#I’m having big emotions and we haven’t even met kit yet

[anonforlackofabettername]

Okay so I’m only a couple chapters in to my reread but it’s really hitting me just how young everyone is. Nita and Kit have always been my age in my head. I found the series around middle school, around the same age as Nita and Kit, and they got older each book in a nebulous way that never quite stopped being the age I was. Wizard of Mars was literally high school for me so that book felt right. Games Wizards Play came out when I was in college, but I was still reading a lot of YA and the themes of everything still fit. There’s only a couple years between middle of high school and sophomore in college. But now I’m 26 and I’ve gone back to the beginning and Nita is still just 13. I’m older than her in a way she hasn’t yet had a chance to experience inside of canon. There’s so much growth ahead of her, so much potential, both within canon and with what’s still to be written. It’s tripping me out in the best way. I really am back at the beginning and you know what, it’s still fun to read.

[boydiisaster]

It's so awesome there's blogs like yours out there trying to provide content for GN and Male fans. It's so hard to find anything even GN, and as a nonbinary person I just want you to know how much it's appreciated! If you're okay with taking requests right now, I have an Obey Me one? Do you have any headcanons on a poly/throuple relationship between a GN MC, Satan, and Solomon? Those two are surprisingly good friends in canon and alike in a lot of ways, I love them both so much!

throuple satan and solomon headcanons

reader: gender neutral, they/them pronouns

tw/cw: a bit of spoilers and fighting/blood mentions

author's note: AWW YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY YOU'RE SO NICE, ANON :,) i'm trying my hardest to provide more content for other male and gender neutral readers out there, so i really hope that what i write is enjoyable for yall <33 also i haven't the slightest idea of satan and solomon's canon relationship because i'm only at like lesson 30 smth and don't keep up with my messages so i just pulled most of their dynamic for this out of my ass ( ._.)

It was like a cat just met a dog when Satan and Solomon started dating. They have similarities, sure, but whereas Satan is cold and calculated with his spells, plans, and pranks, it's as if Solomon doesn't think. Like, ever.

How was someone so smart so insufferably stupid at the same time? It's as if Satan is his babysitter more than he's his boyfriend.

Oh god and when Solomon ropes you into doing something with him-

"I hate you both," Satan grumbles, checking your temperature and seeing how it's well above the normal temperature for humans. "Solomon, you can't just drag MC on all your dangerous adventures. They're much more human than you are."

"Just because I accidentally made a spell that cursed me with immortality doesn't mean I'm any less human than they are." Solomon crosses his arms at his boyfriend's hurtful words. "Besides, MC wanted to come with me. Isn't that right, MC?"

You didn't speak. That was probably because you had passed out from how incredibly fatigued you were. Your skin was sticky and noticeably sweaty, eyes closed shut while letting out painful whimpers.

"Tell me again just what happened to them?" Satan groans as he opens a spell book. God knows where he got it. He did that a lot. He was like a video game character or something the way he'd just pull books or spell jars from out his ass. He was always the one Mammon would ask for a pencil, because hell he had like hundreds on him at all times.

"Well," Solomon cheekily smiles and scratches the back of his neck. "We went looking for some herbs for a new spell I concocted."

"Uh huh?"

"And MC sort of... fell."

"What did they fall on, Solomon?"

Said man falls silent. "Solomon?" Satan drags out his lover's name, threatening him, to which all Solomon can do is smile again, this time more nervous.

"They kind of, maybe, fell into a bush of what could have been poisonous flowers...."

"What kind of poisonous flowers, Solomon?" Satan glares at him.

Solomon thinks for a moment, then clasps his hands together. "Let's just say that if we don't get Diavolo or Lucifer in the next," he looks toward a clock, "fifteen or so minutes, MC might fall asleep for probably a whole millennium."

That earns the sorcerer a big thwack to the back of his head by Satan's spell book.

That was probably the first major incident where you were dragged into Solomon's dangerous plans, but it certainly wasn't the last. Most of the time you either ended up with several scrapes or bruises, things Satan or Solomon could easily patch up on their own. But sometimes you'd come back missing a shirt or as a cat.

(It's hard for Satan to be mad at Solomon for accidentally turning you into a cat, but he manages it because you were furious.)

... You were a really cute cat though, MC.

A cat was frantically trying to climb up Satan's pant leg. He was out in the garden tending to his flowers when a kitty he'd never seen before made their way through the bushes and crashed into his leg.

"Hello little one," he smiled at the cat. "Are you lost?"

The cat let out a pitiful wail and latched themselves onto Satan's leg. Satan frowned a bit and started to get worried. "Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

He picked up the cat to examine them. They were a cute little thing with [eye color] eyes and a sleek fur coat. Satan couldn't see anything physically wrong with them. Their paws looked fine, and there was no blood anywhere.

"Did you lose your mom? Maybe your kitten?" he began to muse, then Solomon exploded through the bushes looking frantic as ever.

"Have you seen a cat?" he gasped for air. "About this tall, [eye color] eyes, clearly upset?"

"You mean this one?" Satan held up the cat he found.

"Yes! Give them here-"

The cat hissed and clawed at Solomon's hand, burying themselves further into Satan's grasp. They growled, then looked toward Satan to let out another pitiful whine.

"MC, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Solomon cried.

The cat hissed again.

"I'm sorry, did you just say MC?"

Solomon stiffened. He started to laugh nervously, fiddling with his cuffs. "Uh... would you break up with me if I told you I turned our darling MC into a tiny cat...? If so then no, I didn't say MC."

"You did what?!"

"Oh would you look at the time! I have a meeting with Lord Diavolo I must attend to right now, goodbye Satan, I love you!"

And then Solomon left, leaving Satan to fix whatever spell he put on their partner by himself. Satan wasn't angry about it, but the look of pure rage on your little furry face was enough to let Satan know that if he kept you as a cat for a moment longer you'd raise hell upon everyone in the vicinity.

Having a pact with a demon means that pretty much everything you do is shared with said demon. You feel emotions stronger, god forbid if you feel their specific emotions. You could be angry at Mammon for swiping a bag of candy you bought for yourself, but you act as if Mammon robbed you of every last thing you had just because of the pact you share with Satan. He feels awful about that, even though you reassure him time and time again that:

1.) It's not his fault, and

2.) You wanted a pact with him

Even so, please give Satan cuddles and kisses after he gets all sulky. He acts composed, but on the inside he's so incredibly self-conscious of both his sin and his pact with you.

"You need to be more careful," Satan quietly mused as he bandaged your hurt hands and face. You had gotten into a fight at school because a demon shoved you, and now you were currently inside Satan's room, getting blood all over his pretty carpet.

"I know," you softly sighed and hissed once the rubbing alcohol came into contact with the cuts on your face. "I just, I don't know. It set me off for some reason."

Your boyfriend hesitated for a moment, then applied a bandage to your cheek. "It's because of the pact."

"Satan-"

"You know I'm right, MC." Satan didn't look at you when he talked. Instead he looked at his lap, which had the first aid kit he was using to fix you up in it. "I know I talk about this a lot but... I am truly sorry for doing this to you."

"Hey," you cupped his cheek. "It's not your fault. I can learn to live with this. I learnt to handle my greed, envy, and gluttony when I built pacts with your brothers, right?"

"You shouldn't have to though. Maybe it's best if I-"

You silently kissed him. It was a bittersweet kiss, one filled with love yet unspeakable sadness and hurt. Satan was so self-conscious of his sin, yet you loved him still anyway. You wished he could see that.

"Don't finish that thought," you whispered as you pulled away. Resting your forehead against his, you continued. "I love you. Despite your sin, despite how you were born, despite everything; I love you. I chose you, and I wanted a pact with you." You smiled, and Satan couldn't help but blush at your next sentence.

"You silly demon. You really can't see how amazing you are, huh? It's okay though, because both me and Solomon will always be here to remind you."

Solomon touches all your pact marks constantly. When you take off your shirt it's hard to stop him from touching Leviathan's mark located directly on your back. He's always rubbing his fingers over Beelzebub's symbol on your stomach, always outlining Mammon's mark on your wrist. Sometimes he kisses Belphegor's symbol on your throat. When meeting your eyes, he never fails to stare into the one that holds Lucifer's mark, and even though you cover your thighs almost all the time, it's like Solomon can tell where Asmodeus's mark is. It's his favorite place on your thigh to touch.

You sighed whenever you felt Solomon's lips touch the small of your back. A smile made its way onto your own lips as you giggled.

"I didn't expect Satan to place his mark somewhere so... subtle," he admitted as he popped up to press a kiss to your cheek.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He was playing with your wrist again, looking at the symbol of greed that adorns your skin.

"Solomon," you started.

Your lover hummed. You could tell he was beginning to grow drowsy. His eyes were closed and his movements slowed.

"Are you... jealous?"

That woke him up. He made you face him, and the expression he wore was unreadable. It worried you. Maybe you shouldn't have said that.

"I just mean, like," you grew embarrassed. "Um... you're always touching my pact marks, or always looking at them, and I don't know. Are you mad at me for them?"

The sorcerer gently grasped your hands. His fingers were weirdly soft considering how much he uses them. He sat there for a moment, just running his thumbs over your palms before speaking.

"I am a little," he admitted. "But I'm not mad at you. If anything I'm proud."

You smiled a bit. It was a lopsided and awkward sort of smile, but to Solomon it was the most beautiful thing in the world, as cheesy as that sounded.. He loves seeing his partners happy. He loves seeing you happy.

"You're much stronger than you think," Solomon continued. "Being able to hold seven different pact marks, ones belonging to Avatars, as a human with no sort of prior knowledge on magic?" He beamed. "You're incredible."

That only embarrassed you more. You groaned a bit and tried swatting Solomon away to hide your face, but your lover only pulled you in for a short yet loving kiss.

"You're cute, you know that?"

"You're cuter," you retorted. Solomon just smiled.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear. Speaking of which," he leaned back on your bed and made grabby hands at you, indicating that he wanted you to lay next to him. "I'm tired. Cuddle me."

"So needy," you joked, but instantly complied to Solomon's request. He was never like this in public. It was nice seeing him so open and vulnerable... and cute.

[lovely-angst]

secret child pt.3

part 1 | part 2

uwu, let’s fangirl at how much hibiki is a momma’s boy and how much he loves youu

i had a vision for this and my writing followed in a squiggly line

Another day, another training session with the water pillar, Tomioka Giyuu—also known as his “dad”. 

Tomioka had taken him a few minutes away from home to an open field where the two could train better. Sighing to himself, Hibiki sat on an empty tree stump that hid him from the sun as he thought back to the conversation he had with his mom the other night. 

“Mom, you’re beginning to fall in love with Tomioka.” Hibiki suddenly states as he watched your eyes widen. Words tried to fall from your mouth, but Hibiki could only manage a sigh.

“And I think Tomioka is falling in love with you too.” Hibiki finished off, setting the now dried plate aside. 

You watched quietly as Hibiki continued to store the plates away. You hadn’t realized what was happening until Hibiki had confronted you and as much as you wanted to deny his words, it was the truth. 

“Does that make you upset, Hibiki?” you asked quietly, Hibiki turning to glance over at you before averting them back onto the plate in his hands. 

Even from the side of his face, you could see the conflicting emotions running through him. 

“A bit,” he confessed before placing his dish on the table, turning over towards you. “I just don’t understand, mom. How could you still love him after everything he’s done to us? To you!” Hibiki cried, his hands thrown out infront of him as you watched him getting frustrated. 

He never liked even the thought of Tomioka. 

“I want you to be happy, mom. But Tomioka doesn’t deserve to come back into our lives after these 15 years without him. How could you let him in so easily?” Hibiki’s eyes burned angrily towards you, but you knew he only wanted the best for you.

“Hibiki-” before you could finish your sentence, Tomioka had walked back in, cutting the conversation short, and also leaving a slight tension between the two of you.

Staring at the male a few feet ahead of him, Hibiki frowned at the sight of him. Who does he think he is? Trying to wedge himself back into the family when he has done nothing but harm.

“Hibiki, time to get started,” Tomioka shouted from under the sun before Hibiki let out a groan before jogging over towards the male. 

Standing in front of the man, Hibiki’s thoughts ran back to the fact that Tomioka was trying to woo his mother—after everything he had done to her. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

‘What a loser,’ Hibiki thought, glancing away. 

“Is something bothering you?” Tomioka asked, a raised brow as he studied Hibiki’s frown. “It’s nothing, let’s just get started,” Hibiki grumbled, trying to stay polite to the man training him. Though he wanted nothing more to do with Tomioka, Hibiki respected him as his student, and because you wanted him to be nice or you would get mad. 

“I don’t want to train you with your emotions in the way,” Tomioka informed flatly, causing Hibiki’s eye to twitch. 

“If you really wanna know why, I’ll tell you why. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t want anything to do with you outside of training, so stop trying to come into my life. Especially my mom’s,” Hibiki confessed angrily as Tomioka watched him unphased. 

Ever since Tomioka had met Hibiki, he could tell the child had a dislike towards him—mainly because Hibiki had fought him during their first encounter. 

“You’re always trying to be all sweet with her by buying her gifts and all, and while she might appreciate it, know that I’ll be here to make sure that you will never come back into the family,” Tomioka glanced at the younger male with a raised brow; he sure knew how to choose his words. 

“Oh, so are you upset at me?” Tomioka questioned, already aware of the young man’s answer, but decided to push him a little. 

“Don’t act stupid,” Hibiki responded as he quickly grabbed the wooden sword from the ground beside him, but Tomioka reacted just as fast, a wooden sword in his own hands, blocking Hibiki’s attack. “I’m going to make sure my mom will never fall into your hands again.”

Hibiki was fast with his sword and made significant attacks, Tomioka observed but found that whenever Hibiki was frustrated and angry, it left him with a lot of openings.

Tomioka swung his sword with such power he knocked Hibiki back. Though Hibiki wasn’t the greatest swordsman, he was undoubtedly a lot better with his fists. With a swing, Hibiki landed a hit on Tomioka’s cheek, causing the older man to stumble backward, his cheek reddening.

“She loved you while you threw her out and left her struggling to live with your child,” Hibiki’s anger caused him to throw another punch, but Tomioka was faster and dodged the young male with a step.

Tomioka continued to side-step and dodge the younger male’s attacks, “Hibiki, I’m not going to fight you over this,” but Hibiki was quick as he grabbed Tomioka’s uniform top, pulling Tomioka towards him. 

“Did you know she had to starve herself in order to provide for me? How desperate she was to find a job in order to keep me alive? To find a roof for me?” Hibiki shouted, voice cracking as tears filled his blue eyes. “Even after all these years, I can still remember her in the streets, begging for food, or change all for me to have a good life!” 

Hibiki retracted his hand before landing another solid punch on Tomioka, causing him to fall backward onto the hard ground as Hibiki hovered over him, but Tomioka accepted the hit with a heavy heart, Hibiki’s tears slipping down his cheeks onto Tomioka’s.

“My mom would cry herself to sleep every night after I fell asleep, while she awaited another difficult day. I didn’t have the slightest clue of the troubles we went through because she gave me everything she had in order to make sure I was happy,” Hibiki pulled on Tomioka’s uniform with a shaky breath.

“Did you know that? Did you know what you had done? And you think you can love her so easily as if you didn’t cause this?” Tomioka knew, but he also didn’t. 

“Hibiki, I’m sorry,” Tomioka whispered as Hibiki’s face became strained, “Sorry won’t change anything.” 

As each tear fell from Hibiki’s eyes and fell onto Tomioka’s cheeks, he watched as the strong, stubborn 15 year old cried his heart out because of the guilt he carried. 

Nothing was Hibiki’s fault, yet he carried the brunt of his mother’s hardship.

Before Hibiki could land another punch, Tomioka quickly grabbed the wooden sword beside him before landing a hit on the back oh Hibiki’s neck, causing the young man to pass out on his chest. 

With a sigh, Tomioka stood up before lifting the unconscious Hibiki onto his back as he departed back towards the house where you were waiting for their return. 

-

“Hibiki!” You cried as you ran over towards Tomioka, who had just arrived at your house. Placing a gentle hand on Hibiki’s forehead, Tomioka’s voice caught your attention, “He’s alright. We had a little spar that spiraled out of control,” 

You finally glanced over at Tomioka before hovering your hand over his cheek, “Your cheek! And your lip is busted! Don’t tell me Hibiki did this?” Your stern mom voice was coming out as Tomioka flashed you a small smile. 

“It’s my fault for pushing his buttons a bit,” Tomioka confessed as he walked into the house to lay Hibiki down on his futon before the two of you sat in the tatami room quietly together. 

“What caused this?” you questioned as you leaned over to clean the cut on his lip. Tomioka’s blue eyes observed you before glancing away with a sigh. 

“Hibiki told me about what happened after that day,” your hand retracted back towards you as you sat there with a saddened expression. “Oh,” was all you could manage as you set your small medical kit aside. 

“I understand that it was wrong of me, but would it be wrong of me to want to love you now?” his question was full of honesty and though you weren’t expecting it to come from his mouth, you weren’t shocked to hear. 

“Giyuu,” you started with a sigh. “As much as I’d love to try to have a real relationship with you, I don’t think I can, not yet,” you confessed, looking down at your hands. 

“Not just because Hibiki isn’t too fond of you, but because of what had happened. I can’t let you come right in just after a week of spending some sort of time with each other after these hard 15 years.”

Tomioka nodded, “I understand.”

You gave a small smile, “Well, how much did Hibiki tell you? I swear, that boy doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” you joke and it earns you a small chuckle from the male. 

“He told me how hard you worked to provide for him.” Tomioka started with a soft smile, “He told me that you gave him a great childhood even though he knew you struggled to get by.” 

You glanced back down, embarrassed of what Hibiki could have exposed, “That’s just what mom’s do for their children,” you chuckle. 

“Even after 15 years, you’re still just as lovely as ever,” Tomioka confessed out of the blue, causing your cheeks to heat up, but just as quickly as the rose blush dusted your cheeks did they vanish as your locked gaze on him harden. 

“Giyuu,” your sweet voice filled the air before your words came crashing down on him, “why did you throw me out?” 

The sudden question made his eyes widen, a bold question indeed. Recollecting himself, Giyuu continued to hold your gaze. “I didn’t want that life. To have a child, be responsible for anything—for you or for our child, especially because you were just there for my pleasure.” 

Your brows arched sadly and although you had suspected this answer, it hurt coming from the man himself. 

Before you could reply, Tomioka quickly cut you off, “but I missed a big part of what could have been my life when I threw the two of you out.” Tomioka placed his hands in front of him before bowing to you, “I’m sorry for what I have done to you and Hibiki,” 

“Giyuu, please, raise your head,” you scrambled as you reach over to lift him from the ground. When he finally sat back, tears filled your eyes as you stared into the blue ones that matched Hibiki’s. 

Leaning over, you wrap your arms around the male with a single sob, “I wish you could have been apart of our lives.” Tomioka’s arms slowly wrapped around you as well as the two of you held each other in the silence, reminiscing on what could have been your life together. 

“Hey, hands off my mom,” Hibiki’s sharp voice cut through the air as you jumped, quickly letting go of Tomioka to look at Hibiki. 

“Hibiki, you’re awake!” you cried in relief as you stood to your feet, squeezing you against him. “Are you hurt? Are you feeling okay?” you worry before Hibikisqueezes his way out of your arms. “I’m fine, mom,” Hibiki responds before his gaze focuses on Tomioka. 

“I heard everything,” he confesses, coming to sit down beside where you had sat. “Don’t act like your apology will solve everything. An apology can’t cure what 15 years of pain can do. My mom might be softer towards you, but it won’t be that easy,” Tomioka acknowledged Hibiki’s words. 

The child was smart and, more importantly, loved his mother more than anything. 

“But because my mom seems to love you so much and because I want to see her happy, I’ll do my best to treat you with more respect,” Hibiki gently bowed toward the male, before sending a glare, “but if you do anything wrong again, I won’t hesitate to jump on you-”

“Hibiki! You don’t need to say that!” you scold as Hibiki let out a playful smile towards you. Rolling your eyes, you place a loud kiss on Hibiki’s forehead before he groans of disgust.

Tomioka watched with the softest smile. He knew it was going to take a while, but to be rewarded with such a loving family, he wouldn’t mind however long it took. 

[crispyjenkins]

Thot obiwan... just him being a thot and happy (it’s what he deserves) pls no obitine lol

(went a poly route with this cause i wasn't sure how to write thot!obi without making myself uncomfortable, so instead have poly obi and his seven partners! it’s like scott pilgrim except obi’s still dating them all. a mix of triads and Vs here! because i’m soft for big polycules

couldn’t get to more detail in such a short fill, but all ships are tagged if there’s any confusion! (ノ*´◡`) i will absolutely be returning to poly!Obi in the future.)  

Rex promptly, and calmly, chokes on his first sip of tea.

  Cody sighs, because he isn't exactly clear on the details either. "Yes, all of them. "

  "Is that... Is that... allowed?"

  "High General Ti is also on the council, it must be." The last twenty five hours since rescuing his general and the rest of Ghost Company from Ventress’ latest plot have been rather confusing for Cody, from Obi-Wan’s debrief to the holocall with the council, to Obi-Wan’s four other holocalls that Cody isn't entirely sure he was meant to see. He supposes he should feel grateful that Senator Organa had recently returned to Alderaan, or it could have been more. 

  Rex's eyes go distant as he does the math, a couple of brothers ducking around them where they've stopped in the middle of the hall. "That's... five people, Cody."

  "Yes, Rex, I can count." He grabs Rex's elbow to start steering him towards the hangar again, where they’re supposed to be greeting some new Shinies in less than five minutes. 

  "But what about Ventress? And isn't General Fisto—"

  "With Bly and General Secura? Yes. As for Ventress, as far as I can tell, the General... is simply like that with everyone he fights." It certainly calls into question quite a few "interactions" Cody has witnessed in his two years at Obi-Wan’s side, anyways. Fett's left sheb, does he have to worry about Ohnaka?

  For all that Rex had been CC track just by being smart, he doesn't seem any more sure of the situation than Cody is. "Fett's left sheb," he agrees, bewilderedly tossing his flimsi cup of tea into a waste receptacle without actually having drunk any. "Bly never said anything."

  Cody grunts and thumbs the edge of the helmet in his hands. "He isn't involved with General Kenobi."

  "Cody, brother, that doesn't make sense." He punctuates the notion with a wild swing of his hand, narrowly missing a tech clone, who takes one look at the two of them and decides he isn't going to try and go toe-to-toe with two war heroes. "Where did you hear this? If it was Fives, you should know by now–”

  “The General told me himself.” Sort of, anyways — Obi-Wan is rarely blind to his surroundings, and he had not dismissed Cody after the debrief with the council, so he must have meant for him to see. Why he had been meant to see is still up for debate, especially when Cody had waited all of four hours before telling Rex; no secrets among brothers, or what have you.

  “I suppose what the generals do in their spare time is their business,” Rex mutters. “And it’s not as if the Jedi are anything the longnecks said they were, anyways. But Kote...”

  He could do without the pitying look Rex gives him. “As you said: it’s their business. It wasn’t, and isn’t, any of mine what the General does off the field.”

  “If you say so, brother.” He pats Cody’s shoulder, far gentler than the situation perhaps warrants. “What a way to find out, though; I don’t know what I’d do if I knew Skywalker was romancing around with half the council.”

  Cody sort of wishes Waxer hadn’t tossed out the rotgut Wooley’s had cooked up the last time they were planetside. “I won’t tell you about Senator Amidala and Senator Mothma, then,” he sighs, just to see Rex turn as white as Shiny armour.

-

  Senator Organa breaks away from the little party that had greeted The Negotiator in the Temple hangar and approaches Cody with a smile perhaps even kinder than his general’s. 

  “Welcome back to Coruscant, Commander,” he says pleasantly, folding his arms behind his back and settling next to Cody to observe General Ti fuss over Obi-Wan’s injuries.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I think I can speak for everyone,” Organa nods to Obi-Wan’s entourage, “when I say we are indebted to you yet again.”

  Cody blinks at him, thankful he can hide his incredulity inside his bucket. “Sir?”

  Turning his smile back to Cody, Organa puts a hand on his shoulder not unlike a brother would. “None of our positions allow us to watch his back, and certainly not as well as you do. I’m sure you can understand our worry.”

  “I suppose so, sir,” Cody says carefully, not convinced that Organa isn’t trying to catch him up in a lie. “If I may, sir,” Organa waves for him to continue, “I’m not entirely sure I know what we’re talking about.”

  “Hm, perhaps that’s fair,” Organa chuckles. “I apologise for having to speak so mysteriously, but one can never be too careful. I merely meant to thank you, and to encourage you to talk to him; for all that the Jedi are not hierarchical, he worries about his position above you. And Obi-Wan is no blushing Alqull, but he would not impose himself on you.”

  “... Sir.”

  “Yes, yes, more mystery. Just talk to him.” Organa leaves him with one last smile and a pat on the shoulder, and Cody wonders if Waxer had spiked his caf that morning. 

-

  The 212th had lost enough brothers in their last entanglement with Ventress that they return to Kamino immediately after Coruscant, General Ti all too happy to join them aboard The Negotiator; the brothers are delighted to learn she prefers to stand against their general’s back, lekku and arms absolutely dwarfing him, and Obi-Wan lets her. 

  They keep separate quarters, though Cody isn’t sure how much of it is for keeping up appearances. 

  As high strung as he is after his conversation with Senator Organa, Cody is relieved when they finally dock in Tipoca City and he can hand babysitting the 212th over to Waxer. He loves his men, truly, but being cooped up with them for a tenday in hyperspace is far from his favourite pastime.

  When Cody joins Obi-Wan for their trek to the training levels, Obi-Wan takes one look at his harried expression and laughs — Cody would like to believe it’s because he knows what Cody’s thinking, rather than any sort of Jedi-mind-reading-nonsense.

  Taun We meets them on the way, prattling about the “improvements” they’ve made since the last batch, and Cody pays attention because he has to, but the general’s little smile aimed in Cody’s direction does nothing to help him concentrate.

  Alpha-17 greets them as soon as Taun We opens the door to one of the training rooms, and Cody finds he’d actually missed the old hardass; it isn’t every brother that can call High General Yoda a toad to his face and get away with it, just by virtue of being Alpha-17.

  And then Alpha sees Obi-Wan and actually smiles, and Cody updates his mental counter to six. He had forgotten how much time Alpha had spent with the 212th before Cody was assigned, forgotten that it was Alpha with Obi-Wan when Ventress first kidnapped him; perhaps the holodramas are right, that shared trauma is a simple step away from romance.

  Kriff, he could have gone his whole life not picturing Alpha trying to romance absolutely anyone.

-

  “You haven’t asked,” Obi-Wan observes, hands folded under his chin across the desk from Cody. The teapot between them steams gently, filling Obi-Wan’s quarters with a haze of shiso and ginger that settles Cody’s nerves rather than stokes them.

  “Sir?”

  “Come now, Cody: we’ve worked together far too long for that.”

  And Cody snorts a laugh, even as he turns back to the datapad in his hands. “I did not think it my business, sir.”

  “Hm, and your conversation with Bail?”

  Cody glances up. “Are you laughing at me, sir?”

  The soft smile from Kamino is back on his general’s lips, making Cody all too aware of his helmet on the other side of the room. “Perhaps a little, Commander – your play for stoicism is as amusing as always.

  “I don’t know what you refer to, General, I did not lie: I have not asked because it is not my business, and if there was more to discuss, I knew you would bring it up again.” With an inhaled sigh, Cody sets his datapad back on the desk and faces Obi-Wan properly, because he isn’t a cadet, and he isn’t what-are-emotions-what-is-responsibility Skywalker. “Clearly you have more to discuss.”

  “Bah, you make it sound like a chore, Kote.”

  He raises a brow. “When I was assigned to the 212th, General Vos warned me of your politician-speak, sir. Any conversation with you is a chore.”

  Obi-Wan startles out a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners as if just to remind him that there are lines on his face from more than just war. “Captain Rex tells me you get that snark from Alpha, but I must say I think it is a family trait.” Smiling behind his fingers, Obi-Wan tilts his head as if Cody were an especially endearing puzzle. “I’m afraid I don’t quite know how to navigate this conversation, my friend: I don’t believe I was the instigator of any in the past.”

  “More politician-speak,” Cody chides without heat, but knows what he means anyways. “And you thought I would instigate, if you left it long enough?”

  “Well, I hope I’ve created an environment where you and your brothers may speak your minds–”

  “General,” Cody interrupts boldly, and Obi-Wan just keeps smiling at him, “I have it on good authority that none of my brothers have been the one to broach this subject first.”

  “Mhm,” he chuckles, “Yes, I did hear about Commander Bly and Kit, and about Commander Choke with the 202nd.” Poor Shiny, Cody thinks, fresh out of ARC training when she met her general for the first time; the other battalions hadn’t stopped laughing about it for months.

  “Sir, the freedom the Jedi have given us undermined nearly everything the longnecks brought us up to believe; if you are unsure of what to say, I’m hardly going to be more prepared.”

  “Hm, perhaps we ought to be blunt with each other, then? Avoid the politician-speak entirely?”

  “Yes, perhaps that would be better, sir.”

  “Then, Kote, I would very much like to kiss you.”

  “Only if you’ve brushed your teeth since you kissed Alpha.”

  Obi-Wan throws his head back and laughs.

[keanureevesisbae]

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 7

Summary: It’s time for the final challenge of the Celebrity Project. 

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.9k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Our final challenge is going on a survival for three days. I feel like that is something we can actually do, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing is right. When the first night falls, I made a fire and even suggested to Henry that we could try and catch a fish tomorrow. ‘You know how to fish?’ he asked me.

Little did he know that I have tons of tricks up my sleeve. ‘Of course,’ I told him, though I think he didn’t believe me and I can’t really blame him for that.

Weirdly enough, we fell into our trusted routines again right away. It made me realize that it doesn’t matter where we are, we can work together just fine wherever we are and we are able to make every place a home.

While he sets up the tent, I warm up in front of the fire, watching him from a distance. During the night, I curl up beside him, my limbs as cold as ice. Before I really fell asleep, I would push up his shirt and place my hand on his bare stomach, my fingers toying with the little hairs. I normally wouldn’t do this, would not be this bold and forward, but with Henry, it all feels so familiar, so safe. Like I can actually do this without being judged.

The first morning we spend together, I made us breakfast, while he folded the tent back into the small bag. It’s nice being with him out in the open like this. Him being surrounded by nature, makes him look so handsome, so normal and approachable.

We run through the woods, we have to do ridiculous things again, that involves trusting one another, yet again eat disgusting things, but I don’t even think about winning that prize. Now, that was never my initial goal to win the prize, but I never thought that I would gain another close friend, someone who is definitely more than that. I like being around Henry, being able to hold his hand when I’m blindfolded. I trust him so much, here and back at our cottage and I know that even outside of the Celebrity Project, I’m going to trust him with my life.

It’s weird being around someone like him. Being around someone that brings out this side of me. Around my parents I’m myself, but I’m the self who I taught me to be. My parents didn’t need a smart ass on top of their worries. My parents needed someone responsible, that would help them out and just do what she is expected to do, though it’s not ideal.

Hiding my feelings became my normal and despite earning a ton of money and not having to worry about anything anymore in life, that normal never changed. I never opened up, I never was myself and I hid everything about myself.

But now I have met this amazing human being, told him about my true self and I know he is going to stay. It’s quite relieving though, not having to bottle up my emotions.

However, after all we were able to handle during this camping trip this far, Henry is now crouched down in front of me, as tears fill my eyes. ‘Does this hurt?’ he asks, after carefully removing my shoe and trying to move my foot, to see what movement is possible and what not.

It feels like he is stabbing a knife through my ankle. ‘Stop, that hurts,’ I whine. As the big fat idiot I am, I misstepped and with the way it swells, I feel like I bruised my ankle pretty bad, especially since it’s swelling already.

‘Stay here,’ Henry says, rummaging through his bag. He hands me a painkiller with a bottle of water, before pulling out a shirt. ‘I’ll be right back.’

‘Where are you going?’ I ask. ‘You promised me that you stay here with me.’

He smiles, before placing his hand on the side of my thigh. ‘I’m just going to the river, so I can improvise an icepack with this shirt, Addy. I’ll be right back.’ He can’t help but chuckle. ‘You can be a big baby, you know that?’

I pout. ‘I know, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be, I actually think it’s quite adorable. I’ll be right back.’ His large hand squeezes my upper leg, before he stands up and walks to the little lake, to drench his shirt. I swallow down the painkiller and I pull up my better leg, before I place my head on my knee. I let out a sniffle.

He sits down with me again, carefully taking off my sock and placing the cold wet shirt on my ankle, causing me to shiver. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper again.

Henry simply shakes his head, placing a hand on my calf, soothing me a bit. ‘No need to, Addy. Please, don’t feel sorry.’

‘Then what should I do?’

‘Stop crying when there is absolutely no need to,’ he smiles, laying a hand on my cheek, wiping away my tears. ‘Sweet Addy, listen to me. I don’t care about winning. I only care about you and your wellbeing. And right now, I’m going to take care of your ankle and hopefully in twenty minutes you can smile again.’

He grabs the first aid kit out of his backpack and bandages my ankle. When it’s done, he helps me to put on my sock and shoe again. Henry pulls me up, but I can’t seem to distribute my body weight onto both of my feet.

‘Come here,’ Henry says, pulling me into a hug. I place my chin on his chest and smile.  I feel so safe, how does he manages to make me feel like this? ‘You hop on my back,’ he says with a smile. ‘So we can continue.’

‘We’re adults,’ I say frowning.

‘I am fully aware of that,’ he chuckles, ‘but that doesn’t mean that you can’t hop on my back.’

I roll my eyes, but I jump on his back anyways. Wrapping my arms and legs around him, I lean with my head against his. He continues to walk, trying to find a spot where we can sleep for the night. I push my nose against his cheek, feeling his five ‘o clock shadow against my skin. ‘Thank you.’

‘You don’t have to thank me every single time I do something for you,’ he says. ‘I like doing things for you.’ He looks to the side and smiles. ‘I like you.’

‘I like you too, Henry Cavill.’

When we finally found a spot, he sets up the tent again, while I have a thicker branch, strapping a knife on it with some rope. I hop around the water, looking right into it. Henry walks over to me and asks: ‘You think that works?’

‘Of course I think that works,’ I say to him.

He sits on a rock, leaning his elbows on his knees, a smug grin on his face. ‘Sorry to break your bubble, Addy, but I don’t think it’s going to work.’

I bite my lip, as I stare into the water again, before sticking the brach and the knife right into it. I hold it up and turn around. ‘Henry, look, look!’ I exclaim.

‘That actually worked?’ he asks, totally flabbergasted.

‘Of course that worked.’ I cock an eyebrow, before I pout. ‘Why did you underestimate me?’

Henry starts to stammer. ‘I… No… I didn’t… Sorry… But… Why are you laughing?’

‘I understand,’ I chuckle. ‘When I was younger, my dad could actually catch a fish with his bare hands. I could never, but we also couldn’t afford a rod. So I did this instead.’

He stands up and holds out his hand. ‘Come on, let’s get dinner started. You know how to prepare a fish?’

‘I do,’ I say, as I limp back to the tent. Henry starts the fire, as I remove its organs and clean the fish with water. When I look up, I see he hasn’t done anything. ‘Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill, you are useless.’ I wipe my hands clean.

‘I am useless?’ he repeats.

‘Don’t act surprised. You haven’t even started the fire, you stupid idiot.’

‘You call me a stupid idiot?’ He walks over to me and why do I feel like that can’t mean any good? I crawl back a little, a mischievous smile on my face. ‘I can’t believe,’ he says, crouching down in front of me, ‘that you called me a stupid idiot.’

‘Henry, what are you doing?’ I ask, leaning back on my hands.

He licks his lips, before he leans over to grab my wrists, causing me to fall back. I let out a squeal, almost thinking that I’m going to fall flat on the back of my head. However, he is always faster and I should’ve known that he would take good care of me. He places his hand on the back of my head, softly guiding me into the grass.

‘Henry,’ I whisper, as he leans on his underarm right next to me, almost as a warning for him not to do something he is going to regret. There are camera’s everywhere.

He places his hand in my waist, after he nodded at me and starts to tickle me.

‘No, Henry,’ I scream, ‘stop it now.’

‘What did you call me?’ he chuckles. ‘I think you called me a stupid idiot. Not just stupid, not just an idiot, but a stupid idiot.’

I try to wiggle out of his grasp, but obviously I fail miserable. ‘You are a stupid idiot,’ I say, tears running over my cheeks from laughing this hard. ‘Stop!’

‘Only if you take it back.’

I try to push his hand away, but yet again, I’m not strong enough. ‘Okay, okay, you are not an idiot.’

Henry halts his tickles, but he is still holding his hand where it was. ‘Then what am I?’ he cockily asks.

I smile, place my hand on his cheek and whisper: ‘You are amazing, Henry. I’m so lucky that you are my partner. I wouldn’t have wanted any other way.’

‘That’s quite romantic, miss Park,’ he chuckles. ‘But you smell like fish and I can’t focus on your lovely words anymore.’

‘Shut up.’ I push my hands in his face and after I use all of my body, he tumbles back, but pulls me with him. ‘You should be thankful that I know exactly how to prepare fish. Otherwise you would be starving.’

He places his hand on the small of my back and says: ‘Go wash your hands, so we can eat.’

◎ ◎ ◎

I have this nightmare a few times every year, where my mom doesn’t survive her car accident and there is nothing I can do to help her. I’m glued to the pavement, unable to catch my mom as she rolls over the car and drops to the ground. I gasp for air when I wake up the next morning, rubbing my eyes. I’m still underneath the sleeping bag, securely pressed against his warm body. I place my chin on his chest, looking at his beautiful face. He is still asleep and it’s actually one of the first and only times I see him sleeping. He is always awake when I wake up. I push my hand underneath his shirt, as I prop up on my elbow. My hand raises up from his happy trail to his chest, placing it on his heart.

The one thing that I like about this tent, is that there are no camera’s. No eyes that watch me. That watch us. I lean in to give him a kiss on his cheek, only for him to turn his face and kiss me right back.

‘You were awake?’

Henry nods. ‘I was, from the second you woke up. You okay, Addy? It seemed like you woke up a bit abrupt.’

‘Just a bit of a nightmare,’ I confess. ‘I have it from time to time. It’s no big deal.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks.

‘I am.’

He pushes back a strand of hair, letting his thumb linger on my cheek. Henry smiles and I blush. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispers.

‘I look like shit.’

‘Shut up,’ he says. ‘You are beautiful. I like your puffy face in the morning, I like it when you’re hair is all over the place. I like your morning breath.’ He pulls me closer to him and gives me a kiss. ‘Waking up to you is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.’

‘Shut up.’

He sits up straight and pulls me with him, even grabbing my leg to pull me on his lap. I shiver when the sleeping bag isn’t covering my shoulders anymore and he pulls it up to keep me warm. ‘You think the camera guys are still asleep?’ I ask him.

‘I think so,’ he says. ‘I can’t wait for this to be over. No camera’s, just you and me. Do you have to go to Switzerland right away?’

I shake my head. ‘I was planning on going to LA for a few months, while the movie preparations are getting finalized. Why?’

‘Just wondered if we could spend more time together.’

‘Of course,’ I quickly say, slipping my hands underneath his shirt again. ‘I would love to.’

Henry smiles, bumping his nose against mine.

‘But I was planning on visiting my parents,’ I say. ‘You could come with me if you want, but I get that you think it’s a bit too soon. You know, I don’t actually know about it.’

‘What are your hesitations?’

I sigh deeply. ‘It’s just that I’m a bit scared. My parents were my only friends growing up, the only ones I can count on. It’s not that I’m embarrassed of you, it’s that I’m not used to bringing people home with me. I don’t know if it’s too soon and maybe you think it’s too soon. I mean, I totally get if you’re not ready and—’

‘Okay, wait a minute,’ he says. ‘I’m ready, but only if you are. I would love to see where you grew up, who you grew up with and your relationship with your parents. I want to get to know you even better, at your pace.’

I shake my head, as a chuckle of disbelieve leaves my lips. ‘You are too good to be true, did you know that?’

‘I’m not,’ he whispers, placing a kiss on my lips. ‘What’s with the frown, Addy?’ he asks me, once he looks in my eyes again. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m good, I’m good,’ I say. ‘It’s just that I’m infatuated by you, Henry Cavill and it’s scaring me.’

He looks genuinely confused. ‘Why is it scaring you?’ His voice is so soft, so vulnerable.

‘I have never been in love before,’ I say. ‘Have you?’

He nods. ‘I have.’

‘What is that like?’

‘Scary,’ he admits, ‘because you do things that you never expected you would do. You opened up, I showed the entire world that I’m a big softie. And that can be scary, but what I always remember, is that it’s all worth it, because you and I are in this together and in it for the long run.’

‘How romantic,’ I chuckle. ‘It helps to know that you are scared as well.’ I lean in to give him a quick kiss, before I tell him that we should get ready.

The two of us get ready, but I can’t help but to look over my shoulder every now and then. When I first starred on Remembering High School, I had a crush on Jeff, the guy who played Tom, my love interest. However I never pursued any further. I was scared and back then I let fear stop me. Now I’m scared too, but I’m not letting it stop me.

At least I’m trying not to let it stop me. I shouldn’t be thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong, because it is not going to go wrong, right? I clench my jaw when I look at him again.

‘Everything okay?’ he asks me.

‘Just my foot,’ I lie. I sit up straight and smile.

‘You hop on my back in a second,’ he tells me.

Once I’m securely seated on his back, I wrap my arms around his neck.

‘Maybe, Addy, he says, ‘you persuaded me into thinking about auditioning as your love interest.’

‘Really?’ I ask him. ‘Why?’

‘So I don’t have to be away from you again. I don’t ever want to stay away from you and filming with you means being with you.’

I don’t mean to do it, but I simply press a kiss on his cheek. ‘I would love that too.’

We have one challenge and that is to reach the top of the hill, answering questions along the way, hoping that gives us the right clue. I moved from his back, to his neck, sitting on his shoulders as if I’m a child. I run my fingers through his soft curls, leaning forward every now and then, to send him a smile. ‘I like you,’ I say, when he takes a right on the hill again.

‘I like you a lot too, my sweetheart.’ He says it so carelessly, but little does he know that it goes straight to my heart. I never had someone outside my parents who called me nicknames,  to show me that they cared about me. Sure, Angela Bassett called me ‘darling’ every now and then and Keanu Reeves called me ‘cheeky cheeks’, but this… This is so sweet…

‘My sweetheart?’ I ask him. ‘How about you are my prince?’

‘Then you should be my queen.’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘But if I am your queen, then you should be my king. Otherwise it’s not fair.’

‘Your king.’ Henry smiles. He turns his head and kisses the inside of my leg. ‘I like the sound of that.’

I’m nearly vomiting, because that kiss sends tingles down my entire body.

‘I think we’re there,’ he says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

The rest of the duos are already there and we have the marvelous task to go down on the zipline, while answering stupid questions. I step back, first one step, then two and all of the sudden I’m a meter or two behind the rest. Is this program desperately trying to make me shit my pants? Was swimming not enough? Was almost being killed in the haunted house not enough?

‘Come here,’ Henry says, holding my hand, preventing me from going any further away. ‘You’ll do fine.’

‘I might be scared of the dark, I might faint when I have to swim, but heights really is my top one fear.’

‘You’ll do fine. How about I go first? It’s only five minutes.’

‘Five minutes?’ I ask, panic gushing through every vessel. ‘Five minutes is two and a half songs, Henry. That’s too much.’

He smiles. Not like he is laughing at me, but more like he is trying to reassure me. ‘I know it is. Promise me, you can watch through the monitor and you’ll be fine.’

Those five minutes were the most straining of my life, even to watch. I put in my in ear and hear Henry’s voice the first thing. ‘You gonna be okay, Addy. It was not that scary.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say, as the man is strapping me in. ‘Is this safe?’ I ask him.

‘Bella, bella,’ the man chuckles, ‘it is safe, promise. Beside, you my favorite actress, I wouldn’t let you die.’

‘Is that supposed to calm me down?’ I ask him, because it is not working. My hands start to shake even more.

‘You are treasure to everyone in Italy,’ he continues. ‘I love your movies, all my friends love your movies.’

I smile. ‘I’m scared,’ I admit.

‘I know, but your man also did it and you seem much tougher than him.’

I place my hand in front of my lips, but I burst out in laughter. ‘I am tougher than my man.’

‘You know I can hear you two?’ Henry says in my ear. ‘But he is right, you are the toughest.’

I get ready and my hands shake as I’m on my stomach in the harness. ‘Are you girls okay?’ Jennifer asks both me and Hailey.

‘Yes ma’am,’ Hailey says.

‘I think I am,’ I answer.

‘Remember,’ we all hear in our in ears. ‘Just a few questions.’

My whistle tone like scream leaves my lips when I’m dropped into the air in my harness. My eyes are closed, when I hear in the question: ‘Okay ladies, ready for the first question?’

‘No!’ I scream, at the same moment as Jennifer and Hailey scream an excited yes.

‘Question one: Which movie did Steven Spielberg win his first Oscar for Best Director?’

‘Schindler’s List,’ I mumble, but it’s loud enough for the others to hear it.

‘That is correct! Question two: What is the capitol of Belarus?’

‘Minsk!’ I scream. ‘Is it over yet?’

I hear Jennifer laugh. ‘Open your eyes, honey,’ she tells me.

‘No, I don’t want to see it.’

Henry chuckles in my in ear. ‘You’re doing great, Addy.’

There is a little bump in the zip line and I think I’m screaming my lungs out. I kind of black out, only being able to answer two more questions, while adrenaline junkies Hailey and Jennifer continue to answer questions and enjoy the few. I know we lost, but all I care about now is not dying.

We come to a pretty abrupt stop and I hear some voices, however I’m not ready to open my eyes. What if I’m still high up there? What if there is something wrong with my zip line? Oh no, I’m gonna die!

‘You can open your eyes again, Addy,’ I hear Henry say and I carefully open one of my eyes. I see it’s him and he smiles at me. ‘You did great.’

‘I’m not dead?’ I ask him, looking around me.

‘You’re not dead, as if I would allow that.’ He helps me out of the harness and I cling onto him like a monkey, hugging him tightly.

‘I’m so sorry I didn’t do great. I know for a fact that we didn’t win. I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ he says. ‘Besides, you answered four questions. If someone was not doing great, it was me, being distracting by nature.’

I look in his eyes. His face is close, his hot breath against my lips… I shouldn’t do it, I think to myself. I shouldn’t kiss him.

However, when I see him biting his bottom lip, looking more handsome than ever. I can barely contain myself.

I place my hands on his cheeks, my thumbs softly touching his lips.

‘What are you thinking, Addy?’ he asks me with a smile.

I sigh deeply. What does it matter if the world knows that we are in love? Because we are right? We are in love… We had near kiss experiences during this survival trip, he kissed my leg, I kissed his cheek. I lean in, pressing my lips against his, before we open our mouths simultaneously.

Henry wraps his arms even tighter around me, as he deepens the kiss.

‘I am so sorry, Henry,’ I whisper against his hot lips, as mine are on fire.

‘No, don’t you ever be sorry about kissing me.’ He smiles, squeezing my leg. ‘Now come back here, kiss me again.’

◎ ◎ ◎

[heliads]

Doctor

When your best friend, Katherine Pulitzer, forces you to come talk to the newsboys of Manhattan with her, you’re sure nothing good will come of it, especially since you’re busy with work from medical school. However, one particular blue-eyed newsie just might change your mind.

masterlist

You stare at your best friend suspiciously. “You want me to do what?”

You had known Katherine for a long time. You can barely remember how the two of you met, probably some boring luncheon or other that both of your fathers happened to attend. Your father was a wealthy banker, hers the publisher of the New York World. The two of you bonded over tiresome social assemblies and harshly biased fathers, and had quickly become good friends.

The two of you also helped each other by supporting your careers. With a strong bank behind you, you had been able to sway the editors of the New York Sun into allowing Katherine to work as a writer. In turn, she had used her father’s influence to help you into your dream job: becoming a doctor. You and Katherine were equal halves of a strong friendship, and so you suppose it doesn’t surprise you that she would be turning to you now.

“Look, it’s just the one time, okay? All I need you to do is walk with me to wherever the newsies are so I can ask them for some quotes. It’ll barely be ten minutes!” You squint at her. “If it’ll take such a short amount of time, why don’t you just go yourself? You know I have a lot of work to do- medical school isn’t exactly easy.”

Katherine sighs. “I want you there for emotional support. I already spoke with one or two of the newsies today and they’re impossible boys. I can do anything if I know I’ve got at least one other person who wants me there.” You raise an eyebrow. “They’re that bad?” Katherine looks at you pleadingly. “Please, Y/N?” You groan and look away from her. “Fine, but you owe me.” Katherine squeals happily and pulls you into a quick hug before dashing away to grab her notebook and pen. “You’re the best friend ever.” 

It takes a little while to find the newsboys- they’re not in the refuge, and by now it’s late in the afternoon and so most of them have stopped selling their newspapers and retreated indoors. Finally, you spot them crowded inside a deli and so the two of you take a moment to prepare yourselves before heading inside.

The second the two of you walk in the deli, all eyes turn to you. The newsboys of Manhattan are a motley bunch, most of them scruffy or scrawny or both. They all stare as you walk in, although that may have more to do with the fact that Katherine just called them out for being afraid to go to Brooklyn instead of the two of you by yourselves.

One of the newsboys, who appears to be the leader of the group, calls out a response to Katherine. It’s amazing- you can already sense the cocky attitude oozing from his every word. Now you can see why Katherine wanted you here for moral support. If there’s one thing you know about Katherine Pulitzer, though, it’s that she will never, ever, back down from an argument. You can’t help but grin as you watch the two of them banter, exchanging witty retorts back and forth just as quickly as a pair of trained debaters.

You’re distracted from your friend when a voice comes from behind you. “I get why she’s here, but what about you? You don’t seem to be much of a reporter.” You turn around to see a blond boy facing you, arms folded questioningly across his chest. The other thing that you see is that he is very good-looking, almost too good-looking for a cocky newsboy.

“I, uh, am Katherine’s friend. She wanted me here and so I came.” The boy grins. “You got a name, sweetheart?” You force yourself to answer normally, praying that no one can hear the slight skip of your heart. “Y/N. What about you?” “Race.”

Race fixes you with a teasing smirk. “You know, I think it’s nice that you came out all this way to see us. We must have a pretty good reputation if you wanted to come with your friend.” You glare at him. “I’m not here for you, I’m here for her. Trust me, if Katherine hadn’t asked I wouldn’t be here at all. I’d rather be at home, finishing my work, rather than having to spend time with a bunch of newsboys who think they’re the coolest things on the planet.”

Race raises his eyebrows, still retaining that cocky (yet somehow still attractive) smirk. “Oh, you’se got a job? I thought you just sat around all day, wishing you could talk to a bunch of newsboys who know they’re the coolest things on the planet.” You roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m in medical school. I’m almost done, and then I’ll have a job.” 

Race grins, interested. “Oh, a smart goil! You want to be a nurse?” You look at him coolly. “A doctor.” Race just laughs, shaking his head slightly. It’s funny- whenever he laughs, his sky blue eyes gain this shine that make them look like stained glass. You shake your head slightly, forcing yourself to focus once more on Race, who’s still talking to you.

“-sounds alright. You coming to our strike?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Katherine has finished gathering quotes from the newsboys and is ready to go. You turn back to Race. “Well, I wasn’t planning on it. I’m not a newsie or a reporter.” Race takes a step closer to you, and you feel heat forming in your cheeks. “I think it would be nice to see you there.” You grin at him. “Then maybe I’ll be there. See you later, Race.” You wave goodbye and quickly head out of the deli.

Once you’re down a street or two, Katherine turns to you with a grin. “Looks like you found a friend.” You laugh. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Katherine has this look on her face like a cat that ate a very pleasant canary. “I’m sure it wasn’t. You know, you should be careful around him. I’ve heard that boy flirts with everyone. And, it sounds like you’re coming to the strike. So much for this being a one time thing?” You roll your eyes, but can’t help but grin. “Maybe it’s a little more than that.”

As you walk, though, you keep turning over what Katherine had said in your head. I’ve heard that boy flirts with everybody. As much as you hate to admit it, she isn’t wrong. You yourself have seen Race exchange a wink for a paper on the streets of many Manhattan mornings. You groan inwardly. What were you thinking? Of course Race doesn’t like you- he does that with every girl he meets. It means nothing. 

Tomorrow is the strike, though. You’ve already told Katherine as well as the other newsies that you’ll be there, so you can’t back out now. As you walk back to your home, you form a plan in your head: show up to the strike, but don’t seek him out. He was just doing what he always does, and it doesn’t mean anything. No matter how much you wish it did.

Once the two girls have left the deli, the rest of the newsies turn to Race. “What was that all about, Racer? I haven’t seen you falling over a girl that much in months. You weren’t even trying to sell her any papes!” Albert laughs. Race fixes him with a glare, shoving his friend but only making his grin grow. “It’s nothing. How ‘bout you mind your own business, huh?” Jojo joins the fray. “You were practically drooling.” Race swats him too, and the rest of the newsies dissolve into gleeful chatter. The strike is tomorrow, and they’re all too excited to sleep.

By the time the next morning arrives, you’re feeling hopeful. You and Katherine make it to the square by the time the newsies’ strike has begun, and you watch as she rushes off to take a photo of the assembled newsboys with a friend of hers from the newspaper. After the photo is taken and the rest of the boys disperse throughout the square, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You smile despite yourself once you realize it’s Race.

“So, you made it.” You smile. “Of course I made it. I hear it’s a very big deal.” Race spread his hands. “Well, maybe. I guess it’s a big enough deal that our very own resident doctor showed up.” The two of you laugh, and break into conversation. So much for not spending time with him.

However, the happy morning is interrupted when the goons start to arrive. Once the strike turns violent, Race rushes you out of danger. He makes sure you’re safe, and then runs back into the scuffle. You and Katherine are forced to leave so you’re not caught, but you can’t help a glance backward to make sure Race is alright. You’re not entirely sure that he will be.

The strike ends quickly, in a clash of blood and fists. Once the cops showed up, it was basically over. Even worse, Crutchie was taken away to the refuge and Jack disappeared. When you hear about how badly the newsboys were hurt, you immediately grab your first aid kit and dash over to the deli to help the boys.

Your feet pound on the cobblestone streets on the way to the deli. You’re moving far too quickly for a lady of your position, which attracts more than a few stares, but you’re too worried to care. Finally, you make it to the deli, and stand in the open doorway for a moment, shocked.

The boys look awful. Every single one of them has been injured, from what looks like a broken arm on Les to black eyes and gashes covering the others. You break out of your trance and walk briskly over to the boy closest to you- Les. 

He looks up at you through eyes clouded in pain. You speak to him slowly, trying to assuage his worries. “Hello, Les. I’m Y/N, Katherine’s friend. I’m going to fix your arm, alright?” Les nods, and you quickly apply ice and a sling, fixing the break and also bandaging up a few other cuts decorating the boy’s arm. Luckily, the break wasn’t that bad- just a minor fracture.

When you’ve finished with Les, you turn to the next newsboy, and then the next. You slowly make your way around the deli, helping fix up every boy who needs it. Some weren’t injured as badly, and others help bandage cuts after watching you. There’s one boy you haven’t seen a whole lot of, though, and that’s Race.

You can see the blue-eyed boy out of the corner of your eyes. It’s strange- every time you start to turn his way he quickly heads the other direction. It finally dawns on you- he’s avoiding you. Of course. He doesn’t like you, and probably never did. This is for the best. You force yourself to concentrate on your work, hoping that pouring your soul into bandaging up gashes can will away the breaking of your heart. It doesn’t.

Finally, you think you’re done. You stand up, stretching, and look around the room, checking for anyone who still needs you. You don’t see anyone, and so you start to leave the room, until you feel a hand wrap around your wrist.

You stare at the fingers encircling yours, and then back at the boy in front of you. It’s Race, finally willing to let you notice him. He opens his mouth, and the voice that comes out is cracked and quiet. “You got one last patient, Doc.”

You smile slightly and reach for your bag, pulling out your last bandage. There’s a cut on his arm (not too deep but not exactly a paper cut either), and so you gently clean it before beginning to wrap the bandage around it. You don’t dare to look up at Race, too afraid you’ll make eye contact with him and see the indifference you’re sure is there.

Once you’re done, you take a step back, still not looking him in the eyes. “Well, that’s it. I should probably be going.” “Wait.” Race’s hand gently lifts your chin, forcing you to finally look at him. “You want to tell me why you’se been avoiding me?”

You laugh bitterly. “I’m not the one who’s been avoiding me since I first stepped foot in here. It’s alright, though, I know I’m not exactly your first priority right now.” Race looks confused. “What are you talking about, Y/N?” 

You can’t stay here, can’t keep looking at him, so you force the words out of your throat. “I know you flirt with everyone, and I’m some girl you just met, and you have no reason to want anything to do with me, and that’s fine, and-”

You’re cut off when Race kisses you. “I do like you, Y/N.” You can’t do anything but stand there, stunned. “What?” Race grins. “I like you.” He kisses you again, and this time the newsboys around you take notice, whooping and hollering like they’ve never seen anything like it before. Race laughs against your lips, turning away to swat at the boys nearest him. You just stand there, a smile starting to spread across your face. He likes you. He honestly likes you. 

[galactichen]

midnight || lee know

summary ― minho shows up at your place in the middle of the night, battered and bruised with blood and he refuses to tell you what happened.

notes ― nonidol!au, badboy!minho x reader, angst, slight romance? word count ― 1855 words

warnings ― mentions of blood, swearing

The sound of knocking at your front door arouses you from your slumber and you groan sleepily because who the fuck could be at your door at―you glance at the clock―midnight?

Oh, well, there could only be one person.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you drag yourself out of your bedroom and to the front door where the persistent knocking continues. Jesus Christ, you think to yourself. You inhale deeply and count to three before throwing open your door, only to be met by a sight you’re no longer a stranger to.

“Minho?” Your eyes widen at the sight of him all battered and bruised on the other side of the threshold, blood trickling down from his split lip. All he offers is a sheepish smile before grimacing at the searing pain that cuts across his lip. “What happened this time?”

You haven’t even offered him inside yet when he just pushes past you with a quiet, “I don’t want to talk about it.” The same words he says every time he shows up at your place unannounced.

“Minho,” you say softly. You hated it whenever he showed up to your place in the middle of the night looking like he just went through hell and back and refused to tell you anything. You hated seeing him hurt, you hated watching the way his face scrunches up in pain when you try to treat him the best you can because he was always scornful at the thought of seeing someone actually medically trained to treat his wounds. 

You hated the fact that you’d do it over and over again for him.

“I’m tired,” Minho sighs, finally turning around to face you as you shut the door. “I’m tired and I just need a place to crash for the night and I couldn’t think of going anywhere else except back to you.”

The way his eyes droop from exhaustion makes your chest feel heavy. What an idiot, you think to yourself. Or am I the idiot for letting him in all the time?

You shake the thoughts out of your head, walking towards Minho and gently taking his hand in yours to lead him to your bathroom where your first aid kit is waiting like it always has been ever since Minho started showing up to your place unannounced.

Shuffling through your cabinets, you hear Minho groan from behind you as he collapses onto the ground, far too tired to even bother lifting himself onto the counter. Gathering all of your supplies, you sigh heavily as you kneel beside him. You refuse to make eye contact with the boy in front of you as you start dabbing gently at the cuts on his face, delicately cleaning the dried blood off his face before reaching for some bandages.

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispers, his eyes trained on you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. No amount of apologies could erase the twisting of your stomach whenever you saw him like this. No amount of apologies could stop the tears that prick your eyes as you recall the times where you really tried to convince the boy in front of you to stop getting into pointless fights, but god fucking dammit he never fucking listens to you because his ego was too fucking big. No amount of apologies could erase the frantic beating of your heart whenever you tried telling him off for coming to your place all the time to treat his wounds, only for him to lean in close and capture your lips in his, filling your ears with endless whispers of how much he’s thankful for you and how he wouldn’t have made it this far without you because holy shit you really fucking hated the effect he has on you.

He reaches up and grabs your wrist as you finish putting on the last bandage rather harshly, your thumbs pushing down on the gauze with a firmness that signals your frustration. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, and suddenly you’re aware of your close proximity. You can feel his breath on your lips and you only scoff, turning your head away from him when he tries to lean in to kiss you, muttering an excuse that you didn’t want to get the rubbing alcohol on your lips. You gather up your kit and stand up, causing him to release his grip on your wrist as you start packing away your supplies.

“Hey,” Minho says, and suddenly he’s behind you, effectively trapping you against the cabinet and shit, you didn’t want to think about what might happen next when he places his hands gently on your hips and turns you around to face him. His eyebrows furrow slightly and his lips form a small pout as he gazes into your eyes. You don’t think about the cut on his left cheek that’s covered in a hello kitty bandaid because you didn’t have time to restock your regular bandaids so now he’s stuck wearing all these old bandaids from childhood and you don’t think he’s noticed from the way his eyes are zeroed in on you and you only. You don’t think about his lips and how kissable they look, except for the fact that his bottom lip is kind of busted at the moment so you can’t kiss him and you feel that familiar twisting in your stomach again because of it. Fuck, you didn’t want to think about Minho at all, but here he was in front of you. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“What’s wrong?” you finally snap, and Minho steps back in shock because that wasn’t the response he was anticipating at all. No, not from your usual gentle demeanor when he comes to you in the middle of the night. Not from the way you’re always around to take care of him when he doesn’t feel like going over to Chan’s because honestly, he’d rather go to you any day instead of suffering the wrath of Chan and the older boy’s painful methods of treating Minho’s wounds. “You have the audacity to ask me what’s wrong when you’re always coming to me in the middle of the night for me to treat your wounds and you just expect me to comply without wondering what you do every day to get beaten up to shit like this? You expect me not to worry about you all the time, wondering if you’re going to get yourself into a fight you can’t fucking win? Don’t you ever think about your health and well-being, Minho? Do you?”

“I―” He stops when you raise a hand, shaking your head. His heart drops to his stomach.

“I’m tired, Minho.”

He watches helplessly as your face scrunches up and tears start leaking from your eyes one by one and god, he wants nothing more than to just wrap you up in his arms and to kiss your tears away, but he doesn’t do that because he knows he doesn’t deserve to hug you right now since it’s all his fucking fault. He’s the reason why you’re crying and he can’t possibly forgive himself for that.

“I just,” you whisper, hiccuping quietly as you frantically wipe away the tears but they’re just replaced by more tears and you start whimpering softly, unintentionally tugging at Minho’s heartstrings. “I just want you to tell me why.”

“They were talking shit about you,” Minho finally says, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I ran into some old acquaintances from high school on my way back from dance practice and when I told them I was seeing you, they just started laughing and talking crap and… and I couldn’t forgive them for saying the stuff they said.”

He watches as you raise your head slowly, looking at him through your lashes and your tears. He wrings his hands nervously, eyes flickering back and forth between you and his feet because he’s suddenly afraid that he fucked up big time and he’s about to lose you forever right at this moment.

“You idiot,” you rasp, and Minho’s heart shatters. Then you’re throwing your arms around him and he feels his heart piece itself back together piece by piece. His chest warms and god, he loved the way you felt in his arms. “Why can’t you be normal and just tell them off and walk away? You didn’t have to beat them up for me.”

“You know me,” he says sheepishly. “I have to break their noses first.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you.”

“No,” you hiss, pulling back with your hands on his shoulders. “You don’t.”

Minho grins. “I love you,” he says again. “I’d kiss you right now but―” he gestures to his lips “―I can’t right now.”

But when you don’t smile, Minho’s grin is wiped off his face and is immediately replaced with worry. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say when you’re experiencing a literal rollercoaster of emotions.

“What are we, Minho?”

“What?”

“I said, what are we?” you repeat. You finally meet his gaze and he can sense the uncertainty in your voice, in your eyes, in the way you look at him. “You only ever come to me past midnight, yet you say you love me. I never see you during the day, yet you say I’m the only person that matters to you. Tell me the truth, Minho,” you say. “What am I to you?”

Minho’s heart clenches, and in that moment he realizes how much of a dick he’s been. It’s true that he’s only ever come to you when he needed you. It’s true that he’s never taken the time out of his day to see you. But it’s also true that you’ve never failed to sweep him off his feet whenever he came. He loved the way your tongue sticks out a little when you focus on treating his wounds. He loved the way you were always around to help him and the way you never failed to lift his spirits. He loved your laugh, your smile, god, just―everything about you. He’d literally fight every single person on Earth if it meant he could experience more moments like those.

Then it’s at that moment when Minho realizes that he doesn’t have to fight every single human being on the face of the earth to spend time with you.

So, Minho takes a deep breath.

“I want you,” he whispers, leaning forward so your foreheads are touching, “to be mine.”

You blink at him, seemingly taking in and repeating his words in your head, before replying with a small smile. “On one condition.”

He raises an eyebrow. He’s a little surprised you didn’t straight up reject him, but hey, he’ll take this over rejection any day.

“You need to stop getting yourself into fights. I hate seeing you hurt like this all the time,” you say, reaching up to cup his cheeks between your hands, causing his eyelids to flutter shut. “Promise me you’ll stop getting yourself hurt all the time, Minho.”

“I promise,” Minho murmurs without hesitation. 

Anything for you.

[giant-sketches]

The Guardian Naga Chpt. 1

Soooooooo...here’s the first chapter for the next Sander Sides au I’m working on. This is more of a set up chapter so no gt stuff until the next one and this will be more of a story compared to my Mass Emotions narrative. I haven’t written in years nor have I ever done a fanfic so please be kind. I hope you enjoy it as it progresses! :D

   Once upon a time in a far off land there were two princes. The crown prince was born five minutes earlier and grew into a rough and naughty child. He treated the castle and the people as his play things. Every day he would cause multiple incidences from food fights in the dining room, dying the queen's gowns multi-color, spitting in the servants meals, and knocking down merchant’s stalls in the square with his favorite spiked mace. The young man was thus referred to as Prince Rotten Remus by the people.   On the other hand, the second prince was charismatic and well mannered. Most of his days were spent helping with the clean up after Remus’s antics, practicing his swordsmanship with the guards, studying in the library, and sneaking out to the hills to relax and sing. Sure, he too found himself in quite a bit of trouble in his youth, but none of what he did could come paired with Remus. This beloved second prince was lovingly nicknamed Prince Roman the Songbird.   As time carried on they reached the age of sixteen. There was only two more years to go until Remus would succeed the throne, but he grew impatient. One night Remus hatched a plan to perform a coup for the crown, but was quickly discovered before he was able to slam his mace into the king's skull. He was promptly stripped of his title and exiled from the kingdom.

“I don’t understand! Why would you do something so foolish when you were the crown prince? I mean, I-I knew you were a violent person but to try to kill your own father.” 

Roman stuttered as he spoke. Before he could never see his brother again he wanted to know what led him to such a malicious plot.

Remus gave a toothy grin and cocked his head to the side as he answered. “I wasn’t about who had the crown I simply just wanted it now is all. I’m only disappointed I didn’t get to enjoy the candy inside that pinata.”

Stunned by his callous response and he remained silent as Remus was escorted outside the castle and marched to the gates. It was truly at that moment that Roman realized his brother simply deranged from the start.   Promptly, Roman was named the new crowned prince to the approval of the people who rejoiced vigorously with their cheers and cries. Not a word of Remus came across their lips as Roman ascended the throne at eighteen and continued to rule for the next twelve years. Now thirty years old Roman ruled gallantly as the saving grace for the people who would still be suffering at his brother’s hands. His childhood friends Patton and Logan assisted him as his personal butler and captain of the guard. Together they helped to protect and grow the kingdom into a place of happiness and wonder. Yet, all good things must come to an end.   A mysterious letter signed with the initials R.R. on the cover was delivered one morning. At first Roman was hesitant to open it, but he swallowed back his fears and ripped it open hastily. Inside the letter read:

‘Hello dear baby brother! It’s been such a long time since we’ve last spoken. Being on the other side of the continent has been a lot of fun though. I even made some friends that just love to hear about my old homeland. Still, I’m getting pretty homesick; thus, I plan on coming back in three months and my friends are coming with me. No need to worry about the party favors though. We’ve got an army tagging along for the ride and they’ve got the best firecrackers and party cannons around! Be seeing you soon, with love Remus.’

The letter slid from Roman’s grip as he felt his consciousness fading. Patton reacted quickly as he placed his hand on the back of Roman’s head to act as a cushion.

“Your Majesty are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but at the same time I’m not. This letter is from my brother.”

“From Remus? What in the world does he want all of a sudden.”

“No, it’s not about what he wants. He’s bringing an army. It’s war!”

“WAR?!” Indeed, Remus was looking to start a war. It was unclear if this was an attempt at getting revenge or if he simply thought it was a fun idea though. Either way this was bad, really bad!

“Patton, call for Logan immediately. We need to hold a meeting this instance!”

“Understood Your Majesty!” Patton quickly left and hurried himself to locate Logan.

“This is a disaster.” mumbled Roman has he clapped his hands to his face in distress.

  Shortly after the three of them, along with other council members met up in the hall to discuss their war plan. From topics of recruitment, supplies, training, geography, strategy, etc. The talking went on for hours. Unfortunately, one thing was perfectly clear to Roman and that was the fact that because of the sustained peace the kingdom was grossly unprepared for war. It wasn’t that they weren’t capable, but they didn’t know how big the army was going to be or even the name of the kingdom that was coming to invade in three months. It would take time to send out scouts that far and even longer to retrieve their gathered intel. Roman was at a loss on what to do to guarantee victory.

  That night he snuck out to the hills to think. He simply didn’t want his people to experience war or suffer from it. There had to be some other way.

“I knew I’d find you here!” Suddenly a familiar voice called out from behind.

“Patton! You scared me for a second there.”

“My bad. Did you come out here to think?”

“I did, but it’s been of no help. I just don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to have a plan as the King, but right now I feel so useless.”

“Now, there's no need to be so down on yourself Roman. You are an amazing King! We’ll get through this together.”

Patton sat down next to Roman on the hillside and placed his hand on Roman’s shoulder to comfort him. A soft breeze blew past them and a faint memory of a long forgotten tale popped inside Roman’s mind.

“The Naga.”

“Excuse me?”

“The tale of the Naga that lives in the Eastern caves! It’s said if you can tame the best that dwells inside it’s grand power will be yours!”

“Roman, that’s just a fairy-tale. There’s no way something like a Naga could really exist and no one knows about it.”

“I’m willing to believe and try anything! I’ll go into the caves tomorrow and look for it.”

“Roman, that’s way too dangerous. At least take Lo-”

“Please don’t tell Logan. He’ll either lock me in my room or bring a small army with him to guard me. I need to do this by myself.”

Patton shot Roman an expression of uncertainty, but lost completely in the face of those puppy dog eyes. He sighed and nodded his head in response.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything rash. At the first sight of danger you run, got it?”

“I promise!”    

   With that the two of them returned to the castle undetected. The next morning Roman prepared himself to leave for the Eastern caves after dinner. He packed a lantern, snacks, a first aid kit, an extra pair of clothes, and climbing tools. He knew following along with such a fairy-tale may lead to a dead end, but he had to try. Unfortunately, he had not remembered the full story of the Naga and how those that search for it with a deceitful heart will be eaten as a sacrifice.

End Chapter 1

[demauryss]

sail the wildest stretch; 1/6

Summary: Lucas is in a mess. His roommate is his ex-crush. He gets years worth of hairfall if he thinks a minute too long about his philosophy class. His penis-drawing talents are just out of the ordinary. And the cupid assigned to his case is a hair breadth short of committing his murder.

But it’s okay. As long as he has to worry about Eliott Demaury getting to murder him first.

or, cupid8776 has a lucas problem. lucas has an eliott problem. and they are not as unconnected as one might think they are.

enemies to lovers/matchmaking au.

ao3

chapter one: april thunders may blunders 

(next)

Dear Lucallecoeur456,

I’m extremely disheartened to announce that your request filed under letter no 654lgb has been denied. According to my records, it is your tenth letter in the past five months which is getting rejected. Personally, I feel saddened as you’re the only person assigned to me who’s over eighteen and still hasn’t found a match. I’d be able to help you better if you consider the following points while writing to cupidint.com next time:

While forming the letter, please consider typing in a computer before you write it down by hand. Or just consider inscribing neatly. You’re the reason our Server turns into a whimpering mess when it transcribes Coup de Foudre - assuming it’s what you write because frankly, your handwriting is garbage – as Coup de Foutre.

Please refrain from using acronyms in your letter. Writing ‘brb’ every time you deviate from a thought does not make you look good. Especially when the abbreviated form has the same number of syllables as the original word. Even better, just totally refrain from straying from an original thought only to come back to it after five pages. Makes me feel like I’m walking through a maze as I’m reading your letter.

While we’re on the topic of refraining, also stop drawing pictures of dogs when you’re asked for what you’re looking for in a partner. I know they are cute, but they can really not be an ideal partner for you.

Consider saving your satirical remarks for the real life. Our Server isn’t smart enough to detect sarcasm and thinks you are being serious when you describe a trash can in the space specified for explaining your qualities.

If you would ponder over these suggestions then I believe I’ll be able to find you a match and it’ll make both mine and your life a lot easier.

Yours truly,

Cupid8776

(They/Them)

*

The day Yann gets his letter, it’s everywhere on the news. local loner boy, Lucas reads somewhere, having qualities worse than the loner boy from gossip girl has a match. There’s a post circulating on twitter which goes friendly neighbourhood pretty man is officially off the market. And another after reading which makes Lucas wants to wash his eyeballs with hydrochloric acid: hot, tall, model-like being ready to dick down some pink canoes. it’s a trip you’ll never forget!!!

It doesn’t help that Lucas suspects Basile’s fan-account for Timothee Chalamet to be behind half of these posts. Especially the last one. And it also doesn’t help that Yann’s latest letter is currently getting glued to the roof of their bunk bed, right where Lucas would sure be made to stare at it for the rest of his puny life in the lower bunk.

“You’re a fucking prick,” Lucas grits out as he smothers the liquid and ugly look to the back of Yann’s letter. His hands are slimy, and Yann’s fucking face is smiling at him from the small chair he’s perched on. “You don’t even have the fucking decency to do it yourself. Can’t believe I ever thought that I like you. Fucking unbelievable.”

Yann tuts, low and too sure of himself. His face is glowing. His eyes are crinkled. And he desperately needs a punch in one or both of these areas, “You’re being dramatic, you know that?” Yann gets up from the chair, a marker in his hands. If it were up to Lucas he would have used that same object to ruin Yann’s pretty pastel pink blanket. The asshole deserves that and even more. Muttering some more curses, Lucas goes back to the task at hand – pasting the paper in smooth cursive writing courtesy of Cupid5644 on the roof of his bunk bed. Yann looks towards him in the middle of drawing a tally across the four small lines marked on the cupboard above the handle. His face is glowing. He desperately needs a punch or kick to dull that fucking shine. “Besides you signed this up for yourself. So shut the fuck up.”

Lucas groans, resting his head against his pillow, the letter he just pasted staring down at him in all its glory. “This whole thing is ridiculous Yann,” Lucas starts, hands crossed on his chest, “I still believe it’s a world-government scam meant to lure people in for their assassination later. Like, can you believe even Sully from 231-9 has a match. There’s no way you can expect me to believe the System is genuine.”

Lucas looks over to Yann who’s now leaning against the cupboard, scrutinizing Lucas from afar, “Are you sure your reason for not trusting them has got to do with that and not with the fact that in the past three months, each one of your request has been rejected with no guarantee of you ever finding a match?”

“Fuck you, Yann,” Lucas scoffs, turning his back to Yann, his front to the wall. Let Yann believe whatever he wants. It doesn’t affect Lucas, nor does it have any ring of truth to it. Fucking douchebag. Let his match turn out to be some astrology-loving, Harry-Styles-listening, ravenclaw-ass-fanatic. She’ll leave Yann’s Scorpio ass in seconds.

He hears Yann’s footsteps before Lucas feels him crouching behind him, Yann’s finger poking the back of Lucas’s shoulders, “Hey now,” he sounds apologetic, Lucas will give him that, “Life isn’t all about that jazz; your match or partner or whatever. Don’t worry about it. At least you haven’t fallen for their scam yet.”

Lucas laughs as he turns to Yann. His face is glowing. Lucas has changed his mind. The former Yann might deserve a slap in the face with a brick but this Yann deserves all the Kit-Kats Lucas has stashed under his bed. Cupid8776 will have a field day if they found Lucas’s current train of thoughts. Shocking, Lucas can imagine the magnitude of their gasp, Lucallecoeur456 does have a heart after all. Who would have thought.

 Lucas smiles at Yann as he extends his arm for him to take. “C’mon now. Basile will have both of our heads on a plate if we waste another second.” He gets up, stepping into his shoes as Yann walks out of their dorm. Something crunches under his foot – Lucas’s blunder; his newest message from Cupid8776. He had thought maybe Letter No 654lgb – lonely gay boy, for clarification – would finally tire them out. But apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Yann had laughed for ten minutes straight when he had read the letter. “Your cupid is going to commit mass murder one of these days. And I think you’re going to be the first.” Lucas had shook his head at Yann’s analogy; he isn’t that horrible. He sighs as he bunches the paper into a ball and bullseye’s it into the trash can – the one he’d described in his letter. Cupid8776 has a big storm coming next.

*

So here’s the thing in quite simple terms.

The world’s currently under the secret matching agency Cupid International. Before that it used to be SoulsBound, with the tagline where we find your soulmate for you. But then the name changed to Cupid Int. after getting involved in one too many scandals which Lucas remembers vividly; bold headlines on the front page of several newspapers: Soulmate leaves Soulmate for another, better Soulmate #SoulsBoundFails. And Soulmate doesn’t buy eco-friendly products. Puts the planet at risk #FixItSouls. And another, much dangerous and serious than the rest, which still gives Lucas nightmares to this day: Gryffindor finds out Soulmate is a Slytherin. Says even pet stones can tell they’re not compatible #FuckSoulsBound.

These outrages demanded an instant name change, so SoulsBound transformed to Cupid International; with a union of specially trained cupids from all over the world designated to find your potential match anywhere on the planet after you turn eighteen. The changes were justified and a long time coming, Lucas would say, as for him the term soulmate warranted a much deeper, not an ephemeral meaning; which couldn’t be forsaken for anything. But the soulmate that they suggested were anything but that.

And that’s what brings Lucas to the now: the thought that why people hassle so much for getting their letters to Cupid International as soon as they turn eighteen. Why instead of trying the conventional dating method - which has been getting much recognition as of late - they relied on some unknown person’s (or spirit? Who even were Cupids?) judging of whom they’d be compatible with. But then he guesses it has something to do with the fact that the conventional method is for people the Agency has dubbed hopeless – whose matches they still couldn’t find after years of research and rejection. Lucas is halfway turning into one of the people what with his letters of rejection piling up in the trash can.

But that’s not it. The Agency has more success than its scandals, which puts Lucas off. His grandparents met through the former SoulsBound. His neighbors that have been married for over forty years when he started university met through that. Yann’s parents met through that. Everyone he knows has some kind of emotional success story regarding SoulsBound/Cupid Int,.

And then his father had gone against the system and met his mother through the conventional dating method. Look where it had brought them now.

And here’s a thing in even simpler terms.

 Lucas hates Cupid International with a passion which burns his sternum and makes his stomach coil in disgust. And it has nothing to do with the way he has told Yann how he thinks the whole System is a government scam. But it has everything to do with the way how Cupid8776 has denied all forty of Lucas’s letters sent in the past nine months of him being eighteen. It makes his heart boil in his blood when he thinks about how he’s turning nineteen in three months and he still has no fucking chance of ever being matched with someone. Which sucks because out of all the remaining 6,999,999,999 people in the world, there still isn’t someone with same interests as him.

Which is cool. Fine even. Lucas isn’t petty about it. And definitely an ass. No. He’s anything but an ass about it. Because you see. He keeps in contact with Cupid8776 when he’s not writing to them on the specified days of the week. He asks them about their health, their lives. If they have someone special in their life. If they took their dog to a walk. If they’re remembering to stay hydrated.

He makes sure to send in an email every week, even if all he gets in reply is a monotonous Dear Lucallecoeur456, I’d appreciate if you would stop sending me non-work related messages. This email is reserved for work queries only. I’d also appreciate if you would use the time you took in composing this message on your request letter as I’m sure it would be more useful than this. Yours truly, Cupid8776 (They/Them) every single time.

So that’s what he does every time, much to the cupid’s dismay. He spends more time drafting his grocery list than the letter. Spends more effort in drawing stick figures of his enemy than correcting mistakes in the letter. Takes more interest in Cupid8776’s private affairs than his own. And still complain every fucking time why he hasn’t found a match yet.

But like he said, it’s fine. He’s fine.

*

The first damper on Lucas’s already damped mood comes a little after one. When a pretty fucking important experiment is turned in incomplete. The second comes in the shape of a person. And it’s much significant than the other.

Lucas has just crawled out of a brutal microbiology lab, his clothes tattered, voice bruised from screaming at his group members who don’t even know how to work around a fucking microscope. One would disrupt the lens and the other would somehow mess with the resolution. And then Lucas would curse his life and begin the whole fucking experiment just for the thrill of it, really.

So it goes without saying that after seven unholy tries on the experiment, it had been left incomplete as they ran out of time. Unfinished experiments aside, Lucas was fucking exhausted. He could feel the tired in every cell of his body as he walked from the class to the cafe in the campus where he’d agreed to meet the boys. Now not only was he about to drop down any second, he was also fourteen minutes late.

“You’re so early, Lu,” Arthur drawls out, dull, “Couldn’t have come even earlier if tried.”

Lucas shakes his head and plops down loudly on the bar stool in between Arthur and Yann. He dumps all of his stuff on the ground, wincing as the muscles in his neck scream in protest. “I’m sorry,” Lucas sighs, reaching over Arthur to hit Basile on the back of his head who appears to be sleeping with his head resting on the curve formed by his arms which are folded on the counter. He jolts up, eyes wide, as he looks around the café with hand rubbing where Lucas hit him.  “This fucker left me on my own in the lab. It was a nightmare, honestly.”

Arthur smiles his head as Basile pouts, “What was I to do, man? Daphne asked for my help, I couldn’t say no to her!”

Lucas shakes his head, looking over to Yann as he nudges his shoulder. Yann motions towards Basile, “But you don’t have a match, right? Where does Daphne come from in all of this?”

A proud smile takes over Basile’s features. Lucas finds it funny how the words Daphne and match in the same sentence makes the sadness and the sleep to literally dissipate from his face. “I know that, Yann. But to answer your second question, I sent an email to the cupid and he reassured me that I’d find a match in the next attempt so.” Basile shrugs like it’s no biggie, when to Lucas, in definitely is. “I’m hoping it is Daphne.”

“Here’s to fucking hoping,” Lucas’s attempt at muttering is intercepted by Yann, who looks at him weirdly. As if in a question. Lucas shrugs, no biggie. He also finds it funny how Basile’s cupid is replying to his emails reassuring him about the whole fucking ordeal, while Lucas’s cupid can’t be bothered for anything. Lucas gets this: Cupid8776 definitely has something against him.

They place their orders for their beverages: coffee for all of them except Lucas. He goes with cardamom tea. It’s when the café’s beginning to fill up with people getting freed from classes that Arthur speaks up. “But like, you haven’t met the person before right? What if they have the emotional range of a lentil?”

Out of the four of them, Arthur was the one who cared the least for the System, even less than Lucas did. He hasn’t sent a single request to Cupid International, saying he isn’t the one for dating or love. And Lucas respects all his choices. He looks up, affirmation on his tongue. But then his eyes fall over Arthur’s shoulder, in between the barricade of tired students blocking the door. And he thinks, he thinks – holy motherfu-

“Speaking of lentils,” He takes a sip of his tea, meeting the boys�� confused stares, “Here comes one, heads-up.”

And it’s just that – how Lucas spots him and a murky grey takes over his surroundings. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Something weird settles in his stomach as his friends look over to the ill lentil as a smile blooms across his ugly face. Fucking traitors.

“Eliott!” One of them shouts. It’s probably Basile. It’s definitely Basile with the way he’s waving his hands in the air. Lucas would have probably knocked them off of the face of the earth had it not been for Yann seizing him by placing both of his hands over Lucas’s shoulder. Lucas inhales deeply as Eliott walks over to their little settlement of barstools and idiots, a bounce in his step as he plays with the strap of the bag over his shoulder. Lucas looks anywhere but at him as he comes to stand next to Basile as he yells excitedly, “Good to see you here.”

“You too.”

Lucas just about murders Basile with nothing but his mind as Eliott’s shirt comes into his line of vision. And as Lucas looks up - goes against the well-being of his eyes - his eyes take a quick sweep of Eliott’s tall figure. Nothing out of the ordinary. He’s currently smiling warmly at Basile, then at Arthur. It’s when that his eyes fall on Lucas that the previous warmth in them is sucked out of them, like a vacuum, and they harden like stones as Eliott looks at him. And Lucas thinks he’s probably remembering the latest stick figure drawn on a piece of paper which Lucas had hit him with earlier as he was bent over an old, tattered book in the library.

“Have a seat, mate.” It’s Arthur. Double fucking traitor. Lucas should consider getting new friends. (But then, he thinks quite sadly, who would ever befriend him if not for these completely insufferable idiots?)

Lucas watches, stomach in knots and million things on his tongue, as Eliott’s face softens as he turns to Arthur. He smiles, “I have a class soon so I should get going.”

Basile murmurs something about it being a bummer. Arthur tells him that they’ll see him around. Lucas doesn’t know a bummer or what that is but he knows the look Eliott gives Lucas over his shoulder as he leaves – he knows the menace which is coiled in the white of his eyes, the absolute anger and disgust  he’s reserved for Lucas comes pooling out in that instant, and Lucas almost washes away with it. Fucking pretentious asshole.

Lucas swallows his heart beating in his throat as Eliott disappears from his sight. Un-clenches his hands which have formed a fist without his knowledge. He turns on his stool, passes Yann a smile who’s been weirdly quiet during that encounter, watches as Basile’s contemplative face comes into his line of vision. And curses whoever put him in this situation: A Thinking Basile is not a Good Basile.

“Do you know apparently Eliott still hasn’t found a match either? Which is odd, since the guy’s a deity. I mean, just freaking look at him!”

Arthur side-eyes Lucas as he nods his head in agreement. Lucas should seriously consider getting new friends. The ones he currently have differ largely from on certain matters. And it fucking sucks that they know it too. “Yeah,” Arthur is saying, “he’s pretty. And nice too.”

‘Nice’ my fucking ass. Lucas shakes his head, finishes his cold tea in a second, and picks up his bag which he dumped to the floor. It is common knowledge that Eliott Demaury is good-looking. He’s the person everyone in their uni flocks up to. He’s also pretty fucking amazing at everything he does. Which only irks Lucas more. He gets up, adding onto Basile and Arthur’s conversation with a silent Yann in tow.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” he speaks to no one in particular, not really expecting the three people to stop their oh-so-important conversation about Eliott Demaury to pay him any attention. Shaking his head, he runs through a crowd, past a sulking worker, stressed students and mahogany colored back door to an alley o sheltered light and soft breeze.

Lucas breathes in deeply. His bag makes a sound as it plops to the ground. Closing his eyes, he focuses on calming his heart down which is beating so erratically Lucas has trouble keeping his mind on one place. If he could just wrap his hands around that fucker’s ne-

“Fancy seeing you here,” Oh fucking hell. Lucas fires off every curse he could think of in his heart. There is an off feeling in his stomach as he opens his eyes to Eliott’s hooded figure sitting off to his right, a cigarette placed between his lips. Lucas has to look down to place the full expression on his face, and it thrills him a little. (The act of looking down at him, for once. Not the clever smile which is placed on his face.

“Well, how’s your day doing?”

“Oh, it’s you.” Lucas shrugs his shoulders like it isn’t taking a great deal out of him to plaster the absolute fake smile on his face. “I was wondering why suddenly all the clouds turned grey.”

Even though he’s standing five to six feet away, Lucas doesn’t miss the brie fall of Eliott’s smile. But it’s coming into place faster than Lucas has the chance to feel good about the whole ordeal. He watches, against his will, as Eliott takes a long drag of his cigarette, the end of the stick burns brighter in glowing red embers before he blows white puffs of smoke in the air. He’s just so –

Lucas bites down on his lip to prevent the stupid thoughts from slipping out. Eliott watches him with (feigned) interest.

“Ahh there he is,” Eliott straightens his back. Even though he’s sitting on the steps to the side and Lucas is standing, it still – somehow – feels as if Eliott’s looking down on him. “I was wondering where the meanie in you has wandered off to.”

He didn’t just call Lucas a meanie. What the fuck.

Lucas heaves in a sigh. Wills his heart to stop hammering. “You wouldn’t know a thing or two about that, now. Would you?”

Lucas notices the little shake of his head, the light which falls over his face making it look like it’s dropped the sneer which has now become a part of his features whenever he’s around Lucas. And Lucas should revel in the thought of getting Eliott to show his real colours, but it grates on him regardless.

Eliott rubs his thighs over his jeans. Lucas traces the motion with narrowed eyes. And when he speaks, it’s to a completely different wave.

“You know, when someone asks about your day, you reply and then ask the question back. It’s called having a conversation, you know?”

Lucas bites the inside of his cheek, words already spilling out before he has a chance to assess them, “And what part of me actually looks like I would want to have any conversation with you?” Just. Who does he think he is? Pretending to be nice and all that. It doesn’t mean Lucas would forget when yesterday he doused Lucas’s workplace in some sticky as hell material which ruined not only his assignments which he spread on the table but left a permanent damper on his mood.

There’s a tilt to Eliott’s lips, his eyes bright and every bit gauging Lucas with the way they’re trained on him. The structure in his chest gives a painful squeeze.

Lucas doesn’t like it. At all.

“I should have known,” Eliott says with an air of nonchalance that has Lucas’s insides firing up in anger and – “You’re not one to have a conversation with.”

“Glad to have that sorted, then.” Lucas decides for the same tone Eliott chose earlier. He turns on his heels. And with Eliott’s eyes digging holes in his back, he returns through the same door he came out of earlier.

*

So here’s another thing in the simplest of terms. Lucas isn’t fond of many things in his life. He hates the System, his philosophy professor, Sully from 231-9. But what he hates even more than all of these things is the fucking lentil Eliott Dick Demaury.

*

There’s a dull buzzing seeping into his bones as Lucas walks towards consciousness. His limbs are still heavy with sleep, his eyes glued shut as he pats around his pillow for the vibrating device around him. He picks the phone up around a yawn, voice groggy as if he hadn’t used it in years.

Well, he hasn’t used it in hours. So. There’s that.

“Hello?” He croaks out, snuggling his face into the pillow under his head.

“Lucas Lallemant! Why are you still sleeping?”

The voice, filtered through the static, still compels Lucas to bolt upright in the bed, eyes now opened wide as he rubs away the sleep with his hand. “Mama!” He wills his voice to sound as if a trail of drool hadn’t had been drying at the side of his mouth. “You’re still up!”

His mama chuckles a little, as Lucas is left to smile sheepishly. Her voice comes clear now, “I would have called you at crack of dawn and you would still have said the same thing. Besides, don’t you have to go to your shift in half an hour?”

Lucas frowns, and then gets out of the bed. He finds Yann gone, his bed properly made. That’s why Lucas was able to sleep that much, considering Yann has reserved a distinct hatred for Lucas’s sleep.

His limbs are heavy as he changes out of the moth-ridden (not exactly, but its appearance justifies the statement) shirt he slipped into before his nap. “How have you been, Mama?”

“Great,” his mother speaks on the other line. There’s a brightness to her voice which lessens as well as increases the cut of homesickness lodged inside the muscle of his heart. Lucas doesn’t let himself dwell on the sudden sadness which grips him. Instead he focuses on the smile he can hear in his mother’s flowery tone, “I’ve been spending a lot of time in the garden these days. You know the plants Willow got me? They flowered yesterday and they’re so beautiful Lucas!”

Lucas smiles as he picks up his bag lying by the door.

She hums on the other line. “And Dr. Noelle changed my medication. We’ve switched to lighter pills instead of those heavier ones that always made me drowsy and loopy. She said I’m doing better so no need for the heavy dosage.”

There’s something like relief travelling with the air he inhales right to his heart. The sun is bright as Lucas makes his way outside. “That’s good, Mama.”

His mother launches into details about stuff about her new medication like the schedule and the amount of pills she’s required to take each time. Lucas walks out of the campus, listening intently to his mother’s retelling of the shenanigans happening in the various clubs she has joined now that she doesn’t feel so drained anymore. Lucas tells her about his classes and life in return.

 “Oh, yesterday in the cooking club, Nadine switched Hira’s container of salt with baking powder. It was quite fun to watch them two bickering afterwards. And there’s a betting pool going around the club about how much time they’re going to take before they get together.”

Lucas shakes his head, a smile pulling up on his face as he crosses the road, “Mama, you should help them sort out their differences instead of enjoying their fights!”

Lucas can hear her shaking her head. She continues, “We should, but it won’t be fun anymore. Besides, I do like some slow burn if I say so myself.”

“You’re spending too much time on the internet,” Lucas muses, “Next thing I know you’ll tell me that you’re reading fanfictions.”

His statement is met with silence. Suspicious silence. He has a minute to be terrified at the prospect before he’s breaking out in laughter, “What the fuck, Mama!”

“Language, Lucas!” She chides, but there’s a smile in her voice which grips Lucas’s heart. Even though he’s kind of wary about the stuff she must find on the web, Lucas knows she can fend for herself.

“Anyways,” she steers the conversation to another direction. Lucas goes with it. “You’re coming on Saturday, right?”

Lucas nods, “Yeah Mama. I’ll try to make it on Friday if the boys haven’t got something planned already.”

The store comes into view, so Lucas says his goodbye into the phone. “I need to go, Mama,” Lucas swallows down the bile which rises in his throat. He misses her so damn much. “I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.” The lines drops, and Lucas is let to chase away the sudden sadness he feels. For a minute, he stands there outside the store, his heart beating with a pang of homesickness. But then he forces air into his lungs, clears his mind, and goes inside the store.

The store is blissfully silent when Lucas enters through the door. There’s a faint smell of lavender still left from the candle Mika must have burnt earlier. Lucas drops his bag behind the counter before he picks up the various records and CD’s piled on the counter and places them in their racks. He starts making his way to the store room for the stuff which was shipped earlier. Might as well get a head-start if he’s early.

The store’s owned by Mika’s aunt, and Lucas works part-time here. It’s a vintage record store; the business is okay. He had earned a full scholarship in the university, but needed a job for the basic necessities in his life. Mika offered a job – and the wage was enough to pay off his expenditures. It is okay, better even. Except – except for the –

Lucas ends up walking face first into a rock-hard chest. His nose gets squished against a set of solid pectoral muscles, the cartilage singing with pain. There are hands grabbing his forearms; stale cigarettes and citrusy bubblegum taking up a better half of his brain. If it hadn’t been for the way the systems operating his reflexes have trained him to be repelled away as soon as the scent hits his nostrils, Lucas is a hundred percent sure he would have delivered a leg straight into the dick in front of him.

“Hey,” there’s an iciness which Lucas feels even though he’s overtaken by the pain in his nose. Lucas looks up, up; and here he is – the dick in all its ugly glory. Lucas tries not to fall on the spot.

“Lucas Lallemant is early? Am I dying or is it really happening?” Eliott cocks his head to one side, lips tilted up a fraction. Lucas smiles back sarcastically. What if he is late to almost everything in his life? That’s none of Eliott’s fucking business. Forcing the very delicious image of Eliott choking to death in his sleep to a dark corner of his brain, straightens his shoulders to stare at Eliott square in the eyes. He’s sad and he’s tired. So he doesn’t have any energy to deal with Eliott today, “Please crawl to whatever grimy hole you’ve crawled out of this time, Demaury.”

Footsteps follow his as he spots up the cardboard box holding the new records in the store room. Mika told him to stack them once he gets the time. He’s picking it up when the slime-covered asshat opens his mouth, “What are you doing?”

Lucas sighs, “Operating a spacecraft.” He moves towards the box, hearing Eliott’s footsteps falter behind him. “What does it look like?” Lucas picks up the box, but Eliott isn’t up to giving it a rest.

“Actually, leave it there. You’re on dusting duty today.”

The fuckin- “What?” Lucas turns on his feet. His stomach is doing weird somersaults. He crosses his arms across his chest and looks at Eliott, whose eyes are narrowed as if he’s examining Lucas. It’s like he’s plotting Lucas’s murder. And Lucas – he has a flashing thought. That would be the highlight of Eliott’s life, no?

He shakes himself into the present. And then gets the words out with great distaste. “Mika told me to stack them so.” He turns around once again, moving towards the box, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Lucas shakes it off quickly.

Eliott stands off to one side, his face in its perpetual state of frown around Lucas. “Mika left me in charge,” he says, leaning his wait on the door as he looks down at Lucas. He won’t be intimated. No.

Eliott’s eyes flick to the box Lucas has picked up as he turns around, heart and head set in determination despite the initial bout of anxiety and something else which still sings inside him somewhere. Eliott almost has a foot of height in Lucas, and if that isn’t enough to make Lucas flee to the mountains, there are parallel lines drawn on the skin his forehead. His eyes are green, the one which reminds Lucas of moss gathered on stones settled to the ocean bed. Solid. Firm. Steady. Lucas wants to reach out and slap that look off of his face.  Preferably with a chair. He raises an eyebrow; a challenge.

Something like light flashes on Eliott’s face, giving Lucas a look into an annoyed feature before turning neutral again. Like the plants viewed from the askew perception of water floating above the surface, Eliott’s eyes turn infinitesimally greener. “You’ll dust off all the records in the A to M section. Or if you’d rather I tell Mika about the time you scratched one of his Stevie Wonders vinyl, I’m down with that too.”

There’s no wonder in the way the box previously in Lucas’s hands retains its original place. No. Definitely not him getting intimated by that giant goo of citrusy smelly being with his head too far up his head. Eliott’s face transforms into one of his ugly smirks; the one which is belittling and totally hateful towards Lucas. Lucas just about launches his self upon him.

“If we’ve figured that out,” Eliott straightens his body, his eyes have that weird sparkle that they always gain whenever they see Lucas miserable, which is just about every fuckin time Lucas comes in contact with Eliott. “I also would like if you could hurry up. We don’t have all day today.”

Lucas bunches his hands in fists to his sides as Eliott walks out, all pretentious and glad as he is to have the final word. He blesses Lucas with one final boastful look over his shoulder, the green now as bright as day.

 It’s no biggie, Lucas thinks. He can easily refuse. There must be atleast a thousand records in the A to M section. Well, not a thousand but you get the gist. And Céline has been in Léon for the past week to attend her brother’s wedding. Which means the records wouldn’t have been dusted for years. Not only would Lucas have a stellar day cleaning them, but his terrible allergy would cause him immense pain. But the scratched vinyl and Mika’s wrath after knowing about it would cause him a direct ticket to his grave.

So with heavy steps and an equally heavy heart, Lucas stomps over to the racks holding the worn out records covered with dust. There’s something tingling in stomach. He swallows down the feeling, and pushes Eliott out of his mind. That fucking asshole. No wonder he hasn’t got a match.

He goes towards to the record player he persuaded Mika to get for the store. Eliott had brewed a shit storm when Mika had agreed. His ‘Music would be distracting’ was countered by Lucas’s ‘What kind of a music store would it be if it had no music playing?’ and in the end, Lucas had watched a brooding Eliott triumphantly as Mika brought in his uncle’s record player the next day. And so it beings him a great deal of joy as he places in a record in the player that Mika has given his permission to be played in the store.

The records in front of him glisten with the reason Lucas would be walking out of the store with his eyes on fire and respiratory track on a lock down. Elton John croons in the background as he takes out the sticky notes from his pocket (they come in handy when the situation is like this, okay?), tears off a note. Eliott doesn’t, thankfully, surprisingly, bother him once as he gets to work.

*

It’s to a violet and pink merging together that Lucas looks up to when he makes his way out of the store. Even though his eyes are stinging, and his throat feels like the surface of a cemented wall; all rough and scratchy with cheeks stained with the water his eyes won’t stop producing, Lucas still looks up as a bird takes flight into the setting sun, a silhouette of the fucking time and energy Lucas lost removing years’ worth of dust off of records and cursing the asshole parading the halls with a stick in his ass.

Lucas doesn’t know why Eliott has made it the mission of his life to make Lucas’s life hell. And he also doesn’t know why Eliott’s like warm, soft sunshine when faced with anyone other than Lucas. Hell, if Céline had been the one asked for the task, Eliott would have stepped right up as the fucking gentleman he is to offer to do it himself. And it is funny how once he’d spot Lucas, his face would twist like he’s sucking on a sour lemon or something. Lucas doesn’t get that. He can’t.

With a sigh heaved out of his super congested nose, Lucas starts walking back to his dorm, his bag slung over his shoulder. He had been thankful for Eliott’s absence as he was walking out. It gave him a chance to stick the drawing which he made onto the first page of some deep shit book Lucas knows Eliott keeps in the drawer of the counter. Eliott was nowhere to be found, and Lucas was left with the proof to reinforce his theory. He firmly believes that besides being a fucking dick, Eliott Demaury is also a ghost which keeps appearing out of the blue and then disappears as if it hadn’t been there before. And Lucas is quite okay with that. The role suits Eliott in more ways than one – but it’s also sad Lucas’s won’t be able to get the pleasure of murdering Eliott if he’s already dead.

A rain droplet falls from the darkening sky over Lucas’s head. It lands cold in the center, making Lucas quicken his pace as he rounds the final corner near the dormitory. Yann would already be there, and Lucas can pester him all night to get him some chicken soup.

He makes it to his room just as the rain starts pelting on the ground. Lucas kicks off his shoes as he enters the room. Yann’s hunched over the study table, half asleep from what it appears to him. It’s when a particularly loud sneeze bursts through Lucas that Yann looks up.

“You look like a vampire,” Yann snickers as he looks at him. Lucas doesn’t need to look in the mirror to see what mighty image he’d be painting with red eyes and pink nose and tear-stains on his cheeks. He drops his bag, takes off his wet clothes and jumps into the bed in his boxers. Muffling his face into the pillow he lets out a groans, “I hate that asshole so much.”

“Whom do you not hate?” There’s a smile in Yann’s voice. Lucas chooses to ignore it. He sighs, turning on his back and staring at the abomination he glued to the roof of his bed earlier.

“That’s not the point, Yann,” Lucas exhales, “He knows I have a dust allergy. But still he fucking blackmailed me into dusting the records. It’s like he was getting me back on something.”

“Well, you do keep making those drawing of him,” Yann stops just as Lucas sits up. He scoffs, “Whose side are you on Yann? I can’t believe he’s bewitched you too.”

Yann shakes his head. He looks like he’s regretting every of his decision which brought him here, to this second, with a Lucas with a quarter of his brain working. Fucking Eliott Demaury and his fucking charm. Lucas doesn’t get what’s so special about it.

“-and then I had to walk in the rain,” Lucas continues, sighing into his arm. There’s a light pitter patter which is reaching Lucas’s ears. Lucas would have been able to take in the sandy smell that must be wafting in the air if his nose hadn’t been so congested. It’s Eliott’s fault. All of it. “Fucking pretentious asshole,” Lucas mumbles.

Lucas turns his head. Yann has his contemplative face on, “Don’t take it the bad way Lu, but don’t you think you’re kind of hung up on him?”

Lucas sits up, shocked to his very core. With a gasp he splutters like a fish out of water, “I’m not!”

Lucas doesn’t know where Yann is getting these terrible thoughts. Lucas won’t fall a prey to that. Fuck. Yann doesn’t seem fazed. It’s like he’s done this every other day of his life. What, Lucas doesn’t know. “If you ask me, or Arthur, or Basile, it kind of seems that you are, Lucas. You bring him everywhere, you know? Even if the situation doesn’t call for it, you’ll somehow make it so it has something to do with Eliott. And I think that’s where your fault lies: You give him too much thought.”

And that is…..totally not wrong. Maybe partially, but – Lucas does bring him everywhere with him. And that’s totally on Lucas. It’s maybe the reason he’s so miserable half of the time. He gnaws at his bottom lip, then, as in afterthought, speaks, “Well, then, fuck the rain, I guess?”

Yann’s face lights up as a chuckle passes his lips, “You know what they say Lucas: April showers May flowers.”

Lucas looks at him from the corner of his eyes, “More like April thunders May blunders but whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

And like expected, Yann starts shaking his head, exhaling heavily. The sound makes Lucas grins and he looks up just as Yann clicks his tongue, “You’re a hassle, Lallemant.”

 “What do you mean? I’m a delight to have around.”

Yann clocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed, “Listen, I know atleast one person who would greatly differ with your statement.”

Lucas sighs, plopping his head back on the pillow, “Yann, you and I both know that Eliott hates my guts, so.” He shrugs. It’s common knowledge now. And wasn’t Yann just lecturing him about giving Eliott to-

“I was talking about your cupid, actually,” Yann has a terrible looking thing crawling into the fibers of the cells constituting the skin Lucas so badly wants to punch right now. The corner of his lips hitch up a fraction before he gets up from his chair, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” Yann says, a smile crinkling his eyes, “You sit here and think about him, okay?”

He’s out the door in a second; the pillow Lucas throws at him landing on the ground after harshly colliding with the door.

Fucking assholes.

*

 cupidcollns@cupidint.com

Dear applicants,

Requests for the new sessions have been opened. Kindly take out the prints of your forms from cupidint.com. Please make sure to send in your requests to your designated Cupid before Friday. Any and all requests received after the deadline will be rejected.

Yours truly, Cupids

Lucas stares at the bright flashing and too depressing email displayed on the computer screen. There’s a dull throbbing behind his left eyebrow, his eyes are burning, and Yann still hasn’t returned with the food Lucas messaged him to get for him a few minutes after his departure.

His eyes move from the screen severely damaging his brain to the ugly yellow form Lucas keeps stashed in case of emergencies. His pen rests on top of in a bit slanted. Lucas hates the very sight of this form; apart of tree wasted for nothing. He remembers the many papers like this he sent many times before, and still end with fucking disappointment. What or who is to say this time won’t be the same.

With a dejected sigh he picks up the pen and presses the clicker. Might as well sign up for another disappointment. It is as he starts reading What would you pick to describe yourself as? Please pick one of the choices and is in the process to bang his head against the table cover over the answers that his phone pings with a notification. He unlocks the device, squinting at the light flooding his burning eyes. His stomach coils in on itself.

Eliott D 💩         

céline will be back on friday

so it’s your duty to dust the records till then

also, you draw terribly. thought i should let you know

Lucas stares at the words with a newfound hatred which now boils beneath his skin and rises up like a tide ready to consume all of him. But if that happens Lucas would so something extremely petty and stupid. Eliott won’t let him live, and besides, Lucas is above that. He turns his phone off, and with a bout of energy coming from somewhere inside him, underneath his sternum, he picks up the pen and, because he’s inspired, starts drawing penises everywhere there’s a blank for answers he’s supposed to write. The letter’s going to be rejected anyway; Lucas might as well go down with dignity.

This is it, Lucas thinks, when Cupid8776 finally gives up on him. Ha. Lucas would finally be free of their trap.

(And, because he’s inspired, he also takes a picture of the penis, lines them up with the various shots of the stick figures currently accumulating in his photo library, and sends them all to Eliott D (Poop Emoji). In response to his last message, Lucas provides: i don’t think i’m terrible. i’m getting better at drawing your portrait, see and presses send.)

Lucas folds the letter into an envelope and is on his way to mail it. And when Eliott replies back with a chain of messages including some very gruesome you are fucking annoying and extremely threatening crawl back to the whole YOU have come out of, psychopath somewhere between that, Lucas doesn’t feel any remorse.

Like he said, he’s above that.

[vortahoney]

Pick five of your ocs and answer all of the oc questions for each of them. Now.

Okay I’ll do the one that I’m pretty sure you specifically want to know the most

Iza

1. Her human friends call her Kit or Kitty because she hisses when startled

2. Brown eyes, light brownish orangish color, and she has no hair because she is a Ferengi

3. she is 4′6″

4. You could notice their smile across the room

5. I have already said that Iza wears Hawaiian shirts pretty much all the time, but she also wears large (and very stupid) graphic tees from all over the alpha (and eventually gamma) quadrant. She has plenty of Lurian-sized merch for Quark’s. Overall, it’s pretty much big shirt big shoes small pants.

6. Caffeinated 

7. They have a large scar on their right ear, as well as their right cheek, that reaches the corner of their mouth. They got it in an accident that they had when they were little.

8. Their voice is always chipper, even in situations that are not chipper, it isn’t reflective of their emotions, it’s just how they talk.

9. It’s just absolutely covered in knickknacks. They’re a collector!

10. A notebook full of jokes that worked for the crowd and a PADD full of holophotos of their parents.

11. Iza misses her mom a lot and is always very excited when she comes to the station

12. Iza also misses her dad a lot, but they aren’t on AMAZING terms. Her dad is just kind of an asshole, but he wasn’t horrible or anything

13. They had one brother who died in the accident that they had when they were small.

14. They latched onto Bashir pretty much immediately, much to the chagrin of Bashir and also Garak (they’ve never met a doctor that was so nice!)

15. It wasn’t bad! They spent a lot of it in the hospital getting various reconstructive surgeries, and their dad also gets really sick really often, but they had a supportive mom and plenty of friends!

16. I know I could say the accident (for angst reasons) but I’m going to say getting her first pet. It was Klingon Targ. She wants another one.

17. Iza has a pretty big imagination. They can end up jumping to conclusions really quickly, and they are often very VERY far off.

18. Her family had to move a lot for various medical treatments. Her favorite place to live, though, has been ds9.

19. She is SO SCARED that she’ll mess a kid up. 

20. Not a good parent, but a fun one. They’re a little immature, but they’ve got a lot of love to give. Maybe if they adopted a teenager at some point.

21. Her mother and her cool uncle (he’s a Ferengi that we know but you guys can guess which one)

22.  I actually do not know this one. Drop your ideas in the notes.

23. Usually very upbeat people who can match their energy.

24. This sounds bad but shy people. They do not like trying to get people to open up.

25. They haven’t found their soulmate yet, but they’re definitely looking.

26. N/A

27. N/A

28. N/A

29. N/A

30. They got the standard Ferengi education but then went to acting school on Earth

31. They were SUPER outgoing and joined a lot of extra classes and clubs. Botany classes, sewing clubs, carpentry clubs, you name it. They were trying to make up for the time they lost after they spent so much of their childhood in the boring, sterile environment of a hospital.

32. They were super good at Language Arts and acting

33. They were honestly more interested in making people laugh than anything at school.

34. Comedy!! They hope to really take off one day and become a famous comedian like John Mulaney or J’Tahs Tiroha (famous klingon comedian that I just made up)

35. They perform literally every night at Quark’s (or on Ten Forward when they decide stay on the enterprise for awhile)

36. They absolutely love it. They love making people laugh and just being entertaining in general.

37. To be a famous comedian.

38. She acts out when she gets stressed. Sometimes she ends up in a holding cell.

39. She doesn’t get angry very often, but when she does she closes herself off.

40. It’s pretty similar with grief, except she cries a lot as well.

41. Her biggest fear is dying in obscurity

42. Seeing people smile

43. Their sense of humor is really upbeat. They don’t really do self deprecating, only mild stuff in their anecdotes. They also do joke about their feelings and events in their life.

44. She hates it when people refuse to be happy. She also hates when people whistle.

45. Whistling, high pitched noises in general (their hearing aid picks up on a LOT of them so they can get annoying)

46. She regrets not doing more to save her brother when they were kids. She also regrets not taking more time to figure herself out.

47. VERY easily

48. They can be really passive-aggressive since they don’t like to show negative feelings.

49. The accident and the hospitals

50. They haven’t told anyone about their brother. They also had a girlfriend in acting school who left her for reasons she does not disclose.

51. They want to put good into the world no matter what. They are also VERY for the Ferengi feminist movement, but they feel that business is bad and earning money shouldn’t be the only goal. They also have very strong feelings about the treatment of the Dominion aliens. They’re also pretty anti-federation, they think it’s basically an empire masquerading as a democratic union of planets.

52. She’s really motivated by the need to find love

53. She’s pretty physically healthy, if a little scrawny. She does get sick super easily, though.

54. Heart 100%

55. They do not like to think about death.

56. They’re really good at improvising and they care a lot

57. They aren’t very good at interpreting other people’s needs.

58. They try really REALLY hard not to cry because they know that they need criticism to grow, but sometimes they canNOT help it

59. She likes to think of herself as someone who cares

60. If she could change something about herself, it would be how easy she cries or gets anxious

61. They tend to think she has no boundaries, which isn’t TRUE at all.

62. She bears her heart onstage, but almost never one-on-one

63. Physical affection

64. Nail biting and clacking their teeth together

65. Orange juice! She likes thinner liquids

66. Toasted tubeworms

67. Butterscotches, they ate so many in acting school

68. Spring! It’s rainy and it reminds them of home

69 (nice). Cold rain

70. Garak made them read the Never-Ending Sacrifice and once they got their attention on it, they really liked it.

71. A Bajoran sitcom about farmers who adopt a cardassian baby called “Fires in the North” (very loosely translated)

72. Things that are upbeat and very loud. Lyrics don’t really matter as much.

73. Comedy!

74. Blue

75. Plants. Anything outside. The opposite of a hospital

76. They’re actually really fond of Cardassian Voles

77. A cheering crowd

78. Early morning, when everything is just getting started

79. They really like pickle flavored ice cream

80. Those really tiny ones that spit venom in that one guy’s face from jurassic park

81. Make your own question: Did your OC have a favorite teacher?

One of their acting professors was Dr. Ren, a human woman who nurtured her talent for comedy when all her other professors either tried to get her to be more serious, if they didn’t just write her passion off as another Ferengi moneymaking scheme.

[mrs-geuse]

Empty (Hank Anderson x Reader)

This one is purely a twist of a page from my own diary.

I’ve had some requests for pregnant!reader and Hank and...I just can’t do that right now. My husband and I have been struggling with infertility for a year and a close friend just announced her pregnancy today, my niece was born 3 weeks ago...it’s been emotional for me.

This is purely a therapeutic attempt at getting through this for me and I’m sorry if it disappoints.

Warnings: Infertility, mentions of alcoholism, mental health struggles, and (a history of) self-harm.

Hank hears a slam from somewhere in the house and he’s instantly peeking around the corner, down the hall, warm pizza long forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Y/N? You alright?” he calls. No response. “Y/N?” His mind is instantly working quickly, running through possibility after possibility of the worst shit.

You’d been going through it lately, your mental health at an all-time low for the last few months. It drove you to do some crazy shit and he was always there to pick up your pieces. He worried you’d resort to some of those old coping habits he knew you had. You’d told him you hadn’t done that in years, but it was still a very real possibility to him and it kept him up at night, the image of you bleeding out.

Tonight, he thought you were doing better. You’d been working on getting answers for what was bothering you…you’d spent a lot of time working through things together and – though the touchy-feely stuff was a little hard for Hank to vocalize – you were in a better place than you’d been in, well, ever.

“I’m fine,” you finally call to him, but he can hear in your voice that you’re so not fine.

“Sweetheart, come on, what is it?”

He peers into the bedroom, sees your phone face-down on the nightstand, your body on the bed, back to the headboard, knees pressed against your chest.

“It happened again,” you start, voice breaking a little bit. This could be one of two things, he knows.

Either another friend is pregnant or your period showed up.

Hank knows it’s not the latter, based on the positive ovulation test on the sink, the fact that you’ve been all over him for the last few days…

"Fuck, sweetheart…”

You shake your head, shake it off, try to take a breath.

“I feel like such an asshole, yanno? I’m happy for her, I really am, but I’m so fucking tired of it not being us. It’s been a year, Hank, a fucking year…”

He knows this, is very aware. He knows because you’ve been to the specialist, done the ten vials of bloodwork, the ultrasound up the cooch, the follow-up. Hell, he’d even done the jizz-in-a-cup thing just because he knew how much this broke you that you weren’t a mom yet.

He can remember the anxiety for those results, remember what it felt like to think it was him. He’d been convinced it was him. Hank hadn’t really thought about having another kid after Cole…and then he met you. Young, you, and that almost scared him off – the knowing that you were gonna want kids.

Hank was a drinker, for years, still is – only now he has someone to hold him through the night and that makes the drinking a little less necessary, makes life a little more bearable.

Only the results showed that his swimmers were still good. And your results showed that your stuff was all good…so, what the fuck?

He remembers holding your hand in that office as the doctor told you news, remembers your sleepless nights up filled with guilt, for whatever reason. If there was something wrong, it was nothing to feel guilty for, yet he couldn’t talk you down from that.

The doctor rambled about how some healthy couples can try for a year with no success, have nothing wrong with them…twenty percent. Twenty-fucking-percent of couples and apparently you fell right into that group.

The agony this caused you, on top of everything else you’d been through. That year consisted of monthly breakdowns in the bathroom when the bleeding started. You’d been through your share of symptom-checking, so convinced you’d been pregnant that month – you’re not normally queasy, you’re not normally late – yet Aunt Flo always reared her stupid, fucking head and each month he’d have to hold his girl and reassure you that eventually you’ll be carrying a child, things would work out…

Hell, there were months you both went sober – just in case that might help. Only it didn’t, it only made the both of you more anxious, made the constant sex almost a chore, drove you both into arguments and bullshit…

It was only recently that you sat at that kitchen table wearing his police shirt, going on about how you needed to live a little, how you needed to learn to let time do its thing. In theory? Great idea! In practice? There were so many fucking roadblocks to that happiness.

Including when your friends post on social media that – surprise! – they’re expecting!

It’s always like a gut-punch, always feels like falling and anger and guilt and ‘how-dare-I-feel-this-way-it’s-not-their-fault’ yet each month you watch them update with pictures of pregnant bellies and then eventually they post that the baby has arrived. Not to mention the monthly updates from everyone about what their little bundle is into and what things they can do and milestones reached, first steps, first words, pregnancy announcement number two…

You’d been through it all and honestly Hank just wished you’d quit the social media bullshit, cut it out, and focus on the two of you and Sumo.

And then your brother’s wife got pregnant at month one and, fuck, did that send you spiraling. Day drinking, driving drunk, crying all the time. Hank didn’t know if you’d ever get out of the funk.

Yet somehow you did. You were so damn strong, he was excited for that piece of you to grow with a baby, couldn’t wait to see what that child could become, hoped it took more of your traits and none of his.

At first, he was tentative about a child. After Cole, he couldn’t imagine the amount of anxiety he would have. But he knew how much you wanted it, how excited you were every time you went down the baby aisle at the store…

Now all you do is cry, avoid that aisle, look away.

You’d gotten through your sister-in-law’s baby shower just fine and now that the baby’s here and you’re seeing your parents step up as first-time grandparents…that hurt is real and raw.

And it’s not their fault, you know that, and you don’t hold resentment. You do avoid, though. Avoid calling, avoid social gatherings with the family. The shame you feel for not being a mom is something Hank can’t understand as a man, he just can’t. You told him once that it makes you feel like less of a woman and that shook him to the fucking core.

What kind of society puts this kind of pressure on the ‘natural progression of life’? How many people had asked about her getting pregnant, making assumptions that you weren’t trying, that you weren’t having issues.

“How did you let your sister-in-law get pregnant before you? You and Hank have been married longer, he’s old!” -the words of an actual family-friend. What a mess. How fucking painful for you to go through. He remembers that night vividly, remembers you walking him out because he was about to fight someone, remembers the way your tears looked as you paced in the parking lot, wondered how you were gonna go in and face everyone.

People suck, that’s for sure, and this is no different. People don’t understand and no one talks about infertility, you’re realizing. No one talks about the shame of it, the pain, the emotional devastation, what it fucking does to a happy marriage…

The two of you have come through stronger and you’re on a more positive, upbeat path but you still have your down days and Hank is very aware that you haven’t had one in about three weeks…

“Maybe we should start the adoption process,” you mumble with a sigh as he sits beside you, the bed dipping under his weight.

Only he knows you, he knows that you want to carry a baby, knows that there are options…like adopting an embryo…you’d researched your heart out. Researched about proper positions, different tricks, supplements, spent so much money on ovulation kits and doctor visits and pregnancy tests…

“I’m for it if that’s what you want, if you’re ready for that…” he rubs your shoulder.

You sigh, bury your face in his chest.

“I’m just so tired of waiting. I’m so tired of trying and getting hopeful and then bleeding. I’m tired of hearing from my parents that it’ll happen. I sort of wish something was wrong because then we could intervene. But now, what, we wait longer? It’s just bad luck? I’m fucking done with being told to wait and be patient, and that I’m too stressed. I’m pissed that people can have unhealthy habits or try for a month and get pregnant no issue while we have been doing our best to be better and this has been a full fucking year. Hank, we could have a three-month-old right now…right now! Holding a three-month-old. What the fuck?” you let a few tears slip by.

“I’m right here with you. I’ve seen how hard this has been on you. You’re stronger than anyone I know, baby.” He kisses your temple, rubs up and down your back. “You’re gonna be a great mom. And it’s gonna happen. No matter what I have to do, I’m gonna make you a mom.”

He doesn’t care how much money it’s going to cost; he needs to see you happy again. He misses it. You were so full of life once, you’re like a wilted flower now.

“You’ve been great with all this, Hank. Thank you.” You kiss him, lean into it more and Hank feels that spark, feels his arousal start up again.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “I know what you want,” his fingers dance across your neck. “How ‘bout we eat some pizza,” he kisses you, “and then,” another kiss, “we come back in here,” a kiss to your neck, “bring the whipped cream,” you smirk at that, “and enjoy each other.”

You hum. “That sounds so good right now, Hank…”

He nods. “Gonna run me dry by the end of this week,” he stands with you to head to the kitchen.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, big man.” You smack him on the ass.

So maybe your life isn’t perfect, but it’s yours.

[welcometotheocverse]

What do your Gilmore Girls oc’s think of Christopher/what is their relationships with him like?

Okay so I had like over four paragraphs typed up for this and then my computer misclicked and I lost it all lmao.

But in a word: Bad. In multiple: Really Freaking Bad.

Noah ( Doose), Tino ( La Costa) and Lily ( St. James) all love Rory so so much. So even though their interactions with Christopher are limited compared to some of my other ocs they still hate him. They know better than others how much it hurts Rory when he isn’t there for her since two of them ( Tino and Lily) have known her since childhood. Lily and Tino see themselves as Rory’s honorary siblings ( Tino goes on record calling himself Rory’s unofficial twin) so the whole “He actually came to Stars Hollow this time!” and all the times he does things that hurt her have them more or less feral.

For Noah he’s dating Rory from s2 or s3 I haven’t decided  yet so he gets a bigger picture of Christipher and is unimpressed because as far as he’s concerned, Rory is the best girl and deserves a lot better. Also Christopher might or might not be a POS when he finds out about Logan, Noah, and Rory.

Tbh Noah at some point might go “I have crippling anxiety and depression but I also have a hockey stick and knife shoes ( skates ) and I’m willing to fight both your dads because holy shit” to both Logan and Rory.

Hope is both more civil and more openly disliking of Christopher. She knows full well what a number  their parent’s controlling and critiquing everything they do does a number on Lorelai. So she tends to be very “You call all the shots in your life. I support you as long as you’re happy.” to be the opposite of Emily and Richard and at one point, when Lorelai is nervous about telling her something says “I’m not mom and dad Lore. I won’t belittle your choices. I’m always on your corner” ( which ;A;)

So Hope bites her tongue a bit and utilizes the skills she learned in therapy to manage her own emotional responses when it comes to The Whole Christopher Deal

This does not mean Hope does not have opinions about The Whole Christopher Deal. 

Like basically she thinks he’s a weak man who can’t even speak up when Lorelai is being belittled by her own parents while singing him praises. She is very unimpressed by how little part Christopher has taken in Rory’s life when Lorelai has always had the door open. ( though  she also feels like since she ended up losing touch with them as well she’s no better even tho Hope bby nooo you were protecting yourself from abuse its so not the same) 

That’s not even the worse of it tho since, due to being Lorelai’s older sibling Hope is more aware than my other ocs of how much hurt Lorelai deals with from her relationship with her parents and what the abuse/ neglect does to her ( having suffered it herself as well) and how exactly that plays  with her and her relationship with Christopher. 

She hates HATES that he messes with her head. She hates that Lorelai seeks out affection in men like him and that they hurt her, that he hurts her. She understand them in a very Big Picture way and hates Christopher all the more for it. Like it starts off at Unimpressed in s1 and only gets worse the more pieces she understands.  After the wedding vow fiasco she loses whatever scraps of respect she had for him and thinks that the fact that he was willing to break up a relationship Lorelai was happy in is a huge ass red flag about him and openly dislikes him and hates him. She keeps it civil when Lore gets back with him for Rory and Lorelai’s and Gigi’s sake but there’s a pretty open dislike between the two that has been there from the start ( because you can only imagine how Christopher reacted to Hope being unimpressed with him and with her telling Lorelai she deserves better he p much hates her too)

Amelia Hates him with a seething unbridled fury that has less to do with Christopher being sorta passive aggressive  and shitty around her ( he wouldn’t Dare do it in front of Lorelai and Rory bc he knows they’d kick him to the curve and Luke would End him and Amelia doesn’t spend any time around him without them so it's  vague/passive sorta shittiness.)  and so much more to do with the fact that this girl is fiercely  Fiercely protective  of her family and loved ones ( see for example her willing to fight the entire town meeting for Jess and ranting for an hour and then some afterwards) and Rory is her Big Sister and Lorelai is Her Mother and she has seen them be hurt by him so much already. ( think of that speech Lorelai gives Jess of “Rory is one of the best girls and she  deserves to be treated well” but instead it’s “My mother and sister are two of the best people I know and they deserve the world as far as I’m concerned. Not some asshole who leaves them hurt and sad” like she thinks the fact that he doesn’t think they’re worth his  time and hurts them is unforgivable and so is how sad he makes them and she’d gladly punch him in the face if she had the chance. And that’s before the vow renewal fiasco where she actually punches him in the face. 

Sophia mistrusts him just on account that her parents like him. Lorelai hides from her how much Christopher has hurt her ( she canonically goes out of her way to make sure Rory doesn’t feel like she has to take care of her and has a good relationship with her dad no matter what and she sees Sophia as a kid as well specially as she realizes how badly living with her parents has affected her.) and Rory canonically not only does not talk about her dad to many people but describes herself as “A great compartmentalize.” so it takes a while before she gets the full picture  but she’s thoroughly unimpressed even before she does. Also she picks up on the frail hope on Rory’s “He’s never come to town before maybe he’ll stick around.” and it...hits a bit personal for her. 

She also would kill for Lorelai and has absolutely given Christopher a shovel talk  ( Lore: you’re my baby sister hon, not my babysitter) when he tries to come back into the Gilmore Girl’s lives and as the seasons go she only dislikes him more.

Kit and El are of course Christopher’s sons and boy oh boy there’s just so much resentment there. Like both of them are also “my sister and mom are the best and your hurting them makes me feral.” but on top of that they  have their own resentment for him. 

With El, Christopher always lumps him with Rory as “the smart kid who reads a lot.” when in truth the twins are their own people and their interests, diverge widely. He gets them the same book whenever he sends anything  and it hurts El so much like it makes him feel like he’s some after thought, someone not even worth learning the interests of and he carries that for a long time. It hurts him deeply for a long time.

He absolutely loses it when he finds out that he and Lore got married without any thought not even about him and Rory but about Gigi  (“so what you’re gonna have  her get used to having a family and then mess her up when you fall short because what? Me and Rory’? We weren’t enough kids to disappoint for you? ) Gigi’s pretty much the only reason he keeps things civil with Christopher bc El’s pretty sure that between Sherry and Christopher she needs someone looking out for her, or the poor kid won’t have a chance and also he loves her so so much. It only makes it  worse that Christopher is not above using that to make him be civil.

Kit while a lot less developed so I have less for him is also on the same beats. He’s a smack happy idiot  who doesn’t spend time on bad emotions and lets things roll off his back ( and a very big foil to Rory’s catastrophizing and spiraling into anxiety when things go awry) but Christopher may  be one of his only sore spots. He struggles a lot with sharing a name with the guy and also with not having a set path career wise or being academically inclined like Rory ( more because it would make him Different than Christopher if it did) one of his biggest fears is that he’s more like his dad than his mom, or that he has too many things in common with his dad.  He’s also of course very  hurt by how little Christopher drops by in his life and was very aware growing up that other kids’ dads were a lot more present. He skips school on father’s day  as sort of his own dark day and usually hangs with Zack and Brian ( who he met before Hep Alien formed) or with Lindsay Lister ( who is actually one of her  best friends.) though he does check in on Rory and tries to be there for her because she may be a good compartmentalizer but he’s her twin; he knows when she needs hugs. 

I have an idea for a Danes sister and while I know nothing of her I know she’d hate Christopher too. So does the Hayden sister plot bunny who’s nothing more than a concept

Basically fuck Christopher all my OCs hate Christopher lol

[becasbelt]

Chapters: 9/12 Fandom: Pitch Perfect (Movies) Rating: T Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell Characters: Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale, Dr. Mitchell (Pitch Perfect), Beca Mitchell's Mother, Aubrey Posen, Jesse Swanson Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, skateboarder!beca, Romance, Angst

* * *

Beca’s knees hit hard concrete as she falls off her board, the sensation of fabric and skin tearing sending pain shooting through her legs. She hears Briggs call out to ask if she’s alright from somewhere near the top of the ramp, but Beca waves him off.

The external pain is welcome; it gives Beca a break from her internal heartache.

She struggles to her feet and bends over to instruct the damage on her knees. Just as she’d suspected, her pants are ripped up and one of her knees is bleeding as a result of her skidding across the ground. Beca winces slightly at the sight of blood, but just straightens up and makes her way up the ramp to where a first aid kit was waiting.

The new hole in her jeans gives Beca convenient access to her wound, so she sets to work cleaning it out. Beca pours some water over her knee, ignoring the slight sting that comes as a result, and digs around in the first aid bag for a Band-Aid. She hears someone plop down on the bench beside her – probably Wyatt based on the now present scent of weed in the air – but chooses not to speak until prompted.

“So, Beca,” her friend says after a moment.

And there it is.

“So, Wyatt,” she replies in kind, her focus on unwrapping her precious Band-Aid from its wrapper.

Wyatt chuckles goofily next to her, and Beca fights off a grin at the familiar sound. “What’s going on with you, dude?” he asks, nudging her shoulder a little bit as he lights up a joint beside her. “You’ve been home for Spring break for, what- five days now? Why haven’t you regaled us with any stories from your time amongst the knowledge seekers?”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Either you’re not high enough to forget how to use big words, or you’re just high enough to start using them.” She glances at him teasingly with a raised eyebrow.

He wiggles his own eyebrows in response. “I’m gonna go with the second one,” he replies cheekily. Beca just laughs and steals his joint for a quick drag of her own before returning her attention to patching up her knee. Wyatt continues smoking quietly beside her.

“School sucks, man,” she says after a moment, choosing to keep her eyes focused on her wound. She smooths the bandage out over her cuts with some level of satisfaction, enjoying the way the injury seems to disappear completely. Out of sight, out of mind. “It’s just as bad as I thought it’d be.”

“I mean, yeah,” is Wyatt’s remarkable response. Beca looks at him to see an indifferent look on his face as he watches other skateboarders goof off around them. “There’s a reason none of us wanted to go to college. It’s a waste of time.”

Uncertainty flashes through Beca’s mind at that, but she ignores it and turns her head away to watch Briggs grinding a rail with mild interest and a slight scowl. “You’re telling me.”

“So have you had any fun at school at least?” Wyatt asks after a small lull in the conversation. “Like, do have anyone you hang out with, or are you doing the whole ‘lone wolf’ thing again?”

The question causes Beca to briefly think back on unwelcomed memories from the last few months- most having to do with a certain redhead that Beca’s been spending the entirety of the break trying to forget. The only problem is, Chloe Beale is not someone that you can just forget.

Try as she might, Beca can still remember the look on Chloe’s face as she walked away from her after semi-finals. The hurt and heartbreak that shown on the other girl’s face as Beca declared they were nothing is there in Beca’s mind every time she closes her eyes, which had also caused serious sleeping problems for Beca. Instead of sleeping, Beca had devoted her time to skating and partying with acquaintances- just like the good ‘ol days.

Though the parties may be a welcomed distraction, Beca has found herself yearning for the quiet afternoons she and Chloe often spent together: walks around campus, doing homework in Beca’s dorm room, lazy Sunday afternoons where Beca would run her hands through ginger locks while Chloe napped.

Beca hated how much Chloe made her not hate being at school.

She also hated how often she checked her phone for notifications. It was automatic at this point; every so often she would turn her screen on to make sure she didn’t have any texts that came through, but each time she looked, she was met with the sight of no new texts.

Beca clicks on her phone now, just to make sure.

Nothing.

Whatever. Didn’t matter.

She snatches the joint from Wyatt’s fingers. “You know me,” she says after inhaling smoke deeply, letting it out in a slow stream with her next exhale. “I’ve never been one to be overly attached to anything.”

“Amen to that, man,” Wyatt agrees, stealing the stick back to finish the rest off. He stamps the bud on the ground with his sneakered toe and pushes himself to his feet. “I’m gonna go show Briggs up on that rail. You wanna come?” he implores, then chuckles. “You could probably show us both up, to be honest.”

Beca forces a small grin on her face. “I think I’m actually going to head home,” she says instead of accepting, getting to her feet as well. “My mom is taking me out to dinner before I leave again.”

“Right on, dude,” is Wyatt’s response. He fist bumps her before riding over to where Briggs is, and Beca waves in departure to both of them before hoping on her board and making her way out of the skate park.

Beca takes the long way home, skating leisurely since she was in no rush. Her mom wasn’t taking her to dinner; in fact, Beca had hardly spoken to the woman since getting home for break. Long work hours on her mom’s end, plus Beca’s attempts at distracting herself have just resulted in not a whole lot of time spent together. Beca didn’t mind, though. She doubted her mom would have anything substantial to say to her anyways.

The sun is just setting in the sky when she arrives home, and Beca uses her key to unlock the empty house’s door. The front entryway is dark, but Beca doesn’t bother turning on any lights yet, opting to just rely on the fading light shining through the windows. Beca automatically heads in the direction of the stairs that lead up to her room, but pauses while passing the front room.

The piano that she has spent so many hours playing sits in its usual place under the window, the setting sun outside casting a faint orange glow on the polished wooden surface. The keys are covered, much in the way they were when Beca left for Barden. Beca studies the instrument for a moment before turning and taking a step away from the front room, but stops after only two steps and turns back around. She squints at the piano.

“And what do you want?” Her voice cuts through the empty air in the house, and Beca takes a few cautious steps towards the instrument.

The piano does not reply.

“Look at me. I must really be crazy, talking to a piano,” she mutters, laughing numbly. She wipes a finger through the dust covering the lid and slowly sinks down to sit on the piano’s bench, resting her elbows on the covered keys and putting her head in her hands. “Why am I such a mess?” she asks dejectedly.

Still, the piano remains silent.

Beca picks up her head and flops her hands down in her lap. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and places it on the bench next to her, turning it on briefly to check for notifications. As usual, no new messages appear on the screen. Beca sighs and glares at the piano as if it was judging her. “You’re not much help at all, you know that?” she tells the instrument.

Again, no answer.

She spends another moment squinting at the piano before letting out a resigned puff of breath. “Fine,” she murmurs under her breath as she lifts the fallboard up to expose the keys. “You win this time.”

When Beca places her hands on the keyboard and begins to play, she feels as though the piano finally responds to her. Beca plays with no real direction, no thoughts going through her mind. Her fingers dance over the notes on their own free will, and Beca finds herself taking comfort in the way the familiar action of playing eases her troubled emotions.

Soon enough it has gotten dark enough outside that Beca can no longer making out the piano very well, seeing as she hadn’t bothered turning on any lights upon arriving home. Beca pulls her hands away from the keys and reaches up to close the fallboard, but hesitates before she can pull it down.

The keys have spent enough time closed off, Beca thinks.

Beca wrinkles her nose at how lame that metaphor is for her life.

The keys remain uncovered as Beca rises from the bench and makes her way up to her room.

* * *

“What’s your favorite song?” Chloe asks, propping herself up on elbow from her place lying on Beca’s bed. Beca herself sits on the floor facing the bed, busy cleaning marks off the grip tape on her board. She looks up at Chloe’s question.

“I would’ve thought that you'd know I don’t listen to all that much music by now,” she replies wryly, focusing her attention back on her board.

Chloe huffs and pushes herself into a sitting position. “So you don’t have any songs you like?” she presses. “Not even from when you were a kid?”

“What’s your favorite song?” Beca retorts, redirecting the question.

“That’s not fair,” Chloe pouts.

Beca raises an eyebrow at her. “Then why’d you ask me the same question?”

Chloe opens her mouth, trying to come up with a response to that, but ends up shutting it again a moment later. Beca holds back a smug grin and looks back down at her board.

“Okay, well the thing is,” Chloe starts again. Beca sighs and sets her skateboard to the side; she’d have to work on it some other time. “It’s not a fair question because I don’t have just one favorite song.”

“Okay, what are you favorite songs, plural, then?” Beca asks, chuckling and shaking her head. She pushes off the floor and flops down on her stomach next to Chloe, who is still sitting upright, now deep in thought.

“Well, there’s Titanium, for obvious reasons,” Chloe starts out, shooting a suggestive wink towards Beca, who immediately flushes and lightly shoves Chloe’s leg with a laugh.

“Gross, dude. What else?”

Chloe begins to think again, and Beca ignores how easy the smile that comes to her face is as she watches the ginger ponder. “I’ve always been a big fan of ‘Here Comes the Sun,’” she eventually decides, nodding her head at the conclusion. “My parents used to call me their little sunshine when I was a kid, so I’ve just always had a soft spot for it.” Chloe starts humming the melody quietly and looks down at Beca with a smile on her face.

Beca listens to Chloe, debating with herself internally. Eventually Beca sighs a little and rolls onto her back. “Somethin’ Stupid,” she says, eyes trained on the ceiling.

Chloe’s humming ceases. “What?” she asks, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

“It’s a Frank Sinatra song- a duet he sings with his daughter,” Beca explains further. “My dad and I used to sing it together when I was a kid, before he, uh, walked out.” She clears her throat awkwardly and starts picking at her cuticles. “My dad wasn’t the best singer, but he always loved singing with me, which is a good thing since I always wanted someone to sing with. My mom played a little guitar, and she would pull it out on occasion and try to play some chords along with us, even if she usually didn’t do a very good job.” Beca chuckles a little at the memories of her mom and dad playfully teasing each other when one of them would mess up a note or chord. It was the healthy kind of fighting- the kind of fighting that was more for show and flirting purposes than anything

Beca’s thoughts stray to nights spent listening to her parents actually fighting with one another, which dampens Beca’s moment of brief reminiscence instantly. The smile falls from her face while she shrugs as best as she can while laying down and laces her fingers together over her stomach before meeting Chloe’s watchful gaze. “I dunno. I guess the song has always just stuck with me, even through all the rough years.”

A soft smile forms on Chloe’s lips, and the other girl leans over to kiss Beca gently. Beca closes her eyes contently at the action, letting Chloe pull back after a few seconds and resisting the urge to deepen the kiss.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Chloe whispers, face still hovering close above Beca’s. Beca grins a little.

“You’re the one that asked the question,” she replies just as quietly. “Of course I was going to answer.”

Chloe giggles a little before leaning in to kiss her again, and Beca lets herself get lost in the way her heart beats fast and how her lips turn up in a smile with each new kiss.

* * *

The scotch that Beca had stolen from her mom’s liquor cabinet sits next to Beca on the roof, untouched save for a couple sips taken about an hour ago. It was weird, but drinking her feelings away didn’t have quite the same appeal as it did a few months ago. Roof time used to be drinking time for Beca, but she just didn’t feel like numbing her feelings at the moment.

It was so hard going back to feeling sad and numb after being truly happy for the first time in years.

Beca checks her phone.

Nothing.

She sighs and stares at her screen until it automatically fades to black again. Beca rests her crossed arms over the top of her bent knees and rests her chin on them, focusing on the lights of the city in the distance. From here she can just make out the shape of the Space Needle, as well as a few other buildings she sort of recognizes. The noises of cars passing by from nearby is the only thing breaking the silent night air, and Beca lets the familiarity of it all wash over her, soothing her a little.

“Knock knock,” a voice says behind her.

Though Beca is surprised by her mother’s unexpected visit, she doesn’t turn around to greet her. “Hey,” she says with no enthusiasm. Beca hears shuffling as her mom climbs out the window and onto the roof.

Her mom slides her way over to sit beside Beca, and out of the corner of her eye Beca sees her eye Beca’s drink, but doesn’t comment. “How you doing, kid?”

“Fine,” is Beca’s automatic response. She winces slightly at the snappy tone she uses. “Just, you know, tired and stuff.”

“And stuff,” her mom echoes, humming a little. The woman says nothing else for a while, and Beca feels herself become more anxious the longer they sit there together. Beca finally turns her head to look at her mom and sees that her eyes are also focused on the city lights.

“What are you doing here?” Beca finally asks, a little shortly.

Her mom shrugs. “This is my house, isn’t it?” she says, seemingly unbothered by Beca’s tone. “I think I have the right to sit on my own roof.”

Beca huffs. “Yeah, but what are you doing here with me?” she tries again, turning away from her mom again. “You’ve been doing a pretty good job at ignoring me all week, why stop now?”

Her mom sighs sadly. “Listen, Beca, I know I haven’t been the best mother lately.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “That’s an understatement,” she mumbles under her breath.

“And I’m sorry for that,” her mom continues softly. “I’m so sorry that I shut you out after your father left. It wasn’t fair to you in any way, and I’m ashamed that it’s taken me so long to realize that I was even doing it at all.” Her mom’s voice tightens as she talks, and Beca feels a lump form in her own throat in response.

Beca chooses to remain silent.

“I was so focused on my own hurt feelings for so long that I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. It felt like I was in a mindless daze for three years, and it was only after you went away to school that I was able to snap out of it.” Beca turns her head slowly to see tears on her mother’s face, shocked by the first show of real emotions since right after her dad left. “It didn’t hit me until I was truly alone how terrible I’ve been the past few years,” her mom says, wiping tears off her cheeks. “I- I don’t know if you’ll be able to forgive me, but I’m willing to work to earn your forgiveness in whatever ways I can.”

Beca looks into pleading blue eyes, so much like her own, and feels all the anger and resentment she’s harbored towards her mother melt away. “You don’t have to earn anything,” Beca tells her gently, and Beca can see the surprise on her mom’s face at the words. “Of course I’ll forgive you. It was a rough few years for both of us, and I definitely could’ve handled it better, too. Just,” Beca puts on a faux stern face, “don’t let it happen again.”

A relieved, albeit shaky, chuckle sounds from her mom and Beca smiles at her reassuringly. “Are you too old for hugs from your mom?” she asks, holding out her arms hopefully.

The lump in Beca’s throat tightens even more. “I’ll never be too old for a hug from mom,” she says thickly before leaning into her mother’s embrace. Beca closes her eyes contently as something settles in her chest, making her feel calm.

After a moment of just sitting and holding each other quietly, Beca’s mom pulls back. “So,” she says, brushing a lock of Beca’s hair behind her ear. “How’s college? Is it as bad as you thought it would be?”

And just like that, Beca is spilling out everything that’s happened at Barden like the last three years of miscommunication never happened between them. She tells her about her job at the skate shop, and about how annoying Jesse is. She tells her about joining the Bellas and what competitions are like (though she leaves out the getting arrested part).

Beca spends a lot of time talking about Chloe- about how she convinced her to join the Bellas, about how kind and understanding she is; how she doesn’t seem to mind Beca’s perpetually grumpy mood and constant sarcasm.

About how she feels like Chloe has steadily broken down her walls.

How Chloe makes her want to be a better person.

“And mom, I,” Beca takes a moment to catch her breath, just now realizing how long she’s been talking for. Her mom doesn’t seem to mind; there’s a light in her eyes that Beca hasn’t seen in a long time, one that Beca hopes is here to stay for a while. “I started playing again.”

Her mom’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Piano?”

Beca smiles a little. “Piano, yeah,” she confirms. “Chloe asked if I did anything other than skate one day and I just… showed her. I didn’t even think twice about it.”

“How did it feel? Playing again,” her mom inquires.

“It felt…” Beca trails off for a moment, trying to find the right words. “It felt like I never stopped.”

Her mom smiles. “And based on the way the piano keys were open earlier, you’ve been playing ever since?”

Beca laughs. “I knew I should’ve covered them up again. Is that the only reason you came up here to talk to me?” she teases without mirth.

“No, but I was curious about it,” her mom reveals with a chuckle of her own. She sobers up a moment later. “I’m glad to hear that you’re playing again, though. I know that it’s something you used to really love.”

“I mean, it’s fine, I guess,” Beca says with a shrug, her tone giving away to the fact that she’s only joking.

“And,” her mom says hesitantly, “Based on the way you talk about this Chloe girl, I’m thinking piano isn’t the only thing you love.”

Beca’s mouth opens and closes at that, shocked to say the least. Her phone lights up with a Snapchat notification from Briggs, drawing Beca’s attention to the screen. She swipes the notification away and takes a moment to look at her screensaver. It’s a picture of she and Chloe, taken a couple of days before semi-finals. Chloe holds the phone while kissing Beca on the cheek, Beca’s face wrinkled up in fake discomfort. Chloe had teased Beca about how cute she was when she was grumpy, to which Beca had just rolled her eyes affectionately without complaint.

The memory brings a tender smile to Beca’s face. “Yeah,” she tells her mom, still looking down at her screensaver. “I guess you’re right.”

[angelkurenai]

Imagine John noticing the feelings you and Dean have for each other but don’t dare admit and making comments about them to help set you two up.

“Dean I- I really think I shouldn't-”

“Don't.” his voice was deep and gruff, more laced with emotion than a couple hours ago but you could understand just why. There was a hint of grief and sadness there, pain even, because he deep down was only waiting for the clock to count down to the moment he had to watch his father leave again. “Just don't. Don't you finish that sentence.”

He knew what was in your mind ever since the issue of the dinner came up. You didn't have to speak up, not to Dean at least, just by taking a good look at you he could read you like an open book. He knew that you felt uncomfortable, for most part around John because you had never met the man.

“I'm just saying-” your voice was small as you started again, watching him as he grabbed more plates for he table. You hated to insist, especially during such a moment when you knew he didn't even the emotional strength to talk back, but you just wanted him to know at the same time “This is a family moment, probably the only one you'll get the four of you. I don't wanna be intruding o-or taking away any of it from you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” his voice was still deep, when his eyes met yours, you noticed how his frown had deepened significantly.

You fidgeted with your fingers, eyes casting down for a second as you shrugged softly “I mean, you said it yourself, you've wanted this since you were practically four. You and Sammy, your mom and dad there all together. I-” you chewed on your lower lip nervously “I don't really have a place there with you guys. It's better if I just go for a walk or drink and let you four have this time time together, you need it and want it. You should enjoy it a-and-”

“And what? Without you?” he blinked several times, looking at you as if you grew a second head or something.

You shrugged a bit shyly “It's just that I- I feel like I'll only make things more awkward. This- this is your only chance and I shouldn't be here to intrude. I'm not really part of-”

“So help me if you dare to fucking say you're not part of this family.” it came out nearly in a growl, his eyes that had momentarily focused on the glasses and counting them, fell back on you; this time with a fire in them you had not seen before. His voice was gruff with such strength in it that surprised you for a moment. His jaw clenched as he turned to fully face you and spoke with a determination you were pretty sure you had never seen before in him, not mention in asituation like this.

“You listen to me here, and you listen good, (Y/l/n). After everything we've been through, after everything we've lived together, after all these years you be damn sure of one thing you are, have been and will always be part of this family. Always. You're a freaking Winchester through and through and I sure as hell am not gonna tell you apart from Sammy or mom or dad. You have been there for me many more times than I can even count. You've helped Sammy in ways I didn't think was possible or that I even could. You did things for him and I that nobody else would have and all of it just because you care for us and not because somebody asked you to. Hell, as far as all of us are concerned you deserve a seat in that table as much as any of us. And... as far as I am concerned-” a breath escaped his lips, his voice ending up in a softer tone, as he relaxed a bit.

For some reason you held your breath harder than before. For some reason, you waited for those words and were sure they were gonna tug at your heartstrings harder than what he had previously said – not that you didn't already feel the tears welling up in your eyes but still did a good job at holding them back. For some reason you- Well, you knew the exactly the reason but this wasn't a time about your feelings for him by any means.

“As far as you are concerned?” you caught yourself whispering a bit too eagerly.

The corner of his lips lifted into a small smile, barely visible but definitely there, as his bore into yours “As far as I am concerned, I want you to be there with us. With me.”

You knew that this was probably not the best time to smile but you couldn't help the way your heart skipped several beats inside your chest, even more so at those last two words. You couldn't form the proper words after that, so you only gave him a small nod and he seemed to relax a bit more himself.

“Good.” he nodded his own head, small smile still on his lips “And now help me pick these damn forks and knives cause I'm totally lost. You've got like twenty different ones in here, how the hell do you tell 'em apart?”

“It's not that hard to tell them apart, Dean. I'll deal with that but first-” you grabbed his hand before he could get back to the dishes and forced him to stand still against the kitchen counter “You are going to let me deal with those wounds of yours, now.”

“Sweetheart” he already started protesting when you grabbed the first aid kit you had already brought with you anyway. But nothing he said was going to stop you anyway.

“Nuh huh” you shook your head.

“But (Y/n) come on, I'm fine.”

“Don't even.”

“I'm seriously in no need for that, (Y/n).”

“I'll get to decide that.”

“I've suffered worse though.”

“Hmh I know. I've been there to stitch and kick your ass and the second was always more fun.” you sassed back and he only rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

“We really gotta get those plates on the table though.” he said, his voice very low and soft at this point. He wasn't protesting, not really, because he couldn't find it in himself to let you pull away. He loved it when you took care of him, as much as he hated to make you worry about him.

“Hmh I know.” you repeated like a record thankfully more focused on cleaning up his wounds than how big and beautiful his eyes looked from so close as he looked at you, following your every move “And we will, once I'm done with thee.”

“They're probably gonna wonder what's taking us so long, you know.” his words made you pause and look at him, or more like narrowing your eyes at him, even if deep down you were glad to see he was at least feeling a bit better to make jokes around you. You continued with your task before he added “You know I could clean 'em myself, right?

“Hmh I know.” you said ever-softly “But since you're so stubborn to stop taking care of me like it's your job to, then so will I refuse to stop taking care of you. Now- Don't even waste your time trying to stop me. It's no use.”

“I'm fine, though.” he still protested “Sweetheart, seriously. I told you, they're not even that deep. You don't need to do any of that, some scratches because I wasn't as careful.”

“You think you're defending yourself right now?” you raised an eyebrow, putting some rubbing alcohol on a cloth to clean his wounds “Cause if you ask me you're not doing a good job. I've told you so many times to be careful, Dean. And stop wiggling like a little child and let me do this.” you rolled your eyes, pressing the cloth harder on his eyebrow and he hissed.

“I really told you I'm fine, sweetheart. There's no need for you to do any of this... or even more, worry.” his voice tone was soft and tender as his eyes bore into yours.

You paused for a second to look back at him, only then realizing the close proximity and just how comfortable it had started to feel, your hand lingering on his temple with the small cloth over it. Only when you felt his thumb rub over your wrist, you realized that he was also holding your hand and you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach.

“It's inevitable. I always worry about you.” you whispered, giving him a soft shrug.

“I know. It is inevitable.” he repeated, only this time he meant it about himself. Letting out a soft sigh he allowed himself to rest his forehead against yours as you wiped some of his blood, even the dry one.

“But that doesn't mean I can't do that myself.” he added before – and after a couple more seconds of staring into each other's eyes – you cleared your throat and focused back on the task at hand, putting on a small smirk “Besides- Cute how you think that insisting on being fine will get me to stop. Newsflash: it won't.”

A small groan escaped his lips but the look in his eyes showed he was far from irritated “Was playing my last card, can't blame a guy for trying. But I should've known better, you're too stubborn for my own good.”

“You say that as if it's a bad thing.” you scoffed and he didn't have the time to react before another chuckle was heard. Both you and Dean instantly looked at the direction of the door to see the older Winchester trying to fight off a big grin but it was impossible. You and Dean jumped away from each other as if electricity shot through you.

“Oh son you haven't seen stubborn yet.” he let a soft chuckle again, approaching you “Them huntressess are the most stubborn of all. Trust me, speaking from experience here.”

“As if hunters make it any easier for us.” you mumbled and added “Especially this one.” ignoring the look Dean gave you, but certainly smiling at the way John chuckled at your words.

“That one I can understand.” he nodded his head “And uh sorry, didn't mean to interrupt.” he said, looking between the two of you, as you gave him a perplexed look “It's just-” he gave Dean a look with a smirk, for what you didn't know it “Your mother could really use those plates now... unless you two have better things to do?”

You blinked several times, glancing at Dean who only shifted in his place and gave his father a look, back to the older Winchester “P-pardon?”

“Not that I mind anyway-” he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets “But I think Mary would be a bit young to be a grandmoher just yet.” he said with a smirk and you choked on actual thin air, pretty much just like Dean, but for you it was worse.

“A-alright, you know what? I- I think I'm gonna uhm go give Mary the uh grandchi- plates! I'm gonna go give her these plates, cause she uh-” you took the pile of plates “She definitely needs those for... the food.” it came out a bit squeaky but you were already feeling your face burn up so how much worse could that make you blush? No more than the father of the man you loved making a comment like that, for sure.

“You sure about it? I can take those and just-” John said with a casual shrug and smirk “Leave you two to get back to... whatever you were doing. I don't mind.”

“I was just cleaning his wounds and he was- we weren't really- it's not like we're even-” you stammered, your eyes going wide and a small yelp escaping when the plates nearly fell off your hands.

“It's ok. It's ok.” he shook his head with a smile “Told you, I wouldn't mind to be a grandfather. And I don't think anybody else would... really.” he shrugged, glancing at Dean who seemed too interested in the knives at the moment. Far too interested.

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a perplexed look once more, lips parting for a second. But you couldn't find the words no matter how much you tried so you just shrugged it off and shook your head.

“I think- I think it's best if I get these to the table. Dean's- Dean's fine, he... can take care of his own uhm wounds if he needs to.” you ended up mumbling before you hastily made your way out of the kitchen.

.

..

…

“Wow” Dean breathed out with wide eyes, looking in the direction you left before his eyes fell back on his father “You gotta teach me how you do that.”

“Takes some practicing but you'll get to it, son. Your mother was exactly like that, so if I could make it then so can you with (Y/n).” he chuckled, remembering fondly his time with his wife “Them huntresses are one of the kind but certainly the best.”

“You tell me that.” it came out as a soft whisper from the younger man who only thought of you in return.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Hey! Please can you do one with Severide where you are staying at his place for a while and he has someone over but it goes wrong when he realises it’s you he wants?! Thank you so much!! With cute fluff and angst please🥰

Just In Time by @anotheronechicagobog

@harryskittenxox I ended up deviating from your request a bit, so I’m hoping that you still like it.

AN: My computer won’t be fixed for another week and a half. I was able to finish this request because a lot of it was on cloud. I’m not very good at using the mobile version of tumblr so the Severide x reader request with a gif that I responded to? Not the finished product, I didn’t mean to post it, but I’ll deal with that later. When I get my laptop back I’ll probably post a ton of fic and then disappear for a while because university will be starting up again. Anyway, requests are still open and I’ll probably write the ones I get sent on paper and then post them with everything else when I get my laptop back. I hope you all enjoy, this one took me a while!

*I do not own Chicago fire, Med, and/or PD*

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, angst

Renee was back, and with her, more drama. She returned from Madrid pregnant, claiming that the baby belongs to one Kelly Severide. Your... Lover? Fuck buddy? Friend with benefits? You two hadn’t quite labelled what you two were, but it worked well enough, all things considered, one of those things being that you were in love with him. Everything was going well for you, you’d just been promoted to detective, the art you’d do in your spare time was starting to sell pretty well, and your crush on Kelly had kind of been recognized. You’d returned to your apartment to see Leslie on your white couch with the TV on and a deep-dish pizza on your coffee table accompanied by tequila. “Hey Shay, not that I’m not happy to see that the spare key I gave you works, but what are you doing here?”

“Renee’s back from Spain, heavily pregnant, and claims that the father is Kelly. I had a feeling you’d need grease and booze.” Now Kelly ignoring your calls and texts for the past three weeks made sense. After unfreezing you nodded enthusiastically. You started with the pizza, you didn’t want to dig into the alcohol just yet. “I don’t think the baby’s his. The timeline just doesn’t add up. I know that I’ve never really liked her, that shit she pulled trying to guilt him into moving to Spain after she’d found someone to fix his spine, but damn, something is really off about her and the entire situation this time.”

“What do you think is going to happen to my and Kelly’s... whatever it is we’re doing?” Leslie sighed and gave you a sympathetic look. “I don’t know Y/N. You should’ve seen him though, he’s so excited to be a dad. I want him to know what I think is going on but... It’ll hurt him so much. The only thing that would stop him from dropping everything and going to Renee’s side would be if you were pregnant.” You both laughed. Leslie cracked the seal on the tequila, while your laughter slowly died and a look of horror plastered itself across your face. Something Leslie noticed and cut her own laughter short. “Y/N?”

“My period’s never been regular, it just generally comes once a month, it’s short but heavy and painful. I just realized with all that's been going on, my art, the police station, I had been so busy, I hadn’t... I just realized the last time I had my period was the days before and of the firehouse barbeque.” Panic was flooding my stomach and the glass of tequila Shay had given me suddenly became the most offensive object I’d ever seen and practically threw it on the table. “Y/N,” complete seriousness had invaded Leslie’s voice, “that was four months ago.”

You both were in full-on freak out mode. Leslie grabbed your first-aid kit and went over symptoms of pregnancy asking if you’d been experiencing them at all (the answer had been yes to all of them) while checking your vitals and such. You both popped down to the pharmacy a block away from your apartment to buy ten pregnancy tests, all different brands. “You know, you probably don’t need this many-”

“Leslie, just, let me do this, okay?” She nodded in silence. One gallon of water, three minutes, and ten positive pregnancy tests later you were crying into Leslie’s shoulder. You felt sick, terrified, and alone. What were you going to do? Kelly was off with Renee somewhere playing happy families. You couldn’t even be mad about it because unlike you, Kelly actually dated her. When your tears had finally halted Leslie went to order more food you finally changed out of your work clothes into leggings and an oversized CPD sweater. “Why is that sweater so big?”

“It’s a co-worker’s. He gave it to me when he spilled coffee all over my shirt at work. I just never gave it back because he intentionally spilled a scorching beverage on me as a pickup line.” Leslie belt out a laugh at that. “So Y/N, when are you going to tell Kelly?”

“Please don’t hate me for this, but I don’t think I’m going to tell him at all, at least not anytime soon. He’s been ignoring me for weeks, spending all his time with Renee, who he didn’t even have the decency to me was back, let alone that she’s pregnant, and I think telling him now would be in poor taste. Regardless of whether or not the baby actually turns out to be his I think telling him now would just be mean. Plus, right now I have to deal with going to the doctor’s and how I’ll handle this at work.”

“I can’t say I agree with the whole not telling Kelly thing but I do understand it. I promise that I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you, Leslie.”

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You ran into Renee at the doctor’s office two days later. “Congratulations Ms. Y/L/N! You are eighteen weeks pregnant. I must say, it’s usually discovered quicker. May I ask why it took you so long to come in?”

“I was busy at work and was too distracted to notice that I hadn’t gotten my monthly torturer in a while, my morning sickness hadn’t been bad or at least nothing I couldn’t explain, and I spoke with my mom, she told me that the women in my family don’t show until later in pregnancy.”

“Oh, alright, that explains everything. Just so you know the gel will be cold.” Seeing your baby and hearing their heartbeat was something you couldn’t even describe. The emotions you were feeling were awe-inspiring. “Would you like a picture?”

“Would it be possible to get three?”

“Sure thing. Now, let’s talk about your personal health and some things I’ll be prescribing you.”

You were leaving the OB’s office looking at the pamphlets you’d been given when you bumped into someone. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I should have been looking where I was going!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it Y/N.”

“Renee? What a surprise...”

“Kelly, look who’s here!”

“Y/N?”

“Hi Kelly. Well it was great running into you two but-”

“You’re pregnant?” You sighed and tucked the pamphlets and photo into your bag. “Yeah, Kelly, I am.”

“Who’s the father?”

“Y/N, I’m curious about that as well, as far as I was aware, you haven’t been seeing anyone.” Renee had a look of smug curiosity on her face. “Why would you be aware of my love life Renee, we’ve never been good enough friends to have a conversation like that, so... Kelly told you. You told her.”

“You have to understand Y/N I’ve-”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it. I am going to leave now, I hope everything goes well at your appointment and that you have a nice day.” You bolted out of the room holding back tears before either of them could say anything. You knew you’d have to see them together, you’d prepared yourself for the pain, you just didn’t think you'd have to feel it right on the heels of feeling the connection you had with your unborn child. And the looks Renee was giving you, as if you’d been knocked up in a scandalous affair or something, not only stung but rubbed you the wrong way. Leslie’s right, there’s definitely something more going on. You, however, had a mini person to take care of, and no time to investigate. You’d leave that to Shay.

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Your new boss Sgt. Hank Voight had been surprisingly understanding and supportive. He immediately told you that you were not allowed in the field. You had a degree in computer science, so you were still able to be useful which pleased you. Working for intelligence had allowed you to connect with a childhood friend of yours, Connor Rhodes. You’d met Connor when you’d gotten a scholarship to his prep school and became surprising fast and loyal friends. Which explained why you had to hold him back when you two ran into Kelly and Renee while at lunch. Unlike Leslie, Connor had been adamant that you tell Kelly so that he could step up and be there for you. It had taken quite a while  to convince Connor to not hunt Kelly down and fight him. He may not look like it, but Connor seriously knew how to fight.

“Oh, hi Y/N!” Renee’s voice was as perky and smug as ever. “Hi Renee, Kelly. It’s really nice to see you but we should get going, have a great lunch.” You were planning to make a couple pleasantries, grab Connor, and bolt, but that all went to hell when Kelly narrowed his eyes. “What’re you doing here, Rhodes?”

“Having lunch with this lovely, incredible woman, what else would I be doing?”

“Isn’t there a surgery you need to be doing?” Kelly was quite visibly seething. “Oh, you’re a surgeon?” Renee was roaming her eyes up and down Connor’s body while biting her lip. “Yes, I am a surgeon. I had the day off, so I decided to help Y/N with buying the nursery furniture and stuff while the paint on the nursery is drying.”

“You’re the father? How did she manage to trap you?” Renee’s accusatory words were not taken well by Connor or Kelly, the latter looking at her as though she’d just kicked his puppy. “No, I am not the father, but I really wish I was.”  He’d said it in such a way that if you hadn’t known him as well as you did, you’d believe him.“

“The identity of my baby’s father really isn’t any of your concern Renee.”

“Well I was just curious-”

“You should have known that it was rude and offensive to ask the things you have and behaved the way you have. Connor, let’s go. Please.”

“Yeah, good idea Y/N-”

“If you're not the father, what’re you doing, Rhodes?”

“Stepping up since you didn’t.” The silence around the four of you was deafening. Renee looked like the cat that ate the canary, Connor looked immensely regretful, Kelly paled and looked and your now somewhat noticeable bump. His eyes met yours and you couldn’t take the look of betrayal in his eyes. You ran. Out the door, down the street, and hailed the first cab you saw.

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It was two days later when you heard knocking on your door. You opened it and there stood Kelly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Hello to you too, Kelly.”

“Y/N.”

“You didn’t tell me that Renee came back or that she was pregnant or that you were going to be a dad, you just ghosted me.”

“Renee’s baby isn’t mine. We did a DNA test.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re here.”

“Y/N-”

“No Kelly. You don’t get to pop in and out of my life as you please. You just dropped me, and yes, it was an understandable decision. But I had to hear about it from Leslie. You avoided me for weeks. We had a thing going, a good thing, and you decided that it wasn’t good. That what we had wasn’t enough to deserve an explanation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough.”

“Tell me what to do to make it better. I’ll do anything.”

“Make me pancakes.”

“... What?”

“Make me pancakes. I’ve been craving them.”

“Alright, you got all the supplies?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll get to work.”

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“Can I see the nursery after you’re done eating?”

“It’s not set up yet.” Kelly perked up and there was a nervous glow in his eyes. “Can... I set it up?” You looked at him thoughtfully, his eyes were pleading under your scrutinizing gaze. Well, if he did it, you wouldn’t have to. “Sure.”

“Yes! Thank you. Uh, if you don’t mind my asking, why hasn’t Connor done it?” He looked terrified as he asked the question. “He’s been busy with his fellowship, plus I’ve felt like enough of a burden on him.”

“You’re not a burden. You’d never be a burden.” His voice was like his gaze, soft, genuine, and loving. You smiled tenderly and decided to enjoy it while it lasts.

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You were six months pregnant and finally in need of maternity clothes. As you walked up to Trudy and the front desk she smiled at you and gestured to the dress you were wearing. “You look great Y/N.”

“I look fat.”

“Y/N you look pregnant and you’re glowing. You look beautiful.” She smiled softly at you and you smiled back. “Thanks Trudy.”

“No problem Y/N-”

BANG BANG BANG

“EVERYONE GET ON THE GROUND AND DO AS I SAY!” A gunman had startled you and you immediately dropped to the ground when you heard the shots go off. “You. Pregnant bitch. Get up and come here. Now.” You looked at Trudy, wide-eyed, not knowing what to do. “ARE YOU DEAF?! GET UP AND COME HERE!” Your body went cold and your blood was pumping so fast it was all you could hear. You kneeled and then used the desk to pull yourself up, never taking a hand off of your enlarged and vulnerable stomach.once you got close enough to see the rage in his green eyes he grabbed your arm, whipped you around, and placed the barrel of his gun to your forehead. “I have some demands,” he spoke to the precinct, “and if I don’t get what I want, I’ll blow her brains out.” Everything went fuzzy after that, voices blurred together, you couldn’t focus on what was happening. You were panicking and couldn’t do anything to stop it.

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You woke up in a hospital bed, an IV in your arm, and heart monitors on your chest. Your throat felt like sandpaper and your cheeks felt stiff and a little sticky from tears. You felt a weight on your hand and looked to see that it was Kelly. He was awake and clinging to your hand while murmuring as tears flooded down his cheeks. “Kelly?”

“Y/N! Oh, thank god you’re awake. April!” You were swarmed by nurses and doctors checking your vitals, asking you how you’re feeling. Somewhere in the hustle and bustle Connor, Voight, and Olinsky had entered the room. “How’re you doing kid?” Voight’s rough voice was oddly comforting. “I’m okay, I just... don’t remember what happened. When he grabbed me I just panicked and everything blurred together. I just...” I started to tear up, I was an unreliable witness, I froze when my baby was in danger. “Hey Y/N, don’t cry, it’s okay. We understand completely. We just came to check on you and pancake.” You smiled at the nickname Olinsky had given your baby when he found out about your cravings. Connor wrapped his arms around you. “I was so worried when they wheeled you into ED. I’m relieved that the both of you are okay. Nat’s gonna be back in soon to go over some things you’ll need to be careful of because of this.”

“What? But you said the baby was okay! What aren’t you telling us Rhodes?!”

“Severide! Either calm down or leave. Y/N does not need anymore stress!” Kelly was seething but obeyed Voight, knowing what the man was capable of doing. “Hey, Y/N is now a good time to come in and discuss your results or should I come back?” Nat was nervously standing in the doorway, eyes flitting between Kelly and Connor. “Come on in Nat. I want to know everything and I won’t hold off on that because these two want to have a pissing contest.” Both men bashfully backed down and Nat entered the room. “Your blood pressure was extremely high when you came in.That can be incredibly dangerous, to you and the baby. So, you’ll have to go on a low-sodium diet, I’ll give you a list of light exercise you’ll need to do, but other than that you’ll be on bed rest. You’ll need to make an appointment in three weeks. As long as you’re careful, eat healthy, and avoid stress you’ll be fine.” You took a deep breath as you absorbed the news and cradled your stomach. “I’d also feel much better if I knew there was someone at home who could take care of you.”

“I can. I’ve been staying with her for the past three weeks and, as long as she’s cool with it, I’ll stay as long as needed.” Kelly looked at you, promise in his eyes. Connor huffed and said, “what about when you’re on shift?”

“Everyone at Intelligence has been worried about her, we’ll take turns keeping tabs on and spending the day with her.” Hank’s answer was definitive and stopped anymore arguing. “Thanks Sarg.”

“No problem kid.”

“Y/N,” Nat said, bringing attention back to her, “do you have any questions for me?”

“Yeah, I do have one actually. Am I allowed to have pancakes?”

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Your appointment had come and gone very slowly. This was mostly due to the fact that Kelly was smothering and overprotective. You’d been delighted when you were taken off bedrest, even though you’d still been told to be careful. Kelly did not let up on his protectiveness. Even when you invited him to stay with you in your bed.

Things with you and Kelly had gotten even more complicated. Everyone knew he was the father, you were living together, and you’d started doing couple-y things. Going out to dinner once a week (only once you were off bedrest), being each other’s emergency contacts, moving in together, sharing a bed, intimate gestures, and preparing for the arrival of a baby together. “Hey Y/N, how was your day?” He quickly kissed your forehead before going to the kitchen to put away the groceries he’d just bought. You felt... unsure. You didn’t know what your relationship was and that concerned you. You had fallen even more in love with him and you just didn’t know what to do with that information. Kelly seemed to sense that your mood had changed from cheerful to troubled and sat next to you on the couch. “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me there’s nothing wrong, you keep staring off into space and frowning. I know that being eight- almost nine- months pregnant isn’t exactly a picnic, but I’m worried about you. Please, Y/N.”

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“Are we dating? Co-parenting? I just... I’m in love with you, okay? It hurts, knowing that it’s possible you’re only here out of a sense of duty. That you don’t... love me back-” You were interrupted by Kelly kissing you. His hands moved to the sides of your face as he kissed you lovingly, desperately. It was like he was worried you were going to disappear on him. You parted, panting, foreheads pressed together. “I love you. So much. When Renee told me she was pregnant, I was excited to be a dad, but I was sad that it wouldn’t be with you. That’s why I didn’t tell you, I couldn’t face you. I wanted you to be the pregnant one, not her. It hurt, to wake up with her and not you, to go to doctor’s appointments with her instead of you. And when April told me you’d been taken to the hospital after being taken hostage and that you were unresponsive? I collapsed. I answered the phone and my knees just buckled Casey and Cruz caught me and drove me to the hospital. You are without a doubt, one of the most important people in my life. The others being Leslie and pancake. I can’t pinpoint when I fell in love with you, but I fell hard, and I couldn’t be happier. I want a relationship and future with you. I know that might be a little fast, but I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me. I’ll work as hard as possible to earn it. We can go slow, fast, or just go with the flow, but I love you, I love pancake, and I want to get married one day and have more kids.” 

“I love you so much Kelly, I want to work for that future, too.” Kelly let out a laugh and the bubble of anxiety within you disappeared. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down for a long, loving, smiling kiss that was filled to the brim with promises for the future.

[haechanmochi]

Hello again! May I request DAY6 reacting to an Idol!S/O announcing their love for them during their S/O's concert? Thanks!

this is so cute

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Your group always did little fan interactions with tweet replies on stage

"Alright next question"- your leader announced

"Are you'll dating anybody, do we know them?"

She gave you a look as she read it out since you were the only one with a boyfriend, when you didn't reply she answered for the group

"All of us are still single and ready to m-"

"Actually", you interrupt her

"I'm dating someone"

The crowd starts screaming and chanting "Tell us, Tell us"

Jae

He usually came to your concerts but he had been cooped up in the JYP building, practicing.

He was in the common room with the rest of the JYP idols and they were showing a live stream of your concert on the big screen. Everyone had taken a break to watch and the infamous tweet popped up. Jae didn't expect you to but you did it.

"Its Park Jaehyung from DAY6".

I feel like Jae would be the cockiest one. Everyone in the room would turn to him and he'd put on this small smirk and say, "yea, she means me". He'd be like this at first but then get all soft and shy at heart while the rest of DAY6 teases him.

After your stage ends you'd be restless to get to him and he'd catch you in a big hug and lift you off the ground, peppering your face with kisses.

"I can finally do this in public", he'd say inbetween kisses while your members shout "get a room".

Sungjin

Sungjin would have agreed to keeping it lowkey to protect your image and shield the girl he loved from any hate so he stayed at home and watched the livestream of your show, not wanting to risk getting seen and even risk the chance of a rumour.

He'd get excited whenever you had to answer a question and when you interrupted your leader to answer the dating question, he would freeze.

"It's Park Sungjin, from DAY6".

He'd be worried at first but after seeing the crowd cheer like crazy and the positive livestream comments he'd actually start blushing and smiling. We know how shy the boy is. When you come by his place the next morning he'd have made a huge breakfast for you. He'll pull you into a warm hug and kiss your forehead,

"Hey girlfriend".

Brian YoungK

He was a huge fan of you, probably your biggest supporter, so he wanted to watch from the crowd and you bet he started chanting "Tell us".

And you did, but very vaguely, still a little nervous.

"You guys know Brian?"

The crowd was a little quiet, wanting you to continue- but you didn't. So this boy takes the opportunity and shouts "Who's Brian? MY NAME is YOUNGK!!"

The crowd starts laughing but then they realize it's actually him because your lighting staff, extra asf, cast a spotlight to YoungK's location in one of the VIP boxes. Everybody starts cheering and YoungK's face replaces the tweets on the big projector screen behind you.

"Yep, that's him", you beam and he send you a flying kiss- making the crowd flip again.

Wonpil

Emotional shy but really fkin crazy tiny little baby.

He loved you so much and he was very affectionate and clingy that so often he got upset whenever you had to step out in public and go at different times cause it wasn't officially announced yet.

He'd come to all your concerts and fansigns and the cutie would even send you his fanart- despite living in the same apartment.

So when the question popped up, he knew it was gonna go unnoticed so he slumped against the sofa backstage and huffed out like a child.

Until it didn't. You were answering and Wonpil felt himself DYING of curiosity.

"He's actually here today to see us perform too, Wonpil-sshi come on out here for a second".

He blinks twice to process it and then runs over to you. You give him a side hug and the fans start chanting your names and you hide him in a hug. From the overwhelming support, Wonpil would try so hard not to cry and it would be so obvious tho because he's just so emotional and everyone "AWWWW"s, when you lead him offstage, not breaking off the hug while the fans shout "OOLJIMA"

Dowoon

Your group didnt play any instruments so Dowoon had recommended playing the drums for you guys. That's how you met him. And how the infamous maknae love started- you were both the maknaes.

He'll probably be admiring you from the back, sitting at his drum kit and smiling proudly whenever you spoke. He was taking a swig of his water when you announced the answer to a question he never thought you'd answer.

"Yoon Dowoon is my biggest supporter and he is my drum", you'd joke and point to the drum kit. He'd turn so red and try to hide with the instruments but your other members would drag him out. The fans were throwing flowers on stage that they usually saved for the end and you picked up a red rose, handing it to Dowoon.

The boy would get all flustered and shy and hide behind you, backhugging you to keep himself steady cause he was shaking with joy.

-

This was so calming to write.

I hope this was good, I haven't done reactions in a while so it may not be the exact format.