#‘I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again’ for a fic that starts while they’re waiting to be reunited PLEASE!!!!

[overnighttosunflowers]

a moment for the song “mystery” by the indigo girls, please, for offering me the perfect title for every thought’s a possibility

[aviawrites]

when we were teenagers (challengers)

pairings/relationships: tashi duncan x sister!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: Tashi Duncan’s younger sister, Ava Duncan, never gets a chance to be seen past her sister’s shadow. When Ava gets injured and Tashi starts gaining fame, the two become more and more at odds with each other. Tashi juggles Art and Patrick while Ava struggles to keep up. When over a decade passes and a peace isn’t reached, either the Donaldsons or Zweigs, either Tashi or Ava, has to come out on top. (7.2k)

a/n: you know the movie was good when you have to rewatch so you have all the info for the fic🥴 with that being said, the dates and stuff may be a little off but i did my best with what wikipedia had to offer. regardless, im a patrick zweig stan 4L. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: description of injury, allusions to sex/almost a smut scene, swearing

in this story, yn is: Ava Duncan

March 16, 2006 //📍home, 9:35pm

The goofy grin on the brunette’s face and the blond’s childish giggle replays over and over in your head. Your mother’s muffled snores mix with Art’s laughs as a smile grows on your face, your eyes closed. 

You’ve found yourself in this position too many times, imagining what could’ve been if the cute guys were eyeing you rather than your sister. But you’ve experienced it enough times to not even be hurt by it anymore. No guys approach you at volleyball events, especially not hot ones. So if anything, you find some comfort in lying upside down on the corduroy couch making up scenarios in your head. 

The click of the front door forces your eyes open, sitting upright and perking up like a dog as your sister tip toes through the door.  

“So…” You rest your chin on your fist, “Which one was it?”

“Shh,” Tashi smiles, pointing to your mom’s closed door. “Which one was what?”

“Come on,” You continue as she stands in front of you, “Which one did you…Y’know.”

“Oh my- Neither of them, Ava.”

“What!?”

“Shh!”

You lower your tone, “Seriously? You were alone with them both and didn’t make a move?”

“It wasn’t like that.” She laughs, “They’re like…I dunno, they’re weird.”

You scrunch your face up, “What, are they gay?”

She pauses, cocking her head.

“They’re actually gay?”

“No, no they’re not.” She giggles, “I just didn’t do anything with them. I mean we kissed but that’s it.” 

“Did you kiss the blond?” You interrogate, “I really like the blond…”

“His name is Art and I kissed them both.” She smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”

Tashi laughs at you, plopping next to you on the couch and resting her legs across yours.

“They did ask for my number again.”

“What’d you tell them?” You stroke her leg.

“I said whoever wins the match tomorrow gets it.”

“God, I wish.” You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’d kill to see Art just one more time…”

———

May 15th, 2006 //📍home, 6:00pm

You wince as your mom tightens the brace, covering your face in frustration.

“It’s okay, baby.” She kisses your head, “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”

You nod as she presses one more kiss onto your hair before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

Almost every athlete you know has been injured before, half of the girls on your team are covered in braces and tape all season. A torn ACL seems more like a right of passage than a serious and life changing injury. But when you heard the pop and felt the ligament rip, it was almost immediate; The realization that you very well may never play again. You’re not sure if yours was worse than others or if you’re just weaker, but the trauma of the blistering pain has turned you away from getting back on the court for the last month. 

You already can tell who’s on the other side of the door from the lack of a knock. You internally sigh, wanting to be left alone, as Tashi sits at the foot of your bed. 

“Hey, I was thinking we could go to the courts today. I could practice with you.” 

“Tashi…”

“I know you haven’t been wanting to go but since you just hit a month I was thinking, you know, maybe you’d want to start working again.”

You shake your head, “Tashi, I don’t think I’m ready.”

“When will you be?” She asks, her voice stern.

You stare at her, “I don’t know, Tashi. Why?”

��I’m just saying Ava, it’s not good to stop for this long. Some people never get back out there and you have to at least try.”

“I am trying.” You raise your voice, “My insides tore apart. Sorry if I’m not eager to put pressure on myself again.”

“There’s no pressure I’m just asking you to get up and at least walk on a court again.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I’m fucking scared, Tashi!” You shout, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m fucking scared of it happening again! I am not ready!”

She stares at you, a look that you can only describe as disgust on her face.

“…You don’t even want to drive out there just to see-“

“Get out.” You cover your eyes, a headache creeping up on you.

“Ava, I’m not going to let you waste away in here-“

“Get out of my room or I’m calling mom.” You stare back at her, “Go.” 

She stands, giving you one last look of disapproval before leaving, slighting slamming your door behind her.

———

September 18th, 2006 //📍Stanford Tennis Courts, 5:00pm

“Passing…Down the line…Cross…”

Tashi’s grunts echo throughout the court as you throw shots at her, a pile of green tennis balls forming behind you. It took a few weeks but she got you back on the court, just not the volleyball courts. You’ve watched Tashi’s practices long enough to know the game, so when you reluctantly offered to help her train, she jumped at the opportunity.

You zone out, robotically tossing the balls as Tashi dashes across the court. You silently hope for a specific someone show up. Patrick Zweig had your sister in his phone and occasionally in his bed, but Art Donaldson was a free man. The only Duncan in his phone was Ava, an achievement that you pride yourself on even weeks later. 

Sure, the two of you aren’t a thing, not the way Tashi and Patrick are. But you’re happy to be anything with Art, so the talking stage that you seem to be stuck in doesn’t bother you at all. You can only pray that it’ll blossom into something. Something meaning you being Ava Donaldson in the near future.

As if you summoned him, a very familiar blond boy opens the wire door, locking eyes with you. Your heart skips a beat when he waves at you, your hand immediately dropping the ball and waving back.

Your sister turns around to see Art, a smile growing on her face as she walks over to him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug as you watch. They barely pull away before Tashi begins chatting, her face too close to his for your liking. 

Across the court, they’re too far for you to hear their conversation. But judging from Art’s hand draped over her waist and her arm resting on his shoulder, you see enough to be angry. You can only look down, waiting for the conversation, along with your humiliation, to end. 

After an abundance of giggles, Art turns and walks away, giving you another wave. 

“I’ll see you.” He smiles.

You purse your lips, terribly embarrassed as you nod, “Yeah. Good seeing you, Art.”

The door shuts and with it, your smile drops. Tashi gets back into position like nothing happened, waiting with her racquet. Playing along, you throw her the ball. Only, you don’t call the drill. You throw with a little more force and much more unpredictability as the anger in you rises. 

“Ava…” Tashi calls, frantically chasing the ball. 

It’s only when the ball flies past her head, barely missing her, that she stops.

“Ava, what the fuck!?”

She walks toward you, meeting you at the net.

She shrugs, “What’s up, what’s going on?”

“Are you serious?”

She only looks at you, confused.

“Tashi, come on. You were literally all over him.”

“Wh- Art?” She deciphers, “Oh, Ava my bad I didn’t mean- I really didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, sure you didn’t.”

“Seriously, I didn’t. He’s my friend I was just saying hey.”

“Saying hey with your arms around each other? That’s bullshit, just say you still like him.” You look down, mumbling. “It’s fine, it’s just annoying that you go after every guy I like knowing they’ll choose you.”

“Hey…” Tashi softens her tone, stepping over the net and nearing you. “Ava.”

“What?” You look at the ground.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” She insists, “I’m just stressed with school and stuff, he’s the only one who gets it.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for ‘I’m stressed,’ to be the excuse for going after your guy. “It’s not like I go to school too or anything.”

“No, I know you do. It’s just…Stanford’s different, you know?”

“Whatever.”

“Ava,” She lifts your chin to look at her, “I’m sorry, okay?”

The two of you ogle at each other as she waits for an answer. She always does this, almost forces you into accepting her apology which you do not.

“We good?” She asks.

“…Yeah, sure.” You shrug, pulling away from her, “It’s whatever.”

Tashi just looks at you once more, seemingly satisfied as she steps back over the net. She gets back into position as you pick up another ball, a look still on your face.

“Down the line.”

———

December 21st, 2006 //📍Stanford Dining Hall, 12:00pm

“How many?” The employee asks.

“Umm, can I have three?” You lean on the counter, “Or four, actually.”

She reaches under the counter before handing you four mayo packets.

“Thanks.”

You start the walk back toward the table, Patrick having picked the one in the far back. He clearly hasn’t returned from the bathroom as you see Art and Tashi still sitting alone. As you near them, you catch a glimpse of their conversation.

“Don’t you think you deserve it?” Art asks, his eyes so focused on your sister that he doesn’t see you walking up. “I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?”

Tashi doesn’t respond, only angrily stands and walks away, nearly knocking you over. She passes you, smoke practically coming out of her ears. You watch her go before sitting where she was, handing Art the packets.

“Thanks.” He smiles, “Patrick still in there?”

“I guess so.” You laugh, insecurity lacing your voice as you simultaneously try to decode the conversation they were having.

“I’m so not surprised.” He takes the bun off of his burger and tears open the white packet with his teeth.

You watch him, hesitant to speak. Though, your words spill out before you can stop them.

“Do you ever wish Patrick let you win the match?” You ask.

Art looks up at you, mid squeeze. He cracks an unsure smile.

“What kind of question is that?” He laughs.

“I don’t know,” You do the same, tragically self conscious. “Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to date my sister or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You look down, fiddling with your fingers.

Art pauses, putting his burger down and placing his hands on yours.

“Hey,” He grabs your attention, “I’m here with you today. 

You smile, “No, I know. It’s just…She’s like better than me in every way so I wouldn’t blame you.” You chuckle.

“What? I don’t think so, I think you’re great.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get in to Stanford. Nor do I win all of the tennis tournament or-“

“Ava,” Art stops you, shaking your head. “You’re just as good as Tashi.”

Your eyes tread on each other as you try your hardest to believe him. But you do realize that this is the exact same way he looked at Tashi on the courts. 

The two of you are snapped out of it as Patrick returns, taking his seat next to Art.

“Sorry, they had like no toilet paper.”

“Oh good, thanks for letting us all know you took a shit, bud.” 

“Whatever. Ava doesn’t give a shit, right?”

“No,” You laugh, “You’re all good, Pat.”

———

📍Tashi’s dorm, 2:00pm

“So if he’s seeing other girls I won’t even fucking know now.” Tashi vents, stretching for her match.

You scroll on your phone, sitting at her desk. “It sounds like he was just trying to be nice, Tash. He was trying to help you out-“

“No, he’s not nice. Nothing about them is nice, Ava. They’re fucking weirdos, both of them. Art just hides behind this persona that he’s so caring and team Duncan when really he wants the same thing from me as Patrick.”

‘He wants the same thing from me.’

You sigh, tired of hearing the same things and watching her run back to them minutes later.

“Then stop complaining and fucking leave him already.” 

Tashi stops in her lunge, “What?”

“You keep complaining about them.” You grunt, “If you really didn’t want the attention you’d just drop them both.”

“If I didn’t want the attention?”

“Yes.” 

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” You say, irritated.

“Ava…” She stands up, looking down at you. You continue scrolling until your phone is snatched from you. “Hey.”

“What the-“

“Do you have something to say to me?”

“Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for it.

“No, say what you mean.”

“Really?” You grab for your phone once more but she pulls it away from you like a child, “Fuck - Okay, Tashi, all you talk about is how hard your life is. How hard training is for a tournament that you know you're going to win. How hard it is dating a famous and touring athlete. How hard it is being friends with the nicest guy who only wants to help you. How fucking hard it is to have two guys fighting over you. How hard it is to go to an ivy league. How hard it is to live the fucking dream. How about you actually do something about it instead of rubbing it in our faces that you're above us and can play with two guys at once because you're so fucking amazing?"

The two of you stand nose to nose, a stance Tashi used to always initiate in order to intimidate you.

“How long have you felt this way?” She asks, her breath shaking.

“Ever since you became the Tashi Duncan and I was left in the dust. Now give me my phone.”

“Are you fucking serious, Ava? You think I asked for this?”

“Asked for what? A great life where you succeed in fucking everything? No, Tashi, you didn't have to ask for it. We worked so fucking hard and only you survived it. I succumbed to my fate, I quit my dream, I went to a shitty college, had shitty friends, watched shitty games, and watched the boys I liked fight for my sister. But no; Please, continue bitching about your hard situation." 

You snatch your phone from her hands, walking toward the door. "Good luck at your fucking match."

———

2:45pm

You barely look up as you exit the library, occupied with connecting your earbuds to your phone. It’s only when you see a familiar black head of hair sitting in the common area that you stop. 

“Patrick?”

He looks back, taking his feet off of the Stanford branded coffee table.

“Oh, hey Ava.” He makes space for you to sit beside him on the small loveseat. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good, um…” You put your stuff on the floor and sit next to him, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles that same crooked smile from the night you met him.

You curl your legs up, leaving your arm on the back of the seat. “Did y’all fight too?”

Patrick leans back, looking over at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He laughs.

“What was yours about?” You pry, smiling.

“Uh,” He rubs his eye, “Just…not letting her control me. I’m my own boss kind of shit.”

“Seriously?”

“…Yeah, why?”

“That’s what our fight was about too!” You burst into giggles, “Well, not her controlling me but her controlling you. And Art, him too.”

“Shit, Art too?”

“Yeah, I mean, especially Art. You’re the only one who stands up to her bullshit.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “I don’t know, you seem to put up a good fight.”

“Yeah, but I’m her sister. It’s takes a brave man to break free of Tashi Duncan.”

“Oh god, did I break free?”

“You definitely broke free.” The two of you laugh.

“No but I see what you’re saying, she definitely had me whipped.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I remember one time,” He turns toward you, getting comfy, “The first time her and I, um…”

“Oh, Jesus.” You cover your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughs, “But the first time we did, I remember she said she’d leave me if I told anyone. And I was head over heels, so of course I didn’t want to tell, right?”

“Right.”

“But Art’s my guy, y’know? So instead of being straight up and jeopardizing Tashi’s love, we made this stupid ass signal.” He tells in between laughs, “The way that Art serves - Like, you know how he puts the ball at the neck of his racquet?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You listen intently.

“Well, if I served that way, that meant yes, we did sleep together, And if I served my way, it meant we didn’t.”

“…And?”

“Well, I put that motherfucker right in the middle.”

“Oh my-“

You and Patrick erupt into laughs, covering your mouths as the librarian eyes the two of you. Your stomach starts to ache, not being able to remember the last time you had this kind of belly laugh.

“Well, cheers to breaking free of her.” You put your fist up.

“Oh hell yeah, cheers to that.” He bumps it.

———

3:05pm

The crowd outside thins out as you and Patrick head down the back halls and toward the parking lot. In true honor of breaking free, the two of you decided to not say goodbye. Instead, you’d go home without saying a word to your sister. 

You’re a few doors down from the exit when Patrick stops in his tracks, looking into the nurses office.

“Tashi…” He walks in. 

You enter the doorway, peeking in behind him. Inside, you see Tashi sitting on the table, Art by her side.

“No, out.” Your sister points.

“I’m sorry-“

“Get out!”

“Tashi, listen to me-“

“No, get out!”

“Please-“

“Patrick, get the fuck out!” Art shouts, standing.

Patrick stays for a moment, taken aback as he looks from Tashi to Art. If he has the same vision as you, it’s clear that it’s them against him. It’s no longer Patrick and Tashi, but Art and Tashi. 

He looks back at you before obeying, walking down the hallway. 

Now alone, you come into full view, nearing your sister.

“Tash, what happened-“

“You too.”

You stop, tilting your head. “What?”

“I don’t want you here, leave.”

“Wh- Are you serious?”

“Ava, I think you should just go.” Art says lowly, wary to step in between you too.

You ignore him, “Tashi, I’m your sister.”

You get no answer, she only looks forward. You look at Art as he stands over her like some bodyguard. 

Just as Patrick did, you back away, realizing what this is. You frantically look between the two as you wait for Tashi to change her mind, to see that regardless of what fight you had you’re still sisters. Though, it’s clear that doesn’t mean anything to her, it’s been clear for a while now. 

Now, it’s only Art and Tashi.

———

10:03pm

“Coming in from Stanford; Student and highly lauded tennis player, Tashi Duncan, took a hard hit at her match against Pepperdine this afternoon. Sources say a hard fracture to the knee has Tashi in the care of medical professionals. It is unknown if she’ll ever be able to play again.” 

The blinding fluorescent lights of the cheap fast food place burn your eyes as you and Patrick look up at the TV. 

You bury your head in your hands, groaning.

“Fuck.” 

“She probably thinks she’ll never be able to play again.”

“Please, please don’t say that, Patrick. I’ll feel so guilty.”

“Ava, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”

“We could’ve at least showed up.” You rub a hand over your head.

“Hey,” He forces you to look at him, “None of this is our fault, okay? Injured or not, she still treated us like shit. Art only gets to stay by her side because he’s whipped.”

“I just…” You sigh, “I just wish I had been there.”

The two of you stand up, leaving the restaurant. Outside, a huge Adidas billboard with your sister’s face on it dominates the sky.

The two of you get into Patrick’s car, him cranking it up and turning down the radio.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking at you.

“Like…” You think, “Your tour.”

“Oh, God.”

You laugh, “When are you set to go back?”

“Uh, next week I’m pretty sure. But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to go. I’ve been getting my ass kicked out there.”

“Patrick, Tashi would lose it if she heard you say that.”

He leans in, resting his arms on the center console as he examines your face. “Let’s not talk about Tashi…” 

“Okay,” You hold the intense eye contact that he began, “What do you want to talk about?”

His nose is almost touching yours as you unconsciously near him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“Let’s talk about you.” He grins, rubbing your waist.

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you like.” He says, lowering his lips to your neck and softly pressing.

“I, um,” You tilt, holding the back of his head as he gets sloppier, “I loved volleyball. My team was out of California but we travelled for tournaments. We ranked…fuck…we ranked second in the country-“

Patrick cuts you off, his lips ravaging yours as he runs his hands over you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him, crawling over to sit on his lap. Both of your hands get more and more heavy as he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it in the backseat.

“Fuck,” You say in between kisses, “Fuck, wait.”

“What?” He looks up at you, “What, is something wrong?”

“Is this wrong to do?” You ask, out of breath. “Should we stop? What about Tashi and Art?”

“They yelled at us to leave when we tried to help.” He reminds you, “Why should we stop when they treated us like that?”

You look at him, convincing yourself that you’re considering it when all you want to feel is your mouth on his.

And you do, pushing the thoughts of Tashi and Art far from your mind.

———

February 15th, 2011 // 📍Zweig condo, 9:30am

5 years later

At one point in your life, it would take you multiple seconds to figure out how to say the dollar amount that you and your husband had in your bank account. Now, as the number almost falls short of five figures, you feel ashamed just looking at it. 

You switch tabs on the laptop, the light from the ceiling to floor window behind it hurting your eyes. Scrolling through tournament options, the distances only get further and the prize money higher. Years ago, you and Patrick wouldn’t even consider the amount, as Patrick just wanted to play tennis; And that still holds true, only you’ve been stuck in your ways for so long that he’s forgotten how to play to win. 

Nails scratch the hardwood behind you as your golden doodle, Bear, comes barreling down the hall. Right behind him is your husband, chasing the dog around the living room.

“I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha!” He says, the dog running desperately from him. 

You chuckle, “Good morning.”

You hear Patrick give Bear a smooch before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Good morning, baby.” He kisses your neck, looking at the screen. “Found anything good?”

“Not really,” You groan, frustrated. “I don’t know when these matches got so fucking far.”

“It’s okay,” He strokes your head, “I’m sure there’s one we can make it to.”

You continue scrolling, the qualifier maximum getting smaller and smaller.

“What about this one?” He points.

“Atlanta? Patrick, that’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know, I know. But we can make the trip, no? I hear some of our friends may be there.”

You turn your head, furrowing your brows at him. A sly smile plasters over his face, one that makes you realize all too quickly.

“They’re going to be there?” 

He nods.

“God, why would you want to be anywhere near them?” 

“We probably won’t even see them, baby. But if they’re there we’ll have a big crowd.” 

You think on it, the thought of seeing Tashi making your stomach turn in knots.

“…And look at that winner’s reward money.” He says convincingly.

A sigh escapes you before clicking submit, Patrick’s entry automatically being sent.

“Mm,” He kisses your wedding ring finger, “Thank you, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You jokingly roll your eyes, pecking him on the cheek.

——

February 24th, 2011 //📍Atlanta, 7:40pm

Nausea consumes you as Patrick’s smell fills your senses. The aroma of the city is one thing, the aroma of your husband another, but the scent of your sister’s old perfume radiates off of him like a cancer.

You watch as he sets his coat down, coming behind the couch to kiss you. 

“Did you-“ You pull your face away, not able to let him touch you, “Did you see anyone we know?”

Patrick is taken aback, looking at you with a confused smile.

“No…Why?”

His eyes bore into yours as you search for any answer than the one you’re imagining. Though, as he hands you the chinese takeout bag and takes a seat next to you, you find yourself voiding the conclusion entirely; Your mind not willing to believe the man you love would be meeting her. 

He wraps his arms around you, watching the TV. As the smell seems to corrupt every sense you have, a tear sneaks into your cheek, the possibility still piercing your gut. Even so, you wrap your arms back around him.

As of this moment, the comfort of hiding in his arms trumps the possibilities of the truth.

——

June 3rd, 2013 // 📍Zweig Condo, 3:00pm

2 Years Later

‘Hey, I know it’s been a while. But if you’re willing, I’d love to come out and see you and the baby. - A ♡’

The ‘Read’ under your message seems to taunt you the longer you stare. Your phone screen is interrupted by a call, ‘Mom,’ at the top of the screen. You answer.

A small gasp escapes you as you’re immediately met with the smallest human you’ve ever seen. You’d know she was Tashi’s in a sea of babies. You wave your husband over, eyes staying on the baby.

“Oh my goodness.” You whisper, “Hi, baby.”

Her eyes stay closed, her hands in small fists.

“Oh, Ava, she’s so beautiful.” Your mom lowly says down the phone.

“Is…” You wipe away a stray tear, “Is Tashi okay?”

The camera flips from the baby to your mother.

“You know you could always ask her yourself, honey.”

“No, I know. But- Just tell them we said congratulations. She’s precious.”

Your mom lets out a sigh as she looks from you to behind the camera.

“Mom, who is that?” You hear your sister’s voice in the background. 

Your hands turn clammy, your heart beating faster and faster as she begins to turn the phone to Tashi.

“Um, Mom we gotta go, we’re breaking up. I love you-“

“Wait, Ava-“

“Love you, mom.” You spit out, hanging up and turning your phone face down.

You stare out for a minute, shocked at your body’s response to your sister’s voice. Sobs escape your mouth before you can stop them. You shove your face in your hands.

“Oh, baby.” Patrick holds you, rubbing your back.

“It’s been too long.” You cry, “She fucking hates me.”

“You don’t know that.” He reassures you, “She may come around. You did good.”

———

May 1st, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle, 10:00am

6 Years later

Making it to New York from home took up the rest of Patrick’s savings. The house that you downsized to is completely funded by you and your remote sales salary. Patrick continues to fight a losing battle with tennis, barely able to pay for food for himself every week. Straining your marriage was the last consequence of his money struggles. Though, it has the biggest impact on your day to day. Nonetheless, you remain by his side. In all honesty, you’re not completely sure how to continue anywhere else. 

“I’m going to see Art today.” Patrick tells you, downing a handful of trail mix.

“Art?” You ask, holding Bear’s paws on your

thighs, “Why would you do that? It’s been years.”

“I think it’s been long enough, we’re already here.” He shrugs, “I think it might be good for me.”

You focus on Bear, still not seeing a clear reason as to why he’d want to speak to Art after a decade.

“Maybe you should go see Tashi.”

Your eyes snap to him, her name barely being spoken in your house for the last six years.

“…And do what?”

He shrugs, “Might be good for you…”

…

1:00pm

Your stomach seems to twist in a thousand ways as you continuously fix your hair and outfit on the way into the far too fancy hotel. As you pass the lobby, you almost turn around and throw up. But as your sister heads for the elevator, you know this is your one chance to speak to her.

Your shoes thump against the marble floor as you jog after her.

“T- Tashi!” You whisper shout, reaching her just in time.

She turns around. Taking one look at you, she looks to your left and right, utterly confused.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone laced with disgust.

It’s been so long. She looks so different, her voice has such a maturity to it. But that dominating energy that she brings everywhere hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well I…” You fumble, all of your practice going out the window. “ I heard you were here, I wanted to say hello.”

“Say hello?” She looks you up and down, turning her full attention to you as she steps forward. “Honestly, I don’t want your fucking hello, Ava. Really, I don’t.”

You shake your head, “Tashi-“

"I can't believe you have the balls to be here. After what you fucking did to me."

"What I-“ You compose yourself, remembering exactly how arguments with your sister always go. “Tashi, what the fuck did I do to you?"

"Are you serious?" She asks, "You're joking, yes?"

"No, I'm really not."

"You left me for 13 years by my fucking self." She raises her voice, "I had a wedding, I had a baby, and where were you? My sister was too stuck on a grudge to ever come back into my life, you're a waste of my fucking time." She begins to walk away.

“Hey.” You follow her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.

“Get off.”

"Not one of those events was I invited to, Tash. Not one. If you wanted me back, if you gave a shit, you would've acted like it. But you're not going to sit here and act like I was in the wrong and I should've reached out to you. Hell, I did fucking reach out to you.”

“In the wrong?” She snatches her arm from you. “Ava, are you clinically fucking stupid? You're hung up on a situation from 13 years ago-"

"No, but it's not from 13 years ago, Tashi.” You cut her off, getting in her face. “Because you're doing the same thing right now that you did when you were 18. You're sitting here blaming the world for your life decisions. You're blaming me for being angry that you were and are a narcissist who wants someone else to be the athlete that you never were. Every time I thought of coming back l'd imagine what my sister would say and I couldn't do it. But guess what Tashi, now I see through you. I fucking see it, Patrick sees it, and when Art finally opens his eyes you'll finally see yourself for what you are."

She stares at you, a chuckle escaping her. "Ava, this is pathetic. Genuinely. Because at the end of the day, it's not my fucking fault that you gave up. Now l'm in a position where I don't have to be here. I have a life, a pretty fucking good one, outside of this. Outside of you. This Final, it's practice. It's fucking child's play for us, whereas for the Zweigs...This is it for you. Your last fucking loss.”

“Yeah. Okay Tash.” You roll your eyes, "Keep throwing insults at me to distract from the fact that you're a shitty person."

"I'm a shitty pers- You fucking abandoned your family for 13 fucking years!"

"Because my sister is an insufferable egomaniac who can't accept the fact that her husband doesn't want to do this shit anymore and her tennis life is over!” You shout back, your voices echoing throughout the hotel. “It's fucking over Tashi, give it up. That's why I left you, because you're fucking dreadful! You're dreadful and everyone knows it."

Tashi slowly nods, the hotel staff looking at the two of you.

"...Ava, do you know what your husband does late at night?"

Your eyes widen, your heart skipping a beat as she addresses the unspoken.

"Fuck you." You spit.

"I'm really asking, because from what I experienced...You're a lucky woman."

Now you’re the one with disgust in your eyes, the urge to spit in her face stronger than ever before.

“…Say hi to mom for me, Tashi." You say, your hands balling into fists.

“Happy to.” She utters, walking toward the elevator. “Tell Patrick I’m wishing him good luck.”

…

3:00pm

You only tell your husband bits a pieces of your encounter, not daring to remind him of the man he was in Atlanta.

“I don’t even know why I tried.”

“Both of them are assholes.” He agrees, “At least now we’re sure of it.”

“I guess.” You bite your nails, stroking Bear’s ears. “Patrick you have to beat him in the Final. We can’t let them win.”

“I know, baby.” He nods, on your wavelength. “I know.”

——

May 4th, 2019 // Night Before the Final, 11:25pm

“Pat, it’s really coming down out there.” You look out of the hotel window, tarps flying into the street. “What if they cancel the match?”

“They’d never do that.” He watches the TV, “It should lighten up by morning.” 

You hum, snuggling next to him as the bright screen flashes through an action sequence. Patrick’s phone vibrates, his phone brightness lighting the rest of the room.

“Oh, baby.” He shifts his body, making you sit up. “I gotta go.”

“Now? Why?” You try to look on his phone but he pulls it away, scrolling.

“I have to, um,” He rubs his head, looking stressed. “My racquet, I have to pick it up.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“They just messaged reminding me that we have to have this certain racquet to compete tomorrow.” He stands up, rushing toward the door.

“What- Patrick,” You follow him, “It’s like a fucking flash flood out there, can you not do this tomorrow?”

“Baby, they close at midnight, I gotta go,” He kisses you, “I love you.”

“Patrick, wait-“

“I love you, I have to go!” He shuts the door behind him.

…

12:30am

You have a strange urge to cry as you scroll through Art Donaldson’s instagram. Photos of him and his seemingly perfect family are plastered all over, an ‘@Tashidonaldson ♡’ at the top of his bio.

Patrick never wanted kids, said they’d cost too much and you couldn’t care for them. He was correct about the former, but care for children, you are willing and able to do. But when you married him, he did a lot of the decision making for you. 

Now, as he’s blown all of your savings, lost his tennis touch, and been out of the damn hotel room for an hour doing god knows what , you wish you could shout at past you to get a grip. 

Though, looking at these picture now, you wish you could do the same to past Art Donaldson too. 

———

May 5th, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle Courts, 1:00pm

Final Day

The crowd’s heads robotically turned side to side as Art and Patrick dog it out in a vicious match. You sit in your assigned seat next to your sister, the endless stream of slander not ceasing, not even today.

“Is he retiring after this?” You ask, your head still going between the men.

Tashi shrugs, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. “Maybe.”

"...I don't think Patrick will ever retire. I think tennis is all he has."

She hums, "If only he'd start winning his matches."

"He doesn't always play for the wins, Tashi."

"Yeah, he plays for the participation money."

"Maybe he does." You say, "At least he does it by choice."

She looks to you, her attention no longer on her husband’s tie breaker. "Art does it by choice."

“Like hell he does.” You scoff, “He wouldn't be retiring after becoming a Career Grand Slam if he wanted to be doing this.”

“Art is an adult, he does what he wants.” She looks back to the court.

“Art is your slave, he does what you want.”

Tashi continues trying to get to you. As Patrick sets for his next serve, he looks in your direction. Only, he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your sister. He returns his gaze to Art, placing his ball in the neck of his racquet.

Both you and Art freeze, staring at your husband. The men seem to be in their own world, but Patrick must’ve forgotten that you know too. The word seems to muffle around you as you stare at your husband’s evil grin at Art.

You stand on shaky legs, grasping your stomach as bile threatens to come up. 

“Hey…” Tashi calls after you, “Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”

You run to the nearest exit, Patrick’s blatant disrespect and repulsiveness making you want to genuinely die where you stand.

It’s only as you stumble to your car that it truly hits you who the man you married really is, and how he really sees you. 

Like everyone else, he thinks you’re a pawn in Tashi’s game. A piece that can be battered and bruised but will never go away, as it’s crucial to the game of Tashi. You want to vomit as you sit in your car, Patrick’s scent sending you into a violent sick.

———

May 14th, 2019 // 📍Zweig home, 12:00pm

9 Days Later

Three knocks at the door echo through your almost empty house. You pause your show, unlatching the chain and opening it. 

Patrick stands in front of you, a hysterical attempt of a sad expression on his face.

“Everything’s here.” You walk him in, pointing to the boxes full of his stuff in the kitchen. “The only things that aren’t are your racquets, trophies, cups, stuff like that. Those are in the closet so they wouldn’t get mixed up.”

“Thanks.” He says, feeling like an alien in this house.

“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up, returning to the couch next to Bear.

He spends an hour loudly moving his things from the kitchen to his car, the sound almost drowning out your show. Regardless, you stay put, wanting him to be done as fast as he can.

“Ava…” He calls over the reality TV. You ignore him, popping another veggie straw into your mouth. 

Suddenly, his arm comes from behind you, grabbing the remote and muting it.

“Hey.” You turn around.

“I’m talking to you.”

“Okay, well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Ava, I’m sorry-“

“Pat,” You chuckle, not being able to keep it in. “Don’t even.”

“Baby, listen to me, okay? I fucked up-“

“Patrick, Patrick!” You stand up, “Just stop, okay? Leave me be, finish getting your shit, and I’ll have the papers served to you by the end of the week.”

“Baby, no. Please.”

“Honey, there’s nothing you can say.” You shake your head, having prepared for his begging days ago. “Go beg to your mistress, yeah?”

He continues rambling, stumbling over his words. “Ava, it was such a bad mistake. I told myself it was strategy and- And because me and her have a complicated past I couldn’t see straight-“

“But nothing about us is complicated, right? We are married, we’re supposed to be a team. But you betrayed me, plain and simple.” You lay it out for him, “You’re a cheater and we’re done, now go.”

“It was a mistake-“

“Patrick…” You inhale, “I’m trying not to lose it, you need to get the fuck out.”

“Just hear me out-“

“Get out of the house, Patrick.” 

“We can come back from this, Ava. We can.”

Your jaw hangs agape in genuine disbelief. He seems to notice he fucked up again as he stops speaking. You walk around the couch, getting in his face the same way Tashi used to get in yours.

“Patrick,” You begin, “I gave everything for you. I gave up my life, I gave up my family, I gave up Art, I left it all for you. I abandoned so much to be in your corner because I was in love with you, I really was. Whether you felt the same about me, I’ll never actually know-“

“I loved you, baby. I still love you-“

“But I thought you were the one who understood me, Patrick. But somehow every time I gave you a chance to correct yourself you threw it away to be with Tashi. Over and over. She’s constantly being picked over me, her feelings over mine, her body over mine, her opinion over mine…You’re just another one of her fans. You’re just like Art- Honestly, you’re fucking worse. At least  he pretended to like me all those years ago. Now, as my husband, you just don’t give a shit. Just publicly showing that you slept with my sister.”

“…Why do you keep bringing up Art?” He looks down at you, “Do you- Do you feel something for him still?”

“Oh my fucking-“ You cover your face, composing yourself once again before continuing. “Pat, it’s been a long, long time since this all started. And if I could go back I’d change many things. But at the end of it all, I’m here because I worked for it and I endured it. You and Art can stay stuck under Tashi’s finger, that’s fine. But I know that life is bigger than that. Bigger than this weird threesome love triangle shit that you circle back to every few years. I am a grown woman who is in control of her own life so if you don’t have anymore comments, you need to get out and sign the papers when they’re served to you, Patrick.”

“…Baby, please,” He cries, his lip quivering. “You love me, we love each other. Please just think about it.”

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to be honest?”

Patrick nods, hiccuping on his tears.

“…All of this is really really beneath me.” You quietly tell him.

He lowers his head, his hands covering his eyes.

“When I was 18 I might have been broken over stuff like this but…” You shrug, “Things are very very different from when we were teenagers.” 

[kamii-2]

“you thought wrong”

so sorry for not posting a chapter in almost 2 months but i hope you guys enjoy this long-ish chapter! a part of this chapter is based off of a fanfic i read a while ago, im not sure who wrote it or who the fic was about but if i ever find out who it is i will definitely give them a shoutout type thing. i’d also like to say this chapter is where things start to like really happen (idk how else to word it, hopefully you get what im saying) and im very sorry if the beginning of the sorry is confusing in any way, also act like they’re all old enough to drink.

warning(s): cussing, drinking, kissing

genre: fluff

pairing(s): kk arnold x reader

“you thought wrong” masterlist

==================================

chapter 3: “is this some kind of prank?”

==================================

the moment you accidentally opened the door then shut it, kk pulled away from the girl she was making out with and ran to ice, not telling the other girl what was going on. “ice, i think i messed up any chances i had with y/n. she just walked in on me making out with another girl.” kk told her best friend, trying to catch her breath from running down the flight of stairs. “why would you even make out with someone else if you wanted her so bad? are you actually stupid?” ice was mad that kk would even do something like that, wanting a girl then making out with another, it made no sense. “i haven’t done anything with anybody in a while and the girl offered so why not take up that offer?” kk said, half joking. kk thought about where you could’ve went, “she left second she came back down here.” ice said as she took a sip of her drink. “great.” was all kk said as she plopped down next to her best friend.

-

kk was all you could think about while you laid in bed, trying to sleep. after seeing her kissing another girl it made you realize how in love with her you were. you wished you were the one she was kissing, not some random girl at a house party who probably just wanted to use kk for sex. the image of her and the other girl kept replaying in your head again and again, you couldn’t take it anymore so you tried to watch tiktok to forget about kk and the stupid girl she was with. when you opened tiktok the first thing you seen was an edit of kk. “oh my God.” you said out loud as you got off the app and turned on your tv. you decided to just watch some netflix until you fell asleep.

when you woke up with a mild headache, you didn’t drink too much so your hang over wasn’t as bad as it usually was when you drank. you got up and took some medicine to ease the headache and drank water to help the pill go down your throat. you grabbed your phone and seen that symphony had texted you a few times asking if you were okay, you told her about how all you thought about was kk last night and how when you opened tiktok she was the first thing you seen. you two continued to text about what happened last night and other random things until symphony just randomly stopped texting you back for a good 20 minutes. you brushed it off and went on with your day, thinking she was busy or her phone died. in reality, symphony got a text from kk’s best friend, ice, on instagram.

-instagram direct messages-

@ice.brady: hey this is symphony right?

@symphony_roy: yea why?

@ice.bradyy: be honest, does y/n like kk bc kk likes her a lot and doesn’t believe me that y/n likes her back. @ice.bradyy: pls tell me i promise to not show kk like fr

@symphony_roy: yes 😭 ive been telling y/n since the day she told me that kk is gay and likes her back but her slow ass won’t believe me

@ice.brady: bro they act the same way exact same way 😭@ice.bradyy: anyway the reason im texting you is bc i think we should make them go in a blind date but don’t tell them the gender of the person bc i don’t want them to find out immediately

@symphony_roy: wait that’s a really good idea @symphony_roy: but we need to plan this more before we dive right into it

-real life-

after they planned out their entire plan, symphony went to your dorm. “hey.” you greeted as she barged in, using the spare key you had gave her. “so…. how do you feel about blind dates?” she asked while clasping her hands together, taking a seat on the couch next to you. “uhm, they’re okay i guess… why?” you reply while stopping what you were doing on your phone and side eyeing her. “because you’re going on one on monday.” symphony stated, “what?!?” you yelled while whipping your head to look at her, “i did not sign up for that!” symphony just stared at you, a small smirk on her face. “well, you’re going on it, i don’t care what you say.” symphony shrugged while getting up and leaving, “bye, remember you have a date in two days, i’ll send you the details later.” she closed the door.

-

when you woke up you seen kk had followed you back on every app you followed her on, seeing this made your stomach do backflips. you were a bit embarrassed because you had followed her for ages and she just now followed you back but you didn’t really care because atleast she followed you. as the day went on you kept stalking kk, being careful to not like any super old pictures on instagram or old tiktoks. you were stalking so hard you even found her mom’s facebook page. in the middle of your stalking, symphony barged in your room, “okay so what are you gonna wear tomorrow?” she asked while sitting at the edge of your bed, facing you. “i don’t know, probably jean shorts and a crop top.” you shrugged, “basic as hell. wear something more revealing, you gotta show off all that ass to them.” she half-joked, “bro then you find my outfit.” you sighed at her.

symphony went to your closet and started to look through everything to find the perfect outfit for you. after about 10 minutes she found a short, tight, light pink dress. you bought it last month and never got the chance to wear it. “it’s perfect, i’ll tell your date to wear something on the nicer side. you guys will look so cute together.” she smiled while holding the dress up. you were still unsure on the whole blind date thing but you were kind of excited for it, maybe you’ll meet your soulmate. you had thought about who it could be and you thought about it being kk but you weren’t sure if symphony would do something like that.

symphony stayed over for the rest of the day and didn’t go home until sunset. you two talked about life, ordered pizza, and watched a few movies sherrie she went back to her dorm. you were too nervous to go to bed, knowing that the next day at 7pm you would be meeting up with a potential complete stranger for dinner.

-

the whole day you were super nervous and could barely think straight. part of you was thinking about just not going but you know if you did that then symphony would rip you a new one. you were hoping the date was a girl and hoping it was kk but you knew it wasn’t gonna be her, kk was just making out with another girl 2 days ago, she wouldn’t switch that fast, or so you thought. at around 6:00 you started getting ready, putting on the dress and some white heels that made you an inch taller, and putting on light makeup. symphony showed up to your dorm at 6:34, “im taking you to the restaurant because im gonna sit a table or two away and watch yall.” she said with a huge smile on her face. you nodded in response and continued to get ready.

on the way there you were so nervous to where you thought you could throw up. the whole car ride you were silent and had short answers when symphony talked to you. “y/n its okay i promise. dont worry about anything. all you gotta do is meet this person, talk to them, eat dinner, then you’re done.” symphony reassured you, keeping her eyes on the road. you sighed and tried to think on the bright side of it, if you didn’t like this person then you’d probably never have to talk to them again. as you got closer you got more and more nervous but you kept thinking about what symphony said and it helped it go down.

when you two got to the restaurant you immediately got out and walked into the restaurant. symphony pointed, “your date’s already here.” you stopped dead in your tracks and whipped your head towards her. “is this some kind of prank?” you asked while wide eyes. “nope. your date is kk.” symphony laughed while pushing you towards the table. “symphony you’re fucking lying.” you said while trying to resist her pushing you. “i’m not, now go sit down and talk to her.” she said while pushing you again and walking away. you sighed before slowly walking over to the table that kk was at. when she looked up from her phone she paused for a second before she realized that you were her blind date. when you sat down it was quiet for a second before she said something. “hey y/n. how’s life been?” she said, not knowing what else to say. “it’s been fine, how about you?” you asked her, “good. did you know that i was your date?” kk asked with a smile. “no, symphony literally came into my dorm and told me that i was going on a blind date, didn’t tell me anything else.” you two laughed and continued to talk.

the night went very well, you two talked about everything under the sun and flirted a lot. symphony and ice were watching from a few tables over and talked about how cute you two were together. “i’m glad they made us go on this date.” you admitted while admiring kk, looking her up and down. “i agree, maybe i can get your number or something?” kk asked, “yea.” you say as you proceed to tell her your number. after she got your number the flirting was nonstop, now she was certain you liked her back. the rest of the night you two continued to talk about random stuff and even talked about going on another date.

at free you guys paid for the food snd drink you both went over to symphony and ice’s table. “hey guys.” ice said with a smirk, “do yall wanna go to a club or something?” symphony asked while standing up. “sure why not.” you said, “okay i’ll send you the address.” symphony said, talking to ice. ice nodded and you all went to the cars. “so how was it?” symphony questioned you the moment you both got in the car, “we were flirting the whole time and she asked for my number.” you answered, “aren’t you glad i made you go on this date?” she smiled while pulling out of the parking lot and driving to the bar, you nodded and told her more about the date.

after you got your ID’s checked, kk grabbed your hand and pulled you into the bathroom. “what’s wrong?” you asked when you reached a stall. “nothing.” she mumbled before kissing you, you immediately kiss back. the kiss felt magical, the way your lips fit together perfectly made your stomach do frontflips. you relunctsntly pulled away for air, “damn.” was all kk could say as she went back for more.

==================================

i’m so sorry this took like 2 months to get out but i still hope you enjoyed!! i hope you have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[petite-phthora]

Oh, he’s stupid.

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 4]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

“THAT CLOWN I PUNCHED WAS THE JOKER?!”

The frenzied question stuns Jason for a moment.

Oh. He realizes. He’s stupid.

...

Fuck, he wants to kiss him so bad.

Slightly incredulous, he manages to get out a question of his own in response.

“Just how many insane clowns do you think we have wandering around Gotham?”

“I don’t know, man! I’ve only been here for less than a week. And it’s Gotham, there’s a new rogue like every other week!”

Jason considers his point for a moment before conceding.

“… You know what? That’s fair.”

Danny slumps in his chair with a groan, his cheeks slightly dusted pink due to embarrassment. He puts his forehead on the table. Slightly worried, Jason speaks up.

“Are you alright?”

“Just peachy. Not even a week in a new city and I already managed to dispose of one of the city’s most infamous rogues, and I wasn’t even aware of it. Ugh, my sister’s gonna kill me. Fully this time.”

Right. Jason’s not gonna touch upon that last statement with a ten-foot pole.

Instead, he suggests “Well, you could try to keep it from her but, knowing how siblings can be, she’ll probably find out anyway. Better rip off the metaphorical band-aid and tell her yourself first so she’ll be less mad about you keeping it from her.”

Danny seems to think it over for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, if I tell her beforehand she might be merciful enough to make it painless.”

Jason lets out a snort. He then considers something before speaking up.

“I could… show you around sometime if you’d like? Explain some standard protocols, show you which places to avoid, which places to visit… So something like this doesn’t happen again…?”

“I’d… like that” Danny days, looking up at him with a small smile.

“So…” Jason decides to switch topics “Tell me some more about yourself, you’re studying aerospace engineering, right?”

Danny decides it’s better not to ask how Red Hood found out all this information about him. If he were in any danger from the other, he probably wouldn’t have gotten flowers or been taken out to dinner anyway.

“Oh, yeah! When I was little I actually wanted to be an astronaut, but due to health reasons, that’s unfortunately not possible anymore. So instead, I decided to combine my mechanical engineering knowledge with my love for space. This way, I might still be able to land a job at NASA.”

Jason ponders over the possibility of sneaking Danny onto the watchtower.

They get interrupted by a waiter approaching their table, nervously asking if they’d like to order dessert.

“Oh, I’ll have some cannoli please!” Danny says.

Ah, a man after his own heart.

---

When they get to the observatory, Jason already notices Danny’s excitement growing the closer they get.

He managed to rent the place out for tonight, not having been in the mood for a tour or something. Besides, if he really wanted to know more about the stars, he’s pretty sure his date Danny’s got that covered for him.

“Over there you can see Ursa Major and Ursa Minor! They’re also known as The Big and Little Dipper, and are some of the easiest constellations to spot, mainly due to their pan shape. Though, the Big Dipper isn't the entire constellation, but actually only a part of Ursa Major, just the tail.”

Danny had started to tell him about the different constellations they should be able to see at this time of the year, using the telescope to navigate towards them and then letting Jason take a look while he tells him all about what they’re looking at.

“Oh! And there’s Hydra! While some parts of the constellation are visible for about half of the year, around this time of year the full constellation should be visible! It is both the largest and longest constellation.”

Danny seems to be practically glowing.

Wait, scratch that. Danny is glowing.

Jason takes a good look at Danny while he’s rambling. Not only does he seem to be emitting a soft glow, but his hair is also slowly starting to float as if he’s underwater. It looks like his meta powers are probably acting up.

Moreover, his freckles, which were very faint before, are now glowing a bright and familiar Lazarus green, which Jason finds mildly concerning. But also… kinda cute…

He tenses a little, keeping a wary eye on Danny, before slowly relaxing as he notices Danny is still excitedly going on about the Hydra constellation.

“Did you know Hydra is also often referred to as The Water Snake? The naming is based on the myth where a crow served Apollo a cup of water with a hydra snake in it. Apollo then caught the crow and was so enraged that he threw the cup and the snake into the sky.”

Yeah, no matter the connection Danny might have to the Lazarus Pits. There’s no need to worry about this fucking nerd, Jason notes with a small hint of fondness.

At the end of their little observatory tour, the glow around Danny starts to dim and his hair stops floating. The glowing of his freckles has also started to disappear, though he is still beaming.

Well, he’d call that a successful first date.

---

After their date, Jason brings Danny back to his apartment on his motorcycle. Once they’ve arrived and Danny is about to leave, Jason blurts something out.

“Oh wait! Before you go…”

Danny looks at him questioningly.

“Can I have your number?” he quickly asks, glad that his helmet is obscuring his reddened face.

He watches the way Danny lights up, his cheeks dusted light pink.

“Ah, uh. Sure!” the space nerd stammers.

Jason takes out a pen that he totally hadn’t taken with him just for this occasion and hands it over. Danny takes the pen and pauses, looking Jason in his Red Hood outfit over, before taking a gentle hold of Jason’s hand.

He glances up at Jason with a questioning glance, asking if he’s okay with this. Jason gives him a nod, that he really hopes doesn’t come over as too eager, in return.

Either way, it seems to be enough for Danny, who then proceeds to move down Jason’s glove a bit and write down his number on Jason’s hand.

Once he’s done, he puts the glove back in place and hands the pen back. Danny’s face is red and he’s grinning. Cute… Jason stays silent, not trusting his voice, and nods in thanks.

“So, I’ll uh see you… next time?” He asks, hope lacing his voice.

Again, Jason just nods in response.

“Great! Cool cool cool. Uh, yeah, uh Toodaloo Kangaroo?” He ends his statement with an awkward grin and finger guns, stumbling when he tries to walk backward.

Fuck me.

He watches as Danny rubs the back of his neck sheepishly before waving him goodbye and turning around, making his way into the apartment complex.

Jason keeps his eyes on Danny as he watches him disappear into the building before tugging off his glove and lowering his gaze to the phone number scrawled on his hand.

He swallows as he realizes that oh, he’s in deep.

[nocapesdahling]

Put that Pen Away

Laszlo Kreizler x GN! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: You come across a man writing in books in your bookstore and have to put a stop to it. Yet you can’t help but think he looks familiar and for a book vandal, he’s surprisingly charming. 

Warnings/Tags: Fluff; Modern Laszlo Kreizler; Featuring Laszlo’s glasses

Word Count: 667

A/N: This one is a bit short, but I’m very excited to be dipping my toes back into writing and a sweet and silly fic featuring Modern Laszlo seemed like a perfect place to start. Hope you enjoy!

You were walking the aisles of the store to see if anyone needed help and to make sure no books were out of place when you saw him. You first noticed his profile, bearded with a lovely nose, his neck wrapped in a scarf and a pair of clear circular glasses rounding out the look. What really made you stop however was not the fact that it was a handsome profile, but that he seemed familiar somehow.

As you gathered yourself and walked closer, the next thing you noticed was he had one of the books out open on one of the tables as he leaned over it. And he wasn’t reading it. Oh no, he was writing in it. Writing in one of your store’s books. That was unacceptable, it was defacement of the highest order. That poor book. Handsome familiar profile or not, you couldn’t let that stand.

“Excuse me, sir. You can’t write in the books. Please don’t do that.”

He sighed and it sounded world weary, like he’d been caught writing in books before and he was tired of people stopping him. Well good, he should be. He should have learned his lesson the first time.

He had the audacity to finish whatever it was he was writing before gently closing the book and sliding it back onto the shelf. You made a note of where it was for its later removal and held in a shudder at the thought that he might have written in others.

He turned to you and you moved your eyes away from the books to take in his face. The gasp you let out was hopefully inaudible. It was Laszlo Kreizler. The Laszlo Kreizler. The author whose books you’d devoured since he published his first Alienist novel, reading them again and again, and the man you’d had a slight crush on ever since seeing his author photo at the end of book one. Well if you were being honest with yourself, it was a little more than a slight crush. However, it was nice to fantasize about people you’d never meet, and a famous author was a harmless person to have a crush on. It’s not like you ever thought you’d meet him in real life. Your favorite author was here in your store, and even more handsome in person. Somehow. And he was writing in books?!

“Can I do it if I’m signing my own books?”

You then realized what aisle you were in. Mystery and Thriller in the K’s. He’d been signing his own books. He hadn’t been defacing anything after all. You were giddy in your relief and smiled at him without thinking.

He was patiently watching you. His dark brown eyes behind his glasses were piercing and seemed to take in every detail as he analyzed your face and expressions. At your smile, his cheeks reddened slightly and he glanced away.

“Yes, that’s okay Dr. Kreizler. That’s wonderful. It’ll be such a nice surprise for buyers. I may have to ask you to sign mine while you’re at it.”

His blush was impossible to hide now and he cleared his throat, his accented voice hesitant. “You know of me? You’ve read my novels?”

You smiled again and gave him a once over. His author photo really didn’t do him justice. “I’ve read all of them multiple times. They’re some of my favorites.”

“Oh… well, it’s nice to meet a fan.” He looked down for a moment before making eye contact again and smiling back hesitantly.

“It’s even nicer to meet you, Dr. Kreizler. Do you do this sort of thing often? Come to bookstores and sign your books?”

“Yes, I have been doing it for years now though I am not often caught.”

“Really? That’s amazing. I’d love to hear more about it and any of your other signing misadventures over coffee. What do you say, Dr. Kreizler?”

“Coffee sounds lovely. On one condition.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“That you call me Laszlo.”

Reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve posted in ages, so I hope you all liked it and please let me know if you did! 

If inspiration strikes, then I might end up writing a sequel to this about their cozy coffee date because I love the idea of drinking a hot beverage and talking about books with Laszlo. 

My Masterlist

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 25: A House Is Not A Home (And A Dinner Is Not A Date)

Prompt: "It consumes me"

For the anon who sent this: Can you write a fic where an IT billionaire falls in love with Scully and pursues her, while Mulder gets very jealous - oh, and they're already dating, but still in secret. Rating: T, wc: 1,713

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

Over the past few years, he’s learned many things in therapy. One thing is to be honest with his emotions and not bottle them up and send them out into the world as a joke.

Right now, it proves to be difficult. How is he supposed to stay serious and true to his emotions when this 30-something guy with the whitest teeth Mulder has ever seen, is hitting on Scully?

“This was one of my prototypes,” the young man explains. Mulder knows he has a name. It’s Chad or something similar. Mulder doubts that Chad-or-whatever has caught his name, seeing how he only has eyes for Scully.

“Staying in this house was an experience.” Mulder glances over at Scully. Why is she indulging Chad-or-whatever? She’s smiling at the younger man. Oh. Oh, no. This man-child could be their son. Well, not quiet. Almost.

He’s seen Scully flirt plenty of times over the last 25 years – sometimes successfully and sometimes less so. Hell, he’s helped her out once. Too bad that the guy turned out to be a vampire. A fact Scully does not like to be reminded of.

“I cannot tell you how sorry I am,” Chad-or-whatever explains. “Let me make it up to you. I have another unit. Bigger, better, brighter. It’s yours. Rent-free for the rest of the year, of course.”

“It’s fine, Mr.-”

“Chad. Please call me Chad.” His grin is so blinding that Mulder has to look away.

“It’s fine, Chad. I do have a place to stay.” He wants to shove it in Chad’s face that Scully is staying with him. In their house. They’re sharing a bed. Something this guy can only dream about. The way he’s looking at Scully, he’s doing exactly that right this second.

“Then you must let me take you to dinner,” Chad insists, taking Scully’s hands into his. Mulder searches Scully’s face for discomfort, but can’t find any. He’s expecting her to politely decline any moment now. He’s waiting, and waiting, and waiting. It takes her a good ten seconds to answer – one second longer and Mulder would have done it for her.

“I’d like that, Chad.”

“You won’t regret it,” the younger man says, and Mulder stares at him with narrow eyes. “I’ll text you later. I have your number.” How much can a grown man grin? Mulder balls his fists, knowing he can neither say nor do anything. It’s not his place.

“Looking forward to it,” Scully says much to Mulder’s horror and Chad winks at her before he jogs off.

“Looking forward to it?” Mulder repeats, leaning his face close to hers, wondering what he’s missed.

“He’s sweet.”

“Sweet.”

“Are you parroting everything I say now? Yes, he’s sweet. It’s just dinner, Mulder. He’s sorry my house burned down.”

“Um, no, Scully. It’s not just dinner. That guy was hitting on you.”

“I could be his mother, Mulder. He wasn’t hitting on me.” But he sees doubt creep into her expression. “Was he?” Mulder nods at her. They went through this last year with Tad. Except back then, she was aware of what Tad was doing. And back then, she hadn’t been entirely uninterested. She admitted as much to him one night, not too long ago.

It was right after her house blew up and she moved back into their home. She said that she couldn’t in all honesty start being with Mulder again if she wasn’t honest. So she confessed about Tad. Mulder, on the other hand, had nothing to confess. No other women whatsoever. He had tried to hit the apps once and given up. It was Scully or nothing for him.

“It’s just dinner,” she says, shaking her head. “Mulder, he’s rich. He made a fortune with these smart homes. He just wants to make sure I won’t badmouth them.”

“So you’re going on a date with him?”

“It’s dinner,” she reminds him.

“Dinner, date, whatever. You’re going.”

“Yes, I’m going. You're not jealous, are you?"

"Me?" he asks in mock surprise, pointing at his chest. "Why would I be jealous if it's just dinner?"

But of course, he's lying.

*

She can’t believe Mulder was right. She and Chad are at an upscale restaurant where a meal costs as much as her monthly rent. He picked her up in a limo and brought her roses. That should have been her first clue. Mulder had looked miserable standing on the porch, watching her leave. As though she wasn’t planning on returning. Now she understands why.

“Dana, I cannot hold it in any longer.” In the dim light, his teeth look comically white, and his eyes are like molten chocolate pools. There are no blemishes on his skin and it hits her how impossibly young he still is. She knows a little bit about him; most importantly, she knows that he’s rich. Really, really rich. A billionaire, if the magazine she read is to be believed. Judging by his clothes, and his attitude, she has no reason to doubt it.

“Hide what?” Her whisper is not deliberate. The restaurant is quiet; a perfect atmosphere for two young lovers making their first moves.

“My feelings for you,” Chad says, smiling. “My love for you. It consumes me.”

“Chad, you don’t even know me.”

“You’re mistaken, Dana. I do know you. The moment I met you, I knew.” His smile is disarming. He isn’t a Philip Padgett, or a Donny Pfaster. He’s just a young, lonely man who’s mistaking his feelings for something they aren’t.

“Chad-”

“You said you’re single.” A mishap of her own making. She and Mulder have been back together for all of three months and she isn’t ready to let anyone else know. She knows that Mulder would like to scream it from the rooftops. He’s been the perfect gentleman, keeping his distance – as much as he can – and pretending to only be her work partner. It has worked so well that she’s ended up on a date with a man almost half her age.

She still can’t believe Mulder was right.

“I’m not… exactly single. It’s just very new and we’re keeping a low profile.” She can see the disappointment on Chad’s face, making him look even younger—almost like a little boy. His hand slips from hers, and he starts fiddling with his napkin instead.

“I should have known,” he says. “A woman like you. It was too good to be true.”

“Chad, there’s someone out there for you.”

“I thought it was you.”

He stares down at his plate and out of the corner of her eye, Scully spots a waitress, watching them closely. The expression on the other woman’s face is oddly familiar to her. Longing. Scully isn’t the first woman Chad has brought here and obviously, none of them have worked out. Maybe, Scully thinks, observing the waitress, he’s looking in all the wrong places.

“Excuse me a moment,” she says to Chad and he nods, not looking up.

“The restroom is this way,” the young waitress informs her when Scully walks toward her.

“I know. That’s not – you probably saw all that, right?”

“I’m not supposed to see things here, Ma’am.”

“I see the way you look at him,” Scully says softly. “I once looked at a man the very same way and I will go home to him now. Why don’t you keep him company?”

“I’m not supposed to… I couldn’t…”

“Sometimes we can bend the rules,” Scully says to her and the younger woman gives her a shy smile. She nods and takes a deep breath before she walks over to the table. Scully watches for a moment and is convinced that she sees a spark in Chad’s eyes. Before the man can spot and miss her, she disappears.

*

Imagining Scully on a date with another man while they were broken up is one thing. Waiting for her to return from a date while they’re living in the same house is torture. It’s shortly before 9 p.m. when he hears the tell-tale sound of the key in the door. His heart is doing somersaults. Returning home early has to be a good sign, right?

“Hey you,” Scully says, throwing her purse into a corner before she plops down next to him on the couch. She smells like roses and vanilla. A primitive part of him is trying to detect a whiff of competition. There is none.

“Hey.” He gives himself 15 seconds. If she doesn’t start talking until then, he’ll ask.

“You’re not going to ask how it was?” She turns to him. She’s gone for minimal make-up today and he spots her freckles peeping through. That alone makes him smile.

“Didn’t want to pressure you. How was it?”

“You were right.”

“Oh, you know what gets me going, Scully. How was I right?”

“Chad. He was hitting on me. He was interested in more than just dinner.”

“And?” He trusts Scully implicitly. There’s no doubt in his mind that she loves him. She wouldn’t have come back if she didn’t. That doesn’t mean he trusts Chad.

“I told him that I’m not available.”

“So Chad’s the first to know about us? Did not see that coming.”

“He said he loves me,” Scully says, shaking her head in disbelief. “He’s only just met me.”

“Hmm, I get it,” Mulder says, nuzzling her neck. He’s not staking his territory, but maybe he is. Just a little bit. “I was infatuated with you right from the start.”

“You were not.”

“Oh, but I was.”

“That’s funny,” she says, kissing him. “Cause I had a crush on you, too.”

“What about now? Do you still have a crush?” Another kiss, this time longer and with more tongue.

“More than a crush,” she murmurs into his mouth, and together they make their way upstairs. In the morning, Mulder will admit that he was jealous. Just a little bit. And Scully will raise her eyebrow, but smile and remind him that he has nothing to worry about. Ever.

That’s confirmed when a month later they get an invitation to Chad’s wedding.

“That guy moves fast,” Mulder says. “I wonder who she is.”

“Oh, I know who she is,” Scully says, grinning triumphantly, recognizing the waitress she saw in the restaurant that night.

[captain-mj]

are you going to continue interview with the 141 or is it finished ? i just really love what we do in the shadows and seeing a fic with my faves was literally like unwrapping the best gift that you didn’t even know existed

Ngl I don't have an excuse, I just straight up forgot about this series... oops? Here's a smutty installment as an apology

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Ghost ran his fingers through Soap’s hair as they kissed. He didn’t think he could get enough. It was like a breath of air after so many years of not being able to breath.

Soap chased his lips, eyelashes fluttering. “Ghost…” He put his hands on his shoulder. “I’d stay with you. Far after when I turn. I promise.” 

Ghost cupped his face and leaned in to him. “One day, the color will be gone from your face. You’ll be forever the same. Your hair will grow slowly. Your body will never change. I’m sorry I’m selfish. I know I’m dragging this out.” He traced his cheekbones and then down to his collar. 

Soap softened. “Why? Like me like this?”

“I like you alive…” Ghost leaned in and kissed his neck gently, feeling his pulse. He sank his fangs into him. His arms tightened when Soap panicked for a moment before relaxing. Soap grabbed Ghost’s biceps and held him tight. 

Blood filled his mouth. It was delicious. Just as good as last time. He lapped at the bleeding wound until Soap shivered and shook. “Ghost…” 

Ghost pulled away and grabbed him, yanking him inside right as the sun’s rays hit the doorstep. 

Soap looked horrified. He quickly started to check Ghost out, running his hands over him to make sure he wasn’t burned anywhere. “I should’ve been more careful we had been out there talking for so long and I….”

“Johnny.” Ghost grabbed his chin and tilted his head so he’d be facing him. “It’s okay.”

Soap paused. His pale complexion mixed with the dark blood on his lips and the drip down his chin… It made him look like one of the vampires in the old movies. He bit his lip, helpless to his charms. 

Ghost smiled. “Do you have your necklace on?”

“No. I didn’t bother getting a new one.” Soap stepped closer. 

“Think you could fight us off?”

“You wouldn’t let them.” 

Ghost hated that it was true. He’d never kill his friends, but for Johnny? He would come close. 

“I don’t need to be turned right now.” Soap said softly. “But the longer you take to decide, the more I age. The more likely it is one day I’ll die. That scares me.”

“Dying?”

“Leaving you alone.” 

Ghost barely thought about it. He was kissing him again, more reverent. More desperate. “Johnny… Johnny…” He picked him up and put him on the counter. “A little more time. It’s all I need.” 

Soap tanged his fingers in Ghost’s hair, expecting another blowjob or maybe some fancy work with his hands. Ghost instead ripped his clothes off and laid him out. He paused only long enough to open a drawer Soap had never seen before and grabbing lube. “Ale and Rudy have these stashed everywhere in the house.” Ghost explained. 

Soap nodded and gripped the counter. “It’s been a while so go slow.”

“You have trouble getting dates?”

“Never have enough alone time. And they’re not really you, are they?”

Ghost was going to go mad. He hiked Soap’s leg up and used a liberal amount of lube. He pressed his lips to Soap’s ankle as he carefully worked him open. 

Soap gasped and groaned and whined. So wonderfully tight. It took him a while for Ghost to be able to slide a second finger in. “You’re doing beautifully, Love.” He mumbled and placed another kiss to his calf this time. “But you’re going to need to relax.”

“I am.” Soap whimpered out, adjusting his legs to try to spread them more. He groaned and his back arched as Ghost curled his fingers. It took more lube and a lot of patience but Ghost got him to take three, slowly curling and uncurling them before digging them in deeper. 

Soap’s head lolled back as he panted, eyes screwed shut. 

Ghost pulled back and carefully lined himself up. 

Every vice Ghost could think of didn’t hold a candle to Soap. He was so tight. So hot. It felt like he was melting into him. 

Soap let out a tiny sob as Ghost continued to push him. He tensed for a second before forcing himself to relax, body arching.

Ghost bottomed out, eyes staring at the ceiling. “Johnny. Why have you never convinced me to do this before?”

Soap looked indignant. “I tri-” Ghost thrust in, knocking the air out of him. He was slow, like promised, but with his size and how eager it was, it was still a lot. Johnny felt tears streaming down his face but it was too good for him to ask Ghost to stop. As he started to get more and more comfortable, Ghost would speed up until he found himself bent in half and being pounded into. 

Soap grabbed his shoulders and buried his face in his neck, sobbing. He came hard with only Ghost’s arms around him to keep him from shattering. His body tightened around Ghost until he heard a choked sound as he came inside Soap. 

Soap shivered from the sudden and Ghost scooped him up, whisking him away to his coffin. They fit surprisingly well. 

Interviewer: Did you cry?

Soap: Like a fucking baby.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 12

Prayers to Broken Stone

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 4k

Warnings and tags: lots of fluff; tiny bit of angst; borderline SMUT but mostly just suggestive; a gross situation involving rotten fish; two idiots refusing to acknowledge the truth

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Rex and Echo receive some intel from the Batch; the scouting team returns from Raada; Gregor and Cerra go on a supply run.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Start here | Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list | Read on AO3

Lips that would kiss form prayers to broken stone.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

Rex sat alone on the sofa, staring at a datafile on the holoprojector as Echo entered the garage hours later. Cerra was nowhere to be found.

“You see this?” Rex asked.

Echo moved closer and peered at the hologram. “No. What is it?”

“Came in from Tech while you were away.”

Echo checked his comlink and saw that there was indeed a message from Tech. “What’s it about?”

“Seems they had a run-in with the same type of creature that attacked Coruscant early in the war. The empire is,” Rex hesitated before continuing. “... cloning them.”

“What?” Echo asked, incredulous. “What does the Empire want with that thing?”

“Hard to say. That’s why Tech sent it to us—to find out.”

Echo grunted quietly in acknowledgment, staring at the hologram. “Where do we even start?”

“With this file,” Rex said. “I think it’s best to keep this between us until we know more.”

Echo glanced at him in surprise. “You don’t want to tell the rest of the team?”

“Nothing to tell. Yet.”

Echo waited a moment, uncomfortable with the idea of withholding intel from the rest of the team. When Rex showed no sign of continuing, he asked, “And when we do have something to tell?”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge,” Rex replied with finality.

He and Echo reviewed the extensive data that Tech had been able to retrieve, but it was clear that it would take a significant amount of time to analyze it all. They poked at it for a few hours, until a soft sound emanated from inside the barracks. Rex closed the datafile abruptly as the barracks door slid open and Cerra emerged, looking groggy and disheveled, sheet marks crisscrossing her face.

She mumbled an incoherent greeting and headed straight to the refresher. Echo glanced between her and Rex, wondering exactly what the captain was playing at with this secrecy. It didn’t sit well with Echo; he’d grown accustomed to the more open dynamic of the Batch, where intel was freely shared, and every member had a say in the final decision. Still, he was sure Rex had his reasons—even if keeping intel from teammates did remind him uncomfortably of his time in the GAR, when he simply followed orders and hoped that those in command knew what they were doing.

It wasn’t the first time Rex had withheld information from the larger group, Echo mused, recalling their earlier conversation about the rumored secret intelligence network. Rex had mentioned Admiral Yularen, and based on Cerra’s reaction to the name, Echo knew there was a story there. He wondered if she would ever feel comfortable sharing it with him. 

“I don’t know what the Empire is even doing as far out as Raada, but it’s nothing good,” Fireball said.

“It’s remote even by Outer Rim standards,” Gregor added. “Sort of place where nobody goes unless they’re either hiding or out of other options. Hardly any population.” 

“Tell me what you found,” Rex said.

“There’s an Imperial base there, all right,” Gregor said. “Big. Secure. Bit of overkill, if you ask me.”

“I couldn’t even contact Nemec,” Fireball said. “Comms were jammed.”

“They’re still setting up the base,” Gregor said. “That’s our ticket in. Only saw half as many troops as I’d expect for a base of that size.”

“So what, we stow away on a transport ship?” Echo asked. “I don’t know about you, but my armor might stand out a bit.”

“Cerra can work around it,” Gregor said confidently. “She’ll find us some of that junk stormtrooper armor. All we have to do is sneak into the Imperial military headquarters and get onto one of those transports.”

“Is that all?” Fireball asked drily. “While we’re dreaming, can I get a large Blue Milkshake and legal personhood?”

Cerra’s eyes crinkled and she nudged Fireball, shooting him a tiny, amused smirk. He held up his fist, and she bumped hers against it as Rex looked on with a markedly unamused expression.

“It would be easier for just one person to infil HQ,” Echo said. “We could send a team with a ship to Raada to stand by, and our man on the inside will smuggle Nemec out of the base and rendezvous at predetermined coordinates.”

“I’ll go,” Fireball said immediately. “He’s my brother.”

Rex shook his head. “My intel says they’re scanning the identifying number of every clone trooper before they board the transports. Every one of us is either presumed dead or wanted by the Empire. We’d be executed on the spot. It will have to be a nat-born.”

“Agreed,” Cerra said. “Echo, do you think you could slice into the Imperial database and plant fake orders? Every base needs a supply officer.”

“You can’t be serious,” Gregor objected. “After what happened at 79’s?”

“Rex is right. It has to be a nat-born,” Cerra said.

“Then send Rafa!” Gregor said. “Or one of Chuchi’s guards.”

“Not a lot of Pantorans in the Imperial army,” Echo said.

“It needs to be someone familiar with military protocol,” Rex added. “Rafa would get arrested before she ever made it through HQ security.”

“It has to be me, Gregor,” Cerra said quietly.

“I don’t like it,” Gregor growled.

“You don’t have to like it,” Rex said. “It’s not your call to make.”

“It’s not yours, either,” Gregor retorted.

“It’s my call, and I’m doing it,” Cerra said firmly.

As it turned out, they had more than a week to plan the mission, which felt unfathomably luxurious. While Rex waited for his contact to confirm the schedule, he, Echo, and Fireball went to investigate a lead on a possible ship for the Balmorra mission. In the meantime, Cerra had a secret weapon to coax Gregor out of his sullen mood: a grocery run, his absolute favorite kind of mission.

Coruscant was a planet of many wonders. Home to trillions of beings, it was a vibrant hub of culture, and where there was culture, there was food. In the galactic capital, one could find any kind of food imaginable, and Gregor had a vivid imagination. Cerra would have been happy enough with whatever bland ration bars she could find in CoCo Town, but Gregor had eaten enough industrial food to last him for a lifetime, and now that he had the freedom to eat whatever he wanted, he refused to settle for rations unless it was an actual emergency—and even then, it was subject to debate.

To find the sorts of ingredients he required, he and Cerra had to venture to the upper levels, to one of Coruscant’s vast, sprawling open-air markets. There, vendors from across the galaxy offered up a dazzling array of wares: everything from fresh produce, meat, and fish, to baked goods and confectionery, to hand-made soaps and candles, to antiques and artwork, to an entire market district dedicated exclusively to cut flowers. 

During the war, Gregor had heard about the market but never been allowed inside. The first time he’d visited, he could hardly believe such a thing existed in the same galaxy as Abafar. The opulence and abundance of the market contrasted starkly with the impoverished, hardscrabble planet where he’d spent so many months with no memories or identity. He’d learned to cook from Borkus, and he once told Cerra that as far as he was concerned, that was the only good thing that had ever happened on that Maker-forsaken rock.

Now, as he wandered through the market with Cerra’s fingers laced between his own, he made no attempt to disguise his wonder and delight at the bustling, colorful surroundings. The heady scents of roasting peppers, fried food, pungent spices, and hot sugar permeated the air, making his stomach rumble.

“We should get a snack first,” he said.

“Yes, please!” Cerra agreed. “Otherwise, I’ll just buy everything in the market.”

They found a food stall that sold griddled ronto wrappers stuffed with traladon cheese and a variety of meat and vegetable fillings. The cheese was melty and stringy; and the flatbread was crispy and a little greasy; and on the whole, it was absolutely delicious. They ate as they walked, taking in all of the sights, smells, and sounds of the market. They passed a vendor piping rings of batter into a gigantic vat of hot oil, and Gregor made a note of the location.

“We’re getting some of those on our way home,” he said.

“To share with the boys?” Cerra asked

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” he replied with a wink.

She laughed, and he grinned at her, his earlier surliness forgotten as he draped his arm over her shoulders. They stopped at every stall that offered samples, tasting and testing. 

“Candilin oranges!” a vendor called out. “Get them while they’re fresh! These won’t last longer than a day, folks, so don’t miss out!”

Gregor tugged Cerra toward the stall.

“We can’t afford those, Gregor,” she whispered.

“The samples are free,” he whispered back.

He snagged a small piece of the fruit off of the vendor’s sample tray and sniffed it curiously. 

“Smell,” he told Cerra, holding it close to her face.

She leaned in and inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering closed. It smelled fresh and bright and zesty, and it reminded her of the sun. “It smells delicious.”

He slid the fruit into her mouth, and she took a bite. Sweet, tangy juice exploded across her tongue, and she made a tiny sound of pleasure as an expression of utter bliss settled on her face. Gregor beamed at her as he popped the rest of the fruit into his own mouth. The vendor, a Nithorn, regarded them with shrewd little eyes.

“Ah, young love,” she squawked. “I’ll give you a special discount for being such an adorable couple.”

Cerra’s eyes snapped open, and she pulled slightly away from Gregor. “Oh, we’re n—”

“Not made of credits,” Gregor cut in hastily. “You know how it is when you’re just starting out.”

Cerra flicked an uncertain glance at him, but she didn’t resist when he pulled her a little closer and wrapped his arm around her waist. The Nithorn nodded sagely.

“Of course, of course,” she said. “But nothing is too good for your girl, am I right? Come on, I’ll cut you a deal.”

“How much?” Cerra asked.

“Fifty credits apiece,” the vendor replied.

Cerra choked. “I’m not saying it’s not worth it, but we don’t have that kind of money.”

“Twenty,” Gregor countered.

The vendor guffawed. “Sorry, kids, but I’m running a business, not a charity. Forty credits.”

“Come on, Gregor,” Cerra urged. “We can find something else.”

“Twenty-two,” Gregor said.

“Are you trying to destroy my livelihood?” the vendor asked. “Thirty, and not a decicred less.”

“Twenty-five,” Gregor replied.

“You are breaking my heart,” said the Nithorn. “Fine, twenty-five. Be sure to eat it today, or it will rot.”

As they walked away with their prize, Cerra said in a low voice, “We don’t have that kind of budget, Gregor. What were you thinking?”

“I’ll make it up somewhere else,” he shrugged. “It was worth it.”

They wandered through the produce stands, selecting an assortment of fruits and vegetables as they caught Gregor’s eye. He spotted a table heaped with round, russet-colored fruits.

“What are these?” he asked the vendor.

“Kavasa,” Cerra replied, recognizing the fruit immediately.

“That’s right,” the Twi’lek vendor said. “Fresh kavasa, straight from Corellia. Just got a huge shipment this morning. I’m selling it for half price, if you’re interested.”

“We’ll take a kilo,” Gregor said.

“Are you sure?” Cerra asked. “Don’t you want to taste it first?”

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Yes, it was my favorite when I was little,” Cerra admitted. 

“Then we’ll take a kilo,” he repeated.

Gregor found a vendor who sold freeze-dried fruits and vegetables, and he insisted on buying several cartons for their off-world missions. “If we have to eat rations, at least we can buy some that resemble real food.”

Their last stop was the meat market. He’d been wanting to try his hand at cooking brualki brisket since he’d first tasted it at Dex’s Diner. 

“We’re all out of brualki,” the butcher said. He was a burly Devaronian with two broken horns, and his arms bulged with muscles developed over years of breaking down enormous primal cuts. “But I’m sure we can find something that will suit you. Ever tried joopa?”

Gregor was intrigued. “Never heard of it. What’s it like?”

The butcher launched into a detailed sales pitch about the merits of joopa rib roasts, and Gregor asked a number of pointed questions about preparation techniques and flavor profiles as Cerra let her attention wander.

“Our joopa is wild-caught, from a place called Seelos,” the butcher said. “Never been there, myself.”

Cerra didn’t understand a word of the conversation, but one thing she did understand was sticking to a Force-damned budget. “How much per kilo?” 

“Ten credits,” the butcher replied. “It’s about half the price of brualki right now, so you’ll save a decent chunk of creds.”

“I’ll take a five-kilo roast,” Gregor said. 

The bags of groceries were heavy as they headed to the freighter, but Gregor wrangled them with ease. They were nothing compared to the weight of the armor that he normally wore. The market had become even more crowded as the day advanced, and beings of every imaginable species jostled around them. They retraced their route back to the ship, and as they passed through the fishmongers’ market district, disaster struck.

A large, boisterous family of Gabdorins blocked most of the path as the parents haggled with a merchant. Gregor and Cerra squeezed by them single-file. Suddenly, two of the youngest children broke free of the larger group and began chasing each other. Gregor tried to back up, but it was too late. The children ran straight into him, taking him out at the knees. As he fell, he collided with Cerra and knocked her down beneath him. They landed with a splash in a reeking puddle of water and rotting fish. 

“Sorry, mister!” the children shrieked as they ran off to continue their game.

Cerra gagged at the stench, and Gregor quickly scrambled to his feet. By some miracle, he’d managed to keep the grocery bags out of the splash zone, but his clothes were saturated with the putrid liquid, and Cerra’s were even worse.

“What the kriff?” Cerra sputtered.

“Watch your language, lady,” one of the adult Gabdorins snapped.

“Are you serious?” Cerra demanded, incensed.

“Hey, easy,” Gregor intervened. “It was just an accident. Let’s get home so we can get out of these clothes.”

Cerra grumbled mutinously, but nevertheless she followed Gregor as they hurried back to the freighter. Fortunately—if anything about the situation could be considered fortunate—the miasma of rotting fish guts cleared a path through the crowded market, and they made it to the ship in record time.

“In, in, in, in, in,” Cerra chanted, her words blending into each other in her urgency. “Put the groceries in the conservator. I’ll get the ship powered up.”

Gregor hadn’t even finished stowing the perishables by the time they were airborne. Cerra breathed through her mouth, but she couldn’t escape the fetid stench. The flight back to the garage felt like the longest of her life, and from Gregor’s occasional retching sounds, he was suffering just as much as she was. She piloted them down the underworld portal, and as soon as the ship touched down on the landing platform, they stripped out of their garments and ran for the refreshers.

Luckily, nobody else had returned to the garage yet. Cerra got there first and tugged her bra and briefs off before making a beeline for the farthest shower stall. Gregor was right behind her, pulling off his boxers and leaving them in a pile with Cerra’s things, then claiming the second shower stall.

“Uuuuuuuugh, that is the most disgusting thing that has ever happened to me,” Cerra grunted. “Thank the stars I don’t have any hair; otherwise I’d have to shave my head all over again.”

“I’m not so lucky,” he said. “I hope I can get the smell out.”

The refresher began to fill with steam from both showers running at once. Cerra soaped her entire body from head to toe, and still the stench lingered. On the other side of the narrow tile barrier, she could hear vigorous splashing that indicated Gregor was scrubbing himself thoroughly. Cerra let out a low groan of pleasure as she stood under the hot spray. 

“At least it happened at the end of the trip instead of the beginning,” Cerra said.

“Mm-hmm,” Gregor said noncommittally.

“We might have to burn our clothes,” she observed. “I don’t know if the smell will ever go away no matter how many times we clean them.”

“Yeah.” Gregor’s voice was strained.

She shut her shower off and stepped out. Gregor was facing the wall of his shower stall, his back to her as he stood under the water. 

“Ah, kriff, I forgot a towel,” she said. “Do you need one?”

“No!” he said, keeping his back turned to her. “I mean, I’m not quite finished. I think I need to wash my hair again.”

“Okay,” she said, crossing to the bank of lockers where they kept a supply of towels and toiletries. “I’ll leave a clean one for you on the sink.”

“Thanks, Cerra,” he said. “You should go get something to eat. It’s been hours since we had those ronto wraps.”

His tone was brusque, and she hoped he wasn’t still angry about the Raada mission.

“Good idea,” she said. “I need to send the cleaning droid into the freighter anyway.”

She went to the barracks and dressed quickly, then powered up the cleaning droid and programmed it to decontaminate the ship. She lugged the groceries into the kitchenette and began to stow them away just as Gregor exited the refresher and headed for the barracks, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Droplets of water beaded across his broad shoulders and chest, and her gaze slid down his body, just for an instant, before she jerked her eyes away, focusing on finding space to fit the joopa roast in the conservator.

Nothing I haven’t seen before, she thought. Though if she were honest, Gregor was built differently from the other clones, even from the ARC troopers. He was thicker and denser, and she tried not to think about the way those shining droplets had slid down the planes of his—What the hell? This is Gregor! You know, your best friend and the one person you can count on in the galaxy? Stop thinking about his muscles, damn it!

She shoved the roast into the conservator and slammed the door, leaning against it to make sure it sealed. She swallowed. What was wrong with her? First sex dreams, and now this? She must be losing whatever tattered shreds of sanity she still possessed. 

This is all Echo’s fault, she thought irritably. I never even thought about Gregor that way until he put the idea in my head.

She sighed and dug through the bags of groceries until she unearthed the candilin orange and a kavasa fruit. She sliced them with unnecessary violence and arranged them on a plate as Gregor rejoined her.

He was dressed—thank the Maker for small mercies—and he looked far more relaxed than he had in a long while. Now that she thought about it, he had been tense ever since the night they’d gone to 79’s. A wave of guilt washed through her at the realization that she’d caused him that much distress.

“Want to catch up on the Bake Off?” he asked.

“I think we’ve earned it,” she replied. “Don’t tell Fireball we watched it without him, though.”

Gregor flopped down on the sofa and turned on the holotable, and Cerra curled up next to him. As the show’s opening jingle played, she passed him the plate of fruit. He tasted a slice of kavasa experimentally.

“That’s delicious!” he exclaimed. “No wonder it was your favorite.”

She swiped a slice and popped it into her mouth, enjoying the familiar burst of juicy sweetness across her tongue. It tasted like childhood. It tasted like home. She closed her eyes to blink away the tears that pricked behind her eyelids, and when she opened them, Gregor was watching her with a small, satisfied smile. He reached over and tugged her legs onto his lap and balanced the plate on top of her knees as he turned to watch the show.

The show hosts were droning on and on in some ridiculous opening skit about being turned into tookas. Cerra’s attention wandered, and her eyelids grew heavy. Gregor shifted her legs and stood to take the empty plate to the kitchenette, but before he could leave, she snagged his hand and tugged him back down onto the sofa with a sleepy grumble that sounded suspiciously like “No. My Gregor.” 

He laughed quietly and set the plate on the floor, then lay down next to her. It was a tight fit, and she wiggled up against the back of the couch to make room for him. He wrapped his arms around her and began to rub small circles on her back, and within minutes, the pair were asleep.

The room was dark as Cerra floated toward consciousness. She felt wonderfully warm and safe, held securely in a strong embrace, and she closed her eyes again, drifting on the border between slumber and lucidity. Soft, even breaths fanned across the skin of her chest, where a head rested heavily against her. Their legs tangled together, one strong thigh trapped between her own, and she realized two things at once: first, that thigh was pressed against her achingly aroused sex; and second, he was hard as a kriffing rock against her hip.

“Fives,” she breathed.

She tightened her arms around his shoulders, determined to savor every second of their time together, knowing that they would have to wake up and return to their duties all too soon. She flattened her palm against the hard muscles of his upper back, stroking him languidly. Where were they this time? Florrum? Cato Nemoidia? Did it even matter? She pressed her lips against his forehead, inhaling deeply. Something was different about his scent. New soap? She liked it. It smelled comforting, somehow—familiar. 

“Where are we?” she whispered, but his only answer was a soft snore.

She shifted, inadvertently dragging herself along his thigh and moaning quietly at the friction. Fives, responsive even in his sleep, rumbled deep in his chest and rolled his hips, grinding his cock against her. Gods, it had been too long. She’d forgotten how damned big he was. How long had it been this time? Weeks? Months? She couldn’t even remember. The campaigns blurred together, punctuated by those brief, rare occasions when they both had shore leave at the same time. Where are we?

 Kriff, she was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of being away from him. She missed him so much that it poisoned their time together: even now, with him lying safe in her arms, the knowledge that he would be gone again soon weighed heavily on her chest. How long do we have this time? 

Where are we?

Her breathing settled into a regular rhythm, and she drifted back into oblivion. She was deep asleep when the man in her embrace shifted with a quiet, drowsy grumble and then went abruptly rigid. In the darkened garage, illuminated only by the Are you still watching? message on the holoprojector, he carefully disentangled himself from her and pulled away. 

Hours later, Cerra awoke, disoriented and utterly alone.

Next chapter

[unhingedangstaddict]

I'll Hold Onto You While We Run Ch.11 Sneak Peak

9-1-1 airs live later for me than it does others due to a difference in time zones and the wait + avoiding social media to avoid spoilers is killing me so I'm posting this and working on fics to kill some time!!

Hen waited until she got home to open her letter from Buck. It was fairly early in the morning for a Sunday, so Denny was asleep, though Karen might’ve woken up when Hen went into their room to change. Hen sat in the living room with a cup of coffee and opened the letter.

“What’s that?” Karen asked as she came into the living room.

“Letter from Buck.” Hen explained.

“They’re finally letting him write letters?” Karen seemed surprised.

Hen hadn’t told Karen where Buck was or what was going on with him, but Karen being as smart as she was, figured it out on her own, and Hen wasn’t going to lie to her wife and say Karen was wrong when she was in fact correct about Buck being in witness protection. “And letting us respond.” Hen told her. “He can’t talk about any of it in the letters though. Wanna read it with me?”

“Yes.” Karen confirmed as she sat next to Hen and snuggled up to her wife.

Hen smiled and put an arm around Karen, then pulled open the letter.

Hen,

How are you doing? How’s Karen and Denny? I hope you’re good.

I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I wanted to, it just didn’t work out that way. I felt (still feel) terrible for it. I hope you’re not mad. I miss you tons.

I’m doing okay, I miss everyone and LA and firefighting, but it’s not so bad where I am. I’m bartending again which is alright, but I’ll be glad when I get to get back to the 118 for sure.

How is everyone really doing? I’m asking you because I know you’ll be honest with me. I’m sure everyone will say they’re fine, that things are okay, but if anyone is having a rough time I want to know so I can try and reassure them better in my next letter to them.

Odd questions, (you don’t have to answer if it’s weird or invasive or anything) but how did you know you’re gay? Did it take a long time to realize it? What about how long it took to be comfortable with it? How long did it take for you to start coming out to people?

Please give Karen and Denny my love as well. I miss them loads too.

Can’t wait to see your response!

Buck

Hen and Karen shared a look when they got to the questions Buck asked about Hen’s sexuality. “You think he’s finally…” Karen trailed off.

“Aware he might be in the closet?” Hen filled in. “I do. And it’s about damn time.”

“I hope he’s not upset that I saw that too.” Karen frowned.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. He probably knew there was a chance you’d see it anyway and his secret is just as safe with you as it is me.” Hen pointed out. “Your journey might be of more help to him than mine anyway.” She added.

“You think?”

“He’s thirty years old and clearly questioning things. I never questioned anything. I don’t know that my answers to these questions will help him much.”

“I guess so. I’d be happy to share.” Karen smiled. “I just wish he was here to have this conversation in person. He’s probably got no one to talk to about this there, if anyone. He’s probably losing his mind.”

“You’re telling me. At least he’s got a job so he gets some kind of social interaction. I don’t think Buck would be able to handle not having people to talk to.”

“Definitely not.” Karen agreed.

Read from the beginning on ao3

[pkg4mumtown]

Burning

Pairing: Bobby Nash x Male!Reader

Rating: Mature

AO3 (highly reccomend reading on AO3 for the iOS workskin): Read Here

Summary: You’re finally cleared by your doctor for normal activities—not by your Captain of course—but Athena thinks you two can bend the rules a little bit. What happens when you finally run into the 118 team that Athena has mentioned?

A/N: My first 9-1-1 fic! It’s been a long time coming! Takes place a few months or more after the tsunami episode, so the timeline might not be all correct but…oh well. As much as I adore Bathena, it’s not established in this fic and for all intents and purposes, they’re just friends. There is art scattered in the fic and there is my interpretation of the main character but in no way is that how he has to look—there are no specific descriptors in the writing for hair, eyes, skin color, etc. By all means, if you’d like to create your own version of him, I’d love to see it!

Warnings: canon typical injuries, male!reader (no y/n), mentions of blood and burns, first kiss, Bi!Bobby, older man/younger man, meet cute

“Sergeant Grant,” I grinned with a sing-songy lilt to my voice, leaning back in my seat as I looked up at her.

Groaning and flexing my forearm for the fourth time that morning, I sighed and closed the file on my desk and pushed it aside. I reached for my coffee mug with my good hand before pulling it back and reaching for it with the arm I could actually use now. I grimaced as lukewarm liquid touched my lips, having half a mind to get up and warm it up when I heard a couple short raps on the doorframe of the office I was inhabiting in the short term.

“How’s the arm doing, Officer?” she grinned with her voice equally as playful while dropping my last name, with her own coffee clasped between her hands.

“Oh you know…” I shrugged, putting it through some motions. “Doc said I didn’t have to wear a sling anymore and I can start working it out again at a hundred percent, so that’s good.”

“If it's any consolation, you don’t look like you lost muscle in that arm,” she pursed her lips and laughed.

“It’s nice to know someone’s looking,” I chuckled, taking another disgusting sip. “So, what can I do for you?”

“It’s more like what I can do for you,” she sauntered in and took a seat across from me. “I spoke to Cap and she might have agreed for me to take you out on patrol with me.”

“No…” I breathed in disbelief, knowing full well the Captain had just told me I wasn’t cleared for leading field work yet or training any new officers.

“Unless you’re too busy, of course,” Athena dismissed, scooting her chair back and standing up, gesturing to the pile of folders on my desk with her eyebrows.

“Not too busy!” I exclaimed quickly, standing before she could leave the room. “It’s just busy work and evaluations anyway…”

“Are you su—“

“—very sure,” I responded before she could finish, grabbing my bag and vest for patrol from the floor next to me.

Athena simply gave me an amused grin and nodded her head for me to follow her out.

“Don’t laugh at me, I was going crazy stuck to a desk, Athena.”

“I’m not surprised, you hyperactive man-baby.”

—

We prepped her patrol car, making sure everything was situated and tossing my bag in the trunk of the Explorer. I hesitated in the back, looking at my body armor secured to my bag. Before the tsunami, I would have had it on as soon as I got to the station, but being on desk duty for the last few months, I hadn’t needed it. It was unlikely I would need it in Athena’s beat, but I knew I would feel less uneasy with it on.

Now, I just had to get it on without completely disrobing or jostling my shirt-stays. As I contemplated my predicament, I undid my uniform shirt all the way down to my belt. I opened the Velcro flaps on my vest and began an awkward shimmy of sliding the back of the vest underneath and behind my collar, sliding my head through the middle, and letting the front flap over my chest. I rolled my shoulders to let it fall in place on its own and tugged my open shirt to get any material stuck underneath the vest out. When I was situated, I closed up the Velcro sides snuggly and buttoned up my shirt.

“Are you lost or—“ Athena asked impatiently—having already checked to make sure the vehicle was in order—coming around to the back of the patrol vehicle while I fussed with my buttons.

“Sorry, one sec,” I offered apologetically.

“I’m not taking you to any high risk calls, so don’t get too excited,” she laughed saying my name like that of an over-eager child. “Cap would have my head.”

“Hey, take it easy on me, Athena. I used to work narcotics and those calls were never chill, so this puts me at ease a little.”

“Alright, alright. Hurry up, before I tell Cap about that very non regulation patch on your body armor,” she gave me a pointed look, glancing down at the terrible sewing job I had done on my body armor that held a small pansexual flag. The Sergeant pushed her sunglasses up to her face but not before winking in my direction to let me know she was joking.

Piling in to the Explorer, Athena immediately got on the radio, “This is 727-A-30, we are 10-8.”

I tuned out the radio conversation after that, knowing Athena would be giving our info to dispatch quickly as we pulled out of the station. 

—

We started patrolling her beat, finding it fairly quiet but knowing better than to voice that out loud. Not twenty minutes into our patrol shift, did Athena’s phone start pinging messages in quick succession from where it hung in the dash mount. 

“Damn, ‘Thena, you got a hot date or what?” I snorted, trying to sneakily grab her phone but telegraphing my movements purposely so she’d slap me away.

“Oh shut it,” she slapped my arm. “Your doctor cleared you so I won’t feel bad if I have to hit you harder.”

“I expect nothing less, sarge,” I grinned. “But, come on, you know I love me some chisme, cough it up.”

“It’s nothing,” she rolled her eyes, quickly replying as we stopped at a red light.

“Oooh, is it about me?” I waggled my eyebrows, while she gave me a blank stare from behind her sunglasses.

The patrol car was silent for a few moments, the only sound being from outside the car and the radio faintly playing.

“Yes, it was about you,” I finally heard her mumble.

“I knew it! Let me see!” I made grabby hands for her phone.

“I’m gonna regret this,” she sighed and tossed the phone in my lap.

I laughed as I scrolled to the beginning of the conversation, someone by the name of “Maddie” starting off by asking who I was and why I was with Athena when she usually patrolled solo, with the eyes emoji to end the question.

The transfer from Pacific I told you about! - Athena

Ooh! Pics! I remember you talking about him! He sounds hot! -Maddie

Pics! -Hen

Show us! -Eddie

He’s a dork, but he’s cool. - Athena

Oh, he IS hot! -Maddie

Seconded! -Eddie

Hey! -Buck

Sorry… -Eddie

You’re right, though -Buck

I’m NOT asking out a subordinate, stop it -Athena

“Hey, I’m not a dork,” I teased.

“You so are.”

“How did this Maddie person know I was with you so fast anyway…?” I drifted off as another text came in.

“She’s a dispatcher. Everyone else there is from the 118. Her brother and boyfriend are with the 118, too. You’ll probably run into them a lot on patrol, that’s how I met them anyway.”

You definitely withheld the hot part from me, Athena -Bobby

Ooooo, Cap! -Hen

“Ooh, firefighters…mmm,” I sighed dreamily just to annoy her. “And who is Bobby? He looks fine as hell and he just called me hot.” I hurriedly clicked on his contact photo to get a better look.

“The 118 Captain. I knew your gay little heart wouldn’t be able to resist him,” she laughed and took the phone from me.

“I’m not gay, ‘Thena, I’m pansexual. You know this!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just only talk about the guys, so I forget sometimes.”

“That’s because they usually have the most drama,” I snorted. “So, you’re forgiven.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s straight, though. Well, I’ve never heard him talk about going out with any men, so I suppose I’m just assuming.”

“Oh, I will be devastated if he is,” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “What about you?”

“Nah, after Michael…I’ve been taking some time for me. I didn’t want to jump into anyone’s arms, I’m too focused on my kids after the divorce, you know?”

“Aw, yea, I understand. But, you know I’d take you out in a heartbeat if you let me,” I shot her a smile.

“You are too young for me!” She scoffed and shook her head.

“No, you’re just experienced,” I winked. “Also, I take offense to that. I’m in my thirties with two degrees and a career, ma’am.”

“Lord help me.”

—

“911, What’s your emergency?”

“My mother! She’s out of control! THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!” wild screaming arises in the background, “Get away from me! YOU’VE OFFICIALLY LOST IT!”

“This is dispatch requesting a unit at 294 Moreno Drive. Reports of a family disturbance and possible assault.”

“Dispatch, this is 727-A-30 handling.”

“10-4, 727-A-30.”

Athena flicked the sirens and lights on and sighed heavily as we sped off to the call, “Oh boy.”

—

“727-A-30, 10-97 on scene,” Athena announced into her radio.

“I’m just saying, thin crust is delicious but my fat ass will eat the whole thing. So, I never allow myself to get it!” I groaned to Athena.

“Or you could have some self control lik—”

I glared at Athena and smirked thinking my glare cut her off but saw her staring past me.

“You’re psychotic! All of you!” a high pitched yell sounded as the front door of the house ripped open.

A middle-aged woman wielding a brightly colored, tissue paper covered stick stormed out of the house followed by a flock of elderly people.

“I told you not to come!” a half dressed older lady shouted back at her.

Oh shit. I immediately averted my eyes at the sight, hearing Athena chuckle behind me.

“It’s your birthday! I was just supposed to ignore that!?” She flailed the stick around.

“Obviously!”

“Mom, did you order strippers!?” the woman screamed, finally noticing Athena and me.

“Honey, you called 911,” an older man, likely her father, spoke up from next to her mother.

“Well, Mom was stripping and doing body shots!”

“I just turned seventy! Let me live a little! Also, you hit me with that stick!”

“Yea, to knock some sen—”

“Okay!” I spoke up, ending the argument. “I’m flattered you think I could pass as a stripper but I’m going to have to ask you to put the piñata stick down, ma’am,” I held my hands out as non-threateningly as possible. When she didn’t immediately put it down, I cocked my head and gave a slower warning, “Ma’am…”

“Yea, yea, fine,” she rolled her eyes and thrust the stick at me. 

I jumped but grabbed it tightly and and took it from her hands. Athena took it from me and held it far out of reach.

“Now, are we pressing charges and do you need medical attention?” I looked pointedly at the mother.

“No…no…” the mother waved me off.

“Press charges against me? I called you!”

“You also assaulted someone, so it doesn’t matter who called us,” I sighed, resting my hands on my duty belt. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave the property.”

The woman huffed and stomped off, making Athena and me sag with relief. 

“I hope you have a nice rest of your party, ma’am,” I smiled and nodded my head to her, her husband, and the rest of the guests who had come out onto the lawn.

I turned back toward Athena, my eyes widening comically and mouthing, “Oh my god,” with an exasperated expression.

“Hey, you said you liked a little experience…” Athena laughed as we got in the car.

“Shut up,” I mumbled with a smirk.

“727-A-30, 10-98.”

“I need some bleach for my eyes,” I sighed heavily.

—

“911, What’s your emergency?”

“I’m trapped! There’s a—a huge pile up on—“ the caller wheezed, “—Wilshire.”

“911, What’s your emergency?” 

“The traffic lights! They’re all green! There’s a huge accident on Wilshire and Irolo.”

“911, What’s your emergency?”

“I’m the manager at Bank of Hope on Wilshire and Vermont, we just had a robbery take place. I think they hit Wells Fargo, too!”

“All available units in the vicinity of Wilshire and Irolo, please respond to a pileup in the intersection for traffic control. Firehouse 118 is arriving on scene shortly.”

“727-A-30, responding,” Athena answered immediately and made a u-turn while turning on the lights and sirens.

“10-4, 727-A-30. Please be advised, 211 just took place on Wilshire and Vermont. A unit has already been dispatched but witnesses report the getaway car heading toward the accident intersection. Suspect is 10-29FD possibly carrying a knife. Gun was left at the scene.”

“10-4, Dispatch. Patch me in to Captain Nash.”

There was silence before the radio crackled finally.

“This is Captain Nash.”

“Bobby, I’m on route to the accident, use extreme caution. Suspect is armed.”

“Athena, dispatch notified us that it was a knife. Have a little faith, I think we can take it,” he chuckled over the radio.

“Bobby…”

“We’ll be looking out, don’t worry. Just arrived on scene.”

Bobby cut out leaving us to listen to the sirens as we sped to the scene.

“Responders, please be advised the getaway vehicle was a black sedan.”

“10-4.”

“Dispatch, there’s three black sedans, proceeding with caution,” Bobby interjected.

We pulled up to the scene eight minutes later, seeing a horrific display of mangled cars, smoke, and flames. A couple LAPD units had already arrived on scene and started directing traffic away from the intersection. Firefighters, the 118 I assumed, were split up around the cars to attend to as many people as they could.

“You find one black sedan, I’ll find another. Clear it and head to the last one.”

“Copy that,” I clipped and opened the door, immediately dropping my hand to my taser to pull out if needed.

I jogged over to where one of the cars was, slowing down as I approached to be able to assess the situation better. I rounded other cars cautiously but didn’t immediately see anyone that screamed “robber” at me, nor evidence of a robbery in the car as I approached it.

I jumped as my radio crackled, “Responders, Station 122 is arriving shortly for medical back up.”

“Athena!” I called out in her general direction, “Clear over here!”

“Here, too! Dispatch, suspect has not been located yet.”

“I’m heading to the nex—” I called out, stopping when I saw an unresponsive woman in her car just a few down from the one I had checked.

The car next to hers had caught fire, which had spread near hers. Her car was leaking fluid, making me curse and not want to find out what it was until it was too late.

“I need an extinguisher here!” I shouted.

I saw a couple of the 118’s heads pop up and look in my direction. Captain Nash's distinctive helmet nodded to his other teammates before running toward the fire truck. 

“Don’t move the victim!” I heard one of them yell.

“She can’t wait! This whole this is about to go up!”

I tried for the door handle but it was dented and crushed. The front of the car was too close to the flames for comfort, so I hastily pulled out a knife and cut the seat belt off her. Leaning into the window to drag her out, my duty belt caught on the broken glass and twisted metal so I couldn’t fully clutch her. With a growl, I let go and unbuckled my belt, letting it drop to the floor and kicking it away from the flames. The fire had spread to the front of her car, licking and burning at my skin as I reached in again for her. I didn’t register any pain from the adrenaline, not stopping until she was fully out of the car and in my arms as I watched the car fully engulf.

“Officer, put her here,” Captain Nash instructed me, running up with a group of EMTs and heading straight to the fire to put it out. 

I placed the woman on the stretcher, making sure they took her to safety as I fetched my belt and strapped it back around my waist. It wasn’t until I cinched it closed that I felt a searing pain in my side just underneath my vest. My breath hitched and a groan of pain escaped my lips, causing Bobby to do a double take as he worked on the flames. I gulped—swaying on my feet as the pain fully registered and threatened to send me into shock—but clenched my teeth as I finished the buckle.

With a nod to Captain Nash, I waited for a responding nod before jogging off to find Athena.

“Sergeant! Nothing…” I slowed my run as I approached her, turning into a slow jog with a limp as it caused more chafing to occur against my wound.

“Nothing at this one either,” she sighed, shaking her head as she took another look in the car. “Either way, this car can’t have been it. It’s too close to the beginning of the pileup. The suspect would have been closer to the outside.”

“You’re right,” I grimaced.

“What’s wrong with you?” She furrowed her brows and stepped over menacingly.

“Nothing. I’m fine, I—,” I paused as her words hit me. “The first one I checked was on the outside…the door was open but it was empty inside I—.”

Shit.

Bobby was over there alone now.

“Captain!” I turned an ran, seeing him speaking with someone near where I left him.

The scene was loud, understandably so, but I slowed as I neared anyway to avoid spooking the potentially dangerous suspect.

“Look, sir, it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. That cut on the side of your head looks pretty bad,” Bobby held his palms out to the man who was clad in all black and clutching a gym bag to his chest. “At least let me make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Bobby stepped closer again.

From where the man’s back was facing me, I saw a glint of metal appearing from his back pocket and felt adrenaline surge through my veins. I took the remaining steps forward and lunged, wrapping my whole hand around his wrist and shoving it up so it was pinned against his lower to mid back.

“Drop it!” I growled. When he didn’t immediately comply, I repeated myself, “Drop it, or I will make you.”

At the lack of movement I bent his wrist inward with my free hand and used the pain of the wrist lock to force him to open his hand. When the knife clattered to the floor, I kicked it away and began slapping cuffs on the man. The bag was cut from his body, since I had trapped it on his body with his arms in cuffs, and Athena took the liberty of guiding him to a free unit to take him in while reading him his rights.

“Come on, I think I could have taken him?” Bobby chuckled as Athena dragged the suspect away. “But thank you.”

I shot him a glare that was soon diluted by a smirk. The smirk soon faded away as my wound throbbed, so I leaned my weight on the car next to me. Whatever the hell I did hurt. A lot. 

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, just taking a second,” I groaned as I straightened back up. “I should help…”

“Whoa, there,” Bobby stopped me with a hand gripping my tricep, steadying me as I wobbled. “You’re not fine. And anyway, the 122 is here and helping. It’s under control.”

I slumped, watching the firefighters work, but knew he was right. Athena was going to kill me. Then, Bobby was going to resurrect me. And then, my Captain was going to kill me all over again.

“Let me check it out?” He asked, though it definitely felt like more of a gentle demand than a question.

I nodded and let him guide me to the 118 Paramedic truck.

He sat me on the edge of the truck and jumped into the back to clean his hands and find supplies. When he came back out, his hands were covered in black medical gloves and his arms were full of random items.

“You’re gonna have to uh…” he gestured to my torso with his head as he laid the supplies down in the entry way of the back doors of the truck. 

I stood, stepping out of his way as he opened the second door wider for me to place my belt and uniform. The duty belt came off first, making me wince. I watched the firefighter’s eyebrows raise as he saw the slashed front and tattered side of my uniform shirt. The belt fell to the metal flooring with a heavy thud. I paused, willing the pain to subside before moving on to my shirt but to no avail.

“Shirt, too,” Bobby stood with his hands clasped down in front of him. “Or I can cut it off.”

“No need, Captain, just give me a sec,” I grunted and started undoing the buttons.

The hard part came when I had to shrug the shirt off. The movements made me tense up and clench my teeth.

“May I?” Bobby offered with medical shears in hand. “Not like you can wear that shirt again, anyway.”

“Fair enough…”

Bobby made quick work of the uniform shirt, cutting away as much as he could so I wouldn’t have to twist at all. He dropped his hands to where the shirt met my trousers, tugging the material forcefully out of my shirt stays—causing me to wince as the elastic snapped down my legs. He undid the Velcro of my body armor and lifted it over my head. He paused, taking in the slashed material below my patch. Luckily, only the outer covering had been frayed a bit, but no damage to the internal armor.

“Good thing you had this on, could have sliced yourself when you grabbed him,” Bobby indicated to the slice. His thumb ran over the small pink, yellow, and cyan patch, “Nice,” he smirked before setting that aside with my duty belt.

“Yea,” I jumped as he lifted my undershirt, some of my skin catching on the cotton. “You know what that is?”

“‘Course I do,” he stated matter-of-factly and sat on the edge of the truck so he was eye level with my affected side, below where the body armor had covered. “Pansexual flag, right?”

Surprised, I was too shocked to react when he began cleaning the wound, only reacting with a hiss when the delayed sting of antiseptic sunk in.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he laughed, dabbing at the wound to make sure there was nothing foreign in it. “I’m Bi.”

Still speechless, I simply held my shirt up for him as he worked with my mouth slightly open in shock.

“Again, don’t look so surprised,” he chuckled.

“It’s just…sorry. Sorry,” I laughed. “Athena thought you were straight.”

“Talking about me, huh?” He chuckled, making my face heat up before he continued, “Don’t worry, we’ve all discussed you plenty. And, anyway, I mean I’ve never expressly said it. Nor, have I publicly dated a man,” he shrugged. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it, of course.”

By now, Bobby had stopped working on the wound and was just staring up at me with an amused expression on his handsome face. 

“You should close your mouth before you catch something with it, Officer.”

Without thinking, I blurted out my name and immediately apologized, “Sorry, uh, you can…yea you can just call me…yea.”

“Bobby,” he offered me. “Well,” he sighed my name, causing shivers to go up my spine. “Laceration isn’t too deep, you won’t need stitches, thankfully, but it’s also not going to feel nice because the area gets a lot of movement and creasing. The burn around it is pretty enflamed. You won’t need anything major done but this’ll take some time to heal. I have some burn cream if you want it?”

“Please, thank you,” I cleared my throat, hoping to get rid of the raspy, huskiness that had developed. 

Soon, cold, white paste was being gently applied to the burned area and then he was covering it with gauze and tape. I let my under shirt fall back down into place, catching a split second where Bobby’s eyes flicked to the rest of my abdomen before it was covered. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiled, pausing briefly to look at his boots. “Would yo—.”

“Cap is going to murder me,” Athena groaned from behind me, startling me out of whatever trance Bobby had pulled me into. “What the hell happened?”

“I—I’m okay…”

“Just a cut and a burn, ‘Thena, he’ll live,” Bobby chuckled, standing and snapping off the gloves now smeared with cream.

“Next time warn your partner before you go gallivanting into a burning car?” 

“Sorry,” I smiled. 

“Mhmm,” she responded, entirely unconvinced. “I gotta get him out of here, Bobby. Is he good to go?” Athena asked, tearing Bobby’s attention from me to her.

“Oh, uh, yea he’s perf—good, he’s good,” Bobby stumbled, a flush creeping up his neck. “It was nice to finally meet you.”

“You as well, Captain Nash,” I smiled, biting the inside of my cheek. I hastily grabbed my duty belt and shredded shirt before following Athena to her patrol car, waving to Bobby with a wince as my skin stretched.

We sat in the silence of the car for a few beats before Athena burst into laughter.

“You damn flirt, I knew it,” she laughed at me.

“Athena, he’s hot,” I whined. “Did you really expect me not to?”

“How about, we don’t tell Captain the extent of your injuries and I won’t tell anyone how shamelessly you flirted with Bobby.”

“To be fair—” I interjected, “—he totally flirted back.”

—

After a stern talking to—in the form of shouting—from our Captain, Athena and I cleaned up, changed, and were confined to the station for the rest of our shift. Athena assured me that we weren’t in actual trouble before we left the station to go home, making me at ease since the last thing I wanted was for her to get in trouble for my stupidity.

Currently, I was too hungry to dwell on it.

I was salivating over a pot of sautéing garlic, crushed red pepper, and oregano for a quick and easy red sauce and stirring loosely so they didn’t burn.  Letting out a wild yawn and grunt, wiping my hands on the towel slung over my bare shoulder and turning to open the refrigerator, feeling my side twinge as I did. I yanked out a protein drink and downed it in two gulps, hoping to stave off my hunger while I cooked, before turning toward my designated medicine cabinet in the kitchen and popping a couple pain relievers. I got back to work and was just picking up a tube of tomato paste, ready to squeeze it in when there was a hesitant knock, followed by two firmer ones. 

I certainly wasn’t expecting any guests, but grumbled and shut off the flame under my pot just in case and moved it to a cool burner. It would be a tragedy if my garlic burned, after all. I didn’t even think twice about my state of undress, clad in only a pair of sweats and socks—with my kitchen towel over my shoulder—before I was yanking my door open to find the last person I expected to be on the other side of it.

Bobby. Dressed in jeans and a worn button down with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he immediately yanked them out and stood straighter like he had at the scene earlier.

“Hey, uh, hope this isn’t too strange—uh,” he scratched the back of his head. “I—uh—wasn’t sure if you had any burn cream and I forgot to sneak you some earlier.”

I didn’t know what to say, my mouth opening and shutting a couple times, “No—I—I was actually going to Instacart some so you saved me a few dollars.”

“Ours is better anyway,” he chuckled before his smile dropped again. “I—er—got your address from Athena, sorry if that was not…good.”

“It’s fine. I’ll give her a stern talking to about giving my address to strange men,” I smiled at his good natured laugh and opened my door wider. “Do you want to come in? I was just making dinner if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude. You look…busy,” he cleared his throat, clearly avoiding looking at my bare chest.

I looked down at myself and chuckled, “Not busy enough to put a shirt on, clearly. But I could be…” I relished watching his neck flush up to his cheeks, “Come on in, I hear you’re the resident cook at the firehouse. I need a chef’s opinion on this sauce.”

Bobby perked up at the offer, “Well, if it’s a professional opinion you need…” He stepped through the doorway, shoulder brushing my chest as he tugged the towel off my shoulder and promptly slapped it over his own in transit. 

“Give me one sec, let me grab a shirt,” I said, jogging over to where I had a black t-shirt thrown over my couch. I did a three-sixty to make sure the rest of the living room wasn’t a complete mess.

“You don’t have to, it’s your apartment,” he mumbled. “Plus, I’m sure that hurts to put on,” Bobby finally looked over at me, his gaze unmistakably on my exposed skin.

“Ah, well,” I shrugged, tugging the shirt on the arm of the injured side, maneuvering my other arm in, and flinging the rest over my head. I smirked to myself when the material clung tightly to my body, probably one size too small for me. “It hurt more taking it off, honestly, and I don’t wanna be too underdressed,” I grinned.

I jogged quickly back over to the kitchen, sliding in my socks near the end and found Bobby gazing at me with an amused upturn of his lips with his arms folded tightly over his chest. Fuck. 

“Had to turn the flame off to answer the door, so let me get this warm again,” I hummed. “Alexa! Play my ‘Oldies but Goodies’ playlist on low.” I ignored her response and immediately began humming and swaying to myself as Billy Joel started playing while I brought the ingredients back up to a good temperature.

“Really? Is that because I’m here?” Bobby shoved my shoulder.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I was raised on this!” I pushed back before grabbing the tube of tomato paste off the counter. I was opening the tube when I stopped and just about broke my neck looking at him quickly.

The sudden movement broke him put of whatever trance he was in while watching me cook, eyes widening in surprise, “What?”

“I’m so rude. Can I get you something to drink? I have water, juice, and—er—protein shakes. I think that’s it.”

“Water's fine, I can get it. Fridge?” at my hum of affirmation he opened the refrigerator behind me and looked back at me in the small space, his voice suddenly very close to my back and neck, “Want one?”

I cleared my suddenly dry throat, “Please.”

Licking my lips, I set back to work and squeezed the paste in the pot before stirring it in. 

“Here you go,” he set the bottle on the counter before twisting his own open and taking a sip.

I fumbled with closing the tube of paste nearly dropping the cap, “Shit—ah!” I squeaked and snatched the cap as it fell. “Sorry. Thank you,” I finally responded, licking paste off my wrist and grimacing at the acidity.

Bobby smiled for the umpteenth time—and god I hope he never stopped—shaking his head as he took another drink, “Athena was right.”

“About what?” I asked, stirring so the ingredients wouldn’t burn.

“You,” he cocked his head at me. “You are a dork.”

“Rude.”

“Maybe,” he teased. “So, what brought you to that station?”

“Mm,” I hummed while opening the can of tomato sauce, “The tsunami actually. It did a number on my old station, I don’t even think it’s up and running yet, I think they’re still running out of another building. But, anyway, during some of the search and rescue, I broke my arm and I’d been in a cast for a while. They transferred me to this station to do more administrative work in the mean time, that’s how I met Athena.”

“Oh wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all part of the job,” I shrugged, pouring in the sauce and throwing the flame higher while I stirred. “It’s funny actually. Today, Athena convinced our Captain to let me out on patrol with her since my doctor cleared me for normal exercise with my arm and then that call happened,” I laughed.

“Luckily, you had a strapping firefighter to rescue you,” Bobby teased.

“Luckily, I had a strapping firefighter to rescue, I think you mean,” I teased back, flicking the burner to simmer. 

“Of course, how could I forget my knight in body armor.”

“Damn right,” I winked. “Now, come over here, Chef Nash, and let me know how I did.” I waved my hand in presentation to the simmering pot, “Shit, wait!” I stopped him with a hand between his shoulder and chest—wow, that was firm—to hastily pour some salt in my hand, pinch some, throw it in with a flourish, and toss the rest in the sink. I gave it another stir and stepped back.

Bobby stepped up, grabbed the spoon and dipped his pinky in it. Then, proceeded to push the spoon toward me to do the same while shoving his pinky in his mouth to suck the sauce off. I barely managed to dip my own finger in the spoon as I imagined his tongue lapping the sauce away. By the way his eyes swirled with playfulness, I knew that he knew exactly what he was doing. I could finally breathe again when he released his pinky, taking the opportunity to lick my finger and suck the end with a quick ‘pop’ and a moan thrown in for good measure. 

“It’s really good,” he praised.

“Thank y—”

“—But! We can do better.”

My mouth snapped shut with a pout as Bobby turned and opened my refrigerator with renewed purpose. He hummed to himself quietly before making a noise of success and coming back out with a sprig of leftover basil I had bought for a pesto I made a few days ago.

“You’re a genius!” I groaned, snagging the sprig from him and plucking the leaves off. 

I went to throw them haphazardly into the sauce when Bobby’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist before I could let them go, “Woah, there.” He guided my hand toward himself, bringing me deliciously close to him. Close enough to breathe in whatever he had sprayed himself with before coming here, and definitely close enough to see the way his eyes dropped to my parted lips. “We can be a little more sophisticated than that,” he breathed, his voice suddenly huskier than it was a few seconds ago.

“Show me.”

“With pleasure,” he licked his bottom lip and plucked the leaves from my fingers. 

I watched as he stepped over to the cutting board where I had chopped the garlic, taking the time to stack the basil leaves on each other before rolling them into a cylinder. He fetched the knife that lay nearby and sliced the leaves with quick, light strokes, leaving green ribbons in his wake. Bobby lifted the cutting board and slid the ribbons into the sauce to simmer, giving me a smug smirk as he turned to face me after. I took the liberty of stirring the sauce while we waited for it to come together.

“It should be good now,” he nodded toward the pot, so I lifted the spoon and dipped my finger right after he did.

He sucked the sauce off his finger with a proud hum and a nod of approval, me not getting as distracted as I did the first time. I stuck my finger my mouth, my eyes immediately falling shut as I tasted the small difference the basil made. Letting my eyes flutter back open as I removed my finger, the air was sucked out of the room as I saw how dark Bobby’s eyes had gotten.

“I concede. You were right.”

Bobby didn’t respond, instead staring at my mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

Snapped out of his stare, Bobby blinked rapidly, “N—nothing, sorry. You have a little sauce…” He mimed the general area with his hand on his own face.

“Oh,” I furrowed my brows and wiped my face with my palm but didn’t feel any. “Did I get it?”

“No, it’s…” he mimed again, stepping closer.

“Whe—” my words were cut off as I felt warm lips on mine.

I sagged into his arms, a sigh escaping my throat as he pressed himself against me. In an attempt to not stretch my side so much, I kept my hands low and framing the sides of Bobby’s torso. It was nice—really nice—and I had to stop myself from deepening the kiss as I felt his hands clutch my upper arms. I let him pull away but kept him close since he didn’t step back.

“Bobby…”

“I’m sorry, that was inappro—”

“No…” I shook my head. I leaned forward again, just enough to feel his nose touch mine, “Can I…?” I felt him nod against me and dipped my head back in to touch my lips to his, letting my hand on my non-injured side come up to the back of his neck. This kiss was just as short as the last and just as nice, not wanting to overwhelm him so quickly.

“That was…” Bobby trailed off as we separated again.

“…Life changing?” I winked.

Bobby scoffed out a laugh, “I was going to say good, but you ruined it so…”

“Shut up,” I scowled playfully, tugging him back by the belt and kissing him sweetly once more. I furrowed my brows as I pulled back, tilting my head to the side in thought, “There wasn’t anything on my face, was there?” I squinted at him.

“Definitely not,” he let out a soft chuckle.

“Mm,” I hummed, “you’re forgiven.”

We pulled apart, somewhat reluctantly, and served two plates after making sure the stove was shut off. While the kisses were brief, I couldn’t stop licking my lips and remembering what Bobby's felt like on mine. Lingering glances and sly smirks permeated our conversation over dinner. I learned more about him than what Athena divulged to me and I’m sure the same went for him. Soon enough our plates were empty and we were idly chatting over the nearly clean plates. 

“Do you want more?” Bobby spoke up during a lull in the conversation.

“Yea, but I can—,” I stood to go get more, wincing as the skin pulled.

“Nonsense,” Bobby stood and grabbed my plate, balancing both on one forearm. With his free hand, I felt his fingers brush the nape of my neck before disappearing entirely. 

With full bellies, we sat on the couch and picked up the conversation again until it died off into a comfortable silence.

“You shower already?” Bobby muttered as he fished something out of his jean pocket.

“Mm,” I hummed and nodded. “Why? You trying to give me a sponge bath, Nurse Nash?”

“You wish,” he snorted. “Here.”

“Oh, bless,” I sighed, grabbing the burn cream from Bobby. “I’ll switch my gauze out before bed and put it on.”

“I'll do it for you. Bring it out here,” Bobby nodded in the general direction of my bathroom.

“You just want my shirt off again,” I teased.

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” Bobby murmured back with pink cheeks. “But I’m sure it’s easier than twisting.”

“You have a point…” I pursed my lips and headed off to grab my first aid kit from the bathroom. 

When I returned with the box, Bobby was fiddling with the cap of the tube absentmindedly. I set the box on the arm of the couch and reached my arm on my good side back to grab the back of my shirt collar. I yanked the material over my head and let it slide off the arm of my burned side and on to the floor. At some point as I took it off, Bobby stared at the skin revealed to him.

“Earth to Captain Nash,” I snickered at the dazed expression on the older man’s face, letting my hand slip to the back of his head to run over the soft hairs while guiding his head up to look at me.

“Sorry…” Bobby gulped, eyes tracing my form as he felt blindly for the first aid box. 

When he found it, he placed the box in his lap to distract himself, finding gloves, gauze, and tape with little effort. He snapped the gloves on with practiced ease and leaned forward as I stepped in between his legs and turned my side toward him. I winced as he pulled at one end of the tape, grabbing his shoulder with the hand on my bad side for some kind of support as he continued. When the cut and burn were open to the air, Bobby took a second to look it over to make sure it hadn’t gotten worse since the last time he saw it. Satisfied, Bobby twisted open the tube and applied more burn cream, making me shiver from the cold touch. 

I let my fingers curve around the nape of his neck, barely noticing Bobby pressing back against my hand in the slightest of ways. He quickly covered the wound with new gauze and tape and sat back a little to take the gloves off, which he deposited on the closed first aid kit with the other trash. He set the box and trash aside while I deliberated picking up my shirt or not.  

Deciding to leave it on the floor, I looked down at where Bobby sat waiting in quiet contemplation, “So, Captain…” I trailed off, stepping back into his space, which he gladly leaned in for. “…in your professional experience, does ‘kissing it better’ usually work?”

A smile lit up his face, followed by an incredulous snort, “No, never.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Though, it might not hurt to try.” Bobby hooked a finger in the waistband of my sweats to pull me closer, glancing up at me once before pressing his lips to the undamaged skin next to the medical tape, “Better?”

“Mmm, no,” I sighed feigning dejection. “Maybe you’re administering it incorrectly.”

“Oh?”

“Mm,” I hummed, leaning forward until I had one knee pressed against the outside of his thigh on the couch cushion.

When he didn’t stop me, I closed the distance further and threw my other knee down so I was straddling his hips but not fulling sitting in his lap just yet. Garnering no complaints, if the way his hands squeezed my thighs were anything to go by, I draped my arms over his shoulders and gave him a playful smirk with my tongue running over my lower lip.

“Here?” He raised his eyebrows, and pressed a kiss to where his mouth height was at my sternum.

“Eh…” I teased, letting my fingers play with the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck.

Bobby hummed dramatically, letting his arm wind around my good side until his hand was splayed over my back. With a sharp tug from Bobby that I hadn’t been expecting, my ass was forced into his lap. A rather embarrassing whine slipped past my lips at the contact.

“Oh, here…?” Bobby murmured, tilting his head to press his lips where my neck met my shoulders.

“A—almost…” I sighed. 

Bobby tilted his head up higher to find a new spot, making me lick my lips in anticipation of feeling his once more. He surged up—finally—but my previous anticipation was wasted as my lips met his chin and a soft pressure pressed against my nose.

“Jerk,” I mumbled against his skin.

Bobby gasped softly, “You mean that didn’t work either?”

“You know it didn’t, Bo—” the words died in my throat as Bobby finally pressed his mouth where I wanted it. 

His lips meshed easily with mine, pressing just as softly as before but with more urgency just below the surface. I moaned suddenly as his lips parted and sucked my bottom lip between his, tongue laving over the skin and—oh—was he good at that. Taking his cue, I returned the urgency, parting my own lips and tentatively meeting his tongue; retreating with a quick flick to the roof of his mouth. Thick, strong fingers dug into my hips while I searched for any purchase on his head but his hair was far too short for me to do much. I settled for running a thumb across his jaw instead—oh that strong jaw—

Bobby suddenly parted, breathing just the slightest bit elevated with his normally thin lips now spit slick and veering on the side of swollen. His hands refused to move, keeping me close as he caught his breath.

“Better?” He panted, licking over his lips.

I was confused for a moment, so worked up that I had forgotten what he was referring to until his knowing smirk made me remember, “Oh! Oh, yes. Much better, Captain. You were definitely administering it wrong initially.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, “Good to know, I’ll take notes for my next patient.”

My eyes narrowed at his teasing, a small pout forming on my lips, “Next patient?”

“Well, unless you’re going to go getting hurt again…”

“A hot firefighter told me earlier this was going to take some time to heal…” I trailed off, pursing my lips to hold back a laugh while still running my hands over his hair soothingly. “Plus, I’ve been told I can be a danger to myself on the job—and—well, and off the job. I’m a bit of a klutz, okay?”

A brilliant smile spread over his face, eyes sparkling with humor, “Got it, so…you’d like me to continue being your care provider?”

“If you’re amenable, of course.”

“Would you be available for a consultation this Thursday at seven? No charge, of course, my treat.” 

“I can definitely do that and—” I brought my lips down for another kiss, “—I think we can agree to split the bill, I’m a big boy.”

“You…” Bobby trailed off, eyes looking down appreciatively and landing on my tented sweatpants, “…you sure are, Officer.”

I felt my face redden at the innuendo and the fact that I was very clearly tenting the sweatpants, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Because, believe me, if I wasn’t trapped in jeans right now…” Bobby trailed off with a chuckle. “And with that…I think it’s time for me to go before I lose whatever self control I might have right now.”

“Good idea. I suppose there’s a reason you’re a Captain and I’m most definitely not,” I laughed, pushing myself up and sliding off his lap until I was on my own two feet again. I just about giggled under my breath as Bobby stood, readjusting his jeans to a more comfortable position.

He followed me to the front door, stopping short when he saw the mess in my kitchen, “I should probably help you with that.”

“As nice as that would be…” I cut him off from the entryway, “…the longer you stay, the more both of us will be worked up and I kind of want to wait a couple more dates.”

“Good,” Bobby smiled, moving into my space, “me too.” He caged me in against the wall somewhat, not that I minded, “You should swing by the firehouse some time for food. If you—uh—if you give me your number I can let you know when I make something or need a sous-chef.”

“I’d like that,” I chewed on my lip while fishing my phone from my pocket and making a new contact. I preemptively typed his name out with “Bobby” being the beginning, followed by both a flame and a heart emoji.

Soft laughter bubbled up from Bobby’s throat as I handed the phone to him and he noticed the name.

“Let me know when you get home safe?” I murmured when he handed it back with the contact already saved. I shot him a quick text so he would have my number.

“Of course.”

Bobby pressed me firmly against the wall, stealing another kiss that I was all too willing to give. With a press of his hips against mine, my brain was short circuiting and I had to convince myself all over again that picking him up and carrying him to my bed was not what either of us wanted.

“Think about me later?” I winked as we pulled apart.

“I—uh—most likely will, “ Bobby murmured, his flush meeting his ears instantly. “I’ll see you Thursday, then? I’ll text you with the details,” he finally stepped back and grasped the door handle, twisting it as he spoke.

“You’ll see me Thursday,” I confirmed, following him half way out of the door as he opened it and stepped through.

Like a lovesick teenager, I pressed my back against the door after it closed, hoping to hear back from him like he promised. With a final glance at the mess in my kitchen, I sighed and decided to distract myself with cleaning until then.

[austinsmutler]

A Fool Such as I - Austin!Elvis x Reader - 1700 words

Summary: While Elvis is on stage, Hank Snow has a few choice words for you. Elvis finds out after the show and reminds you of what's really important.

What you’ll like: Sweet!Elvis, 50s Elvis, hurt/comfort (what else is new in my fics?) use of the prompt 'You don't have to worry about me not being loyal', Elvis and Reader are childhood sweethearts

Warnings: None, but Hank Snow is a bit of an asshole in this. Slut-shaming and put-downs from insecure minor characters whose opinions do not matter (keep that in mind for real life too!)

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Currently only taking requests for Elvis and Austin!Elvis)

A/N: I'm loving all your requests so far. Expect the next one this weekend. It's got virgin!Elvis and it's sweet as iced tea.

“Is that a pair of young ladies… intimates I see on that stage?” Hank Snow said with an arched eyebrow.

You stifled a laugh, while the Colonel did his best to disguise his amusement with a blank stare. “Why yes, I believe it is, Hank.”

“Best not happen when he sings one of my songs.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t.” You batted your eyelashes at Hank, who shot you a disgusted look. 

The song finished and Elvis bounded offstage, kissing you on the cheek and sending Hank a smile. “They’re all warmed up for you.”

“I can see that.” Hank grumbled, grabbing his guitar and heading onstage to a crowd that still screamed your boyfriend’s name.

Elvis turned to you with a smile. “Was I good?”

“So good, baby.” Jealousy bit at the back of your throat, but you pushed it down. 

“I can’t believe I’m opening for Hank Snow.” Elvis’ eyes were glued to the stage. “And I get to play the interim too, Colonel said if the interest keeps up I get to play the closing number as well. Not the real one of course, but the music they play when the crowd’s getting tired. He wants me to rile ‘em back up again.”

“That’s amazing!” You grinned as Elvis wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close as Hank got into the swing of things. Your eyes stayed on Elvis, but he wasn’t watching Hank. He was watching the crowd- the bored girls, some of whom had polite smiles on their faces, all of whom wanted Elvis back on stage. 

The pattern continued as summer wore on and the carnival traveled from Memphis to Mississippi, further up to North Carolina. Everywhere you went, the girls were crazy for Elvis… and not Hank. 

The Colonel was gradually expanding Elvis’ setlist, so that by the time you reached Asheville he was half the show, not just an opening act. You and Hank stood backstage, watching as Elvis sang Hound Dog and women screamed. 

Elvis swayed his hips, and Hank’s face screwed up in distaste. “What a disgusting display.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, trying to keep your voice light. “It’s just dancing.”

“That? That ain’t dancing.” Hank looked at you, but the revulsion stayed in his eyes as he looked you up and down. You were wearing a simple pink dress and black cardigan with long sleeves, but he made you feel naked and dirty with one look. “What does your mother think of you, traipsing around the country with a boy like that?”

“My family have known Elvis since we were kids. We met at church.” You tried to come up with more to say, something that would make Hank see-

“Church? That boy?” He interrupted with a scoff before you could finish your thought. 

“We sang in the choir together. Nobody minded him dancing then either.”

“He moved like that in church?” Hank gaped at you, then the stage, where girls were starting to throw their intimates again. He made the sign of the cross. “If my daughter went to church and came back with a boy like that, I’d send her to a nunnery.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Maybe your mother is happy to raise a fast girl, but I make sure my wife and daughter stay at home.” Hank shook his head. “I pray for your generation.��

Hank turned back to the stage, and you backed away- only to see the Colonel off to one side, smiling at you. Close enough to have heard the entire exchange. He didn’t say anything, just gave you a nod as you excused yourself from backstage. You knew he had similar opinions. Everyone did: singers never took their wives on the road with them, much less their girlfriends. But Elvis was different, and that was one of the things you loved about him.

Still, that didn't make it any easier to put up with the constant judgement. You and Elvis could be as god-fearing and traditional as the pope; people would still be critical because of the way he moved and sang.

You walked out into the mostly-deserted carnival. Everyone was over by the stage, exactly where you didn’t want to be.

Your thoughts flickered back to the crowd of girls screaming in the front row. Most of them were pretty. All of them wanted Elvis. What was to stop him from having any one of them? Before Elvis’ career started up, the future seemed set in stone: you’d been dating since high school, friends for a decade before that. Marriage should have come after graduation. 

Instead, you were here: a month away from graduation yourself, Elvis already dropped out. Not a word of marriage, and he wasn’t allowed to wear your promise ring because someone might get wind of your relationship. You could damage his career. Elvis loved you a whole lot, but you weren’t a fool. His career, his fans, they were everything to him.

You found a wooden table covered in red paper cups and half-eaten food. Nobody would think you out of place among the trash, you thought bitterly.

The area was deserted, so you sat down and cleared enough space to rest your elbows on the table. Blue Suede Shoes echoed in the distance, and you couldn’t help but hum along before Hank’s words resurfaced, along with many others you’d heard from men who didn’t know you or Elvis.

“I bet your boyfriend makes you wear all that makeup. You look like a slut.” That was a man who’d spoken to you back in Memphis, another performer who traveled with the carnival. You’d been avoiding him for the past few weeks. 

“Why are you in the front row?” One teen girl had said in Georgia, jostling you to one side in the crowd as you waited for Elvis to come on stage. “You don’t look like his type. I read he likes pretty-pretty girls.”

Their words were intended to hurt, to push you out of Elvis’ arms, but they hadn’t. You’d stayed, and the words had sunk into your skin, like splinters of insecurity. 

Hot tears raced down your cheeks as a million thoughts raced through your mind. You and Elvis used to be the most simple thing in the world: love. Now you weren’t so sure about anything. Not yourself, not Elvis, not your relationship or his career or your place in it. 

“Pardon me, if I’m sentimental, when we say goodbye…” Hank Snow’s voice drifted across the empty fairground in a slow drawl. A few people lucky enough to be at the back of the crowd walked away, while the rest stayed in the hopes Elvis would come back on, as he so often did. 

“Now and then, there’s a fool such as I…”

The words sank in. Hank always sang them softly, but tonight they felt barbed, directed at you. Fool. That was what you were, right? Dropping everything back in Memphis to follow your boyfriend. Your mother had given you permission after consistent begging, multiple reassurances from the Presley family, and one especially tearful night where you’d screamed,

“He’s the love of my life Momma, I can’t let him go alone.”

But here you were, alone. Tears rolling down your face, shoulders shaking, breath coming in gasps. It was so hard to breathe you didn’t even hear the footsteps coming up behind you until Elvis draped his jacket across your shaking shoulders. It smelled of his cologne, comforting you almost instantly. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” Elvis took the seat across from you, pushing the trash on the table to one side to grasp your hands. “You wanna tell me what this is about?”

Getting caught crying just made you cry harder, and you wiped your nose with the back of your hand. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m like this.” 

He frowned. “I know there’s a reason. You can tell me.”

You shook your head, trying to smile. Trying to breathe. “I’m fine, really. I promise.”

“Don’t do that.” Elvis squeezed your hands. “Don’t lie to me about something like that, baby.”

You just stared at him. Even after performing, glazed in sweat, eyeliner smudged everywhere, Elvis was still stunning. The black lace shirt he wore contrasted his tan skin, giving him a glow that warmed you up from the inside. His blue eyes were wide with concern while his fingers stroked your knuckles, waiting for a reply.

“Did Hank say something to you?” He asked after the silence dragged on for too long.

Your blood ran cold. “What?”

“You weren’t there when I came offstage. I asked him where you were, he said you should’ve gone home weeks ago.” Elvis frowned. “He’s never been a fan of me, and I’ve made my peace with that. But if he said something to you-”

“It’s nothing!” You shrugged, lips pressed tight together. “Next time I just- I won’t talk to him. I know what he thinks of me. I don’t need to hear it.”

“What he thinks of you?” Elvis’ voice was low, something underneath boiling like blood. “What did he say?”

You repeated the interaction to Elvis, his hands gripping yours tighter and tighter until both your knuckles were white. Once you started, you didn’t stop- every word that lingered in your mind leapt from your mouth, from the men who whispered slut when they saw you with Elvis to the girls who jostled with you for the front row, prepared to say anything to shake you up. 

Elvis stood and you expected him to walk away, to pace or process the information on his own, but there was no hesitation in his movements as he came and knelt on the ground next to your chair. He never took his eyes from yours. 

“Baby, I’m gonna have a talk with Hank.”

“But-”

“No. There won’t be a next-time, no second chances, not with you. I’ve given him enough opportunities to be the polite Southern gentleman he thinks he is. Enough.”

Elvis cupped your face in his hands. “Before we left Memphis, I made a promise to your Momma that I’d take care of you. I’ll take care of this. And if he ever says another word to you, anything less than complimentary, I’ll sock him in the jaw.”

You laughed, crying again as Elvis kissed you. 

“And Baby, about the rest?” He pulled back with a smile, leaning your foreheads together. “Well, there’s nothing I can do but tell you this: You're mine, but I'm yours too. You don't have to worry about me not being loyal. There's only one woman I could ever want in my life, and that's you. Everyone else is white noise, but you’re my favorite song. Understand?”

You threw your arms around Elvis and he held you tight, as if you’d vanish if he ever let go. But you both knew you’d be there for each other until the end.

[cryley]

Petrichor - Part 2

matty healy x reader (fluff) word count: 4.3k warnings: mentions of alcohol and cigarettes A/N: (moved from @cryley-fics where it was originally posted) Hello again! Hope you enjoy this part, as it's a bit longer than pt 1 ♡ ▹ masterlist ▹ part 1 ▹ part 2 ▹ part 3 ▹ part 4 ▹ part 5

I pulled out my bag from the backseat of my car and made my way to my apartment. Today was a long day for more reasons than one. Now I can just focus on showering off the sticky syrup and coffee from my body and get ready for the show tonight.

My brain honestly couldn’t process that Matty came into my work this morning…and now has my fucking phone number. As I threw my backpack on my couch, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see if anything from him came through.

Nothing.

A little disappointed, I walked to my room to get ready.

The memories of our conversation swirled around my head while I frantically threw clothes around my room. Would he ever text me? Will I see him after the show? Will I ever get to talk to him again? 

I picked out a pair of black ripped mom jeans and a black cropped tank top. I decided to just straighten my hair and do my everyday makeup look. Sliding some contacts in my eyes, I decided that I should try to grab some food before the show. Picking out my pair of black Dr. Martens and my handful of jewelry, I moved out to my couch to put them on.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket to check the time.

Maybe: Matty

Hey love, it’s Matty. Want to join us at the venue early? We’re having some food delivered and I can manage to get you a good view if you’d like. Would love to continue our conversation from earlier. 

My heart skipped looking down at the phone. I immediately added his number to my contacts before navigating back to the message.

Hey Matty 🙂 I’d love to join you! When and where should I be?

After I hit send, I started to panic a little. Meeting Matty while off guard at work was one thing, but this time I knew what was coming. I anxiously tapped my fingers on my knees waiting for a response. I guess I might as well make sure I have everything in my bag before I leave. 

Charger, keys, wallet, ID, gum, Advil, hair tie, ticket, everything’s there.

My phone chimed.

Amazing! Go to the talent entrance near the buses. I’ll have someone let you in, just make sure to have your ID so they know it’s you. I’ll need your surname too. How about 4:30?

It was already 3:30, so I guess I should get going soon. I typed my response and made sure to triple-check what I wrote before sending it.

Y/L/N. I’ll see you soon 🙂

I grabbed my bag, slid on my jacket, and started out the door. At least it stopped raining, but the slight chill in the air was still there. 

Driving to the venue was filled with anxious drumming on the steering wheel, humming to my playlist, and trying to not panic and turn my car around. Looking at the clock, I realized I had some extra time and would get there early, so I stopped at a gas station near the venue to grab a water bottle.

A group of girls were at the register wearing black skirts, white dress shirts, black ties, and black leather jackets. I chuckled to myself and shook my head. Well, I know where they’re going. 

Sooner than I realized, I was parking in the garage next to the venue. There were a couple of cars here already, but not completely full like I’m sure it would be later.

I took a deep breath and grabbed my bag. It wasn’t hard to find the venue with the hoard of people queued up and waiting outside the doors. Now to just find the talent entrance door. This door was almost equally easy to find. There were maybe a dozen people or so huddled around a barricade separating the walkway from the busses to the side door so that talent could freely enter the venue without being swarmed. 

Behind the small crowd of people and the barricade was a very tall, very buff man in a black t-shirt and a radio pinned to his belt. He was looking around the crowd of women, but none of them seemed to pay him any attention.

“Uh hey. I’m Y/N.” I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my ID to show the very tall, very buff man. 

After glancing at my name, he unlatched the gate. As he let me through to the walkway, he radioed for someone to unlock the side door.

“You can head over. Someone should be letting you in shortly.” He smiled a gentle smile before switching back to serious mode. 

Some of the small crowd whispered as I walked closer to the entrance. The door opened to a friendly face. 

“Hey Y/N?” He asked as I nodded, “I’m Jamie. Nice to meet you! Come on in.” 

The tall blonde man gestured for me to follow him through the corridor. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans with a baseball cap on his head. It looked like it was a 1975 hat. 

“So how do you know Matty?”

“He came into my work this morning to get some coffee and I told him I’d be at the show tonight,” I explained as my eyes darted around at all the artwork and band posters on the walls. 

We entered a larger room that looked to be the back of the stage. I could see all of the instruments lined up to go out on stage. There seemed to be a quite large section of instruments on one side and I’m guessing for the opening acts were smaller sets of instruments on the other side. 

Jamie smiled, “Well we are glad to have you. We don’t get new company too often on tour. It’s a lot of the same faces, you know?”

“I’m just happy that Matty invited me.” I chuckled as we entered another hallway. 

This hallway was a bit smaller and housed a lot more doors than the other. Some of them were open, but most of them were closed. 

“Most of these are offices, but Matty should be just through here.” He gestured to the door to the right of us, “He should be expecting you, so you can pop right in. We should be getting the food delivered pretty soon, so I’ll meet up with you all in a bit.”

“Thank you so much for walking me in.” I gave Jamie a big smile before he waved and walked off back in the direction we came from. 

My heart started to pound heavily as I read the paper sign on the door now in front of me. THE 1975. 

Opening the door, I was greeted by Matty springing up from the large couch. He came towards me with his arms spread out for a hug and the largest grin on his face. 

“Y/N!” He said as he engulfed me in a hug. 

He touched my arm earlier today when I was on break, but it wasn’t like this. I was fully consumed in him. I sighed into the hug that caught me off guard and awkwardly hugged back. His long arms were wrapped around me and my head was tucked against his collarbone. He smelt of cigarettes and expensive cologne. 

“Hey, Matty.” I muffled into his neck, “Thanks for inviting me.”

“No worries. You gave me a free scone earlier, so the least I could do is get you some food and a better spot at the show.” He looked down at me and winked. 

I finally broke the hug, regretfully so, to take in the room. Soft music was playing from speakers around the room, but other than that it was pretty quiet. Coats and bags were scattered about the room as well as some guitars and drum pads here and there. A minibar was in the far corner of the room and appeared to be fully stocked. In the opposite corner was another door labeled as a restroom. 

“Make yourself at home.” Matty walked back over to the couch and plopped down, “The other guys are on the bus getting ready.”

Matty appeared to already be dressed and ready for the show. He was dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt that currently hung open to show a white t-shirt underneath. On the clothing rack beside the couch, I could see a black blazer and black tie. 

I walked over to join him on the couch. He seemed like he wanted me to sit next to him even though it was a very large couch big enough for at least 5 people. As I sat down next to him, I realized that the top of his chest tattoo peeked out from his undershirt. 

“You ready for the show?” I started to pull off my jacket. 

He smiled at me and reached for his acoustic guitar next to the couch. He placed it in his lap and grabbed a pick from the neck under the strings. 

“Yeah. Usually, before shows, I just eat some food, do some vocal warm-ups, and then take a shot or two.”

He carefully checked each string to make sure it was in tune. 

“How was the rest of your day? You know, after the cafe.” I said as my eyes met his. 

He smiled and leaned back into the backrest, “Pretty quiet. Went back to the bus for a bit to take a quick nap and then got ready for tonight with soundcheck and all that.”

“Lucky you.” I yawned uncontrollably. 

His gaze traveled to the tattoos on my body he hadn’t previously seen. I had a good amount of coverage on my body, but mainly my left arm, some of my torso, and a good amount of my legs. 

“I really like your tattoos by the way. I only really saw the box and lyrics from earlier because it stood out to me, but there’s a lot of good art all over.”

“Thank you! I’ve had fun collecting them over the years. My 1975 tattoo was actually one of my first tattoos. The lyrics came much later.” I smiled and turned it to face him. 

“Matches mine.” he winked and turned his own box tattoo to face me. 

We could hear a group of chatter coming from the hallway before 2 very tall men walked through the open doorway. I quickly recognized them to be George and Ross. My face immediately felt flushed.

Matty leaned back once more in his seat, “Guys! This is Y/N. The bird from the cafe I told you about earlier.”

Ross smiled in my direction and pushed his hand towards me for a handshake.

I grabbed it in mine and was immediately aware of how small my hand felt compared to his, “Nice to meet you!”

“Glad to have you.” George followed after Ross shook my hand doing the same, “You meet artists often at work being so close to the venue?” 

“Surprisingly not. This is actually a first.” I shook George’s hand feeling equally as small as the handshake before. 

George and Ross looked to be ready in their clothes for the show. George was dressed in similar black slacks to Matty and an all-black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Ross looked to be wearing the same uniform as George. I guess they maybe planned the coordination for tonight.

“Where’s Adam?” Matty looked at the clock hanging above the door frame. 

“Waiting for the food with Jamie.” George answered in his low voice, “I think we are getting sandwiches and salads from a place in town.” 

Ross plopped down on the couch next to me, giving me a small smile, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all! I’m the one invading your space, so you can sit wherever you’d like.”

“You aren’t invading at all,” George sat in the smaller chair across from the couch, “we were excited that Matty was inviting someone since we don’t have any guests coming to this tour date. We enjoy good company.” 

Matty pulled out his phone and navigated to Instagram. It was wild seeing how many notifications and messages he had. I’m not surprised at all. 

He nudged my shoulder with his and handed me his phone, “What’s your Instagram?”

I made eye contact with him and squinted my eyes trying to peer into his brain. He smiled as I reluctantly took his phone out of his hand and typed my username into the search bar. Once I found my account, I handed the phone back to him.

“Thank youuu.” he sang while hitting the follow button.

I didn’t really expect him to follow me immediately. Maybe just look at the photos I had on there or something, but I felt all warm and fuzzy knowing that he wanted both my phone number and social media. 

“Food’s here!” a voice called in the hallway before we saw Jamie and Adam enter the room each holding large brown boxes.

The 3 boys and I all stood up to help Jamie and Adam set out the food on a small table in the room. Adam smiled in my direction and stopped what he was doing to properly shake my hand.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Adam.” He greeted me with a warm handshake.

I smiled, “It’s amazing to meet you too! I’m Y/N.”

He cheekily gave me a knowing look and then his eyes darted over to Matty. Damn, did Matty tell everyone about meeting me today?

“Well Y/N, make sure you grab some food. We usually end up getting way too much and have leftovers.”

I nodded and pivoted to head to the table where the food was laid out. Matty made his way over to me with a salad in hand. 

“Would you like anything to drink? I can make you a drink or we have some really good wine too.” He spoke in a low voice. 

“Uhm I’ll take some wine actually if you don’t mind.” 

I haven’t had good wine in a long time. I was used to shitty beers and ciders in dive bars. 

Matty’s smile stretched across his face, “Good choice.”

He sauntered his way over to the mini bar as I turned to the food table. I grabbed the first salad I saw and brought it back over to my spot on the couch. 

Matty returned to the couch with two glasses of red wine. 

“So what other things are you into other than my band and coffee?” Matty questioned as he sat down next to me and handed me my glass of wine. 

I immediately took a sip of the wine, “I read a lot, I also draw and paint sometimes.”

“Oh, you do art?” Ross chimed in after he finished a mouthful of his sandwich. 

“Yeah, I majored in photography at art school, but did a fair amount of fine arts classes for my minor like pottery, sculpture, painting, and too many others to count,” I answered while opening my salad. 

“I’ve tried pottery before. It’s pretty difficult to get the hang of.” Adam chimes in as he sits in the chair next to George.

I nod and go back to my salad. George, Adam, and Ross start chatting about the previous shows and flow into discussions about new instruments they purchased. The last way I expected today to go was sitting in a room eating salad with the 1975.

“Hey, would you like to join me outside for a smoke?” Matty leaned over to whisper to me.

“Ok.” I shrugged, placing my empty salad container on the table and finishing my last sip of wine. 

I followed Matty out of the room and to the hallway. He made sure to stick close to me as we made our way through the winding halls. I could smell his cologne. He smelled warm and comforting.

“Excited to see the show?”

“Of course! I’m really excited to see you perform the new album. I haven’t seen you guys since I think 2017 or 2018.”

He smiled back at me as we entered a door I didn’t notice before. It led to a small outdoor smoking area that was private to the venue. The chill of the wind swept over my noticeably bare arms.

“Fuck, you forgot your jacket! Here,” he immediately took the cigarettes out of his pocket before sliding his blazer off of his shoulders, “take mine.”

Just as I was about to politely decline the offer, he already placed it over my shoulders.

“Thank you.”

He waved his hand, “No need to thank me Y/N. Would you like one?”

He placed a cigarette between his lips and held out the box to me. I nodded and slid one out of the pack. Matty slowly walked over to the bench that was sitting in the middle of the small outdoor area. He patted the seat beside him for me to join him.

“So how old are you if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked as he lit the end of his cigarette before handing it over to me.

“I’m 25.”

“Probably should’ve asked that before giving you wine.” He chuckled to himself.

I giggled and lit the cigarette. I’m glad he is letting me use his jacket. It’s still cold and wet outside from the rain earlier today. Matty kind of seemed a bit chilly now in just his thin overshirt and t-shirt.

As I took a drag of the cigarette, I leaned my head over to rest on Matty’s shoulder. A smile crept up to my face as I could feel him lean his head to rest on the top of mine.

“You’re truly something, Y/N.” He quietly muttered through an exhale of smoke.

“You’re just saying that because I’m trying to keep you warm.” I chuckled and flicked the ash off the end of my cigarette. 

I could feel him smile, “Maybe. Regardless, all I know is that I would love to get to know you some more.”

“I don’t know if we have the time for me to tell you my life story.”

His head moved away from mine, taking another drag of the cigarette, “I can make time.”

I smiled to myself and watched the smoke pour out of his mouth. I took a moment to study his face. Most of his loose brown curls were tucked behind his ears, but some of them escaped and draped over his forehead as he looked down at me. His eyes squinted as he smiled, forming small wrinkles around the corners of his face. Grey strands were sparsely scattered through his hair and stubble. In most of my memories of him in photos or on stage, he looked rugged or disheveled. In this moment he looked soft. Almost fragile as if he was made of tissue paper stitched loosely together.

He stood up from the bench and held out his hand toward me. I grabbed it in mine immediately noticing how warm he was against my ice-cold hand. We were both greeted with warmth walking back into the venue. 

He hummed softly as we walked back to the green room. I tried giving him back his jacket once we were inside, but he insisted I keep it until it was time for the show. I couldn’t complain. The jacket smelled like him.

“Show in one hour.” George reminded Matty as we walked back to the couch. 

“That reminds me, Y/N,” Jamie handed me a lanyard and badge, “This will get you where you need to be.”

“Thank you so much!” I smiled at Jamie before placing it on my neck. 

“I’ll take you out to the floor soon in case you want to get a drink or something,” Jamie explained as some of the boys grabbed instruments around the room.

Matty grabbed his acoustic guitar next to the couch and started to pluck away.

“I guess I better give you your jacket back.” I slid it off of my shoulders and placed it on the seat next to me. 

“I’ll see you out there.” Matty winked at me as I stood by the door.

“Good luck guys. It was a pleasure meeting you all.” I waved to the boys while Jamie collected his things to head out. 

All 3 of the boys gave large smiles and waved before going back to concentrating on getting ready. Matty’s eyes stayed on me until I was led out into the hall. 

“I was thinking we could quickly get drinks before I drop you off at side-stage?” 

I tried to keep up with Jamie’s quick pace through the halls, “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

He led the way through the winding halls as we passed by crew members setting up the stage. I could hear the crowd singing along to the playlist picked to keep them company before the show. 

We finally emerged from the back area and into the lobby. It was crowded. Most of the people were already in the crowd, but there were still a large number of people here in the bar and merch area. 

“If you want to get some merch, we have everything also in the back. I can show you after the show if you’d like.”

I enthusiastically nodded as we approached the lobby bar. 

“A whiskey and uh-” Jamie looked at me and gestured for me to tell the bartender my order.

“Vodka Red Bull, please.” 

Jamie raised his eyebrows and smiled. He pulled out his card to pay. 

“Hey, I got it!” I quickly placed my card on the bar, “Consider it a thank you for the food and this whole experience. It’s only a small fraction of the thank you’s I owe you all.”

He tilted his head and smirked as he gave up on paying. 

“Cheers to a good show!” I handed Jamie his drink before raising my cup to his. 

“Cheers.” He took a sip and moved back towards the hallway, “Let's head to the side area.”

Sipping on my drink, I followed him back to the doors we came out of. I got some confused looks from the merch line when they spotted my badge, but I ignored them and continued.

Soon we were standing out on the venue floor. The general admission area was to the side of us and separated by a barricade. We were in front of the stage, sort of diagonal to the left. Surrounding us were crew members, a bunch of storage boxes, a camera crew, and sound equipment. Steps away from us were the stairs up to the stage where people were rushing on and off. 

A large black curtain hung at the front of the stage with the lights displaying THE 1975, but from where I was standing with Jamie, I could see the set. It looked sort of like a living room. There were TV sets scattered around some furniture and a large spiral staircase. 

“You okay to watch the show here?” Jamie leaned over to me so I could hear him over the crowd.

“More than okay!”

He looked at the commotion around us, “I think I’m going to bounce around to help set up. I can meet you back here once the show is over to take you back for some merch.”

I nodded and outstretched my arms for a hug, “Thank you so much again Jamie. I really appreciate it.”

He gave me a quick but tight hug before running off with his drink. 

My phone buzzed in my back pocket. Taking a sip of my drink with one hand, I pulled my phone out with the other.

Matty

Where are you in the crowd? I’m about to go out on stage and want to look for you x

I smiled and decided to take a quick selfie with my view of the stage in the background. I got a couple of looks from the people in the crowd behind the barricade next to me. I didn’t mind, but I’ll admit that it was a little distracting. 

As soon as I sent him the photo, the 3 dots showed he was typing. 

Thanks, darling. You look beautiful by the way x 

I refuse to believe this day is real and I’m not in some cruel dream. Last week, I was just excited about the show. Now, I just had dinner with the band and am being called beautiful via text from Matty Healy. 

From the side of the stage, I could see a figure sit down at the piano. The lights were still down, but I assumed it was Matty by the height. A small flame flickered near his face lighting the end of a cigarette before the curtain in front of the stage started to fall. The crowd erupted with screams and cheers. 

Matty was outlined in a spotlight as he started to play The 1975 on the piano. His voice was smooth and beautiful. I always loved when they opened up with the self-titled track, but this one from Being Funny in a Foreign Language was definitely a favourite of mine. As he sang the opening verse, the other members of the band walked through the door to their places on the stage. The set looked perfect. 

“And it’s about time,” He looked directly at me and winked, “And this is what it looks like”

[artemismoorea03]

Building Trust (Chirp AU)

MY TURN TO TALK HI GUUUUYYSSS aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HOLY SHIT MY INBOX HAS BEEN EXPLODING LATELTY W H A T . HOW DID WHATAMSDREP IJTRYTHMKL,JHGFDS ONE IM SUPER HONORED TO BE WORKING WITH ARTEMIS ON THIS FIC MAN I JUST. . .. . Y E AH THIER SO COOL EVERYONE.

TWO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND KUDOS AND STUFF. IF YOU LIKE THISS STUFF YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT OUR SOLO FIC SERIES TANGLED STAR AND THE MONKIES DESERVE BETTER .

Anyways thank you guys so much for all the love we both really appreciate it and love reading ur comments. Im sitting here at 2am writing this and i already know by the time i wake up yall are gonna be crowding up my inbox.

Again thank you all so much for the appreciation. Cant wait to share all artemis and i have planned :D Grabs Macaque and fucking squishes him WHO WANTS BLORBO CONTENT?!?!??!

Anyways lmao enjoy the chapter !!!

MK wasn’t sure what had happened that day with Macaque and Wukong but what he did know was that it was only the beginning of a lot of changes. Both personally and in his day-to-day life. For starters, he began to chirp at everything almost instinctively.

Stub his toe? Chirp.

Drop something on his foot? Chirp.

Get frustrated or overwhelmed? Chirp.

It got so frequent and often that the other people in his life even began to take notice and question it. Pigsy asked about it and was quick to understand that it was another ‘monkey thing’. Tang thought it was a new type of stim that he was adjusting too and said, ‘it probably feels nice and calming to let out all those frustrations and anxieties so you might be chirping more and more as a buildup of stress’ which made MK feel a bit better about chirping as much, but he still worried about the effect it could have on Macaque and Wukong if they were around.

Speaking of which, both of them were beginning to make appearances around the restaurant more and more since that day. Macaque was quick to check in on him first thing in the morning before MK even properly left his apartment, his shadow figure was standing in the hall of the restaurant. He never stepped out of his shadow, only asking if he was alright, how he was feeling, and checking to make sure his head wasn’t giving him any issues. Macaque would then vanish just as quickly as he showed up just for Wukong to show up a short time later asking the same questions.

Though Wukong had the added question of “ Any sign of that rat Macaque? ”

Something MK quickly decided to lie to his mentor about. He didn’t know what happened that day but did know that he hadn’t really seen his mentor looking that vicious before. He didn’t know if Wukong could tell he was lying but if he did notice he never pointed it out.  

This continued for about a week, getting visits from Macaque and Wukong every other day, though there was once where Macaque visited twice in a row just so he and Wukong started visiting on different days to avoid seeing one another. But each time something similar began to happen until a new pattern formed.

Macaque would stay in the shadows (more so under MK’s bed once he invited the demon into his apartment) and talked to him from under there while avoiding too much light as he talked to MK or just listened to MK ramble. He also occasionally slipped pieces of paper out of the bed that were recipes, notes and even a cut out ad from a magazine.

“What’s this for?” MK asked, looking at the ad. “ Hair-and-fur shampoo? That’s a thing?”

“Yep. It’s how Wukong keeps his hair all ‘ fabulous ’ or whatever.” He said sarcastically. “If the chirping has any implications of anything, bud, you might be changing. I’m not sure how or why, but if you are starting to change I’d look into getting some of that. Normal fur shampoo will destroy your hair and hair shampoo will make your fur sticky.”

“Oh, okay thanks… but what do you mean ‘changing’?”

“Well, think about it. Chirps are the first sounds a cub knows how to make when they’re born. Could be signs that you’re turning into a monkey. Though we probably can’t be sure until you start to chatter… or sprout a tail.” Macaque said, his glowing eyes looking towards the door. “Your dragon friend is here. Cya, bud.”

Then, like that, Macaque slipped out of sight as Mei walked into the room.

“Hey, monkey man~! Are you ready to dance until your feet fall off?!” She said, then looked at MK. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”

“Huh? Oh! I dropped this.” He said, holding up the paper, “Then I sat down and started reading it.”

“What is it?” Mei walked over, looking down at it with a smirk. “ Hair-and-fur Shampoo ? Maybe you should buy some of that for Macaque. Who knows the last time he bathed.” She teased.

“Mei.” MK sighed, “You sound like Wukong.” He got up, putting the paper onto his bedside table.

“Hey, let’s keep the insults to a minimum now.” She said with a huff, “But seriously, what’s with that?”

“Uh… just started thinking, I guess. Since I started chirping I might be changing, so might as well be prepared.”

“Changing? Like what? Monkey puberty?”

MK shrugged, “Something like that. Now, let’s go before the arcade gets too crowded. I don’t want to stand in line forever.”

“Oh! Right! Leggo~” She said, taking his hand and pulling him out of the apartment.

The next day Wukong showed up in the restaurant itself.

“It always smells so good in here~” He said, sniffing the air as he sat at the stool.

“You sure have been showing up here a lot lately.” Pigsy commented, “Not that I don’t mind the business, I mean at least you pay.” He said, shooting a glare at Tang who seemed offended while MK chuckled. “Something going on?”

“Nah, just making sure Macaque keeps his grubby little hands off of you guys. I don’t know what he’s up to lately but if I show up here enough he’ll eventually get tired or face me himself. Either way, MK will be safer if I show myself sometimes.”

MK frowned, tightening his grip on the broom as he began to sweep again.

“I thought Macaque changed? Plus, he didn’t do any serious damage to MK, so… why are you out for blood, Monkey King?” Tang pointed out and Wukong frowned, then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Macaque has ‘changed’ before.” Wukong said, quietly thanking Pigsy for the noodles and fruit dumplings in front of him. “I don’t want to think that this was like any of the other ‘changes’ but I can’t risk it, plus Macaque being near people - for any reason - is dangerous. For everybody involved.”

“You keep saying that, but what does that even mean?” MK asked, throwing his broom to the ground before he could even process that he was getting mad enough for this. “You say he’s ‘dangerous’ you say ‘he can’t be trusted’ but he saved me from you ! That’s enough for me! He saved me, helped me save you, and yes he did some bad things but he’s not a bad guy!”

Wukong tensed, looking back at him before he sighed. “Listen, bud. There’s a lot about Macaque that you don’t know-”

“THEN TELL ME!” MK said, stomping his foot with rage as the ground trembled slightly. “I don’t know anything about Macaque but I also don’t know anything about you! All I know about you, I read but I… I don’t know you Wukong.” He said, trembling as his eyes burned with frustrated tears. “I don’t know anything other than you picked an everyday, average, boring noodle delivery boy to be your successor…”

“Kid…” Pigsy began, walking around the counter. “Take a breath, you’re going to make yourself sick if you keep working yourself up.” He gently put his hand on MK’s shoulder.

“MK has a point.” Tang hummed, scratching his chin like an older gentleman would rub a beard. “All we know about the Six-Eared Macaque is some of his abilities, the Shadow Play stunt he pulled, and the way he helped us. But on a research standpoint, the Journey to The West only tells us that Macaque is one of four Celestial Primates and that he tried to use your appearance to seek out immortality. We also know that you killed him with your staff before reuniting your group and continuing your journey. Other than that one instance we have no idea what Macaque has done, and weighing the ‘good’ and ‘bads’ of the situation he’s helped more than harmed.”

Wukong popped a dumpling into his mouth, his tail swishing in a way that almost implied frustration like a cat read to pounce. “Well, there’s more to it than that. A lot more. But, no matter what that filthy monkey’s done… I have a promise to keep to him.”

“A promise?” Pigsy said as MK rubbed tears out of his eyes.

Wukong nodded, “Yeah, a promise. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you about why he’s dangerous but I promised Macaque that I wouldn’t mention it to anybody… though that was a long time ago. Before I killed him…” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, “But for respect to the Macaque of the past I’m going to keep my mouth shut. Sorry, bud…”

MK shook his head, “Whatever… I’m going on my break.” He said, his voice wavering as he walked out of the building.

MK stomped down the street, trying to calm his heart which was pounding so hard in his chest he felt dizzy. The world was so loud when he was this upset, it was like everybody in Megapolis had microphones and big speakers attached to their backs and were all screaming at the same time. It was loud, crowded, and overwhelming.

His hands found their way to his hair, pulling at the strands as he tried to distract himself from how busy his mind was becoming with each step.

‘ He promised Macaque not to say, that means he’s doing it for Macaque, but it’s also hurting Macaque! Shouldn’t a promise not count if the person you made that promise to is suffering?! ’ He thought, tugging his hair again. ‘ Macaque needs people too, and you keep chasing everybody away from him all for a promise? Unless that promise was to make sure he was alone forever I don’t think he should keep it, and even if it was… shouldn’t the ‘respect for the past Macaque’ carry on now? If the past Macaque is hurting like the Macaque in the present then we should help him. ’

Mk took a sharp breath in, the afternoon air filling his lungs and attempting to calm him. Yet that incessant pounding in his chest wouldn't cease.The pounding was beginning to hurt, his breathing was unsteady and his eyes blurred with tears threatening to fall. It was all so frustrating. Every time Wukong did this it was like…no matter how much they go through, how close they get Wukong just won't talk to him. First the Lady Bone Demon, then the Samadhi fire, and now this! Mk let their breath out and ungripped his hands. Letting go of his hair and letting his arms fall to his sides.

He tried to steady his breathing but it wouldn't work with him, the frustration and anger grew within him with every new thought crossing his mind. He wishes he was strong enough to face Monkey King and get him to tell him everything, with no lies or excuses. The complete and utter truth, yet that seems too hard for Monkey king to do.

Mk’s walk is blinded by his thoughts and the tears that drip onto the concrete. He doesn't really know where he’s going and he doesn't care much. He just keeps walking while his frustrated mind and pounding heart guide him through the city. When he finally stops it's because he can't walk anymore. His legs have become sore and his frustrations have become too much for him. He needs to sit down.

Mk raises his head to look for a seat and something calms in his when he notices Macaques dojo not too far from him. He doesn't know how he made it all the way here yet he doesn't seem to care. His legs move on their own, walking towards the dojo with every step becoming quicker by the second till he’s full-on sprinting towards the dojo. When he gets there he throws open the door and finds Macaque in the main training room.

He’s panting while standing in a fighting stance, he’s not wearing a shirt so he must have been solo training. Mk knows he doesn't look good or okay, he wishes the thoughts weren't so deafening so maybe he could have thought to wipe away the tears and snot. Breathe the red out of his cheeks and nose. Then walk into the dojo with his usual big bright smile so Macaque didn't have to deal with this. With him.

Mk doesn't realize he chokes on his breathing, little sobs that escape him as he tries to breathe normally again. So he definitely doesn't notice the sad chirp he makes and what it does to Macaque the moment he hears it.

He doesn't have to know anything wrong, he shouldn't have to burden himself with his issues, it's not his problem, Mk’s just too sensitive for his own good and gets too upset over every little thing. It's really pathetic and stupid an-.

Arms wrap around Mk and pull him into a warm embrace, Mk is quick to throw his arms around Macaque and sob into dark fur. Between sobs, sad chirps continue to escape his lips. He lets Macaque pick him up and carry him somewhere. He doesn't know exactly where since dark fur covers his eyes as he continues to cry out his overwhelming frustrations. He’s suddenly set down in the middle of something familiar and soft. Mk opens his eyes and recognizes the familiar blankets and pillows beneath him.

It's the nest he and Macaque made the first time Mk had started chirping. He had kept it here? Mk’s hiccups and sobs crawled up his throat again as he was suddenly left alone without him ever noticing. He looks around the dim room for Macaque but doesn't see him anywhere, not in the room, not in the shadows. He’s nowhere to be found. What, did he just dump him in here to cry so he didn't bother Macaque with his annoying crying. He should have known, he should have known not to come and just cried it out on his own like he normally does. Instead of burdening other people with his issues. He should have known that he wouldn't get the comfort he sought for most.

He chirped again, this one louder than any he’s ever done before, then he sobbed and after another chirp. This repeating pattern of sobs and chirps as he curled up and hid his face into his knees is what causes something to drop outside. He grips onto his hair again, hands desperate to do anything while he sobs.

Suddenly something breaks closer to him and then hits the wall, before Mk can register what exactly that sound was he’s being pulled into those same warm warms and soft frantic apologies.

“I'm sorry, I'm so so so sorry.” Something else warm and fluffy wrapped over Mk’s back and then around Macaque.

“Im wasn't gonna be gone for long. I'm sorry, see I grabbed a blanket for you. I'm sorry.”  Macaque wrapped an arm around Mk’s back rubbing gentle circles and his other hand combed Mk’s hair.

“Shhh, it's okay, let it out, let it all out.”

Mk grabbed onto Macaque as if his life depended on it, letting out frustrations even he didn't think he was still holding.

First Wukong not talking to him, avoiding the subject like he always did, leading to the Lady Bone Demon disaster, his best friend almost burning alive within the samadhi fire, Wukong getting possessed. Anything and everything going wrong till their on their last legs, barely coming up with a plan to save the world from being completely destroyed.

It all weighed so heavy on him, sure everything is okay now…but it isn't. It's not okay, nothing is okay and it hasn't been for a long time.

So he cries, he cries and he cries till his throat is sore, till his arms become too stiff to hold on anymore and he leans limp against Macaque.  Face red and stained with tears. Macaque grabs something off to the side and brings it close to Mk’s face, he wipes away the snot and tears then throws the tissue in a random corner to deal with later. Mk isn't crying anymore, tears still build and fall down his face but he can't bring himself to care. He’s too tired to care at all over something as small as a tear.

Mk blinks and looks around, Macaque's house is the same as ever, he doesn’t know if that's a good or bad thing. The nest is mostly the same, a few pillows in different places but that's the only difference. Mk wonders for a moment if Macaque’s been sleeping in the nest since they made it, if it's still here then it must be being used. Right? Mk hums to himself with that thought and looks at Macaque. He can't really see his face since he’s leaning against his chest, but because of the angle, he notices scar’s on Macaque's chest. Weirdly placed scars that seem familiar but Mk cant-

Oh.

“Macaque?” Mk croaks, his voice sore and quiet due to all his crying.

“Hmm, yes? Do you need some water, another blanket?”

“Your trans?” Mk asks, looking up at macaque now, still leaning against him.

Macaque stared down at Mk, taking a breath in before answering. “...yeah,” he says, tightening his hold on Mk just slightly. Mk hums, putting his head back down.

“Me too.” he yawns, fighting the urge to let his eyes close.

“Really?” Macaque asks gently, combing through Mk’s now untangled hair. It wasn't much of a real question as it was to keep Mk distracted. Macaque had his suspicions but didn't comment on it. Felt it best not too.

“Mhm,” Mk hums, relaxing into the touch on his scalp. Something about the gentle caresses through his hair is just so…relaxing. So comforting. More so than any other form of comfort he’s experienced. It's soothing enough to just, fall asleep.

“Mei…Mei helped me get binders…and” Mk yawns “cut my hair….”

“I think you make a fine young man Mk.” Macaque hums, resting his head onto Mk’s head.

Mk sighs and finally closes his eyes “hmm, thanks…Momma.”

Macaque’s breath hitches, his fingers in Mk’s hair pauses and his tail lightly thumps against the floor.

“M…Mk?”

Mk deosnt reply.

“Kid?”

Mk breathes slowly and gently against his chest.

Macaque resumes his combing, letting his cub sleep. He needs the rest after crying that much. He can't bring himself to wake him up just to….

Momma

Macaque breathes, shaken and unsteady. His head still atop Mk’s. he doesn't know what to do when his heart leaps and something unfamiliar and scary builds in his chest. Yet it doesn't hurt, it doesn't make him cry. It's warm and protective. So he lets the feeling stay as he holds Mk against him. And with a sigh, he closes his eyes and lets himself rest.

Macaque stays there for a moment, not wanting to move MK from where he was clearly comfortable but after what happened last time MK was here he wasn't so sure. So after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed MK’s phone, but this time he didn’t bother just texting Pigsy or even calling him. Instead, he sent Pigsy’s contact to his own phone, then used his phone to call the restaurant.

“ Pigsy’s Noodles, home to the world's longest noodle. We’re not currently doing take-out orders but pick-ups are available. ” Pigsy’s voice said and Macaque hesitated.

“Pigsy, it’s Macaque. Don’t say anything, please, I know Wukong is there.”

A bit of silence, “ I see, how can I help you? ” Pigsy asked and Macaque let out a relieved sigh.

“MK just showed up at my place crying his eyes out. I don’t know what happened but I can guess… I just didn’t want you guys to worry. He’s with me, he’s safe, he’s just sleeping.”

“ Got it. Alright then. ”

“Do you want me to bring him back? I can take him to his apartment after Wukong leaves.”

More silence before Pigsy let out a sound that almost sounded like a sigh of acceptance. “ You know what, I don’t think we’re interested tonight. How about you keep the delivery at your warehouse tonight and drop it off tomorrow? I’m not sure we have the room in storage for it. ”

Macaque felt his eyes start to burn with tears as his tail flicked slightly. “Really?”

“ Yeah, why not. Other than a few bruised veggies I’ve never had any issues with your company. Just know that I’ll be keeping my eye on you and I’ll be sure to check the goods for bruises and damages upon drop off. Understood? ”

“I understand. Thank you, Pigsy… thank you.”

“ Don’t thank me. Enjoy your day off. ” Pigsy said then hung up.

Macaque looked at his phone before he put it down and relaxed.

Pigsy trusted him? After everything he’d done, Pigsy still trusted him? It was amazing and made his chest feel tight. Pigsy trusted him with MK, and he trusted him enough with him that he was letting MK stay the night. Though this did come with a bit of preparation.

Moving slowly he formed a clone to take his spot as MK’s pillow, continuing the pattern of hair petting that Macaque had been doing before Macaque left the room. He went to a more lofted area where his hammock was spread out and his clothes were discarded all around the room. He scrunched his nose, going towards the wardrobe as his tail swished. He didn’t have a lot of clean clothes left but he had a long-sleeved red shirt and black sweatpants with a blue and black “RavenClaw” patch on the left thigh.

‘ They’re all I’ve got to work with so he can use these. I just hope they’re not too big. ’ He thought, grabbing them both and taking it to the nest. He then put the clothes down on the corner of the nest, checking on the clone who gave a smile and a thumbs up telling Macaque that he can keep doing what he was doing.

Macaque smiled softly walking back into the main part as his tail swished.

‘ Now… dinner. What do kids eat? Noodles? It's too risky with Wukong there. Uh… maybe I have something ?” He thought, walking over to his cupboards.

Moldy bread, soggy old crackers, rice that had been gotten into by mice (gross), the milk could have been categorized as its own ecosystem just by looking at it through the carton, and there was something growing in a tupperware at the back of the fridge. Macaque’s ears drooped slightly, as he began to dump all of the food into the trash. One trash bag turned into two, then three. Finally, all that was left was canned soups that expired nearly a year prior. Hell, there was even a can that expired 5 years ago.

‘ What is this my emotional support can of soup? Why did I bring this everywhere with me? ’ He thought, flicking his tail with annoyance as he held it over the trash bag. ‘ It’s probably still good though. ’ He decided, putting it back in the cupboard.

Once the cupboards and fridge were clear of old and rotten food he took the bags out towards the alleyway dumpster. He then got to work on clearing the counter of old, broken, moldy, or plastic/paper dishes were either thrown away or put in the sink to be washed.

‘ When was the last time I cleaned? Why am I cleaning now? I guess it’s a good idea, MK could get sick if I don’t. I need to make sure the dojo is at least safe for him to walk through and stuff. ’ He thought, tying off another bag once it was full.

He continued cleaning the dojo, little by little making mental notes about broken glass, broken pieces of floor, and anything that was growing in corners. The longer he worked the more comfortable got until finally, he reached a point of comfort in the situation that he even began to sing and hum to himself.

Songs from musicals, old songs he’d caught others singing or new songs he’d heard over the radio. It didn’t matter, he sang whatever came to mind as he cleaned.

The dojo - for the first time since he trained MK - felt light and warm. A new kind of safety, comfort, and joy seemed to flow through the broken windows and empty halls. But why couldn’t he have done this when MK wasn’t here? Why could he only do it now that MK was sleeping in the other room? It didn’t make sense but honestly, Macaque didn’t need it to make sense.

Because it felt right.

It felt safe .

‘ Mama… ’ He thought again, ‘ I think I could get used to that… ’

When MK woke up it was to the sound of singing from another room. He blinked open his eyes, whimpering at the tightness in his chest where his binder sat as he sat up and rubbed his ribs. He then went to speak to Macaque who was now sitting behind him just to pale slightly when he realized by the slightly off appearance that it was a clone.

“Macaque?” He asked hesitantly as the clone picked up some clothes from the edge of the nest and held it out to him. The clone then tapped his shoulder where the binder straps sat. “You want me to change?”

The clone nodded.

‘ Macaque’s clones are strange… they’re not like mine but they’re not like Wukongs. It’s weird. ’

MK grabbed the clothes then got up as the clone dropped into the shadows and slipped out of the room without saying a word. MK then shook his head, pulling off his shirt before putting it on the nest. He then rolled up the binder slightly, slipping his thumbs under the shoulder straps as he pulled it up then over his head. The shirt that had been given to him was a bit dusty but not unbearably so and thick enough to hide himself. He shook the dust out of it, before pulling it on, the large shirt going down to his upper thighs making him feel like a little kid in his dad’s shirt. It was fun! He then pulled off his jeans, replacing it with RavenClaw pajama bottoms.

‘ RavenClaw, huh? ’ He thought, tying the strings so that they were snug around his waist. The only problem was that the pants had a small hole in the back for Macaque’s tail, but at least the shirt covered the hole. ‘ This is nice… but why? ’ He thought, picking up his phone as he looked at the messages he’d received since falling asleep.

Wukong had sent; Sorry, bud. We’ll talk about it someday, I promise. I hope you’re not too mad. Please be safe.

The message had hurt a bit, but knowing that it was as close to an answer as he was going to get for a while he just let out a sigh and went to the other message he’d gotten.

Pigsy had said; Told the monkey to watch after you tonight, that being said your window is unlocked if you want to come home. Take care of yourself, kiddo. We’ll see you tomorrow.

MK smiled, that explained some things at least. If Macaque was told to let him stay then of course Macaque would try to find him something to sleep in. Though, that didn’t tell him what the singing was about.

Walking towards the door he slowly peeked out and into the main area of the dojo. To his surprise it was clean. Something that MK hadn’t seen since he had been training with Macaque. Though there was something even more surprising and that was the fact that Macaque was the one singing as he swept the floors. He looked and sounded so happy.

‘ Did he want a sleepover that badly? ’ MK thought, stepping the rest of the way out. “M-Macaque?”

Macaque quickly turned, then cleared his throat. “O-oh! Hey, bud. How’d you sleep?” He asked, looking a bit sheepish.

“Good, how long was I out?”

“Uh, about an hour or two? How do the clothes fit?”

“They’re a bit big, but they’re cozy.” MK said, gently flapping the sleeves of the shirt as they fell over his hands.

To both the surprise of MK and Macaque the dark-furred monkey let out a soft almost purring-like noise before he coughed into his fist.

“Great! Uh, so I don’t have a lot of things to eat so I hope you can at least tolerate some of this canned stuff?”

MK looked at the options, eventually picking up one of the cans. “I’ll try this one. Pigsy spoils me quite a bit so I don’t eat a lot of canned things.” He laughed.

“That’s good. Canned shit isn’t good for people to eat all the time.” Macaque said, grabbing a can and opening it with the can opener before gently taking MK’s can and popping it open too. He then poured the contents of MK’s can into a pot and put it on the stove while he just grabbed a fork and began to eat straight out of the can.

“You’ve done a lot of cleaning, it looks really good.” MK said, watching as Macaque’s tail flicked at the praise.

“Yeah? Don’t know what got into me if I’m being honest. Just kinda started and didn’t stop, y’know?”

MK nodded, “Yeah, I get it. You should have woken me up though, I could have helped.”

“No way, cub. You’re a guest, you don’t get to clean.” He said, stirring the pot for a moment. “So… wanna talk about what made you so sad?”

MK looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… was arguing with Wukong. It was dumb and I lost my temper so I stormed off like a child.”

Macaque shook his head, “Cub, you are a child, that doesn’t mean that you’re acting childish. You were hurt, mad, and sad. Your fight-or-flight kicked in and you chose flight until you could calm down. Knowing when to walk away, especially when you’re pissed , is important.” He said, booping MK’s nose with his tail, making MK giggle.

“Really?”

“Of course, bud. If you never knew when to walk away from an argument then every little squabble would turn into a fight to the death. It’s just as important to know when to walk away as it is to know when to keep on fighting.” Macaque said, pulling the food off of the heat, pouring it into a bowl with a spoon that he sat at an island for MK to eat.

“But… I thought heroes were never supposed to back down from a fight?”

Macaque shook his head, “Nah, the real heroes are the ones who know which fights need to be fought to the end.” He said, taking another bite of his cold still-canned food.

MK nodded slowly, sitting at the island as he began to eat his food. “Macaque… why does Wukong keep saying you’re dangerous?”

He regretted asking the question as soon as it came out, watching the way the monkey bristled slightly then looked down as though avoiding the scolding of a parent.

“Because I am dangerous, MK. Sun Wukong… he’s right about that. I’ve hurt people, a lot of people including him… especially him. Wukong isn’t wrong for trying to keep me away from you and honestly if I could stand breaking your heart even just a little I would be staying away from you because I know that Wukong is keeping his eyes on me. He doesn’t trust me, and he has no reason to.”

“But you’re different, you’ve changed! You’re-”

Macaque put his can in the trash before he walked over, gently taking MK’s face between his hands. “I’m dangerous. Even if I’m not a danger to you at this moment… I’m still dangerous.”

“But how ? What aren’t you guys telling me? Why do you guys insist on keeping secrets from me to protect me but don’t explain when they hurt me?” He asked, not as angry as before but still just as hurt.

Macaque’s golden eyes scanned MK’s face sadly, “Okay… I’ll tell you a little, but I can’t tell you the full thing. Okay?”

MK relaxed, he would finally get answers? Really? Or was this just another trick? Gods, he was sick of tricks.

“Remember that story I told you; the one about the Hero and the Warrior?”

MK shuddered and Macaque shrunk down on himself slightly.

“I’m going to take that as ‘I wish I could forget’.” He said sadly, fixing MK’s hair before he jumped up onto the counter and sat down. Macaque rubbed his hands on his face, “Well, do you remember the part where I mentioned ‘the sun and the moon’?”

“I think so?”

“‘ The Hero and the Warrior were like the Sun and the Moon. Their light a protective glow shining upon the world. Together, there was nothing that could stop the two of them. Either in the Celestial Realms or on Earth’ .” He said and MK frowned, wondering where this was going. “It wasn’t all… metaphorical. I mean, most of it was but… not all of it. See… the moon itself has no light of its own. It doesn’t glow or shine at all without the help of the sun. But if the sun left the moon could - hypothetically - get other light from nearby stars. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all.” MK said as Macaque let out a soft laugh.

“Alright, more direct then. My powers are weak, bud. I have very little power compared to Monkey King - to you - but I am able to absorb access powers that more powerful Demons and Celestials put out in their day-to-day lives. It’s how I was able to do all that stuff with your powers the first time we met. But that was ‘the moon’ forcefully stealing light from the ‘sun’ and the ‘stars’.”

‘OH, I’M A STAR! Okay, things might make a bit more sense now.’ He thought but kept listening.

“With more casual and comfortable friendships and relationships and whatever I can gain power even faster. But… at a cost.”

“What kind of cost?” MK asked.

Macaque hesitated, ruffling his hair. “Story for another day, bud. Eat your food, that stuff tastes terrible cold.”

“Oh, okay… Wait, then why did you eat yours cold?!”

Macaque laughed, “Lack of self-preservation, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m immediately worried about it.” MK said with a soft scowl.

Macaque placed his hand on Mk’s face and gently pushed, chuckling at the way Mk’s face scrunches up and he stumbles in place. “Don't.” Macaque removes his hand and jumps off of the table. Then sets his empty bowl into the sink.

“I will.” Mk retorts immediately, staring down Macaque.

Macaque takes the empty dish from Mk’s hands and boops his nose, again chuckling as his face scrunches up cutely.

“ Ack, stop doing that!” Mk demands, watching Macaque put the dish in the sink.

“Hmmm.” Macaque approaches Mk.

“No,” he says, booping Mk’s nose again and earning the same reaction. Mk shakes his head and glares up at Macaque with no real venom while Macaque just smirks. Macaque reaches up to do it again but is stopped when Mk grabs his arm and then slaps his hand onto Macaque's face. Macaque lets out a surprised noise and brings up his other hand to grab at Mk but he lets go of Macaque and runs off laughing.

Macaque huffs and chases him, back into the room where the nest is. He vaguely recognizes how broken his doorknob is. Look he’s not accountable for the things his instincts do, he heard a crying baby. He's gonna break anything and anyone to get to the crying baby.

Suddenly Macaque is attacked by a heavy pillow hitting him in the face

“Hah payback!” Mk yells pointing at Macaque with another pillow in hand. Macaque pulls his pillow down and raises an eyebrow at Mk’s giggling shenanigans.

“Ooooh you do not want to go down that route kiddo,,”  Macaque says playfully. Mk’s glare on Macaque hardens.

“Bring it. Old man. ”

Macaque gasps with half fake offense “you little-” Macaque leaps towards Mk and Mk yelps, jumping away from Macaque with his pillow.

Macaque is quick to drop the pillow and chase Mk on all fours, jumping on different tables and chairs as Mk continues to scream and run through the room. Dodging Macaques every ‘attack’. Till finnaly Mk trips on a blanket and Macaque leaps to grab Mk, they both yell and tumble into the nest laughing. They end up in the middle of the nest, Mk laying on Macaques side and both of them laughing till their lungs hurt.  

“Haha…who’s old now… squirt, ” Macaque said between laughs and breathes.

“Still you.” Mk laughed out.

Macaque grabbed Mk by the middle with a fake roar and pulled him close. Again Mk yelped and faked an attempt at escaping.

“Nooooooooo!” Mk laughed while Macaque dug his head into Mk’s head.

“Yeeeeeeessss!” Macaque grumbled.

Macaque smiled, loosening his grip on MK slightly, before running his finger through the kid's hair once again. “As fun as all of this is, if you keep picking a fight I will have no choice but to bring out the big guns and break my promise to your father~”

“Big guns?” MK tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you keep calling me old, I’ll have to do this. ” He grabbed MK’s headband, using it to turn his head to the side before he blew a raspberry on MK’s cheek.

MK let out a shriek, kicking his feet as he laughed, grabbing at his headband. “Stop! Mercy! You win!”

“Oh? Are you sure? Because there’s a lot more where that came from, I’ve been saving them.” Macaque said as MK chuckled.

“I’m sure.” MK said, “You’re not old.”

“Good.” Macaque let him go and relaxed.

“You’re ancient. ”

“OI!” He said, grabbing MK again. But this time he rolled Mk over forcefully and pulled him into his chest. The little cub squirmed a bit but Macaque didn't let go, even as his tail grabbed the nearby blanket and pulled it over them. Mk finally freed his head from Macaque's hold and took a deep dramatic breath in.    

“You stink.”

“What?”

“Your old and your stinky,” Mk said digging his face back into Macaques fur.

“Am I really?” Macaque chuckles lightly.

“Yeah and I bet you snore like an old man, an old stinky man.”

“Your so kind.” Macaque sighs.

“Mhm, I know.” Mk smiles, wrapping his arms around Macaque. Macaque does the same, then commands a shadow to reach up and flip the light switch. Turning off all the lights of the room.

The moonlight is now the only thing illuminating the room. Macaque traces its light with his eyes and how it leaks through his windows and over the various pieces of furniture and blankets till it reaches Mk. His cub really is adorable, especially with the light illuminating his features. If Mk didn't look like he was trying to fall asleep Macaque would pinch his cheek right here and now bit decided against it to let him sleep peacefully.

Macaque wrapped his tail around Mk and sighed, again noting how the moonlight covers his cub. His cub, normally illuminated by the sun’s blinding light. Now here resting within the moon's dim lights, happily content and comfortable.

Macaque only wishes he could experience this more often.

Mk slurps loud and obnoxiously on his cheese tea, then munches down on a fresh and hot croissant.

Macaque had nothing good or fresh to eat for breakfast, he should probably get some for the next time Mk comes around. As long as other food things. He’d sure like to try some new snacks along with making sure Mk was fed well whenever he was around. But since he didn't have any good things to eat this morning he decided to buy himself and Mk some breakfast. Mk had insisted on cheese tea while the croissant was Macaque's idea.

“Thanks, Macaque!” Mk said, muffled by the croissant stuffed into his mouth.

“Sure.” Macaque tapped Mk’s back with his hand, gently pushing him “but maybe you should try taking smaller bites”

Mk leans over due to the push and his face scrunches up, he then straightens up and with his eyes closed tightly he swallows the entirety of the croissant. Macaque silently prepares himself to care for a choking cub, he’s sure that after this Pigsy is going to beat him away with a wooden spoon the next time he comes around. Although it seems Mk’s just fine as he throws a thumbs up with his free hand

“Hah, did it!”

“Why?” Macaque asks. Mk hums

“Because I can!’ He decides and Macaque chuckles to himself while shaking his head.

When they get to the noodle shop Macaque tenses, searching for any sign of Wukong yet he finds none, and most-not all he’d be a fool if he let down his guard tension falls.

“Hi, Pigsy!” Mk yells out, waving to the pig demon at the front of his shop messing with the open sign.

“Hey kid” Pigsy waves. Mk runs over to Pigsy leaving Macaques's side empty. As he approaches the two talking he takes notice of how empty it feels without Mk beside him, his tail gently grazing the ground where Mk once stood beside him. He dug his hands into his pockets and looked around the street. Trying not to feel awkward as Mk and Pigsy talked.

That is until the pig approached him with a white bag in his hand.

“Good job with the kid,” He said, holding the bag on his side. Macaque nodded.

“Y-yeah, anytime…for him,” Macaque said, watching as Pigsy stared him down. He almost felt like he was on the chopping block as Pigsy searched for something within him. Whatever he was searching for he seemed to find because the next thing he knows Pigsy is shoving the white bag into his arms.

“The kid likes you, I don't know why…I don't know what he sees in you but it's something…”

Macaque notes how the bag is warm with a container inside.

“Whatever it is for his sake I hope he’s right…about you”

Macaque sniffs the air and realizes its noodles, fresh and warm noodles.

“Don't disappoint him, okay,” Pigsy says. Letting Macaque grab the bag and removing his own arm from his chest to step back.

Macaque looks up from the bag and to Pigsy. Something clicks in him. Seeing Pigsy confront him while Mk stands a bit of a ways behind him. Just enough so that their conversation is private but Mk is still present. Pigsy cares for Mk just as much as Macaque does. Protective and warm. He wants to hold onto this feeling. He never wants to let it go. Not again. He can't ever let his light fade from his life again.

“Okay…”

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Hehehe i wrote the breakdown scene btw hehehhee If ur from my fics YOU KNOW THE DRILL LINE UP Kicks bucket TEARS GO IN HERE THANK YOU VERY MUCH. FOR COMPENSATION YOU GET A WEIGHTED BLANKET AND A HOT DRINK. Thank you so much for reading. See you guys next time!!! -Stella

(Stella is so awesome, if you haven't checked out their stuff you should. Their writing and art is just absolutely amazing! I also hope that these chapters help make up for the lack of chapters of Monkies Aren't Alright lately. I'm trying to give the Season 4 Specials/Season 4 to come out in English. But I'm still working on it, I promise :D) - Ari

[strawberryraviegutz]

Idk if it’s common sense but I feel like this needs to be said. I’m a firm believer that character chat bots should NEVER EVER BE A REPLACEMENT FOR FANFICTION. Apparently chat bots aren’t anything new. Like I heard about this one bot called cleverbot that was around in the 2000’s/2010’s I think?? I also started seeing bots of characters starting popping when when I was around 14-16 too. I think they’re just rising to popularity more since ai(which has also sorta been a thing) is becoming more advanced than it was before.

But anyways DO NOT use character chat bots to replace fanfiction PLEASE. As a fanfic reader and writer myself I can tell you bots aren’t the only solution. Fanfiction is really viable when it comes to experimenting with writing and having fun. I use character chat bots myself, but that DOES NOT MEAN that I’ll never read fanfiction again. I very much use both. Especially when content of a character you like is barely out there. Take Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist from example.

Envy is one of the most popular characters in the franchise, with him ranking in number 4 of this one popularity poll back when I wasn’t in the fandom which even surprised the author at how he was ranked so high,and in a recent poll he ranked number 6(should’ve been higher. I wanted to vote but the site was is JP but it’s still sorta a win). But despite Envy’s popularity and the amount of fans and fangirls he has, there is barely any fics of them to come by when it comes to x reader fics and most of the ones I’ve read are pretty much unfinished.

Same goes for Envy x oc content too. When I discovered Character ai or chai I was like “oh wow this is actually kinda cool.” I never intended on replacing fanfiction with them. Lots of people rely on escapism and I’m one of them so I understand. And when it comes to rping with people it’s not that easy. I have roleplayed with my friend sometimes and still sorta do but real people aren’t always available.

Not to mention I’ve heard stories of people having real bad experiences with rping with actual people and even stories that involved grooming. There are even times where I don’t use the bots for days depending on how my mood is or if I just don’t feel like it. I just use the Envy bots to keep me busy while I wait for more fics to pop up. Even though these characters aren’t real, it sorta feels nice..it’s like playing pretend like I’d do when I was little. I always make sure to check the Envy tags here on tumblr, wattpad, Twitter, and and AO3 to see if there’s anything new.(That’s not Envy x minors or Envy x their siblings btw).

I just think up fantasies I usually have and use the bots to rp them.I still wanna write fics with my fma self insert but I’m currently going through the longest and worst burnout. I will never EVER use these things to replace fanfiction.And neither should you guys either.

[aita-blorbos]

this is from a fic i’m writing. the characters are canon, the situation is not.

warning: pregnancy, cheating

Aita for getting my girlfriend’s best friend pregnant?

This sounds absolutely terrible and I know that. I’ve been conflicted about it for months and it’s not like there’s anyone else I can tell so I decided to come here.

Some backstory. N (18f) and I (18m) have been dating since last summer. We broke up for a little bit and then got back together once we’d sorted everything out between us and we’ve been pretty happy with each other. Recently, N’s best friend H (18f) came back from college and started working at the farm that I work at. H has been dating R (18m) since last summer. R is an asshole. This isn’t me being biased or jealous or anything, this is just a fact. Everyone knows it. He’s a terrible person and he’s probably not a good boyfriend. He’s the type of guy that won’t let you have guy friends because he’s scared you’ll cheat or something.

Anyway. H and I have been working at this farm for a little while and I happened to notice one day that she’s got some muscle where she didn’t before (mostly her back and shoulders) and that I found it attractive. I didn’t do anything or say anything because we’re both seeing other people and (up until now) I wasn’t that kind of guy.

A mutual friend (D, 18m) had decided to host a reunion of sorts one day and N invited me along. I’m not really a party person but I went because I knew she wanted to go and so that I could drive her home if she got too drunk. I didn’t end up driving her home, but another friend (B, 18m) did. I stayed for a little bit longer and I was going to go home when H crashed into me. She’d clearly been drinking and I helped her into the kitchen to sit down and get her a glass of water and maybe some advil. We were the only two people in the kitchen and she kissed me. I didn’t know what to do. I’ll admit I wanted to kiss her back but by the time I recovered enough brainpower to do so, she’d already moved away. So I kissed her. We didn’t do anything beyond kissing. I took her home because her mom isn’t the best and I’d rather her stay with me than her mom. We didn’t do anything, just slept and I made coffee and toast the next morning and neither of us really said anything. She left relatively early and I got ready for work.

We avoided each other pretty much all day at work. And then we had to check the barn and make sure all the stalls were locked. It can be a one person job, but it’s easier with two because it just goes quicker. We finished checking the stalls (they were all locked) and once we were done she kissed me again. We started making out pretty quickly and we ended up in the bed up in the loft of the barn that night.

Both of us knew that being with each other was better and nicer and felt more right than being with our respective partners, but we also knew that cheating was wrong and if we wanted to continue this, we couldn’t get caught. I didn’t think much of it. We started meeting around town whenever we were both free, sometimes to hook up, sometimes just to talk and cuddle and pretend like this was normal. I’m not the type to fall in love very fast but I knew by the end of the first night that I had fallen for her.

She showed up at my house maybe a month later. Typically, she doesn’t come to my house, so I was a little nervous. We went to my room and she told me she was pregnant. I didn’t know what to do but I believed her. She wouldn’t lie about that. Not when the risk of us getting found out was so high already. We’ve been doing everything we can to make sure she’s healthy when the baby gets here and to make sure no one finds out that I’m actually the father. I’ve told her this before, but I don’t know what to do. If either of our partners find out, it won’t be pretty. I won’t leave her—I’m not letting her go back to R—but at some point we’re going to have to come clean. We haven’t told anyone but I know if we do, they’re just going to hate us.

Aita?

[blueskrugs]

length: 1.9k words

full fic

december

Tyson usually dreads January. It’s a long, cold, and dark month. The grind of the season feels like it’s at its…grindiest. The game days and travel days start to run into each other and turn into one exhausting, never-ending blur. Someone’s always getting sick, or injured, 

He’s perfectly happy to throw himself back into hockey when the new year finally rolls around after so many weeks without it, but he hates how quiet his apartment is without Kacey hanging around, being annoying. He leaves his Christmas decorations up, anything to make his apartment feel lived-in.

Tyson lasts until the team gets back from Chicago on the fifth before he calls Madison again. She doesn’t answer. Tyson stares at his phone after it goes through to voicemail, bewildered. That is, until Madison texts him back and reminds him that she has a “normal job with normal hours.” Right.

Madison calls Tyson back on her way home from work. His groggy, mumbled “‘ello?” makes Madison smile when he answers, voice tinny over her car’s speakers.

“Did I wake you?” she teases. 

Tyson scoffs, but says, “...yeah. Sorry for calling you earlier,” he adds. “I’d just gotten home and wasn’t thinking.” “You can’t just call at 10:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, Tyson,” she admonishes. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just—” missing you. Tyson dismisses that thought. Too earnest. “I was just bored,” he finishes. Not much better, actually. 

Madison’s quiet for a while, focused on driving. She realizes she should figure out where she’s actually headed. “Were you calling for any particular reason earlier?” she asks. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“I could never forget you,” Tyson says quickly. “I just wanted to see you,” he admits after another moment. 

Madison turns on her blinker at a red light. She should be turning left, towards her apartment. She turns right, towards Tyson’s place. “Did you want me to come over,” she asks, wanting to hear Tyson say it.

“I mean, obviously, yeah. I can make us dinner.”

Madison laughs. “Oh, sure, you’re gonna make me some toaster waffles, huh?” She had seen the Instagram stories. “You really know how to woo a girl, Tys.”

She can practically feel Tyson’s playful outrage on the other end of the phone. He sputters for a minute before saying, “Okay, I can order us dinner.” 

Madison’s almost to Tyson’s apartment building. She hates that she already knows how to get there so easily. “Are you going to get your ass out of bed and meet me downstairs?” There’s the sound of something hitting the floor, like Tyson actually rolled out of bed.

“I’ll be right there!” Tyson says, before hanging up. The radio cuts back in, music playing softly to fill in the abrupt silence of the call ending. Madison parks and turns her car off, sitting in silence for a minute. She wonders just what the hell she’s doing, what she’s getting herself into. 

Tyson sprawls onto his couch and pulls Madison into his lap almost immediately after they’re both through the door. Madison rolls her eyes, but she goes willingly. Tyson’s perfectly content to just make out for a while, all sense of urgency gone as soon as he gets his hands on Madison. He’s not sure how long they’re there before he realizes something and pulls away.

“Have you ever been to an Avs game?” he asks.

“What?” Madison lost her shirt at some point, and Tyson’s thumb has been fiddling with one of her bra straps for the last several moments. She’s admittedly a little distracted. She processes what Tyson said. “Tyson, are you seriously thinking about hockey right now?” She tries to roll off his lap, but he digs his hands into her thighs and refuses to let her move.

“I’m always thinking about hockey, a little bit,” he defends. Madison rolls her eyes at him again. What Tyson had really been thinking about was introducing Madison to JT, then he’d remembered that she said she didn’t watch much hockey, and somehow that’s what had come out of his mouth. Madison still looks a little bit like she wants to smack him. “I told my best friend about you,” is what he ends up saying next. “He’s actually the one who pointed you out to me at the bar that night, and he wants to meet you for real.” JT had actually said that, in between chirps about Tyson’s hooking up habits. Some of the other guys had picked it up, too, but Tyson wasn’t ready to subject Madison to them yet. Except maybe, like, Cale. And maybe after a game at the arena wasn’t the best place to introduce Madison to his friends, but Tyson could get tickets for Madison and a friend, ask Mel to introduce herself or something, and then meet Madison after with JT. 

Tyson realizes Madison hasn’t answered him. She’s still in his lap, but she’s tense. Tyson squeezes her thighs again. 

“You don’t have to, obviously,” he says softly. “I dunno, I just thought you might want to meet the guys.”

Madison relaxes a little. “You really want that?” she asks. 

Tyson can’t help but grin at her. He kisses her again, slowly. “I do.”

Later, when they’re sitting at Tyson’s little table eating dinner—that Tyson did actually cook, thank you very much—Madison knocks her ankle into Tyson’s. Tyson swallows his mouthful of food and traps her foot in between both of his. Madison had gotten re-dressed in one of Tyson’s sweatshirts, and Tyson’s doing his best to feel normal about it. 

“So, did you have a day in mind for me to come to a game, or had you not thought that far ahead?” Madison asks. 

Tyson tries to run through their upcoming schedule in his head. “Uh?” They’re home for a lot of January. “Next Friday, maybe? The…14th?” He can’t remember who they’re playing, but that’s not really important. Tyson squints over at the printout of their schedule he keeps on his fridge. “We wouldn’t be able to hang around because we fly out that night, I think.”

Madison looks faintly overwhelmed suddenly. It might be for the best that the guys will only be able to say hi briefly, actually. “Sure? Whatever you want, Tyson.”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Tyson reminds her. He feels a bit as if he’s thrown her off the deep end, even though she’s the one who pushed Tyson to tell JT in the first place. 

Madison shakes her head. “No, it’s okay, I just didn’t really expect it.” 

Tyson pulls a face. “Maybe I’m tired of keeping you a secret.” He doesn’t know what he was trying so hard to protect, now. 

Madison stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Tyson stares back. Finally, Madison drops her fork with a clatter and leans across the table to kiss Tyson. The fierceness of the kiss surprises him, Madison’s lips hard against his, her hand sliding around the back of his neck. Tyson cups her cheek and tries to soften the kiss, but Madison pulls away just as quickly as she’d kissed him. 

Tyson blinks at her, bemused. He’s not sure what just happened. It feels significant somehow, something unspoken changing between them. Tyson turns back to his dinner.

Madison sees Tyson a few more times over the next week and a half before the game. Tyson acts the same, but Madison feels like she’s on edge, counting down the hours until Friday. Tyson doesn’t seem to notice.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear to a hockey game?” Madison complains over the phone to her older sister, Emma, who she’d asked to come with her on Friday. Emma just laughs at her. Madison’s seen what WAGs wear to games—cute outfits with leather pants and heels. Madison doesn’t own that type of shit, and she’s not really a WAG, besides. She doesn’t own a jersey, either, and it would probably be weird to wear a jersey that’s not Tyson’s anyway. Madison’s pixie pants from Old Navy and sensible work shoes aren’t going to cut it.

“What were you wearing when you met Tyson?” Emma asks, as if she doesn’t know they met in a bar.

Madison snorts. “Nothing that’s appropriate for a hockey game.” Madison regards the handful of sweaters she’s pulled from her closet. One of them is close enough to Avalanche burgundy, maybe. Somewhere in her dirty laundry is one of Tyson’s sweatshirts. Madison’s not bold enough to wear it.

Game day is overwhelming, to say the least. Tyson had gotten them good seats, but Madison’s not used to being around so many people, and it’s noisy all around her. It’s easier to follow the pace of the game in person than on TV, she learns, and her eyes follow Tyson whenever he’s on the ice.

Tyson scores a goal late in the first period, and Madison’s probably the one who cheers the loudest for him. 

Madison waits outside the arena for Tyson after the game. Her sister’s waiting in the car, telling Madison it was too cold to stand around. She watches some of the other players make their way past her and onto a waiting bus. It’s cold, and she hates Tyson briefly. It’s only another few minutes until Tyson appears, closely followed by someone. They’re arguing, but Tyson breaks off as soon as he sees Madison waiting for him.

Tyson forgets himself for a moment. He runs over to Madison and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her once. Madison laughs at him. He ignores JT snickering behind him in favor of leaning down and kissing Madison quickly. 

Madison’s blushing when he pulls away, but it might just be from the cold. 

“Nice goal tonight, babe,” Madison tells him. Tyson just shrugs. 

Behind them, JT clears his throat. Tyson kinda forgot about that part. He drapes an arm around JT’s shoulders and drags him closer. “This asshole is JT,” he tells Madison. “He’s one of my best friends.” To JT, he says, “This is Madison, be nice.”

JT scoffs. “I’m always nice.” He grins at Madison. “I’m also the reason Tyson went up to you at the bar, so I guess you could thank me for whatever’s going on here.” Tyson smacks him. 

“You can get on the bus now, actually,” Tyson says. JT’s laughing again as Tyson tries to elbow him out of the way. Madison’s smiling, too, though, amused by their antics. 

JT does leave, then, and Madison and Tyson are alone. Or, as alone as you can be with half of Tyson’s teammates watching them through the bus windows. Tyson steps closer to Madison.

“Thanks for tonight,” she says. Tyson barely did anything, but he’s not going to say that now. Tyson should really get on the bus, but he can’t tear himself away. Madison’s hand finds his, tangling their fingers together and squeezing once before letting go again. “Text me when you get to the hotel, yeah?”

Tyson has to kiss her again. “I will, I promise.” He really needs to go. One last kiss, pressed to Madison’s cheek this time, then Tyson forces himself to step away.

Madison’s gone when he turns around as he steps on the bus. Tyson shakes himself and goes to find JT, flopping into the seat left open for him. 

“You’re in deep, bud,” JT says. Tyson glares at him. 

“God, I know.”

february