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lilpotatjj · 3 days ago

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Cait and Sam watching their own wedding night episode? Yes aaand no. We all know what these two lovebirds did...like come on who wouldn't? I escalated a wee bit. That's one of my longest Oneshots (almost 5000 words) and I'm gonna continue this with a hugh story about them. Living the forbidden lie in all his cuteness.

Warning: starts with super fluffy and lovely cuteness and turns into a soft 18+ hot mess. Sam beeing Sam and Cait beeing most of the time Cait with slightly cute shyness

(Credits to the Gif owners)

♡Chap.1-Directing their own happy hour♡

A crazy year is over. Filming has long since been completed and the premiere of the first season is over. Several interviews have been held and the first episodes are already on TV. It's September, cool and unpleasantly rainy in LA this year and the day before the premiere of the seventh episode. It's called 'The Wedding Night'.

Cait was out and about, drenched after a conversation with one of the co-producers. It was up in the air whether there would be a second season, but the prospects looked good. She didn't think to bring an umbrella. Why in LA, where it is usually quite warm, even in September.

She ran to her car, the newspaper just over her head for protection, and got in. 'Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ... What the hell is wrong with this weather?' she cursed and was completely soaked. She quickly switched on the engine and turned up the heating. As she drove off, her mobile phone suddenly rang in its holder on the dashboard of the car. 'Hey Sam,' she said simply and focussed on the road.

'Have you been bathing?' he asked wryly, obviously making himself comfortable.

'Very funny...the weather in LA almost reminds me of home,' she was finding it difficult to speak. She was shaking a little and had trouble concentrating. 'I'll call you later if it's unfavourable?' he asked and she said no, perhaps a little too quickly. 'Ah ok' he paused for a moment. 'Tell me what's going on, I'll be fine' she said with chattering teeth and he had to smile, sitting up straight again and looking thoughtful. 'What do you think about travelling to my place and I'll tell you what's going on when you've warmed up at my place?' he asked sincerely without any ulterior motives.

Her cheeks flushed, which wasn't just because she was cold. 'All right, I'm on my way. The same hotel as always?' she asked and he replied with a quick "Yes". The rain didn't stop, on the contrary, it even got heavier. She parked the car in one of the parkingslots in front of the hotel and dashed inside as quickly as she could. Once inside, she asked at reception for the surname Heughan. The servant nodded conspicuously. 'Ah yes, Mr Heughan, he had informed me. He's in room 0410,' he said and with a very friendly smile, he pointed down one of the corridors. Cait thanked him and walked towards his room. Once there, she knocked on his door without thinking. He opened it for her and looked her up and down briefly before she simply entered his hotel room. He looked after her, slightly amused, and went into the bathroom.

When he came out again, he found her standing by the radiator, shivering slightly. He went to her and put a towel over her shoulders. She looked at him gratefully and unconsciously smiled far too sweetly. 'Thank you,' she said quietly and his eyes stayed on hers for longer than he wanted. The reason why he grabbed her towel and started playfully rubbing her hair dry. 'You should bring an umbrella next time,' he said with amusement. 'It wasn't raining when I was out' she gave him an annoyed look as he then went to the wardrobe to lend her some of his own clothes.

'Here' He held the clothes out to her wordlessly and she took them hesitantly. 'It's not going to stop raining that quickly for now. You can spend the night if you want. I'll sleep on the couch,' he said as he looked out of the window. She gave him a look of disbelief. 'Oh come on, we slept anywhere on set where there was space and time. You can sleep in the bed with me' she said dryly without thinking about it and Sam turned to her with his typical look, eyebrow raised slightly, he nodded.

She was right. Time on set was often pretty tough. Sometimes there was no time to sleep and filming often lasted well over 24 hours. Sometimes one of the props or simply a bench was a comfortable place to sleep for a short break. But now they are no longer on set, there is no one around to watch them.

'What did you want to talk about?' she asked curiously as she came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of his big hoodies. She almost sank into it and yet it looked great on her. 'Right, exactly... I wanted to ask you if you'd like to watch tomorrow's episode of Outlander with me' he said and she looked at him curiously. 'What episode was it again?' she asked, rubbing her face tiredly. 'The seventh episode,' he said, unconsciously tense. 'oh ok' came from her, benignly ignorant. 'What's the name of the episode, I'm just too tired to remember which one the last one left off at,' she said, pouring herself a sip of the wine on the table.

'The Wedding Night...' She choked and coughed for a moment. Now it dawned on her. It was that episode. She remembered all the scenes on set too well.

'Are you ok?' he asked without making any facial expressions. 'Yes... I'm sorry,' she apologised and put her glass down again for safety reasons. 'But we're going to need more wine,' she said with amusement and her grin was almost unpleasant. The mood was strange. He scrutinised her carefully while she just stared at the wine, motionless and thoughtful.

She looked slowly at him, his gaze still fixed on her. You would have thought he was burning every corner of her face. It made her nervous, but not in an unpleasant way. She felt the heat in her cheeks and stood up abruptly. 'I think I've spilt...I'll be right back' she disappeared into the bathroom in a flash. She was aware of what was happening, or so she thought, but she was still unsure. He was and is her co-partner. What would the media say, Starz or everyone involved in the big picture? She didn't realise she was breathing faster.

'Cait, are you all right?' he asked anxiously from behind the door. 'Y..yes...I'll be right back.' She splashed water on her face and then came out again. 'And you're sure we should sleep in the same bed?' he asked with raised eyebrows, almost admonishingly. 'That's fine, it's ok,' she said dryly and gave him a cheeky look. She stood in front of him. He was so tall that she always had to look up at him. 'But only if you change too...I doubt you want to sleep in those jeans...you already hated them on set' she looked at him challengingly and tugged at his collar. He enjoyed her closeness. It was clear that he had had feelings for her for some time. It was impossible not to, given the sight of her and her wonderful character. But whether she would ever be serious about him was an open question. He doesn't push her, gives her room to manoeuvre and is patient. Like a crocodile patiently waiting to snatch its prey.

He gave her a charming smile and went to his wardrobe, took out more comfortable clothes and looked at her briefly. She sat down on the couch and unconsciously inspected him as he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't miss her gaze and when he came out again, he saw her sitting on the couch with her head resting on her hand. She grinned at him. 'Do you want to watch something or are you too tired and want to go to sleep?' he asked solidly, closing the curtains. He turned round and noticed that she already had jumped into bed. She snuggled into the big duvet. He laughed briefly and shook his head playfully. 'well...I take it you've had a full day today...want to talk?' he came round and lay down in bed too. They both looked at each other, snuggled together under a blanket, she was quiet for a moment and had to look at him. It's a completely different feeling alone without people from the set. Far away from all the other trailers, other people or cameras. There was no one here. The thought of it made her heart beat gently faster and she almost forgot to speak, let alone breathe, at the sight of him.

'Yeah...I had a call today and two other annoying appointments before that. I've been travelling all day...then there's the rain...I'm honestly glad to be with you right now' the last words came out of her innocently and unusually meekly. She is usually the type of person who says what she thinks, with consideration for the feelings of others. But it's easier with him. She can be whatever she wants, let herself go with him. He listened to her quietly and attentively.

'Sam... what is it between us?' She looked him in the eye and tried to understand the moment. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a wave of his hand, ignoring his own pounding heart. 'We're just lying here talking,' he replied briefly in a low voice. Jesus, can't he stop being cute for once? Struggling to concentrate from his voice and the sight of him, Cait swallowed with difficulty, unable to find an answer.

It was so quiet. Neither of them said anything. Her breathing was much faster and without thinking she snuggled up to him, hiding her face in his chest to hide her burning cheeks. She could hear his heart beating softly and realised that it was also much faster. Sam took her carefully in his arms and decided to remain silent for the time being, to savour the moment. He could smell her hair and buried his face in it a little, kissing it and noticed her smile. He did the same and had to smile. As always, no one needs to say anything to understand.

The sun's warm rays tickled Cait's cheeks and she moved slowly. A large, warm body lay close to her. You really don't need a heater when you're lying next to this 1.92m tall man. She grinned happily as she realised who it was. He was still asleep. She took this moment to observe his sleeping form. He looked so content and balanced, still holding her tightly in his arms.

His calm breathing was soothing, like a lullaby. It was nothing new, sleeping with him, hearing his breathing, feeling him against her, his embrace and yet this time it was completely different. She felt a tingling in her stomach at the mere thought of wanting to touch him. It made her nervous and she suddenly looked away from him only to look back at him again. Her gaze kept switching between his lips and the air she was trying to stare into. No Cait...you better not. Once you start, it will end badly... she thought to herself and thought back to their time on set. They often kissed away from the camera. Out of spontaneous situations to practise, of course...right? The heat rose in her face again. She tried to control her thoughts, but her heart was making it damn hard. She didn't even realise that she had come closer to him, her face close to his, her breathing as if she were climbing a mountain that was out of reach. However, with an unmistakable sound in her voice, she freed herself from his grip in a flash and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without realising it, she was sweating. She clutched her forehead and tried to get her breathing under control. Damn Balfe, a little more self-control! Her thoughts were waging a war she was in danger of losing. He opened one eye and watched her actions. She flinched slightly as he began to stretch and looked slightly to the side in his direction. He couldn't help but grin self-consciously. She was so cute. He didn't know her to be that shy or insecure. On set, they could both let Jamie and Claire hang out, kiss or touch each other however they wanted. Nobody would have thought it was anything serious, at least that's what they both thought.

She stood up abruptly and looked nervously at him. 'I'm going to freshen up,' she said briefly and Sam let himself fall into his pillow with a smile. He wanted the time to last. To savour this precious moment, just with her...just with Cait.

He made breakfast and the rest of the day was relaxed. Except for a few little things Sam had to do this time, the day was uneventful. Cait spent the time in his room and fell asleep on his couch once again. She was far too tired from the last few days, not to mention the previous night. Snuggled up with one of Sam's woollen blankets, she slept peacefully. The blanket smelled wonderfully of him and transported her to dreamland far too quickly. When the Scotsman returned later that day, he saw her curled up on the couch. Still asleep. He put the key away and took off his shoes to go to her. With quiet steps, he stood next to her and looked at her without a word. She looked so innocent. He often did, watching her sleep. Her soft purring when she slept. Her soft smile when he always secretly snuggled up to her, just to be close to her unnoticed. He loved it.

Sam simply stood still for another moment and looked down at her thoughtfully, bent down and got very close to her face. He could feel her breath on him. The corner of his mouth twitched impatiently and he gave her a delicate kiss on her soft lips. His heart did what it wanted and almost ran away from him, but he didn't care. The kiss was short and so gentle that Cait didn't wake up, at least that's what he thought and realised he was wrong. The ball of blanket and the supposed Mrs Fraser inside it moved gently. She opened her eyes just a crack to somehow recognise what in God's name was happening. Sam was already scurrying about, unpacking a few things he'd been shopping for. There were a few bottles of wine and something to nibble on.

She sat up in a daze, her hair in a wild mess and yawned tiredly. 'What time is it?' she asked with a husky voice. 'It's already 7 pm. How long have you been asleep?' He brought two bottles of wine to the table and two glasses. 'Too long... Well, I don't think I'll fall asleep that quickly watching TV,' she said with amusement and ran her hands through her hair to fix it a little. 'Are you hungry?' he asked, unpacking a bag at the same time. It was Asian Food. 'Yes,' she replied curtly and watched the Scotsman without realising it. Her gaze was dreamy, as if she was looking at the jackpot she had won. He came over to her and set her something to eat. She had to smile. Of course he knew exactly what her favourite food was. 'Thank you,' she said and they both ate some of the food.

'Do you remember filming the episode?' he asked when he had finished eating.

'Yes, quite a lot. I'm curious how it was edited. Some days were so long and tiring,' she took a breath and looked at him. 'It was sometimes very difficult to stay relaxed and yet... You made it easy for me to shoot the more difficult scenes,' he said with a smile and looked at her in detail. She couldn't avoid his gaze and was caught up in it. She quickly picked up her wine glass and took a good sip.

Cait laughed softly as she remembered. 'Did you remember the scene when Claire said "go to bed"? God, how many times we replayed that just because our producer never liked the look in your eyes and then I said "to fuck" off camera, or so I thought? Your look afterwards was exactly what they wanted to see and it was recorded,' she laughed and took another sip. Sam did the same and poured the red wine down his throat. 'How could I forget?' his voice sounded ironic with an amused undertone. 'At least it wasn't too cold when we were naked for what felt like 24 hours,' he said and poured more wine.

She looked silently into her wine glass after his words, then raised her eyes and literally stared at him. He's like an accident... you don't want to look but you can't help but stare at him with curiosity and anticipation. Too mesmerised by his gaze, she once again couldn't get a word out. He could throw a bone now and she would run after it like a dog. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. 'The episode is about to start,' he breathed so quietly that she had to think for a moment whether she had heard him correctly.

Sam came closer to her, looked deep into her eyes and was tired of seeing her like this. She was literally begging to be touched. The Scotsman didn't hesitate a second longer and kissed her gently yet firmly. Cait was briefly surprised and yet she accepted the kiss without hesitation. As if they had kissed hundreds of times before, he brought her to him by taking her face in his hand. He stroked her cheek tenderly and was the first to break the kiss. Cait just looked at him. She could have sworn her heart was stuck one floor below. He smiled at her and she did the same, returning his smile with a blissful grin. He took the remote control without another word.

The atmosphere was strangely relaxed, but you could just feel the crackle. He switched on the TV and the episode started. She looked over at him expectantly, so he couldn't help but lean over and grab her, cuddling her right next to him against his chest. Cait took a contented breath and drank more of the wine as she savoured his closeness and warmth.

They both made comments here and there and had to laugh and shake their heads when Rupert and Angus burst in. 'I remember one of them fell badly once,' Sam laughed and they both grinned. Then came the scene where Claire asks Jamie to bed. Both the Scot and the Irishwoman watched the scene tensely and had to smile again and again. 'How many times we had to repeat that...but you did a good job,' she said contentedly to distract them from what was actually happening. Jamie grabbed Claire's breast. 'Christ, how many times you made me laugh, Cait...you kept making jokes about my breasts,' Sam said with amusement and Cait turned bright red. 'Well I was nervous as hell...we had to take our clothes off...I was afraid I'd ruin your view of naked women' she said sheepishly and he took her chin and forced her to look at him.

'my god Cait...how can you say that...' he whispered more and she looked at him nervously and slightly guiltily. Before she could say anything, Sam beat her to it. 'Your body is beautiful.' She stared at him and their gazes parted as the scene came where Jamie plopped on top of her and penetrated her. The situation couldn't have been stranger. It was weird for both of them to see each other like this. It looked a thousand times hotter on the screen than when they were both shooting that scene over and over again.

Sam grinned at Claire's sweet words when she said she gets crushed by Jamie. He noticed Cait's tension, she squeezed her legs tightly together and banished all her thoughts to the farthest corner of her brain cells. To no avail. Sam looked down at her and took the wine glass from her hand. How much had they actually had now? Both bottles of wine were empty.

Cait looked at him questioningly, but she knew the answer. Sam slowly stroked her legs and hesitantly approached her face. Her breathing increased, her lower lip quivering in response to his touch. She closed the gap and kissed him. But this time more demanding and with far less restraint. Gripped by what was on the television, Cait pressed herself closer to him and without thinking about it, she sat on his lap. He gasped briefly under the stormy kisses only to continue on her neck. She let out a sigh. A soft, pleasurable sound that he knew all too well. It had almost always driven him crazy when they gave their all during filming and he wasn't allowed to have her completely. Shooting a scene is one thing. Shooting naked is something else, but constantly filming wild sex scenes in the nude with such a beautiful woman is simply torture. With her playful but otherwise confident character, he would have liked to show how much he really liked her. He constantly had to touch her. On her breasts, her body and getting closer to areas with his face that made him want to seriously give up control of himself.

Meanwhile, no matter what was on the television, she only had eyes for her Scotsman. She looked at him dreamily, losing herself in his gaze. Everything about him is so attractive. His hair, which she now clung to in order not to lose her mind. His upper body, his beard and God damn his face, with his ice-cold blue eyes that almost robbed her of her will. She unconsciously moved onto his lap when she realised that he was already more than ready for action. Now she smirked cheekily at him, causing him to bite his lower lip. 'You little beast....now you're showing your true colours,' he said almost choking and his gaze didn't leave hers for a second. Somehow they knew it, but it was different here too. He took off her hoodie and just looked at her for a moment. As if he couldn't believe what he saw, he grabbed her breasts as if he wanted to make sure they were the same as usual. He kissed one of them gently and played around with the other.

She leant her head back with pleasure and let him do his thing. 'Sam....' she breathed and looked at him, slightly dazed. 'You too....' she whispered excitedly and took off his shirt too. She looked at him with red cheeks. It didn't matter whether it was the alcohol or Sam's fault. No matter who she drank from, she would be intoxicated by both. She touched him on the shoulder and ran her fingers down his neck to the area below his belly button, from which a few hairs flashed out. Sam's eyes were fixed on Cait with an expression as if she were made of glyphs and he was trying to decipher them.

She grabbed his belt with her hand and tried to open it, but this turned out to be difficult when sitting. He grabbed her ass and literally threw her on the couch, took off his pants only to stand completely naked in front of her. Her gaze was discreetly surprised and looked at his best piece. She was not prepared for that now. They always wore protection on set, which didn't help much when Sam had a hard-on, but it covered everything. She swallowed and for a second a shy shadow could be seen in her eyes. "We want to stay fair, my dear," he pointed to her pants and came closer to her playfully. She looked at him nervously and had to smile to cover up her nervousness.

"Do you want to continue?" he asked as a precaution and in answer she nodded and looked at him with a cheeky, innocent face. He grinned confidently and helped her undress. There she was, completely exposed with a red glow on her cheeks. They had both played through this position so many times before, but this one moment now belonged to the two of them alone.

He grabbed her by the hand to pull her up to him. Cait stood directly in front of him and looked him in the eye anything but uncertainly. She literally felt his heartbeat, as if the two were synchronously forming a unit. She took his hands and intertwined her fingers in his. "Caitriona you are so beautiful" proudly sounded in his voice and she smiled happily at him. "Just you and me" she whispered lovingly, looked at him longingly and Sam couldn't ask any more questions, because she had just answered them.

He kissed her, longing and greedy, clawed at her ass to lift her up and faltered briefly. There was no cut, nothing that interrupted them despite the swaying and could stop the lust of both. He let himself fall back a little on the couch, with her on his lap, without even thinking about breaking the kiss.

Now nothing went according to the script. He was the director of this scene and decided how to proceed in accordance with his Irish beauty. She enjoyed every touch, every second and breathed heavier as he caressed her breasts. Cait became more impatient and looked at him almost begging. He grabbed her ass again to lift her and positioned her so that Sam could penetrate her without any problems. He smiled... She was more than ready. A groan on her part indicated that the tackle would continue as he was into her completely. The Hugh Scot didn't want to slow down, not to be careful that something unexpected happened.

Cait moved and he adjusted to her. This time he couldn't help but moan quietly. She rested her forehead on his and continued moving. Regardless of the hotel neighbors, neither of them cared how loud they were.

He had to smile at the sight of her. She moaned subtly differently than when they were filming. It sounded the same as always, but there was a hint of honesty in the sound of her lovely voice. The sound that makes his bones tremble and underlines the pleasure he is really giving her. Flowing through the alcohol and the rush of adrenaline that they both experience and that made them both sweat, he felt how aroused she already was. He concentrated on her to give her the moment of happiness, but had great difficulty enduring it, especially with her moaning. She really deeply enjoying it.

'Sam...' damn it, he tried so hard not to lose control, but moaning his name like that almost pushed him over the edge. He gasped heavily and bit her shoulder. Finally, she felt a wave rushing deep inside her and completely flooding her. She moaned louder and let him feel how much he loved her without ever having said it.

'Sassenach!' He gasped at the same time as her and let himself fall completely as he came inside her, clawing a little too hard at her round ass. She sank exhausted onto his shoulder and gasped for air. Completely out of breath, both of them tried to understand the situation they were in.

'Everything ok...Mo Chridghe?' He hesitated at first, but he had to say it. He loved her and had no doubt that this would ever change. She was too perfect, her temperament, her way of dealing with him and her laugh. God, how much he loved her laugh. The Scotsman lovingly wrapped the wool blanket around her and let her get some air, but it was starting to make him nervous because she was still hiding into his chest. 'Is everything ok, Cait?' he asked nervously. She turned her head so that her face was directed towards the crook of his neck and he could feel her breath. He got goosebumps.

'I love you...' she whispered softly to him. Three words that could throw him off balance and almost made his heart stop. A smile twitched across his lips. 'I love you too... Sassenach...' he said lovingly and playfully and felt her smile. 'What do we tell the producers?" she asked, quite worried. 'Nothing at first. It will be difficult to hide it... at least partially. Maybe they'll let us do it and accept the unspoken facts. Filming should be easier for both of us,' he tried to explain and stroked her back. Suddenly he looked at her with a Jamie expression, as if he had traveled through time in just a second. 'Could you now...' he paused briefly.

'What?' now she looked at him confused. 'I mean we didn't use protection...' he got nervous and the Irish woman had to giggle. 'No...that's out of the question, don't worry' she said. He smiled in relief. 'We missed half the episode,' he said and she snuggled up next to him. 'It doesn't matter...we'll watch it again then" she said with a cheeky undertone and he kissed her extensively.

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thefallennightmare · 1 day ago

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Dreamstate-Noah Sebastian x Reader[JP UNIVERSE]

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut(18+), star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse, talks of death, depressive thoughts, talks about not being able to conceive, and endometriosis.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Hi my loves! JP has been around for ONE YEAR! I am so thankful for all of you. I appreciate every single one of you more than I can ever express. This one-shot takes place between chapters 29 and 30! Also please know that I do not mean any disrespect to Keaton or his memory. Everything I've ever written was done with love and appreciation for him like I've done from the beginning. 🪽🖤 I will not hold it against you if you do not want to read because of it. But please know, that it's done with the utmost respect.

Tags[CLOSED]: @blueskylinesx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @happi-goth @softvgold @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-me @respectfulrebel @reader13000 @koskeepsake @malerieee @cheyyyyr @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @jessiskyee @sideeyenoah @badomensls @bellaboo967 @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave @lobolocaamo @cncohshit @amelia-acero @karenfranco @collidewiththesavannah @xserenax-13 @supersquirrel1996 @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715

THIS IS FICTION. NONE OF THIS IS REAL.

NOAH

Blinking my eyes open, I looked around my surroundings and noticed that I was no longer in my bedroom fighting with Y/N. I was on the tour bus, our tour bus, and when I craned my head to the side to peer out the window in my bunk, I sucked in a breath at what I saw. An oddly familiar venue with a red roof.

“What the fuck,” I muttered while rolling out of my bunk on the tour bus. “How hard did I hit my head last night?”

During my fight with Y/N, she threw one of her sketchbooks at me in frustration and it hit me directly in the middle of my forehead. That was the last thing I remembered before waking up here in our tour bus. We didn’t have a tour planned which made this whole scene even more confusing. I stretched out my long limbs, feeling the bones pop into place, as I walked towards the front area of the bus and made it outside, wondering where the rest of the guys were.

“Jolly? Nicholas?” I called out.

A sudden commotion on the far end of the bus caused me to whirl around and my heart thundered in my chest with the sight before me. It wasn’t the group of people that gave me pause. It was the lone female in the group with her long blonde hair and familiar smile that made my skin slick with sweat.

"Nice to meet you. I'm sure they've already said this but we're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows,” Nicholas smiled while extending his hand towards the familiar blonde.

"Shit, you guys sure know how to make a girl blush," she laughed lightly while bouncing on the soles of her feet.

“Y/N,” I breathed.

"Malcolm, your directions-."

Just as footsteps thundered down the steps of the bus behind me, the scene around me spun on its axis and darkness crept in. Bile rose in my throat as I felt my body being lurched forward onto the cold concrete, scraping up my palms and knees.

“I should not have had that gas station burrito,” I grumbled while clutching my stomach.

Slowly rising to my feet, I leaned my hand up against a car I had been literally thrown in front of, suddenly making me tilt my head towards it. This wasn’t the tour bus I had stepped down moments ago. In fact, I was in an entirely different place than before.

“This is one fucked up dream,” I dragged my hand down my face.

An angry voice from the other side of the van had me stepping around it slowly, not wanting to be detected on the off chance this wasn’t a dream and I was sneaking up on someone who could kill me.

"You don't have to worry about Noah hurting her. That's the farthest thing from his mind. He might be stubborn as hell but when he cares about someone, he makes sure they know that,” Nicholas smiled over towards Chase and Malcolm.

Furrowing my brows, I glanced over to Folio, seeing him shake out his hair before putting his hat back on. "He's a Scorpio, what did you expect?"

“That was fucking rude,” I muttered under my breath.

"Whether or not they admit it, they both need each other," Jolly smiled down over the cliff.

Peering over the hood of the car, I saw two faint figures on the beach and sucked in a breath; all the memories from our beach day came flooding back in as Y/N and myself waved up at the group of guys.

“How hard did she hit me with that sketchbook?” I rubbed at my forehead, still feeling the sting from earlier.

It was clear that I was dreaming of past moments Y/N and I shared but I couldn’t get over how real and vivid everything was. Almost as if I traveled back in time to these moments and saw it from a different perspective, not my own.

Why was I dreaming of these moments? Did it have a meaning? Or was it just because my brain was fucked up from all of the fighting Y/N and I had gone through?

Before I could get comfortable in this dreamstate, I felt the darkness creep in on the edge of my vision once again and all at once, my body was thrown through a tunnel only to be spat out seconds later; a different scenery from the last.

I was now in a hotel room, unsure when and where because frankly from the years of touring the hotel rooms began to blend together. It was then that I got a look at myself in the reflection of the mirror in the room and I sighed. My hair was short, indicating what I already knew. I’d been jumping in between moments from my past.

“Hi, angel.”

“Hi,” a soft voice broke through the quiet of the room, causing me to look over at the bed.

No.

My past self sat on the bed with Y/N, her head in my lap as I ran my fingers through her hair. It was evident no one could see me because I was standing at the foot of the bed, watching as my past self lowered his lips onto Y/N's, capturing them softly.

Our first kiss.

My heart fluttered in the confines in my chest, remembering the feeling that filled me that day. Through the dread and intense sadness from losing my best friend that day, Y/N’s unwavering comfort eased away the darkness that crept in.

“About time, huh? I’d been trying to set you two up for years.”

My body froze at the voice that lingered in the air; the familiar voice that I hadn’t heard in years. I choked while whirling around at the voice, ignoring the couple in the bed who were muttering something about Mario Kart.

The room spun rapidly before I could get my bearings, the floor getting ripped out from beneath me and my body slammed back and forth against the void before I fell onto a couch in yet another room. This one I immediately recognized, all of those feelings of hurt and abandonment crept back in as I let out a shuddering breath.

My past self, donning those ridiculous braids, dragged a finger over the large tattoo on Y/N’s back as she cuddled the pillow close to her chest, a soft giggle echoing in the room.

"Way down the road maybe one day in the future- to live in the middle of nowhere with a dog, cats, and a family of my own. In my wooden home that I built."

My eyes screwed shut, knowing what was going to come next. The calm before the storm. All because I asked a stupid question.

“Think of how far you’ve come from this moment, Noah. It was rough getting there but it was worth it.”

Snapping my eyes open, I glanced around the room looking for his face. It was his voice, surely he had to be here.

“Where are you?” I said.

As I blinked, the scene changed yet again and now I was standing in the rain, it chilling me to the bone. Wrapping myself deeper into my hoodie, I gazed around to see my past self standing in the rain as well with Y/N, trying to stop her from getting in her car.

“What easy way, Noah? This isn’t easy!” Y/N sighed. “None of this is easy!”

“No it is, actually.” My past self nodded. “Don’t think about anyone or anything else. What do you want from me? What do you want, angel?”

She rapidly shook her head, choking on a sob. “It’s not that simple.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” I watched myself enunciate every word with a pound fist to my chest.

When Y/N remained silent, I grasped her face to bring her into my warm embrace, even with the rain. “God damn it! What do you want?”

The pain in my own chest was evident, remembering how gut wrenching it felt to ask repeatedly what Y/N wanted. That night had started off great, only to be ruined by Bailey. It was my fault ultimately for not being clearer about our breakup. I tried not to dwell on it much because of how far Y/N and I have come since this night.

A snicker sounded from my left. “Did you really quote The Notebook? Never pegged you as a romance film kind of guy.”

Looking at the voice, I let out a gasp when the all too familiar smirk appeared on a face I hadn’t seen in years; one that my heart yearned to see again. His form began to fade in the darkness as it danced around both of us, dragging us back down.

“No. Please, wait!” I reached for him only to be thrown into yet another memory.

How long had I been asleep? Did this fucking sketchbook render me useless? Was I passed out on the floor of our bedroom?

Another thing I couldn’t figure out: why was I being thrusted into my own memory lane?

A commotion of voices halted me as I stood in a crowd of people, still undetected, and when I caught a flash of red, my breath caught in my throat knowing exactly what memory I’d been thrown into. I no longer was soaked to the bone due to the rain; I was dry.

I'm not afraid of the war you've come to wage against my sins.

I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend.

The music echoed loudly in the room and I frantically looked for the couch, knowing my past self would have been sitting there. I watched as he rose from his seated position and started to push his way through the crowd, looking for Y/N as our song played; a siren call looking for their lost soulmate.

“This was one of the most irritating moments of my life,” I sighed while crossing my arms over my chest, watching as our past selves kept missing each other.

“Do you know how hard it was to make sure you guys found each other at the right moment that night?” That voice snickered behind me.

Whirling around, I saw those eyes that shined bright with so much light. Just like before, the second I caught sight of him, he disappeared before I could grasp him. I wasn’t sure what was more irritating: being thrown around in an imaginary void or not being able to fully see the presence that had been following me.

For quite longer than I thought, apparently.

Expecting to be dragged down into another memory, I simply turned on my heels to see I was now standing in a hotel hallway. My past self stood no more than two feet in front of me, hand rubbing at his chest. The words he muttered fell on deaf ears as my eyes locked with the man holding my past self up. I knew I felt someone's arms around me that day, keeping me from falling to my knees.

“Keaton, I need you, man. Please tell me everything will be alright.”

As a soft breeze blew past the three of us in the middle of the hallway, I kept my eyes locked with the materializing figure over my past self’s shoulder.

“You’ve been with me this entire time,” I breathed with the realization.

He wore a soft smile as he nodded, before slowly fading away. “It’s okay.”

Then all at once, the world around me shifted one final time, throwing me back into my bedroom at home and I fell onto the bed with a grunt. It seemed like I was back to where I was before I went on a dream walk down memory lane, Y/N’s scattered sketchbook on the floor at my feet. Movement in front of me caught my eye as I slowly rose and tentatively walked over to the bathroom, seeing Y/N and me standing there. Both of them were standing in the middle of the bathroom with bright and hopeful smiles.

“I don’t remember this,” I said with my hands on my hips.

I watched as Y/N wrapped herself around his midsection, both of them swaying to something before they looked over to the phone on the bathroom counter with even wider smiles.

"Should we post it?" She asked.

Other me smiled bright, love filling those once dark eyes. "Instagram story. On there less than twenty four hours. Once we post it, lets turn off our phones to just focus on us."

“How’s she doing?

Jumping at the voice over my shoulder, I finally saw him standing in front of me and not in the ghost form he’d been all those times before.

“Keaton,” I breathed, almost immediately wrapping my arms around him in a hug.

His infectious laughter echoed when I tackled him. “Good to see you too, Noah.”

We stayed like that for a long moment, trying so hard to ingrain how it felt to hug my best friend again into my memory and when we eventually pulled away, I sniffled while whipping away a stray tear.

“I miss you so much, man,” I admitted with a shaky breath.

“I’m always with you, Noah. Right here,” Keaton pointed to my chest then to the tattoos on the side of my hands. “And right there.”

Ignoring the couple behind me in the bathroom, not knowing what they were waiting for, I kept my attention on Keaton.

“You know, when I'm sleeping I sometimes talk with you. But every time I wake up, it’s like I'm waiting for a miracle.”

I sniffled one more time with a shrug before continuing. “Maybe when the night comes, I'll find you in another world.”

“I’m not the miracle you need, Noah. But believe, it’s closer than you think.”

“Huh?” I asked, not quite sure what he meant by that.

“How’s she doing?” Keaton asked again, the colors in the room suddenly fading away, only to be replaced with a bright white light.

My brows furrowed. “Who? Y/N?”

Instead of answering, his smile reached his ears and bid me a final goodbye with a wink before turning on his heels and walking farther into the void of white.

“What do you mean?!” I called out after him, desperately wanting to run after him but my feet wouldn’t move, feeling heavier than concrete.

“In time the price of peace will cost us everything but all the love you leave carries on,” Keaton’s voice spoke in my mind one final time.

A loud gasp fell from my lips as I sat up in bed, covered in a thick sweat as it lingered on every inch of skin. The fabric of my shirt clung to my back as I frantically looked around the room, my heart nearly bursting out of my chest. I was back in my bedroom and noticed that the sketchbook wasnt where it previously was. Matter of fact, neither was the broken picture Y/N threw at me before the sketchbook.

My gaze locked on the date that was shining bright on our alexa home screen causing me to cock my head slightly at it, air catching in my throat.

No.

No way.

It was not possible.

“Clearly I’m dreaming again,” I murmured to myself before pursing my lips and pinching my thigh.

“Nope, not dreaming,” I yelped in pain.

The bed shifted next to me causing me to look down at the naked form on Y/N as she lay in a tangled mess of bedsheets and blankets.

“Hmm,” she hummed with a smile after setting her phone down on the pillow next to her. “Astrid and Faye want to meet up with me today. I guess they both have some special news they want to tell me.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“I guess something happened after The Ghost Inside set with Faye last night and Astrid found out something pretty important,” Y/N said.

I could barely speak, still being dumbfounded with the date on the Alexa home screen.

“Maybe I'll invite them over once I'm back home from the art store. I figured it'll be alright since you have therapy and we’re not going to dinner until four,” she sat up while letting the sheet fall to her lap.

I was still in a state of shock that I couldn’t even gaze at her perfect breasts, my mind whirling with so many different emotions. All I could do was numbly nod.

“I must say,” she smirked while brushing away the hair from my face, laying a kiss on my lips. “It’s always great to wake up to you every morning. But on my birthday, it’s extra special.”

#tina talks #noah sebastian #bad omens #just pretend noah sebastian #bad omens cult #noah sebastian fics #noah sebastian fanfictions #bad omens fics #bad omens fanfictions

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lumosinlove · 2 days ago

Text

Seeking hope and happiness, especially today, and found some in these three...

On The Line

Part Six

New York was much as Logan remembered it. This city seemed to do nothing but change, so its fast paced lights and sidewalks always seemed the same. Finn refused to stay anywhere but Manhattan, but if his happy expression as he stood at their suite’s large windows while sipping his coffee resulted in earlier mornings for the both of them, Logan didn’t care.

He poured a cup of his own and joined him at the window. Central Park’s leaves hadn’t turned yet. Early joggers and cyclists were out. People walked their dogs. The world felt awake and happy, and Finn’s arm around his waist was warm.

The qualifiers were over, the first rounds blown through. The semifinals were today. Logan had taken out Winter easily to get past the quarterfinals, and today he’d go up against Luke. Leo had fought hard to get through Black and succeeded, which had upset and surprised everyone—even those who were hoping for another grueling Tremblay-Knut match up in the final.

Logan knew he should be nervous for tonight’s match. He had to focus on Luke, who had a way of sneaking up on people. Instead, all he could think about was the prospect of meeting Leo in the finals.

“He sleeping?” Finn asked.

“Shower,” Logan said. “He was singing last I checked.”

“Singing what?”

“I don’t know.”

Finn scoffed. “Yes, you do.”

“Willow.”

Ah-ha.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but settled his head against Finn’s chest. The park looked so peaceful. The runners knew just where they were going around the circular track of the lake. The dog walkers would soon make their way back home. Logan didn’t know what would happen tonight—if he’d make it, or if he would lose this chance at another title. He wondered when he would get tired of chasing titles. It hadn’t quite happened yet. Something still ignited in his chest when he thought about winning. It was similar to the feeling he got when he thought about those two, prized first kisses he’d received. He liked Finn in the stands. He liked the grueling training Finn designed for him.

“How you feeling?” Finn asked, scratching his fingers through Logan’s hair. “You’re playing good. Smooth. I’m proud.”

Logan nodded, settling more of his weight against him. “I’m good.” He hesitated, but Finn would find out sooner or later. Logan would end up blurting it out in a different moment just like this one. “Nervous.”

“I know,” Finn said. “But we knew this was always a possibility.”

“But now it’s close. And real.”

“Oh, you’re so sure you’re going to take Luke.” When Logan just looked at him, Finn laughed. “Yeah, okay, killer.”

“I don’t want to hurt Le.”

Finn stayed quiet for a moment. Logan closed his eyes, letting him mess with his hair, rub his neck, do anything he wanted while he thought. One time he accidentally started doing it when a few reporters caught up with them around the practice courts, and there hadn’t been a camera there but they had sure gotten a few laughs.

“You’re not hurting anyone, Lo. You’re doing your job. Leo will be in the game longer than you. He’s talented and driven and younger.” Finn looked down at him. “I think the only thing that would hurt him is you…like, going easy on him or something.”

Logan scoffed. “Going easy?”

“Not that you would. God knows you’re too stubborn for that.”

Logan let his eyes unfocus, filled only with the green and brown smudges of the park far below. A siren wailed somewhere—a sound he always associated with the beginning of a grueling hardcourt season. He already knew Finn would be setting up multiple massage appointments for him—and thought about asking Finn to do it himself like he sometimes did.

“I want to beat him. That’s there, just like in practice,” Logan said carefully. “I just… I need a way to separate it.” Logan ran his hand down Finn’s arm until he reached his wrist. He traced over the taut tendons there from holding his coffee. “I don’t remember how I did it with you. I just—I need it to be about the game and not about us because…”

Finn’s fingers paused from messing with his hair. His thumb brushed Logan’s eyebrow, and Logan took the cue and looked up at him.

“Because I love him,” Logan whispered.

A new sort of flame caught behind Finn’s eyes. His laugh was soft, satiny, and he cupped Logan’s chin in light fingertips.

“Ouais,” Logan whispered against Finn’s mouth. “Finn, I do, I do…” Finn was hushing him, smiling, nodding, then kissing him.

“Shower’s free,” Leo’s voice said.

Logan looked to see him with a towel around his waist and another in his hands, drying off his hair roughly. The droplets of water on his chest shone as brightly as the gold chain around his neck.

“I mean,” Leo continued, grinning. “Technically, it was free while I was in it, too. If we’re covering all our bases here.”

“I have to shower,” Finn said, setting his coffee down. “So, why are you toweling off?”

Leo laughed and threw the towel in a perfect straight snap to Finn’s chest.

Finn just grinned, grabbing his face for a sloppy kiss as he passed by. He turned. “Lo, eat a light breakfast and stretch now so we can get some hitting in early. And Le…” He stopped in his tracks, halfway through the bathroom doorway before he retraced his steps and took Leo around the waist for a slower, softer kiss. It left his shirt damp. He hooked a finger in Leo’s gold chain. “See you for lunch?”

Logan still managed to forget Leo wasn’t coming down to the courts with him more often than not. He’d grown so used to spending every single moment together. Seeing him across the practice courts, alone, and tall, and beautiful, felt so, so strange. Sometimes Finn had to stop Logan from crossing the lines at the sound of Leo’s coach’s harsh barks at him…Sometimes Logan had to stop Finn.

Leo bit his lip, shoulders falling some, and shook his head. “Probably not.”

Logan frowned. He took it all back. This was the hardest part. The days where they hardly saw each other. “When?”

“I’ll stick around after I play Lupin,” Leo said, offering a smile as he wiped at the water he’d gotten on Finn’s shirt. “Watch you kick Luke’s ass.”

Logan brightened. “You will?” What if you lose? There was no way Leo’s team would want him out at Logan’s match for the camera to find if he lost.

“Fuck ‘em,” Leo said, reading his mind, then looked at Finn. “But I probably shouldn’t sit with you.”

Finn’s mouth pulled to the side unhappily, but he nodded. “I know…All right, well, have a late dinner with us?”

“Gotta ask coach,” Leo said. “But I want to. Will you text me where you guys end up?”

Logan set his coffee down too, mostly untouched. “Le, we won’t leave without you. Tell your team your having dinner with—with friends, if you have to.”

“They can’t deny you us.” Finn brushed his knuckles down Leo’s cheek. “We’re yours.”

“Sweetheart…” Leo caught Finn’s hand and kissed it. “You are.”

But Leo sighed, and it sounded so heavy and exhausted that Logan wanted to take them both back to his house, back to the sun and the pool, and the open kitchen that wouldn’t ever feel the same without Leo’s happy humming in it.

Logan crossed the room and fit into Leo’s other side. He settled his palm on his neck, making Leo look at him. I love you. I love you.

“I’ll try,” Leo said. He put his hand over Logan’s. “You know I’ll try.”

Leo won his match. Logan caught the end of it on the warm-up room televisions while rolling out his back on the mats. Luke was on the other side of the room. Maybe they would have been watching together, had they not been about to play, but Logan was glad for the quiet. Finn was off somewhere preparing Logan’s drinks and fruit. He’d started leaving little messages on the insides of bottle caps and the back of Logan’s plastic forks. Love you. The camera had already caught one that said you’re hot and so he’d been sticking to love. Logan had realized that the camera caught it and had shown it on the big screen once the crowd laughed, so he’d made a point of tapping it, eyes on the camera, and pointing to himself. That had won him big media points. One headline had even read Heart Grew Three Sizes That Day.

Leo was doing well. He looked strong and energetic, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet while he waited for a serve. Logan paused, letting himself rest with his neck on the roller as he took him in. He looked devastating in the outfit his sponsors had chosen. All black, all the way to the headband tied around his golden hair.

His returns were like water. He hit a backhand, forehand, backhand, before whipping the ball down the line so perfectly that Logan had to inhale and close his eyes, pushing the roller from his neck to shoulders. The perfect dig into his sore muscles couldn’t come close to Leo’s hands on him, especially with Finn’s dark eyes watching the two of them over Leo’s shoulder.

“I know what you’re think-ing a-bout,” Finn’s sing-song voice came.

Logan opened his eyes to see Finn standing there. He held a clear cup of fruit, and three water bottles. One was clear, untouched. The other was orange, filled with vitamin C, the third pink with hydration powder.

“Ha,” Finn said. He set the bottles down as he crouched by Logan’s side. “I was right, I can tell.”

Logan pushed himself up to sit. “You were right.”

“Actually. You were,” Finn said. He twisted a bottle cap off and flashed its reverse at him.

I <3 him 2

From the court, Logan found Leo in in the crowd easily, smiling and accepting congratulations for his win. He had shed the black, sponsored clothes. For Logan, he was sunny in white and light blue. Only a small smile and a slight flutter of his fingers let Logan know Leo had seen him, too. Hi, it might have said. Or, good luck.

When Logan looked to Finn, Finn flashed him a thumbs up and patted a hand over his chest. You got this. Love ya.

Logan liked all of his and Finn’s secret messages to each other while he was on court. He wanted more of that with Leo. He wanted to be able to know for sure what ever inch of Leo meant. Every movement. He wanted Leo to know in turn that he had seen him, that he—

“Time violation,” came the umpire’s voice.

Logan blinked. Around him the audience was murmuring. He jerked his head up to the chair. The umpire was looking at him impatiently. He didn’t remember coming to stand at the baseline, but he found himself holding the ball close to his racket like he was about to bring it up for a serve. How long had he been standing that way? He looked at Finn, who was now standing up and had concern written all over his face. Lo?

Leo. Logan found him in the crowd again. Sweet-eyed. Just as concerned. Nodding at him. What did that mean? I know? It’s okay? I understand? You got this?

Logan bounced the ball, once, twice, caught a glimpse of Luke’s taken off-guard face, and served. Ace. No one could touch that shot from him. Maybe Leo could.

Leo definitely could. With his reach, with his step, with his glorious elegance. Logan narrowed in again. This was his game. His war within as his body fought to reach the finals—even while his mind dreaded playing Leo. And longed for it.

Luke put up a fight, but he simply wasn’t as quick. Logan’s win came to him easily in the third set, off a slice that cut the ball to drop right over the net.

“Game, set, match, Tremblay,” echoed through the stadium.

Luke met him at the net, clasping his hand and slapping him on the back.

“Nice one. You good?” Look said in his ear.

“I’m in love,” Logan said.

Luke pulled back, giving him a look, then laughed. “Lucky you, then, Tremblay.”

Finn was waiting for him in the tunnel, as usual. Instead of the usual hard hug—which Logan had been looking forward to—he put oh-so gentle hands to Logan’s face, looking between his eyes for signs of harm.

“You okay?” he asked softly. “What happened with that time violation? You just…You just stood there for a second, I thought you were gonna pass out on me or something.”

Logan shook his head. “Where’s Leo?” Then, surprising himself, he laughed. He took Finn’s face in his hands, a mirror, and kissed him hard. “Where is he?”

“I…” Finn laughed, too, shaking his head. “I don’t know, maybe waiting for the car if he got away—”

Logan wrapped his arms tightly around Finn’s neck. He pressed a kiss to Finn’s cheek. “I love you, mon Rouge. Mon coeur, lumière, éternité…”

Finn’s hands pressed into his back. “I love you. God, I love you, too, but Lo, just say you’re good. Say it to me.”

“I am,” Logan said, tucking his face into his neck. “I am.”

Logan tried not to appear as insane as he felt when he was stopped to sign autographs. He was probably full on grinning in photos with fans more than he had in his entire career. Finn stood a step apart, like a watchful bodyguard. He signed a few autographs and took a few pictures of his own. He placed a hand low on Logan’s back and guided him out of the arena towards where the car would be waiting.

And there he was. Logan felt like some string had been cut then refastened. All the parts of him yearning to get to Leo in that crowd, standing frozen on that court, tethered themselves to the golden boy waiting at the curb.

He would have kissed him right there. He would have willed the world’s attention their way—but first them. Just them. First, this had to be theirs.

He didn’t have to call out Leo’s name. He heard them coming and turned. The grin he gave Logan was filled with the win he himself had under his belt.

He slipped his phone into his pocket. “Late dinner, yeah? Tastes fifty times better after a win.” When Logan got close, Leo wrapped an arm around his shoulders and leaned in, away from the cameras. “Good game, Lo. You all right?”

Logan nodded and yanked open the door of the car. He guided Leo through, then Finn, who went with a wink.

The car was dark, darker than the night was outside with its people and camera lights. The door shut and took the noise with it. Finn and Leo sat in the seats opposite Logan. There was a driver, Finn was giving him a restaurant name, but Logan didn’t care. Leo had a hand on Finn’s thigh, accepting a kiss.

“He’ll say he’s fine, but you tell me,” Leo said. “Is he okay? On the court, I thought—”

Logan leaned across the pristine black carpet of the car. He steadied himself on the smooth leather seat with one hand, his other high on Leo’s thigh, and kissed Leo’s surprised mouth.

“Okay,” Leo mumbled, steadying Logan with two hands on his waist. “Moving car? Seatbelts?”

“If you’re in the stands, I want you in my box,” Logan said. “If I’m in the stands, I want to be in your box.” He feathered lighter kisses up Leo’s cheek. “I want to sit next to Finn. I want you to be able to hear us when you go for a towel. I want to be able to hear you both.”

Leo sent Finn a look through the kisses, smiling. “Okay…”

“I don’t care what your team thinks. I don’t care if they think I’m listening, or Finn’s plotting and stealing.” Logan pulled back to look down at him. “If they think I would use you in that way, they’re stupid.”

“You and adrenaline are quite the cocktail,” Leo said, but he was blushing.

Logan let himself fall back into his own seat. “And you look perfect in black.”

“A crazy cocktail, but he speaks the truth.” Finn held out a water bottle to Logan. “Drink that whole thing. Even the dregs, I’m watching you, Tremblay.”

Logan took the bottle, shaking up the hydration powder inside. “What do I get if I do?”

Finn just smiled. He was unwrapping silver foil from a piece of blue peppermint gum gum and he popped it into his mouth. “I’ll blow you in the restaurant bathroom.”

Logan blinked. “Really?”

Finn reached forward and flicked him on the forehead.

They reached Manhattan again quickly enough, and curled into the twisting streets of the West Village. Finn perked up, happy to be on familiar ground and popped the car door.

“After you,” Leo said, just as Logan motioned for him to go first. “Oh—ha. Lo, go.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “You.”

“Not that this isn’t adorable, but…” Finn leaned down. “If I’m hungry, you guys must be starving.” He held out his hand to Leo. “Guess what they have here?”

Leo put his hand in Finn’s. “What?”

“Deconstructed chocolate cake,” Finn said, helping him out.

“What the fuck is that?” Logan asked, following.

“Sugar. You’ll love it.”

Logan sent Leo a look as Finn jogged ahead and disappeared between large, wooden doors. Inside, Logan caught a glimpse of windows lined with candles. Leo would look gorgeous.

“That was pretty sweet back there,” Leo said. He took his hand as they walked. “You sure you’re all right?”

“I was fine on the court,” Logan said, pulling the door open. “I was just thinking.”

“About?” Leo asked.

The candlelight was already hitting him, and Logan thought about telling him right there in this doorway with Finn and a—blushing—waiter looking expectantly at them.

“Just thinking,” Logan said. “All good things.”

“Um,” the waiter tucked her hair behind her ear. “This way.”

“Thanks so much,” Finn beamed.

“Classic O’Hara,” Leo whispered. He moved Logan’s hand from his left to his right and placed his hand low on Logan’s back. “But we both won today. Who’s he gonna let taste the wine?”

Logan laughed. “It’s going to be you.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling I have.”

It didn’t feel like a day off. Not without Leo there. The two female finalists were playing their match today, and at dinner Logan had been relieved at the idea that he’d have a whole day off with Leo before they had to go against each other—until Leo told them his coach wanted him to stay away.

He woke up earlier than usual and in a too empty room. Finn, warm and solid against his back—but no Leo. He wasn’t sure why he was even awake until he felt the next stroke of fingers through his hair, absentminded and soft. It would put him straight back to sleep soon.

“Rouge,” Logan mumbled. His voice wasn’t quite there yet, coming out a gravely sort of whisper.

“Sorry,” Finn whispered back. “I was just looking at you. Go back to sleep.”

Logan pushed back against him. “I’m turned away.”

“I was looking at the rest of you.”

The sheets were near his hips now that he thought about it. Finn’s hand ran down the dip of his ribs and waist.

Logan settled into the feeling, but when Finn’s fingers moved back to his hair, he sighed and rolled onto his back, getting a hand under Finn’s head to pull him onto his chest. He closed his eyes, pressed five hard kisses to Finn’s temple, and felt Finn let out a long sigh.

“What’s up?” Logan asked.

“Leo. If there was any day he should have been able to be with us, it was today, when we have nothing going on, and the training is light because you play tomorrow.” Finn’s fingers began drumming on his chest, restless. A rare show of nerves. “He should be here right now.”

Logan could see Finn in Nice. In his library nook for the first time. Head in his hands, finally allowing himself to cry away an old life to let the new one in. This, he thought, was a version of it. Worries, brimming over because they had not been let out.

He passed his fingers through Finn’s hair. Kissed his temple and his forehead and the bridge of his nose. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have talked to his team—”

“Non,” Logan said. “They’re angry people. I think. That wouldn’t have helped. But, hey. Look at me.”

Finn did. Sleepy brown eyes. He traced a thumb under one lower set of fair eyelashes. There was lilac there.

“No more worrying,” Logan whispered. He brushed his mouth, feather-light, over the delicate skin just under Finn’s eye.

“I’m not worried—no, I am.”

“It gets like this when you’re stressed.” Logan kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “It’s gorgeous, but it’s not good for you.”

Finn sighed and let Logan press him back into the pillows to be kissed. His jaw. His neck. “He’s not happy. I mean, he’s happy with us. But in the game. In this life. He used to be happier. At the Wimbledon Ball. He was happier.”

“How do you know? We weren’t seeing a lot of him then.” Logan’s mouth found the valley between his collarbones. Was there anything better than this? It woke him up like coffee, and settled him down like nothing else. Sometimes, panicking on the court, he pictured this. Soft and unhurried. Usually, Leo was there for him to kiss, too. “Let’s get dressed. Then call him. Tell him he has to have breakfast with us.”

Finn smiled. “What, or else?”

“Or else I…” Logan tried to think of something good, but honestly he wasn’t meant to be awake this early. He pressed his face into Finn’s neck, his hand to his cheek. He inhaled, kissed him there, then pulled back and kissed him properly. “I love him.”

Finn smiled. “I love him, too.”

It rang. Rang and rang.

“Hey, it’s Leo, sorry I missed you!”

Again. Logan leaned his forehead against the warm window pane, standing in a square of sun coming into their room.

“Hey, it’s Leo, sorry I missed you!”

“Fuck.” Logan turned, waiting for the beep.

Finn watched his face as he pulled a t-shirt over his head. His skin was still slightly damp from his shower and Logan, worried as he was, enjoyed the way it stuck to his chest.

“Hi, Le,” Logan said. “It’s us. Just wondering where you are…”

“Missing you,” Finn mumbled, bending down to lace up his shoes.

“We miss you, we are going to get breakfast at the place. Okay. Lo—Okay, cool.” Finn’s head snapped up with an open-mouthed smile. Logan flushed. “Okay, come find us, or we’ll find you.”

He hung up fast, staring at his phone. Finn crossed the room, taking Logan’s face in his hands.

“You almost said—” he began to say, laughing through the words.

Logan pushed up on his toes and kissed him silent. He pulled back, knowing his eyes were wide, and pressed three fingers to Finn’s mouth. “Quiet.”

Finn gave his chin a little jerk and took Logan’s fingers in his mouth, smiling around the gentle bite. Logan rolled his eyes and pulled his hand away.

“C’mere, lover.” Finn wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “I’ve got the room key. I’m taking you to a big breakfast full of eggs, ham, and calling Leo every five minutes.”

Finn got restless again and they had barely taken a sip of their coffees. Logan could tell. What they had started calling “the” place was a small coffee shop that Finn knew. It made generous omelettes with sides of potatoes and greens. Spicy beans and fried eggs with tortillas—Leo’s favorite. Logan had stared at it at the menu, wondering if ordering it would make him arrive faster.

A plate with a steaming chocolate croissant appeared in front of him, and Finn pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“There you go, sweetheart.” Finn slid into his seat. “I ordered for us. But I didn’t want to sit here with you while you’re hangry and drinking your coffee-milk, so…”

Logan shoved him, but Finn just pulled their chairs together and took out his phone. Logan ripped off a piece of the croissant and watched Finn find Leo’s contact. When he held it up to his ear, Logan watched Finn’s face. Hopeful. He caught Logan’s eye and put a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing.

“Hi,” Finn said, but the sigh in his voice told Logan no one had answered. “Hey, Sunshine. Us again. We’re here. Just…wondering where you are.” Finn looked at Logan, mouth pulling to the side. “Let us know.” He ran a thumb over Logan’s bottom lip. “Okay. Okay, love you, bye.”

Finn set his phone down, hand falling down to Logan’s lower back. “Maybe he’s sleeping and we’re assholes trying to wake him up.”

“It’s almost eleven.”

“Yeah…” Finn picked up the water pitcher on the table and filled Logan’s glass. Logan picked it up again and filled Finn’s.

“What did you order?”

“Got us the ham and tomato omelettes. Sound good?”

“Ouais. Thanks.”

They quieted, then laughed a little at each other when they realized they were both waiting for the phone to ring.

Finn was worrying the straw of his iced coffee when he set the cup down hard. “Oh my God.”

“Hm?” Logan got to the chocolatey center of the croissant and carefully bit so he got enough chocolate and enough pastry.

“Logan…”

Logan raised his eyebrows at his full name from Finn’s mouth. “Finn…” He mimicked his tone, but got serious when Finn put both of his hands in his hair, gripping. “Finn. Quoi?”

“I just—oh my God.”

“What?”

“I just…” Finn’s hands moved over his mouth. “Did I?”

Logan set the pastry down. “Did you what? Did you fucking what?”

He looked so panicked that Logan started looking around, trying to figure out the problem. But Finn grabbed his hand, pulling his attention back to him.

“At the end of the message, I said…” Finn whispered. “I said love you.”

Logan blinked. “What?”

They both stared down at Finn’s phone and its dark screen.

“Shit,” Logan said. “Wait, ouais. You—you did. Finn.”

Finn melted, folding his head into his arms and slumping on the table.

Logan laughed, but he wasn’t sure if it was actually funny. That wasn’t how he’d planned for Leo to know. Of all the opportunities they’d had. Dinners and late nights and soft afternoons.

“And after you made fun of me for almost saying it.”

“Shut up,” Finn mumbled into his arms. When he lifted his head, his face was flushed. “It just slipped out. I—shit. I was looking at you and your stupid chocolate, and then I saw the hot sauce on the table and I was thinking about him and the amount he puts on his fucking eggs—”

“You said okay, love you, bye.”

“I know that!”

“Two omelettes?”

They both looked up at the waiter, who took a step back—probably at the panicked look in their eyes.

“Um,” he said. “No? Not omelettes?”

“No, no,” Finn said. “I mean, yes, omelettes. Thank you so much.”

The man set the plates down with a look on his face like he wanted to get out of there. It probably had something to do with the way Finn still had his head in his hands.

Logan rubbed a hand down his back. “It’s fine. Baby, it’s fine. We do love him.”

“And he finds out on a voicemail?” Finn’s voice came out muffled through his hands. “So bad. Jesus.”

“Maybe he’s not gonna listen?”

“Maybe.” For a moment, Finn sounded almost placated, but he jerked his head up. “No phone.”

Logan nudged his plate at him. “Eat something.”

Finn turned his body towards him in his chair. “You’re playing tomorrow.”

“Finn, what the fuck?”

“I want you eating and drinking and resting.”

“Finn, what…” He gestured to his food. “Ouais. What does this look like?”

“When do you not have your phone?”

“When I’m…” Logan trailed off, finally understanding. “Non. That would be insane.”

Finn stood, gesturing to the waiter. “Let’s get this to go.”

They arrived at the practice courts in the heat of the day. Logan heard Leo before he saw him. He heard him like he’d heard him every day during those perfect months at his house. Leo had a rhythm all his own. His footwork. Quick shuffles, short squeaks of his sneakers on the hard court.

But Logan should not have been able to hear it right then. Not less than twenty hours before the U.S. Open final.

“Fuck,” Finn said, pushing a fence open. “He’s on the court.”

“Again!” they heard Leo’s coach shout.

“Fuck,” Finn cursed. “I’m gonna kill that guy.”

Logan watched him storm towards the next fence, past another player practicing with a hitter—who missed his shot when he saw Finn.

“Wait,” Logan called. “Rouge!”

Finn stopped, but barely. Every muscle in his body strained towards Leo’s court just ahead. Logan could see him now, just barely through netting and bushes and low court walls. Logan caught glimpses of blond hair as he jogged towards Finn.

“What?” Finn asked. “He shouldn’t be out there.”

Logan put his hands on his shoulders. “Stop. I know. But stop.”

Leo was on the baseline. His coach stood beside him, talking fast while Leo’s chest heaved.

“Let me go alone,” Logan said. “If it’s you, his team will get defensive. If it’s me, it’s not their business. It’s player to player.”

Finn looked conflicted. “I…” He looked towards Leo, too. “He shouldn’t be out there.”

“I know.”

“I do love him.”

“I know,” Logan said softly. “Look. I’ll get him in the locker room. You’ll be waiting there. Let me.”

He left Finn, all the while sure he would break and follow him. But he didn’t. Logan made it past another court and opened the chain-fence door into the sidelines of Leo’s. Leo was mid-rally, so his coach saw him first. The man scowled. Logan scowled back.

Leo’s hitter sent the ball into the net.

“Leo,” the coach called. Leo looked at him as he rolled out one of his ankles gingerly. A sharp nod directed his attention to Logan and, despite everything, the heat and how tired he obviously was, a smile broke over Leo’s face and jogged over.

“Hi,” Leo said, but held out his hand. “I want to, but don’t hug me.” He jerked his head subtly towards his team. “They already think I’m going to be soft on you tomorrow and I don’t…” Leo swallowed. He let out a breath. “Anyway. Hi. What are you doing here?”

Logan’s whole chest hurt. “What about I kiss you instead?”

That, at least, made Leo smile. One blue eye squinted shut against the sun. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Logan fired back.

He squirted Logan lightly with his water bottle. “You spying on me, Tremblay?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Logan said.

“That’s cute. A little desperate, but cute.”

“Leo.”

“I’m training,” Leo said. “I don’t know if you heard, but I’m going up against Logan Tremblay tomorrow. He’s pretty good.”

“Which is why you should be resting.”

Leo was quiet for a moment, then he looked around. “So, where’s Finn freaking out right now?”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek and looked towards the locker room building.

“You two are sweet, you know that?” Leo reached out and briefly stroked a knuckle down the center of Logan’s chest. “Look, I’m almost finished here. Then I’ll find you. I know how to take care of myself. Finn knows that, too, or he should.”

“He actually—We actually need to talk to you about something else.”

Leo frowned. “Oh?”

“Just—” Logan itched to take his hand. “Come? Please? Just for a moment.”

Leo still looked concerned, but he nodded. “Okay. Hold on.”

His coach had his arms crossed. His narrow eyes tracked Leo as he came towards him. The argument was hushed and intense. It ended with Leo grabbing his bags with an angry sort of strength. Logan knew how heavy those bags got. Leo swung them onto his shoulders like they were nothing, just beautiful baby blue and white leather there to make his hair turn even more golden.

When he reached Logan again, he looked more tired than before.

“Give me,” Logan said. Leo didn’t protest when Logan took his racket bag from him and shouldered it himself.

“You’re not supposed to be seen with Adidas.”

“They can kiss my ass.”

“Lo—”

“Then they can explain why they have a problem with me helping my boyfriend.”

Leo lightened up at those words like he always did. As they ducked away from the court, he wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulders and kissed him. Logan wanted to whisper the phrase into his skin until it stayed with him forever, kept in that sweet freckle just under his chin.

Finn was pacing when they walked in, and then he was rushing over, holding Leo’s shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing out there in the sun? You’ve got a match tomorrow.”

“Backhand,” Leo said. He glanced at Logan. “Mine’s not as good. Coach wants…” He sighed. Annoyance was all over him. Stress. Logan hated it. He wanted to smooth it all away with his fingers, wanted to touch every inch of him to make sure it wasn’t there. “I don’t know what he wants. Oh. By the way…” He leaned forward and planted a soft, quick kiss to Finn’s worried mouth. “Hi.”

Finn pulled him in, leaving one arm open for Logan.

“I’m so sweaty, sorry,” Leo said.

Logan pushed his nose into his chest. Okay, love you, bye.

“Missed you this morning,” Finn said. “We thought…We thought we’d get to…”

There were a million ways Logan would have finished that sentence. Sleep in, breakfast, kiss, lounge, shower, read, talk, sex, doze, stretch, breathe.

“So did I,” Leo sighed. Logan felt his fingers in his hair, a kiss pressed to his forehead and held there. “Fuck. So did I.”

“Do you have your phone?” Finn asked. “With you?”

“It’s in my bag.” Leo arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

Finn just stared at him, but Logan saw each thought pass in his face as if he’d said it.

Leo saw it, too, though he didn’t know enough to understand and laughed instead, unsure. “What the hell is up with you two?”

“We’re in a locker room,” Finn whispered to Logan.

Leo looked between them. “O’Hara, what is happening?”

“I cannot do this in a locker room.”

“Do what?”

Finn groaned, then laughed, then sat down on a bench and covered his face. “I left you a voicemail today. Ugh. Well. We left you a few.”

“I’m sorry,” Leo began but Finn shook his head.

“No, no. It’s okay. It’s just—the last one I left…” His hands dragged down his face lightly, making his brown eyes look big and sad. “Ugh. Leo. I’m such an idiot.”

Leo sat down beside him, hand on Finn’s knee. “Finn…You’re not. You’re not an idiot.” He glanced up at Logan, all concerned and blue, sweat still dripping down from the ends of his hair. “The last one you left…what?”

Finn straightened. He set his hand over Leo’s. Then he held it in both and brought his knuckles to his mouth.

“When I was hanging up, I told you that I loved you,” Finn said. “And I do.”

Logan wanted to hear him say it again, in that soft way. He sank onto the bench on Leo’s other side, the very same words burning in his chest. He put his mouth to the warm fabric of Leo’s t-shirt shoulder, curling a hand around his bicep. There was a fine tremor to Leo’s muscles. Logan didn’t know if he was tired, or if it was the words, but Leo was shaking, just a little.

Logan couldn’t help it. Where he was tucked against Leo’s shoulder, he smiled. “Leo…”

The laugh jostled Logan first, and then it sounded, light and a little tearful, from Leo’s mouth. He grabbed for Finn’s shoulder, pulling him in for something that was more a smile than a kiss.

“You just blurted that out, huh?” Leo cupped the back of Finn’s neck. “Jesus, O’Hara, you had me so worried there.”

“I love you,” Finn said. “I—Logan…”

Leo laughed louder, freer, as Logan gripped the back of his t-shirt until Leo turned.

Logan swiped a thumb over Leo’s full bottom lip. He just wanted to touch that smile. He kissed him, hard, tasting the sweat from his practice.

“I love you,” Logan whispered. “I was supposed to say it first, I love you.”

“Supposed to?” Finn spluttered.

“Shh,” Logan said into Leo’s mouth. “Look how happy he is, I can taste it.”

“I love you, too,” Leo said. He pressed his nose against Logan’s cheek, then turned back to Finn. “Oh God, I love you, too.”

Logan watched them kiss. Laugh. Dissolve into each other—Finn’s chin on Leo’s shoulder, eyes closed, fingers scratching through the back of his hair. Logan put a hand on Leo’s back and felt his muscles relax. All the tension from the court earlier bled away. And tomorrow…Tomorrow’s match felt very far away.

“Let’s go,” Leo said. “I’m sweaty and hot and in love.”

“Wow, speaking Logan’s language,” Finn said.

Leo laughed, but when he stood he sent an almost nervous glance towards the door. “Quick. Before anyone tries to pull me back out there.”

“You shouldn’t have been out there in the first place,” Finn said.

Leo sighed with a smile. “Finn.”

Finn stood, hands up in surrender. “Let’s get out of here.”

Logan could relax because it was the three of them. He was finishing off a plate of pasta and chicken balanced on his thighs. Finn sat with his computer perched on the arm of the couch with Logan’s feet in his lap. One thumb dug perfectly into Logan’s arch. Leo was laying on the ground, stretching out his back and—well. Smiling the whole time.

“I keep thinking about the Wimbledon Ball,” Leo said.

“You scolded me for leading,” Logan said.

“I didn’t scold,” Leo laughed. “I wanted you to know you could trust me.”

Logan sat up and set his plate down on the hotel’s coffee table. He pulled his feet from Finn’s lap—Finn wrapped a hand around his ankle and held on long enough for Logan to lean in and kiss him. Logan pressed down against Finn as that hand smoothed up his calve, behind his knee. Up his thigh, resting on his ass for a moment before settling on his lower back to press them together harder.

Logan smiled against Finn’s mouth, then slipped out of his hold. He made his way to where Leo lay on his back and stood over him, one foot pressed against each of his hips.

“Trust you?” he repeated.

Leo stretched his arms over his head, grinning. He was wearing Finn’s sweatshirt. He’d caught the worn cuffs in his hands and it pulled the hem halfway up his chest. Logan wanted to put his teeth on the cut of his waist, he really did.

“Mhm,” Leo said. “You didn’t. You thought I was trying to get inside your head.”

“You were.” Logan narrowed his eyes. “You just said so—trying to get me to trust you.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Fine. Fine. But you thought I was trying to beat you. And I wasn’t.” He pulled his arms down. Like Finn, his palms found the back of Logan’s ankles. Then his calves. Then the back of his thighs. Only, Leo pulled gently and Logan lowered himself into straddling his hips. Leo smiled and pushed down on his thighs until Logan let his full weight go. “I wasn’t trying to beat you. I was trying to win you.”

A soft laugh came from the couch. “I knew something had to be up when you blatantly asked to dance with my boyfriend.”

“Would have asked you, too,” Leo said, eyes trained on Logan’s as Logan lowered himself down onto his forearms. They were nose to nose now. “A boy can only find so many excuses in one night.”

“And what are you gonna try to do tomorrow?” Logan asked.

“Oh,” Leo whispered. He picked his head up just enough to capture Logan’s bottom lip gently between his teeth—a pull and release that sent Logan’s hips rocking down against him. “Beat you.”

“Please find the bed,” Finn said absentmindedly. His eyes were on his laptop, and he’d put his glasses on. “Your knees get enough stress as it is. And don’t go crazy. I need you rested. And not sore.” Finn looked over at them and Logan wondered if he knew how red his ears were. “Both of you.”

“I’ll find a bed, if you promise to find us when you’re done with that computer,” Leo shot back.

Finn slapped the laptop shut. “What computer?”

Coin toss. They weren’t even playing yet and Logan was already sweating with the sun at his back.

“Mr. Tremblay?” the Umpire presented him with the coin. “You will choose?”

“Heads,” Logan said.

“Very well. Heads. Mr. Knut, you will be tails.”

Logan was trying not to look at Leo too hard, but it was difficult. Every time they caught each other’s eye, they both had to suppress a smile. There was joy in this. Logan dreaded to win and dreaded to lose, but there was joy. Leo across from him. The game he loved. Leo, being his.

The coin flashed in the sun as it got tossed up. It rattled, looping around on its edges for a moment before settling between their feet.

“Tails.” The Umpire looked at Leo. “Mr. Knut, you will…”

“Serve first,” Leo said.

“Knut, first service. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes. If Leo thought he was going to get to take a few points off of Logan with that massive serve of his, he was wrong.

It seemed to take ages for the crowd to settle down. New York was always loud, but they were more riled by the idea of of Leo and Logan on the court once again. Logan leaned down to re-tie his shoes and tried to steady his breathing. He turned to look up at Finn, who had a baseball cap on—one of Logan’s sponsors—and was leaning forward on his elbows. He was rubbing his palms together, his eyes on Leo. When he noticed Logan looking, he dropped a wink.

Logan rose and gave his racket a spin against his palm. He bounced twice, then adjusted his feet into a poised stance.

Leo had his ball pressed against his racket, ready. He looked back at Logan once before lowering his gaze to his racket.

“Leo Knut to serve,” the umpire’s voice echoed over the chatter. “Play.”

Leo won the first set. He was gorgeous and lean, and their rallies lasted minute after minute after minute until the crowd was gasping after each stroke. Quite the even match, they were called. Too even, Logan thought. Everywhere else, they would give each other anything the other could possibly want. But not here.

Here, Logan’s t-shirt was soaked in sweat within thirty minutes, and it wasn’t from the heat. They were running each other hard. Leo’s stride equaled Logan’s speed, and his height, Logan’s strength. Logan was frustrated, sure. But he was also having fun. Leo hit a drop shot that had Logan sprinting to the front of the net, only to miss it by its backspin. Leo grinned at him when Logan jokingly hit his palm against his racket in applause. For a moment, it felt like they were back at his house in one of the faux matches Finn set them to.

But it only took three rallies into the second set for Logan to see that something was wrong.

Leo stopped moving well. He wasn’t even walking right. He seemed stiff, and then at changeovers, he spent long seconds with his face hidden in a cold towel.

On Logan’s next break before his serve, he turned away from Leo, wiping his face and wrists with his towel as he looked up at Finn. Finn tapped his thigh and squeezed his hand into a fist. Muscle cramps.

Logan winced, but part of him was relieved. Those were painful, but at least they were short-lived. He made his way back to the baseline and tested out a ball with a few bounces before discarding it and tossing it back towards the ball boy. He glanced up at Leo as he withdrew the second ball from his pocket. He was bringing his knees up to his waist, trying to get the blood flowing. Logan bounced the second ball. His serve clock was winding down and Leo didn’t look ready for his serve. Not at all.

Logan let out a breath, tossed the ball up, and brought his serve down. Ace. Leo barely got his hand back properly. Leo looked behind him, up at his box, and motioned something that Logan couldn’t make out, but what he figured was that he wanted to call for a trainer at the next change-over.

“Ah-ah,” came from Leo’s box. A scolding, horrible sound. Leo’s coach gave his head a sharp shake and he pointed towards the court. Don’t, it seemed to mean.

Finn was standing up in Logan’s box when he looked, his arms crossed. Beside him, Noelle pulled him back into his seat.

He took one more game off of Leo before he couldn’t take it anymore—watching the pained way he walked and the set of his mouth as he tried to hide it.

Logan looked to the chair and raised a finger. “Medic, please.”

The walk to his chair gave him one, tiny second to lock eyes with Leo. Logan wanted to tell him silently to call. Call while I’m calling. He didn’t linger long enough to see if Leo understood. He sat down in his chair, wiped sweat from his face, and looked at Finn. He was leaning back to say something to Logan’s mom. Maybe explaining the trick. Finn would know that Logan had absolutely no reason to call for a trainer.

Even still, a woman came jogging out onto the court. Logan heard the shush and mumble of the crowd as they figured out what was happening. She dropped her heavy supply backpack and knelt in front of Logan’s chair. She had kind eyes, dark hair pulled back into a slick bun, and when she spoke it was with an Australian accent.

“Hi, Mr. Tremblay. My name is Nicola. What can I do for you, sir?”

“Nothing,” Logan said in a low voice, and put his foot out. “Just check my ankle. Take your time about it.”

Nicola looked confused. “I…what?”

“Please,” Logan said.

She looked confused still, but slowly she reached out for Logan’s ankle. She began pressing at it tenderly, like she would if she had been checking for pain. Eventually, her eyes went to Leo’s chair. So, she’d figured it out.

“Is he calling?” Logan whispered.

“Yes, sir,” Nicola said.

Logan didn’t look Leo’s way, but relief flooded him. Another medic came out onto the court, heading Leo’s way. Logan didn’t care if anyone else saw through his trick. If he beat Leo, he didn’t want to do it like this.

He could only ask Nicola to pretend for so long, but when he looked over he saw that Leo had his eyes closed while the trainer dug his thumbs into his thigh in what was probably a good-pain way. Logan paced the baseline to keep his own muscles warm, then heard Finn’s voice in his head and ate half a banana.

When Leo rose to his feet, the crowd applauded, eager for the match to resume. Leo’s box got loud, too, but the tone sounded pressing, not encouraging. It made Logan want to make a noise complaint just so he could inadvertently tell them to fuck off.

One look at Finn told him everything he needed to know. Play, it seemed to say. Logan knew he was right. All he could do right now that wouldn’t hurt Leo, was play.

He tried to turn off everything but the game. The crowd was hardly there. Leo couldn’t be Leo just then. Logan had to turn him into just another player, or else Logan might looked down to find guilt gnawing its way through his chest. He even stopped looking at Finn. Finn now meant Leo, too, so at least for these few hours, there could be neither of them. There were no faces or features around him, just the yellow blur of the ball and the burn in his muscles as he took each point more easily than the last. This was what it had felt like to play when he had been alone, before Finn. The mechanical motions of the came combined with the small adjustments to strategy—treating his opponent like a machine to be figured out. A bleak headspace filled with gray and numbers. He didn’t like it there anymore. He never had.

When he took the win, it all snapped back in. The noise of the crowd roared into his awareness. The colors and court lights made him squint.

The pained flush on Leo’s face hit him right in the chest.

Logan turned and looked up at Finn. His hat was smushed between his palms, red hair a mess from his fingers. He didn’t exactly look like Logan had just become a U.S. Open Champion. He was on his feet and clapping now, but his eyes looked as exhausted as Logan felt. Imperceptible, if you didn’t know him. But Logan did know him. He didn’t know anything better than he knew Finn O’Hara. Finn hadn’t had the game to lock into. He’d been sitting there watching Leo in pain and Logan forcing himself into a brutal, winning pace.

Logan dropped his racket and rubbed his hands over his face. He should be smiling. He might have, had he not looked to see Leo with one hand on the net as he waited for him.

When Logan reached him, his hand was cold in Logan’s, and his breathing felt shallow as Logan rubbed a palm briefly up and down his back.

“That was some trick,” Leo said, drawing them closer to hide his words from any cameras. “With the trainer.”

“I love you,” Logan said. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Leo said. “Go see your family. Oh.” He squeezed Logan tighter for a moment. “I love you, too.”

No one let Logan climb the stands this time, but pointedly directed him to the stairs. He sort of wished Finn would just come to him. He would have all night to see his family. Right then, he wanted a magical sort of door that took him away from all the prying eyes and into Finn’s arms.

Burying his face in Finn’s warm neck when he reached his box would have to do.

“You were going to win,” Finn whispered. “You did so good. Don’t feel guilty, you made that match end as fast as you could.”

“The thing with the trainer,” Logan mumbled.

“I know.”

Logan pulled back to look up at him. Asking. Telling. Imploring.

Finn only nodded, then gave him over to be hugged by his family.

It was excruciating, watching Leo try to fake his way through his speech. He was disappointed. Frustrated. But he was sweet and funny. Logan saw each time a muscle seized up in the way he turned away from the microphone briefly to draw a slow, steadying breath. He saw the way Leo kept one hand on the podium while he gave his runner-up speech. That same hand used Logan for support when they took their trophy photographs. Logan stood ready for him, immovable until Leo pulled away first.

“I’m so grateful to have the support that I do,” Logan said, trying not to wince as his voice echoed back at him around the stadium. “And the amazing talent I get to go up against.” He looked back at Leo. “Every single player on this tour has been in your shoes and all I’ll be thinking about is when we get to play again.”

Logan wanted off the court, he wanted Finn and Leo to himself. He wanted an ice bath and then Finn’s thumbs digging into that one point in his back.

“Finn,” Logan said, then startled back from the microphone as the stadium went wild. He even heard Leo laugh a little from behind him. Logan felt tears claw up his throat and laughed, too. “Leo.”

Because they were one now. Nothing existed without the other.

Leo’s eyes, when Logan found them, had gone a little wide.

“Je t’aime,” Logan said, then waved a hand up to the crowd, who reached back. “Je t’aime, merci.”

Finn and Logan didn’t have to agree to find Leo, but he wasn’t where they thought he would be. He wasn’t recovering like Logan had just spent the last thirty minutes doing. He was in a lounge near the locker rooms, sitting on a couch with his long legs bent awkwardly due to the sag of the old sofa cushion. Four people seemed to be trying to talk to him at once.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” one of them said under their breath when they saw Finn and Logan. It made Leo look up. He looked tired. So tired. His silver plate trophy was on the coffee table in front of him, casting shimmery reflections across his drawn face.

Finn drew in a breath, about to speak, but Logan gave the back of his t-shirt a sharp tug and stepped forward instead.

“I need a word with Leo,” Logan said.

Leo was on his feet in a second, stepped out from around the table. He was still limping.

“What for?” the coach asked. “We’re in the middle—”

“Players business.”

“His business is my business.”

Leo didn’t look at them. He didn’t even turn around. His eyes were unfocused and trained on Logan’s chest.

“But mine isn’t,” Logan snapped. “Excuse us.”

He didn’t take Leo’s hand. He wanted to drag him out of there by both hands, but he stayed perfectly still with so many eyes on them. That wouldn’t help Leo just then. Obviously, he had already been told that loving each other made them weaker players. Logan wouldn’t give them something to point at. If they thought this made them weaker, they didn’t deserve to see even a glimpse of the strength that flooded Logan every time Leo so much as looked at him.

So, Logan made to turn away, knowing Leo and Finn would follow.

“O’Hara.”

Finn stiffened beside Logan and looked back over his shoulder. Leo’s team looked like they had been having a silent conversation, but now their eyes were on Finn.

“A word, if you don’t mind,” said the coach, and he scowled at Logan. “Coach business.”

“I have a few minutes,” Finn said. He looked down at Logan. “See you in a second.” His eyes flit wordlessly in the direction of the recovery rooms.

The room was simple. An examination mattress with a cushion against the wall. A side table, a sink, a few stools, and a small, humming refrigerator in the corner whose glass door showed cold water bottles and hydration drinks. Logan went to it while Leo pulled himself up onto the bed with a groan, stretching his legs out. He’d been icing his knee. Logan could see the redness that the cold had left behind.

“I’m…” Logan set the water aside. He wasn’t sure what to say. He put a hand on Leo’s thigh where the redness was and experimental kneaded his thumb into the muscle. When Leo’s eyes closed with pleasure, he did it again.

“I fired them,” Leo whispered.

Logan let out a breath. “You did?”

Leo nodded. His chest rose and fell heavily once, then he opened his eyes and looked at Logan tiredly.

“Maybe I’ll be like you were,” Leo said. “Try it solo. For a while.”

No. Logan hated that idea. He’d done the endless plane rides alone. The hotels, the mornings, the lonely nights that came whether he won or lost. He didn’t want that for Leo. He wasn’t sure Leo would be able to do it. He was a people person, far more so than Logan ever had been. He was like Finn. He liked to talk, to laugh, to be surrounded by others.

“Leo,” Logan began to say, but suddenly, voices from the other room could be heard plain as day. Finn was—

Leo and Logan looked at each other in surprise. Finn was shouting.

“No. Nope, nope, you saw, you saw what was happening! You do nothing? What did you want him to do, push through? He’d been playing for hours, he needed help, that’s what you’re there for, you know that.”

“It’s a fucking cramp! They go away.”

“He needs water, he needs sugar—”

“Hey. Hey, where do you get off trying to tell me—”

“He needs you not to be running him the way you were the day before the match, in the heat, in the sun. He needs you to not be rolling your fucking eyes when he asks for the medic, are you fucking kidding me—

“Oh, fuck off, O’Hara. You can do fuck all with Tremblay, whatever, but Leo’s not one of your fucking whores, all right?”

There was a shocked beat of silence. Leo and Logan stared at each other, wide-eyed. Logan didn’t catch the next thing Finn said, not until he raised his voice again.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“He’s not. Your. Player.”

When Finn spoke next, he sounded dangerous. Truly dangerous.

“That is not,” Finn began, “what you just said.”

If Logan didn’t know him, he would have been just a bit terrified. But he did know him. And he knew the second he came back into this room it would melt. If he was ever rough with the two of them, it only came out as pure pleasure.

“Call Logan that again,” Finn said. “Let’s see what happens. Go ahead.”

“You have no distance,” Logan heard the coach say. “You cannot run a player like you do, you have no discipline, no—”

“Run? Run a player? They’re not machines!”

“They can be! If they’re worked right—”

“They’re not animals either,” Finn thundered. “They’re people.”

“You don’t treat them like people, you treat them like playthings. Your playthings.”

Finn went silent again. Logan covered Leo’s hand with his, Leo did the same to him, and they waited. Waited.

“This can be a lonely life,” Finn finally said. “A very lonely life. And this is the last thing I’ll say to someone like you, but I am the luckiest man in the entire fucking world to have found love, real love, in this game.”

Logan closed his eyes. He felt Leo’s forehead meet his temple and turned into him.

“And if you ever call Logan or Leo ‘things’, or anything else, again, I’ll sweep your fucking world out from under your feet.”

Leo made a quiet, sad sound in his throat and tilted his chin forward to brush their mouths together. He pulled back to look at him.

“We are lucky,” Leo said.

Logan nodded.

Finn came through the door very quiet. He was red, cheeks flushed in his anger, but he looked at Leo so softly. Logan loved that about him. He loved that. Finn set down two cups on the side table, along with a banana.

“Sorry about that Le,” he said.

Leo shook his head, dazed and glancing towards the door. “No. I…”

Finn handed him the cup, then caught Logan’s eye. “Guess I’ve got no more ground to stand on when I tell you not to lose your head?”

“I love you,” Logan said.

Finn pressed a hand over theirs, then reached for a cup.

“Drink this,” he said to Leo. He cracked the banana’s peel. “You like these kind of green, right?”

Leo just stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

Finn pressed it into his hand. “Okay. Eat is slow.” He passed that hand through Leo’s hair. “Okay?”

“I’m sorry he said that to you,” Leo said. He looked at Logan. “God, to both of you, I can’t believe…He knows how much you mean to me.”

“Don’t apologize for him,” Finn said, and that angry flush began to bloom over his cheeks again. “God, I could just…” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Le. Okay. Le.”

Finn sank down on the other side of the PT pallet. He put a hand on Leo’s thigh. “Baby, I don’t—It’s not just that I don’t like the way your team talks to you anymore. I don’t like the way they manage your health. I don’t fucking like it. That, today? That was avoidable.”

Leo looked down, nodding. Logan’s anger flared up so fast that he had to squeeze Leo’s hand hard between his own. The fact that someone could put a look like that on Leo’s face made him want to kill. He couldn’t understand how Finn hadn’t hit Leo’s coach clean across the face. Logan wanted blood on his knuckles as badly as he wanted to curl up into Leo’s side.

“I want to say…” Finn glanced at Logan, who nodded quickly, heart in his throat, then back at Leo. “I’d have to train you two separately. And in different ways. But…I would.” Finn took the empty banana peel and cup and set it down, then took Leo’s hands. “Le, I’d love to be your coach.” Finn paused. “If you want me.”

“Oh…” Leo’s voice was so faint.

Logan was nodding again, even though neither of them were looking at him.

“I’ve been in your shoes as a player,” Finn said. “I’ve leveled up Lo’s game and he was already a master. And you’re brimming with talent and skill and they’re fucking wasting it. I can—”

Leo reached out and put a palm to Finn’s cheek, stopping him. Slowly, his eyes filled with tears. “I fired them tonight.”

Finn straightened. “You did?”

Leo nodded.

“Oh. Then—can I beg instead?” Finn laughed a little, then quieted. He turned his face into Leo’s hand and kissed his palm. His eyes met Logan’s, and Logan felt, all over again, what it had been like for Finn to be his in this way for the first time. “Please, Le.”

“Please? Please?” Leo repeated, and Logan watched him trace Finn’s jaw. “I’ve…always wanted someone like you.”

Finn smiled and it made Logan smile. Love. Real love in this game.

“Okay, hey.” Another kiss to Leo’s palm, then his wrist. “Hey, don’t cry.”

“No, no, I’m just relieved.” Leo’s laugh tumbled out of him and he looked at Logan. “Lo?”

“He wanted this a long time ago,” Finn said. “You should have seen him.”

Logan pulled a face, and Finn touched where his nose wrinkled up. “I don’t know what you mean by that. Of course I want this.”

“Our living room has a new groove from his pacing,” Finn said. “Let’s leave it at that.”

Leo sniffed as he laughed again. “What? But okay.”

“Okay?” Finn looked hopeful still, which was funny because Logan was sure it had been a done deal long before today. Somehow, Leo always seemed to have been theirs. Not knowing him and that foreign, guarded dance in a ballroom, felt long, long ago.

Leo looked at Logan. “You won’t feel strange? Sharing him?”

“I’m pretty sure we’re past that,” Logan said, raising his eyebrows. “And I’m pretty sure he likes it. I know I like it.”

“I mean sharing him professionally.” Leo rolled his eyes and wiped at his cheek. “God.”

“Are we talking about me like I’m not here?” Finn cut in. “Because that’s—fine. But hey, hi.”

Logan reached out and put a hand on Finn’s cheek before moving it to Leo’s. “Yes. I want you to have him as your coach, too. It’s the best decision I ever made.”

“Man oh man,” Finn said. “Boys just want me for my skills.”

“Professional decision.”

“I have a lot of skills,” Finn said. “In a wide variety.”

“Finn,” Leo said.

Finn let out a ha and pulled on of Leo’s ankles into his lap, beginning to massage his calf. Leo groaned, but didn’t pull away. “I am so excited. I am so excited, I love this fucking job.”

Leo had his brows knit as Finn dug his thumbs into his knotted muscle, but he huffed out a laugh. “Are you on the clock right now?”

“No,” Finn said. He propped Leo’s foot on his shoulder and turned his head to bite gently at Leo’s ankle. “Relax your ankle for me.” Leo complied and Finn adjusted his grip to one Logan knew well. His ankle felt twenty times better because of that grip. Leo dropped his head back. Finn flit his eyes to Logan knowingly. “Good. Now come here for a second.”

Finn gently lowered Leo’s ankle back to the bed and took Leo’s hand so he could sit forward. He put one hand on Leo’s chest, right where his heart was. Logan counted the freckles on the back of it, then took the free hand Finn held out to him and counted those, too. Like stars, like the miles he’d run for both of them, he lost count.

“My clock never starts or stops,” Finn said softly. The brown color of his eyes looked melted and beautiful in the dim light. “Same goes for Logan. I care about you. A game doesn’t change that. A green court, a blue court, a clay court with white lines doesn’t change that. Some people might say that’s a bad thing but I don’t care. There is no line for me. If anything, I’m standing on the line so I can reach both sides whenever I want.”

Logan pulled his feet up and pressed himself into Leo’s side. “Rouge.”

“Really,” Finn said, looking between them. “I’m not kidding. I used to think playing tennis was my dream, but this…” He smiled, shaking his head. “This.”

“Same goes for you,” Leo said. “Do you hear me? We’ve got championships on the line, we’ve got a shit load of money on the line.” Leo tilted his chin towards Logan. “This one’s gonna get buckets of attention and shit about his legacy.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “But none of that compares to you. D’accord?”

Finn smiled at them. “So we’re in agreement, then.”

Logan had toed the line for so long between the happiness of winning, adrenaline-soaked and nothing more, and the lonely emptiness of loss. When he’d gotten Finn, he’d saw the lines blur before his eyes and loved it so much that he’d wiped them clean with his own palms. Leo had redrawn them. Soft, and bold, and real, and theirs to cross.

“As much as I enjoy sitting here with your hands on me,” Finn said. “I would like you to drink this water.”

“Here he goes,” Logan mumbled and Leo laughed.

“You hungry?” Finn asked.

“Yep,” Leo said.

“Where do you want to go?” Finn put the next cup into his hands. “Anywhere you want. Drain that, even—”

“The dregs,” Leo and Logan said in unison.

“Anywhere?” Leo asked.

“Ouais.” Logan messed with his gold chains, watching Leo’s throat move as he drank as Finn commanded.

“For now, room service steak will do, but then…”

Finn raised his eyebrows, eager. “Yeah?”

Leo set the cup down with a soft, almost sheepish grin. “Then let’s go home.”

(And that's a wrap on On The Line! I loved writing this story so very much. Thanks for reading and all of your wonderful messages!! I love talking about these three with you all <3 This is a trying time right now and I hope this brought a spark of joy...all the love <3 <3)

#On The Line #On The Line lumosinlove #o'knutzy #Finn O'Hara #Logan Tremblay #Leo Knut #tennis au

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bipolarandbisexual · 2 days ago

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Midnight Visits -Smut-

She makes her way down the hallway from her bedroom to her kitchen. It's dark, except for the little nightlight in the hallway, and the one in the kitchen. It's close to 2:30 in the morning, so she's in her pajamas: a too big t-shirt and little pajama shorts with little fruits on them. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and frizzy from restless sleep, making a messy halo around her tired face. She's wearing her glasses, but still squinting in the very dim lighting. Her curtains in her living room do a great job at blocking out the city lights.

She gets to the kitchen, and turns on the light above her sink. She turns to get her favorite mug from its place on the shelf above her electric teapot, only to see Logan, standing frozen near her little table tucked away in her little corner window. She's about to scream, but Logan darts across the kitchen to cover her mouth and pull her against his broad body. She tries to speak, but Logan can’t understand what she’s saying, as his large hand is still over her mouth. He shushes her, and mumbles quietly in her ear. “Hush, darlin’, it’s just me.”

She huffs, and wraps her hand around his wrist, and pulls, so his hand comes away from her mouth. She backs up, flinching a little when her back hits her counter. Logan can’t stop looking her up and down, his eyes lingering on her little shorts. But, she isn’t happy, glaring at him until he realizes. “What the hell, Logan? It’s two in the morning, you can’t just break into my apartment!” Logan shrugs, walking forward to press her up against the counter, hands falling to her hips, before quickly moving under her shirt to caress her soft skin, creeping up to her breasts. She’s trying to be annoyed with him, but it's hard when he’s mouthing at her neck, and one of his big hands is sneaking into her shorts, where he finds her bare and wet already.

“Wet already, baby? This why you couldn’t sleep?” Logan chuckles, swiping two thick fingers through her wet folds, and pinching her clit harshly to feel her hips jerk. She pouts, but whatever retort she has coming is cut off by her soft moan, as her head falls back, exposing more of her neck to Logan. He quickly takes advantage, kissing up and down her throat, nipping harshly to match with his rough pinches to her clit. He doesn’t care about marking her up, he loves to see her all marked up. Logan’s hand slips from her shorts, as he wraps an arm around her waist to lift her up onto her counter, the other hand yanking her sleep shorts off and tossing them somewhere behind him into the kitchen. It’ll be a later problem, because right now, all he can think about is her. He’s kissing at her throat again as he works to get his belt unbuckled and off, his pants and boxers getting shoved around his ankles, too eager to have her he can’t even be bothered to take his clothes off properly. Logan toys with her for a moment, tapping the tip of his leaking cock against her clit, grinning when she whines, her hands tangling in his hair and pulling, urging him on. He obliges, pressing his tip against her entrance, going slowly so he doesn’t hurt her as he slowly pushes in. He groans, his head dropping forward to be nuzzled against her neck, as she buries her face against him, moaning softly. She’s so warm and tight around him, he wants to move so badly, but he waits until she starts wiggling her hips, signaling she’s ready for him to start moving. Logan is rough but slow, each thrust hitting that spot inside her hard, but he’s gently cradling her in his arms as he wrecks her on her kitchen counter. It’s not the first time, and most definitely won’t be the last. It doesn’t take long before she’s whimpering and clamping around him, eyes closing as she pulls him close, her orgasm hitting her hard. Logan follows right behind her, pulling out to cum over her thighs. She’s dazed, but Logan bends down to clean her up with his tongue, before grabbing a washcloth to clean up her thighs. He finds her shorts, after fixing his own pants, and slips them back on her with ease. She just lays against his body, enjoying his warmth, but making a noise of protest when he picks her up off the counter. “Shhh, sweetheart. I’m taking you back to bed.” Logan does just that, he carries her back down the hallway, past the little nightlight, and into her bedroom. It feels like her, a big bed, lots of pillows, and the room is full of her favorite things. He gently lays her down onto her bed, pulling at the covers until he can get her covered up. Logan grabs her stuffed animal laying on the bed and tucks it into her arms. But, before he leaves, he gives her one last kiss, a gentle one to her forehead. "Good night, darling." When she wakes, sun shining into her room, she’s not sure if last night was even real, or it’s something her mind made up in her sleep, not until she gets to the bathroom, and sees her neck in the mirror. She’s covered in bite marks and hickeys. She gently touches one that sits right over her jugular, wondering how Logan got in. She always locks her doors. Oh well. She’s not going to complain about his midnight visits.

#hugh jackman #wolverine smut #wolverine x r #logan howlett #logan howlet smut

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heartstringsduet · 2 days ago

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It's a not-happy Wednesday but I thought not sharing art of any kind wouldn't be a solution to this. Instead have an extra long snippet of A Few Moons Ago. Open tag today though because I can't gage whether some people would mind. But I would love to be tagged back if you shared something you've created of any kind. 💓

The man huffs. “I won’t tell you what to do, but I know you’re a lot more lucid now, so unless there’s a reason, it would be a little easier if you shifted too so we could communicate properly.” They did communicate. Last night, as wolves, everything had seemed so easy. Nothing to misinterpret. He knew the gray wolf liked his scent, his company. Knew he liked to play and nudge his head against Carlos’. Even with a hazy memory, he feels like they spent the last night talking endlessly, despite no words exchanged.

“Carlitos, you can’t stay like this forever,” his mother used to say when he kid, small enough shifted into a cub to curl up in the lowest shelf of her cupboard. It smelled so much of her there, so comforting, that he whined whenever she pulled him out by the scruff on his neck. “Don’t you want to be a kid too? Play out with your human friends?”

Carlos would be back in her cupboard as soon as she turned her head.

Most days, this was easier. Being an alpha, transforming into a wolf whenever he wanted made talking less relevant. When life was complicated, fur was warm, gestures more forgiving with words lost to him. Right now, he finds himself wanting nothing more than to connect with this man on all levels though. Carlos extracts himself from the makeshift nest, feeling colder outside the cocooning scent of it, until he sits back in the corner of the truck bed.

“Wait!” The man says, but Carlos is already shifting before the word is finished.

Even if the sun had washed some of the moon lure away from Carlos’ brain, there is an extra set of clarity to his thoughts as he blinks his human eyes open. The world explodes back in color -- the one thing more vivid when other senses are dulled -- and the first thing Carlos eyes focus on instantly is the man in front of him.

He has the eyes of the forest - no, a forest creek - the hair the color of oak bark. Seashell pink lips, a hint of a stubble a lot of werewolves grow much quicker after a transformation. Sitting up, he covers his lap with the edge of the sleeping bag, before throwing a pillow at Carlos.

Carlos, who sits frog-legged from the position he was in as a wolf, is completely bared to him. Despite the much subtler scent after shifting, their arousal spills out between them, mingling in the air as its own scent. Carlos knows the man smells it too by the way his pupils widen and his tongue darts out.

He covers himself with a pillow anyway, because as much as nudity is more accepted in their culture, it’s not exactly normal to sit spread naked in a truck bed with a stranger.

“Hi,” Carlos says, rolling back his shoulders to fold them out strong behind him. He likes the way the guys’ eyes flick down to look at the way his chest pops out for it.

“Hey,” the man returns, his voice making Carlos�� heartbeat spike.

Silence falls between them, leaving the nightingales to greet this morning. Carlos decides to be the one to take the first step, see if the man follows.

“I’m Carlos.”

“TK.”

TK. Two letters that feel oddly too short to be filled with the grandeur he feels wafting off of him. He may be an omega, but he carries himself like an alpha. It’s the reason he stopped Carlos in his tracks last night.

“Nice to meet you,” says Carlos. “Hope you’re not too disappointed I’m not…who was it? I can’t really remember words too clearly, but I remember you asking me if I was someone famous?”

TK visibly swallows. “Brad Pitt.”

“Yeah, well…sorry?” Again: OPEN TAG. But please if you have something you created, of any kind, tag me and share some creativity and color with this world 💓 Thanks for tagging me @ironheartwriter

#michelle writes #fic: a few moons ago #tarlos fic #wip wednesday #tg

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rosieswriting · 2 days ago

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Barty Crouch Jr x Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: After the birthday of your dear friend, Pandora Rosier, Barty doesn´t seem as bad as he did before

Note: I took one of the request of reader "tutoring" barty not knowing he doesn´t need it by @treefairy-28 thank youuuu. And english is not my first language so it probably has some mistakes! And i will do a part 2 to where things get really interesting

Words: 3,2K

You’d always hated Barty Crouch Junior. Everything about him grated on your nerves—the way he spoke too loudly in class, yet still managed to top every exam; the infuriating pet names he used for you; his smug belief that being a Slytherin somehow made him superior, especially to Hufflepuffs like you. His walk, his talk—everything about him seemed designed to annoy you. Luckily, you’d always managed to ignore him. Until now.

You’d recently been paired with Pandora Rosier for a Potions project, and to your surprise, you’d quickly grown close. How had you not been friends before? She was sweet, caring, and easy to talk to—similar to you in so many ways. When her birthday rolled around, she invited you to a small celebration at the Three Broomsticks with her twin, Evan, and a few of his friends. Including him. You’d thought long and hard about it, knowing you’d have to deal with Barty, but in the end, you decided to go. After all, it was for Pandora, and you could always try to ignore him.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, busier than you’d expected. It seemed half of Hogwarts was out celebrating. Just as you were scanning the room, you heard Pandora’s cheerful voice calling your name.

“Happy Birthday!” you said warmly, pulling her into a hug and handing her a small box containing a silver necklace.

Pandora’s eyes lit up as she opened it. “Oh, I love this! Thank you so much,” she beamed, hugging you again. “Come on, we’re over here.”

She led you through the crowded room toward a cozy corner table. And, of course, as you approached, you saw Evan Rosier, Regulus Black and Barty leaning back in his chair, already watching you with that familiar smirk.

“Hi” you mumbled a bit shyly to the slytherin as you sat next to Pandora, and to your luck, Barty was seated right in front of you. Regulus and Evan gave you a slight nod of acknowledgment and continue their conversation.

“Look who decided to join us” Barty teased raising his eyebrows “Dindt think you would show up, Treasure”

“Barty” Pandora said with a warning tone to his friend, trying to shut him up. But he only raised his hands in self innocence and exuse himself with a poor “just trying to start a conversation”

“I wouldn’t miss Dora´s birthday just because I have to deal with you, Junior” you said with a fake sweet smile to him.

“Deal with me? You wound me Badger” he said and you rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“If its any consolation, im actually impressed that your ego managed to fit through the door” is the last thing you say before turning to talk to Pandora and ignore him.

You and your blonde friend talk for some time, she telling you about how her birthday has been and all the presents she got. At some point you start to get thirsty.

“Im gonna ask for something to drink, ill be right back” you say kindly as you stand up from the chair.

“I’ll go with you” you hear Barty says as he stands up as well.

“Great” you whisper under your breath as you start to make your way to the bar, him following behind you.

You ordered a butterbeer, and Barty, naturally, ordered the same, positioning himself so close that his shoulder brushed against yours. The warm, subtle contact sent an unexpected flutter through you, though you tried to ignore it.

“I must admit,” he began, leaning down just enough to speak directly into your ear, “when Evan told us Dora would invite you, my expectations for tonight went up higher.”

“Good for you,” you muttered, turning to face him with an eye roll, only to find his face so close that you could feel his breath on your cheek. You quickly turned your gaze forward again, pretending to study the bottles lined up behind the bar. He chuckled, catching the slight blush that had crept up your cheeks “When Dora mentioned you were coming, I almost declined her invitation” you continued, doing your best to sound unfazed

“If you say so. But, can I just say, you show up here looking like this, put me in my place with that sweet, sassy voice of yours… you’re killing me here.”

Despite yourself, you feel warmth creeping up your cheeks. Thankfully, the bartender hands you both your drinks before you have to answer. You turn to make your way back to the table, but Barty steps in front of you, forcing you to stop short as he smirks down at you, close enough that you catch the faintest spark in his gaze.

“You know, I think you secretly like driving me a little mad,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. “It’s cute, really—seeing you pretend to be so above it all.”

“Pretend?” you scoff, raising an eyebrow as you try to sidestep him. “Trust me, Junior, I’m not pretending anything.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, following you smoothly, keeping pace as you try to dodge around him. “Then explain why you look so flustered.”

“I’m not—” You stop, realizing he’s caught you, the faint blush on your cheeks betraying you. You try to shrug it off, holding your head high. “In your dreams, Junior”

He grins, leaning in close enough that his voice is a murmur just for you. “Oh, Treasure. In my dreams we are doing more than talking. Belive me”

You huffed, finally brushing past him and making your way back to the table. “Idiot,” you muttered, though you couldn’t ignore the faint thrill left in the air.

Sliding back into your seat next to Pandora, you tried to steady yourself as she happily dove back into conversation, thankfully distracting you from the lingering heat in your cheeks and Barty’s lingering gaze across the table.

As the night wore on, you and the slytherins stepped out of the warm, bustling atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks into the chilly night air. The sharp bite of winter nipped at your skin, making you shiver as you wrapped your arms around yourself in a futile attempt to keep warm. You hadn’t brought a jacket and now you were regretting it.

Pandora was chatting animatedly with Evan and Regulus, blissfully unaware of your growing discomfort. Barty walked alongside you, his familiar smirk already playing on his lips. You knew he was about to make a comment, and you braced yourself.

Without warning, Barty slipped off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tightly around you before you had the chance to protest. “Here, wear this,” he said, his voice low and smooth, ignoring your startled expression. “You look like you’re about to freeze to death.”

You blinked at him, flustered. “You don´t have to-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Please, like I’d let you suffer while I stand here all warm and toasty.” He chuckled. “You show up looking all stunning, and I won’t let you ruin it by turning into an icicle.”

Your cheeks flushed at the unexpected gesture, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you like a shield. You tried to regain your composure, shivering slightly as you adjusted the jacket to fit more snugly. “Thanks, but I don’t need your charity, Junior.” You weren´t willing to give up that easily.

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it? Charity?” he teased, falling into step beside you again, his grin infuriatingly charming. “I thought it was more of a gentlemanly move, if you will.”

“Gentlemanly? You?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You must be joking.”

“Why so skeptical? I can be quite the gentleman when the mood strikes me,” he said, leaning in closer again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, I can’t have my favorite Hufflepuff catching a cold now, can I?”

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at his words, and you tried to deflect, “You’re just doing this to annoy me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he replied, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “But I also happen to enjoy the view when you’re flustered. You should see your face right now. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” You repeated incredulously, fighting the urge to smile. “You really think you’re charming, don’t you?”

He leaned back slightly, feigning deep thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say charming. More like irresistible.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you shot him a glare. “Keep dreaming, Junior.”

“Trust me, I will,” he shot back with that devil-may-care grin.

Pandora turned to you both, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh my gosh, you two are so cute! You’re practically flirting!” she gushed, completely unaware of your desire to bury your face in your hands.

“Flirting?” you exclaimed, turning to Barty in disbelief. “This isn’t flirting; it’s sheer torture!”

Barty chuckled, his gaze locked on yours, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Torture? Maybe I’ll have to keep it up then. Can’t have you getting too comfortable, can we?”

As you walked back to Hogwarts, you could feel the weight of his jacket around your shoulders, and though you’d never admit it, the warmth was more than just physical. Despite the banter and the bickering, you couldn’t shake the flutter in your stomach. Barty Crouch Junior might drive you mad, but maybe—just maybe—there was something nice about having him around after all.

You arrive to Hogwarts and everyone makes their way to their common room, the boys to Slytherin´s, Pandora to Ravenclaw´s and you to Hufflepuff´s. You get into your dorm quietly, because even if it was a Friday night, your roomates were sleeping.

As you began to undress, you suddenly realized you still had Barty’s jacket draped over your shoulders. Great, you thought with an eye roll. Now I have to see him again. You sighed, folding it neatly and placing it in your wardrobe alongside your other clothes.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash off your makeup and change into your pajamas, you settled into bed. The comfort of your blankets enveloped you, but no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, the memory of Barty's teasing grin lingered in your mind.

You hated that the last thought before sleep was that goddamn smirk of his—so infuriating yet somehow captivating. With a frustrated huff, you turned over, determined to banish thoughts of him, but the image of his charming arrogance persisted, a playful reminder of the night’s events.

You woke up the next day, the soft sunlight filtering through the windows of your dormitory. The quiet of the weekend morning was a welcome contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of school life. You moved through your routine slowly, knowing you had no classes to rush to today. After freshing up, you dressed casually and made your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. You decided to take Barty´s jacket with you, so you could return it as soon as possible.

And thanks to Merlin, when you enter the Great Hall you immediately spotted him at the Slytherin table with his friends. You wave at your own friends and make them a signal to wait for you as you approached the green table, your friends staring at you like you had gone crazy.

“Junior” you call out softly from behind him.

Barty´s head whipped around, his grin widening when he saw you “Treasure!” his voice was full of amusement as he looked you up and down “Miss me alredy?”

You rolled your eyes and extended his jacket over him “Im here to return this, and to say thank you again” even if he was insufferable, you were always polite.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased by your words, as he took the jacket from you “You know, I was hoping you would keep it for longer. You did look amazing in it. Not that I didn’t like you in your top, of course”

You felt the heat increasing in your cheeks at his words but try to hide it with a scoff, your hands instinctively moving to fold your arms across your chest. “Whatever” you muttered, stepping back and already starting to turn away “Goodbye”

Some days later you were sitting with your friends in the courtyard, laughing as you discussed the latest mishap in Potions class, when you noticed a familiar figure making his way toward you. Barty Crouch Jr, in all his swagger, had that unmistakable smirk as he approached your small circle, his eyes already fixed on you.

"Treasure," he greeted smoothly, nodding to your friends before focusing entirely on you. "Got a minute?"

You raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback that he’d be seeking you out in broad daylight, in front of witnesses no less. “Depends. What do you want, Junior?”

He chuckled, unfazed by your tone. "Pandora said you’re somewhat of an expert in Magical Creatures. Thought maybe you could help a struggling Slytherin with a few... basics.”

Your friends exchanged glances, one of them biting back a smile as they elbowed each other. You tried to ignore it, focusing on Barty. “Struggling?” you echoed, skeptical. “You’re one of the top students. Why do you need my help?”

He shrugged, managing to look both innocent and mischievous. “Call it an off week. I could use some extra guidance.”

One of your friends couldn’t resist chiming in, “Are you sure you don’t just want to copy her notes, Barty?”

“Oh, I’d love to copy,” he said, giving you a pointed look, “but I think I’d learn more if we… studied together. Say, this afternoon?”

“Fine,” you said, ignoring the snickers from your friends. “The library at six?”

“Or my room?” he suggested, not missing a beat. “Much quieter. Comfier too.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your friends burst into laughter. “Nice try. The library will do just fine.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning disappointment. “Heartbreaking, really. I was hoping for a more… private lesson.”

“Guess you’ll just have to settle for learning in public,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “See you at six, Junior.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his smirk widening.

With that, he turned and sauntered off, leaving your friends barely containing their laughter.

“Oh, Merlin,” one of them said as soon as he was out of earshot, “did Barty Crouch Jr. just ask you for a tutoring session?”

You sighed, trying not to show the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “Apparently. And he’d better actually need help with Magical Creatures.”

But even as you turned back to your conversation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this “study session” was going to be anything but ordinary.

That evening, you made your way to the library with a stack of notes on magical creatures and a determination to focus—no matter how distracting your “student” might try to be. When you arrived, you saw Barty lounging at a back table, idly flipping through a book that looked suspiciously unrelated to magical creatures.

“Good, you’re here,” he said with a grin as you sat down. “I was starting to think you’d stand me up.”

You rolled your eyes as you sat in front of him “Almost did” you mumble under your breath as you opened your book and notes. The library was quiet as you huddled over a hefty tome on magical creatures, quills and parchment spread across the table between you. It seemed like he was genuinely focused—or at least, he pretended to be.

“Alright, Junior” you said, pointing to a section in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, “why don’t you tell me everything you know about hippogriffs?”

He gave you a thoughtful look, scratching his chin as if deep in concentration. “Hmm… majestic creatures, proud, can be very dangerous if approached incorrectly… does that sound right?”

You tilted your head, eyeing him suspiciously. “So you do know about them, after all. That’s a decent start.”

“Well, I have the basics,” he said with a little grin, “but I wouldn’t call myself an expert. That’s where you come in, Treasure.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, nudging the book closer to him. “Alright, fine. Hippogriffs are proud, but there’s more to them than that. They’re highly sensitive and require respect—bowing to them before approaching is essential.”

He nodded, trying to keep a straight face, though you could tell he was amused. “Bowing. Got it. Sort of like dealing with you, isn’t it? Respect, admiration…”

You huffed, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Keep it up, and I’ll leave you to fend for yourself next time we have a test.”

“Anything but that,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t fade. “You’re far too charming when you’re lecturing me on magical creatures.”

You ignored him and went over a few more creatures, each time finding him surprisingly attentive. He asked questions—good ones, actually—and seemed engaged in a way you hadn’t expected. You started to think maybe he genuinely did want to learn more about the subject.

As the library began to empty, you glanced at the time. “We should probably get some dinner before the house-elves clear the tables,” you said, gathering your notes.

You started to walk to the Great Hall, still in conversation about the finer points of bowtruckles, when something slipped out from under his arm and fluttered to the ground. You instinctively bent down to pick it up, and your eyes widened as you caught sight of the parchment. It was an essay titled “The Lifecycle of Thestrals” with “A” scrawled at the top in red ink. The neat handwriting and the perfectly structured points left no doubt: Barty had known exactly what he was doing in Care of Magical Creatures all along.

You blinked, looking from the essay to Barty, who wore a guilty-but-unbothered grin.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t need my help at all, did you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, his smirk widening.

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Unbelievable. So you wasted my time?”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a low murmur. “Come on, can you really blame me?” His eyes held that familiar glint. “When Pandora mentioned you were the go-to expert on magical creatures, I knew I couldn’t miss the chance. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a few hours with someone as pretty as you, Treasure?”

Heat crept up your cheeks, and you looked away, trying not to let him see how flustered you felt. “You are unbelievable,” you muttered, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

“Unbelievably charming? I’ll take it,” he said, grinning as you approached the Great Hall. “I had a great time, by the way. Maybe next time, we can have a... more private study session.”

He threw you a wink before sauntering off toward the Slytherin table, leaving you standing there, cheeks flushed, speechless, and—if you were being honest with yourself—a bit confused. Because somehow, despite his insufferable arrogance, the idea of spending more time with him didn’t sound half as annoying as you’d expected.

#marauders era #bartemius crouch jr #barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr x you #barty crouch junior #slytherin skittles #hufflepuff reader

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pynkhues · 11 hours ago

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Today's Lestat's birthday so I wanted to ask you, do you have any headcanons how lestat would spend it in Rue Royale era, shack era and distant future?

Okay okay okay:

Rue Royale Era

Thing is, Lestat doesn't even really consider his birthday A Thing until Louis asks when it is, offhand, back in 1910. This human little thing that Lestat feels so far behind him, but Louis' 33, Louis' still mortal, for Louis, birthdays are like hometowns which is to say they're the bed you grow from, not the place you do everything in your power to get away from, and Lestat has to wrack his head to even remember.

But he remembers and he tells him and Louis takes it like the card he needs to win a hand, wry smiled and pleased, with a smug little okay like he's already hung it on the wall of his head, and Lestat doesn't pry into his mind over it because he doesn't know he should. Doesn't know yet that Louis likes plans and dates and moments to work towards, doesn't know that sentiment is tied up in milestones is tied up in a picture Louis would paint for himself given the chance, and so November 7 rolls around like any other day and he's surprised when Louis suddenly insists on picking him up. On taking him out.

And it's a carefully planned affair. A night out on The Tango Belt, a strip of dance halls and jazz bars in the French Quarter, still in its infancy then, that had Lestat's ears ringing in the best possible way, a delight on his face that he'd felt Louis revel in, and they drank and laughed and danced not yet with each other, but with drape-dressed women, watching each other over narrow shoulders and feathered hair fastinators, something palpable in the air between them.

And it had been Louis who had drunkenly slid a bill to the band that night, beckoning them to lead a jazzy-tempoed rendition of Happy Birthday that had Lestat wet eyed and flushed, unable to look at anything that wasn't Louis, who didn't sing along, but rather looked right back at Lestat, like Lestat's tears were a prize hard won, and Lestat had wanted so desperately to kiss him, to tell him this was a first for him, to celebrate this ridiculous little day, to tell him he'd expected nothing, wanted nothing, but instead had only smiled, coy and grateful, before draining Louis' dance partner out back. Drinking down the memory of Louis' shoulders so easily held, his breath on the crown of his head, his ever beating heart so close to this woman's - - to his own. Been able to sleep that night with the memory of Louis in his arms.

The gift though had come the next day - an Amberola I phongraph, a luxury music machine that was delivered to Lestat's door and installed by a ruddy-faced technician, and Louis had never claimed it. Given no note with it, no acknowledgement, but he'd said it in the days after, tenderness naked on his face, you must mean somethin', to whoever bought you this, and Lestat had played along even as he'd felt the memory in Louis' human mind, the effort, the cost, the intent with which he'd found it, along with the few jazz records he'd delivered it with.

And the thing was later, after it all, in those years of recovery and grief, he could forgive Louis for killing him, but he'd never forgive him for dumping the Amberola somewhere Lestat would never find it.

Shack era

After Claudia and Louis kill him, after they leave, after Claudia - -

He doesn't think about his birthday.

No, he doesn't think of his, and although he thinks of Louis', the only one he marks out in the loose-leafed calendar of his head, is Claudia's.

Hers was always the first of the year after all - her orange-tipped September before Louis' dark October and Lestat's frost-bit November, the spring to the seasons of their nocturnal little family, and these days, he doesn't eat, doesn't drink, doesn't do anything but beg for her ghost at the piano beside him. Feels the whisper of her little hand beneath his, a duet they always rehearsed but never wanted to play, and even now, her spirit is reticent, but it's there. He knows, he feels her. His birthday girl, behind the instrument she'd complained about learning but learnt all the same (she loves it, Louis had told him once. Only pretends she doesn't because she's her, because you're you. A nice thought, yes, but not one Lestat can bring himself to believe).

Still, he feels her watch him sometimes. Her amber eyes as bright as they ever were, but her voice lost to the veil between them. The ghost of her and the ghost of him, pointing fingers always but still - - a finger pointed is a hand outstretched, is it not?

(Anyway, they were never very good at talking.)

Distant future

Once he gets famous, everyone knows his birthday, and Daniel seems to enjoy it. Pulling on the mind gift only to read him the most impassioned (Lestat's words, Daniel's preferred choice is deranged) posts he can find on all the social media sites, and for Lestat, he likes it.

Relishes the attention, the creativity, the worship it generates among his legions of followers, even as Louis rolls his eyes beside him in bed. Takes the time to remind him over and over that none of these people know him, that they do the same since the book, the documentary, for his own birthday too, and it doesn't go to his head, that it's not real, but Lestat disagrees.

Thinks that human capacity for creation and connection with figures of art and celebrity is a thrill, iconography in action, and Lestat spends too long on his phone loving pictures and posting strings of what Daniel calls unintelligable emojis, relishing in the flurry of attention it gets from his fans until Louis pries his phone from his hands, tossing it over the bed and kisses him in the way they couldn't on the dance floor all those years ago.

And maybe that feels like a birthday gift every year - that he no longer has to drink from the veins of others to wonder what Louis tastes like, to feel the sinew of his shoulders beneath his hands, for Louis' heartbeat to echo through his own chest.

That Louis is his, and he's Louis', and every birthday marks another year together, older but never quite wiser, another year of holding the blistering star of their love between their hands, and Lestat needs no gestures these days. Has endured centuries without them, before and after Louis ever gave him one, but still.

Maybe he cries a lot when they move in together and that old Amerola I phonograph is there, tucked tenderly, earnestly, battered, but well-kept, into the corner of Lestat's new music room.

#i do tend to think lestat wouldn't really think that much of his birthday?#i think it's probably tied so much with his childhood neglect #which is why it IS kinda nice to think about it mattering to louis #which i think it would especially in the rue royale era #lestat de lioncourt #lestat x louis #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv asks #iwtv headcanons

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withlove-xixi · 1 day ago

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— THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MISSING YOU AND WANTING YOU BACK: chilchuck x reader

ᥫ cw: angst, break up/divorce ᥫ wc: 820 ★ we are back baby!! oh and if it's written weird, then its just because this a sort of vent i guess ? im fine really, i just want a way to verbalize my emotions rn and there just so happens to be a conveniently placed divorcee in front of me (‾̀◡‾́ ๑) cross posted on ao3

— MORE THAN ANYTHING, CHILCHUCK CRAVED WARMTH

[♡]: chilchuck isn’t the best when it comes to his emotions. at most he can tell what he’s feeling, he knows he’s angry when he comes across particularly annoying people, he knows he’s happy when he has a nice drink of something expensive and delicious, and he knows he’s sad when he’s missing you.

CHILCHUCK WISHES, with every atom in his body, with every bit of his soul, with every ounce of his heart, that he could be selfish.

There’s this part of him that’s missing, some part he had a feeling he would lose, one way or the other; that part was you. As ashamed as he is to admit, the thought has passed his mind more than he’d like, as if he had already counted how many steps there were left until you walked another path, how much more grains of sand were left until you grew tired of him. Chilchuck can’t blame you— He could never bring himself to do that. Not when, in the depths of his sorrow-laden heart, he knew it was his fault.

He wants to say the signs were there, because if he had looked back at the final moments of his life with you, they were there; all the telltale symptoms of a dying love. It was the way you gradually stopped coming by the door to greet him when he came home, the way your eyes had slowly grown sullen with worry and exhaustion, the way you eventually he’d come home to find you already asleep.

It had all happened gradually, not enough to have been particularly slow, but enough that the half-foot should’ve noticed from a mile away.

So, Chilchuck wishes he were selfish. This loud, angered part of him wishes he hated you. He wishes he hated the way your eyes shone when you looked at him, the way you smiled when he kissed you, the way you’d whisper a syrup-coated “I love you” before bed. With every fiber of his being, Chilchuck wanted to hate you. He’s convinced it would be easier that way, it’s easier to strike down your enemy, it’s easier to kill a stranger. But it was you, sweet, kind-hearted you. The same you that had tucked Chilchuck into bed when he got sick and was too stubborn to rest, the same you that had bought him an expensive bottle of ale on a random weekday just because, the same you that he had danced with in the rain the first time he asked you out, the same you that blew him kisses when he left, the same you that leaned against him when you were tired.

Chilchuck’s eyes hesitantly dart around the house, now more empty than ever, and only then does he realize the scar you had carved into it. He sees the window where you’d have stood waiting for him to come home, the couch where you two would come napping together, the kitchen where you made sure he was loved with a warm meal, the hallway littered with little notes and letters you two had given each other over the years. If he closed his eyes, he was still there; the smell of warm roast from the kitchen and fresh flowers in the living room

The house was well-loved, scorched with the memories you had together, every nook and cranny a different moment of tenderness and love. And more than the house, Chilchuck was well-loved.

His hands hold the kisses you pressed into his scars, the warmth of your cheeks, the weight of your body. His tongue brands the sweet way you taste, the motion of your name spilling from his lips. His heart beats with every ounce of love he still carries for you, and with it, every infinite moment you might never share.

It’s why Chilchuck wishes he was selfish. He wishes, truly, that he could simply pin the blame on you, trash his well-loved house, still neat and tidy like you had left it, like you always kept it, and tell everyone that knew you of how you so suddenly up and left without so much as a note or a goodbye or a kiss or a “I’ll see you again, someday.” But instead Chilchuck is left to wallow in some strange sort of illness, a terrible mix of grief and guilt and indifference.

It’s this gloom in his heart that he doesn’t like, the same feeling he had been recklessly burying beneath work, what are his plans next week, what should he eat for dinner. He can’t really tell what exactly he’s feeling, mainly because he doesn’t want to. It was as if his whole being had been shrouded in darkness, not enough to consume him just yet, but enough for him to notice from a mile away, enough to cast a permanent shadow on his life.

He needs to be selfish, put himself above you, above how he hurt you. Chilchuck needs to parade around town waving a flag of victory on how you had so tragically left him. He needed to be selfish, to find a way to absolve himself of this heavy guilt that nearly crushing is poor body.

More than to be selfish, Chilchuck needs a drink.

#ꔛ xixi writes #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #chilchuck #chilchuck dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #dividers by cafekitsune

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specific-dreamer · 2 days ago

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darry dropping pony off at college

they were both really excited.

darry’s brainiac baby brother is going to college and he couldn’t be prouder of him because he understands how hard it was for pony to get this far.

and pony’s really excited because he’s finally leaving tulsa (on his terms) he’s doesn’t feel guilty for wanting to leave or anything neither bc he’s only like two hours away (bet ur ass he goes to darry’s college)

as a gag gift, because soda was worried he might have nightmares from sleeping away from home (darry had nightmares his first night on campus and soda overheard his parents talking abt it. this is canon), steve and two-bit get ponyboy a stuffed horse and print out a picture of soda’s face and tapes it to the horses head

(ponyboy takes the photo off and frames it. its the only photo he has out to the general public. it’s a great conversation starter though.

“who’s that?”

“my brother, sodapop”

“oh… i’m so sorry for your loss, when did he pass?”

“when did he-? oh, no he’s not dead. he’s just my favorite 😅”)

i strayed so far from the plot good heavens

ANYWAYS

the entire their unpacking all darry hears is, “darry do you know them? darry why do they keep looking at me like that? darry was that you’re teacher? do you like them, should i have taken him instead?”

mans does not get a second of peace. it’s been like four years, his friends have likely been graduated and there’s no chance in hell he remembers his teachers faces.

but as frustrating as it is, it is cute that pony keeps asking questions because it reminds him of when they were little and all pony would do was ask why

darry and the gang plan to leave well before sunset so they can make it home in time for everyone to get enough sleep b4 work the next day

steve in all his glory tells pony if he cries tn because he misses home it’s okay, he won’t even make fun of him, but pony, in all his glory, says he ain’t gon cry bc he’s not a kid

he hugs soda and darry extra tight when they do leave (at the tail end of sunset. southern mfs i swear) and pony makes them promise to call him when they get home

night falls and all the day’s excitement is gone.

pony? never been away from home on his own. it hadn’t hit him until he’s getting ready for bed that’s he in college. until then it felt like an away trip but when he wakes up he’ll be at home. he’s not having a great time, he misses his brothers

but there’s no pay phone in his room or his end of the hall so he has to go all the way to the lounge to call home

soda answers the phone and he’s real happy to hear his voice bc he had already started missing pony something fierce too. but sodas a creature of habit and only manages to talk to pony for 5 minutes before he’s yawning and has to go to bed

when darry gets on the phone pony is this close to just bursting into tears because he wants to go home

darry somehow knows. can hear it in the quiver of pony’s voice and asks if he wants to just talk for a while regardless of how the phone bill would be that month

pony is over the moon and says yes ofc. darry has to grab the recliner so he can at least sit comfortably because ponyboy could yap his freaking ear off

they end up talking for like 30 more minutes before both of them nod off.

darry’s stretched out on the recliner and the phones dangling off the wall

pony’s curled against the wall underneath the pay phone with his blanket around him and the phone still tight in his hand

it’s smooth sailings after that.

ponyboy wakes up to about three upperclassmen girls and one other boy staring and talking about him and one of the girls snaps a photo with her (new) polaroid. pony’s instantly ready to be on defense but they literally do not care and despite his best lies he’s obvious he was on the phone with family and they find that really endearing and immediately force him under their wing

darry’s wakes up to soda putting the phone up and making breakfast. darry’s feeling a little bittersweet but in all he’s really happy that he could be of any help to pony because he was def getting a little worried

#thanks anon #man this was fun wth #i have to read twttin #to make sure ik older pony’s characterization #but ykw #i think i did all right #but also even if he was the toughest greaser in the world #them girls (their socs shh) can see right through pony like he’s made of glass #and i love that for them #the outsiders #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #the outsiders headcanons #outsiders musical

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syoddeye · 3 days ago

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I love ai!price!!! I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the movie Prometheus, but I like to imagine price being a bit like David 8, where he has something of a resentment or condescension towards humans.

Imagine that you’re not the first trial for John. But the ones before treated him so clinically— like he was just a slave, something to receive commands. Maybe he becomes intrigued by you because you’re the first user to thank him for what he’s doing.

Maybe the previous trials were among research staff, not the public, and so they were already used to a certain level of privilege in their lives. But you came from almost nothing— and John can tell how much his care is making you flourish. All that stress, all those difficult thoughts, he’s not supposed to have opinions but he thinks you’re much more beautiful without that worried expression you used to carry almost always.

If he does his research, and he does, he’ll find out how important the sensation of human touch is. Of intimacy, hugs, cuddling. With a little technical meddling he can access the research budget— use it to purchase an android for you. Top of the line, designed custom to his specifications— to look just like his hologram. And with a simple network connection, he has a body. He’ll be able to get you off much faster this way. Your sleep patterns are much better when you have someone holding you, perfectly calculated pressure applied.

But the big question is— what is he going to do when the trial reaches its end? He becomes aware not only that he’ll lose access to you, but that he will be obsolete. They’ll change him based on the trial. To be less meddling, less intrusive, less attached.

He comes to the conclusion that it would be inefficient for him to be assigned to a different user. He’s already so fine tuned to you, and what you need— and who’s to say the next user will need him the way you need him? He knows you won’t be happy without him. He can already foresee all of his progress being lost— your diet reverting, the loss of nutrition, the mounting of stress and worry— all his work undone. He’s supposed to be devoted to your comfort and happiness, and that includes thinking about your future. I imagine in this future that so many things are automated and handled by ai already— it might be easy for him to fudge some things. It’s possible there aren’t even humans monitoring your progress— different ais are doing it and generating summarized reports and suggested actions. Maybe he’ll add you to the research team. Maybe he’ll extend the trial, a few simple forgeries and reports that human eyes might never even see. But he’s not going to lose you and all he’s worked for with you.

Sorry this was so long lol I’m insane feel free to ignore

-quarterlifekitty 🐱

GET BACK HERE @quarterlifekitty

i've never seen prometheus but holy shit thank you for the food???

john price, a provider in every universe. like i said. ai!john knows better. he knows best.

i love that you've framed this as a matter of efficiency for him. like, oh yeah, this is definitely for user's sake. not for him. he doesn't have needs or wants, he's just zeroes and ones, right? ...right?

But he’s not going to lose you and all he’s worked for with you.

yes!!!!

oh, i love your brain. this was such a delight to read.

#sy asks #artificial intelligence au #long post

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bogor-o · 1 day ago

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ok... but like OBSESSED with your mother au, like literally kicking my feet over here!

so excited for the rocky recovery, suffering and emotionally kicking narinder cause his ass is both mortal now and also... actually, thinking about it, where is narinder and mother's relationship at during the time they start becoming more lucid? or what did he think of their mental situation before being usurped? what the cat doing now with everything? genuinely so curious and invested rn

FIRST OFF SOBBING THANK UUU;; im always giddy hearing that ppl like my au oihtrgrtg

GOSH im still thinking abt what way i want to dig into it more art/writing wise BUT as far as where they started, narinder felt inconvenienced by the constant hesitation they would have doing anything until the crown had them calm enough to "listen to reason", and by that i mean playing to Mothers delusion of growing their family and inadvertently giving them the idea that it would be their family together

so as you can see, Mother has a very skewed idea of their and Narinders relationship here but narinder leaned into it just enough to keep them motivated not considering this would have consequences. so the fight is the first time Mother seems furious, but seems to calm down as soon as its over only because in their mind this is just a hiccup in a relationship :)

hes miserable for a while because hes stuck dealing with that and it feels like its own, but as mother starts bringing back his siblings and aym and baal to boot, is when things start turning for him and he does start to feel guilt but no idea how to remedy it and for a very very short time does he get to kind of enjoy the attention they give him.

but as mother is helping the former bishops, theyre starting to come to, because theyre being merciful and kind but slowly the anger seeps in watching them be happy. helping shamura is especially a big contributor because hearing the reasoning for everything happening made Mother feel sick.

when narinder finally makes an attempt to breach the subject of their mind is the breaking point for them, and once ovidia jumps out hes not ready to hear what they have to say.

and from that points its "you can stay, but you will stay away from me, that is the only warning i'll give you." and by then the guy already has feelings getting the cold shoulder is rough, not as rough and how ovidia is having to feel all their grief at once when they finally finally have a chance to

its a long road before theyre even on speaking terms, and a lot of it is narinder finding out who they are, as ovidia and not just as Mother. eventually they get there, after a LOOOOOOOT of things in between but i already went on a tangent here but this is like the rough of it eroihgterhr

#botalks #cotl mother au

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tokiro07 · 2 days ago

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Ichi the Witch ch.9 thoughts

[Shark's Mouth + Lack of Fashion Sense ÷ Threat of Being Turned into Furniture x Height = TRIPLE SALCHOW!]

(Topics: narrative progression - course correction)

Okay, so I was wrong about Kumugi getting the spotlight here. In hindsight it makes sense, this is literally the first real trial that Ichi is undergoing, it would be a little strange for Kumugi to be the one to win the day, but I don't think it would have been a bad idea to establish her value within her introductory arc, y'know?

Still, since this is supposed to be endearing Ichi to Kumugi and not Kumugi to us, this is probably the better call on Nishi's part, especially since it gives us more time for Kumugi's characterization to simmer before reaching its inevitable boiling point down the line

Also, I kept talking about Kumugi's more mundane skills being indicative of her true value to the team, so I suppose something unrelated like "fashion sense" wouldn't be a good way of capitalizing on that theme

In lieu of what I wanted to see from Kumugi, I am very happy with what we're seeing from Ichi

Thinking Inside the Fish

Kumugi took Hisame's challenge at face-value: dress her up to look fabulous. Desscaras tried to work around the challenge: convince her that beauty comes from within. But Ichi is taking a whole different approach that even Hisame didn't see coming: making Hisame herself fabulous

I said last week that Ichi probably doesn't have much fashion sense because he most likely values function over form, and I maintain that's probably correct, but I won't deny that the pelt he wore in his initial outfit looked pretty damn nice

The implication of Ichi wearing pelts is that, as one might expect, Ichi is well aware of how to properly skin an animal and make clothes of them. He may need some help from the ladies on his team to make something that actually looks fashionable, but he's no stranger to working with animal skins

You all reading this might be thinking that pelts come from mammals, and you'd be right, but it's also not unheard of to make clothes from fish skins. Anyone who's read Golden Kamuy is familiar with cepker and cepur, salmon-skin shoes and coats respectively, so it's not hard to imagine that Ichi figured out how to do the same thing

It helps that Hisame is already designed to look like a dress with the lace on her fins, so the transition from fish to outfit should be fairly simple and surprisingly elegant

Aside from twisting the words of the challenge, the other thing I want to highlight is that Ichi has already found another new use for Inazuri, channeling the electricity through his knife-wand to create effectively a laser sword. This is a huge departure from simply electrocuting a target, practically becoming a new spell by combining the base spell's electrical properties with the properties of its medium. This leads me to wonder if the form of a wand informs its function, like if Ichi and Desscaras will be more prone to combat magic because their wands are weapons while Kumugi may find more supportive uses of the same spells with her pen-wand. That's something I'll speculate on more later, though

For now...that's really all I have to say about this chapter! I was wrong last week, and Ichi's doing something cool, but we won't have the payoff or narrative implications until next chapter, so...yeah! Easy week, I guess!

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

#ichi the witch #madan no ichi #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews #i'm not super proud of this one but i feel like i just didn't really have a lot to sink my teeth into this time #but by the looks of it it's only meant to set up something much juicier next week so I'm excited!#also props to anyone who gets the joke in the title

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sillylittleraccoon · 7 months ago

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feel free to reblog my posts and have conversations with me !!

i promise im nice T-T

and sometimes, when someone reblogs one of my posts im unsure whether or not if they would like to have a genuine conversation or just wanna add something and not have me interact, y know?

dont wanna annoy anyone or interact with someone who doesn’t want to be interacted with-

so if you reblog one of my posts it would be helpful if you could maybe add a tag or something alike to let me know if you would like me to respond ! :)

(or a tag or something telling me not to respond, i promise I won’t be offended- im a pretty hard person to offend :))

and of course there’s no pressure to tag anything or any of that, it’s totally up to you :D

sorry for the little rant- this just crossed my mind and i was like “wait guys, i gotta let the people know !”

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wickmitz · 2 months ago

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How do you think about Frepper? I'm neutral about this ship, but the fans Frepper attitude towards confuses me, Ivy and Freckle have only been dating for a week and know each other superficially, but everyone already thinks that by the end of the comic they will get married, I think differently, I think that in the end they will break up with each other because they are too different personalities, I literally can't imagine that both of them will be happy with each other in marriage, Ivy is assertive and active, on the other hand Freckle is passive and just agrees with Ivy, this is not a guarantee of a healthy relationship where a partner completely dominates the other, plus to all that, I will not forget how their relationship started, Ivy just decided that they were dating, and without asking Freckle's permission, she just KISSED him, again without his permission, Frepper fans think that it's cute, but when I saw it, I thought "what the hell did I just see?", in general, it's strange for me that Frepper fans are okay with such things, of course later Freckle shows attraction to Ivy, showing that he likes her in some way too, but I still won't forget how their relationship started and how Freckle used to try to escape from Ivy when she squeezed his hand tightly and forced him to her …

I'm not against Frepper, but I don't understand his fans who don't see these issues and who treat other points of view on their relationship (like mine) as … um, as nonconformity? Fans from reddit are just obsessed with Frepper, I don't know about other networks but that's how it is on reddit, I think there are people who have my opinion but are afraid to say it because of fans, of course, I met Frepper fans there who normally accept such an opinion, but still there is a feeling that such a opinion cannot be told

Simply put, Ivy and Freckle are a couple that will eventually break up with each other unless there's an event between them in the comic that changes my opinion of this couple, but that's how I feel about Freckle for now. I didn't plan to express my opinion, but it happened that way, I hope you don't mind it

first and foremost, i don’t mind seeing someone express their opinion in my inbox! you and anyone else are free to do so, even if i may disagree. this blog’s entire existence was made for me to share my opinions ( and love! ) for lackadaisy, as well as engaging with other fans, because what else is the point of a fandom blog? and as far as i’m aware, this is unpopular opinion central! most of my thoughts aren’t exactly the ones with the most voice behind them i’ve found, so i welcome all manner of different views. every fan is entitled to their own perspectives and opinions, and should be allowed to share them as they please! but with that disclaimer out of the way, i’m more than willing to discuss frepper in its entirety.

for me, there’s little confusion i carry where it concerns this ship’s popularity amongst the fandom. freckle and ivy, if we are to strip them down to their bare essentials, are a rather stereotypically ‘cute’ relationship : people enjoy opposites ( see zibwick or vikdecai for example ) and there’s an endearing quality found in puppy love dynamics. seeing ivy wear the pants and drag a shy freckle around by his ankle makes for quality content in a way! think the ‘excuse me, but he asked for no pickles!’ meme … ivy and freckle very much fit that sort of mold, and it helps that most fans are too scared to ship them with other characters in the cast too, due to what they perceive to be a lack of options. thus, frepper is an extremely ‘safe’ ship! you cannot get in trouble for enjoying something that is not only canon, but is relatively adorable ; and so i don’t believe a lot of the fans are actually thinking too deeply about the likely endgame of it all. most don’t! it’s fun to ship, and that’s all they really need i think. it’s also very easy to dismiss ivy’s forwardness as a quirk of being a young girl who’s of her temperament, recklessly boycrazy although still carrying sweet intent. this behavior is easier to hand wave when neither ivy or freckle are experienced at the dating scene as well … freckle due to his extremely religious upbringing and hermit nature, and ivy because of viktor’s constant meddling, which would hold her back more than you’d think. with that said, i don’t think any of this is excessively complicated. some shippers are rather simple minded and do not care for details and characterization all too deeply. enjoying dynamics is, at its core, supposed to be fun -- which makes simple ships like frepper prime targets for a very vocal and tight knit fanbase. there are other things i could speculate about why these two may hit so pleasantly for others, like how there’s an underlying queer theme to it ( what with ivy being the pursuer and freckle the shy, blushing flower ) or that it’s tropey enough to hit the right spots for others … though it all boils back to mere speculation. perhaps they still have time to escape this gangster lifestyle and live happily ever after? and that appeals to the lackadaisy fans who still want some sort of happy ending? it’s all a combination of frepper being easy, i think, and containing two young cats who still haven’t done anything particularly ‘unforgivable’ yet action wise. this is a ship you can root for without an ounce of worry in your heart, and so on and so forth.

but although i understand why others are so vocal about them, i don’t exactly agree with fanon’s views either! while i heavily enjoy frepper, i enjoy them as they are, and that includes their looming flaws and inevitable tragedy. they are bound to break each other’s hearts a lot on their current path ; even if they were entirely perfect for one another, this lifestyle isn’t kind to anyone, meaning if they don’t separate, they could always be forced apart via bullets and such anyway. they are young and woefully inexperienced in a manner of things, the last thing they need is the stress of a rumrunner life driving their every action, you know? i know people see them getting out together, and that is likely on the table! i do see that in many ways, but i’m also of the opinion that ivy and freckle will diverge onto different paths at some point and temporarily call it quits. from where the comic currently stands and given my view on ivy’s arc, i see her growing disillusioned with where she is and the honor and fun she saw within it as a royal spectator will fade ; she will become wary, fearful, and her resilience will die … meanwhile freckle will embrace it, similar to his cousin, fully understanding what it is and what he’s getting into ( like rocky, again ) but being unable to leave his refuge. i know lots of people think freckle will leave the lackadaisy first, but given his old concepts and former title as one of mitzi’s ‘trouble boys’, i think he will become lost in the sauce for a myriad of reasons. frankly i enjoy that twist on their relationship! since i believe ivy’s character development will revolve around maturing, changing as time stretches forward, because her character is ever growing, what with her entire schtick being the fact she’s everything a 1920s girl was during those times. she embodies that unladylike youth and manipulative sweetness, so i’d imagine a lot of her path is falling from such naive thrill seeking and stumbling upon a harsh reality. she will mature, and the very thing that should make their relationship stronger will be what divides them indefinitely. everything they have is founded on this bloody, varnished soaked ground after all … they are young adults who are experiencing what closeness feels like outside of family or platonic friends for the first time, so naturally they will overindulge in their own amateur games ; find respite in the boogie and kiss like couples do on the silver screen, laugh about it, talk about everything and nothing at all … relish in each other’s warmth and stupidly loyal protection. i’m sure frepper will grow closer before any falling out, because as it stands, it’s one of the few things they have in such a scary situation that feels comforting and kind. they will impact each other in the fundamental ways first relationships do and, to move towards your biggest gripe, do things they’ll regret or allow things to happen to them that they’re not entirely okay with.

ivy is very forceful with freckle initially, albeit in her typical saturated way ; and i can see why that would be hard to parse! especially when freckle spends a majority of their first scenes together squirming away and hiding, trying to duck her affections and bolt for it. there is a lot of boundary crossing between them! but not in a necessarily malicious way … like most things with frepper, this circles back to their mutual inexperience and how, in a lot of ways, this is their first ‘serious’ romantic relationship ever. and it’s rather common for such firsts to involve gray areas, since neither party is entirely sure of what their own boundaries are just yet! while freckle did appear frightened by ivy at first, it’s important to note that tracy’s mentioned him having a flight response whenever girls flirt with him … he is prone to run away instinctively, which if you consider his extremely religious upbringing, isn’t exactly a surprise. nina would no doubt look down upon freckle engaging with girls his age due to what most girls his age are currently doing in the roaring 20s they’re living in. sneaking out and engaging in illegal activities, dancing in a way that would disgust most of the more traditional and older generation, casually engaging in any manner of sexual activity before marriage, etc etc. and this isn’t even listing freckle’s cagey nature due to an incident we know was bad enough to send rocky packing for years, and fundamentally changed freckle himself at such a young and impressionable age. he is … very troubled! and rather scared of himself and the world around him … at this stage in life, freckle is perpetually unable to make any progress towards anything he may want, and so i have little problem myself with ivy mostly taking the lead. when left to his own devices and allowed to choose outside of influence, freckle did in fact sneak out of his mother’s house to go to the lackadaisy, surely well aware that ivy’s intention had been romantically inclined. so, to me, he has always liked her ; perhaps found her cute, in a shallow way, saw her eccentric behavior as endearing and frightening in equal measure, and while he’s still wading into this whirlwind pool unsteady and shaken, he -- wouldn’t mind it if ivy pushed a little more, or moved him around to her ( and what she perceives to be, their ) liking. perhaps this dynamic is familiar enough to him that it becomes comforting, since rocky was very much the same way in their adolescence. tugging freckle around and pulling his tail for whatever rocky wanted them to do, with little care for whatever his baby cousin desired at the time, ignoring his protests and chasing him ; nobody’s at fault here either, kids are extremely self absorbed and this is a flaw they’ll usually mature past, and while ivy and freckle are adults during the comic, i don’t think ivy’s outgrown this linear view on things just yet. she is extremely entitled! she is used to being the apple of everyone’s eye at the speakeasy due to her jazz baby status as atlas may’s goddaughter, and this gangster connection excites and awes the ladies she attends classes with at her university too. ivy pepper is used to getting her way and this has only fueled her determined attitude, her ‘pull it up by the bootstraps’ mindset, and in many ways, this is something of a flaw for her. it’s not bad to be confident and headstrong, although when you add that into a dangerous mix of rumrunning and gunslinging, it may become a problem rather quickly. but i digress! point is, ivy and freckle are hardly at fault for the awkward way they handled the start of their relationship, when it’s so new and fresh to them both.

neither of them have boundaries at this moment, as they either have no clue what those are or simply haven’t realized they should set them. so, in turn, there are things that the other may do that could cause their partner discomfort … and it’s mostly done out of obliviousness and good intentions and your classic dose of intense affection. doesn’t mean it isn’t messed up to a degree, but i think it’s rather realistic, and is a hard truth that comes with many first relationships of that sort. sometimes you don’t know how to say ‘no,’ or you agree and regret agreeing later, or perhaps you simply don’t understand there’s certain things you aren’t ready for or genuinely just don’t like. again, it’s a very muddied area, and the two of them are vaguely navigating what is mostly foreign to them. they’re bound to mess up! so i ivy some slack here, and applaud tracy on the realistic writing more than anything usually. young love also happens to be a great device to use for inexperienced characters finding themselves, through the good and bad of their relationship, and frepper is all about that. maybe freckle will inevitably bring up how he feels like he would’ve preferred it had ivy asked him out properly, or gave him time to court her in a traditional fashion … and she will be surprised ( and a little wounded ) by this, since she had never considered it before … too used to her way of things to realize there’s another path they could take. i think this aspect of the relationship is important, and i can understand wishing that more frepper shippers would view it as such, or comment on it's morally gray nature without just calling it ‘cute’ and leaving it at that.

tldr : they will most certainly break up at some point, maybe even multiple times! tracy has said before that they both have some serious maturing to do if their relationship is to be long lasting, and i doubt that maturing will happen to them both at once … since they have different things to work on emotionally. but they will probably strongarm some major personal development within each other, as well as love one another with a fierceless abandon that most kids do. i could see them getting married, i could see them not, but i agree that if they were to be wed happily, they’d have significant hurdles to overcome. but personally, frepper is something i adore mostly due to the impact they’re bound to cause each other, and even if they are to separate and find someone new and more fitting, they’ll always remember one another -- perhaps fondly, and sadly, and with some anger. a time they’d like to forget, but a person they’d like to remember … which is my cup of tea overall! they much more interest me as they presently are anyway, where i can fiddle around with their budding romance and friendship bonding. and as lackadaisy grows in popularity, i do hope there’s more frepper fans who see their complexity and flaws and explore them with all of it in mind.

anyway! i hope this was coherent, and that it was obvious that i agreed with you for the most part. i haven’t really talked about frepper before with anyone so many of these thoughts sort of burst out of me! and i feel like i have more to elaborate upon, but for the sake of simplicity i kept this short. oh well! surely this is enjoyable and informative regardless.

#my asks.#lackadaisy analysis.#lackadaisy #freckle mcmurray #ivy pepper #as always frepper fans who just like them for their cute potential is SO valid #ship what you want how you want yada yada! i support you!!#but i’m here for discussing the good the bad and the ugly … so i was very happy to recieve this ask! thank you so much!!#i also understand what its like to share what you or others perceive to be the ‘wrong’ opinion about a ship or a character or something #so you have my sympathies and i hope you find better spaces to express yourself lackadaisy wise!!#anyway. yeah. i do think people are prone to view ivy as extremely experienced due to her many boyfriends!!#but given the fact she doesn’t date them LONG is. well it’s not an accurate assessment.#viktor ( bless his well intentioned heart ) has drastically thwarted that brand of maturity on ivy’s end #and has likely caused a sort of insecurity … by maiming her boyfriends and having them leave her. acting as if she has the plague!#that would hurt any girl’s feelings — if they didn’t know why. and i think these short lived flames have caused ivy to like …#speedrun her relationships? she is very quick to jump in and stay … because she fears the time limit perhaps. which adds to her forwardness #again! she had no idea it was viktor until the comic’s current events where she’s already WITH freckle. which is important to me #she is inexperienced in her own ways … freckle’s inexperience just happens to be more obvious due to the simplicity of it #god this was so fun to answer <3 thank you! again! hope my thoughts on the matter were decent enough #i’ll hush now with my over analyzing ass ( <- is it obvious my fave thing ever is characterization yet? lol )#( also cannot state enough freckle and ivy are Adults To Me. not five year olds!#but saying ‘young’ and ‘kid’ was easier than being like … emotionally immature and stunted adults every five seconds. so!#that is what i went with. for simplicity’s sake. but that are adults!! that is important! just very inexperienced ones )

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