Idk what the fuck happened to Lip and Tami's other kid. Carl is chaos.

It takes a quick minute, but with Finn’s hair tied back into the usual ponytail, she beams, putting on a matching Hawaiian shirt, just like Mickey’s.

Ian comes out of the shower, q-tip in his ear. “God, there’s two of them.” He’s joking, but it still makes him laugh. Finn had insisted on wearing a matching one with Mickey, and Ian swears if she were to ever dye her hair black, she’d be a mini-Mick. Not so much in looks, but in personality.

“We’re here to wreck things up,” Finn says, grinning. She knows not to swear around the twins, especially with Ally being pretty repetitive. Around Ian and Mickey, she’s allowed, but not as much as they do.

Carl comes back from the bathrooms, staring straight at Finn and Mickey. “Shit,” he says, turning to Ian. “Aren’t gays supposed to be good at fashion and shit?”

Lip snorts, hiding his smirk.

“That’s a stereotype, Asshole,” Mickey snips. “Like cops supposedly being smart.”

“My waffles,” Finn says, rather dramatically. “You’re freaking them out by being gross.”

“Good job, Kid.” He plops the hat on Ally’s head. He looks down at Monnie and over at Ian. “If I’m getting a hat, so are you.”

“We should get matching ones,” Ian tells Mickey.

Mickey snorts. “That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“C’mon, Mick.”

“None of that girly shit.”

“Okay.”

“I pick ‘em out.”

“Okay,” Ian agrees.

...

“So now I’ve got two of these hats,” Mickey says, scowling. “And a dumbass husband.”

“Look at the festive family!” Tami says, finding Ian and Mickey in the shop. “You’ve got matching ones? I’m trying to get Lip to just get one.”

“So you’re that couple now,” Lip deadpans.

“I like my husband.”

“I think they were always that couple,” Liam adds.

“Hey Little Man, you look cool.” He holds his fist out to Ally who just blinks in confusion. “Think I’m going to get Toy Story so I can tell people I got a woody and that there’s a snake in my boot.”

Liam puts that hat back. “That’s one childhood movie that has now been ruined. “

“Can we get Uncle Lip a princess hat?” Finn smirks.

“Hell yeah we can.” Tami smirks.

“Uncle Lip’s my favorite princess,” Finn says, grinning at Mickey.

Out of what felt like nowhere, Carl emerges with Liam. Liam shakes his head. “I think driving with Carl is a deathwish.”

“Shit,” Mickeys says, adjusting his hat. “I think Finn’s got a knack for runaway cars.”

Lip gets out of line and shakes his head. “Drive with Fred. Won’t go above what, two miles?”

“Okay,” Ian says. He’s smirking. “C’mon, Lip,” Ian says, dragging his brother’s hand. “We’re going to go on the teacups until we puke.”

“Ian, are you fucking serious?”

“You promised.”

“I—“ Lip then starts laughing. “That fucking promise I made when I was what, seven? Eight?”

“So you do remember.”

Ian does not throw up, but Lip almost does. Laughing, Ian gives his brother a light nudge. “Worth it.”

Lip’s eyes soften just a bit. “Okay, yeah. It wasn’t as shit as I thought.” But in reality, seeing his little brother laugh like that was something Lip hadn’t seen in what felt like years. It probably was years, looking back on everything. Back before girls, and boys, and when they were LipandIan. Lip stands up on his toes to kiss his brother’s forehead.

“I’m gonna sit with my husband, is that okay?” Ian asks, and Finn sighs.

“If you kiss, you’ll scare away everybody.”

“Ten outta ten, would bang Snow White,” Carl says, when they get out the cart.

That's all the previews for now!

#gallavich #comet rambles

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sluttymickey · 2 years

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Hello drish my love 💞💞 I had a stinky day, and I would like some fluffy recs?? Has anyone ever asked you your favorite fluffy fics??

Baring that, I'm thinking about lesbian gallavich + Yevgeny. He deserves two mamas 🥺 Mickey dancing with her baby and his chubby baby legs jiggling 🥺

ALICIA MY BELOVED!! I'm so sorry you had a stinky day :( I'm sending you all my love --😚😚😘😘😽😽❤️❤️🧡🧡💛💛💚💚💙💙💜💜🤎🤎🖤🖤🤍🤍♥️♥️💘💘💝💝💖💖💗💗💓💓💞💞💕💕💌💌💟💟--and a bunch of flowers to brighten your day up a bit--🌻🌻🌷🌷🌹🌹🌼🌼💐💐🌺--and a couple of fluffy fic recs to hopefully make you smile:

Everything With You: LRPD and EAY boys falling in love with each other forever 🥺 Reading this makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and smiley

Mickey Milkovich's Guide to Flirting by @whatwouldmickeydo : SEASON 2 BOYFRIENDS FALLING IN LOVE!! MICKEY FLIRTING W IAN!! THEM GOING ON DATES!! THIS HAS EVERYTHING AND I'M OBSESSED W THIS FIC AND ALSO LEAH (MY WIFE 🥺)

Under Lock and Key by @suzy-queued : Ian and Mickey work the night shift at the college's housing department. Super cute friends to lovers fic!! It made me go 🥰🥰😊☺️ SO many times!!

weaver of fate (to your will i won't fold) by @sunoficarus : Honestly, I'm OBSESSED w everything Vicks writes, but this holds SUCH A soft spot in my heart. Seer Mickey is the SOFTEST. And Ian's so fucking sweet 🥺 SOULMATES!!!!!!

Ian the Friendly Ghost: Yes, I'm letting the world know I'm Vicks' #1 stan BUT!!! This is SO GOOD. Ghost Ian is so fucking adorable and I wanna wrap him in a blanket burrito and boop his nose. And mickey!! So fucking tender 🥺 so fucking GONE over ian!! AND IT'S SO CLEVERLY WRITTEN AAAAAAAA.

Song of the Hearth by @howlinchickhowl : Mickey being the softest and most caring husband for a sick!Ian 🥺 I read it when I was sick and it's SO COMFORTING, it feels like you're cuddling in a fluffy blanket!! And Ian's so precious here too 😭

your kiss, my cheek by @suchagallabitch : Sick Mickey just wants his kisses!!😾 And he gets them 😌 Elle wrote this for me 😌 also have you checked out elle's word prompts fics!? I haven't had the time yet to read them yet but I'm so sure they're lovely 🥰

Mikayla's (@xninetiestrendx )SUPER ADORABLE TUMBLR FICS!!: Each one will def make you go 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰☺️☺️☺️☺️😊😊😊😊😊♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Gallentines and I Love You Beyond Measure and this prompt fic by @depressedstressedlemonzest : ALL THREE OF THEM ARE SO FUCKING CUTE AND I'M VERY SOFT OVER THEM!!!!🥺💞

Warmness On The Soul by @bravemikhailo : soft birthday husbands 🥺 guaranteed to make you feel as if you're all smiley and happy in the sunshine <3

This lil fic about the boys being soft during a storm 🥺 by @arrowflier it MELTED me 🥺

Everything Calli (@ianandmickeygallavich ) has written is soft and wonderful and brilliant!! 🥺♥️

And. Uhm. I've written a couple ficlets too which are very sappy 😳

Alright, all of y'all drop your fav fluffy fics for alicia <33

(also LESBIAN GALLAVICH AAAAAAAAAAH 😭😭❤️❤️🥺🥺)

#hope these make you feel atleast a bit better my love 🥺❤️#fic rec #fic rec list #asks #flamingbluepanda

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ardent-fox · 2 years

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Sleeping Beauties (the Franny ficlet)

[Feel free to skip this preface and scroll down to read the ficlet or click on the AO3 link here]

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Hello, lovely humans! 🥰

Today marks 3 months since I joined this lovely fandom by posting my first Galladrabble. First of all, I'd like to say a huge thank you to all of you on here. The kindness, talent and artistry that I've been so fortunate to have you all bestow upon me has been incredibly inspiring to me over the last 12 weeks, and your encouragement and support regarding my own work has been just what I needed to give me that extra push to keep going creatively, even during times when I thought I didn't have that much to offer in that regard. This truly is such a positive, loving fandom and I am so grateful to have stumbled upon it and have gotten to know some you a little better, which I hope will only continue in the future 💖

In celebration of the last 3 months, here's a little 751-words Franny ficlet I wrote back in March, a few weeks before I mustered the courage to step out of my comfort zone as a lurker. I got the idea for it from one of the hand prompts circling at the time, 'little hands in big hands'. I originally wrote this based solely on the Mickey/Franny 11x2 "Guns!" scene before I even started watching season 11, unaware of the Ian and Mickey dispute over Mickey not having a job at the time, so I guess this could read as a slight canon divergent/fix-it ficlet of sorts. While I haven't completed anything in full since, I have many WIP snippets that I need to organize into fics in my chaotic noggin, and I truly hope I'll be able to create longer, finished fics soon ✨️

This also marks my first (independent) work posted to AO3, which you can check out in the link at the top, or simply continue reading under this (overly long, wtf Lyds) preface. Thank you for reading and love to every single one of you! 💙

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"The fuck is everyone?" Mickey asks as he opens the front door and Franny follows him back into the Gallagher house, giggling at the sound her toy guns make when she dumps them on the armchair in the empty living room. A cartoon blasts from the TV and he thinks he can hear the voices of Ian and Debbie discussing something in the next room, but everyone else seems to have either gone upstairs or left already. Balloons and paper garlands sway as Mickey and Franny make their way to the couch, her pink princess dress crumpling and fresh grass stains on his jeans stretching while they take their seat, both in dire need of a break from their invigorating game of "Liquor store robbery".

A quiet moment passes before Franny impulsively puts her hand in her uncle's tattooed one, grabbing his thumb tightly and hoisting herself up onto his lap. Mickey's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at their sudden close proximity, the muscles in his legs tensing in reaction to the unsolicited affection. He makes a conscious effort to relax for the little one's sake and allow her to rest there for a moment, the sweet, powdery aroma of her rose-scented shampoo already filling his senses as he carefully wraps his free arm around her, worried she might fall if she loses her balance. A foreign warmth begins to settle in his chest when Franny snuggles into him deeper, her breathing shallow and steady against his neck, round eyes blinking lazily at the TV. He can feel her body slumping with each passing minute, sleep quickly overtaking the happily tired birthday girl.

A sense of calm envelops him, it's softness draping over him like one of Franny's plush blankets. It doesn't take too long for him to feel his own limbs growing heavy, mind barely registering the clunking of dishes as Ian and Debbie move on to cleaning up the remnants of the party in the kitchen. He can't recall the last time he felt this tired, and he wonders what the reason could be. Perhaps it was all that job-hunting this afternoon, followed by searching for the biggest toy guns he could find? Maybe it was due to the six beers he had this evening in combination with the exercise the little redhead had put him through? Or was it thanks to the fact that Franny's loose grip on him vaguely reminded him of the way Ian sometimes held him before they dozed off together, the comfort he was now surrendering to not so alien after all? Regardless of the reason, one deep sigh is all it takes for his body to give in to slumber as he continues to hold his niece, her tiny hand still clasped in his.

Minutes, days, years go by before he awakens to a clamor and the faces of Debbie and Ian staring at him, a light reflecting in the beer bottle wrapped in the young man's hand, making Mickey squint his eyes. There's barely enough time for him to note the look of annoyance on Debbie's face before she scoops her sleeping daughter up into her arms, a frown plastering his own features as he flinches at the sudden loss.

"Great, now she's overtired and fell asleep too early. She'll be up at the crack of dawn in the morning, thanks a lot," she blurts out while walking off with her child and Mickey rubs his eyes with a scoff, too dazed to come up with one of his snappy replies.

A beat passes before he manages to focus his tired gaze on Ian and notice the gentle expression on his face, that familiar smirk spreading across it as his eyes beam with mischief, ready to tease him at any second.

"Can it, Gallagher," he cuts him off before he can say anything and Ian raises his hands up in surrender, chuckling to himself as he takes another swig of his beer. He sets the bottle down on the coffee table with a clink, then extends a hand to his sleepy husband.

"Come on, let's get you down for your nap, too," Ian presses softly, unable to resist.

"Fuck off," Mickey retorts through a yawn but takes his hand anyway, standing up on wobbly legs. Ian puts an arm around Mickey as he guides him to the stairs, pausing to let him walk in front of him as they make their way up to their bedroom, his grin never leaving his lips.

#tumblrversary #3 months #sleeping beauties #my fic #shameless fic #mickey milkovich #franny gallagher #ian gallagher #uncle mickey #uncle ian #ficlet #gallavich #shameless #feel like my writing has improved a lot since this #but I've only found the balls to post this now 🤷‍♀️

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grabmyboner · 3 years

Note

since I have woken up to a 7x10 bomb and you asking for prompts, i would like to put in a request for a 7x10 fic peas and thank you 🙃

only cause you said peas and thank you <3

The van is cold but Ian is warm with the weight of Mickey on top of him. Mickey’s head on his chest, their bare legs entwined together. Their skin is still clammy from their 3rd round for the night not long before.

The smell of dust and paint clings to the inside of the van, Ian buries his nose in Mickey’s hair and inhales deeply.

“Stop sniffing me.” Mickey mumbles into Ian’s chest, rubbing his nose into the material of his shirt that’s clinging to his sticky cooling skin.

“Y’Smell good.”

“Chh, shut up.” Mickey rests his chin on Ian’s chest, looks up at him with soft eyes and a small smile.

Fuck Ian has missed him, missed everything about him. The way he fits perfectly in his arms. How he rubs his thumbs over Ian’s biceps when he’s holding him. When he bites at his bottom lip and soothes it over with a flick of his tongue.

Ian reaches a hand up and holds the side of Mickey’s face, traces his thumb along his cheek and watches dark lashes flutter closed.

Mickey pushes his face against Ian’s hand, turns his head slightly and presses a kiss to his palm. He keeps pressing kisses along each fingertip and then presses one final one to the pad of his thumb.

With his lips still pressed against Ian’s thumb, he makes eye contact with him, looking into glassy green eyes.

“I fucking missed you.” Ian whispers.

He trails his thumb along pink lips and pushes down on his bottom lip till it falls open slightly, revealing bunny teeth and a hot tongue.

Mickey surges forward, not being able to hold back any longer and connects their lips in what has to be the thousandth time for the night.

He pushes up on his knees, brings them either side of Ian’s torso and holds his face in both his hands.

Ian rests his hands on Mickey’s hips, fingers dipping under the elastic of his boxers and pressing firmly into the pale skin.

Pulling back slightly, Mickey breathes in deeply and stares down at Ian, eyes flickering over every inch of his face.

“Missed you too.”

#ian x mickey #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich fic #mine #my fic

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 3 years

Text

Take My Hand (Part Six)

Summary: rafael returns and things only get more complicated as the Davis case begins

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Reader, Rafael Barba x Reader

Word Count: 8,240

Song: There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me / But if it's all the same to you / It's the same to me (coney island by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, swearing, the angst is back, lot of soft parts, but a lot of difficult emotions to detangle, “sightless in a savage land” (22x04) is used as background (but i also f*cked with the timeline to make things easier for me), also the v*rus doesn’t exist b/c i don’t want to live in reality.

A/N: ok, things are happening, and i want to saw those of you who spot all the little parallels w/i the fic i love you. thank you to those who have stuck with the series and have reblogged and commented!! as always, thank you to @laneygthememequeen and @bucky-of-the-opera for being the best beta readers!!

You would be lying if you said you didn’t imagine this moment.

The moment you saw Rafael again. It was a thought that haunted the recesses of your mind — stuffed away with all memories of him — one that wriggled to the forefront when your thoughts had quelled in the silence and stillness. And you wondered what he would say. And what you would say.

And now you didn’t have to wonder.

"What are you—" the question deflates on your lips — stupid question — so you ask another, "when did you get back?"

"A few days ago," Rafael jerks his head to pull you aside, an easy smile on his lips, too easy. It wasn't easy when you both started dating. It wasn't easy when you left. It wasn't easy when he proposed. And it wasn't easy to say no. Nothing was easy when it came to this. But there he was, "my mother is moving down to Florida."

You raise your eyebrows, "Finally retiring? Did you have to pry the keys of her charter school out of her fingers?"

He gives a wry smile, "No, but helping her find a replacement and helping her pick out a place down there made it easier. That and promising to help her move."

"You're a good son," he was good — a good son, a good friend, a good prosecutor—

But he wasn’t good for you.

"Well I am a man of many talents," he crosses his arms, “with a few notable exceptions.”

And you know where this is going — to a place you don’t want it to.

He opens his mouth to speak again, but you cut him off, “Are you representing Davis?”

The words stuck in his throat, his mouth opening and closing, before he swallows them, “I am,”

“I didn’t know you did defense work,”

He tilts his head, “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there? I assume you’re here because Noble-Gordon wants the case?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the teasing is so routine — the banter clicks into place — picking up right where you both left off, smoothing over broken hearts and hurt feelings. Hiding behind quick witted barbs because it was easier than untangling ensnared feelings.

“Rafael—”

“I met with Jack,” he admits, holding his hands up, “I asked about you. Can you blame me for being curious?”

No. No, you couldn’t — not when you had asked Jack about him.

“I can try,” you want to bite the inside of your cheek when he smirks, “why do you want this case?”

“Off the record? Liv and Fin,” he slides his hands inside his pocket, “I suspect they didn’t know your firm would want the case for themselves, but,” he adds, “there’s a way this could work for both of us.”

“How?”

“How about a partnership?”

“A partnership?”

“Your firm gets their name on the case, and I need financial support,” and you furrow your brow, “but I have some terms.”

“Of course you would,” you sigh, “what are they?”

“One, I do the actual defense work in court, two, your firm’s involvement is limited to only a few employees — I don’t want your partners’ politics to be running the case — and three, you’re on the case with me,” and you raise your eyebrows, “before you say no—”

“Before I say no?” you repeat, “Rafael with everything that happened—”

“Before anything happened, we worked cases together, and even after everything happened, we did,” he shifts from foot to foot, “we know how the other works, we know our strengths and weaknesses, and I need someone I trust to work this case on — so I can walk into that courtroom for the first time since—” he sighs, biting his lip before speaking again, softer, “I want your help, and I know I have no right to ask for it, but I am. And that term is negotiable, but I’m pretty sure your firm will agree. You’re the best person to work this case.”

“But—”

“And before you ask,” he says, gaze soft, “this isn’t a ploy to win you back.”

You blink, “I know,”

Did you? You wished you could tell your heart because now it’s thumping against your ribcage, “I know I missed my chance, and I don’t want to cross any boundaries,” he reassures you, “this will be professional.”

“‘Professional,’” you repeat, the taste of the word disconcerting with just how unprofessional this felt, “Rafael—”

“Just think about it,” he tilts his head, “meet with Davis — trust me, he needs our help,” and then he pauses, “and you know that we’ll be facing—”

“I know Sonny is the A.D.A. on the case,” and he’s also my boyfriend. The words want to leave your tongue, but the sheer awkwardness is as disconcerting as working with Rafael — “Look—”

“Don’t give me an answer yet, just talk to your firm,” he checks his watch, “I have to go, but I’ll email you.”

“And where’d you get my email?” he shrugs.

“You can blame your firm for that one — firm’s website lists you,” and he begins to walk past you before pausing to look back, “it was nice to see you...counselor.”

How was it that he walked into your life as easily as you had left his? How was it that you wanted to hate him, but it was so easy to like him? How was it that everything was so easy — when it was him?

“It was nice to see you too,” and you spared one last glance at his retreating back, as the guard buzzed you in.

And that wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him.

Sonny was beginning to doubt any of this would ever get easier. Checking his watch, it was well past 3:00 PM and he hadn’t even eaten yet — typical. He spares a glance at the whiteboard — littered with schedules, case numbers, and statuses of cases.

But there was still so much to do.

He checks his phone — you had texted him, the messages bunched together, but his eyes fall back to the files stacked on the conference table. He begins placing them in a case box. It would have to wait.

“Carisi?” and he pauses at a voice — a voice he hadn’t heard in quite a while. He’s grizzled — different from the clean cut A.D.A. he once was, but he’s also lighter — again, different from the broken man who left his city with his reputation in shambles.

His words, not Sonny’s.

But now Sonny knows, knows that he wasn’t only broken because of the case, of having to leave his city, but because of you — the you that Barba had been with for years, the you whose heart he broke, the you who said no when he proposed.

And now you were dating Sonny.

Him, not Barba.

He stands in his doorway, “How’s the eighth floor treating you?”

But this was the same man that was his mentor, his friend — so he smiles.

“No differently than any other junior A.D.A.,” and Rafael gives a knowing smile, as Sonny continues to put away the files.

“They want you to cover their ass all the time? Never lose a case?” he knew it well — because he had lived it.

“Pretty much,” Barba crosses his arms, as Sonny grabs the box and brushes past him, “it’s good to see you, Barba. If you came to taunt me, I got all day.”

And it was good to see him — why wouldn’t it be? He would be lying if he didn’t wish before that Rafael was his boss instead — it would have been easier if nothing else. But not now.

“Huh, they gave you an office,” Barba remarks, glancing around his shoebox of an office, peering out his window to look at the paralegals at their desks, “nice view.”

Sonny places the box down, snorting, “I had to move the xerox machine and four filing cabinets just to get the desk in,” and then move them back. It wasn’t much — but it took him this long to get it — glorified closet or not, it was his.

“So you caught the Mickey Davis case?” He’s standing by the window, and Sonny sighs — the case had been all over the news, the media were having a field day, and so were his bosses upstairs. These were different times — and this was a dangerous case — vigilantism wasn’t something to be taken lightly. But it wasn’t something that was simple — not in this case.

“Oh, yeah,” Sonny sighs, leaning against his desk, “horror story.”

“What are you charging?”

Sonny almost scoffs, “The guy brought a gun to court, he followed the vic to transport, and shot him at point-blank range. What do you think?”

“I think the guy's got a Purple Heart, titanium leg, and PTS,” Sonny blinks — what was this?

“That doesn’t change what he did,” Sonny says slowly — Barba knew that — killing is still killing, no matter how justified it may seem.

He said it himself best — otherwise we might as well let the blood flow in the streets.

“He was betrayed by the V.A. and A.C.S., even the eighth floor has to know this is a dog,” Barba says, stepping forward, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips.

“Maybe,” Sonny admits, “but they still want him to do time.”

“That has to be negotiable,” and that’s when it clicks.

Sonny pauses, his mouth parted, as Barba meets his gaze, “Hold on,” he says slowly, “before we continue—”

“Mm-hmm,”

“Are you representing Mickey Davis?” And it’s Barba’s turn to pause, and he’s searching Sonny’s gaze — and he doesn’t know for what.

“I am,”

Sonny scoffs — that would have been nice to know from the start, “Okay,” Sonny gets to his feet, shutting his door and rounding the table to sit behind his desk — time to get down to business, “What kind of deal are you looking for?”

“No way you want to put this guy on trial,”

“Three and half years? No, but thank you,” Barba sits across from him, and Sonny knows he’s playing hard ball — he always played hard ball, but this time, they weren’t on the same team.

“Barba, we both know this wasn’t heat of the moment,”

“Maybe to you, not to Mr. Davis,”

Sonny raises an eyebrow, there was defending your client and then there was plain hubris,“There's security cam video. There's multiple eyewitnesses. Mickey broke the law—”

“A jury might see that as defending his daughter when no one else did,” Sonny narrows his eyes — jury nullification — did he get that strategy from Calhoun or Buchanan?

“Get the jury to ignore the law?” Sonny knew he wouldn’t make easy on him “That's a slippery slope, Rafael.”

He smiles, he’s almost proud, “You really have become a lawyer,”

Sonny wrinkles his brow, “What does that mean?”

“Mickey Davis is a human being. So are the jurors,” Rafael rises to his feet, as Sonny calls after him.

“You going for insanity?” He half-expects him not to answer — that would be the smart thing to do — but Rafael’s pride always trumped any strategy.

“I'm going for straight-up not guilty,” Rafael opens the door, turning, “and my co-counsel may be in touch as well.”

“Co-counsel?” Sonny leans back in his seat — he didn’t know Barba needed a second chair, “who’s that?”

And your name leaves his lips, “Excuse me?”

“Looks like you’ll be facing both of your mentors, Carisi,” and he knew that Rafael hadn’t seen the picture of you on his desk — “I’ll make sure to relay the offer as well. See you at arraignment.”

Sonny stares at the closed door, before his phone vibrates again, and he glances to see another text message from you: Hey, checking in on you. Can I drop by?

And Sonny knows, he knows you would never cheat. He knew this doesn’t change the year you had spent together, he knew it doesn’t change that you loved him, he knew it didn’t change anything, but — another text comes through: I miss you — it was complicated.

Not right now. Busy.

And he sighs, but it also didn’t change how he felt about you.

I miss you too.

The lights in the D.A.’s office had long ago dimmed — the barely lit fluorescents flickering as you passed the empty line of desks before finally reaching it. You knock at his office door, leaning against the doorframe, watching him work, his brow furrowed in thought, pen flicking as he scribbled notes.

“You forget about me?” Sonny barely looks up from his work, tight lipped, and your smile begins to slide off your lips, “Sonny?”

“Sorry, got caught up in work,” he leans back in his chair, just as you step forward, “what time is it?”

“Way past dinner,” you round his desk, leaning against it as you tilt your head, “you okay?”

You reach for him, but he moves away, crossing his arms, “Barba dropped by,” and his eyes fall on you — and you wonder if this was what it felt like to be interrogated — the pages of the book snapped shut, his cards resting against the table, and his face blank, “He wanted to discuss the Davis case—”

Your heart drops, “Sonny—”

“—and apparently you’re his co-counsel?” he shakes his head, sighing, his eyes falling to his desk, “When were you going to tell me that you met with Barba?”

You frown, “I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you before I went to meet him — but I couldn’t reach you. You know my partners wanted to score some points—”

“Because of the Thompson case, I know—” but his brow is still furrowed, “but how did you end up calling point on the case?”

“I had to meet with Davis to discuss the details of the case,” you explain how your partners were too busy to go down and handle it nor did they trust any of the associates to do it, “we need this case — it’s a high profile case involving a vet? We had to jump on it, but when I got to Rikers, it turned out someone else got the jump on it first.”

He scoffs, “Barba,”

“He had already met with Davis, he offered to work in partnership with my firm, granted I handle the case and he gets to be in the courtroom,” and Sonny raises his eyebrows.

“He asked for you specifically to work the case with him?”

“Because he knows how I work,” your hand reaches for him slowly, “nothing more than that. Sonny, please don’t be mad — it was a coincidence.”

“I’m not mad,” he sighs, eyes finally meeting yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, “Would have been nice to know you two decided to work the case together,”

“I was going to tell you — I was just about to—”

“I know,” and he’s pulling you into his lap, “Just don’t let me find out you’re working with your ex from your ex,”

“I won’t,” you whisper, pressing your lips to him softly, “I promise. I didn’t mean for this—”

“I know,” he kisses you again, his arms wrapping around your middle, “what about us?”

Your lips purse, “What about us?”

“Our relationship — will we have to disclose?” it hadn’t been a problem since the cases you handled fell out of Sonny’s jurisdiction most times and when it didn’t, you delegated the work to someone else, “it seems like professional responsibility 101,”

“Well, I already told Mr. Davis, I got his written consent in writing when I met with him, just in case I end up handling the case,” you bite your lip, “as for the judge, it shouldn’t be a problem as long as we have the consent of my client.”

Your hand runs over his cheek, and he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm, “Are you going to work the case?”

“I have to talk to my firm, see what everyone wants to do,” your fingers run over his face, “but if they do want me to handle the case, are you okay with that?”

“You know I can’t make that call for you,” his hand rests on the small of your back, “it’s yours to make, sweetheart.”

“But I don’t want to make it without knowing you’re okay with me working with him—” you lean down to press a kiss to his temple, “are you okay with it?”

“I am,” he says softly, “are you?”

“The firm needs the case — and this could be my shot at making partner,” his lips press butterfly kisses to your neck, and you sigh, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sleep on it?” he murmurs against his skin, “always how the best decisions are made.”

“Says who?”

“Me,” he replies.

And you chuckle, noses brushing, as you lean closer, “As long it’s from a reliable source,” and your lips meet again, he pulls away, but you give chase, until you’re pressing him into the seat, fingers sliding along his shoulders, your hand finding the back of his neck, swallowing his moan with ease.

“Doll,” his lips are kiss ruined, eyes fluttering, and you trail kisses along his jaw, “you’ll be the end of me,”

And the double meaning isn’t lost on you — “I would be happy to end with you,”

He smiles, and it’s enough. For now. You rest your forehead against his for a moment in the relative silence, only broken by the hum of the fluorescents and the quiet sound of your breathing.

Until his stomach growls.

And you blink, a grin breaking across your lips, “Hungry?”

“It depends,” and you slide off his lap, offering your hand to him, and he cocks his head, “did you cook?”

You huff at him, “You’ll be glad to know I ordered takeout right before I got here,” and he gets to his feet, taking your hand, “but just for that, I’m cooking for the next week.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” he wraps his arm around you, grabbing his bag, before flicking off the light.

And after you got back to the apartment, eating dinner, and slipping into bed, you lied awake, his quiet snores filling your ears, and you turned to look at him — barely illuminated in the moonlight that peeked through the parted shutters. His eyes shut, his breathing steady, his freshly washed hair falling against his forehead.

You turn away, reaching for your phone — finding the email from Rafael, disclosing the details of the case — a question ending the email: Are you in?

And you glance back at Sonny — only you didn’t know the answer.

He was okay with you taking the case, right? You scoot a little closer, nestling yourself beside him a moment, he said he was okay with it.

You shut your eyes. He was okay, and you would be okay.

Right?

“Wow, this is a nice upgrade from your office at the D.A.’s,” Rafael remarks at your office door, taking a moment to examine the room.

You barely look up from your work — a dozen cases, associates’ work to check, and several arraignments to do, “That’s because someone took the only nice office, and stuck me in a closet off of yours,”

“Bureaucracy at work,” he replies, shutting your door and taking stock, “how’s defense work treating you?”

“The same way it has been I left the D.A.’s office,” you spare a small smile, “wonderfully.”

“Found your calling?” you shrug.

“You could say that,” you sigh, placing your pen down, “what about you?”

“What about me?” he raises an eyebrow, and you roll your eyes. Always had to work for it when it came to Rafael Barba.

“What have you been up to?”

“Looking something I lost a few years ago,” and you furrow your brow, and he smiles, “don’t flatter yourself, counselor — I meant a calling,”

Your cheeks burn, “You came to talk arraignment? Thought you could handle that yourself, Mr. Innocence Project,”

“I wanted to talk deal,” Rafael crossed his arms, “there was one thing I didn’t disclose to you in that email and that’s my meeting with Carisi,” and you blink, only you knew about that already, “I met with him yesterday — he offered man 2.”

Sonny didn’t mention that, but then again it was better that he didn’t, “But you don’t want to take it?”

“I don’t,” he slides into a chair, pulling a legal pad out, leg folded over his knee, “I think we can do better — I think we can get not guilty.”

You raise your brow, “Do you want to—”

“I want to go for jury nullification,” he crosses his arms, shrugging, “we have a strong case for it.”

“And we have a man who literally shot another point blank on security footage, and who brought a gun with him to court,” you shake your head, “we have to at least consider it,”

“What’s there to consider? Mr. Davis doesn’t want to take the deal,” and you pause, and Rafael nearly wavers, adding, “I may have discussed it with him—”

“Before asking me about it?”

“You only told me this morning you were on board,” Rafael holds up his hands, “I had a duty to relay it to him,”

“And what did he say?”

“He said he didn’t want to deal — he wanted his day in court,” he tilts his head.

“Did he? Or did you?”

“What are you implying?”

“Did he come to this conclusion on his own or did you help him along?” and he pauses — all the answer you needed, “Rafael, this is our client, we have to be realistic—”

“He’s a vet with—”

“Awards and a prosthetic leg I know, but he also could go to jail for murder — and never see his daughter again,” and he opens his mouth to speak, “so I’m asking you, are you taking this to trial for him or for you?”

His lips are a thin line, “First of all, this is for him — I wouldn’t take this trial if I didn’t think there wasn’t a good chance of winning and if I knew this wasn’t what he wanted,” and he sits up, “and what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your firm probably wants this to go to trial — need the publicity of a trial for this to work — for you to get the break you need, isn’t it?” Rafael argues the same way he does in court — his words pointed and true, aimed for the chinks in someone’s armor, “sounds like we’re on the same page.”

You glare at him, “Don’t question my motives,”

“Then don’t question mine,” the words are terse, a period at the end of a paragraph that is still left hanging, until he chooses to start a new one, “Is this about the case? Or is this about us?”

You scoff, “So much for keeping it professional,”

Your name leaves his mouth soft, but firm, and your eyes meet his, “Is it going to be like this?” he asks, crossing his arms, “throughout the entire trial?”

“Like what?”

And he sighs, running a hand over his bristled chin, “I know I’ve made mistakes, I know, you know, but I can’t change what I’ve done,” his voice grows soft, “and I’m sorry, I wish I could — I wish I didn’t hurt you, but I did, and I take responsibility for that,” your gaze falls and he continues, “but if this is too hard, if you don’t want to do this, if you’re still angry, like you have every right to be—”

“I do,” the words leave your lips, “I do want to work with this case with you — it’s just—” you break off. You had meticulously tucked away any feelings for Rafael Barba away along with any reminder of him, including the man himself. It was easy, it was clearcut, but this wasn’t easy — because now your feelings were leaking, slipping from your careful control, and where there was a leak, there was a flood. And you were bound to get hurt.

“It’s hard,” he swallows, and you blink.

“It’s hard for you?” the words leave your lips harshly, and he flinches, “I didn’t mean—”

“No,” he gives a rueful smile, “I deserved that, after everything I put you through,” he shrugs, pressing his lips together, “I did love you, I did, I was just afraid.”

“What were you so afraid of?”

And he shakes his head, “I saw so many relationships fall apart around me — my own, my parents, our cases—” he breaks off, “I didn’t want us to hate each other, I didn’t want to regret you,” a bitter chuckle leaves his lips, “but you ended up regretting me.”

You frown, “I don’t regret you,” and his brow furrows, “You’re surprised by that?”

“If I were you...I’d regret me,” and you sigh, hands wringing under your desk.

“Rafael, I loved you, even though it hurt, I can’t regret that. Do I wish things turned out differently? Maybe, but,” your voice softens, glancing at the picture of Sonny on your desk, and you gesture around you, shrugging, “it also got me to where I am.”

And you know you should tell him — you should tell him that you’ve moved on, you should tell him that you’re with Sonny, but the words are lodged in the back of your throat, and you can’t bring yourself to say them before he’s already speaking.

“Well,” he clears his throat, licking his lips, before smiling, “I’m glad, for that much at least,” and he sits back again, “So—”

“So?”

“Are we taking this to trial?” and you bite your lip — jury nullification was a risky move — for both the policy ramifications and the risk involved — but, that wasn’t your responsibility anymore, your duty and your only duty is to your client.

“Are you sure this is what Mr. Davis wants?” and Rafael nods.

“I would give you his exact words, but there are some obscenities,” and you snort, shaking your head.

“And you’re sure about putting him on the stand?”

“Not at all,” he scoffs, “he’s questionable at best, and a loose cannon at worst.”

You rub your temples, “That’s going to play well during cross,”

“We’ll prep him well — let’s just get through arraignment,” he sighs, flipping to a fresh page, “Carisi is going to ask for remand, how should we play it?”

“We ask for R.O.R. — he’s a father of a young girl who was just raped and impregnated, he’s a decorated veteran who needs physical therapy, and he’s not a flight risk.”

Rafael chuckles, “And when we don’t get it?”

“Honestly, I’ll take anything over remand,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “we should schedule a psych eval, start on gathering information on his tours, interview character witnesses and especially those who can testify to what he saw—” your words fall short when you see Rafael is smiling, “what?”

“Nothing,” he waves you off, pressing the tip of his pen to his lips, “Go on.”

And you blink, before going on — not noticing the way his smile returned when your eyes fell away.

Running late from the office — be there soon. Your text comes in just as Sonny’s food arrives at the table, and he’s about to order for you when a voice draws his attention away.

“Mr. Carisi,” Sonny’s head snaps up his phone to find Jack McCoy smiling at him, “am I interrupting?”

His mouth is dry, and he shakes his head, “No, not at all,” he gestures for him to join him, and Jack does, not bothering to look at a menu, “so I suppose this isn’t a social call?”

“I wanted to ask your progress on the Davis case,” he crosses his arms.

And he blinks, wondering why he hadn’t bothered to ask whether you had told his boss if a) you two were dating, and b) if he knew you were on this case, “Discovery is ongoing — I’ve handed my materials over per the new discovery rules within 15 days, and now I’m waiting on the defense to turn over their evidence.”

Jack shakes his head, “New York law catching up with the modern days — a damn fine day for defense attorneys — before we could sandbag the day before, not that I ever did that,” he gives a wry smile, before his eyes fall to Sonny’s phone, vibrating, “you need to get that?”

“No, sir,” Sonny waves it off, “What’s your interest in the Davis case?”

“Well, I am your boss, I’m interested in all your cases,” he replies, before smiling, “I did hear who the defense attorneys for the case are.”

And Sonny picks at his food, “Oh?”

“I am just curious how prepared you are to tackle a case against both of your old mentors,” Jack says, as Sonny chooses then to sip at his drink, “and your partner for that matter.”

He chokes, “Who—”

“It was obvious — at least to me,” Jack shrugs, “don’t pretend you haven’t heard the rumors about me,” he adds, furrowing his brow, “one piece of advice, son—”

“We are planning on disclosing to the judge—”

“Not that,” he says sharply, “you’ve been good together — the two of you. But it’s easy to let a case get between you,”

“Is this about Diana Hawthorne?”

And Jack raises an eyebrow, “Did—”

“Rumor mill isn’t just about me, sir,” he shrugs, “I heard it a while ago, that case was tough,”

“Made tougher by our relationship,” he sighs, “I think sometimes if we hadn’t been together, maybe things—” he cuts off, “my point is, you two have done a good job of keeping professional and personal from mixing so far, but when you both start bringing this case home—”

“We won’t,” Sonny says, and Jack raises an eyebrow, “we won’t.”

And Jack relaxes, before shoving his hands in his pockets, “How long have you two been—”

“Over a year now,” Jack smiles softly.

“Are you both happy?”

And is he happy? When he’s with you, he feels at peace for once — the world and its horrors slipping away, until he feels nothing but you in his arms. You challenge him to grow — even when he doesn’t want to. And he would do anything for you — he would give you the life you wanted, give the family you want, give you his best — if only he could give you the same peace you give him.

“We are,” Sonny smiles softly, hand slipping into his pocket, thumbing the ring box in his pocket, “in fact—”

“Hey,” you arrive, glancing between him and Jack, furrowing your brow — and he knows you hadn’t told Jack, “Jack, Sonny — what a—”

“Cat’s out of the bag, sweetheart,” Sonny slips his arm around your waist, and you tilt your head, before realization washes over you, relaxing into his touch, “care to join us?”

“You’ll be joining him,” Jack slips from the booth, “like I said, this wasn’t a social call,” he smiles between the two of you, “we should set up a lunch.”

“Will do,” you nod, “I’ll call you."

With a nod, he leaves, and you slip into the booth beside him, "Hi," you kiss him, "menu?"

"I would have ordered for you, but I got interrupted,” and you bump his shoulder.

You snort, “I wouldn’t have ordered if my boss was grilling me about my relationship,”

“You didn’t tell him?

“Should I have?” he’s frowning, and you’re shaking your head, “it’s not that I didn’t want to,” you bite your lip, “sorry, I’m not explaining this well,” you sigh, placing the menu down, “it’s just Jack had me and Rafael figured out from the second we…”

Sonny is shaking his head, sipping at his drink, “Yeah, well looks like not much has changed,”

“Well, he didn’t exactly approve of me and Rafael, which is why I was worried what he’d say to you,” you purse your lips, shifting in your seat, “did he say anything?”

Sonny pauses, “No I don’t think so,” and Sonny’s biting back a smile, remembering Jack’s words — he approved.

And now you’re bumping his shoulder, “Why so smug, counselor?”

“No reason,” and you’re stealing one of his fries, “I’m just glad I’m not on his bad side.”

“No one would want to be,” you say as the waiter comes order, taking your order, as well as the menu from your hand.

“Did you tell him?”

“Jack? I just told—”

“No, I mean,” he licks his lips, “did you tell Rafael that we were dating?”

And he was hoping he wouldn’t see your brow knit together like that, see your fingers wringing in your lap, “I didn’t,”

His mouth is dry, and he’s turning his body to face you, “Why?”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up — to just say, ‘by the way, I’m dating Sonny, just thought you should know,’” and doubt begins to creep in, “we were trying to keep things professional—”

“I understand,” and your lips are twisting and he knows you don’t believe him — hell, he doesn’t believe him.

“Do you want me to tell him?” and he doesn’t know what to say — he wants him to know, but why does he want him to know? You weren’t his property — he didn’t own you, he knew you wouldn’t do anything. He trusted you.

Didn’t he?

“I’ll tell him, Sonny,” and Sonny’s gaze snaps to you, “he’s picking up files from me at the office, and I’ll let him know—” Sonny opens his mouth, but you cut him off with his lips, “we have to disclose to the judge on Monday anyway before jury selection, it’s necessary.”

“I don’t want to make you—”

“I know,” you silence him with another kiss, soft, comforting, and his guilt settles, instead peace seeps in, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” his heart warms, as the waitress brings over your meal, and Sonny’s check, and he checks his watch, “and I gotta go. See you tonight?” and you shake your head.

“I got to work late tonight and I have arraignments early in the morning — but I get off early tomorrow and I’ll be waiting to make it up to you,” you kiss him again, before pressing chaste kisses along his jaw.

“Looking forward to that,” and he wants to ask — ask why you won’t consider moving in, why you brush it off, and the question burns on his lips, until the words are seared into his tongue — but he doesn’t, “call me?”

“I will,” and he kisses you one last time, before slipping from the booth.

And he wonders, fingers finding the velvet box in his pocket — if you won’t move in with him, will you even marry him?

Can you do me a favor? Rafael’s text comes in as soon as you’re leaving from court, and you’re sighing at your phone screen.

And another: Please?

He really must be desperate. What’s up?

Can you drop the files off somewhere for me? I can’t make it to your office today — something came up.

Is something wrong?

Only with my mother’s cable service — they were supposed to be by today to disconnect the service.

You snort, Then sue them.

Civil is not my area of expertise, and then he adds, but I may be willing to learn if they take any longer. Can you please drop the files off?

You raise an eyebrow — ‘please’ — he really must be desperate.

You bite your lip — you wanted to get home early, but you also needed to tell Rafael about you and Sonny. You glance at the time, sighing, before replying to him.

I’ll drop by with the files — text me the address now.

A tax ride later — you had arrived at a place you thought you would never be again. You couldn’t but stare at the door of Lucia’s place. You had been here five years ago — first and last time you had met his mother. And it was the first time you had realized you had to break up with Rafael.

It was over the moment you left here — even though neither of you wanted to admit it. His kisses could no longer patch your heart because it was no longer cracked — it was broken.

But it didn’t make it any easier to leave him.

You shake yourself from your thoughts, knocking on the door — but you had.

And so did he.

You hear his voice from within the apartment — a muffled coming — and some stumbling, until finally you hear the telltale sounds of the chain, bolt, and locks.

He opens the door, wiping his face with a towel — and he’s clean shaven. And you blink — he smiles at you, the very same smile he always gave you, “You shaved,”

“And you’re observant,” and he finds you staring at him, “Does it look bad?”

“No, no,” he steps aside, letting you inside the apartment, before shutting the door and locking it, “you look good.”

And his lips are curving in a grin now, “I look good?”

Your cheeks burn — always a dog with a bone, “Don’t push your luck, Barba,”

“Ouch,” he snorts, “you used to be much more accommodating to my self-esteem.”

“That was when I worked with you,” you cross your arms, taking a survey of the apartment — more boxes than apartment at this point, you could barely take a step before tripping, “men work better with their ego stroked,” You find your way to the kitchen table — his makeshift office from the looks of it — complete with two cups of coffee, “Old habits die hard, huh?”

“They often do,” he sips at the coffee, holding it by the rim with the tips of his fingers, “everyone is allowed to have their vices.”

“And here is your other one—” you pull the files from your bag, “I brought everything you asked for — you should be well prepped for jury selection.”

He nods, flipping through the materials, “You’ll be there right?”

“Of course,” you blink, “any reason you ask?”

“I may run a little late on Monday, but it shouldn’t be an issue—” Rafael waves it off, before setting it down, “can I make you a cup of coffee to thank you?”

You offer a small smile, “No, I probably should get home, but I’ll see you on Monday,” and you swallow your nerves, squeezing the handle of your bag, “but there is something I wanted to tell you—”

And that’s when you hear the lock clicking, “Rafi, how many times have I told you to just leave the door unlocked?” heels clicking against the hardwood, arms full of bags. Rafael slips from his chair, rounding the kitchen table.

“And how many times have I told you that’s not safe?” he replies, taking the bags from her arms, and then she spots you, blinking, “Mami, you remember—”

“Oh!” she walks over, pulling you into a tight hug, “it’s so wonderful to see you again, dear,”

“Lucia, it’s great to see you too,” you smile, awkwardness smoothed over the warmth of her smile, as her hands found yours, squeezing, “it’s been far too long.”

“I’ll say,” she shoots a glare at her son, before her eyes find yours and soften again, “I had warned him not to let you get away, and did he listen?”

Rafael is rubbing his temple, “Mami, please—”

“Oh,” she looks between the two of you, raising a brow, “if you’re here does that mean—”

“No,” he clears his throat, the tips of his ears red now, “I told you we’re on this case together. I needed some files dropped off—”

“You must join us for lunch,” and both you and Rafael open your mouths, “I insist, please. This will be the last time for a while I will be up north for a bit. Let me impose.”

And your eyes flicker between Rafael and his mother, before Rafael speaks, “We can’t impose on any plans—”

“I’ll stay,” and his eyes fall on you, as your phone feels heavier in your pocket with guilt — knowing you would be late, “it’s fine, how can I say no?”

Lucia squeezes your hand. And how could you say no to this?

After lunch, you’re helping Lucia clean up, when Rafael is in the bathroom, washing the dishes while she dried, “Are you looking forward to moving down to Florida?”

“I am, even though I’ll miss my work and my students,” she sighs, her shoulders much lighter, “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living the same — I want to have time for myself, I want to experience new things, not like my mother,” her voice grows smaller, the plates clinking in the dish rack, “I don’t know how much Rafael told you about her—”

“I knew that she had passed, while Rafael and I were together,” he had been a mess — he wasn’t sleeping, he was barely eating, you had to ply him to get him away from the office —- when he wasn’t working, he was drinking. He had blamed himself for his grandmother’s death for so long — and even now you wondered if he had ever stopped, “she was a wonderful woman.”

“I wish you could have met her,” she sniffs, “she would have loved you,” and you nod, silent, and you feel her eyeing you, “what happened with you and Rafi anyway?”

“It just didn’t work out,” you knew she wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

“You two loved each other,” Lucia replies, “that just doesn’t go away.”

And you did — you had loved him, you would have married him, you would have started a family with him — but he didn’t want that. And you did.

“It doesn’t,” you wanted to brush it off, you wanted to tell her you were with someone else, you wanted to say something to make her stop pushing, but you couldn’t, “I did love your son, Lucia. I really did, but it wasn’t the right time for us.”

“You made him happy—happier than I’ve ever seen him, even now,” and you meet her gaze, “you can’t tell me you don’t feel something for him now? Can you?”

And you waver, no words coming to mind, “Lucia, I—”

But then the bathroom door is creaking open, and you jolt, continuing to wash dishes, tongue tied and cheeks burning in shame — why didn’t you mention Sonny? Why didn’t you just tell her you loved someone else? But another question nagged at you, as the object of the question appeared before you — and you turned at the sound of your name to find him smiling at you.

Why couldn’t you say that you didn’t have feelings for Rafael?

“Ma, we should probably let your hostage go now,” he tilts his head, hands in his pockets, “I’m sorry if we stepped on your plans—”

You clear your throat, “No, no, it’s fine—” And you move to grab your coat and bag, “but I really should get going.”

Lucia holds out her arms, wrapping you in a hug, “It was wonderful to see you dear,”

“You too,” you smiled, despite the interrogation that rivaled your son’s, “if I don’t see you again, please have a safe trip to Florida,”

“Thank you, and good luck on your case,” she presses a kiss to your cheek, as Rafael stands by, arms crossed.

“I’ll walk you out,” he nods at his mom, before slipping out of the apartment with you, as the door clicks behind you, and he walks you to the elevator, “I’m sorry my mom shanghaied you—”

“It’s fine,” you wave him off, as you press the call button, “I enjoy being shanghaied when it involves your mom’s cooking,”

“But still, I don’t want you to think that was my intention—”

“Rafael?” you cut him off, “it’s fine.”

And the elevator dings, the doors sliding open, “Are you sure?”

You smile at him, sighing, stepping in, “If it’s not, I’ll just sue you,” and he scoffs, “I’ll see you Monday, Raf.”

The nickname slips out before you can help it, and the doors close shut, as you step back, back of your head leaning against the wall.

What the fuck were you doing?

~~~

Rafael slips back inside, shutting the door behind him, “So what was that stunt you pulled to get—”

“How much of our conversation did you hear?” Lucia replies, wiping her hands off, and crossing her arms. His gaze softens, “you still have a chance, mijo.”

“Mami—”

She finds her way over to her son, “Do you miss—”

He sighs, “You know I do,” but he shakes his head, turning away from her, “but it’s over, I can’t cross that line again—”

“Can’t or won’t?” she places her hands on her hips, “you heard us — couldn’t deny having feelings for you still, and you — I’ve seen you since you’ve been working the case, you’re happier.”

And he doesn’t want to admit it — it hurt to see you again, after you had rejected him, but more because of the way he had treated you. You were a reminder of yet another way he had failed, but also a reminder that he wanted to be so much better. And he did, and he was.

He wasn’t the same person — he had grown, and so had you.

And maybe, for once the timing was right — your mouth wrapped around his nickname, the way it used to be, still ringing in his ears.

He turns to face his mother, “Now I’ll ask one more time, did you hear our conversation?”

And he smiles, “I heard everything.”

And he knew what he had to do.

“Where is your co-counsel?” Judge Harper asks sharply, and you stand twisting your fingers, “Counselor—”

“I apologize, Your Honor,” you are texting Rafael for the sixth time, asking him where he is, “Mr. Barba is not responding to my attempts to get into contact with him. He had told me he may be a little late—” not twenty minutes late, but— “if you could give us a few more minutes—”

“The People have no objection,” Sonny adds, sparing you a sympathetic look.

“Even so, this is wasting the jurors’ time,” Judge Harper sighs, “Can you proceed without him?”

Fuck — you still needed to disclose to Judge Harper.

Proceeding without disclosure would be a violation of your duties, and your eyes slide to Sonny who purses his lips, not to mention Sonny’s. Well no time like the present, “Yes, but I would like to enter chambers before then,”

Judge Harper blinks, but agrees, rising to enter her chambers, and just as you round the defense table, Rafael arrives through the double doors, harried and rushing, “I apologize, Your Honor, I—”

And he's glancing at all of you on your feet, halfway across the courtroom floor, and Judge Harper speaks first, "You're just in time to join us in chambers, counselor,”

Rafael’s eyes flicker between you and Sonny, a questioning brow raised, but he follows, and your heart sinks.

Fuck.

He needed to know — you just didn’t want him to find out this way. You had opportunities — you had your chance, and you had lost it.

Just like he lost his — with you.

The doors close behind you, as Judge Harper settles behind her desk for a moment, “Now, what is this about?”

The uncomfortable feeling of everyone’s gaze settles over you, and Rafael’s gaze feels sharper than the others.

But why did it feel sharper?

It had been years since you had been together, years since you had ever— and why would he care if you were dating Carisi? Why did it feel like his gaze was carving into your mind and he could see the truth written across your forehead? But you still didn’t know — you didn’t know why you cared.

Why did you care?

Your throat was tight, and you still couldn’t think of an answer to your own question.

“I wanted to disclose something — something that’s already been disclosed to my client with his consent in writing from the very start,” you swallow the lump in your throat, unable to meet Rafael’s eyes,

“We wanted to disclose,” Sonny cuts in, “We were waiting for the trial to start, since we didn’t find any need to disclose to the arraignment judge, since Mr. Barba and I handled that.”

“Disclose what?” And you still can’t bring yourself to look at Rafael.

You hand her the paperwork, glancing at Sonny, “I’m currently in a relationship with A.D.A. Carisi.”

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagines #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi imagines #law and order svu #svu imagines #svu #law and order: svu

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maxburnett · 3 years

Text

Chandelier, TJ Hammond

- (asexual!fem!reader x TJ Hammond)

Summary: Soulmate - Your soulmate understands and connects with you in every way and on every level, which brings a sense of peace, calmness, and happiness. Two broken individuals find peace and love when trying to fix the shambles in their lives caused by years of addictions.

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, mentions of drugs, mentions of suicide, fluff, happy ending

If you recognize this, I uploaded it about a month ago. I just wanted to make an aesthetic for it and I didn't like the format of the description etc. I own nothing but my writing; things in italics are quotes found on Google.

Words: 1,654

~ Recovery ~

Recovery is an acceptance that your life is in shambles, and you have to change.

He had never wanted to be like this; he had never wanted drugs and alcohol to rule his life; TJ had always wondered what had happened? Why was he such a failure to his parents? Why did he hate who he was and who he had become? Would things ever even get better for him? After two attempts to end it all, after everything he had put his family through, TJ thought maybe he had found common ground and a purpose when he had woke up in the hospital bed with his mother sitting there by his side; however, like always it didn’t last.

He lasted a whole six months being clean and sober, then one day, everything came crashing right back down, and he felt like a thunderstorm with no umbrella or cover. After six whole months, he was back on the bottle, waking up after blacking out, not even remembering drinking the night before. He started cocaine again a couple of weeks later, but this time, he knew he needed help, and he got his mom to put him into rehab once more.

That’s when he met her, beautiful as broken as he was; an addict for ten years, in and out of rehab; losing everything, lost to the world, and a failure to her parents. They had laid on the ground outside of the rehab facility talking about their problems while holding hands, and everything lined up perfectly. In a world where TJ had felt that everyone was out for him; that the world would be a better place without him; she showed up, and her eyes, those (Y/E/C) eyes, were the beacon of light showing him the way to find his way back. He still thought back to that night; they had laid on the ground, holding hands as they laughed together at TJ telling her the dumbest jokes, and then their conversation moved to the talk about past relationships and the root of all of their problems. They then realized that those two broken people who had questioned everything that had happened in their lives had found their person.

After rehab, they both stayed in touch, texting, telling each other how their Recovery was going; saying “I Love You” in the texts was just second nature, and they meant those words; TJ was in love with her. It felt nice to be able to say that he was in love with someone. Did all “Love” have to be romantic? Did you need the sex and the complications that came with a “relationship” to feel the meaning of true love?

Then it happened, one little fight with his parents over something, and he had a drink again; one drink turned into two; two turned into 4. He needed her; he needed his saving grace.

~Relapsing~

The disease of addiction is a chronic, devious bitch just waiting for you to slip up.

Y/N woke up at the sound of her phone and groaned as she looked over at the clock. Three missed calls—one voicemail. That’s when the alarm set in, and she quickly sat up and pressed play on the phone and listened with bated breath, not sure what she should be expecting. She listened intently and sighed as barely audible sobs filled her ears.

“I’m such a fuck up,” he breathed and let a sob escape his lips. “No wonder my parents don’t want to put up with me … sometimes I wonder why you seem to put up with me.” His voice is shaky and begins to sound hoarse. “I don’t know how you stayed by my side after all this time … when you know I’m going to do nothing but fuck up and disappoint,”

He laughs a little to himself, and her heart breaks as she stands and gathers some clothes, rushing out to her car after grabbing her keys; she listens to the voicemail and hears something that sounds like broken glass as she drives to TJ’s apartment and uses her key to open it up. She rushes in and finds him sitting on the floor in his bathroom. TJ was holding his hand close to his t-shirt as the blood dripped down his hand, and she looked up and saw a broken mirror.

“Look at me, TJ, I’m here,” she said and softly kissed his forehead. “I’m here, baby,” she said as she held him close to her. He rested his head onto her chest, hands clutching her oversized shirt she had been sleeping in as he sobbed and apologized over and over. She helped get him into the shower; he was in such a state of distress that she got into the shower with him still fully clothed to help hold him up. He ended up turning and wrapping his arms around her after the cold water brought him to his senses a little. After they got out of the shower, both changing into dry clothes, she led him to his bed and went around the apartment, and poured out what other alcohol he had before joining him beside him on the bed.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” he said, causing her to smile at that playful nickname he had given her. He breathed out as he laid his head against her hair and giggled against it. “You came here at 3 in the morning,” he hummed against her hair, causing her to playfully hit his chest and look up at him with sad eyes.

“Of course I would; you’re everything to me,” she whispered, and he smiled down at her and pushed some hair out of her face before softly pressing his lips against hers, causing her to freeze. “Please don’t do that,” she whispered and cupped TJ’s face, and he looked at her with a questioning look.

“I-I’m sorry,” TJ stammered, not sure what had gotten into him.

“I’m not mad,” she said with a shake of her head. “Not mad at all, I just … I don’t like that sort of contact,” she said and held onto both of his hands, causing him to look into her eyes with a confused frown. “I’m asexual … I just don’t get feelings like that,” she said and looked into his bright blue eyes. “But know this, TJ, I love you, and I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

“And I love you,” TJ said as he closed his hands around hers and pressed a gentle kiss to her nose, giggling as she smirked up at him and did the same.

“You’re cute, TJee, I’ll give you that,” she smiled and laid her head down into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms tightly against her.

~All I Need~

Soulmate is an overused term, but a true soul connection is very rare, and very real.

Y/N smiled as she looked around the apartment that she and TJ now shared, her head resting on his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back as she played a video game while lying on his chest. She smiled up at him as he looked down at her with those favorite pair of blue eyes before drawing small circles over the fabric of her t-shirt.

“You’re distracting me, TJ!” She said and giggled as he swooped her up and laid her down, and began to tickle her. “Stop it!” She let out a fit of giggles. “You ass!” She laughed and tried to get him off of her.

“Make me,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her playfully, and she pushed him off playfully before she sat up and caught him staring at her.

“What?” She asked as she absentmindedly played with the ring on her finger that TJ had bought her when she told him that emeralds were her favorite gemstones.

“Just taking in how cute you are, kitten,” he said and leaned in and snuck in a gentle kiss to her cheek and watched as Y/N placed a soft kiss to his nose and giggled as she put the controller to the side and let his arms wrap around her. She stretched and changed the input on the television and put on a channel they both liked and traced circles on his white t-shirt; she watched his face contently as he smiled at what was playing on the television and smiled as he closed his hands around hers as he held her. She closed her eyes, wondering what life would bring them, and found herself turning to look back into TJ’s blue eyes.

“Would you ever want kids? Me to have kids? I mean, there’s a way we can-,” he placed a finger against her mouth and smiled as he softly moved the finger down.

“Whatever life brings our way, I’m going to be right by your side, and if a kid is in our future, then it happens. I hope it has my good looks,” he smirked and laughed as she slapped his shoulder with a smile and leaned to place a kiss onto his pink lips.

“Love you,” she murmured into his lips. TJ smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer into the kiss, they didn't kiss like this often but when they did it was one of his favorite things int he world.

"Love you too, Kitten," he murmured against the kiss.

What they had, they never had to explain. Yes, technically, TJ was sexually attracted to men, but his heart was hers, and hers belonged to him. She had even told him that she didn’t mind if he chose to sleep with men while they were together, but he refused, saying that his body belonged to her. He didn’t need to sleep with random men anymore to fill the void that he had inside of him all of those years, because now his heart was filled with the greatest love he had ever as far as their friends and parents knew, they were a normal couple; but for them, this was their normal, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

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