#but i just wish the i’s and t’s were dotted and crossed a bit more consistently prior to that

[theteaisaddictive]

WHERE THE FUCK IS CLARA’S HOT DAD

HOW DARE YOU STAND WHERE HE STOOD

[temporarilyunstable]

it's a monster of a ppp essay

Finally writing about this film I’ve pretty much obsessed over for months! Hopefully I can put some order into this but in case I ramble you have been warned lol. Spoilers will be discussed. 

I first saw this film in Japan on opening day— prior to that I tried to gather as much information as I could via JP tweets and impressions, especially those of the pre-golden week screening on April 29, then adding more info as soon as spoilers were lifted to increase my understanding. And now a couple of months later, I finally have full context, but really happy that most of the information I got was accurate, and the only details that I had to clear up were related to the more complex elements of the plot, plus the ever-important talk-no-jutsus (tnj) in the film. 

If I were to give this film a score, it’s a 9/10. Prior to this, my fave iteration was case 3, being the ever-economic-just-over-an-hour-but-does-everything-right entry to the series. Maybe it’s my Akane bias but PPP just knocked that one right out of the park. The animation was great (I am not well-versed in this so you won’t hear me talk about it much), even if wonky Arata took me out despite the emotion in the scene. Voice acting, no one does it better than the JP actors, I will not be convinced otherwise. It’s my preference and frankly if you’ve never watched this in sub I do think you missed out. The music was TOP-TIER. I’ve not stopped listening to this OST ever since it came out, blessdt Ennio-Morricone-esque Is this your choice, Akane Tsunemori? track #27 CD2?!!?!??! *INHALE* 

I can’t actually use technical film critic jargon here so in short, I LOVE this film so much. 

A bit of background info from the recent interviews Director Shiotani participated during the roundtables/live stages in JP - the “switching” of the timelines were at the behest of the producers (Fuji TV), including the introduction of new characters, in order to continue the story indefinitely from a TV perspective (link). It was a ballsy move, and in hindsight it paid off, but not without its pitfalls which I will touch on later. PP3/FI was developed during PPSS, and PPP was developed during PP3/FI, so you can imagine the difficulty of making sure the creative team have crossed their t’s and dotted their i’s. That being said, apart from telling the story it wishes to tell, the purpose of this film was to tie the past to the present, and I think that they did it very well. 

My thoughts are still evolving, but interestingly enough, most of my impressions haven’t changed. So I’ll talk about some elements of the plot that interest me, then I’ll go to specific characters, and ofc I’ll talk about the ship (not the Grootslang 😉).

There’s a clear three-parts to this film: up to Saiga’s death, up to Atsushi’s death, and Akane’s career death (if it is to be said, so it is lol). Each part had their pros and cons, but it’s quite a feat managing to squeeze all the information in. There was no dull moment for me.

I think the deaths here (especially of the characters we were supposed to care about)— the manner and speed in which they perished, and at a certain point in the film, all for nothing— were part of the point.

Before I watched this with subs I actually thought that it would be more difficult to understand, but I have to say that the nolan-esque expositions were well executed and nicely placed, for example the talk about possession between Kogami and Shion was a good prep for the audience for when we actually get to hear about how it works from Akira. Also a great way to show both Kogami’s detective skills that have not dulled the slightest, and his and Shion’s closeness(?/familiarity? Call it what you want). Another example is the Mika-team essentially telling the audience what’s about to happen prior to us seeing Sugo get things done in the sky (also I forgot he was just flying a drone and was out of harm’s way ehehe). I would say that the hardest parts to piece together have to do with the elements related to PP3, including the involvement of Bifrost. I’ll touch on this later.  

I’ve talked about Saiga’s death to my friends way before the first trailer ever released. Him not being present in PP3 was the biggest clue, and not that I wanted it to happen, but it was necessary to raise the stakes and make it personal. As a fic writer, admittedly I’ve never been happier to be right 😅. His scenes with Akane and Kogami at the beginning of the film were standouts. I particularly love how Saiga and Akane are so at ease with having a simple conversation— they’re talking about work but he could so easily talk about his doubts regarding Atsushi, for example. I love how he’s the same with Kogami, how he clearly states his allegiance to Akane, and ofc reminding Kogami to apologize (and something else I picked up that I will discuss later). 

I can say that despite the initial ridiculousness of the Divider/possession, the way it was explained was quite convincing to me compared to how they brushed over how Arata’s mentalist skills worked in PP3. Also, there’s kind soul from the JP fandom who attempted to explain how it could probably work irl (link). It’s creepy, if you think about it, and well-documented too. Have a read if you’re interested. 

Action scenes, definitely a strong suit of this film - you just know they can’t help themselves sometimes LOL. Kogami v Akira is definitely the best one (RIP Kogami’s balls hihi), and I’ve said this before but they definitely have perfected Kogami’s animation when it comes to fighting, and he is always the most flawlessly animated, however I think they did Gino really well here too. There’s this other really wonky one where Sugo falls down the escalator and it just looks like he’s a solid object and not a human body asdlfkjaskldfj. Honestly I finally understood the critique that the Sugo drone scenes were definitely way too long (I didn’t notice this bec it was hella entertaining when you don’t have subs plus it was super fun if you watch it in 4dx/mx4d).

Really dropped the ball on the Stronskaya Papers imo. I think, for something that was meant to be so important, the exposition regarding its use was really a lazy excuse. “SEAUn essentially proved its value” ain’t gonna cut it. If this is something so important people choose to kill/die for, then the implications of it should have been shown to the audience, not told. 

I only noticed after the third subbed rewatch, but to me, everyone is being measured against Akane in this film. I will elaborate later.

Sibyl as an AI

Finally, the little complication about using the term "AI" when describing the Sibyl System. When the first impressions of this came out, there were a LOT of dissatisfied JP fans. Until it was described as such in the film, since the system constitutes actual human brains, then the interpretation is that it is human. I’m not sure if this was a general interpretation btw, but since this is the first time the term “AI” was used to describe Sibyl, ofc it rubbed people the wrong way, especially bec it feels like the whole concept of Sibyl was retconned. 

I somewhat agreed with this interpretation— I had always considered the Sibyl System as an independent character in this series, who was meant to be impartial but somehow acts/reacts as a human would— and it's not hard to think so, when you look at the way the system has acted and evolved throughout the show. At times, the system is shown to be curious, greedy, and even cruel. I am ofc talking about them as a whole and not their androids (Kasei, Misako, Chuan Han, Hosorogi, even the dude in Case 2, etc)— individual brains act as human with a CA constitution (so still slightly different from a normal human), that’s clearly shown in the series.

When I read about this through interviews of Director Shiotani, I didn’t quite get the full context as it was used in the film. My initial interpretation was that the system was human, but the mechanisms that make it work (the claws swapping brains supposedly without human intervention, the city/country-wide whole network/surveillance system, the immediate reaction to process a Dominator’s request, etc) were powered by AI. I thought that they used the term AI to update the terminology, since this technology is quickly becoming commonplace irl. Now I've seen PPP with subs and thought a bit more about it, I still somehow think this is the case but also, all things considered, the term AI also makes sense. 

Bear with me as I try to break it down. The Sibyl System is a system that is bound by its raison d'être: the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people (very important: not all). To achieve this, it has taken over control of the lives of its citizens via the Psycho- Pass, a quantified measure of mental states/psychological tendencies and aptitudes— a supposedly objective measure. This includes law enforcement, as the system is able to predict an individual’s tendency to commit crime. We also know that the Sibyl system has auxiliary functions, like planning citizens’ lives or recommending the best option for the individual’s happiness, matchmaking, art/cultural/historical/religious control. Its role is very simple: assign the best possible job that one is most capable of (essentially eliminating non-productivity as a society), and through psycho-pass measurements, maintain/execute (criminal) law and order under the PSB. It can be implied that other non-criminal laws can’t be divorced from Sibyl, since its functions make all these possible within the confines of what Sibyl constitutes as “right” (and is implied,) based on the rule of law. Sorta like a chicken and egg situation, but the law, being at the base of it all. Sibyl came into legal force - it is, first and foremost, lawful.

Applying that to the definition of AI, we could say that at its inception, the law would be Sibyl’s code/algorithm, prior research (be it criminal/non-criminal data/aptitude/psychology/physio etc etc) and eventually its actual application is its data set, and the use of human brains as its processing mechanism. If we review how the system has "acted" so far, it's all consistent with the fulfillment of their purpose, EVEN if exceptions, limitations and anomalies exist. 

A key concept that has been repeated in the show’s run is Sibyl’s “evolution”, which coincides with the same concept of AI “developing/learning automatically”. If I still have your attention, you will probably know that the main driver of Sibyl’s evolution has always been Akane, be it directly (S1, PP movie, PPP), or indirectly (PP2, PP3). This has been introduced from the start, with Sibyl itself acknowledging its imperfection, but insisting on the need to maintain its perceived perception in the interests of a peaceful society. 

What makes it a bit contentious is the fact that the individual brains ARE very obviously still human - so I think that the “the Sibyl System is an AI” really feels off somehow, or at least conceptually feels like it should have been carefully defined rather than left up for interpretation, given what we’ve seen in the series thus far. In any case, here are some references to help you think about it and make your own interpretation.

World Affairs (OffiPro)

Genesis 1-2

Genesis 3-4

Characters - I’m just gonna put this disclaimer, basically if I quote something from the film please just understand that it’s mostly paraphrased. 

Akira

Definitely one of my favorite additions to this massive cast. Not the first one to say it but what a shame (he’s so sexy UwU). He’s probably less complex of a character than Atsushi (oh we’ll get to him), since his motivations are not “heavy” enough for me to believe such a sacrifice. He volunteered to be a double agent, burned his face to prevent identification, took on the mental (physical, actually) load of the chips in his brain and for what? For the greater good? Where did we see that anywhere? It is implied that as an immigrant he’s had his fair share of exposure to wars/conflict - we all know this was the same case with characters like Kei and Maiko, for example, but if we’re simply relying on the context of this film, I got the impression that he was merely doing it for his brother. 

Things I love:

Dropping the machine gun post shootout with Kogami, signaling that he has no intention to go that far (gonna talk about the other side of this coin in a bit)

RECITING THE GREAT ASO on top of that holo cliff *chills* 

In the JP version, his very VERY noticeable voice change when he surrendered to Kogami and Gino

His “please take care of Kei” never fails to make my heart ache T-T AKIRAAAAAAAAAAA

Atsushi (& a bit of Yabuki)

One of the best characters in this film (who no one will invite in their wedding— oh the irony lol). I think that a good baseline from watching PP3/FI really helps appreciate him, though I didn’t actually care much if not for Niki making me notice in PP3 that there are conflicting accounts about him (a malicious one c/ o Obata in her testimony, vs Arata’s POV of him as a good and loving father), plus the more I learned about the complexities of Bifrost the more I got interested in him, too. Atsushi is clearly a morally grey character, and in this film it both comes out of his mouth (as a form of admittance in his speech), and shows in his actions. His speech: "The right choice can be wrong in a different time, that’s because righteousness is relative, but the truth is absolute. What we need is the truth, the means to accept that truth and choose the path where no one gets hurt." is clearly directed at only four people in that room. The speech also served as an admission of his guilt— and once again, the theme “he did what he had to/someone had to do it”.  

There’s a line during his interview with Akane where she says “you don’t make mistakes. Everything you do puts you a step further in your career, as if you’re following a path laid out before you.” When she seems to have hit the right line of questioning, he was clearly about to confess, but alas, it was not to be. I remember reading an interview where Director Shiotani said “he doesn’t get to have it easy” and you know what, ok fine. 

Atsushi and Yabuki’s approach is, in a nutshell, big picture thinking, the end justifies the means. They make difficult decisions, get things done and can’t avoid people from getting hurt. This is also driven home by Yabuki’s words to Frede “ideals are not enough to bring about change”. (He also said something good about needing that kind of power to exact justice and being prepared for the infamy that would result - help me if you remember this was my takeaway from it). To me, they both represent the kind of people who are about to become obsolete in Sibyl society IF it is heading towards the path people like Akane and eventually, Arata, are aiming for (put a pin on that). 

We know that he was a Bifrost Inspector, and interestingly enough, it seems that Yabuki is too since they’re communicating via the terminal we saw Kei use. As is on trend for anything related to Bifrost, you do not see the hands of these guys getting dirty despite all the dirty work they actually do. That said, Akira, Milcia and most likely Saiga, are probably foxes.

Things I love:

I think that he and Tonami, while they must have believed there was no other way at the time, acknowledged that there was no excuse, and as a result are inspired (or in Tonami’s case, persuaded though begrudgingly) to trust the newer generation to do it better than they could. I feel like Atsushi already knew his time was coming the moment the deaths of those he had personal ties with started piling at his door. 

His conversation with Kasei/Sibyl: “we’ve been watching you for a while”, implying Sibyl being complicit in all the dirty work he’s had to do. “Do you believe in the potential of humans?” and the response “of course. this is the reason why we exist” — really rubs the god/religious themes here, handing him the gun that will take his life as their parting gift, as if to say “this is your judgment”. I’m gonna touch on this again with Akane. 

I’m not the first person to say this but with the exception of Yabuki, who was killed, at the end, Milcia, Akira and Atsushi’s acts were extreme, and I’m just not gonna gloss over this, cowardly. Choosing to die instead of living. Choosing to be absent instead of being present (in his brother’s life, in her daughter’s life). Atsushi preached it to his son (“do not dive without a lifeline”) but not only failed to act on his teachings but continued his approach. You could say it was the only choice at the moment, but all their previous choices led them there, and it’s even worse that they got someone else involved and killed, even if that wasn’t their intention. 

HOWEVER, and this is going to be brought up again: someone has to do it, and therein lies the nuance in the other main character in PPP we’ll talk about later.

Saiga

I don’t really have much to add except they made him especially handsome in this film… 😳 And ofc I love that he picked up the lack of people in the building, he really said you can’t hide anything from my keen observation skillz. I loved that he was pretty chill about it too, maybe he was trying to cool down his favorite student 🤗

Things I love:

Akane visited him at 23:41 in the evening, I am assuming on that same day (it’s the time stamp on his laptop, also confirmed by Director Shiotani). I guess the concept of after office hours does not exist bec it looks like they left for Dejima immediately after. 

“People aspire for comfort and find themselves unable to escape it, like me” and Akane immediately saying that’s not the case 🥹

Coffee on the lips. Leaning back on the couch. The toast and the chuckle RIP

“She’s not a saint/bodhisattva”: I’ve understood this to mean that she WILL enforce Kogami if it comes down to, hence he better apologize to her while he can. 

His very meme-able criticism of Kogami before they got on the elevator 

“Well, that was crazy!”

HIM BEING PEAK HANDSOME WHEN HE HAD A KNIFE ON HIS THROAT LIKE?!?! 

The desperation and VERY obvious there is no other way here when Akane’s whole body is about to fall just trying to hang onto him

That they muted Akane’s scream when he fell

That she went straight down to him without so much as looking back at the fighting still happening

That she fixed his body 😭

I’m really gonna miss him. I always used to hc that Akane and Kogami would have a moment with him at some point in the future, calling back to their visit to his house in s1 but alas… we can’t have everything we want, huh? 

Tonami

AHHHH old man, old man. 

My favorite part about Tonami is that they clearly improved on making sure they don’t paint him as an evil guy. They tried to do this with Garcia, but frankly the novel did a better job at making him look more nuanced than the movie did— and that’s saying a lot since like I said, I love case 3. This is probably because they had the benefit of time, of course, and we’re gonna touch on this again later, they spend less time making Kogami look good (i mean, not physically) in this film. 

They were very economic with how they portrayed his character, too. With just that one scene of him and the kid, you immediately empathize and are forced to listen to what he’s actually saying. My favorite scenes of any iteration is the “reckoning”/tnj that Akane has towards the end, basically summarizing the thesis of the story, and the questions it poses to the audience. This film is probably the best at presenting the most nuanced argument of the series so far between two sides. Very simple, very straightforward, and the movie’s prior scenes have done the legwork for the viewer to connect the points each is trying to make, like neat little puzzle pieces that make you go oh.

Things I love:

“Don’t forget you were the ones who made me this way.” (mic drop).

Akio Otsuka’s voice acting, especially when Akane was crawling to grab the Dominator. THE FRUSTRATION IS REAL.

This was pretty much confirmed and I’ll touch on it again later: he was not going to kill Akane (link) . I thought this was up for debate at first, but actually after seeing the subbed version I am convinced this was actually not up for debate due to the following:

It was him talking to Kai when he killed Milcia, he asked “You killed her?” and said “You messed up, Kai” 

We do not actually see him kill unless there is a purpose. Killing the SAD guys to get to Milcia, killing the SAD guys to get to Saiga. He revived Bokamoso because he needed to get the papers (wasn’t convinced that Saiga really didn’t have it, as already established by Saiga a few scenes prior), and was biding their time when he engaged with Frede & Gino after Kai confirmed the papers were not there, probably waiting for Kai to finish with Kogami (“time is up”). Decided the ops team (Ko, Gino, Frede) needed to die after they were exposed and the safety of the General and Raphael were put in jeopardy. 

He shot Akane in the same place he shot Kogami a few scenes prior— this is also why I do not believe this is random, but rather just a means to incapacitate them while he needed to do what he needed to do: possess Kai bec he now knows where the General is and needed him out of there, (unclear whether he knew at the time that Kai had the papers but likely he did since he referred to the memory chip during his first meeting with Akane), and have Akane not bother him while he possesses the peacebreakers in battle).

Shooting Akane again, not fatally wounding her.  

Akane’s line “why don’t you just kill me?”. Like, really, why didn’t he? The link above sheds some light on the creator’s vision on this and it’s delicious, lol. IMO, if he had wanted her dead they’d not have even talked. Very simple.

This is not to justify his actions btw, in fact, Akane even called him out “the same wars you helped perpetrate”, and her lichrally saying “I promise to expose the truth about the peacebreakers, but this doesn’t excuse what you’ve done”. Madame Justice said YOU WILL BE JUDGED BY THE POWER VESTED IN ME AS AN INSPECTOR OF THE PUBLIC SAFETY BUREAU ETC ETC  

He cares about Kai/Akira (the line to Atsushi “so Kai is your pawn, too?” at the helipad, and his concern about the divider overloading and his reaction that Kai is choosing to die). He clearly cares about the peacebreakers, too. Nuance, man. Delicious. 

“You can’t stop what you started here” CHILLS. Definitely reminds me of Kamui’s tnj in S2.

Frede

I have a soft spot for her. She’s clearly more loyal to Yabuki & the MFA than to Saiga, and, judging by her character we’ve seen so far, she’s taking after Yabuki as well 😉

The reason why? #21 in Director Shiotani’s Q&A space last June 15 (link).

So pretty when she was conflicted about not telling Saiga/Kogami about le grand  ̶f̶a̶i̶l̶  plan

I like how she calls Yabuki “boss” 🥹

Fave scene when Kogami calls her out for lying to Saiga LOL, I just love that he can just do that and that she doesn’t even bat an eye, I like that about them. 

Gino

He’s not my fave, but I’ve grown a bit soft on him here I have to admit. Love that they gave his devotion to Akane more context, and that this whole system of trust between them (and the rest of Div 1) is shown. 

He is right, it’s his ego talking (the boat convo). Akane didn’t and isn’t staying/tied to the CID bec of them (Ko & Gino) jeez man. It’s not about YOU. LMFAOOoOOOOooo 

Little Ginomika moment, I loved that. Speaking of…

Mika

“This is no time to be playing politician” sis— did anyone ever tell you that you have an aptitude for it? The whole plan about selling them out if they all die so she could save their asses, then actually coming to their aid when it truly mattered? Does your fave ever?!?!?! 

While she’s probably the one who has one of the best charadevs in the show, I fear a little that she’s starting to become a gag character, ALTHOUGH i’m arguing that she’s clearly still a writer’s fave with the way they give her critical hero moments when it counts (the whole rock star raid at heaven’s leap in PP3, then this “I got it covered” in PPP). I think Mika best displays the balance required to stay (sane) in this job. She’s able to take on what she needs to, and accomplish the role she’s set out to play, and at the end of the day she probably goes home and has a boba, binges netflix and has a good night’s sleep. 

I dunno where I read this - but there are main characters, and there are main side characters. This is Gino and Mika’s fate in the grander story, with their arcs pretty much over since Case 1.  

Finally, the good stuff. If this ain’t much of an overly long essay already.

Kogami

Before I go off, my experience is as follows:

When the first trailer of PPP came out, his words “I have no regrets” were so jarring to me. I didn’t quite understand how that was supposed to add up to the Kogami in my head, the hopeful man who was ready to come home at the end of Case 3, and the guy who said sorry at the end of PPFI. This led me to find some answers by machine translating the PP3/FI novels, and the case 3 novel. 

In a nutshell, I had thought that the ending of case 3 meant that he was going to turn a new leaf and fight for the same justice Akane was (in short, no killing). Guess what? I forgot that he did kill Jackdaw in PPFI, and the novel pretty much confirmed his actions and thoughts around it (aka, he was really going to kill the guy— I mean, he came into the scene guns blazing, you know? AND I FORGOT ABOUT IT (I call this my akane-tinted glasses 😉).

Another line in Akane’s monologue that cemented my reinterpretation of Kogami, and I was immediately reminded of this passage when Akane sadly spoke to him right after he shot Tonami: 

“Believing in the meaning of the stars was something only she herself held, and it was as if she was being told that the stars were just stars by the others she believed to be her comrades. When she began to consider that perhaps it was not the incomprehensible others who were truly isolated, but rather herself, true loneliness arrived. The moment of being cast into the sea of true loneliness, without even the stars or the sound of waves.” (the stars here was implied to be either law, or justice)

It’s been confirmed by Ryo Yoshigami that Akane’s monologues in the PP3/FI novels were written with the plot of PPP in mind— so you all know, this was intentional. The novels really helped me take a step back and assess what I was really looking at as a character, and Kogami’s role in the overall story. I thought he was someone who was on his way to change, I was wrong. I thought that his values have aligned with Akane, again, wrong. Now I know what some of yall are gonna say, that you didn’t misinterpret him. Sure, this statement isn’t for you then. BUT don’t lie to me, those who DID. 🤪

As for the rest, go read and form your own opinion  (PP3 Novels)

Kogami’s sense of justice

As a main character of the series, Kogami’s journey has been up and down, but one thing that’s consistent about him, in the simplest terms: his justice is personal. Whether it’s one of revenge, which he had closed the door on post case 3, his inability to turn away from injustice, and in PPP, his acceptance and taking responsibility of what he stands for, and what he can do. 

In the beginning of Case 3, he was making an effort to avoid killing— even using it as a condition for cooperating with Kinrei on the raid in the train station. This was during a time when he was clearly at a loss of what to do, still swimming in his regrets and just letting himself go in whichever direction life takes him. Come the end of Case 3, we see his hopeful decision to return, and, in PPP, clearly stated during his convo on the boat, his reasons. He did not come back to die, but to help people. This is essentially an explanation of his choice and lack of regret that he failed to explain properly to Akane, but if it wasn’t clear yet, this is also where the lines have been drawn between the two protagonists, interestingly enough, since the beginning of the series. Akane’s sense of justice is directly tied to the law, whereas Kogami’s does not (and, I think a moot point to argue now, will never). 

He does what he does because it’s what he can do. The difference between Kogami S1 and Kogami PPP/PP3 is that he’s found a purpose/place that aligns with his sense of justice. He owns it, and takes full responsibility for it. It’s a facet of growth, though probably not in a direction that would bode well for him if he fails to look from above, as was Saiga's last words to Akane. I can take this apart in a few ways, firstly, and especially towards his “belief” in Akane, he’s a hypocrite (LOL). Says one thing, does another. Wanting to be judged after the fact is like, are you kidding me, man? Right in front of the blood of someone she just tnj’d “you will be judged according to the law”?!?!?!!

Let's take a break, I’ll throw him a bone.

He simply cannot turn away from injustice and would rather get his hands dirty than allow others to get away with their crimes

This is a great callback to his time with Garcia “you hesitated, and now someone’s dead.” See? Charadev. (I’m being sarcastic). It must suck for him that though he didn’t hesitate, Saiga is still dead. 

To me, he’s started walking forwards post case 3, and while he still regrets everything he did before that, he’s left that behind to fulfill a new purpose in his life

In this scene specifically, he would rather kill than have Akane be killed.

Very personal, very short-sighted, very impulsive, reactive sense of justice. That he agreed with what Tonami had said, for all that talk of his belief in Akane, he’s a funny  ̶l̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e̶ guy, isn’t he? 

I’ve always argued that if his aim was that good (and again, Tenzing commented on this, he CAN shoot to disarm someone), then why didn’t he? Kogami in PPP, in every scene, operates on a shoot to kill. I’m no longer here to apologize for the guy, even if he did, three years too late. I think that it helped me come to terms with their differences, and this is fundamental. Don’t get me wrong, I still like his character, maybe even more now that we’ve learned quite a few things about his… shortcomings (lol), but I’m not gonna make excuses for him in the same way he doesn’t make excuses for himself. He chose. He still chooses to. Cool motive, still murder. 

Where this will lead him, it’s been alluded to in the film. Tonami is what a misguided Kogami could become, and even Saiga clearly reminded him of it. That’s a matter for his future, but know that this movie is sowing seeds the creators may decide to reap someday.  

Things I love :

He got his balls kicked!!! Love that for him 🤣

Used to complain about how lousy his shirt looked is in pp3 and whoooaa he took the jacket off and I'm sweating

WET HAIR

TACTICAL GEAR

The PP OST and the dominator UI, before he takes his first shot *chills*

Despite all my beef about him, I still really do love the guy. Now I just dunk on him every chance I get, it's fun. And ofc, I still have a tiny bit of hope about his future, and I’ll be holding him to that standard, otherwise yeah, he can die in a ditch (or if we’re going there, he can die whilst leading an uprising to destroy Sibyl) 😉 

Akane

So when I said earlier that everyone is being measured against Akane, I really meant it. She had taken a back seat since the PPSS films, and in PP3/FI the whole mystery surrounding her imprisonment was an invisible hand driving many elements of the show. PPP is HER film, and as a character, her continued relevance to the series' thesis cannot be discounted.

“The law doesn’t protect people. People protect the law.”

If Kogami was consistent about his sense of justice, she is even more so. What makes her leagues above him is that she’s driving change, and change DOES happen in the manner that does not allow her to break her principles… that is, until the end of PPP 😉. I’m not going to elaborate on her sense of justice, it’s pretty straightforward even if the series likes to throw stones at it as if following it is the hardest thing in the world. What makes Akane stand out is that it's actually not hard. Look, ask yourself whether it’s easier to kill another human being or not— I’m not talking about exceptional circumstances, but even then, I think you know the answer— there’s a moral and ethical basis here that she shares with a great number of people. Killing is wrong, it’s against the law to take another life. To me, the point of each iteration is to keep stacking odds against her through characters, each with their own complexities and nuance that the audience is made to empathize with and contrasted to her sense of justice, resulting in making it look like her principles are ideal and impossible to achieve, when actually, they're not. 

One of my favorite lines of the film, when Tonami says to Akane, “these are the facts that lie in the shadow of the peace that you enjoy”. Let’s be real. Akane is privileged. She’s not had to fire a gun to defend herself in a war torn land— but the argument against this is the same argument for it— it’s because she doesn’t have to. Kogami is back in Japan, it stands to reason that he must adhere to its laws, because despite his experiences abroad, he is not and will never be above the law. 

I’m gonna touch on something I already discussed on twitter, because there’s a difference between the way Kogami has killed, versus the way Gino and Sugo have. 

As far as the series has shown, the following are Sibyl-sanctioned “killing”, the last one specifically relates to PPP:

As judged by the Dominator (LE/DD)

In cases of national defense/during the execution of duties as members of the NDF

In cases of self-defense in the course of an official operation

It stands to reason that just because they are sanctioned does not save the person from their hue deteriorating, because that part is directly related to a person’s view of guilt. Throughout the show, the audience is constantly reminded that the act of (indirectly) killing does not necessarily impact one's hue (e.g. the PP of the person who manufactured the gun is not the same as the person who fired it, the whole premise of the foxes in PP3, etc), hence the "guilt" associated with the act falls on the person who does it, which may result in a higher cc. A person is able to absolve themselves precisely bec they know they're doing it within the confines of the law, but this doesn’t always follow (e.g. Sugo’s hue deteriorating in Case 2). There's a good example of this in action during Akane's operation in PPP, when Tonami issues the order to kill, and the team, who had been disarming/arresting everyone a few minutes before, was left with no choice but to defend themselves, often resulting in a kill.

While the Peacebreakers were able to hand over this guilt to Tonami via the Divider, Gino and Sugo could not. At the start of the film, they only used the guns when the Dominator was not functioning. The difference with their actions in the last third of the film is they participated in an unsanctioned operation with Akane, have killed as a result and are now likely above regulation. Had no idea the words “once the hounds have thrown away their collars, public safety will never tame them again” also served as foreshadowing as this is probably why Sugo and Gino were requested for transfer to the SAD. And if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll notice that Gino actually gets the job done with fewer bullets than Kogami does. Kogami, from the start, comes into the scene, kills all his enemies on sight without hesitation. This is a huge difference, and this is what Akane is trying to keep him from defaulting to. Violence to fight violence was not the answer, but they clearly do not align on this. It’s a perspective thing. 😉 

So why did she do what she did? 

In principle, she made herself an anomaly, directly challenging the decision to repeal the law, by committing a crime in public while not having her PP deteriorate. In short, she pretty much broke the law to protect the law. So how did she objectively know that her plan would work? 

I had a few discussions on twitter surrounding this, and frankly the “she knows she’s doing the right thing, not for herself but for the greater good” doesn’t cut it for me, nor does the premise of “leap of faith”. To do this, she HAD to have known with certainty that her hue would not deteriorate because if the dominator suddenly activates for her, then it was a pointless act, and more importantly, she was fully aware (as stated in the PP3 novels) that she was committing a crime. 

There are cases to be made of course, the first being she knew that Kasei is merely an android and that Akane avoided shooting the brain (effectively keeping Kasei alive), but that still doesn’t establish the fact that Akane does not absolve herself of the act, and again, that she needed to objectively know this would work. This is theory time, but the only thing I can think about are two specific things, one in the film, one not. 

Defying Sibyl orders to enact her own operation in the Kuril Islands - this is directly disobeying Sibyl, using her Chief Inspector authority to assign temporary roles to Kogami and Frede so they could participate, loading the Stronskaya Docs to her Dominator and giving it to the General, all these, unsanctioned and should have at least raised her PP. My guess is, in the aftermath, she noticed that it had not, despite the scale and the effort and potential losses had things gone wrong, and decided that was enough to go ahead with the “answer” she found for herself.

She had to have procured a gun. This was not in the film - but procuring the gun establishes her intent/motive, and should have also raised her PP - my guess is it did not. This would have been sufficient, but you can imagine, until the point of carrying the gun to the venue (probably hidden inside her hat), the fact that she wasn’t flagged basically made it certain her plan would not fail.

In the June 25 roundtable (link) , Director Shiotani wished that if he had 3 more minutes to add, he would have added a scene right after Atsushi’s death where the men in the roundtable ultimately decided to proceed with the abolition of the law. In hindsight, I think adding this scene would have been better, because it takes away room for interpretation that Akane was actually in a desperate situation, and not just frustrated at the close of the case. In the movie, this was supplemented by Kogami’s line “what Tonami said is probably going to come true, the law will likely be abolished.” Not as desperate, if you ask me. 

Deviants

The difference between Akane and Atsushi is that, Atsushi, in his capacity as a double agent and methodology as a Bifrost inspector, is like a puppet master holding the strings, indirectly enabling change and leaving mere traces of his impact while others either take full credit (or fall) from it, whereas Akane pushes change by directly challenging Sibyl head-on. We have yet to clarify Atsushi’s motivations in rising the ranks of Bifrost (he was alluded to be on the way to being a congressman or that he had the talents for it), and the fact that he’s played double agent for so long with his methods steadily growing shady over time just goes to show that there was clearly a better way (and he ofc acknowledges it). 

In the same way a CA can only be recognized by Sibyl by committing crimes OR if a Dominator was wrongly pointed at them, Sibyl becomes aware of these deviants (I’m gonna call them that) the moment they start defying Sibyl while being able to keep their hues clear. Perhaps Atsushi would be an imperfect version of a deviant, Akane the better one, and Arata probably the ideal despite being CA, sort of like Genesis 3-4’s Makami Sou. It would be interesting if Akane becomes APA, let’s see (read the Genesis links above 🙂). 

“Do you believe in the potential of humans?”

Post-op Akane was forcibly promoted to Atsushi’s role (iirc, a Department Head of Statistics in the Ministry of Welfare c/ o Steohsama's translation). I think it can be read two ways: one, in the context of the recently closed case, to get her fully out of the way and busy with other, bigger stuff that she was already dipping her toes in prior to Atsushi’s death (referred to during their convo, about her not “making a fuss”). Two, that she really did have the aptitude to be someone like Atsushi— only that her methods would clearly be different. Now that she’s back in the CID, there’s obviously a question of Akane’s future as a statutory enforcer (fun fact, the creators pretty much confirmed that it’s just a name for someone judged according to the law but whose PP did not deteriorate / someone who was appointed as an enforcer whose PP is below regulation ( link / link ). If Hinakawa will be promoted to an Analyst, then there’s a spot open for her in Division 1, assuming she’ll be playing detective. While I think this is likely to happen, I think it’s a boring outcome for her. Like Atsushi, I want her to move up in the world, especially if the world is gearing towards Sibyl going public. It’s going to be interesting what role she’ll play in the future, especially because, as Niki had so nicely put, “she can’t do this alone”. 

Oh, Koaka. 

Objectively, I no longer think the ship is romantic in canon. I’m gonna copy-paste some thoughts I already shared at length in discord and edit parts of it, but if you’ve seen me the last few months, this isn’t new.  

This is nitpicking, because I'm a writer and facts like they don't know each other, not really (they spent not more than 100 days in s1, maybe a few days in PPP) are things that are at the back of my mind always. I have yet to see Kogami and Akane treat each other more than the pedestals they put each other on (arguable for Akane but I think this is also why she keeps getting disappointed that their sense of justice doesn't align).

This divide between their sense of justice is their biggest flaw as a potential couple, and one that is too fundamental. I do not see compromise here, especially after the events of PPP. If Kogami were to gear towards a positive change, then there’s hope, but I leave very little room for that now. I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing, either. I see it as a potential stance that the show is trying to make. “You murdered someone, you can’t go back.” If he had been heading towards change it should have been on the way for a while, not a “possibility” that he keeps failing to live up to. Getting over this hopeful assumption took me a while, but I think that it also helped me appreciate the wider story being told. 

That being said, I think that romance in stories is important and I would like to see the writing team go there, not just from a shipping perspective but from a storytelling/amping up stakes perspective. In PPP I felt how Gino was much, much closer to Akane, and I didn't see this previously. In the past he was more like a controlling dad esp in s2, undermining Akane's POV, improved a bit in the pp movie though he still felt a bit on the overprotective i know better than you side (nicely resolved in ppp where we see a piece of his mind btw)— there's a whole lot of trust there. With Kogami and Akane, while they cleared the air after the infirmary scene, once again I saw that trust shaken when he shot Tonami. 

These characters are depicted as human beings, and I think that entails grounding. While meaningful connections can be made through short moments (destiny, if you will), relationships built over time like literally and not let's have a nice moment in a film i'll see you next movie kind of thing, is something that, to me, means more. That said, Kogami was separated for a long time and it's lichrally impossible, but they're in the same place now. Where does that lead them? This is where part of my hope lies, small as it may be. Granted, this is not that kind of show and I'm fully aware of that, which is also why I'm happy to get what we get and that artists/fic writers are there to fill those gaps.

I still ship them but a lot less— I find it funny because even before PPP, I was always looking for more (I'm greedy haha!). I always saw the PPFI scene as just the beginning of their relationship— I wasn't convinced that scene was enough, despite the romantic undertones. And let me tell you the betrayal I felt when I found out the reason why they did the whole back to back thing in PP0308 was because... IT WAS AWKWARD FOR HIM TO CROUCH DOWN THE LITTLE WINDOW OF HER CELL and not the little romantic shit I had going on in my head— I just ( ╯°□°)╯ ┻━━┻

I went through the five stages of grief but at the same time it's not as bad since it's not like I didn't think that way from the start (it's just me being anal about it all, really. Because I would end up writing whatever I wanted anyway and canon didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things).

I do like their dynamic now given the recent developments, Kogami especially being particularly unskilled in the romance department just makes it all the more funny (I'm not capable of writing him that way though so I guess all my fics are ooc now 🤣). If they don't develop past the Arguably Platonic™️  way they treat each other then I won't be surprised if I stop creating for the ship, likely bec it will no longer satisfy my enjoyment of it.

Final Thoughts

I think it’s pretty much confirmed we’re getting more, it’s just a matter of when (can’t believe I’m staying here forever, huh?). Director Shiotani wishes that he will be making PP in the next 30 years, gotta love him for that. 

As the series progresses, there was a clear tonal shift and hopeful direction it seems to be heading towards. To me this is partially because in a practical sense, this benefits the prolonging of the show (which we already know is true), but in a thematic sense, destroying Sibyl means the end of the series overall. No Psycho Pass without the Psycho Pass. And to this I give credit where it’s due. This is not the kind of progress you’ll see if Urobuchi is still in the writer’s room, and frankly, the complexity and depth of the show ever since he left has pretty much taken off in great strides. I had wished they were heading towards a natural conclusion (Sibyl going public) and leave it alone for a decade before they pick it up again, but I guess the producers have other plans. After all, they don’t have any other IP that has withstood the test of time, is ahead of its time and continued to remain relevant as time went on. While not perfect, this is an amazing feat of a series, and this movie is a stellar addition to it. 

They’ve got a dilemma of course, because until now it seems they went with a serialized format (with a definite ending) versus an episodic one (criminal of the week). By choosing to expand the world and explore other facets of society, all the while connecting the threads in an overarching plot, they have to complete the “passing of the torch" before going back to an episodic format, which means they MUST give the new kids their time of day,̶ a̶n̶d̶ ̶e̶x̶c̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶a̶s̶s̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶e̶c̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶p̶l̶e̶t̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶n̶k̶s̶ ̶b̶y̶ ̶e̶x̶p̶l̶a̶i̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶e̶a̶l̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶S̶h̶i̶z̶u̶k̶a̶. Shifting the timelines allowed them to usher in the new cast, but now they’re marketing the legacy cast and have to contend with their obvious popularity compared to the new, fully knowing that the legacy cast is returning to the back seat once we kick things off again. This is a problem that can be solved if a spinoff is decided for SAD, because at least a chunky (huehue) part of the cast will be cordoned off doing their business in Dejima, while the CID with its usual players can stay where they are. I think if you’ve been following Director Shiotani though, this is not happening without him in the driver’s seat, so it’s like… if they’re smart he will delegate this task to someone he trusts and we’ll get both a main and a spinoff, then a converging point somewhere in the form of a movie. 🎶Psycho-pass forever!🎶 (to the tune of Emilia Clarke "best season ever" GOT S8 interview, iykyk). 

Finally, I’m just gonna say that I love Akane so much, I’m glad she got the spotlight on her in this film. To be able to experience this film is unforgettable, I’m so grateful that it was possible for me. I’m training myself to expect she’ll take a step back next time I see her, but more than anything, I hope to see her happiness fulfilled, no matter what that entails. Once more, I just can’t thank these creators enough. They’ve made a series and a world I’m obsessed with, makes me think and makes me evaluate its implications in real life, makes me create!!!!! I’m so happy that they continue to believe in the stories they want to tell. I hope they are all healthy and resting now (until the next one, eheh!)

I’ve talked way too much and it’s really just because I want this out of my plate so I can start writing my fics now lololol. If you made it this far, thanks for reading! Always happy to discuss! 

[blainesebastian]

a dream is a wish your heart makes

words: 1,287 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “sequel to Disney proposal fic”  notes: this is a small part 2 to ‘full of magic’, you should read that first :)  warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted, @rairaielv

You'd never consider yourself that much of a worrier, there's never seemed like much of a point. In your opinion, worrying is just gonna mean that you'll suffer twice, so, why bother? Clearly in all the times you've told yourself this, you were never planning a wedding—so what do you know?

You know that wedding planners exist and that maid of honors and family members usually help with this sort of thing, getting all your ducks in a row...because at this point all you feel like you're doing is putting out small fires for something else to pop up in your peripherals but. One of the mistakes you think you make is that you kind of insist on doing everything on your own. And so much of it feels doable? You make lists all the time and get shit done and only accept help when you absolutely need it—but then a year turns into five months and now you're at three and then one and...you're worried about a day that's supposed to be one of the most perfect in your life.

And maybe that's the issue. Too much pressure for a 'perfect' day and not allowing anyone to take things off your plate (or well, checklist). You can figure out most of this on your own, right?

Right...that's why you're drowning in a sea of paperwork on your dining room table and you've lost at least two mugs underneath somewhere. Swallowed up. You frown—you're beginning to forget what this table actually looks like beneath.

The thing is, everything major is booked—this is just the little things, which are somehow worse and more stressful. These are the placecards, the flowers, the reception favors, the small cards and giftcards for the caterers and other people who are gonna work to make this wedding perfect.

"What was I thinking?" You mumble, shifting papers around. Getting proposed to at Disney was one thing...but now getting married? Whole other can of worms.

Of course, it seemed like such a good idea at the time--why wouldn't it? You were also completely swept up in the romanticism of having a Disney wedding. Austin was willing to spend any expense, even though you insisted that you didn't need to. You had joked about having your wedding at Disney once and that was kind of the end of it, those comments became checklists, and those checklists became plans. To be fair, it's not that you're not excited...even though you're incredibly stressed, it's just...it almost feels like part of a dream. Though how could it not when you're going to get married in the most magical place on earth?

Admittedly, you love Disney—you've always been a huge fan even though it's taken you a bit to get there. You're definitely able to associate perfect memories with Magic Kingdom, given that's where Austin proposed to you. Being with him within itself feels magical, so—and you know how corny that can sound on the outside, but...you're not gonna deny that's how it feels. So how can you pass up that opportunity to continue it there?

There's this gazebo before the Boardwalk near the Beach Club resort and it overlooks the bay, the Swan and Dolphin and Yacht Club resort. It's simple, beautiful but there's so many hoops to jump through, I's to dot, T's to cross. You run a hand over your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you close your eyes.

You feel rather than see Austin come into the room, his hand slipping along the back of your shoulders and running down your back. He leans down and presses a kiss to your head, a small shiver coursing down your spine as you catch a hint of his cologne.

"I keep having nightmares I'm gonna get buried under paper."

Austin chuckles lightly, squeezing your shoulder before slipping into a chair next to you. "You're gonna give yourself a migraine—you know we got other people to help you with this, right? Including me?"

You sigh a bit dramatically and tip your head back before rolling your gaze to your fiancé. "I know," You reply quietly, a soft smile tugging the corners of your mouth, "I just keep thinking about everything that needs done and I get tunnel vision."

He hums before nodding, reaching for a few pieces of paper aside. He knows you, doesn’t need to elaborate on that—he gets exactly how you’re feeling. But he’s also right. You can’t take utter control over all of this. For starters, there’s way too much to do that you can easily delegate to some other people to help and secondly, the last thing you want to do is associate your wedding with negative feelings of stress and general ickiness.

Alright, fine. You’ll get some help, stop trying to control everything, because it’s not possible anyways.

“I guess I just wanted everything to be perfect.” You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you push the chair back from the table. You turn your body, facing Austin, knowing how cliché that sounds.

You should know better, at this point, than to be a perfectionist—there’s no good reason to be. And yet it’s difficult to stop when those nagging thoughts come rolling in. Austin’s pretty good at shushing them, though, sometimes with a simple touch. He shifts slightly in his chair to take a look at you, brushing your hair over your shoulder in a fond gesture. He gives you this look which you know says—you worry too much.

“It will be.”

You crinkle your nose because…you know that Austin is an optimist but, “How can you know that?”

He holds your gaze for a long moment and before he speaks, you can tell how serious he is about the words that are going to leave his mouth, an emotion you can’t quite name in the depths of his blue eyes, “Because I’ll be with you.”

And despite the fact that there’s a slight glimmer of added mischief a moment later in his gaze, you know he wasn’t kidding. You laugh softly and roll your eyes, making Austin grin.

He takes your hand and squeezes, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “What, you didn’t like that? I was gonna make it part of my vows.”

You playfully push his cheek with your other hand but he’s quick, grabbing it and using it as leverage to tug you closer, kissing you.

Needless to say, you definitely have a necessary distraction for the afternoon.

--

And it is pretty perfect, as if you had any reason to doubt or think otherwise.

You think one of the most surprising aspects is just how fast everything goes—all that planning and worrying for it to be over and done in the blink of an eye, in the flash of a camera bulb, a heartbeat.

You go back to where Austin’s proposed before you both leave Florida for your honeymoon, standing in front of Cinderella’s castle, looking down at the ring on your finger. A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, running your thumb over the underside of the band. The sky is orange this time, candied pink, as the sun dips down behind the soft blue and silver structure.

To face the future with another, who means more than any other, is to be loved.

You can’t help but smile as you feel Austin come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, your jawline and your cheek before you turn your head and your lips brush. Your thumb runs over his wedding band.

That’s definitely the magic of love.

--

The line in italics come from the Disney movie The Rescuers.

[letterstooldpeople]

to John

2024/02/25

Prior to our first date, I wondered if it was worth my time to meet you. You were over a foot taller than me, and you had a beard. I've rejected men in the past both for being too tall and for having a beard. Yet, something about you pulled me into you. Was it that you came on strong and I like it when someone is blatant in their interest in me? Was it lack of sarcasm in your dry humor? Or perhaps it was just that I was at the horniest point in my menstrual cycle that day.

Regardless, yesterday I saw you again and couldn't help but realize that our outlook is so similar. I didn't tell you last time, but it was so strange to see someone's interior aesthetic so similar to mine, minus the fragrance. The bare white walls, the plants dotting the windows, and a large, clean kitchen...I found it a bit strange to see my personality in someone else's space. Last night we laughed about how you take your sleep setup seriously, with your weighted blanket, and your eyemask and your earplugs. What I didn't tell you is that I also have a weighted blanket, and an eyemask, and I sometimes wear noise-cancelling headphones. It was like hearing about my own habits through a reincarnation of myself.

And then, when I asked you about your lack of scented candles, you told me how you took air quality very seriously--I'm impressed with your commitment to outfitting every single room in your apartment with air purifiers. And the fact that you wore merino wool t-shirts and appreciated fashion at a higher level than H&M/Zara/Uniqlo made me mentally step back and consider you even more seriously than before. I still have yet to meet anyone else in my social circle who participates in fashion above the stores found at the mall.

But most importantly, the appreciation you showed for the over-engineered style within K-pop really made me want to get to know you better. I have considered K-pop to be a form of propaganda, but hearing you call it soft power propaganda out loud made me look at you twice. Your analysis of how K-pop repackaged musical trends for the masses...I have never found someone to share that with before. And it was fun to share the over-the-top videography techniques being pioneered in K-pop music videos with you.

I appreciate how we can have nuanced conversations about identity. Before, I always kept an eye out for someone with a Korean-American, or at the very least, an Asian-American background because I wished to find someone relatable in my understanding of my connection to American and non-American society. But now, I wonder if it's possible to feel understood this deeply from someone who is not necessarily of this background. Or, it could be that you are of an amiable nature, a patient listener of my impassioned, unrelatable reflections on being an Asian-American woman.

When we browsed the books at the Elliot Bay bookstore, I was surprised how flipping through picture books was fun. You pointed out that title Stalin, Waiting for Hitler and scoffed "That's a ridiculous title, can you imagine? That's like saying 'Bin Laden, Waiting for Obama.'" Something like that would not have crossed my mind, but hearing your perspective opened my eyes a little wider to the world.

When you visit the bookstore next time, will you think of me? Will you look through the graphic novel section again? Will there be a time where we go together once more?

It's so strange that I remember all this about you, but I can barely remember how we said goodbye.

Before I left your place last night, I asked if you wanted to hang out again and you apologetically confessed that you had recently gotten out of a long relationship, which was neither a yes or no.

I'm glad that you clarified that you weren't looking to hook up. Your refusal of sex made me respect you more. I took your confession to mean that as you weren't ready for another relationship and said that we could be friends.

But could I be friends with you without consistently wishing for more? I would hate to be your friend and fall into a trap of only being your friend til the day you "realized" that I was the one for you. I would cringe (my bones would curl like vinyl under a flame) to be that way and for you to see me do that.

But even if I was a paragon of emotional maturity, would you even want to be friends? Or did you say that as a way to softly reject me? You had said "I think you're really interesting..." which is the line I use when I feel guilty for rejecting people. Time will tell if you reach out again, but for now, you are a wistful memory of what could have been.

[thelandscapingemployeetrap]

Lawn Care vs Landscaping - Can You Do Both Full-time_ Live with MACK LawnCare.

 Lawn care and landscaping each have their own specialties, but can we do both? Being an expert in every area as an entrepreneur, no matter how big or small. Does it really seem possible to handle both simultaneously? 

That's why we invited Mack from MACK Landscaping & Lawn Care to share his methods with us. We'll discuss not only how he manages both fields, but also what he's learned over the years as a business owner.  If you are just starting out, he will share some tips that can be extremely useful to you. 

There is a lot to learn from this interview, so don't miss it . .

"If you talk confidently, then you can charge anything."

- Mack

  Topics Covered: 

  00:30 - “For me. Landscaping is mulch, shrub trimming, that type of stuff, the maintenance type things, and in small, like small planning type thing. So that's what we do.”

In this interview, Mack discusses how he runs his business and which area he specializes in.

3:12 - “Let's just say it's $500 $500.05 $100. Well, we just cut that $1,500 into monthly payments, and add that to the mowing price. So now if you're mowing, I don't know what that math would be. It's 32 weeks for 10 - 30 bucks. So we'd add an extra $30 On to the mowing price. And then that gets them. The shrubs touched anytime there was anything out of order. So then you never have to come and do a whole job. It's just you come to touch up the stuff. They still pay the same price if just carried out over the season. Right. So big lump sum payment.” 

He explains how they quantify maintenance, as well as how much they charge and how they schedule their work.

15:05 - “You have to be super detailed when the state is doing their investigation because every restraint or every injury or every car accident gets investigated. And you have to write it out like a police report. Basically, I ain't no cop or nothing, but I learned very well how to write out because the state will scrutinize you, then they'll bring you in, and then you'll get interviewed like real people. And there are real consequences if somebody actually got hurt or something like that.”

Keeping your business detailed is essential, Mack advises.

19:06 - “I've been telling people this for a long time because everyone wants to talk about door hangers and fucking yard signs and all of that. If you don't get on Google, you are shooting yourself in the foot. You're really killing yourself. All of my lead generations come from Google.”

Mac shares his marketing strategies for getting customers in faster and getting good ones. Visibility is key for him. You can make a video, post it on social media, and share it with the world. It will serve as a portfolio for you.

20:46 - “You have had to, in order to do all of this, you've had to watch some videos, you had to listen to something and everything like you got to get a little bit of knowledge. And then you can talk confidently.” 

Whenever you talk confidently, you have the ability to charge whatever you wish. Since the customer does not know the actual price, Mack explains that sounding confident and firm will make it more credible.

  23:52 - “When you tell them yes confidently we do this full time every single day. This is All we do, and so I can literally go tell the customer I'll be back in 15 minutes hop in the chair, can pull up my CRM, and make a well-worded highly detailed quote, like you were saying, or negotiate it verbally right on the spot. I try not to do that in a higher ticket job because you can make a mistake like you want to cross every T and dot every I, it's a little tiny thing that if you're not sure, and you're like, Oh, I'll cross that bridge when we get there. That could be $1,200 You're leaving on the table, or if cost you $500. So, confidence goes a long way. Because the customers can feel it, whether they can articulate it or not, it resonates.”

There's no way for the customer to know whether you do this on the side or once in a while. You should have the confidence to provide the customer with your best quote. You can get a big deal easily that way. Keep your head up and be confident.

27:26  - “And a good salesman will go in there. And they'll find the biggest window and only clean a portion of it, or the only clean one section of like the window that has the big thing, they'll just clean that one. And now the homeowner is sitting there looking at that, like, oh my god, now they have to do something. So they either got to clean it themselves or now you sold them, right? It's like the vacuum cleaner salesman that used to come to my grandma's house all the time, they would come and my grandma always wanted to buy this damn vacuum cleaner, because she gets to see at work, they will put this little white thing in here. And then they will use this hose and then have some black sheet on it. And she's like, look, it works.”

A person automatically places faith in you when you demonstrate your ability to do something. Mack's philosophy remains the same to this day.

34:05 - “I don't think about things very long. Like, I can't let me I don't know if I can, how I can explain this. But my attention span is sometimes in the middle of a conversation. I'll just forget what we were talking about. It happens all the time. So when someone tells me, No, I'm like, it doesn't matter. You know, that's just we're gonna get the ball back. And guess what? Because I set everything up. The ball comes in an email, like 15,16 a day. So what the hell is one “No” me you had someone you say the people dealing with confidence.”

When Mac sends proposals to clients, he sometimes forgets that people say no to him.  No matter how many rejections he receives, he keeps going.

    Key Takeaways 

“If you want to make more money in your lawn and landscape business, first you got to get customers but you got to increase the average ticket value of customers by raising your prices and knowing your worth you got to increase the frequency of transactions which is done more for them more often. How do you do that you got to have a customer follow-up and lead generation referral system in place, you got to do email marketing, you got to do voicemail blasts,s and stay on top of mine, and constantly follow and communicate up with them and turn that customer into a client into a raving fan. So that way like they're locked in and then get referrals. So you build that out by having just a little bit of strategy but being proactive and consistent in how you do it.” - Keith Kalfas

“If you show up every single week and you're consistent, you get people to give you some faster reviews and you get yourself on Google you create a website and have your estimate key right at the top so they can get it estimated immediately you get yourself a real business line, not yourself. Because you'll never know who's calling, you gotta get a real business phone. And then you gotta have your website linked to your Google when you let sign up all of these things. And then also on Facebook and Instagram, you have to be on them posted pictures of your work, them because this is your portfolio. If you don't hashtag yourself, people are not going to see your work. If they can't see your work, they can't validate that you're even good. And once they validate that you're good, you close the deal, they're going to do all of the validating that they need to do before you ever get in front of them or talk to them”. - Mack

Connect with Mack

Website: https://macklandscaping412.com/ Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@mack_landscaping412 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063523690624 Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUwROA0QmBFDxZ6DOuNQLCw?sub_confirmation=1

Connect with Keith

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/keithkalfas/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thelandscapingemployeetrap Website: https://www.keithkalfas.com/resources Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@keith-kalfas

    Resouces and Websites: 

🙋♂️Get My Free Landscaping Business Startup Video Series Here👇  Here https://www.keithkalfas.com/Landscaping-Series

Landscaping Course https://keith-kalfas.mykajabi.com/store/8bFERMcs

LANDSCAPING BUSINESS  How to Guide: https://www.keithkalfas.com/16

Get Jobber: https://getjobber.com/im/ambassador-referral/?gspk=a2VpdGhrYWxmYXM4NTIx&gsxid=Rs6pwtznLDcs

Get Ballard: https://www.ballard-inc.com/

Check out this episode!

[fighterkimburgess]

‘Cause I’m Here To Stay Chapter 2 - Talking

Summary: An interaction with Adam and an ultimatum from Hailey leads to Jay asking a question he never thought he would. Series Masterlist Here

Words: 2.3k 

Warnings: mentions of mental health issues, flashbacks to previous chapter.

Wanna join my taglist?

—

“DADA!” The yell through the monitor woke Jay from his uneasy sleep, Mairead’s cries echoing through the apartment. He was awake and upright in seconds, running into the nursery where his almost a year old child was sobbing. The front of her pjs was sodden with drool, chubby red cheeks making her discomfort clear.

“I know, I know baby. It hurts, doesn’t it?” He picked her up and changed her clothes, a bib around her neck to hold the worst of it. Instead they went to the kitchen and he pulled a frozen teething toy out and handed it to her. Chewing on it seemed to give the teething girl some comfort and she leaned against Jay, her head bobbing as she fought sleep.

Sleep was something that didn’t come easily for Jay now. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the girl he’d shot in front of him, blood spreading across her stomach. She’d ask him why he’d shot her, her mouth stretched wide in a silent scream.

Even when he didn’t see her it was something else he didn’t want to see. A vision of being back in Afghanistan, walking in on things he never wanted to see. Erin walking away from their family, duffel in hand as she left them. Or the worst one, where she took Mairead and his daughter screamed for him as they walked away and he could never reach them.

The tiredness had begun to gnaw at him in work, and he’d made attempts to stop himself from snapping at everyone. Hailey took the brunt of it, asking an innocent question on a stakeout and getting a glare. 

They were on one such stakeout when his partner’s patience ran out.

“I’ve coffee in the thermos, want some?” She asked, Jay’s head spinning over.

“Why the hell would I want coffee? Seriously?”

“Ok, time out.” It was quiet for a moment before Hailey spoke again. “What’s up with you? You haven’t been ok in weeks, Kim asked me if you’d said anything to me. She heard you yelling at night last week. Talk to me, Jay.”

He stared out at the empty street, wishing that something would pop off so he wouldn’t have to speak. But instead it was just as quiet as the last two nights had been, so he put his head back.

“I’ve been having nightmares.”

“About the shooting?” Her voice was soft and all he could think was he didn’t want her pity.

“And other stuff. When I served. Things like that.”

“Jay…” Hailey’s voice trailed off and he wanted to shudder. He should be able to work this out himself, it shouldn’t need someone else to listen to him. “Have you thought abut therapy? CPD covers it. I’m sure the VA covers it. It can help, it helped me.”

“From what?”

“My dad was mean. Meaner when he drank. So I talked to someone and it helped.”

“Maybe.”

Their radios went off at that, Voight telling them to come back to the district and go home. There was no more conversation about what they’d said in the truck, a mutual agreement to keep it quiet.

The next two weeks passed by in a similar fog for Jay, determined to keep his head on. He bit his tongue whenever he was tempted to say more than a direct answer to a question, keeping his head together. Sleep still mostly eluded him, staring at the computer in front of him with coffee in his hand.

Voight was picking Mairead up from daycare and taking her for the evening, insisting that he had a night off. Considering his boss had been looking at him weirdly he wasn’t saying no, nodding and making sure the car seat in Voight’s SUV was buckled in correctly before going upstairs.

Jay had every intention of going home once he finished his paperwork backlog. He was going to dot the i’s, cross the t’s, and head home via his favourite fried chicken place to watch the hawks on TV. But instead the last thing he remembered was sitting on the couch in the break room. Instead it was Adam shaking him awake as he tried to fight against an invisible enemy, running after Erin.

“Hey, hey, you ok?” He blinked as he woke, Adam there in a fighting stance as Jay had his fist ready to let swing.

“Yeah, what time is it?”

“Seven. Did you sleep here? I thought Voight had your kid so you could get a good night’s sleep.”

“Didn’t mean to.” He picked up the pillow he’d been sleeping on, smoothing it out before leaving the room. “Can we keep this between us? Mairead’s teething and it’s making me exhausted. This is the best night I’ve had in weeks.”

“Sure. But if you want me and Kim to take her for a night to give you a break, you know where we are.”

“You and Kim?” The younger man blushed and smiled, making Jay smile.

“We decided to give it a go. Only you and Kevin know for now, can we keep it that way? We’re telling Voight next week.” He seemed genuinely happy, his good mood propping up Jay’s and getting him to grin too.

“Consider my lips sealed. I’m happy for the two of you, man. You deserve it.”

“Thanks.”

The sleepless nights didn’t get easier, Jay trawling online forums in a desperate effort to find something to help him with it. Instead there was nothing, staring at the ceiling as he turned his now lavender scented pillow over to the cool side several times a night. He couldn’t do some of the suggestions - even the idea of a blindfold made him want to vomit, and earplugs were out thanks to his daughter, but some of them worked for a night or two.

The content of the nightmares had changed, now all solidifying around his dead child in front of him. Mairead in the daycare with a bullet wound, as one of the children he’d seen dead in Afghanistan. One stuck with him, a three year old in what had been a light blue shalwar khameez that was forever stained instead. Instead it was his daughter’s curls he saw now in those dreams, haunting him.

He thought he was hiding it well, that nobody could see how he was struggling. And maybe he was for most people, but Upton had learned how he worked too well too soon, stopping him where he stood in front of his locker.

“Have you talked to someone?” She asked, tapping his shoulder and startling him, Jay’s hand automatically going towards his holster. “You’re not ok, Jay. You need help.”

“I’m fine. Mairead’s fine, I’m fine. It’s all fucking fine.”

“That just proves you’re not fine. Get some help. Or I’ll tell Voight I need a new partner. I’m not willing to work with someone who I can’t trust has my back. So tell me if you decide to talk to someone or I talk to Voight.” He stared at his partner in shock as she spoke. “You’re the only parent that little girl has. She needs you to be ok. If she was struggling the same way you are, would you want her to not talk about it?”

Hailey left the room at that, her point made and Jay standing still there.

For the next two days Jay sulked, going over Hailey’s words in his mind as he spent them with Mairead, planning her first birthday. His dad and brother were coming over, Nat and Owen coming with Will. Voight was coming too, along with Kim in her position as godmother. With Ruzek joining along now they were publicly dating. His little girl was about to turn one, and he’d been a single dad for almost four months. Things were going ok. Apart from not sleeping for thirty six hours.

On his final day off he did what he really didn’t want to, pulling out a card he’d been given before Erin left.

Dr. Lonnie Richardson, B.S. M.D. PhD.

Gaffney Chicago Medical Center

773-555-9821

lonnie.richardson@gcmc.com

Richardson had consulted on a case with them, handing her card to each member of the unit if they needed to talk. With a deep breath he tapped her number into his phone and got the expected voicemail.

“Hey, this is Detective Jay Halstead. You gave me your card a few months ago. I think I need to talk to someone. If you could give me a call back or an email or something so we can make an appointment I’d really appreciate it. Thanks.”

He didn’t expect an answer that day, so spent it in his usual caffeinated fog, caring for Mairead and putting her to bed before lying down and waiting for the nightmares to start. It was at his desk the next morning that his phone rang, Med’s number on the screen as he walked down the back stairs for some privacy.

“Halstead.”

“Detective Halstead, this is Doctor Richardson. You left me a voicemail, what can I do to help?”

When he explained what was going on he could hear the psychiatrist hmm at the relevant moments, feeling a little lighter now he’d said all of it.

“Can you come in tomorrow for six? Will you have childcare?”

“I can make it work. Thanks.”

“No need to thank me. I’ll see you then.”

When he got upstairs he knocked on Voight’s office door, ignoring the looks from everyone else around him as he did. He knew they’d been giving him side eyes, and that was what made him even more certain that as frustrating as it was he was making the right decision.

“Sarge, I need a favour. I’m gonna have a regular appointment tomorrow at six, every week after that. I need to do this.”

Voight looked across at him, taking in the exhaustion under his eyes and how obvious it was that Jay wasn’t ok. Jay felt weird standing there, watching his manager look carefully at him.

“Do you need childcare while you’re doing it?”

“Yeah, if you could pick Mairead up while I’m there? She can’t come with me.”

There was a nod, Jay turning to leave the room.

“Halstead?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you for realising.”

He went outside and sat at his desk, focusing on the case they were running. It was difficult and frustrating, but the following day he left to go to his first appointment with Richardson. Everyone in the unit was leaving around the same time so it was easy to hide, Voight giving him a nod as he left.

Therapy wasn’t a silver bullet. He sat in front of Richardson and explained his irritability, the lack of sleep he’d been dealing with and the frustration he had all the time. How Erin had left them and wasn’t coming back. How he’d never expected to be a parent, let along a single one.

When he finished talking he sat back, relief pouring out of every cell in his body. Richardson looked at him, eyes open and staring carefully at him.

“You’ve gone through a lot in the last few months. When did you leave the military?”

“I was a Ranger. Finished up in 2008. My best friend re-enlisted last year.”

“That sounds tough.”

“To put it mildly.”

They talked about coping techniques, ways for Jay to come to terms with everything that had happened and how he could move forward. It wasn’t going to be easy - that had been made abundantly clear - but it was a chance for him to get there. And he had to.

Mairead’s party was the first test of his new coping skills. He’d been sleeping easier at night, but that judgment he kept feeling about his parenting skills was always there. It would always be there, really, if he was honest with himself. But he knew that he was the best person to look after his daughter. That he was the one who would support her and care for her and love her. He could do it.

Will swooped in with Nat and Owen, Owen immediately reaching out for his cousin. Jay watched them out of the corner of his eye as he set out the tubs of salad and hot food on the dining room table. He’d been half tempted to just order some pizzas, but a first birthday was a celebration. She’d been around for a full year and he couldn’t be happier about it.

There was looks from Nat about Jay feeding Mairead cake, but he ignored it and focused on the camera Kim had trailed on him. The stack of presents were taller than his daughter, clothes and games and a rag doll from Voight that she now refused to let go of. The cloth hand was in her mouth, drool pouring down it from teething but Jay didn’t bring himself to care. They were happy.

When everyone left it was just Jay and Kim cleaning up. He’d watched the younger woman kiss Adam goodbye, a blush on her cheeks at the looks they got at it while he left.

“Does Ruzek make you happy?”

“Yeah, he does. We both needed to grow up.”

“That’s what matters. Be happy with him, and don’t let stupid fights get in the way.” It was said with weary understanding, staring at the dishes he had to dry as Kim washed them.

“That’s the plan.” It was quiet as she washed until she put a glass on the drying rack. “Do you regret it? Dating in the unit, I mean?”

“No.” The quickness and sincerity of his response surprised even him. “I regret how it ended. That Erin’s gone and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye really. That the cutest kid in the world is gonna grow up without a mom. But I don’t regret dating her, and I don’t regret the outcome in the end.”

“Thanks.”

She hugged Mairead goodbye, giving Jay a hug as well as she got to the door. “For the record, you’re a really good dad. All we want is for you to be happy.”

In work the next day Hailey asked how the party had gone, Kim showing off the photos of a smashed pink cake she’d brought for that express purpose. But it was when he was sitting in the truck with her on the way to talk to a witness that Jay actually spoke.

“Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“I started talking to someone.”

His partner put her head back, looking out at the September sun streaming through the clouds. “Good. It’d suck to have to listen to Ruzek talk about how great Kim is all the time.”

Jay’s guffaw at her comment kept them both going until they made it to their destination.

[dokifluffs]

Overfeeding and Aftercare | Kenma, Bokuto, Kuroo

Pairings: Kenma X Reader (gender neutral), Bokuto X Reader (gender neutral) ft. Akaashi, Kuroo X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: Fantasy!! VAMPIRE HAIKYUU. Flufffyy 

Author’s Note: it is about time i dip myself into my favorite genre: fantasy. i hope you all enjoy! Happy reading~~

Warnings: blood, passing out from loss of blood, kuroo’s is a bit spicy 

Overfeeding and Aftercare | Tendo, Himekawa, Miya Twins

Kenma: 

The bitter cold of winter nipped at your cheeks and nose as you walked through the windy day to Kenma’s house, snow crunching beneath your boots with every step, the wind howling in your ear, your eyes squinting at the piercing wind blowing in your direction

No one else even dared to step outside on this day yet here you were

You clenched to the key to his door firmly in your pocket, mentally preparing yourself as you approached it to open it one swift go

Which you did

You groaned into the seemingly empty house as you stomped off the snow on your boots on a towel in the corner behind the door

You peeled off your layers as the heat around the house slowly embraced you. No lights were on but you could see the flickers of flames burning in the fireplace in the living room yet no one was there

Your skin, mostly your hands and cheeks burned as your body temperature rose back up to it’s normal warmth in the cozy home

The house was quiet and still as if it was sleeping, crackle and popping sounds filling the living room

“Kenma?” You leaned on the stairs, calling upwards, your voice echoing into the sudden wide open space of the staircase

“What?” His sudden soft spoken voice made your head whip to the living room, his face illuminated by his switch, eyes glued on the monitor as he played animal crossing

“W…Were you there the entire time?” You asked so confused, you could’ve sworn it was empty yet here he was sat comfortably in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants

“Mm, maybe, I don’t really remember… What are you doing here?” His voice was soft, soothing with the crackles of the fire, the bright flickers illuminating on his facial features. He didn’t even look up from his game as his thumbs never stopped moving

“It’s feeding time, remember?” You made your way around the other couches and sat to the right of Kenma, the cushion soft and plush, you were able to sink right in beside him

You rolled up your sleeve and offered your right wrist in front of his mouth

He paused momentarily from his game, his dainty hand barely even touching yours as he sunk his teeth into your wrist before returning back into his game

In this position, you rest your chin on his shoulder, watching him play, listening to the sounds of his character, who looked exactly like a cat, run around, catching animals and whatnot to distract yourself from the slight suckling sounds from Kenma as he fed

He was never one to feed much with his small appetite, taking the bare minimum of what he needed, eager to return to his game but it was always a big relief seeing when he was actually feeding, taking more than the last

The two of you were wrapped up in the game, watching as his character went from island to island, making deals, purchasing clothes and shops, trapping his villagers

You played animal crossing too, you just weren’t the best nor did you advance your island that much; it was a slow process but you were fine with it but seeing how Kenma played with what seemed like limitless currency and resources, you couldn’t help but wish your island looked as good as his

Coldness began to slowly creep up your body from your legs to your abdomen and your arms

You shivered, suddenly feeling drained and dizzy

It wasn’t until your consciousness was slipping out of your grasp did you realize kenma had been feeding on your non-stop ever since he bit into you, constantly draining you of your blood as he played

Before a word could get passed your lips, your body fell back to the couch with Kenma not even realizing

“Y/N, I made a character look like you…” His words died off when he turned showing off the character he dressed in clothes you typically wore

His eyes flickered bright red for a brief moment feeling guilt wash over him seeing he made you pass out. “This won’t do,” he tucked his switch carefully into his pocket as he scooped you into his arms

As your mind slowly woke, your eyes opened to the warm light of a lamp illuminating behind you, the shirt kenma wore with his body right beside yours

You woke to the sound of his animal crossing as he continued to play

Your body felt as stiff as a statue as you slowly regained strength after your sleep. Half your body was laid over Kenma’s, one of his arms looped around your shoulders so his hands could hold his switch over your heads

“You’re awake,” he glanced down to you when you shifted your legs, your breathing patter different now that you regained consciousness. “Sorry, I overfed,” he apologized as a little “yahoo” came from his character after finding a rare item dug up on the beach

“It’s fine, are you well fed now?” You rubbed your hand over his chest, letting out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were even holding, melting your warm body with his cool one

“Mmhm, thanks to you,” his lips pulled into a subtle smile

“Look, I made you in my game,” he ran his character to a nicely made house that looked like your bedroom, the character looking exactly like you

“Hmm, so cute,” you hummed, nuzzling your face even closer to his comfy body

He turned his body toward you more, readjusting his hold on his switch so you could watch too. This only made you wish you brought your switch too so you could play with him and visit his island

Before he went back to progressing his island, he gave your character in his game flowers

“An apology gift,” the two of you chuckling under his covers in his warmly lit bedroom

“You are forgiven,” you draped your arm around his thin waist, giving him a light squeeze as a hug as you continued to watch him play for the rest of the evening

The bitter winds continues to blow outside, you were grateful you were no where else than right here with Kenma

Bokuto ft. Akaashi: 

You let everything go and relaxed yourself as you slept in your bed, the curtains shutting out any bit of sunlight that could potentially peek in

The weighted blanket on your body made you sleep deeper, keeping you warmer than ever as your mattress cradled you as you visited the dream world

Your bedroom was filled with the sound of your breaths and e fan blowing through the room but with your unconsciousness, you didn’t even realize or feel anyone else in the room

Especially not Bokuto as he silently stepped toward you

He could feel his stomach dropping and grumbling as his ears filled with the booming sounds of your slowed heart beat in his ears, his fangs poking his plush bottom lip

Your shoulder was bare as you slept, a perfect opening for Bokuto to satisfy the never ending hunger he craved for your blood

Your smell alone was able to enhance his senses tenfold, especially when hungry which was nearly always

Being in your bedroom that was filled with everything you, his vision was tunneled as he set his sights on your shoulder

He knelt down as you slept near the edge of your bed

He brought his finger over your arm, warm with life and blood that your beating heart pumped, the thought of your taste making his mouth already water

Unable to resist it any further, he ignored the conscience voice of Akaashi who told him to wait until you called that you were ready to feed them, mainly Bokuto

His teeth sunk into your skin and lips onto your arm as he sucked, his hand gripping your wrist and the other your bed sheets

Your brows furrowed as you slowly woke to the draining feeling and pinching pain in your arm, your vision blurry as you turned your head over to find Bokuto feeding on you

It was like honey on his tongue and lips, his eyes fluttering shut and rolling back, enraptured by your taste

His gluttonous side came out as he fed, your body waking up and jolting in his grasp as he readjusting his bite

“Ow, b-bokuto,” you tried to push him off of you but it was no use; he was infinitely times stronger than you and especially stronger as he drained you with what felt like your life being sucked out of you

None of your protests worked as he was in his own world, not even hearing your voice or your taps to his body

Your vision blurred as his figure doubled, tripled in your eyes, your breath slowing down as darkness that dotted the corner of your vision was now taking over the entirety of your vision

It felt as if there was a weight on your body that paralyzed you

You could feel your heart beating weakly, your face pressed into a different fabric that wasn’t the bedding of your bed

Blinking your eyes, your vision was suddenly met with Bokuto’s glimmering golden eyes with tints of red as his hands held the edge of the couch, his normal perked up, spiky hair drooping down

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he apologized profusely, an iron muzzle covering his mouth, making him looking like a sad puppy

“It’s okay, you must’ve been hungry, right?” You cupped his face, his skin flawless and cool to the touch, your hold light on his skin as he covered your hand with his

“He was supposed to wait for me, my sincerest apologies, Y/N,” Akaashi spoke up, still pretty annoyed as he sat on the other couch which made sense as to why Bokuto had his muzzle on

Despite being centuries older, Bokuto relied on Akaashi to control his feedings after almost killing you more than he would like to count

His strong grasp cautiously lifted you as you tried to sit up, pulling and holding you close in his embrace, his hand running down your back

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” his eyes glistened with sadness and you knew he meant these words. You were his everything and hunger gets the best of everyone

“It’s okay, just wait til I’m ready next time, okay?”

“Mmhm,” he nodded. “I also bought you some of the candy you like,” he pulled out the little baggy from his pocket at Akaashi’s advice when he first arrived as the younger one treated your bite, cleaning your unconscious person

Bokuto fed you the candies one by one as you remained sitting in his lap, your head resting on his shoulder to regain your strength, a blanket draped over your laps

Glancing up to Bokuto, you could see the dejected look in his eyes

Without a word, you reached your arms around Bokuto’s head, unclasping the leather straps that held the muzzle around his face

“Y/N-“ Akaashi spoke up, sitting up from his seat

“He won’t hurt me,” you reached to the buckle hidden by his hair

“No, he’s right, leave it,” Bokuto took a hold of your hand, bringing them back to your lap

His non-beating heart ached as he remembered the hard pain on the back of his head when Akaashi pulled him off of you like a feral beast, the color drained from your skin, your body cold, nearly matching his own

He could still hear the faint sound of your heart beating as Akaashi pinned him down, how weak and slow it beat in your chest

You shook off his grasp and reached back behind his head, unclasping it and removing it, tossing it to the end of the couch

“You didn’t mean to, don’t feel like you’re some kind of monster when you’re not,” you leaned into Bokuto’s body, doing your best to wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his collar

He wrapped his arms around your body and squeezed you but never enough to ever hurt you

“You never have or will be a monster, Ko,” you leaned up pressing a kiss to his neck and cheek repeatedly

“Never,” you mumbled into his ear as he leaned back onto the couch, laying with you on top, never wanting to let you go as he took in your scent but the hunger never came

Not when he got to hold you and have you exist in this lifetime with him after seeing so many come and go

You were the one he never wanted to see go

Kuroo:

You shook off your raincoat and boots as you stepped through the door, closing it behind you, powerful winds outside which made it seem like all the trees were going to fall over

Before you could even speak, Your back was suddenly met with the door you just closed

Kuroo’s lips moved with yours, his head leaned down to taste your tongue with his, one hand propped above his head on the door, the other holding your jaw, tilting your head up

He kept his leg in between yours

“Time for me to eat, kitten,” Kuroo’s eyes glinted a bright red as he pulled out of the kiss, your lips already swollen from his rough force

With his thumb, he turned your head away, pulling down the collar of your shirt a bit more so he could latch his fangs into your skin

The way you tasted made his eyes roll to the back of his head in pleasure, humming as he suckled, not wasting a single bit

You let out high pitched whines at the piercing feeling, your hands gripping onto his wrists, trying to shake him off a bit but he was too strong

You weren’t going anywhere, especially when he had been starving for the past couple weeks. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t make it last week to your normal feeding day

But Kuroo was desperate. Everything, all his senses and needs and urges were heightened and now you were stuck here

Your blood coating his tastebuds was like liquid gold to him, he wanted to taste everything

He pulled back, seeing the way your blood dripped out, exciting him even more as he pointed his tongue, trailing the blood up until he lapped his teeth marks in your neck

He pulled your shirt more, stretching the collar to reveal your shoulder. He sunk his teeth once again into your body, the hunger he had been feeling for the past weeks slowly disappearing

You whimpered into his hear as he fed, hearing nothing but the way he suckled on your blood

But he couldn’t even hear you- all he could do was taste so he wasn’t aware at all of how excited he was making you feel, subconsciously rubbing his knee in between your legs

With a loud crack of thunder and a beat of your heart in your ears, you could feel the room beginning to spin all around you

As you raised your hand, it seemed to be moving in slow motion

“K-Kuroo…” your voice was unstable, your body growing weaker and weaker with the way he fed, the taste and his hunger mixing to make him lose his sense

“I’m gonna… pass… out,” your voice died out, your body growing limp in his hold without him noticing

He fed on you, naturally holding your body up, not even realizing your current state until he could feel a subtle sticky coldness pressing to his cheek

Pulling away, to his horror, your neck slowly bled out, the collar of your shirt soaking it all up. He was too enraptured with your taste to even notice this as well as your unconscious state

He lifted you off your feet in a swift motion and carried you upstairs immediately

Your head began to squeeze as your mind slowly woke again, your body feeling a strange combination of temperatures- cool in front but warm everywhere else

“Are you awake, baby?” You blinked your vision out of fogginess as his voice echoed a little in the bathroom all around

He held you close, arms looped around your body loosely, your chest to his, head rested on his shoulder, your own legs resting around his sides surprisingly comfortably

It took you a moment to figure out where you were but you felt so drained, you accepted everything

The hot water of the bath felt warm around you, not too hot as you expected with Kuroo’s cold blooded body holding you close

Everything felt so pleasant- the light tapping sounds of the rain bouncing off the skylight in the big bathroom, his touch as he held you close, your bare bodies so exposed to each other and so vulnerable but you never felt safer and more at home than right now with Kuroo

“What happened?” You asked groggily, eyes heavy, drawing lines down his shoulder as he rubbed his hand down your back

“I may have fed from you too much,” he rubbed the back of his neck before returning to your back. “Blood got onto your clothes so after I treated you, I threw them in the hamper but it was also on your body so I figured we could take a bath together.”

Kuroo, being immortal, always felt cold. Specifically, the temperature never really bothered him but feeling how warm your body was against his, he felt like a kitten beneath a heated kotatsu. However, right now, this wasn’t the case; he felt a cold shover run down his spine at the guilt that percolated inside his body

You were mortal, you always felt warm to him but he felt his non-beating heart drop when he felt how cold your body was, limp in his hold

He never wanted to experience that ever again

You didn’t even realize the gauzes he had applied to your neck and shoulder over his bite marks until he mentioned it

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” He secured his arms tight around your body, squeezing you impossibly closer to his body. “Forgive me?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed as his words went through one ear and slowly out the other. “I’m so tired,” you yawned, melting his body with your hot breath on his neck

“Then let’s get you out and dressed. I’ll bring you to bed, hm?” He moved his head back until it bumped into the wall, his gaze falling upon you with your cheek squished into his shoulder

“Mmhm,” you repeated to which Kuroo just chuckled, standing up as water dripped off your bodies, holding you like you were a koala bear latched onto him

He dried off your body as you struggled to stay awake, dressing you in his closed before he did as he said

He lifted you off your feet and brought you to his bed, staying right by your side until you woke. “I love you,” he kissed your forehead, heart swelling when your hand grasped at his shirt even as you slept

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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[myhockeyworld87]

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 2

Word Count: 4,845

POV: Reader

Warning: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Well you guys have spoken and it looks like this the fic you wanted posted. Don’t worry, I’ll be posting the others soon. But in case you were wondering where we left. Our reader was in Vegas at a bachelorette party, when she had a few too many drinks and wound up married to one Jacob Markstrom. Let’s see what happens next. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

"Fuck," you yelled, once you realized that you were now Mrs. Markstrom. This couldn't be happening. Your brain couldn't be remembering things right.

"Vad? Vada r fel?" Jacob mumbled in a haze of sleep, lifting his head to check on you. You had no idea that he was asking you what was wrong, as he automatically defaulted to Swedish in his drowsy state. "Are you ok?"

"No, no I'm not." Your voice was panicked and you were starting to break out in a cold sweat. "We're married!"

 His head flopped back down on the pillow. "Oh, that."

 Wait he knew and wasn't saying anything. "That," you said with a note of distress in your voice. "What do you mean 'oh, that?'"

 He turned his head so that he faced you, as you straightened your body so you could rest against the headboard; fighting the urge to get up and pace the room. "It was a joke. We just took a couple pictures with some Elvis."

 A joke? Ok, that kind of seemed like drunk you, after all everyone said you were a fun drunk. You sagged back against the mattress, breathing a sigh of relief. "So that's all it was, a joke?"

 "Mmmhmm." Well, that made you feel a bit better. "From what I remember it was. Things are a bit hazy." Jacob saying that, did not. He got up then, rolling onto his side and propping his head up. "I vaguely recall saying we were just going to snap some pictures and show your friend how silly it was to rush into things. I'm sure that's all we did." He had to be right, that part of the night still eluded you, though you do remember wandering into the chapel. "Though we can still pretend we're on our honeymoon if you want."

 His free hand, the one his head wasn't propped up on, slid under the duvet and across your midsection. His fingers wandering down to your core. His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, a silent plea for you to let him keep going. Now that you were a bit more relieved at knowing your marriage to him was some elaborate rouse, you were a bit more inclined for that second round with him, so you smiled giving him the green light to continue.

 Jacob didn't need to be told twice, as you felt his fingers widening your legs to give him access to your pussy. His fingertips lightly brushed against you and you sucked in a breath. "Fan du ar vat." You had to admit that Swedish wasn't the most seductive language, but when it rolled off his tongue it turned you into jelly. He recognized that you didn't know what he was saying and translated for you. "Fuck, you're wet." You were, there was no denying that, as this man just did things to you by simply giving you a look.

 He wasted no time sliding a finger inside you while his thumb brushed against your clit. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as he made your body tingle with delight. "So sensitive, prinsessa. I love that." His mouth kissed the outside of your thigh as he still laid on his side, his fingers torturing you. "I may not remember all of last night," Jacob admitted. "But I remember hearing you moan." As if on cue, you groaned out when his finger hit your most delicate spot. "So pretty." He removed his fingers and you whined at the loss of contact. "Ride me, prinsessa." He rolled onto his back, giving your thigh a squeeze.

 There was no denying your needs right then. You wanted him inside you, so you straddled him. Knees on either side of his hips, you positioned his cock right at your entrance. You savored the feel of him sliding inside you as you sunk down on him slowly, fully engulfing his dick inside you. Jacob's hands slid up and down your sides caressing your body. After your tumble with him last night, you knew your hair had to be a disaster, so you ran your fingers through your locks, hoping to at least make yourself a bit more presentable as you rode him.

 Unbeknownst to you, the picture you painted Jacob was nothing short of pornography; arms raised above your head, tits bouncing, as you slowly moved your hips against him. While his memory of last night was a bit hazy, being buried inside you wasn’t. He clearly recalled needing to get ahold of himself before he spent in you too soon. Now was no different, as he gripped your hips hard then wildly bucked up into you.

 His movements thrilled you and had you bracing yourself against the headboard as he fucked you. He had told you to ride him but wasn’t willing to give over the reigns completely, but that was ok with you. He slowed his thrusts, giving you back just a bit of control, yet his hands lingered at your waist ready to take it back at any minute. You ran your hands up your side, then cupped your breasts, gently pulling on the nipples. “My god, you’re beautiful,” Jacob panted out as you looked down at him through hooded lashes.

 The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room. Jacob’s fingertips dug into your ass cheeks as you picked up your pace, riding him earnestly now. His hips met you every time you ground down on him. At one point Jacob couldn’t take it anymore and he moved his one hand so he could toy with your clit. “Oh fuck,” you breathed out when he rubbed the little nub. “Jacob…I’m gonna…” The rest was a garbled mess as you came hard grinding down on his rock-hard cock inside you.

 “Yes, prinsessa.” Jacob watched you fall apart loving every emotion that played across your face. It pushed him over the edge and with a few more thrusts he spilled his cum deep inside your cunt.

 Your body was spent as you sagged forward on top of Jacob. You were both breathing hard, chest heaving in an effort to draw in more air. After a few seconds, you felt his lips on you; kissing your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips. The kiss was sweet and loving, perfect after the sweaty and exhausting sex that had just happened. “Min vackra prinsessa,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear as it had cascaded around the two of you obscuring his view of your face. “Too bad our marriage is a joke, for I could get used to that.”

 “We don’t have to be married for you to enjoy that again.” You pecked his lips then lifted off of him and rolled onto your side of the bed. “Come see me in LA anytime.”

 “You realize I’ll be there at least four times with my schedule, and San Jose isn’t too far from you.” His body was turned towards you so that you could see the seriousness in his face.

 “Well, I expect to be seeing my fake husband when he’s in town.” You gave him a little wink before adding, “And I think the trip to San Jose would be totally worth it.” He got up then and walked to the bathroom. You heard the water running and it wasn’t more than a minute or two before he was back at the bed.

 “Here.” He brought you a glass of water and a couple aspirin. It was exactly what you needed.

 “Thank you.”

 “Sleep, it’s still early, then we’ll shower later.” He dropped a kiss to your lips while tucking the covers up around then crawling into bed with you. He tucked you into his side and you swiftly drifted back to sleep.

 It was a couple hours later that Jacob woke up before you. His mind troubled with thoughts. It wasn’t a bad dream so much as a nagging feeling eating away at him. He carefully removed himself from the bed careful not to disturb you as you continued to sleep on peacefully. Covering himself with a pair of boxer briefs, he grabbed a bottle of water then sat down on the sofa in the suite. On the table lay the pictures from your fake wedding. He picked them up, laughing to himself at the photo on top. It was a dramatic shot of him asking you to marry him, and you acting shocked. He vaguely remembered doing that but the rest was all a blur. He leafed through the other shots. One of a fake Elvis, which seemed to be typical Vegas style, another of you kissing him after the proposal, still more of you being married by Elvis. They would all make for a cute memory of his time with you. Hell, part of him wished that he was married to you. He wouldn’t mind being buried balls deep in you every night.

 Jacob finally got to the last photo, or what he thought was the last picture; only it was some sort of document. He flipped it so that he could read it better. “Fuck,” he whispered softly as he read the words so nicely scripted across the paper. It seemed to be a marriage license, signed not only by both of you but the Elvis impersonator as well, whose name wasn’t Elvis and seemed to be a legitimately licensed marriage officiant.

 He needed to find out if this was real, so grabbing the hotel phone off the end table, he called the chapel. “Hello Mr. Markstrom, how can I help you?” An overly cheerful woman answered the phone.

 “Um, yeah, so I was wondering…I was there last night with…” He had to look down at the license to remember your last night. “Ms. (Y/LN) and I have our license in my hand. I was just wondering how valid this is?”

 “Oh, I can assure you Mr. Markstrom that it is one hundred percent authentic and has been filed electronically with the courthouse. You and Ms. (Y/LN) are indeed married. We make sure to dot all the I’s and cross all the T’s before we let you leave.”

 Jacob covered the phone then muttered, “Fuck.”

 “Is there anything else you need?”

 “No, um…I’m good. Thank you.”

 “No problem and congratulations again to you and the new Mrs. Markstrom.”

 Jacob hung up the phone and swore furiously in Swedish. You stirred, hearing something but not really registering what was going on, as you blinked your eyes several times clearing the sleep from them. The bed was empty next to you, and you found yourself sitting up looking for Jacob. He wasn’t in the bathroom, so you got up and padded out to where the seating area was. Sure enough there he was sitting with his head in his hand. “Head hurt that bad?” He groaned in reply. “Come back to bed and I’ll make it feel better.”

 He lifted his head up and turned to you then, a serious look in his eyes. “You’re not going to like this, prinsessa.” Well, if he was calling you princess again, it couldn’t be all bad. You raised an eyebrow in query. “Apparently, we’re married.”

 “Right, you told me it was a joke.” You sat down on the couch beside him, noticing the scattered photos on the table. “See, like I would ever get married by some Elvis doppelganger.”

 “It wasn’t a joke.” He handed over what looked like a marriage license, a very authentic one at that. Leave it to Vegas to be thorough even in practical joking. “There’s a seal on it and everything.” He was right there, but that would mean that this was real.

 “Oh, no….no, no, no….no. This isn’t real. You said…”

 “I know what I thought, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. So I called.” There was a look of dread on his face. "The paperwork has already been filed at the courthouse. Yay for technology."

 You knew he was trying to find a bit of humor in this mess, but frankly, you didn't find it funny at all. "Now what?"

 "I was just trying to come up with that when you came in."

 It hit you then, the solution to your problem. Maybe if you hadn't drunk enough alcohol to float a small ship last night it would've come to you sooner. "We'll just get an annulment."

 "Is that possible, after last night and well this morning?"

 "Hmm, I hadn't thought about that. Well, divorce it is." It wasn't ideal and you can't imagine having to explain it down the line, years from now, when you finally found someone you wanted to be tied down to, but it was the answer to your problem.

 Jacob seemed to mull it over a bit, and it struck you that he might be religious and that this might not be an option after all. "I'll make a phone call," he finally told you and you breathed out a sigh of relief. It took the two of you several minutes to locate your phones but eventually, you found them. While Jacob called his lawyer, you checked your messages. There were several texts from the girls saying they were heading to breakfast, so you shot one off yourself. There was no way you were meeting them yet, so you cried off stating that you were still hungover from the day before. You were really going to need to patch things up with Kennedy after all this trip was about her. Hopefully, you could share a laugh with her about this whole mess.

 A curse word muttered, or at least you thought it was, one in Swedish, brought you back to the situation at hand, and you looked at Jacob expectantly. "Apparently, it's not as easy as we think." He blew out a very frustrated sigh. "It's still doable, but it's going to take a lot longer than I expected."

 "How long?"

 "A couple months after the papers are signed and filed, possibly more."

 "What!?! You've got to be kidding me." That didn't make any sense at all. Shouldn't you be able to get a quickie divorce in a week when both parties were in agreement?

 "Well, my citizenship is one factor, but apparently it just takes that kind of time."

 "We got married in like, what...seconds. I don't understand." You started scrolling through your contacts looking for Aaron's number, then hit it and started to walk away.

 "Who are you calling?"

 "A friend, who's also an attorney." Aaron worked for the same firm as you, only in the legal department. Surely he'd dealt with a celebrity or two that had this same problem.

 You gave Aaron the condensed version of what happened, hoping that he'd come through and be your savior. "I hate to say it (Y/N), this Jacob's attorney is right. It's going to take you that long, if not longer." A growl of frustration was all you gave as an answer. "Cheer up babe, it could be worse."

 "Really? How so?"

 "Well, you could've picked some homeless guy off the street. At least this one sounds decent, and it's not like you have to move to Canada or Sweden while you wait this out. Just go on about your business."

 "I know, you're right. Thanks for your help, Aaron. I'll see you in a day or two." With that, you hung up the phone and headed back to Jacob.

 "Looks like you didn't fare any better."

 You sat heavily down on the couch. "No, not at all. Looks like we better start filing so we can get this done sooner than later." The look in Jacob's eye had you questioning things. You had thought you both were on the same page. Sure last night and this morning were fun, but what did you really know about each other. He couldn't really be thinking about staying married. When you couldn't take it any longer, you blurted out, "what?"

 He shook his head. "Nothing." When you gave him that look that said you didn't believe him he finally fessed up. "You're wearing my shirt."

 "Oh, sorry. I realized when I was on the phone I didn't have anything on. Hope you don't mind."

 Jacob actually didn't mind at all, in fact, he kind of liked you in it, which was a new feeling. "No, not at all. Though I'll admit I like you without anything on as well."

 It was hard to stop your eyes from rolling at his words especially at a time like this, but somehow you managed to. "While I appreciate the compliment, we should probably figure out what we're going to do." It was then that you looked at him, in only his boxers. His washboard abs calling out to your fingertips to just run over them, not to mention the strain of his cock against those briefs. You bit your lip just thinking about the things that you wanted to do to him and have him do to you. "And once that's done, then we can celebrate our divorce."

 "I like the way you think." He scooted you closer on the couch so that your legs were draped over his. "I was thinking that while you were on the phone, that I can just have my lawyer handle things. He said he could have everything drawn up in a couple days since we don't have to split up a house or any belongs."

 "That's fine. You can email me them and I'll just sign and send them back."

 "He did mention one thing, though I'm loathed to bring it up." His hand was traveling up and down your shins making it hard to think, but you were intent upon getting this divorce started.

 "Just tell me, after all, we are married, and married people shouldn't have secrets right?" I mean it was a bad joke, you'll admit that, but then if you couldn't laugh about this shamble of a mess you may start to cry.

 "He wanted to make sure that you weren't after, well...you know."

 Your eyebrows drew together as you tried to figure out his meaning, and then it hit you. "Oh my god! No, I'm not after any money. I would never and it's not like I don't have my own. I mean it's probably not anything close to what you make, but I do bring in quite a bit. Oh my god, I'm rambling. But no, no, I don't want a cent from you."

 "I told him I thought that was the case, but he wanted me to be sure."

 "Ok as long as you didn't think that."

 Jacob was quick to tell you he didn't. "No, not at all. If I'm being honest, I think getting married was my idea, if I remember right."

 "I wish I could remember more, though these pictures do bring back a few memories. I can't remember how we got these rings though. What is this cubic zirconia?"

 "Umm, nope." His cheeks started to turn a delightful shade of red. "My credit card tells me it's a diamond."

 "Oh Jacob," you exclaimed, taking off the ring. "This has to be a fortune. It's at least three carats." Quickly, you put the ring in his hand as if it was going to burn you. This fake marriage had caused enough damage that he didn't need to be on the hook for a ring that you'd never wear again.

 "You know I can afford it right?"

 "Of course, I know that. You just shouldn't have to pay for my mistake."

 "It wasn't just your mistake." It was sweet of him to try and shoulder the blame, but if you wouldn't have had that tiff with Kennedy, then you wouldn't have gotten drunk ass stupid and married him. "We both did this, but there's no point in arguing about it. In a few short months, this marriage will be over."

 "True."

 "Let me give him a quick call and get things started." You went to move but Jacob stilled you with his arm. The conversation was brief, his hand was inching further up your thighs during the entire call, sending delightful tingles all over your body. As soon as he hung up, that same hand reached your core. "So now that that's settled. What about that celebration? You know while we're still married and all."

 You'd already said you weren't making it to brunch with everyone, so there was really no reason, not to indulge in what you wanted. Scooting up a little further onto his lap, you grabbed the back of his neck and drew his lips down to yours. One kiss melted into another and another until neither of you could take it any longer and Jacob took you there on the sofa. After that, it was round 4 in the shower.

 You and Jacob exchanged numbers so that you could keep in touch while the divorce papers were being worked on by his lawyer. Since both of you were still in Vegas another night, you agreed to meet up a little later. Jacob claiming that it was safer to be with his 'wife' than out looking for another one.

 It was an hour after leaving Jacob before you were knocking on Kennedy’s door, there to apologize for everything you said to her the day before. She opened the door, and without so much as a hello, grabbed your arm and hauled you inside. “You have to tell me everything that happened?” How the hell did she know what had happened with Jacob. She was your best friend and all, but the last time you checked she was not a psychic. “I called Ryan and he told me those guys were from the Canucks, which happen to be his favorite hockey team in the world.” Somehow you really weren’t shocked to find that out. Considering Ryan was from Seattle and an avid sports fan. “When Jade told me, you were hooking up with one of them, I died. I need to know everything.”

 Oh, you weren’t sure if she was ready to hear everything. “Can I first apologize for being an absolute asshole to you yesterday?”

 “You can, but there’s no need. I know your feelings about marriage and how you think we’re rushing into it. I get that you were just looking out for me and only want me to be happy, and you know I’ll be happy with Ryan. I wasn’t really mad at you, per se. It was more about smoothing things over with Gretchen. You know how she can be.” You did know how Gretchen was, which was why you felt even worse for saying what you did, when you did. “(Y/N), you’re the closest thing I’ll ever have to a sister, and nothing you say is ever going to change that.”

 You enveloped her in a massive hug. There were times that you felt as if you and Kennedy were twins separated at birth and it was nice to know she felt that way too. “I really am sorry.”

 “It’s already forgiven. Now, tell me everything that happened, or more importantly; can you get any of their autographs so I can take them back to Ryan?”

 “Oh, I’m pretty sure I can get us seats to any game if he wants to go?”

 Kennedy's face was filled with a mixture of shock and joy. “Really?”

 “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they have a family suite or something for wives to sit in.”

 This time you watched as that same shocked look turned into confusion. “I’m not following you?”

 “Well…I kind of sort of…” Kennedy might be your best friend, who knew you better than yourself, but you still didn’t know how to tell her this. It was always easiest to just rip the bandaid off, you supposed. “That is…I got married last night.”

 “YOU WHAT?”

 “Little louder, Kenny I don’t think they heard you at the Bellagio.”

 “I’m sorry but you cannot just drop that bomb on me and expect me not to shout at you like you lost your damn mind.” Ok, she had a point. You had in fact lost your mind and your memory. Damn alcohol. “You need to tell me everything right now.”

 It took you a half hour to tell Kennedy all the details of what had happened with Jacob. She was stunned, to say the least. In the end, the only thing she wanted to know was if you were now her matron of honor instead of maid. Leave it to Kennedy to make you laugh at a time like this. She agreed to keep your marriage a secret from the other girls and you hoped that she didn’t blurt it out like she did your little sexcapade with Superman, though she insisted that all of you meet up with Jacob and some of his teammates that night.

  Like you, Jacob had only told one other person about what happened that night, his friend and teammate Chris; to everyone else, it just seemed as though you two were very interested in one another. At the end of the night, you were fumbling back into his suite, divesting him of every garment he had on, while he did the same to you. The next morning, you said your goodbyes but decided to keep in touch. Jacob promised you there would be tickets with your name on them anytime you wanted them in Vancouver and that he’d definitely see you when he was in LA. It was something you were definitely looking forward to. Despite the whole marriage debacle, or maybe because of it, you had to say that your trip to Las Vegas was one you were definitely going to remember for a lifetime.

 Twenty-four hours later, when you were back in your own place, still trying to rehydrate from the past seventy-two hours, is when you received a phone call from Jacob. He called to make sure that you got back to Los Angeles and that everything was fine. It was actually kind of sweet. It was about sixteen hours after that, that you found yourself calling him after his first practice. One conversation rolled into the next and so on until you were talking at least twice a day. He talked about hockey and his life in Sweden as well as Vancouver, while you told him about LA and your job there. Family and friends were a topic that came up often, almost to a point that you felt as if his teammates were your friends as well. Sure, there were the occasional nights where phone sex ended up taking place, though you had to admit it was much better than some of the dates you’d gone on in the past. If one was on the outside looking in, they probably wouldn’t understand why you were actually going through with the divorce. That thought didn’t stop you from signing the documents and sending them back to Jacob though.

 As the season started, Jacob still made time to talk to you every day. He even started to wonder if the circumstances had been different and the two of you had met in Vancouver or LA, would you be an actual couple at this point. He had to admit that your conversations were the highlight of his day. You were smart and funny with a wit about you that he enjoyed, and well to say that you were attractive was a complete understatement in his book. If Jacob was being honest with himself, you were his ideal woman.

 Which is why when the divorce papers came in, almost a month after he met you, he simply threw them on his desk and vowed to take them to his attorney soon. Unfortunately, he forgot he had an extended road trip coming up, which made him forget about them completely. They only crossed his mind once while he was gone when you’d asked him if he got them. He tried to make a mental note to remember them when he got home, but not only did they slip his mind, but they also got buried in a mountain of mail on his desk.

 The following week when he got home was a bit crazy. He missed a night in calling you when a game went into overtime. When he tried to the next day you didn’t answer. Jacob tried not to give it too much thought or take it personally, though his mind told him differently. He knew that you had a big ad campaign coming up and that work had started to consume your life. He just hoped it wasn’t with some hot male stripper or movie star.

 When you didn’t answer the phone the following three days, Jacob started to believe that what the two of you had or were starting to have, never really existed. He had resigned himself that he’d probably never see or hear from you again. Oh, how he was wrong.  

.

[cafedanslanuit]

chapter guide | prev. chapter | next chapter

✖   —   chapter summary: Now that Zeke has explained what truly happened with Yelena, all your troubles have finally ended. Except that now you need to start avoiding Porco. However, things change once you overhear a conversation in the woman's bathroom.

✖   —   pairing: porco/reader & zeke/reader

✖   —   chapter tags/warnings: college au, descriptions of panic attacks, lots of self-doubt, gaslighting, hurt/comfort, fluff, referenced cheating. 

✖   —   a/n: i have posted the playlist that goes with this series! click here to check this post <3

chapter three: me and my husband

Porco looked at his cellphone, an ill sensation filling up his stomach as he read over and over your last messages. For the past few days, he had been trying to reach out to you but he had been rejected every time.

He knew something wrong was going on the moment you said you couldn’t make it to his lacrosse game. Ever since you became friends, you hadn’t missed a single game. He had once seen you finishing an essay on your phone and sending it while you were sitting on the bleachers, excited for the game to begin. He had seen you falling asleep on his shoulder during a party after a game, too tired from studying for a test that you took earlier.

Porco sighed. He wished he could find any other reason to explain your behaviour but the only one that came to his mind was his late night confession to you. He shouldn’t have told you he loved you. Now you were avoiding him and his feelings and he was scared he had lost your friendship completely.

He put the phone on his back pocket and grabbed his keys, heading to the parking lot. After getting into his car, he turned on the radio and drove out of the campus, entering the main highway of the city. He wasn’t sure where he was heading to, but all he knew is that he wanted to stop thinking about you, the moment he thought you had shared and the dry messages that followed.

He had really fucked it up.

…

 Sitting on your faculty’s corridor floor, you looked over at the texts Porco had been sending you the past week. It physically pained you to be so curt with someone that meant so much to you. Porco had always been there for you, even in the times you had told him you really didn’t need him. He cared when you got sick, when you were sad and also when you wanted company to crash a party on campus. You two had been inseparable since the day you met and he was already acquaintances with Annie and Armin due to all the time he had spent at your place.

This was the right thing to do, you told yourself one more time, closing your Instagram. You were taking the right decision. Porco had fallen in love with you and then had tried to make you think your boyfriend had cheated on you. If Zeke hadn’t pointed that out for you, you probably wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. Truly, you were lucky Zeke had been understanding about the whole situation and had forgiven you for not trusting in him.

Porco wasn’t a bad person. You knew in your heart he wasn’t. But you had been wrong to trust he had your best interest in his mind.

That’s what didn’t make sense. Why had Porco, sweet and caring Porco had suddenly decided to put you against Zeke only just because he had caught feelings for you? The Porco you knew wouldn’t have done that. If he truly only wanted to drive you away from Zeke, he would have let you kiss him the night he spent with you. He would have taken the opportunity, right? So, why didn’t he?

Your head started hurting.

Your thumb ghosted over Porco’s contact on your phone, wondering whether to call him or not. You missed him dearly and knew that if you asked him to be honest, he would. There were countless moments in the past where he had been honest with you, from the time he confessed to accidentally stepping on your foundation powder and the time he opened up about his father’s death.

He’ll say anything to make you doubt your relationship with me.

Zeke’s voice resonated in your ears and you bit your tongue. He was right. You needed to remember Porco was trying to put you against your boyfriend.

Before you could think of a counterargument, you shot a quick text to Zeke. Yes. A day with your boyfriend would help you keep your mind busy.

“wanna hang out later? <3”

You watched intently, a small smile on your face as the three dots twinkled on your screen. Zeke’s answer came a few seconds later.

“Can’t. Exam tomorrow :(“

He then sent you a picture of a couple of books over a table that you recognized as the university’s library. He also had the tumbler you had given him a couple of months ago, filled with straight black coffee if you had to take a guess.

“:(( okaaaay, good luck on your exam, love u!”

“<3”

You put your phone away and sighed. You missed Zeke too. The few days after you had confronted him about the time you thought you saw Yelena and him kissing, he had showered you with love. You had spent the weekend at his place wearing nothing but an old t-shirt of his and making love several times a day. You snuggled to him on the couch as he watched an old documentary and playfully took the cigar from his lips and took a puff yourself. ‘Ladies like you shouldn’t smoke,’ he had said playfully as he took it back from your lips and then pressed a kiss on your temple.

Nevertheless, the short honeymoon phase after you made up had come to an end. You knew it was going to happen, but now your body and heart were craving more of him and his classes were taking all his time. If it wasn’t an exam it was a group project or a study session and even if you knew seniors had it way harder than you, you missed him. Missed his beard scratching your neck, his strong cologne and his deep chuckle whenever you managed to make him smile.

Maybe you could walk around the mall. You still had some birthday money and you could treat yourself a little. Maybe a new body cream or a pair of cute underwear from Victoria Secret to surprise your boyfriend after he was done with his classes. Yes, a shopping trip was exactly what you needed to stop thinking so much. Smiling, you walked to the bathroom of your faculty, just a quick detour to freshen up before you got into your car. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror and took out your lipstick, fixing it carefully.

“I fucking hate her.”

You turned around as you saw three girls entering the bathroom. They stood by your side, none of them seeming to notice your presence. One of them fixing her hair, another was looking down at her phone, eyebrows knitted together and mumbling more and more curses and the last one just leaned against the bathroom stalls, arms crossed against her chest as she watched the other two.

“We did tell you she wasn’t meant to be trusted,” she reminded the girl with the phone. When she raised her head, you recognized her as Pieck, one of Porco’s close friends, who you had seen around at a lot of parties and on many of his Instagram photos.

“How is that helping me?” Pieck asked icily.

“I’m just saying, Yelena is shady. Telling you all that crap about only being able to open up with you— and for what? For her to post photo after photo of her fuckboy?” the girl in front of the mirror said. “Like, nobody needs to know you’re getting it at the library, why post about it? Literally, nobody cares.”

“She’s not worth it,” the other girl interjected. 

“She really isn’t, babe. And Zeke isn’t even that hot,” her friend continued with a mocking laugh. “The one that looks like a clown is her, not you. Just let it go.”

“He truly is a bad case of the monkey face,” Pieck agreed with a snort. “Men like that are what keep me a lesbian.”

“Hi Pieck,” you greeted her. For the first time, Pieck looked your way and widened her eyes, recognizing you in an instant.

“Hey,” she said in an apologetic voice. “I— I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.”

You faked a chuckle. “It’s okay. I just wanted to say you shouldn’t worry about them, Yelena is—”

“Yeah, yeah, we both shouldn’t worry. You’re probably trying to move on and ignore them too,” Pieck sighed and then pursed her lips in discomfort. “But I know you were Zeke’s girlfriend for a while, it’s normal you don’t want to hear about who he’s fucking now—”

“Zeke and I are still together,” you interrupted her.

Pieck’s face fell at your words. She looked at her friends, who were also looking at each other with an indecipherable expression. Your furrowed your eyebrows, confused as to why they were sharing those glances. Why would they think you weren’t with Zeke? Sure, you hadn’t posted photos with him lately but that didn’t mean you weren’t together anymore.

“I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Pieck said softly to her friends. They nodded and said they would be by the cafeteria before leaving. Once they went away, Pieck closed the bathroom door and walked to you again.

“Why— why would you think we’re not together?” you insisted, your voice trembling more than you would have wanted.

“Yelena and Zeke are fucking,” she sentenced in a soft voice. You shook your head.

“I know that’s what it looks like but Yelena likes women,” you said. “You— I mean you guys were dating or something, right? You know she’s a lesbian, she’s just pretending to have something with Zeke so her parents back off for a while.”

Pieck’s silence was deafening.

“Right?” you pushed. “It’s cool because she’s a lesbian and—”

“Yelena is bisexual.”

You paused, blinking as you tried to understand. After a few seconds, you shook your head.

“She’s not.”

“The reason we’re not dating anymore is because I saw her fucking Zeke at a party,” she explained.

“No,” you said, and shook your head once more. “No, because if it happened at a party then someone would have seen them. Someone would have noticed, there would have been rumours, I would have  known . Pieck, someone would have told me, Reiner, Marcel, Porco—”

“They weren’t there. Almost everyone was a senior.”

“Then you! You would have told me,” you cried. “You’re telling me you saw my boyfriend fucking someone else and didn’t tell me!? Pieck—!”

“I thought you weren’t together anymore!” she defended herself. “What was I supposed to think when every single one of his friends at that shitty apartment knew he was fucking her in the bedroom and they all acted like it was a normal thing to do? I see all these photos of both of them and…” she continued, shaking her phone. “Of course I think he’s not with you anymore! Yelena is uploading pictures as she rests her legs on his lap, about their movie dates at his place and you want me to think she has a girlfriend!?”

Tears started falling from your eyes as she spoke. You sniffled, trying to compose yourself but you could feel every muscle of your body shaking.

“Does Porco know?” you asked in a whisper.

“Porco?”

“I know you two are best friends since high school. You— you had to tell him. If this was real, if this happened, you had to tell Porco,” you reasoned. “So tell me, Pieck, does Porco know?” you insisted, raising your voice, hating the way it cracked at the end.

Pieck shook her head. “I told him Yelena cheated on me, didn’t tell him with who.”

“Why?”

“Because he told me not to date Yelena, said she wasn’t a good person. I didn’t want to prove Porco right, you know him,” Pieck said with a small shrug.

You nodded idly, your eyes lost. No. It didn’t make sense, it didn’t— even if it did. It did make sense but it  couldn’t make sense. Because if Pieck was right, if Yelena and Zeke were—

No.

“Give me a date,” you whispered.

“What?”

“When was this?”

“I don’t— Two weeks ago?”

“I need to know the exact date, Pieck.”

“Girl, I don’t remember exactly, I—”

“Give me a date, Pieck!” you sobbed, raising your voice. She sighed and nodded, taking out her phone.

You watched as Pieck went through her messages with Yelena, scrolling up as she tried to remember the date. Your breath was hitching, inhaling more than you were exhaling but you didn’t care. You wanted to know when it was. Pieck was going to tell you it happened on a date where he was with you. She was going to say it happened one of the nights you and Zeke stayed the weekend at his place and then you would know she’s lying. Yes, that was going to happen. She would tumble over her own lie and this nightmare would be over.

“March 31st,” Pieck murmured. “I kept texting her, asking where she was before I went to look for her,” she reminisced, before showing you her phone.

.

.

                                                            00:36

. 

                                                                                           lena where are u

                                                                                                            ?????

                                          why are my friends saying you’re with zeke rn

                                                                                         yelena answer me

                                                                                    fuck u i’m going there

                                                            01:19

 .

                                                FUCK YOU YELENA YOURE THE WORST

                                                                  PIECE OF SHIT IVE EVER MET

                                                                            REALLY???? ZEKE?????

                                                                           HOPE YOU GET HERPES

                                                                                 I FUCKING HATE YOU

babe, i’m sorry

can we talk?

.

. 

A bitter taste crept inside your mouth as you took out your phone and went through yours and Zeke’s messages, looking desperately for the date. It was the weekend you spent together. It had to be. The memories of Zeke’s kitchen calendar that said April were lying to you. It had to be March. Or maybe he changed the calendar because he was with you on March 31st.

You scrolled up until March and went to read the messages exchanged on that day.

.

.

                                                            07:23

.

Good morning! I know it’s really early

But I want to see you today <3

Meet me at the tennis court?

                                                                                  sure, i’ll take an uber :)

.

.

Silent sobs escaped your mouth as your phone started shaking in your trembling hands. Pieck whispered apologies and you wanted nothing more than to tell her to shut up, that it wasn’t her fault, that she wasn’t the one that swore she wanted to marry you and then went to fuck someone else at a party, not caring if he was seen or not.

But it wasn’t true. Zeke said it was just a ruse, that Yelena just wanted to hide her queerness, that they were just good friends. He said so. Pieck had to be lying, she had to be. She was just messing with you, lying to see how much you could believe her. Because Zeke wouldn’t do that, you were the one he trusted, you were the one he was going to marry, you—

Pieck was still holding her phone in front of you.

With the very same date.

And Yelena admitting her crime.

But it couldn't be right. There had to be a mistake because Zeke loved you. He loved you and he had told you about his family, he had taken you to meet his grandparents, he promised he hadn’t kissed Yelena that night, he—

Had he not kissed her?

Was it only a movie night?

…

No, it hadn’t.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Pieck’s voice sounded far, your lips parted as you tried to gasp for air. You lifted your head and saw her lips moving but you couldn’t hear any sound but your heart beating out of your chest. Tingles started creeping on your fingers and without you being able to do anything to prevent it, you dropped your phone on the bathroom floor.

Why didn’t it make a sound?

Why were your fingers numb?

You lifted your head and Pieck was gone. Dismissing her sudden disappearance, you crouched down and picked your phone. You winced at the huge crack on your screen and slid your finger several times over it until you could press on Zeke’s contact and call him.

As his phone rang, you pressed your back on the wall, slowly sinking until you were sitting on the floor.

“Baby, I told you I was studying for this test, I can’t—”

“I know about you and Yelena,” you said in a broken voice. You heard him let out an annoyed sigh on the other line.

“Didn’t we talk about this already? I told you she’s not—”

“I know about the party. The day we played baseball and— that same night you went to a party and fucked her,” you sobbed. You wiped the tears on your face with the back of your hand. “Zeke, tell me it’s a lie, tell me you didn’t do this, please,  please  tell me you didn’t really fuck Yelena,” you begged. “Please.”

“You know what? Get some help. Like, psychological help. This isn’t normal.”

The silence after Zeke hung up choked you. Your chest rose up and down as you sobbed uncontrollably. Your brain was screaming. Loudly. ‘Make it stop,’ you told yourself. ‘Get it together. Make it stop.’

Make it stop.

                         Make it stop.

                                                 Make it stop.

                                                                         Make it stop.

                                                                                                 Make it stop.

 It’s a lie.

                                                                                                  Make it stop.

He lied to you.

                                                                                                              Stop.

He fucked her.

                                                                                                 Please, stop.

He lied.

                                                                                              I can’t breathe.

.

.

                                             Inhale.

                                                                            Exhale.

                                            Inhale.

                                                                            Exhale.

                                            Inhale.

                                                            Inhale. 

                                                            Inhale. 

                                                            Inhale.

.

.

…

When you woke up, Porco was there.

Your head felt heavy as you tried to sit up, rubbing your eyes. A quick look around let you know you were in your apartment but you weren’t sure as to  how , or why your friend was there, his phone on his lap and his eyes looking at you filled with worry.

He whispered your name as if his voice could hurt you. “How are you feeling?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked groggily. You noticed your throat was hurting as well. “What hour is it?” you mumbled as you palmed your jean pockets looking for your phone. You found it hidden between two pillows and pressed the power button, trying to see if you had any unread messages.

None.

“Pieck called me,” Porco explained. “And it’s eight and a half.”

Pieck. Pieck with her friends in the bathroom, Pieck with the text messages. Everything came back to you in a second and you couldn’t help but wince at the way your head hurt.

“How are you feeling?” he insisted. You took a deep breath. The small movement made you realize how much the muscles of your back were hurting along with your arms. You licked your lips, hating how dry they felt against your tongue.

“I broke my phone.”

Porco furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“I— I dropped it. There’s a crack on the screen.”

He nodded slowly and looked down at his shoes, his forearms resting on his knees. You could almost listen to his loud thoughts, one coming after another inside his head. Porco sighed and turned his head back to you.

“Want me to get it fixed? Marcel knows a guy, I’m sure he can get it done by tomorrow.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s working just fine,” you said, passing your thumb over the crack. “No need to change it.”

Porco watched your eyes get lost on the dark screen and tightened his lips. He had the urge to throw your phone out of your window, make you understand you had to leave it, that it wasn’t good for you, that you didn’t need it, that you didn’t need  him —

Instead, he nodded.

“What happened?” you asked.

Porco paused, deliberating his words before speaking. “Pieck called and told me what you guys talked about and that… you didn’t take it well. She said you were crying and— that you had a panic attack, so she left the bathroom to look for help. She found Armin and he was the one that helped you regain your breath. Once you settle down, he called Annie to tell her what happened and she picked you up. When I got here you were already asleep on the couch, Annie said it was okay if I waited here.”

“I… don’t remember much,” you confessed with a grimace. “I don’t remember Armin helping me out. I— I do remember what Pieck and I talked about, though. Wish I could forget it instead,” you snorted. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head.  Ouch . Why did every muscle of your body hurt so much?

“Wanna watch some shitty reality TV?” he offered. He didn’t miss the way a small smile appeared on your face.

In a matter of minutes, Porco had gone into your room and brought your laptop, and started looking for the show on Netflix. He put your laptop on his thighs and let you crawl by his side, your head resting against his shoulder.

“Wish they had Ink Master,” you sighed, as the intro of Netflix’s newest reality show played on your screen.

“We both know Netflix doesn’t have good shows.”

You snorted. “Black Mirror is good.”

“And yet we’re watching The Circle,” Porco teased you.

“Weren’t you the one that binged Season 1 on one night and then asked me to do the same so you could rant?” you reminded him with a playful tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied nonchalantly, making you chuckle.

What followed next was a comfortable silence. One episode went by and Porco made no attempts to stop it from automatically playing the second episode. You snuggled closer, the fabric of his green jacket feeling nice against your cheek. How long had it been since you felt so much peace with someone else by your side?

In any other situation, you would be commenting on it, pressing pause just to bitch and rant about the contestants or make quick runs to the kitchen. But Porco was sitting still, his eyes fixed on the screen and his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was trying to comfort you the best way he could, knowing any words would fail, he aimed to create a safe space for you and not force you to behave normally when you both knew better than to completely ignore what had happened earlier.

Right. Zeke.

You felt your eyes watering and bit the inside of your cheek to prevent them from falling down. Focusing on your breath, you inhaled and exhaled rhythmically until the knot in your throat seemed to loosen up. Your feelings towards Zeke were confusing, a part of you wanting to run, look for him and demand an explanation. Another part of you wanted to face with, punch his stupid little face until you got tired and leave him on the floor. And another, maybe a bigger part of you wanted him to cradle you in his strong arms, kiss your temple and scratch your skin with his beard as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

You swallowed. Maybe Zeke was right. Maybe you did need psychological help.

Could you trust his words if he were to provide another explanation? Could you ever trust in him again? Most of all, could you trust yourself? Many voices had different opinions inside your head, yet they all agreed on something.

You were miserable.

“Every time I’m not with him, I’m anxious,” you mumbled, the words leaving your mouth before you thought them over. Porco moved his hand to pause the show, but you gestured to him not to. “And when he’s with me…” you continued, “I feel like I’m drowning.”

Your voice cracked at the end. Porco’s hand twitched, not sure what to do next. Should he hold you, put an arm around your shoulder to comfort you? Should he not move a muscle until you were done? Should he offer a word of comfort? He turned his head to you and noticed tears were silently streaming down your face.

“If Zeke was in front of me right now and told me Pieck lied her ass off, even after all the proof she showed me today… I would believe him. I would,” you sobbed. “And I hate myself so much for it. I’m so tired of this, I’m so tired of loving him, Pock.”

Porco’s hand cupped your head, his fingers gently caressing your hair. You snuggled closer to him, his perfume soothing the pain inside your heart and his gentle gesture comforting you. That was the magic Porco had. You knew he wasn’t always good with his words and most of the time he preferred to show rather than tell and boy, did he do a spectacular good job at showing you how much he cared.

He was there. Even after you had been ignoring him for over two weeks, he was here with his green jacket and his earthy-scented perfume ready to hold you if you needed him. And you did. You could never think of a moment where you wouldn’t want him to be there with you. 

You wiped your face with the back of your hand and reluctantly pulled away from his touch, turning on your seat so you were facing him. You paused your show and put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Thank you,” you said, biting down your bottom lip. “For being here and waiting until I woke up. I— I’ve been such a bad friend to you,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry, I just—”

Porco shook his head. “No. I’m sorry for what I said the night I stayed here.”

“No, you don’t need to— I mean— I wasn’t mad about it,” you fumbled with your words, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t know,” Porco shrugged. “Felt like I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him. “Thank you for staying with me that night. I really didn’t want to be alone.”

“I just— Can I say something else? Promise this is the last time I talk about it.” You nodded. “I didn’t love you the first time I met you,” he blurted, shrugging. “I mean, it’s not like I saw you and caught feelings— first time I saw you you were drunk off your ass at Reiner’s party. I was your friend first. Still am, nothing will change that. And honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if my feelings went away,” he chuckled. “Who knows. Might finally meet someone else and fall for them.”

“Yeah, maybe you’ll meet someone,” you agreed with a strained smile.

“Whatever happens, know that before anything else, I’m your friend,” Porco said, golden eyes setting on yours. “And that will never change. You’re stuck with me.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

“See any other reason why I’m watching a shitty reality show on a Tuesday night?”

At this, you hit Porco with one of the pillows, square on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at his stunned face.

“You’re  so  fucked,” he said, putting the laptop on the coffee table in front of him.

You took this as a sign to run, the ache in your muscles forgotten at the back of your head as you tried to dodge the pillows Porco was throwing at you. Your legs weren’t weak anymore, as you quickly jumped to avoid the furniture and picked up one of the pillows to throw it back at him. Your heart was no longer aching, but jumping as you cackled when Porco tripped and fell. Even if your eyes were watering again, this time was due to the excessive laughter. And yes, your breath was hitching but it was thanks to Porco chasing you around the living room.

You let yourself fall on the floor next to Porco, the coldness of the floor soothing your skin as he dramatically held his knee against his chest like an injured soccer player. You turned your head to him, smiling at his antics as he filled your heart with happiness once  more.

Maybe that had been his power all along.

[midnightmoonkiss]

now you got me THINKING:

reader picking the lock to her holding cell for the hell of it, wandering the deck at night and catching deku muttering to himself, compass in one hand, tugging at his lips with the other, to which she helps him using scraps of knowledge she picked up from her snob of a father, learning her father was the the reason for a few of his scars in past battles, tracing them gently and explaining how she hates her life and blah blah bLha my brain rot is REALL

YESS OMFG???? HOLD ON I GOTTA.. GOTTA WRITE THIS..

Kidnapped By A Pirate (Cont.)

Pirate Deku X Fem! Reader

This basically is a continuation of this short fic, only going further into the early-on relationship between Captain Midoriya and you, (Y/N).

Category: fluff I guess?

Word Count: 2.3k

Just To Clarify:

This is a continuation

“You know,” His mellifluous voice startled you, “It’s awfully rude to stare.”

The sentence sliced through the silence of the night like the sharp sword resting upon his jutting hip.

The sea was calm and the moon was full, not a cloud in the sky. Stars shimmered brightly above, milky way weaving through each dot of light.

And here you stood, on a pirate ship.

Gathering your bearings, you inhale sharply through your nose, the salty scent of the sea nearly making you gag,

“It’s awfully rude to kidnap someone and throw them into a dirty old cell with no food or water as well.”

His hearty chuckle made you gulp, the tickling of butterflies has no place in your stomach. Not now. Preferably not ever with him, but most pirates did have this.. salacious charm to them.

“Very true…” He sighed, “Forgive me.”

The fact that you were having this conversation with his back infuriated you.

He didn’t care enough about your escape from your cell in the dead of night, when all his crewmen were asleep, to even pay you full attention.

It was as if he viewed you as the least frightening and threatless thing on this vessel, a harmless, stowaway mouse.

Swallowing the lump of logical fear lodged in your parched throat, you strung together all the courage you had on you with a flimsy string and strode over to him, hands fisting the fabric of your dress.

The pirate was leaning against the railing of his ship, staring down at a dirty compass resting in the palm of his large hand, lip pulled between his thumb and index finger and he studied the spinning of the needle trapped behind cracked glass.

His features from behind became clearer with every cautious step you took, messy green curls pulled into a ponytail, few strings of loose hair framing his chiseled face. He was practically glowing in the light of the moon that shone in front of him. Beautifully dangerous, like a barracuda.

“It’s broken.” You pointed out to him, the captain who wasn’t wearing a hat, an air of finality in your tone.

If he was plotting a course by a broken compass..

You were royally fucked.

You’d be lost at sea.

Would you ever see land again?

The nauseating rocking of the ship had you almost on your knees, praying. As the days went by, your sea legs grew, but you still weren’t used to it. You didn’t want to be used to it.

“It's only broken to those who don’t understand it,” He teased, sparing you a glance before returning his gaze down to the old piece of junk.

He didn’t seem to want to bother with taking you back down to your own personal hell, yet.

That was good enough for you.

You came up here for air, after all.

It was suffocating below deck.. The stench of mildew having made you sick.

Who knew you took fresh air for granted? Even if it was salty.

At least you could see the open sea and how the moon reflected on the murky water. It was enchanting, something out of a romance novel, but you wished you saw it under better circumstances.

Something about being on a piece of wood out where land was nowhere in sight and the bottom of the ocean was so far out of reach you couldn't even imagine it unnerved you.

You never understood seamen, or pirates, even.

They did this stuff for fun.

At least seamen did it as a way to make income.

The click of his tongue brought your attention back to the freckled man, murmurs under his breath only just now reaching your ears.

Directions and landmarks, sea terminology, things you didn't understand slipped past his chapped lips.. Until something you did know was uttered.

“You’re sailing for the port of Baringham? The low-profile port? That only deals with textiles?”

“Many questions for an answer you already know,” he quipped, “I’m taking you there.”

“How are you going to take me to a place where you cannot even plot a course to?”

Huffing, he finally turned his head to you, amusement written on his face along with a charming smile that would’ve made anyone swoon,

“Alright, you’ve got me.”

Pushing himself up with his cloth covered forearms, he moved to lean with his back against the rail, crossing his arms as he gave you a sliver of respect with direct eye contact.

You briefly considered pushing him over.

“I’m a bit lost.”

“Ah, so you admit it.”

Humming, you mimicked his action, crossing your arms under your chest.

“Fortunately for you, I happen to know where it is.”

“That so?” He mused, leaning toward you ever so slightly, panicked interest cracking through his calm, forest green eyes that you couldn't help but notice twinkle, “Care to tell me?”

“Mmm. I would… but what’s in it for me?”

“What is it that you want? Isn't your guaranteed freedom at said port enough?”

“No.”

“..” The captain was shocked into silence, clear amusement still written all over his face.

Combing his dirty fingers through his messy green locks, he gave you an inquisitive stare,

“Then what else?”

You thought for a moment. What else did you want?

You wanted many things, things of which he could not grant. No one could.

You’d have to settle for something else.

Something you would prefer.. suddenly, the sickness you felt when you were in that gross cell came to mind.

“Don’t put me back in that damned cell!” The shout bubbled up from nowhere, shocking even you, “And.. and water. I want water.” You mumbled out.

Silence settled into the night once more after your loud declaration.

Your face burned with pure embarrassment as he became the one to stare at you..

Until he started laughing.

The kind of boisterous and infectious laughter that forced you to look away from his regrettably handsome self.

“You have yourself a deal, princess!”

The title further made your cheeks burn, drawing your attention back to him just to meet his enchanting gaze.

It draws you in like a sailor to a mermaid.

“Now, mind telling me?”

Licking your lips, you pointed to the heavens, his eyes following, “Travel so the brightest star in the sky is behind you, and follow the little dipper. The port is due north from there.”

It was a route you didn’t mean to memorize years ago.

The loud snap of the compass being closed made you jump, composure temporarily lost yet again.

“Ahh..” His gaze flickered over the sky, no doubt seeing a plethora of routes with each familiar constellation as he mapped the one you spoke of.

“I see it now, silly me.”

Looking down at the deck, he rubbed the back of his sweaty neck, messing with the curly hair that fell loose. Would you be so bold as to think that he may be embarrassed?

He clapped a hand on your shoulder after pushing himself fully off the rail, the whisper of thanks fanning hotly across your ear as he climbed the creaking stairs to the helm, brown boots clicking on each step as he did so.

Spinning the wheel round, the ship croaked as it turned so that the north star fell behind.

“How did you know this course?”

His curiosity was natural. After all, how did you, daughter of a well-off navy general who had never stepped aboard a boat before, know the way to a port not many knew of?

The answer was simple, though it was an answer you didn't exactly wish to know. Cursed with knowledge as you would say, blessed would say the others.

“My father.” Bitterness stung your words, and Izuku whistled.

“Slimy piece of shit he is.” It was grumbled under your breath, and yet he still somehow heard you, offering a grunt of agreement, eyes focused ahead.

“I hate the bastard myself,” he seethed through his teeth, “I’d offer up all the rum and shillings I have to see his blood spill and stain my deck by my own hands.”

The fury that clung to each word he spoke sent shivers down your spine, his aura threatening as he fell to his thoughts.

“I have an obvious reason to hate him,”

“You do?”

Your childlike curiosity warmed his heart, bringing his attention back to you,

“You don’t get scars from nowhere, love.”

Your nose crinkled at the term of endearment, climbing the stairs yourself as you rolled your eyes.

“Your scars are hidden,”

“His scars mark my back.”

Blood drained from your face, bile creeping up your throat at the meaning.

You felt sick and disgusted with the blood that ran through your veins.

You hated being the daughter of a monster.

“Oh..” The whisper caught on the wind pulling at the sails.

Silence fell once more, the unbearable kind that made even his skin crawl with uncomfortableness.

Had the crew been awake, he probably would have laughed, grabbed a bottle of rum, and stumbled into his captains quarters to drink the memories away.. But his crew was asleep.

Oh, how he missed his first mate. He was the whole reason you were on his ship in the first place.

“Just your back?”

“Do you wish he gave me more?” Izuku chuckled, teasing you once again.

“No.” You huffed, furious he would even suggest such a thing.

“I have a few.. Mainly on my hand but I-”

His words died on his tongue, heart beating in his ears when he felt your much smaller and daintier hands grip his own, the only one covered in white scars.

He gulped as you traced the smooth cicatrix on his rough skin, a small blush on his cheeks, your touch soothing the pain behind each one.

Tears not his own fell onto his skin, rolling off and spattering onto the deck below, but he remained silent, allowing you to trace the scars over his forearm, not specifying which were and which were not created by your father.

He liked your touch.

“I hate him too.” Your words were raw with hatred, touch fading as you pulled away and yet he still felt the tingle of it under his skin.

He wanted more. He hadnt felt such gentleness in so long..

That doesn’t matter, though.

“Why?” He found himself asking.

Lips pressing into a frown, he watched the sea as you mindlessly walked around behind him, stories spilling past your fervent lips, stories that made silent anger bubble in his gut, stories that you had never told anyone before - that you were forced to keep inside yourself for so long that they spilled out without care.

His desire to burn that man's ship down, to watch as the bright flames engulf him and it, destined to forever be lost at the bottom of the sea, grew tenfold.

Deku, the infamous pirate, prided himself on not giving a shit half the time, but he couldn’t ignore the empathy he felt in the moment.

You both had a common enemy.

Two strangers.. Where’s the irony in that?

“I don't like you,” You started after finishing up your uncontrollable word vomit, stopping in your tracks, “But the fact that I find this kidnapping to be the most enjoyable days of my life because I’m away from him and all the power he possesses is concerning.”

Why you told this to an untrustworthy, murdering thief.. You had no idea.

Perhaps it was because you had a feeling he would understand after hearing you out.

Or maybe it was the fact that he was currently the only person you could say it to.

After kidnapping you, all he had said to you was ‘welcome aboard!’ before locking the cell you just escaped from days later.

You should hate him, you should wish him to hang like every other disgusting pirate out there, especially for snatching you from your home in the dead of night, transferring you from one cell to the next, but you don't.

You wouldn’t show that, though.

Many words weighed heavy in Izukus mind, words he was unsure if he could say, or if it’d be the right thing to say.

He wasn’t heartless like some assumed, he wasn’t this traitorous asshole stories floating around about him told, he was just a pirate with a kind heart and skilled hands.

He almost felt bad that he planned to give you back to your father.

He felt bad that for that first day you were aboard his ship, he had wicked ideas of marking and ruining you in so many ways your father would only ever look at you and see him. 

It was a cruel way to get revenge, revenge through someone else.

Actually, maybe he was an asshole.

Right then and there, he decided that that would no longer be his course of action, not if he could help it.

Hell, he wanted to keep you as far away from your father as he could. Would he abandon his first mate? No. He’d devise some other plan. Maybe get you somewhere safe, ask for your dress, and then cover a scarecrow in said dress and use that as a tool to get him back.

It could work!

Or maybe not.

Nonetheless, plan A through D were just thrown overboard,

“Well,” He smacked the wooden wheel to get your attention,

“You’re a pretty little thing, so I like you.”

You scoffed, he continued,

“Consider yourself prisoner to your fathers enemy for a long time to come, because darlin’,”

He drawled, sauntering over to you as you instinctively backed up, only to be trapped against the railing.

His muscular arms caged you in, taller frame towering over you as electrifying green eyes intoxicated your soul and sent heat flashes up your body,

“I’m not gonna let you go so easily.”

[gukyi]

good luck charm | kth

summary: kim taehyung has nearly everything he’s ever dreamed of: an apartment in new york city, a lead role in an off-broadway play, and a best friend to share it with. but even still, there’s one thing missing—love. and when he goes on the hunt for it, he dots every i and crosses every t, leaves no stone unturned, but forgets to look at the person who could ever love him the most: you.

{friends to lovers!au, roommates!au, actor!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love word count: 11k a/n: a huge thank you to MK for commissioning me for this piece–i hope it’s everything you dreamed of!!!! these are tough times, but i hope this can serve as a distraction to everyone!! please stay safe and wash your hands! if you’re interested in commissioning me, check out this post! also, if the pictures are unclear, click on them for higher resolution!

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.”

You see a tuft of purple hair sticking out behind a basket of orange pansies, two nimble hands with long fingers fiddling with the stems. 

“I bet you say that to everyone,” you tease, as Namjoon peers out from where he’s hiding behind a shelf of flowers, greeting you with the same warm grin he always wears. 

Namjoon pauses, gaze tilting upwards as he corrects himself, “my favorite customer who’s about to confess to her best friend of four years with a bouquet arranged by yours truly?”

You roll your eyes, thankful that there’s nobody else inside this little flower shop. Not that you seem to have an issue exposing your entire life story to certain strangers, especially if they’ve got dimples and colored hair to match. Namjoon has always been something of an exception—perhaps he is one of the closest friends you have here in the city, where everything moves so quickly you barely have time to say hello to a new acquaintance. Namjoon and his flower shop are a respite, a safe haven in a bustling world, where time always seems to move slower than it does outside. 

“Don’t remind me, I’m sweating just thinking about it,” you tell him, trying to cover your nervousness with a laugh. 

“Ah, well how could I forget, when you came to me to arrange the perfect bouquet for tonight?” Namjoon says. He chops a wilting flower from its stem and places it behind his ear. Even though it’s a little sadder, a little less lively than its comrades, the bright yellow of the primrose complements his hair nicely, making him look even more ethereal, magical, than he already does. 

“Who else would I ask besides the best bouquet-maker in town?” You ask as Namjoon leads you to the counter, where various bouquets have been laid out in vases, ready for pick-up. It’s a secret garden here, all green and fresh and calm, a sharp contrast to the industrial machine outside. 

Namjoon heads to the back, a room behind a little wooden door that’s the slightest bit too short for him, so he has to bend down to avoid hitting his head (he still hits his head rather frequently, though), as you breathe in the scents of the flowers surrounding you, the roses and the daisies and everything in between. It’s not much, but it does calm the thick beating of your heart ever so slightly, and that’s enough. 

He emerges a minute or so later, banging his head on the way out. In his hands is one of the biggest bouquets you’ve ever laid eyes on, thick with some flowers you recognize but more you don’t. It’s breathtaking and gorgeous and impressive, all at once. 

“Namjoon, you know that I didn’t ask for this many flowers,” you chide as he plops the bouquet down onto the counter, clicking away at the ancient cash register to his left. 

“Consider it a good luck gift,” Namjoon tells you with a wink. 

You sigh, pulling out your card to pay him. “I could use all of the luck I could get.” The likelihood of tonight going more right than wrong is miniscule. But what else can you do, besides try? “What do they all mean?”

“Well, the daffodils represent honesty and truth. The red carnations mean love, obviously. So do the chrysanthemums. The baby’s breath is just for decoration, but it also means everlasting love. The gardenias are for secret love. And the freesia is just because I thought it went well with the bouquet,” Namjoon says expertly, pointing to each one as he tells you what it means. “I don’t know if Taehyung’s super up with his flower meanings, but I think that even the gesture will say more than enough. But if he is, this is just a bonus.”

“I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?” You say, the nerves overtaking you. You were hoping to just act calm and collected, thank Namjoon for the bouquet and be on with your lives, but even you can’t help but seek advice from him. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “If you think it’s going to go so badly, why have you planned so much?” He poses. “It’s normal to be nervous about this sort of thing—what if I mess up, what if he doesn’t feel the same way, what if he rejects me—but I think that, deep down inside of you, there’s a part that thinks that it will all be worth it. And I don’t know, maybe I’m just a sucker for happy endings, but I think that that’s the most important. The part of you that doesn’t want to spend the rest of its life thinking about what might have been.” Namjoon’s phone lights up next to him, his lockscreen a picture of him and another boy, shorter, but with the same dyed hair. The two look so happy together. He gazes down at it, exhales, and shuts his phone off. “Just my two cents.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, Kim Namjoon,” you tell him with a smile. Maybe you are nervous about the what ifs, nervous that this whole thing could blow up in your face, but is it so naive of you to listen to that whisper in your heart? The one that says, maybe he feels the same? “I wish you’d take your own advice, sometimes.”

“It’s different,” Namjoon murmurs to himself. “He and I… this is all we’ll ever be.”

“You don’t know unless you try,” you tell him. You know the feeling. Perhaps, if tonight goes well, it will encourage him to give it a shot himself. “You never know.” Namjoon looks up at you, smile wide but eyes sad. There’s clearly something more that he isn’t mentioning, but you won’t push it. You get it. How could you not? “What if he does feel the same?”

The bell above the door rings on your way out, fingers clenching onto a bouquet, praying and wishing and dreaming that maybe this will all be worth it, in the end.

Something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

When you return to your apartment, Kim Taehyung is slouched on your dinky loveseat, arm deep inside a six-month-old box of Frosted Flakes, as an episode of Jeopardy! plays on his laptop, his eyes empty and glazed over as he stares at Alex Trebek, wordless.

You nearly jump in shock, terrified that he’ll spot you and the enormous bouquet in your hands, terrified that he’ll ask you about it, terrified that your entire plan for tonight will get flushed down the toilet the moment you and him lock eyes. But it doesn’t, because Kim Taehyung doesn’t even acknowledge you when you walk in, for better or for worse, and you manage to stash the bouquet into a vase in your bedroom before rounding on your roommate, because something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

Kim Taehyung hates Frosted Flakes. The only reason they’re in your apartment to begin with is because Jungkook had brought them over one time when he was visiting, and even then they were stale. Now they’re extra stale. So stale that they make a hollow sound on your countertop when you tap them against the laminate. 

Kim Taehyung normally shuffles through Jeopardy! like it’s nobody’s business. He gets at least a quarter, if not half of the questions correct, and always earns more points than you. But he doesn’t even open his mouth when Alex Trebek says, “This Renaissance artist left Florence to serve as principal engineer for the Duke of Milan’s army” and you know that he knows it’s Leonardo Da Vinci. 

Kim Taehyung normally has plenty to say, especially to Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip, who currently resides in your living room. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has been your honorary second roommate ever since the two of you moved into this apartment four months ago. Taehyung made him a little museum placard that is framed and hanging on the wall above him, and he has an account on every social media website under the sun. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has more followers on Instagram than you do. But today, both he and Sawyer are silent and unmoving. 

“Tae?” You ask, treading over to the couch as he empties the box of Frosted Flakes into his stomach, finishing up the episode. “Is everything alright?”

“Mmrph,” he mumbles in response. You suppose that means he said fine, which means that no, everything is not alright. 

“What’s going on? You’re normally really excited the day of your shows,” you ask. At least he hasn’t entirely turned into a soulless hermit, and he moves his legs off of the couch so you can sit beside him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Taehyung says, louder. “I don’t know. I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?”

You smile softly, shaking your head as you reach a hand out, letting it rest in his lap before he takes your hand in his. “No, it’s not. Tonight’s a big deal, isn’t it? You must be under a lot of pressure to do well.”

“I’m just so worried that I’ll fuck it up and everyone will hate me forever,” Taehyung says, exasperated. It’s almost as if he’s tired with himself for being so negative. 

“You’re not gonna fuck it up and nobody is going to hate you. I’ll always love you, you know that,” you assure him. 

“Yeah, I know,” Taehyung says, but the worst part is that you’re not sure if he really does. 

“It’s okay to be nervous, and to worry. Tonight is really important. But you’re an incredible actor, and you’ve always been so good at what you do,” you tell him, thumb rubbing against the back of his hand softly. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.”

Taehyung lets his head rest on your own and the two of you sit together on the couch in silence, watching as the minutes on his laptop clock tick by. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and soft, firm underneath his chest. You wonder if he can hear yours. Hear how it’s picking up speed, hear how it beats only for him. 

“You always know what to say,” Taehyung tells you. “I wish I knew how to do that.”

You grin sadly to yourself, happy that the two of you are side by side so he doesn’t have to see your face. How could Taehyung tell you something like that? How could he, when every time you’re near him, you’re speechless?

You never really considered yourself to be a theater person when you were younger. You would fall asleep when you went to see plays with your parents or on a school field trip. You never made an effort to go see the performances that your school put on. You were one-hundred percent confident that you would go through all four years of university without seeing one of the fifteen different theater groups’ shows, not because you hated them, but because they never crossed your mind in the first place. 

And then, you met Kim Taehyung. 

You met Kim Taehyung halfway through your freshman year because the two of you were in the same Cinematography in the 1900’s class. And then, suddenly, you were eating the same shitty food in the dining hall after class ended at seven in the evening. And then, suddenly, you were studying together, spending nights watching Jeopardy! on his laptop when you didn’t feel like doing any work. And then, suddenly, Kim Taehyung mentioned in passing one day that he had a show that Friday, and would you like to come, it would really mean a lot to him, he thinks you’ll really like it. 

And then, suddenly, you were a theater person. 

That night was the first night Kim Taehyung had ever taken your breath away. And every performance, every night, every fucking moment after that, he never stopped.

Tonight is no exception. You can’t say that you’re super well-versed in theater fame and its technicalities, but you think that this may just be Taehyung’s best performance yet. Here, in this theater off of Sixth Avenue, to a crowd of two, perhaps three hundred people, Taehyung is nothing short of amazing. He never is. From the moment he steps on stage in a raggedy old flannel and jeans, eyes wide with dreams, he reels you in and makes sure that you won’t leave this theater, won’t leave here unscathed. But the fatal blow is halfway through, when he finally spots you in the third row, sees you staring up at him in wonder, and he smiles. 

There is so much that you wish you could tell him. 

After the show, you race back to your apartment, desperate to finish up the last of the preparations before he arrives, after taking off all of his makeup and his costumes, saying goodbye to all of his co-stars. Normally, you’d hang around, let him introduce you, but tonight is different. Special. 

[September 8th, 9:35PM]

You: Had to go home bc I’m planning a special something for the star of the night! Sorry I missed all of the fun afterwards You: Something very important to tell you

Taehyung: ohoho Taehyung: I wonder who that could be Taehyung: Coming soon. I have something to tell you too! ^^

You stare at the text as you grab the vase of flowers from your room, setting it up at your very unimpressive kitchen table. What could Taehyung possibly have to tell you? Other than perhaps a thanks for showing up (as if you weren’t going to). 

What if, that voice whispers. The part deep in your heart, the one that you wish would shut up sometimes. 

“No,” you say aloud, perhaps more for yourself than anyone else. “No. I have something to tell him. I have to tell him this.”

You never know, she says. He might. What are you waiting for?

You pull out all of the scented candles in the apartment, setting them up on the coffee table and on the windowsills. There’s a plate of macarons that you had purchased from the fancy bakery in Midtown sitting by the vase, a little treat for the two of you since your diets usually consist of premade Costco pasta and takeout. 

There is so much you want to tell him. So much to say, and no way to do it. It seems impossible. As the minutes tick by, as he gets closer and closer, you wonder if you even have the courage to open your mouth. It’s not as if this is life-changing news. It would be so easy, so easy to just pretend that this is nothing but a celebration of Taehyung’s very first major off-Broadway show, to push down the ache in your heart and tell that voice to stay quiet, if only for a little longer. You’ve lived like this for so long already. Who’s to say you can’t live like this forever?

Taehyung comes home as you’re flicking through late-night television show reruns and fiddling with a Rubix cube, anything to keep your mind occupied and your fingers busy. You hear as he fumbles with the lock—his key has always been a little bit off—and scramble to get everything ready, shutting your laptop and putting the Rubix cube on your designated Weird Stuff Shelf. The apartment smells like a hodgepodge of vanilla, flowers, cinnamon, and champagne, and the flowers are already starting to wilt slightly. But it’s now or never, really. 

Taehyung swings the door open with a grin and gasps in excitement when he sees you, standing in the hazy, flickering yellow light of the kitchen, surrounded by candles, with a plate of macarons and a vase of flowers on the table. 

“Oh my God!” He says, overjoyed, high off of the adrenaline from a successful show, eyes still sparking from the spotlight. “Y/N! What is all of this?”

“Just a little something from me to you,” you say awkwardly. You have no idea how to tell him. You’re not sure if you even will. “To celebrate.”

“Dare I say, this apartment has never looked better,” he tells you, beaming. He walks over to where you’re hovering by the kitchen table, knee deep in it all, admiring the sight before him. He leans over you, ever so slightly, as he takes in the scent of the flowers, the macarons sitting before him. And then he turns to you, the glow from the candles making his eyes warm and caramel-y, almost as if they’re shimmering in the light, and he says, “You did all of this for me?”

“Of course,” you tell him, because you would do this again and again if it means you could see him like this. If you could watch him burst through the front door for the rest of your goddamn life, watch as he comes home to you. “Tonight’s special.”

“It wouldn’t be without you,” he tells you honestly, candidly. He tells you that because he means it. You wish you could say the same things to him. “You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

It’s now or never. If he takes one step closer, turns to look at you one more time, you don’t know if you’ll still have the courage. You don’t know if you even have it right now, but tomorrow, when you wake up, you don’t want to regret this night. You don’t want to wonder what if, what might have been. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“I have something to tell you,” you breathe out, words heavy on your tongue. You can feel your heart seize up, almost like it’s holding its breath with you. 

“Right, you said that,” Taehyung says with a nod, stuffing a cherry macaron into his mouth. “I have something to tell you, too.”

“Do you want to go first?” You ask him. You just need a little more time. You just want to hear his voice once more. 

“Okay,” Taehyung says happily. “I got a girlfriend!” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Well. 

Okay. 

“Really?” You ask, trying to make it sound more like a Really? That’s great! and not a Really? I thought that we had something special. You don’t think that you’re doing a very good job.

“Yeah!” Taehyung says. He’s ecstatic. It tears your heart in two. “I mean, I know I’m just… a super, hopeless romantic and I fall in love with people when they hold the door open for me, but I’m really happy with her. It’s Ariel, actually, she played Lucy! Isn’t it funny how even though our characters never even officially met, we still found something there?”

“Yeah,” you say, emotionless. Taehyung is far too excited, far too joyous to notice. 

“I just—I wanted to tell you, because you’re my best friend and you deserve to know,” he says, breaking off half of the raspberry macaron and holding it out to you. “What did you want to tell me? Did you say it was important?”

“Oh, uh…” you fumble, shaking your head at the macaron. Your stomach has never felt smaller. It’s like there’s nothing left to say to him. “I think I’m getting transferred to another office.” It’s not news. Your job told you that last week. But it’s something, and it’s better than being honest. Anything is, at this point. “They might pay a little more.”

“Yay!” Taehyung says. “That’s great! Now, maybe we can fix up the lights in the kitchen. So they don’t read horror movie every time I try to make pasta at 2AM. I’m happy for you, you deserve it!”

You smile, putting on a brave face, just for him. “Me too.” You can’t muster up the strength to say anything else. 

Taehyung spends the rest of the night gobbling down the macarons and telling you all about Ariel, as you try desperately to tune him out. Even the sound of your own thoughts would be better than this. Anything. Anything. Eventually, after it’s long past midnight and Taehyung realizes he’ll need his sleep for the show tomorrow night, he bids you goodbye and sets off to his room, a bounce in his step.

You stand in the middle of your apartment. Even though it’s small, and even though you have him, it’s never felt emptier.

Namjoon always says that flowers don’t just need food and water to stay happy. They need love, they need to be surrounded by happiness. He says that they can feel it, that they react to it. That’s why he always tries to be happy when he’s working. Because he hates seeing the flowers so sad. He says they remind him of himself.

It’s no wonder why the flowers in the vase look even more wilted than before.

Here’s the thing: You had pretty much always known that it was going to hurt like this. There had always been that part of you, deep down inside, that knew that there was no way it wasn’t going to hurt like this. That knew that there was nothing you could do to stop it from hurting like this. 

And still, foolishly so, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, telling him would make it stop. You gave into this fantasy that, even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he let you down easy, even if he told you that he just wanted to be friends, it would be better. 

That’s the worst part of it all, really. The fact that you never even told him. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t. You never told him, and now, somehow, everything is even worse than before. 

The flowers have long been thrown out by now, tossed out after hardly a week, unable to stand the tension in the air, the emptiness that lingered far beyond that night. Still, you remembered to keep one, plucking it from the vase before it died of secondary sadness. Because even if they hurt you, even if they tear at your heartstrings one by one, you’ve always had this terrible habit of never letting go of what you love. You pressed the flower with an old college textbook, placed it into a thin little vase, meant for one flower only. A red carnation, to remind you of what you could have had. What might have been. 

Kim Taehyung is significantly less worried this time around as he prepares for the opening night of his latest play. He wakes up early and does some yoga in the living room, pushing all of the furniture to the walls so he has enough space to Downward Dog in peace. He watches a couple episodes of Jeopardy! as he eats the Pad Thai he Doordashed to your apartment, and gets half of the questions correct. Even from your bedroom, you can hear him talking to Sawyer. 

“I’m excited for tonight, Sawyer,” he says to him. “I don’t know, last time I did Shakespeare was sophomore year in college, I think? I was Mercutio. It was fun and I got to use a sword. Y/N came to that show, too. I annoyed her so much that night that she told me that she was glad Tybalt killed me, but we had a good time anyway.”

Sawyer doesn’t say anything back, because he is a Suspicious Floor Dip in your living room. But it’s so lovely to hear Taehyung’s voice again. 

“Do you think that Y/N’s been acting weird, lately?” Taehyung asks. “I just feel like—I feel like she and I aren’t as close these days. She works in her room a lot more and some days I don’t see her at all. Which is crazy, because we live together. My ex always said it was a little weird how I lived with my best friend who is also a girl. But I don’t think it is. Do you think I did something wrong?”

No, you wish you could say, leaning against your thin bedroom door as you hear Taehyung wonder aloud. Never, in a million years. It was me, you want to tell him. I got my hopes up and now I’m paying the price. It’s not you. It’s never you. 

“Yeah, I guess she’s just busier these days,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “She did get transferred to that new office a couple of months ago. But she’s still my best friend. I’ll never stop telling her that—she deserves to know that no matter what, she always has me.”

“Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Therapist, huh?” You interrupt, finally getting the nerve to open your door. Taehyung’s on his way out, all dressed, backpack on his shoulder. He has to be at the theater a few hours before the show begins, anyway. 

“He’s just so easy to talk to,” Taehyung jokes. “Did you… uh… did you hear that?”

“The part about being your best friend?” You ask with an eyebrow raise, making Taehyung smile. You don’t mention the other things you heard. You don’t think that would make things better. 

(You’re not sure what will, at this point. Telling him is off the table. You distantly wonder if it was ever on the table to begin with.)

“Just making sure you knew,” Taehyung says with a grin. “Don’t want you forgetting about that.”

“How could I?” You muse, and it makes him smile something fierce and makes you wish that things were different. 

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Taehyung says. He must know the answer, already. 

“Of course I am,” you tell him. “Who do you take me for?”

“I’ll look for you in the crowd, okay?” Taehyung says, a hand on the doorknob as he gets ready to leave. “Keep an eye out for me. Promise?”

It’s always been so hard to say no to him. 

“Promise,” you tell him. 

That night, you sit a little further back, shadowed by the mezzanine above you, but Taehyung finds you anyway. As he schmoozes his way through the storyline on stage, he sends a wink your way, a couple of the girls in the row in front of you giggling to each other when he does. You sort of wish he was really winking at them. That way, it would hurt a little less. 

Afterwards, you linger around in the lobby, waiting for him like you always have, like you always do, like you always will. You don’t have anything special waiting for him back at your apartment. There’s nothing left to tell him. 

You spot his head of soft, wavy brown hair far before he spots you, can make it out in a sea of cast members as they cheer for themselves, celebrating another successful opening show. Your face lights up when you see him, when you see that he sees you. This is how it has always been. This is how it should be—you find each other in the crowd, grinning as you congratulate him, as he introduces you to his cast members and then invites you to the afterparty. You spend the night together, high off of the adrenaline and just a little tipsy, before stumbling back to your apartment, basking in the afterglow. 

You want nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were. 

And then, you see her. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung shouts excitedly, and it takes all of your strength to not let your face fall as she comes into view, hand interlaced with Taehyung’s. “I knew you’d be here!”

“How could I not be?” You say, letting Taehyung wrap you in a one-armed hug rather than two. “You know me.”

“This is my girlfriend,” Taehyung introduces proudly, motioning to the pretty girl beside him as she waves at you good-naturedly. “Madison, this is my roommate and college best friend, Y/N.”

“Taehyung talks about you non-stop,” Madison says with a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the love of your life’s new girlfriend? How else can you salvage this conversation when you already see it going terribly? “You both were really good tonight. I’m happy that I came.”

“Me too!” Taehyung grins. “Did you see me wink at you? I promised you I would.”

You nod, eyes desperately scanning the rest of the room, the rest of the people, the floor, anything to keep from watching as Madison drapes herself over Taehyung, intertwines their hands as she leans against him, like she can’t get enough of him. 

“Hey, do you want to come to the afterparty? It’s at Alex’s house, apparently he has this brownstone in Brooklyn all to himself, I’ve heard it’s gorgeous—”

“No, actually, I have a lot of work that I need to catch up on,” you interrupt. You don’t think you’d last five minutes there, where the only person you know is Taehyung, where he’s got a girlfriend on his arm the entire time. You aren’t even sure how you’re faring now, if you’re even  breathing, standing before him and his equally-gorgeous new partner. 

You just wish everything could go back to normal.

Taehyung’s brows furrow, disappointed. “Oh, you do? But—”

“Yeah, I’m just—I’m really sorry, Tae, you know I want to. But I should get going. It was really nice meeting you, Madison, I hope we can see each other again sometime—” You spew out a few more goodbyes and even more apologies as you rush towards the exit, turning away so you don’t have to see Taehyung calling after you. 

On the way back, you bump into Namjoon, who’s closing up shop for the day. He looks positively exhausted, always working diligently from morning to far past sunset every day, but he smiles when he sees you, setting aside his tired eyes to say hello. 

“Hey, Y/N, fancy seeing you here,” he greets. “How are you? How’d it go?” He gives you a sort of grin that means that he thinks it went super well. 

“Not great,” you tell him truthfully, because it’s late and you don’t feel like hiding things anymore. 

“Oh,” Namjoon says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he thinks that none of the things he has to say will go down very well. You know the feeling. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, even though it’s not. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Namjoon asks solemnly. 

You frown. “Do you really think we should both be having this conversation?” Namjoon has his own secrets, his dreams of a short boy with colored hair by his side. “You aren’t much better.”

“No, I’m not,” he muses to himself. “But it is a big deal, Y/N. Please don’t act like it isn’t. You love him, don’t you? Even if he doesn’t love you back.”

You love him. 

It’s not a secret anymore. 

You love him like the stars love the moon, surrounding her in their light, making sure she never gets lonely. You love him like an old Hollywood movie, film faded and worn, getting played once in a while to make sure you never forget where you started. You love him like a flower, carnations, daffodils, chrysanthemums, perking up when you’re around him and wilting when you’re not. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say with a sigh. Certainly, there are more important things to dwell on. You’re looking for a new job because being an office temp isn’t exactly what you were envisioning for your life. You want to start fixing up the bathroom, because the grout by the shower is starting to disintegrate. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip is a fire hazard. “I’m okay with just being friends.”

Namjoon smiles, and it’s so sad, but not with pity. It’s sad with I know, and sad with feeling, because he gets it, and that must be why you’re here, standing on the sidewalk at ten on a Friday night, underneath the street lamps as the city begins to open its eyes. “But when you have him the way you do, how can you be okay with any of it?”

Taehyung comes home late that night, and you only know because you’re running to the bathroom at the same time he fumbles with the door. He takes longer than usual, which means he’s drunk, and you can only hope and pray that he’s alone. You watch as he finally manages to unlock the door, stumbling inside, managing to turn on the main overhead lights in your apartment as he does. From where you’re peering at him from the darkness of the hallway, you can make out dark red, purple spots all along his skin. 

You pull the bathroom door almost shut, leaving it a little ajar so you can gaze out at him, watch as he pours himself a glass of water and downs the entire thing before he makes his way to the hallway, heading for his bedroom. From here, you see the way his hair is mussed, all fucked up from someone’s hands in it, see the marks up close, the way they line his neck, his jaw, his collarbones. He finds his way to his bedroom and shuts the door behind him as you stand, trapped in the bathroom, mad at him for not knowing but furious at yourself for being so ridiculous.

Love was never supposed to hurt like this. 

The next time that you attend one of Taehyung’s opening nights, you don’t stick around long afterwards. 

You were planning on it, of course, like you always do, because ever since college you’ve made a point to see him after a show, tell him all of the things you wish you could say to him all of the time, you were amazing, you were brilliant, you were perfect in every way. You even have a small bouquet of flowers in your hands, arranged by none other than Namjoon—a pity bouquet, an I hope that you two can still be friends bouquet—ready to give to him, ready to see them sitting on your kitchen table as a reminder. 

And then, you see the way he kisses her, overcome with joy, running on that post-show high. You see the way he pulls her into him and plants one on her, arms wrapped around each other as they celebrate, in their own special way. 

Suddenly, the flowers feel like dead weight in your hands. 

You manage to catch one of the few co-stars of Taehyung’s that you recognize, one who was in Our Lives with him. His name is Seokjin, and he’s gorgeous. Broadway material. Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony material. He stops to say hello to you, and you ask if he could give the bouquet to Taehyung, tell him it was from you. 

Seokjin’s nice. He doesn’t ask why, he just nods. It saves you the trouble of telling him. Nobody wants to listen to your sob story. He says goodbye to you, and that he hopes to see you again soon. You hope so too. 

You spend the night curled up in your room pretending that everything is fine. You don’t see Taehyung when he comes home, and you don’t see him the next day, either. 

It’s not as if you’ve started to avoid Taehyung entirely. You live together—it would be downright impressive if you didn’t see each other for a whole day. It’s just, sometimes he still—

“Y/N? Wanna order Pad Thai?”

“Hey, Y/N, they’re playing The Devil Wears Prada on Freeform, do you want to come watch with me?”

“Central Park is having a Dog Festival, do you wanna go together?”

And sometimes, you just can’t. The thought of spending time with him makes your heart ache, whether it be from not wanting to be too close, or from missing him terribly. Either way, you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to muster up the same courage you once had. 

Turning to look at the pressed carnation in the vase atop your dresser, you laugh to yourself. It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago you thought that you would finally be able to tell him, to open up your heart and let him look into it like a kaleidoscope. Hard to believe that there was once a time when you thought that maybe, just maybe, he loved you back. It feels like it was eons ago. Like it was another universe entirely. 

You know that it’s not right for you to do this to Taehyung. He’s still your best friend. He always will be. He has no idea. He’ll never know. 

But sometimes—

Sometimes he comes home love drunk, wasted on kisses, splotches of pink lip gloss decorating his skin. 

Sometimes he spends dinner telling you all about the date he went on, the amazing vodka shrimp linguine he had, as the two of you eat Kirkland spaghetti in your dinky apartment. 

Sometimes he tells you that you’re his best friend, and that he misses you. 

Being in love with Taehyung had always been easy. It was being best friends, and making sure to keep the feelings a secret, that was hard. 

Taehyung isn’t home tonight. You hadn’t asked him where he’d be. You didn’t think that it mattered. 

And you tell yourself, over and over again, that it doesn’t matter. That you don’t need to know where he is every second of every day. He’s got a life outside of what exists in your stuffy apartment, a whole world of people craning to see him. He has reviews written about him in  The New York Times and people lining up outside the theater for his autograph on their Playbill. There’s so much more to his life than what he has with you. 

It’s better this way, you tell yourself, even if it’s not. Even if every time you step into your apartment, glance over at the vase on the kitchen table, you are reminded that it’s worse. Every time you see a damn carnation, daffodil, chrysanthemum, you can’t help but wish that things were different. You’re even starting to avoid Namjoon. 

That night finds you at a small Italian restaurant in a tiny alley off of Ninth Street. You’ve never been, but it had good reviews on Yelp and you could do with spending some time alone, wallowing in your feelings somewhere other than your bedroom. You’re starting to feel suffocated just being there. It would be good for you to get out. 

It would be good for you to get out, because the apartment reeks of what ifs, of what could have beens, and you can’t spend more than five minutes inside without throwing yourself your own personal pity party. You hardly see Taehyung nowadays because you can’t bear looking into his eyes anymore. Everything is awful, and you wish that it wasn’t, but you don’t know what to do to fix it. 

But Fate seems to love doing that thing where it’s out to get you. From the moment you met Kim Taehyung, Fate decided that you would be her next target. That no moment with him would leave you unscathed. And tonight is no exception. 

It’s just your luck that, ten minutes after you’re seated, the bell above the door rings to signal another customer, and you look up to see Taehyung and his girlfriend strolling in, glowing under the warm yellow light. You’ve never been more thankful, in that moment, to be seated right beside the bathroom, just out of sight of the booth that the hostess leads them to. It’s terrible, and it’s terrible, and it’s terrible. You watch as they order two glasses of a fancy rosé and giggle as they cheers to their show, to their lives, and to themselves. They spend the evening in the light of a single exposed bulb above their head, laughing and smiling and talking. 

The craziest part is that once upon a time, that would have been you. You and Taehyung would have decided that the night was a restaurant day and not a stay-at-home-and-cook-meal day. You would have found a quaint little place on Yelp and gotten the cheapest food on the menu. Once upon a time, you looked like that. 

[April 17th, 7:34PM]

Taehyung: [image sent] Taehyung: MMMMM look at this yummy yummy fish that I had tonight!! Taehyung: We should go here sometime!! I think you’d like it hehe

You look down at your plate. The food in front of you tastes like ash. 

“Congrats,” you say when you hear Taehyung leaving his bedroom, feet padding against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Huh?” Taehyung asks, eyes wide. It’s almost as if he’s surprised to see you out here, sitting on the couch, answering emails. Like he can’t believe you’re in your own home. You can’t blame him. “What are you talking about?”

“The review on The New York Times,” you tell him distantly, switching over to the tab on your computer where you read it. There’s a picture at the top of Taehyung and his co-star, front and center, holding hands as they look off into the distance, staring into an unknown future. “It’s your first five star review, isn’t it? They even listed it as the Critic’s Pick.”

“Oh, I… uh,” he begins, “I haven’t seen it yet. Been too busy.”

Bitterly, you wonder why. Even when you two are further apart than you have ever been, even when he spends all day out of the apartment and you spend all day inside, even when you barely fucking see each other, you can’t help but click on the articles that mention him, scroll through every review that mentions his name. 

Things might be different now, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be proud of him. Of what he does. Of who he is. 

“Well, they said great things,” you tell him, sparing him the trouble of looking. “You deserve it.”

“You’re coming tonight, right? You have to, if the play is getting such good reviews,” Taehyung asks, an olive branch. You’ve spent so much time doing everything you can to keep your relationship as distant as possible, hiding in your bedroom and eating dinner at odd hours. But this is the one thing that you both can still hold onto. Taehyung’s shows, his performances, and you, in the audience, always finding his eyes. If everything else is in shambles, at least you will always have this. “I think you’d like it.”

“It sounds very Matrix-y.”

“Well,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “It sort of is. But it’s also about love. You’d like that, right?”

You suppose you’d like it a little more in another timeline.

Taehyung continues, barely giving himself time to catch his breath. “Basically, these two kids are playing this life-simulation game where every move they make directly corresponds with the actions of the characters they’re playing as. Cue me and Lancaster. And we meet, and slowly fall in love, over a series of chance encounters. You know, a coffee shop, the bank, a restaurant.”

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowed. 

“Why?” Taehyung’s eyes widen in concern, smile downturned ever so slightly as he takes in your expression. 

“I don’t know—” you begin. There’s just something about the storyline that rubs you the wrong way. “Maybe I’m just being cynical. But is it really possible for two people to find love like that? Through chance? Luck?”

Perhaps, Namjoon would say. You can hear his voice echoing in your head now. After all, wasn’t it luck that brought the two of you together?

You shake his thoughts away. Namjoon’s got his own set of problems—he’s in no position to be the wise one in this scenario.

Taehyung shrugs, as if he’d never given that a thought to begin with. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think that love can blossom anywhere. Just so long as you nurture it, water it and give it lots of sunlight. I just—I think that if you look hard enough, you can find love anywhere.”

You turn to face him, blinking up at him as you stare at each other, sitting on this damn couch in the middle of your apartment. Taehyung waxes poetic in front of you, tells you that if you just fucking look for love, you’ll find it. But he doesn’t know—and he never will. You’ve been looking for love for the past four years, you’ve been searching in all of the nooks and crannies of your body, and the only place you’ve ever found it has been in the deep pit of your heart, dusty and quiet and forgotten. Even now, staring into his eyes, scanning every bit of his irises for even a sliver of it, a spark, you come up empty. 

How could he say something like that, when he lives with you? When he looks at you while you’re eating takeout or sitting and watching a movie together. Does he just not see it? Or worse—does he know, and just refuse to say anything?

Suddenly, your body turns cold. It’s hard to believe that someone as hopelessly romantic can’t see what’s right in front of him. 

“I wish that was how it worked,” you say sourly, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. You snatch your laptop from the table and head into your room, leaving Taehyung alone on the couch, speechless.

He may be the one with flowers blooming in his heart, but you have been drowning for the past four years, and never have you felt further from the surface than right now. 

You don’t go to Taehyung’s opening show that night. 

Taehyung leaves to get ready at the theater at three in the afternoon, and you bid him goodbye before holing yourself up in your bedroom and keeping yourself busy. You start watching the newest season of Stranger Things and tidy up the knick knacks you have scattered all over the place. Anything to keep your mind occupied. 

Taehyung texts you during intermission.

[June 3rd, 8:55PM]

Taehyung: Hey are you here?

You don’t respond. 

By ten at night, you end up with the cleanest room you’ve had in years and half of the season left to watch. It’s not a great kind of busy. The red carnation atop your dresser stares into your soul and you nearly throw it out three different times. But it’s an okay kind of busy, because you don’t know if you could have beared to see Taehyung on stage tonight. See him dancing around with a beautiful girl on his arm, confessing his love for her and pulling her in for a kiss. 

Over the years, you have seen Taehyung kiss so many people. From the shy freshman boy cast next to him in a student-written play in college to the model-esque women on stage in an off-Broadway play with him. And it never used to hurt—not like this. You saw him lock lips with another and you supposed that that was just show business. 

But it’s not show business anymore. It stopped being show business that night, when he came home to an apartment lit up with candles, the sweet scent of macarons wafting through the air, and told you he had found someone. It hasn’t been show business since, not when Taehyung is looking for love and finds it everywhere except where you wish he would look most. 

Maybe you’re just being selfish. Taehyung doesn’t have to love you for you to love him. You knew that. You lived with that. He’s your best friend. He always will be. You can’t do anything to force him to love you back. You had always been fine with just being friends. 

But just—knowing that he doesn’t feel the same. Having that certainty rooted deep within you. That’s the part that hurts the most. 

Taehyung comes home earlier than he normally would on a day like this, catching you in the kitchen as you brew some chamomile tea, hoping that it will calm the waves that crash against the pier inside you. You turn to meet his eyes, and suddenly, you feel like you can’t see anything in them at all. 

“Why didn’t you come tonight?” He demands. “I looked for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“Here,” you tell him. “I was thinking maybe I would go tomorrow.”

“But you’re always at my opening show,” Taehyung says, like you don’t know that already. “Why didn’t you come? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” you tell him. You don’t think you’re drunk or tired enough for this conversation. At ten at night, you’re still cognizant, aware of what consequences this conversation might have when you wake up in the morning. 

“Then why weren’t you there? You know I need you there,” Taehyung pleads, coming up to you as you stand in your kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil.

“No, I didn’t know that,” you tell him firmly. You went to his opening shows because it was tradition. Not because it was necessary. 

“You’re my good luck charm, for god’s sake, Y/N,” Taehyung says, fists curled up at his sides. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to burst at the seams, like there are so many things he’s holding at the tip of his tongue. “I did such a shit job tonight without you there. I spent the entire first half of the show looking out into the crowd so much that Lancaster asked me if I had taken anything before we started.”

“That’s not my fault,” you tell him. “I didn’t know that you thought I was your good luck charm, or whatever.” And, because you’re bitter and petty and heartbroken, you add, “I would have thought that would be something your girlfriend is.”

Taehyung loses it. “What’s been going on with you, Y/N? Why are you being like this? Ever since my first show, I feel like we’re drifting further and further apart. You never want to spend time with me, you never want to come to my afterparties, you barely spare a glance at my girlfriends when I introduce them to you, and now, you’ve stopped coming to my shows. All of these things that I thought that we shared, ever since college. Tell me, Y/N, am I doing something wrong? Is there something that I’ve missed? Because it feels like we’re fucking strangers.”

The water finishes boiling, the kettle whistling on the stovetop as steam billows from the spout. “I’m not obligated to do any of those things, Taehyung,” you tell him harshly. “Just because we did them in college doesn’t mean I have to keep doing them now. What, did you think we’d still be doing that sort of stuff when we’re thirty? Forty, fifty? They were just college traditions.”

“‘College traditions’?” Taehyung asks, astounded. “Were all of those nights that we spent together just college traditions, too? Are we not allowed to do those things anymore? I miss you, Y/N. I hate not having you around and tonight was the worst it’s ever been. I don’t know what to do or say, I don’t know how to fix this, I don’t even fucking know what’s broken.”

“I just need space, Taehyung,” you tell him, hands gripping the edge of the countertop as you stare at the laminate, eyes tracing the lines to keep you from meeting his own. “I just need some time to myself, that’s all.”

“But why, Y/N?” Taehyung pleads, He reaches over to grab your hand, holds it in between the two of you like a lifeline. 

“‘Why?’” You echo angrily. “You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?” You tug your hand from his grasp. It’s clear you’re beating a dead horse. You wonder why you even tried in the first place. How naive you were, standing in the kitchen surrounded by scented candles and flowers and macarons, dreaming of a life with him by your side. Foolish. 

“Realized what?” 

“That I’m in love with you!” You shout, and the world goes silent. The kettle stops whistling, the water having evaporated into nothing, the packet of chamomile tea left, forgotten on the countertop. You stand there, breaths heavy, chest heaving, as you look at Taehyung, angry and mad and in love, all at once. 

“You’re what?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” you hiss. “I already know that you don’t feel the same.”

“Y/N, wait—”

“Goodnight, Taehyung.” You turn on your heels, storming into your bedroom and collapsing against the door. Finally, finally, finally, you let the tears wrack your body, sending shivers down your spine. There’s salt on your tongue and smudged liner beneath your eyes. 

You thought pressing flowers makes them last forever. But even the red carnation is starting to shrivel. 

Subject Title: New Project????

From Park, Seojoon, to me

Hi Taehyung,

You did a great job last night in Chance Card! Really proud of you for accomplishing so much. Pretty soon you’ll be on Broadway and be too big for a small manager like me. You’ll need an agent, and a publicist, and a stylist, and a dog-walker…

Anyway, just emailing to let you know that Hugo Cleveland reached out to me to see if you were interested in auditioning for his next play. He personally wanted to see if you liked the part, and would give you preference if you did want to audition. It’s called Cupid, and it’s another one of those modern-day retellings of an old tale. I thought you might like it. Attached is the script and a short description of the play. Let me know if you’d like to give it a shot! I think this might be the project that gets you onto Broadway!!

As always, contact me if you need anything at all.

Park

Taehyung, still in bed despite it being nearly noon, taps around on his phone, pulling up the description of the play. He hates reading PDFs on his phone, so he’ll check out the script on his laptop later. 

Cupid by Hugo Cleveland

Cupid chronicles the tale of the world’s most well known hopeless romantic—Cupid himself. Set in a world of magical realism, Cupid has the power to make two people fall in love with a single shot of his arrow, and spends his life walking around the city of New York, bow and arrow by his side. 

The only problem is that Cupid has no way to make people fall in love with him, because his magic operates under the assumption of soulmates—a single person meant for another. And as the years have gone by, he has searched and searched and searched over millennia, desperate to find love, but it’s almost as if everyone has soulmates except for him. 

Little does he know, he need look no further to find the person he shall spend the rest of his life with—not when his best friend has always been by his side. 

Taehyung glares at the description like it’s personally offended him. He knows that it’s just a coincidence that he happens to receive this email the morning after his fight with you, but he can’t help but feel like God is playing the world’s worst practical joke on him. 

Cursed with the memory of an actor, he replays last night in his head over and over and over again, looping the feed back and forth as your words echo in his mind. 

You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?

He never knew what he was supposed to be looking for. You were just friends, you had always been just friends. But then he looked out in the crowd and couldn’t see you anywhere, couldn’t make out your eyes even in a sea of hundreds like he always does, and it felt like there was more than just another audience member missing. He spent the rest of the evening getting his hopes up, thinking that maybe you’re just sitting somewhere else, maybe you put in colored contacts, maybe you’re hidden by some really buff guy in front of you. 

He missed you, last night. He’s been missing you a lot recently, missing the way the days you spent together would bleed into nights. Missing the way you wrap your arms around him and smother him in cuddles, missing the way you always remember his takeout order for the fifteen different restaurants you frequent. Missing the way he once thought that you could spend your whole lives together. 

Realized what?

He supposes that he has always been a bit foolish. All of his ex-girlfriends broke up with him, never the other way around. And while they all ended on good terms, they all said the same thing to him: it always seemed like his heart belonged to someone else. But he misread that, too. He just thought that he hadn’t found the right person, yet. He would keep searching until he did. 

That I’m in love with you!

The craziest thing about it all is that your confession didn’t even shock him that much. After the initial surprise wore off, it was almost as if the dust settled around you, the storm finally calming. Like finding the last puzzle piece after thinking it had been lost for days. Like feeling everything click into place.

Taehyung has been thinking a lot about last night, but his least favorite part is always this:

I already know that you don’t feel the same.

He wishes that he could have told you. He wishes that he could have been strong enough, could have realized what he had before it slipped through his fingertips. Wishes that he could have reached out and grabbed onto you and never let go. There’s nothing more that he wants to do than see you again. You live in the same tiny New York apartment, and you’ve never felt further away from him. 

Taehyung wills himself out of bed and washes his face, clearing away the leftover makeup and the sleep in his eyes. It’s a fresh start. It’s a new day. 

He sees you standing in the kitchen, making that tea that you had left forgotten last night. He catches your eyes for just a second before he loses them again, watches as you turn your back to him in a desperate attempt to avoid contact. 

“I got a new potential show to audition for,” he says loudly, breaking the silence. 

“That’s cool,” you say, emotionless. 

“Do you want to know what it’s about?”

You don’t respond. Taehyung takes this as a cue to continue. 

“It’s about a boy on a search for love,” Taehyung begins, rallying himself despite only being able to see your back. “And he goes out and sees all of these people falling in love and wants that for himself. And he wonders why nothing is sticking, why he can’t seem to fall in love with anybody. And then he realizes that the reason he can’t seem to fall in love with anyone else is because he’s already found his person.” A pause. He’s just summarizing a story, but this feels like a confession. “His best friend.”

You turn around sharply, tea sloshing in the cup in your hand. Taehyung inhales, then exhales. It’s now or never. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“Don’t you think I’d play this part well?” He asks. 

You shrug, closing your eyes and breathing heavy. He can tell that you’re holding something back, trying not to burst at the seams. “I’m not sure, Tae.”

“I think I would,” Taehyung tells you confidently. He takes a step closer to you, reaches over to take the cup of tea from your hands, placing it on the counter. “Because I’ve been doing it for so long, already.”

You gasp when he kisses you, a gust of air escaping your lips and immediately mixing with his, seize up at the feeling of his lips on yours. Immediately, Taehyung wonders if he’s overstepped a boundary, or two, or five, but then he feels you relax under his touch, feels you reach your hands up to cup his cheeks as you press against him insistently, drunk on the taste of his lips on your own. 

Taehyung’s kissed a lot of people in his day, but this one is different. He’s felt sparks, seen fireworks, but with you, it’s as if he’s sinking into a warm bath after a cold day. As if he’s returning to an apartment filled with the things he loves after a long day out. As if he’s coming home. 

All of these emotions, all of the little things tucked away in the corners of his soul, in the dark attic of his heart, come bubbling up to the surface, and all he can do is hope that you can feel them, swallow them up like wine, as you press your lips against his, grinning. 

Finally, you pull yourself away, almost as if you think you’ll get drunk if you keep going. 

“How long?” You ask. 

Taehyung shrugs. “I don’t know. A while now, definitely.”

“Really?”

“I think so,” Taehyung says. “I guess that I was wrong, what I said before about looking for love. I looked everywhere, I wanted to see it in every spark that was set my way, but I forgot the most important place. I should have known.” You curl into his touch, resting your head against his chest as his arms wrap around your waist. “How about you?”

“Forever,” you breathe out. “It started and it never stopped.”

Taehyung beams. The flowerbud in his heart had been shuttered for so long, hardly watered and never in the sun. And then suddenly, the curtains opened up and the clouds began to cry, and everything blossomed. You make him feel like he’s always home. You make him feel safe. 

You make him feel like a red carnation in bloom.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[missskzbiased]

Can I Have This Dance?

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Oneshot, Drabble, Established Relationship! au

Pairing: Lee Minho x Fem! Reader

Word Count: ~2,0K [I did my best to keep it short, I swear]

Notes: The third fanfic for the Valentine’s request [That you can find here]

Coco anon, I’m sorry Ç.Ç I tried my best to finish Felix’s today so I could post it before but I failed lol. I finished Minho yesterday, and I had the idea for yours right after T^T But it’ll be the next one!

Chan ||  Minho || Changbin || Hyunjin || Han || Felix || Seungmin || Jeongin

Masterlist

Warnings: I don’t know. Mentions of food? And a ‘joke’ on nudity?

Requested: Yes, by  @bythesunnotbythemoon [ I tried my best to give you a soft Minho! I hope you like it]

General Tag List: @channiewoo @aliceu

[If you wish to be tagged to the other Valentine’s requests, please send me an ask <3]

                                                          ////

    You threw your feet over the coffee table, rubbing them to warm you up.

    The door creaked as Minho opened it, revealing his confused face and a bunch of bags hanging on his arms. You straighten yourself, sitting on the couch properly and tilting your head as you stared at him curiously, studying his outfit carefully before landing your eyes on his. He was too dressed up to stay home, you noticed. He placed the bags on the floor, crossing his arms and mimicking your antics as he looked at you from head to toes.

    “Why are you dressed like this?” His tone didn’t hold any judgment, but it was clear that he couldn’t understand what was going on, utterly bewildered by what he was witnessing.

    You frowned, confused by what he meant. You were wearing your fuzzy socks on top of your pants ─ assuring a bit extra warmth to your legs ─, a worn-out hoodie giving you no shape at all as you made yourself the best definition of a couch potato. Even though you weren’t fancy, Minho had already seen you like this about thousands of times, and he never complained about it before.

    “What? Were you expecting me to be naked or something?” You scoffed, getting a snort out of him. He rolled his eyes, coming inside and locking the door behind him before walking your way to give you a forehead kiss. You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious of his sudden loving behavior “What is it? Why are you kissing me?” You inquired, and he whined, annoyed at your question.

    “What? Can’t I kiss my girlfriend when I feel like it?” He furrowed his brows, upset by your antics “You make it sound like I never kiss you” He nagged, voice intending to be low enough for you to not understand him, but you got it anyway, chuckling at his almost imperceptibly pouting.

    You got up off the couch, arms going to entangle his neck and oblige him to look at you. He stared at your eyes, trying to maintain a cold façade but failing when you leaned to peck his lips, smiling at him softly. He rolled his eyes to the sky, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds before sighing. You watched his eyes glinting, lips quivering to fight back a smile before he leaned to kiss you again, wrapping your body into his arms as he rested his forehead on yours, closing his eyes to let the cozy feeling sink into his soul.

    “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that” You chuckled “It’s just that you came into my house asking about my clothes and full of bags…” You nuzzled his nose, getting a soft smile from him “What is it all about? Did you finally kill Seungmin? Are we going to run away from the cops? Should I pack my stuff?” You kept asking hurriedly, holding back your laughter as he rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief, moving yours along with his since you were attached.

    “Seungmin is safe and sound… For now” He promised, chuckling at his own joke “I’m full of bags and wanting you to dress up because it’s Valentine’s Day, kitten” He explained, and you shot your eyes up in surprise, disconnecting your head for a second “Did you forget it?” He asked amusedly, looking at you with twinkling eyes that made him resemble a playful cat.

    No, you didn’t forget it.

    The thing was that you had never ever imagined that Minho would like to make something special for Valentine’s. Of course, Minho was a caring and loving boyfriend, but he was also really bad at expressing it comfortably, so you just assumed he would want to keep it casual. Why would you dress up if you thought you were going to have a chill Netflix evening? You tilted your head, frowning as you watched him studying you, blissful about your dumbfoundedness.

    “So we’re going out?” You asked just to be sure; clearly wary about the revelation “I thought we were going to stay home… You know? Watching High School Musical for the hundredth time…” You stressed your words to sound persuasive, blinking repeatedly as you interlocked your fingers and tried to look charming. He gave a flick on your nose, enticing a whine from you that made him chuckle as he made his way to the bags, throwing you a look over his shoulder.

    His mysterious smirk morphed into a wide grin.

    “Dress up nicely and come upstairs” He asked, choosing not to reveal anything “I’ll fix everything around and wait for you there” He added, picking up the bags before opening the door “You’ll like it, I promise you” He decided to reassure you, throwing one more look at you before getting out from your apartment.

    What the hell? Did he think he was Blue to throw clues around the place?

    You couldn’t lie, though… You were beaming.

     The excitement crept into your body, making you giggle, bouncing like a child as you rushed to your room, mindlessly looking for some clothes that could match his outfit and yet warm you up properly. You clumsily got rid of your clothes, jumping on one foot as you tried to take off too many pieces per second but still managing to do so, throwing each piece over your body with newfound coordination. You checked yourself on the mirror, nodding in approval before rushing to the door and then upstairs.

    You gasped, gobsmacked as soon as you stepped into the Terrace.

    Minho smiled at you, spreading his arms and twisting his body from one way to another, as to show you all of his set up. The darkness of the night was nothing compared to the dozens of the small lights ─ all of them connected by a braided wire that hung around all the place ─ offering faint dots that made everything seem too charming. You watched everything with your mouth agape, following the lights that crossed the roofless ceiling in a zigzag, casting their glow on the countless flowers and bushes that your neighbors grew up here.

    “Wow” You blurted, blinking as if to check if it wasn’t all in your head, still looking around the place to admire all of his work “This is beautiful, Minho” You said breathlessly, taking your time to reach the table at the center, swiveling your head as you wandered around. You carefully caressed the tablecloth, fingers tracing its way on the fabric, feeling every rough yet silky inch under your touch, and then bumping into one of the snacks on the table.

     It didn’t go unnoticed how he chooses to plaster all of your favorites over it.

    You chortled ─ more like choked in all of the emotions that flooded your chest ─, pressing your palms against your eyes as you tried to stop the tears to roll down your face, feeling silly all of sudden. Why the hell were you crying over some snacks on a fancy table? You snorted, finding it amusing how you couldn’t help but keep wiping your tears away just to the realization of how much thought he had put into it.

    “I loved it” You muttered, trying to recompose yourself as you turned around to meet his gaze. He smiled fondly at you, and he didn’t even seem up to laugh at your face as he raised his hand, holding some kind of controller in the air and staying still, as if to build the tension up. When he finally clicked the button, a calm song began to fill the place, coming from the speakers he placed around.

   You couldn’t believe it.

  Minho walked slowly to you, hand extended for you to take, a proud smile plastered on his face as you pouted, lips quivering until you gave up on holding back your tears and allowing your face to twist on a frown. You weren’t exactly a beautiful crier, so the fact that Minho kept looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes ─ ignoring completely the way your eyes quickly swelled along with your nose ─, spoke volumes to you. He stopped right in front of you, soft eyes studying your face and waiting for his cue.

    “Take my hand” He sang along with the song, holding your hand gently “Take a breath” He continued, chuckling as his thumb made its way to wipe away your tears, cupping your cheek and engulfing you in his warmth “Pull me close and take one step” He slid his hand to your waist, following the instructions and pulling you impossibly closely to his chest, “Keep your eyes… Locked on mine” You stared straight into his eyes, feeling all the air vanishing from your lungs as he seemed to be capable of reaching the deepest parts of your soul with his gaze “And let the music be your guide” He sighed, feeling at peace.

    Minho closed his eyes, resting his forehead on yours as he slowly rocked your bodies side to side, forgetting all about his perfect dance moves and how he could twirl you around and around in an endless blissful spin. He enjoyed the intimacy, drowning himself in it as he took a deep breath. It felt like he was taking all of you in. As if you were the air he needed to breathe and be alive. The surroundings melted away, leaving only you and him together, lost in the time and the music, and fully registering each other’s presence in your mind.

    Your inebriating smell. Your heavy breath. Your rhythmic heartbeats.

    Your comforting warmth. Your familiar shape. Your caring touch.

    He was all about you and you were all about him, all over each other as the music changed its cadence and prompted him to open his eyes, twirling your around once before pulling you closer again, gently guiding you around the place. You played with his locks, giggling when he purred under your touch, softly leaning his head on your hands as if to ask for some more, closing his eyes for a brief second, and inhaling deeply. He moved his hand away from your waist, cupping your face as he leaned in for a kiss, completely ignoring his plans to dance with you throughout the whole song.

    Somewhere inside your head, you were fully aware that both of you were standing still on the Terrace, kissing each other as you had done hundreds of times already. As cheesy as it was, though, this time you felt like you were floating. The feeling was completely new to you, making you light-headed as everything seemed to spin around you, turmoiling something inside your chest that you didn’t notice before.

    The way his lips moved against yours set you aflame.  

  The passionate grip he had on your skin made you feel wanted and needed.

    The way your stomach twisted and burnt got you nervous.

    You couldn’t help but look at him in a whole new light when both of you broke away your contact, diving in each other’s eyes and taking in the new feeling that burbled inside your chest. It felt right. There was no mistake for you. No wronging. No doubt. It felt just right. As if you fitted as one all along the way, and yet there were two of you to shape it. You felt like home. You felt like you found all the answers that you didn’t even know you were looking for. You felt found yet you were finding him.

    You felt whole.

    You felt loved.

    You felt love.

    “I love you” You said in unison.

    The first time any of you ever dared to say it out loud.

    “I love you” Both of you repeated again, as to answer the previous statement, and chuckling as you stumbled over each other’s word. The next kiss you shared tasted like a whole new one, more as a dance between your tongues than a battle. A dance to a song that you hoped that never end, very different from the one that finally reached its last note.

[atalho-s]

Light Up The Dark

Part 1 | June

pairing: bartender!tom x famous!reader

warnings: some smut +18 (in this particular chapter it’s nothing TOO explicit, but miniors be aware), swear words?, drinking, let me know if anything else!

words: 4.9 k

summary: y/n is a famous horror writer. Her books are on the lips of the people and her face is on all the magazine covers of promising young people.

She has just moved to Los Angeles, the city of celebrities and luxury, when she starts to get a writer's block as she starts writing her newest book. A way to distract herself and seek inspiration leads her to have her destiny mapped out with a simple waiter named Tom who has a delicious british accent.

What happens when her inspiration comes back only after she spends a night with him and she only manages to write after being in the company of that guy she just met? Maybe he'll become her newest addiction.

a/n: english it’s not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! this is a series i started writing a while ago, i hope y’all enjoy :) the reader it’s from brazil here, but you can replace from any country you want lol And obv i’m not from LA and never been there, so if i say something out of reality it’s bc of that 😂

"June arrived at the restaurant, sat down near the bar and looked around vaguely. The strange people's faces made her think better and maybe drink a shot of tequila too.

She opened his folder with the horrifying photos of the mysterious case. She felt sick to her stomach.

People said that by then she should have been used to see this kind of thing, but that was repulsive.

She wish the nightmare she had the night before was a way to solve that puzzle, but believing in the afterlife now wouldn't help her... If...If..."

- Damn it... - Y/n slammed her fist on the table. - Writer's block sucks. - She said and took the last sip of her tea.

It s been a week since she couldn't write anything. She would write maybe two paragraphs, maybe even three if she got lucky, but she always ended up erasing it, because she always turned into something meaningless or too cliche.

Damn the time she had promised to deliver something to her editor by the end of the month. But she hadn't counted on the lack of ideas when she agreed to that.

She got up from her chair in frustration and crossed her arms, pacing, as if her creativity had gone out for a walk and she was waiting impatiently for it to come back.

Why had she agreed to write a new book in the first place? She didn't need money. Their previous four books were already making huge profits, and they were going to make a new television series based on one of them.

So why writing another one? Maybe because, she had been having too many nightmares lately. Many family and friends told her to see a psychologist, see if she didn't have some hidden trauma. But looking for a psychologist? Admitting your weaknesses and personal things to a stranger? Never. That would be horrifying.

Writing helped. Transferring his fears to pages was hers gift. When she wrote she didn't have nightmares, didn't see things, wasn't sad. It was like a drug, a calming medicine.

Maybe fame was also making her restless lately. She hated being the spotlight, being the magazine cover of promising young people. She hated to see her name highlighted. But she loved having readers, yes. She loved when someone felt good reading her books or in the good sense of the word: terrified by her stories.

At the height of her 25 years, he never thought her books would become famous at that point. She had always enjoyed writing since she was a child, but working with it was just an unattainable dream. Until, at age 19, she quit her hideous job as a hotel receptionist and decided to publish her first story.

Obviously there were many rejections, until a publisher agreed to publish their work. From then on, her books became more and more known. They called her the new horror genius, the mystery queen, and sometimes even "Stephen King's lost daughter."

She didn't think it was all that. But she accepted the descriptions gladly. No wonder her books didn't come out of the top spot on the best sellers.

Another thing that motivated her to continue with that story, was a phrase from her own idol mentioned, Stephen King: "good stories are those that stay in the head for a long time". And God only knew how that story had been with her for far too long. She always wanted to put it down on paper, so here she was trying to put into words what her head brought up as random thoughts.

But now she was having one of his first creative blocks. Obviously she had already had it with previous books, but nothing as frustrating as this one. She had been trying hard for days, which was exhausting.

She looked at the clock on the wall: 11pm. Who knows if she took another break before starting writing again? Maybe it would help to come up with more ideas.

She thought about watching a show or movie, but he wasn't in the mood. She looked at her long polka dot pajamas under her favorite warm robe and snorted. Go out? On a Thursday night? On a cold night? No way.

But what if it helped her have more writing material? Watching people on the street really helped. If June, the character in her book, was in a bar, maybe if she went to one too it would help to have something to build on.

Writers did it all the time. Describe places that already existed, situations similar to which they lived. So, it wouldn't be new. Maybe she'd even put the location in her tribute if helped she got out of her creative block.

She took a deep breath and went to take a shower. It was decided, she would go out. She put on her best jeans, a Ramones T-shirt with a leather jacket. It wasn't a fancy outfit, but she didn't intend to go somewhere fancy anyway. Her stylist would have been dying to see her now, but she didn't care one bit.

She went out pressing the bottom of the elevator. Y/n had lived on the top floor of a building for 2 months, right in downtown Los Angeles. Sometimes she didn't even know why she chose to live there, she hated the big city and what came with it: paparazzi, celebrities, crazy people who feel superior, wealth and luxury. She came from a humble family, so she always felt like an outsider.

Y/n arrived downstairs and left the condominium calling a taxi that was passing in the street just in time. She walked in and closed the door, crossing her arms, trying to ward off the cold.

- Good night miss, where are you going? - the driver asked looking at her in the rearview mirror.

- Good night... Actually I don't know, do you have any suggestions for a bar around here?- she asked looking out the window. She didn't even bother to look for suggestions for places nearby.

- Well, it depends on what you're looking for... Something luxurious or something fun? - He said and a smiled played on the corer of her mouth. Luxurious was the opposite of fun indeed.

- Something fun, of course.

- So, I suggest the new Seven Devils bar, it's less than 20 minutes from here... - he said.

- Interesting name... Could be. - She said shrugging.

- The name is kinda creepy, but the place is cozy and welcoming, I went once. - the driver said starting and entering the street that was practically empty for being a weekday.

- Cool... - Y/n said looking at the city lights through the window.

After nearly twenty minutes the taxi stopped in front of what appeared to be a small door with a security guard in front of it. The neon sign indicated the name of the place, it seemed a mysterious place for those who passed by without knowing it.

- Thanks. - Y/n said handing the driver the money.

- You're not the Y/n Y/l/n? I didn't want to say anything, but I'm a fan of you, I love your books, they help me pass the time while I wait for passengers. - the driver asked turning a little with one of the Y/n books in his hand. - Could you sign this for me?

- Sure! - Y/n spoke excitedly taking the book from his hand and leaving a message along with her signature. - Thanks for the tip of the place. Have a good night... - She said opening the door.

- No, thank you, have a good night miss. -he said and she smiled closing the door and the taxi left leaving her alone looking at the door in front of her.

She approached the security guard who wished her good night, giving her room to enter, after she showed her ID. Y/n entered a little afraid of what she would find. The door behind her closed and she looked around. It was really cozy as the taxi driver said, it had a part with several tables, which were a little empty and a bar with stools around. The place had a good atmosphere, one of those that people go there to meet and chat with friends, in the background there was a kind of pop song that she wasn't sure if she knew or not.

He slowly approached the bar and sat down on one of the stools. A woman with several tattoos appeared behind the counter and came to serve her.

- Good night! How can I serve you?- she asked with a smile.

- Good night... Hm... Maybe a martini? - Y/n said taking a look at the drinks on the shelf behind the attendant.

- Okay, I'll be back with your order, anything else?

- That's it for now, thanks. - She replied smiling and the attendant walked away.

Y/n kept looking around, watching people, maybe looking for some inspiration. Something that would turn the key in his mind. Many who were there were in groups of friends and were talking animatedly, laughing. Some young and some older, in suits and ties, perhaps coming out of work.

Until one guy in particular caught her attention. He wore the black uniform with the name of the place, with an apron tied around the waist of the same color, and was picking up some glasses from some empty tables. He had dark brown hair slicked back and eyes the same color, very expressive and large. A boy's face from the outside, but on the inside had a mysterious and confident air.

He balanced a tray full of things with an greatest skill in one hand and smiled at some people, he seemed charming because everytime he left a table he left people whispering and giggling embarrassed behind his back.

He walked over and entered the bar placing the tray behind the counter, came close to the other attendant who already had the Y/n martini ready and she could hear him talking, soon realizing he had a perfect accent.

- Sally, you can leave it to me, go take your break. Whose martini is it?- he asked taking a look around.

- Oh thank you, my feet are killing me. It's the girl over there. -she said indicating Y/n with her head and he looked at her, making Y/n realize that she was staring at him for too long, so she looked away embarrassed.

- Okay. - he said looking at where Y/n was sitting and stopped in front of her with the glass. - Good night miss, here is your order. - He spoke with a british accent. Only at that moment did Y/n realize that his accent was well loaded and God only knows how much she loved that accent.

- Oh yes, thank you very much. - She said raising her eyes to look at him and smiled then he blinked with one of his eyes and gave her one more look, before going to deliver another order to a man who was sitting a few benches away.

Y/n felt a shiver all of a sudden, that boy had made her legs a little weak and she didn't really know why. I mean, he was handsome, very handsome and he had a special charm, but it wasn't that much, was it? Maybe it was because it had been a while since she'd dated anyone. When was the last time? Two months ago? Since she had moved in she hadn't gone out with anyone, she had locked herself in her apartment and was writing like crazy. She didn't have time to go out, not even with her friends when she was working on a new book. Which brought them dissatisfaction from time to time, not just because she didn't hang around with them, but because she didn't even go out on one-night stands.

She never been the one that going out with a guy just for sex, she had to have some good first dates and maybe she would take him to see her apartment or go to his apartment. Friends of hers thought she was too old in her spirit, but what can he do? If she couldn't be bad girl once in a while. For a moment she thought, "For this english guy I would be" but shook her head away from the thoughts. She went back to analyzing him, dammit why did he have to be so fit? She could see that the T-shirt he was wearing highlighted his muscles that were only left to her imagination, she found herself biting her lip a bit and snatching her martini off the counter, taking a big sip.

The attendant approached again, drying some glasses with a towel, and took one more look in her direction where she looked away quickly making him smirk. He stopped in front of her again, bracing her arms on the counter, making her swallow hard. He didn't know why she was so nervous, he was just a guy, no biggie.

- I like the shirt. - He pointed with a smile, which made her think he had a beautiful and endearing smile. She looked down and then looked at him smiling too.

- Thank you... Ramones is everything... - she said and drank the last sip of her drink placing the empty glass in front of her right after. - Can you serve one more?

- Sure...- he said, still smiling, took the bottle and filled his glass again. - Trying to distract yourself on a thursday night?

- Yeah... you could say yes... - she said taking another sip. - Have you worked here for a long time?

- In fact, it's been almost six months since I moved to the United States and I've been working here for four months. -he said putting the towel that was in his hand on his shoulder.

- Hm... You're from London?

- I am, wow how did you find out? - he asked raising an eyebrow playfully and she smiled.

- Yeah, your accent really doesn't give out anything ... - she said and he gave a low laugh making her have more goose bumps.

- You also have a different accent, have you lived here for a long time? - he didn't know who she was, which was good. But it also wasn't like she was recognized all the time, despite her face being on magazine covers, she was still a writer, so she was only recognized by those who liked to read or who vaguely remembered her face.

- I was born in Brazil actually, but I've lived here for years, lived in another city for almost five years and now I've decided to come to Los Angeles two months ago...

- I see ... - he said organizing some drinks that were on the counter. - Do you like it here?

- More or less... It's a busy city, isn't it?

- Yeah, it's not for anyone. - He said shrugging. - I like it, I like the rush, but the glamor part really isn't me. - the attendant said and she smiled.

- You're right... I mean, I don't like the glam too much either... - She looked away at her nails.

- What do you work with? - he asked and she looked at him again.

- I'm a writer...

- Nice! What do you write? - He asked curious looking at her with attention.

- I write horror and thriller books.

- Interesting... I would never read, actually I'm not much of a reader anyway, but I wouldn't, because I'm terrified of those things. - He said crossing his arms and she laughed.

- Oh, it's not that terrifying, it's just stories. - She said leaning her elbows on the counter.

- Still, I prefer to have my good night's sleep intact. - He said and she laughed making him smile looking at her.

When she was about to say something, a customer signaled for him and he excused himself going towards the man who was furthest away.

Y/n sighed. She still didn't have any new ideas about her story, but she was entertained by that conversation. She liked not being recognized, she liked him not being interested in her books, for a moment she felt oblivious to anything, liked feeling disconnected from her world.

He returned shortly after and they started talking again. They talked about bands, movies, superficial celebrities and even politics (an important topic in Y/n's vision, who was very firm with her ideas, thankfully he had passed the test). She found out that he was the same age as her and that he moved to the US to look for something that would give him money or a perspective on life, ended up getting that job and intended to stay until he found a different area. The hours passed and they kept finding subjects to give their opinion or questions to ask each other.

- Did you go to college? - she asked after a while.

- No, I don't think I'm smart enough for that, or have the patience. What about you?

- Everyone is smart enough. I started going to business school, but I dropped out when my books started to pay off...

- Wow, your books should give you a good amount of money to be able to drop out of college and dedicate yourself to them...

- Yeah... You could say that. - She shrugged.

- You know looking at you closer like that...- he said getting a little closer and she held her breath for a moment. - I've seen you somewhere...

- Really? - She said raising her eyebrow and drinking from a straw, now with a different drink.

- I don't know, you're not strange to me... - he said putting his hand on his face thoughtfully.

- Well, I hope it's from somewhere nice. - She smiled and he smiled back looking at her. - Do you have a girlfriend or are you married? - Y/n asked and regretted a little, what was she thinking? He wasn't married, as he didn't have a ring on his finger as she'd noticed. But what was her intention by asking that question? She didn't even know, she just knew it had escaped her.

- Neither darling. - He replied smiling a little mischievously and she felt butterflies with the way he called her by that nickname and with that accent. - How about you?

- Neither ... - She replied avoiding looking at him, those eyes hypnotized her and she didn't like to feel at his mercy of a guy she had just met. She took the cell phone disguising but paid attention to the time. - My God, it's already 2:00 in the morning! I completely missed the time.

- I think the company ended up distracting you. - He said still not taking his eyes off her and she felt her cheeks heat up.

- Yeah, the chat was really good... But I have to go... - she said getting up.

- If you wait I can take you home, I'm already leaving, the bar is already closing. - he said and Y/n looked around seeing that some waiters were already collecting some things from the tables.

She thought for a moment, take a ride home with him? It didn't make sense, she had just met him, but at the same time she had enjoyed talking to him so much. He didn't seem like a bad person, but even so you would never know for sure. At the same time she never took any chances, why not let that pretty boy take her home? Finally, she thought: you know what? Screw this.

-Erm, ok...- She shrugged. - I'll go to the cashier to pay and wait for you outside?

- No need to pay darling, it's on me. - He spoke winking and she smiled.

- Oh no, I'll pay no problem...

- Your company has paid off your debt, it's ok. - He replied and she took a deep breath rolling her eyes.

- If you insist...- she said giving up.

He came out from behind the counter and motioned for her to follow him, arriving at the front door where the security was.

- Tuwaine, you can let her pass, it's on me. - He told the big guy and he looked at the english man, sawing his eyes suspiciously and smiling right away. Making Y/n laugh inside.

- Meet you outside? It will only take a few minutes - the attendant said and she nodded, leaving in the cold night.

She leaned against the door with her thoughts. She had come here just to get inspiration and to have her creative back, but she was coming home with an english guy. She didn't even recognize herself anymore, but to say she wasn't anxious (in a good way) was a lie.

She was lost in her thought, until minutes later he came out wearing a denim jacket, which made him look even more handsome.

- Let's go? - He said and she followed him to an old car parked right in front of the bar.

He opened the door for her to get in and she thanked him by sitting in the passenger seat, pulling on her seat belt as he closed the door. He sat down next to her right away, also putting on his belt.

- Hey, before we go: I didn't ask for your name! If you're going to take me home at least I have to know that- she asked realizing that she didn't even know that yet and he looked towards her smiling.

- Tom Holland. - He said stretching his hand. - Nice to meet you.

- Y/n Y/l/n- she said, squeezing his hand. And you can't deny that she felt butterflies in her stomach as she felt her skin on hers.

- Your name is not strange to me, I must have read it in one of your books in some shop window. - He said starting and leaving with the car.

- Yeah, who knows ... - she said and he turned on the radio leaving the volume low.

They were exchanging a few words until she indicated that they had arrived at the building where she lived. Tom parked and looked up in a daze.

- Wow, you really have money... - he said and she took off her belt turning towards him.

- A little bit...- she replied crossing her arms. - Well, thank you so much for the ride...

- You're welcome darling. - He said turning his eyes to her. Again that nickname that sounded perfect on his lips.

She turned around, but when she was about to open the door, she turned back to Tom, who was leaning with one hand on the steering wheel and watching her with attention. The next words escaped her again and she was afraid she'd regret it.

- Tom, do you want to come in? - She spoke still holding the door and the boy smiled.

- Sure ... - he said taking the key from the ignition and she shook her head slightly leaving.

He followed her and they entered the building. Tom looked at everything admired which made Y/n smile a little to herself. They entered the elevator and she pressed the penthouse button causing him to raise an eyebrow.

- You really must be a great writer. - he said and she laughed.

He leaned his back against the elevator wall, putting his hands in his pocket and looking her up and down, making her shy. He kept looking at her and it was making her nervous.

They were silent until the elevator opened after a while and they got out. Y/n put a password on the door and it swung open with a small click, she took held the latch and motioned for Tom to enter.

After the two of them entered she closed the door again behind her and watched Tom standing further on, looking around.

- Nice apartment...- he finally said.

- Thank you... - She leaned against the table at the entrance. She didn't know what to do next, maybe it had been a bad idea to bring him here. Why was she so impulsive that night? -Tom, I don't know why I invite you in, sorry...-she said a little nervous looking at her feet. He turned towards her, approaching and stopping in front of her.

- Are you sure you don't know? - He asked and she raised her head, seeing those brown eyes. She bit her bottom lip watching him closely. Damn he knew how to hypnotize her. He took another step and placed a hand on either side of her on the table, cornering her - Your body says otherwise, love... - he said softly feeling her breath hitch slowly and approaching his face to hers, alternating the look of your eyes to her lips. Y/n found another nickname that was perfect when he say.

He finally closed the distance by pressing his lips to hers. His lips were soft and warm, as if they were meant to be kissed. She returned the kiss willingly and when she laced her fingers in his neck, he licked her lower lip slowly asking for passage in which she opened them letting his tongue explore her mouth.

His hands gripped her waist and roamed her body greedily. As he kissed her, he caught her from behind her legs and sat her down on the entrance table, biting her bottom lip shortly after, provoking a low moan from her. He smiled against her lips and trailed kisses to her neck, attacking her skin with desire, making her throw her head back a little.

She grabbed his hair and pulled him back so she could kiss him. Which he gladly reciprocate. His kiss was urgent, but without being rude, he tasted like mint, making her want him even more.

His fingers found the button of her pants and he undid them quickly pulling them out, tossing them aside. When he came back he took her calf and kissed her leg up to her thighs, making her sigh. He moved up the kisses until he caught the hem of her shirt and pulled it up a little, kissing her stomach as well. Y/n didn't know what to do but feel goose bumps with every touch he gave. He then hiked up her shirt and she lifted her arms where he pulled her off, tossing along with her pants that were also on the floor.

She was just wearing her underwear in front of him, it made her a little excited and embarrassed at the same time, but the way he looked at her made her feel confident. He went back to kissing her body, this time kissing each covered breast in turn and reaching for the back of her bra and opening it. She helped him out tosiing to the side and he stood between her legs just watching her for a second, making her feel her cheeks heat up.

- Perfect... - he said with a low voice, as it was for himself and bent down to her breasts kissing each one of her nipples and then sucking them deliciously. Y/n moaned and bit her lip to keep her moans from getting louder, tangling her fingers in his hair again. He looked into her eyes for a few seconds and smiled slightly lowering his kisses to where she wanted him most.

He reached the hem of her panties and pulled them out slowly, kneeling between her legs and she looked at him with expectation. He returned the look and gave that smirk again.

- Look at you darling.... - That damn nickname. - Extremely wet and I haven't even touched you yet... - he said approaching and devouring her right away making her throw her head back with pleasure, biting her lips again to not sound so pathetic with her moans that insisted in wanting get out. - Oh, please don't drown out those wonderful sounds you make, I want to hear how good I'm making you feel. - He said in a husky tone, returning to his task after and she parted her lips letting her moans spread through the apartment.

****************************************************************************************

Y/n woke up the other day in her bed. She didn't even know how she got there, she just had flashes of the night before and how good she felt in each moment. She stretched and looked to the side seeing she was alone. She got up and put on a robe who was on the side of the bed.

After going to the bathroom and doing her morning hygiene routine she walked around the apartment looking around to see if Tom was somewhere else in the house, but found nothing. Which was understandable, it wasn't like she expected him to stay there and have breakfast with her and all.

She arrived in the kitchen and made black coffee and lean against the countertop. What that simple waiter had done to her was ridiculous, in a good sense, she felt great and kept remembering that accent that was stuck in her mind. He had consumed her in a way she had never imagined it she could be.

Taking a deep breath she set down turning her notebook on. Then opened her book and started writing.

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 3: Rainbows

Title: We’ve Got Your Back, Jack

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1,660

Tags: Mild (brief) Angst, Dean Winchester and Castiel are parents, De-aged Jack Kline (he did it to himself), Jack Kline is twelve, Fingernail painting as therapy, Claire is an excellent big sister, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Canon Divergence from 15x18 (twelve years later), Jack has a guinea pig named Nougat

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Claire Novak/Kaia Nieves, Background Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy

On AO3 Here

When Jack is teased at school for wearing his favorite rainbow jacket, his family comes together to help build him back up.

“Sunshine, you gotta calm down.” He moves to stand behind Cas where he’s sitting at the kitchen table and squeezes his shoulders reassuringly. There’s hardly any give; Cas is a single ball of tension.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean sets a steaming mug of tea in front of Cas, who glares at it with such intensity that Dean’s surprised it doesn’t shatter on the spot.

“I can’t calm down,” Cas growls. “He was bullied. The sweetest boy in the world, and they made him feel small. How are you calm, Dean?”

Dean sighs and pulls up a chair. “He seemed fine, Cas. I mean, he is God. He was already talking about changes he wants to make once he comes back into power.”

Cas grips his mug and takes an abrupt, angry sip. “I wish he could make them now.”

“Me too, buddy. But he’s learning. Every shitty person he deals with, he learns something. That’s why he’s doing this whole human thing, remember?”

The kitchen’s quiet for a moment while Cas contemplates. He cups his hand over the tea, steam escaping between his fingers in lazy tendrils. “It’s just my instinct to shield him from cruelty.”

Dean nods. He scoots closer, sliding an arm around Cas’ warm, solid waist. “I know.”

Some of the rigidity in Cas’ posture softens and he leans into Dean’s side. Dean presses a kiss to his temple.

“What can we do?” Cas asks quietly. “For now. I want him to feel happy at school.”

Dean hums thoughtfully. “Not sure. The school already talked to the other kid's parents, so that part’s taken care of, and Jack said it was just the one boy. I think we just gotta be there for him. Remind him he’s awesome.”

“I just want to wear my rainbow coat.”

Dean and Cas turn around to see Jack standing in the doorway, rubbing his eye. He’s wearing the bee-patterned pajamas Cas got him for his twelfth birthday in the spring, and is cradling his guinea pig, Nougat, in one arm.

Cas immediately stands up and beckons Jack over. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Jack shakes his head, as earnest and deliberate as he does everything. He pads across the kitchen and hands Nougat to Dean before sitting down in Cas’ empty chair. It took Dean a while to get used to the guinea pig, to her sharp nails and shrill squeaks, but now he likes having her warm little body against his chest.

Cas flips the kettle back on to make Jack a cup of tea, too. “Did that boy’s teasing start with your coat?”

Jack plays with the strings on his pajama pants and nods. “I don’t understand. When he said those mean things and laughed, he felt—” Jack pauses, blinking thoughtfully at the ceiling. “He felt afraid, like he was cornered. Defensive.”

“His emotions must have been strong for you to sense them,” Cas says gently, pouring the steaming water into Jack’s favorite mug, a blue one with a big sun on the side. Dean slowly strokes a finger over Nougat’s soft brown head. His chest feels tight.

“Yes, they were. I feel bad that he’s scared,” Jack continues. “And I’m going to work on helping people like that when Amara gives me my powers again. But I also just want to wear my coat.”

He’s twelve, Dean thinks. He’s God, and he’s twelve.

“You’re gonna wear your coat, kiddo,” he says, bumping Jack’s foot with his own. “That other kid, it sucks that he’s hearing shitty stuff at home. And it’s not your fault that he took it out on you. Trust me. If you wanna go to school decked out in rainbows, we’ve got your back.”

Cas nods and crouches down next to Jack, handing him his mug. “Dean is right. Our priority is helping you be yourself and be happy during your time as a human.”

Jack shuffles his feet a little. He cups his hand over the mug just as Cas had done. “Um, in that case, can I ask something?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says.

“Well, my friend Mallary likes painting her nails. They look so cool. But she said boys don’t usually do that.”

“And you’d like to,” Cas prompts. His eyes meet Dean’s for a moment.

Jack nods. “Rainbow.”

Dean stands up, cradling Nougat snug against his chest as the guinea pig emits a startled squeak. “Well, then, you’re gonna have rainbow nails. I know just who to call.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Claire sweeps into the house the next morning — Sunday — in a whirlwind of hair and shopping bags. Even though they heard her coming all the way up the driveway, swearing and dropping things, it’s always a shock when she bursts through the door. Kaia follows quietly, with a fondly exasperated smile on her face. She rolls her eyes at Dean and he stifles a laugh.

Claire stomps into the living room and dumps her mountain of bags onto the couch. “Hi, old men. Where’s my brother?”

“Hello, Claire,” Cas says, lips quirking. “I see you’ve come quite prepared.” He’s leaning in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, an old t-shirt of Dean’s stretched over his broad shoulders. From his perch on the couch, Dean lets his eyes roam appreciatively; Cas has been ageing ever since he returned from the Empty a human, and the years look good on him. He even has a bit of silver in his wild hair. Twelve years together, and Dean still can't believe his luck.

“Yeah, well, Dean calls me saying my baby bro needs a confidence boost, I’m gonna go all out.” Claire starts emptying the bags onto the coffee table. “I brought every color I could find.”

As if on cue, Jack appears in the doorway next to Cas. His hair is still rumpled from sleep but his eyes are shining, taking in the rows of nail polish that Claire is lining up on the table.

“Wow, is that all for me?” He practically bounces into the room and sits cross-legged on the floor, picking up a blue bottle.

Claire ruffles his hair, disheveling it even more, and sits down next to him. “Hell yeah. And for your dads, too.”

Dean blinks. “Uh— you want us to— yeah, that idea was for Jack, actually.”

This time it’s Kaia’s turn to stifle a laugh, and Dean shoots her a dirty look. Cas chuckles and pushes off the doorframe to join Dean on the couch. He takes Dean’s hand in his own and lifts it up, lightly stroking one finger at a time as he looks at the short, blunt nails. Dean may work hard at the garage, but he’s hygienic and doesn’t bring any grease home, under his nails or otherwise.

Now, he blushes a little as Cas brushes a kiss onto his knuckles. “Dean will look beautiful. Just like Jack.”

Jack whoops and shoots Dean a dazzling smile. Dean can’t really say no to that face.

It’s decided that Kaia will paint Jack’s nails rainbow, a different color on each nail (Jack insists that some should have polka dots, too), and that Claire will do Cas’ and Dean’s. Dean tries to ask for just black, like Baby, but gets shouted down by everyone in the room and grudgingly agrees to a dark green. When Claire is done wiping down his nails and applies the first brush of color to his thumb, he has to admit it looks nice.

Jack keeps exclaiming in delight every time Kaia starts on a new color, and nearly loses it when she reveals that she got some tiny glittery stars to sprinkle on the drying polish.

“It looks like a galaxy,” he breathes, eyes wide, moving his fingers gingerly in the light from the window. Dean glances at Cas, who’s getting his nails painted a holographic blue, and is surprised to see a bright sheen in Cas’ eyes as he watches Jack. He’s smiling softly. Dean reaches over (careful of his own drying nails) and lays a hand on his shoulder. Together they watch their kid — sort of God, sort of not — reclaim his happiness one sparkly fingernail at a time.

Once everyone’s clear coat polish is dry (Dean had no idea there were so many steps involved), they take a bunch of pictures to send to Sam and Eileen. Dean almost considers hiding his own hands, but Jack’s gazing at him so excitedly that he splays them on the table next to Cas’ without a second thought.

They do look cool. Sam even says so in his text, after a string of heart-eye emojis.

Claire and Kaia head out after lunch (Cas quietly packs up about half of the nail polish they brought, pressing it into Kaia’s hands to take back home with them). Jack spends the rest of the afternoon picking out a suitably colorful outfit to match his nails at school tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This was a wonderful idea, Dean. Thank you,” Cas says that evening as they’re back at the kitchen table, Cas nursing his usual mug of tea and Dean packing Jack’s lunches for the week. “He was so happy. I hope he’ll be okay tomorrow.”

Dean slides the last sandwich into the fridge and lays his hands back on Cas’ shoulders. They’re warm and pliant tonight. He digs his fingers in, leaning down to kiss Cas’ cheek.

“He’ll be okay. He knows we’ve got his back.” He’s quiet for a moment and runs a hand through Cas’ thick hair, following a silver strand with his shiny-green thumb. “That counts for a hell of a lot.”

Cas twists around, covering Dean’s hand still on his shoulder with his own and gazing up at him. “You are a good man, Dean Winchester. A good man and an excellent father.”

Dean sucks in a big breath. “All right, sunshine. That’s about all the feelings I can handle today.” He grins down at Cas, though, just to assure him he’s fine.

And he is.

[alch3mic]

hi alch!! wondering if you could write about huntsy? in a more.. darker tone if you get what im saying hehe (/-^▪^-\)

You really were too cute.

Of course.. Sans knew that already, but.. he just couldn't help but let that thought cross his mind as his eyelights scanned over the the message you just sent him again. 

Give your best at work today! I love you.

..Honestly. 

It didn't matter how many times you said it, or how many times he heard it, he just could never get enough of those sweet words that make his soul beat faster with every single syllable. It really just made him want to eat you up bit by bit until there was nothing left, just so he could have you all to himself.

Your love and affection was his favorite meal after all, and he could happily gorge himself on it night and day without ever truly feeling full.  

It was just so.. intoxicating. 

It sent his head spinning in circles just seeing it in a message alone, much less hearing them from your own lips... and..

It always left him... wanting ...just a little bit more.

More of you.

More of your love.

More of your gentle skin that he just couldn't help but sink his teeth into.

A smile crept along his features as he savored every letter, his thumb gently gliding across his phone screen while wishing it were your hand or maybe even your cheek instead. He closed his eyesockets before bringing the phone up and lightly kissing the surface, lost into his daydreams about you again. 

Oh, what he'd give to be with you right now.

..So now how in hell was he suppose to sit here and “give his best at work”, when all he could think about was you..?

"Fuck..!"

....

Well now, that was certainly one way to take him out of his fantasy.

Huntsman's eyelights flickered up, his expression falling almost instantly as he regarded the battered and bloodied human tied up in the chair across from him. The thought of your sweet scent and warm hands were gone to him now, replaced with the cold smells of dirt and metal, while the light from a single old lamp burned into his eyesockets. 

A chilling wind howled outside the warehouse walls, reminding him exactly why he preferred to work from home. These worn down old shacks people insisted on using for their dirty work were disgusting, though it certainly made cleaning up a lot easier when the place was always covered in blood and murk already.

Seems like his little companion was finally coming to, their expression twisted and confused as they squinted under the harsh lighting, trying to figure out their surroundings.

"W-where...?"

Huntsman carefully brought down his phone, sparing only one more small glance to your messages before tucking it deep away into his back pocket, and doing the same with his last remaining thoughts of you.

"doing alright there?" he hummed, reaching into his jacket pockets before pulling out a pair of heavy gloves before standing up from his chair.

He didn't actually care, but he may as well pass the time with a bit of chit chat.

It was usually easier to swallow than the silence.

..Usually..

"And who the fuck are you?"

..Unless they ignored his questions completely.

Then it just kind of ...irritated him.

..Though he had to give this sorry piece of shit some credit. Despite the fact that they had taken quite the beating, they still had the nerve to run their mouth like that.

"Hey! I'm talking to you."

"a shame i don't really have any ears to listen with," Hunts responded, pulling the gloves on and tapping on his skull.

He received a scoff in reply, the human now sitting up the best they could while pulling on their restraints as they spat in his direction.

"Stupid fucking monsters.." they muttered, still struggling while eyeing him warily as Huntsman bent down to his duffle bag on the floor.

It only took a moment for him to unzip the thing and take hold of one dinged up metal bat, gripping it firmly in his hand before standing up.

"Really now? A bat?" the human scoffed, clearly sizing up Huntsman's smaller demeanor. “And I thought the last guy was crazy..”

"got a personal rule not to use magic unless i have to," he replied simply, "and also i'm not a fan of sharp things."

He gave the bat a small twirl, before gripping the handle with both hands and giving it a small but slow swing.

Been awhile since he used this old thing.

"Right.. Well good fucking luck pal. Ya ain't getting shit out of me ya understand, so why don't you just pack up your little interrogation kit and save us both some fucking time, eh? Maybe then you'd get to save your sorry little bony ass before the boss comes and get's me."

......

A moment passed.

And then another.

And then several more, with nothing but that hollow whispering wind filling the silence between the two. Irritation was becoming more evident on the human's brow as he stood there just staring at them, a few beads of sweat threatening to trickle down their head.

"Aye. Ya hear me pal?" they huffed, before letting out a laugh. "Or what? Ya lose your nerve or something? Heh. Not surprising, the boss ain't one to be messed wi-"

"i'm afraid you might be mistaken here, pal."

He watched as the human's expression fell from one of confidence to.. anger and confusion. Still, they didn't say anything so Huntsman filled the empty air with his own words.

"i'm not really the kind of guy you hire for interrogations," he said dully, lining up his bat again and taking another swing into the empty air. "you see, i gave up asking questions a long time ago."

He swung again, picking up speed.

"life is just full of them, ya know? too many.. in fact." 

Another swing.

"a lot of them without any kind of satisfying answers."

And another. 

"that’s why even a patient person like myself gave up asking them a long, long time ago." 

.....

The silence fell again as the human tried to connect the dots, Huntsman still taking a few practice swings into the air.

"..T-then.. why?"

Huntsman took one more swing, watching the human flinch at the sound of the air whooshing just a few feet in front of their face.

“because someone paid me,” he shrugged. “guess you’re no longer useful. the only request they had was that they wanted to hear you at least scream a few times before you’re gone, so i had to wait until you woke up and now here we are.”

“....No.. no.. no! That..! That can’t..!” 

A look of terror crossed over their features as they began gasping, now throwing a fit as they tried their best to undo the bonds holding them to the chair, but it refused to budge being tightly screwed into the floor.

"i know, i know..” Huntsman said, before approaching the struggling human and lining up the bat near his head, watching as they froze in place and stared down their own reflection in the dinged up metal bat. 

“life is just full of unsatisfying answers.. isn't it? now at least do me a favor and scream nice and loud for me, your good ol’ buddy ol’ pal, hm ?"

CRACK.

[commonwealthoccurences]

Romanced!Companions React: Sole Was Abused Pre-War

TW: Spousal abuse and the aftermath/trauma that comes with that. Mention of alcohol (unrelated to the abuse)

Note: Gonna do some canon divergence/request divergence to make this gender neutral! Therefore, we’re going to say the breadwinner/working SO commonly abused their stay-at-home SO. I struggled with deciding whether or not to make this neutral, as it’s an important topic, but I feel as if women are most commonly represented in abuse and this is a good moment to stick to neutrality and non-gender-specific language and try to represent everyone who may be a victim of abuse. Thank you for reading!

Word Count: 6,088

The Scenario: Cait, Curie, Deacon, Gage, Hancock, MacCready, Piper, and Preston:

Sole and their companion made their way through Goodneighbor, on their way to visit Hancock. They made it about halfway through the entryway when Daisy called out, ushering the companion into her shop for a chat. They’d met a while ago when the companion first entered Goodneighbor, and swiftly became friends; Daisy’s dry-humored straight forward personality made for great conversation when they were passing through.

The companion and Sole split off with a swift kiss and went their separate ways. Daisy tossed a Nuka-Cola to the companion as they entered her shop, making a comment about putting it on their tab, and they began to chat. Eventually, as the minutes ticked into an hour, they got onto the topic of pre-war culture. Daisy chatted about her life before the bombs dropped and the companion listened intently. “Yeah, I wasn’t much for dating before the war.”

The companion looked up from their soda confused. “Well, why not?”

“Oh I was much more the stay-at-home type and that never boded well back then.”

“What do you mean?”

“I forget not everyone got glimpses into that world. Well, it was pretty normal for the working spouse, the breadwinner if you will, to abuse the stay-at-home spouse. No one really blinked at it. Didn’t wanna put myself in that situation for the sake of appealing to what people considered a normal life path, so I just stayed single. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, to be alone.

The companion was already lost in thought when she finished her sentence. Suddenly, a lot more things about their relationship made sense. The way Sole seemed to fight against their instinct to just agree with them, the way they flinched when the companion made abrupt movements. God, it made so much sense, and the companion just wanted to run out and hug them. Daisy seemed to notice this, and spoke softly. “Go see them, I can tell you want to. I’ll be here whenever you come back to Goodneighbor.”

Cait:

Cait seemed to cover the space between Hancock’s building and Daisy’s shop in just a few anxious footsteps. She took large strides, anxious to go see Sole, to verify that they didn’t think she would do something like that to them. She knew instinct was overpowering and it was a matter of survival for them, but her heart broke at the idea that they might think she’d be okay with hurting them. Gods, that’s the last thing she wanted to do.

The staircase to Hancock’s room was stretching endlessly despite her taking the stairs two at a time. She ignored the guards that looked her up and down as she strided towards the room, silently daring them to try and stop her with a glare. Of course, they knew she was with Sole, and simply redirected their attention elsewhere as she gave a sharp knock on the door. She waited for a few seconds before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Sole was seated on the couch across from Hancock, laughing at something he said, when she turned and looked at Cait, surprised. “Oh, hey love. Daisy go back to work?” They asked, eyebrows raised at the pleasant surprise of her sudden appearance.

“Uhm, kinda. Need t’ borrow Sole real quick, Hancock.”

They suddenly looked worried, standing and flashing a brief smile before walking towards Cait, giving her a confused and alarmed look. She smiled back at them, but it was slightly tense and she knew they could tell. With a gentle hand on their back, she led them up another flight of stairs and into a dark corner, concerned about eavesdroppers. “What’s wrong, Cait?” They asked.

“You know I would never hurt ya, right?”

“What- where is this coming from?”

“I just- I was talking to Daisy. About pre-war, and…” She trailed off, shaking her head, unsure of what to say.

Sole stood still for a moment before the words clicked in her brain. Their energy seemed to fade abruptly and they avoided looking up at Cait. “Did your… did they ever hit you?” Cait choked out.

They looked up at Cait with a weak smile and nodded. She gritted her teeth and looked down at her feet, suppressing the anger that overcame her like a shock of ice water. “You’re not mad, right?” Sole asked quietly.

“Of course I’m mad, I-”

“There was nothing I could really do. I’m sorry. It was so normal back then.”

“Oh, Gods, Sole. Not mad at you, I could never be mad at you. I’m furious no one protected you. I’m furious I can’t kill the bastard myself.”

Cait opened her arms, giving them the option of pulling away if they were uncomfortable with a hug, considering the topic. They folded into her arms with a soft sigh, wrapping their arms around her like there was no tomorrow. She smelled of cigarettes and mutfruit, something they’d grown to consider the smell of home. Cait smoothed her hand up and down their back and tucked her chin onto their shoulder so she could speak softly into their ear. “That’ll never happen again, ya hear me? I won’ let anyone hurt ya. And I know that’s something I gotta show, cause words don’ mean much for shit like that, but I’ll show ya. Just give me time, yeah?”

“All the time you want, Cait.” They replied, their voice shaky.

“And I know it can be hard to say somethin’ but if I ever make ya uncomfortable, ya need to tell me. I won’ get mad, I wan’ ya to be as comfortable as possible.”

They nodded, their face rubbing against the fabric of her shirt. They gripped her tighter and sniffed quietly, trying desperately not to cry. Cait pulled away and brushed the back of her hand over their cheekbone. “Hey, everything’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it all out together.”

Curie:

Curie, for the first time she could remember, felt sick to her stomach. Of course, she knew about the pre-war circumstances; it’d been part of her information training for Vault Tec. However, for some reason she’d never put the dots together that someone would do that to Sole of all people. Who the hell in their right mind would say they loved them and then hurt them like that?

As politely as she could manage, Curie said her goodbyes to Daisy, and made her way slowly to Hancock’s building. It was difficult to focus on where she was going despite her need to see Sole; the world was blurring in front of her as she tried to sort out her emotions. She flitted between rage and confusion, to sadness and guilt, then devastation and back again. 

The walk up the staircase was one of shame that Curie didn’t realize sooner what was going on with Sole and the weight they must’ve been carrying. She knew it was difficult to divulge that kind of information to a partner, but she wished she’d done more to show they could trust her. She paused outside the door, her fist raised to knock, but paused. Curie could hear their laughter ringing out from behind the door; this conversation could wait. They were so full of joy, it would hurt them both to take this moment away from them.

Instead, she took a deep breath and smiled. Then, she knocked on the door and cracked it open. Sole turned towards her with a wide smile. “Curie! Come sit, we’re just finishing up.” There was still a lilt of laughter in their tone.

Curie pushed the door open enough to squeeze through and shut it behind her before crossing the room to sit on the arm of Sole’s chair. Sole wrapped an arm around her waist without hesitation, leaning against her as they talked excitedly with Hancock. Another laugh shook their frame and Curie revelled in it, leaning back and rubbing a hand over their shoulder as she listened.

Eventually, Sole sighed and announced that they’d better get going before they wasted the whole day away talking. Hancock protested lightly, sad to see them both go, but accepted once Sole stood their ground. He waved them off with his usual playful vibe and the pair got up to leave. Curie took their hand and squeezed, moreso trying to reassure herself than anything else.

Sole gave her a curious glance but said nothing as they made their way back down the stairs and into the cool evening air. Curie led them to the Hotel Rexford, quiet as they ascended the stairs to their room. When they reached it, she shut the door softly behind them and paused, facing the door, unsure of what to say or how to start. “Curie, sweetheart, what’s wrong? You’ve been off since you came to see Hancock and I.”

“I had a talk with Daisy.” She started, pushing herself away from the door and walking over to stand in front of them. She took their hands in her own. “We talked about what life was like before the war and… the… relationship dynamic that was quite common back then.”

“Ah.” Sole came to realize what she was tiptoeing around and nodded, their face falling a bit.

“I apologize for not realizing sooner what you’ve gone through. I hope as we spend more time together you come to know that will never ‘appen again.” She moved to hug them slowly, wrapping her arms around their waist and resting her head on their chest.

They sighed and returned the embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I know you would never, Curie, it’s just habit. I’m sorry.”

“You ‘ave no reason to apologize for instincts that helped you survive, Sole. No part of that was your fault.”

Danse:

Danse had been researching pre-war life in the Brotherhood’s logs in order to better understand Sole. Of course, he could ask them questions, but he noticed how much they lit up when he said he’d heard of something they mentioned, as if they felt better understood. It wasn’t uninteresting, if he was honest. Hearing about a whole different world, with different rules and culture compared to the one he lived in was fascinating. The fact that Sole was part of both worlds, a foot in each, made his head ache. How they managed the two separate identities in their head he had no idea.

After a long night of reading he stumbled across the culture of married life pre-war. There was a flash of uneasiness that rushed through him, knowing they’d left behind a spouse in their vault. The thought that they may miss their spouse nagged at him late at night, wondering if he was good enough to follow up somebody that Sole found worthy of marrying. Unable to suppress his curiosity, he clicked into it.

Things clicked into place as he read what it was like being married back then. Sole flinching when he moved suddenly, their reluctance to get too close if he was in Power Armor, their expertise at dodging punches in combat despite telling him they were a stay-at-home parent before the war. He sat back in his chair, hand clutching his dog tags as he got lost in thought.

It was the gentle click of a door behind him and Sole’s voice that penetrated his thoughts. Quickly, he backed out of the information page and whirled around in his chair to face him. “Whoa, that was a guilty move.” They commented, laughing hesitantly as they looked him over, curiosity in their eyes. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” He said abruptly.

The hurt and confusion in their eyes at his tone made him change his mind immediately. He’d just gotten a look into their past, something they’d never be able to do to him; it was unfair for him to keep the information he’d discovered from them. “I… was researching.”

“Okay?”

“I was researching life before the war. The Brotherhood keeps all the information they gather on it. I wanted to understand what day-to-day life was like, to understand you better. To be able to talk to you on the same page.”

“What’s with the panic, then, love?”

“They had quite a bit of information on what married life was like back then.” He replied, his voice quieting.

“Oh.”

Their demeanor dropped in a flash. Their shoulders sank forward and they looked down at the ground, fumbling with their hands to distract themself. After a moment, they let out an awkward laugh. “Uh, is this where you tell me it’s too much?”

“What?”

“For you to deal with. All the shit I’m bringing with me.” They were still trying to choke out a laugh, but it sounded more like a suppressed sob.

“Jesus Christ, Sole, no!”

Danse tried to keep his tone from rising and got up from his chair, pushing it back as he stepped towards them. They looked up at him for a moment before redirecting their gaze, their eyes flitting around the room, restless. He placed his hands on their shoulders gently. “Please look at me?” He asked softly.

They looked at him, eyes red, and gave a weak smile. “I love you.” Danse definitely wasn’t one to say it so directly, so suddenly, but he needed them to know. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me and I’ll be damned if I let you get into your head and think otherwise, okay?”

Sole nodded, lips pressed together to prevent their mouth from quivering. He cupped their jaw with his hand and practically melted when they leaned into it, closing their eyes and bringing their own hand up to hold his. “We’ll talk about it eventually, when you’re ready. Not any sooner. But I love you and I need you to know that.”

“I love you, too.”

Deacon:

It was hard to put on the easy smile he usually wore and pretend he hadn’t just had his heart shattered on the pavement in Daisy’s shop. He’d heard rumors about what life was like before the bombs dropped, but it wasn’t exactly a priority to discuss a society that no longer existed when you’re fighting to survive in the one you’re part of. Deacon ran a hand over his scalp and forced himself to relax. “Sorry to cut things off so shortly, but I gotta go, Daisy.”

“You’re worried about them.”

Deacon didn’t respond, but it was enough for Daisy to nod. “Go.”

He eased into his usual casual walk as he made his way to Hancock’s building, climbing the stairs at a heavily regulated pace. He was suddenly conscious of every move he made; the steps he took, how fast he was walking, the way his arms swung at his sides as he moved. The grin he threw the guards was forced, but they seemed to not notice as he pushed open the door to Hancock’s room and his voice rang out with a cheerful, “Knock knock!”

Sole turned and gave him a beaming grin, laughter brightened eyes shining his direction. He wanted to capture that look forever as he crossed the room and pressed a soft kiss to their forehead, tossing himself down beside them dramatically. “Hancock, you’ve stolen them away from me for far too long.”

Hancock laughed in return. “Ah, don’t worry about little old me Sunshine, they won’t shut up about you, anyway.”

The flush on Sole’s face had fondness running through it. Deacon’s expression turned smug and he wrapped an arm around their shoulders, rubbing a thumb across their collarbone as they returned to their conversation. The grin slipped slightly as his thoughts returned to the conversation earlier and he swallowed harshly before forcing his attention back to the present. There was no doubt in his mind that Sole had already noticed something was off; they’d learned long ago how to read his body language down to the last detail.

The weight in his chest made itself known when the conversation ended and he and Sole stood, each wrapping Hancock in a tight hug before making their way out of the building. He tugged their hand in the direction of one of the alleys that decorated the back of Goodneighbor and led them down it, wanting to admit to the information he’d been told as soon as possible.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth and dropped the sad excuse for normalcy he’d been forcing. Sole took in a deep breath. “I knew something was wrong. What’s up?”

“I’m gonna start with I’m not mad at you. Not even remotely. I was just talking to Daisy and… she said some things that stuck with me.”

“Okay, can I ask what they were?”

“She told me what marriage was like back during the pre-war days. And it made me realize some things about our dynamic.”

Sole fell silent. It was hard for them to find the words to respond to that. They simply nodded in response and turned away, taking a deep breath to gather their thoughts. “I know you would never hurt me. There’s a reason I don’t need to keep an eye on you right now. But it's a habit, the flinching and stuff. It’s how I lived for years.”

“I know. And I hope eventually it’s something you no longer find necessary to keep at the forefront of your mind.”

Sole turned back around to face him with a small smile and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, giving another to the dimple that appeared when he started to smile. They took his hand in theirs and lifted it to press a kiss to each of his knuckles. “I trust you. I do. If there’s one person I can trust without hesitating, it’s you.”

Gage:

Raiders were a ragtag group of the widest range of personalities one could find across the wasteland. Most motivated by the same thing, wealth, but not always. Gage had encountered just about every type of raider, or so he thought, when he came across a history buff that joined the Pack. He nearly ripped his ears off when the raider launched into another rant about pre-war culture, not because it wasn’t interesting, but because they were supposed to be keeping watch and he hadn’t slept in two days.

Once the raider launched into the history of marriage culture, Gage started paying attention. He knew Sole used to be married and he couldn’t help but worry that he wasn’t living up to their expectations of some they would’ve dated before things got desperate. However, once the raider described it, he felt acid in his throat.

The idea that someone would have someone like Sole and not only take them for granted, but treat them so harshly? God, he wondered if he should start an alliance with the Institute and ask them to build a time machine so he could strangle their ex himself. Abruptly, he stood and announced the raider would be doing watch themself, and started walking back towards Sole’s quarters.

He had to see them now. To reassure them that everything would be okay, that he would rather put himself in one of the bomb collars than lay a hand on them. His pace quickened until he was lightly jogging through the misty evening, his gun in it’s holster hitting against his thigh with every step. The elevator ride up was too long for him to bear, his foot tapping anxiously against the metal flooring as it meandered upwards.

Sole would probably be in bed reading, or cleaning their gun with Dogmeat at their feet. He huffed out an anxious breath and walked onto the balcony, scanning the area. No sign of Sole other than a lantern on their desk. He pressed a hand against the glass and detected the slightest bit of warmth; they must’ve gone to their room recently. After double checking that the lantern was fully out he opened the door to the interior and stepped inside.

Warm air hit his skin with a light blast and he relished in the warmth and the smell of the soap Sole used to wash their clothes. It was such a contrast to the grease and sweat that permeated the raiders quarters and the odor of blood that surrounded the Disciples. He pried his boots off, toe to heel, and left them near the doorway before making his way farther inside.

Sure enough, Sole was lounged in their bed, a book they’d scavenged propped up against their raised leg. Relief filled him, though he didn’t know for what reason. He took a few more steps and launched himself onto the bed next to him, adjusting his positioning until his face was pressed against their shoulder. Immediately, he felt them shift, and the rustling of pages indicated they put the book down. “Gage, baby, what’s wrong?” They asked, resting a hand on his back.

He moved his face away from their arm and looked up at him. Of all the shit he’d seen as a raider and even before that, this hurt the worst, and it showed in the way he was struggling not to tear up. His jaw was clenched, his expression tense and riddled with guilt and the need for reassurance, like a lost puppy.

Sole didn’t ask again, not wanting to push him, and continued to rub his back, tracing patterns against his skin through his shirt. He brushed his nose against the fabric of their shirt and closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts as he laid there. The soft tracing against his back amplified the sharp pain in his heart at what he’d realized. He struggled to motivate himself for a moment before sitting up. “Babe, I have a difficult question for you.”

Sole’s eyebrows crept together in concern and they nodded, turning their attention towards him completely. “Before the war… did your spouse… did they ever hurt you?”

Their eyes widened and they looked away for a moment, obviously thinking for a second. “Why do you ask?”

“This raider… they told me stories about life before the war. And the way you act sometimes, like you’re protecting yourself. I’d hope to God I never gave you a reason to feel like you needed to protect yourself from me, so I figured since they said it was so common back then…”

“They’re right.” They replied simply, giving him a wry, sad smile.

“I’m sorry.”

Gage lifted his arm laying next to them, offering a space for them to cuddle into his side. They did so eagerly, their book next to their side, forgotten, as they ducked under his arm and rested their cheek against his chest. He squeezed them gently and bowed his head to kiss their temple. “I hope one day you never feel you have to keep that guard up, but I do want you to know I’m never gonna get upset that you feel you need to. I get that that’s what life was and how you protected yourself.”

They sniffled quietly and brushed their hand against their nose, causing him to rub their arm with a heavy breath. “Everything’s gonna be just fine, honey. Swear to ya.”

Hancock:

It was late in the evening as Farenheit, Sole, and Hancock gathered in his suit, chatting, alcohol in hand. Farenheit had a slight flush going, grateful for the guards that had taken over her duties for the night. Sole pulled their hand through their hair as they laughed at one of the comments Farenheit had made, throwing their entire weight against Hancock as their body shook with laughter. He grinned and took a swig of his own drink. “Y’know, I have to wonder what life was like before the war.” Farenheit said suddenly.

Sole tilted their head curiously. “Whaddya mean?”

“I mean, relationships here are just casual and stuff. You survive together and that’s that. But from what I’ve heard, dating culture was complicated, and marriage? Yeesh. Don’t get me started on that nightmare.”

With that comment, Sole stilled. Their drink shook a bit in their hand and they took in a deep breath, leaning forward to set the glass down on the table in front of them. Hancock pressed a hand against their shoulder to get their attention and saw right through the reassuring smile they sent his way. It didn’t reach their eyes the way it should.

He smoothed his hand down their arm calmly. “Hey, Fahrenheit. We appreciate the company, but I think we need to head to bed. Sole’s got an early mornin’, y’know.” He stretched his arms in an exaggerated show of his exhaustion and set his own glass down, standing.

Fahrenheit caught on rather quickly and cast a grin at the both of them before moving herself off the couch and heading towards the door. “Night, you two!”

Sole called a soft “Goodnight” after her and settled back into the couch, lost in thought. Hancock shrugged off his jacket and set his hat on one of the many tables that littered the room before moving to sit down next to them again. He pressed a kiss to their cheek. “I’m losin’ you sweetheart, come back to Earth for a moment for me.” His gravelly voice remained low and soothing.

They jumped slightly before turning and smiling at him, leaning sideways so they could rest their head on his shoulder. He turned his head so it was easier for them to hear him and mumbled quietly, “She hit a nerve, darlin’?”

“Yeah.” Their voice was fragile.

“I’m sorry, Sunshine, wish it hadn’t. You want me to stay or would you rather be alone right now?”

“Stay. Please. I trust you.”

“I’m glad.” His voice was warm, like a crackling fire.

There was a beat of silence. “I’d ring their neck if I could, you know.”

They let out a laugh, quiet, but reassuring nonetheless. “I’d let you.”

MacCready:

There was a stone in his stomach at the idea that someone could do that to their spouse of all people. Disgust settled in his chest. And to Sole of all people? No one deserved that, but Jesus, Sole was the most selfless, genuine person he knew. With a moment to steel himself, he gave his regards to Daisy, and started to make his way to Hancock’s building.

It was probably one of the most difficult walks he’d taken. He knew they were probably enjoying Hancock’s company and reassured himself that he’d be able to hide what he’d discovered long enough for them to relish the time they had with him. Mac readjusted the cap on his head and headed into the building, sneezing lightly at the dust that kicked up.

As soon as he entered the room, the anxiety that had been running through him eased. Sole had their head thrown back in laughter, joy radiating from them like a light. Without a word, he crossed the room and leaned over the back of the couch, resting his arms over their shoulders as he listened in. They were throwing light banter back and forth at each other. Mac mindlessly trailed his fingers up their arm, thinking hard about how to broach the topic. “Alright, Mac’s got somethin’ on his mind, I think it’s time we get going.” Sole brought him swiftly out of his own head.

He smiled good-naturedly, but Sole could tell he was still thinking hard about something. They stood and wrapped Hancock in a dramatic hug before moving around the couch to greet MacCready with a hug. “Alright, let’s get going.” They said softly, giving him a smile.

He nodded in agreement and followed them out of the room, then out of the building. They led him towards the Hotel Rexford, resigning themself to the fact that it had gotten late, time lost in the midst of their conversation, and were definitely staying the night in Goodneighbor. Sole had been amongst Goodneighbor often enough the hotel reserved a room for them at all times, and they simply greeted the receptionist and kept moving towards the stairs, key in hand already.

They shut the door softly and kicked off their shoes, placing their weapon on the bedside table before reaching for a pre-stocked can of water. “So what’s up, love?” They asked, quirking an eyebrow in his direction before taking a swig of water.

Mac tossed his hat onto the table beside their gun. “I was talking to Daisy.” He started.

“Mhm?” They looked him over carefully.

“We got onto the subject of what marriage was like. Before the war.”

Sole froze with the can halfway to their mouth before sighing and clearing their throat. They set the can of water down on the table and walked over to him. “Nothing I experience is reflected specifically on you. The flinching- I know you’ve noticed -is just a force of habit.” They spoke calmly, despite the struggle he could see in their eyes.

“I know, I’m not concerned about me. I get it. I mean, God I hope you never see them in me, but… I just wish I could’ve done something.”

“It’s in the past. Not either of our faults.” They smiled bitterly and kissed him, bringing a hand up to cup his jaw. “I love you.” They whispered once they pulled away.

“I love you, too.”

Nick:

Nick knew from the beginning. The memories he had implanted in his head, of the man who was and wasn’t him, spelled out plainly what life was like before the war. What people did to the spouse that was considered stay-at-home. He knew why Sole flinched, and he knew why they startled when he raised his voice.

And Sole knew he knew. Once they found out he had memories from before the war, and he mentioned what a terrible husband one of his friends was, they knew. They met his gaze quietly, a questioning look on their face. He simply smiled and took their hand, rubbing his thumb across their knuckles, and returning to the previous topic. There was a quiet silence as he finished his thought, and then he spoke. “I hope you know I don’t think any differently of you.” He said.

Sole looked at him thoughtfully. “I believe you. And I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Piper:

Piper was shaking with fury. She considered herself someone with a pretty even temper, but this had gotten her riled up like nothing else. God, who the hell could think that was normal? Okay? And Sole, having to go through that thinking no one would care. She politely said goodbye to Daisy, her tone forced, and made her way, determined, to Hancock’s building.

And then she stopped abruptly outside. It wasn’t fair for her to come to Sole with information about their life they didn’t willingly give to them, and spew it out in anger. They were the one that had the first right to be angry about what they went through, not her. So she forced herself to take deep breaths and simply collapsed into a bench outside the building.

It was about an hour later that Sole wandered out, a grin wide on their face, and called out a cheery greeting to Piper. She returned with the same enthusiasm, catching them in a hug and pressing kisses all over their face. “How was your chat?” She asked, pressing her cold nose against their throat.

“Agh, Piper- it was good. God your nose is cold.”

She laughed and mumbled a quiet “Good” against their throat before leaving a kiss there and pulling away. She made sure not to move suddenly. This wasn’t a discussion they needed to have right away; Sole was the one who should bring something like that up, and while she would tell them honestly that she knew, it wasn’t fair for her to spring it on them. Instead, she listened to them talk about their conversation with Hancock cheerfully as they moved through the streets of Goodneighbor.

Preston:

Preston leaned against the wall of Daisy’s shop, asking for a moment before he left. She nodded, as gracious as she was straightforward, and left to go rearrange some things upstairs to leave him in the quiet. He glanced around the settlement, appreciative despite his initial apprehensiveness the first time he had set foot inside Goodneighbor.

Sole would spend a while talking with Hancock, there was no doubt. Once the two got together they were unstoppable, laughing and joking together like there was no tomorrow. He loved it, truth be told, the way Sole became so carefree. Daisy had commented once that the only person she saw them more comfortable around was Preston himself.

Was it fair to bring up what he said, then? If they were so comfortable and carefree around him, they would bring it up on their own time, surely. Of course, he wanted them to know that he cared, that he was furious on their behalf, and so in love with them he’d stop the world from spinning if they wanted him to. 

He gathered his flittering thoughts and turned back towards Daisy’s counter. She had returned long before he’d realized, not paying any mind to him. “Do you have any of those sweet rolls?” He asked, voice rougher than he’d realized.

Daisy nodded and set them on the counter, a Nuka-Cola beside it. “It’s on me. Don’t worry about it.” 

X6-88:

X6 came to the realization when he decided to read one of Sole’s pre-war books they’d scavenged. It was a romance novel they’d jokingly recommended to them, however, he ended up confused by the halfway mark; it seemed like the opposite of a romance novel, considering the abuse that took place so casually. After a few hours of reading and trying to press through, he stood, shaking his head, and walked through the house to find Sole.

They were leaned over their workbench, a gun in it’s many pieces on the table in front of them. When they heard his footsteps they looked up with a bright grin. “What’s up, Six?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

They glanced down to the novel he was holding and snorted. “What’s the matter, gorgeous?”

“This… isn’t a romance novel. I think you gave me the wrong book.”

Sole grew confused. “It says it on the front cover.” They pointed out.

He turned the book to examine the front once again. Sure enough, it was advertised as a best-selling romance novel. He sighed in confusion. “The main character’s spouse, though… I don’t get it.”

Sole stilled. They thought for a moment before leaning over to catch the title on the front cover, then straightened and sighed. “Things were different back then, Six, that’s all.”

“Did… was that what your marriage was like?”

Sole looked at him for a moment, simply taking in a soft sight they never thought they’d see. X6, despite being one of the tallest people they’d met, looked absolutely unintimidating. He was dressed in pajamas they’d found for him and a loose white t-shirt, the novel held loosely in his hand, his shining eyes confused and curious. “I’m afraid so, love. But I’ve got you now.” They smiled, aware how forced it must look.

X6 crossed the room and set the book down before wrapping them in a hug, barely hesitating. He said nothing, simply held them as comfortably as he could, hoping they knew what he was trying to convey. They sighed and kissed his jaw before resting their head on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry about me, Six. It’s something I deal with. God forbid you ever let that bastard make you feel sad, too.” They laughed a little at the end of their sentence, gently scratching their short nails across his back.