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ab4eva · 9 months ago

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‘The Three of Us’

Fully co-authored with: @precious-little-scoundrel

Thanks to: My incomparable co-author & sweetheart Marina, for being willing to follow this rabbit hole with me and explore this little trio! And for the gorgeous mood board and vibes, I’m obsessed. And to Ashley, for being the best damn cheerleader we could ask for. ♥️

Warnings: All the sex, 18+ only

Word count: 8k

Sometimes in Hollywood, magic happens behind the scenes - in a dark corner of Bar Lubitsch or a little poolside bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. Things that are only whispered about in certain circles or sent to Deuxmoi with the stipulation of “anon please.” The blurry flash of a hand, littered with telltale rings, on her Instagram story. The paparazzi photos of a drunken night out before the three of them disappeared into the balmy Los Angeles evening. The fandom set ablaze by rumors as they combed over every sign, every possibility, every look that they took for god’s honest truth. A myth in the making, never confirmed, never denied.

When a ballsy journalist had the gumption to ask Callum about the rumors some months down the road, he just grinned his Cheshire smile and shook his head, the slightest blush hinting at the corners of his already ruddy cheeks.

“Nah, mate, can’t believe everyfing you read in Hollywood, can ya.” A statement, no trace of question in his ice blue eyes as he licked his cherry lips and stared the journalist down, daring them to dig deeper. His heart may have started pounding a little too hard but only he knew that. Nothing belied the steely gaze he turned on the journalist - not a flex in his jaw or a slight blink or the whisper of a breath. Needless to say, that journalist had no desire to go toe-to-toe with all six feet two inches of Chelsea’s finest lad. They let the subject drop, though the air had already been sucked out of the tiny interview room. Callum noted with suppressed glee the way the journalist shifted in their seat uncomfortably, trying to regain the upper hand.

Serves ya right, ya wanker, floated through Cal’s head and it took all his energy to focus his thoughts on the next question being asked of him. Now that the taboo subject had been brought up, he couldn’t keep his mind from drifting back towards that fateful night, like the breach in a ship’s hull the memories flooded in. The soft give of her flesh beneath his fingers as he dug them into her hips, needing her closer, closer. The salty taste of Austin’s skin on his tongue as he dragged it slowly across his friend’s collarbone, the streak of wetness left behind shimmering in the moonlight. The mingled sighs and shared breaths, overpowering and heady in that dark little bungalow. That was the night he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. It didn’t matter how many books he read or women he kissed or bloody hikes he took in Runyon Canyon, he was always going back to the night when everything changed.

“Didn’t I see you at the Luchino Visconti retrospective a couple nights ago? At the Academy?” The very definition of tall, dark and handsome has just walked in the room, smiling down at you and waiting expectantly for your answer. This is Callum Turner, the new client you’re working with for Masters of the Air press (alongside Austin Butler, your regular client and current boyfriend-adjacent…guy. It’s casual, you’re both keeping it casual. For now.).

“Oh! Were you there? Wasn’t it amazing?” you gush, a little flustered.

“It’s kind of rare to meet another Visconti fan. You must be one of the good ones.” He grins at you, all warmth and puppy dog eagerness. A kindred spirit, an instant connection. You would be very charmed by him, if you weren’t already attached to someone else. Who are you kidding, you’re charmed by him anyway. Talking with him comes easily, and the time flies by as you style his hair, moisturize his skin, add a bit of concealer here and there. He’s funny, sweet, intelligent. Austin has told you a bit about him, about his friend who helped him during one of the most confusing times of his life. But this - this is more than you were expecting. He’s more than you were expecting. And you’re pretty sure he’s flirting with you. When he asks you out for a drink later, you’re absolutely certain. It is with no small amount of regret that you turn him down.

The first time you noticed something akin to a spark between the man you’d casually been dating and his co-star was during press interviews for their new television series, Masters of the Air. As Austin and Callum’s groomer and makeup artist, you were allowed a seat at the back of the room, near the video monitors, ready to jump into action if one of Austin’s curls needed to be twisted back into place or if Callum’s nose got too shiny and needed a bit of powder. You glanced up from your phone to see the two of them leaned so close together their shoulders touched, just barely. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Callum’s mouth looked as if it might graze the shell of Austin’s ear, a smirk playing at the edges, as his dark, curly head bent conspiratorially towards his friend’s blonde one. Silly boys, you thought, smiling to yourself as you watched them. You’d seen that look on Austin’s face before…it was almost one of… adoration.

Without warning your mind flashed back to last night, Austin gazing up at you through your thighs, a look of devotion on his face, his sandy hair ruffled and his eyes slightly dazed. The very same look that he’s now turned on Callum… Nah… You laughed at yourself quietly and shook your head to clear your thoughts, silently scolding yourself. You’d been reading too many spicy novels recently and clearly your imagination was running wild. It made sense that he and Callum were close. Austin had been lost as a newborn calf without a mother after Elvis had wrapped and Masters of the Air had started filming. A brotherhood, that’s what Austin had called it. And Callum had been his right hand man. And that’s all, you were sure. Pretty sure.

Bar Lubitsch is dim and noisy, crowded with cast and crew of Masters for an impromptu celebration while so many of them are in town. Austin hasn’t been here in years, always remembered it being a good time. He wants to show you and Callum a good time, after all the hard work you three have been putting in for press the past couple of weeks. That was two hours and three drinks ago, and you watch them now from your perch at the bar and how much they feed each other’s souls, like displaced brothers, reunited after years apart. The evening is starting to shift and blur, so many drinks and people and noise and singing. You never knew Callum loved to sing so much, until he was singing karaoke at the top of his lungs and the whole bar was gathered around the little stage in the back room, jumping to the beat while he sang the most risqué lyrics right to Austin, like they were the only two people in the room:

Even when the cold comes crashing through

I'm putting all my bets on you

I hope they never understand us

I put my heart inside your palms

My home in your arms

Now we know nothing matters

Nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

You’re not sure you’ll ever be over Callum pinching Austin’s cheeks, channeling his inner Egan, and singing right at him with drunken gusto while Austin is too tipsy to remember not to bask in it and it’s probably the cutest, and hottest, thing you’ve ever seen. It’s only afterwards that you start to feel a tiny flicker of jealousy. There’s something between them, a connection that time and distance hasn’t untethered. Later, you drag Austin into one of the faded velvet booths, snuggling up to him as he pulls you into a one-armed embrace, kissing your temple with glassy eyes and a crooked smile. His heady mix of sweat and cologne mingle, along with the alcohol, and suddenly you’re lightheaded. Not to mention the fact that his soft lips have seemed to have move, with lightning speed, from your temple to your neck. You gently push him away, and he gives you a questioning look but you need to see his face when you ask him this.

“Hey…what’s going on with Callum? Because, it’s clearly something? And whatever it is, it’s ok, really it is…but…I do have eyes, Austin,” you blurt out, biting your lip. You see a dozen different emotions cross his features, like a movie playing out in real time - surprise, guilt, defensiveness, longing, acceptance. His face goes all red and he leans his head back, his tan throat open and inviting, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly. It takes everything in you not to kiss him right this second.

“It’s…complicated. Kind of,” he sighs as he stares up at the ceiling and you can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it and that’s answer enough for you. You don’t push him further as you quietly turn his mouth to yours and make him forget anything and everyone but you.

“Come on Aus, it’ll be just like old times,” Cal goads drunkenly, placing a proprietary hand on Austin’s belly, his words laden with meaning and a hint of pleading. It’s not like he’s missed Austin or anything…not like that. Not that he’d admit anyway, hell no. Couldn’t two dudes have a consensual thing and not be weird about it? It must be liquid courage that made him suggest it aloud. That and the fact Austin keeps looking at him like he hung the damn moon.

“Swear you’ll shut up? If I say yes, will you just…chill?” Austin’s eyes are trained on you and it takes everything in him to play it cool, keep a calm head. Cal’s hand is still on Austin’s stomach and he starts to pet him, just above the belt and it makes Austin lurch in sudden need. He licks his lips, they’re suddenly parched, and swallows hard. He hears Cal snicker softly in his ear.

“Now, see, as I recall, you wouldn’t stop asking me to keep sayin’ shit last time.” Callum’s voice floats above the music, scratchy from gin and karaoke, hot breath tickling the shell of Austin’s ear. His hand moves to squeeze Austin’s neck, and if Austin didn’t know any better he’d swear it was a subconscious power move, Callum trying to literally bend Austin to his will. There’s an all too familiar twitch down Austin’s pant leg, and oh god he wishes- he thought, he was so sure, he was past that phase of responding like one of Pavlov’s dogs to Callum’s adoration and teasing.

Maybe it’s just the notion, his suggestion. That’s what’s suddenly making Austin’s blood feel hot and his eyes hazy, it’s the idea of her…and him! But mostly her, just her, and sharing her and- None of that explains the way he wants to bend to that firm hand squeezing in drunken cajoling at the base of his neck, makes him want to knock noses and yank at the stupid collar of Callum’s sweater until there’s collarbones to see and a draft under the wool. This is winter in Los Angeles, heating inside is state of the art, there’s no reason for such coziness and it’s making the man sweat and all Austin can think of from the smell is memories of an English summer, worn out and floating in his own body, biting down on Callum’s upper arm, tangy, sweaty flesh to keep an awfully strange escapade quiet.

That does it. What is he even thinking? He must’ve drank more than he realized but then, oh god, there Cal goes, throwing his hands up in defeat, shrugging his shoulders like a kid caught trying to push his luck. The arm around his shoulder is suddenly gone, and he’d give anything to have it back again. He shakes his head - he really must’ve had too much to drink. It was making him melancholy and sobering him up fast. Funny how alcohol will do that to you.

“Scouts honor, Butler, I’ll-I’ll-I’ll,” he seems to search the ceiling in drunken concentration for the correct wording most likely to open the doors to the kingdom, “I’ll be- it’ll be: HER, YOU and a um, uh mannequin. How ‘bout that, mate? Good enough for ya? You’d probably like that, wouldn’t ya? Ya little freak!” He lands a playful right hook to Austin’s jaw, hard knuckles digging into soft cheeks.

The usually inflammatory epithet of ‘freak’, coming as it does from a man begging for a threesome with himself and his girl, is nothing short of rabidly complementary. Callum’s shit-eating, triumphant grin could light up the whole damn room in this moment. He knows he’s got Austin right where he wants him and starts to count down silently in his head - three…two…

Austin finds himself grinning, a warning, measured thing but a condoning of the sentiment all the same.

“One,” Cal says out loud, his arm going back around Austin’s shoulders, squeezing so hard Austin winces a little. It’s a reflective motion then, done almost without thinking, when Austin slaps Callum’s thigh, not realizing there’s a boner bent down that trouser leg. A wounded hiss leaves Callum’s lips as he caves in on himself a little bit and Austin freezes, his face turning crimson and he feels another twitch down his own trousers.

“Steady on mate,” Callum coughs, shaking a leg, trying to discreetly readjust. “And I thought I was the eager beaver here.” Austin wants to wipe that smirk right off Callum’s smug little face but the moment their eyes meet they can’t help but start to laugh. Giggles, really, which turn into loud guffaws that has the whole bar turning to see what the commotion is about.

Your head whips around at the sound you’ve grown to know well over the past few weeks, the loud and boisterous laughter of two friends who seem forget that anyone else exists when they’re together. You spot them, huddled close as they always seem to be, and shake your head. A grin tugs at your lips and threatens to spill out the feelings fluttering around in your chest, no your stomach, no…somewhere else, lower. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about the two of them…together. Sometimes you’re with them, sometimes you’re not, in these little fantasies of yours. You catch yourself biting your lip and staring at them a little too longingly. You wonder what they’re saying now, both of them look flustered and awkward, just slightly. You can actually feel the tension rolling off of them in waves from where you stand across the bar.

Austin chooses that moment to look up and catch your eye. There’s a fire in his gaze that wasn’t there earlier and what is that look on his face? You’ve never seen it before…shy and almost…guilty? He looks just like a little boy who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Your eyes question him across the dim bar, an unspoken tether ties you together wherever you are, and uncertainty about the deal he’s just struck with Callum comes creeping in. What has gotten into him? He’s just agreed to share you, with another man. And not just any man, one he has a rather interesting history with. The thought of Callum touching you, kissing you, fucking you…suddenly he’s stone cold sober and beginning to regret letting Cal sway his decision. Because there sure as hell won’t be any take backs, not with Callum. He’s like a dog with a bone once he gets what he wants.

“Dude no, there’s chemical flavoring in there, that shit’s bad for you and it’ll give her irritation!” Austin looks slightly perturbed, not for the first time this evening. He sways slightly under the florecent lights of the drugstore, the constant buzzing adding to the pounding in his head.

“What if it’s not intended to go on her? Hmm? Thought of that Butler?” Callum murmurs under his breath, his eyes focused solely on the lube he’s holding, a pink blush creeping up his neck to his ears. Has a blush under drugstore fluorescents ever looked so lovely? And Austin hasn’t stopped biting that lower lip since you walked into this place. It hasn’t stopped him from grinning, though, his excitement bubbling through in little ticks and tells, the nervous turning over of the vaseline jar in his large hands.

“You haven’t even bought me dinner Cal, just straight to the flavored lube,” Austin bemoans, faking offense. “’Sides, she’s already sweet enough, aren’t you baby? I’ve had my fair share of licks,” Austin’s shoulder bumps yours as he sends you a smoldering look, his eyes flickering down your body briefly before his cheeks turn a slight rosy color you can see blooming up from his chest through his open shirt collar.

“Austin!” you hiss, slapping his arm playfully and hiding your face in his neck, embarrassed.

“Leave it to you two twig Bettie’s and we’d be down to nothin’ but socks and coconut oil,” Cal snarks, not at all inaccurately.

“I don’t remember you minding coconut oil last time,” Austin says under his breath, clearly meant for Callum’s ears only, but you manage to catch it, and your heart starts to pound at the implied meaning.

“Mmm, and it was bitter so - mojito,” Callum says decidedly, leaving no room for argument. Austin smiles at you, lifting his shoulder in a shrug and rolling his eyes heavenward. You giggle nervously, wondering for the first time just what you’re getting yourself into.

“I saw that! Listen mate, feel free to shut me up at any time. This would do nicely, ya reckon?” Callum lifts a silk sleeping mask with one, long finger and swings it around seductively, waggling his eyebrows up and down comically. You laugh and the butterflies making a home in your ribcage start to settle down again.

The whimpers emanating from between your parted lips take you by surprise and you promptly shut your mouth, unexpectedly embarrassed to be mewling so wantonly. You bite your lip as it becomes harder and harder to hold them in with every slow thrust of Austin’s velvety cock filling you, his swollen tip hitting just the right spot, and every flick of Callum’s tongue as he laves at your tender little clit with vigor. You feel Austin tense slightly beneath you as Cal swirls his tongue down to your opening to lap at where you and Austin join, sloppy and wet. A soft moan floats past your left ear, Austin’s hot breath sending a shiver through you, and it seems to invigorate Callum as he doubles down on his efforts to have his tongue cover as much surface area as possible. He chuckles and it jolts through you as your back arches, your fingers finding his dark curls and yanking him closer, demanding something you aren’t even aware of. He understands what you need even if you don’t and as his lips close around your sensitive bud you can no longer keep quiet, keening softly. You practically buck off of Austin’s lap and his arm tightens around your waist to keep you in place. The harder Callum sucks, the more Austin starts to whine - you’ve gotten so tight around him he can hardly thrust.

“Oh fuck, what’re you doing? Cal…what…” you slur as you pull at his hair, trying to dislodge him from your clit. You feel him grin against your heat as he slowly slips two fingers in you, resting them alongside Austin’s length. You hiss at the stretch and Austin starts to pick up his pace again. Your head is too hazy with pleasure to register fully what is happening as Callum gently slides another finger in next to the first two. His mouth works your clit, sucking and pulling, harder then soft again.

“More…more more more,” you beg hoarsely. You feel as if you might fly away and the only thing anchoring you to earth are these two men and their hands and their mouths on your body. Callum cocks an eyebrow at you and his eyes shift to Austin. You feel him nod, barely, and then another burning stretch as Cal slips his pinkie in next to his other fingers. It drives you insane and you feel yourself clenching and coming, harder than you can ever remember. You stop breathing for a moment, your mind going numb with rapture as you come apart at the seams.

“Oh fuck,” Austin whispers, biting your shoulder, his hand absentmindedly palming your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple. “Come on baby, I know you’ve got more, give us another one. Cal, can’t thrust with you in there…give me some room, huh?”

Callum let’s go of your clit with a wet pop and gently slides his fingers out. His nose and chin are shiny with your juices, even his eyebrows look a little damp and he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Go on then, Butler, show us what you got.” He stands, knees popping as he does. From up here he can see your faces clearly, yours and Austin’s. He watches, rapt, as Austin nuzzles your neck, nipping at your earlobe as he speeds up his thrusts, toying with your nipples mercilessly. Your eyes flutter closed and your head drops back onto his shoulder. Callum shakes his head, dazed and pussy drunk - why was he on his knees so long?? He coulda been watching this the whole time? But he knows why- fresh, homegrown pussy. And he means to have his fill. He can’t take being on the sidelines, watching Austin move in and out of you at a punishing pace, having all the fun. One of Callum’s massive palms descends onto your clit, slapping and rubbing cruelly, back and forth, faster and faster. And then you’re gushing everywhere, all over Callum’s hand and Austin’s cock and the bed, soaking everything.

“Come on then girl, give us all you’ve got,” Cal encourages, his raspy voice driven to the point of hoarseness. He grabs his painfully hard, throbbing cock and roughly starts to slap your clit. You gasp, jerking in Austin’s arms as you fall apart again. And then Callum gets a thought, because his dick is doing most of the thinking just now, and it’s been sadly neglected thus far. He’s just had four fingers in you and now you’re literally flinging droplets with each swipe, it’s a goddamn swamp down there it’s so wet. He slows his slaps and starts to rub soft circles against your clit, stopping every once in a while to try your entrance gently, just to see. You moan breathlessly and his heart speeds up as he looks at Austin questioningly.

“I recognize that gleam in your eye, Turner…spit it out,” Austin says in a slightly strangled voice.

“Think you can take us both, angel? At the same time?” Callum directs his question to you, ignoring Austin.

You can’t take your poor abused clit getting ground on anymore, it’s just too intense, anything to give it a break. You nod your head so fast he thinks it might fly off. Your trembling little hand reaches down with disjointed begs of “Put it in baby, put it, please Cal, it’s burning.”

Your sloppy wet pussy hole visibly clenches with a tiny space of room left each time Austin digs in. Callum drunkenly wonders if they should have a medical professional on standby for this sorta shit, like it’s gotta be a crime to wedge two boys into a girl, especially when Butler’s packing like that. But your whine suggests you need it and he’d really like to not be left out. FOMO -that’s what he’ll blame when he’s driving the ambulance or else coming down from the craziest high he’s ever had with a pool of cum drying on his belly.

Austin goes still as a statue under you and drags your sweaty hair across to the other shoulder so he can really see your face and ask, “You sure? Baby, talk to me, you really wanna try?” His hand gently grips your chin, forcing you to focus on his eyes, his question.

“I’ll die if I don’t have you both,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper, but Austin still looks concerned and slightly perturbed. Is the girl he knows even in there? But you want something, you want this and he’ll be dammed if he doesn’t give you anything you want that’s within his power to give. And if there’s one thing he loves about you it’s your love of a challenge. He bites his cheek, trying not to blow his load over your sweet determination.

“Ok ok.” Austin takes a deep, steadying breath, kissing your wet temple and gives Callum a very familiar look of admonishment and also trust in his good intentions. “Careful, man, really careful,” he instructs as Callum nods his silent assent.

“No safe words, just if somebody says stop we stop, ok?” Austin’s starting to pant, as he can feel the poofy mushroom head of Cal’s cock brushing his sack at your entrance. “Anybody who says stop,” he clarifies, half thinking he might be the first to wimp out and do it.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Cal actually looks sober as fuck except for the sheen of sweat that always seems to come with his pints and somehow the eye contact he makes lights a fire in Austin’s belly.

“I might say no,” you squeak, “I won’t mean it though, just a heads up. I’ll say stop- if I need to stop.”

“No?” Cal laughs nervously. “That might make me feel a little…bad,” he admits, still rubbing maddening circles around where Austin’s been practically cockwarming you for ages.

“Stop getting all existential and give her what she wants, man,” Austin rebuts.

“It’ll make me feel bad if she says no,” Cal blurts, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Then I’ll do it.” Austin’s voice is rough in your ear and your nipples harden into peaks as he gently pulls out of you and pats the bed. “Tell Cal to lay his big ass self down.”

You giggle as Callum dives onto the bed, bouncing for a moment until he settles, turning over onto his back, head propped on a lazy forearm. He pats his meaty thighs and you roll your eyes but can’t deny the flip flop your stomach does at the thought of those thighs and what a nice cradle they’ll make while you’re railed within an inch of you’re life. And then you’re hovering over him, Cal kneading your hip encouragingly while running an admiring hand up and down your spine, like you’re a skittish horse in need of calming. You hesitate, momentarily unsure, but Austin nods at you reassuringly from the foot of the bed and ever the gentleman, gives you his hands to hold as you sink slowly down on Callum. Though his gentlemanly hands are gripping yours tightly, his eyes are glued to your pussy taking every inch of uncut Brit cock that he’s maybe gagged on once.

“Earth to Butler!” comes from behind you because Austin’s zoned out a little and it’s been a hot minute and you’re somewhat situated now.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, uh, ok, ok…”

Cal snickers before crunching up behind you, his chest hot against your back as he wraps his arms around you. “You feel lovely, darlin’, wanna lay back wif’ me? Don’t mind him, he’s lost it. Always goes a bit soft in the head around a pretty pussy or my cock.”

It’s a lot from this position and laying back against Callum’s chest is intense. You feel like he’s fully in your belly and it stretches your womb over him. He feels different…his isn’t as wet as Austin’s little water fountain but it throbs more noticeably, sending little shocks of pleasure through you. Cal pets your belly soothingly and spreads your pussy lips for Austin to really get a look at. You whine and squirm, realizing again the want for more. Those fingers dabbling at your entrance, threatening to push inside you once more and that’s when Austin breaks, recalling that’s what he and his cock are here for.

“Yeah, ok, ok, present and accounted for. Move your hand,” he murmurs, swiping Cal’s hand away. He thumbs at you himself for a bit, just to be sure and to watch as Cal loses his cool facade for a second when you clench tightly around him.

“Still sure about this, baby?” He asks one more time as he’s pressing at the ring and the burn has you bracing. You feel Cal’s hand move from your waist to your thigh, behind your knee, cupping it and dragging it wide, spreading you apart before you’ve even said your piece. The vote of confidence does you good and you take a deep breath, nodding once, decisively.

“Then put me in, angel,” Austin tells you, fat cockhead already snagged in but there’s a little ripple in his hard cock from the resistance of the tight space. Steeling yourself, you reach down and wrap your fingers around him, tugging him closer and slowly feeding his thickness into you alongside Cal’s, who starts thrashing his head and moaning at the drag like he’s the one getting breached.

“Good girl, good girl, please more…know you can take more.” Cal’s begging for cock by proxy and it alters your brain somehow. Austin’s too, he puts his hips into the effort and soon he’s gotten past the muscles at your command and into the threshold where you can’t manage to push him out if you tried. It makes you panic a little, but Cal is softly shushing in your ear, a distracting thumb stroking behind your knee, other freckled hand mauling a tit and begging you to take more cock so he can get friction.

“She can take it, come on, Austin,” he vouches for you, a little self promotion as you can’t even form words right now. Somewhere about six inches in your vocabulary consists of yelped little “fuck’s”and whimpering “I cant’s”.

Austin caresses your cheek, commanding you to look at him, his blue eyes focused in on yours, “That’s it baby, just a little more. You’re doing so good for us… such a good girl.”

Callum grab’s Austin’s shoulder and brings him fully deeper, which is all well and good when Austin kisses your forehead and insists raggedly, “You are doing it, baby.”

When he finally pushes in that last little bit, you lose any control you thought you had, instantly coming from the stretch and threatening to push Austin out. But he presses nothing less than his full weight on you, keeping you in place and himself snug inside next to Callum. You gasp for air and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him. Austin tries to remember to breathe and promptly forgets how when he makes eye contact with Callum for the first time since being balls deep.

“Are you -is that you…twitching?”

“Woulda thought you’d remember that,” Callum smirks. “Coulda sworn I recall you saying something about it jumping like a live wire in your hand?”

“Christ, well it feels different all…snuggled up next to mine,” Austin grits out, coloring slightly.

After a moment or two, when breath has been regained and a few laughs shared and some semblance of sanity restored in right spaces, Cal starts to pepper every inch of your neck and cheeks in kisses. Now that he’s not so desperate he’s become utterly grateful for you, for this. The kisses turn into sloppy, wet groans in your ear as Austin begins to move and Cal’s hand is gripping your jaw, his eyes locked on Austin, your legs thrown wide over his thighs, spread to the max and he’s a perfect recliner. He throws his other arm across your chest in a loving armbar, holding you still on top of him, “So Butler can get a rhythm, baby.”

Austin looms above you both, finding his pace, measured and steady. His beautiful face is flushed full of awe and there’s a heat in his gaze you’ve never seen before. He puts his hand on Callum’s shoulder for leverage, long fingers digging into freckled flesh and Cal promptly lays a little smooch on Austin’s forearm with a cheeky grin. Austin’s eyes shift and change, become a deeper blue and an expression you can’t read flits across his face as he jabs a particularly hard thrust into you. Callum starts to whimper and squirm when he realizes Austin’s thrusts are rubbing him too well, and it's not just you who’s getting their spot hit - that spot being his foreskin being drug back and forth in maddening little drags.

“Y’all like that? Feel good?” Austin growls lowly, rhythmic thrusts pushing you and Callum deeper into the fluffy white sheets, both of your whimpers combining until you can’t tell who they belong to. Austin groans and drives in harder, his white knuckles gripping Callum’s shoulder hard, while he reserves his tenderest touch for you, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your cheek.

“You’re…enjoying this…” you manage to moan between thrusts. His face splits into a grin as he pushes all the way in, pausing for a moment to kiss you hard, all tongues and teeth and desperation.

“Oh, fuck mate, that’s so good. Oh my god,” Callum babbles. “Right there, fuck, right there. You feel so good.”

“Which one, baby girl? Me or her?” Austin smirks.

For once, Callum has no witty response except the heavy panting in your ear. He squeezes your waist harder and his fingernails indent your hip and it gives you something else to focus on while you catch your breath, a tiny escape from the mind-blowing ecstasy you feel and the slight alarm bells ringing in your head. You can feel Callum somehow expanding and growing inside of you, even bigger than he was before. Austin’s eyes go wide and a look of panic crosses his face - his perfect pink mouth forms a perfect “o”.

“Oh shit, what…why is everything so fucking tight again…what is happening,” Austin groans breathlessly, his mouth set in a determined line, teeth ground together so hard you worry momentarily he might break a tooth. He tightens his grip on Callum’s shoulder and Cal’s massive hand encircles Austin’s delicate wrist, knuckles white as he holds on for dear life.

“Faster…faster,” Cal begs, again and again. “Sorry no, mate it’s, it’s fuckin’ happenin’…oh fuck.” His head cranes forward and you can feel his belly and hips flexing beneath you as he tenses over and over, letting out a hoarse sort of howl as he comes. His warmth fills you and it shakes something loose in your head, your own stomach starting to clench as you grab a handful of Austin’s golden hair, urging him on. Callum’s hands are all over you, petting you everywhere as he starts to come down.

“S’ok I came in ya? Yeah? Good, ‘cause I did,” he whispers hoarsely with a remorseful little laugh, back to babbling to you now that Austin’s got him there. He wipes the sweaty hair from your forehead, tucking a piece of it behind your ear and kisses your neck, whispering encouraging words, “That’s it, babe, give us another one.”

Cal’s bitten off little whimpers spur you on, as his soft cock is trapped in there too, getting pummeled. He’s trying to focus on you, with little pets and murmurs of encouragement but you feel his jaw clench as he grits his teeth, taking the pounding Austin is giving the both of you.

“Got me feelin’ like a proper woman, squealin’ n’ shit, Aus.”

You feel another orgasm build and shake through you, one of the many countless times you’ve fallen apart tonight, but this one stands out. It would bring you to your knees if you were unlucky enough to be standing at this moment. You’re sure it has something to do with knowing you’re satisfying two men at once, Callum having found his release and Austin being close to his. You can tell he’s on the verge by the little signs you’ve grown to recognize over the course of your relationship. The way his forehead creases in between his brows - you’ve kissed it away a dozen times in the heat of the moment. The way his pulse beats on the side of his neck, his vein there popping out and becoming more prominent. The short little huffs of breath he inhales, in quick succession - one, two, three, bam, bam, bam, like three shots straight to your heart. It’s your turn to take care of him, the last one standing after he made sure you and Cal got yours.

“Your turn, baby,” you whisper, pulling his forehead down to meet yours, thumbing at the hollows of his cheeks as he begins to tremble and his thrusts turn sloppy. He kisses you again, sucking on your tongue before moving to latch onto your neck. Cal wraps a hand around Austin’s throat, pushing his head back and squeezing just enough for his eyes to widen and his mouth to pop open. His blue eyes darken and you think he’s going to put his mouth on you again, but he bypasses you and goes straight for Callum’s collarbone, his perfect, white teeth sinking into Callum’s lovely English skin and biting down, hard. Cal yelps but doesn’t let go of Austin’s neck, and that’s when you feel it, your belly filled with warmth again as Austin pulses and twitches inside you, a stuttered moan muffled into the crook of Callum’s shoulder. He collapses on top of you and Callum, completely and utterly spent, the three of you breathing heavily and unable to move for a few moments. You squirm a tiny bit, trying to take a deep breath with one man plastered to your front and another to your back.

Austin gets the hint and lifts himself back up on shaky arms, slipping out of you with a squelch. You gasp one final time, at the sudden loss of him, and a cold emptiness is left where he once filled you to the brim, almost to breaking. The coldness is replaced quickly by a gushing warmth spilling out of you. You feel Callum suck in a breath, his broad chest expanding beneath you, his right arm still wrapped tightly around your chest.

“Christ, it’s running down my balls,” he wheezes out, taking another shuddering breath.

Austin braces himself against the headboard and slowly disentangles himself, flopping limply beside you on the bed. He looks at you and Cal still entwined, his eyes moving from both of your faces flushed with heat, down to Callum’s arm still tightly wrapped around you, one large, meaty hand gripping your breast, his middle finger absentmindedly pressing the sensitive bud of your nipple down. Austin sucks in breath after breath, and his eyes travel lower, to your legs still splayed wide over Callum’s sturdy thighs, his softening cock still nestled deep inside you, the spend of both men slowly dripping out of you. A sudden flash of possessiveness roars through him - for you, for Callum. For the sacred thing he has with both of you. His face goes numb and his ears start to ring. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“What is it, Aus?” you whisper, stretching out a hand to him. He looks forlorn, alone on the other side of the bed, his vulnerable face a mix of emotions crashing together all at once, lost and unsure, the gravity of everything settling on his shoulders like a blanket.

“Come back to us.” Your fingertips barely reach to brush his bronzed chest, the little blonde hairs soft against your skin. “Please.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and crawls back over, wrapping his arms around you both and collapsing on top of you again. You’re hilariously squished in the middle of a bear hug now, both men squeezing with all their might, a strange show of masculinity to mask true feelings.

“I can’t breathe….” you manage between giggles. Callum lets out a soft chuckle in your ear, his breath warm against your cheek as his arm shifts beneath you. He digs his fingers into Austin’s armpit and wiggles them around none too gently. Austin bucks against you and squeaks out an uncharacteristically high laugh, trying to squirm out of Cal’s grasp, but it’s too strong and Austin’s body feels like jelly just now.

“Hey! Hey hey, no fair…you know I hate… being… tickled…” Austin grunts out, trying desperately to writhe out of this strange embrace.

Bright, cheerful sunshine spills onto the hotel room floor and across the bed, where it has no right to be at this ungodly hour. It shines in unabashedly, through drapes you forgot to close properly in all of your horny desperation. A little sliver of verdant green Hollywood hills is the only signal from the outside world. In here, somewhere between sleeping and waking, in that hazy early morning dreamland, you register Austin tucked up close behind you, his knees pushing the backs of yours and his warm, heavy arm slung over your waist. This is how you wake up every morning and you scoot your bottom back, into the cradle of his hips, momentarily unaware of the pulverization of your insides. But scenes from last night play out like a clip reel inside your head almost as soon as you’re conscious. You squeeze your eyes tight, refusing to give the sun its due. You stretch your legs gingerly, wiggling your toes against Austin’s, and take stock of things. There’s the obvious ache between your legs - more of a throbbing fire, if the truth is to be told. Your nipples seem to remember the previous evening’s activities as well because they immediately harden and stand at attention. And you can’t feel them yet but you’re pretty sure you have a few bruises, too. Ah well, you think as you yawn lazily, that’s what makeup is for.

You blink one eye open (it’s so bright in here!) and the first thing you encounter is a massive arm right next to your nose, tiny, golden hairs glinting in the sunlight. The second thing you see is Cal, on his belly and sans sheets or clothes, his lush and muscular bottom swelling above the white duvet beneath him. His adorable face is pressed into the pillow next to yours, dark curls swirling across his forehead and day’s worth of stubble dots his jaw. He feels your eyes on him, he’s only been snoozing for a bit, waiting for you two to wake up. He cracks one bright, blue eye open and stares back at you a moment. He senses a rush of what he feels everytime he sees you but this time it’s magnified by endearment and gratitude. Then, his face lights up, still smushed into the pillow and a massive, squinty grin splits his face. Your heart gives a funny little leap inside your chest and you find that your fingers are caressing his cheek softly, of their own volition and you resist the urge to kiss the little freckle under his mouth. He grabs your hand and kisses your fingertips, holding them to his warm lips as he smiles. And suddenly, any worry about things being weird has evaporated, as has any possibility of him being a third wheel. He just belongs.

“Hey! Quit making goo-goo eyes at my girl.” Austin’s gravelly morning voice rumbles from behind you playfully, and quick as lightning the arm still draped around your waist reaches over and smacks Callum’s ass, hard. The slap echoes around the room and you see the pale flesh of his bottom bounce and reverberate with the force of it. Cal, and his red, pillow creased face, jolts forward, yelling and jerking in the sheets, which in turn rubs his raw cock. This causes a chain reaction of events which results in him immediately pulling a sore muscle and flopping back down on the bed, moaning and rubbing his reddening backside.

“No fair, bruv,” he groans into the pillow. “That was too fuckin’ close to my balls.”

Austin chuckles and swats your ass gently for good measure. Slowly, everyone starts to shift and stir. First there are whines about soreness and muscles. Then about how sticky it all is. Then about who’s gonna order room service - but more pressingly, who’s gonna walk to the mini bar and grab a water. And then there’s an argument about who’s voice is less hoarse to call for the food - this ends up being you, hilariously. Then there’s moaning arguments about who is intact enough to wobble to the door and tip the server. In between massive amounts of doting and fretting over you, obviously. The boys are ever attentive, fluffing your pillows and making sure you’re comfortable while they feed you omelets and sausage and pancakes until your energy is restored. Over breakfast in bed, the arguments continue about who’s more bruised up - there’s a nasty bite mark on Cal’s collarbone but the fingerprints around Austin’s neck are a fair rival. There’s a panicked and very male discussion about emergency rooms when you admit you can barely move. But you manage to convince them that a nice, hot soak in the tub would do you wonders right about now. So Austin goes to draw you a bath while Callum helps you out of bed, wrapping a protective arm around your waist, and guiding you to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later you’re starting to feel somewhat restored and a little more like yourself. The boys take turns showering, getting ready for the screening event later today. They go about it quietly though, almost reverently, leaving you to relax in peace. You turn the hot water on again, you’ve soaked so long it’s turning tepid but you’re not ready to relinquish this luxury. You ask Austin to bring you your makeup kit, eying the marks on both of them that need covering up. First Austin, then Callum, one after the other they kneel beside the tub in only their dress pants, chest and feet still bare. There are bruises and hickies and bite marks on clavicles and necks and wrists. Poor Callum, with his delicate, reactionary British skin has what looks like beard burn over half his chest and up the side of his throat. You turn sideways in the fancy clawfoot bathtub, gingerly dabbing concealer here and there, doing the best you can to cover up any evidence of last night's revels. Austin sits patiently, a towel underneath his knees to buffer the hard tile floor, and watches you with his kind, enigmatic ocean eyes. They’re distracting, those eyes, as they watch your face, every blink and every smile.

“What is it, Aus? Something on your mind?” you finally murmur, unable to take such naked contemplation any longer.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He smooths the hair back from your forehead, rubbing a silky piece between his fingers. “I’m so lucky.”

Callum slouches against the doorway and lets out a quiet hum. “I think you mean we’re lucky, mate. The three of us.”

Pt 2 - The Three of Us: Brat Behavior

Tagging some Austin & Callum lovers I know: @jelliedonut @crazymadpassionatelove @elvisabutler @slowsweetlove @stylespresleyhearted @steph-speaks @blurredcolour @pearlparty

#austin butler #callum turner #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner smut #Callum Turner fic #callum turner imagine #the three of us #marina does it again #written by ab4eva

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veintrry · 9 months ago

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I'VE DONE THE MATH

there's no solution.

synopsis: love with scara is hard

an: have you guessed this is a laufey ref, I just felt like writing something lovey but I like angst too much. also... hey teehee also shoutout ayame for getting me out of my slumber <3

Scaramouche and you have always held a complicated relationship. Even your friendship was confusing, in the sense that it was deeper than most. Maybe not necessarily romantic, but it certainly wasn't exclusively platonic. You two relied on each other, and you understood one another in a way that went past words. You didn't need to speak for himbto know what you thought. It was seamless. You and him had gone through hell and back together, so when your connection bloomed into that of something more than friends it was practically nothing but perfection.

It was beyond that. You had glee on your heart each time you saw the indigo of his irises and knowing that someone loved you. It was fulfilling having an anchor that kept you at the bay that had grown so familiar. The joys of not needing to say those three words, and the feeling that everything is going to be fine, as long as you have each other. And you were content. You believed he was too. But, you felt his attention drift. And the acts of affections, the gifts, and touches you attempted to make to maintain what you had, or what was left of it, were fruitless. You wrote endless words of expression, trying to make him see that emotion between you two once more, but nothing would come back. At best, acknowledgement. At worst, ignored. Practically forgotten like you were nothing.

You don't know when it started, or why. You don't why that anchor that had once been the one thing keeping you on your feet was keeping you stuck in place, unable to move on. Even though you two were dating it was like you had never once spoken in your entire lives. You'd say that you still felt that joy when he looked at you, but he doesn't even glance at you anymore. It was like you were erased without an answer. And with desperation you clung. For once you had attained a love you didn't know your body and mind craved and you wanted it back. It made you feel alive in the most cliché sense. So you continued to try, to become more persistent. But it's like he only cared when you did everything, when there was no one else but you to fall back on.

Then it dawned upon you. You had become merely the thing that comes last to everything, the thing he kept around just so he never is fully alone. It all felt so aimless. All you wanted is to see the hue of his eyes again rather than being met with the back of his head, the only sight are his silky straight strands. It was as if his face was obscured. So, you stopped. You stopped being the first to come to him, to display your love - if you can call it that anymore - first. To be there. And you waited. You couldn't help waiting internally, for that day he'd come back, the day he'd speak to you, tell you he's sorry and he loves you. And foolishly, you'd forgive him as you've done countless times. But that day never comes.

You fought for what you wanted. You allowed yourself to be pitiful. You let your fingers write him honey sweet words till they began to mean nothing to you, and you had to search for new sentences, new phrases, just so you can be refreshing - less repetitive. But it didn't matter. It did not matter what letters you strung together, how you ordered a sentence, how neatly you tied a gift, how long you spent picking it, how gentle your touch was or even its warmth. Because he didn't love you. And worst of all, he didn't care. He didn't care despite your long history and you were left for nothing.

So, you told yourself you'd get away. Distance yourself. There was nothing for you here, not with him. But it hurt. It hurt not being anything. Because despite how horrible it felt when you had something, at least it existed, at least you can say it's there. But now, nothing was left. Your memories were just that; Memories.

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lilacgaby · 3 months ago

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I love your writing style! Could you do maybe a sfw alphabet for tamaki?

aa tysm! i love tamaki so ofc!

a- affection,

tamaki shows his affection through gifts. buys you little gifts and treats from his travels around japan, always thinking of you as he passes by shops. he just gets too nervous to speak or share his love for you, but as he places another themed keychain in your hand, you know he loves you.

b- best friend

as a best friend he'd be a great listener. probably gives great advice that he never applies to himself, but encourages you greatly. probably views you highly too, admiring your best traits.

c- comfort

he'd comfort you with his presence. making sure you know that he's there for you whether you need him, listening with taut ears as you explain what's wrong, or just holding you if you can't speak.

d- domestic

he'd be a good cook because of his quirk! he'd cook a variety of different things you've never tried before, types of meats you would've never tried but he surprisingly made taste good. while i don't think he's a meat freak, i think he'll make an effort to keep clean.

e- end

if he broke up with you... something's wrong with you. sorry.

if you broke up with him.. something's wrong with you, again not sorry. but, he'd be distraught, his anxiety coming back and worsened for like a week, not to mention mirio, fatgum, and kiri HATE you. deserved though.

f- fiance

i see tamaki as the guy to want a perfect relationship, and he'd value marriage highly. he waits about three years to propose to you, but values your opinion highly, so if you want to get married quicker or wait he'd listen to you.

g- gentle

he's the definition of gentle. so sweet with you and if he even thinks he hit you forget it, he'd probably beg for your forgiveness, and treat you like glass for the rest of the day, even after you reassure him.

h- hugs

first time you hugged him he almost passed away from glee, he loves hugs now. hug him please.

i - ily

he says i love you a year into the relationship. you just make him so indescribably happy that he couldn't put it in to words, but it slipped out on your anniversary date. since then, it's become a bit easier for him to say it, but he still gets flushed.

j- jealous

i think his jealousy mind stem more from insecurity than your actions, he'd feel like you'd deserve someone more confident, and seeing you hang around with a confident person would upset him mentally. wouldn't voice it much though.

k- kisses

kiss him and he'll die.. but now he can't live without them. has to get one before he leaves out to a mission please, or else it's all he'll think about.

l- little ones

surprisingly good with kids! especially ones on the more timid side like him, he doesn't feel as judged as he plays with them. and it's sooo cute to see him using his quirk to impress them.

m- morning

his favorite way to wake up is huddled up with you in his bed, i will die on my belief that he's a little spoon, so he loves waking up in your chest, your hands wrapping him close to you as the sun peeks in.

n- night

he's probably exhausted after his patrols, he gets home late sometimes, and the think he wants the most is to be with you. he collapses into you, after showering of course, and falls asleep to the beats of your heart.

o- open

you have to be his friend before his lover, sorry! he'll open up to you after becoming close friends, which might take a while.

p- patience

i think he's a patient guy, in arguments and overall in life. he'll do his best to stay calm, but he's not great at regulating his emotions so he'll let it out sometimes!

q- quizzes

great listener who knows everything about you. knows your favorite color, song, where you want to go, even knows things about yourself before you yourself know them.. kinda telepathic in that's sense.

r- remembers

you know that common 'forgets your anniversary/birthday trope?' yeah not happening with this man. he has his calendar marked, alarms set, assistant notified. yeah he'll be on top of it.

s- security

he'd stand up for you if the time called for it. putting away his anxious thoughts as he fought for you, or stood up for you. even though after he'd freak out a bit, hed be happy as he saw the look in your eyes.

t- try

he'll try so hard in your relationship, he just wants everything to go right. plans out everything by the hour :(

u- ugly

he has no bad habits sorry! perfect man in my eyes.

v- vanity

isn't obsessed with his looks that much, just wants to look cool. doesn't worry over your looks either, he thinks you're perfect </3

w- whole

god forbid you have to go somewhere without him, or he has a mission without you. he just feels so incomplete without you and your comfort, your hugs, your kisses, but your reunion is so cute everytime that it makes up for it.

x- xtra

he lives off your compliments, like if you randomly don't compliment him he'll be sad for the rest of the day.

y- yuck

he would hate for anyone to be cocky and rude, so obnoxious and inconsiderate.

zzz- sleep

as i said, little spoon tamaki on top! loves it when you sleep facing towards eachother, once you tried it once, he literally cannot sleep any other way.

best boy tamaki ahghb :((

#i loveeeee him i wanna die #lilac asks❤︎︎#tamaki amajiki drabble #tamaki amajiki #tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #mha tamaki #mha drabbles #mha x you #mha x reader

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ghaniblue · 3 months ago

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Reading List: August

Everything I finished and enjoyed in August that's not from HD Wireless fest see below. 99% Drarry, 1 Tom/Draco and 1 RWRB fic. ❤️ denotes favourites.

>> July recs <<

❤️🙈 Alley Cat by papermonkey / @dracomort (Tom/Draco, M, 72k, WIP 13/?)

In which Draco attends Hogwarts with Tom Riddle and inadvertently saves the world.

What if Tom became Draco's best friend? I feel like the monkey emoji represents Draco in this fic: if I ignore it, it won't be real and I don't have to acknowledge it ladida. He amuses me to no end.

🏥 Nightingale by michi_thekiller (Drarry, E, 67k)

God loved the birds and invented trees. Man loved the birds and invented cages. -Jacques Deval

This is canon-divergent since it was written before the books were finished. I enjoyed the dual timeline. At school they are antagonistic and fight-happy with punching turning into shagging, while the present timeline is just a little disturbing. Harry is not well in this. Draco isn't either but [spoiler].

❤️🩸 Harry Potter and the Inconvenient Condition by Mirabella (Drarry, M, 20k)

Harry comes back from vacation with an inconvenient case of vampirism and must learn to cope with blood, Malfoy, and recalcitrant secretaries. And if that doesn't tell you everything about the plot you need to know, you haven't read enough badfic.

Another oldschool fic. Vampire!Harry has a hankering for Draco's blood. This is such a fun, tropey romp. I was kicking my feet with glee.

🔮 Cassandraco by @jtimu (Drarry, T, 5k)

Harry Potter was going to die in six hours. As far as Draco was concerned, that wasn’t nearly soon enough.

This is fun. Beleaguered rescuer Draco and unwilling recuee Harry.

❤️🤒 the sun between us by @eleadore (Drarry, E, 7,5k)

Draco Malfoy, an omega. It was laughable until he was right in front of you, smelling like he was one shaky step from tripping into a heat.

This could be just any other omegaverse PWP, but it's so dense with characterisation and layered emotion.

🏊‍♂️ Freely Given by InnerLilith + art by @kk1smet (Drarry, E, 18k + digital art)

As a young child, Harry Potter had always wanted swim lessons. He never got them. As an adult, he runs into Draco—an excellent swimmer and disconcertingly fit to boot—at a muggle pool. Naturally, he calls in his life debt for swim lessons (a totally normal thing to do, thank you very much). He gets more than he bargained for.

What a lovely @drarry-mini-bang story: hot, funny and sweet; and the art is delightful (you get built swimmer Draco and adorable chibis).

❤️👮‍♂️Rookie Moves by peu-a-peu (Drarry, E, 75k) + podfic by @sweatersinthesummer (~7h)

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

Finally managed to read this; all the recs are justified. They are such disasters. Their characterisation is so funny and vibrant. They are both so deranged and combative. The podfic was completed half-way through my reading so I switched to listening. Such a good interpretation of this mad fic.

RWRB

❤️🥍 A Sporting Chance by clottedcreamfudge (Alex/Henry, E, 12,6k)

"Marry Henry - destination wedding. Combine all of our names so paperwork is a fucking nightmare." Henry stares at him and Pez rolls the dice, and-

"Congratulations to Alex and Henry Claremont-Diaz-Fox-Mountchristen," he says with a bright grin, and Alex punches the air and makes a 'whooping' noise. "Your wedding is attended by the Beckhams, the President, and several key members of congress. Henry is very gentle on your wedding night." Henry is going to fucking kill Pez.

"Fucking sweet," Alex says, because Henry is apparently the only one here trying not to have a coronary about all of this.

***

It had just been a party game, except now Henry is in way over his head.

Fuckbuddies/Idiots to lovers. This Alex is such a horny chaos demon, and Henry is so in love it's visible from space. Also, Pez is a gem. I often start scrolling through repeated sex scenes but not with this fic. This story made me happy.

>> september recs <<

#drarry #drarry recs #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #rwrb recs #firstprince recs #acari recs #drarry fic #hpdm #tomdraco #drarry podfic

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perseephoneee · 4 months ago

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𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: OOF, long time no see. Here's what happened: - I graduated college - I went to a masters certification program - I graduated THAT (not many can say they graduated college twice in one year, but I'm crazy) - My roommate at grad school became my best friend in the whole world. We watched all of Star Trek and the Thor movies. I got distracted writing her an 11k-word Thor fan-fiction. She wrote me a Loki fan-fiction - I came back to my home and ended up moving houses! - Now, all I day is apply to jobs, crochet, and take naps.

And that's what you missed on Glee.

It was to be expected; after all, you never really wanted to get married. Still, coming home from the ball to your grandmother’s expectant expression– it broke you.

“Well?” she questioned, arms crossed. She wore her evening best, a deep crimson against her now paling skin. “Are we planning a wedding?”

“No,” you mumble, looking at the floor. “He didn’t propose; he…decided against it.”

You expected yelling, insults, and anger radiating from every surface. Instead, your grandmother was quiet. You looked up, waiting for anything. She just looked at you, still. It was so much worse than you could’ve expected. “Grams?” you ventured, biting the inside of your cheek. She just sighed and rubbed her eyes, so exhausted by the encounter that it made you angry. You disobeyed the thing she asked you to do, you disappointed her, and embarrassed yourself in the process. Yet all she does is sigh. “Nothing at all?”

“So much like your mother,” Grams murmured, massaging her temple as a headache grew. “I’m tired, Y/N, I’ll be retiring to bed.”

You felt tears start to prick your eyes, even as your grandmother started to pull away. “Please,” you begged, unsure what you were even asking. Your voice sounded so quiet in the foyer.

“She could’ve married well; a duke,” Grams was already halfway up the stairs when she said it, almost to herself more than you. “She chose love instead, and look what good it did her.” Grandmother turned towards you then. “She ended up at the bottom of the ocean.”

You didn’t sleep well that night, in between the crying and the screaming into your pillow so no one could hear. When you did sleep, it was drowning. In the ocean. In disappointment. In everything.

Your father wasn’t of low status, but he was merely a lord. Not a Duke like your grandmother wistfully shared. He was a man of dreams who sought to create. He used to sit you and Ivy down in the garden and map out the constellations. Your brother could never sit still long enough to truly appreciate astronomy. Ivy enjoyed looking at the stars and embroidering them into blankets and other linens. You, on the other hand, were eager to learn. Your father would quiz you on all their names: Orion, Ursa Major, Canis Minor, Draco, and more. The story of Andromeda always made you curious but sad. You couldn’t imagine choosing between your people and your child, and yet you hated King Cepheus for being willing to sacrifice Andromeda at all.

“She was saved by Perseus, fell in love, and placed among the stars by Athena,” your father would console you when you started becoming quiet and contemplative.

“Why couldn’t she save herself?”

“It’s not always that easy,” your father sighed, petting your head. “The chains could’ve been too strong. Or maybe she felt that the least she could do for her people was to let herself die.”

Your mother always scolded your father for telling such dark stories, but you appreciated it. You didn’t like things being hidden from you, and ancient myths fascinated you.

When your parents went on their voyage with your brother to show off your father’s latest invention, you prayed to Perseus to save them from the sea. He was unable to.

After your third day of wallowing, Ivy entered your room and locked the door.

“This isn’t the sister I know.”

“I don’t want to talk,” you mumbled, curling into your chair. You had a settee set up by the window to get fresh daylight on your books and observe the outdoors. Ivy sat on your bed, curling up against the pillows.

“Love, it is not your fault.”

“I was unable to secure a proposal, the one duty asked of me,” you turned to glare at her. “That is the definition of ‘my fault.’”

“You fell in love.”

“Evidently not.”

“I did not mean with Prince Thor.”

You didn’t answer. You just kept looking down at your book, the words being nothing more than a distraction. You had been pondering Thor’s words for days. Loki was, on most days, an annoyance and, on other days, could be quite companionable. Did you love him? You were unsure. You didn’t hate him. Not as much as you would’ve liked.

“I knew it wouldn’t be Thor,” Ivy sighed, picking at the thread on your bedspread. “From the day in the park.”

You remembered that day. A traveling circus had come to town. Many families brought their children to witness acrobats, magicians, and more. There was even a traveling fortune teller that Loki loudly exclaimed wouldn’t have been able to tell a three of swords from a five of pentacles if it was staring her in the face. Ivy and Thor enjoyed watching the animals perform tricks, but like Loki, you could not stomach watching wild animals in captivity. You didn’t stay for the performance.

“There was a traveling book merchant, which you two spent so much time at,” Ivy chuckled. “It was the cellist that stood out to me.”

“She played beautifully.”

“She did, but you and Prince Loki were the only ones to appreciate it,” Ivy smiled. “Thor had already moved on to the next shiny thing. You stayed, though, the only one in the ton to be there for the whole set. You’ve always appreciated music, I wish you would play again.” You turned in your seat, looking at your sister. “You stayed there, and Loki stayed with you. He let you enjoy the music because it spoke to you more than anything else at the circus. And when she was done performing, and you lacked a proper way to give thanks, he offered up his own coins.”

“There was nothing special about that moment.” Even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t true.

“Grandmother is a smart woman, but she has one thing wrong.” Ivy turned her attention fully towards you. “You are headstrong, but most importantly, you are quiet. You are intuitive. Not like me, who enjoys laughter and bright colors. You see brightness where others see nothing.” Ivy almost laughs to herself. “You don’t need someone who can match your strength; you need someone who can match your silence.”

You felt like crying, and you weren’t sure why. Everything Ivy said was true. It always was; she knew you better than you often knew yourself. Confronting feelings, when so often you ignored them to avoid painful attachments, it made you want to suffocate.

“Ivy,” you murmured. She turned to you, the sun in a room inhabited by the moon. “I love you.”

“Well, of course you do!” she giggled, getting up and coming to your seat. She kissed the top of your head. “I’m brilliant.”

It was nighttime, and you wanted to talk to Loki. If you talked to him, you could decide if your feelings were real or if they were a lie. Maybe they were a thing fabricated by quiet moments or inspired by the stories you loved. You were thinking about this when you heard a storm pick up, the branches of the trees tapping against your window. This continued on until you realized there was no wind to accompany this tapping. You crawled out of your bed to go to your window and noticed it was a clear night. You jumped back with a yelp as another pebble hit the glass. Opening the latch, you peeked your head out and ducked as another pebble came flying. Loki stood with a pile of rocks outside.

“Loki!” you hissed, throwing one of the pebbles back at him. He avoided it with ease. “Why are you throwing rocks at me?”

“Because I do so enjoy it,” he chuckled, hands in the pockets of his breeches. “Or perhaps, because I wish to speak with you.”

“It is late and unbecoming of a lady to meet with a man unaccompanied.”

“Intriguing,” he shrugged. “I didn’t think you much of a lady.”

You glowered at that. You couldn’t possibly have feelings for this man who throws rocks at you and puts you in ridiculous situations. You leave the window, heading to your dresser and grabbing your riding boots. You were still in your nightgown, but you tied your robe over it, so you were at least a little modest. You went back to the window. He hadn’t left.

“You’re going to catch me,” you demanded, already swinging a leg over the banister and debating which bones would be broken if you made one misstep.

“Of course,” Loki smiled. He didn’t look ready to catch you whatsoever, but you had to put trust in the situation. So, you jumped out your window. And he caught you with ease. Much like one of the princes in the tales your father used to tell you. “What a pleasure meeting you here,” Loki smirked. You hit his chest, falling out of his arms and giving yourself distance. If your grandmother knew you were doing this, she would have you executed by morning.

“What do you want?”

“Is that any way to address royalty?” he furrowed his brows but didn’t sound angry. He sounded amused.

“What do you want, your Highness?” you sassed, crossing your arms.

“Well, I did not come out here for your startling wit,” Loki sighed. “I want to talk.”

“About?”

“Take a walk with me,” he gestured towards the gardens. Your grandma’s pride and joy were her gardens. It was one of the few things she did herself, without any help from the maids or other staff. “Please,” he added, and you acquiesced.

You followed him with a sigh, still keeping a respectable distance between you both. He was silent, and it wasn’t until you passed the hydrangeas that he spoke.

“Thor told me,” Loki said. You didn’t know how to respond to that, and you were unsure of what exactly Thor had told him.

“Did you come here to reprimand me for not being able to secure an engagement?” You scoffed. Loki stopped at a rose bush, fingers brushing over the petals.

“I confess, I don’t care much for roses,” Loki smiled at you. Like you were in on a secret, just you two. It made warmth grow in your chest.

“I don’t either.”

“What is your favorite flower, m’lady?” Loki took a step towards you. You would’ve backed up, but another bush was in your way, and you were stuck in his space.

“Sunflowers, or perhaps dahlias,” you murmured.

“Dahlias.” Loki smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“No?” you questioned, smiling back. “What did you expect?”

“Nothing ordinary nor expected of a young maiden.”

“Am I just a young maiden to you?” you lifted a brow.

“No,” Loki said. “You are not.”

It felt like nature took a pause on its sounds as Loki stared at you, his ice-blue eyes cold against your otherwise hot skin. He was much too close to be appropriate, and yet you didn’t want to push him away. You should push him away; the last thing you need is a scandal with the prince of Norway, but you couldn’t. Not when his gaze lowered to your lips. Not when his fingers touched your shoulder and then the lace of your collar. He brushed stray hair away from your face, and you felt yourself take in a shuddering breath. His thumb brushed over your lip, fingers cradling your chin. His breaths were heavy like he was holding himself back. You realized he was holding himself back from you.

“Loki,” you whispered, looking up at him. Something changed in his gaze, and he stepped back, letting the cold air kiss your skin where his hand once was.

“You should have brought a coat; it’s cold at night,” he whispered, refusing to meet your gaze. You just nodded, disappointment evident. He walked you back to your window. There were enough places for you to climb up yourself, something you used to do a lot as a child. He kept an even larger distance between the two of you as he waited for you to return to your rooms. Instead, in a fit of insanity, you reached up and kissed his cheek. You felt his breath hitch as you stepped back, curtsied, and scaled your wall. You didn’t turn back when you closed the window. You didn’t stop thinking of him even as you fell asleep.

taglist: @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @gruftiela @saay-karani @foxherder @lover-of-books-and-tea tea @lilaclaufeyson @qardasngan @evasmlp

#of vices and men #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #thor #thor odinson #bridgerton #bridgerton!loki #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel fan fiction #loki fan fiction #loki laufeyson fan fiction

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writing-until-i-drop · 2 months ago

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What's In A Name? Chapter Nine

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: The OG chasers make a group chat and the twister shifts towards a crowded town.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Katie and Tyler had their plans all laid out, the science behind them seemed solid enough. Cathy had practically kicked them out of her house but made them promise to come back before heading home. Meg’s heart twinged when she thought of her life in New Orleans but she didn’t dwell on the thought long, quickly falling asleep in the back seat as Meg and Tyler talked science. Nick’s ringtone is what pulled her back to the land of the living some time later.

“Hey, Hot Stuff. My cougar still purrin’?” The whole truck jerked, Meg assumed there was a pothole, her eyes barely open.

“You know it, Honey Buns. You know, since you’ve been gone so long I was thinking of getting her some training wheels, in case you forgot how to do your job.”

“I’m better than you on your best day, I’ve got moves you ain’t ever seen,” The truck jerked again and Meg finally opened her eyes, Kate was looking back at her, eyebrows up at her hairline. She pointed at Tyler, who was blocked by the seat at the angle Meg was leaning against the window. “Hold on, babe. My boyfriend is trying to kill us.” Nick’s laughter rang in her ear.

“It’s Nick isn’t it?” Tyler sighed, chuckling to himself. “Sorry,”

“Who’s Nick?”

“Her partner at work,” Tyler explained, Nick was still laughing his ass off.

“Nick, if you don’t stop laughing, I’m fixin’ to tell your wife,” She kicked the back of Tyler’s seat, making sure he heard that part. “About Tommy’s bachelor party.”

“And I’ll tell your man ‘bout the supply closet. Truce?”

“Truce but it’s official, I ain’t ever lettin’ y’all meet, nuh uh, over my dead body.” Nick and Meg laughed, continuing to chat about all the workplace drama she had missed so far.

“Can’t wait to have you back, Meg.”

“Yeah, me too,” Meg couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. “Gotta go, Hot Stuff. Make sure you scrub that rig good tonight, you know she’s a dirty girl after a shift.” When she hung up, Meg sat up straight in the seat, catching a glimpse of Tyler’s pink cheeks in the rearview mirror.

“You always talk like that to colleagues, Mud Bug?” Meg snorted, knowing how out of place the flirting sounded to anyone who was outside of the field. Fire fighters, police, and medics all had a twisted sense of what was appropriate. Normal people had a line that they’d never cross, fearing being impolite or crude, the people in Meg’s line of work however crossed that line with glee.

“Only the married ones,” She reached up over the seat, resting both hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “How much longer we got on the road?”

“Not long,” He squeezed her hand, keeping the other on the wheel. “How’s Nick?”

“He’s annoyin’ as ever, they assigned him a rookie EMT as a partner while I’m gone and let’s just say, it’s goin’ interestin’ for the both of ‘em.”

When they pulled into the auto-garage, the rest of the Wranglers were standing there waiting for them, including the reporter.

“Ben, you stuck around,” Tyler greeted the man, hopping out of his truck. Meg rolled her eyes, heading straight for Lily, who pulled her into a hug.

“How’s everything going, darlin’?” Meg asked, “Saw y’all chased without us.”

“Boone won’t stop moping that Tyler left him behind,” Lily snorted. “How are things with you and him?” Meg pulled away, blushing,

“Let’s just say, I’m wonderin’ what kind of rings you’re picking out for us.” Lily squealed with excitement and Meg had to clamp a hand over her mouth when everyone’s head turned her way. “Not all of Oklahoma needs to be in on this conversation.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll text you pictures later.”

“Hey, y’all ready?” Dani called out to the group and everyone converged, Meg and Lily hanging towards the back of the group while Dani ran the salesman down the specifications of what they needed.

After settling on an aluminum trailer, the Wranglers drove out to a field and started working on preparing the barrels and rockets.

“What are you doing over here, Meg?” Boone stuck the camera in her face, grinning like a dope.

“I’m checking all of my supplies, making sure everything’s ready to go in case there’s trouble.”

“Y’all, meet Meg, she’s a badass paramedic that’s got T wrapped around her little finger,” Meg batted at him. Boone laughed, dancing away to go check on Lily and Cairo. She felt her phone buzz in her back pocket.

“Oh lordy, they done made a group chat.”

Dad: You’re on the livestream!

Rabbit: Wrapped around your finger?

Haynes: Leave her alone Rabbit

Dad: When are y’all getting married?

Lawrence: She’s never getting married out of spite at this point

Meg chuckled at Lawrence’s text, appreciating the throwback to when she looked her Grandma Harding in the eye after being admonished for not “sitting like a lady” and how “no man wants to marry a wild animal” and said with all of the conviction in the world: I ain’t ever gettin’ married.

Dad: Don’t say that

Joey: Yeah, shut up Lawrence

Haynes: Don’t be mean to him

Preacher: Be careful out there, Meggy

Meg: Always am, Preach <3

Mama: Wear your harness!!!!

Meg tucked her phone away, going to stand by Kate who was quietly snapping pictures.

“You ready to tame a tornado?” Meg rested a hand on the middle of Kate’s back, waiting until she stopped snapping photos tto bring her in for a hug.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. I’m real glad you’re here, Meg,”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Not even New Orleans. The two of them stood there, hugging for a long while before breaking apart, both of them feeling the atmosphere start to change.

“Let’s do this.”

“Something’s not right,” Meg said just as Katie announced that the Doppler went dark. “I don’t like this.” The twisting feeling in her gut only got worse when Cairo went down. Kate was silent but Meg knew by the look on her face that she was thinking the same thing.

The tornado came through the rain out of nowhere, flipping Javi’s StormPAR truck like a toy.

“Javi!” Kate screamed, her hand flying back to hold Meg’s. “Tyler, we got to do something.”

“On your left guys, it’s hitting something big!” Boone’s shout crackled over the radio and Meg let out a string of curse words that would make any sailor blush.

“Shit,”

“Oh my God,” They watched in horror as the storm barelled into some type of factory, becoming wrapped with fire.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Tyler quickly put the truck in drive, trying to flip them around. Meg squeezed her eyes shut, panic coursing through her veins. Was she going to die this time? Was the tornado finally going to claim what slipped out of grasp all those years ago? She vaguely heard Kate and Tyler squabbling over what to do about Javi, feeling the panic inside of her shift to an eerie calm, her training coming back to her like the second nature it was.

“Get us out of here, Cowboy.” Tyler’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror before he high-tailed it out of there, following Javi’s truck which had somehow flipped back onto its wheels while her eyes had been shut, shouting at them to hold on.

When light started breaking through the storm clouds again, Tyler called out on the radio to check in with the team and Meg felt herself relax a little with each confirmation of safety.

“What was that?” Ben shouted somewhere in the background and Meg knew the answer in her soul. Tornadoes weren’t classified until after the fact, their strength determined by how much they destroyed, but she could feel it. They were running from the finger of God. She twisted in her seat, looking at the storm.

“It’s shifting course.”

“Shit,” Kate groaned. “It’s heading straight for a town. It’s heading for El Reno,” Kate started spouting orders over the radio and Meg undid her harness, pulling her medical bag out from under the seat, throwing the strap over her shoulder so she wouldn’t have to waste time when they stopped.

“You okay back there?” Tyler asked, reaching one hand up over his shoulder for her to squeeze.

“I’m okay, baby. Let’s get these people to safety.” That’s all he needed to hear, picking up speed as they drove past the StormPAR truck.

The town was in chaos, everyone running around and screaming. They started shouting instructions, pushing vendors away from their tents and towards shelter. There was debris flying all around, the wicked wind making it hard to stay on their feet.

“Go, go to the movie theater,” Meg guided people towards the theater. Her heart stopped when she heard Tyler scream.

“Tyler! Kate, help me.” Tyler was pinned beneath large debris, and even with all of her might, Meg knew she wasn’t strong enough to move it.

“Meg, you have to go.”

“I’m not leaving you,” She grunted, shifting her feet for better leverage. “Kate, go inside.”

“I’m not leaving you either,” Her best friend gritted out as they tried to lift the boards together. There was another large crack that sounded through the air, the scream of warping metal shooting a bolt of panic through her.

“Javi?” Meg spotted him running towards them with a board that he wedged beneath the debris.

“C’mon, guys, lift!” They managed to pull Tyler out just as the water tower crashed down, thousands of gallons of water knocking them off of their feet. The rushed into the theater just in time to see the ceiling start to cave in and began to check for a basement.

“This building isn’t built to withstand what’s coming,” Javi shouted over the roaring winds. At the sound of crashing and screaming, both of the men took off back towards the theater, leaving Kate and Meg to stare at the storm. Meg felt that calm again but it was different, it wasn’t the calm she felt under pressure when working on a critical patient. It was the calm she felt before she ran into an unsecured scene, knowing that she could die.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Meg asked, praying that she wasn’t.

“I swiped his keys,” Kate held up the keyring, offering it to her. The scrunchie Meg had lost a few days ago dangling from the jump ring.

“Then let’s go.” They ran for the truck.

If they survived, their friends and mamas were going to kill them. But if this worked, they would save a lot of people too. It had been a long time since Meg had driven anywhere near a tornado but she did her best to pretend that the shaking of the cab was nothing more than the death wobble of an ambulance going 100 mph on the freeway.

“That way,” Kate pointed. Meg took a moment to strap into the harness, Tyler’s cologne overwhelming her senses, reminding her that this was a bad idea, then she shifted into gear. Meg didn’t need the directions Kate was shouting, she knew where the storm was going. And with a reckless kind of fearlessness, she pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

“This truck ain’t made for this,” Meg shouted even though they both already knew it.”

“Hope he’s got insurance,” Kate’s humor was still intact, even if her sanity wasn’t. The truck caught air going from the road to the grass, eliciting shrieks from the two women. Out of the corner of her eye, Meg saw Kate pull out her phone.

“My name’s Kate Carter and this is Meg Hardiing and today, we’re going to tame a tornado or die trying.” She locked her phone into the mount on the dash, capturing the whole cab with the camera.

“Right now there’s an EF-5 heading towards the town of El Reno,” Meg narrated. The recording was almost comforting, Jeb used to record them all the time, making them explain what they were doing. And just like when they were in the swimming pool, Meg felt like he was there with them. Kate must have felt it too, her voice shaking as she listed off the science of what they were going to do.

“If we don’t make it, we just want to say that we love you guys and mama, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Meg shouted, swerving to avoid debris. “You know I love y’all but you know we have to do this.” She cursed, narrowly avoiding a large tree limb. “And Ty, I love you, and I really hope you’ve got full coverage on this baby.”

“This is how you’re going to tell him you love him for the first time?”

“Not really seeing any better options here, Katie. Shit!” She stomped the breaks, deploying the anchors as soon as they stopped. “Rockets?”

“Rockets,” Kate fired them and they watched as the twisters sucked up the chemicals. Meg felt completely calm, watching the monster tornado moving closer.

“It’s beautiful,” She couldn’t help but whisper with childlike wonder. It was probably going to kill her but it really was beautiful.

“Let’s deploy together,” They hovered their fingers over the button. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three,” The mechanism went off without a hitch, the compound being pulled up by the storm around them.

“I love you, Katie my Lady.”

“I love you too, Mud Bug.” They held hands and did nothing to stop what was coming because what else could they do?

The trailer went first, lightening the weight of the truck enough for the force of the winds to move it despite the anchors. Meg’s eyes fluttered shut and her body relaxed in acceptance. Never before had the universe heard such silence in a truck being flipped like a quarter through the air, both women just waiting for the end.

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86 @closetspngirl @lostinwonderland314 @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @winterassassin1804

Next Chapter

#tyler owens x oc #tyler owens #twisters 2024 #twister 1996 #twisters #bet writes #what's in a name fic

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thequeenofsarcaasm · 9 months ago

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Chapter 10 of Love is in the hands

Summary

After getting kicked out of his home for being queer, Suguru comes across his childhood sweetheart in a strange gay bar that is owned by his new “family”: a bunch of queer social rejects who were taken in by Yuki, an eccentric matriarch. He finds a new home (and his lost love) there.

Glimpse

“Do you still work in that same establishment? It’s a bar, right?” Riko asks. They talked about it very briefly after he moved in with the others. However, back then, he still harboured a few doubts about his future and place in the group. Noticing that, Riko had figured it would be appropriate to drop the subject.

“In a drag bar to be more precise,” Suguru responds with a dainty smile that grows larger as Riko’s face lights up. Another unexpected turn of events.

“Drag as in Drag Queens? Men who wear dresses, high heels and makeup and perform for people?” she asks with glee.

Suguru smiles. “Yeah, I think that’s the rough definition. We’re holding an important event this evening so my presence is unfortunately needed,” he explains. “But I’ll gladly hang out with you girls tomorrow afternoon. If you’ll have me.”

“A Drag bar,” Riko repeats softly. “That’s great. You should have told me earlier,” she says.

“Well, I didn’t know you liked drag performers,” Suguru defends himself. She would get along with Satoru.

“If you told me about your job you would have known. I didn’t know there were drag bars here. I’m a country bumpkin you know,” she says.

“Well, tonight is cosplay night so everyone will be there. Would you like to come?” Suguru asks.

“Gladly,” Riko says with a big smile. “Oh, does that mean I’ll finally meet that friend you always talk about? You guys work and live together, right?” she asks. They’ve spoken about Satoru a few times already but he never even showed her a picture of him. Satoru’s face, like everything about him, must be experienced with one's own senses. A picture will never do his beauty justice.

“Satoru and I aren’t only friends. We used to date when we were younger but we broke up momentarily when I moved here. It’s been almost two weeks since we got back together,” Suguru says. It’s his first time referring to Satoru as his partner. It feels nice.

“So you guys are dating? Is that why you’ve been so happy lately?” the girl laughs. “You’ve been almost nice since last week. And when I say ‘nice’ I’m talking about real genuine kindness. Not the usual thing you do that pisses me off,” she adds.

“Let’s just say he makes me really happy,” Suguru says. In all likelihood, he sounds as soft as linen.

“I’m happy to hear that. But don’t worry. I’ll keep it a secret if you want me to,” Riko says, zipping his mouth with her fingers. “I know people can be really cruel and annoying to same gender couples,” she adds sadly.

“No need to. I think I’m done hiding,” Suguru says. Her kindness must have convinced him to. Besides, one would be crazy to hide someone like Satoru from the world. Loving him is the best thing the raven could do for himself and he will never say it loudly enough. “See you tonight. I’ll text you the details on my way home.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” Riko stops him with a smile as he exits the room.

Suguru smiles back at her. “Thank you for being a friend.”

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #riko amanai #satosugu #goge #gego #satosugu fanfic #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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writingkeepsmewhole · 10 months ago

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Loud and Heavy

This is part 1 of my why choose Teen Wolf Fic.

Fic Summery: Harper McCall falls for both Stiles and Derek and has to choose one. Or dose she?

Part Summery: Harper goes with Stiles and Scott to find a body in the woods. What happens when she gets separated and bitten by something.

Warnings: None?

Let me know if you wanna be tagged.

I stood in my bedroom soft music playing from the computer as I tried to pick out what to wear tomorrow. It was the first day of school. The first day of the rest of my life. Both me and my brother Scott decided that we were going to be who we wanted to be in school this year.

He was going to play lacrosse and I was going to do well…something.

Problem with me: I had no idea who I wanted to be. No big dream I wanted to have in high school. This was my last year to live the high school dream but what even was that?

Be asked to prom? I don’t know, haha. Parties. I always wanted to be invited to one of the parties more for curious sake than hanging out with a bunch of drunk teenagers.

I guess me and Scott were different. Well I was. I wasn’t the girly girl, or the nerdy goth. Sweet and shy or bubbly and outgoing. No, I was always in the middle, always being pulled in two different directions.

So here I stood staring at my bed trying to decide what style I was going to wear. Who was I going to become?

Why was I worried about my clothes so much? Because I had to have something that told others who I was.

I was just as much in the middle on the outside I was on the inside.

Everything about me was average. Average height. 5’4, average weight at 170. I have brown eyes only a few shades lighter than my brothers. Brown medium length hair that has just enough body it wouldn't stay straight and not enough waves to hold a curl. Like I said I was average.

My thoughts were cut off by a strange sound coming from outside. Glancing out the window I didn't see anything making me leave to go find Scott.

I jumped, seeing him in the hallway holding a bat.

“Did you hear something outside?” Both of us ask at the same time, making me giggle and Scott look unamused.

“Let's go check it out. I'm right behind you.” I say, holding on to his hoodie.

He smiles and shakes his head at the thing I've done since we were toddlers and starts walking towards the front door and outside.

Rounding the corner of the house my heart nearly stops when someone hangs from the roof Scott yelling along with the culprit until we all realize it's Stiles.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Scott says, sounding annoyed as he puts his bat down.

“You weren't answering your phone. Why do you have a bat?”

“I thought you were a predator.”

“A pre…what?” Stiles says, the look of confusion and shock on his face makes me giggle.

“Hey Harper.” He says smiling at me.

“Hi.” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear and smiling back.

I'm sure it was no surprise that I had a crush on my brother's best friend but it was kinda hard not to. He was funny and just the sweetest person.

“Look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called-- they're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even state police.”

“For what?” Both me and Scott say that at the same time but with opposite reactions.

Where Scott had a frown on his face I had a look of curiosity. I guess you could say I got my rambunctiousness from Stiles, us always getting into trouble together.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” Stiles says, the glee of mischievous clear in his eyes.

Stiles lifts himself untangling from the trellis and drops to his feet in front of us.

“Like a dead body?” Scott asked, confused and horrified.

Stiles moves to lean on the railing of the porch looking at Scott like he's dump.

“No, a body of water.” He says, sarcastically, making me snort out a laugh which he smiles at making me look down to hide my blush.

“Yes, dumbass a dead body.” He says rolling his eyes and climbs over the railing to join us on the porch.

“Were they murdered?” I ask, the nosy side of me coming out.

“Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

“That's horrible.” I say, frowning.

“Hold on.” Scott says, both of us looking at him.

“If they found the body, then what are they looking for?”

Stiles practically grins, tickled with the drama of the night.

“That's the best part- They only found half.” He says, his face growing serious.

“We're going.”

“I'll grab my shoes.” I say turning towards the house.

“What? No you're not going and neither am I. I have tryouts tomorrow.” Scott says grabbing my arm to stop me.

“Oh come on Scott it's the last night of summer break let's do something fun.” I pout, sticking out my bottom lip.

“I got this. Go get your shoes.” Stiles says placing a hand on each of our shoulders.

“Thank you.” I say, moving back into the house.

I jog up the steps not worried about the noise. Mom was working tonight so there wasn't anymore in the house.

Ignoring the tightening of my asthmatic lungs I start to grab my shoes until I see myself in the mirror.

I was in pajamas. No makeup, not even a bra on.

Blushing, realizing Stiles saw me like that I quickly moved to my bed to fix the situation.

I grab the first thing my hand touches and get dressed. I didn't really care about the no makeup thing but I at least needed a bra on.

Pulling on my shoes I grab my inhaler and rush back downstairs seeing the boys getting in Stiles' jeep.

“Wait for me.” I call out to them, my lungs already bothering me.

“You okay?” Stiles asks, looking me up and down.

“Fine. Just outta shape.” I laugh climbing into the back of his jeep and taking a puff of my inhaler.

Getting inside Stiles starts the engine and away we go.

Pulling up outside of the beacon hills preserve Stiles stops the car tuning it off.

“Are we seriously doing this?” Scott asks, looking over at his best friend.

“Come on brother, live a little.” I say grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

“How many energy drinks did you have today?” He asks, looking back at me.

“Umm three why?” I ask, holding up three fingers.

“I told you I planned on pulling an all-nighter so I could work on my style.” I say, waving my hands down myself.

“I think you look great.” Stiles says, giving me a once over then turning back to my brother.

“Of course we are doing this. You're the one that's always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town.” He says but I'm not really listening.

My heart flutters my cheeks hot as I look at what I'm wearing.

I was in jeans, a T-shirt and a flannel. My hair was in a messy bun. A few stray hairs fell around my face and I had on my glasses instead of my contacts.

I was definitely rocking the nerdy look at the moment but plus one for it if Stiles liked it.

“I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow.” Scott says pulling me back to the convention.

“Right, 'cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort.” Stiles says, almost rolling his eyes.

“No, because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making first line.”

Stiles looks at Scott in disbelief then turns to look at me. Him asking if he's serious with his gaze.

I blush and shrug not knowing what to say

“Hey, that's the spirit! Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.” He says smacking Scott on the shoulder and turning to open the car door.

“We're going to get in so much trouble.” Scott says, looking at me.

“It'll be fun, come on.” I say, turning to hop out of the Jeep and head towards the woods.

We all three walked in silence for a little while. It was a clear night letting us see how to move through the woods without tripping over our own two feet.

“Just out of curiosity, what half of the body are we looking for?” Scott asks, mimicking Stiles' sarcastic tone from before.

“Huh? I didn’t even think about that.” Stiles says, glancing at me with a sheepish look on his face.

“And Uh…What if whoever killed the body is still out here.”

“Also something I didn’t think about.” Stiles says flat out embarrassed.

“You two are going to get me killed.” I say looking at them.

“Me? You were the one who wanted to live a little.” Scott says.

“Well yeah, but…” I trail off not having an answer. We were also starting to climb up a hill. No way would I be able to talk and climb at the same time.

“It’s comforting to know you planned this out with your unusual attention to detail.”

“I know.” Stiles says through labored breathing.

Reaching the top of the hill I bend over holding my knees, my ears ringing as if I've been holding my breath for too long.

I close my eyes not listening to the other two, just focusing on my breathing.

When I lift my head I’m alone. Looking around I see no flash light and I don’t hear anything other than my ragged breathing.

“Guys?” I question, walking forward to catch up with them.

“Scott? Stiles?” I call out my heart rate starting to pick up at the thought of being alone out here.

Hearing a snapping twig I turn to head towards the noise knowing they can’t be too far away from me.

Walking around a large tree I freeze when I see something glowing red in the distance.

Thinking it’s a police car I duck behind a tree not wanting to get in trouble. Stiles Dad would know I was out here with him if he caught me.

I blush at the thought of having to explain that to him.

Hearing rustling leaves I stay perfectly still scared of being found. When the sound stops I let go of the breath I was holding.

Peaking around the tree I see the same red glow yet it’s closer. Right in front of my face and its eyes. A pair of glowing red eyes are only inches from my face.

Them set into the face of a very large animal. I don’t get a chance to look at it before it lunges at me.

I scream as it tears into my skin biting down hard into my shoulder. I try to pull away from it, hitting it as hard as I can.

It lets go and takes off running leaving me there. I jumped up and pushed myself in the opposite direction, scared that whatever it was would come back and finish the job.

I go as fast as I can ignoring my burning lungs scared the thing was right behind me. I don’t slow down even when it starts to rain.

Fear piping through me drives me forward. I don’t stop until I run out into the road the sound of screeching tires and a horn fills the air.

Headlights blinding me as a car stops inches from hitting me. I stand there shaking as the driver door opens and someone walks up to me.

“Are you okay?” Asks the man who got out.

He is taller than me, his broad shoulders making him seem a lot bigger than me as well.

“I…It..something is out there.” I say my eyes burning as tears start to run down my cheeks.

He doesn't say anything, his eyes jumping to my shoulder. I could feel the warm trail of blood running down my back.

I let out a hiss when he lifts what’s left of my ripped flannel off my shoulder.

“What happened?” He asks, looking at me, his jaw clenched.

“I don’t know. Something bit me.” I sniffle out.

“Okay. Come one I’ll give you a ride home.” He says, wrapping his arm around me.

I let him, feeling scared but not as scared as I was in those woods moments ago. He opens the passenger door and helps me get in.

I wrap my arms around myself as he jogs around the front of the car and gets behind the wheel.

We don’t speak as we drive back towards town. I sit there shaking the heat cranked up.

“Do you, uh, want to talk about it?” He says, clearly not used to comforting people by the tone in his voice.

“I don’t even know what happened.” I say, staring at the dash.

He didn't say anything, the ride to my house was silent after I told him the address. I should have gone to the hospital but I didn’t want to worry my mom or get any one in trouble.

I get out of his car when he pulls up the crack of thunder sounding overhead, the rain only increasing.

Wrapping my arms around myself I head towards the door surprised when he gets out.

“Thank you.” I say looking at him.

He nods, handing me a paper with scribbled numbers on it.

“I’m Derek.”

“Harper.”

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jtks-gh05t-g1rl · 27 days ago

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୨⎯ "Trading 'I love you's" ⎯୧ Leviathan x fem!reader

word count: 1k

(I found this pic on Pinterest and just covered the name. Not proof read!!)

(adding my headcanons)

୨⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯୧

Leviathan had always been insecure, this feeling was nothing new to him. He had always seen himself as less than, especially compared to his brothers. His brothers were so accomplished, so respected, looked up to. They had all built up a reputation and a life despite being hated and discriminated against when they had first fallen. Lucifer had created a reputation of being a loyal friend of Lord Diavolo. Mammon was friendly, extroverted, and fun to be around. Asmodeus was beautiful and kind to everyone around him.

When you first came to the Devildom he didn't like you. He didn't know you. He was rude and an asshole to you and he had always regretted it. Even though he acted like that he thought you were beautiful and didn't know how to approach you. He tried acting like Mammon because he saw how well you got along. That failed. It took, what felt like, years to reach friend status with you. When Asmo finally convinced him to confess to you, he felt like he had ruined it all. But when you said you liked him back his entire body froze. He was flooded by a feeling of relief and glee. Those five words had changed him, "I like you too , Leviathan.". The way you said his name made him feel like he was living a dream.

You made him feel more confident. You made him feel like he was worth something. Being with you made him feel like he could be the best version of himself. That's why he loves you. Although he felt all these great emotions , he still felt the overwhelming insecurities.

fast forward a couple of months. You and Levi are in his room, laying on his bed, your limbs are tangled with one another. You're both aimlessly scrolling on your phones.

Leviathans P.O.V.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I had the love of my life laying in my arms and yet this one comment still bugged me.

"LMAOOO HOW DID LEVI PULL HER???? no hate but bro cmon now."

I started at my screen for a minute. Hate comments aren't uncommon, they're even expected but they still effect me.

I look down at the girl, then back to my phone. I sigh and shut my phone off.

"Did I say that I love you today?" The girl asked. I looked down at her smiling.

"Yes, many times, baby."

"Okay, just checking." she said going back to her phone. I want to talk to her about what I saw, she would know what to say but I don't want to bother her. I try to gather the courage to say something to start a conversation like that but all that comes out is a loud groan.

"You okay?" She asked, her words had a heavily concerned tone.

"Hmm, yeah, I'll be fine."

"No pressure but you know we can talk if you want to."

"I know but- I don't know.." I had a sudden change of mind.

"Actually, I do want to talk."

" Go for it."

" I know hate comments are, like, apart of being a content creator but, even though they're expected, it still bothers me. Sometimes people make me feel unworthy of being with you. People are always talking about how they don't know why you chose me when you could've had anyone of my brothers."

"I chose you because I love you, Levi. Those people don't know you, I do. I do know you and I know how great you are."

"I know, I know but sometimes I still feel like your with me because you feel bad or something, like being with you feels so dream like, it almost doesn't feel real."

"Leviathan, I love you so much, you don't understand how much I love you. Your so amazing. I love so many things about you. I love how passionate you are and get about the things you love, the way you can go on and on about all your interests is so lovable. I love how you stay loyal to your faves. The way you get so excited to play a new game, the way I'm the first person you ask to play with you. I love watching you play your games and seeing how focused you are. I love everything about you. and you're beauty speaks for itself, I don't even have to mention it, but I will. I love the color of your everything. Your eyes are absolutely breathtaking, its like looking into a pool of gold. Your hair is so soft and the color is so gorgeous and they way it falls is so pretty."

"Fuck, I wanna marry you." The second the last word left my mouth, my lips were already on hers. She giggled into the kiss, making me smile harder then I have ever before. The next few minutes are filled with quick but love filled kisses and giggling.

I pull away from her. " Can I tell you something?" She nods. "You make me feel like I'm something. You make me confident, you make me want to be a better person."

"it's not the way you act on camera or in public that makes me feel like this, it's you. You make me feel like this. Don't get me wrong I love all of you but my favorite is when you let yourself be yourself." I let out a small laugh." I don't think I'll ever understand why you keep someone like me around. I mean you're just so amazing and you don't know how grateful I am that you entered my life. I said it before and I'll say it again, being with makes me feel like I'm dreaming, and if I am then I never want to wake up."

"but it isn't, right? You're actually mine, right?"

" yes, baby, I'm all yours." She said with a giggle that sounded like music to my ears.

"I love you so, Leviathan."

"You make me so happy, I could explode."

"I love you too, MC."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

hihi!! idk how I feel abt this one >-< lmk if you see any typos plzzzzzz!! also how would we feel about gender neutral stories, I'm more comfortable writing for fem reader but I'm down to try writing for gn!!

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #levi obey me x reader #om leviathan x reader #leviathan x mc #leviathan obey me

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writersmilex · 2 years ago

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My Only Friend

Anonymous asked: hi smilex nice to see you again, can i ask a scenario where hank and reader knew each other before hank became well... a murderer? basically reader was hank's only friend and they were very close, over time hank begins to have a crush on reader but he couldn't confess until the fateful day came with the boombox accident and from there they parted ways but after years they meet again

___ Nice to See you too... ‘I don’t know who you are’ Here is the request, Tumblr is always screwing me over one way or other and now I can’t respond to my asks. Here it is!

___

Hank Wimbleton X Fem | Reader

Summary: Just before the crimson skies, Hank had a friend. You were the only friend he had at the time. _____________________________________

(Art Belongs to Rightful Owner)

"It sounds like fun, you should try it." Your eyes gleam with intrigue as you point at the flyer for a volleyball tournament. Hank crosses his arms and huffs in annoyance. "I don't want to." He growls, by this time Hank's crappy moods hardly threaten you. "You want more friends, right?" You reason with the stoic man beside you. He doesn't answer and looks away from you. Yeah... He does want more friends, but he just doesn't know how. He has an intimidating stature, and stoic expression acts rather aggressively at times and making friends difficult for someone like him.

"Tell you what, we go together." You say, taking a pen from a string to write your name neatly on the flyer. "(Y/n)..." Hank tries to reason, but he knows there is no point in reasoning with you. "Fine..." He agrees and takes the pen from you to write down his own name, right under yours. You look at Hank and beam at him, the brightest gaze he has ever seen, it could blind him if your face produced light like that. "Awesome!" You laugh with glee, Hank just huffs in annoyance once again. "Whatever..." He grumbles. He feels you tug on his arm. "I'm thirsty, come on let's get a drink." You're not strong enough to pull Hank out of balance, but that will change soon as you have been working out lately. Hank follows along with everything you want to do. He has nothing better to do anyway. And you're always so hyper and like to do things that end up being very fun for him always. Even though he will never admit it out loud, he doesn't have to because you always seem to be ideally in tune with his mood every time. ~~~~ The volleyball tournament was indeed fun, doesn't matter if you were good at it or not. You personally thought you did well. You noticed Hank acting a little looser after the games, he had fun as well. If you squint you can see him smiling slightly. "See? What did I tell you?" You ask playfully, patting your friend on his arm. Hank lets out a low chuckle, "It was alright..." He replies that means he had fun. His response only makes you gleam brighter. You cheer with a little jump, "See? I knew it would be fun!" You skip alongside your stoic friend. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, as he slanders along with whatever you want to do. You're the best at finding fun things to do in his opinion. ~~~~ Hank started to feel strange around you for reasons that are still unclear to him. Seeing you happy made him happy, he did everything just to please you, he'd even do murder for you if you asked. Anything... Anything to make you happy. That smile of yours makes his day brighter. As far as he knows his life is very mediocre, and you make it better. He wants to see you every day to bring colour to his grey world. There is a place, Hank's favourite place in the park where he can find some peace. By the tree, it is a very serene place for him, ever since he was little he went there to be alone, as none of the other kids wanted to play with him back then. He didn't have friends back then, but now he has! He has you! His best friend and his only friend. He almost feels protective of you, and you don't have any enemies whatsoever! Perhaps some people find your bright and bubbly nature annoying, but that's normal he assumes. You can't get everyone on earth to like and respect you, no matter what you do. But he likes you but isn't really sure how he could show you that. So, he's going to show you his favourite place. "Are we there yet?" You ask for the fifth time. "We're really almost there," Hank repeats for the fifth time. You don't reply this time, merely holding your own hands behind your back as you trail behind Hank. You're usually the one with the plans for fun activities, and how he's the one with an idea and you don't want to ruin this for him. So you'll go with everything he wants now, just to make your friend happy. "This is a really nice place though, very tranquil." Your comment on the grassy fields of the park, There are not as many trees around as he remembered from when he was little, but his favourite tree is still the in the same place as it should be. "The quietness helps me think," Hank explains as he comes to a stop by the tree. "I can imagine that," you reply and keep looking around the fields. The park is rather crowded today, many people around and you saw one guy in the distance walking around with a boombox. "I like to just stand here and enjoy the silence... If I can..." Hank explains as he takes a stance, crossing his arms. He gives the random guy with the boombox a side glare. Hank never like that genre of music anyway, not to mention that it's rather distressing, such loud music in a place that's supposed to be peaceful. "I'm really thirsty, I'm getting a drink by the bakery. Do you want anything?" You ask your friend as you point in the general direction to the bakery that is right outside of the park's fields. "Just a soda." Hank requests with a dismissive wave of the hand. You nod and smile at your friend and skip off to get drinks. ~~~~ Hank waits for you to return, feeling a little tense at the loud music getting closer to him. The boombox guy is really getting on his nerves by now. Destroying his zen moment with that obnoxious music. It's clear that the boombox guy is not stopping on his own, so Hank has to do something about it himself. He walks around the tree and approaches the guy, "Hey, could you turn it down?" He asks as politely as he could. But instead is met with a rough push that causes him to stumble and lose his balance, falling on the grass. "This is a public place, I can do what I want!" The guy says matter-of-factly. Now Hank is angered enough to get physical with this guy, and he does. It was madness that day... ~~~~ Hank hasn't seen you since that fateful day with the boombox, it feels like he lost a piece of himself, which he might as well has. Nothing has been the same since that day... a day he curses still. The crimson sky doesn't change how he is feeling, as he looks over a war-torn city with very little left from the rooftop of the building where he and his comrades have taken shelter, a light breeze brushes by. But a part of him also wishes he never sees you again, you might think he's a monster. And he would agree with you if you did think that. His only friend that has been missing for what feels like years. He has kept you a secret from his comrades in the force, even Doc is not aware of your existence. Your memory is only his to cherish closely to what the last pinch of innocence remains in the endless void that he calls a heart. He still misses you so dearly, even when he can hardly remember your face. He is really conflicted about what he is feeling: He wants you back, but he doesn't. If he could meet you now, everything would change again. What if you weren't even alive? That thought saddens him. If you were out there somewhere, he hopes that you can survive. And meet him again one day. _____________________________________

There, I hope this is something that you want. It's very light-hearted, but it feels kind of bland, to be honest.

Anyway, there is nothing else much I think I could add to this.

Thanks for reading.❤️

- Smilex🙂

#madness combat #madness combat x reader #madness combat reader insert #x reader #reader #imagines #hank j. wimbleton #madcom hank #requested

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idolatrybarbie · 1 year ago

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the world tipped on its side

chapter three - bad miracle

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 6.4k

rating & summary: mature | you get a phone call. frankie leads you to pensacola beach, florida.

warnings: ANGST, discussions of health and disability, discussions of surgery, details of physical injury, (the briefest) mentions of suicidal ideation, grief/mourning, reader has a disability, reusing a bit of dialogue from a glee (yes) fic i wrote in high school.

notes: OKAY so i know i am like...really making you work for the porn here. sorry. take this gut-wrenching bullshit instead ??? also thank youuu gin for cheering me on in the DMs and for getting more eyes on my little fic, you are truly the bestest.

You don’t see Frankie for a few days, things operating as usual on set as the last week of June slips by. His number is in your phone now, but you don’t call. Sam goes back to Texas over the weekend and Mia returns to the top of your frequent calls list. After that evening with Frankie things feel different between you and your best friend. You want to ask her all the things she’s keeping from you—or more, all the things she might know you keep from her. White lies and omissions that have spiralled out of your control.

You didn’t realize that lying had become so easy, almost like second nature. How hard it is now to start being honest without the fragile, springy web coming apart and Mia seeing all of it. All of you.

That night, after driving back to set from 7-Eleven and saying your goodbyes to Frankie in the dark parking lot, you went home and stared at yourself for a while in the bathroom mirror. Maybe if you squinted hard enough, you could see what he was always observing within you. All you could see, half naked in front of the glass, were all the signs of medical interference on your body. The spindly scars all along the column of your neck and top of your spine, disappearing into the hair at the base of your skull that was slightly shorter than the rest. The permanent shadow of a line under your chest, a faint reminder of where the vested neck brace sat along your ribs.

You’re sitting in your car, scarfing down apple slices from the craft services table when your phone buzzes in your lap. The number isn’t listed in your contacts, but you recognize it immediately.

“Dr. Lopez,” you say as you answer the call.

“It’s just me honey.” Not Dr. Lopez but her sweet older receptionist, Dawn. “The good doctor wanted me to remind you about your appointment this week. July third at eleven o’clock. You can still make it I assume,” she says.

Shit. Your standing quarterly appointment that you’d already had to push back twice.

“Right, yeah. Should be fine.” You nod like she can see you now.

“Perfect. We’ll see you then. Have a good morning,” Dawn says.

“You too. Bye,” you say. Dawn hangs up first, surely eager to get to that next reminder phone call.

You’ve got shit to shoot that day, but an explanation and your pointed absence should be enough to get those scenes pushed back until after the holiday. Ashton will surely remark about bleeding money for half a day’s work, and you’re already rolling your eyes at the anticipated argument. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Your health comes first, always.

Someone knocks at the window on the other side of your car. Mia waves at you, a stash of fruit bundled in her right arm as she uses her left to pull the door open.

“Hey,” she says with a huff, taking a seat next to you.

“Did you raid crafty?”

“Are you going to eat it?” she asks.

You answer by snatching the banana from the crook of her elbow, peeling it upside down before you take a bite.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

It’s always tough for Mia in the days after Sam goes back home. That’s when she’s the one calling you at midnight, needing someone to talk to about nothing and everything. How much of a prick Ashton is, this new yoga routine she’s started that really unlocks one of her chakras, the guy with the sundial collection two doors down from you back in school.

“I’m doin’ alright,” she says. Mia slowly tears at a cutie mandarin, keeping the peel in her lap. “I think about the fact that we only have to do this for so much longer and feel a little bit better.”

“That’s good,” you say.

One thing about Mia is that she loves with her whole heart. Many of her past relationships ended because she wanted more, what her partners considered too much. She’d explained it once, tearful as she used the flat sheet of her twin bed to wipe at her eyes.

“I can’t just stop falling in love with someone. It turns into this free fall. I start to pour myself into this thing, like some sort of void. And it’ll never be full, but that’s okay because there’s supposed to be someone on the other end. Receiving all of that and returning it back to me.”

All you could do then, all you can still do now is nod silently. You have never felt that way about someone. Wasting away on love that will never be reciprocated sounds horrible and exhausting. Watching Mia lose herself in relationships to guys who meant zilch in comparison to the bright and shining star that she is taught you better. If she was decimated by a love like that, you would be absolutely destroyed.

“How’s your banana?”

“Starchy,” you say, mouth still full. You swallow. “Got that doctor’s appointment this week.”

“Oh? Is everything okay?” You hate that look in her eyes, oozing a concern so deep and immediate that it almost winds you.

“All fine. It’s just that quarterly thing. She wants to make sure I’m not dying,” you explain.

Mia hums, eyes on the citrus in her hand. She stops peeling, worry still intense all over. “You would tell me, right? If something was wrong?”

“Of course,” you say, a lie that rolls smoothly off your tongue. Internally you’re already kicking yourself. At the last specialist appointment, the doctor had taken x-rays of your skull, neck, and back. This was the appointment to discuss whatever they’d found with Dr. Lopez, and set out on the next steps in your care plan, if any at all. The fact that Dr. Lopez was so insistent about meeting each time you have had to reschedule tells you it isn’t nothing.

“I hope it goes well,” Mia says.

She pops a sliver of the fruit into her mouth. You adjust your seat back, laying diagonal to the gas pedal to rest your back. For a moment, the sun and silence drifts peacefully between you.

The furniture in the practice’s lobby is twenty years out of style; the fabric chairs all dark wood and fern green cushions as they form a double row in the middle of the carpeted room. Each piece of art that covers the wall space is dull and generic. A winter landscape here, mushy brown leaves there. It smells—like old people, like tiny sticky fingers, like ammonia.

When the nurse finally leads you to the last exam room on the left, your heart speeds up. This is where she butters you up, says all these sweet things before Dr. Lopez comes in and tells you that you’re going to be in a wheelchair in the next ten years. But all she does is watch you take a seat on the crinkly, sheer paper on the leather examination bed and ask if you need anything else.

“I’m fine,” you say. Then she’s gone.

You sit and wait for maybe five minutes, mind oscillating between the worst and the reality. Reality is, you’re here. Clearly this is about something, something the good doctor cannot tell you over the phone. Realistically, though, if you were going to die she would have told you by now.

When Dr. Lopez enters, your heart and mind pause simultaneously.

“Relax,” is the first thing she says, and you feel your tense muscles rest to unstrain themselves.

Why that worked, you’re unsure. Regardless, you say, “Thank you. Hi.”

“Hi,” Dr. Lopez returns. “I guess I don’t have to ask how you’ve been feeling.”

“Work’s been kind of getting to me lately,” you say. Not entirely a lie. Everything has been getting to you.

“How’s your limb function?”

“Fine. I haven’t had anything go numb on me in a couple of months.”

Dr. Lopez nods, taking a seat at the empty cushioned chair so that she’s at your level. “That’s good. Would you say you’re doing better?”

You have the urge to say maybe, to give her (and by extension, yourself) a little bit of hope amidst all of this. But you tell her the truth and say no. “That new mattress doesn’t really do anything. My neck is still stiff, and the nerve pain is almost constant.”

“You’re taking all of your medication?”

“And then some. I have an Advil delivery on auto-renewal,” you say.

“There’s an opportunity,” Dr. Lopez says.

“An opportunity,” you repeat.

“For you, for your spine. Surgery,” she continues.

“Okay,” you say slowly.

“I have to warn you that there are no guarantees, and the procedure is highly invasive. Moreso than your last.”

After your first and only surgery following the accident, you woke up feeling unlike yourself. Like someone had sliced you open and stolen a piece of your being while you were asleep on the table. Your skin didn’t feel like your own anymore. Your body was telling you something was still very wrong, as you would learn through the healing process. The pain stayed behind, even as the stitches closed and the skin at your neck mended itself into scars.

This was more invasive. Immediately, you are thoroughly uninterested, shaking your head.

“No. I can’t do that again,” you say.

She sighs. “I understand. They’ve performed the surgery a few times before to some highly successful results, which is why I brought it to your attention.” She’s shuffling through the manila file folder with all of your medical records now.

“Some,” you say.

“Pardon?”

“You said some. What about the others?”

Dr. Lopez purses her lips. She was probably hoping you wouldn’t ask. “Some other patients have seen little to no improvement to their condition or in their pain. And a small minority have experienced worsened pain and further limiting of their mobility.”

You could almost laugh. “And you want me to jump at this golden opportunity to disable myself more?” It’s rude, and you hate the way it comes out of your mouth as soon as you’ve said it.

Dr. Lopez eats the gut punch, shuffling on. “I know there’s a risk, but there’s always a risk. Without further surgery, your condition will worsen over time regardless. I thought this could be an opportunity. But if—”

“Can I think about it?” you ask. “I need to finish this project I’m working on before I can make any decisions. Could you give me the month?”

“Yes, I can do that,” Dr. Lopez says. She says your name, soft and low. The skin around her eyes crinkles, the only eyes involved in any of your medical experiences that has looked at you like another human being; like another soul. “You need to believe that things will get better or they never will. I understand that this…is not how you imagined your life going. But you have to hold space for something good within yourself. Miracles can occur.”

Now you really do laugh, a small snort out your nose as the right side of your mouth quirks up. “I’m not holding out any hope.”

Hope is a funny thing, though. It lingers, festering somewhere inside you in the hours that follow the appointment. If things go well, this could change your life. There’s that pesky word again—if. The surgery could change your life for the worse, too, bringing effects of the injury that are fifteen years away closer to fifteen months. Had this dilemma been posed to the old you, the better you, it would be a no-brainer. She was a risk-taker, fearless in her endeavours once she got a taste of what life could be like on the other side of chance. Now you hedge your bets. Take the jobs as they come, playing it safe with the projects you’re attached to.

You call Mia when you know production is at lunch, laying on your couch as you try and fail to bask in the peace granted to you by taking an emergency day.

“Hi,” you say as soon as the line picks up.

“Hey! How’d the appointment go?” she asks.

“Alright.” You shrug like she can see you. “Doc had some information for me, just thinking about it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mia asks. The bustle of background noise disappears as you hear a door click on her end.

“I’d like to think about anything but,” you say. “What’s going on there?”

“Ashton losing his mind in real time. Before we broke for lunch I was sure he was about to start shouting at people.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Looking forward to it.”

“At least you’ve got the holiday,” Mia says. “This is like your mid-week weekend.”

Right. Independence Day. You already know Mia has plans; she and Sam have been driving to the small, unincorporated town of Juliette for the holiday ever since she followed you down south. Every summer, she asks you to join them, and each time you say no. This year she didn’t bother to ask.

“I’m sure there’s stuff going on in the city,” Mia offers, “or you could go to Florida, hop on some boat for the night. Or follow Frankie.” She laughs as she says it, but the mention of his name has you perking up.

“What?” you ask.

“He’s headed to Florida tonight. Got this air show tomorrow, down at—shit, where was it? Pensacola something. Pensacola Beach.”

“You spoke to him?”

“He stopped by early this morning. Looking for you actually, but Priscilla told him that you’d called out,” Mia says.

“So Florida, huh?” You sit up, pulling your laptop off the coffee table.

“I mean why not?” Mia muses. “Maybe it could be good for you.” Her voice morphs into something softer, less amiable and airy.

“Yeah, maybe,” you say. You wedge the phone between your ear and shoulder, typing at your keyboard.

“But listen, whatever you get up to, text me alright? Even if it’s nothing.” Mia knows you well enough to predict your usual Fourth of July activities: curling up in bed with earplugs and a good DVD, the blinds drawn over your window. “I’ll send you some photos of the fireworks from the river.”

“Sounds good,” you say, half-distracted.

Mia mumbles her goodbye and you hang up, focused on the information passing your screen with every few clicks. In just a couple of minutes, you’ve found the Pensacola Air Show’s website. The when and where details of the event cover the landing page. There's several others, links leading to a detailed history of the show and images from past events that you skip right over. At the bottom of the tab sits exactly what you are looking for, clicking the highlighted link that says Pilots. Organized alphabetically, you find Frankie halfway down the list. What had Mia said? Or follow Frankie… Puppy, meet postman.

The picture used beside his blurb of professional experience is of a Frankie you’ve never seen before. He’s a little younger, clean-shaven in a pressed uniform, the American flag at his left shoulder. This must be his flight school portrait. He looks less weather-worn, all the weight of a life in the military yet to settle heavy over him.

In the following hour, you manage to book a room at some seedy motel in West Pensacola and pack a duffel bag with a day’s worth of clothes. You raid the kitchen, tossing bottles of water and a few granola bars in your bag for the road. Leaving at almost eleven o’clock, you set out for the very edge of Florida’s beaches.

The streets are quiet once again, the community of Cobb County asleep in their beds as you drive, stopping at an intersection. The security lights of the Kroger next to the road bathe you in a harsh white glow, lighting up the shadowy interior of the car. You look down at yourself, seated behind the wheel, ready to drive five hours and some change to go…watch planes circle between the sea and sky.

What are you doing? You aren’t quite sure at the moment. For once, the feeling is invigorating, not hapless.

It’s only when you start passing through Union City on the 403 that you begin to second guess your decision. You stop in East Newnan, the last “big” town for a little while, to use the bathroom. You buy a map and a gas station churro too, hunger getting the best of you; a stunning example of hypocrisy that you can never tell Frankie about. Something tells you he would never let it go.

The roads turn from the dry grey of asphalt to slick black, rain pooled onto the solid surface. A storm must’ve been through here recently, tall crops on either side of the highway swaying with residual winds.

Driving over the Chattahoochee River, you pull into the town of Opelika about twenty minutes later. You park away from the street lights in a Burger King parking lot, waiting for an oncoming bout of exhaustion to either pass or take you to sleep in the front seat. The radio buzzes softly from the car speakers, keeping the beat of your brain as your thoughts drift.

The question still remains: what are you doing, really? Are you so desperate for human connection that you’ll practically stalk the first person who piques your interest?

When you open your eyes again, the sky is light outside your windshield. Stores are still closed in the plaza around you. The car’s analog display tells you it’s barely seven o’clock in the morning.

Back on the road, you watch the world waking up through your windows. Montgomery, Hope Hull, and Letohatchee all pass by before you pull to the side of the road for a stretch. You take a bottle from your bag and chug water sitting on the hood of your car. You take your pills, looking up at the bright blue. Out here, far away from any city, the view is better than you could have imagined.

It’s another three and a half hours before you reach Pensacola, Florida. Eternal beachiness plagues the town, even in the suburbs away from the coast. The Western Inn slouches at the end of the street, sitting just off Mobile Highway with its rough, mint-tinted roof. Checking in at the front desk, a man certainly older than sliced bread hands you a set of jingling keys that unlock a room on the first floor.

The place is nothing special. The toilet is rusted, floors a weepy grey linoleum. The quilt that envelopes the bed is truly garish, dark red lilies and green palm fronds littering the expanse of the fabric. A sad room for your sad journey down to Florida, to see a man you hardly know do what he does best.

You never took a road trip before the accident. There are a lot of things that you never got to do, things that you’d be unable to now: hike across Europe, or drive a race car, or scale the side of the Empire State Building. A road trip seemed so out of the question—where would you go, what could you do—and yet here you are.

At noon, you take a rideshare to the beach. It’s a good thing, too—there’s barely a spot for the driver to idle and let you out of the car, never mind to park.

The sun beats down on you, hot and relentless, the air muggy with warmth. Still, the view of the water is beautiful. Beyond a crowding of luxury beach resorts, the water is as blue and clear as the sky. Waves rush up to the white sand every few moments, the foamy suds receding back into the ocean with its pull. When was the last time you went swimming? You should’ve brought a bathing suit.

Pensacola’s pier stretches out in front of you a thousand feet long. You stay on the shore, taking your shoes in your hands, balling your socks and stuffing them into the left one. The sand is soft on your skin. You dig your toes into its warmth, a small smile gracing your face. It has been so long since you’ve felt something like this.

An announcer farther down the water starts speaking into a microphone, her voice booming across the beach. She introduces the event, all business and no frills, before the sound of her speaking disappears again. The planes are off, moving in the sky before you have time to register what’s happening. Blue and yellow-striped navy planes—the Blue Angels, you remember from the website—jet into your field of view, puffy trails of white exhaust following them wherever they move. A half an hour passes, the blue jets trailing each other, flying upside down, and moving with the skill and synchronicity of an Olympic gymnastics team.

A fleet of five grey planes follow up the first performance, pulling stunts that moreso scare than amaze you. They fly in almost-circles, spinning around each other graciously in the sky before one parts from the group, dipping low. So low, you think the aircraft is about to skate along the water and fly into the Gulf of Mexico. The pilot pulls up just in time, shooting into the air at a thirty degree angle before circling back to join the identical planes.

That’s Frankie, it must be. In truth, you don’t know for sure, but you can feel it. The movements of the plane mimic that of his own, the casual sass of it all, like it’s no big deal. You imagine him in the cockpit, sweating but grinning under his helmet. Suddenly, you’re an expert in analysing the personal swagger of planes.

Another two hours passes in a blistering haze. Eventually, you put your shoes back on and take shelter in a gift shop, the sun too much for your body to handle. You buy lunch—a tall souvenir cup of freshly squeezed lemonade and a hot dog—before finding the only bench in shade left along the sandy strip. The sun eases up as more people filter away from this beach, either back to their cars or further along the sand towards Navarre.

You almost choke on the dregs of your pulpy lemonade when you spot him, Frankie, in line at one of the few other food trucks along the beach. Silently, you weigh your options. Going over and talking to him is fine, probably, but what if it isn’t? What if he thinks you’re a freak for showing up here, on this…public beach. Okay, maybe it’s fine. You can play this off as a funny coincidence.

You are up and walking over before you can think about it any longer, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. He turns, aviators protecting his eyes from the sun. Frankie says your name with an easy grin.

“Funny seeing you here,” he says.

“You too.” You shield your eyes from the sun.

He removes his sunglasses, hooking them in the collar of his t-shirt. “You down here for the show then?”

You hum. “Something like that.”

“Something like that,” he repeats, then nods.

When it’s Frankie’s turn to order, he steps up to the window and asks for waffle fries. “You want anything?”

“Oh no,” you say, shaking your head. “I just had a bite.”

“Gotcha.” He pays, then steps to the side of the line to wait for the food.

“Did you like it?” Frankie asks, cutting in on your thoughts.

“Sorry?”

“The show, d’you like it?” he asks again.

Right. The air show that you drove five hours to, rented a motel room for, bought a very overpriced rideshare to go see. That’s why you’re here.

“Yeah,” you say. “It was pretty cool. I kept half-expecting one of you to crash into the water.”

Frankie’s hand gets a gentle hold on your shoulder as he gives you a friendly pat. It burns at the skin exposed to his warm fingers. “That’s half the excitement,” he says.

When he’s handed a striped cardboard basket of waffle fries, Frankie absolutely douses them in both vinegar and orange seasoning salt. You try not to make a face. Clearly, you’re unsuccessful. The laugh you pull from his chest seems like it rips through him, up his throat and gloriously into the space between you.

Frankie starts to walk and you join him. He asks about the drive; you tell him you got here this morning, coming straight from Atlanta.

“I never realized how beautiful it is, away from everything,” you say.

“You don’t go camping often, I take it,” Frankie says.

You shake your head no, words clogging your throat like a knot once again.

“You should. I know this great spot, right up in Alabama too…” He ends his sentence there, blinking away whatever was supposed to follow it up.

“I wish. With work I barely have time to make dinner most nights.” Not untrue, but not the truth either. You could make time, somewhere in your calendar. Make use of the off-days between projects when all you do is rot against the mattress.

Frankie launches into a camping story from his childhood, when his dad drove them from Texas to Michigan in the dead of winter so they could both see some snow. The stay was tumultuous at best, your eyes widening as he tells you about how none of their gear worked properly.

“Really, I think the only thing that kept us alive for those couple o’ days was the campfire my pops kept up the whole time,” Frankie says.

The sun is setting slowly along the horizon now, the beach drawing a fresh crowd. The group is smaller than before, people awaiting the fireworks to begin popping off of luxury yachts in the distance.

“I have no idea how he did that, but I’m glad you didn’t freeze to death,” you say. “I would be royally screwed without a lighter or something.”

“You don’t know how to build a campfire?” Frankie asks.

“Nope.”

“Oh well, that’s gotta change.”

You two are back on the sand now, shoes in your hands as you walk along the grainy plains. He walks a little away from you, drifting to wherever a stray stick or smaller log lies on the ground. Once he’s collected a bundle of them, Frankie joins you again. He drops the wood to the sandy floor, sitting down in a deep hill of it. Then he’s scooping sand with his palms, leaving a hole in front of him. You sit down and join him, watching as he lays the varying sticks and driftwood into a nest of sorts.

Frankie takes one stick, running it between a deep wedge in one of the drier logs back and forth. After a few minutes of this, he sighs and pulls a lighter from his back pocket, lighting the stick before tossing it to the bed of wood.

“Had that worked, I would’ve been extremely impressed,” you say.

“Had that worked, I would have expected some sort of prize,” he says.

“I’ve got a solid high five or a pat on the back as consolation?”

Frankie raises his palm towards you, and you slap it eagerly. “That’ll suffice. I’m feeling consoled.”

“It’s too humid out here anyway. Luck is not on our side tonight,” you sigh.

“I don’t know. I feel it,” he says. You give him a curious look. “Lucky to do what I love, lucky to be here. Lucky you’re here.”

“I don’t know if luck has anything to do with it,” you say. You and Frankie have already had this conversation.

“Do you feel unlucky?” he asks.

“That’s a loaded question.”

“It’s just a question,” Frankie says. “But I know you’re squirrely about answering those.”

The sky is dark and the sun is gone, almost like it was never there. Fireworks start up behind you, beside you, in front of you. God bless America.

You mull over your usual two options. Deflecting—I’m honestly not that interesting. Or derisive—Not everyone can have a postcard perfect life.

You choose the outlier, a third option. The truth.

"You believe in a bad miracle?" you ask, your voice so quiet that the sound is almost swallowed by the fireworks. Almost.

"What do you mean, a bad miracle?" Frankie asks.

"Like, something unbelievable. Astonishing, you know? But maybe it's not good. Maybe it'd been better if it didn't happen at all."

"I guess," he says. "Why? Had any of those lately?"

You laugh, the sound small and stifled. "You know about the pills," you say—not a question, but a statement. Everyone knows about the pills. They're always on you, almost a part of you, chattering at your waist with every step.

"Yeah," Frankie admits. "Never asked. I didn't want to pry."

A long moment of silence draws on between you. It's your turn to speak, but you can't. What are you supposed to say? You've never told this story to anyone. Mia was there when it happened, and then she was at the hospital, explaining it all. After that, any doctor that you came across simply read your chart. No need for explanations.

"I had an accident," is where you start. "Two years ago. This shoot was weird. Underwater shit in Kaua'i. We were out along these rocks, away from all those beautiful beaches. I was supposed to dive, and like, swim down to the bottom.” Your voice cracks, popping like a candle wick. When did your face become wet with tears?

"So I dove, but no one signaled that there was a wave coming. The stunt coordinator was just entirely off his ass. I got flipped around right under the surface and the uh, the force from the wave knocked me—"

You can't remember everything now, couldn't remember when you woke up in a Hawaiian hospital either. You remember the searing pain after the surgery, the sensation that haunts you now, settled to a dull ebb with time and medication.

"I'm sorry," Frankie says.

"Not your fault. And anyway, I should be happy. Right? That's what the doctors said. That it was a fucking miracle I wasn't paralyzed, or something to that extent. And they’re right. It's a privilege that I'm not pissing myself all the time, that I can even sit here and bitch about it but..." you trail off. "It's kind of dark," is all you say.

"It's fine," Frankie says.

"Sometimes I wonder if it would've been better if I just hadn't made it. Like, this—this life? It’s my bad miracle." Nothing. Crickets. "Morbid, right?"

After a while, Frankie shakes his head. "No. I mean, yeah, but—" He half-shrugs. "My friend, Santiago? The asshole. He's kind of in a similar situation."

"Oh?" you question.

"They offered him another surgery, to fix the issue. He told me he asked if they were sure the procedure would kill him if anything went wrong this time," Frankie says. "So I guess that's his. Bad miracle, I mean."

There's something in his eyes, shiny and unobstructed for but a moment. A glint that makes you want to ask him, what's yours?

When Frankie looks away, he's seemingly snapping you from an overly open stupor as well. The weight of your words settles over you, a small look of horror flickering across your face before you reign it in against the dark.

You shift away from his body in the sand. You've just shoveled a small landfill of your bullshit onto this man, your coworker, and you can't take it back. You can see the words floating like the specks in your office. Bad miracle, hospital, paralyzed. You wish you could grab them from where they move between the two of you and shove them back into your mouth, down your throat where they would effectively die.

Frankie gives you a curious hum, eyebrows quirked as he looks at you under the brief, exploding lights in the sky.

"I should not have said all that. That was so unprofessional. I—"

He says your name, staring at you again. "It's fine. You're fine. We're not at work."

After a while, the waves lapping at the sand, you say, "This doesn't mean you get to pity me or anything."

"Pity you?" Frankie asks. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good," you say. "When people find out, or even just after the accident, it's like living a gravy train of apologies and expectations. Other people's sorrow."

"I mean, I get it. You can be sorry it happened," Frankie says.

"I guess. I don’t really understand.” Then, “Condolences feel like empty bombs of other people’s grief passed off to the grieving for defusal. What's anyone supposed to do with that?"

Frankie's looking out at the water, the fire and the sand forgotten now. "Commiserate," he says. "Better to suffer together than suffer alone. On the surface that sounds stupid, but when you're in it, you want someone to do it with you."

You can't help but disagree. This thing, it happened to you. You have to live with the outcome, sure, but why should everyone else? How does that make the thing better?

"I don't know if that's true," you say.

"For you," he says. "And really, I’d say that’s not even the truth either."

The fire crackles in front of both of you, lighting the wick of indignation in your throat.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that I've been trying to get to know you for weeks, and I think I was closer when you thought I was a carpenter here to fix the studio upholstery," Frankie says. The camp flickers and reflects in his eyes.

Suddenly, you wish you could implore that you don't like him, put the blame on that wicked crutch of an excuse. Unfortunately there's too much logical evidence against that; that first lunch interaction, the bar, here and now at the beach. Plus all the time you took considering it. Considering him. When did Frankie Morales start to take up so much space in your head?

So all you say is, “I’m sorry,” because there’s not much left but that. Your tears are dry on your face. Frankie’s hand finds yours in the sand, not holding it, but landing nearby. You don’t look at him, and you know his eyes are on you. Red, white, and blue flames light the sky.

The fire dies slowly, your signal to get moving again. If you leave now, you can catch a couple hours of sleep before the non-stop drive back to Atlanta.

You’re about to call a ride when Frankie says, “Let me drive you.”

“It’s fine, really,” you say. You’re split into two halves: the part of you that wants to run away from him, and the part that wants to pull yourself even closer.

“How long ‘til the car gets here?” he asks.

You look at your phone, reading the time estimate. “Twenty minutes.”

That’s all the confirmation that Frankie needs, nodding towards the parking lot as he puts his shoes back on. “Come on. My truck is over this way.”

Getting in is a bit of a struggle, Frankie mindful of the way your body twists as you try to get into the passenger seat by yourself. He ends up getting in on the driver’s side, leaning out of the opposite door to help you up, giving you an odd sense of deja vu.

Up here, you feel so far away from the road and the rest of the world. Sandy concrete turns to solid asphalt, the yellow lines blurring together as the truck drives by. You tell him the address of the motel, watching as he types it into his phone’s GPS at a red light.

Oh god. Oh god. Frankie Morales is taking you home right now. This cannot be happening. The truck is driving at sixty miles an hour. In another twenty seconds you are going to Charlie’s Angels roll out the door, that—

“I’m glad you came,” Frankie says.

“Huh?”

“I was kind of hoping you would. Come down, see the show.” All of his soul-delving seriousness is gone now, Frankie’s demeanor changed as he slides back into the casual banter you two share.

“That’s why you told Mia,” you say.

“Guilty as charged.”

“So that was the plan then? Get me down to Florida, build me a fire, I spill my guts?”

“Not exactly. But friendships formed from fire usually last the longest. Even if that fire is some pit on the beach,” Frankie says.

“I see,” you nod. Friendship. Friendship, friendship, friendship. That’s what this is.

The truck pulls into the dimly lit parking lot of the Western much sooner than you’d like. He walks you to the door, a true gentleman. You can’t figure out how to say goodbye, lingering just past the doorway and the open air.

“Well,” Frankie says. “Happy Fourth of July.”

“Happy Fourth, Francisco,” you return, intoning his full name to put up some sort of barrier. To scold yourself, a reminder of what your relationship to this man really is.

He rolls his eyes with a smile and a huff. “It’s just Frankie.” That should be it, the end of the interaction. Frankie still doesn’t move and neither do you.

This is taking too long, too much time passing for a farewell. You’re being obvious now, watching him watch you half in the dark. You shouldn’t have driven down here. You shouldn’t have gone to the air show. Those things can’t change now, but this can.

But then he takes a deep breath and starts to turn away from you. Your hand flies out and grabs his shoulder, because hell. There’s a lot of things you shouldn’t do. You kiss him, rough and slow, granting Frankie an out if he wants it. When he deepens the kiss, opening his mouth, it’s clear that he doesn’t.

Frankie moves his hands to your ribs, pushing his palms over your body to wrap behind you. You’re pulling him closer by his broad shoulders, noses squishing together a bit. He pulls away for a breath with that flash in his eyes you keep finding. The golden fireworks that sparkle and pop in the distance must be paid actors.

“Do you want to come inside?” you ask, voice strained. Extremely unprofessional, decidedly unplatonic.

“Yes,” Frankie says.

Who fucking cares about those things anyway?

tags: @wannab-urs / @anoverwhelmingdin / @iamskyereads <3

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier #pedrostories #fic: the world tipped on its side

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jjsmaybank20 · 2 years ago

Note

I saw your glee master list meaning you write glee! i’m so happy rn, if you’re taking requests could i make one?

No one ever writes for Kitty and it makes me sad :(

Could you do a Kitty x R and it’s like their first date? Maybe R thought that Kitty would be embarrassed or scared to be w her bc she’s not out so she’s not v affectionate but as soon as they get home she is.

Kitty thinks it’s bc R is embarrassed to be with her bc she’s such a bitch all the time etc, but it’s just bc she thought Kitty was embarrassed😭

It turns into a whole thing, they get into a relationship funk. then maybe R sings in glee club, maybe like that little mix song secret love song or something bc of the line ‘why can’t i hold you in the street? why can’t i kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that why can’t we be like that?’ bc she thinks Kitty is scared to come out.

Then at the end Kitty just ends up kissing R after leaving everyone shocked asf at how Glee Clubs sweetheart and Glee Clubs bitch are together.

Then they have a talk and they both say they thought the other was scared etc, then Kitty surprises R by inviting her over (what R doesn’t know is that during dinner with her parents she’s gonna officially come out to them and say she’s dating R) You can obviously choose wether or not her parents are cool w it but it would be nice to see them barley phased by her announcing their relationship bc they knew by how they look at each other🥰

Like i said only do this if you’re taking requests and if you have time :))

Secret Love Song

Kitty Wilde x fem!reader

Summary: You really like Kitty, and she really likes you. The problem is you think she is really inside the closet. What happens when you start to avoid her in public, making her think that you don't like her because of her bitchy personality?

Warnings: mostly just fluff, some light angst sprinkled in there

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I am just taking forever with these requests, I am so sorry. Trying to catch up. Hope you enjoy! I did my best to follow what you wanted.

navigation glee masterlist

---

You were acting weird.

That was Kitty’s first thought when she realized that throughout your Breadstix date you were practically avoiding any physical contact with her. With anyone else, she wouldn’t think much of it, but you were different. You were one of the touchiest people she knew, and she was in the glee club, so she knew a lot of huggy and sparkly idiots.

Normally, you were all over her. Always holding her hand, or putting your arm around her shoulder, or pulling her to sit in your lap during glee meetings. She would be lying if she said that she didn’t love it. No one ever gravitated towards her like that, because everyone was terrified of her. Everyone except for you, it seemed.

That’s how it was until Kitty asked you out. She had liked you for a while, and the glee kids were the biggest gossips ever, so when you told your best friend Sam, he almost immediately blabbed to Artie, who told Brittany, who told literally everyone else. You were even featured on Fondue for Two.

The one thing that everyone could agree on about your and Kitty’s relationship was that you liked her, and she was straight as an arrow and wouldn’t ever like you back. Fortunately for you, they were wrong. As soon as she caught wind that you liked her back, she yanked you into a random bathroom and said, “You, me. Breadstix at 6. Don’t be late. You’re paying.”

All you could do was nod eagerly and grin at her. She sashayed away, and you were left unmoving and dumbstruck until Marley came and found you. When she asked what was wrong, all you could do was shake your head and trail after her silently.

Now on your date, you were overthinking everything. You thought that since Kitty wasn’t out, that she wouldn’t want you to be your affectionate self with her in public. So instead of slinging your arm around her or holding her hand like you normally would, you sat at the opposite side of the table and kept your hands to yourself.

Across from you, Kitty is also overthinking. She thinks that you’re embarrassed to be seen with her in public, given her bitchy front. She glances up at you, catching you already staring at her. You look down quickly, blushing, which makes her smile.

Soon, you call for the check. You insist on paying, which Kitty appreciates. As you walk her towards your car, you wrap your arm around her waist and pull her into your side. Kitty snuggles into you, thinking that maybe she was just imagining things.

---

The next day in Glee club Kitty realizes that she wasn’t making things up in her head. When she walks into the room, you’re in your normal seat. Instead of getting up to hug her like you normally would, you just smile and wave before going back to talking to Sam.

Frowning slightly, Kitty makes her way towards you. She sits down and waits for you to pull her into you, but your arm around her shoulder never comes. Instead, you turn to face the front as Mr. Shue enters and you start to listen to him explain this week's lesson.

Feeling slightly insecure, Kitty slightly wraps her arms around herself. Noticing the tension between the two of you, Sam nudges Artie and points it out. They share a slightly confused look before turning to look back at Mr. Shue.

“Alright folks! It has come to my attention that some of you are holding your emotions in until you can’t anymore, and it’s causing a rift between some of our members. Now, as we’re getting closer and closer to regionals, we need to be able to work as a team without fighting. So this week’s lesson is…” The curly haired teacher grabs a whiteboard marker and writes down the word feelings. “Feelings. Find a song that represents the strongest feeling you have had recently.”

You glance over at Kitty before looking back to the front. You then slightly stick your hand out to the side, holding a little piece of paper. She grabs it from your hand and opens it, reading, ‘I had a lot of fun yesterday. We should definitely do it again sometime. How about Thursday?’

She smiles over at you nodding. When you see this, you let out a sigh of relief. She then suddenly grabs your arm and wraps it around herself. You smile to yourself and pull her further into you.

---

Your next date goes much better than the first. The one after that is almost perfect. And the most recent one is the best of all.

You pick her up and take her to a secluded clearing on the edge of a forest. Opening up the trunk of your truck, you reveal an elaborate setup so that you two can be comfortable while looking up at the stars.

Once you lay down, you are quick to pull the blonde cheerleader into you. She snuggles up close and rests her head on your chest. After some time just chatting idly while looking up, you two fall into a peaceful silence.

Kitty adjusts her head slightly to look at your face, seeing you already looking down at her. You make intense eye contact while Kitty shifts so that she is on her stomach. You lean slowly towards her while she leans up towards you.

You get so close that you can feel her breath on your lips. Hesitantly, you press your lips together. Kitty quickly sits up, effectively straddling you, and weaves her hands through your hair. She somehow kisses you so hard yet so soft, making your brain go fuzzy and your only thought being of her.

When you finally pull apart, Kitty rests her forehead on yours. You both try to catch your breath before you grin at her.

“I really like you, Kitty Wilde.”

“I really like you too, Y/N Y/L/N.”

---

After that heated first kiss and confession, Kitty thought things would be different. That you wouldn’t avoid contact with her like you did after almost all of your dates. Unfortunately, she was wrong.

She thinks it’s because at school, she still is a bitch to everyone except for you. She thinks that that’s how you’re starting to see her. You still think that since she is in the closet, she wouldn’t want you being affectionate with her so that no one would catch on to your secret relationship.

In glee club, Mr. Shue tells you to prepare something because you would be performing tomorrow. You don’t know what to do, so you turn to Kitty for advice. Where you would normally be welcomed with open arms, you get a freezing cold shoulder.

Kitty was icing you out in an attempt to not get hurt by the pain of you hating her and breaking up with her because of her bitchy mannerisms. You, on the other hand, had realized what to sing about.

You asked Marley to help you out, and she agreed feeling like the song also applied to her current relationship with Jake.

---

The next day, you and Marley get up in front of your friends. All of the previous day and most of today you had been ignored by the girl that you were sure you loved, and it hurt.

Preparing yourself to sing, you catch yourself staring at the blonde cheerleader that you had such strong feelings for. Surprisingly, she was already looking at you with a look in her eye that you couldn’t quite place. It looked like a mix of guilt and hurt.

Shaking your head slightly, you got yourself back into the right headspace. When you signaled for the band to start, Marley began to sing.

We keep behind closed doors

Every time I see you I die a little more

Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls

It'll never be enough

You close your eyes, getting into the song. You don’t realize that a certain blonde cheerleader is glued to your slightly hunched over body.

Marley continues to sing alone until you reach the chorus. Then you join in, harmonizing with the brunette.

Why can't I hold me in the street?

Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

Why can't I say that I'm in love?

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

You really begin to feel your masked emotions about your relationship with Kitty, and it causes a single teardrop to roll down your face. All Kitty wants to do is get up, wipe it away, and comfort you, but she lets you and her frenemy finish.

I don't wanna live love this way

I don't wanna hide us away

I wonder if it ever will change

I'm living for that day

Someday

You finally lock eyes with the bitchy blonde, giving her a hopeful look. She finally realizes why you’ve been acting the way you were, and instantly regrets ignoring you and pushing you away. When you reach the final chorus, Kitty is on the edge of her seat, ready to leap up.

Oh, why can't you hold me in the street?

Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?

I wish that we could be like that

Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours, I'm yours

Why can't I say that I'm in love?

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't we be like that?

'Cause I'm yours

You take a deep breath in and lean over to hug Marley. Suddenly you are forcefully turned around and pulled into an intense kiss. You freeze until you realize that it’s just Kitty, and then you melt into it, wrapping your arms around her waist.

When you pull apart, you are met with a tense silence. You finally look up at your fellow glee club members, who are all looking at you in shock. For a second, the silence is maintained, and then everyone starts asking questions at once.

You let out a breathy laugh and start answering as many questions (mostly Sam’s) as you can without getting too personal. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, and you realize that this is the happiest you’ve been in a long while.

---

You and Kitty were a few months into your relationship, and you both couldn’t be happier. Everything was going smoothly, and you learned to both communicate your insecurities.

After you sang your song and Kitty had kissed you in front of everyone, you had gone somewhere private and told each other the fears that were affecting your relationship. It cleared up a lot of things, and you both swore not to keep anything from each other again.

Now, Kitty was inviting you over for dinner at her house. What you didn’t know was that her parents would be joining you two, and that she would be both coming out and revealing your relationship to them tonight.

Pulling into your girlfriend’s driveway, you grab your presents from the passenger seat of your truck. You walk up to the front door with a bouquet of flowers in hand and a bottle of sparkling cider. You knock, and the door almost immediately swings open.

Kitty quickly yanks you inside and grabs the flowers and cider from you placing them off on a side table. She then pulls you into a side room before glancing around suspiciously. You look at her, slightly confused and amused. “Everything alright, babe?”

She smiles at you softly before quietly mumbling, “So actually we're going to have dinner with my parents. And I'm going to tell them I'm dating you.” You laugh softly, thinking that she’s joking. As soon as you see the serious look on her face, you begin to panic.

“Dude, seriously?! I have had no time to prepare for this! What should I say? How should I act?” Kitty crosses her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes. “Okay, first off, how many times do I have to tell you. I’m your girlfriend, don’t call me dude. And secondly, you’ll be fine. You’ve literally met them before.”

You go to say something else, but then Kitty’s mom walks into the room, looking at her phone. When she glances up and sees you, she breaks into a wide smile. “Oh, hey Y/N! I didn’t know you would be joining us! Come here, let me see you.”

Once again, Kitty rolls her eyes. This time it’s directed at her mother. “Mom, you literally saw her like, a week ago. She hasn’t changed much since then.” Mrs. Wilde waves her off with an affectionate scoff. She then grabs your arm and leads you into the dining room while telling you about this new skin cream that she’s trying.

---

Once the entire Wilde family and you are seated at the table, dinner gets served. After eating with idle chat for a while, Kitty clears her throat.

“Mom, dad, I have to tell you guys something. I don’t know how you’re going to react, but I really hope that it’s going to be positive. So, um… I’m…” She glances over at you, and you grab her hand, squeezing it comfortingly.

She smiles at you gratefully before swallowing the lump in her throat and continuing. “I’m a lesbian. And I’m dating Y/N.” Her parents are silent for a while, making you nervous. Your worries instantly wash away when they both develop huge smiles on their faces.

Mr. Wilde reaches over for his daughter's other hand, patting it affectionately. “Oh honey, we know. We love you no matter what. You will always be our daughter, regardless of who you like. Plus, now I don’t have to worry about you getting pregnant.” Mrs. Wilde nods along with what her husband is saying. Kitty looks at them, relieved and slightly confused. “Wait, what do you mean, you already knew?”

Now it’s Mrs. Wilde’s turn to speak up. “Well, we both have eyes. We can see the way you and Y/N look at each other. That’s how we looked at each other when we were young and in love. Also, I walked in on you guys making out a couple weeks ago. Y’all were so into it, you didn’t even notice me.”

You groan and put your face into your hands, embarrassed. Kitty laughs before turning back to her parents. Mr. Wilde raises his hand slightly before saying, “I do have one question, though. How long have you two been together?”

Pulling your face out of your hands, you think about it for a moment. “Almost… 5 months, sir. It’s been amazing. Also, I promise to treat your daughter wonderfully and be the best girlfriend I can be to her.” Mr. Wilde points his finger at you, jokingly saying, “I’m going to hold you to that. Remember, I have a shotgun.”

You look at him slightly fearful. Mrs. Wilde claps her hands, stating, “Okay. Now that you’ve told us, we need to lay down some ground rules. When in Kitty’s room, the door needs to be open. It doesn’t have to be all the way, but it cannot be shut. That’s honestly it, I think.”

You nod your head eagerly before looking over at Kitty. You felt so lucky that such a wonderful girl like her wanted to be your girlfriend. You knew for a fact that you wouldn’t want anyone else to be yours. She was the one for you.

---

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