#1. my post was ten words long please just ignore it and move on

[sholmeser]

I mean this as a Genuine question I am not trying to be rude I’m so sorry if it comes off that way. But your post about otasune not celebrating Christmas confused me; Cant people celebrate both? Like can’t otacon be Jewish and Also celebrate christmas? I grew up around a lot of kids who did both every year couldnt they be doing it for Sunny’s sake or something? Idk again im not trying to be rude I’m just genuinely confused

ok i will say that i was jokingly exaggerating with my wording in that post i’m not saying it’s like. a flagrant mischaracterization if you want to create/enjoy content of them doing christmasy stuff you can do whatever you want. i’m not jewish myself so i can’t speak on how common it is for people to celebrate both hannukah and christmas but i think for otacon the biggest thing would be more the fact that being alone with huey (who was absolutely not doing anything. let’s be real) for over ten years + having had essentially no friends growing up means he wouldn’t have any precedent of what spending time with his loved ones during the holidays is like. i mean you could argue that he’s always wanted to find out or whatever which like. alright i guess. i just think his (probable) general apathy towards the holidays + snake having undergone a very traumatizing experience during the same time of year would mean that they just wouldn’t care. them buying presents for sunny because she read about santa claus and them going all out decorating/dressing up/cooking are two different things

[zsgia]

ok i thought i was going to write a blurb (to escape from having to do work) but she ended up being a whole IMAGINE and now my brain is fried. i didnt proofread this so ignore the errors pls if there are any

its almost 3am and youre trying to complete a brand book for the company you work for within the next hour because 1. you were exhausted and 2. if you dont get it done, your boss was going to have your head (not really but you cant help catastrophizing sometimes). 

mat had an away game tonight which you couldnt attend or even watch live, not that he minded though. he understood the demands of being the only employee in a start up where you had to juggle different roles. you two havent been together for long but he's been there for you through most, if not all of it. from carrying you to bed whenever he finds you passed out at the dining table and letting you cry in his arms until you calm down after a shitty day at work then proceeding to shower your face with kisses to celebrating even the tiniest achievements. your boss liked the post you designed? he comes home with your favourite takeout and you spend the night watching movies together. he even scribbles little things in your notebook sometimes which you find so endearing. mat's always there for you, just like youre there for him too. it was difficult not to fall in love with him but you were afraid to rush into things so youve kept quiet about your true feelings, a little hesitant to say those three words first. 

the isles had won so mat had a little more energy to stay up on facetime with you. you wouldve been done with your task if not for the last sentence that had to be paraphrased so you came to the conclusion that taking a break and staring at your boyfriends face instead of the forsaken document would be of help. "baby, its late and you have work in a few hours. go to bed soon, yeah? please?" mat pouted and you swore it was the cutest thing ever. "says you. dont you have early practice?" you stuck your tongue out at him that got him chuckling. "i promise i'll sleep right after i figure this out. tell me how your day went." you continued as you sat up, pulling the laptop onto your lap.

even seeing him through the screen made you feel way better than you were. you missed him so much and you couldnt wait until hes back in your arms again (he feels the same way too). you listened as he went on about the game and that the goal he scored was for you which left you feeling a little bad for not tuning in to be honest but all that disappeared when he made a passing comment about what to write for the last bit of your work. "wait, say that again." you frantically typed down whatever mat had said before letting out a sigh of relief. "you literally just saved my life mathew just when i thought i couldnt love you more." it didnt even take a second for you to realize what you just said. your eyes went wide and you quickly slammed your laptop shut. you wouldve thrown it off the bed if it wasnt for your phone ringing: mat was calling. out of all the possible times you couldve told mat that you love him, your brain decided doing it over facetime when hes not physically in front of you was best. you contemplated on answering because what if he thinks youre moving too fast? putting those stupid thoughts aside you tapped on answer and held the phone up to your ear waiting for him to speak. you could literally feel your heart in your throat.

"i love you too, by the way. ive been meaning to tell you for a while now and i had it all planned out i was going to take you out to that place you like when i get back. god i-" he was rambling and you felt yourself falling deeper in love with him. you let out a small giggle, feeling all the anxiety leave your body. "im sorry for ending the call earlier. i wish i told you face to face though." you buried your face into the pillow and groaned in embarrassment. "well, you can tell me again when im back. throw in a a kiss too, maybe ten." rolling your eyes, you could picture the smirk on his face. "you bet i'll do just that, barzal." 

[swordgayist]

cultural appropriation in ATLA (hinduism edition)

i’m sure there’s already a ton of posts about this, but whatever, i’m still making one idc. 

ATLA’s cultural appropriation, everyone knows about it, the white people don’t speak about it, and the asian and indigenous people get ignored. we know the cycle. but i wanted to come here and highlight some of the most prominent examples of ATLA abusing hinduism, as i am kinda sorta hindu (i was raised in a hindu household, i go to chinmaya mission, that kinda shit). i might forget some things so keep that in mind.

this is gonna be divided into 3 main sections, since there are different ways that they disrespect hinduism that i don’t wanna lump together.

and i’d say i know a lot about hinduism but that doesn’t make me an expert, obviously, so if other hindus have anything to add and/or correct then please do !! and if anyone else wants to share how their cultures were appropriated then please do that as well !!

so let’s get started shall we?

appropriating hinduism

1) the avatar

we’ll start with the most obvious example: the avatar itself

i know that there are parts of the avatar mythos that are taken from other cultures as well but the idea of the avatar itself is primarily from hinduism.

basically in hinduism, the term dashavatara refers to the 10 reincarnations of lord vishnu (the god of preservation), with avatar(a) meaning form or incarnation in sanskrit, and das(a) meaning ten. it was said that whenever the world was out of balance, lord vishnu would come down to earth in a certain form to restore balance. Each reincarnation is considered a different life with a different story. the avatars of lord vishnu are often considered the saviors of the world.

so basically, the central idea of the show and the actual name of the show is largely based on hinduism.

2) chakras

many different indian religions have a concept of chakras (chakra meaning wheel or circle in sanskrit), but hinduism is the one that primarily preaches the system of seven chakras, the version used in ATLA.

chakras connect the physical body to the ‘subtle’ body (referring more to the spirit and the psyche) by connecting parts of the body to aspects of the mind. the idea is that through different forms of steady meditation you can manipulate the different chakras and allow the pure flow of energy through the body.

the whole idea of chakras on ATLA is that aang has to unblock them all to let the cosmic energy flow through him so that he can go into the avatar state at will. so yeah, pretty much that whole idea was taken from hinduism.

3) terminologies

these are just a few terms that were taken from hinduism. i’m pretty sure there are more that i can’t think of right now but yeah.

“agni” kai 

i’ll be honest i don’t know where the ‘kai’ part is from, i don’t think it’s from hinduism but if it is well fuck me i guess.  ‘agni’ in hinduism is the god of fire, so the creators used it in ‘agni kai’, the name for a firebending duel.

“bumi”

this is in reference to the hindu word for ‘earth’, which is bhoomi. this is also in reference to our goddess of earth, bhoomi devi. also this doesn’t really bother me but i wonder if the creators knew that bhoomi is a name typically used for women (as are most hindi names ending in ‘i’/‘ee’).

in general, concepts like having multiple complex gods (the spirits) who are capable of good and evil and the reincarnation cycle are prominent in a lot of asian cultures, including (and arguably primarily) hinduism.

mocking hinduism

now we get into the mockery of hinduism in ATLA, because it is very much there.

1) whoever the fuck that baboon guy in the spirit world was

now what the fuck was this.

i mean i wouldn’t say this is the most egregious example of them making fun of brown people but lord why did this even need to be there? this random guy from the spirit world has an indian accent ? and is fervently chanting ‘om’ for some reason, and it’s clearly meant to be seen as comical. also portraying brown people as monkeys....... really.

2) combustion man/sparky sparky boom man

when rewatching ATLA in 2019 i actually had no idea that this was a thing, because the last time i had watched it was as a kid and i didn’t finish it.

so lord was i in for a surprise when i saw...

now... now what.

if you didn’t know, combustion man’s ‘third eye’ is designed to replicate the hindu god of destruction, lord shiva. right down to the vibhuti on his forehead (referring to the three line markings around the third eye).

in hinduism, lord shiva’s third eye is used to reduce people to ashes, though as far as i can recall, not very frequently. the primary significance of the third eye is that it represents the ability of higher spiritual thought and higher consciousness.

the ATLA writers take the ACTUAL significance of the third eye, throw it out the window, and then take its destructive abilities to make a super duper cool and dangerous new firebending technique.

and if that wasn’t bad enough, the actual person who uses this technique, and is meant to emulate a GOD who is PRAISED, is a scary, burly, half metal man who is a villain and an assassin. not to mention the design of his facial hair replicates that super duper scary “terrorist” depiction of brown people, particularly of muslims, that white people are so thoroughly terrified of for no reason. 

this is a parody of a god, and they portrayed him as this terrifying, maniacal fucking assassin who, along with p’li, the combustion bender from LOK, is constantly referred to as a “third-eyed freak”. i’ve made this analogy before and i’ll do it again, this is like making jesus into a hitman.

now onto my favorite example...

3) guru pathik

ah, this motherfucker.

i don’t really have any problems with him as a character, i mean hell, must’ve taken a fuck ton of patience to handle aang’s “why would choose cosmic energy over katara” bullshit.

but we all know it, we see it plain as day, don’t even try to deny it.

“guru” literally just means teacher or guide, so i don’t really know why pathik needed to be referred to as “guru” so distinctively from aang’s other teachers and guides, but that’s just extremely trivial compared to all the other issues with this character.

first of all what is this character design? what is he even wearing? if they’re trying to replicate the clothes of swamis and priests and stuff this is already wrong, realized people don’t dress like this. and why the fuck does he have an indian accent? and why was this indian accent done by a non indian (brian george)?

once again, the poor but extremely heavy indian accent is clearly meant to be mocking, if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t’ve gone out of their way to get a non indian person to DO an indian accent, and instead they would’ve just gotten an actual indian person to play the role. 

and oh yeah, the onion and banana juice. because hindus just eat weird shit right.

whether it’s actually weird or not, the show certainly portrays it as weird. and as far as i know no hindu actually fucking drinks onion and banana juice.

ironic because brown people can absolutely destroy white people in cooking. but i digress.

i know what you’re all waiting for. because the guru apparently didn’t have enough fun with guru pathik, so they just had to come back to him in book 3:

where do i begin.

so this is obviously john o’bryan’s super funny and hilarious depiction of pathik as a hindu god.

usually when a god has multiple arms it’s to carry an array of things, from flowers to weapons to instruments, and one hand is typically free to bless devotees (ie. goddess durga and lord vishnu respectively):

but of course white people see this as weird and so they make fun of it, hence guru pathik having multiple arms just flailing about aimlessly (save for the two that are being used to carry the aforementioned onion and banana juice).

then there’s the whole light behind pathik’s head which is usually depicted in drawings of hindu gods to show that they are celestial.

also what the fuck is he holding? is that supposed to be a veena? because this is what a veena looks like:

and i assume the reason this was added was to mock the design of goddess saraswathi, who carries a veena:

but that right there in the picture of pathik looks more like a tambura than a veena. 

and it also just kinda looks like a banjo?

but i guess the animators just searched up “long indian instrument” and slapped it on there. actually no, that’s giving them too much credit, they probably didn’t search it up at all. 

and then the actual scene is pathik singing crazily about chakras tasting good or something while playing the non-veena and it’s all supposed to be some funky crazy hallucination that aang is having due to sleep deprivation. just some crazy dream, just as crazy as talking appa and momo sparring with swords or tree-ozai coming to life.

our gurus and swamis and sadhus and generally realized people are very respected in hinduism, they’re people we look up to and honor very much. and our GODS are beings that we literally worship. and the writers just take both and make caricatures out of them for other white people to laugh at.

4) other shit

before we move to the next portion i just wanna mention there are also smaller backhanded jabs that i can’t really remember now, but one example was when zuko was all “we’ll be sure to remember that, guru goody goody”. or when a character would meditate and say “om” only when the meditation is supposed to be portrayed as comical or pointless. or in bitter work when sokka was rambling on about karma. small things like that. but moving on.

south asian representation, or lack thereof

now i finally get to the “losing” hinduism part. by this i mean the lack of actual representation there is of south asians (the region where hinduism is primarily practiced) despite the fact that hinduism plays such a big role in the show’s world design.

i think it’s safe to say that broadly the main cast consists of aang, katara, sokka, zuko, toph, azula, iroh, mai, ty lee, and suki. 

a grand total of none of these characters are south asian. the writers don’t even attempt to add any south asian main characters. 

there are characters with dark skin, like haru and jet, but a) they’re not confirmed to be south asian and don’t have any south asian features or south asian names, b) they’re side characters, so they don’t count as representation, and c) even if they were south asian and main characters, jet wouldn’t even count because he’s portrayed as a terrorist.

the ONLY truly south asian character we get is fucking guru pathik. so yeah. not representation.

i don’t get how the creators of this show rip off of hinduism (among many other south asian cultures they rip off of), mock indians, and then don’t even have the decency to HAVE a main character who is south asian.

i’ve never gotten a chance to compile all this, and this definitely isn’t all the creators have done, but i hope this was somewhat informative.

[writingwithcolor]

I'm writing an AU of a movie that takes place in the 1880s USA, where a travelling white character and a Jewish character are waylaid by Native Americans, who they befriend. Probably because it was written by and about PoC (Jews) the scene actually avoids the stuff on your Native American Masterpost, but I'd still like to do better than a movie made in the 1980's, and I feel weird cutting them from the plot entirely. I have a Jewish woman reading it for that, but are there any things you (1/1)

2/2 1880s western movie ask--are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s? I do plan to base them on a real tribe (Ute, probably) and have proper housing/clothes and so forth, but right now I'm just trying to avoid or subvert awful cowboy movie tropes. Any ideas?

White and Jewish Men, Native American interactions in 1880s

I am vaguely concerned with how you only cite one of our posts about Native Americans, that was not written by a Native person, and do not cite any of the posts relating to this time period, or any posts relating to representation in media. 

Sidenote: if you want us to give accurate reflections of the media you’re discussing, please tell us the NAME. I cannot go look up this movie based off this description to give you an idea of what my issues are with this scene, and must instead trust that the representation is good based off your judgement. I cannot make my own judgement. This is a problem. Especially since your whole question boils down to “this scene is good but not great and I want it to be great. How can I do that?”

Your baseline for “good” could very well be my baseline for “terrible hack job”. I can’t give you the proper education required for you to be able to accurately evaluate the media you’re watching for racist stereotypes if you don’t tell me what you’re even working with.

When you’re writing fanfic where the media is directly relevant to the question, please tell us the name of the media. We will not judge your tastes. We need this information in order to properly help you.

Moving on.

I bring up my concern for you citing that one—exceptionally old—post because it is lacking in many of the tropes that don’t exist in the media critique field but exist in the real world. This is an issue I have run into countless times on WWC (hence further concern you did not cite any other posts) and have spoken about at length. 

People look at the media critique world exclusively, assume it is a complete evaluation of how Native Americans are seen in society, and as a result end up ignoring some really toxic stereotypes and then come to the inbox with “these characters aren’t abc trope, so they’re fine, but I want to rubber stamp them anyway. Anything wrong here?”. The answer is pretty much always yes. 

Issue one: “Waylaid” by Native Americans

This wording is extremely loaded for one reason: Native American people are seen as tricksters, liars, and predators. This is the #1 trope that shows up in the real world that does not show up in media critique. It’s also the trope I have talked about the most when it comes to media representation, so you not knowing the trope is a sign you haven’t read the entirety of the Native tag—which is in the FAQ as something we would really prefer you did before coming at us to answer questions. It avoids us having to re-explain ourselves.

Now, hostility is honestly to be expected for the time period the movie is set in. This is in the beginnings (or ramping up) of residential schools in America* and Canada, we have generations upon generations of stolen or killed children, reserves being allocated perhaps hundreds of miles from sacred sites, and various wars with Plains and Southwest peoples are in full force (Wounded Knee would have happened in 1890, in December, and the Dakoa’s mass execution would have been in 1862. Those are just the big-name wars. There absolutely were others). 

*America covers up its residential schools abuse extremely thoroughly, so if you try to research them in the American context you will come up empty. Please research Canada’s schools and apply the same abuse to America, as Canada has had a Truth and Reconciliation Commission about residential schools and therefore is more (but not completely) transparent about the abuse that happened. Please note that America’s history with residential schools is longer than Canada’s history. There is an extremely large trigger warning for mass child death when you do this research.

But just because the hostility is expected does not mean that this hostility would be treated well in the movie. Especially when you consider the sheer amount of tension between any Native actors and white actors, for how Sacheen Littlefeather had just been nearly beaten up by white actors at the 1973 Academy Awards for mentioning Wounded Knee, and the American Indian Religious Freedom Act had only been passed two years prior in 1978. 

These Native actors would not have had the ability to truly consent to how they were shown, and this power dynamic has to be in your mind when you watch this scene over. I don’t care that the writers were from a discriminated-against background. This does not always result in being respectful, and I’ve also spoken about this power imbalance at length (primarily in the cowboy tag).

Documentaries and history specials made in the 2010s (with some degree of academic muster) will still fall into wording that harkens Indigenous people to wolves and settlers as frightened prey animals getting picked off by the mean animalistic Natives. This is not neutral, or good. This is perpetuating the myth that the settlers were helpless, just doing their own thing completely unobtrusively, and then the evil territorial Native Americans didn’t want to share.

To paraphrase Batman: if I had a week I couldn’t explain all the reasons that’s wrong.

How were these characters waylaid by the Native population? Because that answer—which I cannot get because you did not name the media—will determine how good the framing is. But based on the time period this movie was made alone, I do not trust it was done respectfully.

Issue 2: “Befriending”

I mentioned this was in an intense period of residential schools and land wars all in that area. The Ute themselves had just been massacred by Mormons in the Grass Valley Massacre in 1865, with ten men and an unknown number of women and children killed thanks to a case of assumed association with a war chief (Antonga Black Hawk) currently at war with Utah. The Paiute had been massacred in 1866. Over 100 Timpanogo men had been killed, with an unknown number of women and children enslaved by Brigham Young in Salt Lake City in 1850, with many of the enslaved people dying in captivity (those numbers were not tracked, but I would assume at least two hundred were enslaved— that’s simply assuming one woman/wife and one child for every man, and the numbers could have very well been higher if any war-widows and their children were in the group, not to mention families with multiple children). This is after an unknown group of Indigenous people had been killed by Governor Brigham Young the year prior, to “permanently stop cattle theft” from settlers. 

The number of Native Americans killed in Utah in the 1800s—just the number of dead counted (since women and children weren’t counted)—in massacres not tied to war (because there was at least one war) is over 130. The actual number of random murders is much higher; between the uncounted deaths and how the Governor had issued orders to “deal with” the problem of cattle theft permanently. I doubt you would have been tried or convicted if you murdered Indigenous peoples on “your” land. This is why it’s called state sanctioned genocide.

This is not counting the Black Hawk War in Utah (1865-1872), which the Ute were absolutely a part of (the wiki articles I read were contradictory if Antonga Black Hawk was Ute or Timpanogo, but the Ute were part of it). The first official massacre tied to the war—the Bear River Massacre, ordered by the US Military—places the death count of just that singular massacre at over five hundred Shoshone, including elders, women, and children. It would not be unreasonable to assume that the number of Indigenous people killed in Utah from 1850, onward, is over a thousand, perhaps two or three.

Pardon me for not reading beyond that point to list more massacres and simply ballparking a number; the source will be linked for you to get an accurate number of dead.

So how did they befriend the Native population? Let alone see them as fully human considering the racism of the time period? Natives were absolutely not seen as fully human so long as they were tied to their culture, and assimilation equalling some sliver of respect was already a stick being waved around as a threat. This lack of humanity continues to the present day.

I’m not saying friendship is impossible. I am saying the sheer levels of mistrust that would exist between random wandering groups of white/pale men and Indigenous communities wouldn’t exactly make that friendship easy. Having the scene end be a genuine friendship feels ignorant and hollow and flattening of ongoing genocide, because settlers lied about their intentions and then lined you up for slauther (that’s how the Timpanogo were killed and enslaved).

Utah had already done most of its mass killing by this point. The era of trusting them was over. There was an active open hunting season, and the acceptable targets were the Indigenous populations of Utah.

(sources for the numbers: 

List of Indian Massacres in North America Black Hawk War (1865-1872))

Issue 3: “Proper housing/clothes and so forth”

Do you mean Western style settlements and jeans? If yes, congratulations you have written a reservation which means the land-ripped-away wounds are going to be fresh, painful, and sore.

You do not codify what you mean by “proper”, and proper is another one of those deeply loaded colonial words that can mean “like a white man” or “appropriate for their tribe.” For the time period, it would be the former. Without specifying which direction you’re going for, I have no idea what you’re imagining. And without the name of the media, I don’t know what the basis of this is.

The reservation history of this time period seems to maybe have some wiggle room; there were two reservations allocated for the Ute at this time, one made in 1861 and another made in 1882 (they were combined into the Uintah and Ouray Indian Reservation in 1886). This is all at the surface level of a google and wikipedia search, so I have no idea how many lived in the bush and how many lived on the reserve. 

There were certainly land defenders trying to tell Utah the land did not belong to them, so holdouts that avoided getting rounded up were certainly possible. But these holdouts would be far, far more hostile to anyone non-Native.

The Ute seemed to be some degree of lucky in that the reserve is on some of their ancestral territory, but any loss of land that large is going to leave huge scars. 

It should be noted that reserves would mean the traditional clothing and housing would likely be forbidden, because assimilation logic was in full force and absolutely vicious at this time. 

It’s a large reserve, so the possibility exists they could have accidentally ended up within the borders of it. I’m not sure how hostile the state government was for rounding up all the Ute, so I don’t know if there would have been pockets of them hiding out. In present day, half of the Ute tribe lives on the reserve, but this wasn’t necessarily true historically—it could have been a much higher percentage in either direction.

It’s up to you if you want to make them be reservation-bound or not. Regardless, the above mentioned genocide would have been pretty fresh, the land theft in negotiations or already having happened, and generally, the Ute would be well on their way to every assimilation attempt made from either residential schools, missionaries, and/or the forced settlement and pre-fab homes.

To Answer Your Question

I don’t want another flattened, sanitized portrayal of genocide.

Look at the number of dead above, the amount of land lost above, the amount of executive orders above. And try to tell me that these people would be anything less than completely and totally devastated. Beyond traumatized. Beyond broken hearted. Absolutely grief stricken with almost no soul left.

Their religion would have been illegal. Their children would have been stolen. Their land was taken away. A saying about post-apocalyptic fiction is how settler-based it is, because Indigenous people have already lived through their own apocalypse.

It would have all just happened at the time period this story is set in. All of the grief you feel now at the environment changing so drastically that you aren’t sure how you’ll survive? Take that, magnify it by an exponential amount because it happened, and you have the mindset of these Native characters.

This is not a topic to tread lightly. This is not a topic to read one masterpost and treat it as a golden rule when there is too much history buried in unmarked, overfull graves of school grounds and cities and battlefields. I doubt the movie you’re using is good representation if it doesn’t even hint at the amount of trauma these Native characters would have been through in thirty years.

A single generation, and the life that they had spent millennia living was gone. Despite massive losses of life trying to fight to preserve their culture and land.

Learn some history. That’s all I can tell you. Learn it, process it, and look outside of checklists. Look outside of media. 

And let us have our grief.

~ Mod Lesya

On Question Framing

Please allow me the opportunity to comment on “are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s?” That strikes me as the same type of question as asking what color food I’d like for lunch. I don’t see how the cultural backgrounds of characters I have literally no other information about is supposed to make me want anything in particular about them. I don’t know anything about their personalities or if they have anything in common.

Compare the following questions:

“Are there things you’d like to see in a movie where two American women, one from a Nordic background and one Jewish, are interacting?” I struggle to see how our backgrounds are going to yield any further inspiration. It certainly doesn’t tell you that we’re both queer and cling to each other’s support in a scary world; it doesn’t tell you that we uplift each other through mental illness; it doesn’t go into our 30 years of endless bizarre inside jokes related to everything from mustelids to bad subtitles.

Because: “white”, “Jewish”, and “Native American” aren’t personality words. You can ask me what kind of interaction I’d like to see from a high-strung overachieving woman and a happy-go-lucky Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and I’ll tell you I’d want fluffy f/f romance. Someone else might want conflict ultimately resolving in friendship. A third person might want them slowly getting on each other’s nerves more and more until one becomes a supervillain and the other must thwart her. But the same question about a cultural demographic? That told me nothing about the people involved.

Also, the first time I meet a new person from a very different culture, it might take weeks before discussion of our specific cultural differences comes up. As a consequence, my first deep conversations with a Costa Rican American gentile friend were not about Costa Rica or my Jewishness but about things we had in common: classical music and coping with breakups--which are obviously conversations I could have had if we were both Jewish, both Costa Rican gentiles, or both something else. So in other words, I’m having trouble seeing how knowing so little about these characters is supposed to give me something to want to see on the page.

Thank you for understanding.

(And yes, I agree with Lesya, what’s with this trend of people trying to explain their fandom in a roundabout way instead of mentioning it by name? It makes it harder to give meaningful help….)

--Shira

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 6

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Three things happen at once. 

He pulls his glove off and tosses it aside. You forget how to breathe.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,114

Warnings: Swearing, backstory, angsty angst, fluffy fluff, mutual pining finally acknowledged, overuse of italics, don’t mess with Din’s Cupid or he’ll kill you

Author Note: Important please read this! Ok, so if you’ve been following along you’ll know I had no outline for this originally. And well, that’s come back to bite me. I had to make an edit to Part 2, a small one but still the very beginning will look marginally different if you’ve read it before today’s date Dec. 16, 2020. Basically, I took away the implication that You don’t know exactly how You became a Cupid. So, yeah. Hopefully moving forward I’ll be better handling all this *awkward shuffling*. As always, thank you for all the support and I appreciate every one of you so much ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 5 and Part 7

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Silence floods the ship in the wake of your admission, stifling and charged with enough tension you fear breathing too loud will set off a chain reaction with disastrous results. It makes the hair on the back of your neck prickle, every instinct inside of you screaming to teleport away, if only so you no longer have to see Din stubbornly trying and failing to hide his internal turmoil behind a mask of indifference. 

When he opens his mouth, you tense but the question slices through you all the same. “When?”

You hesitate, making a face. “Din, we really don’t have time for this. Let’s just move on—”

Without warning, the hand holding your elbow slides to your wrist and twists, turning your palm up for inspection. Din stares at the blank expanse of skin, then slowly his gaze lifts, and he releases you as if you’ve poisoned him.

“You’ve never lied to me before, angel. Did you honestly think now was the best time to start?” he asks, and something breaks inside of you when he looks at you as if you’ve become a total stranger to him.

But before any pain can begin to sink in, anger overcomes you as his assumption registers.

“I’m not lying, you asshole,” you say sharply, feeling a faint pulse of petty satisfaction when you notice the subtle way his stance shifts defensively, betraying his surprise at your boldness. Resting your hands on your hips, you fix him with your fiercest glare. “For all that you are a powerful ancient being of the universe, you are also the biggest, most ignorant fool I’ve ever met. You have absolutely no idea how Cupids become Cupids, do you?”

You don’t offer him even a second to respond, too wound up and fueled by the overwhelming desire to make him get it. To make him understand you’re not purposefully trying to hurt him. If it were up to you, you’d make sure he never felt any kind of pain. But that would require having a choice and that is the one thing the universe did not grant you as a Cupid.

“Every Cupid was once a mortal with a soulmate,” you explain, choosing each word with careful precision while watching his face to make sure his focus never wavers. “And every one of us was rejected by them. When we die, we’re transformed into Cupids, losing our soulmate markings in the process.” When you feel your bottom lip begin to wobble, you pause to take a steadying breath. “You asked me before, what is the true purpose of a Cupid? It’s to help others find the kind of love we never experienced for ourselves.”

Din stands there in front of you, still staring passively, and you’re scared for a moment your words have made no difference, but then his jaw clenches so tightly you hear his teeth grinding. 

“You were rejected?” he growls, vicious and guttural, the sound of a feral beast.

He pivots, fist colliding with the wall with enough force it dents the metal beneath his knuckles. You flinch at the noise, shocked at the abuse he’s inflicted upon his beloved ship. Every bone in his hand should have shattered upon impact, but because Death is immune to such damage he merely turns back to you, breathing raggedly and eyes blackened with rage.

“Tell me his name.”

You’ve already begun shaking your head before you say, “So you can go hunt him down? Hell no. Trust me, it doesn’t matter.”

Instead of pacifying him, this only infuriates him further. “How can you say that? That bastard broke your heart when he was supposed to cherish you, protect you, love you above all else.”

“You think I don’t know that?” you ask peevishly, letting your temper get the better of you. Sparing a moment to mentally count to ten, you quietly reveal, “I can say it doesn’t matter because I don’t even remember who he was. There is no point sending you to kill someone who’s face I can’t pick out of a crowd.”

The sudden way Din’s whole body slumps in response to the news, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, expression scrunched and dumbfounded, would have made you laugh if the circumstances were entirely different. Being what they are, you can only meet his stare evenly, silently assuring him you’re not joking in the slightest.

“I don’t understand,” Din says at last, looking like he wants to approach but is unsure you’ll welcome his nearness so he keeps his distance. “You never told me you had memory loss before. What happened to you?”

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. For as long as I’ve been a Cupid, all my memories from my mortal life have dark spots, like something poked holes in them.”

Din glances away as he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘Or someone’ but before you can comment, his tone rises to its usual volume as he says, “Is this why you collect all those old newspapers? To try to help you remember?”

You recall with embarrassment him having previously commented on the pile in your living room. That moment feels like years ago, the two of you sitting in your apartment and Din asking...if Cupids were on the list of potential soulmates. Was that his way of asking if you were on the list? Surely not. He’s much cleverer than that.

...Isn’t he?

“I just,” you shake your head, refocusing on the current conversation. “I keep thinking maybe I’ll find something that fills in the gaps. I don’t like this pit in my stomach, this feeling that I’ve forgotten something important.” You huff a self-deprecating chuckle. “Other than my soulmate, I mean.”

He offers you a smile, small and lopsided, likely meant to be consoling, but you see right through it. You see his pain in the tightness around his mouth, in the way his fingers flex at his sides like it’s taking all his self-control not to reach out to you. Your confession has hurt him. Badly. It’s the kind of hurt no amount of bacta can heal.

The silence returns, different than the one usually experienced during hyperspace in that it wishes to be broken, for someone to say something, anything. You would grant its wish except your thoughts are a jumbled mess inside your head. Deep down, there is a part of you which knows there is nothing you can say that will fix this—this being the chasm forming between you and Din, widening with every passing second spent staring wordlessly at each other. 

Would telling him sooner have prevented this heartbreak? Probably. But looking back, you can’t think of an opportune moment. You had never thought your crush could be requited—not just because you were already matched, but also because it had always seemed so ridiculous, imagining the great and powerful Death feeling anything remotely close to affection for an unimportant, low-ranking Cupid. 

“Angel,” Din begins after a few minutes, his voice anchoring you back in the present. He’s staring over your shoulder, brow furrowed thoughtfully and you can practically hear the gears turning inside his head. “Earlier, you said you didn’t tell your boss I was your client. Why didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, before an unexpected wave of boldness comes over you. Digging your finger into the armor on his chest, you remind him, “You came to me first, remember? Not them. So, I figured you didn’t want them knowing.”

“I couldn’t care less who knows,” Din deadpans.

“Oh.” You blink, hand falling back along your side, because what else can you say.

“You want to know what I think?” Oh Maker, he’s stepping closer until there’s only a foot of space between you two. His voice is a low, raspy murmur, sending your heartbeat into overdrive. “I think you didn’t want them knowing because you like being the only angel who does.”

You start to squirm, fight or flight instincts at total war with each other. His theory isn’t too far from the truth, making it all the worse hearing it out loud because it practically oozes possessiveness which is exactly what you’d feared.

“Before you pull away from me again,” Din continues, knowing you and your mind too damn well. “I want you to listen when I say nothing that you’ve told me changes how I feel about you.”

“Din—” you try, only for your voice to crack.

Then three things happen at once.

He pulls his glove off and tosses it aside. You forget how to breathe.

“I’ve been alone my entire existence and I kept telling myself that was how the universe intended it to be. That I couldn’t love anyone because I kill everything I touch.” A smile pulls at his lips when he looks down at his bare hand and a note of awe slips into his voice. “Then you came along, beautiful and clumsy and unafraid to call me out for being an ass. I started looking forward to each full moon because it meant I got to see you and admire every new detail about your life you chose to share with me. And then when this appeared,” he nods towards the soulmate marking, gleaming faintly beneath the overhead lighting, “all I could think of was you.”

You feel your throat becoming thick as you blink back tears, inhaling sharply through your nose. “Why didn’t you say anything at the train station? Why would you let me try to set you up with matches if you liked me that way?”

Din grimaces, abashed. “Because after you said there weren’t any Cupids on your list, I realized you didn’t know I liked you. I convinced myself I had to show you how I felt, instead of tell you. Although,” he holds up a finger, backtracking, “I actually almost did confess, on our way to Sorgan, but you stopped me. And that just further convinced me actions spoke louder than words. I knew none of the people you found me could ever compare with you, so I thought once you saw each unsuccessful connection, you’d realize the only hand I want to hold is yours.”

“Din, it can’t be me.” Your protest is weak, on the verge of caving in, forcing you to try another angle. “I can’t have two soulmates.”

He inhales a breath so sharp and unexpected, it startles your poor heart into skipping a beat.

Din looks at you like you’ve gifted him all the stars in the galaxy, brown eyes blown wide with hope. “Angel, do you mean it? That you consider me—”

“Of course, you idiot.” You attempt a laugh, but it comes out sounding broken and forced. “As Death, as Din, as whoever you want to be, I’ll always consider you. But...what if what happened on Sorgan happens to us? What if the universe doesn’t favor us?”

“I just want to be yours.” Din extends his hand towards you. “And if that means breaking the universe’s rules, then fuck it. We’ll make up our own. Together.”

Time seems to stand still, like you’ve entered a realm separate from the rest of the universe where you’re able to forget you have a complicated past, filled with holes and a soulmate who rejected you. Here it’s just you, Din, and his offer to love you unconditionally. Here you have a choice.

And it’s the easiest one you’ve ever made.

You slowly lift up your hand to hover in front of his, fingers trembling as they uncurl.

“Together,” you whisper.

And then your hands are moving to meet one another, closer and closer until his fingertips brush yours, sending a spark of warmth through your nervous system. Oh, Maker, you had described what you imagined a soulmate connection was like, but you had no idea this is the true experience. It’s like a sunrise dissolving midnight skies, lighting up your surroundings with breathtaking vibrancy. You can’t fathom how you survived all this time being in his presence without feeling his touch.

“Dank farrik,” he mutters hoarsely, sounding just as overwhelmed and awestruck as you feel.

You open your mouth, but instead of words a whimper of agony escapes instead. That lovely warmth spreading from your linked hands has started to boil, white-hot and furious. It’s as if all your internal parts have caught fire and are slowly withering to ash—your organs, your bones, even your kriffing blood. 

Your body crumples and Din cries out your name, but you don’t get to hear him say it, unconscious before your head collides with the floor.

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[imaginesmai]

Arvin Russell - The preacher’s sins (1/2)

Requested by an anon, please enjoy it! It was too long, so I divided it in two parts. I’ll post the next one tomorrow!

Plot: there is nothing bigger for you than the love you feel for Arvin Russell. Not a lot of people can awaken what he does in you, with his cheeky smile and chocolate eyes. Now, a stranger threatens to break that bond, manipulating where it hurts the most.

Warnings: It’s the devil all the time, and you know the preacher. So if you’re reading this, it’s because you’re alright with what’s about to happen. Anyway, violence and manipulation.

Arvin’s car was waiting for you when your shift at the café ended. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face when you thought about the upcoming events; a whole weekend just for the two of you, in your house since your parents were away in a business travel. That meant you could sleep in the same bed, have your own space and dream about finally moving in together. As you crossed the street jogging, your bag hanging from your left shoulder, you thought you could get used to it.

He was smoking, looking ahead and lost in his thoughts. Some wild strands of hair had fallen on his face, making him look a bit more childish that usually. Arvin Russell looked as handsome as ever, and for two whole days, would be handsome only for you.

“Arv” you announced your presence when you climbed in the seat beside him, rubbing your arms in an attempt to get ride of the rain’s coldness.

“Hey, pretty girl”

Arvin dropped his denim jacket over you, and while you put it on, he threw his cigarrete through the window’s car, moving his hand around to get ride of the smoke. Once he made sure you wouldn’t choke with it, he closed the car’s windows and looked at you with a half-smile.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening” you giggled softly, enjoying that moment of excitement and peace.

“Hope ya haven’ changed your mind” Arvin quickly pressed his lips against your cheek, before starting the car. “How was work?”

As you started talking about a cute dog which owner had let you pet, Arvin drove you to your house. He managed to listen to the story, drive safely and sneak a hand so that he could hold yours.

During most of the weeks, it was hard to see him. He was busy with his family and his part times job, taking what he could to earn a little money. Lenora took a lot of his time too, because she often got picked up by the bullies at highschool and Arvin insisted in picking her up every day. Then, he went with her to the grave yard to visit his mother, and he stayed with her until she finished. Sometimes, he would sneak for a few minutes and come visit you in the café, ordering the cheapest thing in the menu and watching you for afar.

Neither of you had a lot of free time. Your family, humble and hard-working, was also very conservative, so even if they accepted your relationship with Arvin, they didn’t like when he stayed at night. His family didn’t have a lot of free space neither, and if they had they didn’t see with good eyes sleeping together before marriage.

That week hadn’t been different. You had been working every afternoon until the sun came down, and then drove back home. The only difference was that you had been stopping briefly at the church, to talk with the new preacher. You knew Arvin didn’t like him – which was why the mood darkened on the way to your house.

“He ain’t good, Y/N” he grumbled, briefly looking at you.

“You don’t know him, it’s just – he’s new here, he needs a chance to prove himself” you defended. “I know what he did to your grandma was wrong, but we can’t judge him by one mistake!���

“It wasn’ just one mistake. He talks and talks ‘bout how everyone is a sinner but ‘im” Arvin protested.

“Arvin, please” you shifted closer to him and placed a hand on his arm. “It’ll be just a few minutes. He told me he needed my help with something, you don’t even have to see him.”

The preacher, indeed, had told you the previous day that he wanted to meet you in the church on Friday. You hadn’t told him your plans with Arvin, even if he was kind of interrupting your peaceful weekend with your boyfriend; probably, because you knew he wouldn’t approve you spending the night with him.

Deep inside, you knew that Arvin was probably right; he always was at the end, no matter what he was talking about. He was the one who said that the boy who Lenora’s was after wasn’t a good man, and now he had fun chasing her with a bag and awful words. There was something about the preacher that you didn’t like either, but you still didn’t know what. For now, you wanted to be on his good side.

“So? Can we stop?”

“I’d feel better if not” Arvin scoffed. “But I guess that’s a yes”

Arvin stopped on the graveyard, an empty place where the sun was setting already. It was dark and silent, and even you, who wanted to stop, were starting to reconsider the decision. You looked out the window, seeing that the church’s door was open and a dim light could be seen from the inside. Arvin exited the car without another word, and you knew he was pissed. He wasn’t too keen on sharing his feelings, even more when they weren’t of love or happiness.

You had been dating for seven months officially, and it had been ten since he asked you for a date after your shift at the café. There was no way you could make him talk about it and comfort him before the sun disappeared completely, so you decided to ignore him and walk towards the church. Still, before entering you looked back, half expecting him to be ready to leave and pick you later. But he had lighted up another smoke and was leaning against the car, looking to his feet.

Much less happier than before, you entered the church. You wanted nothing more than Arvin to be happy, and if you were up to wish anything, for him to have a better relationship with the rest of Knockemstiff; starting with the preacher.

He was sitting in the first row, reading from a small book. The faint lights you had seen came from the candles, which made the place much more scarier than usually. You didn’t think anything about it, not even when you made yourself heard by calling him and he told you to close the door. It was a cold, October day, so you guessed there was nothing wrong with it. After looking at Arvin once more, and receiving no smiles, you closed the door behind you.

“What did you want me for, preacher?”

“Come sit with me, Y/N” he patted the bench beside him, and you approached him. “You ever read the bible?”

“Um, a little. Lenora reads to me sometimes, a-and from what I hear on Sundays” you explained, not really wanting to say it out loud.

The truth was that you had never learned how to read. You had had to drop out of highschool at a young age because your mother had fallen ill, and your father couldn’t manage the family business on his own. With no money to buy books or material, your father had you help in on the shop. You were good with numbers, from years of experience, and you were starting to know what some words were written like thanks to Lenora and Arvin. But not a lot of people in Knockemstiff knew that you didn’t write the orders down in the café because you didn’t know how.

The preacher hummed, finally raising his eyes from the small book on his lap. He shifted closer to you, until you were sure you could hear his heartbeat. He showed you what he had been so focused on, and while you knew some of the letters, it all looked like garbage.

“This is my favourite part” he said, his voice soft but with a sharp edge. “Mom used to read it to me every night, too. You know it?”

“U-um, yeah” you said. Quickly, you tried to search for a word that you could understand. Lenora always read to you a passage of the bible when you went to their house, and maybe you could know what was it about. However, the preacher closed the bible before you had time to find it.

“God is merciful and benevolent, Y/N” he stretched one arm behind your shoulders, and you felt tears run to your eyes when you understood he knew it. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of – Arvin had managed to convince you it wasn’t, but you felt embarrassment crawl through your spine. “He forgives us all, all of our sins. But you know what is what he doesn’t forgive? Lies”

The back of your hair was grabbed with so much force that you emitted a low cry. If the door had been open, maybe Arvin would have heard you. But he angrily pacing around the graveyard, thinking about how he shouldn’t be so hard with you, and you were too afraid and embarrassed to scream any louder.

You were met with the preacher’s hard eyes, hateful and unforgivable. The back of your head throbbed from how hard he was gripping it, and finally a lonely tear made its way down your cheek. It seemed to offend him more, because he squeezed harder.

“You think you’re worthy of stepping into this temple?” he hissed, his hot breath making you shudder. “You think I wouldn’t find out that you can’t read? Or that you spend the nights with that boyfriend of yours?”

“Preacher –“

“Shut the fuck up!”

The nice man who you had been talking to the rest of the week disappeared in thin air, and you were thrown to the ground with a force you didn’t know the kind preacher had. A small cry of pain left your lips as your right wrist bent awkwardly against the edge of the bench, and you tried to move away. But the preacher had other ideas, because he hoisted you up until his face was inches away from you again.

You were sure he would just bash your head against the bench and Arvin would only have your cold body for the weekend when his face morphed, and that calm that always surrounded him was back. He sat on the bench again, and put his head against his hands, as if he was in deep thinking. Before you could think about running out of there screaming Arvin’s name, the preacher talked.

“Get naked”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists​, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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[maybedefinitely404]

For You Became My Lighthouse (Part 2)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Prinxiety

Content: argument, crying, a decent dose of awkward but it gets resolved!

Word count: 4.1k

Comment: This is the fourth time I’ve tried to post this--- Part 1 HERE!

Roman, is everything alright?

-Logan

Roman ran a hand through his hair at the message, checking the time at the top of the screen. It was late, far too late, so it was safe to assume that Logan had heard about the spat from Virgil. He should have been home by now. It was just… impossible to convince himself to actually leave the rehearsal studio. He had a younger acting class tomorrow and was perfecting his lesson plan- even though he already knew it was perfect, and his director had already approved it. Just, anything to keep him from going home.

He’d been a dick. Such was obvious; from the second his finger had hit send, he regretted approximately everything in his life that had led to this moment. That day had been particularly bad, overrun with rehearsals he was either taking part in or directing, and gearing up for tech week of a large production. Who knew trying to block a scene with a flurry of pre-teens could take so much out of you? Rinse and repeat the cycle with two more classes to teach back to back and an achingly long dance rehearsal, add in a desperate and fruitless search for a replacement lead in his upcoming directorial debut, and you’d have what Roman would categorize as a “shit show of a day”. 

All he wanted to do at the end of it was spend some time with his boyfriend, without having to talk about his day, so he’d suggested the most basic date his fried brain could conjur. Then his work desk was unceremoniously reacquainted with his forehead as he smacked it into the wood, letting out a groan that bordered on a yell. Luckily, minutes ago everyone had abandoned the theatre, and he’d been trusted with the keys to lock up from a stagehand. He just had a couple more things to do, and then he could drive home. 

Getting a reply of denial from Virgil was nothing new. In fact, he’d been warned in the transition from reluctant acquaintanceship to inevitable friendship, that he tended to veto ideas if they were sudden, or too daunting, or if he was just feeling shitty. It was something that Roman never considered a deal breaker, and he’d slowly come to much rather enjoy a night of cuddling and watching television than going out anyways. Call it ‘getting old’, call it ‘Virgil’s homebody ways creeping into his psyche’. So usually, getting his plans rejected was no big deal. 

Except for today, when he was well and past his limit of frustration, and things not going to plan. He’d typed out and sent the snarky reply far before he’d thought it out whatsoever, and ranted out complaints that hadn’t ever crossed his mind before, which he immediately regretted. In a moment of shame so great it caused physical nausea, he tossed his phone into one of his desk drawers and slammed it shut. 

It buzzed once, twice, and then went silent. 

Until, of course, it began to go berserk an indecipherable amount of time later, and Roman couldn’t ignore it. Seeing Logan’s text, along with about a million missed calls from him and Patton, broke the fragile sense of calm he’d tried to achieve while working. 

He didn’t want to go home and face his consequences. Childish, yes. Well deserved, also yes, but he was afraid of Virgil’s inevitable anger. If this led to a breakup, a fight that wasn’t recoverable, he’d never forgive himself. 

And now…

Roman, is everything alright?

-Logan

I can see you’ve read my text message.

-Logan

I’m at work. 

You’re inconceivably moronic. Get home. Now.

-Logan

Roman sighed heavily through his nose, clenching his jaw. He began typing out another snarky response- because apparently he never learned- when another text came through.

Virgil was in significant distress last I spoke to him and he has stopped answering me and Patton. Go. Home.

-Logan

Please. If not for my sake, then for Virgil’s.

-Logan

Fuck.

Roman barely had the sense to lock the doors of the building in his rush, throwing the spare key back in through the mail slot and booking it to his car. He sent some sort of confirmation that he was going and tossed the phone to his back seat. Virgil hated when he used it while driving.

It was only on the drive back, on unusually empty roads, did he realize it was well past nine. He hadn’t even noticed the time passing by.

Most of the lights in the apartment complex were still on when he pulled into the car park, but their window visible on this side showed only darkness. He wasn’t used to entering a dark apartment.

Their flat was silent, the living room only illuminated by the oven clock and the dim city lights from the balcony. He toed off his shoes as silently as he could, wincing when he kicked their shoe rack, and decided he’d risk turning on the light. When he finally found the switch and flicked it on, he couldn’t help his gasp. 

The room had once been a pristine display, he could tell. A white table cloth adorned their usually bare dining room table and a half burned candle stood as its centrepiece. He approached it in a daze, cautiously resting a hand on the plate of ravioli nearest to him. Cold. Long cold; the pasta was starting to get crusty. 

He picked up the two plates, intent on throwing out the food. It definitely wasn’t safe to eat anymore, and he didn’t feel like warding off an attack of ants in the morning. One of the towels hanging off the oven handle was drenched in what looked like marinara sauce, and it looked like there was some more spilled in the crack between the stove and the counter. That would be fun to clean. 

Both hands full, he opened the cupboard containing the garbage bin with a socked foot, and promptly froze. 

Part of him cringed at the clang the dropped plates made on the counter, but the louder part of him was just repeating a mantra of ‘holy shit, holy shit, holy shit’ and it was considerably out-screaming the other. Hands now shaking, Roman picked up the small box from the sink edge, ignoring the dried, crunchy texture of more tomato sauce on the outside, and opened it. 

It took every ounce of strength for Roman not to collapse to his knees, guilt instantly crushing the air from his lungs, a thousand times heavier than it had been before. An elaborate dinner, a ring… there had been a plan. That’s why Virgil had rejected his offer to go out. 

And he’d been such a dick to him. 

Speaking of which, where was he?

Roman closed the box and set it back where it had been. Their bedroom door was slightly ajar, and the most obvious place Virgil would be, so he padded over and creaked it open just a bit more. The light from the hallway cast a beam onto the bed, illuminating first a mess of hastily thrown clothes; his button up shirt he only used for fancy occasions on top of the pile. 

Virgil’s huddled form was easy to make out, curled away from the door, his only movement being the steady rise and fall of the blanket as he breathed. Figaro lifted his head from where he was settled in the crook of Virgil’s knees and gave Roman an indifferent mrow. 

He couldn’t get into bed with him. There was no scenario where that was the right move. It wasn’t the right time to talk about what had happened, not so late and when they were both riding high on emotions and tiredness, so accidentally waking Virgil was not the way to go. And even if he was sneaky enough to not wake him… a part of him just felt it was wrong. Not when he didn’t know Virgil’s stance on him at the moment.

Or his stance on the relationship.

Well, couch it was. He acknowledged the crumpled weighted blanket and sound blocking headphones- clear aftermath of a bad panic attack- with a quiet curse. Somehow that pit in his stomach got even bigger, making him nauseous as his shame took a physical form. 

He could only pray that they would come back from this. 

Roman’s sleep was fitful, to say the least. At best, he drifted into a state of half-consciousness, where his thoughts could be somewhat quieted down, but the discomfort of the couch and the heavy weight in his heart were still palpable. Inevitably, one of their neighbors would make a noise or the building would make a settling creak or a distant dog would bark, and the state would be broken, leaving Roman wide awake and wracked with guilt once more. He’d never noticed how loud the world was until he wanted nothing more than for the noise to stop. 

The sun was just peaking into the window when their bedroom door widened and Roman flew up, using the back of the couch to steady his sudden sitting position. When their eyes met from across the room, Virgil in his pajamas and face hidden in shadow, a tenseness settled over the room that neither had experienced in their relationship thus far. Virgil froze in the doorway, wavering slightly. It didn’t appear he wanted to be the one to break the silence. 

Roman stood slowly, as though not to spook him.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Virgil whispered with a sniff, and even in that one word Roman could hear the scratchiness of his voice. “I just...uhm,” He cleared his throat, “I just wanted to get some water. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake. No… no worries.” 

Virgil looked down to his feet. “When did you come back?”

“I think just before ten.”

“‘Kay.”

For an all too long moment, both of them seemed to find interest in every part of the room that wasn’t the other’s eyes. It wasn’t until Roman looked towards the kitchen in his awkwardness did he process what Virgil had come out for. 

“I’ll, um…” He pointed weakly to the kitchen and finally convinced his feet to move, filling up a glass from the sink while making a conscious effort to not look at the dishes or wasted food from the evening before. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop the way his gaze drifted towards the box sitting next to the tap, and judging by Virgil’s sharp inhale, the look hadn’t been subtle. 

He took the glass back to the other, watching him take it with an uncomfortable, “Thanks.”

Virgil downed the glass in one go, his shaking hands almost causing him to spill. He barely had time to take a breath before Roman had zipped the empty glass back onto the counter.

“Do you want more?” He asked, already refilling the glass.

“No, I’m… it’s okay.” 

Roman placed the full glass on the counter quietly and the two were swallowed by heavy silence once again. The clock ticked impossibly loud as they stood, fidgeting, wanting this moment to be over but not wanting to be the one to start it. 

Virgil took a shuddering breath and wrung his hands together.

Roman stared resolutely at a single water drop making its way down the glass.

This was his fault. He’d started it. It seemed only right that he break the tension that almost suffocated him, so even as his mind screamed for him to shut up and every muscle in his body turned to liquid, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Virgil, I-”

“I’m sorry.”

That effectively stopped Roman in his tracks. All night, he’d crafted a collection of apologies, from eloquent monologues to stumbling pleas for forgiveness, but in not one of his countless scenarios had Virgil apologized. 

“I know… I know I can be a lot to handle, I know, I swear. And I was more outgoing when we first met, because I thought I had something to prove and it always exhausted me and I hated it but then we became… I don’t know, official? And closer and… and more comfortable and I didn’t think I had to do that anymore, I didn’t have to keep pushing myself so far!”

“V, stop-”

“The panic attacks and the anxiety and all that shit are a lot for other people and I know that but I didn’t know it was too much for you, I didn’t know you were tired of that and I can be better, I swear, I swear I can go back to how I was in the beginning, just please don’t leave.”

Virgil let out a choked sob and Roman couldn’t stop himself from rushing forward, intent on holding his stupid, stupid boyfriend until he realized this was in no way his fault, only for Virgil to back up before he could do so.

“I’m- I’m not trying to guilt you, I’m sorry, I just, I love you, and I can be better, I can, just give me a chance, please-”

“Virgil, baby, come here.”

This time when he reached forward, Virgil allowed himself to be pulled into his boyfriend’s chest, basically collapsing against him as soon as Roman’s arms tightened around him. The dam broke moments later and Virgil finally let go of his own hands to grab the back of Roman’s shirt with a sense of urgency.

“Please don’t leave, I’m so sorry,” he begged raspily into Roman’s shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” 

Roman hung onto him almost as tightly in return, rocking them back and forth, finally allowing himself to cry. He shoved his face into Virgil’s hair, peppering small kisses and apologies to the crown of his head in between sobs. 

Virgil whined when Roman finally pulled away, but he didn’t go far, cradling his boyfriend’s face in his hands and wiping his tacky cheeks with his thumbs.

“Virgil, I cannot apologize enough for yesterday.”

“What are-” he hiccuped, “What are you talking about? It was my fault.”

“No, no, no no no no no,” Roman whispered, fighting that damn lump in his throat once more. “I had a spectacularly shitty day, and I took it out on you. I was leagues out of line. It wasn’t fair to you and I’m so, so unbelievably sorry.” 

As if the strings were cut on a marionette, all the tenseness dissolved from Virgil’s shoulders and he slumped forward, bumping his head weakly into Roman’s chest. “Can we sit down?”

“Yeah, of course.” Roman clumsily led him to the couch and sat on the adjacent cushion, assuming that if Virgil wanted to talk, he’d want his own space. His assumption was incorrect, however, judging by how Virgil crossed the space almost instantly and buried himself in Roman’s side like a koala. He shifted them both until he was laying on his back, Virgil splayed across him .

“I thought you’d be more upset with me,” He muttered, freeing his hand to run it through Virgil’s hair. His fingers raked through his own tears trapped in the locks and he grimaced.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling right now,” responded Virgil, accompanied by a shuddering breath, “I just need to know that you’re really here. And I need you.”

They were quiet for a moment, watching the sun begin to peek through their window, until Virgil spoke again sardonically.

“If this is a dream, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Roman snorted despite himself and felt Virgil’s responding half-laugh from where he was tucked against him.  

“I agree. I thought I’d fucked up for good this time.”

A disgruntled meow made Roman crane his neck over the couch, watching Figaro stretch languidly in their bedroom doorway. The cat sidled over to his food bowl and sat pointedly next to it. Feed me. 

“Later, Figaro,” Roman groaned, all too comfortable with Virgil as his blanket. A small part of him was worried that if he moved them at all, the spell would be broken, and they’d lose whatever peace they’d settled into. 

Well, that wouldn’t do at all, not by Figaro’s standards. The cat gave an upset mewl and trotted over to the couch, leaping up with grace and batting Virgil’s legs. It was that pettish action that made Roman realize that Virgil had turned stone still on his lap. Figaro changed his approach to headbutting at his arm in a clear attempt to get pets, but Virgil’s hand stayed still by their sides. 

“What’s going through your head?” Roman murmured. 

“That stuff you said, about me… not contributing to the relationship…” Virgil croaked, and Roman stilled,  “What can I do to-… to fix that? Because I wanna fix it.”

“Baby, no,” Roman whispered, that shame-nausea returning, “I-” He groaned, dropping his head onto the arm of the couch behind him, “I was being an asshole. I didn’t mean that.”

Virgil didn’t budge, still deliberately ignoring Figaro’s futile begging for attention. “Then where did it come from?”

He took a breath deep enough that Virgil rose and fell with his chest, and Roman was struck with the profound urge to pull him closer and never let him go. But that would likely make him feel trapped, and that wasn’t productive. “You remember when I dragged you to that improv show my students put on last year?”

“You introduced me as your boyfriend and we found out the class had placed bets on whether you were gay or not. I don’t know how it wasn’t obvious.”

Roman gasped in mock offense. “Maybe they just were trying not to stereotype!”

“Your phone case is a rainbow-”

“Anyways!” He interrupted, resuming his gentle threading through Virgil’s hair, who snorted but otherwise gave in to the affection. “Remember what happened after?”

“Mmhm.”

It had been a fantastic show, and Roman had been exceedingly proud of his little students, especially since it was his first time ever teaching a class. After the night, when the betting chaos had settled and everyone quickly adopted Virgil as theirs now, they’d pleaded to play a few more improv games before the theatre closed. Seeing as it was their last class, hence the performance in the first place, Roman had acquiesced. But neither of the men had expected for the gang of pre-teens to latch onto Virgil and beg him to play too, despite him having zero theatre experience. 

“Remember what they said?”

“They tried to pack all your lectures into five minutes of information.”

“I don’t lecture, I dazzle.” 

“They thought you were straight.” 

“Only some, and that’s not the point!”

Virgil finally lifted his head, pulling his hands up so he could lay his chin on top of them. He smiled weakly. “Then what is the point?”

“The most important rule of improv is to keep the scene going. No matter what nonsense you have to pull out, just never leave a scene flat.”

There was a quiet moment while the other processed that before, once again, that layer of hurt reappeared on his face. He pushed himself off Roman’s chest in preparation to get up. “So… you’re saying you saw that argument as another scene you had to keep up.”

“No, shit, that came out wrong,” Roman insisted, and Virgil paused suspiciously, “I’m saying, that in a moment of panic, I fell back on bullshitting my way through it! That’s literally what I do for a living!” 

The distrust gave way to resignment and Virgil chewed on his cheek, turning his attention to the window. He sat all the way up on Roman’s legs, leaning back on his shins. “How do I know you’re not bullshitting me right now?” He said. 

“Because,” Roman followed him up, careful not to move his legs and dislodge his boyfriend, “You know I like when the bed is made, and even though you hate making it, you always do when I’m out of the house before you.”

Virgil looked down at his thumb.

“Because you let me choose the music in the car.”

“... you don’t like loud music,” He muttered, picking at the skin around his cuticle.

“You adjust your work schedule to come to every single one of my shows.”

He shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, but you hate working mornings. You let me rant about all my theatre stuff, even if you don’t get any of it.”

“I’m learning.” A faint smile was breaking through.

“You tell me when there’s spinach in my teeth, or my hair is messy, or if I’m acting like an asshole.”

“Well, that’s easy enough.”

Roman reciprocated the smile at that, taking Virgil’s hands in his own to stop the attack at his nail. “I’ve been watching you better yourself for years, even if it’s been really, really hard.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Virgil asked with a small blush, switching his fidgeting tactic to fiddling with Roman’s fingers. 

“Every time you do something that betters yourself, you help us, Virgil.” He leaned forward slowly, giving Virgil the time to move away if he wanted to, and rested their foreheads together. “Yesterday, I fucked up. Badly. You said you were anxious and I still acted like a dick. I kinda thought you’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” Virgil whispered, seemingly before he had a chance to process it, because his blush multiplied tenfold. Roman grinned. 

“Aw, is someone feeling sappy?”

“Shut up, jackass,” He retorted, bonking their heads together ever so gently. 

“I’m so sorry, Virgil,” Roman said after their giggles and blushes had faded, “It won’t happen again, I swear.” 

In lieu of answering, Virgil closed the already scant distance between their lips, and despite Roman using all of his self control to not sigh into it, he found himself doing so anyways. All the tension bled out of his shoulders at once as Virgil pulled away, pressing one more peck to the tip of his nose, and then leaning back with a small smile. 

“So… that means we’re good?”

“We’re good.”

“Thank god,” Roman groaned, flopping back and dropping his arm over his eyes dramatically. He heard Virgil’s quiet snicker before he resumed his job as a blanket. Except this time, instead of nuzzling his head into Roman’s neck, he could feel the distinct edge of a chin digging into his sternum.

The hand lifted from his eyes to see Virgil staring at him, that goofy little smirk on his face. 

“What?”

“I love you, idiot.”

Well, now they were wearing matching goofy little smirks. 

“I love you too.” 

That seemed to satiate him, because he gave a little nod and laid his head more comfortably on the other’s chest. He could have left the conversation there, content to just let them lay there in peace until the world fell away- or Figaro grew more insistent on being fed- but Roman just couldn’t banish the one persistent thought in the back of his mind. 

“Were you actually going to propose?” He blurted.

Virgil tensed for a moment, and then gave a resigned sigh. “...Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows, desperately hoping he sounded casual, though his heart was pounding far too loudly to not be heard, “I would have said yes. If you did.”

“Oh?” Virgil lifted his head. “You’re blushing, Princey.” He could hear the smug grin.

“Nooo…” Roman whined. His arm draped once more over his eyes in a weak attempt to hide the redness, but he drew it away only moments later when Virgil didn’t retort. 

The man was staring at him with an odd mix of disappointment and amusement, huffing out a breath as he watched Roman’s eyes.

“This wasn’t how I was planning to propose,” He sighed, “It was supposed to be all perfect, and romantic, and stuff. And the surprise is ruined now.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Roman, continuing before Virgil could cut him off, “If it’s any consolation, I think a proposal in our pajamas, on the couch, would be very us.”

“You’re not in pajamas.”

“I slept in these clothes, they count as pajamas.”

Virgil snickered. Roman counted five breaths as the other’s face melted from a smile to anxiously knit brows, worrying his lip between his teeth as he looked down at him. It took another three for him to speak.

 “So…uh... will you…?”

Roman’s face split into a grin, “Yes, Virgil. Obviously.” 

Virgil’s expression morphed to match his and he swooped down to kiss him again, though they barely could with how much they were smiling. They both devolved into giggles, happy to just stay wrapped in each other’s arms, until Virgil broke away with a gasp.

“Let me grab the ring!”

“Ring can wait,” Roman argued, tightening his grip around his waist to keep him in place, “I want cuddles.”

And so they did.

Taglist:

@max-is-tired

@private-snippers

@joylessnightsky

@marshymoop

@larkiaquail

@noemiescuriosity

@mycatshuman

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@vpow

@ray-does-stuff

@sirprplsnail

[monsoonblooms12]

Hey hey hey! These questions are different but hopefully fun!

Not Yet Wed Questions

Note: Great Scott! This week, we are going back in time to MC’s intern year. Think of Ethan’s relationship with them at this point and answer the following questions accordingly. It is entirely up to you when in year 1 this takes place (pre/post Miami, pre/post CH 15, etc). Feel free to answer with dialogue or pictures or both :) Have fun!

No worries. All of this is off the record and HR will never know!

The setting for this answers is:

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Three people at work your coworker hates?

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever:

come into work hungover

had a fistfight

been kicked out of a bar

gotten a tattoo

broken someone’s heart

been in love

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Last thing he texted you?

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Last thing she texted you?

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Bree, Thank you so much for this GENIUS round! A trip down the memory lane, when they just began falling for each other, it was such a beautiful and painful time for them as well as for me. I had a blast, and even though these answers are a pure mess, I had way too much fun answering them. Hope you like them too❤���!

The setting for this answers is: A week and a half after Ethan leaves the Hospital. Land(rat)ry and has been exposed, but Ethan doesn't know about that yet. Also, this is pre-chapter 15.

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

Pooja: Who goes first?

(Silence)

Pooja:...Fine. I'll go first. The first time, all I could notice was his Doctor's Coat and the stern expression that he carried. It was my first day, I was running late, I had a patient who had collapsed in front of me. So obviously I was a bundle of nerves. And seeing a very strict attending really did not help. I was freaking out and kept repeating "Concentrate, Pooja, Concentrate" in my head.

Ethan: So when you saw me, you freaked out?

Pooja: Quite obviously so.

(After a pause) What did you think I would have thought? That you were handsome? (winks)

Ethan: (Caught by surprise) I- Uh- That's not...

(Centers himself with a deep breath) That would have been highly inappropriate.

Pooja: (Smiles in Satisfaction) Your turn, Doc. Or maybe, Ex-Doc, Right?

Ethan: (Ignoring her) I thought you were amateur. Better than most interns on their first days but still, slow and confused.

Pooja: And hence can the nickname "Rookie"?

Ethan: Yes, hence Rookie.

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Ethan: I haven't heard her swear a lot, but the times I have, it's always either "Shit" or "Fuck".

Pooja: For him, it's mostly "Godammit" and on rare occasions, "Fuck". If he uses "Fuck" for an occasion, you know it's serious.

Quick: What color are their eyes?

(In unison, without missing a beat)

Pooja: Ice Blue

Ethan: Amber

(Ethan stares at Pooja, bewildered)

Pooja: What? (With a faux expression of sadness) Are you surprised that my observation skills actually exist?

Ethan: (He seems to regret his expression and tries straightens himself quickly) No, Of Course Not, I do not doubt your skills. (He smiles, but the surprise never leaves his features) It's just that no one ever-

(He looks at her, holding her gaze. They both seem unable look away... Until Ethan breaks eye contact and they concentrate back on the questions)

Three people at work your coworker hates?

Pooja: Can I name three people he doesn't hate? Possibly even that would be a large count.

Ethan: I don't hate anyone.

Pooja: Yaa, I know. You don't care about them enough to even have an opinion about them. Which is even worse than hatred, actually.

Ethan: (Rolls his eyes, but doesn't quite disagree) Dr Sharma and Hatred, on the other hand, is a combination I never have had the opportunity to observe.

Pooja: (A frown appears on her forehead and her jaw clenches tightly. She looks down, trying to control anger coursing through her body)

Ethan: (Looks at her with an eyebrow raised) Am I missing out on something?

Pooja: (Tries her best to keep her voice calm) Nope, nothing.

(Ethan notices that something is wrong, but decides not to push her further)

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

Ethan: Dr Sharma, has a peculiar habit of always humming a song whenever she is writing or typing something. And every time, it's something different. I don't know about endearing, but it's definitely annoying.

Pooja: Please, you should be grateful that you have a walking, talking Spotify who supplies you with new music ad free and you don't even have to pay for premium.

Ethan: You think that you are hilarious, don't you?

Pooja: Oh, I AM hilarious (Rolls her eyes)

Ethan: (Laughs) You said that with an eye roll.

Pooja: And you laughed. So, Point Proved.

Ethan: (Shakes his head with the smile still on face)

Pooja: As for Dr Ramsey, whenever he has to deal with interns, he pulls out all the sarcasm he has, murmurs "Interns" with an annoyed sigh every time one of them begin to speak, and his intensity of rolling eyes increases by at least ten times. (Turning to Ethan) How did you like my description?

E: (Rolls his eyes) Accurate.

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

Ethan: (Scoffs) Crushes... Juvenility at its best.

Pooja: (Opens her mouth to speak)

Ethan: Are you really going to answer the question? Because I am not.

Pooja: You do you and I do I.

(Begins to speak) I think Dr Ramsey has a crush on... (her voice cracks, and a sudden sadness overcome her once happy features. She is unable to complete the sentence and Ethan is unable to look at her)

Ethan: (After a long moment of silence, still not looking at Pooja) Can we please go to the next question?

Never have I Ever:

On the announcement of this round, Pooja brightens up a bit.

Never have I evers have always been one of her favourite games, so there was not a chance in hell she was going to skip the chance of learning about Ethan's secrets.

She turns to Ethan, who's turns to her and raises and eyebrow. His confused face is a precious scene and she cannot help but let out a giggle at it.

Ethan: And what is this now?

Pooja: I was going to ask if you have never watched those celebrity interviews but (she giggles) you and those, don't go together. At all

Ethan: Why would anyone want to answer stupid questions? And Why would someone want to watch them answer those?

Pooja: Because it's fun Dr Terminator. There is fun hidden in stupid things as such.

Ethan: (doesn't speak anything, but gives a small smile while thinking about her words)

Pooja: (takes the smile as a sign) So you are ready.

Ethan: When did I say so?

Pooja: You don't need to word your thoughts for me to know (gives him a smile)

(They hold each other's gaze for a while before Ethan coughs and turn away)

Pooja: (A tinge of sadness in her tone) Okay (coughs) So usually Never have I ever is a drinking game-

Ethan: A drinking game during office hours? (Raises an eyebrow)

Pooja: Says someone who doesn't even work at the office. (She looks at him once before continuing) But we are going to change it up a bit. Sienna, my friend has baked cupcakes today, so I thought why not use them instead? If the answer is yes, they don't get to take a bite from the cupcake. I it's no, then-

Ethan: You get a bite. You will always look for excuses to eat the pastries, won't you?

Pooja: See, you know me well.

(For a while, it seems as if Ethan regrets his statement, but soon he schools his features and any such indication is gone)

come into work hungover

Both Ethan & Pooja sit still, cupcakes intact.

Pooja: (Looks at him, amazed)

Ethan: (Raises an eyebrow)

Pooja: And here I was expecting a sarcastic remark about professionalism.

Ethan: We all have our days, Dr Sharma. Today's yours.

Pooja: It sure is (winks)

had a fistfight

Again, both of them sit still, no one making a move towards their cupcakes.

Pooja: But, it was back in high school, so...

(She moves to take a bite, when)

Ethan: Hey!

Pooja: What?

Ethan: You made the rules but that does not give you an allowance to break the rules.

Pooja: Look at you, getting all competitive over Never have I ever.

Ethan: Absolutely Not. I was just ensuring that the rules are being followed.

Pooja: Suure.

been kicked out of a bar

Both of them take a bite.

Pooja: Finally!

Ethan: (Rolls his eyes while trying to suppress a smile at the site of her getting all excited for a cupcake)

gotten a tattoo

Ethan takes a bite.

Pooja: I think you need to get one.

Ethan: Absolutely not.

Pooja: Don't worry I will let your significant other whenever they arrive, know that they have to make you get one.

(Even if said jokingly, the sentence fills the air with suffocating silence, that is only broken when the next question is asked)

broken someone’s heart

Pooja takes a bite. Ethan looks on.

Pooja: Dr Ramsey?

Ethan: Huh?

Pooja: Aren't you going to take a bite?

Ethan: (after a while) ...No. I am Not.

been in love

(Ethan goes to take a bite, just as...)

Pooja: Dr Ramsey?

Ethan: What is it?

Pooja: Look, I know it's against the rules, but can I pleaseee take a bite from your side?

Ethan: And why would I let you do that?

Pooja: Because A. You know I love cupcakes, B. You are my friend and C. Because I am asking you super sweetly. So, pleeaase? (She looks at him with puppy eyes)

Ethan: (After a momentary pause) ...Fine

Pooja: Thank you Dr Ramsey, You're the best Dr Ramsey-

Ethan: Do you stop or do I have to get a remote to shut you up?

(Pooja laughs, having succeeded in her mission. And before Ethan can stop himself, a smile breaks out on his face as well)

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

Professionally I see him coming back to medicine. Maybe Soon, Maybe Later. But I cannot imagine him living the rest of his life away from medicine. This is where he finds his calm. Amidst complex cases that challenge his genius. I also visualize him working on another book, or assisting WHO with its endeavors.

Personally (She pauses, takes a deep breath, and another, and another) I, uh... see him happy. Most probably not married, but in a relationship full of care and satisfaction. He may even start believing in love (laughs) I can't predict the future, but I hope that he finds someone worthy of him. Someone whom he can love without having to constantly worry of a mishap, without questioning all his principles, without retching a battle in his mind. Someone... who can return his care and affection in ten folds (a tear escapes out of the corner of her eye, but she wipes it off as quickly as she can)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Impressive about him? Everything. But especially the kind of doctor he is. For someone who's so genius, it is commonly thought that he would look down on others, berate others on the basis of his excellence and his achievements, be arrogant and rude. But, he is an entire opposite.

Humble, caring, compassionate. Yes, maybe he gives interns an earful from time to time, but he never demotivates them. He is a great teacher, one who knows to keep his feelings apart from his work. To him everyone is equal, even if people suspect him of favoritism. His care and concern for his patients, it's an inspiration for me.

Last thing he texted you?

I...haven't really got any recent texts (or replies, she mumbles) from him. The last one he sent was the day we got back from Miami after the medical conference, which says, "Let me know when you get home safe, okay?"

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

(A small, humorless laugh) He wouldn't ask me out. Definitely not in this life. I am sure he regrets what happened- (Sighs)

I am too complicated of a case for him to pursue.

But, if, in a hypothetical, like, really hypothetical situation, he did ask me, I would say yes. In a heartbeat, to be exact.

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in her personal life?)

Rookie, I mean Dr Sharma, has impeccable talent. And she has more than proved herself during the time I was at the hospital. If she strives hard, and keeps up her hard work, I am sure she can achieve all she wants to. Maybe even restart the Diagnostics Team as a leader. I know she has a bright career in front of her, and as her mentor, I will help her achieve it in every way I can.

Bree: And personally?

Uh... Happy. She will definitely be happy, with someone who can make her smile her dazzling smile, who can give her the best life she deserves, and stand with her through thick and thin. Someone who doesn't break her heart due to their own... flaws. Someone,

Someone who can love her.

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Ethan: Attractive? She is my intern, why would you expect me to make a statement as such?

Bree: So you don't think she is attractive?

Ethan: Of course I do. She has a sparkle in her eyes, the passion for medicine evident. The way she smiles when she talks to patients, the way she reassures them, how-

(He stops on his track. Regrets his words. Pinching the bridge of his nose he signals to go onto the next question)

Last thing she texted you?

"You know you can just tell me if you don't want me to text you. It would hurt, but this silence, the feeling of shouting into a void, it hurts more."

(He doesn't expand on it. Just sits for a while, looking at the cell phone, before turning it off and placing it aside)

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Ethan: She Wouldn't... Not after what I- (he sighs)

Maybe in another life, if I am lucky enough, I would say yes. But now....

It's a risk. And I can say from experience that it would not end well. The harm it may cause, the hurt I may cause...

She doesn't deserve it.

Bree: But there are no more professional complications now that you have quit, Dr Ramsey. Then why do you feel as such?

Ethan: It's about personal complications.

----

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[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch7: Old Habits Die Hard

Part 1

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: The Losers head to Mexico for Pooch’s wedding but there’s something wrong with Stella…

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language and a whole heap of angst.

A/N: So this chapter is a LONG one- so it’s split into a number of parts, to be posted over the next week or so. A LOT going down, and we really hope you enjoy it as it’s our favourite one to date for these pair of dumbasses.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 6

 April 2008

Clay, Roque, Cougar and Jake arrived in Mexico on a glorious Thursday morning, two days before Pooch's wedding and wasted no time in settling into their hotel and kicking back with a few drinks, soaking up the sun and taking the chance to relax. Cougar was in his element, being in his native country and an area which he knew particularly well. That evening he took them away from the resort of Cozumel to a little village fifteen miles or so inland where they visited a few back alley bars he knew, meeting up with a couple of his friends. The Losers then found themselves roped into several games of poker, all of them losing a fairly substantial amount of money until Clay, rather sensibly, called time on the gambling to avoid Future Mrs Pooch going thermonuclear at them for gambling away any future Mini Pooches’ inheritance money. They somehow made it back to the hotel and managed to deliver Pooch safely to his intended. The man could hardly stand by the time they got back thanks to the copious amount of Tequila he had consumed, something Clay, Roque and Jensen were quick to blame on Cougar when an irate Jolene opened the door to their suite, a furious look on her face.

As it stood, the hangovers they were all suffering on Friday morning were clearly their penance for leading Pooch astray. Jake had woken up with a mouth like he had been eating sand, and had stood in a cold shower for fifteen minutes solid trying to find it in him to function like a normal human being. He headed down for breakfast ten minutes before the hotel was due to stop serving and spotted Clay, Cougar and Roque sat at a table on the outside balcony, all sporting sunglasses and looking as bad as he felt. Jensen helped himself to as much as his plate could handle from the buffet and tucked in. He was beyond thankful that the food went someway to actually settling his churning stomach as opposed to making it worse. As he downed his fourth orange juice of the morning, he felt his mobile buzzing in his pocket and he pulled it out, his lips quirking into a smile as he read the message.

"It's Stel." He announced to the table. "She says ETA about forty minutes."

"How come she isn't here already?" Roque asked and Jensen rolled his eyes.

"Agent Shit-name was working, apparently. Meant they could only fly out early this morning." He swallowed the bite of toast he had rather viciously taken at the thought of Stel’s asshat boyfriend.

"Touchy subject." Clay looked at Roque. "Pooch is still low-key pissed she missed his Batchelor party."

Roque said nothing, simply raised his eyebrows as Jensen leaned back in his chair, massaging his now full stomach. "The guy is a dick." He spat venomously.

"Yes, but there's gonna be no trouble." Cougar turned to him, tipping his hat up slightly so he could see him.

"I'm a lover, not a fighter, Cougs." Jensen grinned and Cougar gave a snort, shaking his head.

They finished breakfast and after several more coffees were eventually ushered out of the restaurant by a very harassed looking waiter. As they wandered back through the hotel lobby, Clay stopped and waved, causing Jensen to turn and look, a smile spreading across his face as he saw Stella walking through the door pulling her suitcase. He frowned at the fact asshole wasn’t carrying it for her, but as Stella approached them he realised that Evan was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s agent Shit-Name?” He blurted out by way of greeting, and Stella responded with a filthy glare, otherwise ignoring him completely. She turned instead to greet Roque and Cougar before she gave Clay a huge hug.

“Good flight, Arty?” Roque asked and she smiled at him, popping a shoulder.

“As good as it gets. But they didn’t have tomato juice. Would you believe it?”

Clay gave a huge laugh. “Since when have you drunk that stuff?”

“It’s not that bad, plus if you drink alcohol on a plane you get severe dehydration.” She replied.

“You’re making that up.” Jake looked at her and she turned her attention to him, giving him an appraising look.

“I read it in Science.” She quipped back. Jake blinked, before he burst out laughing and she grinned and shook her head. “I’m just joking. I had several gin and tonics and glass of wine. I’m good.”

Roque looked at Clay. “What just happened?”

“They do this.” Clay answered. “Have you not noticed yet?”

Roque rolled his eyes and then Cougar asked the question that all of them had been dying to know the answer to. “Where’s Evan?”

Well, all bar Jake that is as he couldn’t have cared less.

Stella shifted a little, rubbing her neck, Jake instantly spotting her discomfort. “He errr, he couldn’t make it.”

“He bailed on you?” Roque frowned at the same time Clay blurted out.

“What do you mean he couldn’t make it?”

Stella licked her lips and at that point Jensen jumped in. He could see her flustered and despite his dislike of her boyfriend, he hated seeing her like that so he offered her a way out. “Work?”

She nodded, shooting him a thankful look. “Yeah, something came up.”

“Of course it came up.” Clay grumbled loudly. Whether he had meant for Stella to hear or not, hear she did. And what was more, it was apparent he didn’t believe Evan’s excuse any more than she did. Stella swallowed, she had always trusted Clay’s judgement and it was unnerving a little to realise exactly what he thought.

She took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go check in.” As she reached for her bag, a hand softly batted hers away as Jensen grabbed the handle.

“I got it.”

As soon as the two of them were out of earshot, Cougar turned to Clay as Roque shook his head

“Bastard.” Clay spat. “He’s not come and left her to pick up the flack and explain to Pooch.”

Cougs mumbled a swear word in Spanish as Clay’s eyes flicked to Stella and Jake before he pulled out his phone.

“’m gonna make some calls. Meet you at the pool bar in a while.”

*****

As they stood in the queue for the reception desk, a bunch of people all having descended to check in at once, Jake turned to Stella and took a deep breath. “Wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

“Nothing is going on, Jake.” Stella’s tone was level but firm, an indication she didn’t want to discuss the topic.

But Jensen never had been one to take heed of warnings. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you should.” She turned to face him, raising her brow a little. “Tell me, any Mexican chick fallen at your feet yet?”

He sighed, throwing his head back and giving a low groan. “C’mon, Stel, I thought we were past this?”

“Past what?” Her tone was innocent but Jake could tell she didn’t dare look him in the eye. Instead, she concentrated on searching for something in her purse.

“Holding out on one another.” He answered, looking at her. “You’re still my best friend.”

“Well, forgive me if I sometimes forget.” She rolled her eyes as she produced her credit card.

“Okay okay, you don’t wanna tell me then fine.” Jensen rubbed at his eye before pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Whatever.”

Stella looked at him before she gave a little sigh, and hung her head slightly. “Ev’s busy, okay? Something last minute came up and he...”

“Let me guess.” Jake rolled his eyes. “He asked you not to come without him and when you told him to fuck off you had an argument.”

“No, actually.” Stella fixed him with a glare, narrowing her eyes “He told me to come. It’s nothing like that at all.”

“Stel...”

“Jake, just drop it okay!” Her voice grew louder. “You couldn’t be further away from the truth if you tried.”

Jensen raised his hands in surrender, knowing it was time to drop the subject. “All right, all right. I really don’t wanna know.”

Before she could shoot back a response, she was called forward to the desk. Jake moved off to the side with her bag, watching her as she spoke to the guy behind the counter.

His hands dropped to his slim hips as he studied her, wracking his brains. Despite her protestations there was obviously something more going on, he knew her too well. The only thing he could think of was that for some reason they’d had an argument, a big enough one for Agent Shit-Name to leave her to come on her own. And, considering Jake knew he had told Stella to stay away from him, it must have been pretty serious for him to say he wasn’t coming.

As Jake watched Stella signing her name on the paper the guy behind the desk slid over to her, he saw her give a little smile before she tucked her hair behind her ear. He took a deep breath, shaking himself out of his thoughts and decided that he was going to make her forget about Asshole for a couple of days and enjoy herself. Being the Stel he’d always known and adored.

She nodded and said something to the receptionist before she turned towards Jake, heading over to him and he smiled. “All sorted?”

“Yeah I’m on the 4th floor

“Hey, cool! Same as me and Cougs.”

“Are you guys sharing?” She asked and he shook his head, giving a snort.

“Hell no. The Cougar is on the prowl, apparently. He’s a couple of rooms down.”

“Well I’m in 415.”

“422, Sweetheart.”

“Good to know in case I’m attacked by a spider in the middle of the night.” She grinned and Jake chuckled.

“Well, if you want I’ll do a sweep before you go in.” He looked at her seriously. “I am a highly trained killing machine after all.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah but I ain’t afraid of spiders... well, okay, not the little ones that is.”

Stella laughed. “Course not. But, that aside, I could use your help with my suitcase.”

“You don’t need to ask.” He said gently, picking it up. “I was already gonna bring it.”

She smiled and they made their way to the elevator which by some twist of luck was already on their floor. The door opens and they stepped inside, Stella turning to select their floor.

“Alright, I gotta ask.” Jake spoke and Stella turned to him as he gestured to the large case now by his feet. “You’re here for what, three nights? You bring your whole wardrobe, Stelly?”

She scoffed “I need all three nights’ outfits and daytime clothes as well. Toiletries, make up, underwear...bikinis.” At the last word she shot him a wink and Jake’s head dropped forward, his hands on his hips.

“Stop it.” He groaned playfully and she laughed.

“You don’t wanna hit the pool then, Jakey?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Why would it be?”

“Well this feels like the part where I’m supposed to make some rude comment only I’m not sure if you’ll laugh or slap me.”

“You’d never know if you don’t say it.”

Jake looked at her, he was utterly confused now and hadn’t got a clue what was going on. He licked his lips, swallowed before he sighed and rubbed his beard. Thankfully, he was saved from responding at all as the elevator stopped, the doors sliding open as they’d reached their floor.

****

Once the slightly awkward but friendly first time introductions to the rest of the guests that the boys had met the day before, Stell felt herself really beginning to relax. She had been on edge since arriving if truth be told, not least because her friends had hit the nail on the head, there was something going on with Evan. But, she didn't want to think about it. Not now. Instead, she settled herself on a sun-lounger, peeling off her little sun-dress to reveal a yellow bikini and Jake flopped onto the one besides her, whipping off his white wife-beater. They talked and laughed and joked. It felt good, just kicking back, not a care in the world. Soft, holiday themed music was playing, the atmosphere was happy, and Stella had a constant supply of cocktails thanks to the team persistently plying her with them.

She must have fallen asleep at one point, as when she turned Jake wasn't there, but it didn't take her long to find him, his distinctive laugh ringing out over the pool area. Stella led back in the sun, glasses covering her face, no one able to see her eyes as she watched him sat on the edge of the pool, one of the bridesmaids next to him, their legs dangling in the water. His broad shoulders and back muscles twitched as he talked with his hands, as usual, emphasising whatever it was he was saying, one large arm reaching up to brush through his short hair. The girl laughed and tipped her head back and Jake grinned before he said something else and stood up. Stella shifted a little as he headed towards her.

"Stel, you want another drink?"

She pulled her glasses down, and peered over them as she smiled up at him. "No, I'm fine JJ thanks."

"Cool, just, you know, ask me if you need anything."

"I’ll be fine Jake." She insisted. "Just enjoy yourself or... whatever."

He gave her a little smile before he turned and walked away. Stella watched him go, and it didn't escape her just how many heads turned in his direction. She took a deep breath then suddenly a shadow blocked her sun. She looked up to see Cougar stood beside her, hands on his hips, bright blue swim shorts and a plain grey tank covering his toned upper body.

"Enjoying the views, Arty?"

She rolled her eyes, then smirked at him as she spotted his ever present headwear. "Even round the pool you’re wearing the hat?" She sat up slightly, nodding towards it.

"Well it keeps the top of my head cool and shelters my eyes from the sun." He shrugged. "And helps maintain my youthful complexion."

"You gonna be wearing it for the wedding?" She grinned as he perched on the lounger next to her, before he led back over the top of Jake's towel, swinging his legs up to recline a little.

"Of course I am." He looked at her like she'd asked a dumbass question. "I’m making a fashion statement, Honey!"

At that she laughed. "Well, I look forward to seeing that!"

"I'll save you a front row seat!"

As the two of them continued to chat, over at a table a little further round the pool, Roque and Clay were sat deep in conversation. Pooch made his way over, flopping down heavily into a seat, shades covering his eyes.

“All right, so someone wanna tell me what happened to Shit-Name?” There was no disguising the bitterness in his tone. He was still pissed over the whole stag-do incident as Stella hadn’t gone, and the blame for that lay firmly at Evan’s feet.  “Not that I care, in fact I’m glad not having to see him around but-“ he nodded to Stella “-well I don’t like her being upset.”

Clay took a deep breath and blew it out harshly. “So, I made some calls. Pulled some strings and…”

“What?” Roque took a pull from his beer and turned towards the Colonel. Clay simply shook his head and Roque rolled his eyes. “Spit it out, Clay.”

“The guy is not on duty this whole week.” Clay looked at him, and then to Pooch who pulled a face.

“The whole week? I thought she was flying in today because he had some work to finish before taking a couple of days off?”

“So did I.” Clay shrugged.

“So what? He’s been lying to stop her coming for more than absolutely necessary?” Roque frowned. “That is fucked up, Clay.”

“I don’t get it though.” Pooch shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “Why is he not here? If he’s so hell bent on keeping her away from us, well, specifically Jensen, why the fuck has he let her come on her own?”

“I don’t know.” Clay looked over at Stella before turning back. “But I don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what?”

The three of them turned to see Jensen stood by their table, pushing his shades up his nose a little.

“Your swimming trunks.” Roque was quick to quip. “Pink? Really?”

Jensen grinned “Gracie got me these! Special present for being her coolest Uncle.”

“Yeah, you see she’s six, Jensen.” Clay grinned, taking a drink of his beer. “Her taste is debatable.”

At that Pooch snorted. “And besides, man, you’re her only Uncle! Not like she has anyone else to compare you to.”

“Oh yeah?” Jensen shot Pooch a look. “Fine, watch this.” He cleared his throat and looked over the pool area towards Stella. “Yo, Stel!” She glanced at him from where she was sat with Cougar and gestured with her head for him to continue speaking. “What you think of my shorts?” He gave a grin, twirling on the spot with his hands out to his side.

Stella arched a brow as she pulled down her glasses and looked over the top of them at him. “I’ve seen you in worse.” She called before she turned back to Cougar, a slight smile on her face.

Jake grinned and looked back at the men round the table, pointing in her direction. “See, that’s a compliment.”

“Yeah, by worse she means naked.” Pooch snorted. Roque and Clay both burst out laughing and the three of them clinked their beer bottles together.  

“You can all laugh but let’s face it, none of you could pull off this colour.” Jake sniffed.

“Who says you’re pulling it off, Jensen?” Clay arched his eyebrow.

“Well, he’s gonna need to as no one else is gonna pull em off for him.” Roque sniggered.

“Well, actually, Jolene’s cousins have already asked if he was free.” Pooch raised an eyebrow.

“They blind?” Roque shot back as Jensen grinned, ignoring him.

“Really? Which ones?”

“You were sitting with one of them earlier.” Pooch informed him.

“Oh, the red headed chick?” Jensen glanced around, and his eyes once more fell on Stella who was now sat up, turned towards Cougar as they talked about something. He took a deep breath. “Yeah, she’s not really my type. In a bit fellas.” With that he slapped Pooch on the head and wandered over to join Cougar and Stella.

“We cannot tell him about Evan.” Roque stated as Jensen sat down on the sun lounger next to Stella, leaning back a little on his hands.

“Nope." Clay agreed.

“Absolutely not.” Pooch affirmed with a serious nod.

*****

Stella was in her room’s bathroom, leaning over the counter to check her mascara hadn’t left any unwelcome blotch around her eyelashes when there was a loud knock on the door followed by the two softer ones that, ever since they met all those years ago, announced Jake Jensen’s presence. She gave a last glance at her appearance on the mirror, adjusting the thin straps of her pale pink dress to her shoulders, before she went to open the door for him.

“Damn, Stel. You look amazing.”

It was all Jake could express when he recovered from the shock of seeing Stella all dolled up for the first time since what seemed like forever. Maybe the last time being when Jane and Rob got married and they were still together and waiting for their military training to be over. She looked stunning in that outfit and he couldn’t fail but to observe it was Stelly all over. Her pale pink dress was covered in delicate lace flowers and flowed down her curves, the deep v neckline doing nothing but highlighting her gorgeous breasts which Jake so damned well knew and had cherished once upon a time.

Fuck, his mouth was dry…

“Thanks JJ.” Stella chimed, making Jake blink and shake his head. “I need a quick minute…”

As she turned to go finish getting ready he followed her in, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you’re not gonna say anything about my slacks and this fancy waistcoat I’m wearing.” He asked opening his arms for her to take in his appearance which she did when she turned, looking him up and down. She took in his dark blue plaid tweed waistcoat, matching trousers, along with his pale blue and white striped dress shirt and matching tie and she grinned.

“No jacket?”

“Fuck that shit, Stel its too hot out!” He snorted. “I’m gonna boil to death enough tomorrow in my suit.���

Stella laughed, looking him up and down again before she took a deep breath. “You could almost pass as a grown up, Jake.”

He pouted though he was slightly amused at the comment as it clearly meant her brain had also taken her to the last time they both had worn such elegant outfits, as they had been basically babies then.

“Rude, Stel. You used to like this look on me when we were.... ummm.... did you change your perfume?” Jake suddenly asked in an attempt to change topic after almost sliding dangerously down memory lane.

“No it’s the same it’s been for years.” Stella rolled her eyes at him and turned to rummage in her make up bag.

“Yes. Right….” Jensen replied somewhat awkwardly but relieved she was busy with something else. “So Cougs is coming down with us, he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” She said as she finished putting her lip-gloss on before grabbing her sandals and sitting on her bed. “So like, is there a huge group of us tonight then?”

Jake stood there, his brain having a hard registering Stella’s question, his hands on his trouser pockets as he bounced on the balls of his feet and blushed furiously because, from where he was stood,  as Stella was bent over doing her sandals up, he could see right down her dress and the line of her breasts. But when he finally did realise she’d spoken, he swallowed hard and tried to play it as cool as possible.

“I guess pretty much everyone invited who’s here already, it is a rehearsal dinner after all. Hey, did you know Clay’s chick is landing tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow morning? Stella frowned. “Cutting it a bit fine, isn’t it?” She asked standing up and readjusting her dress.

“Well, better late than never.” Jake muttered, more to himself than anything but Stella had clearly heard it as she was glaring at him.

“Don’t start.”

“Sorry, my bad.” Jensen raised the palms of his hands in surrender. But before he could continue apologizing there was another knock on the door. “That will be Cougs.” Jake took a hasty retreat as he went to open the door to Cougar who raised an eyebrow on seeing his friend’s flustered expression.

“Don’t look at me like that, Cougar.”

“What the fuck’s wrong with you, Jensen?” Cougar whispered but then his eyes landed on Stella who was coming towards them and looked at Jensen again as he mouthed. “Wow.”

On an impulse Jake dug him in the ribs with his elbow which made Cougar shove him hard on the shoulder in turn just before Stella stopped by their side and looked at them. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

“Playing tag.” Jensen blurted out.

Stella narrowed her eyes at him just as Cougar looked at him wondering what the fuck Jensen was dragging him into. Jensen gave him a look and Cougar rolled his eyes.

“I told him he’s buying the first round tonight and the jerk said he wouldn’t.” He turned to Stella, trying not to sound too eager or false.

Stella shrugged. “What else is new?”

“Hey, I’m not paying ‘cause it’s a free bar. All the rounds are on Pooch and future Mrs Pooch.” Jensen nodded lightly at Coug, rolling with it.

Stella grinned as they step out of the room and she shut the door. “Well boys, ” she linked her arms into theirs as they were at either side of her, “in that case let’s see how drunk we can go get for free.”

Jakey and Cougar both cheered loudly at the idea and she laughed heartily.

“And you’re walking into the party escorted by two of the most eligible bachelors in this resort, Sweetheart.” Jensen added cheekily.

“Yeah?” She asked as she called the lift and Jensen saw her eyes shine with mischief before speaking again. “You taking me to meet them? Are they downstairs?”

Cougar snorted but Jake wasn’t gonna let it die there. That was the playful Stella he so adored, his Stelly. They could go on at this type of banter for hours if they were in the mood.

“Face facts, I am desirable as Pooch told me before. Bridesmaids already asking for my number. How many asked for your number, Cougs?”

Cougar just smirked and tip the brim of his hat. “They only need my room number, you loser.”

At that Stella let out a huge laugh and the elevator arrived so she stepped in followed by Cougar, Jake behind them.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll give you that one.” Jensen admitted as the elevator doors closed and they headed down.

***

When they got to the big room where the rehearsal party was taking place, the bride and groom were already there greeting all their guests and Stella was immediately introduced to everyone in Jolene’s extended family who hadn’t been at the pool earlier that day. The drinks and conversations were flowing when the wedding planner, a woman with a thick Mexican accent, announced dinner was being served in a few minutes and politely asked them all to find their seats.

The Losers were set to share a table with Pooch’s brother and his girlfriend and a couple of Jolene’s bridesmaids who happened to be her cousins too. The food was delicious and by the time dessert had been served, Stel could swear her dress had shrunk in size but she was damned if she was going to say no to those sinful Tamales. The chocolate on her taste buds, together with all the tequila and cocktails they had consumed during the meal had her in good spirits. She could honestly say she was having a great time and was enjoying herself, only one thing casting a shadow over her jolly mood.

Jolene’s cousin Shanice, secretly renamed by Stella as Corpse Bridesmaid, who was sitting at Jake’s other side, insisted on flirting shamelessly with him, to the point it was embarrassing. So, when her piercing laughter at some of Jake’s shitty quips got everyone at their table startled, Stella shared a glance with Cougar who was sat at her other side and excused herself. Instead of going to the ladies restroom, she went outside, deciding some fresh air would do her good. She wandered out onto the beach a little and sat down breathing in deeply,  taking in the peacefulness of the sea in front of her.

Her head was swimming but not just from alcohol. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it was jealousy. She was jealous of Jake and Corpse Bridesmaid when she wasn’t supposed to be. Right? She wasn’t supposed to be and she didn’t like the feeling either.

And then there was Evan. She knew he was lying about having to work. He’d just used that as an excuse not to come to cover up the real core of the issue. Although he still insisted he was stuck at the office she knew he didn’t have to be there, and that evening, when they had talked on the phone, he had been cold and curt, their conversation mainly made of void questions and monosyllabic answers. Stella breathed in shakily at the memory of that conversation and pulled her phone out for the umpteenth time that night. No messages, no missed calls. Nothing. She sighed and chucked it back on her purse hastily.

“A watched phone never rings, Arty”

She hadn’t heard him approach, absorbed as she was in her own thoughts, but she made no effort to turn around as Cougar was already sitting on the sand next to her.

“Any luck with the blonde bridesmaid, Cougs?” She asked with a soft smile. “Maybe she’s the type that calls.”

“I told you before, I don’t need her to call, just knock.” He joked before turning his head to look at her, studying her features. “What’s going on Arty?”

“Nothing Cougs, just getting a little lightheaded in there.” Stella explained as she nodded her head towards the muffled voices of the party inside.

Cougar nodded. “And I’m assuming it’s not only because of the drinks.”

Stella didn’t reply, she simply looked away not trusting herself to say anything without her voice breaking.

“You know I won’t tell anyone, right? Especially not Jensen.”

Stella sighed and lowered her head as her hands fiddled with the flowers of her dress.  “I don’t believe Ev is working. I think he was making excuses not to come.” She finally spoke, before lifting her eyes to meet Cougar’s.

“And why would he be making excuses not to come with you?” Cougar frowned. “I thought he always wanted to spend time with you. That’s why you haven’t been hanging out with us so much anymore, huh?”

Stella raised her eyebrows. “He does. We kinda had an argument about it, well, not really an argument just a discussion about him crowding me and stuff, how he acts about Jake and you guys... and he admitted he was a little full on but said it was because he loved me.”

“Oh, so he threw the big L word there. That’s good, right?” Cougar asked, looking at her confused and a bit concerned as she had looked somehow embarrassed to admit Evan had said he loved her.

Stella looked at him. “Not really Cougs, because when he said it I was paralyzed and then realized I couldn’t say it back.”

“Oh.” He grimaced. “That’s not so good.” He paused for a moment before he continued. “You don’t love him?”

Stella shrugged, feeling calmer now, almost relieved she had finally got it off her chest and shared it with someone. “I thought I was sorta getting there you know, told myself it would happen in time but we’re almost six months in now. And each week I can’t see beyond the next, there’s no long term view there for me, Cougs and…”

“That’s a hard no disguised as a not yet, Arty.” He observed when he noticed Stella was trailing off. And she didn’t reply but looked at the sand instead as there wasn’t really a suitable response to that, least of all because he was right, she knew that much.

“Come here.” Cougar sighed, waving his hand for her to get closer before wrapping an arm around her shoulder and placing a kiss on the top of her head. “What you gonna do about it?”

“Finish it I suppose. That’s the right thing to do isn’t it?” She answered as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess it’s certainly the most sensible thing to do, anyway.”

“Well I’m a very sensible person.” Stella chuckled causing Cougar to snort.

“You spent years dating Jensen, I beg to differ.”

“Not my most sensible time.” She quipped.

Cougar laughed, shaking his head in agreement, and when he looked down to watch her he saw she was looking at the sand again, only this time she was smiling as she was clearly remembering something about the time he spent with Jake.

“He still loves you, you know? Jensen I mean.”

Stella’s eyes darted up at him and she scoffed. “You’re insane, Coug? You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh I know exactly what I’m saying. And more so you know it’s true.” Cougar stated as he tipped the brim of his hat and winked at her.

****

“Fuck, no, no more!” Jensen waved his hand as Roque grinned widely and held his hands up cheering loudly as Jensen grimaced. Both men had spent the last thirty five minutes doing shots while being cheered, as could not be otherwise, by Corpse Bridesmaid.

“All right, all right, you win Roque. I’m out.” Jensen admitted defeat as he turned around, scanning the dance floor. He frowned when he realized he couldn’t spot Stella, granted he was a bit drunk but he really couldn’t see her anywhere in the room. So he stood up from his seat and blinked twice as everything was a little hazy.

“Hey Clay, you seen Stel?” He asked when he finally steadied himself, brushing his hand through his hair before he pushed his glasses back up his nose. They’d gotten a little too close to falling off whilst he’d been doing those damned shots.

“Nope, it’s been a while since I last saw her.” Clay replied, glancing up at him from where he was sat on his spot at their table talking to Pooch’s brother.

“She went outside a while back. Didn’t say goodbye so I assumed she was coming back but…” Jolene, who had come searching for her cousin, offered but then someone Jensen couldn’t quite place tapped her shoulder so she turned round to talk to them and they left together a few seconds later, leaving him a little puzzled, without answers.

“Okay, I’ll go find her myself. You guys are useless.” He sniffed as he loosened his tie and turned to leave.

Clay rolled his eyes and looked at Roque who shook his head and snorted. “Whatever Jensen, just keep an eye on that tie. Too loose and you’ll lose it.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jensen.” Clay warned him, earning a frown from Pooch’s brother and causing Jensen to stop in his tracks.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” He asked, turning to look at Clay.

“It means you’ve drunk a lot with Roque and she’s got a boyfriend who is clearly making her upset.”

“I’m fine I…” Jensen began to protest but he immediately paused as Clay’s words registered. “Hang on, what do you mean Shit-Name is making her upset?” He frowned as Clay groaned, realizing he had said too much “Do you know something?”

“Well he’s not here, isn’t he? That should be enough.” Clay tried to brush it off.

Jensen looked at him for a moment before he turned and left the room, contemplating what Clay had just said. Despite the colonel’s attempt to brush it off as an innocent comment, he had once more raised the point that Shit-Name wasn’t here, and none of them really knew why. There was also the fact that Stella had been uncharacteristically flirty with Jake that day, more than their usual good natured quips…was it possible they had split up? But, if they had, surely she would have told him right? But then again, maybe she wouldn’t have told him, not wanting to cloud Pooch’s big weekend with her issues?

The thought was enough to make Jake grin, but the grin disappeared as fast as it had come and he couldn’t help but groan at this train of thought. Nothing would make him happier than that dick to be gone for good but he also didn’t want Stella to be upset and heartbroken. That was part of the reason that, despite his vow on New Years’ Eve to Clay in his parent’s dining room about fighting for her, he’d really tried to behave. He’d watched as her and Evan had gone from, what appeared to be, strength to strength, and, if he had to be honest, he was just grateful they were on good terms and wouldn’t want to jinx his recently fixed friendship with his Stelly for all the gold in the world. Plus, he just wanted her to be happy, she deserved that at least.  And, until now, he thought that Agent Shit-Name was making her so…

All those noisy thoughts were clouding his alcohol intoxicated head when he finally made it outside after a quick stop at the restroom. As soon as Jensen’s feet landed on the soft beach sand, he spotted Stella in the distance but she wasn’t alone as Cougar was sitting next to her on the sand with his arm round her.

“What the fuck, Cougs?” He whispered to himself, his jaw twitching a little. “Seriously, you’re going there?”

Both figures wheeled round and looked at him as he drew closer, his constant groans about tripping over on the sand alerting them to his presence. And when they did turn, Jake could see Stella had been crying.

“Stel, what’s going on?” He asked her softly.

Stella hastily wiped her tears and sniffed before speaking. “Nothing, I’m fine. It’s just….” She trailed off as she looked at Cougar with pleading eyes.

“I was telling her stories of my childhood here in Mexico.”  Cougar looked at Jake.

“Yeah…” Stella nodded eagerly. “… and it just got me thinking a bit of dad and stuff.”

Jensen glared at Cougar as he squatted beside them both, not for a minute believing the bullshit he had come up with, but then Cougar shot him a look and shook his head gently. Jensen’s frown deepened a little, before he looked at Stella who was now watching the ocean again. He knew she was lying, she had been lying about Evan and about them being fine since she had landed in Mexico that morning, but he also knew now, from Cougs, it wasn’t what his tequila mushed brain had thought some minutes earlier.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed all that to the back of his mind and fixed a smile on his face.

“Well, Stelly, I think the only thing to do here is come dance your sorrows away.” He tried to lighten the mood up a bit as he knew his Stelly had always loved dancing.

She looked at him like he was a moron before she burst out laughing and he shot her a cheeky grin.

“Yasss, come on, Sweetheart.” He pressed as he stood up, helping her up in the process and once they both were standing on their feet Jensen turned around and bent a little. “Jump up! We’re going dancing.”

“You’re not carrying me, moron!” She shook her head as he turned to look at her. “And it’s just one. I had an early morning and I need some rest.” She bent slightly, brushing the sand off her dress, giving Jensen another front row view of her cleavage line and without even looking at him, he nudged Cougar to stop him staring, sending the man sprawling over onto the sand, a string of Mexican expletives escaping his mouth.

“That’s my Stelly.” Jake grinned and she took his hand as she put her sandals back on before Jensen dipped and slung her over his shoulder.

“JJ put me down you ass!” Stella squealed.

“No can do Stel, don’t trust you not to run.” He said amidst laughter.

“Don’t mind me…” Cougar quipped as he remained sprawled on the sand.

“We won’t.” Jensen shot back as he strode up the beach to the bar with Stella over his shoulder, laughing as she slapped his back.

“Jake my boobs are gonna fall out of my dress!” She shouted, slapping his back harder once they were almost reaching the sliding doors that led to the room where the party after the dinner was now in full swing.

“I see no issue with that.”

“God, you’re a dick!” Stella scoffed and Jensen chuckled, eventually putting her down on the bar and looking at her chest. “Hey, my face is up here.”

“I was just… erm…” Jensen gave a goofy smile as he made a grabbing hand gesture in front of her boobs “…checking the twins are still in place and you’re good.”

Stella rolled her eyes at him as she rearranged her dress. “Pervert.”

All in all, and as Jensen had expected, Stella stayed for a little more than one song as she was letting herself go and forget everything. The pair of them just enjoyed themselves, and it was almost as if no time at all had passed, and they were still at some sort of crummy, homecoming or end of year dance at their school’s over decorated sports hall.

Just as they were winding down a rather energetic dance to some form of Nineties dance song, the name of which, Jensen had no idea, Pooch cut the music and stepped up to thank everyone for coming, before he started talking rather drunken and lovingly about Jolene. As Roque and Clay began to heckle, telling him to save the mushy ‘I love yous’ for tomorrow, Stella zoned out a little, thinking about what Cougar had said earlier at the beach. If she was honest, whilst she’d been able to push it away for large chunks of time as she’d been dancing, it had been in the back of her mind all night. Because Cougar had hit the nail on the head, she didn’t love Evan, she didn’t think she ever would, and she couldn’t keep fooling herself. She needed to finish it.

Almost as if he had read her mind, she felt Jake gently take her hand and give it a squeeze and that was it. It all became too much to handle again, and she turned to him giving him a shy smile.

“I’m gonna go Jake, I really am tired.”

Just as she had anticipated, he tried to get her to stay but she refused, declining his offer to walk her back up to her room. She kissed his cheek softly, gave him a smile, and headed off to say goodnight to everyone.

***** Jensen watched her go before dropping his head in defeat. He took a deep sigh, hands on his hips, before Cougar appeared at his side, thrusting a beer he hadn’t even asked for into his hand.

“Thanks.” Jensen whispered, taking a large swig as he studied Cougar. “So what really happened at the beach?”

Cougar hesitated, looking for the best way to give his friend a comforting answer without betraying Stella’s confidence, and it was proving a really difficult task. “She… umm, she told me Evan had said he loved her.” He answered a second or two later, hesitantly.

“What?” Jensen asked, swallowing hard. His beer suddenly felt a bit sandy.

“She didn’t say much more but I’ll let you draw your own conclusions how the whole thing went from how she’s been and the fact he isn’t here.” Cougar shrugged.

Jensen glared at him before taking another sip of his drink. He couldn’t think clearly, it wasn’t time for mind riddles and someone had definitely added that fucking sticky beach sand to his beer, plus, now he was pissed and his mind started spiralling.

Fucking Shit-Name dropping the fucking L word!

But then again, how could he not love her? It was impossible once you knew Stella, and he should know, he had tried it.

And what the fuck? Why hadn’t she told him when he had asked, instead of avoiding the topic all day long and then telling Cougar instead?

And yeah, Cougar could fuck off as well. With a final glare at him, he thrust his beer bottle back into Cougar’s hand and left without as much as a goodbye word.

What might seem common, rational sense to everyone else was never that common or sensible in Jake Jensen’s fucked up mind, least of all when it came down to Stella Stevenson. So, as he headed back to his room and passed hers on his way he stopped and turned back, making her way to her door. He stepped forward, ready to knock, but he dropped his knuckle when it was still mid-air and with a shake of his head and a heavy sigh he carried on.

And now he was also pissed at himself. Great.

******

Chapter 7 Part 2

[nctsjiho]

Relationships with: WayV

Click here for: NCT 127, NCT U, NCT Dream, WayV

Kun:

MOVE!

I-

These two~~~

Unexpectedly the duo you never knew you wanted needed

For the longest time they weren’t in any groups together and didn’t have many practises in common (besides NCT 2018 stuff)

They usually would just say hi in passing, but never really hang out if it wasn’t for multiple members going out to eat

But one day JiHo approached Kun asking him for a favour

He found out the reason why they didn’t talk a lot was because JiHo felt really shy around him for some reason

“I don’t know, I just felt too nervous around him” (JiHo during a random Vlive)

Near the end of 2020 a video got released on the NCT YouTube channel of JiHo singing with Kun accompanying her on the piano

You could somewhat say it was JiHo’s debut as a vocalist

Kun said that he didn’t see it as a favour, but that it was an honour JiHo chose him to do this with her   (///.-) I’m not crying heh-  

Ever since then they have been very comfortable around each other

JiHo praises him a lot on his vocals, piano and producing skills

Kun praises her on her vocals as well and has become another of her vocal coaches/supporter

JiHo said that if it weren’t for Kun, she would have never posted a vocal cover. “All the guys are supportive but Kun pushes me to better my skills so I can comfortably show them to NCTzens” ^^ I’m blushing this is cute

People ship them platonically after the cover and want them to put out more, but with both of them singing together

Ten:

Loves teasing JiHo

Dance partners

“JiHo is such a good dancer guys!” (Instagram Live with Yangyang)

Speaks up immediately when someone says something bad about JiHo

Jeno physically protects her, but Ten isn’t afraid to tear someone down with words (the members have to calm him down whenever it happens because he gets really worked up)

Jokes around a lot with JiHo during practise

Another one who brings out the chaos in JiHo

JiHo X WayV is just a bad idea in general, no manager can calm them down once they get started I feel sorry for the WayV managers

The two often butt heads, but they also make up quickly because they’re too close of friends <3

Learns her Thai and she’s pretty good!

Makes fun of her a lot though, but he also tells her how great she’s doing

Is happy that he’s no longer the person who knows the most languages in the group. During variety shows they test JiHo more often and he doesn’t have to rack his brain switching from language to language

Share mutual respect for each other

Winwin:

Has a soft spot for Winwin (like everyone else does) but isn’t overly affectionate and he appreciates that

Was awkward with JiHo for a while, but then she started learning Chinese. He noticed how much effort she put in to become accepted in NCT as the only girl. Now he doesn’t feel awkward anymore

He looks up to her because she’s so hardworking

Share a lot of cute fan favourite moments, usually where they are in the background of videos or vlives laughing together

They spent a lot of time practising dances together and said he’d like to dance together with her for an NCT Dance video

Lucas:

Robbed from being Dreamies together

Was sad he couldn’t join NCT Dream, but was about to sue SM for not letting JiHo be in Dream

Spoils JiHo a lot!

Gives her expensive gifts such as shoes, handbags, jewellery, etc. (she tells him not to but he still does anyway)

Only 1 year older but acts like JiHo is a baby

Lucas said that he wants to model with her for Vogue or Dazed or some fancy fashion magazine like that

Says that JiHo is the only one who matches his visuals

“I thought our members were good looking, but JiHo has set the bar too high and I think I’m the only one who’s up to her standards.”

JiHo will not for the life of her acknowledge the fact that he said that on national television (also disagrees because Renjun, Jaemin, Doyoung and Jungwoo exist)

JiHo calls Lucas Prince a lot, because she thinks he’s very handsome

JiHo sometimes ignores some of the boys’ calls, but answers Lucas every time, no hesitation

Is the one who called her Jihyun for a few months when he first got to know her, even though everyone kept on correcting him, he kept forgetting  -_-

Now the members call her Jihyun teasingly

Xiaojun:

JiHo thinks he’s really cool

They always talk in front of the practise room, when one comes out of practise and the other was waiting to go in

Group members have to physically separate them, because they zone everyone else out when talking to each other

Love going out to eat together, or just go to a cafe and talk

JiHo will actually join WayV to visit Xiaojun while he’s filming a drama

(JiHo isn’t allowed to do that anymore, definitely after not telling one of her manager that she was flying to China to see Xiaojun, poor manager almost had a heart attack when he couldn’t find her and she didn’t pick up her phone for 3 hours ;;; )

Instagram pictures together <3

Domestic af, they look like they have been friends since birth

Hendery:

Cutely awkward together

Super giggly for some reason ^^

She’s the least close with Hendery out of all WayV members, but since she likes WayV so much she’s been hanging out a lot more with him and became closer

He’s really good at English so he helps her with her Chinese and whenever she gets tired of speaking Chinese he will switch to English or Korean (whatever works really)

Also one of the people who thinks she’s really cool and kind of intimidating

But off-stage she’s really sweet

Send each other a thumbs up after practise or when the other gets off stage

Ten and Kun said they want them to get closer because they are kind of similar

Yangyang:

Chaos-

Multilingual messes

JiHo completely understands German but before meeting Yangyang she never really tried speaking it before. She’s nervous to mess it up but Yangyang is really excited and helps her a lot with German. Since he also forgot a bit of German they take classes together

75% of her attention is taken up by Yangyang when JiHo hangs out with WayV

Exposes so much about JiHo on Vlive and Instagram (He got a warning by the managers to be careful because he might spill something that’s not supposed to be made public)

Legendary Instagram Live where the two of them were up until 3 am and were so sleep-drunk. JiHo couldn’t form a coherent sentence, mixing up every language she knew. Yangyang dissing his members and both of them laughing hysterically

The fans absolutely adore them and the members are absolutely terrified

Ten said that whenever JiHo’s with him and Yangyang, he can’t be with them for long or he’ll actually go insane

---

Side Note: my posts weren’t showing up in tags for the last 3 days so I contacted Tumblr and apparently it was a bug on their end. Luckily they fixed in in literally 10 minutes! In other words: I’m back to posting again!

If you have any questions/comments please feel free to let me know. I have a few posts ready to go already, so i’m excited!

[fighterkimburgess]

Second Chances Chapter 1 - Three and a Half Months

A/N: Remember that time where I said I wasn't writing a multichapter for a while? And that if I did it'd be completely finished before I posted the first chapter? Well..oops. But enjoy? Updates are planned to be Mondays and Thursdays. Right now it looks like around 20 chapters, subject to change. 

Summary: A month after Kim's left him, Adam still can't even look at her. But when she arrives at his door one night, harsh truths are exchanged and realisations happen. Series Masterlist

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: alcohol, canon typical injury.

Wanna join my taglist?

--

Adam knocked back the last of his beer, calling Herrmann over to pay his tab. He knew coming to Molly’s was a bad idea, but his unit had worried about him enough since his engagement had ended. So he came out and he had three beers and he smiled and he pretended everything was fine. Until Kim walked in with Sylvie Brett and Sean Roman, and Adam just knew he needed to get out of there. He’d gotten good at being in the same room as Kim in work, but in a bar? When he was feeling tipsy? He couldn’t do it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, guys,” he said, pulling on his jacket and heading outside. He had to wait for an uber, but it didn’t matter. He was just glad to be outside and away from the woman who’d broken his heart.

Leaning against the wall he exhaled slowly into the cool night air. When would this stop hurting so much? He was so in love with her it hurt, and she’d been able to just move on as if nothing had happened. She’d said she was letting him off. That line had run around his head since the last time he’d been in the locker room. He couldn’t even enter it anymore, couldn’t see the spot he’d proposed and his heart had filled, and then where it had ended and his heart was broken. The only thing he’d thought of was that she didn’t love him. That she’d never wanted to marry him. That she accepted the proposal because she felt she had to. Did he know her that little that he was that wrong? It’s all he could think. Because every single time she’d asked anything he’d agreed. He’d do anything for her.

“Adam?” He kept his eyes closed. Now he was hearing her voice, this was great. Just great. Maybe he needed some time off, head away for a week.

“Adam? Please don’t ignore me.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head, and Kim was standing there. She was in a V-neck tee that he’d always loved, the blue setting off her skin.

“I’m heading home, Burgess. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” He couldn’t say her name. If he called her Kim he’d break then and there, and he couldn’t do that.

“Just while you wait for your cab? I need to know that we’re ok.” He’d held it down for so long, and this was the last straw.

“No, Burgess, we’re not ok. We’re not nearly ok. And honestly, I don’t know if I can ever be ok. I’ll talk to you in work when needed, but that’s it. I can’t do anything else.” The car pulled up and he got in without saying goodbye, throwing his head against the seats.

Adam had planned on going to bed when he got home. He’d planned on having a shower, drinking some water and going to bed. But instead he opened his fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer because he’d had to talk to Kim and it broke his heart. One night he’d Googled “how long does a broken heart last?”. The answer of at least three and a half months didn’t soothe him. Another ten weeks of this pain at a minimum? He didn’t know if he could do it.

There was a knock at the door, and he ignored it. Probably Mrs. Davis from down the hall. As soon as she’d learned Adam was a cop she came over any time to try get information about his job from him. He couldn’t deal with her tonight. His head was nowhere near good enough to cope with her.

It knocked again, and he ignored it. His phone buzzed, an unlisted number, so he picked up.

“Ruzek.”

“Adam, I’m outside. Can we talk?” It was Kim. She knew he wouldn’t answer her call, so she called unlisted. Probably reason a million why she should have been in Intelligence instead of him.

“No, Kim. I just want to be alone.”

“Please?”

If he didn’t hate himself so much for losing Kim, if he liked himself even a little bit more, he would have hung up and gone to bed. Instead he put down his bottle and opened the door. Kim was standing there, eyes red and still as achingly beautiful as the last time he’d seen her.

“What do you want, Kim? I’m tired. It’s been a long week and I want to go to bed.”

“I want to know how we can be coworkers again, Adam. Just because we didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean we should ignore each other. We need to be able to talk. You’ve ignored me any time we’ve seen each other. You haven’t even come into the locker room when I’m there. We need to make this work, because I’m not leaving the 21st.”

His anger flared and he took a deep breath, not wanting his neighbours to hear more of his conversation than they already would.

“Kim…I can’t talk to you because every single time I look at you my heart breaks all over again. I haven’t been into the locker room at all since this happened, because if I go in there I’m gonna see the spot where you made my heart whole and then where you broke it without even looking behind you. So I’ll talk to you eventually. But please, don’t come to me when you ended things and broke my heart and tell me that I’m being unfair to you. Because that’s not fair.”

“I ended them before you would!” She cried, and Adam moved out of the way, indicating for her to enter the apartment. If they were going to fully fight, it was better behind closed doors.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You didn’t want to marry me, Adam. You wanted the committed relationship, the ring on my finger. But you weren’t actually going to marry me. I know that. You’ve done it before and who knows, maybe you’ll do it again.” His face dropped as he looked at her. Did she think that little of him?

“I…Kim, I…” He couldn’t even find the words, so Kim jumped in.

“Exactly. You can’t even tell me right now that I was right. You didn’t want to marry me. As soon as I mentioned postponing the wedding or delaying moving in together you jumped at it. It was so obvious, and I’m just annoyed I didn’t realise it myself sooner. I deserved better than that.”

“That was a test? What the actual fuck, Kim? I’m well aware of my failings as your fiancé. I worked too much because I was so certain I don’t deserve my job. I skipped out on you and your Mom when I shouldn’t have. I didn’t try force my dad to meet you - although to be honest I’m glad that happened because you deserve a better father in law than him.” He paused, working out how to say what he needed to. “Kim…I’d have married you the day we got engaged. I looked up the waiting period for marriage licenses in Illinois. It’s same day, by the way. But when you asked to postpone for a year? It made sense. We got engaged after less than a year, less than six months after saying I love you for the first time. Of course you’d want a long engagement.”

“And the moving in?”

“You’d told me your lease wasn’t up until April. I assumed you couldn’t get out of it. I’m not a mindreader, Kim. I know I fucked up. I know I put my head in the sand. But I didn’t think things were so bad you’d leave me over it. Did you know Kev had to drive me home that night? He didn’t trust me to not drive off a bridge. I wouldn’t have, but he didn’t trust me to make it home ok.”

“I’m sorry for making you hurt. But you never argued. You just went with what I said!”

“Because I love you Kim, and I’d do anything to make you happy.” Shit. He should have said loved.

She scoffed. “If you loved me you’d have fought for me.”

“Why would I fight for someone who made it oh so clear she didn’t want me, Kim? My heart is broken enough. Why would I put myself through that pain for no reward?”

“Because I wanted you to! Adam, I was the bronze medal. Your third choice. I needed you to prove that you picked me for me, not because you thought you had to. But every time you just didn’t fight. It was clear you didn’t want me.”

Adam had heard enough. He went to the drawers, going through the one he kept his few tools and things for around the apartment in, where he knew she never would have looked. He found the envelope and box he was looking for, pulling them out.

“Maybe I should have said this sooner. But I need you to know that I only wanted you. After we got engaged I changed my will to make sure everything went to you. And the day you left me, I picked up our wedding rings. I had them in my pocket when you gave me the ring back. Here.” He handed them over, letting Kim sit down and look at them.

When he joined CPD they all had to make a will, in case of a line of duty death. His had been simple, everything went to his sister. But when he and Kim got engaged he’d gotten in touch with the union to make sure everything went to her. His pension, his belongings, everything. She was gonna be his wife, of course he’d give her everything.

He hadn’t looked at the rings since the day he’d picked them up. They were platinum, like her engagement ring, with their initials and the date of their first kiss in it. Not the day he’d turned up at her doorstep like a lovesick fool, but the day she’d kissed him in the parking lot and he realised that whatever he’d thought he felt for Wendy was a lie. Because he never wanted to kiss anyone else again.

He watched Kim read the one sheet of paper, covering her mouth. And then saw her open the ring box, lifting out what was supposed to be his wedding ring, weighing the heavy band in her hand.

“Turns out if you get them engraved you can’t return them.” He said, watching as she looked on the inside.

“April second? But we didn’t get together till May?” Her voice was quiet, and Adam took a swallow of his beer.

“At eleven thirty on April second you kissed me when we left Molly’s. That was our first kiss. And I should have gone home and told Wendy it was over then and there, but I was too chickenshit to. So I pretended I wasn’t falling in love with the woman who had to fire her gun and didn’t want to. And that lasted all of seven weeks till I realised I was a goner for you, Kim.”

He watched her lift out the band that should have been hers. He’d gotten them from the same jeweller as her engagement ring, made sure there was the tiniest of notches in the platinum so it would fit her finger perfectly with the diamond. She’d deserved so much more than what he could afford, she’d deserved the biggest ring and to be shouted about from the rooftops. But she wouldn’t have taken them. He knew the woman who should have been his wife too well.

“What did I do?” Her voice was low, and Adam wanted to comfort her. His body ached to hold her and tell her she’d be ok. But he didn’t get that luxury anymore. He wouldn’t get to hold Kim Burgess in his arms again, and being this close to her was as much as he’d be allowed in the future.

“You did what you thought was right. And we can’t change the past.” That sentence had been going around in his head since the breakup. He couldn’t change the past. He couldn’t fix their mistakes. He shouldn't love her anymore. But he did.

“I listened to someone I shouldn’t have and made the biggest mistake of my life.” She took a breath, and Adam could tell she was about to start one of her legendary Kim rants. He’d seen her do one about the Bears losing season that had lasted for seven minutes.

“I should have been able to trust my partner giving me good advice, even when I knew he’d had shit luck in relationships. I shouldn’t have trusted him. I should have known that what Roman was saying was shit, because how would he know what we were?”

“Wait, Sean fucking Roman?” He had to interrupt. “All of this? All of this hurt and heartache and the pain between us is because he told you to?”

“Not exactly.” But Kim couldn’t look at his eyes. “From when we got engaged he told me that even a bronze is an Olympic medal. That just because it was third time out didn’t mean we were doomed. And if I was worried I should test you, because you’d show what you really thought.”

Adam didn’t know if it was the nearly four beers he’d consumed that night or what, but his jaw dropped. “And you didn’t…you didn’t think to ask me? Kim, I wanted to make you happy. If you’d come up to me and told me you thought Intelligence was too dangerous and I needed to reconsider, I would have. I can’t guarantee I would have left, but I’d have taken your opinion into account. I know I’m not good at communicating. But I still love you. And I want to make us work. It’s gonna involve a long road, and a lot of talking, but I want it. I want to be your last first kiss, Kim. I want to wake up with you in my arms.” Her tears overflowed, streaming down her cheeks as they reached out their hands. She still fit so perfectly in his hands, her fingers interlinking with his. It didn’t feel totally right - he’d been too used to her engagement ring - but it felt so good and so much better.

“I should have talked to you. I should have told you everything. And I’m always going to regret that. But I love you so much, and I’m going to earn that ring back, Adam. I know I need to earn your trust back and I will.” Adam looked at her, her eyes shining in the soft light from the lamp.

“Gimme a minute.” He stood, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake. But it was his Kim. His Darlin’. The woman who he loved more than anything in the world. This couldn’t be a mistake. He opened his nightstand drawer, finding the familiar red box there. He went back outside and she was tense, but he sat beside her again.

“I had all these ways I’d do this if we were able to do it again. But I’m going this way.” He knelt on one knee, his eyes filling with tears. “This feels like a dream. But I love you, Kim. I love you so much it hurts, and having you even near me makes me whole again. Will you marry me?”

She wasn’t shocked this time, she didn’t stare at him in surprise. Instead she just nodded, a grin spreading across her face.

“Yes. Adam, I’ll marry you. I’m never going to stop loving you. I want to marry you.”

He held her in his arms, and it just felt right. She was there and she was Kim and she was everything he’d dreamed about for the last month. They fell onto his couch, lips meeting and limbs tangling. It wasn’t smooth and it wasn’t the dramatic lovemaking he’d thought it could have been, but it was them and they were connected and she felt like home. Her moans and cries of passion mixed with his groans as they tumbled over the edge, lying in each other’s arms. He never wanted her to move. Didn’t want her to leave him again.

“I should probably clean up and leave,” Kim said, but Adam held her close.

“Stay here. You left a uniform behind when you took your things. I’ll drop you off at your place in the morning so you can get your badge and gun.”

“I thought I took everything?”

“It was in the wash. It might smell like me…when I missed you I’d put it on your pillow.”

They went into the bedroom, still wrapped up in each other. It wasn’t until they were lying there, curled up that Kim spoke.

“I’m not saying this because I don’t want you. But I want us to keep that we’re together a secret for a while. The rumours…Adam it’s been hell. I can’t go through another round of us being back together and the looks and whispers. I can’t do it.” He ran his fingers through her hair, holding her tighter.

“This is between us. For as long as it takes, Kim. You’re calling the shots on this, and I’m gonna follow your lead. If anyone asks about tonight, you came over and we hashed out why our relationship ended and you left. Sound good?” Her smile lit up her face, and Adam couldn’t stop grinning in return.

“It sounds perfect. I love you.” She kissed him in response, and he kissed her back.

“I love you too, Darlin’.”

That night they both slept the best sleep in a month, waking up early wrapped around each other. Adam let Kim shower first, putting on coffee and fixing hers the way she liked, with the vanilla creamer she’d bought and he hadn’t had the courage to throw away. She arrived into his living room in bare feet, her hair half dried and her uniform on.

“Have I mentioned how good you look in non breathable polyester?” He asked, leaning down for a kiss. He got to kiss her again. He was gonna get to marry her. Things couldn’t get much better.

“Once or twice. Go shower and I’ll do breakfast?” They’d fallen into the routine they’d had when they were engaged the first time, and when Adam arrived out in Kim’s favourite jeans she had eggs ready to go. They ate and left, going down the elevator hand in hand. He didn’t want the drive to her apartment to end, but he pulled up and kissed her goodbye.

It was ten minutes to the precinct, and he waved at Platt as he went to go upstairs.

“Not so fast, Ruzek.”

“Yes, Sarge?” He asked, looking at her.

“You’re in a good mood. You haven’t been in a good mood since your breakup. What happened?” She fixed him with a glare, and he knew a full lie would never work.

“Kim and I talked last night about everything, clearing the air. We didn’t want our personal lives interfering with the job. I guess I got closure.”

“Hmm. Go on up there so.” He nodded and left, texting Kim quickly that Platt had stopped him.

Adam may not have been a detective like the rest of his team, but he knew his dramatic change of mood was getting some looks from everyone. He kept his head down and worked until Voight sent him and Al out for a stakeout.

Spending time with Al in the car was a highlight of his day. When he’d told his pops he was partnered with Al, Bob told him to leave Intelligence and stay away. But whatever had happened in the past between the two, Adam was glad to spend that time with Al. He’d learned a lot about being a cop in the two and a half years.

“You’re in a good mood. Finally have a rebound?” Al asked, and Adam nearly spit out his coffee.

“No, nothing like that. I saw Kim at Molly’s last night, and she followed me home. We talked about what went wrong, why things ended. It helped, you know? At least I know why now, I’m not wondering.” He picked up the camera, taking a photo of a woman leaving the restaurant they were watching.

“What did go wrong?” Al asked, and Adam rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t talk. We both got so convinced things were one way and didn’t talk about it. And I had my head in the sand thinking it was fine, she had doubts. That raid was the last straw I guess. But we both know what happened now, so we’ve agreed we can be friends. I’m good with it.”

The older man clasped his arm, nodding. “I’m glad you could talk. There’s been a cloud over the precinct since you broke up.”

They made their arrest, Adam getting a punch to the cheekbone when he grabbed the perp, but it worked out. When he made it back to the precinct Kim and Roman were talking to Platt, and he nodded at them as he went upstairs.

“Ruzek, you ok?” Platt asked, and he turned and nodded.

“Yeah, I will be. Probably bruised. Don’t worry, I won’t mess up the guest photos for the wedding. Today’s your last shift before it, right?” He asked, trying to pass off the injury. He could see the worry in Kim’s eyes, but he just smiled.

“You better not! Glad you’re coming. Sorry you can’t make it, Roman, but we’ve limited space in Molly’s.”

He went upstairs, icing his cheek and watching the bruising form. It really wasn’t going to be pretty. But they finished vaguely on time for once, Voight kicking them out after the week it had been. It was Friday afternoon, he could go home and relax and hopefully that night he’d get to fall asleep holding his fiancée. It seemed pretty perfect.

“Ruz, you coming to Molly’s? You left early last night. Everything ok?” Kev asked, and Adam shook his head.

“Nah, I’d rather not. Don’t wanna scare anyone with my face! I’m gonna pick up pizza and head home. Text me over the weekend?”

“Sure man.”

Adam was in his car when his phone buzzed with a text from Kim.

Want me to come over?

It took less than three seconds for him to respond.

Definitely. And if you want to bring enough for the weekend?

I already packed a bag.

Adam drove home, ordering their pizza for delivery. He arrived home just before Kim got to the apartment, and he hadn’t been as happy in a long time. It wasn’t a dream, they were together.

Chapter 2>>

Taglist: @aruzlover @abbyscameron @morganupstead @adamruz @fullwattpadmusictree @redpoodlern @everythingaddictxx @write4life13 @lizlouisebrown @jeanjacketjesus @tuxieboy101-blog @thelittlepterophyllum @planecrazylex @sophiatellerrhodes @eternal-olicity @ossypooh @dissociation-writes @multicouple-lover

[solalunar-eclipse]

SYCS - 1 Year Anniversary

Chapter title: Set In Stone

Word count: about 4000 words

Next

Author’s Note: On July 26, 2020, I posted the first chapter of Scars You Can’t See. One year later, I’ve written five stories of varying lengths and am currently working on a sixth (wow)! My writing’s come a long way since then, and a lot of my improvement is thanks to everyone who encourages me to continue said writing, whether it’s through likes, reblogs, or comments. Thank you all so much for your support so far! :)

This is a rewrite of the very first chapter of SYCS, since the original could use a little fixing. Some important notes: I’ve edited a few parts of the story to be more in character, Chapter 2 starts in a different place after this updated version, and I’ve also fixed up chapter 13 because apparently I forgot to finish the motif I started?? Somehow??? At least I remembered eventually...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the (revised) story!

Before, Shadow had always been able to just ignore what it meant to work for G.U.N.

He’d managed somehow to convince himself to brush aside the fact that the soldiers he worked with (had been coerced into working with) wore the same uniforms as those who killed Maria, his dear sister and first friend. To push away any idea that he couldn’t deal with serving the same organization that had once wanted him dead. (It was the only way to stay with his friends, of course he could deal.)

The same thing went for using guns during the Black Arms invasion- even though he’d had amnesia, he remembered enough that he’d needed to rely on adrenaline near constantly just to make it through those times. Despite this, he had still taken the better part of a month to recover afterwards.

His memories of that day were particularly fresh for a while.

Once the invasion had been successfully repelled, G.U.N. had hired him to work for them very rapidly, as a matter of fact. During the process, some of the people along the way strongly suggested that if the organization wasn’t able to keep an eye on him, then…well, then they’d be very displeased. 

Shadow knew all too well that you did not want G.U.N. displeased with you.

The hybrid felt nothing but exhausted as these thoughts whirled through his head for the hundredth time. They’d only become a major problem recently, ever since the military organization had begun to require him to resume using guns on his missions. Every single time he touched one, the cold steel left his palms slick inside his gloves and made his head swim with flashes of memories too often repressed. Still, he had to use them- he’d be taken off missions entirely if he refused, and Shadow would never leave Rouge and Omega in the lurch like that.

However, his mental health had been growing ever worse these past few weeks as a result. He thought (hoped) he’d done a good job of hiding it from Rouge and Omega, but Shadow had been sparring with Sonic noticeably less. The hybrid had struggled with the idea of inflicting more violence on others in his spare time, and the hero had asked him about it several times, trying to figure out the reason for his sudden change in behavior.

Shadow shook his head, pushing his doubts and worries away just as he always had before. He couldn’t allow himself to become distracted by his thoughts- they might spill over into missions if he wasn’t careful. Forcing himself to focus on his schedule for the day and nothing else, he walked out of his room to take on whatever might come his way.

…

He was skating through the halls of an old, decrepit building (currently being used as a hideout by Eggman) on a mission. A robot stepped into his path.

Shadow hadn’t used his weapon yet on this assignment. He remembered the thinly veiled threat after his first refusal- we may have to remove you from missions if you cannot handle this responsibility- and felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

He shut his eyes, whipped out the firearm, and pulled the trigger. Flinching at the sound out of instinct, he refused to open his eyes until the gun was away, when he didn’t have to see it anymore. The robot lay on the ground, a smoking hole in its center. He tried to ignore the lingering sensation of the G.U.N. logo embossed on the handgrip in his palm.

Shadow felt the floor tilt for a moment under him before he regained his bearings.

He refused to look at the machine as he rushed by.

…

The exhausted hedgehog curled up in bed at night, unable to keep himself from hearing gunshots over and over and over. He fought against the memories of that day, refused to let them spill over into his thoughts.

Yet despite his best efforts, he knew he’d dream of it again tonight. He knew that he’d wake up screaming with her name in his mouth and the sight of blood still burned into his eyes. It had happened every night since he’d received the weapon.

Shadow swallowed down his fearful apprehension over what would come next. He forced himself to breathe deeply, to close his eyes, even though he wished to do the exact opposite. Dreams were not real. He could not let them hold power over him.

But still, he shivered as he tried to fall asleep.

…

He and Omega were standing in the center of a courtyard, broken badnik scrap lying all around them. This mission was supposed to be easy, just a simple in-and-out. Take out the bots, grab the intel, and go.

Rouge had asked them to cover for her as she searched for information in the abandoned computers alone. Shadow hadn’t liked the idea of leaving her alone but agreed grudgingly anyway.

He looked down at the firearm he held in his hands and tried his hardest not to cringe.

Flashes of memories threatened to surface again, of escape pods and gunshots and too much blood-

“Shadow.”

He jumped, not expecting Omega’s loud voice so suddenly.

“Yes, what is it?”

“You have been distracted for nearly ten minutes. Are you unwell?”

Shadow sighed, projecting a relaxed attitude. “Everything is fine. I was simply thinking.”

“About what?” Omega asked curiously.

“Nothing much.”

Silence descended upon the two again for a minute. 

“Shadow.” the E-series robot repeated.

“What.” he snapped, sounding more irritated than he’d intended.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. You looked distressed.”

“I’m fine, alright?” Shadow insisted. “Just- forget it, Omega.”

Omega stepped closer. “Past experience has informed me that you tend to hide important thoughts from others. Therefore, I will assume that this is essential knowledge until proven otherwise.”

“It’s not important.”

The robot placed his hand on Shadow’s shoulder. The latter wouldn’t admit it, but the weight was comforting, in a way.

“This is not adequate proof. Do you not trust me, Shadow?”

He sighed. “I do trust you, Omega. You know that.”

“Then talk.” Omega’s processors whirred for a moment, before adding, “Please.”

The hybrid’s shoulders slumped- he knew his friend wouldn’t stop until he told the truth. “I was thinking, how weird is it, that I work for the same organization that ki-...caused my sister’s-” He paused on the word, fighting not to trip over his sentences. “-death and...attempted to cause mine. Among other things. And how now...I must use weapons like the ones that took her from me...to harm others.” He sighed, nearly worn out just from the effort of discussing that event’s existence.

Omega jerked away from him, startling Shadow. “G.U.N. is the organization that killed your sister?” he asked, sounding- if it were possible- shocked.

“And the one that locked me away in cryostasis for 50 years, yes.” Shadow said, feigning calm.

Omega made a staticky noise that sounded like a sharp exhale. “Shadow. Why did nobody tell me this before? And why in the name of Chaos do you still work here?”

Shadow looked away, hiding the bitterness in his expression. “Multiple reasons. One, the organization has somewhat cleaned up its act, as far as I can tell. Two, it wants to keep me under surveillance, since I am still ‘potentially dangerous’ to them...and consequences would be severe if I did not obey.”

He tapped his heel on the ground. “Also, it was one of the main avenues for us to become heroes. Unlike Sonic and his friends, we don’t have the luxury of fighting someone who wants us to know where they are. And you know we didn’t exactly have the best record with law enforcement beforehand.”

“Still.” Omega replied. “I am highly opposed to the concept of fighting in the name of such an organization. Have they at least apologized to you? Or admitted their wrongdoing?”

Shadow frowned, thinking. “No, actually, they never did.”

Why did he have to bring this up? There’s no point in talking about what’s past. Let’s just get over it and move on.

Omega looked down, his eyes dimming slightly. “Processing.”

He was still processing by the time Rouge arrived, and remained mostly silent for their exit, post-mission briefing and the entire ride home.

Once the three had gotten inside, Rouge faced the E-series robot. “Alright, what’s up with you? You’re never quiet, but you’ve barely said a word since I got back.”

“I am considering an important decision.” Omega said.

“Oh? And what might that be?” she asked, folding her arms.

“My potential resignation from the government organization known as G.U.N..”

“Wait, what?” Rouge gasped. 

Shadow shouted out from the other room simultaneously. “Omega, what are you thinking?!”

“Current logic process is as follows: G.U.N. hurt one of the few decent people on this planet and my friend fifty years ago by murdering Maria Robotnik and many others aboard the ARK, as well as imprisoning him for said fifty years against his will. It has not apologized or shown remorse for those actions. Therefore, this organization clearly has no respect for Shadow, and therefore I refuse to aid them one moment longer.”

Shadow appeared at the robot’s side, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Omega, but you don’t need to do that for me. I’m alright with this.”

(He was lying, of course.)

“Hold on a minute here, Omega’s got a point.” Rouge said pensively. “I started working here so I wouldn’t go to jail for stealing, but I’ve served my ‘sentence’ ages ago. Honestly, I kind of hate it there anyway? Like, nobody even respects us and it’s got way too much bureaucracy and too many outdated ideas. It’d be much better if it was just the three of us doing our own thing away from them, wouldn’t it?”

“Besides, hon, you’ve got to start standing up against those guys. I know you were going through a major existential crisis a while back when this all started, and that was the main thing you had to deal with. But now that you’ve started to figure everything out, it’s time to stop letting people treat you this way! We don’t have to give G.U.N. anything. They never helped you at all.”

“Agreed.” Omega said. “This organization does not deserve you- or any of us. They have wronged you, and though forgiveness is supposedly a ‘virtue’, it is likely so only when it is deserved.”

Shadow stared at the two of them. “That was...actually kind of philosophical for a minute. And convincing.” He huffed, frustrated, his hands curling into fists. “I just…how would I even go about dealing with my grievances with an entire military organization? I would need proof...and I don’t want to damage my standing with the government. G.U.N. can easily claim that I have gone rogue.” 

He swallowed, trying to ignore the various insecurities at the corners of his mind. “I’m just...should I really be digging all of this up again? I’ve finally started to get over it…”

“Okay, so first of all, hon, you’d better not let G.U.N. walk all over you just because they can make up fake blackmail.” the bat insisted. “And second, you’re clearly not over it. Shadow...I can hear you when you wake up from your nightmares, you know. You deserve some kind of closure to help you, and if G.U.N. won’t give it to you, then you have to take it.

“Also, here’s another thing- how much worse would you feel if G.U.N. hurt someone else, and we had never said anything to warn anyone?”

Shadow stiffened, feeling ill again. The very idea was abhorrent. That another person’s Maria could be lost due to his silence...“That...that would be unimaginable….” he breathed.

“Exactly.” Rouge replied. “So, consider it.”

Shadow frowned. “I...I’ll keep it in mind. But we should at least see if they’ll do something first before we try to attack them. We might be able to convince them to make amends, after all. I mean, if we fight, we’ll be completely out of a job, and I don’t know if the funds from Club Rouge will be enough to keep us afloat- if we succeed. It’s too risky, at least for now.”

“If that’s what you want to do, then we can definitely stick with that to start.” the bat said. “I don’t know if I could’ve taken any of their apologies if it were me, but it’s not my life, it’s yours. So I’ll be right with you no matter what you decide to do, okay?”

“As will I.” Omega added, placing a hand on Shadow’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Rouge. Thanks, Omega.” the hybrid said, finally allowing relief to show on his face as he looked at his friends.

He couldn’t help but feel that with them by his side, everything would be alright.

…

They talked through most of the night about how to bring it up, what they would say, and even where they would sit to keep Shadow feeling as safe as he could. The hybrid had final veto power over anything the other two suggested, and he tried to keep the wording of the speech he’d give as controlled and polite as possible. 

However, he tried not to bring up the “maybe G.U.N. still thinks I’m a weapon to be stored and used, not a person” topic during his proposal. Those insecurities could wait for another day.

They fell asleep late at night, all three in the same room- Shadow made a blanket nest on the floor, Omega plugged himself into the wall, and Rouge was on her bed.

Pleasantly enough, Shadow didn’t have any nightmares that night.

…

“You want us to do what?” 

The head of the public relations department stood behind his desk, cutting a slightly dominating figure in front of the team in his room. Omega could easily detect an increased heart rate in Shadow. He was not betraying any nervousness externally, however, and the robot was impressed by his friend’s willpower.

The PR head sat down, and he gestured for Team Dark to do the same. However, since there were only two chairs in the room (as they had known), Omega remained standing. Among other things, it would allow him to more easily defend his friends should the talk go awry.

“I’m afraid we just can’t do that kind of thing...Shadow.” He said the last word like it was distasteful, like it didn’t belong in his mouth. (Or, perhaps, like he wanted to add a “Project” or “Experiment” to the front of it, but didn’t for fear of a missile to the face delivered by Omega.)

“Why not?” The hybrid asked. “Sir,” he forced himself to add politely. “Don’t you agree that it was wrong? That G.U.N.’s soldiers shouldn’t have done...what they did?”

“I am incredibly saddened that Miss Robotnik’s death occurred in the search for you, and that the head of G.U.N. at the time considered you unworthy of any basic living rights.” the PR leader said, sounding more than anything like he was reading a script off a teleprompter. “However, I am not going to make a public statement digging up something that happened fifty years ago.”

Rouge leaned forward in her chair furiously. “So you’re just going to pretend it never happened? What about the trauma Shadow experienced? What about the fact that this kind of thing could happen again?”

The leader looked at her coldly. “I can assure you that this is an isolated incident, and that such an occurrence has not happened before or since.”

“But you can't just-! Can’t we speak with the commander?” Rouge gasped, outraged.

“I can, and I will. And you know very well that the commander is taking a well-deserved vacation, and we are not to disturb him for any reason except an emergency. Now then. Did you have anything else you needed?” he said smugly.

Omega was so, so close to just arming the missile launcher anyway.

Shadow looked up at him carefully, clearly going over the words in his head. “Sir. May I respectfully ask why G.U.N. considered it necessary to arm me? I can apply lethal force if necessary in other manners.”

The PR head frowned. “Close quarters are not necessarily a safe space for you, Shadow. We need you alive, and if that means you’re farther back, then so be it.”

“But- me? Destroying with impunity? In such a cold, distant manner? That’s not what G.U.N. wants to see from me, I thought. And with my experiences, I really don’t think-”

The human folded his arms. “Don’t worry about thinking, just worry about completing your missions on time. And what’s past is past, right? Now then, I expect no more complaints from you three. This meeting is concluded.”

Shadow stood up stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

Rouge froze. “Wait, Shadow, you’re not just going to-”

“We’re leaving, Rouge. Now.” Shadow said firmly, but the two other members of Team Dark could hear the unsteadiness in his voice. Omega remained silent, but internally was playing a very nice simulation in which he repeatedly punched the head of the PR department.

Once they had exited the office and walked through the facility for a while, Shadow leaned heavily against a wall. “He’s not sorry at all.” he muttered. The robot didn’t need his sensors to tell that he was experiencing far too many negative feelings at once. It wasn’t healthy for organics to deal with all that all the time…

“Agreed.” Omega said. “I would not be surprised in the least if he was lying throughout all of it.”

Rouge sighed, before pulling an unresisting Shadow into a hug. “Honey, I’m...” She paused for a second. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You shouldn’t have to cope with people like that, ever.”

Shadow closed his eyes quietly and stood like that for a long time. Eventually, though, he spoke up. “.....I know what we have to do. I...I know we need to fight, like you said last night. I don’t feel ready, but just…it has to happen.”

Omega looked down at them both. “You two go out to the car. I will go and get your sister’s files myself while you take a few minutes, Shadow. I am bulletproof and the most likely to make it out unscathed, and if I need help I can call.”

Rouge rolled her shoulders briefly, her wings flexing. “Alright. I’ll be ready to get out of here the second you get in. Sound good?”

“Alright.” Omega agreed. “Let’s go.”

The robot marched down the halls, on a mission. He stopped first to gather everything from their office- or at least all of their personal items. They might need them later, after all. He placed them into his empty chest compartment (he hadn’t refilled on weaponry in a while) and moved on. 

The lower levels of the G.U.N. facility were darker and less well-maintained. This was most likely on purpose, to keep people from wanting to go down there. Omega, however, did not fear the dark. He had a flashlight, and a hulking five-foot robot was usually enough to scare most creatures.

Thankfully, the guards stationed throughout these levels knew him, and simply stepped aside to let Omega pass. Quite a few of them were honestly nervous down there themselves, and barely even noticed him.

He noticed a small door marked ‘Records Room- Classified’ and knew he was in the right place. The door did not give him access, but that was alright. Rouge had hacked the system a while back and given herself the highest clearance possible...and now Omega had her spare card.

Once he was inside, he scanned the cabinets methodically until he found the file marked ‘Maria Robotnik’. Inside were papers detailing her death and her life. Everything one could have wanted to know about her was inside. 

The red stamp on the front reading ‘Terminated’ was pretty ominous, and Omega briefly wondered if he would be able to remove it. He considered the possibility that Shadow would not be quite so pained upon seeing it if the stamp were gone.

It was unlikely, and so he moved on.

Omega exited the room, hoping that the guards in the security monitor room were slacking off. They often were, so he calculated at least a 70% chance of exiting the facility without incident. He placed the file inside his compartment and continued on.

Being a robot meant that he could not act nervous. Therefore, nobody questioned him as he walked through the halls and outside, where he saw Rouge talking to Shadow inside their black-and-red car.

The hybrid appeared to be rather panicked about the whole plan, so as Omega slid into the backseat, he placed his hand on his friend’s head for a brief moment. “Everything is going to be alright, Shadow. I promise you that.”

Shadow sighed and slumped back against the seat. “Let’s get out of here before someone notices what we did.”

Rouge pulled out of the parking lot with a screech of the tires and didn’t let the speedometer dip below fifty until they got home.

“Right.” she said, once they were all inside. “We’ll probably have G.U.N. beating down our door by tomorrow morning, so let’s make sure they don’t catch us still here by then. Omega, refill your weapons and pack us some clothes and stuff. Shadow, you just try and chill. I’m going to look over this file.”

As Rouge flipped through the pages, Shadow decided that he needed to see these for himself and walked over to stand behind her. Before long, though, he recoiled in shock upon seeing that when G.U.N. discussed Maria’s death, they justified it. Made it seem like Shadow was the villain. A monster. A weapon.

“Shadow?” the bat asked.

“...yes?”

“You know we can’t use this by itself, right? We need more proof. Like, video proof.” she said, sounding resigned.

“I know.” he said quietly, disappointed that so little had changed despite the fact that half a century and some new management had taken place. 

Omega cursed out G.U.N. from the other room in response and came over to them, his eyes in their ‘angry’ shape. “We need to stop them now. This revolting organization does not deserve to spend another minute active anywhere on the planet.”

“Let’s get them, then.” Rouge hissed, clearly furious as well. 

Shadow felt terribly apprehensive, but despite that, he agreed as well. “Then they won’t be able to hurt anyone else in the future.” he said, sounding more determined than he had in a while.

“You ready, guys?” the bat asked, holding out her hand in the midst of their little group.

Omega allowed his giant metal hand to hover over hers. “Always.”

Rouge looked at the hybrid. “You sure you’re up for this, hon?”

“Not entirely…” Shadow admitted, but took a deep breath and held out his hand too, allowing Rouge to guide his hand to Omega’s, just like she had so long ago. “...but I need to do it, and so I will.”

“Then we’ll expose them, Shadow.” she said confidently. “And we’ve totally got this, because we’re doing it together.”

And as they all clasped hands for a moment, before breaking off to head to the garage, Shadow felt like they really had a chance to succeed.

[darkverrmin]

Do You Like It? Pt. 2

Link to Part 1:

warning: people saying mean stuff to Jaskier, mentions of homophobia, light smut.

They walked out of the tavern and turned to a narrow path, shaded by trees. Jaskier chattered about nothing in particular and Geralt found his voice soothing. Their shoulders occasionally brushed by accident and it sent shivers down Geralt’s spine. Geralt sneaked glances at Jaskier when he thought the bard wasn’t paying attention. The Witcher still couldn’t calm himself about how good Jaskier looked with that black eyeliner and the unbuttoned shirt, revealing his chest hair. It was an odd mix of masculinity and femininity that sent a wave of arousal through Geralt’s body. When Jaskier caught him looking and smiled at him, Geralt imagined himself pushing Jaskier against a tree and kissing him breathless. But in reality, Geralt averted his gaze to the ground, his face hard and impassive.

They walked like that for half an hour, Jaskier talking and Geralt deep in his thoughts. They were already close to the inn when they passed a group of five men, leaning against a fallen tree trunk and talking loudly. Geralt glanced at them briefly, looking for any signs of danger. He instinctively took a step closer to Jaskier, ready to drag him away if anything went wrong. The men stared at them, but didn’t make any moves.

Just as they passed the group, a drunken voice called them from behind.

“Hey, pretty! My friend here is wondering how much you take for a blowjob!”

They stopped. The men burst out in loud laughter. Geralt felt a wave of rage washing over him. Jaskier turned at the offender, regarding him with a dismissive look, before rolling his eyes and turning away. “Such clever words from such a clever man. Let’s go” he addressed Geralt, resuming their walk.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! The twink with the makeup! Why won’t you come over here and we show you how a real man looks like!”. The men laughed again and someone whistled. Geralt glanced at Jaskier who raised his eyes to the sky, his expression showing exasperation and half-amusement. “Thank you, dear” he threw over his shoulder “But I like my men a little less thick headed”.

Some of the men laughed again and Geralt noticed from the corner of his eye that the offender launched in their direction, his face furious. “What was that, you little fucking-”

Geralt turned on his heels to grab the man, but he was too late. Jaskier gave him a firm kick in the groin, sending him to the ground howling. The other men jumped to their feet and one of them tried to grab Jaskier by the throat, only to be punched in the face by Geralt. Geralt shielded Jaskier with his body and growled at the men. One of them took a step backwards, whispering to the others “shit, it’s that damned Witcher”. The others lowered their fists and weapons, slowly backing away.

The offender stumbled back to his feet and tried to slip away from them. Geralt grabbed him firmly by the collar of his shirt and pushed him back to the ground again. The man tried to get up, but Geralt stepped on his shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain.

“Geralt!” Jaskier was staring at the scene with wide eyes. “Geralt, it’s not worth it!”. But the Wicther wasn’t listening to him. He pressed his boot harder against the man’s shoulder, causing him to groan.

“Apologize” Geralt growled. The man turned his head to look at Jaskier, blinking rapidly. “I-I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”. Geralt turned his head to look at Jaskier. “Do you accept his apology?”

Jaskier looked at Geralt before looking back at the man on the ground and nodding. “Yeah, I do”. Geralt stepped away from the man, still glaring. “You’re pathetic” the Witcher snarled. “And about being a man... You can be sure that he’s ten times more of a man than all of you will ever be, combined”. Jaskier almost gaped at those words, remaining silent.

Geralt walked away, shouldering past Jaskier. “Let’s go”.

Jaskier stared at the man who stumbled to his feet for another second, before turning away and following Geralt into the dark.

***

Geralt walked at a fast pace, his fists clenched at his sides. Jaskier caught up with him quickly, walking beside him and looking at him worryingly.

“Geralt”.

No response.

“Geralt, please slow down”.

Geralt ignored him, continuing at the same pace. Jaskier jumped in front of him, grabbing him by the arms. Jaskier’s forehead bumped painfully against the Witcher’s nose.

“Ahh, fuck” Jaskier groaned, rubbing his face. “Sorry”. The Witcher dropped his hand from his nose, still glaring. “What, Jaskier”.

Jaskier sighed, tilting his head to look into Geralt’s eyes. Geralt felt something stirring in his chest. Jaskier sighed, dropping his gaze to the ground. “I just wanted to say thank you, for what you did back there… And also, I’m sorry”.

Geralt blinked at him. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”

Jaskier still wasn’t looking at him. “Should’ve kept my mouth shut. Ignored him”.

“He was calling you a whore”.

“Well, it was kind of expected”.

Geralt blinked again, exasperated. “What?”

“I knew I might get shit from people if I walk around looking like this”

“That doesn’t make it okay for someone to speak to you that way”. Geralt paused, sighing quietly. “You know that, right?”

Jaskier shrugged, looking at the buttons of Geralt’s shirt. He realized he was still standing very close to the Witcher, so he took a step back. “I guess” he mumbled.

Geralt tilted his head to the side, incredulous. “You guess?”

Jaskier shrugged again. “I guess I’m just used to it”. When Geralt didn’t respond, Jaskier continued speaking. “I got a lot of shit like that when I was a child. And a teenager. Even in Oxenfurt. Playing the lute isn’t exactly considered popular among young men”. Jaskier paused, sighing and scratching at his cheek. “Neither does being with other men”.

Geralt gulped. “Being with other men?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Being. Sleeping. Yes, I sleep with men, too. Want me to spell it out for you? I think you understood me well the first time”.

“I didn’t know that” Geralt muttered quietly. He felt a knot of anxiety tying itself in his stomach.

Jaskier chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t exactly exclusive about it. But I thought you figured it out by yourself already”.

“No”.

“Right. Um, okay. Well, um, now you know. Hope it doesn’t change your opinion about me”.

Geralt sighed, getting angry again. “Why would it change my opinion about you?”

“I don’t know” Jaskier’s voice sounded small and Geralt immediately regretted raising his voice at him. “You aren’t exactly easy to read, Geralt. I was worried you’d think something bad of me because of the makeup”.

“It looks good on you”. The words came out of his mouth before he realized what he said.

Jaskier gaped at him. And then his face lit up. “Huh. Wow. Thank you. Sorry, caught me a little off guard there... Unless you’re lying”.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I’m not lying, Jaskier”. Geralt met Jaskier’s gaze, who was looking at him softly. Geralt felt his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“That’s very sweet of you, Geralt”.

“You don’t need my confirmation to wear something you like”.

“I know, but it’s still nice to hear. Especially from you”. If Geralt had looked away in that moment, he wouldn’t notice Jaskier’s gaze flickering momentarily to his lips. But he didn’t.

Realization struck Geralt hard at that moment. Jaskier liked men. Jaskier was staring at him softly, calling him sweet. Jaskier was looking at his lips.

Geralt stopped thinking as he walked over to Jaskier. He went with his gut. Jaskier slowly uncrossed his arms, dropping them to the sides of his body. He stared at Geralt with raised eyebrows, but didn’t move an inch, when Geralt stopped right in front of him.

Feeling brave and stupid, Geralt slowly raised his hands to cup Jaskier’s cheeks. Jaskier closed his eyes momentarily, leaning into the touch. He opened them again, staring at Geralt with expectation. Geralt hummed softly, stroking Jaskier’s cheek with his thumb.

“I lied” The Witcher murmured, leaning in closer, his lips almost touching Jaskier’s. Jaskier let his eyes fall half closed, parting his lips slightly. “About?” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt looked at his lips before looking back to his eyes. He moved one hand from Jaskier’s cheek up to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in the soft, brown locks. Jaskier sighed quietly in pleasure.

Geralt titled his head to the side, his nose brushing against Jaskier's. “I don’t think you look only good like this. I think you look beautiful”. Jaskier closed his eyes and leaned in, brushing his lips softly against Geralt’s. Geralt responded by gently catching Jaskier’s lower lip in his mouth, sucking on it lightly. Jaskier pressed his body against Geralt’s, tangling his fingers in the Witcher’s long hair and tugging lightly.

Geralt was sure at this point that he was dreaming.

He licked at Jaskier’s lips and Jaskier parted them, allowing Geralt’s tongue to explore his mouth. When Geralt’s tongue met his, Jaskier moaned into the kiss and the sound of it drove Geralt crazy. He slowly walked Jaskier back, pressing him against a nearby rock. Jaskier responded by sitting on top of it and wrapping his legs around the Wicther’s thighs, pulling him even closer. Geralt groaned into Jaskier’s mouth as their erections pressed together. Jaskier started to feverishly unbutton Geralt’s shirt, his hands slipping over the Witcher’s broad chest. Geralt responded by gripping Jaskier’s ass and grinding against him.

“Fuck,” Jaskier gasped. “I want you. Here. Right now. On the grass”.

Geralt chuckled low in his throat, moving down to kiss Jaskier’s neck. “Not here. Too dangerous”.

“I am not waiting all the way back to the inn, Geralt”.

“Why not? It will give us something to expect for, once we arrive”.

Jaskier pouted at him and Geralt looked up and felt his heart melting. He stood up straight, leaning his forehead against Jaskier’s, his eyes boring into his. Jaskier chuckled, sneaking an arm under the Wicther’s shirt and stroking his hip bone. The touch made Geralt visibly shiver.

“I should’ve worn makeup a long time ago” Jaskier murmured with a smile.

Geralt rolled his eyes fondly, kissing Jaskier again. He pulled away momentarily to say “You’re a fool to think that this is just because of the makeup”.

He gave Jaskier’s ass a firm squeeze, causing him to gasp into his mouth.

“You. Me. My bed at the inn. Now”.

(to be continued!)

[harryssunflowerkiwi]

‘KIWI’ Part 2.

Pairing: Harry Styles x female reader.

Synopsis: You see Harry again. he’s still smitten and you’re horny.

Word count: 8.1K

Warnings: swearing, drinking, drugs (cocaine; mentioned in some detail), and SMUT (unprotected! Wrap it up pls), and slight pain kink. 18+

A/N: Hello! I hope you’re doing good :) here’s part two!!! Yay!! Thank you to those who liked part one. I truly am having so much fun writing this. Sorry it took me 80000 years to post this, I took a break! But it’s here and I’m so happy. Also, this is my first time writing smut! So please be nice but let me know what you think. Again, please keep in mind that this is PURE FICTION and is in no way an accurate dipiction of Harry Styles! It’s just for entertainment purposes. Also! For the purpose of the story, please pretend kiwi was not part of HS1 and instead part of his third (unwritten) album :) With that being said, i hope you love this part as much as I do xoxo

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT :)

🥝 Outfits mentioned in this part 🥝

Words underlined are links !

PART 1

——————————————————————————

September 12th 2020~

It’s nine days since Harry had met you, nine long days. For him the days since have been filled with long studio hours and sleepless nights. Every night he’d come home and wonder when he’d get the chance to meet you again, he’d think about what you were doing and if you were thinking about him as much as he’d been thinking about you. Surely you hadn’t, he thought. If you had been interested you would have given him your phone number, like all the other girls had jumped at the chance to do. He tried to stay humble, but he wasn’t oblivious to the effect he had on women. It was obvious, atleast it always had been before. They all threw themselves at him, but you didn’t. You didn’t even give him a proper excuse to why he couldn’t have your number. You showed him very little interest and yet, here he was completely infatuated after one simple meeting. Sure, meeting you gave him enough inspiration to write songs which was initially the reason he went to that party. But it only left him wanting to do whatever he could to get the chance to see you again.

The days since the party have been rather stress filled for you on the other hand. With London fashion week coming up in less than a week you had so much work to do. You had a fashion show on the seventeenth to prepare for and dozens of custom outfits for various celebrities to finalize. It was both exhausting and exhilarating. You had thought about Harry, he’d pop up in your head whenever a song of his would play in the office or in the coffee shop you went to almost everyday. You felt the spark when you two had met, of course you did. He was incredibly attractive, charming, and kind but you didn’t have time to be dating a celebrity of his stature. You have a buisness to run and the last thing you need a bunch of insanely nosey fans bullying you along with the heartbreak of the inevitable break up.

Harry was sitting in the studio with Mitch, Sarah, and Charlotte recording. The three of his band mates were in the booth recording their respective parts of a song Harry had written a few months back called “30,000 miles” while Harry was sat on one of the black leather couches just outside the booth attempting to write. Although he’s been able to write a lot about you, he’s only gotten one song even remotely close to being finished. Most of what’s he’s writin since meeting you has come out more like journal entries about how your eyes made him quiver and how when you hugged him he felt like your touch was exactly what he’d been missing thus far. It all sounded like a horny fourteen year old, Harry thought. He needed to see you again for his feelings to repourpose themselves into more coherent emotions. Harry had been wracking his brain on how to make that happen since the two of you met, and the only thing he could think of was to ask Jeff. The only problem with that, however, was that Jeff would more than likely tell you and make Harry look desperate. And even though he was bordering on desperate, he certainly didn’t want you to know that.

Harry was lost in thought (about you of course) when Mitch came out of the booth and sat in the dark blue velvet armchair directly across from Harry. “Still having trouble dude?” He asked sympathetically bringing Harry out of his little trance. Harry sighed and moved his gaze away from the small leather bound notebook he was writing in to focus on his friend.

“S’ just hard man. S’neva been this hard before.” Harry said as he closed the book.

Mitch nodded and mumbled “it’s probably because you’ve never been single while tryna write”. Harry put his palms over his face and let out deep chuckle.

“Fuck, you’ve go’ a good point” he agreed as he sat lower into the couch.

“Are you interested in anyone at all right now? I mean I don’t think I’ve seen ya single for this long in forever” Mitch pointed out as he reached for his water bottle from beside the sound board. Harry sighed deeply, ran his right hand through his curls and gave Mitch a little pout.

“Who is she dude?” Mitch asks with after letting out a loud laugh at his friend being overly dramatic.

“Y’ remember y/n? The designer fo’ KIWI?” Harry responds, leaning forward and rests his left palm under his chin.

“Fuckin hell H. Wasn’t that night the first time you met her?” Mitch says with a grin, obviously teasing Harry.

“I know, I know. S’fuckin ridiculous but I can’ stop thinking about her” Harry replied as he slouched himself back into the couch shoved his black raybans off the top of his head so they were sitting on his nose, covering his embassment.

September 13th 2020~

Today is Sunday, which means it’s Harry’s day off. He didn’t really know what to do with the day but he was still extremely happy to have time to relax and try (and fail) to not worry about everything. He woke up at ten this morning, actually allowing himself to sleep in to make up for the various all nighters he had been pulling throughout the last week. He dreamt of you but not in the way he’d want, not one of those erotic sex dreams where he could make all his needs come true. No. In his dream you were with someone else, and he kept trying to talk to you but you couldn’t hear him or you were simply ignoring him. Either way it didn’t feel good but for some ungodly reason he’d still woken up with a raging boner. “Fuckin ‘ell even the thought of her wit’ someone else gets me off” he grumbled with a groan in frustration as he rolled out of bed.

As Harry was making himself breakfast, chopping yellow grape tomatoes on the large oak cutting board that sat on the marble counter next to the stove, he heard his phone ring. He looked around to try and spot where the ringing was coming from as he’d forgotten where he’d put it. He spotted it on the island behind him and to his left. He sprinted over to it and quickly answered with his left hand, wiping the tomato juice off the fingers on his right hand off on his blue sweatpants. “Harry here” he said realizing he hadn’t checked to see who it was before answering.

“Harry! I’ve got great news for you mate” Mitch’s deep American accent rang through the phone.

“Wha’ is the good news Mitch?” Harry asked as he sat at one of the light blue quilted stools that sat at the island, suddenly feeling slightly anxious.

“I’ve just found out KIWI is doing a show for London fashion week, it’s this Thursday” Harry could practically hear the grin on Mitch’s face through his voice. A fashion show? How could he get an invite four days before the show? Would he even get the chance to see her if he did? Won’t she be busy? Won’t she think he’s weird for going? Harry’s mind was filled with questions he knew Mitch wouldn’t have the answers to.

“Dude?” Mitch’s voice snapped Harry out of his panicked thoughts.

“Gotta go man, thanks for telling me” Harry mumbled before hanging up quickly.

After a few hours of debating with himself and trying tirelessly to forget about the idea all together, Harry found himself sat at his dining table with his phone open to Jeff’s contact. He stared down at the phone resting against the mahogany wood dining table trying to convince himself this was a bad idea. However, his efforts were in vain in the end. He glanced at the time in the right hand corner and it showed 12:41AM. He pressed the call button so quickly he himself even doubted if he’d done it at all, but evidently the calling screen came up and he brought it to his ear. Letting out a huge sigh at the forth ring, figering Jeff wouldn’t even pick up at this time of night. “Hello?” Harry almost dropped the phone when he’d heard Jeff’s voice on the other end.

“Um h-hello, Jeff s’ Harry” he stuttered slightly, still not really believing he was going through with this.

“Yeah H, I know. What’s up?” Jeff chuckled loudly.

“Oh umm so you uh know y/n right?” Harry asked trying not to seem to eager.

Again, Jeff laughed a bit before saying “you like her don’t you?”. Harry groaned internally at his friends ability to gudge his feelings based on his voice alone.

“Doesn’ matter, was jus’ callin’ to see if you could get meh a seat at the KIWI show on Thursday” Harry said as more of a statement rather than a question, feeling his confidence peak its head again.

“H, that’s in four days” Jeff responded without hesitation.

“Yeh I know, I jus’ ave’ to be there alrigh’?” Harry asked as politely as he could without making it obvious he was trying desperately to avoid any further questioning.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do”.

September 14th 2020~

Today was incredibly busy for you. There were only three days till your show and you still had so much to do to make sure it would be perfect. You were currently at the office that you rent out for KIWI. The space is nice, modern and open with a slightly acclectic feel to match your taste. There were 3 separated offices, the smallest was for your assistant Grace, another for the head of public relations for the company who’s name is Gretchen, and the largest one at the end of the hall was yours. You decorated nicely, but kept it minimal as to not cause to many distractions. You only came in when there was issues you couldn’t deal with from home or when you just felt like getting out of the house to work. You liked to keep your company small, only hiring people who you really trust for jobs you couldn’t handle yourself. Even though KIWI is incredibly successful, you were generally able to manage it with little help.

At 7:13AM you arrived, greeting Grace and heading straight to your private office telling her to follow you. Once sat in your large brown leather chair Grace started giving you the rundown of who’s called, what there is to do, shipments, etc. “Jeff Azoff called early this morning, he left a voicemail asking for your availability. I told him to call back at 11 just before you go out for lunch as that is your earliest availability today” she relayed as she stood nervously (she was pretty much always nervous, even though she’d been working for you for over two years).

“Okay, did he mention what it was about?” You asked wondering what he could possibly need that he wouldn’t just call your cell.

“No, but he did say it’s urgent” Grace responded with a small nod.

At a quarter to eleven your desk phone rang, you picked up at the first ring already sitting right next to it typing out an email on your laptop. “Mr. Azoff on line 2” Grace said on the other side.

“Great, thanks Grace” you responded before hanging up and switching to line two. “Hey Jeff” you said as you closed your laptop.

“Hi! How’s it going y/n, haven’t talked since the party” he asked seeming quite cheery.

“I’m good Jeff, why are you calling through KIWI? Why not just call my cell?” You questioned rather confused.

“Ah because you told me not to call your cell for matters concerning KIWI-” he said as if it was obvious.

“Right, but you you’ve only ever called regarding KIWI to get pieces for one of your clients and you usually go through Gretchen” you cut him off, still extremely confused.

He chuckled before saying “Well If you’d stop cutting me off I’d tell you why I’m calling. I need a front row seat for your show on Thursday”. Well, that was certainly not what you thought he’d say. He’s never asked for a seat at one of your shows, let alone a front row three days before it happens.

“What? Are you insane? It’s in three days. Why on earth would you need a front row seat?” You asked, now even more confused.

“It’s not for me, it’s for Harry. C’mon I know you can bump someone back a bit, it’ll be good publicity having him there” Jeff said calmly. You had to do a bit of a double take when he mentioned Harry’s name, why would Jeff need him to be there this last minute? He had surely already been invited to the Gucci show on the same day. You sighed

“I don’t know, the people I put in front row deserve to be there. Any of them would take it as an insult to be put in second row”. You heard hum quietly on the other side of the phone

“y/n if you put Harry upfront it’ll be good for KIWI, you know I’m right” he continued. You let out a frustrated huff, you knew he was right. The paps would have a field day with him missing the Gucci show to come to yours, but you already had so much to deal with.

“Was this your idea or his?” You asked, genuinely curious. “He asked me to, but I think it’s an incredible idea for both of you” he said confidently.

“Fine, call Grace to set up the details. I’ll have an outfit sent to Harry by Wednesday morning just email me his measurements. He can’t be showing up to my show in Gucci” you replied sternly, giving in.

Harry was at the studio when Jeff called him. He was going over some adjustments for ‘30,000 miles’ with Kid Harpoon when his phone rang. “Jeff! Any news?” He said hopefully after picking up as soon as he was Jeff’s contact.

Jeff chuckled at the boys eagerness “Mhm you’re lucky I’m so good at convincing people, you’ve got a front row seat at the KIWI fashion show this Thursday” he said proudly.

Harry stood out of the leather rolling chair instantly and yelled “Wooooo!” Slightly starting Kid and causing Jeff to laugh through the phone.

“I’m glad I could get it for ya H. They are sending over an outfit for you to wear and I’ll have a car at your place on Thursday at 6PM sharp to pick you up.” Harry smiled widely, taking in the information as he sat back down.

“Thank ya’ Jeff, y’ the best manager eva’”

September 17th 2020~

Today is the big day. Of course it’s not your first runway show but the nerves never lessen, every time it gets more intense and nerve-racking. The cloths you design are your heart and soul, your blood sweat and tears, your everything. This makes showing them off to critics and the entire world terrifying but exciting. Not to mention you’ve decided to walk as the last model for the finale, which makes the whole thing even scarier as you’ve never really walked a runway as a model.

For some reason the knowledge that Harry was going to be front row made you all the more anxious and you hated it. No man has ever made you nervous at your own damn fashion show, it’s rediculous. “I don’t even like him” you said aloud to yourself as you were in the car on the way to the venue. Luckily by now your driver knows well enough to keep his mouth shut when you talk to yourself.

Once you arrived at the venue it was half past two. You always show up hours before the show to help set up, get all the outfits in place for the respective models and make sure everything is absolutely perfect. You’d spent months designing the way you wanted the show to look, clothing aside. The catwalk is all white, ensuring that all the colors included in the collection pop as they were meant to, especially once photographed. Above the runway are large fixtures that are meant to look like clouds, giving the whole collection an airy out-of-this-world feel. Which is exactly what you had planned when designing it.

Backstage was hectic and stressful, as it always was. The models all arrived at three, giving everyone enough time to get hair and makeup done in time for the show. The makeup and hair you had chosen for this collection was simple, yet bold. Nothing to extreme to not take away from the clothes.

Harry was incredibly excited for the show, more excited than he had been for a fashion show since the first one he attended. He was there to see you, but he was also elated to get to see the collection. He’s never been disappointed by the pieces you’d designed. Even before his newfound crush on you. You were exceedingly talented and fantastic at what you do, he’s known that since long before he met you. The suit you’d sent for him was breathtaking to say the least. He absolutely adored it. It was a black suit, with gold lining and silver flower embroidery all along the jacket. It made him feel like a billion dollars.

Harry arrived just before the show started, not to seem to eager in case you came to survey the venue before it started. He found the seat with his name on it and grinned widely as he sat. His seat was right at the end of the runway where the models would turn before walking back. It was the ideal spot really, and it gave him butterflies thinking that you gave him the best spot. The venue was nothing like he’d ever seen before and he was sure you had something to do with that also, because it was breathtaking.

Time went by like a blink of the eye for you, what seemed like twenty minutes turned out to be an hour. You were ushered to the hair and makeup chair to prepare for the finale. For some reason all your nerves had dissipated, completely vanished into thin air as you sat and listened to the makeup artist compliment you on how incredible everything looked.

After forty minutes in the hair and makeup chair you were being dressed. You had chosen one of the only gowns in the collection for the finale, wanting to go out on a memorable note (even though you considered every piece in the collection to be memorable). The gown was a floor length fully hand embroidered black and gold gown. Each embroidery was done by you. It had long sleeves with the same detailing and it was sinched perfectly around your waist with a large solid gold plate. The gown was the piece that inspired the whole collection, taking almost six months to make. You were very proud of it and you felt incredibly sexy.

As your stylists were putting you in your black pumps, one of the coordinators came over and said “miss y/l/n is on in five”. You took a deep breath, attempting to mentally prepare yourself. You followed the coordinator towards the entrance to the catwalk. You felt eerily calm, you knew you should be freaking out but you weren’t. You felt incredible.

“3..2...1.. here comes y/n for the finale”

Harry was thoroughly enjoying the show, each item was completely perfect. Everything was cohesive but wildly different, anyone with working eyes could tell how much thought and attention to detail was put into everything. Even the styling was uniquely perfect, each model wore the pieces like they were made for them. Not a single thing looked out of place, everything belonged in a rabelious harmony and Harry was completely enveloped in it. The music stopped playing as the last model walked out, Harry looked around as another song started playing. Assuming this was the finale, Harry sat up straighter and grinned. Excited to see whatever you had planned. As the beat dropped in the song, all the models came walking out in two lines. One on the right and one on the left. Once the two front models came to the end of the catwalk they all stopped and slowly bowed their heads. Harry’s heart was beating so fast he thought he might actually have a heart attack. Then all of a sudden you walked around the corner and stepped onto the runway and Harry’s heart stopped completely. You were walking towards him like you had walked a million runways. You looked so powerful and sexy. The gown you wore was nothing short of breathtaking, a fine piece of art and the way it fit your body made all the blood rush towards his crotch.

As you reached the end of the catwalk you looked directly at Harry, who was sitting right night to the main camera. You gave him a quick knowing smirk, obviously seeing the pure shock on his face as you turned around and started walking back towards the entrance. God, you felt fucking incredible. Each model followed you one by one off the runway before the music stopped.

September 23rd 2020~

The last three days went by relatively fast for you. The show went exactly how you wanted it to and it was nothing short of perfection. All the press had been incredible and the critics were being positive which wasn’t always a given. There’s been a lot of buzz about the gown you wore, in fact, there’s word of the national art museum of London wanting to showcase it which is unbelievable. All your success has been skyrocketed, even from what it was at before. Having Harry at the show helped with the media buzz, they always went crazy when he was around but it did start rumours of the two of you dating. Especially after the pictures from the show were released and it was very obvious he was staring at you in such a way. You didn’t really care though, all publicity was good publicity.

It was Wednesday today, and you decided to work from home this week because you were still pretty exhausted from all the work you’d done in preparation for the show. Your day had been relitively slow, answering emails and drawing out some new designs for spring. You were sitting at your desk drawing out a coat design when your phone started ringing, you glanced at it and saw Glenne’s name pop up. You smiled lightly and picked up up.

“Hello?” You greeted her.

“Hey y/n! How are you?” She asked cheerily.

“I’m great G, just finishing some work. How are you?” You asked as you sat back in your chair.

“Great! So the reason I’m calling is because Jeff and I wanted to throw a party for you to celebrate the show. Obviously we need you here for that” she giggled, obviously excited.

“Aw of course I’ll come. What day is it?” You asked.

“It’s Friday night! It’ll be at the Hilton hotel, just give them your name. We’d like everyone to be there at nine if possible” she responded.

“Okay! I’ll be there at seven babe” you said as you stood up to look in your fridge, suddenly feeling hungry.

“Harry will be there” Glenne said knowingly, slightly drawing out the end of his name. You laughed as you shoved a slice of cheese into your mouth.

“And?” You asked.

She giggled again, “he’s been asking about you a lot lately, and we all saw him at your show. You two are obviously fucking” she said in a mocking tone.

“G! We are not. He’s just obsessed with me” you chuckled, rummaging through your fridge for more snacks.

“Oh stop, who isn’t? Plus you guys would be adorable together!” She responded loudly through the phone.

“G, he’s the relationship type and I’m so far from that, you know this” you said sternly.

“Y/N you don’t even know him, how do you know he’s the relationship type?” She asked giggling at your tendency to assume you know people immediately upon meeting them.

“I’ve heard his music, G. Anyways, I’ve got to go make something to eat before my stomach eats itself. I’ll see you Friday”.

September 25th 2020~

As soon as Jeff told Harry about the party they were throwing for you he was ecstatic, knowing he’d get a chance to actually speak to you. Since it was a celebration of you and KIWI, Harry decided to wear some of the pieces he owned that you designed. It took him about 30 minutes to decided on which of your designs he wanted to wear, hoping you would appreciate the gesture. Jeff had already assured Harry that he wouldn’t be the only one wearing KIWI at the party when he brought up the idea to him, which made Harry feel more comfortable. Eventually he decided to wear a two piece set you’d designed last season. It was Harry’s favourite. It was a long sleeve button up shirt and long perfectly fitted trousers, both made out of a beautiful sparkly blue fabric with a light contrast stitching. 

Upon arriving at the hotel Harry noticed that there were many cars parked out front and all down the street, way more than there had been at the last get together. He assumed it was because you would have invited more of your circle this time, as they were celebrating you. Harry made it up to the penthouse where the lady at the front desk had told him to go, and was greeted at the door by Jeff, quickly giving him a hug and ushering him into the large room. “Sorry I’m a little late, had some issues with m’ car” Harry apologized to Jeff with a small smile, both of them fully aware that he was indeed late because he takes so long to get ready.

“S’all good man, it’s just getting started” Jeff chuckled lowly as Harry followed him through the foyer and into the large open living room, where it seemed most of the party goers were. It was a pretty busy, around 80 people from what Harry could see. Through the crowd his eyes landed directly on you. You were talking to a small group of people, some of who Harry recognized. You were sitting on one of the big couches on the right side of the open space, you were slowly nodding while sipping from a glass of dark brown liquid. You were wearing a gold sparkly jumpsuit that hugged every inch of your torso in the most flattering way possible and flared at the from the knee down. Half of your wavy hair was effortlessly pinned back with a brown claw clip. You looked so beautiful, you stood out in the crowd of other beautiful people. Your energy and vibrancy completely overpowering the room.

As soon as Harry entered the living room with Jeff your attention was taken away from the group of friends around you. You immediately noticed that Harry was wearing one of your personal favourite designs, and you could tell he had spotted you aswell. As if he was looking for you, he smiled widely as you made eye contact. “Excuse me guys, I’m going to grab another drink” you smiled at the group before standing up and walking across the living room diagonally towards the open concept kitchen to the left of the living room. You purposefully glanced at Harry as you walked passed him with a cute innocent smile.

As soon as you entered the kitchen and bar area you felt someone behind you, you turned on your heel being met with Harry a few feet behind you. “Ello love” he greeted you with his deep English accent, “congratulations on the show, ‘t was incredible” he complimented with a genuine smile on his soft pink lips. You smiled back and slowly looked him up and down, observing his body in your design.

“Thank you, Harry. I’m glad you liked it. Lovely choice by the way” you said as you motioned towards his outfit with your hand.

“T’was hard too choose which one to wear if I’m ‘onest” he replied with a low chuckle as he stepped towards you a bit.

“You made the right choice, it’s one of my favourite designs I’ve done” you complimented as you leaned against the large marble counter, placing your almost empty drink on it “fits your body perfectly” you continued as you met your gaze with his again.

“It does doesn’t it?” He asked cheekily as he pulled at the top a bit with his ring clad hands. “Y’ look incredible, love the jumpsuit” he flattered as he moved about a foot closer, leaving only a few inches between the two of you.

You smirked “so charming” you replied as you gently touched his cheek while holding strong eye contact. You could feel his heart beating against your arm. You stared at each other for a few more seconds, almost as if you were having a conversation solely through eye contact.

“You need a drink” you smiled as you let your hand fall from his face and you spinned around as you made your way over to the bar.

Harry was completely stunned as he watched you walk over to the large bar, quickly grabbing all the ingredients for whatever drink you had decided he should drink. Being so close to you only moments before made his mind blur and his heart race. How could you just walk away when it seemed as if you were about to kiss him? Most people would jump at the chance. But he assumes most people would also jump at the chance to kiss you, he certainly would. He was taken out of his thoughts by your sweet voice. “Harry” you called for him from the bar, his name sounding like heaven coming out of your mouth like that.

“What’d ya make me love?” He asked as he walked over to you. You held out a glass filled with dark brown liquid and a single large ice cube in it.

“A Manhattan, it’s my favourite” you blinked sweetly at him, the sides of your mouth tugging up at the sides as he grabbed it mimicking your smile before taking a sip and making a face as though he’d just taken a shot. Your smile grew.

“S’very strong love, but good” he assured you.

“Mmm what’s the point of a drink if it’s not strong enough to burn” you replied, not as a question but rather a strong statement again hitting him with that beautiful stare. You picked up your own drink (the same as the one you’d made for him) and said a quick “cheers” before downing most of it. Harry was about to say something but was quickly inturrupted by a group of people entering the bar area.

The group consisted of a few people Harry knew, immediately recognizing Lizzo, ASAP Rocky, Gigi and Bella Hadid but there were a few others with them he didn’t know (or atleast didn’t recognize). The smile on your face grew into a wide grin as Bella squealed and said your name, engulfing you in a bear hug. “Bells!” You giggled lightly into her shoulder before releasing from the hug.

“The show was incredible Y/N. You’re a fucking genius” she praised as she walked behind the bar, still smiling widely.

“You walked in it love” you reminded her, giggling as you went to greet Rocky. The two of you hugged tightly before releasing, Rocky’s hands going up to cup your face.

“You killed it baby, just like you always do” he said as he kissed your nose. You could feel Harry’s eyes burning into the side of your head as he chatted along with lizzo.

“Mm thank you Rocky, you know you’re my muse” you grinned wider as you kissed both his hands in appreciation.

Harry couldn’t help but watch your interaction with Rocky, you seemed so comfortable, so intimate. Harry felt a pang of jealousy run through his stomach at you calling Rocky your “muse”. He brushed it off with a clearing of his throat as he turned his attention back to lizzo. “You good H? Uh oh. Y/N made you one of her manhattans didn’t she?” Lizzo laughed loudly looking down at the drink in his hands before hitting Harry’s shoulder playfully, the question bringing your attention to them.

“Hey! My manhattans are world renowned Mel” (Lizzo’s real name is Melissa) you said proudly as you took a few steps forward, closing the distance between you and the couple. You pulled Lizzo in for a hug “m glad you came” you said as the two of you pulled apart.

“Of course! The collection is legendary as per” she replied genuinely. You thanked her and gave her a kiss on the cheek before turning your attention to Harry.

“If you’ll excuse Harry and I, Mel. He was just about to escort me outside for a smoke” you informed her, all well making full eye contact with Harry.

“Mhmmm you two have fun, come get me for shots later”

Harry followed you outside onto the large open balcony, watching you greet people on the way, doing the same if he knew the person. As soon as the two of you stepped outside Harry watched you take a deep breath, tipping your head back slightly to take in the fresh air. It looked almost erotic, even though it was just a simple action it made all Harry’s senses tingle. “How do’ya know Rocky?” Harry asked seemingly out of nowhere, it almost shocked himself. He knew he tends to get jealous rather easily, and maybe even a little possessive but usually it only comes out with people he’s exclusive with, not a women he’s never even kissed. And yet, there it was. He tried to sound casual but worried he failed terribly. You turned your head to him with a slight smirk before licking your lower lip and chuckling slightly.

“Oh, we’ve known each other for a long time. Met him at a party when I was first starting out” you said nonchalantly before grabbing a pack of cigarettes off the small table that sat on the deck. Harry nodded, understanding that you were in no way going to give away the nature of yours and Rockys relationship.

“I listened through your album again this morning” you admitted, effortlessly changing the subject back to him while taking a long drag of the cigarette you had just lit. Harry tried his best to hide the grin appearing on his face as he stared at you,

“did ya?” He asked waiting for you to continue your thought.

“Mhm. Listened to it in the shower” you hummed, as you leaned forward against the railing in front of the two of you, taking in the view and breaking eye contact.

The thought of you listening to Harry sing while completely naked in the shower made his skin feel like it was on fire and all his blood rush down to his groin. “What’s y’ favourite song?” He asked, leaning his back against the railing right next to you and looking down at your face. You looked up at him and hummed in thought.

“She” you said with a thoughtful, almost devious smile before standing up straight and putting out your smoke.

“Let’s go do shots, yeah?” Harry nodded with an amused smile as you grabbed his hand and pulled him back into the hotel.

Four shots and two hours later Harry found himself sitting on one of the couches to the right side of the open living room, watching you dance along with your friends in the middle. You looked so free, so careless, so magical. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, trying to listen to whatever Jeff was trying to tell him to his right. “You’re not paying attention are you man?” Harry heard Jeff ask through a laugh as he followed Harry’s eyeline straight to you. Harry pried his eyes away from you to look at Jeff

“sorry mate. I’m listenin’” Harry told him, not really trying to be convincing.

“She’s an actress y’know. Not literally, but she knows how to get what she wants, she always has. But she’s got a good heart, just be careful alright?” Jeff said to him, patting his knee before standing up and walking over to glenne who was stood at the other side of the room.

Harry sat, watching you as he went over what Jeff had said to him a few moments ago. “She’s an actress”. Did he have to be careful? You didn’t look dangerous, but you did scare him a little. Not because he thought you’d physically hurt him or anything, but he knew if he’d let you, you could dig deep into his already fragile heart. Break it, possibly like it hadn’t been before.

Harry was brought out of his thoughts by seeing you turn your body towards where he was sitting, breaking yourself out of the group of friends that surrounded you. You made eye contact with Harry and motioned for him to come to you with your perfectly manicured right hand. You weren’t smiling, but he could see a glint of something he thought was amusement in your eyes. He got up and walked over to you. “You motioned fo’ me love?” He asked as he approached, a small smirk apparently on both your lips.

“Mhm, come” you said as you offered him your hand. He took your small hand in his as you ushered him through the growing crowd.

The two of you walked all the way through the living room, and passed the kitchen before entering a smaller room to the left of the kitchen. As you entered Harry took in his surroundings, it appeared to be an office space. There was a glass table in the center of the room with a large plate decorated with multiple lines of white powder on it, along with three chairs; one blue velvet and the other two grey of the same material. There were a few other people in the room, but Harry didn’t recognize them. “Some privacy please loves” you said aloud, asking them to leave Harry and yourself alone in the space. The strangers immediately obliged when they saw you, muttering greetings as they exited. You turned around to face Harry who was standing only slightly behind you.

“do you fancy a line Harry?” You asked, your hand coming up to touch his shoulder lightly.

“S’ a party innit?” He agreed, making you smile all too innocently given what he was agreeing to was quite the opposite. You walked over to the plate of narcotics, picking up the metal straw from beside it before holding it up to your nose. You bent over the table, flipping your hair over to the right side to make sure it didn’t get in the way as you breathed in deep through your nose inhaling a thick line of the powder. Harry watched as you stood up straight, tipping your head back and inhaling through your nose to make sure you got it all. You let out a cheery giggle before holding the straw out to Harry. He took it and did the same.

Just as Harry stood up straight you gently carressed his left cheek, staring into his blown out pupils. “God, you’re somethin’ else” he spoke just below a whisper, only loud enough for you to barely hear. He brought his large ring filled hand up to your waist as your hand fell from his cheek to his neck. He applied pressure to your waist encouraging you to move so your bum was pushed against the glass table. Once you obliged he moved even closer to you so your noses were practically touching, his hand moving to smooth itself over your back to hold you in place.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, his voice much lower and more raspy than it had been. His eyes filled with desperation and lust. Instead of responding you giggled lightly and pulled him in by his neck, connecting your lips. The kiss was slow and messy, but filled with an undying passion. Your left hand squeezed his neck slightly, egging him on as one of his hands went to cup your jaw while the other one steadied on your waist. You opened your mouth slightly, inviting him in which he immediately took advantage of, sliding his tongue into your mouth. Both your lips were slightly numb from the coke but it did nothing but intensify the feeling. He tasted like whiskey and peppermint, making your head dizzy (in the most incredible way). You let your hands drop down to his waistband, slowly untucking the button down from his trousers and beginning to undue the buttons. Your eagerness made a low groan erupt from the back of his throat, feeling his boner growing rapidly at your touch. You broke the kiss as you finished unbuttoning his shirt, both of your breathing unsteady. He watched as you ran your hands up his torso slowly before pushing his sleeves off his wide shoulders. You made eye contact with him as he went to kiss you again, you stopped him shaking your head. You bent your head down slightly and licked his chest, starting from the top of his butterfly tattoo and ending just under his jaw. The feeling driving Harry completely insane with lust, goosebumps appearing all over his body as he let out a throaty moan

“y’ drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy” he said as you came up, standing up straight.

“Sit” you spoke, pointing at the large blue velvet chair next to you, not breaking eye contact. You could still hear the booming music and people taking from the other rooms as you watched him sit. You turned around so your back was facing Harry as you undid the tie that held up the top part of your jumpsuit letting it fall down, exposing your entire torso and back.

You heard Harry mutter a low “fuck” as you turned around and positioned yourself on top of him, successfully straddling his lap.

You could feel the exceedingly large bulge through his pants pressing against your crotch as he began kissing down your neck and towards your breasts causing you to moan slightly.

“Please Harry” you said breathlessly, giving him some control as you began slowly grinding back and forth against him.

“Tell me princess. Tell me what ya want” he raspily requested as he gripped onto your hips with both his hands, guiding your movements.

“I want you to fuck me harry, I want you to use me” you said still grinding against him while looking down slightly into his eyes as he stared back up at you. Without hesitation he lifted you, firmly holding onto your bum as he stood up and set you down on the table.

“Lift up love” he ordered, you leaned back on your hands and lifted up for bum so he could pull down the remaining part of your jumpsuit. After discarding the material to the side, taking your nude pumps along with it, he took a moment to take in your practically naked body. You grinned widely at his reaction as he began to grope your boobs, once again connecting his lips with yours. You reached your hands down to undo the button of his pants, using your skilled fingers you got them down in record time. You looked back up at him to see his eyes already staring at you. You placed your hands on either side of his face while his still ran along your nude body.

“Please Harry, I need your cock” you whispered seductively causing his whole body to go into overdrive.

He quickly pulled down his already undone trousers and boxers before sliding your peach coloured thong to the side, feeling your dripping pussy with his index finger and letting out an animalistic groan. You watched as he grabbed his large dick with his left hand, lining himself up at your entrance before turning his gaze back to your face. You both held eye contact as he entered you. The feeling completely overwhelming both of you, you leaned your head back, gripping roughly onto his back as you both let out a strangled moan. “Fuck” you moaned “you’re so big”. Your words egging him on, he picked up his pace pumping in and out of you slow but rough. He kept his focus on your face, watching as you moaned his name and praised him. You looked like a complete wet dream, your eyes barely open, your head tilted back as you stared at him through your eyelashes refusing to break eye contact.

“Good girl.... y’ take me so fucking good” he moaned, his ringed fingers digging harshly into your hips as his grip tightened. You lifted your head and moved your hands to his neck pulling him in closer so that his face was not even an inch away from yours.

“Harder Harry, fuck me harder” you moaned, completely out of breath. He started pounding into faster, all the sounds of the hectic party just outside completely drowned out by the sound of his balls slapping harshly against you and your shared moans. You finally broke eye contact when you leaned your head to the side and began leaving messy wet kisses along his jaw before meeting his neck with your mouth. You bit down roughly onto the skin of his neck earning a throaty moan from him. You licked over the spot you’d just bitten, soothing the pain a bit before he pulled your head back, balling your hair into his fist so you would look at him.

“Dirty little princess y’ are... leavin’ marks on me” he growled into your mouth before rejioning your lips to his and continuing his relentless pace with his hips.

You could feel your orgasm approaching rapidly, the overwhelming tingling travelling all throughout your body, all your senses becoming increasingly clear. “Y’ gonna cum fo’ me love?” He asked as he felt your walls becoming even tighter around his shaft. You nodded rapidly.

“Such a good girl... s’ fuckin tight” he said in between breathless moans.

“Cum fo’ me princess, I wanna feel you” he repeated, moving his right hand from its place on your waist to rub your clit, matching the pace of his hips. You could feel it happening, your vision blurred, your toes curling, your legs shaking rapidly as you dig your nails deep into Harry’s black, holding on for dear life.

“Fuck, Harry. Fuck” you repeated over and over as you came hard around his thick cock.

“Fuck Y/N, y’ gonna make me cum” he moaned into your neck as you held onto his shoulders.

“Cum for me harry, please” you whispered in his ear between moans of your own. You could feel his body start to weaken as he twitched inside of you, about to cum. You wrapped your legs around his hips tightly and pulled him in closer as he let out a loud raspy moan. You felt thick ropes of cum shoot deep inside you.

Once he came down from his high he kept his head rested on your shoulder, your arms and legs still wrapped tightly around him, both of you desperately trying to catch your breath. After a few seconds you both released, your legs falling down beside his as he stood. You made eye contact and you giggled lightly making him smile boyishly. Both of your hair a complete and utter mess, breathing heavily, and completely naked. The plate of cocaine that once sat on the side of the table was now shattered on the floor. “Your insane” Harry said before he laughed looking around the room, really taking in everything that happened. You laughed with him as you hopped off the table and walked over to where he had thrown your jumpsuit and shoes.

“I’m going to assume you meant that as a compliment.” You said as you pulled your jumpsuit up over your nude body.

“F’ course love. You’re a fuckin minx” he complimented as he buttoned up his shirt.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Harry” you shot back with a quick wink as you finished putting you shoes on.

End note: Ahh thank you so much for reading!! I’m kind of nervous about posting this, so please let me know what you thought! I’d seriously appreciate it. And if you liked it please please reblog :) I know the ending is kind of abrupt but it’ll make sense in the next part. Also, there will be ANGST coming up !

[mcfiddlestan]

WinterFrost Single Dads AU

Hey, ya'll. Told ya I was working on this thing. I've got about six chapters done, but I'm not ready to post it to AO3 just yet. One big reason for that is I don't have a title yet. So I thought I'd post a couple of chapters, let ya'll get a feel for it, then take any suggestions you might have.

Just a small note: I tend to name fics after song titles that inspired the story or somehow fit with the plot.

Anyhoo...here's the first chapter. I *might* post the second tomorrow. We'll see how the response to this goes.

xoxo, La

Pairing: Loki x Bucky Barnes (there are others past and future, but I'm not giving them away just yet)

Rating: M

Word count: 1,775

Summary: Loki is living a great life as a Manhattan lawyer and constantly partying with Tony Stark, his best friend. Loki's life before he came to New York more than a decade ago is a mystery for those close to him. But it's all about to come to light when he gets a call from someone in his past.

Bucky is just trying to catch a break. A few hookups with a fellow soldier led to a quickie marriage and baby -- and two years later, a quick divorce. His daughter is now eight years old and the light of his life. But he can't seem to get his shit together. Struggling to find a job and keep a hold on his sobriety, it's a one-night stand that gives him the kick in the ass he needs to be the man his daughter believes he is.

Warnings: Mature language and situations, some drug use, and talk about addiction.

Chapter 1

The sound of his front door opening and closing pulled Loki from a deep sleep. So deep, it took him a moment to remember where he was and how he knew that was his front door. His eyes opened slowly, once, twice, and then again, to nothing but the darkness of what he was sure was his bedroom. Then he felt the pounding, incessant, pulsing around his entire head. Damn migraines. Loki let out a low groan, thought fuck it, and buried his face deeper into his pillow. Moments later, the door to his bedroom pushed open.

“Rise and shine,” a deep voice sang.

Loki grumbled at the familiar voice, and slowly, he turned his body, rolling onto his back. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning? Oh, for Norn’s sake!” He threw a pillow over his face as the curtains pulled open and let the blinding daylight flood the room. “Close them! I’ve got a damned migraine!”

“Ooh. So sorry, Mr. Friggasson. There’s a cup of tea on the nightstand. Would you like me to get you some water and a couple of ibuprofen?”

Another groan sounded through the room as Loki forced himself to sit up. “Yes, please,” he answered as he rubbed at his face before reaching for the two pillows to prop them up behind him. In his sleepy haze, he remembered to pull the bedsheet over his lap to keep his modesty. Loki reached out for the teacup first, cupping it in his large hand as he took a gentle sip. “Mmm, perfect. Thank you, Fandral. And, for the thousandth time, please stop calling me Mr. Friggasson.” He sipped again, ignoring Fandral’s giggle as he rummaged through Loki’s closet. “What time is it?”

“A quarter to eleven.”

Loki sputtered into his tea. “Quarter to eleven? Why did you let me sleep so late? I have meetings today.” Loki hurriedly set his drink down and started to rise, gathering the sheet to wrap around him. Fandral was suddenly there, nudging Loki back into the bed, “Relax, Loki. You’re fine. Your early meeting was canceled, the board meeting at the Tower was pushed to Thursday, and Mr. Stark canceled your lunch meeting.”

“Cancelled? Why?” Loki settled back in the bed, rubbing at his neck. “He didn’t say. But he left the message for me before three am, and there was a lot of noise in the background. So, take a guess.”

Loki snorted softly. “That’s your boss, Fanny. Don’t judge.”

“You’re my boss. Mr. Stark only signs the checks,” Fandral said through a smile as he laid out a pair of pants and a shirt on a chair in the corner for Loki to wear for the day. “Once the morning meeting was canceled, I thought I’d let you rest a little longer since you didn’t have to rush into the office.”

“Thanks,” Loki muttered from behind his cup.

Fandral gave him a nod and turned to head around the corner towards the master bathroom.

“Any other messages?” Loki called as he set the teacup back on the nightstand. He sat back, his face contorting in pain, willing the migraine to ease up. He made a mental note to see an optometrist already.

“Yes, a few. Natasha called. She got a lead on the security break from a couple of months ago, I guess? She said she’d have a report for you on the improvements she’s already made with F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Fandral stepped out with a small white bottle in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He handed the water to Loki before popping open the bottle and dropping two white tablets in Loki’s open palm. “Also, someone’s been trying to get a hold of you all morning. He’s called four times already. No real message, just ‘need to speak to Loki urgently.’ Someone named Thor.”

Loki went still. He swallowed down the pills and water in his mouth, watching Fandral’s retreating back. A million different questions ran through Loki’s mind, but he couldn’t decide on just one to ask, nor would Fandral be able to answer any of them, judging by what he’d just said. Fandral returned from the bathroom, and Loki hoped he didn’t look as panicked as he felt. “Someone named Thor, you say?”

Fandral, staring at his phone, made a noise of agreement. “Sounded foreign, but I couldn’t place the accent.”

“Norwegian.” Loki shook his head dismissively when Fandral looked at him with a quizzical look. “Did he say how to get a hold of him?”

“Yes. At least, I have the number for you.” Fandral lowered his phone, eyed Loki, who’d gone much paler in the last thirty seconds. “Are you all right?”

Not in the slightest. “Yes. Uh, Fandral, I’m going to take a shower.” Loki rose from the bed, his migraine still there but hardly forgotten. He held the bed sheet tight at his waist and walked around Fandral. “Listen, if he calls again, tell him I will call him back as soon as I’m free. If he doesn’t, when you hear the water stop, give me twenty minutes, then put the call through.”

Fandral frowned at Loki as he followed him with his eyes. “Sure, boss. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Fandral. I’m fine. Will you order some food? Get me a sandwich, please. Something toasted, turkey.” Distracted, Loki didn’t wait for Fandral to confirm. He walked into his bathroom and started the water in the shower, then moved to the sink. He stood before the mirror for a moment, thinking, fretting, irritated. Why would Thor be calling him after all this time? What could he possibly have to say to Loki? After more than ten years of no communication, Loki felt as if they were strangers.

The steam began to fill the room, fogging up the mirror, so Loki dropped the sheet and stepped under the spray. He let the hot water wash over him, easing the ache of his muscles. He took the showerhead in hand, adjusted the setting of the water, and held it over the back of his head to let the hot water pummel the skin of his neck and his scalp, hoping to make the migraine go away. Though with the newly added stress of a phone call with someone from his long-forgotten past, Loki wasn’t sure it would go away now.

Washing his body and hair quickly, after just fifteen minutes, Loki stepped out and went through the motions of grooming then getting dressed. When he stepped out into the living room, Fandral was just taking his food from its delivery packaging.

“Did he call?”

“No. Feel any better?”

Not at all. “Much. Fandral, could you give me some privacy?”

He froze with a wrapped sandwich half out of the bag. Only his eyes moved in Loki’s direction, “Um, sure? Do you want me to come back in, what, an hour?”

Loki shook his head. “No. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Fandral dropped the sandwich on the table and faced Loki fully, crossing his arms. “Don’t look at me like that. Nothing is wrong. I just don’t know how this conversation is going to go, and I’d rather not have an audience if you don’t mind.” He spotted a bag of chips and snatched it up, ripping it open to pop one into his mouth.

Fandral, still frowning, reached into the bag once again to split the napkins between the two of them. He repacked his meal, then lifted the bag from the table. “All right. Your phone is on the counter. I input the phone number since he called the office, not your cell phone. And – I’ll be available, just in case.”

“Thank you. Fandral.” Loki gave his back a quick pat as he paused beside him. “I mean it. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, I think we both know that’s a mutual feeling.” He reached for Loki’s arm, giving his wrist a quick squeeze. “Call me later? So I know you’re all right?”

Loki nodded and didn’t move until he heard the door close behind Fandral. It was true; he didn’t know how he would function without Fandral. They were classmates in law school, and both started at equally prestigious firms upon graduation. They were good friends but fiercely competitive, too. Loki credited that manic drive to one-up each other for getting him to the top five percent of their graduating class. But after a few years, while Loki had been on the up-and-up, Fandral was drowning, barely keeping his head above water as a tax lawyer. Loki watched one of the first friends he’d made in New York crumble under pressure and struggled to help him find a way to deal. Eventually, Fandral walked away from the six-figure salary, the company car, and all the perks that came with it. Loki was impressed that Fandral

dared to do it. After a few months of getting help and finding a better mental space, Fandral moved off of Loki’s couch into a modest apartment that was a fraction the size of the loft he was in before and looked for a less-hectic job. Loki had snagged a cushy position as Stark Industries’ in-house counsel, thanks to his friendship with its C.E.O., and was still getting settled. Managing New York’s richest son’s money, company, and public image was turning out to be a full-time job. And Loki needed help. He’d already recruited Natasha Romanov, a former N.Y.P.D. Officer, he brought her on for her computer and investigative skills. So he offered Fandral a position as his assistant. Fandral took it and promised to be the best right-hand man. Loki expected he’d be bored within a month just answering phone calls and setting up meetings. But Fandral’s duties, mostly taken on of his own volition, had grown exponentially in the past five years. He acted as assistant, maid, valet, and social buffer for the notoriously introverted Loki.

Loki would be a mess without him.

Because he was starving, Loki wolfed down half his sandwich and chips, grateful that the shower, the food, and the medication had helped relieve the worst of his migraine. Taking a deep breath, Loki picked up his phone from where Fandral left it for him. His thumb hovered over the screen, over the unknown phone number. And with his heart in his throat, Loki tapped it. He listened. He waited. And, finally, after three rings, the line picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Thor.”

[midnightsnyx]

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 8

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child.

here is it! the last part! please let me know if its too corny lol. epilogue will be posted either this week or next.

couples notes: 1. i don’t know anything about childbirth aside from what google taught me so i apologize for any wrong info! 2. i’m sorry this story was pretty short lol ya girl is doing the best i can😅 3. i wanna throw a couple quick thanks now and then the rest when i post the epilogue. 

first of all i wanna send a thank you to @hannahmb​ who let me bounce ideas off her, gave me feedback, listened to me complain about not knowing where to go with the chapters and also, helped name baby tkachuk! so thank you hannah! you rock 🖤

i wanna thank @notanotherhockeyblog95​ for also listening to me whine about not knowing what to write 😂 also, for giving me loads of encouragement and letting me throw ideas at her! you’re the best!!🖤

anyways here’s part 8! i hope you guys like it and thanks again for reading<3

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none

Part 8

41 weeks

“Matty. Wake up.” You whisper, shaking his shoulder in attempt to wake him. He doesn’t budge so you pull the blankets off him in hopes that it might work but again, he doesn’t move. It’s quite disappointing considering you’re now five days past your due date and if you were in labor, he won’t wake. Luckily, Chantal is sleeping just down the hall. After many conversations, you and Matthew agreed that it was probably a good idea to have her stay with the two of you in case you were to go in labor while Matt was playing a game. Yes, you had friends around but it comforted you much more having Chantal here because she’s went through this before.

With one last look at Matt, you roll out of bed and waddle like a duck, because that’s what you looked like according to Matt and Brady, to the kitchen. You were trying to wake Matt up because you felt like a snack but you didn’t feel like getting out of bed.

You’re digging through the freezer for some ice-cream you’re sure Brady had bought when he last visited when you feel the first cramp. It’s a little uncomfortable but you’ve been having some braxton hicks contractions on and off over the past few weeks, some feeling real enough that you went to the hospital only to be sent home which was very embarrassing even though Chantal told you it happens all the time. It wasn’t exactly the fact that you got sent home that you felt embarrassed about, but that Matthew left practice because he thought you were in labor. You just thanked your lucky stars that it wasn’t while he was in the middle of a game because it would’ve been ten times worse.

So you brush it off, cheering silently when you find the tub of chocolate ice-cream, idly wondering if it’s weird to eat it in bed at three o’clock in the morning. You decide it’s not, walking back to the bedroom and crawling in bed. You sit up against the headboard and grab the PS4 controller so you can put Netflix on since you know you won’t be falling asleep any time soon.

Matt rolls over and throws and arm over your legs and nuzzling his face in your side halfway through an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. It’s gives your belly a weird feeling again, not pain this time but something else. Something a little unsettling because you haven’t felt this particular feeling in quite some time.

You’re pretty sure you’re in love with Matt which makes you equally frightened as it does happy. You’ve realized that your hatred for him stemmed from that one night when he did something to make you angry when your breakup with your ex was so fresh and you were emotionally vulnerable.

Just like Johnny had told Matt good things about you, he’s mentioned things about Matt to you, obviously in hopes that the two of you would hit it off. It gave you a little hope that despite what you had heard from some of the girls, he wasn’t that bad of a guy which you know is true now.

Your only problem now is that you have no idea how strong his feelings are for you. Part of you is afraid that what he does feel is only from seeing you carrying his child. You know what he told you at the baby shower, that he liked you since you met but you still can’t shake the feeling that maybe what he feels for you might just be temporary.

That one day he’s going to wake up and decide that he doesn’t want you the way he does now and it breaks your heart thinking about it.

“You’re crying.” Matt mumbles and you look down to see him now wide awake. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t realize that you were crying and you can’t wait for the day when everything doesn’t make you cry like a baby.

“I’m fine.” You say, swiping the tears away. “It’s the show.” This is a lie because you haven’t been paying attention to the show for about five minutes.

He looks at the TV and then looks back at you with an eyebrow raised. “It’s a sex scene. Something you been wanting to tell me?”

He has a tiny smirk on his face and it’s temping, it really is, but you shake your head and try to come up with some other excuse.

“My ice-cream melted.”

“Do you want more?” He frowns, sitting up and it drives you insane sometimes, how willing he is to do anything for you at any given time.

“No, I just -” you sigh, putting the tub on the night table. “I’m tired.”

You know it’s a lie and so does he but he doesn’t push like he normally would. You let him tug you down so you’re laying on your side and he’s wrapped around you, hand resting on your belly and face tucked in your neck.

“What about Jasper?” He whispers and you smile.

“I like it.” You tell him and he nods.

“We’ll put it on the list.”

. . .

It’s later that evening and you’ve been having what you’re telling yourself are braxton hicks contractions all day. You refuse to go back to the hospital already because you know you’ll just get sent home again. Besides, Matty has a game tonight and you’re determined to go because it’s the last game of the season. The Flames won’t make the playoff’s this year and you know Matt is upset about it but he said that what’s more important is that he’ll be here for when and after the baby is born.

His words made you fall in love with him a little more.

You and Chantal arrived at the arena early enough that you can go down to see Matt while she finds your seats. You text him when you’re outside the locker doors and he looks happy when he walks out to see you. You can see the hint of disappointment that tonight is the last game until next season but he smiles at you anyway.

“How’s Jasper?” He asks, resting a hand on your stomach.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that name.” You tease and he shrugs.

“Jasper Tkachuk. Has a nice ring to it.” He says, giving you a soft smile. He looks like he wants to say something else but somebody yells his name and you know he has to go.

He smiles apologetically. “I’ll come find you after the game.”

You nod, letting him kiss you before heading back to the locker room. You find your way to Chantal in the stands, trying to ignore the way the braxton hicks contractions won’t go away. There’s a small part of you that knows you shouldn’t be brushing them off but now really isn’t the time for you to go into labor.

You can’t hide the winces from Chantal though because halfway through the first period, she frowns.

“How long have you been having them?”

You wince when another one washes through you. It’s much closer to the last one.

“Since this morning?”

“Y/N.” She scolds gently but firmly.

“It’s his last game! I don’t want to miss it.”

“Honey, you’re in labor.”

When those words leave Chantal’s mouth, it feels like somebody smacked you because it’s suddenly so real.

“C’mon. Let’s get to the hospital.” She says, helping you out of your seat.

“Matt-”

“We’ll get a message to him.” she assures you. “he won’t miss it.”

. . .

As you watch the game from your hospital bed, Chantal paces around the room on her phone trying to talk to someone who can get a message to Matt.

Your water broke shortly after you and Chantal arrived at the hospital and you know how quickly things can progress so you’re terrified that he won’t make it in time. You know that it’s something that the two of you had talked about early on, in the case that he was on a road trip and wouldn’t be here but knowing that he is here but you can’t get a hold of him, is hard.

“I know it’s an unusual situation.” Chantal snaps. “Figure it out.”

When she ends the call, she sighs and presses a hand to her forehead. You know how stressed she is about the situation but when she turns to you, there’s a gentle smile on her face.

“He’ll be here.”

You admire her attempt at trying to reassure you but you know that you need to get yourself in a good mindset to be okay if he’s not here.

“Did you call Becca?” You ask, hoping for at least some good news.

“Yes, she’s on her way.”

A little bit of good news. Finally.

You start to ask if she’s called anyone else but a nurse comes in the room to check you. When she tells you it shouldn’t be much longer, your heart sinks, realizing that Matt’s probably not going to make it here in time.

“I just got word that Matthew Tkachuk will be out for the rest of the game.” you hear Elliotte Friedman say and your head snaps up. You forgot that the TV was still on and it’s now intermission. “I didn’t see him get injured during the game, Chris. Did you?”

“No, and he didn’t take any major penalties. Maybe we missed something.”

Your heart leaps when you realize that he’s probably left the game because someone got the message through to him and you’re proven right when your phone buzzes and his name appears on the screen.

“Matty.”

“Hey, baby.” he says in a rushed voice. “I’m on my way to the hospital, okay?”

“Yeah?” You sniffle, knowing you’re going to cry.

“Yeah.” He promises. “Fifteen minutes, okay?”

He stays on the phone with you until he reaches the hospital and even until he reaches your room.

He takes Chantal’s place on the chair next to your bed as soon as he walks in.

“Ready?” He asks, taking one of your hands in his and pressing his lips to it.

“Not really.” You joke, trying to lighten the mood because you’re scared out of your mind. Your entire life is about to change but when you look at Matt sitting next to you, eyes kind and warm and with the smile on his face, you know you can do just about anything with him by your side.

. . .

“I guess we need to pick a name now, huh?” Matt whispers, cradling the baby in his arms. He was natural from the moment he held him and it was like your heart exploded. If you thought you loved Matt before, you know that you love him now.

“What about Henry?” You ask, watching him walk around, bouncing the baby gently.

His mouth turns up in a tiny smile. “I love it.” Then he looks up at you and tilts his head a little as if he’s coming to a realization.

“What?”

He shrugs, looking back down at Henry before walking over and sitting on the bed next to you. He lets you take the baby out of his arms so you can nurse him.

“I just realized something.”

“And what’s that?” You ask, raising an eyebrow when he smiles.

“I love you.” He says easily and when your eyes start watering, he just laughs gently. “I love you so much it’s crazy.”

“Really?” You ask and he nods.

“Really.” He grins and you can’t help but laugh when he pulls his phone out of his pocket and waves it in the air.

“Now, shall we make this Instagram official?” He asks and you roll your eyes fondly.

“You’re such a dork.”

“But you love me.” He says and you smile, pulling him close enough so that you can kiss him.

“I really do.”