#very happy about how these pictures turned out
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Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion part 7
summary: a hockey watch party, one last data point for the pizza theory, and one last chance at the national title. Word Count: 7.2k
warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mentions of bullying, & some very mild angst
You watch the second round of the hockey championships from the floor of Lily’s apartment, surrounded by friends and friends of friends and anyone who cares enough about hockey to be there, really. You’re in a pair of Timberwolves sweats, your jersey, a team logo beanie, and even your socks are Timberwolves blue. The apartment gets warm, eventually, but you refuse to take any of it off.
They play a good game. The other team is good too, though. You hold your breath for almost the entire third period- it’s tied, 3 to 3. Alex makes save after save. Max takes shot after shot. Nothing is working.
Then, Oscar comes out onto the ice with just a few minutes left to play. You reach behind you and grab Lily’s hand. Lando snatches the puck away from the other team and sends it off to Max. Max passes it through a gap to Oscar. Oscar takes the shot.
The puck hits the net. The goal horn goes off, and the apartment falls quiet. Everyone is holding their breath now. Nobody dares to celebrate yet.
“There’s still a minute left,” you say, like you’re not all aware of it.
The seconds tick down. They feel endless. But when the buzzer sounds, the Timberwolves are up by one. They’re headed to the semifinals. The apartment erupts into cheers, and all you can do is finally breathe. Behind you, Lily does the same, melting into the couch.
“Guess it’s time to book flights to St. Paul,” she says, when you turn to look back at her.
You take a shot of tequila with her in the kitchen, and then you get seats next to each other on a flight out to the semifinals. Your phone rings nearly immediately after that- the apartment is noisy, but it’s Max, so you answer anyways.
“Bunny!” He yells. “We fucking did it!”
“I know!” You say back, feeling nearly as giddy as he must be. “Holy shit, Max!”
“I know,” he says back. You think he might be crying. “You’re gonna come, right?”
“Booked our flights already.”
Lando’s the next one on the line, and it’s pretty much a repeat of the same conversation. It continues. At one point, Alex is talking to both you and Lily on separate calls. You hope someone snaps a picture of him with two phones to his ears. The call lasts through their bus ride back to the hotel, and you want to ask for Oscar but you can’t, really, not when-
“Hi?” Oscar says, voice slightly confused. “Someone handed me the phone, I’ve got no idea what-“
“Osc,” you say, softly.
“Bunny,” he whispers, and the tone of voice makes you melt. “Hi.”
“Good job,” you say. “That goal…”
“Fucking insane,” he says, voice cracking slightly. “I’m so happy.”
You grin. “Me too.”
“I wish you were here,” he says, quietly.
You know somewhere during the call they’ve gotten off the bus and headed inside somewhere- maybe the hotel, maybe a restaurant. You wonder if he’s snuck away to talk to you, or if he’s counting on everyone being too excited to pay attention to him. Either way, you don’t mind. It’s enough to hear his voice, to hear the warmth in it, to know that he wants to talk to you too.
“Me too,” you say. Lily’s motioning to you from across the room, holding up the bottle of tequila. You nod, and she pours you another drink. “But Lily and I just booked flights for the semifinals.”
“Really?” He says, sounding a bit awed. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you murmur.
“I- I’ve gotta go. We’re out for dinner, Seb’s buying, and-“
“I know,” you tell him, smiling to yourself. “I’ll talk to you soon. Have fun. Congrats.”
“Thanks, baby,” he says.
Then the line goes dead. You take your drink from Lily and take a sip. She gives you a look, a knowing smile on her face. You blink back as innocently as possible.
“You spent that whole call looking happy,” she says. “And then you got to the last five minutes and you looked lovesick.”
“Did I?” You ask.
She’s become convinced that your mystery boyfriend is someone on the team. She’s right, of course, but you’ve refused to tell her. You’d have told her tonight if they lost the game, but it’s the playoffs. You can’t do anything to mess this up for Oscar or the rest of the team. They’ve been so close the last 3 years. This is Lando and Max’s last chance. You’d do anything to see your best friends win.
“I’ll ask Alex who had the phone last,” she threatens.
“No, you won’t, because you won’t violate my trust like that.”
“Don’t call my bluff,” she groans. “Why won’t you just tell me who it is?”
You sigh. “They’re in the semifinals, Lily. I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up.”
She sighs and pouts back at you. “He’s one of the good ones, right? It’s not, like…”
“He’s amazing,” you say, both to reassure her and because it’s true. “Trust me.”
…..
“Hey,” Oscar says, nudging his foot against your ankle. “I have a question.”
It’s late, probably near midnight. It’s a Wednesday, the night before the team flies to Minnesota for the playoffs. You look up from your laptop, propped on your knees in front of you, and blink away the blurriness to look at him. He’s sitting on the other end of your couch, a mirror image, soft and cozy in the warm glow of the lamps in the living room. He’s not doing anything other than scrolling on his phone, but he’d insisted on wanting to be here tonight. To spend the night with you.
“Yeah, what’s up?” You ask. Your homework can wait. You’d much rather talk to him.
“Why does everyone call you Bunny?” He asks. “Like. I get the idea, but how did it even start?”
You blow out a breath and click save on your document. “That’s a long story.”
He shrugs and sinks further down on the couch, leaning against the arm of it. His calf slots between yours, warm and comforting and there. The two of you have been busy the past few days, weeks even, with end of semester work and practices and everything in between. It’s all you can do to just be there for each other. To just spend time together, even when you’re writing an essay and Oscar is trying to decipher math problems. It always feels better when you can feel him next to you.
“I’ve got time,” he says.
“It’s almost midnight,” you respond.
He shrugs again. “I’ve always got time for you.”
And. Well. There’s not much you can do to argue with that, not much you could say back. It sort of makes you melt, really. You let out a low breath and sink back against the arm of the couch, moving your laptop to the coffee table. There’s a loose thread on the blanket that lays over your knees, and you twist it around your pinky finger.
“It was, uh. One of my old teammates,” you say, focusing on the string around your skin, not wanting to look up at his face. “I went to a party with Max and Lando after I got off the crutches, and she was there, and she… yeah. Said a bunch of shit, called me a puck bunny. And back then, Max was a bit more hot tempered, and obviously he didn’t hit her but he started yelling, and then she started yelling, and then so did Lando, and we got kicked out of this party, and-“ you close your eyes, remembering the moment, when the three of you had tumbled out onto the lawn, into the cold air, and when they both turned to check on you- “it was all so absurd, so stupid, so- she was supposed to be my friend, you know? So I just started laughing. And Lando was looking at me like I was crazy, but then Max started laughing, too, and Lando dragged us both home and ordered pizza, and Charles was still up, so he heard the story. And the name stuck. Honestly, I like it. It’s a way to reclaim the insult, you know?”
You look up and find him watching you, drumming his fingers against his knee. There’s a soft, sort of sad look on his face. Your cheeks grow warm. He makes you feel so seen, in this way that feels a little overwhelming at times.
“You and Max have this thing in common,” he says. “You tell these borderline traumatic stories like they’re funny.”
You scoff. “Me getting mildly made fun of by an ex teammate is not on the same level as Max’s stories.”
Oscar blinks. “But it’s not about the level of it, right? And that was a low blow from her, after you’d lost your sport and your support system, to say that about the friends you’d made. I mean. I get that it’s funny or ridiculous, but. It’s okay if it hurts, too. It can be both.”
You stare at him for a couple seconds, a little in awe of him. Of his kindness, of how much he seems to care. You shift on the couch to crawl over to him, pressing yourself into his side and smiling when he wraps his arms around you and giggles. He sinks down onto the couch and pulls you with until you’re cuddled up together, a mess of limbs and blankets and comfort. He kisses your forehead.
“Thank you,” you say.
There’s more you could say, but you don’t think you need to. He knows you so well already.
“Anytime,” he says. “I mean it.”
Before he leaves the next morning, he digs through his backpack in your living room, brows furrowed. “Swear it’s- aha!” He exclaims, pulling something out of the depths of the bag.
He hands it to you carefully, gingerly, like he’s a little nervous. He’s smiling, though. You take the brochure, eyes widening when you see what’s written across the top.
“No pressure,” he says, so quiet and soft. “You said you wanted to find a connection to soccer again, and I saw this, and…” he shrugs. “Thought of you. We can talk about it if you want, or not at all, or-“
You interrupt him, because you think he might be on the verge of rambling a bit. You stare down at the brochure in your hand and smile. “Thanks, Osc. This means the world to me, you know that? You mean the world to me.”
His face breaks out into a warm grin, and you can’t help but kiss him. He smiles into it, the way he always does when you first press your lips to his. Like he can’t quite believe it. You know the feeling.
He’s off to Minnesota in just a couple hours. You’ll be on your way shortly after that. You slip the brochure into your already packed carry on with a warm feeling in your chest.
…..
The guys fly out together, but you and Lily head there separately. The hotel you’ve booked is near the rink, just to make things easier. Max is the one to get you both set up with tickets to the game, since he’s the captain, so they’re relatively good seats, with a good view. By the time the game day rolls around, you feel like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin. Lily seems to be the same. You have a little pregame in your hotel room, just to take the edge off, really.
The arena is cold, like most of them are. It feels strange. You’re so used to the home rink that this one feels new and weird and sort of wrong. You file down to your seats and try your best to take it in. You look down at the ice, where in just a little bit, your friends will be playing their hearts out. Your boyfriend will be playing his heart out. You feel nauseous, suddenly.
Lily grabs your arm and squeezes softly. “Your stomach?” You nod, and she smiles sympathetically. “Yeah. That’s normal. I get it every big game Alex plays in.”
You frown. “I’ve watched so many games, though.”
“It’s different when it’s someone you… care about.” She says.
Her suggestion for a cure to the nausea is soft pretzels, so the two of you make friends with your seat neighbors, leave your jackets there, and head off in search of warm bread. It doesn’t take long to find it. You take small bites of the pretzel as you wander the arena. They’re selling merch- jerseys and beanies and anything else you could imagine. Both of you stop to buy something, wanting to remember this. Lily picks up a t-shirt for Alex. You buy a beanie for yourself and a baseball cap for Oscar. She studies you carefully, but she doesn’t ask any questions.
You stop her just before you get out to the rink again, in the walkway to the seats. “You know who it is, don’t you?”
She laughs and reaches for your arm again, squeezing. “Babe, it’s not hard to figure out. But what you said at the apartment, after the last game- it’s the playoffs. If you’re superstitious about it… I can wait to confirm.”
You take a breath and nod. “Okay.”
“But as soon as this is done, I’m kidnapping you and making you tell me everything,” she says. She squeezes your arm again. “Also, I’m very happy for you.”
You melt. “Thanks, Lily.”
The two of you get back to your seats just before they take to the ice for warmups. You catch yourself holding your breath as you watch Oscar skate loops and patterns around the rink. He goes through his normal warmup routine, he chats with Max and Charles along the way, and then he takes a second, spinning slowly on the ice and looking up at the crowd. You wave when he faces you. You don’t expect him to see it, but then he waves back, and your heart stutters in your chest. Lily’s not looking, too focused on Alex. You let the moment take a little weight off your shoulders.
The team hasn’t made it to the semifinals since you became friends with them. There’s something strange about this atmosphere. There’s so much resting on the game. You feel like you can’t quite relax, and maybe you won’t be able to for the whole thing. Then the puck drops, and Max takes it down the ice, and they score within the first two minutes, and you start to wonder if you ever had anything to worry about.
They win, easy and beautifully, and keep a solid two goal lead on the other team the whole time. They’re through to the finals. You and Lily hug each other in the stands, and you think she’s crying. You think you are too. Oscar’s down on the ice, hugging his teammates. Max stands in the middle of it, talking it all in. Lando bumps into him, grinning. Your boys. They look so proud. You’ve never been more proud.
You tell them as much when you find them after the game. They don’t have a lot of time- Seb’s set a strict hotel curfew, and you probably won’t see much of them until after the last game.
Lando pulls you into a hug in the parking lot of the rink, his face pressed against your shoulder. “One more game,” he says, quietly, and your heart breaks.
“One more,” you say, as Max comes up and hugs your other side. “So we make it count, yeah?”
Lando’s done after the finals game. It’s the last of competitive hockey for him. Max will be off to another team, hopefully, but he’ll be a rookie instead of a team captain. This last game will hold so much weight for both of them. They’re tired and nervous and you can feel it seeping out of them.
“How about I sneak you guys some pizza?” You suggest, and Lando pulls away, face lit up. “Not exactly on the meal plan, but…”
Max pulls back with a grin. “One last data point for the pizza theory.”
“Yeah,” you agree, ruffling his hair before smoothing it off his forehead. You do the same to Lando. “I’m so proud of you two, you know that?”
Any other day, they’d tease you for being cheesy. They’d roll their eyes and duck their heads and do anything to get you to stop. But today, Lando pushes his head against your head, a bit like a cat, and Max smiles, all squinty eyes. You smile, too.
Behind them, Oscar’s leaning on a barricade, talking to Alex and Lily. You want nothing more than to run over and kiss him, but the playoffs aren’t done yet. He smiles softly at you, and you smile back.
You order the pizza to your hotel and then walk it over to theirs, because Seb would definitely not approve and he’s more likely to catch the pizza delivery guy. Max lets you know that they’re hanging out in one of the conference rooms, and gives you directions on how to get there. The boxes are heavy in your arms- Lily had offered to come with, but two of you together would be even more suspicious.
They’re having some sort of movie night- a way to wind down and celebrate before practice tomorrow and the final game the day after that. You knock on the door lightly and hold your breath. Someone shuffles behind the door and then opens it.
It’s Charles. He grins, widely, and doesn’t even make a comment when you peer over his shoulder. They’re watching something with racecars on a giant projector screen. You hand over the boxes.
“Hi,” Charles whispers. “Thank you for the pizza.”
“Of course,” you whisper back. You know you won’t be invited in- the superstitions are running high, now. “I’m proud of you, you know.”
Charles grins. “Thanks. We will see you soon, yes? Oh, and- you should take the stairs down.”
You blink at him, but you figure he’s just worried about you getting caught by one of the coaches. You nod. “Okay. Tell everyone I said good luck, yeah?”
He nods, and then he shuts the door.
You head off for the stairwell at the end of the hall, figuring it’s better to play it safe than sorry. You nearly jump out of your skin when someone clears their throat when you open the door. You come face to face with your boyfriend, and you can’t help the smile that washes over your face. You understand the direction to take the stairs now.
“Osc,” you murmur, stepping closer. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he says, all pink cheeked and smiley. “You got my message, huh?”
You nod. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that Charles knows.”
Oscar nods. “I can’t stay long. They’ll get suspicious eventually, and… you know. But I wanted to see you.”
You smile and cup his face in both of your hands. He grins into the kiss when you press your lips to his. His hands fall to your hips, warm and broad, holding onto you to keep you both steady.
“You’re going to the finals,” you tell him, pinching one of his cheeks as you pull away. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
He blushes even more at that, eyelids fluttering closed. “Just one more game.”
“One more game,” you agree.
Your heart twists in your chest. You wonder if he’s feeling what Max and Lando are feeling too, though maybe to a lesser extent. Last game with this team. One last time on the ice. Do anything to make it count. You hadn’t known your last game would be the last game. Oscar has a whole season left after this one, but it still must sting, you know it.
You kiss his cheek. “Go hang out with your teammates. One more game. I got you guys extra breadsticks, but if you don’t get there quick Carlos will definitely eat them all.”
Oscar sighs, rolls his eyes, and kisses your forehead. “Thank you, baby. I’ll see you soon.”
He disappears into the hallway without a trace. You find that you miss him nearly immediately.
…..
When they take to the ice for the last game- of the playoffs, of the season, of their time as a team, as this team- they don’t look nervous. You can feel the nerves in every inch of your body, every hair standing up straight, every muscle tensed. You’re shivering, but not from the chill in the arena. They look calm, cool, and collected. You suppose that’s a good sign.
Lily grips your hand tighter than ever as you wait. Every second ticks by so, so slowly- the anthem, the announcements, the pre game warm ups. You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. Oscar’s down on the ice, running his typical warm up drill, the one you know all too well. Skate from one side to the other. Shoot 3 pucks. Skate back to the other side. Find Charles, who’s waiting. Fist bump. Helmet pat from Max. Deep breath. Shoulder shake. Okay, here we go.
You hold your breath through the entire first period. No goals. You swear you can see the sweat dripping from Alex’s brow in the goalie box, even from up in the stands. Lily’s taken to gripping onto the armrest now, after she squeezed your hand a little too hard and you yelped. You’re leaning forward, elbows on your knees, chin in your hands. Neither of you move during the period break.
They come back out onto the ice raring to go, ready as ever. The other team has two near goals. Max snatches the puck, finds a gap, takes off down the ice, and- he scores. You can’t even scream- it’s more of a sigh of relief, really. Next to you, Lily’s on her feet. You follow suit.
The other team follows it up with a goal of their own five minutes later. Lily winces when Alex hangs his head. You watch Oscar skate over to him, giving him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He’s come so far, really, from staying by himself at practices to this. It warms your heart.
You grab Lily’s hand and squeeze. “It’s okay,” you say, deciding to be sure of it. “This is it. They’ve got this.”
When the final buzzer rings out through the arena, you’re still holding her hand, fingers knitted together. You think she might be crying. You’re pretty sure you’re crying too. Nobody would blame you, really. There’s loud music playing, confetti flying through the air, and down on the ice-
A sea of blue jerseys, blue sweatshirts, Timberwolf blue, everywhere. Max is already holding the trophy, high above his head as he ping pongs back and forth between his teammates on the ice. They did it. You knew they would, but they really did. The Timberwolves are the national champions. Your heart is pounding in your chest.
By the time the two of you get your legs to work and make your way down to the ice, they’re already clearing the team off of it. They’re headed for the locker room, wide grins on their faces, yelling back and forth. Max is the first to spot you, followed by Lando- they’re sweaty and gross but you try not to make a face when they wrap you up in hugs- ones that are frankly uncomfortable with all their pads on.
“Bunny!” Max yells, basically in your ear. You’re searching the crowd over his shoulder, watching for Oscar. “We did it!”
You pull back and ruffle his hair, grimacing at the sweat. “I knew you would.”
Lando grins and knocks his shoulder against yours. “Yeah. Always been our biggest believer, huh?”
Your chest warms and tightens. You feel like you could cry again, but you’re smiling so, so wide. Oscar’s nowhere to be seen. He probably has no idea you’re even down here.
“We’re going to change,” Lando says. “And then we’ll see you at the bar down the street?”
You nod, sure your eyes are shiny. “Yeah, sounds like a plan. Time to celebrate.”
“One more time,” Max says. Lando nods.
“One more time,” you agree.
Lily finds you seconds later and tells you she got the same message from Alex. When you see Charles on your way out, you stop, tugging on his wrist.
“I couldn’t find him,” you say, hating how pained your voice sounds, how obvious it all feels. Charles smiles. “Can you tell him…”
“I’ll tell him you were looking and that you’ll meet us at the bar,” he agrees.
“Okay,” you nod. “Proud of you, Charlie.”
He grins and wraps you up in a quick hug. “Merci, lapine.”
…..
After a quick stop back at your hotel room to change and freshen up, you find them in the bar, nerves coursing through your veins. They’re easy to spot, decked out in playoff and Timberwolves gear. The song that’s playing is loud in your ears, but not loud enough to drown out your racing heart. Lily squeals and drops your hand when she spots Alex, taking off across the bar to get to him.
Oscar’s in the middle of the sea of people. He has a drink in one hand, and his other arm around Charles’ shoulders. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. His hair’s a half dried mess, his cheeks are flushed, and there’s a wide smile on his lips. He’s a national champion. Your national champion.
His eyes light up when he sees you, and it pulls you in like the tide. You cross the room, and he drops his arm from around Charles. If you’d been paying attention, you’d have heard Max yell your name, or seen Charles hold Lando back with an arm, or noticed Lily tugging on Alex’s arm to get him to look. You don’t, though. It feels like a movie, the way the whole crowd disappears. It’s just him and you. He hauls you into his arms when you get within reach, and one hand slip to hold your lower back as you wrap your arms around his neck. When his lips touch yours, the music and flashing lights fade away. All you can feel is Oscar, and the way he’s kissing you. He steals your breath away. From that very first day, when he walked into the house, bright eyed and new, to now- it’s all been leading up to this. He cradles your face in his hand and tugs at your lower lip with his teeth. You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair. And then-
You’re in a bar. Surrounded by your friends, his whole team. You’re pretty sure the coaches are here somewhere. You remember that, suddenly, when he pulls away abruptly. Your face is hot, his cheeks are red, but both of you are smiling. He’s so hot like this, oozing confidence and pride and you nearly lean in to kiss him again.
A hand appears between the two of you, and Oscar bursts into laughter. You turn and find Max and Lando standing there, looking utterly bewildered. You start to laugh, too.
“She has a boyfriend,” Lando scolds, eyes wide. “Bunny, you have a-“
Max rears his head back. “Lando, you are even more dumb than I am. He is the boyfriend.”
“Oh,” Lando says, though he’s in a bar so it’s more of a shout. “Oh! You fuckers, why didn’t you tell us?”
“Shots?” Carlos says, popping up next to Lando. He has a tray of shot glasses and limes in his hand. “Celebratory shots, anyone?”
You and Oscar both take one of the glasses eagerly, matching grins on both your faces. You cheers with each other and throw them back, reaching for lime slices at identical times, fingers brushing each other. You start to giggle again, feeling giddy. Carlos blinks around the circle at you and Oscar, and then his gaze settles on Lando.
“What is happening here?” He asks, jabbing a finger into Lando’s shoulder. “Lando, you look upset.”
“They’re dating,” Lando says, and Carlos is fighting a laugh, you can tell. “Each other. Apparently.”
“We will need more shots for this,” Carlos says, eyebrows raised. “I will be back.”
You and Oscar spend the next five minutes dodging slaps on the back and congratulatory hugs from the rest of his teammates- not on the win, but on your relationship. Carlos returns with more shots and Charles in tow. Charles, who’s got a wide grin on his face. You wince.
“I am so glad everyone finally knows,” Charles says, and both Lando and Max frown. “I’m very bad at keeping secrets, you know.”
“You knew?” Lando asks, blinking between you and Charles. “You told Charles first?”
Max reaches for a shot and throws it back as you start to explain. “He… figured it out. I didn’t tell him.”
Charles nods. “I am very perceptive.”
“But, but- we were looking for clues,” Lando whines, elbowing Max. “We had theories and evidence and— I almost bought a corkboard. And frickin’ Charles figured it out before us? And the whole time it was frickin’ Oscar?”
Max snorts and passes Lando a shot. “Mate, I think we are maybe just oblivious.”
Lando opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again. He blinks at the shot glass in his hand. He holds it up and switches his gaze to your boyfriend, and then takes a deep breath.
“If you ever hurt her-“ he starts.
“Lando, we can give him the talk later,” Max interrupts. You breathe a sigh of relief. “Right now, we have a lot to celebrate.”
Lando rolls his eyes but nods. “True.”
You reach for one of the shot glasses. Everyone else follows suit, and you clink them together in the center. “To the national champions!”
“Hey, that’s us!” Lando yells giddily before he knocks the shot back.
Oscar deposits his shot glass back on the tray and pulls you under his arm. He’s not big on PDA- the kiss a few minutes prior being an adrenaline fueled exception- especially when being stared down by his team captain, your best friends. But the little bit of contact is nice. The heavy weight of his arm around you is comforting. Max turns and nods his head towards the bar.
“Alright, kids, first round of drinks is on me,” he says, grinning. “What will it be?”
He takes the orders, and Lando goes up to help him carry things. Lando gives you a hand motion, a vague sort of I’m watching you gesture. You roll your eyes. Oscar laughs. Next to you, so does Charles.
“This is all fun and games,” Charles says, pointing at Oscar, “until you have to ride back on the plane with them tomorrow. No escaping.”
Oscar pales and swallows tightly. You pat his back soothingly.
Max comes back with drinks and a grin on his face, Lando tagging along behind. It’s then that it hits you, square in the chest- their senior year, their last game, last chance, national championship. They did it. The thing they’ve been trying to do for years . Max is grinning so bright, so wide. Lando’s eyes are red rimmed like he’s been crying. They did it. You feel your own eyes start to well up.
“M’so proud of you guys,” you say, voice wobbling.
“Oh, shit,” Oscar mumbles, already rubbing your shoulder soothingly, studying your face. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“She’s only two shots in,” Max says, sounding fond. “It is early for her to be this weepy already.”
“Shut up,” you grumble. “I’m emotional.”
“We have time to be sappy later,” Max says, patting the side of your head. “Tonight, we celebrate.”
It’s nice, more than nice, really, to get to be with Oscar like this. To lean against his shoulder without fear of what anyone else is thinking. He makes you feel so bright. It’s something about the way he looks at you every time he tells a joke, already laughing, looking to see if you are too. His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and shining. When he leans down and kisses your cheek, you feel like you’re shining, too.
You dance badly with him to the bad music in the bar. You sit on barstools together and shout to be heard over the cacophony. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, because it’s with him. The two of you make the rounds with the rest of his team, and you tell them all congratulations on the win while they say the same about you and Oscar.
Logan grins and nudges your side. You ignore the fact that he’s far too young for this bar. “Should’ve known when you bought all that Australian food, huh?”
The truth is, you hadn’t even known then, not really. And yet, you think he might be right.
…..
Halfway through the night, you spot Max sitting in a booth in one of the corners, alone. You frown and nudge Oscar’s side, nodding your head towards the team captain. Oscar frowns, too, and shrugs. You frown deeper. He nudges your side, then, urging you towards Max. You lean up and kiss his cheek softly, giggling at the near immediate blush that rises up under his skin, and then head towards Max.
You slide into the booth across from him. He’s nursing a gin and tonic, and he gives you a smile when you sit down. It’s forced. You frown deeper still and tilt your head at him. It’s loud in the bar, but the sigh he lets out is big enough for you to hear it loud and clear.
“I’m fine,” he says, which is so obviously not true that you almost laugh. “Seriously, Bunny, go celebrate with your boyfriend.”
You’re a bit taken aback by the tone he uses, by the way he nearly trips over the word boyfriend. You blink at him. He sighs again and scrubs his hand harshly over his jaw.
“Talk to me,” you insist, knocking your glass against his lightly. “Come on, Max, you’re a national champion. You shouldn’t be pouting in the corner at your own party.”
He huffs, rolls his eyes, but his shoulders sag. “Everything is changing.”
You nod sympathetically.
“Everything,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s my last game, and soon it’ll be graduation and I’ll be leaving everyone, and Lando’s not even playing hockey after this, and you don’t trust me anymore, and-“
He tried to keep rambling, but you cut him off. “Max, what?”
He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “It’s good, you know. To see you come out of your shell. I’m glad to know that when we leave you will have other people but- I know I look like my dad but I’m not him, Bunny. You could have told me,” he says, “and I would have been happy for you. I wouldn’t have called you a puck bunny. And I-“
You feel sick, all of the sudden. He called her a puck bunny last year. He did what? Max had a heated argument with his dad before he left after the game, one you heard about from Lando and in whispers between Charles and Carlos. The stress of everything is weighing so heavy on his shoulders, but for some reason this is the straw that’s breaking the camel’s back. You reach over and grab his wrist lightly.
“Max,” you say, emphatically. “We didn’t tell you because it happened on spring break and we wanted a little time just to ourselves,” you say, quietly. “And then it was the playoffs. Nothing changes during playoffs. My boyfriend has facial hair right now and I’ve put up with it because of the playoffs.”
Max looks up at you. A little anguish melts away from his face. “That is stupid superstition,” he says.
“Tell that to your beard,” you mutter. He laughs. “Max, you may look like him, but you are your mother’s child, through and through. I know who you are. That was never what it was about,” you say, shaking your head. “I just knew how important the championship was to the team. To you. To me. I didn’t want to do anything to mess it up.”
Max sighs and shakes his head. “Your happiness is more important than some stupid trophy.”
“I am happy,” you say. He’s lit up by the soft glow of a hanging lamp, and you see him smile a bit, something lighting up in his gaze. “Happier now that I got to tell you guys, but. He makes me really happy, Max.”
The grin that breaks out across his face is contagious. “Then that’s all that matters,” he says. “That’s all we’ve wanted for you since the day we met you.”
You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or do a mixture of both. Max seems to sense it, and he reaches out to squeeze your wrist.
“Come on,” he says, nodding his head towards the bar, where Oscar is currently being interrogated by Lando. “We can be emotional later, yes? Right now, we have a championship to celebrate, and you have a boyfriend to celebrate with.”
…..
The night ends with you and Charles toting a very drunk Lando, Max, and Oscar back to your hotel. Lily had let you know ahead of time that she’d be heading back to Alex’s room with him, so yours is free. You’d much rather it was just Oscar coming back with you, but you couldn’t leave them all to Charles to watch over.
Oscar’s not a big drinker, not a heavy partier, but tonight he’s a national champion. You’d taken it easy and taken the responsibility off his shoulders. Now he’s leaning heavily against you as you walk back, his arm around your shoulders, his head knocking against yours. He’s rambling about something, words slurred. You’re nodding along like you can understand.
He stops on the sidewalk, mid sentence, even as Charles tries to corral Max and Lando out of the road. Your boyfriend turns to look at you, eyes wide and bright.
“I really like you,” he says, the clearest he’s sounded in at least an hour. “You know that, right?”
You laugh and press your hand to the side of his face. “Yeah, Osc. I really like you, too.”
He nods, reaching up to place his hand on your cheek, too. “You’re really cute. Can’t believe I get to call you my girlfriend. And I get to tell everyone now.”
You laugh and pinch his cheek. “You’re cuter.”
“Bunny!” Max yells from up ahead. “Stop eye fucking your boyfriend. You have the room key.”
You scoff. Oscar blushes. The two of you hurry down the sidewalk towards your friends.
You drag all of them up to your hotel room with you, because Max and Lando shouldn’t really be left on their own, you want to keep Oscar with you, and it would be rude to leave Charles out. They fumble into the room, full of giggles. Max flops down on one of the beds. Lando lands on the other.
“Nope,” you say, shoving at Max. “That’s my bed.”
Max grumbles but rolls over anyways, sliding onto the floor between the bed and the little balcony. You snort out a laugh. Oscar sits down on the end of your bed and grins at you, cheeks rosy. You smile right back at him.
“Hey. You two,” Lando says, voice slightly muffled by the pillow he has his face smashed against. “No sex while we’re in the room.”
“Oh my god,” both you and Oscar say at the same time. You tack on a “Shut up,” for added effect.
Charles rubs at his face sleepily. “I need to sleep.”
Everyone seems to agree with that. You crawl into bed, and Oscar follows, seemingly too sleepy to be apprehensive about it even though your friends are in the room. He leans over and kisses your forehead.
“G’night, champ,” you whisper.
“Goodnight,” he mumbles back.
“We are all champions,” Max calls out from the floor.
“Go to sleep,” Charles says with a whine.
…..
You’re the one to get all four of them up the next morning, ready with coffee and pastries from the hotel lobby to try and fend off the hangovers. You hand Oscar the hat you’d bought for him the night before, and he takes it gratefully, shoving it down on his head to cover his messy hair. There are bags under his bloodshot eyes, but he’s grinning so wide. He’s subdued this morning- they all are, nursing the hangover of the century- but he still finds a second when nobody’s looking to pull you in with a hand on your hip and press his lips to yours. It makes your heart skip a beat, and you feel a little ridiculous for it, but when you pull away his cheeks are red, and you think maybe he’s feeling it too. The pride, mixed with getting to spend moments like these together. Celebrating together, recovering together. It’s all you’ve wanted.
You corral him, Charles, Max, and Lando out of the hotel room just before their call time to get on the bus. You walk them all the way to their hotel- it’s not far. Sebastian is standing outside, a baseball cap pulled low over his own eyes, clipboard in hand. He laughs when he sees the five of you.
“Carlos said you would have them,” he says, gesturing at all of you. He has one eyebrow quirked, like he’s trying to assess exactly what’s going on. “They are lucky their teammates were nice enough to gather their luggage. And, probably, that you were there to… take care of them.”
You shrug. “I’m not running a brothel or something, if that’s what you’re saying.”
“Jesus, Bunny,” Max says with a roll of his eyes.
Seb balks. “That is not what I was saying, because that would be weird and inappropriate.”
“Forgive her,” Lando says, patting Seb’s shoulder. “She had a hell of a night.”
“She did?” Max snarks, nudging your shoulder before he follows Lando. “Do you remember what happened when she walked into the bar?”
Charles laughs, shakes his head, and gets on the bus, too. You’re left standing there with Oscar and Seb. Oscar pouts- he’s not one for PDA, especially in front of his coach, it seems- but he pulls you under his arm and dashes a soft kiss against your forehead. It’s enough, for now. It’s more than you’ve had before, really.
Seb clears his throat. “Sorry, lovebirds,” he says, pointedly looking up at the sky. “We’ve got to go.”
“Good luck with them,” you say, nudging your shoulder against Oscar’s.
He nods, making a solemn face. “If I don’t make it back, you know who to investigate first.”
You nod. “Carlos, probably.”
Oscar laughs, eyes crinkled at the edges, and then he’s stepping away onto the bus. You feel the distance in your chest already. Then you hear his teammates start to holler and whistle at him, and you laugh. They wouldn’t do it if they didn’t love him.
Seb nods goodbye as he climbs onto the bus. Then he turns back over his shoulder, voice low, as he says, “you really brought him out of his shell. Thanks.”
The door closes before you can respond. It’s okay, though- you think it’s pretty plain to see, to anyone who’s ever looked at the two of you together- Oscar’s helped you just as much.
…..
note: thank you ALL so much for sticking with me & this story. i’ve got plans for one last part, but these next few weeks are going to be a bit hectic so please bear with me! tysm for reading, hope you enjoyed!!
series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11 @tsireyasgf @si1ver06 @scopeiguess
#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fanfiction#oscar piastri x reader#Oscar piastri series#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 x you#formula 1 fanfic#formula one fanfic#formula one fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula one x reader#hockey au#f1 hockey au#formula one series#formula 1 series
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“Rot my brain.”
Roommate B. Katsuki in love with a girl whose addicted to video games.
B. Katsuki x AFAB! Reader
Bakugou never understood why you were so glued to your PC or any console you could get your little hands on. Sitting there for hours and hours playing brain rotting video games.
It pissed him the fuck off.
You barley left your room other to use the bathroom, shower, eat, and clean out your room. He was a bit glad you were a clean type of gamer instead of a stinky messy one.
Random packages you’d order always piling up at the door, he almost tripped over them when he had to leave for work. How the fuck were you able to afford so much shit without a job?
He would make dinner in hopes you would eat with him, but of course you always ate ramen or some sort of frozen meal before he even got home.
He felt as if he was living alone with some girl coming and going at random times, he barley saw you. Which he should be thankful for, but he was head over heels for you, why? He doesn’t even know.
Maybe it was the time you helped him back in the apartment when he was drunk, letting him rant to you on your shared couch before you slipped away to your cave.
Or the time he accidentally walked in on you cosplaying a character in a skimpy outfit, taking pictures of yourself in lewd positions before you screamed at him to get out of your room.
Or maybe it was the little conversations you two would have at the most unexpected times. The conversations that made it seem you two knew each other for a life time.
He had to find out what the hype was about, so he barged into your room while you were playing a very competitive game. Clearly you didn’t notice his hand placed on the back of your chair as he hovered over you.
He didn’t know what game you were playing, it was a first person shooter so it could honestly be any game in the world.
“One flank.” You speaking spooked him a bit, he hasn’t seen you so focused on something ever.
Soon the game ended, with him sitting there next to you the whole time. You took of your headphones, letting them slide down your neck while you leaned back in your chair with a long sigh. “I’m loosing my mind…” turning to grab your water you jump in fear at the man sitting next to you.
“HOLY SHIT BAKUGOU!” You scream, leaning so back your chair almost falls backwards but Katsuki was quick enough to catch you.
“What the fuck are you doing in here!? When did you even get in??”
“I jst’ wanted to see what the hype was all about. You’re always in your room playin this shit.”
“Oh…uh, I don’t know why I’m so into this game, it makes me so fucking mad I hate it so much.”
“Then why do ya’ keep playin it.”
“Cuz it’s fun.”
Katsuki just looked at you like you said the most dumbest shit he’s ever heard. Which made you burst into laughter.
“Here I’ll teach you how to play! And maybe you could be my duo!” You cheered letting him take your spot in your chair.
After that day Katsuki played with you whenever had had free time, forcing you to eat dinner with him outside your room and stop eating all that processed shit you always ate.
This way you two got closer, he of course didn’t play all the time since he didn’t want his brain to rot and he had a full time job. So he stopped to watch you in your room, hanging out on your bed watching you closely. Probably making fun of your plays too.
You ended up opening up to katsuki, getting out of your room more whenever he got home, you at the door greeting him was always the best part of his day. He loved having movie night with you, he never shows it but he was just so happy to be closer to you.
Sooner or later, you two were more than just roommates.
AN: school is kicking my butt cuz of graduation. I am trying to finish all my 100 follower specials!
(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)
#mha x reader#mha fanfiction#mha writing#bakugou x reader#mha bakugou#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou headcanons#bakugo katuski#bakugou smut#katsuki bakugou
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📱“Annoying much?” [← Previous | Next →]
—
Y/N would get into the car with Sukuna following along as he sat in the driver's seat
"is it safe for you to be driving? What if we crash?"
"I know how to drive, unlike you"
"I can drive perfectly fine."
"sure acting as if you didn't almost run over someone,"
"..."
"exactly, keep your mouth shut or else I'm crashing this car into the damn sea"
—
After about a 30 minute drive both of them finally reached their destination, they'd get out of the car and into the cafe
As they lined up the barista immediately recognized y/n
"heyy welcome back! The usual— Ooo who's that? Your boyfriend?"
"NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. NO."
"HIM? NO. YUCKS EW GROSS NO."
After she finished yelling Sukuna would be looking at y/n absolutely dumbfounded..
After she finished ordering they would both take a seat at the corner of the cafe,
"was is necessary to yell? Could've just said no"
"very much necessary. Me personally? I wouldn't date you even if we were the last people on earth."
"hate me that much?"
"what do you think?"
What does he think?
Honestly? If he's being honest his pride crumbled slightly, what do you mean the person he likes doesn't want to be with him?
She'd just roll her eyes before speaking
"anyways, what are we supposed to do"
"do you really think I'd know?"
"no, your the reason we probably failed,"
"oh please, me? How is it my fault, you heard the professor, our collage was nothing but a bunch of pictures stuck together, and who was in charge of that? You. So you shouldn't be talking."
Before y/n could say anything else her food finally came and then suddenly she's all happy and joyful..
"and they call me the bipolar one.."
As y/n ate Sukuna would just stare, once she finished eating she put put the plate away and just stare back at him, as she was about to say something suddenly he moved his arm closer till his fingers were touching her face, then he'd wipe some crumbs off the corner of her lips
She was about to protest before they both looked at the window because they heard a bang coming from it, when they looked they saw both yuki and gojo staring at them with a shock face before they both ran away
Both of them just shrugged it off, before Sukuna and move his hand away y/n already did it for him by forcefully pushing it away
"anyway..what do we even do?"
"dunno talk?"
"about? It's not like we have anything in common"
"say something about your friends and I'll do the same"
"okay?.."
—
"I KNOW RIGHT? honestly how does geto tolerate gojo"
"right? I can't stand him he makes me rip my hair out"
"EXACTLY?? NOT TO MENTI—"
before y/n could finish her sentence suddenly one of the barista came up
"heyy guys so we're about to close so you gotta leave, come back tomorrow?"
"how long have we been here..?"
"exactly 4 hours..."
"oh alright, see you tomorrow then!"
The barista would wave the two off as they exited the cafe
Sukuna would turn to look at y/n and back at the car as he pulled out the keys from his pocket and went into the drivers seat while y/n went into the passengers seat
The drive back to there dorms were quiet, Too quiet.
That is until Sukuna broke the silence
"well that was fun wasn't it?"
"I guess"
"so where to tomorrow?"
"dunno,"
"what about the park?"
"yeah that works,"
—
[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^
A/N: here's the next part guys pls don't take away my rights to listen to music 💔💔
Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru (comment to be added/removed)
#jjk smau#jjk sukuna#jjk ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader
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Apology/Imperfection
How do you apologise for something unforgivable?
How do you look the person you love most in the world in the eyes and apologise for two years of lying and deceit, for turning them into a perpetual victim of the game you played because you were bored?
The thing is, even at his best, Sherlock doesn’t do apologies.
If he regrets a course of action, which has happened in the past, he makes amends otherwise. He and Mycroft communicate regret through gifts of expensive alcohol. Lestrade gets a text with hints about his current case, however mundane it might be. Molly gets coffee, Mrs Hudson gets the sherry truffles she likes a bit too much.
John… back in the day, he’d apologise to John by buying milk. Doing laundry. Making tea.
He suspects that won’t quite cut it this time.
He tries to write an apology, on the way to the Landmark. But everything he jots down on a British Airways napkin he still had in his pocket seems… trite. Empty. Imperfect.
John deserves a perfect apology. Sherlock is incapable of delivering one that’s even marginally acceptable.
So he skips it altogether.
It turns out that might not have been the best course of action.
At the end of the night, he crumples up the napkin and throws it out of his bedroom window, watching as it floats down onto Mr Chatterjee’s bins.
It's a fitting end for a thoroughly shit evening.
*-*
During the following months, Sherlock tries to compensate for his lack of appropriate words by doing everything he can to help John. He plans the wedding, he broods over seating charts, he teaches John how to walz—pure torture, that one, and not only because John is a lousy dancer—, picks out his suit, arranges a stag night. He studiously ignores all the parts of him that want to curl up into a corner and die, ignores the pain in his heart and the regrets welling up in his throat like bile every time he opens his mouth and lies by omission. He never says what he’s thinking anymore, because what he thinks is always a litany of all the things he did wrong, all the moments he wasted, all the regrets he will take to his early grave at this rate.
John said he forgives Sherlock. But he still feels like there’s something missing. Something absolutely essential has been extracted out of the very marrow of their relationship, leaving them hollowed out, brittle and fragile, easy to shatter.
And yet he still feels the magnetic pull between them, still feels the sizzle and pop, the connection between them, more addictive than any drug and possibly more destructive now that the guardrails of mutual trust and understanding are gone.
John is wary of him. Sherlock can’t blame him.
Maybe, just maybe, an imperfect apology would have been better than none at all.
*-*
It’s stuffy in the vestry. The sun shines in through a small window, and Sherlock watches the dust motes. John fidgets with his cufflinks.
Sherlock feels like he’s been standing on ever-shifting sand during the last few months, as the time he had left with John slowly ran out. Now he’s on the last kernels, and he can already feel the glass beneath his feet, slippery and dragging him down the rabbit hole of self-destruction.
He reaches into his pocket to check the time on his phone when his fingers find something else entirely.
He takes it out. It’s the napkin he scrawled all of his imperfect, stuttering words onto, words he couldn’t say, words that still stick in his throat like a bone he was never able to swallow.
It shouldn’t be here. He remembers throwing it out. How did it get into the inner pocket of his wedding suit?
“What’s that?” John asks. He’s leaning against the vicar’s desk, not at all the picture of the happy bridegroom, uncomfortable in his suit, nervous, ill at ease in this church he didn’t pick.
Sherlock looks down at the napkin. He swallows. “Nothing,” he says, quietly, addressing his hands. Too little, too late. No use opening up old wounds now.
John gives him a long look that clearly states he doesn’t believe a word out of Sherlock’s mouth. Then he shrugs, looks away, obviously disappointed. “Fine. Fine,” he mutters, apparently more to himself than to Sherlock. He checks his watch, a nervous, impatient gesture. “Ten minutes to showtime. Better check on the guests.”
He walks to the door, and Sherlock catches a glimpse of the expression on his face in the mirror over the desk. Disappointment, pain. Regret.
And he suddenly realises that reopening old wounds assumes that they’ve healed. And that there is no such thing as too little when the alternative is nothing, and that he’s actually, really, truly, on the cusp of too late.
“John.”
John turns, looks at him, eyebrows raised in silent question.
“There’s something I should say,” Sherlock begins, hating the way his voice sounds, unsure, unsteady, like he’s chewing on broken glass.
John makes a ‘go on then’ gesture with his hand, leaning against the wall next to the door. Visibly bracing himself.
“I- it occurs to me,” Sherlock says, hesitant, feeling a bit like he’s fighting against his better judgement with every word out of his mouth, “that I never- I never apologised. For. You know.”
“Making me watch you die and lying to me for two years?” John fills in the blanks. He gives Sherlock a small, humourless smile, and there’s a world of bitterness in his voice, a poison they never lanced out of that wound. “No. You didn’t, did you? You said please forgive me, but that’s not actually an apology, is it.”
“No.”
Silence falls, and Sherlock can’t. He can’t. He feels like flaying himself open and trusting John not to destroy him by telling him whatever Sherlock has to offer isn’t good enough, isn’t, quite simply, enough, is as beyond him as it was that night at the Landmark.
John huffs a laugh that’s more annoyance than humour. “Well. Glad we had that conversation,” he mutters, pressing his lips together, clearly trying to hold some powerful emotion in.
You’re hurting him again, Sherlock thinks. If you stop now, you bloody fucking coward, how will you ever look at yourself in the mirror again?
He looks down at the napkin, at the words he never said. The words that needed saying. Well, as they say, there’s no time like now. “I- I should start by saying that I did what I thought was necessary when I jumped. And that you weren’t supposed to be there. I planned for this contingency, and I should have told you, but at the time, I thought it was necessary for your survival to deceive you. But you being there was neither part of the plan nor what I would have wanted to happen.” He looks up, meets John’s eyes, who’s watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. “So. Number one. I’m sorry I made you watch.”
John is silent, but his eyes are fixed on Sherlock’s face, and he’s clearly paying close attention to every word that comes out of Sherlock's mouth.
Sherlock takes a deep breath and continues,“I went after Moriarty’s network because I felt it was my responsibility to clean up my own mess, and nobody else’s. It seemed selfish of me to risk your life for my hubris. I nearly reached out to you so many times, and I didn’t because if you had known I was alive, you would have wanted to join me, and I wouldn’t have had the strength of character to turn you down. If you’d died, it would have killed me. So. Two. I’m sorry I wasn’t willing to endure what I put you through.”
There’s a knock on the door.
“Go away!” John yells, without turning.
“But-”
John makes a frustrated noise, takes the two steps to the door and turns the key in the lock. “I said,” he growls at the vicar at the other side of the door, “Go. The fuck. Away!”
Then John turns around and makes an inviting gesture in Sherlock’s direction. “Continue.”
Sherlock gestures to the door. “Are you sure you-”
John huffs a frustrated sigh. “Yes, thank you for pointing out that I’m getting married in five minutes, you utter prat, and congrats for choosing the worst possible time for this, but fucking hell, Sherlock, don’t you think we’ve waited for this long enough?”
Sherlock acknowledges the point with a tilt of his head. “Best get on with it, then.” He takes a deep breath, because this is the difficult one. He holds up the napkin. “I wrote this when I came back. On my way to the Landmark. You deserved to hear it then. But I was too much of a coward to face the consequences of my actious. So. Number three. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”
“Why now?” John asks, softly, his face still unreadable, his eyes riveted to Sherlock’s face. “Why tell me this now?”
“Because there’s a number four,” Sherlock says, quietly, holding John’s eyes. He gets up, slowly, approaches John, giving him plenty of time to back away, to stop him, to leave.
But John stays. John holds his eyes, holds his ground. Waits.
Sherlock moves closer, invades his space, traces his fingers along the lapels of John’s beautiful suit.
“Number four,” Sherlock murmurs, inching closer to John with every word, “I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t care about you. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I never said thank you, for your trust, for your companionship, for the very best of times. I’m sorry it took me this long to say I love you, and I’m sorry I never asked you to come back. And I’m sorry for this,” he says, as he leans in and presses his lips to John’s.
John’s breath hitches as he pulls Sherlock closer and kisses back, fierce and courageous and like he’s been waiting for this just as long as Sherlock has.
There’s loud voices and pounding on the door, and both their phones are vibrating with missed calls and texts, and neither of them notices as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss. John’s arms have snaked around Sherlock and he’s holding on like he never intends to let go, and Sherlock feels the knot in his stomach and the dread in his heart dissolve under the onslaught of John’s passion, and his kisses, and his love.
They finally break apart, and Sherlock knows he’ll remember the exact curve of John’s smile and the exact shade of his eyes in that moment for the rest of his life. “I forgive you,” John whispers, and it sounds like a vow. “I forgive you.”
And this time, Sherlock believes him.
---
If anyone wants to venture a heacanon how a certain item found its way into a certain pocket, I won't stop you. I personally have my suspicions ;-)
If there are any embarrassing mistakes in there, please forgive me. It's Friday evening, and it's been a WEEK.
Also, if you want to read a similar scenario a bit less seriously, might I recommend my fic Speak Now, where Sherlock gives new meaning to the phrase 'last minute'.
Tags under the cut as always, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.
Thank you all for a wonderful fandom time, all the writers and all the commenters and re-bloggers, and especially @calaisreno for keeping us going. Love you all.
@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown
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Did I cross the line?
➼Author: orshii
➼Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader
➼Word count: 4 k
➼Summary: On Valentine's Day in Paris, a romantic trip with your boyfriend, takes a painful turn when unresolved feelings about his ex-girlfriend, who was once your best friend, resurface. Despite the love between you, the past threatens to tear you apart. Through heartfelt conversations, you confront your insecurities and reaffirm your commitment, realizing that to move forward, you must leave the past behind.
➼A/N: Well...here I am again with a Hongjoong drabble, and this little something was born because of Billie Eilish's new song. And it was completely inspired by it, so please please, listen to the song and pay attention to the lyrics so you will understand the story more. I just love it, it's such a beautiful song and I can't get it out of my mind...just as well Hongjoong haha...Anyway, I am not sure this is what I wanted, but this happened so enjoy! Byee...--also, sorry for any mistakes :'(... (divider)
Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart, but it also heals your soul, allowing you to feel like a normal human on this chaotic Earth. It's much harder when you're alone, but if you find someone who is always by your side and supports you unconditionally, you become unstoppable. Nothing can come your way when they are next to you and cheering for you on the side to chase your dreams. When you find the mate of your soul, you think nothing can stop you from now on.
Except... sometimes, despite everything, you grow farther apart because of a tiny reason, turning what was once promising into something that couldn’t bloom or burn with passion.
This is the reason why I am crying in a hotel room in Paris, the city of love on Valentine’s Day, with my heart broken into thousands of pieces. How ironic life can be. It's the day of love and I'm in the city of love, yet I never felt more disappointed in love ever. The broken pieces of my heart are cutting me from the inside, I want to scream from the pain, but I have never been quieter in my life, my voice got lost between the sharp pieces of my heart.
Our trip to the city of love started like a cliché straight from a romantic movie. We decided with my boyfriend, Hongjoong, that we were going to travel to Paris for a little break, as we both needed it, we were overwhelmed with work, and we barely saw each other. And Valentine's Day was a perfect excuse for both of us, to celebrate our love, that just started to bloom. Our relationship began six months ago, and it was a maze until we finally understood each other and found our way through the dark, complicated labyrinth of each other's hearts.
We wandered around the city with our hands interlaced, never letting go for even a minute. We felt locked together, forever. Throughout the day we visited a lot of museums and the typical sights of Paris, that being the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. When the both of us were on top of the Eiffel Tower, the wind was so strong up there, that we could barely see the city down there. The air was chilly, as it was mid-winter. The clouds were gone, and the snow had already melted away, leaving behind only the cold.
I stared at Hongjoong, my hair in my face, giggling as he took pictures of me. The photos came out blurry but full of happiness. The sun that slowly approached its lowest spread an orange blanket over the city, lighting it with all shades of orange. I looked next to me, where Hongjoong was smiling. I saw him in slow-motion, as he was looking down at the orange city, the sun's beams lighting his beautifully shaped face, his jawline sharp, his cheekbones high, his eyes in the shape of a crescent moon as he was smiling. The wind blew very slightly on his brown hair alongside his elegant black clothes.
And his smile... that was why I fell in love with him so deeply that I couldn't escape. His smile was so perfect and wide, full of humanity, with sincerity that immediately caught me off-guard because I didn't believe in the fact, that perfect humans on this Earth existed. But as soon as I saw him, I knew it was just a lie, because with time every human being finds their perfect mate for their soul, no matter if someone sees them as imperfect. For you, they are always going to be perfect.
After coming down from the tower, we wanted to do one last thing: put a padlock on the famous bridge where people place padlocks to symbolize their love, as the saying goes, 'Lasts until forever'. And as it was Valentine's Day and we were in the city of love, to make it cheesier we bought a red padlock to put it on the bridge.
"So did you enjoy yourself today?" Hongjoong asked looking at me with his adoringly beautiful smile, as we were walking towards the bridge.
"This was the happiest day of my life Hongjoong." I looked at him with loving eyes, tears almost appearing in my eyes as I was very overwhelmed by the fact of how much I loved him. "Thank you."
"Come here, my little bun." He pulled me by my hand that was interlaced with his and hugged me strongly I felt like he might break my bones, as we were at the end of the bridge. He pecked the top of my head and slowly separated from me, leaving little distance between us, just to cup my face into his warm hand. Chills ran through my body as I felt his warm hand on my cold and red face, he immediately warmed me up with only one slight touch.
"I love to see you happy." He said his voice a little childish as he was saying it adorably. He tugged my hair behind my air. "I'm happy if you are too."
"You are too cheesy, what happened to you?" I looked at him suspiciously.
He chuckled at that. "You happened; I can't help it." He slowly leaned closer to me and slightly pecked my lips with his. Then he looked at me and smiled like I was the only human being on Earth.
"So, it's my fault?" I whispered onto his lips, that still hovered over mine.
"Yes, it is." His eyes were on my lips, as he whispered the words sweetly.
Then he closed the distance again between our lips and kissed me more passionately, putting his heart into the kiss, giving it to me so I could keep it safely in my imaginary safe made out of unbreakable metal, but sometimes that metal can get infected and it can crack and that hurts. As I kissed him back my lips slowly moving against his, the world was gone around us, and I did the same with my heart, giving it to him, so he could keep my heart wherever he wanted to. I hoped our hearts belonged to the other and no one else.
"Let's put that silly padlock on." He said as we separated from the kiss, caressing my cold cheeks.
I just nodded and took his hand to lead him through the bridge's middle.
"It's nice to be back in here." He said as we were looking around, observing the padlocks people already left there.
"Have you been here before?" I asked him surprised with a frown.
Suddenly his expression changed, as we stopped in the middle of the bridge, people around us walking and smiling, the sky had already gone dark, and only the street lights showed the way.
"Well…yes." He scratched the back of his head, averting my eyes.
"I didn't know, when?" He acted strange all of a sudden and I didn’t know why.
"Last year—with… Hana." He slowly looked up, to see my reaction.
I gulped and my heart started to race quickly as I heard her name. I really wanted to stay calm it wasn't the time to argue again as he knew it was an uncomfortable topic between us.
I nodded barely visible. "I see…" I looked down on my hands. "And did you like—were here?" My voice came out strange, it lost its power as I pointed at the padlocks.
"Y—yes," Hongjoong said noticing as my expression changed very quickly. He stepped closer to me to hold my hands. I just looked down at our hands and then at the padlocks. "But it was in the past and you know it, Y/N. I want to do this with you." He reached his hands towards my face, but before he could touch it, I stopped him.
"Well, I don't want to anymore." My voice came out serious, my face looked hurt and disappointed. I stepped back, putting distance between us.
"C'mon, Y/N. You can't be serious." He stepped closer to me and I stepped back again on that. He scoffed at that. "Why can't you put it all behind you? It was a long time ago."
"Because she's everywhere I go, Hongjoong, anything I do with you has to do something with her." Tears started to well up in my eyes.
"It's not, you just made it up here," He pointed at his temple."…because you can't get over it, Y/N." He seemed upset as his voice got more serious.
I scoffed at that in disbelief. "So, now you think I'm crazy?"
It is very unpredictable how everything can change from heaven to hell.
"No, you are not crazy, but you definitely can't let go of the past and be in the present…with me." Hongjoong said running his fingers through his brown short hair.
"What can I do, when all the time I see her face, everywhere." I lifted my arms helplessly. "In our daily life, in our home…in your eyes." One tear slowly escaped my left eye.
"When will you understand she is nothing to me now?" He stepped closer to me, disappointment showing on his face. "When will you understand you are my everything? That I love you and no one else." His voice got lower, weaker.
"I know that you love me, you don't need to remind me like it's an obligation." I looked at him already feeling so far away from him.
Hongjoong scoffed at that. "What are you talking about?"
"You always sound like you have to assure me you love me." I looked down at the ground, where our shadows melted into each other. I just wanted to hide from him. "I am sure you love me. But…it's just a feeling I can't shake."
"You have no idea what are you talking about. Can't you get that you are my fucking world Y/N?" I felt as he stared at me with deadly eyes, growing more furious.
Stressed, I ran my fingers through my hair, tears streaming down my face. "But you aren't mine," I barely said out loud, knowing he could hear me.
I couldn't see his expression as he stood there in silence for a moment.
"You think so?" he asked, his voice calmer.
I just nodded, unable to look up.
He chuckled and came closer to me, his breath close to my face. "So, let's make it fair, then. Shall we?" His voice was like a threat. Then he grabbed the padlock from my hand and threw it away into the water. I stared at him, my eyes wide in shock. "I wanted to make you happy, to do cheesy things like this. But if you can't understand, let's just stop."
"I never wanted to fight," I mumbled.
"But we always do, Y/N." He lifted his eyebrows as he looked at me, disappointed. "It wasn't like this before."
"What do you mean?" I asked him, confused.
"I mean, when we started, it was nice. We were happy, no arguing. But you kept looking into my past and everything changed." He looked into my eyes, tired of the arguments.
"Because she was always there in the back of my mind." I sniffled and wiped away a tear.
"She isn't now. But you can't see it." He shook his head slightly.
"Honestly…I don't know if I can be with someone who can't let go of the past…" I snapped my head up at that, his face was nothing but serious without any emotions. My heart started to race more quickly than before.
"Hongjoong…" I stepped closer to him with regret on my face.
"No." Now he was the one who stepped back, and my heart started to crack. "I am tired of this, you have to let go of our past and be present completely, not only with half of your heart." He said those words like it was venom and it flew right into my lungs poisoning it so I couldn't breathe anymore.
"We will talk when you finally manage to do that." He put his hands into his pockets and just passed by me like we suddenly became two strangers, leaving me there on the bridge where we could've locked our love forever, he left me with a heart suddenly broken into millions of pieces.
Did I cross the line?
The thing is Hana was Hongjoong's ex-girlfriend and my best friend.
My best friend and Hongjoong got together three years ago and broke up last summer. And it wasn't particularly because of me, well I played a little part in that as well, but they just always argued about little annoying things and I was the one who reconciled them. I'm not sure when it happened, but the more I was hanging out with my best friend and her boyfriend the more I felt something wasn't right. I started to feel something towards Hongjoong and I knew it wasn’t right so I quickly buried it deep down into my soul, so no one would know it.
I watched them through these years when they were arguing and when they hated each other, but they always made up at the end of the day and everyone was happy.
Not until one day, Hongjoong found out Hana cheated on him. That day was a disaster because the more time I spent with Hongjoong, the closer I grew to him. I considered him a friend and liked him. I could talk about things with him, that I didn’t even tell my best friend. It was hard to take sides, to be honest, it was cruel of my best friend but at the same time she was my best friend and I needed to be by her side. She was crying on my shoulder even though she fucked all of this up. Slowly, Hongjoong walked out of our lives, and it didn't feel right for some reason. Not seeing him every day, not knowing what he was doing, made my heart ache for some reason and I was so confused.
Not until July.
We accidentally ended up at the same event connected to our work and started talking. We talked, but like we just met, like we didn't know each other before like Hana didn't even exist. I felt guilty of course but sometimes people have to be selfish, for their own sake. We had a deep connection with Hongjoong and I didn't want to let it go. I just couldn't.
From then on, we grew closer to each other, and got to know each other. And one night, Hana saw us, of course, I didn't tell her about Hongjoong, that we were talking. And of course, the universe loved us and Hana saw us exactly that summer night when Hongjoong kissed me for the first time. When he kissed me, I felt like I was finally complete, like I found the missing piece of my lost soul. But when I saw Hana's face, my soul immediately burnt into specks of dust.
Until then, all I could see was her face when he saw us, the hatred in her eyes, that I could understand. I haven't see her since then, but she lives in my head rent-free. I hated myself because this was the cruelest thing a best friend could do. But I stayed selfish and chose Hongjoong because he made me happy and made me feel alive.
And now I fucked up everything because I can't get through our past. What happened is happened, but when he touches me all I can think of is how she felt, I always compare myself to her.
As I was standing on the bridge and trying to somehow organize my thoughts, I just started to walk in the city that was full of couples and happy people. The city was alive, restaurants were open, and people were celebrating, and laughing together. Yet, I was there walking past them with my eyes crying out, slowly losing myself in the dark. When I passed by a lucky charm seller, the old lady beckoned me to go there. I frowned as I slowly approached her.
"My daughter, you look sad, did somebody break your heart?" She asked me putting his hands on my shoulders.
I nodded tears appearing in my eyes again. "But… it was my fault…so I deserve it." My voice came out weak.
"No one deserves a broken heart, sweet girl." She slowly wiped off my tears. "These lucky charms will tell you what to do, I am sure." She pointed at the little papers with green trefoils on them.
I just shrugged, I didn't believe in these things, but at least I could make someone happy by buying one. I chose one randomly and paid for it, thanking the lady.
"And don’t forget, sometimes before loving someone else, we have to learn how to love and how to receive it." She smiled at me and let me keep going.
I put the lucky charm in my pocket, not even bothering to read it, and walked forward without any destination. All I could think about was Hongjoong and how much I fucked up. It was a perfect day…why did I have to fuck it up? As I walked next to the river my palm was itching in my pocket so I stopped to read the paper. I slowly opened the decorated paper.
"I fell in love with you because you loved me when I couldn't love myself.
And then you realize it was all real."
I read the lines with my heart slowly warming up and pumping quicker. I never believed in things like these, but these lines hit me hard in the chest just so I could realize how stupid I was, how stupid I was to think Hongjoong didn't love me. I mentally face-palmed myself and tried to stop myself from jumping straight into the cold river and turned around just to run back to our hotel, hoping Hongjoong was going to be there.
Hongjoong wasn't there and he will never come back. He will never come back, because I made myself believe he had anything to do with Hana and that he always compared me to her. But the truth is I compared myself to her and it made my brain a fool, so I believed every cruel thing it whispered to me.
I collapsed on the bed, hugged myself and here I was, crying my soul out with a broken heart, on Valentine's Day, in the city of love.
Hours or just minutes passed by, and I lost track of time when I heard the door closing. I opened my eyes quickly; I was facing the door to our room laying on my right side. Hongjoong slowly stepped inside and took off his winter coat his eyes on me the whole time. I couldn't tell what was he thinking.
I sat up as he approached me and sat on the bed, just to cup my cried-out face into his, now cold, hands.
He leaned his forehead against mine as he whispered. "Oh, my little bun. You make my heart break, seeing you like this."
Probably I looked like hell, my eyes red, my cheeks puffy, my make-up smashed from crying.
I slowly held his wrists that cupped my face. "Hongjoong I—" Tears found their way out again; I didn't understand how I hadn't dried out by now. I started to sob.
"I'm sorry, my love, I shouldn't have talked to you like that." He hugged me, his fingers running through my hair, trying to calm me down.
I slowly lifted my head from his chest. "No, you were right, Hongjoong." Words could finally leave my mouth. "I was living in the past, that hurt me, but at the same time healed me…you healed me. I was so broken, but you managed to glue together the pieces of me. But this Hana thing just hunted me and I couldn't run away it’s like she cursed me just so I could feel his revenge." I looked down at my hands sniffing.
Then I looked into his eyes and the mate of my soul looked at me like I was the most vulnerable creature on Earth. And that was the moment I got reassured about everything.
"I'm so sorry for making you feel like it was all your fault when it was just my fucked-up mind. You are my everything Hongjoong, and I couldn't spend even a minute without you in my life. Please, don't leave me…" My tears flew down my cheeks endlessly.
He sighed and slowly reached for my hands, holding them like a treasure. "You are a fool if you think it is an obligation for me to say I love you. I say it because I mean it with all my heart, and to let you know that Hana is in the past you know I never really loved her. Not like I love you. You are my partner in life, my future and I never want to let you go." He wiped my tears away as his eyes watered and a little teardrop escaped his eye. I immediately wiped it away, not wanting to see him cry because of me. Ever.
"I love you so-so much!" I whispered weakly as I cupped his face.
"I love you endlessly, bun." He smiled at me adoringly, his smile that cured everything inside me and his lips on mine that slowly put the broken pieces of my heart into its place, my heart being whole again, in one piece, just so I could give it to him, into his hands to do whatever he wanted to it, because I just belonged to him and he belonged to me.
He kissed me slowly, like never before, his soft lips moving along mine leaving a sweet taste behind. I slowly crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. His hands found their place on my waist like they belonged there and squeezed it like he never wanted to let me go. Our kiss got more hotter as I parted my lips letting his tongue inside, discovering every hidden place of my mouth, like he wanted to taste every inch of me. My hands crawled into his hair squeezing it as a moan left his mouth. His hands slowly got their way under my clothes, running his fingers up and down my back, like he couldn't get enough of me.
"You are so beautiful, Y/N." He whispered onto my lips between hot kisses. He looked at me like he couldn't believe his eyes. "You are my beautiful girl." His lips traced over mine as he firmly bit my lower lip.
I chuckled at that, as he quickly flipped us over and he hovered above me, supporting himself with his hands on both sides of my head and he just looked at me. I got impatient and quickly lifted my head so I could kiss him, but he pushed me back to the bed and kissed me harshly, my body felt hot, and I felt like I could burn alive.
Everywhere he touched me burned my skin down to my bones. But I didn’t care because I knew he was the love of my life, that one person who was always beside me and supported me no matter what. The past needs to be locked in the past and the present needs to be lived just so I can build a strong future alongside the emotions I feel, alongside Hongjoong, now, on Valentine's Day and in the city of love, Paris.
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Exceptions
Summary: You’re finally pregnant and Joel can’t keep his hands off of you. With another raider group getting too close to Joel’s community he has no choice but to leave you behind in the very capable hands of his brother.
Pairing: Raider! Joel x fem. reader / Raider!Tommy x fem. reader
Wordcount: 1.7k
Rating: E
Warnings: Raider!Joel, Raider!Tommy, smut (unprotected sex, oral sex), jerking off, slapping, dirty talk, established relationship, unspecified age gap (around 15 years prob), lactation kink, cucking (kinda), pregnancy, kinda pregnancy kink?, derogatory language, infidelity kink ?, Joel and Tommy do not touch or really interact with each other but are in the same bed, but if that's not your thing kindly move on, thanks!
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Part of Desire
Joel got even more protective of you once you found out you were indeed finally pregnant.
Only a very trusted circle of people were now allowed near you and you could count the days he had chose to leave you to take care of something up on one hand.
That was until a rather disgusting raider group had gotten a little too close for comfort to the place Joel had marked as his territory.
He had told you that he had to leave for a couple of days to take care of this himself, his cock steadily drilling into you from behind while his hands both were playing with your tits. They had grown quite a lot and now in your sixth month of the pregnancy he was waiting impatiently for your milk to come through.
He had put all kinds of pictures and thoughts into your head about how he would milk you dry the moment he had his first taste.
He would be so mad it finally happened once he had been gone for almost a week.
You woke up wet.
Which was not uncommon. You had been even more horny since you found out you were pregnant, but this morning you woke up with your shirt wet.
„Fuck,“ you sighed, your fingers ribbing over the wet spots over your tits.
„Watsgoingon?“ A tired voice behind you mumbled, an arm sneaking around your waist, a warm palm cradling your belly.
„Joel is gonna be so upset,“ you pouted as you cuddled against Tommy’s chest, feeling his chin rest against your shoulder.
Since Joel had to leave, he left the only person he trusted to look after you behind and in charge of the compound.
His brother.
And Tommy has been instructed to do everything to keep you happy.
And boy did he.
With his mouth. His fingers. His cock.
There was just something about Tommy Miller calling you a cheating cock dumb whore that did it for you.
Not that you were cheating. No, this arrangement between the three of you had been going on for years. Though you and Joel were strictly faithful and only fucking each other, his brother was something like a treat Joel granted you for being a very good girl.
And you always were a very good girl for Joel.
Joel liked to watch when you and Tommy got together. His presence in the room making it somehow even more filthy.
You just had to stop fucking Tommy once Joel had decided that he wanted to be the one who got you pregnant. The first time.
But playing with the scenario of being caught cheating did something for you that drove you over the edge every single time.
Tommy had a lot of sex. With both men and woman.
He had two wives who currently were pregnant themselves.
You did not like both of them though.
But it was you who he always came back to.
He began to kiss up your neck, his hands rubbing over your belly, his cock poking against you from behind.
„Think my milk finally came in,“ you mumbled and he stopped, taking a deep breath before he carefully turned you so you were laying on your back. His dark eyes were on you as he reached over to the side to turn on the lights and you both looked down to your chest where the fabric of one of Joel’s shirt you had put on to sleep were drenched.
„Fuck,“ he cursed lowly before he came to kneel between your legs.
„Joel’s gonna be so pissed he wasn’t here for that,“ he said with a shake of his head, before his fingers traced over the cold damp fabric of the shirt, your nipples hard and you shivered.
He helped you out of the shirt, throwing it behind him and he just looked at your tits with pure hunger.
You knew he wanted a taste.
But Joel was clear.
No one but him was allowed to taste you. Not even his brother. And he shared almost everything with his brother.
You saw him close his eyes as he took a deep breath before he lowered himself between your legs and began to eat you out, most likely as a distraction for himself, not that you were complaining.
Your hands ran down your body, your fingers brushing through his hair, before you gathered the long strings of his hair into your hand in a makeshift ponytail, keeping his hair out of his face as he looked up at you with hungry eyes, his tongue slipping though your folds.
Tommy’s hand gripped your thighs, pulling them further apart as he feasted on you, his tongue playing with your clit, teasing you.
„Tommy please,“ you let your head fall back, your arms spread out on the mattress beside you.
He sucked your clit into his mouth while one of his hands came up to touch your left tit and you shattered, coming with a cry of his name, your whole body shaking.
You had been overly sensitive for a couple of days now, the lightest touch leaving you shaking and hungry for more.
He cleaned you up, slurping obscenely and you sighed, before he came up, smirking up at you before he kissed your belly.
„Wanna sit on your cock,“ you hummed.
„Oh yeah?“ He asked, kissing up your body.
You nodded.
„Just gimme a minute. Can’t feel my legs yet,“ you joked and he hummed self satisfied before he laid down next to you. He wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly jerked himself off.
Sucking your bottom lip in you looked at how his hand moved over his length, your pussy clenching in anticipation at having his cock inside of you.
„See something you like, doll?“ He teased and you nodded before you rolled to your side to get onto your knees. You crawled over to him and he grinned up at you.
You were about to straddle him, when he shook his head.
„Turn around. Wanna see that ass bounce on me,“ he said and you obeyed, turning around. You sat down on his legs, feelings his hands pull you back, your pussy rubbing over his cock. Grabbing his cock you lined yourself up before you slowly sank down on him with a long moan.
„Fuck yes,“ Tommy groaned before he slapped your ass. Hard.
Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you slowly began to move, rolling your hips on top of him. Your hands came up to cup your tits before you began to ride him, bouncing on his cock, while Tommy continued to slap your ass.
Closing your eyes you only focused on the way he was filling you when you heard the door open.
Opening your eyes you smiled widely when Joel walked in.
„Hey baby,“ you hummed, crying out when Tommy chose this moment to thrust up into you. Joel crossed his arms as he leaned against the door, his dark gaze focused on you as you rode his brothers cock, your belly swollen with his child.
„Having fun?“ He asked and you nodded.
„Missed you,“ you whimpered and he smiled before he walked over. He bend down to kiss you, his hand on your throat possessively, and you moaned against his lips as Tommy continued to thrust up into you.
„Yeah?“ He asked and you nodded, looking up at him. You gasped when Tommy slapped your ass again. Joel chuckled as he sat down on the bed.
You moaned when you felt Tommy pull you against his chest and carefully turn the both of you so you were lying on your side with him behind you, his cock still inside of you. His hands were on your hips as he continued to fuck you, now a little harder, his cock twitching.
He was close and so were you.
„Guess what?“ You asked, biting your lip and Joel raised his eyebrow.
„Wanna taste my milk?“ You grinned and Joel’s eyes widened before they darkened. He laid down in front of you, kissing your lips first, his big hands both palming your tits before he slipped down the bed, his lips closing around one of your nipples.
Tommy groaned behind you, his fingers now between your legs playing with your clit, bringing you to the edge.
And then Joel sucked.
And you?
You came with a loud cry of Joel’s name, your hands flying into his hair to keep him against your tit.
Your eyes rolled back, the sensation of Joel sucking on your nipples and Tommy cumming inside of you so overwhelming you almost passed out.
„Fuck, Fuck, Fuck,“ you heard behind you, Tommy fucking his cum into you.
„Oh my god,“ you moaned, still riding out your orgasm. Out of breath you whimpered once Tommy pulled out. He kissed your shoulder as he rolled out of bed and you felt Joel pull you against him.
Within seconds Joel had you in his lap.
You were still asking yourself when he had taken his clothes off when he impaled you on his cock, groaning at the feeling.
He moved you on top of him, his eyes fixed on your tits before he leaned in again, sucking on your other nipple and you shivered. He hummed as he sucked on your tit, your milk filling his mouth, the sensation so foreign, yet so fucking good.
There was a knock on the door and he released your nipple with a plop, his cock thrusting up into you.
„Whatever it is, ask Tommy. I’m busy,“ he yelled, slapping your ass and you moaned loudly.
„You been a good slut for Tommy?“ He asked you and you nodded.
„He taste you?“ He asked and you shook your head.
„Good,“ he hummed, his face leaning back down against your tits again.
„Cause this is mine,“ he grunted before he pulled one of your nipples into his mouth again.
„Yours,“ you gasped with a smile.
#my fic#Joel Miller#Joel Miller x fem reader#Tommy Miller#Tommy Miller x fem. reader#tlou#pedro pascal#gabriel luna#raider!joel#raider!tommy#fanfiction#fanfic#fan fiction
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Taking Care of a Difficult Child - Mayoi Ayase Feature Scout 2 4* Story
[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su♪ ]
Warning: This is a Fan TL and is not proofread.
Characters: Mayoi, Tomoya, Tatsumi
Season: Winter
Mayoi: So you're asking m-me to take care of Hokuto-senpai?
Tomoya: I'm sorry to ask so suddenly. It turned out that our next location wasn't going to be a day trip.
I can't take Hokuto-senpai to work with me, and the pet shop manager hasn't returned to Japan yet, so...
I'm looking for someone who can take care of him until I return from work...
Mayoi: I see. I understand your situation.
Well... I'm very happy that you came to me for help, but...
I really don't think I'm suited to take care of Hokuto-senpai...!
Even when you first got Hokuto-senpai, I mostly spent time in another room so I wouldn't get in your way...
Um, umm... Can't you ask the people in "ANIMALS" for help, like you did before?
Tomoya: Well, I tried to ask them. But it looks like everyone already has plans on that day.
They can only be back by the evening...
Mayoi: And someone has to take care of Hokuto-senpai until then, right...
(Wh-what should I do? I more or less know how to take care of Hokuto-senpai, since I watched Mashiro-san doing it...)
(Even though I know how to care for him, I don't know if he'll listen to me at all.)
(Nevermind that, if something was to happen to Mashiro-san's precious Hokuto-senpai because I wasn't able to take care of him properly...)
Tomoya: ...I'm sorry, Ayase-senpai. I put you in a difficult position by asking something like this so suddenly.
Mayoi: No, I...
Tomoya: Please forget about it. I'll try and ask some other people as well.
Mayoi: (I've troubled Mashiro-san a lot, not only in the "Dead End Cafe", but also as a roommate...)
(I want to return the favor if I can...)
(After all, he came to me for help. There must have not been anyone else that he could ask.)
I, I got it!
Tomoya: Ayase-senpai...?
Mayoi: If the members of "ANIMALS" can make it towards the night...
I will accept the responsibility, and take care of Hokuto-senpaii!
Time: The next day
Mayoi: Then... Let's get along today, Hokuto-senpai ♪
(Since Tomoya-san is off to work, from here on, I have to take great care of him..!)
Uum, Mashiro-san already fed him, so next up...
Mayoi: Eek!? Hokuto-senpai cried out suddenly...! What's wrong!?
I'msorryI'msorryy, I know someone like me isn't fit to take care of you!
But please, be a little patient with me...!
Ah, where are you going...! Please waaiiit!
Tatsumi: (I'm relieved that my vegetables seem to be growing nicely♪)
(Right. Before I forget, let me send this picture I took to everyone in "Gardenia". Uuh, to attach an image...)
(...Hm? There's a familiar crying sound coming from somewhere.)
(The source of the voice... seems to be Mayoi-san and Tomoya-san's room. That means...)
Mayoi-san, Tomoya-san. It sounds like Hokuto-senpai is crying. Did something happen?
(No answer. I can still hear the crying, but no sound from Mayoi-san or anyone else...)
(I'll have to invite myself in, Mayoi-san!)
Tatsumi: This is!? Mayoi-san, are you okay!?
Mayoi: Uuu...?
Tatsumi: Why did you collapse in the room like this!?
Where is Tomoya-san!? What exactly happened here!?
Mayoi: ...Ah, God must be so merciful as to allow even a person such as myself to receive a final call of fate...
Tatsumi: Please hang on! This isn't a final call of anything!
Mayoi: Uuu... I'm sorry to make you worry like this...
I was so deeply focused on taking good care of Hokuto-senpai, I forgot to take care of myself, even to eat...
But I never thought that I'd pass out... If Tatsumi-san didn't find me, who knows what would have become of me...
Tatsumi: You're exaggarating. However, I'm relieved that you seem better now.
Mayoi: You even made toast for me. Thank you so much, really.
Tatsumi: It's Hokuto-senpai that you should thank. I was alerted to the situation thanks to his cries.
Mayoi: I-is that so. Thank you, Hokuto-sen--
Eek!? Why are you screaming so much? Did, did I do something to offend you...?
Uuu, you really won't listen to me...
What do I do... At this rate, we won't even make it until everyone from "ANIMALS" arrives.
Tatsumi: Please raise your head, Mayoi-san.
Tatsumi: Hokuto-senpai is yelling at me as well, it's not because of you.
I heard from Koga-san that the reason why Tomoya-san started to call him "Hokuto-senpai" was to get him to listen.
He seems to have a bit of a difficult personality, right? We need to get him to let his guard down first.
Mayoi: Let his guard down, huh... But, how...
Tatsumi: That's right. Is there anything that Tomoya-san uses regularly when taking care of him?
Mayoi: Well, there's a blanket on the bed over there, but...
Tatsumi: I heard that having an item around that carries their smell, or their owner's smell, is calming for animals.
Using that, maybe we can try and see whether we can get Hokuto-senpai to lower his guard?
Mayoi: I see...! It's bath time right now, so I'll try to take him to the bathroom with the blanket!
He-here! This way, Hokuto-senpai! It's bath time now♪
Ah, he's walking this way...!
....but, ahh! He completely stopped in his tracks!
Tatsumi: Hm, it's not going all that well.
Mayoi: N-no! When I take a step back, he also takes a step forward...! I just can't get any closer to him!
Tatsumi: That's fine. We can work like this until Koga-san and the others arrive.
Mayoi: Yes! Like this, I'll succeed in taking care of Hokuto-senpai properly ♪
Tatsumi: That's right, keep going, Mayoi-san.
Tomoya: ...Ah. Akehoshi-senpai sent me a text.
"Hokuto-senpai's doing just fine~!", it says.
Hm, there's a picture attached too... This is, Ayase-senpai feeding Hokuto-senpai?
I'm glad that Hokuto-senpai seems to be listening to Ayase-senpai seriously...
I have to thank Ayase-senpai properly. Let's get him a nice souvenir before returning home ♪
Tomoya: ....That aside, why does Ayase-senpai seem to be holding my clothes that should have been in the laundry basket?
[ ☆ ]
#mayoi ayase#tatsumi kazehaya#tomoya mashiro#enstars#mayoi ayase idol story#ensemble stars translations#idol story
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hello, love your work!!
would you mind making a version of the "...weren't we dating already?" ask but with the bachelorettes? can be of your choice, but please include Haley and Daia!!
thank you!! have a wonderful day :]
Sure! Thanks for the ask and have a wonderful day as well! ☺️💕
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Haley:
A beautiful clear day with no hint of rain clouds, a cool breeze to escape the summer heat, beautiful sunflowers blooming - Haley was so happy with how good a day it was for a photo shoot. And importantly, a photo shoot with Farmer, a person she used to think was a weirdo in perpetually dirty overalls, but so charming, sweet and kind that Haley's " spoiled mean girl" wrapper immediately melted away. It's been four months since they're dating, and their interest in each other is growing even more.
The blonde-haired girl was jumping up and down with joy as she checked her camera and caught such beautiful pictures that they didn't even require any editing on the computer. They were both in the photo hugging each other and looking so cute, hee hee..... Just like happy lovers should look. Another photo for her collection!
The Farmer is also so happy because of the lucky shots, looking at the photo that Haley showed them.
"There's another reason I agreed to do a photo shoot with you today," the girl's attention was immediately turned to Farmer. "Would you, heh... Would you want us to be more than just friends? Because... I like you a lot. You're a great, beautiful, smart and funny, and I-" Farmer abruptly ended the conversation as soon as they noticed that the smile on the girl's face had slipped and she was now looking at them with slight irritation. Taking this as a bad sign, Farmer immediately started apologising, then Haley put her hand up, ordering them to be quiet, and pulled out her phone. Opening up her social media account, she gave Farmer for them to read.
On the very front page, Haley's status was written in black and white: "Dating Farmer 😘❤️".
"Hold on... Are we-"
"You're so silly!" Haley's ringing laughter was music to Farmer's ears. Though their cheeks flushed with blush from the awkwardness of the situation, the warm gaze of the girl's azure eyes that looked at them with love made them realize that they were the luckiest and happiest person in the whole world.
Penny:
Autumn picnic... It had been a long time since Penny had been to a picnic where she devoted her time to herself rather than teaching the kids (don't get her wrong, she loves being a teacher!). For her, and Farmer, the lovely partner she's been dating for two months now. Sitting on a picnic blanket in the woods, the young teacher poured hot tea from a thermos into two mugs while Farmer arranged sandwiches, sweets and healthy snacks on plates. It was still early autumn, so it was possible to enjoy nature for hours without fear of the cold wind or low temperature.
The girl always felt so alive and happy around Farmer. Some part of her still couldn't believe that they were able to not only become friends, but to become something more.
Penny enjoyed telling the Farmer about her day, the new dish she had invented and how Jas and Vincent had managed to get the highest score in maths, and she didn't forget to listen to the adventures of the chaotic farmer themself, how they had fought monsters and grown a pumpkin the size of a car.
During this conversation, Farmer set their tea cup down on the grass and took Penny's hand in their hands.
"Words can't tell you how much I like you. I've been thinking for two months now, and.... Heh, not very good with words..." The Farmer took a deep breath. "Do you want to be my girlfriend? Do you want to be something more than friends?"
"Yes! I agr- Wait." Out of happiness, Penny didn't immediately realise their words, hovering somewhere in the clouds. "But... we're already dating."
"....We've been dating?"
"Grown-ups can be so silly." Farmer and Penny almost jumped at the sound of someone else's voice from behind the nearest bush.
"Jas! Vincent! It's not nice to eavesdrop!" As much as Penny tried to sound stern, Farmer's laughter at this funny situation was contagious, and she was already giggling quietly too, trying to hide the smile with her hand. The children crawled out from under the bushes and looked at the two adults, unable to stop giggling as well.
Daia:
"I knew you'd always find something fun for us to do!" Farmer could have argued with Daia that fighting monsters in Ridge Forest was hardly a pleasant pastime, but they were too busy swinging their sword and fending off another attack from the clawed paws. As if in a dance, the ninja girl struck the serpent beasts with her katana, not giving the monsters a chance to strike.
"That musk idea was a good one after all! Now we'll have enough loot for the Lady's task." Actually, it was Daia who was assigned this task, the Farmer was participating here voluntarily. The young daredevil decided that today was the day they wanted to offer the fearless girl, the object of their admiration, to be their girlfriend. Even if it meant dousing themself in stinking liquid and becoming monster bait. What one wouldn't do for love...
"We make a great team! And you're so hot when you're in battle~" even in a tense fight, the girl could make Farmer's face blush.
"Heh, maybe I'll show you something more, and in a nicer place. If you want to be my girlfriend..."
For a second, Daia looked at them in surprise, and then burst out laughing so loudly that even the surviving monsters were slightly taken aback by such a strange reaction from their enemy.
"We've actually been a couple for half a year now! Or, at least, that's what I thought." With a swing of the katana, the remaining monsters were defeated. "And how did that happen, hmm?"
"I- I thought everything between us before was friendly!" Farmer turned away, unable to bear Daia's teasing stare.
"And those bushes we decided to 'explore together' yesterday - was that friendship too?" the girl smiled, watching with amusement as Farmer hid their face in their hands. She stepped close to them, taking their hands in hers, and kissed them gently on the lips.
"Well then, cutie, it's official now."
#stardew valley#sdv#ridgeside village#rsv#sdv haley#sdv penny#rsv daia#sdv headcanons#rsv headcanons#thanks for the ask!
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Season of the Witch - Part Three
Masterlist
Pairing: Sam Kiszka x F!Reader, Danny Wagner x F!Reader
Synopsis: Danny always told you, you shouldn't play with things you don't fully understand. When trying your hand at magic, you accidentally summon something more than you bargained for. Now stuck, you try to find a way to rid yourself of him, but what if the only way of ridding yourself of him is dying?
Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of witchcraft, angst, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!
WC: 3417
The afternoon and evening had been interesting to say the least. Once you’d arrived back to your apartment, Samuel took it upon himself to roam around the small layout. He seemed particularly keen to study your bookshelf, gingerly touching the spines of the books there as he glanced at them. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you plopped onto your couch, watching him as he moved about.
The way he moved was interesting. Sam didn’t walk, his limbs moved too fluidly to count it as walking. Instead he glided, damn near floated as he made his way through your belongings. Had you had the same body height and wingspan he did, you’d have been a bull in a china shop, constantly knocking things over, tripping over your own feet. Yet Sam maneuvered himself with an otherworldly grace, something that couldn’t be taught or learned.
“Who is this?” snapping you out of your thoughts, Sam tapped the glass on a picture frame that rested on your bookshelf. He recognized a slightly younger version of yourself, though the wide, happy grin on your face was unfamiliar to him at this point in your…whatever this was.
You stood up, moving over to where he stood and lifting the photo. Next to you, arm slung around your shoulders, was your mother. Her smile was just as big, if not more captivating. You recalled the memory of the day, and suddenly the words were spilling from your mouth.
“That’s my mom,” you smiled softly, though you felt your stomach twist slightly. “This was a few years ago, we took a trip to this gorgeous little cabin, it was surrounded by lilacs, and we had booked just at the right time. They were all blooming. We kept the windows open all day and night just inhaling the scent. It was so beautiful.” you felt your smile fall as you remembered what followed that trip, and set the photo back on the shelf.
“Is it not a happy memory?” Sam’s dark eyes were locked on you, studying you.
“It is,” you avoided his gaze best you could, shoving your hands into the front pockets of your pants. “One of my favorites.”
“Then why-“
“She’s gone.” you cut him off. Ripping the bandaid off the wound, still raw and irritated from your own refusal to deal with it. “She passed away a year ago.” Sam stiffened, straightening up as he glanced over at the photo.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. You assumed it would be a half assed condolence, and in a way it was, though it didn’t feel as empty as you thought it would. “She was very beautiful…you look a lot like her.” You didn’t reply, just gazed at the light reflecting off the red satin that adorned his legs.
“We should get you some clothes, since you’ll be hanging around for a while.” you turned, glad you kept your shoes on for the few minutes you were home. Grabbing your bag from your spot on the couch, you slung the strap over your shoulder. Sam stayed in place at the bookshelf, and you turned, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Are you coming with, or are you trusting me to pick out your clothes?”
“I’m coming,” he moved to follow you, once again taking up residence in your passenger seat. The air was heavy in the car, more so than it had been earlier when you’d been on your way to find a way to get rid of him.
“How did she die?” Sam broke the tension. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes, heat prickling your neck at his audacity.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” you shook your head, flicking up the turn signal and checking traffic to pull onto another street.
“Where’s your dad?” Sam, instead of dropping the subject, decided to change the question.
“Sam,” a soft warning.
“Do you have any brothers? Sisters?”
“Sam!” You nearly slammed the brakes at a red light, the force tossing both your bodies forward as much as it could with your seatbelts, anything to stop his prying. “I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” Sam stared at you.
“Death is a natural part of life. You shouldn’t shy away from it.” Sam sniffed. You rolled your eyes so hard you swore you got a headache from it.
“I live with it every hour of every day.” you replied lowly. “Now drop it.”
“Fine,” it was as if the conversation was nothing to him, simply asking about a change in the weather pattern as opposed to your family history.
“Good…will?” Sam stared at the sign above the store as you parked, one of few cars in the shopping plaza mid-day.
“Yes,” was all you replied, turning your ignition off. You didn’t wait for him as you exited the car and began walking to the store. You knew already in the few short hours he’d been around, he would never let you get too far without him.
The fluorescent lights of the store almost immediately stung your eyes, the slightly musty smell invading your nostrils. You found yourself drawn to a small display of old holiday decor, Halloween mixed in with Valentine’s Day and Christmas.
“You expect me to find suitable clothing here?” Sam’s voice was full of distaste as you turned to entertain his complaint. His brows were knit together as he glanced at the racks of clothing behind him.
“Yes,” you replied flatly, lowering your voice to a near-hiss. “I wasn’t exactly rich before you showed up, but I especially don’t have money to go buy you any fancy clothes. This is what I can afford, got it?” Sam locked eyes with you momentarily before sighing, muttering to himself as he moved toward a rack.
Surprisingly, Sam kept his mouth shut as he thumbed through the clothing, though his face couldn’t hold back from expressing his innermost thoughts. Only a few items piqued his interest, draping them over his arm while you browsed around the books and movies, debating if you could spare the three dollars on the dvd of a movie you hadn’t seen in a long time, but weren’t sure you wanted to purchase fully.
“These are satisfactory.” he cleared his throat. You nodded, setting the movie on the rack before heading over to the checkout, watching the young girl ogle Sam, who was more intrigued by the bright feathery novelty pen sitting in her pen cup. Once the transaction was complete, she practically shoved the bag into your arms as she stared at him, Sam finally noticing and grinning.
“Have a good day,” he pressed a hand to your back as he bid the swooning girl goodbye, the only other acknowledgement he gave her as he ushered you out of the store. Sam took the bag from your arms, holding it lazily in one hand, keeping his palm flat against your spine. Down the shopping plaza there was a dollar store, and guided him into it, gesturing to the toiletries. Sam picked apart every soap scent and every toothpaste, particularly having an internal struggle on if he was going to prefer mint or cinnamon toothpaste.
He tossed the latter in with the rest of his things, perusing the deodorants and body sprays, scrunching his nose at the pungent scents.
“Don’t get that one,” you stopped him from reaching for a can with a buck on it. “It smells rancid.” Sam took note of your advice, moving down the row a bit. He reached out again, and you spoke up. “That one will make you smell like you drowned in a vat of sandalwood after one spritz.”
“A connoisseur of gentlemen’s cologones?” Sam asked, only slightly mocking.
“I’d rather not have my home smell like a teenage boy trying to cover his BO, thank you.” you replied back. This seemed to put a dent in the sarcastic armor he wore, his attitude towards the sprays less than enthusiastic now. The two of you continued shopping for a short while longer before he took the basket from your arm and hooked it on his own, heading toward the register.
His demeanor stayed sour from your jab all the way home, where he took the bags from the dollar store and breezed past you, entering the bathroom and proceeding to lock himself in. The bag of clothes from the charity shop was in your hands, and you decided to start a load of laundry, tossing them in along with your clothes. The shower was running in the bathroom as you passed it with your basket, and you could feel the humid air from the hot water start to seep from the cracks around the door, prickling your skin.
When you came back from the communal laundry room, you stood in the center of your apartment. You weren’t sure exactly what to do with yourself again. It felt callous to turn on the TV and start watching something. But, what else was there for you to do? You plopped down on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on the television. The picture was crystal clear, almost better in fact, like it had never laid shattered on the floor of your living room. You flipped through the channels, settling on an old slapstick comedy to keep your attention.
You weren’t sure how long you’d been watching the screen, not really taking in the film but letting your mind wander, wondering if Danny or his contacts could figure out a way out of your situation. You were startled by Sam, clearing his throat as he stood at the arm of the couch. He looked…positively normal. A pair of deep, navy blue pajama pants adorned his legs, a gray t-shirt covered his torso. His long hair was damp, and you decided to ignore the whiff you caught of your leave-in conditioner floating from it.
“Your shower has very good water pressure.” he complimented. You nodded in agreement.
“That’s why I pay more than the place is worth every month.” you half-heartedly joked. The corner of Sam’s lip twitched, though there was no smile. Instead he took himself over to your kitchen, opening the fridge and bending in half at the waist to peer in. You watched him rummage the meager contents until he pulled out a half-full container of cherry tomatoes that had been on the brink of wrinkling, and the jar of minced garlic you always had on hand.
Getting up, you moved towards the kitchen, watching him as he helped himself to your cupboards, finding your pots and pans and cutting board. He opened the drawer you had stashed the large kitchen knife in, a soft smirk flickering at the corner of his mouth as he gripped the handle.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m cooking us a meal,” Sam replied nonchalantly, dumping out the tub of tomatoes and setting to work on slicing them in half. “I forgot how fast human bodies burn through energy.”
“Is-is this your first human body?” your voice was quiet, a nervous tremble on your lips as you asked. Sam’s lips spread into a sly smile as he glanced up at you from his task.
“Yes, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been human in it.” you could almost feel the laugh he held back as your confusion. “This is the form I enter your realm in. It always has been.”
“Do you come here often?”
“Only when I’m summoned,”
“How often is that?”
“You have a lot of questions, you know that?”
“You have a lot of vague un-answers.” your reply made him snort, setting down the knife before scooping up the halved tomatoes in his large hands, letting them fall into the saucepan with some olive oil.
“I have answered a call or two in my lifetime.” he replied, causing you to roll your eyes.
“Were you bound to those people too?”
“No,” Sam shook his head. “Those people used the right ritual.” A cherry tomato half soared the small space between the two of you, thumping onto his shoulder and leaving a dark mark on his shirt. “Hey!”
He continued to move about the kitchen, adding salt and pepper to the cooking down tomatoes, a sauce beginning to simmer. The garlic and onion he added filled the apartment with a fragrance that made your stomach rumble. Wordlessly, you grabbed the pot from the stove and moved to the sink, filling it with water. Moving back to the stove in the small space, you reached for the knob to turn the burner on, when Sam’s hand stopped you.
“What?”
“Light it,” Sam nodded to the burner. You gave him an incredulous look.
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” your tone was snotty, but Sam ignored it.
“Not like that, with your power.”
“What power?” you huffed, trying to reach for the knob again. Sam stopped you again.
“You lit something on fire this morning, you can do it again,” he urged.
“Sam, I told you, it was a trick of the light.” you insisted, pulling back your hand. He stared at you, almost blankly until his eyes scanned you, and with a nod he turned back to the stove, stirring around the thin sauce, adding seasonings he’d taken from the small spice rack on your counter.
“My little fawn, you may be able to lie to yourself but I know what I saw.” Sam gave you a look from the corner of his eyes before briefly gesturing to the stove, flames rising under the pot. You let the silence settle between you both for a moment, the only sound was the wooden spoon scraping gently against the bottom of the pan, sauce simmering around it.
You had moved to grab a package of noodles from a cupboard, opening it as the water in the pot began to boil. Sam was turned, the spoon he was stirring with raised, one of his hands underneath to catch any spilled droplets. He said nothing, merely gestured towards you with the utensil. Against your better judgment, you leaned forward, letting your lips meet the edge of the spoon. The sauce was delicious, for how few ingredients you had available. It was rich, the basil and oregano he had added warming your tongue.
“It’s good,” was all you said, licking your lips as Sam smirked knowingly. You finished the task you had started, dropping the noodles into the large pot, grabbing another large spoon and stirring them a bit, before adding a healthy pinch of salt to the water. Sam continued to stir the sauce gently, turning down the heat as you tested a few noodles before confirming their doneness. He stood back as you took the pot back to the sink, pouring out the noodles into a strainer before bringing it back. Sam shooed you away as he lifted the saucepan and poured it on top of the noodles.
Again he helped himself to your cupboards, fishing out two plates, and scooping the pasta onto them, before finding two forks, placing them on the plates. He picked them up, gliding into the living room and setting them down on your small coffee table. Unlike Danny, you’d never gotten around to having a kitchen table of any sort, finding most of your meals were alone on the couch or over the sink.
“I should go get your clothes from the wash,” you said quietly. You left the apartment, going to the laundry room and fishing Sam’s clothes from the washing machine and into the dryer. Once you were back, Sam stood up from the couch, almost startling you.
“You okay?” Sam nodded, gesturing to the pasta, still steaming on the plates.
“I waited for you,” you gave him a half-smile, coming around the coffee table and taking a seat on the edge of the couch. Sam followed your suit, clearing his throat as he reached forward. He had taken it upon himself to grab napkins, which in your home were just flimsy pieces of cheap paper towel, and spread one over his knee, before staring at you.
“Oh,” you leaned forward, grabbing your own “napkin” and spreading it over your leg too. He seemed satisfied and took his plate in his large hands, picking up the fork and beginning to swirl the tines in the noodles. Following suit, you gathered the pasta onto your fork and blew on it gently before taking the bite. You let out a small hum of approval not realizing that Sam was once again watching you, before digging back into his meal.
The two of you ate in silence for a bit before he cleared his throat.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” you shot him a look, wary in the small space between your bodies on the couch. “What made you try to cast a spell like that?”
Heat flamed in your cheeks. In the moment, the idea had been brilliant. However, facing the consequences had you nearly squirming in embarrassment.
“I was trying to curse my ex.” you mumbled, hastily shoving more food in your mouth. Sam regarded you carefully before proceeding.
“What did they do to make you so angry?”
“Cheated.” was all you replied, your appetite leaving you. The quiet between you was heavy and you cleared your throat. “I’ll be right back,” you placed your plate and napkin on the table, and stood up, going to your room. Shutting the door, you slipped your phone out of your pocket and dialed Danny’s number.
“I don’t have any answers yet,” was all he said when he picked up the call, disappointment in his voice.
“It’s okay,” you sighed. “I just wanted…I just wanted to apologize again. For lying to you and for dragging you into this mess.”
“I can’t say it’s not the worst one you’ve dragged me into,” Danny chuckled under his breath. “but one day we’ll laugh about it.”
“I hope so,” you bit the tip of your thumbnail, pacing a bit.
“Are you okay?” Danny asked softly.
“Yeah…just a little overwhelmed I think.”
“We’ll get you out of this, if it’s the last thing I do.” Danny assured you. “Get some rest, okay?”
“Rest, yeah.” you nodded, slightly distracted by the sound of dishes softly clattering out in your apartment. “I’ll talk to you later…and thanks, Danny.” hanging up with him, you went back out to the main room, seeing Sam in the kitchen. He was standing at the sink, rinsing off your plates and staring out the window boredly as he washed them. Since he was busy, you went back to your room, rifling through your closet and pulling out some old sheets and blankets. Grabbing a spare pillow from your bed, you headed back to the living room, and began setting up a bed on the couch.
“It’s not much, but,” you gestured to the set up once you were done, Sam entering the living room. “It’s better than nothing. At least tonight you have a pillow and blanket.”
“Thank you,” Sam quietly made his way over to the couch, pinching the blanket you’d laid out between his thumb and forefinger.
“Your clothes should be done in the dryer, I’ll go get them.” you moved towards the door but Sam stopped you.
“I’ll go,” he beat you to the door, his hand already turning the knob.
“The laundry room is on the left!” you called after him, watching the door shut. Leaving him to his laundry, you went to the bathroom, beginning to brush your teeth and wash your face before bed. You took your time between each step of your routine, letting it soothe your jangled nerves. Once finished, you left the bathroom, and only made it a step towards your bedroom before you heard Sam call out.
“Fawn?” Peeking around the corner, you saw Sam already under the blanket on the couch, his new clothes folded neatly in a pile on the coffee table.
“Yes, Sam?” you quirked an eyebrow. “Need a bedtime story?”
“No,” Sam shook his head. “I only wanted to say, your ex must’ve been incredibly asinine to have cheated.” heat rose to your cheeks again. “I hope you know that the real curse is for them not being with you now.”
“Thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, not sure how to feel about how Sam was speaking to you. “Goodnight, Sam.”
“Goodnight, little fawn.”
Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)
@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @myownparadise96 @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @jankandjonch @gvfpal
@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet@gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dammm1256 @jordie-gvf @demonrat444 @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @starcatcherxstevie @amethystars @jakesguitarsolo @lolidontknowwhat @lyndz2names @godly-sinsx @dannythedog @anthemheatwave @samomf
#sam kiszka#sam gvf#sam kiszka x reader#sam kiszka x y/n#greta van fleet#greta van fic#greta van fleet fan fiction#gvf fic#josh kiszka#danny wagner#jake kiszka#sam kiszka fanfiction
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Some g2s for yesterday’s lovely anon: two of my favourite celestial ponies 🌙✨🪐
#g2 was late 90s so maybe some of these were somewhat whimsigoth inspired?#my little pony g2#my little pony#mlp g2#g2 my little pony#mlp#pic#vintage my little pony#my little pony toys#whimsigoth#whimsigoth toys#princess crystal#magic diamond glow#very happy about how these pictures turned out
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the rot consumes me.
#homestuck#homestuck2#homestuck beyond canon#beyond canon#hs#hs2#karkat#karkat vantas#commander karkat#homestuck karkat#hs karkat#karkat fanart#I’m very happy with how this turned out#it was a sketch and then I spent 2 hours cleaning it up#also I tried to make him a himbo sorry not sorry#I also headcanon he has a locket with Dave’s picture after he finds out but I didn’t include it bc spoilers#maybe I’ll do a future comic about it#also yeah I believe he lost an eye hence the eyepatch so I tried to represent that without being too graphic#dont ask me who the bite is from I couldn’t tell you
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My toxic trait is that I like how my incomplete drawings look better than the finished things
#im sorry i cant be her (my searching lines)#i cant stop thinking about this drawing i have a sinking feeling that im gonna be very unhappy when its done#or. not unhappy. but not as excited as i feel about it now!#i only worked in two short chunks on it but both were pretty productive#i have a feeling that when i take the time to really dedicate myself to it im gonna fuck something up#like i can see areas i need to/can improve already but the glaring flaws are ok! bc it's not finished!#it OVERALL looks cool and LOOKS like it has the potential to turn out well#but will it... WILL IT??? WILL IT EVER?#i have never been so totally completely satisfied w any finished drawing ive dedicated myself to fully.#tales from diana#this is also only the second time ive done a really deliberate self-portrait that wasnt in some for or another. practice#like of course ive drawn my face before. not that often actually. but since yes i do draw. i have drawn myself#i probably should've drawn myself more times for how often i think id like a nice picture of myself#but then again its not gonna be so 'nice' if i make it and am not totally happy w it?#see one of the ppl who inspired me to learn to draw is ned @sneez my dearest. he's spoiled me before#and drawn me very beautifully on several occasions and it's very much a thing to move one's heart#to see someone dedicate their talent to depicting YOU.#and i might say HE has made me look more beautiful in art than i think i'll ever look in the flesh#which is not to say he drew me inaccurately. but he's so talented that his art is more beautiful than life.#and i dont compare myself in skill to him bc he's been doing it for YEARS and way more trained than me in the visual arts.#like it simply wouldn't be fair so i only compare myself to myself. naturally#but i used to think. very VAINLY i might say. that if i could draw like him id draw beautiful pictures of myself all the time#well ce n'est pas ca mon ami. since learning to draw i've found im much more interested in drawing ppl i find beautiful#rather than myself. im not art. not through my own eyes at least.#i should really draw ned sometime. i really should.#actually somewhat embarrasingly i tried to draw him like 5 or 6 years ago. and i NEVER tried to draw then#i did show him tho and he thought it was very impressive but that's probably just bc he loves me. xoxox#maybe ill post that someday as a throwback just for the hell of it. lol. thatd be cute
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☀️ Kero chan amigurumi ☀️
Made by me using this wonderful pattern
#ccs#cardcaptor sakura#kero chan#kerochan#crochet#amigurimi#I’ve always wanted my very own Kero and I’m so happy I was able to make him!!!!#I’ve been wanting to post these pictures for months but always forgot dhsja I’m a mess#but I’m so happy about how it turned out??? i love it so much!!!#also in the background there’s my Sakura’s staff that i got for a Christmas when I was a kid and that is still treasure to this day!
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something difficult about writing/storytelling but only in short disconnected bursts is that writing anything longform is very difficult. there isn't as much time to practice long-term character development or subtlety (implying character instead of immediately clarifying) when its not really meant to go anywhere but a notes app. its a little frustrating...i'd love to do something more longform though. i've considered maybe just doing some short writing scenes in my various original universes a lot recently mostly because i just havent had time to draw anything fancy recently </3 maybe that would be something...
#briefly talked about it with a coworker today bc i mentioned my brother makes music#and she got excited because she paints and she showed me some of her work (beautiful btw!!!)#and said she hopes he pursues music and doesnt get his heart crushed by retail like we do#we still make things but ive been thinking about it...it really is like#i feel like ive had less TIME to make things but ive also developed more interest in my own ideas#and in constructing them on their own terms. its hard to describe and even harder to share because its#not churning out fanart for a response i guess?#i dont know. i do feel more satisfied with what im planning but theres less to share#anyway i promised her i'd show her my art sometime so essentially i have to flee the country now#she does lovely work she paints pictures of pets and it seems so nice. she seems so happy with it!#its like...i love it. im a little jealous of it. i feel so much pressure to Do Something New with my art#try to craft scenes and settings (i think setting is such ann important part of storytelling but i have so much trouble drawing it!)#and try new compositions and poses and just not have everything look the same all the time#its led to a lot of work im proud of but its also hard to create under those expectations...#i wish i could find a niche and settle into it comfortably. i think fun character drawings could be that for me#but its...it frustrates me to post those because it feels like if its easy and i like doing it and how it turns out then im not trying#okay i think im done now. sorry for these rambling introspective posts lately lol im#trying to warm back up to posting so i can use this website again (despite how very very bad it is)...#i want to see my frieeeeeends <//////3 i want to be here without running away <///3
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Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.
It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.
To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.
This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.
Join me below, if you would.
2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.
Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.
It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.
But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.
The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.
“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”
“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”
We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.
"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?
The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.
We had slightly miscalculated.
Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.
“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”
“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”
“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”
“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”
And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.
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We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.
It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.
At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.
Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.
So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.
“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.
“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.
Monday is the last day to do this, after all.
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So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.
The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.
“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”
So.
Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?
Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.
It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).
Then it starts to rain.
We had not dressed for rain.
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Here is how the next six hours go.
We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.
Everyone is so happy.
Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.
People online start making delivery orders.
Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.
A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.
The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.
A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.
Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.
00000
We have Line Neighbors.
Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.
The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.
Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”
“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”
“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”
My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.
“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.
“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”
We stay in line.
It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.
The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.
We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.
It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.
They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.
We still have a -long- way to go.
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They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.
It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”
We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.
We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.
I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.
The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.
Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.
The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.
A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“
The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”
We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.
If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.
That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.
There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.
We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)
I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.
There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.
Then we're married.
Then we get in line to get our license.
It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.
Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.
We make it to the marriage records office.
I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.
It's almost 3PM.
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There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.
We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.
I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”
He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.
Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.
We get back to our car and climb in.
It’s 4:30 and we are starving.
There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.
We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.
We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.
The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.
My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”
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It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”
But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.
It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.
I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.
We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.
Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.
It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.
Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"
And that was that.
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When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.
I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.
I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.
I never thought I’d live in this world.
And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.
I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.
The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.
And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.
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i finished another nendoroid :)
#txt#nendo.txt#tbh... i like the first one i did better BUT im happy with how this one came out too !!!#their hair was much harder to sculpt . woes of being a very shape focused 2d artist is i make impossible hair#these are so fun to do you have no idea#it also brings me so much joy to have figures of my ocs!!#the first one i made and the next one im making are two of my dearest ocs so having them will be so !! yippee#i feel like it sounds like im being a hater about this one :0 im not meaning to im just excited for the next one#i want a big set of oc nendos .. this is my life mission#someone send me $150 ok :)#only picture u get of this one rn because the lighting conditions in my house r so bad today this is#the best i could get one to turn out 😞#its funny cuz i took another pic in front of my bookshelf again (not included) and my number of WHA books went up since the first 😭#my two expensive collections
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