#'You've been eating PAPER these last 5 years??' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-kr8tor · 5 months ago

Text

Where the River Flows

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 7.4k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW Blood and violence, TW death, CW injury, CW guns, CW alcohol. Old west AU, cowboy AU

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5

You haven't slept this well in years, the last time you had was back when you've last slept next to him on the same lumpy mattress of his flat that you've once called home. Your eyes blink awake, cheek pressed against a pillow, it's soft, so soft that for a second you thought it was Hobie's arm. You stare at the ceiling, a carved magnolia tree stares back. Its branches are full of blossoms, perfectly carved just like the illustrations in your books. It's so vivid that you could practically see its pinkish hue. It's weird, you think, the carving, when the rest of the room is sparsely decorated; filled with drab oak, and cheap lamps. The room smells old, lived in by hundreds of travelers before you.

A creak echoes out at the far end of the bed, prompting you to look upon Hobie's bareback. Healed bullet wounds litter all over his flesh that you once held on. Raised scars dotted along his lower back like stars, stars that were once drenched in ruby. You wonder if it still hurts, the stars, like how the hole he left in your heart five years ago. You hope it doesn't hurt as much for him, you'll never wish agony upon him; even if a part of you thinks he deserves it.

Maybe you should tell him, tell him what agony has befallen you since he left. The pile of letters sewn into your skirt remains to be read by his viridescent eyes; its wax seal remains closed, the words of longing and hate are still scribbled upon the yellowed paper.

Your eyes dart along the expanse of his skin, frown getting deeper and deeper with every new scar you find. Hobie puts on his shirt, buttoning each one, the cloth hiding his own misfortune from your weary eyes.

“You talk in your sleep.” He finally breaks his silence. Looking over his shoulder, he regrets it immediately. The simple sight of your bed head and puffy eyes brings back memories of when you'd wake up next to him.

“I know,” I've been told. You grunt as you lift yourself off the pillow, elbow propping you whilst you watch him put on his cowboy boots and clinking spurs.

He blinks, hand pausing along the buckles. “It's new, you've never done that before.”

“Just like you said, a lot of things can change in five years.” Sitting up, you place your chin atop your knees, legs tucked under the covers, arms holding your legs in place. “What was I saying? In my sleep, I mean.”

“You were mumbling…” my name, he sighs at the thought of telling you the truth. “Someone's name I think, and egg soup for some reason.”

“I'm hungry.” You ignore whose name you might've been saying in your sleep. And you think it's not his.

“We need new clothes first, people must've gotten our descriptions by now. So we need to change.” Hobie puts on his leather vest, the metals of it clinking against one another. Then the hat comes after, he stands up, walking towards his gun belt.

“Okay, breakfast after?” You fight a yawn, palms rubbing harshly on your eyelids.

“Yes, breakfast after.” He secures his belt on his hip, silver guns shining in the early morning sun. “I don't think they have egg soup though.”

You crack a small smile. “It doesn't matter, anything will do.”

“The saloon has pumpkin soup I think, does that sound good?” Hobie has no idea why he's prolonging the conversation about soup out of all the things he could discuss with you.

You nod, staring at him through fond eyes. “Mm-hmm, sounds good.”

“Good, we need something warm to eat.” He realizes that he's been standing awkwardly at the doorway. Clearing his throat, you fight a smile. “Get dressed.” With the door shutting close behind him, he slaps his cheeks to wake himself. He needs coffee, or something stronger for that matter.

Meanwhile, you watch the space he just left with hope in your heart.

—

The dress shop smells nicer than the inn, it's elegant, looking like it doesn't belong in the middle of the dingy town. Every pile of clothing is neatly folded over the other, different outfits are displayed over the windows and display cases. Both leather and cotton are the most prominent ones, but there are a few chiffon dresses, lace and silks placed alongside the rougher fabrics. They're all wonderfully made, each having their own brand of beauty in every stitch.

You watch yourself in the floor length mirror. Dark trousers instead of a skirt hangs around your waist. A nice crisp white dress shirt on your torso fits perfectly on you thanks to the friendly tailor.

“You need a vest, or you'll get cold during your travels.” She taps your shoulder, genuinely smiling at you through the mirror. “Are you sure you don't want to wear a corset and skirt? You'd look just as marvellous.” Her eyes shine just like the dainty rings around her fingers.

“I'm sure, skirts and corsets are an inconvenience.”

“Well, you've given me a proper challenge then. But is it a challenge if everything looks good on you?” Her long dark hair sways behind her as she peruses her own shop, dozens of embroidered cloth folded neatly on tables.

“You're good,” you watch her sashay along her shop, colourful vests piled on her arm. “Just as good as the tailors back at home.”

Yuri, you learned her name just a few minutes ago, returns to you with her arm full of vests. “‘Just as good?’ oh sweetheart, I'm better.” She grins mischievously at you, red lips curled into a smug smile. Yuri would be friends with Hobie, you think, maybe in another life. “Arms up, my darling.” She holds up numerous different vests upon your body until she settles for a royal blue leather vest that has hydrangeas embroidered on it. “This is it!” Gasping excitedly, you let her help put the vest on. “Fucking beautiful! If I was your husband I'd be jumping your bones.” Grasping your shoulders, she places her chin atop it, smiling at you.

Your heart thumps loudly at the word ‘husband.’ “Thank you, Yuri.” You fiddle with the empty gun belt around your hips.

“Now for a coat or a jacket befitting a glorious woman like yourself.” She winks, twisting around in search of another dozen or so outerwear in her stock.

“Oh I think this is enough.” You don't want to use up all of Hobie's money, especially when he's still in the dressing room, none the wiser.

Yuri turns towards you abruptly, hand on her chest, feigning hurt. “Enough? Do you like prancing around town in your birthday suit?”

“No—”

“Then you shall have a jacket. The best one I've got.”

You bite your lip, a nervous tick of yours that Hobie once pointed out after kissing it off you. “I just don't want to spend too much.”

“You mean you don't want him to spend too much?” Yuri saunters over to you, boots clacking on the worn out floorboards. “What are husbands good for if not for spending their money for your own gain, hmm?” There it is again, your heart thundering loudly inside your chest. “Besides, you'd look marvelous in this coat. I'll give you a discount because you're the nicest customer I've had in years.” She leans closer to you, draping the leather coat on your shoulders for you to see. You beam at her, thankful. “It's similar to the one I gave to him, you'd be matching. Well, except this one is in a lighter shade.”

The coat reaches down to your knees, cream coloured with little fringes up front right where the front pockets are. It's beautiful with its white threads weaving around its seams. If you look closer at the bottom, you see that it gets darker as it gets closer to the hem. An almost brown shade that reminds you of the oak tree back home.

You inhale, staring at your reflection that you barely recognize in the new clothes. “Do you think it suits me?” Your voice is small, Yuri watches your expression, understanding what you truly meant.

Her playful voice lowers to a softer one, hands rubbing along your arms comfortably. “Of course, sweetheart. You're more than ready for the badlands.” You smile at her, nodding along to her encouraging words.

She twirls you around to face her, you chuckle at the sudden good hearted movement. “Now, my favourite part, the boots!”

—

You pick lint off the armchair while you wait for him to exit out of the dressing room. You're comfortable in your new clothes, it snuggles you cozily, you've never felt like this in any clothing at all; whether it be silk or velvet, all the dresses back home don't compare to what you have on. You look at your dark cowboy boots once again with a faint smile, its gorgeous spider web-like design has your heart bouncing in glee. It's a stark contrast to the threadbare shoes you had on. You make the shiny spurs clink on the floor, chuckling to yourself.

“Careful, don't scruff my floors.” Yuri appears next to you, handing you a small messenger bag.

“What's this?”

“A bag, every woman needs one to store her belongings.” She gestures towards the worn out skirt on your lap. “Especially the important ones.”

“I—”

“It's on the house, just this one though.” She chuckles before handing it to you.

“Thank you, Yuri. That's awfully kind of you.” The leather is rough against your bare hands.

“No worries, darling.” She shrugs, “after all the things you've bought it's only normal that I'd give you a little freebie.”

A door suddenly creaks open, and out comes Hobie in his new outfit. A light airy dress shirt fits perfectly on his torso, the same black bandana still hangs around his neck, hiding the large scar. He fixes the fit of his dark blue vest even though it clearly doesn't need fixing. It has a typical western embroidery on it, saved for the almost invisible peonies dotted along the buttons. His gloves are the same, lighter around the palms where friction is usually present. You flick your eyes over to his coat, Yuri's right, it's almost the same as yours. The length is shorter to accommodate for the warmer weather coming in. The shade is in this mahogany brown, warm in the eyes, a hue lighter around the hem, almost as light as your own coat. Frills are lined around the arms, the silver spikes placed atop the shoulders makes it more unique. His belt buckle this time is different, a spider trapped in amber in place of the deadly scorpion. It's cradled in silver, laurels weaving around the corpse of the spider like an elegant coffin.

Your eyes shine at his handsome appearance. “My, don't you look dapper.” You drink him up, every new thing satisfying your need. Roaming your eyes downward, you tilt your head at the odd material on his legs. His boots are the same, even the spurs, but you can't quite place the new fangled blue thing around his legs. “What's that?”

Both Yuri and Hobie follow your gaze. But Yuri seems to be the only one who could form a coherent sentence. “They're blue jeans, or work pants. Much more comfortable than the old pants. Looks nicer on the behind, eh?” She nudges you, winking at your flustered expression. “Or enhances what's lacking.” Her last comment trails off as you unabashedly ogle him.

“Fuckin' hell.” Hobie finally speaks, his eyes avoid your form. Especially the vest that cinches you right where it matters. “Why do you have a bag?”

You stand up, slinging the bag over your shoulder. Yuri watches the whole thing with amused eyes. “For my things.”

He furrows his brows, “you don't have things, Y/N.”

Eyeing the riding gloves on the table, you cross the small distance, taking it, but before you place it inside the bag, you spot a pretty pink lace ribbon next to it. You also take it for good measure and to annoy him further. Putting it inside your bag, you teasingly smile at him. “Now I've got things.”

Yuri gives you a nod and a thumbs up whilst Hobie takes out bills to pay for everything.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” She victoriously smiles, counting the money.

“Not a pleasure on my part.” Hobie grumbles, you clamp your mouth shut to prevent a laugh from coming out.

—

The saloon is bustling with people even though it's still early in the morning. Some drink their fill next to you at the bar, some are just like you, looking for something warm to fill their bellies with to survive the rest of the day. The whole place smells of hard liquor and broken dreams. You have no idea which smells worse, the sticky floors or the lavatory at the far end of the place. The wide windows help brighten up the place at least, sunlight streaming into the carved establishment. Animal heads stare down at you, an elk’s and a buffalo's empty beady eyes look over yonder the drunkard's solace.

A piano sits just behind you, its stool is currently empty, maybe you should put all the lessons drilled into you to good use. It's better to wait for your meal there than sit right next to a stranger who looks like he's about to expel his breakfast onto your new clothes. Besides, some good music could tamp down all the drunken mumbling and the annoying scrapping of plates.

Hobie notices your heavy look, abandoning his coffee, he taps your shoulder and you almost jump in your skin.

“You still play?” He asks, eyes flicking between you and the old piano.

“I dabble, but I'm a bit rusty. I prefer gardening nowadays.” You lock eyes with him, “and shooting.”

Hobie chuckles in his seat, eyes avoiding your own smile. “You should play, I'll call you when our food is ‘ere.”

“Are you sure?” A soft smile spreads across your lips.

“I’ll watch your back, don't worry.”

Hope weighs you down again. You leave the bar stool, walking the distance towards the familiar black and white keys. Sitting down, you wrack your brain for the notes you've made a long time ago. A song that you've written yourself for the man who watches your back.

Hobie watches you intently, ears perking up at the unfamiliar music. Your hands move precisely, fingers pressing quickly as the song quickens. He smiles, glass now lay forgotten on the bar to watch you play your music. The rest of the bar quiets down a smidge, even the drunkards pause their lips at the mouth of their glass to listen to you play. The song crescendos, from a fast happy beat to a tone that is slower, a forlorn one. All in all, you play it with grace, and weaved with so much emotion.

Hobie scoffs, yet the fond smile stays. “Rusty my arse.”

The bartender appears behind him, plates in hand. “Your girl plays well.” The man places your meals on the bar, pumpkin soup sloshing on the sides of the bowl. Hobie turns towards him, not fully so he could still see you in his peripheral vision. “Is she for hire? Our player retired a few weeks ago, the saloon has never been this drab.”

“No, we're just passin’ by.”

The bartender leaves with a nod. “Too bad.”

Hobie takes his sandwich, twisting around to continue watching you. His eyes zeroes in on the sudden presence next to you. The brim of the stranger's hat hides his face, yet, Hobie knows exactly who he is based on his confident stance. Or who he was before Hobie single handedly destroyed his gang.

You finish the song with a flair, chest heaving, grinning from ear to ear.

“Bravo!” The man leaning towards the piano claps, then a chorus of scattered applause follows right after. “Amazing, sweetheart! Where'd ya learn how to play?”

“A tutor.” You smile shyly.

“Ah, what's the song called? I don't think I've heard of it before.” His long beard moves while he makes casual conversation.

“I-I made it actually.”

“Oh? I didn't know we had a composer in our humble establishment.” He taps the old piano with his gloved hand, his other hand rests on his gun belt, golden pistol shining in the sun. “What's the story behind it, eh? My ears picked up some sad depressing story through the notes.”

“I'm not a composer, a-and yeah, I made it for somebody.”

“Well, I—”

“Culver!” Hobie's booming voice echoes out in the entire saloon, everyone stops what they're doing. “You want to talk to me? Come over ‘ere instead of pestering her.” He has had enough of the conversation, and the danger that you've unknowingly put yourself into.

“Mr. Brown.” Culver says through gritted teeth, standing up straight, flicking the brim of his hat to reveal his face. “Fancy seein’ you here. You're in my territory, spider.”

You notice every single patrons’ faces turning into something akin to a person seeing a ghost, or the reaper itself. Slyly, you move your eyes over to the man, Culver, his name is familiar, you're sure you've heard of it before. Inhaling, you look back at Hobie, whose hand is placed on his gun belt, ready to whip it out if needed. He silently communicates with you, run, his eyes says, but you're paralyzed by fear when you finally remember where you heard the name Culver. It was what that old man Arthur said back then, he's the man whose men were killed by Hobie in a single night.

Heaviness hangs in the air, tension so thick that you can't even poke a hole right through it with a bullet.

“Is she someone precious to ya?” Culver says, suddenly gripping you by the scruff of your blouse, your back hitting the piano keys harshly. You yelp, and Hobie abruptly stands up, eyes aflame. The bearded man smiles, blackened teeth in full display. “She is, isn't she?” He wiggles your head in his hand. You sit there frozen, unable to even breathe. “What if I do the exact thing you did to my men, eh?” You hear chairs scraping against hardwood floors and boots frantically running towards the back exit. It's just you three in the saloon. He taps his finger in between your eyes, flaking leather on your soft skin. “A bullet in between her eyes would look lovely on her, don't you agree?”

“Your quarrel is with me. Let's take this outside, shall we?” Like a strike of lightning, Hobie cracks his bullwhip towards Culver. Dust in your eyes, the high pitched sound ringing in your ears. You then see Culver getting dragged away from you by his arm. The whip wraps around his flesh, threatening to skin him from the force Hobie pulls him towards the swinging doors of the saloon.

You inhale the gunpowder like scent it left, standing up, you quickly follow Hobie out into the sun. As the light hits your eyes, you watch Hobie cracks his bullwhip again. Culver yells in pain as Hobie releases him in the whip's clutches before placing it neatly back on his belt. He stands ways away from him, just across the screaming Culver.

“Painful, innit? This is what you did to two of my mates.” You walk to Hobie's side, he spares you a glance, roaming his jade eyes over you to check for injuries. Satisfied, he then returns his attention towards his target. “Remember that fuckin' pain, because my bullet hitting your heart would hurt much more than this.”

Culver holds his aching arm, kneeling on the muddy ground, hat fallen next to him, revealing a shiny head. “You lettin’ me go?” He cackles, you don't hide behind Hobie. “Just like that? Oh that woman has softened you up, Mr. Brown.”

“D’you want to keep talking or do you want to fuckin' start?”

You knit your eyebrows, fear encompasses you. “W-what’s about to start?” Your hand finds his bicep, holding on to him tightly like he's about to leave you. Again.

“A showdown, go to the side, love, I don't want you ‘ere when the bullets start flyin’” He watches Culver slowly stand up in the corner of his eyes.

“A fucking duel? Are you crazy?” You grip tighter.

Hobie gives you a smile, the same smile he lets you see every night before you head home. It's a boyish smile, innocence hidden behind it. “Go, I'll be fine.”

“And if not? He looks like he's a gunslinger. What if he wins and you die?”

“Then I can't burden you anymore.” He whispers, green eyes glimmering in the sunlight.

“Burden—? What are you talking about?”

“Go, I'll win, don't worry about it.”

“Hobie—!”

“Go, Y/N!”

You move without question after he yells at you. Your hands trembles, knees going weak, tears brimming in your eyes, and he can't even look at you.

As the two men move further away without turning their backs towards each other, you hold onto the saloon's pillar lest you crumble from fear of losing him. Again.

Bystanders look on, watching the spectacle unfold right in front of their eyes. Some hide behind windows, children hide behind their mother's skirts. While you have nowhere to hide. Your nails dig into the wood, Hobie squares his shoulders, fingers brushing along his holster. You spare a look towards his target, his hand already resting next to his yellow-gold gun.

Silence hangs in the air. Death waits for the loser.

Hobie squints his eyes, attention fully on the man before him. He leans back slightly, right foot stepped forward, silver gun shining in the sun; you can even see your reflection on it.

With a single breath, it's all over.

Culver was too slow to quickdraw, probably from his still aching arm. He drops his gun before he could fully draw it out. Hobie's bullet has left a sizable hole in his dominant palm, a gaping, bleeding wound that you can see through if you stare long enough.

Culver screams, a gutteral shriek that worms into your mind. He drops to his knees, eyes wide in panic and shock, trousers drenched in his own blood. Gunpowder still lingers in the air when you run towards Hobie's side. Your hands grip his shoulders, breath stuck in your throat, as you check for any bullet wounds.

“Are you hurt?!” You scream, ears ringing from the loud shot.

“‘m fine,” your wandering hands find reprieve on his jaw. “Love, ‘m fine.”

He sees fear in your eyes like never before, not even when you get punished, cheeks stained with tears from whatever they've thrown at you. You've never looked like this terrified. Scared like a starving doe caught in a bear trap.

“Remember what I told you?” You can't speak or even think. “Breathe, Y/N.” Hobie takes your hand off his skin, there's a reluctance that you're not privy to. “Just breathe, inhale and exhale.” He holds your hand, squeezing once before leaving your side. “I need to finish the job.”

You exhale and he's gone, the golden gun kicked far away, aiming the still warm barrel against Culver's head. “No…” Running after Hobie, you refuse to see another dead man. “Stop! Please.” Gripping his gun once again, you plead with him. “Don't kill him.”

“Step aside, Y/N. If I don't—” he can't fathom what Culver would do to him, to *you if he doesn't end it right there and then. The cycle must stop, he can't accomplish it if you're standing in between his gun and Culver's soft head. “Don't get involved.”

“Please.” You breathe out, warm hands placed around his shooting hand. “Take him to the sheriff, let justice take its course. He's backing down, I don't want to see you kill another one.”

“The sheriff won't do shit. Just like now,” he nudges his head towards the man amidst the crowd. “Let me do this, or he'll follow us and hunt us down.”

“I won't!” Culver suddenly yells, even louder than his painful screams. “I won't follow! I'm tired, Mr. Brown. I don't want to do this no more.” He looks up at the two of you, remourse evident on his face. “I'm sorry about your friends, I really am! But we're already even, you've taken mine too. Every single one I've got.”

“Promise to never exact revenge,” you tell the groveling man as you watch his salty tears mix in with the warm crimson.

“I promise,” Culver cries. “I promise, miss.”

You look back at Hobie, your eyes meet his own. Anger subsides in those emerald eyes, face turning soft. “He promises, Hobie.”

“An outlaw's promise doesn't mean shit—”

“You’ll have to shoot through me to get to him.” You point the barrel right on top of your chest, its warmth seeps through you.

“He wanted to hurt you.” Hobie softly says, fingers wrapping around your own.

“I’m not hurt. It takes more than threats to hurt me, Hobs.” You both stare at each other, hearts beating together. “Can you holster your gun please?”

Together, you help him lower his gun. Together, you let Culver go.

—

You need to leave town immediately. Strawberry's sheriff might've been easily placated with a good duel, but other lawmen pursuing Hobie might not be. Bucky neighs loudly at the sight of you, moreso when he sees your intertwined hands.

“Hi, Bucky.” You start to place your foot on the stirrups but Hobie stops you halfway.

“You need a horse. Might as well put your new gloves to good use, hmm?” You smile as Hobie whistles for the stable hand for help. A teenage boy with worn out blue jeans appears. “She needs a horse. Anythin' fast, or hell, anythin' you have available. What do you have?”

Their conversation drifts into the background. Your attention and breath is taken away by the gorgeous mare that stands behind a stable door. Her shining blue eyes watch you as you approach, hair as white as snow, the same hue as her body, she glimmers in the sunlight that filters through the wooden cracks. She huffs, head leaning away when you hold out your hand. You could only wait for her to make the move, watching you with peculiar eyes like she's sizing you up.

The stable boy does a double take, “wait, ma'am, that's not—!” When he says it, the white mare leanes closer to your touch. “Well I'll be. She never lets anyone touch her except my boss. She's as fine as cream gravy that one is.”

“I think she likes me.” You tilt your head as she sniffs your hand.

“That's a fuckin' arabian, love.” Hobie says breathlessly, watching you and the hot tempered horse interact like you've been her rider for years. “Can't you pick another horse that doesn't cost three horses combined?”

You laugh, feeding the mare hay. “I could, but I really think she's the one for me.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck. “I can choose another one, Hobie.” As if understanding your words, the mare nudges your shoulder. Hobie feels like he's being robbed in broad daylight. But he'll spend a million for you if you ask.

The stable boy pipes up from the side. “You can't actually, ma'am, I was just tellin’ your husband here that we only have her available. The rest already have owners you see. She was abandoned six months ago.”

“How could anyone abandon you?” You whisper towards the horse, petting her head as she welcomes your touch.

“I think her last owner died, and no one has since picked her up, or bought her. My boss is more than willing to get rid of her now to make space.”

“We'll take her, on a discounted fee of course, since she's second hand. And a saddle too.” You grin at Hobie's words.

The stable hand sighs. “At half price too I bet?”

“Now you're speakin’ my language.” Hobie pats the boy's shoulder as he negotiates prices. The mare huffs again, asking for more hay while you are distracted by Hobie's wink thrown your way.

—

“She still doesn't have a name.” Hobie finally breaks his silence, he rides alongside your horse, making sure that your ill tempered mare doesn't buck you off. His hands guide Buckeye, but his eyes are completely on your form.

The road is long and empty, save for a herd of bison roaming just below the mountain you're both trudging. There are small graves littered around the road, worn out crosses, wood eaten by termites. Etched names forgotten, lives scattered in the wind amidst the dirt and blazing sun. You wonder how they died without getting to their final destination. The sun has completely risen, humidity making your lips dry, heat stuck in between your skin and the leather of your gloves. The canopy shields you from the rays, luscious greenery everywhere, trees and grass littered all over the mountain side. You can hear wild horses neighing far away from where you are, their hooves thumping freely on the soil.

You pause from braiding your horse's hair, securing the braid with the pink lace ribbon. Your eyes meet with familiar emerald eyes. “I've been thinking about it actually.”

“Well? What are your options?”

Your lips curl into a mischievous smile. “‘Blue jeans’”

“Oh fuck off.” He rides ahead to hide his growing smile.

You quickly follow, pulling the reins, clicking your tongue to make your horse trot alongside Hobie. “Why not? I like it, I think it fits her.”

“No it does not. You're fucking with me, lovie, and my blue jeans.”

You like him like this, bathed in the sun, in warmth as he smiles back at you; just like the days when you were still just friends, friends with lingering feelings that you're both too afraid to confess. If he doesn't love you back just as before, you'd settle for this, just friends who laugh and talk, and tease each other. It's better this way because friendship means that he still cares for you, that there's still a space for you in his heart no matter how small it is, that you're not forgotten.

“Oh you and your precious blue jeans!” Your laughter echoes around.

“Will you be like this the entire time?” You both turn a corner, where no trees shield you from the sun. He notices you narrow your eyes, palm above your eyes to see him better. “‘ere.”

“W-what?” There's suddenly a hat atop your head, his hat. “Oh!” You run your fingers along the brim that shields you from the light. The leather is soft, a few bumps here and there but you can feel that it's been taken care of. Hobie clears his throat, and your cheeks run warmer than the summer sun. “T-thank you.” You're not an idiot, you've been here for weeks so of course you've heard of the ‘hat rule’ in passing. But you don't know what to do, or what he wants to do when it's in reverse.

“No problem, you've already taken my money, might as well hand you my hat, eh?” Hobie inhales, the mere sight of you wearing his beloved hat sends his heart into overdrive. Maybe he shouldn't have given it to you.

“You make it sound like I'm robbing you blind. I was alright with my old clothes.”

Hobie has the opportunity to say either of the two things that popped up in his mind. One, tell you that you've only robbed him of his heart. And two, make a joke about how much Bucky disdained carrying you with your musty clothes. So he does neither.

“We had to, or we'll be recognized faster than a mother recognizes her child.” You both finally reach the foot of the mountain, successfully surviving without anyone shooting at you, kidnapping you; or hell, getting eaten by a bear. With both of your luck, it's possible.

“Weird analogy but okay.” Your stomach grumbles when you two come to a stop at a fork in the road. One goes to the right, the other on the left. There's nothing else distinguishable on either one of them. The signage is long gone, taken by strong winds, or just time itself. You wince, hoping that he didn't hear the sound your stomach made.

He raises a brow, chuckling deeply at the sight of you hiding your face with the brim of his hat. “I forgot we didn't get to eat. That sandwich smelt really fuckin' good.”

“I really want that pumpkin soup now.” You groan, leaning forward to rest your head on top of your horse who barely notices your movement.

“C’mon, I know a place.” He taps your boot with his own.

“Where?”

“On the left, it's not that far but it'll delay us on our journey.” It's not a bad deal, he thinks to himself.

You suddenly perk up, this is what you were asking for back in that cave, the road less traveled, the road where you get to just spend more time with him. And postpone your homecoming.

“What are we waiting for then, cowboy?” With a kick, and a laugh in your throat, you bolt over to the direction he pointed out.

“‘Cowboy?’ bloody hell.” He really regrets giving you his hat because now he doesn't have anything to hide his flustered face anymore.

—

“You said it was a restaurant,” you huff at the wide river before you, hands on your hips, stomach growling. “Not that we have to catch our own meal!”

Hobie can't help but laugh, a hearty, genuine one that also has you smiling. This suits him, just happy and without a gun in his hand. You like him in every conceivable way possible, even if you're still getting used to his new self. “I just said, ‘I know a place.’ I ain't no liar. Did you expect a café in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yes! And no— I'm hungry now, Hobs!” Your horse agrees, hoof digging into the dirt. Buckeye stands hitched next to her, eyes glued on her white mane. Weird, you thought. “Look, even blue jeans agree!”

“Instant gratification,” Hobie pulls his jacket off and places it on the saddle; he then takes out a folding fishing rod from Bucky's saddle bag. “You should work on that because it's not gonna work well ‘ere, love.” He walks towards the river bank, toeing off his boots, folding up the same trousers you love to see him in. And also folding the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his toned arms. “And her name can't be ‘blue jeans!’” Yelling back, he trudges the rushing cool water that goes up to just below his knees.

“Okay, fine!” You start to strip, taking off your coat and his hat— folding your trousers and sleeves, you follow him to the rocky river bank. “How about ‘trout’ then.”

He hears your voice closer, he laughs at you when you almost slip on a rock. “Careful, it's slippery. You can't name her ‘trout,’ she's too pretty for that.”

“Now you tell me,” you roll your eyes at him as he casts the line. The bait and hook plops in the deeper water, now the waiting game begins. “‘Too pretty?’ you once nicknamed me beetle just because it bit me once!” Warmth spreads across your chest at his laugh. You feel at home in that cold river.

“And? You callin' yourself pretty?” His smirk takes you back at that oak tree.

You have an urge to kiss it off him. You don't, it's not the time yet, or you may ruin everything. “Yeah, you did, I remember you calling me pretty…” you lean closer, face dangerously close to his own. Breaths mixing in together, but you still give him enough space to move away. He doesn't. You don't mention it. He thinks about your lips upon his. “And gorgeous, and then absolutely stunnin’!” You copy his drawl, but before he could even laugh at your teasing, the fishing rod starts to move, yanking him forward.

“Oh fuck!” Hobie reels it in, and you gasp in disbelief at the sheer strength the fish has. “Help me or we'll starve!”

“You don't have to tell me twice!” You embrace him from the back, arms squeezing him, face smothered by his shoulder. He feels warm, he still feels the same. You dig your heels in while he fights with lunch. “Come on, cowboy!”

He almost let go of the rod. “Shit!” You laugh into his shirt and he almost falters once again. “Come on you little—!” With one hard yank, he finally sees the fish fly up, the sun hits its scales, body frantically flopping around. But he pulled too hard, and down he goes on the river bank, with you catching him. “Fuck—!” With a splash, you get a face full of river water.

Hobie immediately jumps to the side to not squash you and drown you in two feet of water. His eyes are full of worry when you emerge coughing. He almost lets go of the rod to tend to you, but your smile and guffaw has relief flowing through him.

“How big is it?!” You ask, entirely drenched.

He gently wipes your face, calloused palms over your soft skin, fingers carefully wiping away a piece of grass stuck on your cheek. You close your eyes, letting him hold you.

Hobie inhales and drinks you in— he still loves you. It's always been there, his love for you, but he refuses to acknowledge it with what he knows just before he left, with what *he said before he took a slice at his neck. Hobie still dreams of you, still dreams of saying those three words again, he's a fool to bury the feeling, especially when you're in front of him again— close to him again, loving him again.

He has no idea what to do now, other than to stand up and give you a helping hand.

—

Hobie's been silent and you have no idea why. You warm yourself on the fire he built, the fish you both caught is now cooking wonderfully on the open fire. The river's currents are a lot stronger now, so it's a lot harder to catch anything without getting carried by it. Your clothes are slowly drying as you wring your sleeves free of water.

“Cherry.” You suddenly break the silence. “I think I'll name her cherry.”

Hobie sits across you again, gazing at you through warmer eyes. “Why cherry?”

“Because horses love fruit, and cherry is a fruit.”

“Brilliant thinkin’ love, horses definitely eat cherries.” He says in a sarcastic tone.

You furrow your brows, “wait, they don't?”

He blinks, “Huh, ‘m actually not sure. Maybe if you take out the pits and cut it in half?”

“That’s…that's plausible, they contain cyanide though.”

“Maybe we should ask them?”

“What?” You chortle, and Hobie cups his hands to yell at the horses.

“Oi! D’you lot eat cherries?” They only stare at him. “Guess not.” You laugh, he finds it infectious so he also does.

“Horses can't talk, Hobs.” You say in between giggles.

“You never know, I might be a horse whisperer.” His smile falters, and you frown at the sudden shift. “‘m sorry for yellin’ at you.” His voice is soft under the cackle of the fire. “I shouldn't have yelled.”

“Apology accepted.” Your nerves calm down, beaming at him, scooching closer to him until your knees grazes his own. He doesn't move away, even nudging your shoulder with a faint smile. “I'm sorry for making you spend so much. But thank you for the nice clothes, and being— just…kind.”

Hobie reaches for your hand slowly, your breath is in your throat, freezing you un place. His pinky brushes along your palm when a twig snaps Hobie quickdraws his gun.

“Who's there?! Show yourself or I'll fuckin' shoot.” Standing up, he hides you with his own body.

You also stand up, hand wrapping around the barrel of the rifle that was leaning next to you. Both yours and Hobie's hearts thump loudly with trepidation. The bush moves and out comes two men brandishing their own weapons. They dress like gentlemen, but their sneers say they are not.

“We came out to piss and we find the spider of the west, guess we're just lucky.” The one with a scar across his nose says, voice scratchy, nudging his companion. “And would you look at that?”

“You’ve found yourself a pretty companion, Hobart, one that has a very high bounty on her head.” The other finishes his partner's sentence. His mustache is all twirly at the end, golden tooth shining in the sun. “Y’know, sweetheart, the whole country's after ya.” You don't falter in your stance.

“With both of your bounties combined, we're aimin’ at ten thousand dollars right now.” The scarred man chuckles.

“Ten thousand?” Hobie whistles, “Can we bring ourselves in instead?” You snort, still aiming at the man's head.

“If only that was possible, Hobart.” The man gives you a twisted smile.

“Are you lawmen?” You ask, “Or pinkertons? You two don't look like either of them.”

“What do we look like then, sweetheart?” The mustachioed man taunts with a toothy smile. “A couple of handsome cowboys?”

“A bunch of dead men.” You push Hobie away, kicking hot coals in their faces, embers flying, smoke filling their lungs. While they're both distracted and yelling at the searing heat— Hobie fans the hammer of his gun, shooting all six bullets into each man's bodies until their lifeless corpses fall atop each other.

“I've seen better.” You stand next to Hobie as he checks for something in their pockets. Their blood slowly spread to the tips of his boots. “What are you doing?”

Hobie rubs a hand across his face, “Lawmen,” he raises the identification papers he found. “We need to go. Pack the fish.”

“But they're dead?” You ask but you still do what you're told.

“Lawmen are like rats, if there's two ‘ere, there's a dozen more near us, hidden under the crevices.” He walks near the banks, head downturned, eyes scanning the plants. “And they've got their noses on us now.”

“Where are you going?” You stand, wrapped fish in your arms. “Hobie!” You start to yell when he has walked a few ways away from you.

Hobie crouches down, hunting knife digging into the soil. You watch him take a bushel of grass, he walks back and now you get a closer look at what he's carrying. You thought your eyes are deceiving you, instead of the familiar green hue, the plant is pink, a very bright shade. There's still dirt clinging to the stems when Hobie carefully covers it with a handkerchief.

“That's oleander, Hobie.” You stare at him, concerned. “And that many could kill a fucking elephant.”

“I know, you taught me, remember?” You nod as shoves it inside your messenger bag. He pauses at the sight of the bundle of letters, then he dismisses them, closing the bag. “It might come in handy.”

“What's your plan?” You're terrified.

“We head to a train station.” He sighs, completely winded, and worried for your safety. “Bounty hunters and outlaws I can manage, but them?” He points at the two bodies. “They've got more resources than either group, and more people in their pocket.”

“Wouldn't that be obvious? Riding the train? We can handle them, just like we always have—”

“They hate my guts more than anyone, Y/N, and they don't fear me as much as bounty hunters or outlaws.”

“But a train…” you shudder. “We'll be in the south in a few days instead of weeks— that's quick, too quick…I don't—” I don't want to leave. “I can't.”

“You wanted the scenic route, right?” He starts to unhitch the horses. “It's the last place they'll look for thinking that we'll be traveling by our lonesome out on the backroads.”

“Yes, but—”

“Nothing’s more scenic than a train ride. C’mon, love, get on Cherry. Before more come out of hidin’”

You nod, tears threatening to spill out. Walking around the corpses, you get on Cherry with a far away look in your eyes. “To the train station then.”

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detentiontrack · 3 months ago

Text

Top funniest amphibby lines and moments, in no particular order (except for the first one because I think it’s the funniest line in TV history) (paraphrased because it’s too early for me to hunt through episode transcripts to find the exact wording)

We’re trying to teach Polly how to play kickball! Which is challenging for obvious reasons!

No Tyler I will not clown face you

Well, Doc, I think you've done it. I think you've cured me of my fear of direct eye contact- *nightmare clown balloon from a horror movie passes by the window* AHHHHHHH

Did that creepy old man just lick EVERYONE on the bus???????? (Honorable mention: *panicked* bOy I could SURE USE SOME COFFEE)

Hop Pop, trying to pass as a human: What would you say for an older frog who's complaining about back pain these days? Vet: ummmm a frog complaining? Hop pop: Well, honestly, he holds it in and soldiers on. He's noble like that.

Polly: what’s your problem? Hop Pop: well to be honest, my cholesterol has been a little-

Polly: oh Sprig good. You survived. Sprig: yEah! I KICKED him! 😃

Anne: Oh, yeah, like you're really gonna tase a kid... *immediately gets tased*

We got banned for life! :D it was Anne’s fault

Anyone need a cough drop? 🤠

WHY IS EVERYTHING YOU SAY SO AGGRO???? 😨

Tongue him?? I hardly know him!!

Marcy: she’s just saying hewwo!!! 🤩🥰 *immediately almost gets eaten*

Polly: (a literal baby btw) hehe… frogs died here :)

Mr. X: sorry, coy is my default setting

Mr X, interrogating the Plantars: alright pinkie, I want to know. Start from the beginning Sprig: I was born on a humid swampy evening, just a tiny cute tadpole with big dreams 🥹

Mr X, still interrogating the Plantars: what’s your master plan Polly (still a literal baby. 5 years old): DUH to eliminate my enemies and take over the world! Mr X: AHA […] tell me more! Polly: *starts listing nearly every person in wartwood*

Sprig: your last friend was kiiiiinda totally evil :/

Not a specific line, but I think Sprig’s accidental homophobia and choosing to be a hater in Marcy at the gates is so funny

Nightmare toy: I eat eyes….. *screaming* ice cream. I eat ice cream. Hop Pop: oh! Well that’s fine Anne: loggle would love this thing :/

*after seeing a detailed wood carving Loggle made of himself super buff and muscular*: Sprig: Whoa, Loggle. We gotta talk about this man. We're comin' back. We're gonna talk about this. All right, good-bye 👋

*Sasha busting out cheerleader moves in the middle of a dangerous mission because of “muscle memory”. Twice.*

*Sasha drawing actual emojis on paper instead of writing or signing her name like a normal person on an actual war document ⚔️😘💅*

#amphibia

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fictionallystable · 3 months ago

Text

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: Phillip Graves (Call of Duty)/Reader

Characters: Reader, Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Author Has Played Call of Duty, Childhood Friends, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Civilian!Reader, Pre-Canon, Jealousy, Angst, Kissing, Mild Smut, Time Skips, Brother's Best Friend, Toxic Family Dynamics, Eventual Smut, Drama, Misunderstandings, Getting Together, Minor Age Gap

Words: 9,080| Chapters: 5/6

Authors: @orphancains & @collinnmckinley

Chapter 5: Reminiscence

Chapter summery: You spend more time with Phil than you expected during your visit, and more old memories and new emotions start to surface.

A/N: Apologies for the long wait! Here is another longer chapter. Next chapter should be the final one in this story. We hope you've been enjoying it so far. ////

the fic can also be found on AO3

tags will be updated!!

When you woke up, your eyes still felt swollen from crying the night before. But you trudged out of Matty’s room, surprised to hear voices already from the kitchen of your parents’ home. You were expecting to see your mom in her same old bathrobe and your dad sipping his usual black coffee as he read the paper. But instead you saw Matty making fluffy pancakes at the stove and Elaine cutting some strawberries.

“Mornin’, sleepy head,” Matty said when turned and saw you. “Pancakes are almost done.”

You rubbed your eyes. “Good morning,” you said to both him and Elaine, who smiled back. “Where’s mom and dad?”

Matty placed a plate with a tall stack of pancakes on the table and took a sip of his coffee before answering you. “They went to the beach house a few days early. To clear their minds a bit.”

You frowned. “What? Why? I thought they were gonna stay the day with us and catch up.”

“Because if either of them had greeted you this morning it would’ve been another shouting match.”

Elaine came up to the table and shot Matty a pointed look, as if telling him ‘You could’ve explained it a bit more gently,’ before setting down the bowl of fruit.

You groaned and sat down at your usual seat at the kitchen table. You let out a long sigh wishing you could crawl back to bed and that this was all a nightmare you still hadn’t woken from. You weren’t sure if you were sighing from defeat, shame, or even relief from learning your parents had fled from their house because of last night. You scratched your head in frustration, remembering the furious look in your father’s eyes and the disappointing glazing your mother’s all night just a few hours prior.

Matty shrugged but still smiled his usual relaxed smile. “It’s alright, that just means there are more pancakes for us three, so let’s dig in.”

Elaine pursed her lips, feeling the awkwardness begin to build in the air. “Did you want coffee, [Y/N]?” Elaine asked.

“Yes thank you, with some milk please,” you replied, and she replaced the mug with a glass instead. Usually you were excited to eat some of your brother’s famous fluffy signature pancakes, with chocolate chips throughout the soft dough. But the headache still lingered in your temples from last night and your eyes still burned from the tears.

Above all, you felt embarrassed for what happened the night before. You knew it was neither your fault nor Matty’s. If anyone was to blame, it was your father and Richard conspiring a surprise proposal on you without any regard for your actual wishes, or Matty’s for that matter. And you knew Matty, even after all these years, was still protective over you. Still, you realized that your relationship exploding overnight had also upended and shattered a night that was supposed to be for him and Elaine. You felt like you once again felt like the little sister who brought unnecessary drama to his life.

But your family life had possibly never been this messy before. You’d bickered with your father about trying to make more friends in high school and of taking your studies beyond art more seriously. But the fury that reddened his face and made him grab and shake you was something you’d never seen. You only hoped that somehow things could get better between you all by the time you were going to meet up with them at the beach house in several days. You hoped it would just be the four of you, plus Elaine, at the beach house. You always dreaded when your social butterfly of a father would invite other families to join along during your beach trips. But for once, you prayed others would be invited to melt some of the bitterness and tension that you were confident you’d run into once you entered the house.

You pondered deeply before taking a sip of the orange juice and grabbing a few pancakes from the tower that your brother had practically constructed at the center of the table. Already he was digging in, dousing his pancakes with nutella and syrup. But he took a break from wolfing down his breakfast to continue his conversation with you.

He lifted his coffee mug with the faded maroon Texas A&M University on its side, but before he took a sip, he decided to break the silence “So…. I saw you and Phil caught up with each other a bit last night too.” He took a loud sip from the mug and peered at you over the mug.

Your fork clanked against your plate. You breathed in sharply, remembering the butterflies and emotions that flooded you when you saw him. The anger, the relief, the nostalgia, and even the old adoration you always felt for him even as a kid. Along with another emotion you still couldn’t quite put your finger on. Upon seeing your reaction, your brother tried to contain the smirk that wanted to appear on his lips.

“Yeah, he changed a lot but also didn’t change one bit.” You bit your lip, puzzled. “How’s that even possible?”

Matty chuckles with a glint in his eye, making you raise an eyebrow. “Well, little sister, that’s what happens when boys become men .”

You shot him an unamused look, almost glaring at him. Beside him you could see Elaine rolling her eyes but also holding back a grin before she ate some of her fruit. Seeing your annoyance, Matty only laughed more.

“Something some jackasses I know of are still struggling to do,” you muttered darkly while you stabbed one of your pancakes with your fork.

Your brother still grinned widely. “What did you guys talk about?”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Nothing too amazing, Matty. Probably the same as with you. His time in the Marine Corps, some of the friends he made while there.” You tried to downplay it.

“Mhmm.” he narrowed his eyes with a smirk.

You gulped nervously. “Anyway, can we talk about something else?”

“Sure, sure…” Your brother held up his hands, feigning defense. “We can talk about whatever, as long as you're comfortable, [Y/N].”

“Thank you, Matty.”

Elaine hummed approvingly beside him, impressed with how gentle and open he seemed to be acting with you.

Matty cleared his throat and filled his mug with more coffee. “So, what did you think of the catering? The Mediterranean food we ordered for dinner?”

You squinted trying to remember. “It was pretty good, actually.”

“Right? I thought so too! I thought it was a great idea.”

You blinked. “Yeah…” you paused. “I guess I was surprised you guys didn’t just settle for a barbeque just because it’s summer. Where was it from?”

“Oh, it was from Calypso’s Bistro, close to the plant nursery you liked as a kid.” He said with a cheeky grin.

You furrowed your brow, wondering why he was acting so oddly. “Okay… that’s nice.”

“Phil recommended it to me.” He grinned again.

You clanked your fork again against your plate as you dropped it. He was not going to drop Phil from this breakfast conversation, was he? You glowered at him and crossed your arms. From the corner of your eye, you could see Elaine shaking her head but also holding back a laugh.

“Come on, what else did you guys talk about?” He said. “I know he talked about his work, but I’m curious about what he asked you !”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed as you poured yourself some more coffee in your mug. “I dunno, Matty! I don’t know what you want to hear! I mean, he did ask me about my designs and architecture plans. He seemed curious and interested about that!”

Matty ogled curiously. “I’d bet he’d like the designs you worked on, you know. Maybe if he gets a building of sorts for his work one day when he retires from the military, you can design it for him.”

“Okay, that’s a big if, Matty,” you grumbled back.

“But it’s possible! Good thing you guys probably exchanged numbers, right?”

You ignored him but noticed your coffee was still black. “Could you pass the milk, Elaine?”

“Remember when Phil bought you three of those little school lunch chocolate milk cartoons because you mentioned to him that you liked them? And then his mom gave him an earful for spending so much of his allowance on that?”

Elaine was starting to have enough. “Matty, give it a res—”

But your eyes narrowing into another glare, they widened. “Yes! I think I actually drank two of them but he and I split the third one because I was starting to get full.”

“Oh yeah! That’s how he defended himself when his mom was yelling at him. ‘Ma, we drank ‘em together after school, because we both like chocolate milk. And plus she’s Matty’s little sister.’” You both chuckled together. Suddenly, you felt the pulsing tension at your temples and behind your eyes started to melt away a little.

“Yeah, that was something I totally forgot about. I mean, last night we did talk a little bit about when we were kids. Like, I remembered how he helped carry my books when I broke my ankle and you were stuck at baseball practice.”

“Oh yeah, you could barely use your crutches.” He snickered.

You tried to ignore that. “And we did talk a little bit about when… he left for bootcamp out of nowhere.”

Matty knew that was a sensitive nerve and he grimaced slightly before looking back down at the puddle of syrup and nutella on his plate. He knew that roadblock in the conversation might pop up but he was hoping that somehow both of you had agreed to not touch that topic. But now he was worried the two of you didn’t want to face each other again.

“But… I think both of us understand we were both kids with shitty communication skills and have moved on from that.”

At this Matty perked back up. “Really? Thank God!” He paused. “I mean, I’m glad y’all have made peace over that. I’m sure it’s a weight off both of you.”

You nodded pensively, actually agreeing with him. In spite of all the discord and pain that surfaced last night. You still felt a blackhole gaping in your chest, knowing how disappointed your parents were in you. But there was also a flickering happiness and relief that you felt when you remember that you and Phil were back on speaking terms. Maybe you could even stay in touch after this vacation…

Matty continued. “See? I mean, you and him—a-and of course me and him—go so far back. I know you maybe weren’t expecting to see him last night, but I’m glad that at least I know I can invite him to Elaine’s and my wedding.”

Elaine piped up. “You sure he’d want to come?”

You stared in confusion. Elaine noticed.

“What I mean is I know it would mean a lot to you, Matty, but he’s military. I don’t know too much about those guys, but I can’t exactly picture him being excited to put himself in a suit and bowtie for a long ceremony in a church.”

Matty shook his head. “No, no no. I know, Phil. He’d be totally happy to come. He told me himself that he would also invite me to his wedding when his time comes. I mean, come on, we're practically brothers. We’d do anything for each other. We even joked about naming our kids after each other.”

You wanted to almost scoff at that in disbelief. “Phil with kids?”

“Oh yeah. I know for sure Phil wants a family. He said that he wanted at least three kids.”

You nearly staggered back at this. “Three ki—What? When did he say that?” Maybe you’d gotten so used to seeing Phil as a protective friend that the thought of him being a family man himself felt foreign to you. The image of little kids running behind Phil in a Texas backyard or him cooing at a swaddled baby in his arms was one that you’d never thought about before… but it was one that for some reason made your chest clench for a split second.

“Uhh, right after graduating from high school I think. He seemed pretty dead set on it too.” Matty replied nonchalantly as he picked up his plate, heading to the sink to rinse.

You scoffed. “Matty, that was ages ago. He was still a kid himself then! He could’ve changed his mind since then. You never know what he might’ve seen while in the Marines and it could’ve changed his perception on his family and kids.”

Matty laughed, walking back to the kitchen table to pick up Elaine’s now empty plate too. Before he returned to the sink he bent down to look at you closer. “Never underestimate a man’s dream when he’s serious about it, [Y/N].” He turned around and continued chattering on. “Plus, the military sometimes only enforces your plan of wanting a family.”

You crossed your arms over your chest again, amused with how your brother seemed to know everything about the military now because of Phil. “Oh yeah? And how in the hell would you of all people know that? Did he tell you that himself? I doubt—”

“Actually, yes he did. Last night.” Your brother smirked at you. “And that's exactly what he said to me. Because you never know what will happen and when it will happen when you’re in combat overseas.”

You sank down on your chair, feeling a little defeated from your bickering match with your brother. You were glad he was able to catch up with Phil too. But your chest continued to strangely clench at the thought of Phil looking for a wife and planning to have a big family with them. You weren’t sure what you were expecting. That he’d always be the nice guy in the neighborhood who’d play with you and your brother, but also treat you gently and whom you could always count on to protect you when you were playing too late outside at night?

You didn’t know how to answer. “Good for Phil”? You felt at a loss for words. You were surprised too that this conversion never appeared when you were chatting with Phil last night. But you also knew it was foolish to not realize Phil was probably dating other women all the time. He was handsome, he was charismatic and smart, and he had a successful military career. He checked off all the boxes and knew he was probably a women-magnet wherever he went.

You felt a small pool of jealousy begin to well up in your gut. But you didn’t understand why. He had every right to date other women. Just like he had every right to date girls when he was a teenager—even if it broke your heart—and to invite them to his home, and to kiss in his pool in his parents’ backyard even if you were clueless to it all. The memories of that day suddenly flashed back. You shook yourself out of it and brought a banana slice that Elaine had cut earlier to your mouth, trying to blink the memories away from your vision.

“Soooo…. What’re your plans for the rest of the day?”

You shook out of your reverie “I’m not sure to be honest. I’m back in town after so long—but after last night I don’t feel like doing much. So I might just stay home. Plus I have a few emails from work I need to look at—”

“No, no, no, no, no. You’re here on vacation, [Y/N]. No work. No emails.”

Elaine nodded vigorously as she added the last pancake onto her plate. “Absolutely no work.”

You groaned. “Fine. What do you want me to do today then? You’re the engaged couple whom we’re meeting in honor of, after all.”

Before answering, Matty glanced over at Elaine and gave her a knowing look, one with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, we’re ain’t planning to babysit you. And you’re definitely not gonna be third-wheelin’ us. You gotta get your own plans going, lil sis.”

Once again, you groaned and rubbed your hands over your face in frustration. “Then why bother asking me?!” You really didn’t want to leave the house. Word of Richard’s horrible from last night would’ve probably traveled across your friend and family groups. The thought of them asking you about it made your stomach churn. The idea of crawling back into bed and burying yourself in blankets was the only thing that appealed to you. But you knew that you would only lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling fan, replaying all the horrible events from the party in your head over and over again until you went insane.

Elaine chimed in, her soft voice catching you by surprise. She was always soft-spoken and quiet, a total opposite to Matty’s outspoken and blunt nature. You were surprised she’d be offering an idea. “Honey, didn’t Phillip say that he was staying all by himself at his parents house? Maybe [Y/N] and him could keep each other company while we go visit the bakery about our wedding cake.”

You looked at her with wide eyes, totally baffled by that suggestion. That was something you’d expect from Matty who kept on teasing you all morning about Phil. Even Matty looked at her in bewilderment. But, holding his gaze with his fianceé’s, he mouth fell ajar as if he suddenly understood what Elaine said. As quiet as Elaine was, she always paid attention and caught small cues around her. It was one of the advantages of listening instead of constantly speaking. And she definitely noticed Matty constantly bringing up Phillip Graves throughout their breakfast with his little sister.

“Oh! That’s right. Yeah, I’m sure Phil would be more than happy to catch up with you. He’s actually kind of on the same boat as you. You both have been living out-of-town for so long. Y’all would be a good pair—t-to spend the day together and see how the city’s changed.”

Elaine nodded, a small smile on her rosy lips. “I obviously didn’t grow up with y’all, so I only know anything about your past from what you’ve said, but you and him seem to still have a lot of chemistry from when you were kids.”

You wanted to blush. Maybe even disagree and meekly explain you were just making small talk and being polite with each other. Instead, your thoughts were interrupted when your brother said, “Well, we’re gonna go wash up and get ready to head out. We made an appointment with a wedding cake business the town over.”

Oh . You were hoping you could spend the day with them. You rarely got to see Matty due to your work. Usually you could only catch up during Christmas, Thanksgiving, maybe for a birthday or for a special Fourth of July party your parents would throw every couple of years when they were in the mood. You also wanted to catch up with Elaine. As a child, you always wanted a sister. And she was like the sister you never had. Growing up, you struggled making friends, sticking instead to becoming a shadow behind Matty and Phil when they would hang out after school. Usually, you watched as they played video games or played basketball, drawing in your sketchbook when they didn’t invite you to join in. As a younger girl, you did play with dolls with some girls. But it was harder to make friends once you got intensely passionate about your art. Yet, Elaine seemed sweet enough to form a friendship with.

“Then, after that, I wanna show Elaine around town a little more. We’ll probably be home maybe for a late dinner. So until then, try to keep busy, alright? No emails! No work.”

You raised your hands up in defense. “No emails,” you repeated.

“Maybe give Phil a call. He can keep you busy while we’re out.”

You rolled your eyes, averting your eyes in embarrassment early enough to miss the smirk on Matty’s lips. It was one that made Elaine want to roll her own playfully, but she giggled quietly instead to herself. The two of them headed to their quarters to get dressed, while you trudged back to the guest room. You also needed to get washed up, but the thought of strolling through your hometown by yourself, especially after the embarrassing scene of last night that surely spread like wildfire through your family’s social circles, seemed unpleasant.

It was almost lunch time, and you still could not budge out of bed. Still in your pajamas, you were laying in bed idly, watching as the time passed as slowly as ever. You found yourself scrolling through social media, eyes scanning everyone’s elated comments under Matty and Elaine’s photos from last night’s engagement party. You were tagged in a few of them, earning you a few new friend requests from former high school classmates that you wished you could’ve forgotten entirely.

In some photos, your eyes snapped to find Phil among the group of family friends. When you first found him smiling next to Matty in one photo, you swallowed hard and felt butterflies form in your stomach. Your eyes lingered over his photographed form longer than others. How did his smile seem to become even more handsome and radiant after all these years? You felt yourself grow tense, even while laying down, when you noticed how toned his arms looked in the shirt he wore last night. You remembered thinking the same when watching him as he talked to you in the living room after… the incident. In Matty’s room now and with the photo, you couldn’t stop staring. Your mouth grew dry when you saw there were at least four other photos of him and Matty in the collection of photos. But you found yourself disappointed to see that, no, Phil himself was not tagged. In fact, Phil didn’t have any social media accounts. Probably because of his sensitive line of work, you figured. Still, it would’ve been nice to learn more about what he was like now as an adult.

Wait , why are you thinking about him so much?! You wondered how you got to this point where you were practically drooling over photos of your brother’s best friend and staying inside all day like a hermit during your free time back home. You found yourself blushing by yourself in Matty's old bedroom, realizing what you’d spent the last ten minutes of your morning doing. You groaned as you threw your phone down against the pillow on your bed. You decided, come on, you need to get up. You need to at least get some lunch.

Preferring not to look through the pantry of healthy, over-priced super-foods your mom kept in stock, you knew a diner or fast food joint was your best bet for something that was actually tasty. It was warm outside, but thankfully the diner you had in mind was close enough that an Uber would not cost too much to take you. It was the very same one that you and Matty would take you when you were feeling sad or discouraged from schoolwork or from drama with some of the girls in your class. He’d always buy you a milkshake and fries. That paired with a pep talk from your big brother always managed to cheer you up.

The diner hadn’t changed much. As usual, blue, red, and white jerseys of the Houston Texans football team were draped proudly on some of the walls and old photographs of the owner with other football players from the nineties were framed for visitors to marvel at while they ate. You were almost as shocked by how unchanged it was as you were by the fact it was still standing. Such an old business still managed to remain alive after all these years. The same smell of french fries and the sound of sizzling burger patties in the kitchen while old classic rock played made you feel like you were a little girl again waiting for Matty in his letterman to ask the server for a booth instead of a table.

Milkshake and fries, you ordered by instinct when the server, a nice woman in her fifties and short cropped graying curls approached your table with her notepad. You were starving. The growling of your stomach made you add one of their new bacon-and-kimchi burgers to your order that the server had hyped up. “I’ll get that right out for you, hun,” she said with a smile and left you to your thoughts.

You felt tempted to scroll again through the photos from last night. But you tried desperately to pull yourself away from those thoughts whirling down that rabbit hole again. You played aimlessly with the paper napkin on the table in front of you and watched around you as families and couples sat together. They chattered endlessly, some even bursting out laughing in joy, as they enjoyed their lunch together. You huffed out a long sigh seeing this. You had gone out to feel less alone, to feel like you were doing something. Instead, you were reminded of how alone you were now that everyone in your hometown and your brother were busy.

You opened your phone under the table, averting your gaze from everyone else. You almost felt embarrassed by what you were about to do. Matty definitely would’ve disapproved. You pulled up the Uber app again. You would just ask for a to-go box and eat your food in peace at home without the cacophony of other people around you in your own lonely company. Next time, you would just order delivery instead of wasting money on Uber, you scolded yourself.

While you were going through the app, someone slid into the booth to sit across from you. You tensed up. Annoyed, you were prepared to tell this person that you were in fact saving that seat for someone else—a lie—and that they needed to leave you the hell alone. When you lifted your head back up to glower at the uninvited lunch guest, your mouth fell agape.

Seeing the look of shock on your face, Phil chuckled in amusement and beamed knowingly at you. How in the hell did he end up here at the same time as you? You spent all morning thinking about him and practically studying his photos from last night, you felt like you were now simply imagining him sitting across from you.

The almost smug look on his face told you that he knew he was confusing the hell out of you. You had a lot of questions but were left speechless at the sight of him. His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just finished showering a while ago. He had on a plain white t-shirt and had his keys in his hands still, making you realize he had just driven and parked his car here not too many minutes ago. He also held a paper cup with no lid, revealing some black coffee he must’ve picked up before he got here. Phil himself wanted to break the ice and brush away the confusion clearly still in the air. But he couldn’t help but continue to bask in the hilarity of the baffled look on your face, like a deer stuck in headlights. Since a kid, he always loved how expressive you were with your face. But now, as an adult, he also couldn't help but admire your face for how bright and warm your eyes looked, your cheeks for how you blushed furiously at some of his comments, and your lips for how soft he imagined they could be-.

“Hi there,” he chirped.

You were still totally bewildered but slowly began to shake yourself out of it. “H-hi…”

“So, are you here to try the new burger? I heard good things about it.”

You couldn’t believe that of all things to bring up, he decided to mention the damn bacon-and-kimchi burger. “Um,” you stammered, “yeah, Matty mentioned that they were trying new ‘experimental’ burgers now… Honestly, I intended to come here for the shake and fries.”

He hummed in understanding before taking a sip of his coffee. All you could do was stare, and he stared back at you sharply over his cup as he sipped his drink—his eyes never once leaving your face. Last night, you two never stopped chatting. Yet here, everything between you was nauseatingly silent so far, and you clicked your phone’s screen off, forgetting about your Uber plans immediately.

You studied him closely again. This time you noticed the veins running along his hands as he sipped his coffee, his rolex his father gifted him ages ago adorning his wrist too. You noticed even a small scar running across his outer forearm that you didn’t notice the night before. Then, your eyes traveled back up to glance at his neck, leading up to the curve of his jaw. You bit down hard on your lip as you began to rip away little pieces of the napkin you were toying with this whole time. You were growing frustrated by how nervous you felt around him, at how a heat seemed to rise from your skin when you noticed how his eyes didn’t leave your own form while yours couldn’t seem to stay still on him. It was like staring at the sun. You felt like you couldn’t stare too long at him, otherwise you would tread into dangerous territory. You felt your soul tremble under his eye. From your small glimpses, you could see that his eyes harbored a lot more untold memories and hardships that he’d collected over the years since he left your hometown. Still, the hardened look in his eyes made something in your stomach stir, and you felt yourself crossing your legs at your ankles nervously.

He placed his coffee back on the table, a smile now on his face, his eyes softening once again into a much for familiar gaze. Still, you looked away frantically, studying instead now the dead ants and dust that collected in the window sill beside your booth. You took a deep breath and let it out sharply, before plucking the courage to ask Phil, “So, was it Matty? Or was it Elaine?”

He blinked, feigning ignorance. “Hm? What are you talking about?”

He couldn’t fool you that easily. You almost rolled your eyes. Instead you gave him a pointed look, raising an unamused eyebrow at him. He was aware that you knew that him finding you eating a burger all by yourself in your favorite childhood burger joints was not simply a coincidence. And that he just happened to be going to that diner the exact same day and time? Not a chance.

But as much as you wanted to pry the truth from him, Phil was also stubborn. Sure, it wasn’t a coincidence that you met in this diner once more, but he wanted it to be one. He wouldn’t give Matty or Elaine the credit for him running into you. Maybe Matty did send him a text this morning that you’d be spending the day alone, since Elaine and him would be in the next town over. Maybe he also did add that he suggested you try that kimchi burger from your favorite burger joint. But it was him, Phil, that put one and two together and knew you’d probably end up here of all places for lunch.

He leaned in across the table, his eyes still locked on you sharp. “Remember what I told you last night after we exchanged contacts?”

You furrowed your brow. So many words were exchanged that night, your mind was scattered with how he was looking at you. You felt speechless, breathless.

“If you don't come by my house today, I would snatch you myself,” he quotes himself from last night with a mischievous glint now in his eyes. You, on the other hand, felt your heart start to pound in your chest. Once again, you felt something stir in your lower stomach. You didn’t know how to respond, instead staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

The server from earlier sauntered over to your booth. You expected her to be carrying just one plate with your burger. Instead, you saw that on either hand, she had two plates with the burgers. “Here y’all are,” she said as she placed both plates in front of you and Phil. Instead of a kimchi burger, he had a classic bacon cheeseburger. You actually smiled at the sight. It was his same order from when he was a kid. Looks like his taste buds hadn’t changed too much since then.

You watched instead as Phil thanked the server, using his best southern manners.

“And that milkshake will come in a few minutes, miss,” she added before leaving once more.

Phil glanced up at you, smiling calmly. “Looks like great minds think alike, huh,” he chirped.

You scoffed. You wanted to snap back at him, but you were starving. Both you and Phil devoured your burgers. It felt nice to just sit and have a meal with him. At first it was silent but not the awkward silence that would engulf you and make you feel small. Instead, it felt relaxing. There was little pressure to be someone you weren’t, to put on a performance or slip on a mask, when you were around Phil. But as you started to finish up your burger, he began to pipe up again. “So, how are you feeling today? After…”

“Better,” you sighed. “I mean, thankfully my brother and Elaine were okay with how the party kind of turned into a disaster. But I haven't spoken much to my parents… they’re, um, out of town already.”

This caught Phil's interest. He narrowed his eyes slightly, but nodded along as he listened.

“Your dad was always a man with… high expectations. High standards. My dad was the same way, as you well know. No one was immune from my dad’s criticism. I think that’s why they got along so well. Because they could turn their nose up at everyone.”

You chuckled. “Right.”

“That must be why he liked Richard, too.”

You nearly choked on your water. You coughed, looking up at him in shock, but he wore the same nonchalant, innocent look on his face while he dipped the last of fries into the ketchup on his plate. “Speaking of which, have you heard anything from him? Spoken with him since?”

You couldn’t scowl as hard as you wanted to. A part of you wanted to ask Phil why it mattered to him in the first place. But another part wanted to flood him with the disappointment you were feeling in knowing that Richard had not bothered to call you, to visit you. Instead, he sent you a text message this morning with nothing more than a link and phone number of a local moving and shipping company in Seattle—as if to say, “Here, move yourself out or get someone else to do it. But don’t count on me.”

You sighed. “No, I think it’s clear he’s done with me… just like I am with him,” you confessed to Phil, who furrowed his brows as if he was in deep thought as he listened to you. In reality, gears were turning in his head. “I, um, will probably move out of his place once I return to Seattle. Honestly, with all he said to me, I’m just trying to avoid him right now, as much as I can.”

He nodded in understanding. “Well. I know your parents didn’t react in the most ideal of ways last night. But you always have Matty’s and my support, alright? How’d you even get here anyway?”

“Uber,” you admitted.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, in addition to offering you my unconditional support in this moment of your life, I will also offer to drive you anywhere you’d like while you’re in town.”

“You sure?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “Of course! An Uber? Really?”

Before you could reply, however, the same server returned with your chocolate milkshake to-go. You smiled and gave thanks. As you dug into your purse to look for your wallet, you heard Phil.

“Oh, no, no, no. I’m covering this,” he said firmly. “You do not have to worry at all.” From his own wallet, he pulled out several bills to cover the cost and enough to give the kind server a hefty tip for her attentiveness.

“Phil!” you hissed in panic. “You don’t have to do that!”

The server chuckled as she collected the bills. “Don’t worry, hun. You found yourself a nice gentleman with manners who knows not to let the lady pay when on a date, right?” she grinned at Phil, who only chuckled back. Of course the cocky bastard didn’t bother to correct her. With that she turned away, wishing you both a good rest of your day, and left you alone with Phil once again.

“Just being polite, huh?” you looked at him pointedly, both of you heading out the door of the diner now, getting immediately engulfed in a warm, but gentle breeze.

“Like my mother taught me,” he replied, winking at you slyly. You both walked to his car, your mind in deep thought. You had gotten snacks and lunches with Phil and Matty in the past as kids, but Phil never covered your meal for you. And you never felt the buzzing in your stomach around him with anyone else before. You swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Phil had changed a lot, hardened by the military and by life under his draconian father’s sometimes unfair expectations. And some parts of him hadn’t changed a bit, especially his boyish and sometimes cocky humor. Yet, it was undeniable this was the kid Phil that you only tagged along with sometimes. He looked at you, spoke to you differently, in ways that made your heart race, your palms sweat, and made you bite your lip in frustration.

As he unlocked the doors to his car, he asked, “So, where’d ya wanna go?”

You shrugged. You frankly had no plans laid out for the day, other than lazing around at home waiting for Matty and Elaine.

You both slid into the car, him behind the wheel and you at shotgun. He looked over at you after starting his car, the A/C blowing gently against both of you. You sipped on your milkshake, as he lowered the music that was playing to continue chatting with you without interruption. You noticed he still liked classic rock, just like the bands you and Matty would listen to with him after school. “You wanna come by my place?” he suggested. “I did tell you I wanted to cook you dinner at some point while we’re both here.”

You nearly gasped, but still looked at him in disbelief. But you couldn’t conceal the contagious, sheepish smile that was crawling onto your face at this offer. “Phil, you just bought me lunch, you can’t make me dinner either! What am I supposed to give you in return?”

He shrugged but shot you a cheeky grin. “I dunno. Your company?”

Again, you felt your skin start to grow hot and you bit your lip. “Phil, do you always try to charm your friends like this? Or is it just me?” you chuckled.

As he turned into a new street, he hummed as he feigned contemplation. You didn’t realize he was taking your question seriously. He glanced at you through the corner of his eye, “Maybe just the ones I really like.”

At this you blushed and toyed with the straw of your milkshake. He’s joking, maybe flirting to be funny , you thought to yourself. Nonetheless, you considered his offer to visit his home with him. “Fine,” you said in surrender. “I’ll go.”

“Attagirl,” he said cheerfully, his smiling beaming even more now.

“Just dinner, correct? It’s not like you are going to kidnap and murder me, and then have me as your dinner, are you?” you joked with a chuckle, deciding to poke back at the man who didn’t seem to know when to stop with the jests and jokes.

But Phil didn’t laugh back. Instead, he was silent for a few seconds. You thought maybe he didn’t find it funny, offensive even. But your last sentence has brought many ideas in his head, many images that he never thought he could conjure with you. But he decided to join your banter, seeing how your laughter was beginning to nervously die down with his silence.

He leaned in, his lips inching closer to your ear. With the hazy music playing in the background and with you clutching your milkshake tighter, he muttered, “No promises.”

He pulled back and chuckled, especially seeing the way your eyes widened at this. Now your own mind was racing with thoughts and scenarios you would feel embarrassed to share with anyone. You could imagine him devouring you in more ways than one, especially the look in his eyes he’d hold as he consumed you. Before you could submerge yourself into those daydreams, you cleared your throat and fixed a strand of your hair that had fallen near your face.

Silence fell once again between you, only the muffled sound of grainy guitar riffs and solos filling the rest of the short drive back to his house. You struggled to relax. Around Phil, you felt calm, relaxed, like you were at home. But other times like now, Phil fuckin Graves knew how to leave you utterly breathless. It always felt like that, now that you tried to reminisce on your childhood with him. Just when you were in your early teens, you thought you were going through puberty, your hormones making you think and feel things that you normally wouldn’t. Years later, you figured your feelings for him as a teen really didn’t really amount to anything other than small childhood crushes and you making sense of your sexuality for the first time. Yet, years later, here you were in his car crossing your legs nervously and squeezing them when you remembered his gravelly voice against your ear when he muttered, “No promises.”

Looking at him now as he drove, you realized how touch- and love-starved you really were, especially after such a miserable relationship with your ex. It was hard not to gawk at Phil, to study how his hands held onto the wheel as he drove, or to stare at how his arms flexed when he turned his car or shifted gears periodically. How his voice uttered your name so smoothly and how his cologne made you want to breathe him in deeply now that you were around him. It was becoming almost impossible to deny that you were feeling something serious for Phil now even as a grown woman. But you felt that if you admitted this to yourself, you would be in grave danger.

“We’re here,” he said moments before you both hopped out of his car, heading to his house’s front door. You walked in with him, and immediately noticed not much had changed, not even now that his parents had converted the place into an AirBnB rental spot. It still had some of the same white, minimalist furniture that Phil’s mother liked so much, with a sparkling chandelier hanging over the entrance. One thing you did notice was the lack of family portraits. No photos of strangers probably for the sake of whoever was renting the home for a brief stay. Still, you were flooded with memories of swimming in the backyard with Matty and Phil over many summers, of helping his mother bake cookies while he and Matty played video games, and of the time the three of you accidentally shattered one of the family vases with a baseball one day. The three of you had quickly hid the shards far from any place his parents could ever find them.

“Not much has changed,” you noted, while he hummed in agreement. You slipped off your shoes, just as Phil did, while you remembered all of this. He placed his keys on a table and turned to look at you.

“So, you never did mention how long you’re in town for.”

“Hm?” You suddenly remembered that, indeed, you were only here for a brief visit. Phil wanted to laugh seeing how dazed you still seemed around him even after all this time. He held back, however. “Right. Well, I’m not leaving any time soon. I Took my yearly vacation, so I have the next few weeks free from all work while I’m here.” You groaned. “And even if I wanted to, Matty and Elaine will have my head if I even try to go near my work laptop.”

He nods as he hums in thought. It felt like he was going to say something, but remained silent.

He slipped off his leather jacket he had worn this whole time. Your eyes trailed over him as he did. You couldn’t help but admit how his back’s muscles rippled as he did this, how his biceps muscles flexed through the shirt he was wearing as he bent his shoulders back to get the jacket off it. Was your staring too obvious? Was it obvious you were daydreaming of the many different ways you would hold onto his shoulders, arms, and back? You breathed out sharply and tore your eyes away.

When he finished hanging his jacket, he turned and looked at you. You both strolled to the kitchen, where the silver, shining appliances and marble counters reminded you of Phil’s father’s wealth once again. Despite how empty and sterile parts of the home now seemed, Phil seemed calmer here, his smile still warm but more relaxed and maybe less mischievous. “Did you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“Oof,” you said, “I just had that milkshake, so, um, maybe just some water to help it go down. I don’t want to have something that’ll make my stomach upset or something, you know?” you squeaked out. You didn’t know if it was because it was just you and Phil now, no passerbyers at the restaurant or anything, or because of how big his house was. But you felt small. You felt like shrinking yourself. Maybe it was a stupid idea to come here alone with Phil, you chastised yourself , especially since I’ve been acting so weird around him already today. But you glanced back up at Phil’s reassuring, calm smile with his same caring eyes he always shone at you. You felt some relief and calmness from that.

“I do need to use the bathroom, though,” you said. “Just to wash up.”

“There’s the one attached to my room upstairs, since the AirBnB guests don’t use it.” As he spoke, he grabbed one of the expensive glass bottles of flavored water from the fridge. Even though your parents were also well-off in their own way, his family’s wealth was on a different level, one that managed to still baffle you. “Oh and I should add that my room is upstairs, just to the left as you climb. But you already know that.” He started pouring the glasses. “Just go on up, I’ll be right there.”

You left Phil in the kitchen as he continued to pull glasses from the cabinets. As you climbed the stairs, you noticed how the varnish on the wooden rail had worn from years of his family’s use. You couldn’t help but remember all the times you gripped and slid your hand down it when you dashed down the stairs, the promise of football or a relaxing drive with Matty and Phil waiting for you outside. So much had changed. The house was dimmer and quieter now than in those days. But the memories still lingered like wisps of smoke, especially once you reached the second floor.

The bathroom was unchanged. All you noticed once you used it was how flushed your cheeks were, a little bead of sweat tempting to form near your hairline. Was it from the Texas heat having an effect on you after living up North for so long, or was it because of how Phil made you feel under his gaze this afternoon? You decided to splash some water on your face after washing your hands. Maybe you should pass Phil’s offer for some drinks instead grab a cold water before you pass out in his home.

You were about to head back down the stairs to do just that. But instead you noticed how the door to one of the rooms was left ajar. You peeked inside curiously, expecting it to be a sterile, bland room you would find in any AirBnB. It was dim, the blinds shut securely, but you were still hit with a flash of nostalgia when you saw that his blue comforter and sheets in his bed were the same as the last time you were here. You were still barely a teen, just a few weeks before Phil departed for the Marine Corps without a word. Matty and him were sitting in the very same room, some slightly trashy MTV show playing low in the background while the two of them were planning to go to GameStop in a few minutes.

Memories of that evening inundated your senses as you mindlessly stepped inside. The posters once splayed on his wall, now years later, were stripped from them. His TV with his Xbox no longer were there—you figured his parents sold both when he left for boot camp. Yet, his bed was no longer the messy pile of blankets. Instead, it was neat. The corners were tucked in sharply, and the blankets were spread as cleanly as possible so that you could practically bounce a coin on them without a problem. Yes, this was Phil’s room, the same one from years ago. Yet, the man who made the bed was not the seventeen-year-old, still immature boy you sometimes ogled at from afar. Things had changed, even if memories still clung to your mind.

You floated over to his desk near the window, only a picture frame and a lamp sitting simply on it. You reached down, taking the photo frame in your hands . You brought it closer to your eyes, feeling your heart skip a beat at the photo.

It was you, Matty, and Phil, of course. You had clearly taken it with an old disposable camera—you remembered you’d bought it at the drugstore. The flash made the skin on everyone’s face shine oddly, and even one of Matty’s eyes turned out red. Both of them had more flesh on their baby cheeks. Matty stood next to you, holding a football; his other hand held onto your forearm gently. He was always worried about you leaving his sight. On the other side of you was Phil, his hand resting on the top of your head, the other nestled gently on your shoulder. You could tell from the flyaways and frizz framing his hand that he had just ruffled your head full of hair, a usual trademark of his when he hung out with you. Meanwhile, you shined with a toothy grin, your eyes squinting a little at the exposure of the camera’s harsh flash hitting you all.

“That’s my favorite picture of us, you know.”

You gasped at the sudden intrusion. Whipping around, you saw Phil standing just a few steps away from you. Relieved at seeing it was just him, the frame still in your hand. Slowly, he inched toward you with just a few steps. How long was he there? How long were you there, just snooping through his childhood bedroom? You were perplexed as to how you didn’t even notice him stepping into the room from the hall, or feel his form lingering just a few meters away from your own oblivious one.

You felt a little nervous, embarrassed at being caught in his room. You glanced back down at the picture, noticing that he actually did take the time to encase it in a black metal frame. Even if it was just a somewhat crappy, overexposed photo you took as a little girl—he still took the time to find the right size frame for it. You had so many similar, amateurish photos from back in the day sitting—perhaps “rotting” is the best word for it—in a scrapbook somewhere in the back of your closet in Seattle. Maybe you would revisit them when you got back home… especially when you would have to pack all your things to move out and abandon Richard’s lease.

You cracked a smile as a finger ran across the photo, brushing a few specks of old dust away. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites too. I still remember that day a little.”

Phil stepped closer to you nonchalantly, a hand of his reaching out to touch the frame too. A this, he noticed how you stiffened just a bit. He glanced up from the frame to look closer at you. When your eyes met, he noticed how yours widened ever more slightly before you gulped. His eyes couldn’t help but notice how your throat moved. His thoughts began to wander. He blinked quickly, trying to banish the images and ideas that had formed cross currents in his mind, before his eyes returned to yours. They scanned your face slowly, like a student observing every detail and brushstroke on a painting’s canvas hanging on a museum’s walls. His hand encroached yours on the picture frame, his warm fingers making contact with your hand. They barely grazed yours, but it was enough for your heart to speed up and for it to feel as though your fingers were now tingling.

You noticed then how his eyes strayed from yours, traveling lower. They landed on your lips, you could tell without a doubt, making you hold your breath silently. Phil noticed how pink and plush they looked. He had been admiring your beauty, realizing just how alluring you’d become in a span of years. He wanted nothing more than to lean down and taste your lips, to draw your body closer and to envelop it in his. He couldn’t help himself… he even noticed how you seemed to be relaxing, your eyes fluttering and lips slightly parted. He could swear you were leaning in too.

Yet, you flinched hard when you heard a phone start to ring out of the blue. Phil leaned back slightly with an annoyed sigh. He dug his hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. He steps away once more and answers it, greeting the person with faux amiability. You, meanwhile, took a sharp breath in and loosened your shoulders. Prudently, you placed the frame back on the nightstand, just as you had found it minutes before.

After a “yup” an “of course,” an “Around what time?” and a “I’ll see what if I can,” he hung up the phone. He looked at you with pursed lips before placing both his hands on your upper arms.

“Everything okay?” you gently asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said while wrapping an arm slyly around your waist. You nearly didn’t notice. “Now, didn’t I promise you dinner?”

You sat next to Bear and Matty in the living room of your family’s beach house, wishing you had gotten a better pedicure before this beach trip. The beach house was gorgeous, of course, just as you remember. The sofa was turquoise and the sound of the distant waves crashing onto the shore would be soothing you if it weren’t for your father sitting across from you with a grave look etched on his face. This was Elaine and Matty’s idea to mend the latest strains in your family ever since you rejected Richard’s “surprise” proposal. A few days at the beach by the Texas coast could heal your family’s freshly formed wounds, they figured.

As much as you sometimes detested Houston, you wanted to stay. First, you didn’t have a bathing suit from Seattle packed for a beach trip. Second, you had to admit that one of the highlights of returning home was rekindling your friendship with Phil. Just two nights before, you had sat down in Phil’s home. You sat at the kitchen island, chatting idly about his life in the military and your time in university. Jokes sprinkled in the conversation kept it lively too, dissipating any awkwardness that might’ve lingered after your short conversation and moment in his bedroom upstairs. His parents’ finest wine and a home-cooked Italian meal filled your bellies while you chatted at the dining table. At one point, you nearly fainted when he did the classic “You got a little in the corner of your lip,” bit that you thought only happened in the movies. And knowing how guileful Phil was, you knew that he knew he had an effect on you and was relishing in it that night.

You almost wanted to ask him for more nights together like that, at least until you both had to part your ways again. That was, until Matty and Elaine called you later that night insisting that you accompany them to this beach trip. “Think of it as a proper celebration of mine and Elaine’s engagement with less… interruptions from our invited guests,” Matty had spelled out for you. You groaned at this, the embarrassment of Richard ruining that night creeping back up inside you. Matty had done so much for you, and you really wanted Elaine to feel a truly warm welcome into your family as your new sister-in-law. Begrudgingly, you agreed, even if it meant that dinner in Phil’s home would be your last you could share with him until God knows when.

You ran your hands along Bear’s thick, albeit graying, mane, while your brother and Elaine gave your mother a hand in the kitchen with the watermelon she was carving and dividing up for later. Your father, meanwhile, averted his gaze from meeting yours. He tapped his foot against the leg of his chair idly, while scrolling through his smartphone. He sipped on his black coffee as he scrolled, while you sipped on a glass of cool water. You couldn’t imagine the news was so interesting that he would suddenly be glued to his phone during a beach trip. Rolling your eyes, you focused on massaging Bear’s ears in the awkward silence of the living room.

“Oh!” Matty suddenly exclaimed. “Finally, he’s at the door.”

You frowned. “The bell didn’t even ring.” Was there even a doorbell in this cabana?

“You messed up the food so bad that you had to order takeout?” your father grumbled, not lifting his head from his phone. You rolled your eyes at his sour comment while you sipped on your water to hide the extent of your frown.

Matty scampered excitedly to the door, his sandals squeaking as he did so. “No, I never said I ordered take out,” he said with a mischievous grin.

Without answering, he opened the door dramatically. “PHIL! You made it!”

You choked on your water. There he stood. You almost didn’t recognize him in the state he was in. Rather than the polo and slacks he wore the other days you met up with him, he wore a simple cotton t-shirt that hugged his body deliciously, as well as some shorts. His hair was slightly disheveled, possibly from the beachside breeze brushing through his locks. Lastly, you noticed how his eyes were covered by a pair of dark shades. His pearly white smile, radiant as ever, was too recognizable.

“Of course, I’m not gonna let you down,” Phil said as he hugged your brother, who took Phil’s bag from him and placed it in one of the bedrooms down the hall.

You, meanwhile, were in shock. You would’ve frozen were it not for the coughing fit the water you choked on caused. Sure, just a few minutes ago you were totally downcast about how any plans—imaginary or real—with Phil in Houston had to be put away due to this beach trip. Yet, you had no clue that your conniving brother had managed to invite the man you were crushing on since you were a kid to this trip.

“Phil—” you choked out. “What are you doing here?”

“Ooh,” he said, grimacing slightly at slight shock, maybe offense, he thought he detected in your voice. He sheepishly scratched his head. “I, well—I uhh-” Phil didn’t have anything to use as an excuse, he didn’t know why he thought of making excuses to begin with.

You swore you could hear your brother snickering quietly, as he returned from putting Phil’s bag away.

“It was actually my idea!” Elaine chimed in calmly as she sauntered in from the kitchen, too. “The fish tacos are turning out fantastic by the way. I highly recommend it.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was gonna come to be honest.” He crossed his arms, and continued. “But Elaine here insisted very kindly so I said—why not.” he finishes with his signature grin.

You wanted nothing more than to strangle your brother. Yes, you had to admit seeing Phil here was a pleasant surprise, especially with how he looked in that shirt that you couldn’t stop your eyes from darting to. But you could swear on your life that he and Elaine were scheming this ever since that day. Of course, you had no proof of that, but you knew how cunning your brother could be. And Elaine? It seemed like they were starting to make more sense together as a couple with how devious she could be too.

Elaine continued. “Your mom was totally okay with it too… and we could use a third party to join us to clear the, you know, the awkward fog that is hanging in the air… which clearly she was right about.” Matty and her both stole a glance toward your father who sat now with his arms crossed. You noticed, however, that he had placed his phone on the coffee table moments ago. He was now actually glancing at the three of you, the frown on his wrinkled face a little softer.

“Phillip, it’s good to see you as always,” he said curtly with a nod. “Let me see what’s taking so long in the kitchen. I’m starved.”

Your brother and Elaine trailed after him. “It’s really not going to take much longer,” Matty said in annoyance. “We have some fruits ready to eat as well if you’re really that hungry…”

With that, it was just you and Phil standing alone in the living room once again, save for Bear. The German Shepherd got up from the sofa and padded over to Phil. He jumped up, his two front paws landing and holding onto Phil’s hips. “Hey, buddy,” he cooed to the dog. “I missed you too, Bear.”

Once Bear landed back on the floor, Phil returned his attention to you. He stepped closer to you, you glanced around, realizing and relieved that neither your parents nor Matty and Elaine have returned from discussing lunch in the kitchen.

He placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, part of his hand just grazing part of your neck for a few moments as he did so. Once again, his eyes scanned over you, from head to toe. Anyone else whom he would’ve studied so intensely would have been shaking, but he noticed you stood , your eyes not leaving his. He noticed how your chest rose and fell with each breath a little more rapidly than before. Seeing how you looked up at him, wordlessly, with your soft doe eyes he felt his heart flutter in his own chest as well.

You put down your glass of water, clearing your throat one last time. “Make yourself at home, Phil. I’ll see you at dinner.” You smiled sheepishly, patting his hand on your shoulder before gently guiding it off you. And with that, you turned around, and tried to scurry to your room.

You woke up from a nap you didn’t remember deciding to take. Rubbing your eyes and feeling a headache creep into your skull, you got up from your bed in your room in the cabana to find some water. The heat of the Texas summer was getting to you, and you kept forgetting to hydrate. Your mom would scold you for that if you found out.

When you dragged your feet over to the cabana’s kitchen, you were surprised to see your parents, Matty, Elaine, and Phil also sitting in the living room together. Your mom was reading a magazine, your father a thick, hardcover biography of what was probably an unfamiliar nineteenth-century politician. Your brother, Elaine, and Phil sat around the coffee table on the floor. On it, was a messy, nearly scattered, stack of UNO cards, and each of them held small decks in their hand.

“Oh, [Y/N], you slept through dinner,” your mother said when she noticed you walking in. “We saved you a plate covered in the kitchen. You can bring it here and join us if you’d like.”

You furrowed your brow, “What time is it?”

“9 p.m.,” your father huffed, his eyes not leaving the dense book in his hands.

Your eyes widened, but you could feel your stomach rumbling as you could hear Elaine bickering with Matty about whether they should be stacking the cards they’re playing. You decided to take your mother up on her idea and carried the plate of dinner with you back to the living room after warming it up briefly in the microwave.

Phil smiled briefly at you as you sat beside him on the floor. You watched as the three of them played another round, Phil shrugging and accepting defeat when Matty managed to beat him and Elaine. You munched on the tacos for the next several rounds. Phil let you glance over his shoulder to peer at what cards he had in his deck. Whenever he made a shrewd play, he would look over at you with a glint in his eyes to see how you reacted. Seeing you breathe in sharply, impressed with one of his plays, made Phil’s chest swell in a form of pride.

After you finished your dinner, you noticed that your mom and dad were yawning among themselves before heading back to their room. Your dad’s coffee didn’t seem to have helped him stay up as long as he’d hoped. You glanced down at your watch, seeing it was almost 10pm You thought that maybe you should head back to your room to wash up.

“Oh, no. You have to join us for a few rounds,” Elaine exclaimed as she shuffled the deck. “Just for one or two. Then you can go.”

“Yeah, remember we used to play all the time with Phil?” Your brother chirped. “You always were close to beating us.”

At this you remembered indeed staying up at night during various thunderstorms and low-category hurricanes at Phil’s house when you were barely 7 or 8. Your parents, meanwhile, would usually be with Phil sharing wine downstairs discussing local politics and stocks. The windows in Phil’s bedroom would be covered with metallic shutters. The electricity and Phil’s bedroom light would have flickered and cut out hours before from Houston’s strong winds and rains. You, him, and Matty huddled in his bedroom with a flightlight weakly illuminating where the three of you sat. The sound of the howling winds, sounding almost like ghosts, would usually send chills down your spine. The thunder crashing would make you flinch.

But in the company of Matty and Phil, you would forget about the howling. By the lantern, you played Go Fish, Uno, and even Monopoly. Knowing you were scared of the thunder, Phil had the habit of draping you with one of his blankets. When thunder clapped or lightning flashed, he distracted you with the cards. Cards, something you almost never play now as an adult, was still something that you remembered fondly. Even as you got older, before Phil left for the Marines, you remembered seeing Phil go through his nightstand’s drawer to find his deck of cards if it looked like the lights might go out again.

Memories still swirling in your mind faintly, you felt Phil shift beside you slightly. His shoulder lightly grazed yours and you felt a warm feeling blossom in your chest. You brought your hands to your face, fingers touching your cheeks, as you felt them grow warm too. You glanced at Phil tentatively and saw that he also was looking at you in anticipation for you to join in.

You sighed in faux defeat, “Alright maybe one round. Then I’m heading back to bed.”

Next thing you knew, several rounds had passed. More than a decade after having last played against Phil and Matty, you finally managed to win. Elaine won most of the rounds, however. She teased him several times by stealing very obviously glances at his hand, making Matty dramatically call for a rematch or to disqualify Elaine. Witnessing this kind of back-and-forth bantering normally would make you feel like an awkward third wheel. But, thankfully, Phil was there to crack jokes with you about how their bickering felt like a strange sneak-peek into their future lives as a married couple.

After a few rounds, you decided to take another break and watch. You got comfortable laying down on your side on the velvety sofa behind Phil. Knowing you were behind him, Phil also felt it was hard to hide his grin, especially when he could feel you shifting and breathing while he played. After a while, he could almost hear how your breathing slowed and you seemed to sink, more relaxed, into the cushions of the sofa. He glanced back behind you, noticing your eyes were closed and how you nestled your head into the pillow shams in the shape of a beach palm tree. The corner of his mouth twitched into a soft smile at the sight.

Your brother stretched his arms above his head and yawned, while Elaine gathered all the discarded cards and shoved them back into the main deck. “I think we’re gonna start winding down now,” Matty mumbled out. “I can’t believe it’s almost one in the morning.”

Phil checked his watch, the same watch his father gave him many years before. “Oh, shoot. Time sure flew by.”

Matty and Elaine got up. “Well, we’ll see you tomorrow morning, Phil. Hope you can get some rest,” Elaine said.

“G’night!” Matty said, his eyes noticeably growing heavier. Phil waved them goodbye with a polite smile, wishing them a good night’s rest as well.

Phil stared at them, slightly bemused, as they shuffled away from the living room toward their shared bedroom. He was shocked they didn’t bother to wake you up so you could go to your room. He turned around, noticing you were still sound asleep. He peered down, not sure how best to wake you. For a few moments, he just studied your features. At times, when you breathed out slowly it sounded like a soft, almost airy snore. Your brows were knitted, as if you were in deep concentration in whatever images were flickering in your dreams.

Sometimes, Phil found he was still in denial of how much you had grown—how much you had changed . Of course, he still felt the same protective affection toward you, much like Matty did as your older brother. But along with that affection, he also felt new things that he couldn’t quite nail down. Sometimes, he wanted to curse himself for staring at how your hips moved when you walked or how your clothes hugged your body. When he saw that Richard was your partner, he even felt some jealousy bleeding into his thoughts. He brushed off those thoughts as him just being a man—and a brutish one at that sometimes. Still, other times he found himself growing anxious over you. He thought, yes, it was obvious you’d grown so much, but you still were better fitted with someone who understood you better, someone who would protect you rather than talk down to you, unlike Richard. He felt this inexplicable instinct to simply bring you closer to him, whether it meant embracing you in his arms, to weave his fingers with yours, to never stop talking to you or observing every one of your little movements and quirks. How he wanted to flee from his hometown of Houston during his vacation time if he meant he got to spend more time with you—and yes, your family, but especially you—at this beach house.

Phil shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced again at the watch on his wrist and told himself it really was getting late, and he didn’t want to end up sleeping in tomorrow if he was here as a guest. But he also didn’t know what to do with your sleeping form on the sofa. He didn’t want to wake you with how deep in slumber you seemed to be.

Without thinking twice, he strode over to his guest room. He saw that he had about three blankets neatly folded on top of his bed. He snatched one and returned quickly to the living room to find you still there. Carefully, he draped the fuzzy blanket over your form, making sure it covered your shoulders and feet just right. You started to move, making him freeze where he stood. But his muscles relaxed in relief when he saw that you were only snuggling into the blanket more. Your brows were slightly furrowed before, but now they relaxed and you seemed truly at rest. Good . You at least seemed comfortable.

He turned around and headed to the lightswitch. He admired your sleeping form one last time, before deciding that he too was also exhausted, especially after a day of travel. He flicked it off, and headed back to his room.

#cod x reader #phillip graves x reader #cod fanfic #phillip graves fanfic #phillip graves x you #phil graves x you #phil graves x reader #graves x reader #Authors Has Played Call of Duty #again sorry for the late update!!!!!#hope yall enjoy it!!!

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

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End Game #5 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: your school holds a practice match with kyoto, and two second-years give your team a little trouble.

word count: 3k

cw/tags: language, jjk volleyball au, mentions of food and eating, eventual best friends to lovers (not this chapter BUT WE'RE MAKING PROGRESS I SWEAR), satoru pulls another your mom joke

note: HERE IT IS the long awaited part 5 :D introducing hitter!todo and setter!kamo to rival your fav hitter/setter duos on the tokyo team. long chapter, sorry in advance but i hope you enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated !! thank you for all of the support you've given this series :)

“We haven’t held a practice match with Kyoto in years, right?”

“That is correct.”

“And, in that time, have they ever had a different coach?”

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Interesting.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Nothing, I was just–”

“They’re wondering why ol’ Yoshinobu looks like he was present for the Big Bang.” Your team’s captain finishes your explanation from behind you, much to the amusement of Yaga. You meet his gaze incredulously, silently asking why he wasn’t with the rest of the team warming up. He shrugs and gives you a signature lopsided grin that makes your heart do a somersault. “You’re not wrong, though. That man has more wrinkles than a wet paper towel.”

Your coach draws his mouth into a tight line to suppress a chuckle. “I cannot disagree.”

“Yaga!” A surprised laugh finally slips past your lips while Satoru settles into his place at your side, casually stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His electric-blue eyes survey the players running serve drills, cool and calculated. “Yuta’s floats have improved tremendously,” you comment, and Satoru hums in agreement. His eyes narrow on a ball striking the top edge of the net and barely falling over to the other side. You feel Yaga intake a deep breath in preparation to yell directions, but Satoru beats him to it, airily reminding Yuuji to take a running start before jumping. Your eyebrows subtly raise in surprise seeing him take initiative and you can’t help smiling at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Shouldn’t you be on the court, capt–” His head snaps in your direction, laser focused on the last word that you cut off just in time. His eyes twinkle with arrogant satisfaction and you stick your tongue out defiantly.

“What was that, my lovely manager?” He cups his hand to his ear and leans in closer, movements animated like a cartoon character.

You push his body away but he doesn’t budge. “I was asking why you’re not on the court warming up with the rest of the team, stupid.”

He hums skeptically. “Sure.” You roll your eyes and shake your head slightly in exasperation, wishing again for that I am done with Gojo Satoru bumper sticker. Yaga shoots Satoru a look over your head that makes him recoil a little bit, running a hand through his hair. “If you’re really wondering, I’m reading Kyoto’s players.”

“The third years?” You nod toward the tall players slamming powerful serve after powerful serve toward your team’s side.

“No, they haven’t been a threat since I was a first-year. Their serves are intimidation tactics.” Your eyebrows furrow confusedly and you track Satoru’s dark eyes. “I’m reading them.” His fingers rest on your head and gently rotate your gaze to two players leisurely prepping serves. In any other situation, you’d swat his hand away, but he was surprisingly correct. It hadn’t occurred to you to analyze the other team; your focus was preoccupied on the improvements of your own players. But, now that they were directly in your line of sight, you were able to properly deduce why Satoru had taken interest in them. “See ‘em now?”

“Yeah, I do.” The one closer to you was an average height but built. Thick, corded muscle ran over his biceps and calves, flexing as he stretched his neck and legs. He bounces the ball he holds on the ground a few times, clapping to himself routinely. Then, when a scan reveals none of your players are watching him, he fires off a serve neatly landing on the backline of the court. Your players don’t blink an eye as they’re still focused on warming up, but you finally understand why Satoru was watching him. His serves were like a bullet, precise and gone in a blink as if he teleported the ball wherever he wanted.

“Who is he?”

“His name’s Todo. One of two second-year prodigies that’ll carry Kyoto to Nationals if we don’t stop them first.”

“He’s that good?”

“Him and that one, over there.” He points to a player tucked into the back corner of the gym, spinning the ball on a delicate finger. He was one of the tallest on the team but you didn’t notice him because of his place in the shadows. Cloudy gray eyes shined as his captain announced the start of spiking drills and you gasped when he set the ball with accuracy nearly on-par with Satoru. The ball moved in a straight, unwavering line, like an arrow that halted just in time for a hitter to punch it over the net. “That’s Kamo. Megs and I have known him since middle school. He’s talented, though his family is a little wacky.”

“Satoru, you can’t just say things like that,” you whisper, begging him to drop the volume of his voice a little.

He doesn’t. “It’s true. Some relatives kicked him and his mom out when he was little.”

“What does that have to do with volleyball?”

“Nothing. It’s just trivia. We’ll be fine, either way.” He smirks down at you and you understand. Even if he was reading the Kyoto team, he wasn’t worried. He was confident and self-assured as always, but had a certain determination in his eye that told you he wasn’t going to hold back despite it being a practice match. His lean bicep bumps your shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, if you’re nervous, I’ll just piss off Suguru again. Get him fired up, you know?”

You shake your head adamantly, one hand coming up to cover your face as you squeeze your eyes shut at the memory of running practice in Yaga’s absence. “Please do not. I don’t want to have to drag you out by your earlobes again.”

“You had to do what?” You and Satoru both stiffen, completely forgetting that Yaga was listening to your conversation the entire time. You attempt to stutter out an explanation while your captain makes a quick escape, bowing unceremoniously in salute and running to join the rest of his players. Soon after, Satoru is pulling the team into a huddle, murmuring warnings about Todo and Kamo and reminding everyone that they’re paying for dinner if they lose. However, instead of groans and protests, you watch Satoru light a decisive fire in his players’ eyes by encouraging them to try the new techniques they’ve been working on.

“If you fail,” he said, “that’s okay.” A lanky arm slapped Suguru on the back and another pulled a tense Nanami closer to his side. “We’ll be here to support you. So, don’t lose.” The team’s fists punch up into the air and you beam at their earnestness. Yaga seemed pleased as well, muttering something under his breath about someone finally getting through his stubbornness.

Kyoto wins the first set, but Tokyo pulls back ahead to snag the second, leaving the third set as a tiebreaker. Between scribbling point counts and player stats in your notebook, you keep a keen eye on the two players Satoru was talking about earlier. Todo was a talented player, though he had an odd habit of clapping for himself before every serve. You also caught Megumi scowling as Todo talked up Yuuji between plays, catching parts of their conversation revolving around tastes in women and TV shows. Kamo, on the other hand, was relatively quiet. He didn’t speak unless it was a recommendation on strategy or directing the ball to a hitter. Megumi was competing head-to-head with Kamo often, despite Satoru’s attempts to draw attention away from his underclassman. He had a weird fascination with Megumi, you could tell, as he targeted him for 90% of his spikes. Todo and Kamo proved to be a threatening duo in the same way Satoru and Suguru or Megumi and Yuuji were; to your amusement, they also bickered just as much.

During the last break before the third set while you hand out water and towels, Suguru follows behind you like a duckling, waiting for you to have a moment to talk.

You catch his eye over your shoulder as you drop towels into the laundry basket. “Did I forget that special flavor thing for yours again? I swear I remembered to put it in because of the one that goes in Satoru’s.”

“What? Oh, no, that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” He crosses his arms and his sharp eyebrows pull together in deep thought, taking a deep breath.

You tilt your head to the side curiously, concerned about what was irking him so much in the middle of a match. “Is everything okay, Su?”

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing is wrong, I promise.” You raise your eyebrows in anticipation of his explanation. “I was just wondering what you said to Satoru that made him like…that.”

“Like what?”

“Like acting as a serious captain.”

“Oh.” You’re speechless for a moment, unable to string together a satisfactory answer. “I just told him that he needed to try a little harder.” It was the truth but for some reason, you still felt you were holding something back.

“For your sake?”

“No, for the team’s sake. Why would it be for my sake?” Suguru is silent, eyes widening ever so slightly like he’d accidentally revealed a secret, glancing behind you at the open air. You feel confident enough to press further. “Suguru, why would he try more for my sake?”

In a blink, he schools his face into careful blankness, shrugging nonchalantly. “Don’t know. It was a weird question, sorry.”

“What was a weird question?” Satoru’s voice pipes up from over your shoulder and you jump. “You can’t be asking people weird questions, Suguru. It’s impolite.”

“You don’t even know the question, idiot.” Indignancy washes over Suguru’s blank features. “What would you know about manners?”

“Ask your mother what she thinks of my manners–”

“Can we please not do this again?” Your hands press against their chests and you laugh nervously. “It’s a miracle all three of us survived last time.”

“Fine. After all…” Satoru’s voice drops to a menacing volume.

“Kyoto has a set to lose.”

The third set made you slightly dizzy as both teams were losing stamina. You didn’t know much about Kyoto when it was exhausted, but you knew your team when it was down. Yuuji’s serves started getting closer to the top edge of the net again, Megumi’s sets were messier, and Panda’s blocks were increasingly hole-filled. Suguru glared across the court at the other team, moisture glistening on his forehead from effort. Even Nanami was winded, wiping sweat from the lenses of his glasses and shaking his head furiously to force his mind back into the game. Your team played their hardest, as did their opponents, but a glance at the score showed 12-10 in favor of Kyoto. With only a handful of points left to win, it looked like Tokyo would be paying for dinner.

Still, as much as they tried, Kyoto was no match for Satoru’s sheer will.

Where the rest of his team was panting and on the brink of collapsing, Satoru was just getting warmed up. His serves were at their most powerful and his sets stayed accurate as Kamo’s declined in quality. His fists opened and closed as the score tied up at 13-13, a habit he only did when he was ready for a fight. Megumi pulls a ridiculously successful dump that has you cheering from Yaga’s side, pulling Tokyo ahead 14-13. With the last point on the line, you caught Satoru muttering something in Suguru’s ear, to which Suguru’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He shook his head no, continuing to protest at Satoru’s back as his captain broadcasted a hand signal you’d never seen before and prepared possibly the last serve of the match.

“It’ll be fine, Suguru! We’re the strongest!” He reassures his nauseous-faced hitter as his opponents snicker, and gives you a quick wink before serving the ball at 45% of his power. Your eyebrows skyrocket in shock as Kyoto receives it easily and makes to tie the score again. What the hell was he doing? Was he purposefully trying to tie up the score? Kamo smirks as he gives a practically perfect set to Todo, who blasts it straight down. You flinch and wait for the gut-churning sound of the ball hitting the floor, but it doesn’t come. Yuuji’s forearm slides under the ball just in time, and he rolls to the side. The receive isn’t the cleanest, dropping toward the middle of the court.

“You better know what you’re doing!” Suguru calls after his captain, who sprints from the back left corner diagonally toward the net. Suguru mirrors this action from the right corner and like a machine, they screech to a stop in the middle and use that momentum to throw themselves up toward the net. With a mischievous grin, Satoru calls out Inumaki’s name, who’s already in the air from the backline as the ball carefully falls into the libero’s outstretched fingers.

Your body finds itself standing on its own as Inumaki sets it right to Satoru’s open palm where your captain pulls the nastiest cross shot you’d ever witnessed. Your throat rips a shocked scream that blends seamlessly with the rest of the players’ exclamations of awe. Yaga’s mouth hangs open like a fish, as does Yoshinobu’s while your team swarms around their captain. Suguru, from the other end of the net, appears on the verge of passing out but still finds his hand proudly clapped with Inumaki’s. When Satoru’s eyes find yours, you can’t remember the last time he smiled at you so blindingly, nor can you remember a time beaming just as happily.

He skips the joint dinner between Tokyo and Kyoto, humbly excusing himself when you leave and announcing something about walking you home safely. He falls into step next to you, shoes tapping on the sidewalk in sync with yours.

“You’re not gonna get dinner with the team?” You ask, well aware that he wouldn’t have attended unless you were there too.

“Meh,” he drawls. “Yuuji can fend for himself for a night against Todo, and Megumi needs to learn to play nice with Kamo.”

The corner of your mouth turns up and you find yourself admiring the way the moonlight glittered in Satoru’s eyes. “You say as if they’re your children.”

“Are they not? I am a single father.”

You giggle. “Yeah, you definitely are. I just didn’t think that, with your extroverted ass, you’d skip an outing with such a large group.”

His mouth quirks carefreely, beautiful eyes tracing constellations in the night. “We have a tradition, don’t we?”

“Oh, you’re not going to ask that one person I got mad about the other night?” The words slip from your lips before you can stop them, and Satoru points at you accusingly.

“So you were mad! I knew it!”

“You brought up replacing me with some random stranger; of course I was mad!” You point back at him, poking his chest. He cries out in fake pain, flailing his limbs like an octopus. “I like spending time with you, you know. Even when I don’t tell you.” Your voice trails off and you look anywhere but his face, embarrassed.

You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, I know. For the record, I like spending time with you too.” He exhales tiredly. “Why’d you think you’re the only one I wanted to get dinner with tonight?”

“Because you like me better than everybody else,” you croon, fluttering your eyelashes dramatically. You expect him to recoil in faux-fear; however, your heart skips as he steps closer and peers down at you.

“Exactly. Now you’re starting to get it.” His voice is soft with something like exasperation, but the tenderness is gone in a snap. “However, I’d like to do something different tonight, if that’s alright with you.”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Depends on what it is. Are you going to make me eat something I don’t like?”

“No,” he replies, drawing out the last vowel for emphasis. “I’d never.” You look at him skeptically, remembering the time he made you eat a barbecue-flavored cricket. The memory must have occurred to him at the same time and he matches your skeptical expression. “Don’t look at me like that; you said you liked it.” Your mouth opens in retaliation, but he isn’t finished.

“Let’s go somewhere nicer tonight, not just shitty fast food.”

“I thought you loved shitty fast food.”

“I do, but today is a day of celebration! It demands a different meal than burgers.” He cringes and sticks his tongue out in mock disgust.

“So, what? You want slightly more expensive burgers?”

“If that’s what you want, sure.” He runs an elegant hand through his hair and you fight the sudden urge to weave your fingers in his. “Let’s go somewhere nice. I’ll even pay.”

You scoff. “With what money?” He’s quiet again, tilting his head back and forth like a kid caught with too much candy. You understand without a word, mainly because this situation occurred once before. “Satoru!”

His arms gesture to open air defensively. “It was right there!”

“You don’t remember the last time you stole it?”

“If I recall correctly, he wasn’t that mad that I borrowed it.”

“Yeah, that’s because I was there with you, and don’t try to say it was borrowing! If you weren’t related to him, it would be considered theft.”

“What dear old dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, babe.” Your face heats at how easily the pet name slips from his pretty mouth and you pray he doesn’t notice. “So? What do you say? I promise to take full responsibility and also eat anything you don’t like.” His finger crosses an “X” over his heart and you can’t resist the genuine excitement on his face.

“Fine. But I’m paying for dessert.”

He stamps his foot in childish protest. “That’s not how this–”

“I don’t care if it’s not how it works, Satoru. Consider it payback for not asking that rando to dinner.”

Even after he walks you home and leaves you a smiling, feeling-filled mess at your windowsill, you’re left wondering who that mystery person is.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #jjk volleyball au #suguru geto

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ghostgorlsworld · 11 months ago

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Johnny Boy (part 5)

werewolf!Johnny x reader

part one is here

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until he decides to knock on your door.

Johnny spent a fair amount of time with you and Emma for the next week, weaseling himself into your schedule with a kind of single-minded determination that must have gotten him far in the military.

By Friday, you were exhausted, irritated, overstimulated, and, disappointingly enough, horny. It turned out the lack of sex over the last year or two had turned your hormones into monsters that were very attracted to the nice smelling man that fixed your refrigerator and coaxed Emma to eat her greens. It didn’t seem to matter that it was Johnny of all people, or the fact that you still couldn’t look at him without anger sparking in your heart.

What was worse was that Johnny brought up finances on Thursday, mentioning something about helping with the bills. That had been like a shot of adrenaline, your blood pressure rising through the roof..

You had dropped the bowl you were washing into the sink, shattering it into a thousand pieces. “I don’t need your help, John,” you had snapped. “I haven’t for the last decade.”

Johnny left shortly after that, seeming to have traded in his old hot-headedness for the same soft, patient tone he uses with Emma. He had explained it well, saying he hadn’t had a house or a family to spend his savings on in the last six years, and he wanted to ease the load for both you and Emma’s sakes.

But it was the fact that he felt so comfortable to casually interject himself into your lives. What would happen if you became dependent on Johnny again and he died? Or decided that family life wasn’t for him?

Then both you and Emma would be crushed. You didn’t want your finances to be involved as well.

So you were angry with him, avoiding the polite texts he had sent and the phone call that you sent to voicemail. All you wanted was peace and a night out with Charlie, perhaps a bit of making out and/or hands-in-pants involved.

You hadn’t gone that far with Charlie yet. Both of you had been burned in the past and you were enjoying the slowness of it all. Today, however, you were ready to be properly touched by a man. It had been too long.

Emma was spending the day with her grandparents by their request–they had picked her up an hour ago, your Mum seeming to sense you needed a nice, peaceful morning.

You did laundry. You cleaned the kitchen. You made yourself lunch and watched an entire episode of the Bachelor without interruption, then took a hot bath with rose petals and a vibrator.

It was lovely.

You were cheerful as you dressed and packed Emma’s overnight bag, planning on dropping it off at Tom’s place since your parents had her.

You turned the page in Jack’s novel before you left, smiling up at the paper maché whale.

It was a nice walk, the air brisk and the snow crisp under your boots. You went over the Emma list in your mind: snacks, her favorite books, her favorite stuffy, toothbrush, pj’s, a chilled and chopped steak in case Tom had forgotten to grab dinner, crayons, paper…

Before you knew it, you were popping the door open with your hip. You had already mentioned to Tom you were popping in so there shouldn’t be any unwelcome, undressed visitors.

Except there was.

A man in a black surgical mask stood in the dark of Tom’s hallway, huge, dark-eyed, and super fucking bloody intimidating.

You dropped the bag with a screech, thinking of burglars, murderers,oh-my-god-is-Tommy-murdered-like-that-woman-in-that-documentary-you-saw-once-

“Shut up!” Tommy said, frowning at you from the couch. “Fuck, lovie, he’s a friend from work.”

The man in the mask raised a hand in an awkward wave.

“Oh,” you said, your heart pounding in your ears. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re a right scary chap and my brother usually keeps female company.” “You’re alright, love,” the masked man said, his voice like gravel. He picked up Emma’s backpack from the floor, offering it to you with a massive hand.

The mask was odd and the hoodie covering the rest of his face and hair was odder. But your brother had rather imaginative taste in friends and you had seen and met much worse.

“Thank you,” you said, smiling as your heart resumed its normal pace. “I’m his sister.”

The man hummed, as if amused. “I can tell.” He offered you a gloved palm. “M’name is Simon.”

You shook it firmly, giving him your name in return. “Sorry, if I had known if Tommy was having company I would’ve called before I came over.”

“He’s not company, he’s a guest,” Tommy said, rising to herd you into the kitchen. “He’s staying here for a bit with Johnny.” That certainly had your spine straightening. You hadn’t thought Johnny would still be here, after all there were a dozen relatives that would all love to host their long lost war hero.

“He’s out for an errand, lovie, don’t look so tense.”

You relaxed a fraction, soothed by the thought that you won’t have to deal with Johnny in your hair before your date with Charlie.

“You’re a friend of John’s then?” You asked Simon, your tone just a mite cooler than it had been before.

Simon nodded, his dark gaze tinged with humor. “Don’t hold it against me, love.”

It took you a second to see that he was a wolf too. It was all in the way he moved, the languid way he blinked at his surroundings. “Easier said than done,” you teased, forcing yourself into the good mood you were in before. “In that case, Tom, do I need to reschedule? Emma isn’t much for strangers.”

Tom shrugged, unzipping Em’s pack.“Johnny isn’t much of a stranger now, and Simon is a good lad, he won’t mind her.” Simon nodded again, sinking into the shadows as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “I’ve heard she’s a sweet girl.” “The best,” you said, smiling.

“Jesus, lovie, did you pack enough?” Tom said dryly, pulling out the sliced steak. “I’ve never let the girl starve, not in the last six years.” “You’re a busy man, I was just making sure in case you forgot,” you said. “By the way, she likes a glass of milk before bed now. And her favorite book is the one on top, the one with the rabbits, plus King Robert is the sheep she sleeps with-” “Right. I’ve got this. I promise.” You felt Simon’s eyes on you, judging, appraising. You were sure Johnny probably didn’t have the nicest things to say about you–most likely that you were an irritating little girl that followed him around for twenty years then proceeded to get pregnant and raise the child without him knowing,

“And Johnny will be here, so he’ll be able to spend some time with her,” Tom said, putting the steak in the fridge. “If that’s alright with you.” “It sounds like it’s already been planned,” you said, trying your very best not to be hateful in front of guests.

Tom sighed. “If I were half as smart as you think I am with your theories of scheming and plotting, I’d be living in a much nicer neighborhood.”

You laughed. “No, you’d be in jail.”

“Touché. Simon, how do you feel about a classic steak and potatoes meal tonight? It’s Emma’s favorite, she’s our six year old codger.”

Simon made an agreeable noise, his nose now in some masculine-looking magazine with bears and car parts on the front. He was quite a large man, commanding such a presence.

Johnny was an unsuspecting kind of violent, always smiling and laughing until he wasn’t, until it was serious. Simon was different. He felt older.

Oddly, you didn’t mind him around Emma. You’ve wanted to expose her around more adult wolves anyways, so she’ll learn her manners.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright?” You said, anxiety creeping in like it always did whenever you would be separated from Emma for longer than a few hours.

“We’ll all keep an eye on her, pet,” Simon said. “Between the three of us, I think she’ll be safe.” You relaxed. “Right. Thank you, Simon.”

Tommy ushered you out of his house quickly after that, his phone blowing up with Johnny’s texts and calls. You saw his black truck pull up minutes later, but by then you were already through your door.

Emma and your parents stopped by for lunch, your mother chattering about how she had seen Johnny at the grocery store and how much he had grown. It was like the last six years had been erased in their minds, the times when Emma was ill and you were at your wit’s end, the pregnancy you had spent constantly sick and deeply depressed–all of it was gone.

Your mother was imagining a new life for her daughter, a life of being married to the man that gave you Emma and making a dozen more pups in a nicer house, with financial stability. She didn’t know the whole story with Johnny–hardly anyone did. She assumed the two of you had been dating when you had conceived Emma, and you had never thought to tell her differently.

Johnny had never actually wanted you. He was just drunk and about to truly leave the only home he had ever known. And you were right there, tipsy and desperate for his attention. You had missed him like a lost limb when he started ignoring your letters and calls, and seeing him again had brought up all those feelings again.

But now, he was just setting a trap. He wanted to be in Emma’s life, and when her grandparents, uncle, and various other relatives were on his side…it made your life a lot harder.

Emma nuzzled into your side, sensing your turn in mood. “You smell sad,” she said, her mouth dusted with biscuit crumbs. “You always smell sad.”

Your mother heard her, and seemed to gain some perspective. “When I saw him, I was so angry. I just thought of all the things he had done to you…but then, when I came up to him, he was just so different. He’s a different man than he was all those years ago.”

And you were a different woman. It wasn’t revolutionary to change.

Emma followed you into your bathroom and watched as you began to primp, perched up on your counter as you brushed your teeth and curled your hair, patting makeup over the purple half-moons under your eyes.

Emma was quiet mostly, sensing the strange mood you were in. She played with your red lipstick and powder, smudging them around her lips. “Careful, it might stain,” you said. “And what will Tom say if you’ve got red all over your face?” “Is Johnny going to be there?” Emma asked hopefully. “He’s fun.”

“Yes, he’s staying at Uncle Tom’s house.”

She nodded, smiling messily at herself in the mirror. “He smells just like me, Mum, and he looks like me too.”

“He’s your father, Em, of course he does.” You blinked hard in the mirror, trying not to cry. “But Mum…” Emma looked at you, her face suddenly serious. “If you don’t like Johnny, I don’t like him either.”

You actually did cry then, bringing your daughter to your chest like you did when she was a baby. You could still remember the day that you first held her in your arms, and all of the heartbreak had seemed worth it. “God, Em, it’s not like I don’t like him,” you said, burying your face in her strawberry-shampoo scented hair. “It’s just…we’re adults, and adults have tricky feelings. I could never dislike Johnny, he gave you to me.” “But you’re so sad when he’s here, we can smell it,” Emma said, sniffling.

“I’m always sad, Em, I cried every morning I dropped you off at school for months.” That seemed to make her feel better. She snuffled, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Are you going to see the book man?” She asked.

You nodded. “We’re friends, we’re going to go have dinner, maybe see a movie.”

“Good,” she said, wiser than her years. “You never go out.”

She allowed you to wipe the makeup from her mouth without a fuss before your parents ushered her out the door, giving your cheek a slobbery kiss before waving goodbye.

The house was too quiet, so you turned on music, the old crooning stuff that Jack liked. Another half an hour and you were ready, wearing your second-nicest dress and your favorite red heels as you frantically dried your Chanel nail polish.

Charlie was usually early, but time ticked on well past the time he was supposed to be there. He’s never been late, not in the two years you had known him, not even to work.

You texted a few times, staring at the screen for a response. He lived in the city, so an accident was well possible–he wouldn’t just ditch you, would he?

Maybe he had forgotten. You did make the plans the week before…

Time ticked on. You gave him a call.

“Hello?” Charlie sounded distracted and irritated. You cleared your throat, “Hey, Charlie, I was just calling to see if we’re still on tonight?” Charlie made an apologetic noise. “Ah, shit, I forgot.”

“Oh,” you said, trying very hard not to sound hurt.

“Our team had a last minute thing at the bar and I completely forgot about our date, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s-that’s alright,” you said, kicking off your heels.

“Would you like to join us? We’re at the corner bar where the boss had his divorce party.”

“No, no, that’s alright. I’m not really in the mood for a bar,” you said, undoing the clasps to your nice earrings. “Rain check, I suppose.” “I really am sorry,” Charlie said, sounding it. “I can’t believe I forgot.” “I can’t believe it either,” you said, then you hung up.

You stared at the phone, feeling miserable and very, very sorry for yourself. Of course, the first date in ages and you get tossed up for a group of sweaty, gross men.

You showered, to scrub the makeup and product out of your hair. You might have cried a bit, but that was between you and the water faucet.

#cod x reader #soap mactavish #cod mw3 #john soap mactavish #call of duty mw3 #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader

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radishhqueen · 4 months ago

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ao3 questions!

thanks @plothooksinc for the tag 🥺💕 i am always psyched to talk about writing.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Somehow I've reached 10 whole works... 9 of which are completed.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 193,772. Shit I gotta write something to break 200k.

3. What fandoms do you write for? rottmnt pretty exclusively. I never have been so plagued by a media that I felt the need to write it down before. Insane that the ninja turtles got me.

4. Top five fics by kudos?

how to get very good at juggling - 1,079

vigilantism for fun and profit - 410

it's too early for this - 322

the ol switcheroo - 321

stuck between a rock and a hard place - 207

5. Do you respond to comments? Yeah!! At least if there's something to like, reply to. I get very giddy about doing it, so if you've ever received a rambling five paragraph essay from me uhhh enjoy my stream of consciousness.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't think any of them have angsty endings? Mostly bc i need all my little guys to be happy. the ol switcheroo is the fic that I cried the most writing though, hands down.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Again, all happy endings, but HMMMM how to get very good at juggling may be the happiest. It's a hard pick tho.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Nah.

9. Do you write smut? Not that anyone gets to see.

10. Craziest crossover? I've never written one! I tend not to seek them out, though there are definitely a handful I'm very fond of.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I'm aware of!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yeah! My friend and I have been co-writing a fic on and off since about 2018. It's just for us, really, since it's basically a post-canon fic of an RP that we were in from like 2009-2013ish? Anyway the lore doesn't make sense but the character dynamics compel me so here we are. I've got some snippets and some drawings for it in #rs tag.

14. All time favourite ship? Not a big shipping person!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I intended on writing more for hot girl summer, but considering I haven't updated it in about a year, and I never really had a plan in the first place, and I feel like the last posted chapter ended in a very conclusive place, that ship has probably sailed.

16. What are your writing strengths? The Bit. She's my #1, I never forget. My favorite comments are along the lines of "please stop making me laugh during this very sad section". People have different tastes of course, but I find that consistent, oppressive angst is just not...appealing to me, and if the angst goes on for too long, I'll just drop the fic. I like to add a little levity to the mood, or at least some dark humor.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Ough. Planning is a bad one for me. I didn't have an outline for any of my fics, besides some rough mental plans. for the ol switcheroo, I didn't even have an ending figured out when I started writing it. Actually coming up with ideas can be difficult, and I usually need to have something actively eating away at my brain in order for it to make it onto paper.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? Depends on if the POV character understands it or not. If they don't, I'll usually just write like "Character B said something in Spanish." If they do understand it, I'd write, "Character B started speaking in Spanish. "Do you drink milk?"" Maybe put it in italics if it doesn't seem super clear? The exception would be like, if a character is peppering words from another language, a bit like Leo and Spanish in rottmnt.

19. First fandom you wrote in? Technically I wrote some Pokemon fic back in like 2008. It was OC fic and I could not tell you for the life of me what it was about though.

20. Favourite fic you've written? vigilantism for fun and profit may be the one that I reread the most, though I do reread all the fics in the mean teen fighting machines series. The fic that single-handedly gave me Foot Clan brainrot. Casey Jones isn't even my favorite character in the show as written.

tagging @witchofthemoss @sroloc--elbisivni @crows-murder o/ i would love to see your words

#radish #radish fic #tag game

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esssteee · 1 year ago

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Thanks for the tag @yletylyf <333

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 13

2. What's your total A03 words count? 351,919

3. What fandoms do you write for? grishaverse and castlevania. i'm still a baby writer, having started actively contributing to fandom works not quite 2 years ago.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

we are the wild youth chasing visions of the future (gv, aleksander/alina), young liars (gv, aleksander/nikolai), with the sun against our back (gv, aleksander/nikolai), winding and unwinding (gv, aleksander/nikolai), i will eat you alive (gv, aleksander/nikolai)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yep, almost all! if i receive several in a row, chapter after chapter and by the same person, than i will more likely just respond to the last one, but i do like giving an answer to any feedback and show of love i get!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

um, good question. i don't think I've written a true angsty ending. i have several open/ambiguous endings, but the ending for me and the devil (gv, aleksander/alina) is the most ambiguous of the bunch just because it can be interpreted as alina just going stir-crazy from being alone and forgotten for so long and imagining aleksander by her side and staying with her, so it can be angsty if you take it that way.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

with the sun against our back (gv, aleksander/nikolai) cause they end up pseudo married and ruling together (yay!)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nope! too small a fandom writer for that and i'm ever thankful for it!

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

me? smut??? XD just look at the rating for each fic and the associated tags, i guess i do love developping characters through the very intimate act of them falling in bed together. no real kinky sex or anything, but there's often lots of hidden (and not so hidden) feelings behind the act. most smut i've written can be considered rough and/or passionate, since there's a kind of desperation born out of the characters thinking they only have that one single time to be with the other so they're giving their all. i do love exploring the vulnerabilities that come from that for sure!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

no i haven't. it's never really been my fav thing, but if done well, it'd read one.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don't think so, not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i had someone asking to translate one, yes.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

no!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

that i've written? aleksander/nikolai in gv for sure, aleksander/alina a close second. but as a reader, i just love love love the perfect OT3 that is alucard/trevor/sypha from castlevania (if you haven't read baba by crownofpins, GO READ IT NOW)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

none, i'm just terribly slow right now. life is throwing a ton of shit at me (dog being very sick, work is horrible, energy at the lowest point), but i keep daydreaming about each fic and slowly coming up with future parts in my head if not on paper.

16. What are your writing strengths?

ah man i don't know, getting into the character's head for which i'm writing the pov from, making their thoughts and feelings just as important as anything going on. i guess because of that i strongly favour inner conflict storylines.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

too wordy. also pantsing my way thru a fic instead of really sitting down and coming up with a plan ― we are the wild youth chasing visions of our future really forced me to come up with a strong plan, which i never would have been able to do without @theonewiththeory's immense help, girl i never would have been able to achieve what i did without you!! it is my first fic in english, the first one i wrote as an adult, and it shows, but i'm still proud of it! but i definitively continue to struggle with planning and too often i fall into the bad habit of vibing along with it. also, big external-conflict plotting is a hard thing for me, tho i wish i could become better at it since it's always so fun as a reader and i'm always impressed by writers who pull an intricate plot so flawlessly!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i'm not a fan of it. so often the other language is plain up butchered, and there are ways to do it without having to juggle the hassle of writing a dialogue in another language and needing to translate it so the reader knows what's going on. but as all things, they are exceptions to the rule and anything can be done well!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh man the lord of the rings (with a very mary sue oc even! but i remember having such self-indulging fun with that oc and all the research needed to flesh the story out) and the legend of zelda/ocarina of time (at least i went with link for my mc in this one!)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

when i was 12, i started a complete rewrite of ocarina of time which i of course never posted online. it was in french and i was only doing it for fun. but i still have one version of it and oh boy is it cringe-worthy XD big fail, i read that question as the first fic written ― my brain is really elsewhere these days. my fav fic is definitively with the sun against our back (gv, aleksander/nikolai) which became a comfort reread when i need to feel better by reading about familiar and intimate characters. the whole series (of monsters and men) is something i'm really proud of, even with its faults and misgivings, but that third and final part has left me with the biggest impact personally.

Tagging: i'll tag a few people (no pressure, it's only if you want of course!), but anyone else who see this and wanna do it too, have fun with it (and tag me! i wanna read about people <3)

@theonewiththeory, @ladyverdance/@greensaplinggrace, @inahandful-of-dust, @aloveforjaneausten, @fantomette22, @goatsandgangsters, @zizygy, @itsnotunfinisheditsmystyle

#tag game #my fic

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batshape · 1 year ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

thank you @samarqqand for the tag!! i spent the last two years finishing my masters, writing papers and proposals and a thesis etc, so i’ve been largely ficced out for a long time. but these five are my most darling works, and i will inevitably write more lesbian feanor/nerdanel, because i am addicted to dyke drama and they do it so well.

unfortunately, my two year break from writing fic also coincided with a very long sabbatical from reading fic, and i am desperate to catch up on the everybody’s greatest hits. tagging @i-am-a-lonely-visitor, @undercat-overdog, @crackinthecup, @aipilosse, and @potatoobsessed999 (but if you’ve already done it, feel free to do it again or to ignore)

now in no particular order (at least that i’ll admit), my top fic self-recs:

1. affectation: celebrimbor/annatar, t, 5k words, content warning for inevitable gore and torture mentions

Annatar knew the irritation in his own expression, could taste the disdain in his mouth. He said, rather plainly, “Celebrimbor of Eregion. I am going to eat you.”

i was taking a seminar on archive theory when i wrote this, and the idea of sauron curating an archive of things he took from celebrimbor’s rooms and personal library after his ruin of ost-in-edhil got its teeth into me. the archive building ended up mostly off-screen; instead annatar begrudgingly advises grad students, discovers archive anthrax, and is overall too familiar with his most tolerable colleague.

2. little tenderness: feanor/nerdanel, e, 4k

“Is it not exhausting to imagine abandonment around every darkened corner, wife of mine?”

feanor and nerdanel have t4t lesbian divorce sex following feanor’s exile to formenos. nothing is resolved, and arguably they both get worse. feanor’s missed character potential as a genderfucked lesbian with the same extremely large chips on her shoulder regarding primogeniture, her sons, and high kingship still regularly turns my own brain to soup.

3. letter 97: fingon/maedhros but also gen, t, 9k

“Still the question remains,” Maedhros continued tranquilly, “whether you were offended on my behalf or on yours, when you were accused of keeping a monster leashed for your own amusement.”

the elfschatology one! featuring my own wretched and reprehensible darling, an orc angband escapee doing a little bit of an anthropological study abroad. fingon visits maedhros in himring, wrestles with both his own and maedhros’ wartime uncertainties on what makes an elf, what makes an orc, and what an end to a war would even mean if they made if there. ‘so you want to understand your monstrous boyfriend’s lukewarm concern for his immortal soul,’ a generally unhelpful how-to

4. on gold, and the wearing of red: caranthir & maedhros, g, 4k

“My messengers wear gold in their mouths,” he said curtly, and his brother flashed him a brief smile. The gold of Maedhros’ own teeth shone in firelight.

caranthir’s pre-nirnaeth relationship with his eldest brother as demonstrated through the fashion trends he disapproves of, the ones he adopts himself, and the ones he actively enables. maedhros is more than a little monstrous and simultaneously very beloved by his men and his little brother both. in other words, the sharp teeth fic.

5. to my father’s house: caranthir & finrod, t, 17.5k (4 chapters), content warning for major character death and gore

“It is not a very long dream. There is a servant atop the stairs with a carafe, and one of your brothers is giving a toast, though in the middle of it the servant drops the carafe and—” He gestures vaguely. “—wine, all down the stairs.”

caranthir and his damnably likeable arafinwean cousin, until both their deaths. in which caranthir is also cursed with perhaps the most useless gift of foresight in first age history, and dreams since childhood of the various ways in which he could, would, and ultimately does die. relatedly, there is something so special to me about a man who does fiber arts and is also unfalteringly miserable.

you can find the rest of my fic at ao3 under batshape.

#i love to lesbianize an unbearable bastard #thank you samarqqand for the tag!!#and excellent username as always.#apologies that it took so long!#fic rec #my fic

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alovesongforu · 2 months ago

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One - My Mom Finally Goes Crazy

Have you ever watched any race in your life? If your answer is 'yes', I bet you've asked yourself "How can they run so fast and so much? Is that even humanly possible?"

I used to ask the same question, but now, pursued by hundreds, maybe thousands of flesh-hungry monsters, I have the answer: yes. When your mind is filled with a surviving instinct, it releases a funny hormone in your blood that keeps you going on, no matter what's happening.

It doesn't matter if your lungs burn so much they feel like combusting, it doesn't matter if every fiber in your legs is screaming for rest, it doesn't matter if you have a bite so deep in your neck that blood gushes.

It keeps you going, numbing your pain and clouding your senses with just one message: Keep going or you'll die. The name of this hormone? Adrenaline. I could continue my story from here, but I don't think you readers would understand it fully, so let's go back in the storyline.

°°°

June 5, 2019. Brazil, São Paulo.

12:30 PM.

I hate school. Even though I have changed schools multiple times, bullying haunts me. I had no friends in Guarulhos, the only ones I managed to make turned their backs against me, I was beaten every single day.

In São Paulo, things are not that different. People ignore me, unless they want to ridicule me. I don't get beaten anymore, no one scratches my desk with insults, telling me to kill myself, but I'm alone. Lonely. I try to console myself, saying that it's better being alone than poorly accompanied, but it still hurts.

Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, I'm so sorry! My name is Beatrice, Beatrice Sunnova D'Agostino.

I'm ten years old and I study in some fancy private school in the city of São Paulo. My mom is an artist who gained fame not long ago. As I was saying, I'm completely alone. The only friends I have are my mom and...Well, I know it sounds weird, but pigeons, bugs and rats.

I also know what you're thinking right now. "Poor girl, she's completely nuts...", but I'm not. These animals, 'pests', they talk to me. And even if I am crazy, could you even blame me? If you, my dear reader, went through everything I've been through, I highly doubt you wouldn't think like me or be friends with them too.

I'm a person of many thoughts, so I could spend days and days just narrating all the incessant questions or stories that I create in my head to entertain myself and forget that I don't have a single friend my age, but I think I need to contextualize you from reality.

Right now, I'm having math class. I know, I know, a torture, but it's the last class of the day. Then, I'll go back home and no one will throw paper balls at me, with messages like: "you look like a pig", or "why are you still here? Nobody likes you". I'll be able to eat delicious food, wear comfortable clothes and read until it's dinner time again.

Mr. Ricardo (Yes, in Brazil we don't call our teachers by their last names.), was saying something about... to the power of, I guess? I'm not paying attention, all I can think about is how today's hell is going to end in...ten minutes, no, nine.

You must be asking yourself 'Is this school so bad? Why don't you tell everything to your mom, Beatrice?' Firstly, call me Bea, please. Secondly, my fellow: This is a true hell on earth. I hate this place with all my might. Every day, when I wake up, I pray this place has caught fire, with everyone inside, preferably.

Now, your second question: My mother became a millionaire, I know she did. But I've only been studying here for a year and a half, and I don't want my mother to spend any more money on me, going through the trouble of buying a new uniform, transferring me to another school, and so on. On top of that, I don't have much time left at school, just six and a half years...Yeah, maybe I do, but I can handle it, I swear.

Mr. Ricardo continued to fill the board with equations, and although I copied it obediently, my ears were focused on the conversation of the clique of girls behind me. Maria Luisa, Sarah, Marina and Carla. You know that group of girls in your class that you clearly see that are nothing more than bitches with some sort of Regina George syndrome, but for some reason, everyone likes them? Yeah, that 's them.

Don't get me wrong, I love girls and I think it's silly to talk negatively about their interests because they are purely feminine, but these girls are demons. They have power over the class and, if they want to, they will make children be excluded and looked down on by the entire school for simply not agreeing with them.

"You're all going to sleep at my house this weekend, right? My parents have already bought everything." Marina said.

"Yeah, but I think I'll just show up at night."

Carla replies.

"Why?" "I have mass in the afternoon."

"If that's the case then don't even come, Carla! You'll miss all the fun!"

They were toxic towards each other, I know that, but deep down I wanted a friendship like that. Someone to talk to during class and keep me company during recess. Normally I stay in the school terrace, talking to my pigeon friends. I sound ungrateful right now, yes, I love my pigeon friends, I really do, but I would like to be friends with some girls my age.

With that horrible, booming siren, the bell rings, marking the end of classes. Thank God. I didn't care about my material when I put it in my backpack, I just threw it in and left the room. Nobody talks to me when I'm at the exit, but that's fine. I have my headphones and my music to distract me while my mom doesn't arrive.

I don't live far from school, but my mom insists on driving me and picking me up every day. That 's fine by me. Even if there are other people from my school who live in the same area as me, I would just be ignored the entire way, so it's even better to get a ride. I'll finally have someone to talk to.

My headphones were blasting with 'A Little Death' by The Neighborhood, and I'm sure other people could hear it, but I couldn't care less. For as long as I can remember, music has always been everything to me. When my mom would fight with my grandfather because he called me a pest, I would just turn up the volume on my headphones and suddenly I would be in another world.

One where my family loved me, one where I wouldn't have sucked the last drop out of my mother's beauty, one where I wasn't a money-eating parasite. Well...you can understand that music is important for my survival, right?

Even if I was distracted with the music and people passing through me, I still could see my mom's gray VW Virtus stopping in the driveway. I sighed, relieved. Today's hell was over. Now, let me make one thing clear: there are many children in the world who hate their parents for not spending time with them, but not me. I love my mom with my soul. In my eyes, she is the best woman in the world. The most beautiful, nicest, most pleasant, most talented, most perfect in existence.

My mom is my idol, and if she wanted to touch my bones, I would open the flesh of my body with my bare hands just to satisfy her wish. I hurry to get into the car and immediately realize that there is something wrong. Her smile was forced, her eyes, always so curious and expressive, showed pain and sadness.

"How was your day, sweetheart?"

She asks me, but everything about her attitude was wrong. "It was... good. What about yours?"

"It was good too. What do you think about eating filet parmigiana today?"

"Yeah, sure! I'll never complain about filet parmigiana..."

°°°

Even if my mom was pretending everything was okay, we both knew there was something wrong. She couldn't keep a poker face to save her life. The ride home was silent. Not the comfortable silence type. The uncomfortable one, super uncomfortable.

When we finally got home, I jumped out of the car in a hurry, desperate to escape that strange atmosphere. It was even worse in the elevator. Other people occupied that small cubicle, and my mom wouldn't dare say anything with other people around. I know that.

Even though I was desperate inside, I calmly opened the apartment door, dropping my backpack and taking off my shoes. It wasn't a house rule to take the shoes off to enter the house, but I liked the feeling of my bare feet on the cold floor, even in winter.

The platter with steak and parmigiana was already waiting for the two of us at the table, and my mom served it to me. I poured some juice into my glass while she tried to make conversation.

"So...nothing funny happened today?" I forgot to mention, but I hate worrying my mom, so I lied to her for maybe the second time in my life. I said I made three friends: Luana, Pedro and Zé. It wasn't a lie, I just didn't mention that my friends were...well, pigeons. But I think it's just a trivial detail, right?

"No...you?"

"...Same..." She then began to cut the food on her plate, but didn't put anything in her mouth. I can't take it anymore.

"Mom, what's going on?"

She purses her lips.

"Bea, we need to talk."

"Yeah, I can see."

My mom takes a deep breath, she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"Bea, I already told you how I met your father, didn't I?"

"He appeared in one of the exhibitions from your college project."

I was starting to feel restless, why didn't she tell me what was happening at once?

"Yes...we started talking, he invited me for a date and...well, I'll spare you from the details-"

"Mommy, where exactly do you want to get to?"

"Bea...I fell in love with a god."

...Uh, okay? If she wants to say this to herself, it's fine, but what do I have to do with this? I probably made a face and let my emotions very clear, because she lets out a whimper, wiping away a tear.

"Sweetie, you're a demigod."

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #pjo #pjo oc #apollo cabin #apollo #castor and pollux #travis stoll #connor stoll #camp half blood

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taomyou · 1 year ago

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The Romance of Reimbursements - Chapter 5

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: COMPLETED Summary: There’s a guy you see every Friday on bus 143, and you think he’s pretty hot. It wouldn’t hurt to tell your best friend about him, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and you fall in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to fold as many paper stars as your heart desires. Word Count: 4.9k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking

(A/N: this fic is entirely available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead!)

Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

Not taking the bus today?

"You guys looked so cute walking back to your place when I had you over that one time!"

"Why are you even bringing that up, Hange?" You groan, writing in your signature at the bottom of the receipt.

"It's the truth! Please, let me set you up!"

Over the past month, Hange's been relentless in trying to get you set up with Levi. Bringing you along when going out with their crew, making you sit next to him, playing up your achievements when he's around.

Maybe if you were in high school, this would've worked, but you're all adults. It's more embarrassing, if anything, for them to try their hand at matchmaking with you.

It was especially humiliating when you met Mike and Moblit, and Hange tried making you out to be some millionaire hotshot lawyer when introducing you to them. It's probably worse for Levi, though, who Hange gloats as the youngest professor in Sina University history and the most sought after architect in the city.

At least Hange has half the brain to at least not say anything that hinted at your initial attraction to him. You wouldn't ever be able to live down the fact that you finding him attractive was what got you invited to that very first dinner outing together in the first place.

You can't be completely against how they've gone about it, though.

All the forced interaction desensitized you just enough to where your face doesn't heat up in flames whenever Levi's around, and it's become easier to keep up conversation with him with all the new information you get from Hange. After you and him spent the evening with Hange and Erwin in that disaster of a kitchen 3 weeks ago, on Fridays, he'll save a seat for you, even when it's not crowded, and when it's quiet enough, you'll ask each other about how the workweek went.

Nothing personal, nothing deep. You don't talk about any bad clients or how bad your workload is, and you suspect he doesn't delve into anything substantial when he tells you about his week either, but it's enough to rekindle a bit of your enthusiasm at the end of the week.

Speaking of work, it actually never ended up getting any better.

The following Monday after you and the lot baked at Hange's apartment, Erwin called you into his office to tell you that you're pretty much doomed to become even more overworked than you already have been for the last 3 years because of some fuck-up in management. He said something about it being privy to the higher-ups, so he couldn't tell you exactly what was going on.

Erwin actually used the more HR-friendly phrase of "going through some change" when talking about it, but you know what he really means. You and him have taken to talking about how work is going when you're waiting for the others in the group to arrive since the two of you are usually the first to get to the hangout spot, and he's dropped more than enough hints that he's dissatisfied with how work's going.

Admittedly, you've been doing a subpar job adjusting. You've taken to skipping your usual lunches with the interns, instead eating quickly and immediately going back to work while they eat in the breakroom, and you still had some trouble getting done for the day before you have to get home. Even when you do get home, there's other emails and whatnot to attend to, so you're not even free when you're out of the office.

Being a workaholic is definitely in the job description, but you'd been doing just fine before this sudden surge of work. Everyone else on the floor seems a bit more tense anyway, so it's not like you're alone in your struggle. Petra doesn't leave for lunch with Oluo anymore, Erwin doesn't come by to check on anyone, and the interns are running around all day to deliver papers. Still, the only rest you get at this point is over the weekend or when you're hanging out with your friends.

"Even if I did want you to get me a date, I wouldn't have the time."

Hange sighs in agreement. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But still! We need to get you out there!"

"And if I don't want to be out there?"

"Then I'll respect that, but I still think you and Levi would be great together!"

"Really? I never would've guessed. You've said no such thing before."

After the waitress comes to take your signed receipt, you tear paper strands out of the customer copy and fold them up before handing them to Hange. They wordlessly put them into their pocket, and the two of you leave a tip for the lunch you just had together and thank the waitress before you head out to your car. Hange pushes some buttons on your car tablet to connect their music, and you're off to drop them off for the day.

"Tell your intern 'happy birthday' for me!" Hange says, waving to you before getting out of your car. You sarcastically roll your eyes before waving back, rolling down the window so you can see them enter the building.

"I will, thank you! Have a good day at work!"

"And don't forget, we're having Valentine's dinner together! Just the two of us!"

Once you see that they've safely made it inside (and after they send you an exaggerated thumbs-up to let you know they're good to go into work), you shift your car into drive and drive yourself over to the grocery store on Rose.

In the back of your car is a huge cooler with a cake you baked for Mikasa and the rest of the floor last night. Erwin, bless his heart, somehow got management to give you the day off to prepare for Mikasa's surprise party today. Last November when it was Armin's birthday, he ended up getting sent to the courthouse to assist Petra with a hearing, so you and the rest of the floor staff couldn't arrange anything for him, but he insisted it was fine and a birthday party never happened.

Holidays like Christmas and New Years don't get celebrated at the firm totally not because divorce rates go up so much during the holidays and it's literally impossible to make time for any big parties, so birthdays end up being very special at the office. Maybe it's not a surprise since the interns have experienced a few birthdays already, but it's the thought that counts. Mikasa and the other two get off work at 6 today, so there's more than enough time for you to get everything you need and get back to the office.

You park your car as close as you can to the entrance and head inside, taking a cart as you pull your phone out of your pocket to check what you need to get. You haven't been here since you and Levi came to get those eggs for Hange a few weeks ago, so you're slow moving through the aisles, but you find everything you need in time and head over to the in-store bakery to get some candles.

There's more than enough cakes, cupcakes, what have you along the chilled shelves, and there's a good amount of numbered candles on the hangers, but you can't seem to find any '2's. Behind the counter, there's a girl in a baker's outfit, so you call out to her to get her help.

"Hi! I'm sorry, but do you have any more '2's? I can't find any here," you tell her, hand up in a wave.

She smiles at you and nods. "Yeah, I can check! Give me a second!" She heads to the back to where you assume is inventory, and when she comes back, she has an apologetic smile on her face. "Sorry, I don't think we have any more. If you picked out a cake already, I can write the number on it for you."

You wave at her again, this time to let her know it's alright. "Don't worry about it! And I have a cake already, but thank you for letting me know."

She nods, but before you can turn to leave to go pay for your items, she speaks up.

"Actually, do I know you? You look really familiar," she says.

You pause for a second, trying to remember. She's a bit young, so you don't think she's a former client, but you don't recognize her at all from anywhere else. "No, I don't think so."

Suddenly, her eyes light up and she brings her hands together. "Wait, I do know you! You're friends with Mikasa, right? She's posted pictures with you before!"

You smile at the mention of your intern-turned-friend. "Yeah, I work with her."

"Oh my god, are you here to get candles for her birthday?"

You nod. "We're hosting a surprise party at work for her."

"Wait right here then!" She rushes off to the back, and seconds later, returns with something. She puts it on the counter between you and pushes it towards you. It looks like one of those musical candles, but you didn't see any space for them on the racks earlier to know the store even carried them. "I keep one in the back in case someone needs it! They always sell out really fast, but the inventory people don't ever order enough!"

You beam at her and take it gratefully. This isn't quite what you were looking for, but it's really cute. Mikasa would definitely like this more than numbered candles, as corny as it is.

"Thank you! What's your name, so I can tell Mikasa who I ran into?"

She smiles pridefully at you.

"I'm Sasha, I went to university with her. I'm actually getting dinner with her and our other friends later!"

You nod at her, remembering the name for later. "It's nice meeting you then, Sasha! Thank you for the candle, I really appreciate it."

"No worries! What's your name?" You tell her, and she smiles even wider. "She talks about you a lot, too! Well, she calls you Astraea, but she said that's a nickname. Thanks for taking care of her at work!"

At that, you blush a bit and laugh nervously. "She talks about me?"

"Yeah! She says you're super nice!" Your face heats up even more, and you can feel your heart flutter.

"That's really sweet. I gotta get going, but make sure Mikasa has a good time out tonight for me, alright?"

At that, she stands up straighter and gets in a mock salute. "You got it!"

The two of you bid each other farewell, and you make sure to put back the '5' candle before you leave and go checkout. The cashier, noticing the candle, wishes you a happy birthday, but you tell him it's for someone else and he nods.

"Make sure they have a good one!" He tells you as he hands you the receipt.

"Thank you! Have a good day!"

As you're walking back to your car, you see the flower shop from that time Levi drove you to Hange's. You did think getting flowers would be nice, and you check the time on your phone; 3:02 PM.

Yeah, that's more than enough time to get something for her and make it back to the office. After putting everything you bought in the trunk of your car, you put the cart back before heading over to Magnolia Floral Company. The floral arrangements are much more red and pink than before, probably with Valentine's Day coming up soon, but it's quite cute.

Stepping in, you hear the bell from the door again and look around. There's nobody at the counter right now, but you do see the girl you saw last time helping someone at the far end of the store. What was her name again? Isabel? She hears the bell of the door and shouts a quick "welcome in!" to you before going back to the customer with her.

You nod to no one in particular and start walking around, looking through everything. You aren't quite sure what color flowers Mikasa would want, so you go to get your phone from your pocket to text Armin and ask. Surely, he wouldn't be able to guess what exactly you'd need her favorite color for. You send a quick text asking, and he gets back to you almost immediately with "red." Convenient enough, since it's almost Valentine's Day and the whole shop is covered in red roses, but all the bouquets have Valentine's motifs on them.

He also asks why you're not in the office, and you quickly reply with the lie that you're across town on company business. It's not really a lie when Mikasa's birthday is technically the company's business, though.

Before you can pocket your phone, however, you get a text from Levi. Weird. You've never exchanged messages since that first time you sat together, and you almost forgot you even had his number. Even with all the hanging out you do, you never found any need for it, only talking in-person.

Levi - 3:15 PM

Not taking the bus today?

It didn't slip your mind that it was Friday and that you'd be missing out on your ride back with Levi, but you didn't think he'd say anything about it. Before you can think of what to say in reply, Isabel comes up to you and you put your phone away as a courtesy to her.

"Hello! You're the woman Levi brought last time, right?" She asks, her hands politely in her apron pockets. You nod. A lot of people sure do recognize you today.

Well, not a lot, but two is more than enough.

"I'm Isabel! It's nice to meet you!" She smiles at you. Her energy is so contagious, you can't help but smile back. You tell her your name and greet her as well. You break eye contact with her to look at the flowers next to the both of you, and she joins you. "What're you looking for today? Something for Valentine's?"

You giggle good-naturedly at her and rub the back of your neck. "No, no, nothing like that. It's my intern's birthday today, and I'm looking for something for her."

She nods in understanding out of the corner of your eye. "Do you know what she'd like?"

"Her favorite color is red, but I think maybe something white too would be nice."

Isabel takes a quick look around the shop before laughing. "Well, nothing here is really suited for a birthday. I could make something for you at the counter, if you'd like?"

You sheepishly smile at her while putting your hands in a prayer position.

"If it's no trouble."

"Nonsense! I wouldn't've suggested it if I didn't want to."

The two of you head over to the workstation at the counter, but Isabel quickly makes the cash exchange with another customer before sending them off with their flowers. She heads into the backroom, and you're correct in assuming she's gathering flowers when she comes back with a bucket of white and red flowers and some greens. She pulls out a sheet of white tissue paper and sets it down before shifting through some of the flowers. You feel a bit awkward just watching her, but she thankfully strikes up conversation with you.

"So, how do you know Levi?" She asks, grabbing a couple of greens from the bucket.

"I'm friends with Hange, they introduced us."

At the mention of Hange, Isabel perks up. "I love Hange! I wish I could hang out with them more often, but I'm usually at school when they're available."

You hum, smiling. If she's anything like Hange, you'll definitely get along.

"What're you studying, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm a biology and environmental science double major, but I'm studying for the MCAT right now," she answers, now getting some red flowers.

"Sounds like tough work. I can't imagine working during undergrad while doing all that." You wince, and she laughs along.

"It's a nice break, for sure. My parents actually own this shop, so I just help out when I can."

"That's really nice of you." She quickly pulls away to take care of another customer's purchase, then just as quickly returns to where she was working on your bouquet. She struggles to grab a pair of shears that's across the counter from her, so you step over to get it and hand it to her. She smiles in appreciation, then cutting some of the stems of the flowers.

"What do you do for work? You came in dressed all fancy last time, are you a lawyer or something?"

You chuckle, covering your smile with your hand. "I am, actually."

She laughs along with you, putting down the shears.

"Guess that explains why you didn't need to ask me how much it'd cost for me to arrange this for you," she jokes, air-punching your shoulder from where she is. You feign getting hurt, clutching at your arm, and you let the smile overtake your face. You shake your head.

"I have money now, but student debt had me living off take-out for ages."

"It's okay, that'll be me when I go to grad school." You both laugh again, and she grabs some white flowers now.

Remembering that Hange told Levi to bring back the egg tarts for Isabel and someone else named Furlan, you decide to ask how they liked them.

"A bit random, but how'd you like the egg tarts Levi brought back a while ago?"

Isabel pauses before she looks up at you dreamily, her elbows now propped up and holding her face. "They were so good! Me and Furlan keep asking where he got them, but he wants to be all gatekeep-y and not tell us!" She pauses again, then stands up straighter and points at you with a comically accusatory finger. "You! You can tell me where he got them, right?"

You put your hands up in mock arrest. "If he wants to gatekeep, I can't do anything about it."

She rolls her eyes and goes to get some white flowers, fiddling around with both them and the red ones to figure out how to arrange the bouquet.

"Do you actually know where he got them, though? He won't budge. Some of them were really ugly, though, so maybe he got them from a bakery about to close?"

If Isabel is anything like Hange, you understand completely why he wouldn't want to say anything about it to save face the same way you need to when Hange pesters you, but there's no harm in telling her if she hasn't asked anything weird or invasive, right?

So you hum. "We made them at Hange's after you saw us leave last time. Well, more like I made them. His were the unsightly ones, I'm guessing."

Before Isabel can say anything, there's a ring at the door.

"Isabel, do you need a ride back toda-" You turn to see Levi, who's now stopped mid-sentence when you make eye contact.

You sheepishly wave from where you are. "Hey, Levi."

He pauses for a second before making his way over to where you and Isabel are.

"Nah, I'm good. I was gonna go to the movies after my shift's over," says Isabel. Levi nods, then turning to you. "Oh, yeah! You bastard, she told me you guys made the tarts! Why didn't you just tell me that? Me and Furlan have been looking all over Yelp to try and find them, and you just let us struggle!"

Levi rolls his eyes. "Because, if I told you, you'd force me to make them for you."

"Damn straight I would!" Isabel whines while grabbing some more floral accessories. "You don't even know how to bake! Is that why some of them were so ugly?" You laugh, looking away from the pair to hide your smile.

"Yeah, Levi, why were they so ugly?" You can't see him, but going by Isabel's laughter, he's probably deadpan staring at you.

"Good one!" Isabel finishes with your bouquet, and after wrapping it up, she tilts it up to show it to you. It's a masterful blend of whites and reds, and the greens are just the right amount to avoid evoking Christmas. "How do you like it?" You smile at her.

"It's perfect! Thank you so much!" She heads over to the register to start ringing you up, but Levi's still staring at you so you look over to him. Your ears feel a bit hot, even after all the forced time spent together. "Why didn't you tell them where they came from?" You ask gently.

He shrugs, leaning back onto the counter. "Didn't want to bother you for the recipe if they asked for more of them."

You bite the inside of your cheek at that. "It wouldn't be a bother."

"I don't think I could make them anyway. It was mostly you," he says. You roll your eyes halfheartedly.

"Don't sell yourself short," you reply. "I could make them again for Isabel and your other friend too, you know? I don't mind."

Isabel calls to you from the counter, and you smile at Levi before hurrying over to her. You hand Isabel your card, she swipes it, and you tuck the receipt into your pocket immediately over to avoid looking at the total. Pulling out your phone, you see that it's now 3:45 PM.

"I should be leaving now, but thank you so much, Isabel! I'll be sure to get some more tarts to you, and I'll text you," looking at Levi, "the recipe when I'm home, okay? Bye!"

When you're out the door, Levi turns to glare at Isabel. She looks back at him, eyebrow raised.

"What're you looking at me like that for?" Looking between him and the door, she smirks, crossing her arms across her chest. "You want me to tell you who those flowers are for, don't you?"

✰

"Erwin just went with her to one of the conference rooms! Hurry in!" Petra says into the line, then ending the call.

Just a few minutes ago, you had the receptionist call down Eren and Armin to the parking lot where you were parked in a client parking space to help bring in the cake, flowers, and all the miscellaneous party items. They're quite surprised to see you, thinking you were across town, but they're happy nonetheless and don't ask any questions when you force them to bring everything inside. You steal one of the luggage trolleys near the entrance and motion for them to come and put their things on it, and you all push it into the elevator when it gets down.

"So, this is what you were up to all day?" Eren asks.

You nod, smiling back at him.

"Isn't this a bit much? Mikasa just texted me asking if I think she's about to get fired," says Armin.

You look over at him and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all in good fun. I also thought I was getting fired the first time it happened to me."

The elevator beeps once you're at the 8th floor, and you all rush out of there to start putting things in place. You shove a box of kazoos and party hats into Eren's arms and tell him to bring them to the breakroom where everyone's huddled up and waiting, and you and Armin carefully follow after him with the cooler the cake's in.

You wave hello to all your coworkers once you're inside, and after bringing in the rest of the things, you open the lid of the cooler to show everyone what's inside. They all "ooh" and "ahh," and you feel warmth in your chest at their compliments. It's quite big, so you need help from Eren, but you get it put out and put it on the table at the center of the room, and everyone's quickly setting out random things: plates, utensils, napkins. Thank goodness the breakroom is so big, and the thirty people on your floor are able to all fit.

You hear a knock at the door to let you know that Erwin and Mikasa are back, so you quickly peel open the packaging for the candle Sasha gave you and put it on the cake. Petra quickly lights it, and the candle starts playing the familiar birthday tune.

"Come in!" You shout. Erwin lets Mikasa open the door, and her jaw falls to the ground. Everyone moves out of the way so she can see the cake, and Erwin laughs from behind her. She doesn't say anything, but when you cue for everyone to start singing Happy Birthday, her smile doesn't fail to make you light up. You run up to her after you're all done singing with a party hat, and put it on her before she hugs you and slams her fists into your back, probably as payback for making her think she was getting fired.

"I hate you."

You laugh, hugging her back. "Yeah, love you too."

✰

Finally, after you've showered and gotten ready for the night, you flop onto your bed and sigh happily, letting yourself relax. The birthday party was a great bit of fun, everyone getting to have some cake and destress after the hard month's work. You haven't gotten to bake for a big event like this in a long time, so it was nice to be able to set aside time for that. You feel a beep from your phone, and you check to see that Mikasa sent you a selfie with her and Sasha giving the camera a thumbs-up.

They look happy. You smile at the photo and send them back a thumbs-up emoji and tell them to stay safe. Clicking back to the general conversation screen, you see Levi's text from earlier. Your smile falls a bit, disappointed in yourself for not replying earlier.

You - 8:56 PM

sorry i didn't get back to you earlier yeah, i had work off today to plan an intern's birthday party

You sluggishly get up from your bed and head into the kitchen to grab your recipe book, too lazy to try and remember the recipe for the egg tarts off the top of your head like last time. You take a quick picture of them and send it to him, careful to make sure everything was clear to read.

You - 9:03 PM

here's the recipe! sorry, my handwriting's kind of garbage

You don't actually think your handwriting is bad, but it's better to insult it before someone else does. You put the recipe book back into the drawer and yawn before stumbling back to bed and turn off your lights, staring at your phone at your conversation with Levi once you're settled in. You roll over when you see the three dots appear on the screen, now on your stomach to be a bit more comfortable.

Levi - 9:07 PM

No need to be sorry I was just worried you missed our bus

He was worried about you? You slam your phone screen-down on your bed before picking it up again to hold it to your chest. You roll onto your back, then back on your stomach, then kick your legs. You look at the text, and you feel a blush growing on your face. And he called it your bus?

Okay, to be fair, you've been hanging around each other a lot more, and it's the logical thing to think you'd be late for the bus when work's been kicking your ass. You take a few slow breaths, and your face cools itself down. Calm down, you don't even want to date him. Or even be with him. None of that. You hear another beep, so you pick up your phone.

Levi - 9:09 PM

And I'm a professor, do you think I can't handle some messy handwriting?

You - 9:10 PM

i said nothing of the sort! but is it really that messy?

Levi - 9:10 PM

I can read it just fine Thank you for sending it

You - 9:11 PM

yeah, of course! let me know if you need help with any of it

Levi - 9:12 PM

I definitely will need it

You - 9:13 PM

i can also make them for you guys i really don't mind

Levi - 9:13 PM

You barely have time to sleep

You chuckle, bringing your blanket higher up on your body.

You - 9:14 PM

and how do you know that?

Levi - 9:14 PM

You look more tired nowadays

You frown at that.

You - 9:14 PM

that noticeable?

Levi - 9:15 PM

Yeah, no offense

You yawn again, your head no longer propped up and instead on a comfy pillow. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you manage to send a reply before you fall asleep.

You - 9:16 PM

none taken i'm in bed so i'm gonna go to sleep

Levi - 9:16 PM

Sleep well then

You - 9:16 PM

you too!

You see three dots appear again, but they're gone by the time you get to closing your eyes. You stretch your arms out above your head, humming as your pull your blanket closer to you. Before you're fully asleep, you laugh to yourself at the realization that even without the bus, you managed to see Levi on yet another Friday.

✰

Next Chapter

#levi ackerman x reader #levi aot #levi x reader #levi #tao.levi #the romance of reimbursements #attack on titan

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