#I can’t wait to see her go at someone on the stand

[harrywavycurly]

Worth The Fight: Smells Good

Masterlist: Here

CW: pregnancy stuff/symptoms mentioned

A/N: I felt like we needed a little bit of semi fluffiness between these two so hope y’all enjoy✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera

Summary: You have a new craving that leads to you being the one that texts Harry at one in the morning✨

Harry is nervous he hasn’t seen you in a week and now he’s sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Andrews’s office waiting for your appointment but there’s just one thing that’s missing, you. He knows better than to text you to ask where you’re at or if you’re going to be running late because according to what you’ve told him you don’t run late you just sometimes have to rush. He looks at the watch on his wrist and notices that there’s about ten minutes until your appointment time so he just reaches for the juice he got from a place near his house, trying not to think about the last time he was in this office. Thankfully the waiting room isn’t very crowded, he does notice a very pregnant woman sitting near the back of the room and he can’t help but want to smile when he watches her eyes close and her head rest on the shoulder of the person sitting next to her. As he takes another sip of his juice Harry finds himself wondering if he will ever get a moment like that with you, if you’ll ever see him as a someone that you feel comfortable enough with that resting your head on his shoulder or maybe even reaching for his hand when you just need to feel grounded would be acceptable.

“Oh thank god you’re still out here.” Harry nearly chokes on the juice in his mouth as you suddenly appear next to him, out of breath and of course with the strap to your giant unorganized purse draped over your shoulder. “I was afraid they might’ve already called you back there and I’d have to go knocking on doors to find you.” You explain as you practically fall into the empty seat next to him, all while he just stares at you with wide eyes and the straw to his juice in his mouth.

“Uh no-no they haven’t called for us yet.” He stutters after he swallows the sip he was in the middle of when you appeared out of thin air. You look at him with a quirked brow as he clears his throat. “I also don’t think they’d uhm make you knock on doors I think they’d just show you which room I was in.” He doesn’t say it as a way to correct you he says it more so to help calm your nerves, or at least that’s how he hopes it comes across because he really doesn’t want to start an argument with you five seconds after seeing you for the first time in a week.

“I smell apples.” You look around the room as the words leave your mouth, deciding to ignore Harry’s comment because you know he’s right but you don’t necessarily want to tell him that. Harry raises an eyebrow as he watches you hunt for the source of the smell. “And I think-oh is that pineapple? Do you smell that?” You ask as you look at him and he instantly looks down to the juice in his hands.

“Uh no I can’t smell that. But my juice-”

“Where did you get that?” Harry is taken aback by how quickly your words fall out of your mouth as you cut him off as your eyes become glued to the plastic cup in his hand.

“Oh uhm -”

“Styles?” Both you and Harry turn your heads towards the doorway a nurse is standing in with a smile on her face and a clipboard in her hands. “We’re ready for you.” She explains making Harry stand up and before he can think twice about it he’s offering you his free hand to help you up and while normally you’d make a small scene about not taking it you can’t be bothered because you’re still focusing on the juice in his other hand.

“Thank you.” You mumble once you’re up out of the chair and Harry just gives you a tight lipped smile as a response, still not fully convinced he’s not dreaming because this is only the third time you’ve allowed him to actually touch you since the night you two met.

“Dr. Andrews will be right in.” You just smile as the nurse shows the two of you to the exam room you’ll be in before closing the door. You rub your lips together as you place your bag in one of the chairs on the wall while Harry stands there not sure where he should sit, in the empty chair next to your bag or the chair next to the exam table where you’ll be at for the majority of the visit.

“I’m sorry by the way.” Your voice is soft and quiet as you take a step towards the exam table. Harry has to take a moment to think about all the possible reasons you could be apologizing to him but lucky for him you decide to explain yourself. “I shouldn’t have asked if you really wanted to be a dad because I know you do. I know you want to be in their lives and I’m sorry I upset you with that question it wasn’t-”

“You don’t have to apologize. You had every reason to ask me that and I’m sorry for how I handled it but you’re right.” He doesn’t have to look at you to know you have a small smile on your face at his admission of you being right, even if you don’t know what he’s admitting you’re right about you still just enjoy how the phrase sounds coming from him. “I do want to be their dad and be in their lives and that means I’ll be in yours as well.” You just nod as you try to get comfortable on the table and Harry can’t help the way his eyes travel from your face down to your bump that seems to be much more prominent today than it was the last time he saw you.

“That’s true. We are sort of stuck with each other.” You agree as Harry leans against the counter that has a little sink attached to it, your eyes automatically finding the plastic cup in his hand as he brings the straw up to his lips for a quick sip. “Did you make that?” Harry quirks a brow as he looks at you and then to the cup in his hand and then back at you and he swears he catches you licking your lips as you stare at the green liquid in his cup.

“The juice? No I got it from this little place near my-”

“It smells good.”

“Uh do you-you want to try it?”

“What’s in it?” You don’t know why you ask because he could say it’s made of dirt and salty lawn clippings and you’d still want to try it because the smell has your mouth watering, your appetite hasn’t been that great recently but something about the oddly colored juice in Harry’s hand has you suddenly craving something you’ve never had before.

“Green apples some spinach and some pineapple and I think-” You just begin nodding and reach a hand out in the middle of him listing what’s in the juice and without hesitation he hands you the cup making him chuckle when you instantly take a sip of it and let out a sigh and close your eyes as you take another sip.

“Is that cucumber?” Harry just nods as he runs a hand through his hair while you slowly swing your feet back and forth as they hang off the end of the exam table all while sucking down a few more sips of his juice and for a moment a comfortable silence takes over the room.

“I understand why you can’t forgive me yet for what I did.” You feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as Harry’s voice breaks the silence a few minutes later. “I know you don’t trust that I’ll stick around and I can’t say anything that will change how you feel so I just hope you’ll let me show you how much I really do want to be apart of this whole thing.” Harry is looking at his feet when you look over at him, knowing that if he said all that while looking at you he would probably be an emotional mess by the end of it and that’s not exactly what he wants while in an exam room waiting to see how his twins are doing.

“Thank-oh no.” Harry’s head snaps up at the sound of you making a soft huff but before he can ask what’s wrong you’re holding the now empty cup in your hands and looking at it with a pout. “I drank it all.” Your voice cracks a bit as you look at the empty cup and he feels his chest tighten as your eyes get glossy and your bottom lip starts to tremble and for a moment Harry refuses to believe you’re actually getting this upset over finishing off his juice. But then he realizes as you take the lid off and tip the cup back so you can try to get the last few drops at the bottom you’re not upset over the fact it was his, you’re just upset that it’s gone.

“It’s okay.” He tries his best to sound reassuring but he is also a tiny bit worried he’s just going to upset you as he takes a few steps towards you so he can grab the empty cup from out of your hands. “I’m glad you liked it.” You watch with sad eyes as he tosses the cup and lid into the trash.

“I’m so going to need more-” You turn your head as a knock interrupts you mid sentence, Harry quickly takes the sear near the exam table just as the door opens.

“Hello!” You smile as Dr. Andrews walks into the room with his clipboard in his hands and a bright smile on his face. “Mr. Styles it’s great to see you again how have you been?” Harry just offers him a casual shrug making the him laugh.

“I’ve been okay uh how about yourself?” You have to bite your lip to stop the giggles from escaping as you watch and listen to Harry struggle with small talk with the man that will eventually be delivering your twins.

“Oh I’ve been great now let’s ask the woman in charge how she’s doing huh? How’s the appetite and nausea? Better or the same since last week?” Harry’s eyes narrow as Dr. Andrews places his clipboard on the counter before turning and looking at you.

“Actually my appetite has come back a little bit and so far this week no nausea.” You answer as you feel Harry’s eyes glaring at you, so you just turn your head to look at him because you want to attempt to involve him in things but before you can open your mouth to explain yourself he is looking at Dr. Andrews and asking for himself.

“Last week? Did something happen? She didn’t have a scheduled appointment for last week.” You can tell he’s trying to hide his concern as he asks the doctor who is walking towards you so he can sit in the round wheeled stool that’s near the end of the table where your legs are hanging off.

“Nothing to worry about just some nausea that was making it a little hard to keep things down so she came in for a quick check up.” Dr. Andrews gives him a quick explanation making Harry just nod as he watches him look at you with a reassuring smile. “So it looks like you’ve lost a little weight since your last appointment but again that’s normal and since your appetite is coming back I’m not too concerned about it. Now is there anything new I should know about? Any pain or discomfort?” Harry’s attention moves from the doctor to you as you place your hands in your lap and mess with the ring you have on your index finger.

“I feel like my ankles are already starting to swell is that normal?”

“Yes that’s normal you can expect swelling in your feet and hands as well as some around your belly. Any breast tenderness or leg cramps?”

“Leg cramps sometimes but mainly when I’m laying down at the end of the day and uhm no-no breast tenderness.” You feel silly for being a little embarrassed at talking about if your breasts are tender or not while Harry is sitting in a chair next to you, but you can’t help it and when you subtly glance over at him and see his cheeks are slightly flushed you know he feels a bit awkward as well.

“I can give you some tips for how to help with the leg cramps but what about the fatigue? Is it the same or have you gotten some energy back?”

“I’ve gotten a little energy back.” Dr. Andrews gives you a little smile at this bit of information as he wheels himself around the table so he can grab some gloves and for some reason that makes you remember your last scheduled exam that Harry left in the middle of making him miss something important. “Uhm I was wondering if we could listen to the heartbeats today?”

“Of course yes we are going to check their heartbeats and do some bloodwork and we will check to see how they are doing with an ultrasound so you’ll get to see them today while we look over a few things but we will discuss all of that when we get to it.” Harry is just nervously chewing on his bottom lip as Dr. Andrews discusses everything that will happen during today’s appointment.

You scoot further back on the table and try to get comfortable as Dr. Andrews gets everything ready so the two of you can hear the twins heartbeats. Harry runs a hand through his hair and adjusts how he’s sitting in the chair, trying his best to cover up his anxiousness but clearly not doing a good job because just as you get comfortable and roll your shirt up so the doctor can use his Doppler monitor you look over at him and raise an eyebrow.

“You okay?” You whisper making Dr. Andrews lightly chuckle as he turns the machine on and wheels himself over to you on the opposite side of the exam table that Harry is sat on.

“Oh yeah-yeah I’m fine.” He knows that you know he’s lying but neither of you can say anything else because soon the room is full of a static like sound making Harry turn and look at the little device in the doctor’s hands that is pressed against your bump.

Then the static turned into the soft but steady sound of what you would describe as similar to a horse galloping down a street, letting you know Dr. Andrews had found a heartbeat making you feel a lump of emotions form in your throat. When you look over at Harry you can tell he is struggling to keep his emotions in check as his eyes go a bit glossy and his lips are rubbing together and you have to remind yourself that this is his first time hearing this sound.

So you do something for him that you wish someone was there to do for you when you first heard it, you reach your arm out and open your hand for him to take and without a word Harry grabs your hand slipping his fingers between the gaps of yours letting you give his hand a comforting squeeze. You smile as Harry returns your gesture with a soft squeeze of your hand while the two of you sit there and listen to your babies’ heartbeats. And for a moment you don’t feel like two people who oftentimes can barely hold a conversation without it turning into an argument, you almost feel like a normal couple.

You let out a groan as you lay in bed with Paris curled up in a peaceful ball near your feet. It’s been two days since your appointment, and it’s been two days that you’ve been craving the green juice Harry ended up letting you have before the exam started. While you’re used to having cravings, such as the jam and toast that you still have for breakfast most mornings but normally you can satiate your cravings rather quickly but this time you can’t because Harry never got to tell you where he got the juice or even finish telling you what was in it. But the main issue about the juice you’re craving so badly that your mouth is watering and you almost feel as if you could cry because it’s all you can think about, is that your fridge is pretty much empty minus some raspberry jam and milk.

“I could just find the place he got it from.” You mumble to yourself as you sit up and turn your bedside lamp on before you reach for your phone that’s plugged into the charger on your nightstand. “He said he got it from a place near his house.” You hold your phone in your hands and let out a huff as you just stare at the screen. “Which would be fine if I knew where he lived.” You bite your lip and debate on if you should text him and just ask him for the juice place seeing as he knows you liked it you asking him about it wouldn’t seem so odd.

“One text won’t be too bad.”

Harry has to laugh at the situation he’s found himself in as the elevator door opens to reveal your floor number because for once he’s not showing up here completely uninvited. While you didn’t exactly tell him not to come you also didn’t tell him it was okay for him to come over, but he can’t just let you suffer with not being able satiate your craving when he has all the ingredients to make it. So as he walks down your hallway he adjusts the bag on his shoulder that has all the produce in it and silently hopes you’re still awake so he’s not disturbing you when he knocks on your door.

“Harry?” Your voice is full of surprise as you open the door and see him standing there in a pair of black sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag over his shoulder. “What-what are you doing here?” You ask even though you know he said he’d be there in ten you didn’t actually expect him to show up at your door, he just slides the bag off his shoulder so he can reach out and hand it to you.

“It has all the things you need for your uhm juice.” He watches the way your face lights up as you take the bag from him and look inside of it. “You have a blender and a strainer right?” He asks to confirm that you’ll even be able to make the juice and when you just nod he smiles as he brings a hand up and rubs at the back of his neck.

“So I just put all this in the blender and strain it and that’s it?”

“Uh well you have to add water and cut the fruit up.”

“Okay how much water?”

“Have you ever made a smoothie or anything before?” He asks and when you shake your head no he lets out a sigh as he contemplates just taking the bag from you and making it himself but before he can even suggest it you’re biting your bottom lip and staring at him.

“Do you think or uh would you mind maybe-”

“I can make it for you.” He answers before you can even finish asking your question. The two of you stand there for a few moments just staring at each other before you finally move to the side leaving enough room for him to walk through the door.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks before taking a step because he knows recently you haven’t wanted him to be inside your apartment, preferring him to just stay in the hallway.

“Oh uhm yeah it’s fine.” You answer and truthfully you don’t know if it’s just your overwhelming desire to finally get what you’ve been craving for the last two days or if you really don’t mind that Harry enters your apartment. Harry just nods as he takes the bag from your hands before taking a few steps into your apartment and heading towards the kitchen, he looks around as he crosses your living room and raises a brow as he notices the absence of a certain orange fur ball with a bell on his collar.

“Where’s-”

“Paris is asleep on my bed don’t worry.” You say with a laugh as you follow Harry into the kitchen. He sets the bag on your counter as you go for the cabinet you keep your blender in. Once you have it plugged in you just take a seat at your little table and watch as Harry stumbles his way around your kitchen at one in the morning just to make you a juice that you’ve been craving.

As you sit there while he begins to cut up the fruit from the bag you find yourself wondering if this is something you should get used to or if this is just a one time fluke and the two of you are just having a decent week. When he starts to hum to himself you place a hand on your bump giving it a soothing rub and when he looks over at you with a soft smile you decide that it doesn’t matter if this is a one time thing or the beginning of your new normal. You’ll take it because having Harry in your apartment isn’t that bad especially when it ends with him handing you a glass full of the green liquid you’ve been dreaming about for the last two days.

[lateatnewyork]

SECRETS…? | 001

pairing: minho x reader

warnings: suggestive, ooc?

info: same as first part except i’ve finished season two so it’s more accurate now. but it is adapted to suit the narrative

part zero | part one

a/n guess who was rotting in bed all day watching season two 😀 guess who threw the tv remote because she was mad there were only eight episodes 😔 guess who lost the tv remote 😞🔫

k.i.s.s crew

yurine: bbq tonight meet at the front of block d baby 💗: is this necessary baddest eva: cant wait! kitkat added stella yurine added juju bean stella: might be a bit late juju bean: all good baddest eva: i’ll text you the address

we reached the barbecue place and i can see minho with q and dae, so i drag kitty with me and we walk with them.

once stella has arrived we all sit, i blush when minho pulls out a chair for me and sits beside me; kitty gives me a cheeky smile from across the table which causes me to blush harder.

yuri starts goving a toast and my eyes stray to minho, who’s standing near dae in all his beauty.

from afar i admire his jawline, that seems soft enough to kiss yet sharp enough to cut me. my eyes drift upwards straying towards his hair which somehow falls perfectly and i smile when he laughs.

our eyes lock and i choke on air; q looks at me concerned and asks me if i’m ok.

“yeah just a hiccup” i deflect; i can hear minho’s laugh and i can tell he’s staring over at me smirking and shaking his stupidly beautiful head.

theynln

liked by minhom, quincyshebazian and 852,471 others nights with friends 📸 him view comments

ynlover what is that caption 😀 user87 idec abt the caption shes so fine minhom ur so bad at barbecuing ➥ theynln SHUT UP UR NOT ANY BETTER kittysongcovey and no creds to me 😞 i basically took that photo ➥ theynln IM SORRY IM SORRY quincyshebazian face card so insane i could forget that you almost choked ➥ theynln stop this bullying madness yuri TONIGHT WAS SO FUN ➥ theynln YES WE SHOULD DO IT AGAIN user31 in another life im a 16 year old with a super famous friend group with insane face cards

i’m about to close my instagram and step out to head back to campus when i hear stella and kitty.

“hey kitty, you’re friends with minho right?” i hear stella’s sickly sweet voice carry to where i’m standing.

“yeah” kitty hesitantly says.

“do you think you could give me his number, we were talking a bunch tonight and i think i’m gonna ask him out,” she says; my jaw tightens and i get the urge to punch her.

“i’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend,” kitty says forcing a smile.

“are you sure? or is it because yn has a crush on him,” stella’s voice isn’t the nice calming one anymore, it’s almost angry?

my thoughts are cut off when someone grabs my wrist from behind.

“what are you doing?” minho says as he spins me around, causing me to collide with his chest.

“nothing,” i say quickly my eyes flitting from his eyes to his lips.

said lips slowly curve into a smirk; “if i could i would kiss you senseless right now,”.

i gulp, flushed. then his body isn’t shielding me from the world anymore and he’s dragging me outside.

i whine “minho you can’t just say that,”

i’d already forgotten about stella when minho’s arm was in mine.

minho and q walked kitty, stella and i back to our dorms. i’m about to head inside with kitty and stella when minho pulls me back out.

“yes i’ll call you before i go to bed-” my words are cut off when minho pulls me into a knee weakening kiss; my fingers cling onto his coat while his arms encircle around my waist encasing me in his warm embrace.

when his lips leave mine my eyes are still shut reeling from the kiss.

“what was that for?” i cringe at how breathy my voice sounds and hide my face in his chest.

his finger hooks underneath my chin and forces me to look into his eyes.

“i told you i was going to kiss you senseless,” he chuckles.

i giggle and slap his chest, “good night, i love you,”

“i love you too darling,” he places another peck on my lips and walks off with q, who’s making some gagging noise. shaking my head i walk into my dorm.

“well that was disgusting,” kitty says.

“what?”

“you guys are disgustingly in love,” juliana adds.

i blush and head to my room to change, coming out i see stella come up to me.

“you and minho are really cute together” her voice is back to being annoyingly sweet.

“thanks,” i say forcing a smile, “do you want some tea?”

stella shakes her head and walks into her room.

a/n guus im only motivated cos of minho pls sang heon’s so fine sorry it’s so short

[powdcr]

it's you, toots

୨୧ jinx x gn!reader

୨୧ summary: jinx confesses her feelings for you; you're seeing someone

୨୧ word count: 1.1k

୨୧ tw: mentions of blood

୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ

“Do you really think that this is easy for me?”

A sentence that you never thought you’d hear in this context, especially from your close friend that stood before you: Jinx. You had been seeing someone recently. It was someone that you had met at The Last Drop. While you were waiting for Jinx to come back from her meeting with Silco, someone had approached you at the bar. They weren’t exactly what you were looking for, but they were someone to fill the void. They satisfied your urges, gave you attention, and had a pretty face. They weren’t what you really, truly wanted though—a fact that struck you straight to the bone.

“What are you talking about?” You replied, your voice wavering like the whine of a lost puppy.

You two were standing face-to-face in a back alleyway of Zaun. The distant sounds of people bustling by were easy for you to tune out. It was like going to sleep with the fan on, you didn’t pick up on its commotion. In fact, it felt quiet—pin-drop silent. Words unspoken and misconstrued filled the silence, and instead, made your head feel noisier than your surroundings.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

You swallowed hard, looking away and then back to the blue-haired girl. “Is this about-”

“The fresh meat you dragged home from the bar, toots.”

“Why do you care about who I bring home?” You spat back at her, crossing your arms.

Jinx’s mouth, held open ready to spit back venom, was now closed. She bit her lip, some of her emotions seeping out against her own wishes. She kicked a rock before throwing herself down on a crate that was leaned up against one of Zaun's many buildings. “You don’t know the kinda effect you have on people, do ya?”

Your eyes softened at her question. Taking a few steps closer to her, you dropped your arms back down to your sides. “Effect?”

Jinx looked up at you, her eyes were longing something—something that she wanted dearly. “Yeah, you’re perfect. You make people stop in their tracks when you walk by, you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and hell, you have twice the heart that I’ve ever had. I think that’s also your weakness though, buttercup.”

Your eyebrows were furrowed. This was a lot to hear all at once. Jinx was one to flirt with you constantly, but it was so constant that you didn’t think it had any depth to it. It was one of those things that just lost its meaning after a while. However, this wasn’t how she would normally speak to you. Her expression now shown of defeat, vulnerability. Her expected manic energy was replaced with one of… innocence?

“What are you trying to say, Jinx?” You asked.

“I’m trying to say…” she sighed once more, standing up from the crate and moseying over to you. “It’s you, toots, it’s always been you. I can’t stand to see you wasting your time with some bupkis from down the block when I’m right here.”

The last words that fell off of her lips were said the most slowly and held the most power. Your heart broke at her confession. The pain that shown through her pink eyes erupted a nauseous feeling within your gut. Jinx’s eyes began to tear up as she harshly rubbed them, praying they’d stop.

“Jinx…” You murmured, “I-”

“You don’t gotta say anything, sweets. In fact, it’d be better for both of us if ya didn’t.”

Just as she finished her sentence, you closed the gap between the two of you. Tender, soft lips clashed against one another. She was sweet, full of flavor, just enough to keep you wanting more. You could feel her mania start up as she slid her tongue into your mouth hungrily. Her hands cupped your face gently in contrast to her rough kiss. Her nails trailed down your cheeks and to your neck.

“Jinx,” you said, voice breathy as you broke the kiss.

Jinx looked into your eyes. She felt as though she had did something wrong, like maybe the next words that would fall off your tongue would be something like, “I knew kissing you would be a mistake.” Blood drew as she bit down on her lip hard this time.

You kissed the blood that pooled on her bottom lip, wiping the excess away with your thumb. “I was only seeing that ‘bupkis’ because I could pretend that it was you. I’ve always wanted you. You’re all I ever think about. Don’t you know that?”

Her eyes were wide and doe-like, not a descriptor that she had received often. “Really? So… you’re not gonna leave me?”

You dropped your shoulders, releasing the tension you hadn’t realized was building. “Of course, I’m not gonna leave. I know people have left you in your life. I know that, but I’m not gonna be one of them. You’re my ride or die. I’m never gonna leave you.”

The hunger within the two of you subsided as a more sensual, emotional atmosphere set in. Jinx wrapped her arms around you. She held you tight, afraid that if she let go you’d slip away from her. You were hers. You were only hers. Subconsciously, she dug her nails into your back to keep you from prying away, even if she knew you weren’t going to go anywhere.

“I love you, Jinx.”

“I love you too,” she replied after some hesitation, nervous to admit her true feelings out loud. This time it was her to close the gap between you. Jinx kissed you with delicacy, choosing instead to be careful with you. She placed her hands flat on your chest so that she could feel your heartbeat through your shirt. It was racing—a fact that soothed her, for hers was racing equally as fast. Your hearts beat together as one, strong as a jackhammer.

Your relationship was about to change, blossom into something new and passionate. It was something that you had dreamed of for years—holding her in your arms just as you had her now. Ever since the day you met her, you knew that she was the one. She had proven to be loyal: following you everywhere, blowing people up that dared to even look at you the wrong way, comforting you on your bad days, but now you were able to prove your own loyalty to her in a different way. You would make sure that she knew that she was yours and vice versa. She was your girl, always had been after all.

[briarscreek]

Mediaeval Prisoner!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley had a proposition

your arrival at the celebratory ball was nothing short of extravagant. everyone was finally excited to put their talents to use again, from elaborate cakes and dresses down to new embroidered napkins. seems like everyone agreed to let the past few years go and enjoy life again.

the announcement of your arrival snapped you out of your thoughts, squaring your shoulders and wearing a polite smile as you entered.

everyone marveled at you. no longer was the bumbling, nervous maid but a strong leader who commanded the room without words. it was king price who spoke first.

“welcome back to the capital, countess.”

“it is my honor, your majesty.”

“please let the celebration begin.”

as you wound yourself through the open ballroom, one person wasn’t here. his presence was always glaring, though absent or not. it just set off your anger even more. the coward couldn’t even be here to face you. typical.

a hand caught your arm as you were lightly conversing with a foreign princess.

“apologies your highness, i must borrow the countess for a quick word”

“of course! let me know when you’re free again countess. i’d love to chat with you over tea sometime.”

“i shall be waiting for your call, your highness.”

as doctor laswell pulled you along, you couldn’t help but look back as king price had approached the princess. he had taken her hand into his for a kiss upon her knuckles, which caused a blush to spread across her cheeks. perhaps you should ask about that later.

the wine you consumed throughout the evening had dulled your sense just a hair but not enough for you to miss the scenery changing.

“wait laswell, where are we going?”

“somewhere you are going to hate me for. but not for long.”

familiar steps up into the one place you hadn’t been in almost a year and a half. the tower. a pit formed in your stomach.

“kate—“

“please just trust me and give him a chance”

“w-wha-“

she had promptly thrown you into the top of the tower without another word. your banging on the door and yelling of her name didn’t sway her either.

“i’ve tried that before”

a voice— no. his voice echoed in the room.

you turned to see him, standing there in his traditional knights uniform. complete with a black chest plate, a red sash with medals adorning it, and a stark white painted helmet.

“you look goregous, love”

“that is countess to you.” you spit out angrily.

his shoulders deflated and admittedly, you hated it. you hated how much your words affected him and how much you cared.

“i suppose this is your doing?”

“mainly laswell’s but i did agree with it, countess.”

“if you have something to say then let’s get this over with”

you leveled him with a neutral glare, mostly uninterested in what he had to say.

“there was a lullaby my mum used to sing to me. it was about a sailor, who had lost his way because he couldn’t see his love anymore. but his lover found a way to lead him back to shore with a light. taught me that sometimes if your lost, someone will always care enough to look for you.”

you remember this lullaby, it became popular when you were just a few years old. especially when you had befriended a child on your street with roughed up knuckles and knees, a voice whispering promises of protection, a blonde haired kid who—

you can’t picture his face anymore, daydreams long since buried when his family’s house burned down with all of them still inside.

“what’s your point lord riley?”

“it was the first song you sang in the stairwell.”

he—he remembered? he was listening back then?

his eyes met yours, holding it with an emotion you had never seen before.

“thought it was my mum calling me to join her with my dad and little brother. but it was you.”

your mouth ran dry. you couldn’t figure out where he was going with this.

“you are the only other person who my mum taught the lyrics to.”

your stomach dropped. no, there’s no way life had turned out like this.

“we have a deeper connection than you remember, countess. i promised i’d always protect you, but i couldn’t protect you from myself. a selfish bastard i was. wanting everything about you. to see your smile again. to hear your laugh.”

he had kneeled before you somewhere during his explanation, but you were in a trance with his words. involuntary tears started to stream down your face while your words mumbles out of your mouth.

“w-wait. we’d both been working in the castle for years, run into each other numerous times. did you know the entire time?”

“no. i always had an unexplainable need to keep you safe but i didn’t know why until you sang. when i came to my senses and wasn’t dying, i knew it was you. and i was going to use the rest of my life to stay by your side. even if i’m nothing more than a doormat for you to wipe the dirt off your shoes; so that you would still need me. because i love you. i always have.”

that last sentence is when you started sobbing. you couldn’t keep it in anymore. the confusion, the relief, the joy, the need to figure this out. you started to pace in front of him trying to gather your thoughts until you heard movement.

and there he was. lord simon riley without his trademark helmet. nothing but the clean skin he showed with blonde hair atop his head, deep brown eyes, and scars littering his skin.

“oh my god si, it really is you.”

“i’m here my love.”

you pulled his head down to your height and kissed him with all the fervor you could muster. with all the years of desperation you had stored within you. one last question lingered in your mind as you pulled back.

“ but wait, what of your fellow knights writing about calling you the count?”

a giggle escaped his lips as a grin bloom on his face.

“all bastards the lot of ‘em. teasing me for all they could. in truth, on our wedding day, i never would have become a count. would never take that lead title away from you, lovie.”

that lifted your spirits tenfold.

“oh, our wedding day? i haven’t the faintest clue i was getting married.” you said as a teasing smile was portrayed on your lips.

he slithered his hands possessively around your body and pulled you flush against his armor.

“would fight in a tournament just for your hand in marriage lovie. no one else gets you but me.”

“and don’t you forget it.”

lord simon riley was many things to you. a friend in childhood, a knight who saved you, a stranger you became familiar with, and now the most exciting change of all.

a husband you would love unconditionally.

and even a future father who would do anything for his children.

<<PREVIOUS

THE END

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG ★ teaser

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ TEASER WARNINGS: references to pregnancy/trying for a baby, MC being an anxious mess, yoongi being a smartass, the slightest beginnings of dirty talk bc i can't give everything up NOW, nothing super explicit but definitely leading up to more, MINORS DNI

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hahahahahaha surprise... aqua glossdebut is once again resurrecting her comfort couple, despite the looming POF4 deadline and long list of non-yoongi requests waiting to be finished. OOPS. anyway, this is going to be a collection of 5 drabbles centering around TAB!couple's journey into parenthood. this is from drabble 2. i'm hoping to get the whole work posted by wednesday so stay tuned and drop your feedback in my comments/inbox!!!

✧ TEASER WORDCOUNT: 610 words

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

✧ TAGLIST: @sugar-snap @coffeedepressionsoup @butterymin @yourfavoritedeluluspot @angellekookie

@kkaetnipjeon @ktownshizzle @joonary @jajabro @pitchblack0309 

@ot72025 @futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @wobblewobble822 

@this-most-assuredly-counts @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @sugafun @whoa-jo @amarawayne 

@kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @jimingirl95 @jadestonedaeho7 @notsevenwithyou

@perfctlyunstable @yoonmetogether @kpophosblog @chimmchimmm @nnybtitts08

@itsmina29 @sophia--915 @jeanjacketjesus @kiki-zb

[supernova2205]

Unexpected Introductions

Gaz x reader

Summary: When the reader brings Gaz his forgotten lunch on base, she’s unexpectedly introduced to the rest of the 141. What starts as a simple gesture turns into a whirlwind of teasing. Despite Kyle’s embarrassment, the reader leaves a nice impression strengthening the bond between her and Gaz.

The mid-morning sun bathed the base in crisp winter light, the cool breeze carrying the faint scent of exhaust and freshly brewed coffee. You shifted the weight of the neatly packed lunch bag in your hand, your heart thumping a little faster than usual as you approached the entrance to the 141’s headquarters.

It wasn’t your first time doing something thoughtful for Kyle—your Kyle, better known as Sergeant “Gaz” Garrick—but walking onto a military base felt different. The gates, the security checks, the hum of activity… It was all a little overwhelming.

Still, you couldn’t ignore the small lunch bag you’d found sitting on your kitchen counter, forgotten in his early-morning rush. The idea of him going without food during his long hours on base didn’t sit right with you. So here you were, standing in the reception area, waiting for someone to fetch him.

Kyle was mid-briefing in the conference room, standing alongside Price, Soap, and Ghost. The team’s attention was split between the holographic map on the table and the captain’s deep, commanding voice.

That was until a knock broke the rhythm of the conversation.

“Enter,” Price said without looking up, his tone clipped.

The door swung open, revealing a junior soldier who saluted sharply. “Apologies, sir, but there’s someone here for Sergeant Garrick.”

Kyle blinked. “For me?”

“Yes, sir. Civilian. She said she’s got your… lunch.”

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to Kyle. Soap’s head whipped around so fast he almost knocked over his coffee mug, while Price’s brows inched up with barely concealed amusement. Even Ghost cocked his head slightly, though his mask obscured any expression.

“Uh…” Kyle cleared his throat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s… probably my—” He hesitated, catching himself. “I’ll handle it. Thanks.”

Price leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk downright predatory. “Well, Garrick, don’t keep her waitin’. We’ll hold the fort.”

Soap leaned closer, his grin wide and mischievous. “Aye, hurry along, Romeo.”

Kyle shot him a glare before ducking out of the room, muttering under his breath.

You spotted Kyle the moment he turned the corner, his sharp features softening into a warm smile as soon as he saw you.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice rich and familiar.

“Hi,” you replied, holding up the bag. “You left this at home. Thought you might need it.”

A sheepish chuckle escaped him as he took the bag from your hands. “Didn’t even realize. Thanks, love. You didn’t have to come all this way.”

“It’s no big deal,” you said with a shrug. “Besides, can’t have you going hungry, can I?”

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing yours briefly in a small, unspoken thank-you. “You’re the best.”

The tender moment was cut short by the unmistakable sound of a broad Scottish accent.

“Who’s this, then?”

Both of you turned to see a man standing in the doorway, his bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He leaned casually against the frame, his grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s.

Kyle groaned softly. “Soap. Don’t start.”

Ignoring him entirely, Soap’s grin only grew. “Ach, so this is why ye’ve been sneakin’ off like a lovesick lad, eh? Didn’t ken ye were hidin’ a lass from us!”

“I wasn’t sneaking off,” Kyle said, his tone defensive.

Soap cocked an eyebrow. “Ye weren’t? Coulda fooled me. Now”—he turned to you with a theatrical flourish—“who might ye be, darlin’?”

You glanced at Kyle, whose face was rapidly turning red. Deciding to save him from more embarrassment, you offered your name.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Soap said, reaching out to shake your hand. “Call me Soap. Everyone does.”

Before you could respond, another voice joined the fray.

“Soap, what’s goin’ on?”

Captain Price appeared behind him, his brow furrowing briefly before his gaze landed on you. A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Ah, I see.”

Soap stepped aside dramatically. “Cap’n, meet Gaz’s bonnie lass. She’s brought him his lunch. Proper wife material, if ye ask me.”

Kyle groaned louder this time. “For the love of—can we not do this right now?”

Price ignored him, extending a hand to you. “Captain John Price. And you are?”

You shook his hand, offering your name again. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain. Kyle’s mentioned you.”

“Has he now?” Price’s eyes gleamed. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, definitely,” you replied, earning a quiet laugh from the captain.

“Hold on,” Soap interjected, his grin turning devious. “Does this mean you’re… his girlfriend?”

“Soap—” Kyle began, but the damage was done.

You hesitated, glancing at Kyle, who sighed in resignation. “Yes,” he muttered, almost too quietly to hear. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Soap let out a whoop of delight. “Knew it! Called it ages ago!”

Kyle buried his face in his hands as Soap clapped him on the back. “Och, mate, ye’ve been holdin’ out on us! She’s a keeper, that’s fer sure.”

Ghost appeared then, his imposing figure silently observing the scene. His voice, deep and dry, cut through the chaos. “You didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend, Garrick.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Kyle muttered, his ears burning.

“Relevant?” Soap echoed, incredulous. “Yer daft, mate. This is the most relevant thing I’ve heard all week!”

The next half hour passed in a whirlwind of questions, teasing, and introductions. Soap bombarded you with questions about how you met Kyle, what he was like at home, and even what his favorite meal was.

“So,” Soap said, leaning in conspiratorially, “does he snore?”

You laughed. “Not usually, but when he’s really tired…”

“Oh, brilliant,” Soap said, doubling over with laughter.

Price, meanwhile, asked more thoughtful questions, his tone warm but curious. “What’s it like putting up with him? He’s a handful here; I can only imagine what he’s like at home.”

“He’s sweet,” you said honestly. “Very thoughtful. He even leaves little notes around the house—”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Kyle interrupted, stepping between you and the team. “You lot have had your fun.”

Soap smirked, but he didn’t press further. Even Ghost seemed amused, though he remained mostly silent, his presence a quiet counterbalance to Soap’s energy.

As you said your goodbyes, Kyle walked you to the entrance, his hand brushing yours.

“Sorry about them,” he said, his voice low. “They’re… a bit much.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said, smiling up at him. “They’re great. I can see why you care about them so much.”

He paused, his expression softening. “Thanks for coming. Really. It means a lot.”

You squeezed his hand. “Always. See you tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

As you walked away, you heard Soap’s voice echoing behind you.

“She’s a keeper, Gaz! Don’t mess this one up!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, already looking forward to the next time you’d see them all again.

Authors note: Hey everyone! I really hope you enjoyed this cute, fluffy story featuring Gaz. I’ve been feeling like I haven’t given him enough love in my writing, so I’d love to explore his character more! I also tried my hand at writing his accent, so I hope it turned out well. Thanks for reading! 😄💕

[trippinsorrows]

trials of love + two

authors note: friendly, gentle reminder that while drunk hookups are popular in today's culture, inebriation prohibits consent as someone cannot legally consent when intoxicated.

also.....this shit about to be messy as hell.

one

warnings: angst, inebriation, slight spice, and intoxication impairing judgment/consent

words: 3.7k

****gif credit goes to my chica @dejameflorecer

song inspo: evermore by josh groban

“She’s missing.” 

It’s the first thing Roman hears when he walks into the sanctuary. Nervous, frantic, rapid voices exchanging dialogue in hushed tones, some not so hushed. And because he’s him, it’s not difficult for Roman to catch onto what has everyone so worked up, his mother looking irritated and his father pissed. 

Not that he gives a shit about that.

He partially, however, gives a shit that she is, in fact, missing.

Solana.

His wife-to-be.

Apparently, she’s nowhere to be found on the property, an unfortunate and stressful thing for almost everyone it seems, sans one person.

She sits calmly in one of the pews, a crossword puzzle across her lap, the most relaxed expression on her face. It’s a stark contrast to the pandemonium surrounding them, which also includes Jey and Nicki on the other side of the church arguing, and Jimmy trying to get the caterers to let him “sample” the food. 

Roman shakes his head. 

Some things never change.

Strolling over to the older woman, Roman moves to sit in front of her, angling her body so he’s facing her, forearm across the top of the pew. 

She looks up, and it’s only then he realizes Solana inherited her eyes from her grandmother. 

“Roman,” she says it so formally, so casually, an introduction of sorts that’s followed by her refocusing back on the task at hand.

He chuckles. She reminds him a lot of Fetu.

They’ll either get along great, or it’s going to be clash of the fucking titans. 

“You know where she is, don’t you?” It’s not a question. Just a statement he’s waiting for her to confirm or deny.

Light brown eyes briefly dart up only to return back down under. “I know my granddaughter has always loved the ocean and often goes to the beach when she needs to think or clear her head.”

Roman offers a small smile. 

Yeah, a lot like Fetu.

“Thank you,” he says with a small nod.

She lifts her brow and shrugs once more. “I didn’t say anything.”

Roman doesn’t say anything either and manages to walk out of the chaos without anyone stopping him, not that he really cares. 

He just needs to find his bride, or rather, he’d prefer to be the one to find her for reasons he can’t quite explain or provide.

Just knows that it would make him feel better, or something, to bring her back.

Whatever that means.

He locates her exactly where her grandma “told” him she would be. On the beach, standing close enough to the tide where the water brushes against her bare feet. Her back toward him, arms crossed over her body, Roman approaches her, only inches away when she finally notices him.

Gasping, she jumps back a bit, eyes focused on him. It’s only then Roman can see it. See that she’s crying.

He frowns.

There’s something….something off about that that he doesn’t like. 

That doesn’t sit well with him.

“Roman….” Her voice is so soft and soothing, but there’s a sadness about it that also bothers him. “I’m—I’m sorry.” She wipes at her eyes and shakes her head. “I just—I wasn’t leaving. I just—”

“Solana,” he interrupts in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “It’s fine.” Because if he wasn’t in a foreign country, he’d have probably done the same. Her…..dissatisfaction with this union is a mutually shared thing. “I know you weren’t.”

She nods, something like appreciation flashing across her pretty face. He’s briefly taken back. While marriage is the last thing Roman wants, to be married to someone like Solana isn’t a hard sell. Not only does she have the kind of body he could spend an eternity studying and worshipping, she’s absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word.

Has a kind, caring spirit about her that's unlike anything he's used to.

But, it's something he feels like he could most definitely get used to.

Feeling himself staring, Roman motions to the ocean. He needs a distraction. “It’s beautiful.”

She follows his line of vision, smile growing. “It is.” Solana sighs, obviously taking it all in. “I’m—I’m gonna miss it.”

Roman’s expression shifts into something almost regretful.

Like, he regrets even putting her in this situation.

"Solana...." He strokes his beard, navigating how to explain himself. “For you to return back home so soon after the wedding would…..it wouldn’t be a good look.” He’s careful in the way he approaches this, a caution that’s a bit unfamiliar. Roman has never been one to choose his words carefully, unless in life or death situations. “But, after a few months pass, you can visit whenever you want.”

She turns toward him, eyes wide and hopeful. “R—really?”

Roman nods. “Yes.” 

Because while Roman can count on one hand how many family members he’d miss if separated from them for some reason, he can see that’s not the case for her. Solana seems deeply attached and close with all of her family, especially her sisters, Isabella and Zuri, connected with her home. 

And it’s that separation that she’s clearly struggling with the most, so the least he can do is provide her some assurance that being apart isn’t a forever thing.

He’d probably prefer for her to come visit more often than not. Gives him some much needed alone time. Roman has never lived with another person before as an adult. Let alone a woman. Let alone a woman who’s his wife, so that might take….an adjustment, to say the least.

He'd bet the watering of her eyes is for an entirely different reason now. “Thank you.” She sounds so grateful, so appreciative, so relieved. 

It’s hard for him to not be moved by it, even if it is completely unlike him to be move.

To feel. 

It’s uncomfortable as shit too, prompting him to clear his throat and gesture toward the opposite side of the ocean. “You ready?”

She nods, taking one last look at the water before turning to walk, clearly tripping over something in the sand. One minute, she’s about to fall, the next, Roman is in front of her, shielding said fall.

They stare at each other, her head lifted, gaze on him, hands on his chest, his on her waist, holding her up.

“S–sorry,” she apologizes in that same small voice, but for some reason, he can only focus on the aroma of her sweet perfume, the feel of her body so close to his, the alluring hue of her pretty brown eyes.

“It’s fine,” he says, distractedly. He’s still staring at her the same way she’s staring at him. One of them, he doesn't know who, finally breaks it, moving so that they can walk off.  He’s also unsure just who reaches for whose hand. Just knows that their hands are interlocked as they walk away from the present and prepare to head into the future.

Their future. 

-----------

Solana has always been a dreamer. Always lived with her “head in the clouds.” Something told to her from practically every family member, starting with her abuela, all the way to her adorable five year-old niece, Sophia. 

It’s something she’s never really denied, either. She knows she’s always been one to hope and aspire for the most, the best, even when told it might never happen. But, it’s never bothered her. Not really. Not when her life has always been filled with so much love, happiness, and fulfillment.

A wonderful family. Great friends. The honor of taking over her abuela’s bakery. An establishment that’s been in her family for generations.

The only thing missing has been love. 

Not familial. Not platonic. Romantic.

She’s dated, had relationships, and all of the above. And nothing ever moved her, ever left her feel the beautiful love she’s always witnessed with her parents. And her oldest sister, Zuri, has always advised her that her expectations are too high, too aligned with “Disney shit." Isabella has always told her to never settle. Her parents have always said she’ll know when she’s found the one. And Solana has always taken a bit of all of their advice, never once giving up her dream of finding “true love.” Of finding the man who would, maybe even literally, swipe her off her feet. 

The dreamlike courting, romantic proposal, perfect wedding, intimate wedding night where she’d finally lose her virginity to the man who’d one day be the father of her children. The perfect ending to a wonderful life.

A fucking lie.

Solana stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a reflection she once appreciated, maybe not always loved, but liked well enough. Now though, now, she doesn’t even recognize what she sees. Who she sees.

She’s always been happy and joyful, but there’s nothing happy about the puffiness and redness around her eyes. The way her lips are in a permanent frown that’s been present for the past few days. She looks every bit as sad and miserable as she feels.

And, it’s all because of one man. 

Roman Reigns.

Her husband.

The man she hates more than she’s ever hated anyone before in her life.

She’d never heard anything nice about him, heard that he was a heartless bastard. But, in meeting him shortly before their wedding, in interacting with him on a few occasions, he’d been…..okay. Not overtly nice but nothing like the asshole he’s been since….since that night.

The night…..

Solana sniffles, feeling and seeing the watering of her eyes. That’s got her more fucked up than anything else. She always dreamed her wedding night, her first time, would be a beautiful thing. And, it was. Roman was…...he was kind to her, gentle with her, good to her.

And, then she woke up.

Because everything since that night has been nothing short of a nightmare.

Roman isn’t her knight in shining armor. 

He’s the demon in her dreams.

A demon she can’t escape.

Dulce’s quiet snoring in her room, a random room she’s commandeered and made her own, moving all of her stuff into it from Roman’s the second day of his MIA episode. Solana smiles. Seeing and having her sweet dog with her was definitely something she could have never guessed happening.

Could have never anticipated waking up and finding her baby girl in a crate being held by Roman's Wise Man, Dulce nearly losing her shit, same with Solana, in seeing her mother for the first time in too long.

Solana can still recall the physical pain she felt when she was informed Roman doesn't like pets, and that she had to leave Dulce home in Mexico with her family. It practically killed her. Made this whole thing so much worse. 

Dulce, a tiny little thing, is hands down Solana’s best friend. They’ve been connected since the moment Solana held the Pomeranian four years prior. She’s been there for her during the best and worst of times, so not having her for, inarguably, the worst thing she’s ever been through in life has been torture. 

Truth be told, Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why Roman changed his mind, what made him make arrangements to have Dulce brought to her, and while she’s beyond grateful to have at least someone in that house, she couldn’t bring herself to thank him.

For what?

What has he done to deserve thanks? Letting her have her pet is only a common decency. The latter word being something foreign to him, clearly.

Because Roman is every bit the bastard she heard about. She only wishes she wasn’t stupid enough before to believe he could be anything different. 

But, she’s learned her lesson.

Learned to heed to his words.

This isn’t a real marriage. It doesn't mean anything to him. She doesn’t mean anything to him. 

So, he doesn't mean anything to her.

And, he never will. 

He isn’t home, but that’s not surprising. He’s never home. Her now preference.

As much space away from him that she can manage is for the best. 

Not to mention, it allows her to prepare for her night without his intrusions or thoughts of how he’d respond or even feel. A stupid thing, really. Especially considering he made it painfully clear that he doesn’t care what or who she does. 

Bet.

Solana takes the red lipstick, applying it to her lips, the last and final step of a makeup routine that took much longer than what was probably necessary. But, the end product seems worth it. Dark, sultry eyes, highlighted and blushed cheeks, with blood red lipstick to match her red dress that shows more of her breast than most of her bikini tops. Her ass is only one bend away from being exposed, the body of it nice and tight, hugging all her generous curves.. It’s a look she’d not even wear in her dreams, far too risque and revealing, but it’s exactly what she’s wearing tonight. 

Because she just doesn’t care anymore. 

If Roman can do whatever he wants, then so can she. 

Spraying perfume on her pulse points and on her dress, Solana takes a final look at herself in the mirror before hitting the lights and grabbing her small Gucci bag off the counter. 

Walking in heels has always been a bit difficult for her, but the heels complete the look, so it’s one of many sacrifices she’s willing to make tonight. 

Solana cuddles with Dulce for a few minutes, making sure she’s straight and instructing the security that patrol the house to check on her baby every so often.

She’s not certain she’ll make it home tonight.

And speaking of home, Solana turns the hall and meets Dre’s always watchful gaze. She doesn’t miss the way he gives her a double take. The same way she gives him one.

Her head of security isn’t ugly by any means. Tall with a nice, lean but muscular build, pretty light eyes and almost model-like facial features. He looks more like the type to be in Vogue versus being assigned the head of her security detail. On the quiet side, too, only having only said a few words to her.

But, the way he’s looking at her now suggests she might be able to evoke a couple more words out of him. At least, for tonight.

“I want to go out,” she informs, crossing her arms over her body.  “A nightclub. Whatever is most popular in this town.”

Dre lifts a brow. “Mrs. Reigns—”

“Solana,” she corrects. “My name is Solana.” 

“Solana.” There’s almost something suggestive about the way he says it. A way she both likes and dislikes. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” Solana scowls, already knowing she’s not going to like what he says. “With The Tribal Chief being out of town—”

“I said—” Solana steps forward, head tilted, again not missing how Dre’s eyes drop to her chest. “I want to go out.” Mustering a small smile and batted eyelashes, she tilts her head and innocently places her hands on his chest. “Now, let’s go.”

—--------

It’s all so loud and borderline suffocating. The music booms, the people move and grind together with a familiarity that contrasts the fact that most of them only met just this night. A situation she too, ironically, finds herself in, because Solana hasn’t the slightest clue who she’s dancing with. Just knows that he’s only a couple inches taller than her, even in her heels, and he can’t seem to keep his hands off her ass.

And if not for the liquor coursing through her body, it’s something she’d be uncomfortable with. She partially is but not enough to stop, to tell him to leave her alone. This is what she needs. To let loose, to not give a fuck. 

To be less like herself and more like him.

Because being Solana, being kind and sweet and understanding, got her nowhere but broken heart city, and she’s tired of feeling so hurt and broken. She needs to feel something, anything else, and this is the perfect way. 

The song comes to an end, random man whispering something in her ear about being right back. She jumps when he squeezes her ass and slithers away. Solana feels a bit silly just standing there, so she makes her way back over to the bar.

A small, inebriated smile on her face, she’s pleased to see the same bartender. 

“Another shot, p–please.”

The woman, tall and dark in every aspect outside of her almost pale complexion, with tattoos covering her body gives her an almost hesitant look. “You sure about that, babe? You’ve had quite a bit to drink already.”

Solana rolls her eyes. “I’m not a child." Gesturing to her outfit, her nipples milliseconds from popping out, prompting her to adjust her top, she repeats her request. “A shot, please.”

Striking blue eyes gleam with continued reticence as the tall woman turns away to fulfil the order. 

Solana leans back against the bar, closing her eyes and taking in the environment. She feels so free, so liberated from the shackles of hurt, pain, and betrayal that have consumed her since she was ripped away from her home and life and everything she loves only to be dumped into this shitshow of a storm.

It’s unfair. All of it, but she’s done letting it drown her.

She can’t.

“Well damn.” Her head snaps up to the sound of the voice that’s much closer than what’s necessary. “You sure look like you know how to have a good time.”

Solana studies the man before her, his complexion a few shades darker than her own. His brown eyes are warm but intense and contrast his short, onyx hair and thick brows that have cutouts on the end. His build is more on the stocky side but still muscular.

A small smile falls on her face. “Something like that.” Taking him in one time, she offers her name. “I’m Solana.”

“Zilla,” he answers with a confident smirk. “You not from around here.”

She nods, recognizing it’s more of a statement than anything. “I’m….new to town.”

Unfortunately.

He makes a sound, eyes focusing on her breast. “Lucky us, huh?”

Giggling, she teases, largely fueled by the liquor, “maybe.”

“Zilla.” Another voice sounds, not as deep, but still smooth. Accented. Solana turns to see another man with a similar complexion, lithe yet muscular build and almost angular features. He's older than the shorter man, clearly. Not that that really matters to her.

His gaze quickly settles on her, revealing a gleam of lust. “Who is this?”

“S–solana,” she answers matter-of-factly. “W–who are you?”

He smirks. “Tama.”

Solana snorts and rolls her eyes. “I—interesting.” It’s not missed on her how the both of them continue to focus on everything but her face, namely her chest. “Let’s just s–skip to the good part boys, why don’t we?” They both look curious as she asks with batted eyelashes. “Let’s get out of here.”

It’s a statement that, in actuality, surprises all three of them. Solana knows what she’s saying, knows what she’s asking, but there’s still something about it that feels….non-autonomous. Like she’s in control, but she’s not actually in control. 

Something she should probably think more about, but thinking and feeling have done her no good these past few weeks, so fuck it.

“Which one of us?” Zilla is the one to ask, licking his lips, hand reaching out and brushing his fingers over her forearm. Tama remains watchful and attentive but keeping his hands to himself.

For now.

And with a wry smile, glazed eyes, and fiery, drunken determination, she answers boldly, “both.”

—--------

Solana moans at the set of lips that suck on her neck and the set of hands—she’s not sure whose—that squeeze at her breast.

Lips parted, eyes closed, she’s fully immersed in this moment, solely focused on the hands that touch and grab all over her body.

“Shit,” she hisses when someone moves their hand in between her thighs, nudging them open and feeling at her thong.

Zilla smirks and teases his finger in a circle against the inside of her thigh. “That pussy nice and wet for us already, man.”

Tama makes a sound, moving his hand to Solana’s hair, yanking her head back and forcing her eyes open. “You’re a good,submissive little bitch, aren’t you?”

There’s something both erotic and disrespectful about it, about his statement, about his delivery, about the way he tightens his grip in her hair. But, she doesn’t care, she’s too caught in the moment, too consumed by the alcohol. 

“Take that shit off her,” Zilla directs Tama, the older man easily guiding her onto her knees on the bed. His hands go to the bottom of her dress, pulling it up and off her, leaving her in just a thong.

Something strange washes over her, Solana naturally moving her hands across her chest, suddenly feeling a sense of unease and discomfort. Like something is…..off. 

Like she shouldn’t have told Dre to mind his business and wait outside in the SUV as she prepares to engage in the unthinkable. 

“Wait…..” She murmurs, maybe to them, maybe to herself. She’s not entirely sure. 

Tama, however, ushers her arms down and guides her to lay down. Solana readies to protest again when he latches his mouth onto her nipple, evoking a moan from her, the pleasure easily overpowering the logic. 

Her hand moves to the back of his short hair, her body writhing underneath him as he slides his hand down her belly and slips it into her thong. She whimpers when he teases his fingers against her wet, velvety opening.

“Goddamn, you got some big ass titties,” Zilla makes a sound from where he stands at the foot of the bed, Solana briefly opening her eyes to see he’s messing with something, something she can’t seem to make out, just that he’s situating it on the dresser in front of the bed. A perfect view of what’s about to transpire. 

For a second, the slightest second, she’s reluctant.

“What—what are you doing?” Furrowed brows as Tama sits up and also goes to remove his shirt, Solana leaning up on her elbows. 

“Nothing, baby,” Zilla answers, standing directly in front of her. He goes to undo his belt when he pauses to look at her, asking, “you sure you wanna do this?”

Solana stills, noticing how Tama is also looking at her with an expectant expression.

No. She’s not sure, but yet she is. She wants to, but she’s also nervous. She’s only had sex once, but it’s that one time, albeit amazing and wonderful, that led to this emotional spiral she’s been on. It’s what led her to stepping away from the good, innocent path she’s always been on and entered her onto whatever this is. 

So, not, she’s absolutely not sure.

But, what she is sure of is that she’s tired of crying all the time, tired of thinking of Roman, of trying to figure out how he went from being almost kind to her to basically telling her she means nothing to him. That the night they spent together, her first time, him taking her virginity, something she always imagined giving to the one, meant nothing. 

Roman can’t be her one and only anymore. 

Especially when she was never and will never be his. 

Solana moves her fingers to her thong, sliding them down and off her body, laying on the bed and giggling while throwing them toward the two men.

“Let’s do it.”

[percivaljacksons]

those little town blues (pt 1)

the modern percabeth ghost whisperer au. girl, at this point you have to trust me. first 5k or so as i edit the big mama doc for ao3. sorry not sorry to tease! i'd give this section a t rating

“For someone who just moved here, you really know your way around,” Piper says. “I absolutely thought you were taking us to the wrong platform.” 

Two descending notes play through the speaker above their heads. The Q train’s doors slide closed. The breaks release in a puffy exhale and the car lurches as they begin to move out of the Canal St station. 

Annabeth shrugs. “I like research,” she says. “Figured if I was going to do the whole ‘move to New York as a broke twenty-something,’ I might as well be prepared for it.”

“What a load of baloney,” Percy says from somewhere behind her. “You were walking right for the Downtown platform, too. You could say ‘thank you,’ by the way.”

Piper doesn’t react—of course she doesn’t. She just tells Annabeth with a sheepish smile, “more than I did. God, this is so embarrassing, but I really did Uber everywhere for my first few weeks.”

“Asshole,” Percy cuts in again. “I can’t stand people who do that.”

Annabeth kicks one foot back as subtly as possible. She doesn’t feel it connect with his shin, but he does quiet down.

“You’re getting the hang of it,” Annabeth reassures her. “Silena said you moved here—what, two months before me?”

“Something like that.”

“Plus, I did a lot of exploring in the past few weeks and got turned around a lot of times. You’re seeing a well made facade.”

“Is that how you found that Wo Hop?” Piper asks. “God, I can’t get over that tofu. And it was in some random basement!”

While Piper waxes poetic about their lunch, Annabeth’s eyes slide to the left. It’s not an overly crowded subway car. There’s a couple pouring over the map on the wall, a short man reading a book in the seat parallel to the window, and around a dozen solo commuters buried in phones or listening to music. 

But to Annabeth’s left, leaning against the door, is a man with short cropped hair and an angular jaw. His button up shirt is untucked, wrinkled, and saturated with blood. She has to breathe through her mouth because she can smell it wafting off of him. From the corner of her eye, she can spot the elderly woman trying to read over the shoulder of the man by the window, ranting a rant he can’t hear. And, of course, right behind her is Percy, dripping wet. 

“I really hope you’re not about to take credit for finding Wo Hop on your own,” he says. 

“...in an article, right?” Piper asks, forcing Annabeth to tune back in again.

“Yeah, about the James Beard Foundation Awards,” Annabeth says. “It’s officially an American Classic.”

“Fucking typical,” Percy says. “I’m not telling you where that halal cart is now.”

“So cool,” Piper enthuses. “I didn’t even realize how much food there was out there that I’ve never even tried, you know? This city is crazy.”

“Best city in the world,” Percy and Annabeth say in perfect unison. 

Of course, only Annabeth and Percy know that. 

//

It started on her third day in New York, because Annabeth has, in general, always had completely shit luck. With a week until her new job began and her boxes (almost) unpacked, she woke up to a sliver of perfect blue sky visible between the brick walls outside her window and decided to spend the day exploring. 

While she waited for the shower to heat up, she drank a glass of water—straight from the tap—and looked around her joke of a studio apartment. Despite the near negative space she now called her own for the next twelve months, her singular closet was pitifully half empty. 

Annabeth frowned into her water. Half full? She’d never had many clothes, was the point. The t-shirts and jeans she’d favored in high school had stopped fitting once she started doing track and field more seriously, and her college dorm room hadn’t offered an abundance of space, either. 

She wandered back to the bathroom and stuck a hand under the tap. Only lukewarm. The previous two days' experience told her she had another minute before it would get hot, so she took out her phone and googled thrift stores nyc. 

The results were almost too many to believe. She shook her head. 

“Best city in the world,” she said to herself, and finally stripped down to step into the shower. 

In the end, she chose a thrift store in lower Manhattan, a little to the east so it was on the yellow line and she wouldn’t have to transfer trains. It was close to Washington Square Park, too, so she could check that off her architecture bucket list. Just like that, she had a plan for the day—and Annabeth loved having a plan.

She flew down the four flights of stairs, keeping her eyes on her feet so she wouldn’t get drawn into whatever was going on with the man who always lingered on the second floor landing. He left something in his jacket pocket, but Annabeth had never stuck around long enough to hear what it was or who he needed to tell. She’d get around to it eventually. Probably.

After riding the N train two stops in the wrong direction, she managed to get on a Manhattan and Brooklyn bound W. It was all part of the learning curve. The car was near empty, so close to the origin in Astoria, so she found a seat by the window and watched as the lower buildings of northwest Queens morphed into the skyscrapers of Long Island City before the train finally went underground. She pulled a book out of her tote bag before long and focused her gaze on the paper, even though the letters were swirling around the page so aggressively that she couldn’t read a word. 

Her dyslexia always got worse when she was stressed. She turned a page in her book, a perfect pantomime of reading, so that the three ghosts standing within fifteen feet of her don’t realize that she can both see and hear them. 

Spirits, earthbound souls, whatever. They were all ghosts, really, haunting people or places or things. She thought maybe they were haunting this specific subway car, except a man in a navy suit got off at 59th street and one of them—the woman in bright red lipstick and a mink coat—followed him off. 

Annabeth kept looking at her book, flipping forward a page every minute or so. She had long ago perfected the half-glazed over expression that tricked most ghosts into thinking she was just like everyone else—unable to see them. It was a small part of the reason she’d decided to move to New York: everyone here had that expression on. Everyone here avoided eye contact on the sidewalk and went about their business, so maybe—just maybe—Annabeth wouldn’t acquire her usual ‘rude and standoffish’ reputation. 

One of the ghosts sat down next to her. He was mumbling in a language she didn't recognize. Hungarian, maybe—a relief. She wouldn’t have to try so hard to not react if he said something appalling. 

Annabeth turned to the next page in her book. She didn’t even remember what it was about. The stops got more frequent in Manhattan, crawling at times only five blocks between stations after Times Square, before the W finally pulled into 8th Street-NYU. 

Annabeth put her book back into her tote and stood, edging around the ghost’s legs with a mumbled, “excuse me.”

She realized her mistake two steps later, when the voice got panicked and excited, rapid-fire consonant heavy speech trying to get her attention again. Annabeth kept her head down and walked towards the closest exit like she knew it would take her where she wanted. It worked, either because he thought it was a fluke or he was tied enough to that train car to stay put, and when she walked up into the autumn sunlight she was once again alone. 

Not unhaunted. She was never really unhaunted, but she could be—however briefly—alone. 

Maps told her that the Buffalo Exchange was close, only a few blocks south. She made her way there, realized she was on the wrong side of the street, and blatantly jaywalked to get to her destination. One thing she certainly would not miss about California was driving and cars and mechanics. She hoped Clarisse would love the hunk of bolts Annabeth couldn’t have more joyously parted with.

The thrift store wasn’t too crowded inside, because it was around 11 on a Tuesday, so Annabeth took her time. She started in the back, sifting through women’s cut jeans and giving up quickly, moving to the men’s section in the front where the inseams were longer. She found a few potential successes, all dark wash enough that she could probably dress them up for work, and made her way towards one of the circular clothing racks in the middle of the shop. 

Annabeth hadn’t lived on the east coast since she was twelve, but she remembered the cold bite of the winters. She didn’t have nearly enough sweaters to get her through January and February, only a few short months away. A few hoodies with stains and holes got flipped past, but eventually she came across a maroon crewneck with a faded lettering that said MONTAUK. She threw it on over her shirt and managed to catch her reflection in a nearby mirror—exactly the kind of baggy she’s always preferred. Perfect. 

“That’s mine,” someone said.

Annabeth looked over and gasped. Standing next to her, soaked from head to foot, was a guy about her age. He was a bit taller, with dark hair plastered to his head and green eyes so bright they forced the air out of Annabeth’s lungs. Every inch of him was dripping water in the middle of the perfectly dry Buffalo Exchange.

“You can see me,” he realized, eyes getting wider. “You can actually—holy fuck.” 

She bought the sweater, in the end, because she stopped letting ghosts decide what she was and wasn’t going to do a long time ago. Percy—I’m Percy, by the way, can you still see me?— didn’t seem to mind, even as she ignored him and checked out with her new pants and sweater. 

“I know you can hear me,” Percy said, following her out the door. “You’re not a very good actor, you know.”

Annabeth pulled out her headphones and slipped them on. She fiddled with her phone, miming a call, and finally turned to face the very wet ghost beside her. 

“Percy, you said?” She asked. 

He grinned. “Yes! Yeah, I’m Percy. I can’t believe you can hear me. It’s, like, so great to talk to someone.”

“I’m Annabeth.” She didn’t reach out to shake his hand, because they wouldn’t be able to anyway. “I’m going to the park. Want to come?”

They walked the two blocks to the north side of the park, until Annabeth stood directly under Stanford White’s famous arch. She knew it already, of course—the Tuckahoe marble used to construct it, the fact that it commemorated the centennial of George Washington’s presidential address in 1789—but Annabeth’s favorite thing about architecture isn’t facts or materials. It’s the way she feels looking at it; it’s something about the innate nature of human beings and the way they just can’t help their desire to create.

She could see Percy out of the corner of her eye, watching her. As she stood there, her gaze still fixed upward, someone in a purple t-shirt walked right through him.

“Okay,” she finally said. “What’s your deal? Normally I’ve gotten a whole life story by now.”

“Normally,” he repeated. “This happen to you a lot?”

“Look, do you see a white light?” Annabeth asked, already losing her patience. 

“A what?”

“God, I can really pick ‘em,” Annabeth muttered to herself. “A white light. Bright, blinding even. Maybe a loved one standing there waiting for you? Walk into it.”

“I—what?” 

“Unless there’s something you’ve left unfinished?” Annabeth prompted. It usually went smoother if the ghost came to terms on their own, but this whole conversation was messing with Annabeth’s plan for the day. She wanted it over and done with.

“What are you talking about?” Percy asked, his accent hitting harder than it had before. His ah vowel was like an A and U and W smushed together. “Why are you the only one who can see me?”

Annabeth closed her eyes. “Fuck,” she said. “Seriously? This is just my luck.” She turned back to Percy, kind of vaguely relishing how no one around them seemed to care that she was talking to thin air. “You’re dead.”

Percy blinked at her. A drop of water made its way down the arch of his nose. “What?”

“I can see ghosts. Spirits. People who haven’t yet moved on.” She let that sink in for a moment, then added, “like you.”

“Moved on to what?” He asked, his voice getting louder with pure panic. 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said. “I’m not dead. I just have the pleasure of seeing all of you on your journey in between.”

“Fuck. What the fuck?” Percy started to pace, his hands on his head. “I can’t be dead! That’s such bullshit. I’ve never even left the tri-state area! And I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, lady—”

“Annabeth.”

“—Annabeth, because there ain’t no fuckin’ light, alright? There’s just this stupid park and a bunch of asshole NYU students walking right through me, and apparently, the only person who can see me is a goddamn Yankees fan, which is fucking rich. And!” He turned back to her, an almost triumphant expression on his face. “And I bet you you’re not from here, am I right? No shot.”

“I’m from…” Annabeth trailed off. She could’ve said Virginia, or the Bay Area, or something else. In the end, she just confirmed his suspicion. “I’m not from here, you’re right. This is my third day in New York.”

That made him laugh uproariously, too dramatic to be earnest, his hands flung out to the sides. “Of course! A fucking transplant in a Yankees hat. I can hardly believe my luck.”

With him standing facing her once more, Annabeth finally saw the logo made dark by his wet t-shirt. A baseball with dark blue skyline and orange piping, Mets written out across the front. 

“Are you done?” Annabeth asked. “I want to go see the narrowest house in the city next.”

“I’m not a tour guide,” he seethed.

“Which way is Bedford Street?”

He pointed behind him. “Like, six blocks that way.”

And so Annabeth’s first friend in the big city was a chronically damp, kind of asshole ghost named Percy.

//

“Silena said Piper liked you,” Clarisse says. They’re playing Battleship online as they FaceTime, both unwilling to admit that they want to talk for the sake of talking, and certainly unwilling to admit they might miss each other. 

It’s one thing to move across the country to an apartment you’ve never actually seen for the sake of a life you think you might like, and another to do it knowing you’ll leave behind the two best friends you’ve made in your entire twenty-two years on Earth. 

That are still alive, at least.

“She was cool,” Annabeth says. “So different from Silena, though. We got greasy Chinese food.”

Clarisse snorts. “Uh, yeah. Duh. Get sunk, by the way.” Her missile lands in open water. “Seriously? What the hell.”

“Be better,” Annabeth replies, confidently clicking on G3. Sure enough, a tiny explosion graphic goes off on G3. 

“What the—is there someone behind me giving you clues? I know that’s how you kept winning poker night in junior year—”

“I can’t see ghosts through FaceTime, that would be ridiculous,” Annabeth scoffs. 

“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Clarisse scowls. “Sure.” One of her shots finally connects, but Annabeth’s still smiling, two ships in the lead. 

“Did I tell you I’ve got a new one?” Annabeth asks, pulling her fidget cube out from its drawer and flicking one side of it. 

“A Casper? No.”

“His name’s Percy. He’s wet.”

“Is that some kind of horrible New York slang?”

“What?” Annabeth laughs. “No, he’s actually wet. Like, dripping water.”

“That’s new.”

“Plus, he had no idea he was dead. Bizarre.”

Clarisse frowns. Clarisse always looks like she’s frowning, so it’s really hard to tell when she actually is, but at this point Annabeth’s had years of practice. “That’s happened before,” she says.

Annabeth gets a flash of sun-bleached blond hair and that awful scar in her mind’s eye before she manages to shove it back into the box in the corner of her mind. “S’not common, though,” she says. “Usually means the death was traumatic.” 

“Not to play Silena,” Clarisse says slowly, finally managing to figure out which way Annabeth’s submarine is pointing, “but should you be doing this?”

“Talking to you?” Annabeth snarks. Her next shot misses. 

“Getting wrapped up in helping a ghost your first few weeks in New York. Isn’t that why you left California? Oh, get fucked, I knew that was your battleship.” 

Annabeth shuts that right down. “I left because I got a job. I knew New York would have a lot of earthbound spirits; that was kind of a given, it’s huge. And yeah, I did say I was going to try and focus on me a little more, but…I don’t know, there’s something about him.”

Clarisse looks like she doesn’t know what to do with that. “He’s…nice?” She asks.

Annabeth laughs. “Uh, no. I’m not sure I would be if I just found out I was dead, so.” She shrugs. “I won’t be able to help him cross over until he starts to remember more, anyway. Googling ‘Percy NYC’ got me a dollar pizza place in the West Village and some place called Percy’s Tavern that isn’t even open anymore.”

“Silena’s going to be so pissed that all we talked about on our call is your new familiar.”

Annabeth sinks Clarisse’s final ship. “No, she’s not.”

Clarisse raises her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Annabeth smirks. “Because you get to tell her that the new ghost is, like, seriously hot.”

Clarisse just shakes her head, grinning. “She is going to love that. Damn. Well, good luck. I’ll call whenever my ego can handle a rematch.”

“Okay,” Annabeth says softly. “Bye.”

“Love you. No homo.” 

Before Annabeth can reply, she gets hung up on.

“Typical,” she says to her empty studio apartment. No one, alive or dead, replies.

//

“Alright,” Annabeth says as she steps out of her office building, her headphones on. “Where am I getting lunch?”

“I’m not telling you,” Percy sulks. “You just abuse my knowledge. I spent a lifetime accumulating this stuff, only to give it away to some yuppie. Barf.”

Annabeth picks a direction and starts walking. “I read that Ess-a-Bagel is good,” she says, already knowing what will happen next with only a week and a half of experience.

“Overrated,” Percy says. He can’t seem to help himself. “Like, it’s good, but they only put the seeds n’ shit on one side. Shmear options are okay,” he adds a little begrudgingly.

“Like, cream cheese?”

“Like, cream cheese?” Percy mocks, his voice high-pitched and whiny. “If you ask for them to scoop out your bagel, I’m actually going to start haunting you.”

“As opposed to what this is,” Annabeth murmurs to herself, well aware that he can hear her. 

“Hey! I’m, like, super chill. I haven’t even tried to get your lights to flicker.”

“You’ve never even appeared in my apartment,” Annabeth acquiesces. “Or at work.”

He shrugs, falling into step beside her. “Seems rude.” 

Annabeth almost stops in the middle of the sidewalk, she’s so surprised. “Okay, that’s a first.”

“Are the people you see always rude?”

She wrinkles her nose. “It’s more like…it’s all on their terms. No one’s ever been that concerned about appearing in the middle of my calc final, for example.”

“Yikes.”

“Exactly.” Despite having the light, she looks both ways before joining the crowd in crossing 6th. One of the idling cars honks at her.

Percy flips the car off. It doesn’t make a difference to anyone but her, but she appreciates it. “If you want to spend too much money on a bagel, I’m not going to stop you,” he tells her. 

Annabeth walks into Herald Square; she’d rather go through a tiny park than down the crowded sidewalk. “Where would you go for a bagel?”

“Absolute Bagels. 108 and Broadway.”

She snorts out a laugh. “You knew that answer way too quickly.”

“I’m tired of these bougie, overpriced bagels! Absolute is good enough I drag my ass to the west side—that’s how you know it’s legit.”

“So you’re from the east side,” Annabeth follows, nodding. “Okay, that’s something. Remember anything more specific?”

“Yeah.” Percy grins proudly, pushing his wet bangs out of his face. “El Barrio, baby! Proud of it. Just off 2nd and…” His grin fades. “Shit. Goddamn it.”

“It’s okay,” Annabeth soothes. “That’s something. I’m assuming that’s…a Hispanic neighborhood?”

“Spanish Harlem,” he says. “East side, north of, like, 96.” He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “These days, north of 110.”

They’re already on the other side of Herald Square; Percy picks up into a jog. Annabeth follows suit, only realizing that he’s trying to catch the light before it changes a few seconds later. They make it to the other side and slow back to a walk. 

“If you want,” Annabeth offers, “I could go there. With you, I mean. We could walk around, maybe spark a memory.”

“You’d do that?” Percy asks, his voice almost severe in its sudden quiet volume. 

Annabeth shrugs. She pauses on the corner, barely a moment of hesitation, but Percy points diagonally to the side of the street she wants to be on. With a wince of thanks, she says, “I want to see more of the city. Might as well check off a good deed while I’m at it.” 

“Well, I can make it worth your while,” he says with a confident nod. “D’you like Italian food?” 

“Am I human?”

“Okay, so we’ll swing by Patsy’s, then. Oh, or Sam’s! And that bakery with the killer conchas—”

“I have no idea what that is, but I’m sold,” Annabeth says. “Why does Spanish Harlem have Italian food?”

He shrugs, sending tiny flicks of water flying. “Dunno. Better Italian food than Little Italy, though.”

“Haven’t seen it yet,” Annabeth says, pushing her way into the surprisingly large bagel shop and immediately struggling to focus. 

“It’s mostly gone, honestly. Hey, you good?”

“Hm?” Annabeth blinks away from the menu behind the counter. “Oh, yeah, it’s just loud in here. You weren’t kidding about the cream cheese.”

Percy doesn’t say much as they wait in line, or as she orders—toasted sesame bagel with olive cream cheese—but he sort of squints his eyes, like he’s sizing her up. 

“What?” She hisses out of the corner of her mouth as the cashier rings up her order. 

Percy shrugs, the movement of his shoulders just barely visible out of the corner of her eye. “Nothing.”

She raises as much of an eyebrow as she dares, smiling quickly at the cashier, tapping her credit card, and hoping to get back outside as quickly as possible.

“It’s clearly not nothing,” Annabeth says once they’re on their way again. The bagel is hot even through the paper bag it’d been stuffed in. 

Percy moves like he wants to grab the door for her, then awkwardly follows her as she jerks it open herself. “I just think you’re a sociopath for getting olive cream cheese.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Ever heard of not yucking someone else’s yum?”

“Nope. Where we headed?”

“I thought we’d sit in the park?” 

“The squirrels are going to maul you.”

“Well, you’ve never seen me fight before.” 

Privately, even as Percy laughs, she casts a few suspicious glances at lingering squirrels as they make their way into the park. Most are high in the trees or lingering around the trash cans. She picks a free table that’s far away from both, sits down, and kicks out the empty chair so that Percy can sit down, too.

“I feel like a food critic,” she says, unwrapping her lunch. She opens the bagel using two hands to get the visual, her stomach rumbling at the sight of cream cheese going a little runny from being sandwiched between two warm halves of bagel. “Except kind of like I’m cheating, you know? I haven’t had to look up any new things to try in two weeks.”

“You’re welcome,” Percy says. He rubs at one eye and flicks the water off his hand after. “But I feel like you should know that I’m not telling you everything.”

Annabeth gasps in mock offence. “But you’re so endeared by me.”

“Lie. I’m living vicariously through you.”

“By not telling me everything?” Annabeth asks cheekily, taking her first, relatively heavenly bite.

“You know what?” Percy says, clearly trying to sound pissed off but failing by laughing halfway through his sentence. He flicks some water at her, and Annabeth swears she can feel it land on her arm. 

“What’re these big secrets you’ve been keeping?” She asks. “It’s not like I’ve gotten food poisoning or anything.”

Percy sighs, still kind of smiling. “Well, then they wouldn’t be secrets, would they? Gotta keep some stuff for the locals.”

Annabeth pouts. Percy rolls his eyes.

“Fine, whatever.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing back across the street. “You didn’t have to wait on line in there.”

Annabeth chews slowly, trying to figure out what’s been lost in translation. “I…ordered in person?” She says. “I didn’t use, like, an app or something.” 

Percy looks just as confused. “Yeah, I was there. I’m saying you could’ve skipped the line.”

“No, you said I didn’t need to be online.”

“Yeah,” he repeats a little slower. “You didn’t have to wait on the line. Have you, like, stopped being able to hear me?”

“Who says wait on the line?” Annabeth asks incredulously. “You wait in a line, Percy.”

“Everybody says that! There’s an invisible line on the ground, and we all stand on it.”

Annabeth takes a bite without looking away from him, wondering how she ended up here. “I’ve literally never heard that before in my life,” she says through her mouthful. “Online is the internet. You wait in a line. I live in a city. I ride in a car.”

“You get on a bus. I ride on the subway. And I wait,” Percy says, leaning in, “on line.” 

“Maybe you’re not dead,” Annabeth theorizes. “Maybe you’re a demon raised from hell, come to torment me. Maybe you’re from an alternate universe!”

“This is what I get for revealing the schmear only express line at Ess-a-Bagel.” Percy shakes his head. “I should’a known.”

“What?” Annabeth asks. “I didn’t have to wait in that stupid fucking line?”

Percy throws his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been saying!”

“Tell me that before next time. You had to wait in the line, too.”

He shrugs. “Not so bad. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

It sends her into a little bit of a tailspin. Sure, he’s actively dripping water on an otherwise dry and sunny day, but he’s around her age and died relatively recently, if the in-style cut of his jeans is anything to go by. He’s easy to talk to. It’s easy to forget he’s dead.

Annabeth takes another bite of her bagel. It’s a little strange that the sesame seeds are only on one side, but it’s just the right amount of chewy and pretty big for what she paid. The olive cream cheese is more of a disappointment, but she’s not going to tell Percy that.

“This is really good,” she says. “Your place is better? Or are you going to gatekeep that now?”

“Oh, shut up. It’s not like Absolute is a big secret, they’ve got a crazy line all weekend.”

“Good to know.”

“I don’t fuck around when it comes to bagels, Annabeth. Honestly, have any of my food recommendations let you down?”

“No,” she agrees. “Why do you think you remember all of that so well?”

He shrugs, his eyes sliding to the side. Annabeth doesn’t think he’s particularly interested in the squirrel eating a cigarette butt, so he probably just wants to avoid looking at her. It strikes her somewhere beneath her ribs, how sad it is, to wander around your home with only the innocuous pieces left.

Not for the first time, she wonders what will happen when she dies. Will someone see her? Will she even know that she’s dead? Will she be here, or in San Francisco, or on Berkeley’s campus, or back in Richmond? Has she ever known a place her soul would cling to?

“What’s your favorite thing about New York?” Annabeth asks, deciding suddenly to change tactics. “Since you keep insisting us transplants don’t know—”

“—know shit about shit,” Percy finishes. He looks back at her. “Uh, it’s the best city in the world.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “I know that. That’s why I moved here. You could argue that means I love it more than you.”

“Shut up,” Percy says, his face screwed up with indignation. “No, it doesn’t!”

“Great comeback,” she drawls. 

“Okay, I love the people,” Percy answers. “I love New Yorkers, and the way we treat each other.”

“Like?” Annabeth prompts him.

“We leave each other alone, but if I’m short a dollar on groceries there’s almost always someone who’ll cover me. And I just…I love walking places, and the subway, and I love it when I hop the turnstyle so smooth you can’t even tell I jumped it. I love the old guys who play chess in the park. The graffiti. I love riding the bus at night and Biggie, and shitting on Jersey and the goddamn Mets. I love not giving a fuck, I guess.” 

“Well, that’s things you love, but what’s your favorite?” Annabeth pushes. “Mine is easy, it’s the—”

“—the architecture, I know,” Percy finishes again. “I like that, too. I…well, maybe it’s the food. The food here is the best.”

Percy has admitted to never going anywhere else, so Annabeth doesn’t really know how he knows it’s the best, but she doesn’t call him on it. 

“But my favorite…” Percy goes a little still, like he’s remembered something. “My favorite thing when I was a kid is gone now,” he says. 

“Yeah?” Annabeth prompts

“Yeah. It was on the west side, if you can believe it. When you got off an uptown 1 at 79th, if you went up the staircase that took you to the northwest corner—there used to be a Circuit City there, next to the DSW.”

“There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” Annabeth mutters.

“Yeah, it closed ages ago, but it was in this little, two story building. And it meant, when you were going up the stairs, if you looked up all you could see was the sky. Like the sky was the ocean and you got to go down the ladder and jump into it.” He goes quiet for a moment. Then, “now there’s an ugly fucking apartment building.”

Annabeth resists the urge to scoff. “You think any new building is ugly.”

“That’s not true! I like the Jenga building downtown.”

“The Jenga…” Annabeth thinks. “You mean 56 Leonard?”

“Is 56 Leonard the building that looks like a wonky Jenga tower?”

“I—” She sighs. “Yes. But it’s a Herzog & de Meuron.”

“You’re a hotdog and demure one.”

“You’re not that funny.”

He shrugs. “I dunno, you’re smiling.”

You’re flirting, Annabeth realizes. You’re flirting with a ghost, and he’s flirting back. 

“I can show you the ugly building some time,” he offers, blinking some water out of his eyelashes. “It’s right by the Natural History Museum. You like museums, right?”

“My second favorite thing about New York,” Annabeth confirms, and just manages to stop herself from saying it’s a date. 

//

Her dad texts her on a Saturday morning, the first time he’s reached out since she moved to the east coast, and his message reads [ Hi, Annabeth. I hope you’re settling in well at your new job. How is New York? Let me know when you might be free to talk.]

She doesn’t respond for three days. What’s there to say? She wishes she could explain to him that you can walk south on the east side of Broadway, from Grand to Howard, and you can look up and see the top of One World Trade peak through the buildings. You can look down so you won’t trip over the subway grate, and when you look back up again 56 Leonard has taken its place. 

She could tell him that if you walk past the entrance to the NQWR to the corner of Canal, you can see all of Herzog & de Meuron’s creativity, bottom to top, and you can decide that from then on out you’ll be calling it the Jenga Tower. She could type it out, or even try and call and inevitably tell him in a voicemail, but he wouldn’t get it. He’d probably say something ridiculous, like ask what Jenga was, or tell her about an exhibit that has something to do with planes that’s soon to arrive in the tri-state area, and Annabeth would remember why she hadn’t reached out either.

Instead, she tells him about work, and doesn’t talk about buildings or bagel shops or the bitter and charming conundrum of a ghost that’s taken to appearing at her shoulder as she makes a city her father hates her home. 

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Cat Distribution System

Part 1 | AO3 | *This is a story told in scenes and can be read in any order though is listed in chronological order on the masterlist.

A jaw-cracking yawn split your face. You were lying on the couch in the living room waiting for the sun to rise. It had been a late night at work. You had to stay later than normal for the scheduled deep cleaning. The clock showed 6:27 when you rolled to a stop outside the house you shared with the guys.

You had scheduled yourself off tonight, knowing you would need the time to recover. Today’s goal would be to stay awake for as long as possible. Scrolling through your apps, eyes bleary you hear a sound from further in the house that you aren’t familiar with. Sitting up you find a fresh-faced bleach blonde clicking down the hall in clubbing heels.

Vaguely you remember Kyle mentioning that he would be going out with some friends last night.

“Oh!” The blonde stops short at seeing you. Probably the bags under your eyes making you look like a zombie.

Curiosity satisfied, you shift to lay back down.

“When Kyle mentioned he was in a polyamorous relationship I didn’t realize that included with a,” her lip curled up and away from her teeth as she bit into the word like a rotten peach, “woman.”

Did this bitch just…?

“And when Kyle mentioned he was going out to get his dick wet he didn’t mention it would include dragging a mannequin home.” You glare up at her from the back of the couch.

Johnny appears from the kitchen, muscles on full display as he scratches at his chest under his sleeveless workout shirt. Blondie’s gaze raked up and down Johnny’s form appreciatively.

Now you weren’t a jealous person but if you could hurl yourself over the furniture before Johnny caught you would have thrown her out of the house yourself.

“How copy?”

Bless that man and his instant understanding of the tension in the air like nitroglycerin on a bumpy road. He crossed the room and settled in behind you on the couch, placing a kiss on your head.

“Fine. The trash was just taking itself out.”

The blonde’s mouth popped open as she gaped at you.

“No one likes day-old fish, now out,” you flick your fingers to the door.

She stamps her foot and makes a noise of shock.

“How did someone like you,” nasty emphasis on the word you, “End up dating men like him and Kyle?”

Johnny tensed, ready to fight your battles.

“You ever hear of the cat distribution system? Well, sometimes it assigns things other than cats, like me. I got assigned to five of the hottest military men in the county and you?” Dragging your eyes from her toes peeping through with chipped polish to the dark roots coming through on the top of her head, “Wouldn’t get picked even as the last bitch at the shelter.”

With no good rebuttal to that, because there really wasn’t one, the blonde saw herself off and slammed the door behind her.

Turning you find Johnny, slack-jawed staring at you.

“What?” You ask him, concerned.

“I didn’t know you had it in you bonnie.”

“To be a bitch? Course I can. I also haven’t slept in rolling up on twenty-four hours so that doesn’t help.”

He pops both hands onto your cheeks and gives you a kiss that leaves you blinking back into reality by the time it is done.

“Do you have a degradation kink I didn’t know about Johnny?”

“Yes.” This reply comes from Kyle.

He looks no worse for wear after his night with the bitch you threw out. He looked remarkably put together for someone who had a nighttime visitor actually, with hair laid down nice, a maroon shirt, and dark wash jeans.

“Ah fuck off Garrick!” Johnny snapped.

“Where did your last girlfriend go, Kyle? I really liked her!” You whine as you lean back into Johnny.

“France.”

“Well, can’t you convince her to come back and join the polyq? I’d happily sleep with her. Your one-night stands are not nice to me.”

Johnny tugged on your earlobe.

“I’ve got dibs next bonnie.”

“I know you do. All I’m saying is I don’t think I’d need to be ovulating to let her peg me.”

Kyle barked out a laugh as Johnny dropped a smiling kiss to the top of your head.

Johnny murmured his love for you into your hair. Kyle crossed the room to drop a kiss on your lips.

“I love you, sweet girl. I’ll reach out and let her know you’re interested.”

“You don’t need to do that but at least stop bringing home dates that don’t believe you’re polyamorous maybe?”

Johnny piped up here, “Yeah Kyle, maybe you should start kissing any of us before you leave with a girl.”

“You just want more kisses, Johnny,” Kyle teased him.

“Fuck right I do,” he leaned forward.

You can’t help but smile as you watch Kyle and Johnny kiss. They love each other, and they love you, and you love them. This house held so much love you swore it had to have settled into the walls.

Gary appears, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He glances over the kissing men and your relaxing position on Johnny. The weight of his body settling on yours, head resting on your collarbone as his arms wrap around you makes the moment that much sweeter.

You drop a kiss to his forehead, “Morning Gary.”

You get a grumble of sound as a reply.

Movement draws your face back to Kyle.

“I’ve got some errands to run this morning. Can I get a kiss for the road?” His plush lips are quirked in a small smile.

“Of course!” You chirp, the hand closest to him lifting to his face while the other stays resting on Gary’s back.

Kyle leans forward, the hand he uses for balance sliding under the neck of Gary’s shirt.

His kisses taste faintly of Johnny and Gary’s sighs against your body tell you he was appreciating the contact as well.

When Kyle pulls back from the kiss he drops one to your forehead, one to Gary’s hair, and finally one to Johnny before heading for the door.

“So you missed it, Gary, apparently our girl here is interested in getting pegged,” Johnny sits up a bit to lean around and look at Gary.

You slap at Johnny’s thigh.

“You quit that. I said I was interested in getting pegged by Kyle’s last girlfriend, not that I was interested in getting pegged in general.”

Gary pushes up on his hands to stare at you. Unable to bear the interested confusion in his gaze you cover his face with your hands.

“All of you need to stop being mean to me!” But you can’t help but laugh even as you say it.

Masterlist | Fallen Angel Masterlist

@lilynotdilly

[cupidbedsy]

▷ a will smith surprise ; the film effect

➪ summary: it's gabe's last game of the season and will, of course, is not going to miss it

➪ warnings: none !

➪ word count: 0.8k

➪ file type: the film effect blurb

➪ cupid's notes: for my sweet reyrey ( @fantillisgirl ) after i made her upset with the ice bound fic :(

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

It’s only been a week since Gabe and Molly had last seen their boyfriend, and they were already missing him like crazy. The two weeks they were able to spend with him - cuddling 24.7, going and watching Gabe’s games, playing Mario Kart - were the best two weeks the three have ever experienced. But now, Four Nations has ended and the season is back in full swing, finishing the last two months before playoffs. 

The same could be said for Gabe, after playing three games since Will went back to San Jose, it’s finally his last one of the season, or at least for the regular season. Molly has shown her endless support for both of them, sporting both her Perreault and Smith jerseys like they were permanently attached to her, but she knew that both of them wanted the other two to be there too. 

Which is why, Will convinced his coach to healthy scratch him from tonight’s game so he could watch Gabe’s final game of the regular season and cheer him on from the stands. It had taken a lot of talking and a lot of persuading but Will pulled it off and now here he was, sitting next to Molly in Conte Forum as they watched BC play Merrimack, both of them wearing Gabe’s jersey proudly.

Will had always been one for surprises, whether it was the one surprising someone or the one being surprised, it seemed to be a constant thing in his life and this was just another one to add to the list. He had planned to tell his boyfriend he was coming, but holding out the little piece of information was worth seeing his face.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Molly’s voice was soft but he could recognize it anywhere.

Will turned to grin at her, kissing her head, “Me neither, but I’m so happy I’m here… with you.”

As much as the three loved spending time together, they enjoyed the little moments that were shared just between two of them. For Molly and Will in particular, it was moments like these, where they could just stare at each other and share little bits and pieces of their day without having to worry about anything else, it was just the two of them.

“I love you.” The confession caught her off guard, but it made her grin widely, leaning over to kiss him.

“I love you too.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The two were too excited to stand around in the arena any longer, so with a quick text to Ryan the two made their way outside and started making up a random handshake as they waited for their boyfriend. 

They got halfway through their mostly confusing handshake when they heard voices and footsteps coming from behind him. Molly was quick to usher Will behind the wall, grinning like a fool as she rocked back and forth on her feet, watching as Gabe and his teammates walked closer. 

Gabe came to a stop in front of her, placing his hands on her hips, “Hi baby.”

“Hi.” She continued smiling, placing a few kisses across his face before pulling away.

“What’s got you so smiley, hm?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, “Oh yeah? And what’s this surprise you got for me? Chocolate? A sweatshirt that you’ve stolen from me? Or a-”

“Gabe! Shut up and let me show you.”

He laughed, allowing her to lead her wherever she was going, covering his eyes with his free hand, “Tell me when I can open them.”

They stopped further down and Will’s hand replaced Molly’s but Gabe didn’t even seem to flinch at the sudden change of temperatures. He tapped his foot impatiently, groaning slightly, “Molls c’mon. Don’t leave me hanging here, baby.”

“Okay okay, open them!”

When he did, his eyes found Molly almost immediately and looked at her slightly confused, “I don’t see a surprise here, sweetheart.”

But it didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together when he noticed that he was standing to his right but his left hand was still holding onto something. He glanced to his side and his mouth dropped open at the sight of his boyfriend, “What’re you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Will gave him a boyish grin, bouncing excitedly on his feet, “I might’ve convinced coach to scratch me.”

“You are insane, William.” Despite his words, he brought him into a hug, holding him tightly.

Molly squeezed herself into the middle of them, wanting nothing more than to be sandwiched between her two favorite people. The two let her wedge her way in, hugging her even tighter than they had hugged each other.

Will Smith’s surprises were Gabe and Molly’s favorite thing in the universe… well third favorite thing in the universe.

꒰ THE FILM EFFECT TAGLIST ꒱

@winterbarnesblog @delilaahh9 @digitalhughes-jpg @rowdyluv @fantillisgirl @macklin-celebrini-71

THE FILM EFFECT MASTERLIST ; AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[ch3rrybbie]

Shouldn’t have reposted that

Now I shall demand a homelander x fem reader coffee shop! Au at once!

Caffeine calls

Summary: he’s just some dude, kinda maybe. But he’s your favourite customer! And you’re his favourite…. mortal???

Warnings: flufffffffffffffff, Homelander being Homelander lol, yandere homelander?

ch3rrybbie says: I love you anon 😭 keep those demand coming yall r geniuses w ur requests. Kinda went for superman vibes??? Hope you like it 👉🏽👈🏽🥹 so sorry it took ages didn’t wanna rush it and be too awful I still think it’s bad hahah.

———

He came like clockwork.

Everyday for three weeks without fail. The timings differed but his presence he never did.

Six foot, perfect pearly teeth, golden hair, icy blue eyes and a thunderous laugh. He was powerful and everyone behaved when he came in, even the anxious shakes you got when serving someone.

A bell rings in the distance and you yell over your shoulder, “ Be with you in a sec!”

His smooth baritone chuckles back, “No rush sweetheart”.

You gasp and turn. And sure enough there he is amongst the stench of coffee and milk.

Mr H.

———

The first time he’d graced the shop his presence waved over the room.

Gasps and mutters filled the room, you ignored it deciding his gorgeous face was the root of this mass hysteria.

“Who shall I say the orders for?” You can’t help but beam at him, it was fifteen minutes before you’d finally taken his order. You been crying laughing at his anecdotes and jokes and he’d licked up you laughter with a devilish grin.

You’d already guessed his order, flat white no sugar no syrup no nonsense.

“Home-Joh- uh you can call me H” he shuffles awkwardly attempting to regain his lost composure.

Giggling you scribble Mr H on his cup with a tiny heart.

“Alright Mr H, coffee will be a few minutes”

“No rush sweetheart” he smirks at you.

———

“Morning H, you’re out early”

“Well you know me, babies to kiss and baristas to see”

And in no time you pull a coffee from behind the machine, ready and waiting for him, he slides over a twenty.

He was always generous.

You persist in your ignorance of customers flapping over him.

Taking him in with the little time you had, you decide his Vought baseball cap does nothing to hide his classic face.

The handsomeness of classic Americana, all pearly smiles and golden blonde hair.

Leaning over the counter a gestures to your hair.

“This is new!” He coolly exclaims, sending you scrambling to explain.

“Oh! I’m surprised you noticed I don’t know I just thought I needed a little change or-“ fumbling over yourself you scramble to come up with an excuse after all the criticism you’d received prior from others.

“It’s great” an affirmation if you’d ever heard one, his word was final.

Yet sensing the mistrust he persists.

“It’s perfect doll, in fact what are you up to tonight”

“Oh, well I um” insecurity seizes you, why you?.

He waggles a finger in your face.

“Let me decide for you, how about I pick you up around 6 ish and we go for some dinner?”

A smile whips across your face in anticipation sensing his apprehension peaking through you decide to oblige.

“I’m sure I could figure something out” you jest, the corner of your mouth twitching.

A fast knocking sounds at the window, a ginger woman in a bright canary jumpsuit signals the time to him and he rolls his eyes and stars to ready his departure.

He stands up from leaning across to you and directs a withering glance at her.

“Gotta go, world to save sweetheart. I’ll see you later” with a wink and a smile he’s gone as soon as he came.

Only problem was you didn’t remember telling him your address, and yet he said he’d pick you up?

[trinitythewolf]

Gaylleeeee time

Time to talk about her issues, too, and her relationship with the club 

Gayle has major abandonment issues she can’t stand the idea of people leaving her due to the fact that her parents were really never in her life and only visit her on her birthday or on Christmas When Gayle was young she actually had a pretty good childhood. She had everything her grandparents, her uncle, even though her mom and dad was out of state working. At least she had her family with her a nice on a nice area just nice all in general until one day she had to move out because her cousin from her mom’s side of the family got traumatized and she had to leave her family to go and help her. at first she was furious. She had to leave her childhood home to go help one of her cousins that she doesn’t even see that often all because her mom felt bad for her. It wasn’t fair at all. Why does she have to leave behind everything to help someone she didn’t even know or met just one time, but she had no choice in the matter, and she had to move. She moved a Eltingville with. Bat she was mad, but she had to put on a fake smile. She had to pretend like she wanted to be there but in reality she didn’t overtime. She started to feel guilty about feeling these feelings and started masking and pushing those feelings back it wasn’t until they were both 15 that Gayle finally excepted the fact that this is her new home and she should make it worth her time, and she did by joining the anime club  and she didn’t even know what yaoi was it wasn’t until they showed her and it just went downhill. She knew about anime she loved anime, but she did not know about yaoi until she found out and then two years later if she gets kicked out at 17 and they even warned her telling her if she kept doing the thing she does kept making fanfiction kept fetishizing them, but they were going to kick her out but she didn’t listen and she got kicked out but if they didn’t kicked her out, she would’ve never join the Eltingville Club. She was also a quiet kid in high school she was very smart She was an honorroll and after she graduated, she just started doing her own thing. She doesn’t really have to get a job like at all because her parents are rich and she’s rich  life financially, is easy for her and she knows that she knows that she has it good with money and everything and she uses her money to get what she wants to  also when the club broke up, she was very, very heartbroken her favorite yaoi boy and her friends were no longer friends, and all hated each other. She was so scared. 

Gayle relationship with the club members is well at first they didn’t really want her in the club because by bills logic no girls allowed but she always with the hell of bat and at first I didn’t really know what’s really say to her there probably mean to her, but she didn’t care because you know she can finally have her yaoi in person it just might take a little time she’s not stupid too. She didn’t immediately tell all of them to Kiss. No she waited and waited and waited until the right time came up where she offered Pete $50 to kiss josh and he took that money, Gayle is weird, but so are the club members her relationship with each one is that her and bill hate each other. They really do but meanwhile her and Pete it’s kind of like a sugar mommy situation after he found out how much money she actually had and also found out that she was rich he would always make her feel bad because he doesn’t have that much money, and he lives in poverty in his words so every time when they hang out, she would always take him to the mall to buy him stuff she wouldn’t feel bad about wasting her money. Should just be happy that one of her friends are happy, her relationship with Josh is kind of the same with her and Pete, but also different because with a Josh all he really does is talk about Star Wars or other stuff or complaining about bill at first when they started hanging out he was a little mean but overtime he grow to like Gayle as a friend, of course, and she always defend him whenever bill or the others are making fun of his weight, and Jerry oh oh Jerry he loves her. He wants to be with her but he can’t because she’s a lesbian and she knows that she knows that he wants her and she used that for a vantage to get her yaoi or other stuff he would do for her. She is very nice to him and was the first ever girl to be nice to him and not leave. I mean they are best friends and they care about each other and eventually. Gayle would have to put her foot down until like really tell Jerry that she’s not gonna get with him and he hast to stop a living in this delusion that he made for himself  after the incident at joeshop She went over to each of the boys house first Pete then Josh and then the last Jerry and comfort Jerry when he was in the lowest time of his life she also kind of took the club and made it into her own thing stepping back from the weird fetishization stuff, and just focusing more on being friends with him of course, she still likes her yaoi but she knows how she gets older to not talk about it all the time and realizing that fetishizing real people isn’t really the coolest thing  she also gets in a relationship with Tonya, but they sadly break up due to the fact that Gayle was leaving eltingville and moving to Japan when she turned 20 and she’s been living in Japan, ever cents, only visiting to go see bat she sadly lost contact with the other three and she really had no time to get it back so sad, but with the help of bat she was able to get that contact back and was able to talk to her old friends

[umi-adxhira]

ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 001

FANDOM: TWTPTFLOB

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, simping (real), harsh handling (gripping chin)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Can't believe I locked in twice in one day. Amazing. Didi is Dion if that wasn't clear lmao. Also novel spoilers

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►

Your eyes peel open uncomfortably in an unfamiliar setting. Silky, satin sheets cover your form as the sun kisses, no, burns your face. You turn your face away with your eyes closed, refusing to accept your fate until an unfamiliar voice shocks you.

"Wake up,"

"Five more minutes, mom..." you yawn, covering your face with your arm. Your heart once again hammers in your chest, an uncomfortable yet familiar feeling as you recall yesterday. I don’t know who that person is, but that is not my mother. Seconds go by before the voice speaks again.

"I am not your mother," the voice repeats to you as if it can read your mind. Your eyes open, pulling yourself off the bed, which proved to be a challenge since your arms felt like jelly, wobbling with every movement you took.

Your eyes come face to face with a man. Crimson eyes, like blood. Black hair like the night, with a small tinge of purple in it, makes his hair seem... cute. His arms were behind his back, posture straight like a board and a stare that you kill from miles away. And his face… his face... DIDI???

"Wow…” you let out a breathy laugh, daring to speak to the man who could very well be the barrier between you and the next life. “Who knew I'd see my favourite character in the novel in the flesh? You look young, though... well, younger than when you first appeared in the manhwa. You could be a really good cosplayer. Everything about you’s perfect," you continue to ramble on, confusing the man standing by your bedside. His eyes are locked onto your face. Specifically, the dried tear stains on your cheeks, the ones you don't wipe away. "How old are you?" you suddenly ask, pulling him back into the present.

"..."

"Give me a number, man," the man doesn't say anything more, turning on his heel and starting to leave the room. "How rude,". The door slams shut, leaving you alone in the room. A couple of seconds after his departure, you blink. Once. Twice. Your eyes gloss over the room, taking in the sun creeping in through the curtains, the sheets pooling on your lap, and the sheer size of the room. Then, your mind went back to that handsome stranger. Well, not stranger, but...

Can't believe I saw Didi in the flesh... my handsome villain, ugh. Wait, is he the one who saved me? No, he probably would have just let me die. He doesn’t claim to have the “benevolent heart” the man who saved you has. Also, his voice wasn't the same. “You will pay me back tenfold,” he said. Or something like that. Can’t wait.

There was also someone else on the ground. It sounded like a boy, someone who probably just hit puberty. Jeremy...? I can hear that. It makes sense kinda. If it is him, then this is before the manhwa takes place. Possibly two years, or three?

You plop back onto the bed with a soft thud, arms and legs stretched out in a starfish position. This place isn't real. I have no doubts I'm not dreaming, but... this is all a place someone else made. The worldbuilding CANNOT be this good, there has to be something about this world that I can exploit and live the rest of my days as a rich old lady.

But first, I need to ensure my survival. Two outcomes can potentially occur, and they both depend on one person. Roxana. Well, Jeremy. I don't see a way I can determine which Roxana is in her body. That might take a week, at least, considering I leave this room alive.

No, this all depends on Jeremy. This all depends on how close he is to Roxana. That will probably be the easiest thing to do. If Jeremy isn’t following after her half-sister like a puppy, then this is the worst timeline. If it isn’t then… as long as I don’t kill Cassis… I can do whatever I want, right?

You turn your head to the door, suddenly feeling the urge to escape. If I leave... it makes me seem guilty. Of I crime I didn’t even commit. And Lante will no doubt kill me. If this is actually the novel and I'm not tweaking, leaving this room is a death wish. I may be thrill-seeking, but I'm not stupid.

Turning your body on the bed so your face is suffocated by the pillow, you hope the lack of oxygen will knock you out for a while. This is it. Goodbye Earth.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

"...keep her alive. She's very interesting to me," the first thing you hear as soon as you wake up is another unfamiliar voice, alongside footsteps retreating from your bedside. The person the man says this order to does not respond, only staring at the man who walks away rushed, like he has someplace else to be. I get it, Lante must be a busy man, with all the children he’s abusing and refining into weapons, and all those sorcerers he’s exploiting for his own gain.

The recognisable man turns his head towards your bed, only to be slightly surprised you staring up at him, not that would show on his face. "You didn't answer my-"

"Silence," he mutters, but the tone and depth are enough to cut daggers into you. He takes a step forward until he's within arm's reach from you. You sit up from your bed, head resting against the headboard as you pat down a spot next to you, inviting him to sit. He looks down at your hand, then back at you. He refuses your invitation, instead asking a question of his own. "What did you mean by..." he trails off, expecting you to answer his question for him.

Hah. I really dropped the bomb this time. If I tell him now... it doesn't matter which Roxana is the one in this timeline. I have a feeling the butterfly effect will be strong. Might even change the ending of the story as I know it.

But... I'm here now. Might as well live life the way I want to. I’m excited to see how this will turn out.

You chuckle. "Your name is Dion Agriche. When you were a child, your older brother gave you sweets and patted you on the head, only for you to throw the sweets away in a bush. Your mother, Maria, would dress you up in girl clothes to alter and refine for your sister Roxana and her mother Sierra. When you were fifteen, you killed your brother as a direct order from your father, the man that just left this room," I could just tell him everything, but... time to flex my knowledge. I’ll only tell him the parts of his childhood now, I don’t want to spill everything. Patience, [name], patience. Thank God I read the side stories before I read the ending of the book.

"...he was my half-"

"Does that really change anything?" you interrupted him, similar to how he did it to you a few moments ago. OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE I DID THAT!

"...I suppose not."

You both sit in silence for a while, you fiddle with your hands as he looks down at the ground, probably thinking of what to say next. "Your life... everyone's life here is part of a novel. In my world, I read a story following your younger half-sister Roxana and the Pedelian boy Cassis. I was near the end, I'm not that sure much happened after since the main fight battle thing was almost over but... I can have a pretty good idea what happened,"

The man stands rooted in position, taking his hand from behind his back to char his through his hair, and for a split second, looking like his father. I doubt he would want to hear that if I told him. Once again, just like last time, he turns on his heel, walking towards the door. He twists the door handle before you call out to him.

"Why are you leaving?"

He pauses for a few moments, as if he’s thinking how to proceed. You already know he made up his mind, waiting patiently for him. You watch as his hand leaves the knob. Still, he doesn't face you. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You asked,” you admit, shrugging. “Besides, I know how Roxana and Sylvia have their ending. I simply wish to have mine."

"Are you not worried I will tell anyone?"

"I don't see anyone who would believe you,"

"Roxana would," you paused. "You mentioned the Blue Princess,"

"I did,"

"Why do you not think I will inform her?"

"Because I know you," you admit. "More than you think,"

He faces you, crimson eyes boring into yours. His face twists slightly, almost as if he’s offended. He struts up to you in haste, leaning down to grip your chin and pull you towards his face roughly. "You do not know me. If you did... then you would know not to make me angry,"

You look at him with unwavering determination. "You do not scare me. In fact," your shallow face suddenly perks up, a smile gracing your face. "You're my favourite character in the novel,"

He blinks. "Why?"

His grip on your chin tightens, and you shift uncomfortably. "Roxana was an amazing main character. But, in my opinion, she was blindsided by love. Not her love particularly, but... the love people have towards her. It completely replicated The Abysmal Flower novel when Sylvia was the main character. Roxana simply acted differently to the gazes of the supposed male leads. It was boring to predict everyone’s feelings and opinions of each other," you pause to look into his eyes, "You, however..."

He lets go of your chin in a huff, hastily making his way to the door, and this time, you do not stop him. You rub your chin in agony, letting out a small laugh. Let's hope I didn't royally fuck up… no, it’s fine. What can he possibly do with that information? Kill Roxana? He needs reason for that, one even he cannot make up to give to his father.

[pearlparty]

I love to see the incremental healing here! This is genuine true love, if I’ve ever seen it.

Ida’s mother’s reaction was so sweet and heart wrenching! “You’re precious, never meant to be anything other than that” omg so sweet.

And opening the gifts together?! Adorable.

I also liked the subtle detail of the sleeping shorts instead of something like a nightgown or slip. Maybe I’m reading into it too much but it made sense for where she is and what she’s ready for, ya know?

Nine Times she thought she was, and the once she actually was #1

Pairing: Rosie Rosenthal & Ida Brady, intimacy journey.

Warnings: very few, still, typical warnings apply, 18+, discussions of a past rape and fear of intimacy

Requested? ☑️

Circa: October 1945

Mother held up a very frilly, decidedly see-through garment with a bashful grin, bridal boutique exclusivity and the comparative privacy of the dressing room making her as cheeky as a Catholic housewife ever dared. That was Robert’s effect on everyone, it seemed, he was so solidly wonderful, so obviously perfect, his mere attention so great a compliment that becoming his wife? —everyone rightfully gave Ida no peace over how fortunate she was. Her mother more than anyone, after watching the blood sport that was their courtship, egging on one declined proposal after another until at last they were here, a week out and assembling a hasty trousseau for an even hastier wedding to be followed by a lengthy overseas assignment.

Together. Nuremberg.

“You’d like Germany in the fall.” he’d told her.

It made one’s head spin, as did the very notion of donning that toilet paper excuse for nightwear. Maureen had not needed to be told, one grunt from Ida over the phone when a trousseau was mentioned was enough: “I’ll send you a portmanteau or two”, Maureen had concluded easily, without even needing to be told why. She’d also sent along perfume, rich and woodsy with just enough vanilla that Ida felt almost a bride in it. Ida worried such deep consideration was perhaps the product of the Clevens’ own marital struggles and adjustments to peace, but that was not her concern.

“Mother.” Ida begged now with a laugh, mildly unused to such familiarity with her parent, or with such liberal inclinations.

“You’ll be married Ida!” her mother responded, pleadingly happy, “If that’s not the time for it, when?”

When indeed? That hung like a thundercloud over this whole marriage and yet Rosie had set his face to the storm and welcomed it. “So long as you’re doing the ruining” he had blithely responded to her dire predictions for marital misery in his promising young life. Companions, he had declared them

-companions didn’t wear things like that.

“I- I don’t think it would suit me.” she fibbed, thumbing at a sensible set of mulberry colored silk shorts instead.

“My dear, think of him a little.” Mother meant well, words that would make Ida bristle were said so kindly and with such good intent she could only wince while deflecting them.

Ida gave her a curt nod before slipping behind the curtain and shimmying into a slip, very much like the ones she already owned with a pretty little trim of lace around the decollege. Dove gray and striking with her complexion. She already owned and wore such a piece often, the idea of wearing it next to him sent her stomach plummeting, suddenly she saw herself as he might, boyish limbs and the slight swell of breasts leading to a trim waist and only moderate hips; she was flat and tall —it still felt too clingy.

Mother’s voice startled her on the other side of the drape, “Here’s that other size you wanted.” she offered and Ida drew back the partition. Mother stood as if aghast in admiration.

“My beautiful girl.” her voice grew thick with emotion and Ida too felt a lump in her throat at the thought of how many years had been robbed from them, first by the seperation and then by the war, they might have had many such outings and none of them so burdened. “You’ll be irresistible in that.” she said it with such pride and Ida tried so hard to cling to that as her world grew cold and her fingers and lips with it, creeping doubt and pernicious terror raising itself at last at the sheer loneliness of not even her own mother having any idea what horror such a compliment evoked. “Ida, Eye Eye, what’s wrong? My sweets what’s wrong? What did I say? Sit, sit! -there, Ida, darling.”

Ida did not realize she was crying until she was sat on the pretty velvet bench beside the mirror, sobbing like a girl in her mothers arms. “I don’t want to be irresistible.” she tried to explain through her sobs, “I don’t want to tempt him at all.”

Confused as she was, mother did not argue the rightness or wrongness of temptation and desire within marriage. She just held her daughter like she had wanted to when her father died, when her plane had been downed, when they sent her away to Florida so someone else could feed her and she came back more pilot than woman. “Alright, then you don’t need to.” Mother said instead and it brought Ida such relief a new flood of tears were unleashed, years of pent up grief and disgust flowing out of her. “Be yourself. You’re precious Ida, never meant other than that.”

-see how ugly you have now become? the Kommandant had asked her before shearing her hair.

Crumpled against her mother, red faced and quite unimpressive, she wished she were even uglier for once. Poor Robert. She had warned him.

Gaining some composure back, Ida pulled herself away and squared her shoulders, allowing mother’s arm to stay loped around them. She did not deserve to be rebuffed after such kindness. “Mother,” Ida found her voice sounded gravelly and distant even to herself but needs must, “in the war, after I was downed-“ she chose her words carefully, eyes fixated on the most unoffensive thing in the mirror, mother’s sensible brown shoes, she had long debated whether to ever even tell her,, “-I think you know, or have heard or, but, there were things…done to me…that I cannot…easily forget. Robert knows, there’s no, no um, defrauding? no defrauding happening, I have told him, he knows. But I, I don’t want -I don’t want to be irresistible.”

Ida had watched the face of her brother process what had been inflicted on her, Johnny had watched her body swell with lurid proof of it, he had wrapped the bloody product of it in the only white garment left in the camp and buried it with last rites and a muttered Ave. A shroud of innocence for a life conceived in anything but.

Ida had no appetite left to watch a mother’s face when she learned her daughter had been violated.

Mother was now the one who cried, and Ida numbly felt the burgeoning impulse to hold her in return. Awkwardly but with growing surety, she lifted her arm and tucked mother’s smaller frame to her chest, holding her shuddering shoulders, “My brave child.” mother managed in grief, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’d do anything to take it away-“ it was a natural sentiment and Ida had grown to feel herself quite unnatural for not regretting the course of duty that had placed her in such jeopardy. “Robert is -he is a good man,” mother could not grieve for herself a full minute without returning reassurances, “I wouldn’t let a lesser man have you. But now I know— no one else will do. He will be good to you and if he is not, your father’s house is always yours.”

Ida had never doubted it but to hear it vocalized, to hear it with a recently unburdened heart, the last of her terror calmed to only simmering nervousness, and with the purchase of the demure mulberry shorts, it set her lightly on her last week of singlehood.

That night, the night of her wedding, Ida brushed her teeth alongside Rosie and splashed her face alongside her husband like she had with dozens of men hundreds of times in the shower rooms. Nothing remotely off there. Nothing until she closed the door on him, he to don his pajamas in the suite and she to don them in the bathroom, then the anxiety struck lethal and sharp.

“Don’t fail me now.” she muttered to her nerves as she tried her utmost to efficiently step into the sensible mulberry satin shorts after pulling off the sensible and smart wedding suit she’d been wearing.

She stalled at the door, trying to prepare herself for anything on the other side of it. Robert greeting her with excitement despite all their talks to the contrary of trying anything tonight, or any other night in the near future. Robert hitting the whiskey and passing out pleasantly only to forget his promises in the middle of the night. Or somehow worst of all -Robert lying in bed stiff as a board while waiting for her to shuffle under the sheets already and lay beside him. What then? shut the lights out like two senile dotards? That could hardly be borne, despite how dreamy he made it sound to have celebate sleepovers and chaste companionship. She’d rather take matters into her own hands tonight and pull him bodily inside than endure such stiltedness.

When she opened the door and spied him, nothing could quite prepare her. But then again, surprise was hardly the predominant sentiment. It was gratitude at being right. For deep down in all her doubting she had anticipated him taking her by such pleasant surprise she would never guess it -but never to be confounded.

Prim and homely in his flannel cover and blue pajamas, hair still immaculately lacquered except for where her voracious kisses had done them harm, sat Rosie on the suite carpet, cross legged before a meticulously stacked tower of wedding presents. Beside him was an ice bucket complete with champagne bottle and a plate of chocolate dipped strawberries.

“You absolute dreamboat.” she accused in a gush, hand over her gaping mouth.

Robert’s eyes flicked up, blue and warm all at once, and those smile lines carved their way deeper into his cheeks. “Come on,” he held up a neatly wrapped present, “I can’t guess this one by shape and it’s driving me nuts. Let’s get it open so I can sleep.”

When they had gone to sleep, Ida had imbibed so much champagne and indulged in enough kisses she was foolish and pliant. She wiggled her eyebrows when he rolled beside her, close enough to heat the cradle of her thighs; Robert had only laughed warningly and rolled off. When she woke to sunlight streaming into unfastened drapes, warmth near her but not pressing against her, and Rosie’s dark mustache aglow with amber flecks, she was rewarded for her good faith. The curls had come to harm in his sleep and she pushed them off his forehead to wake him.

“Morning.” she whispered.

His smile was dazzling, somehow even more so with his puffy eyes and his loose, drousy lips catching against her palm, “Morning, Mrs Rosenthal.” his voice tickled her, “We’ve got a boat to catch.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[ednacrabapple]

My one coworker thinks the world revolves around her and I’m so fucking sick of it

[readwritealldayallnight]

You know the woman in line behind you is getting impatient, hearing her not so subtle exasperated sigh as you continue to search through your bag, your cheeks burning a deeper shade of crimson when you catch the barista’s tight lipped smile in your direction, her attempt at reassuring you as part of her job, though you can tell she wishes you’d hurry up as well

As if your debit card declining a mortifying four times hadn’t been enough, but then your attempt at using your credit card was just as unsuccessful, the sound of the failed transaction on a stupid 6£ drink sounding out for everyone in queue to know how broke you really were

Embarrassment coursing through your veins, already thinking about how you’ll never have the guts to come back to this cafe again as you desperately search for enough spare change at the bottom of your purse to cover this morning’s coffee, your scrambling comes to a pause when a large shadow suddenly eclipses the overheard lighting above you

In the midst of your frantic searching, a tall figure has come to stand just next to you, their gloved hand stretching past your figure to tap a card against the machine, the happy beep of the teller confirming the transaction’s been accepted this time

“I’ve got tha’ for ya.” A deep, gravelly Manchester accent mutters low enough for only you to hear, before the figure tries to retreat back into queue unnoticed

You eyebrows shoot up in shock, the barista equally appearing surprised but not displeased as she finally gets to hand you your drink and quickly wish you a good day before she’s already trying to help the woman waiting behind you

You step aside out of the queue, swinging your head around to try and spot your mystery saviour who stepped in and helped you out without even needing so much as a thanks in return apparently

You spot him instantly, the absolute size of him easily giving him away. No one else in the small cafe could have created such a large, intimidating shadow, let alone spoken in such a deep voice that sent chills down your spine

He stands a head above anyone else in queue, currently last in the line after he stepped out to pay for you. He’s wearing a simple black medical mask on the lower half of his face, a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head offers you only a small glimpse of his eyes, which are noticeably pointed at the ground at the moment

You’re walking towards him before you even realize it

“Th- thank you. I don’t-” You’re cut off when those same eyes glance up to meet your own, stealing your breath away. He seems almost as surprised that you’re speaking to him as you were when he stepped in and paid for you, his eyes betraying his shock for only a fraction of a second before he’s steeling himself and his eyes darken. You get the vague impression that he isn’t someone who’s used to being caught off guard

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.” You say to him, wanting to express just how grateful you are to him for his random act of kindness, but he says nothing in return, hardly blinking once as he simply stares back at you

“I can’t understand why my cards weren’t working today. I promise I don’t like- this isn’t a thing I do. Go into coffee shops and pretend I can’t pay, hoping someone else will…” You awkwardly laugh to yourself, beginning to ramble in an effort to fill in the silence

“Anyways I just, really wanted to say thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re scrambling now, attempting to save face as this man just looks at you, an arm beginning to swing your purse off your shoulder in hopes of maybe finding enough change to appease this guy

“Not necessary.” The deep voice finally says again, his eyes leaving yours to scan you from top to bottom and then back up again, almost examining the sight before him. You almost feel like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, seeing the mask moving along with the sound of that gravelly voice an enrapturing vision

“Oh- well I- I mean that’s really nice of you, but I swear I can pay you back.” You recognize that feeling beginning to swirl low in your stomach, familiar with the warmth gathering in the apples of your cheeks; your body realizing it a split second before your brain catches up. You’re kind of into this guy. You can’t see much of his face, but the sliver you do see certainly isn’t unattractive, his height and build speaks for itself, with a voice like that and the fact that he’s just saved your butt and expected not even a thanks in return, you’re wondering if he’s too good to be true

“Do you come here often?” You’re asking him before you can stop yourself, watching a single one of his eyebrows arching ever so slightly. “I just mean that- I come here a lot- sometimes. And if you’re here next time I’m here, then maybe I can pay you back, buy you a drink.”

You’re losing confidence the longer he stands there, not answering. What were you thinking? This guy was just trying to be nice, get the annoying girl holding up the line out of the way so that people can order their drinks and go about their day, and here you are holding him up even longer-

“If it’ll make ya happy.” He’s suddenly answering, snapping you out of your downward spiral. If you could see the grin that slowly creeps upon your face, you might be otherwise embarrassed, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Oh okay, amazing. I mean- yeah that would- that would be cool. Okay.” You reply, glancing at your watch. “I’m not sure for you, but um, I’m almost always here each Sunday. Around this time.”

“I’ll be here next Sunday. Around this time.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Next in line please.” The barista at the corner calls out, interrupting the two of you. You glance back to see that it’s now his turn to order, feeling bad that you’re about to hold up the queue yet again.

“Great. I’ll see you Sunday then. Thank you again, seriously. I really owe you one.” You say, gripping the straps of your bag tighter as you offer him a sheepish smile before ducking out of the busy cafe, a small grin playing across your face.

Ghost watches your figure through the large windows as you walk out of the shop, across the street, disappearing into the crowd of morning goers strolling about. Only once he cannot see you anymore, does he walk up to the counter, slipping a 20£ note to the barista along with a slight nod of acknowledgement, before he himself is turning to walk out of the cafe, empty handed, intent on catching up to you from a distance.

~~~~~~~~~~

AKA Ghost has been stalking you for months and finally comes up with a way to have you approach him