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flatsuke · 2 years ago

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cyanspade's FE3H Dimileth Fics Masterpost

I think I ought to make a masterpost for the Dimileth fics I've written. Please let me know right away if there are broken links!

Last updated: July 22, 2024

Oneshots

Sundays with the Devil (E || 8,639 w. || Fantasy AU, Dragon!Byleth, Hunter!Dimitri, Dragon Fucking, Interspecies Sex, Voyeurism, Oviposition, Eggpreg, Strangers to Lovers, Bottom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd) — As the last living heir born to a line of legendary hunters, it was Dimitri’s duty to drink The Fell Star’s blood as part of his initiation ritual, the same way his father did before him. But when he sees what the ritual really is, he doubts himself, his family, and his faith. Not to mention The Fell Star herself.

when your silver is my gold (E || 5,296 w. || Pre-Timeskip, Pining, Sex Work, Masks, Lactation, Multiple Orgasms, Come Eating, Fantasizing) — Following Manuela’s sage advice, Byleth visits The Silver Wing, one of Fódlan’s best pleasure houses, to de-stress. Oddly enough, the escort assigned to her reminds her of someone familiar—someone painfully untouchable… but if just for a night, she could at least play make-believe until the sun rises.

show, never tell (but i know you too well) (E || 7,192 w. || Post-Timeskip, Advice Box, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Semi-Public Sex, Oblivious My Unit | Byleth) — Byleth receives an odd question in the advice box one day. Someone in the army was madly in love to the point of pain, and they needed her advice. Matters of the heart—and the flesh—were far from her realm of expertise, but she tries her best to answer them, as any good former professor should. Meanwhile, Dimitri has been acting strange around her as of late. She wonders why.

Satiate (E || 1,408 w. || Modern AU, Food Play, Nipple Licking, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Ribbons) — Dimitri learns Byleth usually spends St. Cichol’s Day by herself. Determined to make her happy during the holidays, he gives her a present he knows she’ll love. Or, Dimitri wraps himself in a pretty little bow and lets Byleth eat him up.

you made me hate this city (E || 2,614 w. || Post-Azure Moon, Maids, Roleplay, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Face-Sitting, Bottom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd) — Byleth finally comes to terms with her greed for the one person she is obligated to share with everyone. Thankfully, Dimitri is always more than willing to give himself to her.

Multichaptered:

At the End of the World (M || Complete || 10,361 w. || Post-CF AU, Angst, Family Drama, Obsession, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Tempest King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd) — After defecting from the Empire, Byleth finds her way to Dimitri’s war council, and later on, his bed. She discovers she’s pregnant with Dimitri’s baby and takes a page from the Jeralt Eisner playbook—she fakes her death and runs away to protect the baby from the threats posed by every side in the war. Years later, Dimitri finds them.

Visitor (E || Complete || 19,544 w. || Modern AU, Eldritch Horror, Psychological Horror, Obsession, Dubious Consent, Monsterfucking, Tentacle Sex, Oviposition, Stockholm Syndrome, Eggpreg, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Yandere Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd) — After Jeralt’s untimely death, Byleth goes on an impromptu road trip to get away from it all. She arrives in quaint little Fhirdiad and meets Dimitri, the friendly innkeeper at the Blue Lions Bed and Breakfast. Everything is nice and pleasant, but she can’t shake the feeling that there’s something not quite right about Fhirdiad. Or its innkeeper.

we should never have played god (E || Complete || 22,244 w. || Modern AU, Android AU, Android!Dimitri, Sex Robots, Science Fiction, Robot/Human Relationships, Psychological Horror, Obsession, Stalking, Voyeurism, Dubious Consent, Noncon, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Minor Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Yandere Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd) — Robotics grad student Byleth finds an abandoned sex android in a junkyard. After repairing him and letting him go free, he opts to stay with her and help her with her research. Though it’s nice having someone around, she wonders if he’s more human than he ought to be. Or, Dimitri discovers what being human means. The secret, he learns, is love—in all its cruel, hungry splendor.

(UPDATED!) Rotten Seeds (E || Ongoing || 72,020 w. || Pre-Canon AU, Time Travel, Royal Tutor!Byleth, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Unhealthy Relationships, Codependency, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Yandere Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd) — Consumed by grief over Dimitri’s miserable end at Gronder Field, Byleth musters the last of her power to go back in time to his childhood and prevent the tragedies that befall him all throughout his life. Unbeknownst to her, Dimitri still has a darkness innate to him—only this time, he’s hell-bent on making his beloved tutor Byleth his and his alone.

The Unsung Perks of Stranger Danger (E || Complete || 9,872 w. || Modern AU, Rape/Non-Con, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Mental Instability, Stalking, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Unbirth Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Yandere Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd) — In Byleth’s approximately ten years of experience as a handywoman, none of her clients were like Dimitri Blaiddyd. He was polite, he never caused any trouble, and he tipped really well. There was just something a little off about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Oh, well. At least he was easy on the eyes.

Nativity (E || Ongoing || 16,365 w. || Modern AU, Ranch AU, Psychological Horror, Eldritch Horror, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Cannibalism, Unreliable Narrator, Yandere Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd) Downtrodden college dropout Byleth inherits Garreg Mach Pastures from her estranged grandmother, Rhea. Byleth hasn’t set foot on the ranch after moving away with her parents fifteen years ago, but Dimitri, the ranch caretaker, is eager to show her the ropes and help her settle in.Life on the ranch is idyllic. Byleth feels a sense of peace she hasn’t felt in so long.Until cracks begin to show in disturbing ways.

thou shalt not covet (E || Complete || 15,000 w. || Post-Azure Moon, Hanahaki Disease, Rape/Non-Con, Pining, Manipulation, Suicide Attempt, Yandere Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd) Byleth falls victim to a disease of the worst kind—of heartbreak over a man unable to love her back. As she vomits blood and roses, all Dimitri can do is helplessly watch as she willingly dies a slow death to let her love endure. But one day, he realizes a few things: One, that Byleth need not die for a dead man. Two, that just like anyone else, Dimitri deserved to be selfish, too.

The Quintessential Guide to Equine Care (E || Complete || 7,454 w. || Pre-Timeskip, Pining, Non-Human Genitalia, Size Difference, Sounding, Come Eating, Come Inflation) A mishap with potions gives Dimitri a cock fit for a horse. Byleth, ever the dutiful professor, helps him out with his problem.

#dimileth #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth eisner #dimitri x byleth #fe16 #fe3h dimitri #fe3h byleth #spade writes

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edgessunflower · 2 years ago

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Romcom AU Prompts

How to lose a guy in 10 days

13 going on 30

Imagine me and you

When _ met _ (When Harry met Sally)

My best friend's wedding

Sweet home alabama

Me before you

Just like heaven

Little Italy

Boys and girls

The lake house

But I'm a cheerleader

The wedding planner

Only you

Begin again

She's all that

A life less ordinary

Kissing _____ (Kissing Jessica Stein)

Friends with benefits

P.S. I love you

Marry Me

Love Actually

Watching the detectives

The thing about ___ (The thing about Harry)

Fool's gold

Silver linings playbook

Life as we know it

Perfect sense

A walk in the clouds

Jerry Macguire

The truth about ____ (The truth about Charlie)

Ghost

Fool's rush in

The wedding singer

Love, _____ (Love, Simon)

Sweet november

Just go with it

The proposal

Big Fish

27 dresses

The object of my affection

The holiday

Seducing mr perfect

____ wedding (Muriel's wedding)

#romcom #prompts #writing prompt #romcom prompts

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super-who-locked-me-in-here · 1 year ago

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Makes me think about the medium shift project I did in community college. It was for my Literature and Film class (in which we watched films based on pieces of literature (Brokeback Mountain, Fight Club, The Matrix, etc)), and we had to take a scene from a movie we had watched and literally change the medium.

We had several choices, like rewriting the scene as a script or a short story, or drawing a comic, one person even reimagined a scene as an interpretive dance. I decided I wanted to take on a real challenge, and I attempted to draw the dance competition scene from Silver Linings Playbook as a comic. And on one hand it was really cool to do. It was cool to put all that effort into transforming this work that I enjoyed and see that it was possible to take this scene that had so much movement and song changes and basically screenshot it with my own art skills. But also when I was finished with it, I realized it wasn't as good as the scene from the movie, and it made me think, although I hadn't read the book, that maybe the scene in the movie wasn't as good as the scene in the book.

It made me realize that when you change from one medium to another, you lose something, always. When you turn a book into a movie, you can lose the characters' inner thoughts and dialogue, and when you turn a movie into a book you can lose ambience like music in the background or extreme variations in light or color. I think by changing what each story exists as you can lose a lot of it's main essence. You're taking something, whether it be from the story or the characters or even (and most often) from the creator.

And I'm not saying adaptations are completely bad. I myself am looking forward to the release of the movie version of Red, White, and Royal Blue, and I've really enjoyed watching the Good Omens miniseries. But I think, like most things, they're good in moderation, but completely under- or overwhelming in great amounts. And cinema has hit that great amounts point. The people making movies and TV shows are churning out so many remakes and adaptations and people are tired of it. But ones like Good Omens, where Neil Gaiman, the co-writer of the book, has a large say on what's going on in the adaptation, it *can* be good. And maybe that doesn't always work (my mom told me the Discovery of Witches TV series based on the book of the same name was not great despite everything being approved by the author Deborah Harkness), I think it's important that the creator stay with their creation, commercially at least. Like yeah, allow fanfiction and fanart and video edits, but if the adaptation or au or whatever you want to call it is being monetized, I just feel like some of the magic is lost when it's... remade.

some comics should just stay comics. we don't need a live action adaptation of everything. we need to be free. take my hand. I'll show you

#not sure if i properly got my point across here #but like #adaptations aren't always the best thing in the world #dot says #long post #rambling

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lyss-writes · 3 years ago

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Excelsior (Part 9)

[9/12]

Looking back on that moment later in the privacy of his therapist’s office, Tom might have said any number of things. He might have said, Are you fucking nuts? (Pejorative, and potentially a trigger.) Or, Suppose you’ll want to be the one in heels, Ginger Rogers. (Passive-aggressive, with a subtle hint of good old-fashioned homophobia baked in, for flavor.) A simple No, thanks might have sufficed here, but.

The thing was, Greg used to do this competition with Andrew every Thanksgiving weekend. Greg, whose family was a grouchy Quebeçois hermit and a conniving New York news magnate and a handful of cousins who had never once mentioned him. Andrew, whose family was English and distant in every sense of the word. And now Andrew was dead, and Tom was going to—what, he was gonna tell him No, uh-uh, absolutely fucking not, Greg like some kind of homophobic monster, like some horrible beast who would sooner piss all over a dead guy’s memory than shimmy around a hotel ballroom in Spandex pants like some low-rent Midwestern Baryshnikov with his wife’s cousin?

Shiv. Now there was an angle. Oh, to think of Shiv discovering that Tom had taken pity on her poor widowed cousin! Oh, oh, oh, how she’d fall longingly at his feet when she heard all about his selfless act of kindness. How gallant he was! How dashing!

So he agreed, but—because Tom was smart and blessed with real business acumen when it came to cutting deals and closing tricky loopholes—Greg had to find a way to deliver the note to Shiv first. Send it first-class, via carrier pigeon, in a fucking stripper-gram, for all he cared. Just get it done, nice and discreet, and then they could talk about this… ballroom dance thing.

“This is a wonderful thing you’re doing, Tom,” Dr. Parfit said, smiling at him. “A wonderful, wonderful thing.”

Oh, it was wonderful. God, he was good. In awe of his own brilliance. He could be back home with Shiv by Christmas, if he kept playing his cards right.

“Gosh, is it? I don’t know,” Tom said, simpering. “I like to think I’m just… being a friend.”

“Of course,” Dr. Parfit said, hand to his chest. “Of course you are.”

But his therapist didn’t know about the letter. He didn’t know about the sneaky little (possibly illegal) side deal he’d struck with Greg.

Logan Roy had once said in a fit of passion that Tom was fathoms beneath his daughter. He liked to think that this bit of duplicitousness would do his father-in-law proud.

————————

His parents were thrilled, predictably. Less thrilled, when they realized who his new dance partner was. It seemed like everyone knew Greg somehow: as the twenty-nine year old widower, as the resident office nympho. His mom mentioned that Greg had shopped his wrongful termination suit around to the white-shoe law firms in the Twin Cities a couple months back, including hers, but he’d decided in the end that it wasn’t worth the time and money to pursue legal action. But gee, wasn’t that a terrible tragedy to happen, to lose his husband when he was ever so young, and so in love! And wasn’t Tom such a sweetheart for taking him under his wing. And did Greg know that he was welcome to come for dinner anytime—really, anytime at all, anything for Tommy’s new friend!

“Sure,” Tom said, just to get his mom off his case. “I’ll tell him.”

But first: the letter. He disappeared into his bedroom and settled at his old desk and wrote. And damn, it was good. Really moving stuff, just super romantic. Would Nate do this for her? Would he write a bunch of purple prose and wax poetic about how lucky he was to be married to someone so extraordinary, so breathtakingly beautiful? Would he break some smug bastard’s nose for daring to touch her? And, well. Would someone like him, so concerned with the plight of the working class, blah blah blah, do what Tom was doing for Greg? What was he doing right now? Was he making a difference in Shiv’s cousin’s pathetic life? Ha! As if!

He scrawled it all out on a bit of his mom’s stationery—proof of life, etc.—and sealed it up in an envelope to give to Greg at rehearsal.

————————

“Holy shit,” Tom said. “You’re telling me that this was a garage?”

He stood in the middle of what could have been a professional dance studio, which just so happened to be in a converted four-car garage behind an old derelicted Craftsman. It was gorgeously designed. Oak floors, an entire wall of paneled mirrors, a top-grade sound system with wall-mounted subwoofers.

“Yeah,” Greg said. “I know. It was a total mess before I moved in with my mom, but she let me, like, trick the place out. Cool, right?”

“Jesus,” Tom said, running a hand along a light switch panel on the wall: turn a dial, and the lights dimmed so that a single spotlight burned overhead; flip a switch, and there was a strobe effect that rivaled the display at a West Berlin discotheque. “How opulent. This must have cost a fucking fortune.”

Greg smiled, a little sheepish. “Roy money.”

“Ah.” Tom thought privately that it was probably a bit of a waste, throwing several hundred thousand dollars at a bachelor pad slash elite dance studio in your mother’s garage, but then again, if he had his hands on even a fraction of Shiv’s inheritance, God knew what he’d do with it. He probably wouldn’t be channeling his millions into funding the cure for cancer, either. Maybe that was why she’d been so insistent on signing a prenup. “I thought you said you weren’t much of a dancer?”

“I’m not,” Greg shrugged. “But it’s therapy, and it’s fun! And the walls in here are good because they’re soundproofed, so I can play music really loud and my mom doesn’t hear it.”

“Oh. That’s… useful.”

Greg plugged his iPhone into a speaker setup and started tapping at the screen, scrolling through a Spotify playlist. “Uh-huh.”

“So when are you gonna give it to her?” Tom asked.

“What?”

He pulled the sealed envelope out of his back pocket and held it up. “The note, Greg.”

“Huh?” Greg kept looking at his phone. “Uh, I don’t know. Soon. I thought I’d, like, email it to her? Do people even use the post office anymore?”

“You’re not gonna read it,” Tom said, eyebrows cinching in the middle of his forehead. “Greg. Tell me you’re not gonna read the note. It’s private. It’s romantic.”

“Fine, like, type it up for me if you don’t want me reading it,” Greg said, his eyes still glued to the phone screen.

“Greg, you know I can’t do that. I can’t use a phone, I can’t touch a computer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Right. I forgot, the restraining order.” Greg lifted a shoulder. “I’ll scan it, or something.”

“Good, good.” Tom hummed to himself, a little unsettled by Greg’s nonchalance. There was a lot riding on the successful delivery of this note. “It’s a good letter, though. I think.”

“Mm. I bet.”

“Yeah, Shiv’s not really much of a romantic, you know. Or, uh, she’s not really, uh, comfortable showing affection. Always hated PDA. She keeps her cards pretty close to the chest.” Tom cleared his throat. “But I think she’ll see where I’m coming from.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I mentioned in there, I talked about what I’m doing for you, the dance thing, how generous it is—”

“Very.”

“—and how I’m, ah, how I’m being of service to you—”

“No, like, yeah. Absolutely.”

“—to your need.”

“Right.” Greg took the envelope from Tom with a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Uh, should we start?”

“Oh, ah, sure,” Tom said. Somehow he’d managed to forget that dancing was part of the deal. Apparently too much to hope that Greg would forget about it too, huh. “Show me what you’ve got, Stringbean.”

They warmed up for a bit in front of the mirrors, not so much dancing as they were swaying side-by-side to the beat of whatever treacly pop song Greg had pulled up on his phone.

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind There was something so pleasant about that place

It was… fine, but not really danceable. Not in the way Tom knew how to dance, anyway. (Yes, he’d dabbled a bit in theatre, back in college. And yes, he’d taken lessons with Shiv before the wedding, a simple waltz, nothing too extravagant.) If they were gonna do this, then they needed some damn wedding music. Whitney Houston! The Spinners! Earth, Wind & Fire, for fuck’s sake. Real music.

So he cajoled Greg into switching up the playlist a little, and then they were, uh. Kind of dancing, the two of them, Tom leading with a firm hand on Greg’s hip. It was weird, dancing with someone taller than him, who also happened to be male, and gangly, and redolent of Old Spice deodorant, but he was also surprisingly… coordinated? And he didn’t seem to mind that Tom had taken the reins and was pushing him around the dancefloor like a housecleaner with a Hoover.

The level of automatic trust was unexpected. Which was nice, Tom had to admit. Weird, but nice.

“Hey, you’re, like, pretty good at this!” Greg said at one point. They were dancing to an oldie, a Sinatra song with a slower tempo, while they caught their breath.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Greg.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance, is all.”

Tom raised an eyebrow and spun Greg in a loose circle under his arm, and went in for a dip.

“Of course I know how to dance, Greg. Jesus,” Tom said, expertly tipping Greg. Yeah, he still had it in him. “I’m not a philistine.”

“I–I know,” Greg stammered, blushing, on his way back up.

Dancing was more of a workout than Tom remembered. They were flush and out of breath after an hour. Greg’s hair was damp, stringy with sweat, and his cheeks were pink.

He looked good, all worked up like that.

“See you tomorrow?” Greg asked when Tom went to leave.

“Yeah, sure, tomorrow,” Tom confirmed. “And, uh. Don’t forget about the letter.”

#title: excelsior #au: silver linings playbook #tag: tomgreg fic #status: WIP

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jaytodd1129 · 4 years ago

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Geraskier AU in which Geralt is Pat, Jaskier is Tiffany and Yennefer is Nikki from Silver Linings Playbook, nuff said.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #the witcher #geralt/jaskier #yennefer of vangeberg #sorry yennefer sweetie!!! or maybe renfri can be nikki?? idk i feel bad about making yennefer cheat on geralt tbh #i'm such an asshole i didn't mention what those names were from in the original post lmao #a lot of people were probably confused lol #silver linings playbook au

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bccky · 3 years ago

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Unrequited

Pairing: College AU!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: you realise that you are in love with your best friend, only for him to confess that he loves someone else

Words: 2,830

Warnings: angst, sad reader, late love realisations, fluff at end

@buckybingo : finding each other once again

@star-spangled-bingo : unrequited love

@anyfandomangstbingo : Walking Away

@anyfandomgoesbingo : They're mad at me, i did something stupid

@drysdale-barnes 600 FWC: When he loves me I feel like I'm floating

@saiyanprincessswanie 2.5K FWC: Thank you, I love you. I knew it the minute I met you. I'm sorry it took so long for me to catch up. - (Silver Linings Playbook)

A/N: inspired from a drabble I wrote for @justagirlinafandomworld flash fic challenge! Huge thanks to @princessmisery666 for betaing this in such a short time! Inspired by the movie Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. And to @msmarvelouswinchester for being excited about this when I told her the idea lol Dividers by firefly-graphics

Hope you like reading this Xx

Main Masterlist • Marvel Masterlist

You loved him.

Gosh, you were so stupid for not realizing it earlier.

You shook your head as you smiled to yourself. You had always considered Bucky to be slightly more than a best friend, but you had never known that this was what was called love.

Someone patted your shoulder from behind and you almost gave yourself a whiplash with how fast you turned, deflating when you realized it was Dot, and not, um - you know, Bucky.

"Woah, hope your neck is okay." She teased, but there was an edge of concern.

You hummed, "I'm fine, what's up?"

"Bucky told me to tell you that he wants to talk to you about something. He'll be at your dorm."

You thanked Dot and picked up your bag before making your way home.

For some reason, you couldn't control the smile on your face.

Okay, no.

You knew the reason why you couldn't stop smiling. You had a feeling that something good was going to happen. The guy wanted to talk to you at the exact time you realized your feelings for him, that meant something, right?

Maybe he felt the same too...

And with that thought, you walked back to your dorm with a skip in your step.

Bucky was right there, sitting on your bed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he shyly looked anywhere but you, his cheeks pink. You opened your mouth to greet him but he spoke first.

"I love you."

You couldn't believe that Bucky was actually saying the three words right as you entered your room. He had probably been practising while he waited for you and maybe just blurted it out. You didn't know what to say - what to think. You were in awe as you stared at him in surprise.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh as he brushed his hands through his hair before finally meeting your eyes. "What do you think she'll say if I tell her that?"

And just like that, eleven words was all it took to bring your whole world crashing down.

Your smile dropped and you couldn't help but ask, "What?"

"Dot - I wanna tell her that I love her." Bucky said as he licked his lips, blushing. "Fuck, I have been saying 'I Love You' to myself for ages, practising, before you even came in."

Tears blurred your eyes but you willed them away, finally understanding what was happening.

"I know that you're shocked, you didn't even yell at me for cursing. Hell, I'm shocked. Who knew a girl like Dot could lock this playboy down." Bucky stood up, hugging you tightly.

It was true, Bucky was known as a love 'em, leave 'em kinda guy throughout college, and you, his best friend from day one of college, was probably the only girl he had talked to for more than a week… well, maybe except Dot.

You returned his hug, wrapping your arms around his neck like always. But this time, something had changed.

Maybe everything had changed.

Bucky pulled away, his own eyes a bit red-rimmed even though you had never seen him smile so brightly.

You couldn't take it anymore, so you turned around on your heels, placed your bag on your desk and started taking out stuff as a distraction.

"You think I should tell her?" He asked in a small voice. You had never thought that Bucky could ever be this shy even a second from all of your time with him.

You nodded, not trusting your voice as you discreetly wiped your tears. You felt him hug you one last time from behind before he muttered, "Wish me luck." and rushed out of your dorm, the door slamming in his wake.

And thus, you were left alone with your thoughts in the quiet that followed.

It would be a lie if you said you didn't cry at all. You had just been through your first heartbreak.

You woke up the next day, sighing when your gaze fell on the mascara stained pillows.

Will it be just as hard to remove the stains as it will be to remove Bucky from your heart?

Was your love even real if he never felt what you did?

Taking a deep breath, you made a call to the only person who you knew would have the answers, trying to rub the tears off your cheeks even though you couldn't stop crying when she picked up.

"Mama, can you die from a broken heart?"

It wasn't hard to distance yourself from him when final exams of your last term were just a week away. You could give him simple excuses like; "I have to study," and he didn't have any other choice but to believe you.

"After exams," Bucky said one morning when you crossed paths on the campus. You tried to walk away, but he had clasped your hand, "You and I are going to spend a whole day together. I miss my best friend."

"Of course," you replied without missing a beat. But you had already planned to leave an hour after your last paper was handed in. Now, the thought of escaping was the only thing that made you happy.

"I'll be waiting for you." Bucky smiled, showing his pearly whites, but then frowned when he saw that your smile didn't reach your eyes. "Did something happen, Y/N?"

"Something did happen, but don't worry about it, you won't understand." You squeezed his hand twice, knowing that it was probably the last time you were going to talk to him, maybe forever.

You would've hugged him, but he knew you well enough to understand it as a confirmation that something was definitely wrong.

So, that was the last time you ever met James Bucky Barnes, memorizing him as a goofy guy with a cheeky smile and blue eyes that shined with life, his white shirt stained with ink and half tucked in.

Well, that was to be expected since you kept your heart tightly bound in so that no one could break it again.

With distance, they say, the heart grows fonder, but yours just kept on getting even more numb.

Everyone around you tried to make you talk it out, but you just shoved your feelings aside and began working harder for your career.

"Bye, Y/N!" Wanda and Natasha yelled as you waved at them for the final time before you boarded your flight to Brooklyn.

You smiled and thanked the flight attendant who directed you to your seat, mentally thanking Natasha for booking you a window one. You settled down, hoping to get some rest on your long haul flight after the hectic week you had.

A lady who seemed to be in her sixties took the middle seat while a man in a blue suit and sunglasses occupied the aisle one.

The moment the man sat down, you could tell that the old lady was on edge. She bounced her foot irately before pushing the 'call' button thrice incessantly.

A young flight attendant immediately rushed to your row, "Hi! What can I help you with?"

The old lady, however, was in no mood of being polite.

"I had booked the aisle seat," She grumbled. "Here's my ticket!"

The flight attendant checked it over, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but it looks like you may have accidentally booked the middle seat."

"That's not possible. I always sit on the aisle seat. You move me right now!" You felt pity for the flight attendant, who obviously wasn't used to such passengers yet.

"If it's fine, she can change seats with me," The man on the aisle seat said.

The flight attendant gratefully nodded, "it's fine sir, but you don't have to-"

"It's fine." The man and the old lady quickly changed seats so that the former was sitting next to you instead.

Now that he was closer, you spared a few seconds to look him over as he typed something in his phone. His jaw was sharp and covered with a small beard that looked professionally trimmed, and his hair dark which complimented his fair skin beautifully.

Not wanting to get caught, you quickly looked away.

The other passengers were still boarding when another flight attendant approached with a clipboard. "Miss Y/L/N." she said politely. “The meal you pre-booked isn’t available, here’s a menu so you can choose something else. I hope that’s okay.”

“Not a problem,” you said, taking the offered menu. She said she would come back shortly and wandered off down the plane.

The man next to you, however, started glancing at you every few minutes or so and you noticed through your peripheral vision.

After all the meals were served and the stranger had glanced at you for the sixth time, you were annoyed. "What's up?"

He was startled, as if he hadn't thought he would get caught. "Oh shit, I'm sorry. Didn't wanna make you uncomfortable." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Are you related to Y/N Y/L/N?"

You had worked really hard for where you were career-wise. You were the editor-in-chief of a popular newspaper, so it wasn't uncommon that your name would be recognized here and there.

But you also didn't have the energy for any such interaction right now.

Playing it safe, you said, "Oh, yes. I'm a distant cousin. Do you know her?"

The man visibly deflated before smiling sadly. "Yeah. We used to be best friends."

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion. "Is that so? What is your name if you don't mind me asking?"

"Bucky Barnes."

There weren't many times that life gave you curveballs. You were proud that you felt ready to face any challenge thrown your way, but this, you never thought would happen.

"Bu… Bucky?"

"Yeah. Has she ever talked about me?" There was that hint of a smile that made your heart stop, and then it began beating erratically when he removed his sunglasses to reveal those baby blues.

"It's me, Bucky. I'm Y/N." You breathed out.

Funnily enough, his reaction was more dramatic than yours. He had brought up a spoonful of mashed potatoes up to his mouth which clattered back onto the plate.

For a moment, you could tell Bucky was at a loss about what to do - wanting to shout at you and hug you at the same time.

Thankfully, he settled for the latter.

"I missed you so much." He said, awkwardly twisting his huge body in the small space between the two rows in the airplane.

You patted his back, smiling as tears sprang to your eyes.

Gosh, you hated Bucky for still having this much effect on you.

"So, what are you doing nowadays?" You asked, wiping your eyes with a tissue after he let you go.

"Took over my dad's business." He replied, to which you raised your eyebrows.

"I thought you didn't want to do that?"

Bucky shrugged, "Times change, I guess. I'm happy doing it now, though."

You hummed, "That's good. I'm an editor-in-chief at -"

"- New York Times, I know." Bucky cringed as he interrupted your sentence, realizing how creepy it must've come across. "Ma reads it, she's really proud of your achievements. She’s collected some of your articles in this cute little scrapbook."

You blushed. "That's really sweet, please thank her for me. Is she well?"

Bucky laughed, "Oh, she's really well. Bex just gave her a granddaughter, I'm on my way home to meet her."

Bex was Bucky's younger sister, who you had really bonded with throughout the four years of college. You felt like you were going to burst with happiness, "Oh my god, are you serious? That's amazing! Do you have pictures?"

He regretfully shook his head, "I would but I accidentally rebooted my phone and all the pictures Bex sent are gone." He bit his lower lip, as if hesitating before he said, "Well, I don't wanna cross any boundaries, but if you're okay with it, you can come over for dinner sometime this week if you're in Brooklyn."

Uh. What were you supposed to say?

It wasn't like you didn't wanna go, you missed Bucky's mom and Bex a lot.

But, on the other hand, Bucky was obviously going to be there, and since you didn't know anything about him now, you weren't sure if you were mentally equipped to deal with anything as well as how awkward it was going to be.

"I'll have to check with my secretary. Why don't you give me your number and I'll text you?" Okay, that was safe, right? You passed your phone to him to put his number in. This way, you didn't have to worry about making anyone upset in case you couldn't go.

Well, more upset than they already must've been with you.

"Hey, Buck?" You asked, almost muttering, "I hope your mom isn't mad at me for, uh, ghosting her..."

Bucky snorted as he passed you your phone back. "Mad at you? Never. She was actually mad at me when we couldn't find you after graduation, convinced that I did something stupid. Managed to make me think so too when you ignored my calls."

"Woah." You didn't know what else to say.

"For what it's worth now, I'm really sorry for whatever I did. I promise I never had any intention of hurting you."

Nothing would ever break your heart more than hearing the crack in Bucky's voice. How could you tell him it was never his fault, it was all you.

The only thing you did was wrap your hands around his arm closest to you, and his other hand instinctively came up to grab yours, only this time, his fingers were dead cold, metallic.

You looked down, taking his hands to inspect them. You gasped as you realised that his left hand wasn't organic.

"What happened, Bucky?"

He shook his head before smiling sadly. "Just a small mishap I had in our factory a few years ago. I'm okay, got used to it now, see!" He moved his fingers in a random pattern, a small whirring sound coming from within, while doing nothing to make you feel less guilty about not being there when he needed you the most.

Bucky could probably tell that too, so he was quick to change the subject. "So, is there anyone special in your life? I remember you saying something about wanting a guy who was like 'when he loves me, I want to feel like I'm floating'." He teased using something you had told him during one very late-night conversation. You were surprised he still remembered it.

"Shut up," You said, pushing him playfully. "But to answer your question, no there's no one special. I fell in love with someone a long time ago and I'm not sure if I can love anyone else." Bucky went silent for a couple of seconds, so you inquired, "What about you? You still with Dot?"

It successfully broke him out of his reverie as he snorted. "Nah, unfortunately something happened and I was too late to realize what I felt for another girl was much stronger than what I felt for Dot, but it was too late then."

"Never knew we were so similar." You humorlessly laughed before looking out of the window, not being able to meet his eyes.

"Yeah." Bucky sighed. "Wish I'd told her at the very least."

"Bucky," You shakily breathed out. His words were resonating in your mind as you gathered courage. What was the worst that could happen? He could just say no or humiliate you.

But even the last possibility was better than this little thing eating away at you forever.

"Yeah?"

"It was you, I loved you back in college and I still do."

Even the old lady on the aisle seat was looking at you in surprise. You, however, felt like a big burden was taken off your shoulders, breathing heavily.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped and you prepared yourself for whatever was going to come.

"Thank you, I love you. I knew it the minute I met you. I'm sorry it took so long for me to catch up. I could never build up the courage to tell you." The words poured out of Bucky's mouth like they had been waiting there for far too long.

"We're idiots." You said, clasping his cheeks as you both leaned in. "Why didn't you move on?"

"I did try, but no one else was you." He replied, his right hand coming up to caress your jaw as you stared in his blue eyes, drowning in them. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I couldn't find you.," You whispered, only a centimeter between your lips.

"Just kiss!" Came a yell from the other side of Bucky, who turned out to be the old lady.

"Young love, huh?" She said disgustedly, making you laugh.

Bucky smiled, wetting his lips before they finally met yours.

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

To read more of my writings, check out the masterlists linked above!

Your feedback would mean the world to me ☺

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jeffersonhairpie · 3 years ago

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Do you have any tomgreg fic recs? I’m desperately trying to find some that feel somewhat in character lol

I do!!!

First up, you HAVE to read Daddy's Little Deathstick Dynasty. TomGreg is one of several things happening here and it leans more 'gen with romance happening in the background' but it's so far and away the best Succ fic I've read it's not real. It's about the family plus Gerri crash landing on a desert island and it's perfect.

Then for straight up TomGreg stuff. My apologies if any of these recs are basic:

The Didn't You Like It Better When... series - Tom and Greg are fucking and Tom has no idea how he feels about it.

Excelsior - Silver Linings Playbook AU. Tom is recovering from a nervous breakdown and refusing to accept his marriage is over. Greg is a too young widower and neither of them are good at dinner parties (Ongoing)

I Would Rather Go There With You - The aftermath of Boar on the Floor

I'll Still Destroy You - The terrible tale of Tom insisting that Greg Doms him, without really realising what he's asking for (possibly bordering on dubcon? The kink is definitely not well negotiated)

The Olive Press (by @raglett art by @greggery) - Future fic. Five years post-breakup, Greg shows up on Tom's doorstep. Lots of Tom reflecting back on the fallout of GoJo buying out Waystar. (Ongoing)

Someone Else's Daydream (by @red-0ak-tree) - Unseen moments between Tom and Greg across seasons 1 and 2. Leans hard into the manipulative elements of their dynamic (Ongoing)

Sonny Liston Rubbed Some Tiger Balm Into His Glove (some things you do for money and some you do for love, love, love) - Greg accidentally kills his way to the top. Tom comes along for the ride

Such An Ugly Thing - After a disastrous attempt at pegging, Tom takes out his frustrations on Greg (feat. TomShiv sex, dubious consent)

Tom and Greg Make A Sex Tape - Exactly what it says on the tin. But cringefail bc it's TomGreg

And if it's not too corny, lemme go ahead and rec my own fic bc I'm pleased with it:

Greetings, Once Again - After a freak storm prevents all air traffic from entering the UK, Tom and Shiv head to the house in Albany for a less than magical Christmas with all the family

I'm sure most of these have been written by people with tumblr accounts. Sorry to everyone who's url I don't know.

As ever, I'm a big believer that if you find a fic you really like you should go read everything the author has ever written for the fandom you're interested in, and please do leave comments on any fics you enjoy!

#tomgreg #tomgreg fic #fic recs #fic #anon #ask

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saiyanprincessswanie · 3 years ago

Text

Missy’s Writing Challenge

Missy’s 2500 Followers Writing Challenge!!

So yeah, I didn't expect to reach 2500 followers! What a crazy ride this has been. I want to thank every single one of my followers on my blog. You have been so patient with me as I’ve been struggling to write and finish some fics. Whether you follow me for my work or for my weekly reading lists I thank you. Without your support, I would have left Tumblr last year.

Rules:

You don’t have to follow me to participate, but if you want to you will make my day.

Reblog this post so others can join in.

You must be over 18 years old to participate

Send me an ASK with the Character, Troupe, or AU and Movie Quote that you want.

Mark all stories appropriately. (Fluff, Smut, Dark, Non/Con, etc)

Please no sad endings (Ex: death)

Must be a one-shot or new fic

Can be either reader insert or OFC

No incest, No underage, No pedo, No toilet/bathroom fics, No DDLG

Minimum words 500, No max, Please use the keep reading feature if it’s long

Only two authors on each quote. (If this fills up I will open it to 3 authors)

Due date: 9/30/21

All stories will be reblogged. I will add all stories to a Masterlist for easy access. Tag your fic as #Missy’s Writing Challenge and tag me in your notes. If I haven’t reblogged your work for a week Tumblr might have eaten the notification so please send me a message.

Marvel Characters:

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Wanda

Natasha

Tony

Loki

Thor

Pietro

Billy Russo

Brock Rumlow

Helmut Zemo

Non-Marvel Characters:

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Frank Adler

Andy Barber

Curtis (Snowpiercer)

Frank (endings/beginnings)

Chris (Destroyer)

Charles Blackwood

Dean Winchester

General Kirigan (Darkling)

AU’s

Mob - (Zemo - @animnerd )

Biker

A/B/O

Cop/Detective

Firefighter - (Steve - @starbuckie )

Bartender (w/trope 1/Nat - @lovelyavengers ) & (Bucky - @dollslayer )

Royalty (w/trope 6/Steve - @ironlady1993 ) & (Bucky/trope 5 - @silver-pieces )

Vikings (Steve - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor )

Tropes:

Enemies (to friends) to lovers (Steve - @babymango-writes)

Sex pollen - (Bucky- @gogolucky13 ) & (Ransom - @onlyjamesbarnes )

First Time

Annoying Neighbor

Love at first sight

Evil Twin

Hate Sex (Bucky - @buckyswillow )

Opposites Attract - (Ransom - @drabblewithfrannybarnes )

Movie Quotes:

Don’t do anything stupid until I come back. / How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you. (CA) - (Biker Thor - @boxofbonesfic )

Cause I’m with you, till the end of the line - (CA:WS)

So you’re telling me there’s a chance - (Dumb & Dumber) - (Steve/trope 3 - @americasass81 ) & (Bucky/au 2/trope 3 - @metalbuckaroo )

That escalated quickly - (The Anchorman) - (Dean W./au 5 - @wonder-cole ) & (Dean/trope 6 w/abo - @holylulusworld )

I understood that reference - (The Avengers) - (Steve/trope 8 - @donutloverxo

It’s not a man-purse. It’s called a satchel. Indiana Jones wears one - (The Hangover)

Doth mother know you weareth her drapes? - (The Avengers)

Nothing goes over my head. My reflexes are too fast. I would catch it - (The Guardian of the Galaxy)

You’re in a relationship with me. Everything will never be okay - (Ironman 3) - (Dean W - @navybrat817 )

Before we get started, does anyone want to get out? - (CA:WS) - (Sam Wilson/au 4 - @fuel-joy )

We know each other! He’s a friend from work - (Thor: Ragnarok) - (Andy/trope 5 - @cptn )

I have nothing to prove to you - (Captain Marvel)

I can’t control their fear, only my own - (CA:CW)

I’m not looking for forgiveness, and I’m way past asking for permission - (CA:IW) - (Ransom/trope 4 - @lokislastlove )

You make me happy. Even when you're awful, I would rather be with you, even the you that you seem to think is diminished, than with anyone else in the world. - (Me Before You) - (Thor - @blackberrybucky )

Person 1: I like your knife, I'm keeping it. / Person 2: That was my favorite knife. (Guardians of the Galaxy) - (Bucky- @jobean12-blog)

Thank you, I love you. I knew it the minute I met you. I'm sorry it took so long for me to catch up. - (Silver Linings Playbook) - (Bucky - @deaan )

I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms, now and forever. I promise to never forget that this is a once-in-a-lifetime love. - (The Vow) - (Dark!Thor x Black Plus-sized Female Reader/Trope 5 - @awesomerextyphoon ) & (Bucky - @joannie95 )

Choose me. Marry me. Let me make you happy - (My Best Friends Wedding) - (Bucky - @angrythingstarlight) & (Dean W/AU 3 & 6 - @danneelsmain )

Everything I have ever done, I’ve done for you - (Great Expectations) - (Brock - @nekoannie-chan) & (Darkling/trope 5 - @princessofdarkwinter )

Thank you @happygowriting for the amazing header! Go check her out!

#missys writing challenge #2.5k followers #writing challenge #signal boost #saiyanprincessswanie

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swiftiesimonriley · 4 years ago

Text

hurts like heaven (divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader)

divorced! frankie x lawyer! reader, silver linings playbook! au

rating: teen (I guess), no explicit content except for drug use

warnings: depictions and descriptions of drug use (if this makes you uncomfortable you may want to skip this one), mentions of divorce and custody battles, mention of time spent in an inpatient behavioral health setting

word count: 3.9k (WHOOPS i got excited)

a/n: I am so excited for my first frankie oneshot!! thank you so much to @hailmary-yramliah for this request, I hope you like it!! here is my masterlist, and if you have any requests you can send me an ask! also credit to @hunterschafer for the beautiful frankie gif!!

"Mr. Morales, after a thorough review of the details of this case, including but not limited to testimonies of your close friends and NA sponsor, revision of your record, and speaking with the judge who oversaw the suspension of your pilot's license, I have come to the conclusion that you are currently unfit to have full custody of your daughter. I am hereby granting full custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales to her biological mother."

The minute Francisco Morales hears the words of the family court judge before him ruling in favor of his now ex-wife, he nearly passes out.

The former Delta Force soldier vaguely heard the protests of Pope, who is the only person sitting within the rows of seats on the side of the courtroom where he currently resides. He doesn't register his lawyer uttering a half-assed apology or even the cheers from his ex-wife and her family on the other side of the room.

All he hears is white noise as the judge bangs the gavel to settle the room, explaining that Ava now will have primary and sole custody and that Frankie will only be allowed supervised visits with a social worker, and that Ava can take her daughter home today.

Their daughter.

Frankie knows he isn't perfect - fuck, he is far from it but this just seems like a sick joke.

As soon as his license was officially stripped from him, he knew his marriage was over. The tension had started almost a year earlier when Ava suspected Frankie of using, to which he vehemently denied.

Of course, it was true, but how was he supposed to explain and admit to the love of his life that he needed the cocaine flowing through his body in order to feel anything anymore.

Things began to crumble soon after the initial suspicion by Ava.

The best way Frankie thought to deal with this problem was to put some space between himself and his wife. He didn't want her to see him when he was strung out and begging for one last hit - God forbid his daughter see him like that.

In a way, Frankie was grateful that Ellie was still an infant, and that she would have no memory of the fights he had with her mother over his addiction.

He began staying out late at bars and other places downtown where he knew he could meet his dealer and get more of his fix, trying to keep it as far away from his home as possible.

After a few drinks and a successful meeting with his dealer, he would make his way home where he eventually came down, the immediate rush of guilt and sorrow filling his heart as he would return home and see the bedroom door was locked, indicating he had to crash on the couch.

It was when he stepped through the threshold of his small cottage that he felt the shame bubble up from deep inside him, knowing that he couldn't just snuggle up next to his wife and pretend things were fine, or even cradle his daughter in his arms and rock her to sleep, as on these nights Ava made sure to keep Ellie in the bedroom with her.

Those were the nights that haunted him the most.

Breaking Ava's heart was something long in the past - and he knew she wouldn't be able to just forgive him for what he put her through. She was always the one to give people the benefit of the doubt - something he used to tease her about but now feels scorned by. She was the one who stood by him when he admitted he had a problem - giving him support and resources for healing all while lending a helping hand.

She knew he wouldn't try to harm their relationship on purpose.

But when his use began to impede more on their relationship, Ava put her foot down. She was getting tired of the cycle of hurt that came with each band of withdrawal and promises of this being the "last" time, only to see her husband relapse again and again. She tried her hardest to continue supporting him, her high school sweetheart, but she had reached her limit. She started spending more time with her parents, leaving Ellie in their care for most days so she didn't have to see her father stumble through the door after a night out.

Two weeks later she served him with the divorce papers.

Frankie knows that he fucked up, be he never meant to harm Ava or Ellie along the way, especially his baby daughter, whose brown eyes were almost carbon copies of his own. He can't even stomach the idea of Eleanor growing up without her father in her life - she is his whole world, and since the day she was born he promised her that he would always be there for her.

But now, his heart aches knowing he is going home to a semi-furnished one-bedroom apartment, no wife or daughter waiting up for him like when he returned from missions or deployment.

Francisco Morales was not one to take the easy way out.

He clutches his patient belongings bag tighly in his right hand as he walks out of the lobby of the inpatient rehabilitation center, scanning the outside pickup area for a familiar truck. After looking around for a moment a truck horn beep startles him, turning to see a familiar mop of black hair peeking out of his truck.

Chuckling to himself, Frankie jogs over to the passenger side and hops in, feeling Pope immediately wrap him tightly in a hug. "I missed you Cat," he murmurs into the pilot's shoulder, giving him a comforting pat on the back before releasing the brown-haired man from his arms.

"I missed you too Santi," Frankie sighs, placing his bag down on the floor at his feet, "I don't know how much longer I could stay there without seeing a familiar face."

Santi lets out a low laugh as he starts up the truck and pulls out of the patient drop-off area before turning onto the main road. The two sit in silence for a few moments as Frankie stretches out his limbs, turning his head to look out the window as they drive down through the city.

The black haired man knows better than to pry and quiz the pilot about his 2 month stay at the local inpatient rehabilitation center. After the fallout of the trial, things got rough really fast. Santi knew deep down there was a chance of relapse, even with Frankie left the courtroom promising that this would never happen again - but it was all too much.

At 3:11 am Santi got a call from Frankie.

By 6:30 the pair were at the very same doors that Frankie had just emerged, with Santi comfortingly rubbing his hand up and down the brunette's back and they waited to check him in and head over to intake.

But Santi doesn't pry.

He just drums a tune on the steering wheel as he continues driving down the main stretch of road in the city. He watches out of the corner of his eye as they get to a red light as Frankie fixes his hair, running his fingers through the brown fringe across his forehead and he lets out a chuckle.

"What's so funny Pope? I don't wanna look like I'm fresh out of the hospital." He huffs, looking over his hair again before closing the mirror.

To say Frankie was nervous was an understatement. He had been out of the hospital for less than ten minutes and he was already on his way to meet a new lawyer. His new lawyer.

The previous week Frankie received a call from Santi during his afternoon rec time. At first he couldn't make out what the other man was saying, he remembers huffing out something the lines of "are you fucking drunk?" but made sure to keep quiet as he knew some people in the rec area didn't take too kindly to brash language.

He then remembers the hearty chuckle on the other end. "No I'm not fucking drunk 'fish, I'm excited! I just ran into one of my old college buddies-"

"Do you mean fuck buddies?" Frankie teases, letting out a quiet laugh as he hears a scoff on the other end of the line.

"No you idiot! I didn't sleep with every girl I knew back then, I know it's hard to believe," Frankie lets out a loud laugh, "I ran into an old friend of mine who went to law school, and let's just say she owes me a favor and she agreed to take on your case! Fish? Frankie?"

The pilot drops the phone as soon as the words are processed.

He has another chance. Another chance to see Ava and his baby girl. A chance to get them both back into his life for good this time, now that he has detoxed and spent his time working on his coping strategies.

They could be back in his arms once again.

"Mr. Morales? Mr. Garcia? She's ready for you."

"It's go time." Santi nods, standing up out of his seat and motioning for the pilot to follow him.

The pair make their way down the white and bright hallways of the law offices, walking past several cubicles full of lawyers and other workers chatting away before coming to an office with a glass door at the end of the hallway.

Frankie nervously plays with his fingers as Santi knocks on the door, hearing a soft "come in" from the otherside.

He follows the black haired man into the office and freezes in his tracks when he sees you get up from your desk and rush to pull Santi into a hug. He tries to keep his eyes from widening like a cartoon character but he can't help it - Santi didn't mention how gorgeous you are.

He listens to you both talk for a few moments before you reach your hand out and introduce yourself, a light smile playing at your lips. Frankie nods and takes your smaller hand in his before watching you go back to your desk. You open your laptop and pull out the file your assistant gathered on the details of the previous case.

"Mr. Mora-"

"You can call me Frankie," the pilot interjects, his cheeks turning red as you nod and take a mental note of that. "Frankie, do you want to start off at the start of your story for me? I always find it more beneficial to ask from the client's perspective about the details of the case, it makes a stronger case," you say, picking up a pen and looking at the brunette sitting across from you.

Frankie lets out a small cough and takes a soft breath in before laying his cards out on the table.

Santi stays quiet in the seat next to him, nodding along at the details of the story and offering a comforting hand on the back as one of his closest friends speaks about some of the darkest points in his life with you as if you have known him as long as you have known him.

It takes about 45 minutes of Frankie's explanations and your questioning to get all of the information you need for the initial meeting, making notes of the progress the pilot has made within the inpatient treatment center as well as Santi's testimony. You put your files away in the folder on your desk and stand up, making your way over to the two soldiers and giving them each a handshake, telling them both that you feel extremely confident in this case, and that you can't wait to help Frankie get his family back.

You can't miss the way he breaks out into a grin, probably one of the first genuine ones in a while, and you see Santi nod his head approvingly at you before giving you a quick "thanks" as the two begin to stand up and walk towards your door.

Before they leave you quickly call out to Frankie, who turns around quickly and his chocolate brown eyes lock with yours.

"What's your daughter's name?" You ask softly, watching as his posture relaxes at the mention of his pride and joy. He reaches into one of his back pockets of his jeans and pulls out a small photo from his wallet and hands it to you.

You look over the tiny photo - it must have been from the day she was born. Her big brown eyes are the same as her father's, a small smile on her face.

"Her name is Eleanor, Eleanor Luciana," he smiles, a small tear welling up in the corner of his right eye.

A smile plays at your lips as you see the absolute adoration in his eyes as he talks about her.

You know you have to win this case.

You spend the next 3 months prepping for the case.

You know this process is not an easy one, especially for Frankie. At first, he came to your office twice a week in the afternoon right after his NA meetings, most times with Santi in tow. It was awkward at first for sure - I mean it isn't fun working with a lawyer about the bad choices he had made or the fact of the matter that he feels like a piece of him has died since he has been away from his family.

Santi helped ease the tension.

When it got hard for Frankie to talk about some of the details of his drug use, or the fights he had with Ava, Santi was there to help ease the conversation and help Frankie get through it. It helped that the two knew each other like the back of their hands, with Santi being able to crack a joke at a moment's notice and bring the pilot back down to the ground.

It was when Santi brought up old memories of your time back in college that you heard real laughter from the brunette.

They weren't your proudest memories, but the way that Frankie laughed at you and Santi's old college stories brought a smile to your face and gave you a feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you didn't want to go away. You knew deep down you shouldn't feel those butterflies, especially when dealing with a client, but something about the pilot made your heart flutter.

But the minute you would feel the butterflies, like after Frankie gave you a compliment about your outfit, you would feel the guilt wash over you in waves. Frankie was a father, a former husband who was working with you in order to win back his ex. How could you feel this way about a man who was fighting through hell to get his family back.

You were just his lawyer.

Seeing him open up each time he came into your office was something that struck you deep down, knowing that being this vulnerable is something that he doesn't take lightly.

The two of you continue meeting twice a week after NA, with Frankie telling you about his feelings from his meeting and talking about his goals for this upcoming trial.

You continue preparing him with questions you know will be brought up by the family court judge, focusing on his plans for the future after his discharge from the inpatient center, focusing on the changes in behavior he has made of the past few months. His answers become more confident the harder you work, and you feel your heart start to swell as he talks about how excited he is to see his baby girl again.

But you also feel pain in your heart at the thought of the man before you leaving your life after this week.

It's the Friday night before the trial, a night you typically take off early on, but tonight is different.

Frankie was sitting here in your office earlier this week when he casually mentioned that he was getting his 6 month sober chip on Friday. Upon hearing this news you gasp and stand up from your desk, your feet carrying you over towards him before you could even register what you are doing - suddenly you realize that you have pulled him into your arms.

Frankie is shocked at first, a small "oof" escaping his lips as you held onto him, but he is grateful you cannot see the blush rising on his cheeks.

You quickly pull yourself back and subconsciously smoothing out your light green work pants before taking a step back. "I'm so proud of you 'Cat, that's so amazing!" You smile, brushing a piece of hair back behind your ear.

The pilot nods, a small smile playing at his lips.

"How about you come here on friday. You, me and Santi can have some pizza and a beer to celebrate," you suggest, watching as Frankie furrows his brow before letting out a chuckle.

"You don't ask all of your clients to have a pizza party in your office after hours do you?" He laughs, taking his hat off and fixing his brown locks before sliding it back on his head.

"I can't say that I do, but this is what Santi and I would do back in the day to celebrate, so why not celebrate this achievement before we get in the courtroom."

You chuckle, remembering the days spent in the shitty apartment Santi had off campus. "Alright I'm in." Frankie smiles, "I'll bring the beers."

That night the three of you sit on the floor of your office like kids and chuckle at old stories, both from college and from the boy's times spent overseas. You watch as Frankie laughs at something Santi says and you feel the pain in your heart return, knowing that in a few short days your client would be back to his old life, and you would be stuck here back in the real world at your job. You know it's wrong, but these past months have been different than any other case you have taken on.

You know Frankie is going to be able to go back to his family after all of this - he is stronger than when this whole ordeal started and he has the support to prevent another relapse.

Hell, you are proud of him outside of work, knowing this process wasn't easy - but the idea of this man walking out of your life brings you sadness. Knowing he won't be in your office twice a week for hours, cracking jokes and talking about nothing in particular towards the end.

Sometimes you wonder what things would be like if you met under other circumstances. Maybe you two would have a shot - walking hand in hand at the local farmer's market, singing karaoke at the bar with Santi, Benny and Will, or even going on a flight with him.

You even opened up to him, telling him things even Santi doesn't know. But you need to remember why you are here - to win this for your client.

"Mr. Morales, after going over the details of this case, I see the dedication you have made towards your rehabilitation and future. I have talked with the treatment team at Maple Grove rehabilitation as well as your NA sponsor, and based on all of the information I have gathered is that you are fit to have custody of your daughter. You will now have shared custody of Eleanor Luciana Morales."

Before you can properly process the words of the judge, you feel two strong arms wrap around your torso and lift you in the air. You feel a blush come over your cheeks as you hear Frankie saying "thank you" over and over again as he sets you back down on the ground.

You both simultaneously pull back and hide your blushes as you thank the judge for his discretion and you faintly hear the bang of the gavel in the background as the court is dismissed.

You don't miss the way Ava storms out of the courtroom with her family and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Santi walks over to the two of you and pulls you both into a hug, rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down your back and thanking you for everything you did.

You nod as Santi pulls back and turns to his brother in arms, chatting about something you can't quite hear as you begin to pack up your white briefcase, pausing when you see a photo of Ellie on the table.

Since the beginning of the trial Frankie felt the nerves wash over him as this suddenly felt so real. You had suggested that he bring in a picture of Eleanor to place on the table so that whenever he became nervous, he could look down and see who he was doing this all for. Seeing the photo now brings tears to the corners of your eyes and you close up your briefcase - turning around to see that Santi has left the courtroom, just leaving you and Frankie.

"I just wanted to say thank you, for everything," he says softly, nervously scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck.

You nod curtly, trying to ignore the sore feeling in your throat - a telltale sign that you were about to cry.

Frankie tilts his head in confusion and walks closer, reaching out and grabbing your smaller hands in his. "I mean it - you have helped me through this whole process, and you are the reason I get to see Eleanor again, and for that I cannot thank you enough."

His words cut through you like knives - you knew this was coming. Your job is over, and it's time for him to move on.

"All in a day's work," you chuckle quietly, having to look down at your shoes to avoid letting the tears fall.

You suddenly feel softy fingers tilt your head up. Blinking through your lashes you see the pilot looking at you with only adoration in his eyes. You lock onto his chocolate orbs and nod slightly as he moves closer, softly crashing your lips against his.

You feel his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling him flush against his chest in a soft yet comforting way. You find yourself getting lost in the moment, one of your hands tangling in his hair as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

A moment later you both pull away, leaning your forehead against his as he lets out a small chuckle.

"I've been wanting to do that forever," he smiles, locking eyes with you once again, "I had to wait until I wasn't your client anymore, I didn't want to make it awkward or unethical."

You smile at his confession, brushing a piece of his brunette locks out of his eyes.

"Well now that you are no longer my client, would you like to go grab a beer?" You ask, looking at the way his eyes light up at your question.

"I would love that."

He watches as you grab your briefcase and wraps an arm around your waist as the two of you head for the courtroom doors.

He feels his heart swell in his chest knowing he not only has Eleanor back in his life, but now he has you too.

taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @babyprim @shadowolf993 @jasterslegacy @collectorofexperiences

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish Morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #my writing

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aiaranradnay · 7 years ago

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Chapter 1: The Winchesters

Alrighty ho! this is it. The Supernatural character AU on Silver Linings Playbook. I’m writing this series for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s Kari’s Favorite Things Challenge. I really hope you enjoy reading this.

Pairing : Dean x Reader

Warnings : nothing much, just the boring intro stuff, blink and you’ll miss it fight, slight bit of sibling hate.

Word Count : 1000 odd… i really hope there comes a day when i write more.

Special thanks to @eturtle2002, @trollhunter94 and @the–blackdahlia for helping me out today… this fic is out today all thanks to you guys.

Beta-ed by the amazing @the–blackdahlia i honestly don’t know what i’d do without you :)

please SUPPORT HER BLOG

Soft rays of sunlight filtered in through the clear glass of the window illuminating the tiny room. It had the basic amenities - a single bed, a tiny closet, a mirror… you know, stuff that a person staying around for treatment needs.

Said person was currently standing by the window, his silhouetted frame wrapped in a dark hoodie. He recited the speech he had planned for when he reunited with his one true love (or so he thought).

“Sundays? I love Sundays; mom makes the best burgers ever, dad’s puts on his favourite jersey, the whole family gets together, watches the game… we have fun and it’s all awesome. Yeah.. I know I said it drives me crazy, but I’ve changed now. I’ve changed for good Lisa. I’m doing well now. I hope you and Ben are doing well too. I miss you and am dying to get back; I know you are too… it’s true love. We’re gonna be an amazing family, I pro-” his monologue was interrupted by the sharp knocking on his door.

“Doctor’s waiting for you” the warden yelled.

“Just give me a minute okay? I’ll be there, just a minute.” he yelled back, his voice sounding pissed towards the end.

“I promise you babe.” Satisfied with his speech he gave one last look at the walls of the room and set off to see the so called doctor.

This was now his regular routine - wake up, therapy with the doctor, medicines at the counter (which he spat out once he reached the lobby), meetings with the fellow residents there, plain talk about positivity and head back into his room where he revised mottos of positive thinking plastered on the walls before calling it a day. The ‘Sweet’ life of Dean Winchester.

He had taken up running in the mornings, along with some extensive exercises just to keep himself busy and his anger in check. It was rather uncharacteristic of him to do this on normal basis but he had decided to pick a leaf from Sam’s book; after all in dad’s very own words - Sam was the smartass genius while Dean was the grunt. Sam was oh so eloquent and polished while Dean behaved like a roadside scoundrel. And now, in Karen’s Psychiatric Facility, as Dean did his push ups, he couldn’t help but think that his dad was right. He was in here for anger issues for fuck’s sake - beating up a dude to unconsciousness… that sounded like a goon, didn’t it…? But he was changing now, he was getting a hold on his temper and he would soon get back his wife and son too, right? His inner thoughts stopped at the sight of his mother’s arrival.

Mary Winchester - if there was one word to describe her that would be ’home’… at least to Dean. She was the one person who trusted him, thought of him as a good man and showered him with love. He felt blessed to have her as a mom. She was here to release him and take him home despite the fact that his discharge date wasn’t anywhere close. She signed the papers, argued with the doctor, convinced him that ‘her boy’ was totally fit to go home. His heart warmed at the thought of finally getting to stay with her. Well, that would be a temporary thing… once Lisa would see how much he’d changed, she was sure to call off that restraining order and they’d be together again.

As they drove out of the parking lot, a young man stood before their car, a bag in his hand. “Mom, can Ash come with us? He got discharged today… we could drop him home on our way.” Dean asked, his hand already reaching back to open the back door. Ash slid in, flipping his long hair. Once he was introduced, he showered Mary with compliments, telling her that it was amazing how she was so beautiful despite handling the household, dealing with all the complications and that Dean spoke a lot about her…the usual gig. That seemed to do the trick, and soon they were driving down the highway, heading homewards. Then of course, Ash narrated his story about his time in MIT, the crystal meth and alcohol which led to a fight… and how he’d finally managed to grow his hair, only to be forced to cut it short. However, his new found love for mullet rock had saved the day. Now, he had short hair upfront and long locks in the back; ’all business up front and party in the back’ he called it. Mary’s phone rang out, the facility calling her to bring patient Ash back, as he wasn’t discharged yet. It took one loud conversation, some tears and an almost accident to convince Dean that Ash had to go back.

They drove for another hour or so, Dean’s green eyes drinking in his suburban neighbourhood. They had stopped by the library so he could pick some books to read. As they headed inside, they could hear his father - John, happily chatting with his old buddy Gary. Their speech was indistinct but the topic was clear - baseball games. The talk soon turned into an argument, with Gary demeaning the team John supported and vice versa. It was a regular thing - the men bet against each other during the game, and argued about them in the breaks. As he entered the foyer, Dean noticed bitterly how Sam’s photos hung high on the walls while his own were taken down. His mother ushered him in, her eyes begging him not to create a scene.

John was in the living room, arranging the TV remotes in a specific order; he was a superstitious man, the years of research in lore and occult getting in his brain and habits. Gary noticed the newcomers and announced it out. “There you are. Damn Mary… you’re beautiful as always” he moved in to hug her, “you too big man. Hope you are doing well.” John turned, his eyes settling at Dean’s form in a frown. “What?! What is this? You’re out already?”

tags :

@writingthingsisdifficult @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @petrovadixon @the–blackdahlia @peddlergirl @eturtle2002 @laura160604 @super100012 @rosey-persephone @theas-bedtime-stories @firedhomearrow @waterlilyshaista

lemme know if you wanna be added or removed. :)

feedback appreciated :)

#kari's favorite things challenge #silver linings playbook #au series #dean x reader #fanfic #jade's probably qing.

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toodarnhaughtt · 4 years ago

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Wayhaught // Silver Linings Playbook AU

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thatmexisaurusrex · 3 years ago

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The Possible Next Fic Update

Hey people! I'm currently wrapping up Escape to Wakanda and Nine Short Dates with Sam and Bucky, so it's time to talk about the possible fic series to start as the next project. I'm planning on doing the expansion for The Captain and the Captain next, but I also wanted to talk about other fics I might do after that.

So, A FEW THINGS THAT I’M THINKING ABOUT WRITING ARE:

Expansion of The Captain and the Captain - People really loved this Canon Divergence story where Bucky was the Original Cap, Sam was Captain America by the time the Winter Soldier movie events happened, and Steve was the Winter Soldier. It’s a fun universe and I liked writing it, so I’m down for writing more of it.

Expansion of So, You’re a First Time Parent? - People loved this story about Sam and Bucky adopting a baby alien they named Natasha, and this would be a fun and slice of life tale, could be super fun.

The Sex Therapy after the events of The Villainous Couples’ Retreat - The more people asked about the sex therapy, the more I got excited about researching it, figuring out how Bucky and Sam could work through their own problems and figure out how to be together ❤️

A time skip where the Teen Detective Sam of I Can’t Run in These Heels! is an adult detective with Bucky as his boyfriend and sometimes helper - I really loved writing Sam like this, loved how fun he was to write and it could be a wonderful slice of life meets funny noir.

Soul Stone AU - This would be a shorter fic, and experimental and weird, but a love story within the soul stone would be fun.

Passing Through Expansion - A magic world where Sam could make wings appear and Bucky can conjure illusions, probably going to be called "The Alchemist Coast" and deal with Sam, Bucky, Steve, and others facing a Serpent Society-esque problem.

Captain America and the Winter Cadet - About a Sam helping a spliced clone of he and Steve save Fem!Cap!Sam from an alternate Loki in a different reality.

Strictly Marvin Expansion - A mix of Silver Lining Playbook and the Strictly Ballroom that I'd probably name "Strictly Gaye" lol. This would be pretty short, but it'd be fun.

That Private Investigator!Sam and Art Thief!Bucky AU I've been working on - Lol this is happening eventually, but I really just need to tinker with it more.

Bodyguard!Bucky for Sam AU - Someone had this as an AU concept and I put it on my list of AUs to try to write because it sounds fun.

Fic Where Bucky Comes Out in an Interview Heavily Implying He Has Feelings for Sam - Basically, this happens, Bucky thinks Sam already knew about his feelings, but Sam didn't and it's an awkward tango of Sam and Bucky unsure of where they stand with each other, both trying to figure out if they need to hide their feelings for one another or not. Someone wrote this as an idea for a prompt and I was inspired so I put it onto my list of things to write.

I’ll still be writing the Interludes and the Orbiting Satellites, and I’m going to have a fic coming out eventually for the SamBucky Big Bang, but these are the possible story ideas for upcoming series 🥰

#sambucky #sambucky fics #sam wilson #bucky barnes #possible fanfic idea #my fics #my process #behind the scenes

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lyss-writes · 3 years ago

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Excelsior (Part 5)

[5/?]

The waiting room was blissfully quiet. Tom sat and flicked through an abused issue of Psychology Today while he waited, listening to the low hum of the air conditioning unit and the receptionist softly typing. She pointedly avoided eye contact.

Tom smiled to himself and kept reading.

“No music this time,” Tom observed cheerfully on his way into Dr. Parfit’s office.

Dr. Parfit chuckled. “No music.”

“Good,” Tom said. He settled into a low chair and folded his hands in his lap. “Much better without it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Dr. Parfit said. “So, tell me, Tom. Have you been taking your clozapine like we discussed last time?”

Tom frowned. “We’re just jumping right in, huh.”

“Tom.”

He huffed out a sigh. “Uh, no. No, I haven’t.”

Dr. Parfit looked at him for a beat. He took off his glasses and folded them up, pocketing them in his shirt. “Tell me one thing,” he said. “Do you want to be a guy who goes back to the hospital? Or back to jail? Hm?”

Tom squirmed under the scrutiny. “No, but—”

“So then take your medication, and if you do fine, then we’ll reduce the dosage.”

“I don’t see the correlation there,” Tom said.

“You don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” Tom leaned forward in his seat. “Because honestly, Alon? Shiv’s waiting for me.”

Dr. Parfit’s face flickered with a bunch of fleeting emotions. “Okay.”

“She is. She’s waiting for me to get back in shape and get my life in order, and when I go back to New York, she’s gonna be with me again.” Tom looked down at his knotted fingers. “And that’s better than any medication.”

His therapist sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Tom, I want you to be prepared for the possibility that Shiv might not take you back.”

Tom made a face. “That’s ridiculous. I’m her husband.”

“I know.”

“She loves me,” he said.

“I know,” Dr. Parfit repeated. He struck a patient tone, not unlike one that a parent might use to reason with a particularly obstinate toddler. “But love—real, true love, Tom—is about letting her go and seeing if she returns.”

Tom scowled. He twisted his wedding band around on his finger. He wondered if Shiv still wore her ring. She’d always complained that it was too loose, but whenever Tom offered to have it resized, she would brush him off. Maybe she couldn’t bear to be without it. Wishful thinking, probably.

“In the meantime, Tom? You need a strategy,” Dr. Parfit said. “If you hear that song, I don’t want you falling apart. And I don’t want you obsessing over things that you can’t change.”

“Can I say something?”

“Go ahead.”

“The thing I learned, uh, in the hospital,” Tom said. “And Waystar, I guess, to some extent. You have to work hard, and grit your teeth and get through the worst of it, and if you do, if you stay positive, then there’s a shot at a silver lining.”

“That’s… true.”

“I have to believe it. I don’t know what else to believe in right now.”

Dr. Parfit nodded. “That’s a start,” he conceded. “But think about a strategy, Tom. I’m serious.”

————————

Sunday night rolled around. At 6 pm sharp, Tom Wambsgans strode up the porch steps at Jonas and Hannah’s house with a bottle of red wine in one hand, a bouquet of hideous supermarket flowers in the other, and knocked on the door.

He looked down at himself while he waited. In the chaos that immediately followed the Shower Incident, there wasn’t much time for Tom to gather up his belongings at the Lenox Hill condo, so his wardrobe at his parents’ house was sparse. For the most part these days, he dressed in simple, loose-fitting clothes: old sweatpants patchworked with the faint outlines of bleach stains; t-shirts from his frat house days; a stretched and faded rugby polo; his running gear. He had managed to snag one of his old Armani suits, though, stowed away in a leather weekender bag with some of his other valuables, and that was what he wore tonight. For dinner at his childhood best friend’s house. God, he was such a prick.

Tom turned to leave.

The front door opened behind him.

“Hey!” Jonas said. “Tom, hang on, where are you going?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Tom admitted. “Wearing this.”

“What? Dude, you look great. Super sharp.”

“It’s too much.”

“Are you kidding? Come on,” Jonas said. He was wearing a cranberry thermal shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. “Seriously, you look good.”

Tom grimaced. “Aah, Hannah’s gonna hate it. I should go, I don’t know, change into something less…”

“Absolutely not,” Jonas said, and he opened the front door wider. “Come in, come in.”

Tom swallowed his protests and followed Jonas inside the house. It looked a lot like it had thirty years ago when Jonas’s parents had owned it, minus the awful shag carpeting that had been a calling card of interior decorators in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, and the walls had been painted over in a nice, inoffensive shade of eggshell white instead of avocado green.

“Honey,” Jonas called up the staircase. “You’ll never guess who’s here.”

“Who?”

“James Bond!”

Tom cringed.

Hannah stepped out onto the second-floor landing with a baby balanced on her hip. “James Bond?” She looked down into the foyer, saw Tom standing there like an asshole in his three-thousand dollar suit. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi,” Tom said lamely. “Uh, thanks for having me, Hannah. It’s good to see you, you know, after all this time.”

“Yeah,” Hannah said, narrowing her eyes. “Great.”

“Doesn’t he look sharp, Han?”

“Mm. It’s a little formal.”

“So what?”

“Nothing,” Hannah said, and frowned at Tom. “You know this isn’t the Ritz, right?”

Tom bit back a scowl. God, she’d always been insufferable, even back in high school, but ever since Tom moved halfway across the country to go to Columbia and stayed after graduation for a job at Goldman Sachs, Hannah had taken this tone with him like she thought that he thought that he was better than the rest of them. Which was bullshit. For fuck’s sake, the Fly Guys had been in the wedding party. He hadn’t lost touch with his roots, whatever she seemed to think. Fucking bitch. “Must have forgotten.”

“Right.”

“Tom brought wine,” Jonas said, making an obvious attempt to cut through the tension. “And flowers. Isn’t that nice, sweetie?”

“Very nice,” Hannah said. “Lovely. Thank you, Tom.”

He smiled back tightly.

Jonas looked between them, his wife and his best friend, and clapped his hands together. “A tour!” He grinned at Tom. “Come on, I’ll show you what we’ve done with the place.”

Tom trailed around behind Jonas through the first floor while his friend chattered in bright, enthusiastic tones about the remodel, pointing out the brick wall between the kitchen and the den that they’d knocked down to open the space up, the exposed beams, the new crown molding in the study. “We’re thinking of updating the dining room,” Jonas told him. “Ripping out the old buffet. It gets in the way, and anyway, we’re hosting Thanksgiving this year, could really use all the extra square footage.”

“It looks good already, though,” Tom said, frowning. “You’ve gotta be making some serious dough to make that happen.”

“We’re doing all right, I can’t really complain.”

“Isn’t the market down, though?”

“Well, yeah,” Jonas said, smiling a sheepish smile, “it is, but you know, Hannah wants more, so I’m giving her more, man. You know how it is.”

Tom smiled, but the truth was, he didn’t. The money at Waystar was good. More than good, it was a little obscene, but it didn’t matter how much he made, or how hard he worked, or how much abuse he had to take from Logan or Cyd Peach, or how hard it was to bear the brunt of the psychological strain that came with covering up the shit that happened in Cruises in the early ‘90s (which, apparently, was nothing more than a delusion brought on by extreme stress), because Shiv was always going to be the breadwinner. She was always going to be able to provide for herself, and that was endearing, and sexy, and Tom loved that about her, but a tiny part of him did wish that he could take care of her.

“...and you start snapping up commercial real estate on the cheap, and you flip it, flip it over, and that’s when you really make the money,” Jonas was saying when Tom tuned back in. “But the pressure, man, it’s like…” He trailed off and looked over his shoulder. Hannah was in the kitchen with the baby, spooning creamed corn into her daughter’s mouth; he looked nervous, pale.

“You okay?” Tom said, frowning.

Jonas bit his lip. “Tell you the truth, I’m not okay,” he whispered. “Don’t tell Hannah. Listen. I feel like I’m getting crushed, dude.”

Tom leaned in. “Crushed by what?”

“Oh, where do I even start,” Jonas sighed. “Family stuff, the baby, the house, the job, the assholes at work, and it’s like, you know, like I’m trying to keep my head above water, but, I don’t know, man, I’m like, I’m fucking drowning.”

“Holy shit.”

“Well,” Jonas said, and he gave a humorless chuckle. “You can’t be happy all the time.”

“No, sure. Of course not. But you’ve got a good thing going here,” Tom insisted. “I mean, fuck. I’d kill for this. I’d kill to have this with Shiv, you know?”

Jonas stared at him for a beat, mouth falling slack. Tom could tell that he didn’t know what to say to that, that he was wracking his brain for a harmless platitude, but he was coming up empty. He wet his lips and looked like he was about to say something when the doorbell rang.

“Jonas!” Hannah called from the kitchen. “Get the door!”

“Just a sec!” he shouted back, and looked at Tom. “Uh, listen, hope you don’t mind, but Hannah invited her friend from work. You’re okay with that?”

Tom blinked. “Who?”

“Her friend,” Jonas said. “Greg.”

“Oh,” Tom said. He tugged anxiously at his shirt cuffs. He really wished he hadn’t worn the fucking suit after all. “Yeah, fine.”

“He’s been going through a little bit of a rough patch,” Jonas explained, the corners of his mouth turning down sympathetically. “His husband just died, and—”

“Jesus,” Hannah grumbled, brushing roughly past Tom in the hall, “I’ll get it.”

“He died?” Tom repeated.

“Please, don’t bring it up,” Jonas said.

“No, how did he die?”

“How did who die?” a male voice said from the foyer, and Tom looked up (and up, and up) to see a very tall and thin and pale man standing at Hannah’s shoulder.

#title: Excelsior #au: Silver Linings Playbook #tag: tomgreg fic #status: WIP

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