#i’m in an airport someone (an adult) is playing a game on their phone with the sound blasting

[oysters-aint-for-me]

nothing raises my ire faster than someone playing sound from their phone in public with no headphones. it’s such a small offense and not worth the level of rage i am filled with but it happens anyway. it’s just WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY!! USE HEADPHONES OR DONT PLAY SOUND!!! this isn’t hard!!!

[galacticxangel]

Wait I saw your comment on the meeting your mutuals/stranger danger post. You said you married your mutual? That's so cute. Have you shared that anywhere and if not would you share it here?

I’m pretty sure I’ve shared it passively, but I never shared the full thing just on its own, so I’ll do that here!

So back in Ye Olde Days (13 years ago), Ask Blogs were a big thing on Tumblr, and also, so was Minecraft! And wouldn’t you know it, I was running a little Minecraft ask blog. And then I came across another, which had amazing art and characters and I adored what I was seeing, so I followed, they followed back, I sent little asks, and we communicated that way! The blog I found was run by two people, @cosmic-anchor (Silvia), and her friend Lazzy (boyo where’s your blog). He’s still a mutual bestie today, as are a few other folks we met via ask blog shenanigans, like @knightlymoon and @ragnarode .

ANYWAY. We get to playing on a server together (we actually use a Minecraft version release date as our meeting anniversary, because it was right around the prerelease of Beta 1.8: September 9, 2011. How do we remember? Well, that’s when they released Endermen! And anyone familiar with Minecraft aakblogs knows just how popular those are today. But back then? HOLY crap. Everyone and their grandma has a Sexy Broody Enderman or a Sexy Broody Enderman Hybrid. It was. A lot), take to each other like a church on fire, and become besties! We have a little house together.

Long time passes, and we’re on pretty much daily communication, still playing games, etc. I went through basic training and she was one of the folks I sent letters to while I was there. We played D&D together (This was an entire fiasco where we lost one bestie due to an abusive relationship. She’s back now tho! Love you Lynn <3). Even in the military, when I got DEEPLY depressed, she was there for me and helped me out (I credit her for being alive today. I’m not sure I’d be here if she hadn’t talked me down and convinced me to see a mental health specialist). I get out of the military, get my own little apartment, and go ‘wait a minute. I can do what I want. I have a best friend I’ve known for like six years now. Let’s invite her down!’ And so we start planning our first

‘Down’ is an understatement. See, I live in Texas. She lives in Kentucky, literally a thousand miles away. And while I’ve got all my documents and paperwork and driving skills and travel under my belt, she… doesn’t. As the older sibling of a special needs person, and not from a very high income household, she didn’t have this stuff. So it’s up to me, and I’m too fired up about taking my bestie to a renaissance faire (yah we. Really nerdy lol) to consider anything but!

We get her costume ready. Her plane tickets. Her ids and everything, sorted. It comes to like. Two weeks before the flight. And I get a call at work. It’s Via. Now, this is weird. Over the years, we’ve kinda fallen into a system. Common communication falls into just a message (Skype at the time iirc, Discord didn’t exist just yet). Something kinda urgent gets you an alert ping (like @ing someone). Dire is a call. And my phone’s ringing.

Not good.

So I hurriedly excuse myself from the office to take it, and she’s in tears. Her dad’s gotten cold feet, and won’t take her to the airport like he promised because ‘what if I’m an internet predator’. I mean. I get it. I have a Southern Style family, too (This will come up later). But damn it, she’s an adult. We’re BOTH adults. Also, I just bought a round trip plane ticket! Also, at this point I know more about her than he does. He still thinks she’s straight. But he won’t take her because we’ve never met face-to-face.

It’s Wednesday. I look at my office door. I have my best friend, current queerplat partner on the line, sobbing apologies.

“Hey. Tell him to pick a place to eat. Dinner on Friday. My treat, okay?”

“What?”

“Tell him to pick a place for dinner on Friday. I’ll see you then.”

Thus begins the trek that cements me as ‘most unhinged friend when others need something’ in our friend group to the day. I go into my office, spinning a sob story about how some nondescript family member just passed and funeral and blah blah I need to go but I’ll be back on Monday.

Green light acquired.

I go home, and immediately go to sleep. I wake up around midnight, pack my bags into my little Kia, and off I go. 1000 miles. Now, remember when I said my family would come up later? Here’s later: I didn’t tell them. There was NO WAY they were going to just sit idle while I drove a thousand miles, ALONE, to meet someone I’d never met in person. I’d never driven quite that far, either. Not to say no one knew, I would plot two hours on my gps, send the path to Lazzy and Via, and check in when I hit the next stop. If I didn’t check in, they were told to call my parents if I was over an hour late. Which, obviously, I never was, because I’m typing this and not like, dead or anything.

I roll up to her local Cracker Barrel at 8pm on Friday, after easily one of the best experiences of my life (was out between cities on a clear, late summer night, got to see the Milky Way for the first time, got ‘adopted’ by a bunch of truckers at a truck stop I paused for a nap at). My hair’s a bit frizzy and I’m wearing a shirt that says ‘Watch Closely: I’m About To Do Something Stupid’. But her dad gets the firmest, friendliest Texan handshake I can give, and a bright smile.

Apparently, he never expected me to show. According to Via, I humbled him that day. I don’t pay for dinner, despite offering. I even stay the night.

She’s on a plane for Texas two weeks later.

(Bonus: it’s at the point I send a picture of the big ol ‘Welcome To Kentucky’ state line sign to my parents. This. Was not a good idea lol. But I had my big Texas meat swangin my ego and I was damn proud to be functionally unhinged. My dad scolds me and then gets me a hotel room in Little Rock, DEMANDING I stop half way on the way back. My mom calls me, yells at me, and then hangs up on me. Calls back an hour later to apologize because she wasn’t mad I went, she was mad that I was right when I told her ‘you’d have tried to stop me’. Ultimately fine, in the end).

There’s at least one other travel adventure (much easier this time! We were supposed to go to PAX South but were too lazy that morning so we ate pizza and played video games.

I move out of my apartment and start renting a house. I have extra room. And I think about my friend, who’s only left her tristate area twice now, both because of me. And I think ‘that’s my best friend! I wonder if she wants to move down here!’

Another 2k miles on my poor little Kia (who’s STILL KICKING BTW), and she now lives in Texas. This was about five years ago. We live in my little granny house that’s older than both occupants combined. You heard that right, though. Oh my god, We Were Roommates.

It’s about this time that apparently Via starts Getting The Feelings but BLESS HER she’s being SO GOOD because at this point I’m defining as Aro/Ace. Turns out it was just some anxiety/aversion because my previous relationship was turbo unhealthy! But I really like this chick, and I’m like ‘you know what, I’m scared I’ll mess up our friendship, but I’ll try these things. We already go on ‘dates’ and I buy you flowers occasionally just because I was thinking of you and we already snuggle every night because it helps us go to sleep’ yeah I was. Hm. Dense.

Anyway it takes off HARD and within the year, we’re married on the coast where I took her to see the ocean for the very first time, on September 9, 2023.

Our first anniversary is soon. 💕

[cuquitalocita]

i love you yeah yeah yeah |rowaelin month- day 3|

rowaelin masterlist 

an: i’m not gonna lie, i had so so much fun writing this one! i’m a tennis player and my sister is as well, therefore why i know so much about the junior pro league. for those of you who don’t know, the orange bowl is an actual tournament played internationally for juniors and i’m ranting wow so anyway i hope this isn’t too tennis vocab-y :)

word count: 3,876

~~

It’s the final two days before competition at the International Orange Bowl this year being held in Terrasen and it’s no surprise that tensions between players and academies are more than high. We’re so glad to be here for yet another year of thrilling competition in which the winners will automatically be placed into the first round of the U.S. Open. I, for one, and more than excited to see some new teen faces this year, what about you, Gavriel?

You know Cairn, I completely agree and as someone from Terrasen, you must be more than excited to see some friendly competition on your home turf.

Oh, I sure am excited, but I don’t know if you’d call this competition exactly ‘friendly.’ For those of you unaware, the rivalry between the TAT (Tennis Academy of Terrasen) and the DTC (Doranelle Tennis Center) has been going on for close to ten years now, beginning all the way back to when founders Maeve Vesta and Evalin Galathynius were in college, rivals through and through. Now adults, their children carry on their competitive legacy, taking the nation by storm. If you see the final match of any tournament, you can bet your money it’s a Doranelle kid and a Terrasen kid. 

The stakes sure are high during this tournament, as it isn’t closed, like the academies’ usual ones. Instead, anyone player eighteen years old and younger with the qualifying points was eligible to register. I’m looking forward to seeing some new faces this year. 

Me too, but you can never go wrong with the usual suspects. This year, my money is on eighteen year- old Rowan Whitethorn from Doranelle, ranked second in the country, in the men’s finals. As Maeve’s nephew, Rowan has been put in the spotlight for most of his life, not to mention taking a clear leadership role among the DTC alongside Lorcan Salvaterre. 

That’s a good point, Gavriel, in the past years Rowan has made it to at least the quarter-finals but has always lost before he can truly do. I have a feeling the kid has a lot more in him.  And as for the women, I wouldn’t be too surprised to see the Terrasen seventeen year- old cruising through a few rounds before her tough competition starts. We can’t expect anything less than Evalin Galathynius’ daughter, right?

I for one, am more than excited for pre- first-round interviews. It’s always quite interesting to see each players’ mindset before they set out for blood.

~~

“What do you think our favorite golden girl has in store for us this year, Gavriel? Something tells me she’s a little more than annoyed given what happened at the finals of the last international tournament held in Terassen when Remelle Frost from the Doranelle academy beat her in what was the biggest upset of the season.”

Aelin rolled her eyes and glared at the back of her mother’s seat, the woman in question frowning as the annoying voice of Cairn Rossa rang through the rental car. She reached forward to turn the station off just as Gavriel’s voice rang out once more.

“Let’s not beat around the bush here, Cairn,” the older man was responding. “I’ve been doing this just a bit longer than you enough to know when a player isn’t themselves. One loss isn’t the definition of a player the same way one win isn’t either. I suggest both teams- including Aelin and Remelle themselves- step onto the court, and play.” 

Aelin let out a satisfied huff. She knew she had always liked Gavriel. Aelin liked that the man looked at the players as more than just players in a video game or statistics on a screen. As a former player himself, Aelin knew the man understood the game in and out and was more than qualified to report during the national tournaments, no matter where he was born and what side he was essentially placed on. 

The station was snapped off as her mother’s finger found the correct button, earning an annoyed glare from the Uber driver next to her that she promptly ignored in favor of turning back to her daughter, opening her mouth to say something. Aelin’s own eyes stared back at her before shifting down to the phone she held in her hand. It had just buzzed signaling a new notification that had her mother lifting her brows. 

Aelin immediately shifted forward in an attempt to look over her mother’s should before her hand was on her face, batting her daughter away with a motherly ‘leave me alone’ look. She relented, leaning back into her seat with slumped shoulders. Finally, her mother huffed but remained with her back facing Aelin. 

She knew it was different this year, she could practically feel it in the air. Without her father with the two women in the car, the tournament atmosphere was a different universe. 

It was getting dark outside, the sun setting behind them as they drove through the dazzling city. The car came to an abrupt stop in front of the hotel that sent Aelin jerking out of her own thoughts. Her mother turned back to her with a sad knowing smile and patted her daughter’s knee.

“We’re here. Try to get some sleep- you have a long day tomorrow.”

~~

“What’s the plan for today?” Aelin asked her mother around a mouthful of bagel the next morning. It wasn’t every day the founder of the University came to watch her players in a tournament, but whoever won this won would be fed into the first round of an official professional tournament. It would be amazing PR for the academy, Aelin knew, but she also knew her mother felt bad that her father had escorted Aelin to all of her tournaments in prior years. And now that he wasn’t here anymore… 

“Eat up- after you’re done I’ve reserved three courts at the complex and we’ll get together with everyone.” ‘Everyone’ being every other players from the academy who had enough points to enter the qualifiers. Not all of them were as highly ranked as Aelin, but she found it helpful to train with them all the same. They were her friends. “We do need to pick Lysandra up from the airport first though,” she said as she frowned at her phone. “Her flight was supposed to have landed a few minutes ago but she hasn’t reached out…”

Aelin rolled her eyes at her mother, she always did have a thing with protectiveness over her best friend. 

“Mom, don’t worry about it,” Aelin assured her. “Aed said he would pick her up and then meet us at the courts. I wouldn’t want to be in that car if I were you.” She faked a gag, causing her mother to laugh. 

“Alright then. Eat, find your rackets, and take the rental to the courts. It was just delivered this morning. I have some business to finish here at the hotel.” She left Aelin with a kiss to the head. 

~~

It didn’t take long for Aelin to pull up to the familiar yet daunting tennis complex bigger than even the academy, and she pushed the car into park, simply staring for a moment. 

This was it. 

Three years she had come close to winning as the youngest person in history. So close. But this was the year. This was her year. She could do this. She would do this. 

And so Aelin Galathynius pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin as she grabbed her massive tennis bag from the trunk and slung it over her shoulders. The weight was heavy and familiar as she walked through the glass double doors and to the front desk, only to halt in her tracks when she came face to face with a familiar head of silver hair. 

Rowan Whitethorn.

She had quite often mused about how unfair it was that her essential biggest rival was so attractive. It didn’t really make hating him very fair, now did it? But there he stood, green eyes shining and teeth flashing as he snapped something at the young man at the desk. The poor boy looked ready to pee himself and Aelin couldn’t help but release a sharp laugh, causing both Rowan and the blonde next to him to whip around.

Aelin watched as Rowan’s eyes sparked and his mouth curved into a sneer as he took her in from head to toe. She forced herself still and kept her eyes on his face. It was all she could do. Rowan opened his mouth and Aelin prepared her hackles to rise instantly.

“Aelin. Good to see you here.” But it wasn’t Rowan who spoke. No, it was Remelle Frost, her least favorite bottle blonde on the planet that spoke as she curled a possessive hand over Rowan’s bicep. Aelin simply rolled her eyes, never one to beat around the bush. It was common knowledge that the blondes didn’t like each other. And after the Adarlan tournament, Aelin wouldn’t hide her disdain for the girl.

“Wish I could say the same,” she replied dismissively as she shouldered past Rowan and made for the front desk. One charming smile and the boy seemed to handle her much better than Rowan. She gave him her mother’s name, him quickly nodding a confirmation and giving her the court numbers, saying they would be available in just a moment.

She turned around, unsurprised to see Rowan glaring at the back of her head. It had been almost eight years of this rivalry. At least for them. Aelin thought it might’ve been a little ridiculous, considering that it started with her mother and his aunt, but the Doranelle kids just made it so easy to hate them. So easy to want to pound them on and off the court. She wouldn’t apologize for the adrenaline the rivalry provided her with.

Aelin smirked, cocking her hip. “Like what you see?”

“Hardly,” he growled. “Just wondering whether or not you actually came to play this time.” 

Aelin recognized the comment for what it was- a direct jab to the last tournament where she had lost to Remelle. If the comment hadn’t pissed her off so much she would’ve recognized the compliment for what it was. 

“Well, that depends which game you’re talking about, Whitethorn.” Her voice was just teasing enough to annoy him once more, and Aelin’s grin grew. 

“Don’t you have a court to go find?” Remelle cut in from beside Rowan, who had distanced himself from her. Aelin didn’t blame him. She wanted to do the same thing.

“And here I was enjoying our little chat. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, mar sin leat.”

“This isn’t Terrasen,” Remelle hissed. “We say ‘good luck’ here. Gods, you Terrasen kids are pieces of-” 

Someone caught her by the waist as Aelin attempted to throw herself at the girl and she was soon spun around in their arms, coming face to face with her own eyes. Aedion’s were flashing too as his eyes were fixed behind her, no doubt at Rowan. 

“Leave it, Ace, it’s not worth it.” 

“It’s true, princess,” Rowan finally spoke with a sneer. “You’re gonna need those pretty little hands tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to have an excuse when you get your ass kicked.”  

“Oh, I’ll show you-” 

Aedion dragged her away before she could get another word out, her fists clenched and her teeth bared. She shoved him when he put her down.

“Fucking Doranelle,” Aedion spat under his breath as he shook his head. 

He merely gestured to a figure behind her, causing Aelin to whip around with wide eyes. Shit. Duke Perrington grinned at her through the snake-eyed lens of his camera and gave her a tiny wave as she bared her teeth at him

Perfect. Now it would look like Terrasen had begun a fight before the tournament even began. 

Her mother was going to kill her. 

~~

Aelin felt like the stadium had never been bigger. She had known this year she would be playing where the professionals themselves did, including Maeve and her mother, but never in a million years had it looked so daunting or made her feel so small. 

The tournament had been, well needless to say, easy for Aelin so far. She had breezed through her first few matches, absolutely destroying the poor girls, and her third had been straight sets as well. But now it was the semis. And she would have to face Remelle on center court. It seemed the gods liked playing jokes on Aelin Galathynius. 

She could feel every pair of eyes snap to hers the moment she stepped onto the court but she looked forward. Maybe she was a crowd favorite- but that would do her no favors in the upcoming match. Aelin thought she was going to hurl all over her new shoes and she let the deafening cheering of the audience cover the sound of her pounding heart. 

Remelle walked in not long after she and Aelin met her in the middle of the court, racket in hand. Showtime. 

Aelin might have been paying attention when the coin had been flipped, might have been minimally involved when she called heads or when she won the call and opted to serve first. She might have been only slightly aware of her surroundings as she took a small sip of her water and walked to the back of the court. 

And then it was movement.

It was backward and forwards, side to side, low and high, and it was the same dance Aelin knew better than anything. The same feeling in her feet when she sprinted to the ball and the same stretch of muscles when she reached for a shot. This was who she was- this was the pattern she had lived for ten years. 

But it didn’t seem to matter, not as the score continued to tip less and less in her favor with every passing point. She was playing well- but Remelle was playing better. And there was nothing Aelin could do but survive and ignore the satisfied smirks the other girl would throw her during their side changes. 

Think, Aelin, think. 

Nothing was coming to her head. All she could hear was the pounding adrenaline through her body telling her to play. To cross each bridge when she came to it. There was nothing more she could do than play.

It was then, when Aelin threw herself at a particularly difficult ball, that she felt something shift. And she knew she was screwed. 

Aelin was a tennis player- she had rolled her ankle before. But this was different. It had never hurt this bad. And as the rest of her body came down with her ankle, she thought that it could be it. That it was the end of the match all due to a stupid ankle injury. 

With her heart in her throat, Aelin signaled to the red- headed umpire. 

Injury, she mouthed to her, and the woman- Ansel, it seemed her name was- simply nodded. She was in the massive locker room without a second thought, dragging out a spare bucket of ice held in one of the corners of the room and shoved her foot it. Might as well get it over with.

Aelin winced as the ice on her foot began to take effect and her muscles began to ache, her breathing beginning to lose its consistency. Gods, she hated this. She hated the useless feeling that came over her at the thought of possibly being unable to finish the match. At the thought of all the people, she would be letting down. 

She was tired. Aelin was so, so tired.

Gods, she just needed-

The door to the locker room burst open with a loud and abrupt clang, causing Aelin to jerk forward, spilling water on the ground as she opened her mouth. She was ready to tell them that she needed some privacy before her eyes locked onto a familiar figure that sent her heart pounding for a different reason. 

“Rowan, you can’t be in here!” 

The hulking boy ignored her protests, striding over her in no more than a few steps, both of his hands immediately going to the base of her neck to search her gaze with his own worried one, clearly not caring that he was in the girl’s locker room and would be kicked out of the tournament if he was found. 

“Are you alright?” he insisted, his voice low and hoarse, forest eyes intense.

The gentleness in which he touched her had Aelin sighing and her hands reached up to lightly take hold of his wrists, bringing them down and gathering them in her own hands to hold to her chest. 

She hadn’t meant to fall for Rowan Whitethorn.

But like everything in her life, it had happened quickly and unexpectedly, and Aelin had dealt with it head-on. It had been a year now. An entire year of playing tournaments in each other’s home’s just so they could see each other. Just so no suspicion was be aroused by the tabloids. 

And Aelin hated it. 

All she wanted to do was be able to link her hand through Rowan’s in public without causing a public scandal about a decade-long rivalry. 

“I’m okay, you fussy buzzard,” she teased as she looked at him, pleased to see when the frown on his lips twitched the slightest bit upward. “It was just a little fall. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

But because he knew her so well, he had heard the uncertainty and fear in her voice as she spoke. So saying nothing, he pulled Aelin to his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around her completely, enveloping her in the scent that she had considered home for months.

And as she breathed him in, she wished home wasn’t always so godsdamned far. 

Rowan let her breathe shakily into his chest, constantly running a soothing hand up and down her back as he hummed a small melody that he often did to get her to sleep over the phone at night. Aelin was the first person to admit it was much better in person.

“You don’t have to do it, Aelin,” he said finally, his movements never ceasing. “You don’t owe them anything.” 

She knew who he was referring to of course, of the people who had come to watch the new ‘upcoming star’ in action and were expecting to see quite the show. They were the people Aelin had been trained to want to impress. 

Aelin pulled back to tilt her chin up and look him in the eyes. 

“I can’t just quit, Rowan. I won’t.”

“You have nothing to prove, Fireheart.” And Aelin almost broke as he used the nickname her father had. “Not to anyone.” 

She shook her head, helplessness seeping through her body more and more as she looked at the boy in front of her. The pain in her ankle was even worse now. Unsurprisingly, he noticed, and his calloused hands moved to her wrists as he lead her back over to the bucket of ice water.

He kneeled down in front of the bench as she sat down and placed her foot in the water, wincing along with her even after she threw a glare at him.

I don’t see you with a foot in ice.

Seeing you in pain is enough to hurt me, his eyes gazed back playfully. Aelin rolled her eyes, quickly shutting them as another shock of pain rushed through her body, making her inhale sharply. 

Her boyfriend frowned once more, clearly upset he could do nothing to help her. So he gathered her hands in his own, bringing them to his face to place a gentle kiss on them, pulling an unwitting smile from Aelin. 

“I love you,” she said quietly. Rowan met her soft gaze for a moment before Aelin leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers in a kiss she hoped said everything she couldn’t. Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. I wish we weren’t a secret. 

“I love you too, Fireheart.” 

She would never get sick of hearing him say that. Of hearing the utter truth in his words. 

Rowan was watching her with that adoring look he reserved only for her, his face open so she could see every emotion playing across his face. It only made her want to kiss him again.

So she did, although this time he met her halfway, taking her chin lightly between two fingers and tilting it up so he could kiss her thoroughly as her hands rested at the base of his neck, lightly twirling the pieces of soft hair she found there.

They sat there for a while, simply kissing, enjoying the feeling of each other’s lips and proximity when it was so few and far between, and Aelin relished in the feeling of loving someone who loved her back. In the feeling of not having to act. 

When she accidentally tugged at a knot in his hair, Rowan pulled away with a painful groan and a nip to her bottom lip, causing Aelin to laugh and push his cheek away with two fingers.

“Sorry, Buzzard,” she laughed as Rowan stood up, with a playful glare. He folded his arms in front of him and it was only then that Aelin remembered she had a foot inside of a bucket of ice. And her medical time out was running out. “Shit. I have to go.” 

Aelin jumped into action, taking her foot out of the ice with a hiss and grabbing a towel as Rowan maneuvered himself around her to find her shoes and socks. Apparently he had understood her message loud and clear about her intentions on forfeiting the match or not- he wasn’t stupid enough to argue with her.

Quickly enough, Aelin was good as new- well, as new as she could be with a half swollen ankle.

“Well,” she dropped her arms to her sides and turned to her boyfriend. “How do I look?”

“Like an idiot who shouldn’t be playing.”

“Or…?” she arched a brow. Rowan sighed and stepped toward her, his hands bracing both of her arms as he leaned forward to press an earnest kiss to her forehead. 

“Or Terrasen’s champion,” he murmured against her skin. 

Aelin grinned, a wicked and feral smile that meant she was ready to raise hell.

“Now that’s more like it.” 

~~

If someone had asked Aelin to regale the crowd with details of her match after she had come out victorious, she would have been unable to do so. Because all she remembered was the pounding of her feet on the ground, and the neon color of the tennis ball, and the feeling of her heart palpitating in her chest. 

Oh, and of course she couldn’t forget the moment after her match- winning shot, when every care and inhibition had left her in one foul swoop. When she had sprinted over to the stands and thrown herself into the arms of the silver- haired enemy, delighting in his deep laughter.. 

And kissed him in the middle of the stadium for all to see.

~~

this prompt was: secret dating 

taglist:

@story-scribbler

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame

[lesbian-deadpool]

Take A Slice

Part Seven: Goodbye, My Love

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,002

Warnings: Blackmail, angst, talks of drugs, talks of cheating, forced break up.

Summary: You should have known that it would never last.

A/N: Bold and italics = Text Messages.

Ko-Fi

(Not My GIF)

***

It had been three, anxiety-filled days since you had received that last text message.

Yet you could feel your time left here counting down.

"Y/N?" Where are you?"

Natasha's soft, husky voice draws you out of your mind.

"Sorry," you say, blinking back into reality. "There's just been a lot on my mind lately."

She made a pitying sound in the back of her throat. "Anything I can help with?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Wade give you a pointed look. As he set up another round of the game, he and Natasha were playing, on the console, he brought over to her apartment.

"No," you shook your head, "I'll sort it out."

"Well, if you ever need me, just ask."

"I know, babe."

"You two are so sweet together. It's sickening."

Your girlfriend laughed at your best friend's dry words, happily taking the controller from him.

Natasha's attention was drawn over her shoulder, watching as you read a message you had just received. The pure look of dread, that you had attempted to hide, covered your face. Causing her eyebrows to scrunch up in curiosity. Anxiety flowing through her, at what might be happening with you.

Little did she know what the message read.

You have two days to get on a plane and never show you face here, ever again.

You didn't want to leave. That much was obvious.

But you had no other choice. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You had to leave.

For Natasha.

"Who are you texting?" Natasha asked, making you snap your attention up to see her face you already.

Wade's eye's bulging in the reflection of the TV, knowing who it probably was.

"It seems important."

"Hmm? Oh, it's just my cousin, ranting about school. He wants me to go see him soon."

Nice lying, Y/L/N.

Natasha nodded at your lie, turning back to the game at hand. Still suspicious.

"So, how was the test?"

A sense of dread washed over you at her words. You hadn't briefed Wade on the lie you had told her, before rushing from her apartment, a few days ago. And he was far too into his game, to be able to think on his feet.

"What test."

Here we go.

"The one you reminded Y/N about, a few days ago," she clarified, with a small smile.

"I never did that."

You could have stopped him.

You should have stopped him.

But you were stuck to your seat, watching it all unfold before your eyes, unable to do anything to stop it.

"What?" Natasha slowly turned on her spot, beside Wade on her coffee table, to face you. "Y/N? What's going on?"

"Natasha, you're dying-" Wade said, thumbs moving over the controller, with practised speed.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"Natasha-"

"Where did you go that night?"

The dread that previously filled you grew like no other, as Natasha rose from her seat, now facing you head-on.

"Babe, it's a complicated story."

"You don't think I can handle complicated?"

"No, of course, you can-!" You rushed to say.

"You're getting annihilated, Natasha. What are you doing?" Wade save a small chuckle.

"-It's just... it really, really sucks."

"I'm an adult, Y/N," Natasha stated, folding her arms across her chest, "I can handle whatever it is."

You were just about to tell her when she cut you off before you got to say a word.

"Y'know I wouldn't have cared as much if you were fucking other women before we got together. But how dare you cheat on me?"

Of course, she went there.

Who wouldn't, really?

"Wait." You raised your hands. "What? What? You think I'm cheating on you? I wouldn't do that, Nat."

Wade cringed when he suddenly came back into the real world after the game had finished. His shoulder's tensing and eye's bulging.

"I uh..." he drawled, placing his controller down onto the coffee table below him, "I gotta go." And then he ran from the apartment, without a bat of the eye, from either of you.

"Well, what do you expect me to think?!" Natasha yelled, "You lie to me about your test just so you can leave. You've been looking at your phone like you've got some hidden secret- Were you even texting Wade, that night?"

It was time.

Time to be honest. To come clean about everything that had been going on, behind her back.

"No." You shook your head slightly.

"Then who was it?!"

"I'm being blackmailed!"

Well... maybe you could have said it better than that.

Natasha looked at you like you had grown another head, mouth bobbing as she tried to find the right words to say. That is until she just blurted, "What?!"

"I got a text a few weeks ago from someone- Rumlow! I got a text from him! And he. He somehow had a copy of the video we made together, I'm pretty sure he hacked my phone. But he's been blackmailing me."

"Y/N. Y/N. What are you talking about?" She stopped your rambling explanation. "This is crazy. If this is just a lie, so I won't think you're cheating on me-"

"It's not! You know me, I wouldn't do this shit. And even if I did, I'm fucking smart enough not to use this as an excuse."

Reaching into your pocket you griped your phone, pulling up all of the texts between you and Rumlow, starting from the beginning. "Here, see."

"You fucked his girlfriend?" Natasha asked after a few anxious minutes of her flicking through the texts.

"Yes, but that was so long ago, I totally forgot about her up until now. She told me she was single! I'm not a fucking homewrecker."

"Well, what does he want from you? Money?"

"No. At first, he made me drop off drugs for him-"

"He did what?!"

You ignored her yell, instead choosing to continue your sentence.

"But now he just wants me out of the school."

"What?" she asked, breath stolen away by the shock you statement had caused her.

"I've already put in my transfer- I know I'm an asshole! And an idiot, and I should- I should have told you all of this way before now. I should have told you the day I got the first texts! It's just..." you heaved a great sigh, "I wanted to spend as much time with you, in denial to the real world, for as long as I could. It was selfish of me, and it wasn't fair to you. And I'm sorry about that. I truly am, Nat."

Tears welled up in her eyes but never trailed down her soft, beautiful face. One of the only other trace of the salty drops, was evident in her voice, as she spoke.

"Why? Why? If you would have just told me all fo this was going on, when it first began, it could have been fixed by now. You wouldn't have to leave."

"Well, as I said before," you started, "I'm an idiot... I thought I could handle it myself. Turns out, I could only make things worse."

So much fucking worse.

Natasha chuckled wetly, "You think?"

"I'm sorry." Tears began to roll down your face. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"I know you are."

***

The last two days you had together went quickly.

Way too quickly.

And now it was time for you to say goodbye.

Natasha had offered to drive you to the airport. Which you gladly took.

You had said goodbye to Wade before you left. He almost wouldn't let go of you, as he hugged you goodbye, tightly.

Anxiety and dread filled you, causing you to fiddle with anything and everything. Eye's filtering from one thing to another, and another, and another. All the while, Natasha locked up her car. The red-head coming to stand beside you, noticing your state right away. Instinctively you pulled your cigarettes from your pocket, before realizing you were trying to quit, then pushed them back into their previous place.

"For God's sake, Y/N. Just have a smoke."

"But you don't like-"

"Just-" She pulled your packet of cigarettes out of your pants, and gently pushed one into your mouth, "You're stressed. You need to calm your nerves."

You nodded after a few moments of your eyes shifting from side to side as you thought before you gave in and lit the stick.

The walk from the car towards the airport, and then to the gate you were meant to board your plane on, was simultaneously the longest and shortest walk of your life. And before you know it. It was time for you to leave.

"If you don't let go of me now, I'm not going to be able to leave."

"Good. Don't go. Stay," Natasha was so incredibly close to begging you, holding onto the lapels of your jacket, hoping that that small action would get you to stay with her.

"I can't," you whispered hoarsely, tears burning your eyes, "You know I can't, I have to go. I can't ruin your life, Natasha."

"I don't care! I want you."

"Don't be stupid. This is what you're destined to be. You love your job, and you're a fantastic teacher. I can't take that away from you, and you know that."

"But I don't want to lose you." Tears poured from her eyes, and down her soft milky cheeks.

"And I don't want to lose you. But sometimes we have to lose what we love."

"What?" Natasha asked breathlessly.

"What?"

"You love me?"

"I... yes," you whispered, "I do. I love you."

More salty tears spilt from her eyes, but you didn't have enough time to even try to wipe them away before you were pulled into a passionate kiss.

"I love you too," was husked against your lips, "I love you, so much." Then her lips returned to yours.

Peck after peck. You both took as much as you could, until the moment you were dragged away.

The last boarding reminder rang in the air.

"I really have to go now."

"I know. I know."

But Natasha still never let go of your jacket.

Your eyes were full of sadness as you raised your hands and gently pulled hers from you.

"I love you," you said one last time. Getting the same back.

The red-headed woman never once stopped crying as she watched you board the plane, and then when the plane took off and disappeared from her view.

That's it.

It was over.

You were gone.

***

Stepping off of the plane, and into the large airport. The warm sun, flowing through the shiny floor to ceiling windows, as you walked through the crisp white building, spotting the one person who promised to meet you when you got there.

"There's the troublemaker!" Tony smiled, playfully, "It was only a matter of time."

"Do you ever know when to stop?" You asked the man who threw his arm around your shoulder's, pulling you into a side hug as you walked to grab you bags.

"Nope. You should know this by now."

You let out a humorous sound that seemed to be a mix between a scoff and a chuckle, as you shook your head.

Looking over, Tony could tell you were heartbroken. And he would be here for you.

Every step of the way.

"C'mon, there's a room all set up for you in my place. You'll have a good home there."

"Thanks, Tony," you said, staring him in the eyes, yours showing him just how grateful you were, "I like the beard you're growing in." You poinded to your own chin, in reference to the mans newly sprouted stubble.

"It's actually a goatee, thank you very much."

"Oh, my mistake."

Maybe. Just maybe, things would be so bad here in L.A..

This might just be the fresh start you were craving for.

You were kidding yourself by dating your teacher, anyway.

Things like that never worked out.***

Take A Slice Tag List: 

@wannabe-fic-writer​, @ohfuckno​, @uglipotata72829​

Permanent Tag List: 

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro, @thelastavenger-3000

[kpop-stan23-writes]

cowboy like me

group: the boyz member: q (ji changmin) genre: fluff word count: 1.9k warnings: implied sex, but only very very very; a couple swear words pairing: q x gn!reader

part of the playlist series

note: the lyrics are out of song-order, but i pieced them together based on how i thought it best fit the flow of the story. also, since i do quote the lyrics, it's obviously being sung from a woman's perspective, but it definitely doesn't have to apply to the story itself

hustling for the good life

as a child, you had nothing

but you saw the glittering, beautiful, luxurious things that were always so far out of reach

and you decided at a young age that you would someday achieve those glittering, beautiful, luxurious heights

you watched your mother turn tricks growing up, charming her lovers into extra cash or little gifts

you watched your father pick pockets and work as a con artist on the streets, betting unsuspecting passersby he could beat them at games of chance

it taught you how powerful words can be

and that is the only lesson you bother to take away from your childhood

you're a young adult now and since leaving home years before, you haven't looked back

perched in the dark/telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear like it could be love/i could be the way forward only if they pay for it

with your good looks and silver tongue, you quickly find yourself charming the riches out of the rich

it doesn't matter who they are, what their occupation or reputation, young or old

you sit back and watch your potential lover from afar, figuring how much you can milk and planning the perfect approach

then you charm your way into their lives and eventually into their bank accounts

and with their eyes full of stars, they're none the wiser

your most recent love affair, though, a man who is finally ready to settle down, is getting to be too...much

so you slip out in the middle of the night, taking a few knickknacks and jewels along the way

it's time for you to move on

and the tennis court was covered up with some tent-like thing

it's a beautiful day in early autumn

the trees are various shades of red and your path to the country club is paved with golden leaves that crunch just slightly under your feet

you show your expensive creme-colored invitation to the tall man who guards the elite from the plebians and are waved inside without a second glance

the charity event is taking place on the country club's multiple tennis courts

despite the weakening sun's rays, the rich want to protect their lily-white skin by covering the courts with lily-white cloth tents

you wouldn't mind the sun, but as you've learned during your rise from the bottom, the elite will do anything to protect their fair skin

you float around the crowd, sharing smiles and greetings with the other guests

you eventually find yourself at the open bar, where of course the only drinks being served are fancy cocktails, expensive wines, and top-shelf liquors

as you're waiting for your fancy expensive top-shelf drink, you spot a new face in the crowd

he looks to be your age, and is absolutely beautiful

strong eyebrows, soft cheekbones, full lips, and the most captivating cat-like eyes you've ever seen

he smiles at you and then politely excuses himself from the woman giggling girlishly at something he must have said

the woman watches him as he walks away and when she sees where he is headed, her eyes narrow at you

you just raise your just-served drink with a quirk of your lip and the young man striding toward you chuckles

"would you like to dance?" he asks you as soon as he reaches you

a string quartet is playing on a small stage and there's an area clear of tall tables made for standing

a few couples dance already

but you just sip your drink and say "i don't know...dancing is a dangerous game"

"doesn't make it any less fun, though, does it?"

you can't help but smile at his response and against your better judgement, you accept his hand

oh, i thought/this is gonna be one of those things

it's quiet once you reach the small dance floor

just the gentle string music and quiet hum of conversation

"i'm changmin, by the way. ji changmin."

you glance at him through your eyelashes and after a beat, you introduce yourself

he smiles once more and silence settles over you two again

you part once the quartet changes pieces

the rich flock to you and changmin, regardless of age or marital status

each of your attentions are occupied for the rest of the evening

but glances are spared throughout the night

the shared glances grow longer and heavier until you finally find yourself in a fancy hotel room without feeling like you need a shower first thing in the morning

you disappear before dawn, allowing yourself one brief moment to venerate changmin's lithe naked back which still bare evidence of your rather enjoyable evening together

you think that's that

i've got some tricks up my sleeve

your steps are as light as the pre-dawn autumn air

a small smile graces your lips and you admire the little trinket you slipped out of the hotel room: a tiger's eye-tipped tie pin

but as you're holding it up to watch the early-morning sunrays sparkle off the warm brown gem, you realize something

you're missing your silver pinky ring

you had some tricks up your sleeve

it's the only piece of your childhood you carry into adulthood and perhaps the only real item you've assigned sentimental value

you turn on your heel and march back toward the hotel entrance, intent on sneaking back into the hotel room to find that damn ring

but you hear someone call your name from above you

you look up and see changmin leaning out from a window, still bare-chested

something small is pinched between his fingers

you can't tell what it is from the ground

but the knowing smirk on his lips tells you all you need to know

takes one to know one

you consider turning your back to him

but that ring means a stupid amount to you

so you straighten your shoulders, hold you head high, and stride purposefully into the hotel lobby

because no way are you going to back down from someone like ji changmin

yo expect him to make you knock on the door, make you wait for him to answer

but the door is already propped open by the time you reach the room and you step inside to find him sitting on the couch in the in-suite living room (this time with a shirt), your small silver ring resting on the coffee table

you slowly sink into the chair across from him and silently place his tie pin on the table beside your ring

it's silent for a moment, you and changmin simply observing each other

"aren't you full of surprises" you finally say with a small quirk of your lips

changmin chuckles and pushes your ring toward you and you do the same with his pin

you each take your returned items and for a moment simply stare at them in your hands

you're uncertain what to do, and so is changmin

because this has never happened to either of you before

a con artist trying to pull one over another con artist

you glance up and catch his eye and you both can't help but laugh a little

because how ridiculous!

the silence returns and so does the uncertainty

changmin finally looks at the expansive, flashy watch on his wrist

you expect him to make some excuse about running late for some bullshit appointment

but instead he says "it's early. would you like to eat breakfast with me?"

much like the evening before, you find yourself nodding against your better judgement

you're a cowboy like me/never wanted love just a fancy car

and thus starts the most unexpected love affair of your life

because who knew ji changmin would turn out to be just like you

a suave, silver-tongued tempest who lives lover to lover, acquiring a small fortune in the process

he grew up poor, like you

he grew up resenting what his parents had to resort to in order to put food on the table, like you

he grew up deciding fancy things would be worth more than love in the long run

just like you

you laugh over that first shared breakfast about all the similarities you seem to share

all the similarities that led you to that moment

in that hotel room

with a fellow con artist

sharing a past you thought would stay firmly behind you

now i'm waiting by the phone like i'm waiting in an airport bar

you find yourself falling into a pattern with changmin

a pattern you've never had before

a pattern you never expected

it's new and exciting but also kinda scary because you never thought you'd feel this way about another person

more and more you find your evenings carrying over into the next morning

and then those next mornings turning into the next day

and then those next days melting into the next evening

soon, it's rarer to be without changmin than to be with him

and you hate that you find yourself wishing he was with you

because the L word was never supposed to be part of your vocabulary

of course what you don't realize is that changmin is feeling just as unexpectedly enamored by you

you're a bandit like me/eyes full of stars

you wake up one morning a tangle of limbs, changmin wrapped around you warmer than any of the numerous fur coats in your closet

his face is tucked into the crook of your neck and with each warm breath that ghosts across your skin, you feel your heart melt just a little more

there's a small mirror on the beside table and you happen to catch your reflection

the stars that you had always seen in your target's lover's eyes now fill your own

you bite your lip uncertainly because is this what love looks like?

you feel changmin's arm tighten around your waist as he begins to wake and you turn in his arms to face him

his eyes open slowly and when his gaze settles on you, a soft smile pulls at his lips and you feel his thumb stroke your lower back

"good morning" he says sleepily, his eyelids already dropping shut again

but you catch something in his dark eyes before they close that makes your heart skip a beat

because the stars you had seen in your reflection

you see the same stars in changmin's eyes

those stars in both your eyes remain

and you begin to grow used to them

you begin to grow to love them

we could be the way forward and i know i'll pay for it

you're waiting for the moment for it all to explode in your face

you're dreading that moment

you steel yourself for that inevitable ka-boom

you prepare yourself for life after changmin

in your weaker moments, you wonder if it was worth it

if loving changmin is worth what you know will be the greatest loss you have ever suffered

but you just have to take one look at his beautiful smile and those thoughts melt away

because no matter what happens, it will have been worth it

loving changmin will always be worth it

with your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con

but it never comes

and you find yourself relieved

because could you really have any sort of relationship after changmin, fake or not?

you don't think you ever want to find out

spoiler alert: you never have to

and i'm never gonna love again

note: i didn't even get to use some my favorite lyrics from the song ☹️ but i just couldn't find a way to fit into the flow of the story 😭 maybe i'll post another part that contains those lyrics?

[missmonsters2]

Courting Your Plus One

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader/OFC

Prompt: Can you pretend to be my partner for my friend’s wedding? I told them I’d have a plus one.

Note: Thank you for sending in bby 💘 We are here for a good time. @ludwigvonbaethoven​

Warnings: Y’all know you love this trope.

Genre: Fluff & humor 

Count: 5253

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Sometimes you imagine life (your life, specifically) being one big giant clusterfuck of a disaster.

Because you're not sure how else to explain how you got invited to your friend and your ex's wedding. 

Because, yes, they're fucking marrying each other. 

It honestly felt like you were being punched in the gut.

You would say your friendship with your friend is very complicated. It's based more on competition and envy than anything.

And not to brag, but you've pretty much have outdone for your friend in every aspect of life effortlessly.

Except you lost the girl.

Or more accurately, she left you.

Because you made it very clear to both of them that the people you date are not a prize to be won, and you don't chase people.

That being said, maybe if you went to therapy while in your childhood, you would grow up to be a well-adjusted adult who didn't believe that in a breakup, there's always a winner and a loser.

And by God, you refuse to be the loser in this breakup. 

"Yes, I'm really bringing a plus one," you tell your friend. After skillfully avoiding any questions that would require you to disclose any details of this 'plus one,' you needed to actually find a plus one.

But this was more than just a plus one.

You needed to find someone who was hotter and better than your ex in every way. 

"I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or insulted."

"Neither, Nat. Please just do me this favor, so I'm not humiliated twice by the two of them," you beg.

"Hasn't it been 4 months now? I doubt they will antagonize you since they've seemed to move on and all," Natasha looks at you with a brow raised. Natasha isn't a stranger to these two, but she's not really sure she's up to go along with this insane idea.

And despite the biting words, you show Natasha a text you received just hours after opening the wedding invitation.

Hey, with the history and all, we totally understand if you don't want to come to celebrate our wedding.

"Wow," Natasha whistles.

"Yes," you agree, putting your phone away.

"They really said that," Natasha comments while nodding her head and pursing her lips.

"They did, so please pretend to my girlfriend and attend this wedding with me. I don't want to rub it in their face, but I refuse to be alone."

"I just want to point out you actually have nothing to rub in their face."

"Nat."

She sighs.

"Fine," she grumbles, "I'll go, mostly for the free meal and drinks I'm going to get out of this, but you owe me big time for this."

You sigh in relief, the stress partially leaving you. You're thankful to have a friend like Natasha. You were friends throughout university and even were roommates for a while. Granted, you didn't get to see each other often now with the fact she travels a lot for work, but it seems like she's finally settling in the city for a while.

"So, what day is it?" Natasha asks while sipping her coffee, swinging her legs.

"So...it's out of town, and it's two days and one night," you smile sheepishly.

"For fuck sakes."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The wedding comes faster than you're ready for, and you've got the jitters as you adjust your one-piece jumpsuit.

Natasha picks you up, looking glorious in her dress, and for a second, your nerves calm as you take a deep breath.

"You look beautiful," you compliment to Natasha who merely smirks. 

"Nervous?" Natasha asks as she pulls out of your driveway and heads to the airport with no rush.

"I don't know if I would call it nervous as more of I really hope there are no incidents," you huff, 

"Hopefully, this will all go smoothly, and we just eat and drink ourselves into oblivion."

"What about dancing?" Natasha asks.

"For the sake of your feet, we 

better not," you half-joke.

Natasha lets out a burst of laughter, and you lick your lips at the sound. 

"So? What's the plan?" Natasha looks over to you briefly before turning her eyes back on the road.

"Plan?" You hum.

Natasha looks back with a raise of her brow at you.

"What? You just want to wing it when people inevitably ask us how we met and started dating?"

"Honestly, this is already stressful enough, I would prefer to not lie more than we have to. I've seen enough movies to know that's how you get fucked later. Everyone knows we've been friends forever. Let's just say we developed feelings, and then I asked you out."

"What if I want to be the one who asked you out?" Natasha frowns.

"Then you can be the one who asked me out...?"

"No, it's okay. I would rather you ask me out."

"Natasha, I'll fucking strangle you," you huff.

"Not my kink," Natasha then looks at you and smirks, "...Well."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You're trying to not seem twitchy when your plane arrives in Hawaii, and you head straight to the venue. 

Other guests have started to pour in, but you don't see the couple of the hour.

Natasha slides her hand into yours easily, and you're having a fleeting thought about how your hands fit together well. Her hand is soft, a little cold, but you don't mind because your hands are too warm.

"Relax," she whispers, and you nod.

You're thankful that they decided to have the ceremony and the reception right after, both at the same venue. You can't imagine trying to stretch this entire day out.

You grab champagne glasses and pass one to Natasha, who hums in thanks.

A couple people come up to say hi to you and fawn over how beautiful Natasha is and how you met. It's going well so far. Thankfully, no one has actually asked about how you're feeling about this entire wedding, or how brave (or stupid) you are to come. 

At least to your face. 

You already know people are whispering behind your back.

You take your seat with Natasha, and the second you hear the songs playing, you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes so fucking far back into your head because it's literally the same playlist you shared with your ex when you were dating her. 

This has to be some new level of pettiness, right?

Natasha seems to recognize the songs right away. After all, she had been the one to listen to it first to give her opinion before you sent it to your ex. She looks over at you and places her hand on top.

The touch grabs you out of your thoughts as you turn to look at her for a moment. You're reminded to take a deep breath as you turn your hand over to lace your fingers together.

You wish you were a little drunker when the bride comes out, and they say their vows, but your motto is that it could always be worse. 

You hear Natasha clear her throat, and you look at her curiously.

She's grinning at you mischievously, and then your phone buzzes.

Nat: Let's play a game. Every time she looks at you, you owe me a dance. Every time he looks at you, I'll buy you coffee when we're back.

You: Why? Because you don't want to be able to walk anymore?

Nat rolls her eyes at you, unable to hide the small smile on her lips.

Nat: Surely you can't be worse than when we were in university.

You: Debatable, but I'll play along. It's your toes.

Putting your phone away, Natasha smirks at you as you turn your head up to face the front.

It's easier to drown out the officiant and the couple's vows when you're trying to focus and keep count of how many times the couple looks at you.

By the time they kiss, Natasha's got you beat by 7 looks.  

And in total, you owe her 62 dances.

"Alright, if we just continue to dance for about 3 hours straight, I'll have paid my debt," you say, causing Natasha to laugh.

It's probably improbable you'll be able to give Natasha 62 dances, even if it's over the course of two days, but you're just happy you got through the ceremony. 

You move into the resort, snacking on hors-d'œuvre and wine while you chat with Natasha.

"I have to give it to them, the food is good. And, it's an open bar, nothing can beat that," Natasha says as she's already on her third glass of wine. 

"Your standards for a wedding is incredibly low," you shake your head at her, even if you do agree the food is not bad.

"Are you offering to show me better? What? Do you need a fake wife now?" Natasha teases you.

"Oh, would you be a dear and marry me then?" You blink innocently at her before grabbing her hand, "C'mon, I think the officiant might still be here."

You tug her hand a little, but Natasha tugs back to keep you in place.

"Alright, funny face, that's enough. If you think you can marry me after three glasses of wine...you are absolutely right, let's go," Natasha tugs you this time, and you let out a burst of laughter before tugging her hand back.

And then you see from the corner of your eye the newlyweds coming up to you, and you wait with bated breath.

"Wow, it's so good to see you, you look good," the bride comes in to swoop you into a hug, and you're almost taken aback at the familiar smell of honey and peaches.

"Hey, Vanessa," you breathe out, forcing a smile, "Congratulations, you look beautiful."

Vanessa laughs, clinging onto you a little too long when the groom sweeps him.

"Derek," you greet, "congratulations."

You don't say anything more because the second you look at them together, you're reminded that he went after her while you were still dating and that she did leave you for him.

He smiles at you, a little smug, as he shakes your hand and pulls you in to slap you on your back for a greeting.

"Thanks!" He enthusiastically says, "So, you brought Natasha. Why didn't you just say so over the phone?"

Derek goes into hug Natasha, who gives him a light smile and a weak hug in return.

"Thought it'd be a nice surprise," you reply, wrapping your arm around Natasha's waist as she settles into your side.

"Natasha, huh," Vanessa eyes the redhead in your arm. "How long?"

Okay, so maybe Natasha was a sore spot when you were dating Vanessa. She always complained about how you spent too much time with Natasha, even when she wasn't living in the city.

You're too lost in that Natasha has to be the one to answer.

"Well, it's pretty new, actually. As you know, we spend a lot of time together, and I don't know. The timing seemed just right that she confessed to me, it was really romantic," Natasha says, turning to look at you with a soft smile you're not sure you've ever seen on her.

You also noticed the biting mark about how you spend a lot of time together because Vanessa smiles contritely at the comment.

"That's great," Vanessa says offhandedly while she grabs her husband's hand. "Well, we gotta keep making rounds, but we'll catch up with you later."

With a little wave, the couple flitters off, and you feel like you can let out a sigh of relief.

"I always forget how wonderful of an actress you are," you turn to Natasha, your hand still on her waist as you smile thankfully at her.

"Yeah, imagine all the practice I got scaring off your one night stands in university," Natasha retorts back at you, and you look to the side, pretending you didn't hear that as Natasha laughs and slaps you playfully.

"C'mon, let's find the other food and refill your glass," You smile as you pull her along. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You leave your fake girlfriend for not even two minutes to find her the stupid hors-d'œuvre that had bacon wrapped around something.

You come back to find some dude hovering over your girlfriend like he's a fucking vulture.

It reminds you of back in university when you'd be studying in the library with Natasha, just enjoying the quiet time together with the occasional banter. 

And then some stupid jock, or someone from the student council, or whoever Natasha was dating at the time would come and interrupt. 

You stalk up to the two, catching the end sentence about how the guy has a yacht he would love to take Natasha on.

 "Hey," you interrupt, a fake smile on your face, "Sorry it took so long, I basically had to fight another woman for these, so you should probably eat them all now before she finds us."

Natasha laughs, giving you a smile as she beings to eat the appetizers.

"Who's this?" You ask, looking over at the guy.

Natasha looks over at the gentleman, blinking as she had definitely forgotten his name.

"Lentle?" She said, her tone rising at the end at the apparent guess.

"Leonard," he introduces himself with an unoffended smile.

"Well, Lentle, thanks for keeping my girlfriend company," you smile with a nod, and the guy gets the clear sign and books it out of there.

You turn to Natasha.

"I leave you for not even two minutes, and you've got yacht offers," you tease her.

"I know, so lame, right?" Natasha licks her lips. "Yacht offers were only cool in university."

"And what? You've traded in yacht offers for dances that will end in your toes being broken? I think you've got it backwards, sweetheart."

Natasha laughs as she finishes the last bacon appetizer. 

"Oh, you don't know how priceless your dancing is."

"Just for that, I'm taking three dances off my debt," you stick your tongue out at her while Natasha rolls her eyes playfully.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

This was only asking for trouble.

Natasha knew that.

She's not entirely unused to it. Living in a dorm with you while in university gave her plenty of opportunities where she had to pretend to be your scandalized girlfriend to scare off your one night stands.

But you were never there when those girls came knocking at the door.

She never had to hold your hand, gaze lovingly at you, potentially have to kiss you.

Natasha had been very careful throughout the entire time she had known you. She never made sure to cross any lines that she couldn't come back from.

Especially when you've had too many drinks and had a bad habit of kissing whoever might be too close to you back in the day.

It was necessary for Natasha to survive. 

Because she was in love with you.

And she still is.

But you had never indicated to her that you were interested in her in any other way than a friend. And so, she settled into a good place where she could be just your friend.

But this was threatening all of that. Natasha knew she should've said no when you came to her with this odd request, but you had looked so desperate and beat up that Natasha couldn't say no. 

When you were dating Vanessa, that was probably the worst time in Natasha's life. You were so obviously enamored with Vanessa, even if you did not admit it. 

Natasha had to deal with all the same intricacies of you dating her. Like helping you with the first date, listen to the playlist you made her and had to listen to you talk about Vanessa.

Nevermind when Vanessa left you for Derek. 

That might've tested Natasha's limit to the edge.

Now, she was standing with you at the bar, grabbing drinks as you held her hand, swinging it back and forth with a smile.

The dinner reception would be soon as the catering team started setting the tables and bringing food out.

"Does swinging our hands back and forth count as a dance?" You ask, and Natasha rolls her eyes over to you.

"Don't think you can escape a single dance," Natasha tells you, and you sigh dramatically.

Natasha can see Vanessa occasionally looking your way, and Natasha has to tell herself that being in your personal bubble, and brushing your hair behind your ear is justified now.

She can do those things.

Even if it's fake.

The reception is more boring than Natasha would like. Just people sharing toasts about how wonderful Derek is, and how in love they are. Natasha puts a lot of effort into distracting you.

And when the dinner comes to an end, the dancing begins. 

The couple shares their first dance together, and also dance with their parents.

The sun is setting, and when the floor opens up, Natasha is immediately dragging you onto the dance floor.

Your hand easily settles on the dip of her back as you pull her close, your other hand delicately encasing hers as you gaze in Natasha's eyes.

"This is a pretty good start," Natasha quirks her lips, "I remember the first time I tried to teach you how to dance, you look down the entire time at our feet."

"Yes, you're welcome for not crippling your toes at that time," You smile back. 

The slow music starts, and you begin to lead Natasha into a simple slow foxtrot.

"Hey, no broken toes," Natasha teases you, and you roll your eyes.

"Don't jinx it now," You try not to look down out of habit. Sure, over the years, you've gotten better at dancing, but it still wasn't your favorite activity. You still turn it down if given a chance.

After an hour into dancing, taking the occasional break in between, you need a break.

"Nat," You huff, "I don't think I'll be able to complete 62 dances with you. Can we convert dances into something else? How about drinks? I can get you drinks."

Natasha starts chuckling, "We'll see. I feel like you still have some dance left in you. C'mon, this is such a classic dance song."

Guests around you are wasted as they sway around on the dance floor. Derek has his tie around his head as he's goofing around with his buddies.

The dance is different this time. Natasha pulls you close, flush against her, and you're not sure if it's all the drinks you've had, but it feels different.

Her hands settle around your neck, her leg slightly in between your own.

And then she grinds to the beat of the music.

The feeling makes your breath hitch initially, and you see Natasha smirk subtly. Your hands automatically fly to her hips as you match her rhythm. 

Natasha's face is close. Close enough that you can feel her breath on your lips. 

You swallow. 

Somewhere in your mind, you're trying to remind yourself that Natasha is a friend. 

She's always been.

But tonight, you feel like she might cross a line that you didn't know existed between you two.

As quick as a fleeting thought to Kiss Natasha comes, she spins in your arms, back pressed against your front as she continues to sway and grind. 

Your hand slide over her stomach, and you're not sure what's happening. 

The song slowly comes to an end, going into a slow dance song, and you have a fleeting thought the DJ sucks.

Natasha turns back around, looking at you, and she's leaning in, and your heart is thudding, and you think the air is leaving your lungs, and--

"Hey."

The voice interrupts the two of you, and it's like whatever magic was happening, the spell broke.

You look over to see Vanessa standing between you too with a hand on your shoulder.

"Mind if I steal you for a dance?"

"She's kind of busy dancing with me right now," Natasha smiles, but you've seen that type of cold smile before.

"Well," Vanessa's eyes turn to Natasha, "I'm the bride, and it's my day, I think you can survive a dance without her."

Natasha looks like she wants to say something else, but you put your hand on her arm and give her a smile to show her it's okay.

Natasha wants to roll her fucking eyes at how smug Vanessa looks, but walks off to the bar.

She really needs a drink.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You pull Vanessa into an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you as you lead her into a dance.

"You're quite open to dancing tonight," Vanessa comments, knowing in the past you seldom danced with her.

You shrug, "I've already had about 18 dances with Natasha. Plus, it is your wedding day."

"I'm surprised you actually came," Vanessa twirls in your arm, coming back just an inch closer than before.

"Why wouldn't I?" You challenge.

The dance is cut short with Vanessa stilling, sighing as she pulls you out of the venue and down to the beach, standing in the warm sand.

"Why do you always do that?" Vanessa says, crossing her arms.

"Do what?" You reply.

"You know exactly why I'm surprised you came. Did I really mean nothing to you? Why would you even come here? And especially with Natasha," Vanessa is frowning, and her brows furrow the exact way you remember them when she's upset.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

"I'm not doing this with you, Vanessa," you tell her slowly, "it's your wedding day."

You turn to leave, but Vanessa pulls you back, colliding her lips against yours.

The feel of her lips is entirely too familiar.

Too raw. 

You put your hands on her shoulder, pushing her back.

"What the hell, Ness!" You yell at her as your brows burrow in anger.

"You didn't come back for me!" Vanessa yells back at you. You look around, glad that you're far from the venue, so no one can hear you.

You turn your head back to your ex.

"You left me, remember?" You hiss quietly.

"You weren't paying attention to me," Vanessa quiets herself as well, grabbing on your dress jacket.

"I thought that if I went to Derek, you were going to fight for me, but you didn't," She admits.

You sigh, "Vanessa, I told you right from the beginning that I don't chase people. If you felt that I wasn't giving you enough attention, you should've just told me. You leaving me for Derek is not going to make me fight for you. Of all the things I will compete with Derek for, women are not one of them."

"But you do chase people," Vanessa retorts bitterly, "you're always chasing Natasha."

Your brows scrunch together.

"What?"

Vanessa rolls her eyes as if she thinks you're just playing dumb.

"Every time Natasha needed something, you dropped everything to go help her. Do you even remember my birthday? You left midway because Natasha called and said she was stuck on the highway."

"You said you were okay with it. If you weren't, you should've said so!" You argue with her.

"I shouldn't have to tell you that I obviously wouldn't be okay with that! For christ's sake, you hate dancing and you just danced 18 times with Natasha!"

You pinch the bridge of your nose, a minor headache from having this conversation.

"Regardless," you finally say, "whatever has happened, it's in the past now. You're married now. You said, 'I do,' to him. What do you want from me now?"

Vanessa takes a step forward, grabbing onto the edge of your sleeves again.

"I--I just want to know that I matter to you, that you still love me," Vanessa says softly, and she's leaning up on her tippy toes, getting closer to your face.

You're frozen.

Not sure why the hell this is happening to you.

But before you can push her away again, Vanessa is pushed back by someone else.

Natasha is standing there, furious as her eyes are set ablaze.

"I'll appreciate it if you keep your hands and lips off my girlfriend," Natasha grits out.

Vanessa rolls her eyes at Natasha, before looking at you, "I know you're not really dating her. If you wanted to make me jealous by bringing Natasha, then fine. I'm jealous, but you don't need to keep up the charade."

"Er--I'm not--We really are--why would you think that?" You start to stutter before asking.

"Natasha may have always been in love with you, but if you liked Natasha, you would've left me for her long ago. You're telling me throughout all the years of your friendship, you never thought about dating her earlier? I don't buy it," Vanessa squints.

"What does it matter to you? You're married," Natasha deadpans.

"And I can get a divorce if I want to," Vanessa fires back. 

Something seems to stem inside Natasha. A hot, burning, possessive feeling boils in her because she has a taste of having you hers, even if it's pretending.

And something just possesses Natasha as she pulls you close, wrapping her arm around your neck as she meets your lips with fervor. 

The taste of Natasha hits you different.

She tastes like vodka and pineapples, and you find yourself quickly returning her kiss. Your hands grab her waist, pulling flush against you, and your mind wanders to her grinding on you earlier. 

Has Natasha always felt this soft? Were her lips suppose to slide against yours so perfectly?

And then everything Vanessa said just hits you. You don’t chase people, but you’ll chase after Natasha. 

You always have. 

You hate dancing, but you’ve never turned down a dance with Natasha. 

You’re jealous, you’ve been jealous. It takes a lot to just barely temper the desire to possess.

Natasha was the first person you thought of for everything.

God, have you been an idiot? 

You distantly hear a huff in the background and footsteps stomping off.

You aren't sure how long you're kissing until Natasha pulls back.

She stares at you, and something just snaps.

"I can't do this," Natasha says, turning around and walking further onto the beach.

Natasha briskly walks along the shore, cursing herself. The kiss was amazing.

Everything and more than Natasha dreamed it would be.

But deep down, she knew that you didn't feel that way about her.

And now she had this blessing and curse to remember this kiss for the rest of her life.

"Hey!" A sudden arm grabs onto Natasha's wrist, and she turns around to see you panting as you chased after her.

"You know," you pant, "I'm beginning to think Vanessa was right."

Natasha immediately shirks at you as you stand up straight, sliding your hand down until you grasp her fingers.

"I don't chase people, but I chase always after you," you pull Natasha closer, and she looks alarmed.

"What are you say--"

"Is it true? Have you always been in love with me?" You cut her off.

Natasha is silent, face impassive as she always does when she feels vulnerable. 

But you always knew the answer when she did that.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You ask softly only for Natasha to scoff.

"Why would I? We're great friends, I'm aware of that. You've never indicated to me that you felt anything more for me," Natasha looks out onto the ocean.

You're not really what to say at first because it's true. Throughout your years of friendship, it never really crossed your mind that Natasha could be more to you. 

But not for the reason she thinks. 

"You know," you start, drawing her attention back to you, "When I first met you, you were like, the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen in my life, the statement still standing true to today."

Natasha feels her cheeks warm at the soft way you're saying it.

"Then I got to you know, and you were funny, charming, very sarcastic, ambitious, and god, all these amazing things," you sigh, unable to really convey how Natasha is.

"You dated all these guys--and girls--in university. You dated the student president, the student from abroad who literally sounded like James Bond, and even the girl who was in theatre major who is now like a famous broadway actress now or something," you recall all of Natasha's suitors in university.

You laugh, "And don't even get me started on the people after university. I still get Facebook messages from that CEO who tried to give you his company."

Natasha is listening to ramble, but honestly, she doesn't remember any of these people. 

Because in university, she was busy taking the scenic route to her class so she could bump into you more. Natasha was occupied with taking non-related classes for her general studies requirements with you. And she was really too busy watching go from fling to fling, wishing that for once, you would just look at her.

"What does that have anything to do with you?" Natasha asks.

"Nothing," you reply, shrugging your shoulders, "Which is exactly the point. While I was busy with one night stands, you were long term dating other people. How can you expect me to even think that you might've been interested in me? How could I let myself want to be more to you?"

And Natasha was extremely aware of it. There were so many moments, too many to even count, where Natasha would be internally screaming for you to look at her, see the truth that she was in love with you, all while refusing to make it known that she was even an option for you.

But Natasha doesn't know where to go from here. 

She's still in the same place she started with you.

Natasha feels you tugging on her hand, pulling her closer while you cup her jaw.

"So, I'm going to ask you again. Have you always been in love with me?" You hover over her face, breath on her lips.

"You know what? Nevermind, I'll find the answer myself," You say before you swoop in capture Natasha's lips.

The second kiss is entirely different from the first, and Natasha is completely helpless for the first time with you. Your lips are velvety soft, delicate like a feather. 

And it's hard to Natasha to process the fact that you're kissing her, she's convinced that your lips have changed her very existence and she'll never be the same. 

And when you pull back, you rest your forehead against Natasha's.

"Is it okay for me to say that I've been really blind and that we've got it all backward, but the timing is actually right, and I'd like to take my fake girlfriend on a date tomorrow morning so she can become my real girlfriend?"

And Natasha just chokes on a laugh because she's pretty sure she stepped on a rock, and it hurts, but it's the only thing that tells her she's not dreaming as you pull her into a hug.

“You’re such an idiot,” Natasha mumbles.

"Just one thing," you say, playing against the back of Natasha's neck. 

"What?" Natasha pauses.

"Can we convert dances to kisses?" 

And Natasha laughs, wrapping her arms around you as her head rests against your shoulder.

"I'm open to the idea," she smiles. "So, what about the wedding brunch tomorrow?"

"Oh, fuck the brunch."

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Cassell Cynic Part 2

A continuation of @hectabdr @hectab‘s lovely characters.

When Nathan lay back on the bench, Hana’s face filled with furious determination.

Nathan protested loudly as she stomped his feet, seized his arm in a mighty heave and lifted him across the back of her shoulders. Her strong arm was wrapped around his leg and other her hand gripped his wrist. He tried to pull away but she held him tightly secured. “What are you doing?! Let me down!”

“I���m not going to let you make me fail this assignment!” She grunted roughly and stomped off toward the medieval looking administrators building.

Nathan used his free arm to pull his ear buds out. “Are you kidnapping me? Go die by yourself!”

“You think you’re going to die?”

“Of course I’m going to die if I go on assignment with you!” He struggled futilely against her iron-like grip. “Let go! You’re ruining my day!”

“When the dragons come back, they’ll do more than ruin your day. Or do you not know that because you don’t care to study?”

“I know that and that’s why I don’t bother! It’s obvious that someone else is going to do it, why should I care about it?”

“Because we …” She puffed, staggering with her struggling captive. “You're heavier than you look.... We all have a role to play. No one is going to slay the dragons alone! When the chips are down everyone needs to think about what they can do to make sure the dragons don’t win!”

“If I face a dragon, I’ll bow down and say ‘I welcome my new scaly overlords!’” He hollered loud enough for anyone in the courtyard to hear.

She stopped. Her face turned to him in horror. “You don’t mean that. Surely.”

His face was full of indignation. “And even if I don’t, so what? I just hope they don’t eat me and I live another day because I’m not slaying any god-damn dragon and chances are, neither are you! Now put me down!”

“Don’t put me in the same league as you, you coward…”

“I’m a coward? You’re a coward!” He turned to look at her over her shoulder. “You’re so scared of getting something less than an A+ that you’re kidnapping me! That’s what this is about. Don’t give me that Dragon War spiel. You’re more scared of your report card than a dragon. Am I right or am I right? Exactly. If this assignment was about dragonslaying, I wouldn’t be on it, being C ranked… No one’s going to put the world in my hands! Put me down!” 

She finally lowered him from her shoulders and he brushed himself off and smoothed down his hair. He turned to look up at her. “Thank you!”

She gave him a stern look, lips pursed. “You’re really serious… about not doing anything.”

“Yeah! I am serious! Thank you for finally acknowledging that!” He stepped around her to return to his bench.

“So you weren’t put up here to sabotage me?” She asked.

“I am not doing this to sabotage you. No. But someone might be. You do what you need to do if your grades are that important to you, but leave me out of it. I don’t need grades to stay here.” Nathan turned fully around and walked backwards towards the bench. “Contrary to your belief, your assignment is not the end of the world and, if it was really that important, they will find someone else to do it!”

He sat back on the bench, groaning in dismay as he picked up his ruined blunt where he’d dropped it.  “If I have to be on your assignment for you to pass then you might as well stay here on the bench! Because I’m not going. Period. You’ll have to deal with the smudge on your record. Though… knowing you, you’ll suplex them until they give you a make up assignment to erase the quote-unquote bad grade, so your parents don’t call you and cuss you out. If you do kidnap me, though, I’ll definitely make sure you fail, you psycho!” He rotated his shoulder. “That hurt, you know.”

Hana stayed where she was and helplessly watched him as he sat back down at the bench. “You’re really not coming. You’re not going to help me at all?”

Nathan didn’t respond. He rolled another blunt and lit it in silence. He could tell she wasn’t giving up, she was just changing strategy. She was drunk on the whole Dragonslaying mission Kool-Aid. He could feel his buzz actively dying as she approached him and sat back down. He passed it to her and she refused. But he insisted. “Take it, you need it more than I do.”

“I don’t smoke.” 

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He inhaled slowly. The skunky smell of the marijuana filled the air. “You shouldn’t care so much.”

“I do care but it's because this is what comes natural to me. I’m strong and talented and I can do the things they need me to do. My talents will be wasted elsewhere. No one’s putting pressure on me. This is who I am and what I do best. So why not excel at it?”

He coughed on a rough pull. He was genuinely shocked. “No? You don’t have some mommy and daddy at home who will be disappointed if you get a B?” He asked, scoffing at her. “You don’t care at all if you ‘fail your ancestors’ or something?”

“No.” She said firmly. “I don’t. I didn’t come from a prestigious family or a famous bloodline. I don’t even know who my father is. Unlike you.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m self motivated and good at what I do. A few of the professors were thinking of putting me on a track to become faculty. They said I have to learn how to be an earnest guide. They wanted me to take you on an assignment and walk you through it.”

“Really? ...damn.” Nathan shut his mouth for once, scratching his head. “I’d pegged you as one of those trust fund babies.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Believe me, I’m not. Like I said, I don’t care for them. They’re just coasting on their parent’s allowance and pretending to be better than everyone else. Kinda like you. At least you’re a trust fund baby who has their head in reality.” She grinned but there was no humor in it.

Nathan couldn’t argue that. “So uh… what’s this assignment?”

“I just have to accompany some cargo to the airport. But it’s sensitive cargo. So we just need to guard it.”

“Ah ha!” He tilted his head back. “So solve one problem with another. Very clever. You know what I think? I think my lack of urgency pisses them off so bad that they would do anything to get me to care even a little bit. And if they can’t get me to do anything, then they can get me off campus so they don’t have to look at me. They don’t need me here. It’s all head games. So I’ll play their head game.”

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head.

He pointed to the blunt in his hand. “What I mean is, this weed is going to give me the munchies. So, I’ll go ahead and put in a big order from the canteen. What do you like?” He pulled his cellphone from his pocket.

“I guess. Italian… pasta. I like Greek Food?” She said.

“Pasta and Gyros… sounds good to me.” He typed to put in the order.

“Are you ordering food for me?” She peered at his phone.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Nathan turned to her. “Wow… you really don’t have any friends.”

“You don’t either!” She snarled.

“I did before I came here. And I will when I leave here. You on the other hand… good luck on your ‘Hero’s Journey’. Heh.” He chuckled.

“Why don’t you just leave if you hate it here so much.” She stretched her legs in front of her and looked at the sky.

Nathan continued his lengthy order. “I don’t hate it here. I can live here, eat good food, and do nothing. Duh. It’s like the best vacation ever. It just sucks that by the end I won’t get to remember any of it. It’s like an alternate dimension. I just want them to give me good memories. Like I did something awesome. That’s all.” He waved his book of false memory ideas.

“You’re going to let them erase your memory?” Hana lowered  her voice, partly shocked, partly amazed.

“Yep. Here I’m no better than a regular human. So I might as well live like one. Order will be ready in 45 minutes.” He put his phone in his pocket.

“Why not split the difference? Do just enough to participate and stick around. That’s what Fingel does.” She wondered.

“Oh ho... Not just Fingel. Isn’t that what everyone else does? I look at everyone around me and… you’re  the first person I’ve met here who actually believes all this is for saving the world. That’s cool. You want to be here for that. But that’s why the other people get on your nerves. You can tell they’re faking it, and you’re not about the BS.”

Hana fell into a thoughtful silence.

“Which is why they sent you to talk to me probably.” He lowered his blunt. “It’s not that I don’t care that dragons are big and scary, it’s just I know I can’t do anything, just like 90% of the people here… so…” He shrugged. “There’s going to be maybe… what … 10 or 12 people actually fighting dragons? The rest? They’re just in it for the social points. And I’m not interested in social points.”

“What are you interested in?” She asked.

“Enjoying life while I have it.” He sat back and blew out a long plume of smoke.

Hana sat with him and stared out into the empty courtyards. On the peak of a gabled roof, a mockingbird was singing its heart out and doing acrobatic leaps in the air as it did so. Hana pursed her lips and tapped her feet. “If you could… please do this one assignment for me. I won’t ask again. I’m backed into a corner here and I don’t really have a choice at the moment.”

Nathan sighed loudly. “You could always do nothing, Hana. Just say, ‘He’s not coming, figure something out.’ I don’t want to get in your way, but I’m not going to let them play the pity card either. We’re all adults here. Don’t ask me to play their game. And it is a game.” He looked at her with wide eyes, waving his blunt. “If this assignment is really important, they’ll find someone else. The assignment isn’t the real issue here. This has nothing to do with your grade. I guarantee it has everything to do with their ego. They’re just like my parents. They’re just like my brother. Trying to make me care about their shit and I don’t. And that pisses them off.”

“You’re… pretty defensive right now.” She laughed.

He laughed in disbelief. He was getting pretty riled up about all this. “I want them off my back! I don’t understand why they need the C-ranker to be on board with their war games.”

Hana smiled disarmingly. “I for one… appreciate your honesty. You’re not so bad. I can’t be the only one who feels that you’re not so bad either. I think I’m here because they want to keep you around.”

Nathan raised his eyebrows. “Tch… Yeah good luck to them.”

 Hana pushed off the bench. “Alright. I’ll ask them to pair me with someone else or… do something else about it. Nice talkin’ to you.”

“Hey, don’t forget. Food’s gonna be here in 40 minutes.” He shouted after her.

“Alrighty!”

[flowerfan2]

A story about a reunion, and everything that happens afterwards.

Chapter 16/20 - Read on A03 here.

Patrick reads the email over again, just to make sure, then he runs out into the living room to tell David.

“I did it.”

David looks up from his spot on the couch, his black-framed glasses perched on his nose.  They’ve had a very sleepy Sunday morning, followed by a big breakfast of bacon and omelets, and David still hasn’t gotten around to putting in his contacts.  Patrick loves him like this.

“What did you do?”  David rises up from the couch, all grace and designer loungewear, and comes over to Patrick.

“I got a job.”  Patrick isn’t sure if what he is feeling is relief, excitement, or equal parts of both, but it feels amazing.

David smiles at him and pecks him on the cheek.  “Of course you did.”  He sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him.  “Sit down and tell me about it.”

“It’s just a consulting position, bookkeeping mostly, but for a company that works with start-ups and young entrepreneurs.  And it’s decent pay, more than I was expecting for this kind of thing.”

“That’s great,” David says.  “When do you start?”

“They want me right away.”  Patrick can feel his smile stretching his cheeks.  It’s the first time he’s felt anything but useless in so long, the way the people at this firm seemed to understand what he could bring to the table.  Patrick accepts another kiss from David, and then pops back up off the couch.  “I’m gonna call my parents.”

He goes into the bedroom and talks to his mom, then his dad, and then the conversation somehow gets derailed into a debate on whether buying new furniture for the lanai right now is a good idea or if they should stick with what they have for the time being.  Patrick kind of likes the idea of making David go shopping for patio furniture with him, so he’s voting for the former.  Finally they circle back to his job, his parents congratulate him again, and he gets off the phone.

He’s headed back to the living room, but pauses when he sees David in the guest room.  David has a black leather bag open on the bed and his sweaters folded in careful piles next to it.  Patrick’s stomach drops.

“David?  What – what are you doing?”  

David looks up.  He’s dressed in his favorite armor, glasses discarded in favor of contacts, a fuzzy black sweater over the black jeans with the rips in the knees.  “You said you were starting right away.  You didn’t say where, but I’m assuming Toronto-”

“Toronto?  Why would you assume Toronto?”

David’s face shutters further, and he turns back to his bag.  “I know I said I’d go anywhere with you, but I thought you might at least give me a heads up, discuss it a little bit, especially if it’s not Toronto.  I do have to deal with my apartment there at some point.”  David turns towards him, a hand on his hip.  “Do you even still want me to come with you?”

Patrick doesn’t know how this could have gone so horribly wrong, and he crosses to David, grabbing him by the shoulders.  “Stop packing.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?”  David’s voice is rising, and Patrick shakes his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.  We’re not going anywhere, not until we both decide we want to.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“David, we’re not going anywhere.  I don’t have to <i>go</i> anywhere.  It’s a remote job.”

David stares at Patrick, and Patrick watches as he mentally replays the conversation they’ve had so far.  “You aren’t leaving?”

“No.”  Patrick sits down on the bed, David frowning at him as he knocks over a pile of sweaters, but sits down next to him anyway.  “It’s remote, part-time.  A consulting gig.  Varied schedule, but they think it’ll be about 20-25 hours a week, depending in part on how much their clients like me, and how well I can add value.  I may need to go to the Toronto office a few times a year, for meetings or something.  But I’m doing the job from home – from here, or wherever.”

David turns away, picking up his off-white hoodie and pretending to refold it, even though Patrick can tell he just needs something to do with his hands.  “You should have told me that,” David says, embarrassed.

“I know.  I’m sorry, I just got so excited.”  Patrick leans into David, rubbing a hand on his back.  “I’m sorry,” he says again, letting it sink in, letting David get his balance.  “I wouldn’t make any plans for us without talking it over with you.  I promise I wouldn’t.  My plans wouldn’t be any good without you.”

David’s eyes flicker to his and away, his hands still wrapped in the halfway folded sweater.  

“It’s true, David.”  Patrick puts his free hand on top of David’s, calming their restless movement.  “I don’t want any plans without you in them.  I haven’t even accepted the offer yet.”

“You haven’t?”  David turns back, searching his face.

“Nope.  I told them I had to talk it over with my boyfriend.”  Patrick’s taking a risk, throwing that word out there.  But David had done it first last time, and he doesn’t think there’s really any question that it applies.  He’s sort of glad that he hasn’t used it yet; there’s more of an impact now, when David clearly needs it.

David’s eyes go wide.  “You did?”

“I did.  So – what do you think?”

David shifts, and his demeanor softens, his walls coming back down.  “I think your <i>boyfriend</i> needs to know more.”  There’s a smile hidden in his cheek, an agreement.  Patrick wants to cheer.  David holds his gaze, and his smile escapes, mirroring Patrick’s own.  “And then you probably need to ask for more money.  There’s nothing wrong with asking for what you deserve.”

“You don’t even know what they offered me.”

“Whatever they offered, you’re worth more.”

******

Patrick gets up earlier than normal a few days later and shaves carefully, examining his face closely in the mirror.  He doesn’t look like someone who hasn’t worked in months.  He just looks like himself.  And when he presents himself to David for approval, David’s smile courses through his lips and into his cheeks, his hands dancing to Patrick’s shoulders, smoothing down the thin fabric of his favorite purple dress shirt.  He’s ready.

They set up an office of sorts for Patrick in the guest bedroom, shifting the bed to one side, moving a dresser out of the room and into the hallway, and arranging a table by the window.  Patrick decides that one of the dining table chairs will work for the time being, and David fusses with the curtains, concerned that the glare will make it hard to see his laptop screen.

Finally Patrick ushers David out of the guest room and logs in to a Zoom meeting for orientation.  It’s boring as hell, but he doesn’t complain.

It’s not as if he thought he was unemployable, it’s just that after his last job imploded so strangely, he wasn’t sure what it would be like to be an employee again.  And didn’t know if anyone would give him a chance to find out.  Turns out, Alexis was not only good at papering over his employment blips, she was awesome at pep talks and interview practice.  He makes a note to himself to call her soon and thank her.

That night they make sandwiches and eat them on the lanai.  It’s a little cool for it, but it still feels nice to be outside.  Patrick had his parents send him down some more clothes, but David scoffed at the idea of wearing a jacket.  Instead he’s got a throw blanket draped around his shoulders, a giant turquoise fleece wrap that clashes terribly with his otherwise neutral palette.

They get a series of texts from Stevie, photos of the house she’s buying in Schitt’s Creek.  It’s a three-bedroom ranch on a decent sized lot.  The interior looks like it hasn’t been updated in decades, with a pink bathroom and horrendous wallpaper in the bedrooms, but Stevie’s had plenty of experience updating décor at this point.

David teases her for a few minutes, riffing on how unbelievable it is that she’s adult enough to be a homeowner, but his heart doesn’t seem in it.  Patrick doesn’t tell him how Stevie has been saving for years, every bonus and raise going into an account for a down-payment.  

After their chat with Stevie, David seems out of sorts, and Patrick isn’t sure what to do about it.  After they’ve cleaned up from dinner, he suggests they play a game.

David gives him a frowny look, and Patrick immediately knows what he’s thinking.  Neither of them are in the mood for sex.  “Not that kind of game.  A card game, or a board game.”

David perks up at this, then deflates.  “We don’t have the right number of people for a board game.”

“I bet we can find something the two of us can play.  My parents have a pile of games in the hall closet.”

They pull down the basket of games from the shelf above the laundry machine, and David peers inside.  “Did they get these from a yard sale or something?”

There’s a worn box that contains a checkerboard, with both checkers and chess inside, a Connect Four game, a few decks of cards, and Uno.

“I think my aunt sent them down.”  Patrick takes out the Uno deck.  “How about this?”

David takes the whole basket into the living room and sets it on the coffee table.  He takes out the Connect Four game and pulls out the plastic frame, dropping a round tile into it.  “I had this game,” he says thoughtfully.

“I think everyone had that game.”

David dumps out the rest of the pieces, and a greeting card falls out.  It’s got a drawing of a bouquet of flowers on the front, with “Get Well Soon” in big letters.  “What’s this?”  David opens it and reads out loud.  “Marcy – hope this brings a little bit of fun to your day.  You’re in our prayers.  Love Susie and Pete.”

Patrick takes the card and reads it, his mind flashing back to last spring, flying down to see his parents.  His dad breaking down in tears on the car ride from the airport.  His mother telling him not to worry.

“Patrick?  Patrick, honey, what’s going on?”

David has his arm around him, and he’s pressed close to him on the couch.  Patrick brushes away the wetness on his cheeks, and David pulls him into a hug.  “Patrick, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

David glares at him.

“I mean, it turned out to be nothing.”  Patrick shakes himself and clears his throat.  “My mom had a cancer scare last spring.  They found a tumor in her breast.  But it was benign.”

“<i>This</i> doesn’t sound like it was benign.”  David waves the card at him.  “People don’t say <i>you’re in our prayers</I> when it’s benign.”

“She had a bad reaction to one of the drugs, during the surgery, and took a little while to recover.  She was laid up for a while, and pretty miserable.  But it wasn’t cancer.”

David’s eyes are wet, and he looks like he’s going to cry, too.  “She’s okay now?”

“She’s okay.”  Patrick leans against David, snuggling into his arms, and they both breathe together for a long moment.  “Oh god, I think that’s why I freaked out in the doctor’s office.”

David shifts to look at him.  “What do you mean?”

“As soon as I heard, I flew down here.  I went with my mom and dad to the doctor’s visits before her surgery.  I couldn’t stay long afterwards, I had to get back to work, but…” Patrick’s throat gets tight, remembering.  “It was awful.  We were all so frightened.”

David presses Patrick’s head against his own, his large hand against Patrick’s scalp warm and comforting.  Patrick can feel David’s chest rising and falling.  David’s taking deep breaths, he can tell, trying to stay calm.

“You said this happened last spring?” David says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“When things started to go wrong for you at work.”

Patrick tenses.  “My mom was in the hospital.  I think it’s understandable that I was having trouble focusing.”

“No, honey, of course.  That’s not what I meant.  Of course it is.  It’s just – you didn’t mention that before.  That being worried about your mom is what started to get you down.”

Patrick feels like he’s a cartoon character with a light bulb flashing over his head.  Could it be that simple?  Was worrying about his mom’s health, on top of his general dissatisfaction with where he had ended up in life, what pushed him over the edge into depression?  

David tightens his arm around Patrick’s shoulder.  “I’m so sorry, Patrick.  That that happened to your family.  It must have been a very scary thing to deal with.”

“It really was.”

“I’m so glad she’s okay.”

Patrick turns and buries his face in David’s neck.  “Me too.”

That night, after David falls asleep, Patrick turns to the internet.  He hadn’t wanted to do this before.  He’s not sure why, although he thinks it has a lot to do with denial.  But he can’t stop thinking about his mom, and how hard it had hit him when she was sick.  Gritting his teeth, he starts googling causes of depression.  Upsetting or stressful life events.  Death or illness in the family.  Job-related worries.  Huh.  Maybe he had good reason to feel like things were falling apart.  Maybe that’s why he lost the ability to care about his job.  Maybe he’s not doomed to fail at his new one, too.

Patrick scrolls to the email from the therapist he’s been talking to.  So far, it’s just been a few emails and a brief phone call, an introduction, to see if she seemed like a good fit.  She’s based out of Toronto, but has many patients that she counsels remotely, on Facetime or Zoom, and comes highly recommended.  With shaking hands, he types out a message, suggesting that they schedule a session soon.  “I think it started last spring…”

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Please Have Snow and Mistletoe

Hello my Reindears!  Please indulge me, this idea for a Christmas/Holiday story came out of nowhere lol.  Don’t take it too seriously it’s choc-full of clichés and holiday fluff.    Still, I hope that you enjoy the fantasy and fun of it all!

Summary: Temari was hoping to be home for the holidays.  A winter storm grounded her plans but along with it brought a handsome man with a proposition for her. 

*

**

Chapter 1: Flight 4XMAS

“How can there be no flights available?” Temari demanded trying to keep her frustration in check. She knew that it wasn’t the girl’s fault but her anger needed to go somewhere. 

“I’m sorry ma'am but the weather conditions are so severe that flights are grounded till the storm passes. You are welcome to check in the next few days to see when flights will resume.” 

Temari sighed but nodded her head. “Okay, thank you.” 

Visiting her family for the holidays was the bright spot in an otherwise bleak year.  Temari had moved away from home and it had been months since she’d seen her family.   She had wanted to surprise them by arriving early but the storm had delayed her grand plans. Still, as long as she’d be able to make it home she’d be thankful. 

“Excuse me.”

Her teal eyes met the deep brown orbs of a handsome man. His long dark hair was pulled back and away from his face. The expensive black sweater framed his lean muscles perfectly.

“Yes?”

“I overheard your conversation and I think that I can help.” She peered at him curiously. How could he possibly help her? 

“I can get you home for Christmas. I’ll just require your help for a few days.”

“Doing what?”  She asked carefully, he didn’t come off as a creep but it was hard to tell these days. 

He chose his next words carefully.  “An acting job if you will. I’d need you to pose as my girlfriend for my family.”

Temari’s eyes widened in confusion. “What?”

“I know, it’s ridiculous but my mother is expecting me to bring someone home.  I was supposed to be home a few weeks ago, I lied.  I told her that I couldn’t leave earlier because of my girlfriend’s work schedule and promised that she’d be coming for Christmas.” 

Shikamaru didn’t blame the utter confusion and disbelief on the poor woman’s face. He knew how crazy it all sounded but his mother was a force to be reckoned with. He didn’t want to think about what she would do if she found out he lied.

Words failed Temari.  This had to be a joke right? She was about to ask that very question aloud but his eyes were serious and sure. 

“So I help you out by pretending to be your happy loving girlfriend for three days and you make sure that I can get home for Christmas.” 

He nodded and she felt herself agree. She could try to wait it out but there was no guarantee that in the next few days she’d even be able to get a flight.  This was her best shot.

“I’m Shikamaru by the way.” The name sounded so familiar but she could quite place it.

“Temari.” 

*

**

“How can you expect me to remember all of these names?”  Temari groaned, taking another sip of her drink. At least the jet had a great assortment of liquor. 

“Temari, you’ll be fine. They’ll be more interested in you anyway. We just have to get our story straight.” 

She shrugged her shoulders.  “That’s easy, we use what happened today. We met in an airport blah blah blah.  It’s not a total lie.”

He considered the idea carefully.  It was better than making up an elaborate story.  “That could work.”

She could see the tense look across his face. It was sweet if she thought about it. His family meant the world to him and this elaborate scheme all so that he didn’t disappoint them. In exchange, she got to fly on private jets and enjoy holiday traditions with a rich handsome stranger. 

He’d walked her through all the people that she’d been meeting and all the various family events. It would be a busy few days but nothing she couldn‘t handle. 

“Your family loves the Holidays.”

Her assessment was correct.  “Naras are very serious about their traditions.” 

Temari’s eyes shot wide open. “You’re Nara Shikamaru?” 

“Yup.”

The Naras were one of the wealthiest families in Japan. There was little known about their son other than that he’d amassed an incredible amount of wealth on his own. That explained the private jet. 

“Seriously? You could have easily picked up some celebrity to play your girlfriend. Why pick out some random girl at the airport?” 

He shrugged unaffected by her shock. “I don’t know, I just had a good feeling when I saw you.”  Temari couldn’t help the blush that crossed her face at the idea he saw something special in her. 

Shikamaru glanced at her from the side. Temari wasn’t what he’d expected but he was pleasantly surprised. She was witty, interesting, and even now despite learning his lineage didn’t seem intimidated by him. All of this on top of being gorgeous.  He knew that this was a risky move. Temari could easily take this information and out him to his family or worse the media but she didn’t seem like the type. 

He glanced down at his phone seeing a message from his mother and groaned. 

“My mom wants a picture to be sure that we’re on our way.”  Nothing got past that woman.  Temari nodded and took a seat by his side and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her face flushed at how close they were but smiled for the photo. She couldn’t help but think that they did make an attractive couple. 

“You really think we can pull this off?”

“I have no doubts.”  He told her reassuringly and it was hard not to believe that they could. She rested her head against his shoulder the stress of the day getting to her.  

“Alright Shikamaru, I trust you.”

Shikamaru sat there while she slept thinking about just what he had gotten them both into.  He was usually so specific and detailed in his plans.  In this case, they were working off a wish and a prayer.  Still, part of him knew that this would work.  That they could convince everyone and once it was all said and done, well he wasn’t sure.

When they finally landed they drove past the city.  They arrived at a quiet and dense forested area dotted with large family homes.  His home was the grandest of them all.  It was a large stately mansion with numerous Christmas lights that gave it a warm glow.  It was something straight from a fairy tale. Temari could make out a couple standing at the front waiting for them. 

“Ready for this?”  Shikamaru asked, placing a gentle hand on hers. 

“It's a little too late to be asking that now.”  She frowned beginning to second guess her decision to help.  

“Don’t worry Temari, they’ll love you.”

She was barely out of the car before she was swallowed up into a hug.

“Temari, my dear it is so wonderful to meet you.”  She met warm brown eyes so similar to Shikmaru’s and returned the affectionate hug. 

Yoshino was absolutely overjoyed at her son being home but especially because he’d been accompanied by Temari.  She had been worried that her son would simply work himself into the grave, never experiencing all the joys that made life worth living.  She prayed that perhaps this relationship, that Temari might be the one to change it all.

“Mrs. Nara it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Yoshino linked her arm with hers.  “None of those formalities. You’re practically family.  Call me mom.  You are absolutely gorgeous dear.  I can’t understand why our son would keep you hidden away from us so long.”

She barely had a moment to greet Shikamaru’s father who he was a splitting image of before she was swept inside. 

It was a blur of faces and names once inside the home.  His mother and father were there of course along with his extended family.  They joked that they needed to see her for themselves. 

Temari was thankful that Shikamaru had given her a rundown on the plane of the people that she’d be meeting. They were all welcoming and shared the same sentiment.  That it was about time that he’d brought someone home and how he could have kept their relationship a secret for so long. 

She’d been nervous and worried for the entire experience but as the night wore on the conversation flowed and the laughter came easily.  His family was far too kind and inviting and they were more than happy to welcome her into the fold. The night turned into the early morning hours and even then she could have stayed up with them.  

“Okay kids time for bed. We’ll have more time together tomorrow. Temari please let Shikamaru know if you need anything.” 

“Thank you...mom.”

Yoshino’s smile was bright and beaming and she couldn’t help but draw Temari into a tight hug.

“I’m so happy that you are here.” 

“We’ll continue our Shogi game tomorrow Temari.  You can ask Shikamaru for some tips.” Shikaku told her with a smile. “Good night kids.”

They were put into Shikamaru’s old room. His awards and old photos lined the walls.

“And who is this?”  She grinned holding up a worn stuffed deer. 

“Careful with that, he’s an antique.  I can sleep on the floor, and you’ll take the bed.”  It would have been strange to ask for separate rooms.

Temari rolled her eyes.  “Shikamaru please, we’re adults. If you promise not to grope me while we can sleep in the same bed.  Besides your mother seems like the type to just barge in here.  It will be hard to explain why you’re on the floor.” 

“Okay, you’re right. Feel free to use this bathroom. I'll go to the one down the hall.” She nodded watching him leave. 

Temari slowly unpacked her luggage and finally had time to reflect on the last few hours. Shikamaru was something else entirely. A genius, mogul, and devoted son.  His family had been so sweet to her that it wasn’t hard to love them.   If she wasn’t careful she’d get caught up and forget that this was all just an act, a lie.  Whoever did manage to capture his heart one day would be so lucky.  

Temari was already snuggled under the covers when he returned and she couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the reindeer pajamas. 

“Laugh all you want but I guarantee that she will have a set ready for you tomorrow.”  

“I look forward to it.”  He shook his head and got settled into bed.

They both naturally turned to their sides to face the other. His eyes were soft as they gazed at her.  

“Thanks again Temari.”

She smiled at the appreciation.  “I’m enjoying myself Shikamaru, your family is wonderful.”

“Thank you.  They really like you.”  

“Really?”  She didn’t realize how much she hoped that they did. 

“I haven’t been around too much the last few years, my own fault.  Seeing my mom smile so much well it means a lot.  It’s hard to get my parents a present as you can imagine.”  His hand casually pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.  

“Bringing you home is the best gift I could have given them.”  

Temari was floored by the compliment. Maybe, just for a little, it wouldn't hurt to get caught up. She leaned into his warm hand.  

“I’m glad that I could help then.  Good night Shikamaru.”

“Good night Tem.”

*

**

When Shikamaru woke up the following morning he felt an unknown weight on his chest.  He grinned seeing Temari’s hair sprawled across his chest his stuffed deer held between them.  At some point during the night he must have pulled her in and she hadn’t let go. 

His hand gently brushed over the top of her head. The quiet of the early morning and warmth of Temari against him created a kind of peace within him. He’d dedicated the greater part of his adult years chasing accolades and accomplishments.  Never stopping to pursue things like love and relationships.  And he was content.  It was enough.  Now, even after just a day with her and his family, it created a strange emptiness in his chest.  Seeing her cook with his mother, and learn how to play Shogi from his father were images he never wanted to forget. Scenes he wanted to view again.  

He had just a few days and maybe in that time, he’d know just what he wanted for Christmas. 

*

**

Okay my loves, the game is how many Christmas cliches can we fit in one story haha.  This is going to go fast.  Then I promise I’ll work on Stalemate and Yamanaka week.  No smut in this one, you can read Stalemate or my Lemonade series for that.  This is just going to be sweet and fluffy.  Love you my dear readers!  Thank you!

[betweenheroesandvillains]

Warmth

They are packed tightly into the too-small car.

Joe is driving and Nicky is, of course, riding shotgun. His hand is twisted backwards so it can casually rest against Nile’s knee. Nile herself is squished between Quynh and Booker, the backseat of the Fiat 500 technically too small for the three of them but they make it fit. Gianna Nannini is blaring from Nicky’s phone. Nile, who has only had short naps ever since leaving Shanghai about a day earlier, dozes happily with Quynh’s arm wrapped around her shoulder.

Someone nudges her awake. Nile’s eyes fly open immediately to find Nicky hovering over her. “We’re there,” he says. His gaze is soft as always. “Thanks,” she murmurs, half-stretching. Her spine pops a few times. Nicky offers his hand and she takes it as she clambers out of the car. Her left leg is all pins and needles. She leans heavily onto him.

 They warm up some torta di patate, which Nicky would not normally allow. Booker usually stashes the leftovers in his refrigerator shelf and declares them fair game. But Nile kept dozing off on the sofa and Nicky insisted on getting some proper food into her before she sleeps. It’s fair enough, she has not had more than a coffee and a handful of snacks on her way back. So they are crowded around the kitchen table, Nile propped up on her elbow and only half-there.

The familiarity of it lulls her into a state that is not quite asleep and not quite awake – the conversation’s ebb and flow, the familiar voices with their characteristics. Nicky’s Italian lilt, the laughter hidden in Joe’s voice, Quynh’s silky yet sharp interjections, Booker’s baritone quips. Nile flushes the potatoes down with grape juice she steals from Booker and waits until she loses whole stretches of the conversation before she excuses herself to go to bed.

Nicky tells her nonchalantly to sleep in the room behind the second door to the right. Nile is exhausted enough to not question him telling her about rooms in her own home.

-

She sketches Goussainville. She sketches Nizhny Novgorod the way she last remembers it: All of them in the garden of the Dacha, playing some card game. She paints the shed they spent an excruciating week in back when Andy said she would come back with Quynh or not at all. Nile realises that none of these places ever felt temporary. She could have spent the rest of her immortality in any of them.

“So where are you at home,” asks a woman with a heavy German accent at Frankfurt airport while she waits for her connecting flight. Nile opens her mouth. Then she shuts it again.

The easy answer would have been to choose one of their safehouses. They have stayed in a refurbished farmhouse near Nice for the better part of ten years – it would have come out naturally to say that. She does not quite get it out, though. Not with the way the older woman looks at her.

“My family… we moved a lot recently,” Nile answers. Thinks of Booker’s novels that he always fits somewhere to travel with them. Thinks of Nicky humming in the kitchen and the way Joe’s laughter would startle her awake whenever she napped on his thigh. Andy’s stories are still in her ear, and Quynh’s sharp puns. She feels at home everywhere, Nile thinks, as long as they are with her. They once spent two months on a reconnaissance mission where they only had each other as company and shared the smallest three-room hut ever. And every time she had gotten back to that hut and had heard their voices, Nile had called “I’m home.” And it had felt right.

-

The beds are all pushed together because try as they might, it is almost impossible to fit more than three adults on a twin-sized mattress. Finding her own spot between the pillows and blankets is easy and familiar. She is so tired that she just literally falls into bed, not even bothering with taking her jeans off. Her sleep is deep and dreamless for the first time in months.

 Nile wakes up at some point in the smallest hours of the morning, disoriented and too-warm. She blinks her eyes open. Quynh’s face is relaxed as she sleeps soundly, her hair a wild cloud around her head. She has pulled the duvet up all the way to her chin, as so often. The arm across her stomach might belong to Booker, Nile can’t be bothered to turn her head far enough to find out. All she knows is that she feels safe and at ease. Come morning, they will all be woken by Joe climbing over Nicky for his morning prayers because it’s impossible to lie so close and not be jostled by the slightest movement. Nile can already hear Booker groan about it but it does not matter in this moment. She buries her face in the pillow and falls back asleep, a smile on her face.

-

Nicky and Joe bring Booker home seven years after he got exiled. They asked him to come back earlier, but Booker said he needed more time. If the way he looks is anything to go by, he was right. His smiles are genuine and he looks healthier than Nile has ever seen him. Still, he shifts on the doorstep. Glances around, from the table to the basil on the windowsill to Quynh to Andy to Nile.

Nile has called him a dozen times alone in the last three months, has left presents in his flat after he gave her the address, has done videocalls every few weeks. It was never quite the same. So seeing him now nudges her heart out of its rhythm for a moment.

She thinks it a split second before Andy says it out loud. “Welcome home.” Her tone is warm, soft. Andy pushes herself off the counter she was leaning against and gathers Booker in a hug. Quynh follows suit and pulls Nile with her until they are all just a pile of interlocked arms and hands.

Booker’s voice is thick when he says, “It’s good to be back.” But what they all hear is, “It’s good to be home.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Surveys #431-432

two biggins’ in one, beware the long post.

Do you own any Funko Pop! figurines? No. How many cats and dogs have you had as pets in your lifetime? I couldn't possibly count the cats. A lot. We've had I wanna say eight dogs through my entire life. Can your mom and/or dad play any instruments, or how about anyone else in your family? No. My older sister played the clarinet in school, though. Have you ever colored in an adult coloring book as a stress reliever? I have, but they don't really affect my stress level. Can you crack crab legs without a tool? UGH EW I hate crab legs. So mushy and just... ew. I don't think I've tried to without a tool. How many light sources are in the room you’re in? Excluding the natural light out my windows, three. What’s your favorite thing to put on bagels? Just your usual cream cheese. Who’s your favorite director? Tim Burton. I love his style. Bats: cute or gross? Bats are SO goddamn cute. What was the last really intense pain you felt? I had a sudden pain in my chest the other day that scared me quite a bit. Would you rather vacation by a beach or a lake? A lake, for sure. How would you feel about traveling abroad alone? I'd be way too lonely. What is your father's middle name? John. Where did your last kiss take place? The airport. Which movie villain do you find the most terrifying? Probably Jason. A masked guy just casually pursuing you with a knife is horrifying to me. If you married your favorite celebrity what would your last name be? Fischbach alskdfla;wer;lkwera;wle Do you stick your tongue out often in pictures? No. Which one of your family members are you closest to? My ma. Would you rather have name brand shoes or name brand clothes? Shoes. It's very important for them to be comfy for me. Are you a good liar? Yes. :x Are you proud of your parents? Yeah. If you could get backstage tickets to ANY concert - which would you pick? If Mom was with me, Metallica. She would actually fucking die if she met them. Like she cried and laughed with joy when she found out about the concert in Raleigh some years ago, and we thought we were going to go, but yeah, money. Which is better: orange or grape soda? Orange cream soda. Grape soda is so gross. Was the last thing you ate hot or cold? It was room temperature. Who was the last person in your house who isn’t family? Our landlord/family friend. I think. What color was the last swimsuit you wore? Black. Can you remember the last song you listened to? I'm listening to "Thoughts & Prayers" by Motionless In White right now. Have you ever been dumped really harshly? Ha, that is a colossal understatement... Can you do a back flip, or anything else of that sort? Definitely not. I couldn't even do stuff like that as a kid. Do you have any exes you can’t stand anymore? No. What happened to cause you to feel that way about them? ^ Are you more of a phone or a computer person? Computer, for sure. Do you have a job, and if so, where do you work? No. If not, do you want one? Not right now. I want to focus on the gym and getting in shape. Do any medical afflictions run in your family? A whole lot. What’s your favorite Mexican dish? Shrimp quesadillas. Or rice with cheese sauce. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yeah, hockey and baseball. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? I'm actually conflicted on this right now. I use tampons, but there are reasons I don't really like them and am considering something else. Have you ever ordered a specially made cake from a cake shop? Not me myself, but Mom has. What months were you and your siblings born in? My two immediate sisters were born in April and June. What did you have for dinner last night? Uhhhhh... I want to say I had a chicken pesto bowl? Have you ever had sex in/on a vehicle? No, that sounds so uncomfortable. Do you do anything to groom your eyebrows? No. I don't care about that anymore. Has your town ever flooded? Oh, for sure. Hurricane Floyd from when I was... I wanna say two or three WRECKED my area. Have you ever played at the McDonald’s play place? Yeah. That was a blast as a kiddo. Have you ever taken a picture of snow? Yeah. Do you cry easily? Very. Are you happy with where you live? No. The suburbs suck. I miss living in the country so much. Do people ever mistake you for being a different race? No. Do you hate the last person you kissed? No, she's my best friend in the whole world. What genre is your favorite movie? I actually don't know what it's considered? It's a kids movie, though. Who was the last person you were in a car with? My mom. Do you like the picture on your license/I.D. card? My permit picture is fucking hideous. When was the last time somebody hit on you? *shrug* Was the last person you met a male or female? A guy - my personal trainer. What brand is your underwear? I'm in my pjs, and only a madman would wear underwear to bed. What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? Just the rolls, really, lol. I'm not a big fan of Thanksgiving foods at all. Do you have a TV in your room? No, because I don't watch TV. Are any of your electronics charging right now? My laptop always is, though I know you shouldn't do that. I need to charge my phone, too. What was the last video game you played? Video game, not computer, I want to say uh... The Legend of Spyro: Dawn of the Dragon? What’s the biggest promise someone’s ever made to you? Did they keep it? To never leave me. He didn't. Google, Bing, or Yahoo? Google. What was the last song you had on repeat? The song I mentioned earlier. Who is your favorite person to watch on YouTube? Markiplier. :') How many college degrees do you want? It'd be nice to have a Bachelor's in SOMETHING, but I'm not returning to school. Three tries was enough money down the drain. Can you wink? Yeah. Do you own any jerseys? No. Have you ever tried to snort Pixie Stix as a child, or even an adult? Uh, no. Do you like going to baby showers? Do you go only for the cake? No. The last time Jason and I hung out in any capacity was his brother's wife's baby shower, and it's a bad memory. As well, it just reminds me of what I once wanted with him. I'll go to them and be okay, but definitely not thrilled. Has there ever been a time in your life, you felt sexually undecided? Yes, especially in the I want to say 8th grade. I had an inescapable crisis that literally lasted a whole week (or maybe more) forcing myself to believe I was straight, despite already showing but denying bisexual attractions. I was religious back then, so believed if I wasn't straight, I'd go to Hell. Then I came out as bisexual in uhhhh... 2018 I wanna say, and that was a long examination of my feelings. It felt like a massive weight off my shoulders when I accepted it. I felt legit happy. Do you think tattoos and piercings are sexy on the opposite sex? ugggghhhhh yes Do people ever ask you to do things they’re too short to accomplish? No. What color are the headphones you have at this moment in time? My earbuds are pink and white. Ever choked severely on something during lunch at your school? No. Do you eat more vegetables or fruits? What’s your favorite fruit/veggie? Fruits, for sure. My fave is strawberries. What would you say is the color of your favorite bra? I have a pink and black lacy one that is super cute, but it's too small for me right now. It just stays in my drawer. Is anyone in your family a firefighter? Who is it anyway? No. What do you usually buy when you go to the dollar store? If I'm stopping there for a snack (which is usually the only time we stop by one), I tend to get a honeybun. Ever peed in the pool? Be honest! No, that is so gross. When you’re older, what kind of house do you want to live in? I want a medium-sized house that's semi-isolated in the woods. I'd love a nice path to walk down and take photos, a catio for Roman or whatever cat I may have in the future... stuff like that. I need lots of nature. Where do you want to get married? In some sort of gothic building, though I'm sure that would be a WILDLY expensive venue, so I doubt that'll happen. Realistically, either in the woods or even a massive flower garden. Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? Yes. What is your favorite childhood TV show? Pokemon. Honestly, do you like school? No, I didn't. Last thing that made you cry? PTSD. Honestly, are you keeping a big secret right now? No big secrets, no. Last person you took a walk with? Sara, years ago. Have you ever liked someone who didn’t like you back? Oh, have I... Who was the last person to actually pick you up in the air? Probably Jason, honestly. Does any part of your body hurt? My non-existent abs are killing me from exercising yesterday. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to change a regret what would you do? While it's tempting, hand me the cash. Can you keep a secret? Absolutely. You tell me a secret, you can guarantee I'll be keeping it between you and me. Your favorite romantic movie? The Notebook. How do you feel about Valentine’s Day? I honestly like it. I love the aesthetic of it, and I know people say "well you should celebrate love every day," and while that's right, what's so wrong about nationally designating a specific day to appreciate it? I think it's a very cute holiday. Who was the last person you took a picture with? My sister Katie. Do your jeans have rips, tears, and holes in them? I haven't worn jeans in yeeeeaaaarrrrssss. When I did though, I loved jeans like that, especially for skinny jeans. Do you celebrate 420?No. Have you ever kicked a vending machine? No. How do you eat Oreos? I prefer to just dip them in milk. If that's unavailable, I separate the two parts, eat the cream, and then the two cookies. Do you wear your shoes in the house? No. Would you survive in prison? Absofuckinglutely not. It's dark, but just to be entirely honest, I'd probably find a way to kill myself. Ever been to Georgia? I've been through it. Do you get your hair cut every month? Not every month, no. It needs a trim right now badly, though.

Current relationship in detail. I'm single and should be. If you were kicked out of your house, who would you call/go to? My dad. List things you spend money on in an average week. Nothing. Rate each of your sexual partners (if any) from 1-10. He was honestly a 10 lmao like I don't have a lot of experience at all, but yeah. Post the last FB group/page that you joined. I actually don't remember because I've been on break from Facebook for around a month. Would you parents be mad if you were in a relationship? No... Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you? I'm sure he has. He dated someone right after me for like... eight months or something? Is there someone that you believe you will always be attached to? I think that's very obvious by now. What board games are you good at? Idk, I don't really enjoy board games. Is there a sport/hobby you keep thinking about taking up, but that you’ve never quite gotten around to starting? Definitely no sports, but I've been wanting to get back into video editing. I just... haven't, even though I have the software. Do you think pranks like egging/toilet-papering someone's house are funny or immature? They're incredibly immature. I see zero humor in them. Do you think “sleeve tattoos” are a good idea? They're hot as fuck, man. Is there anything in particular that your parents argue about? What? I'll just say they're divorced for good reasons. Do you ever actually read the “Terms and Services” when you sign up for websites and such? No. If you have a handheld games console (a DS or GameBoy, for example), how often do you use it? Almost never. Your phone is ringing. It’s the person you fell hardest for, what do you say? Realistically, I wouldn't answer because I don't answer numbers I don't recognize. Hypothetically, if I knew it was him, I'd probably say something along the lines of, "Hey J, are you okay?", because something must be seriously wrong if he wants to talk to me of all people. If your best friend was kicked out, would your parents let him/her live with you? Mom absolutely would. Are you afraid of falling in love? I'm terrified of it. Is there anybody you wish you could be with right now? I wish I didn't. Have you ever kissed someone & wished you didn’t? Yes: Tyler. Did you get kissed last night? Haven't been kissed in years. Do you enjoy going through a carwash? Bring out the rainbow soap and it's hype lmao. How did you get most of your scars? My cat, ha ha. He sometimes plays way too rough, and I just scar very easily. Ever had to take an inkblot test? Yes, when I went to a psychologist. Have you ever been in trouble for something you honestly didn’t do? Maybe? Have you ever seriously slapped someone in anger? My sister as a kid on her arm. Safe to say I got in trouble for it. What/who woke you up this morning? Just my body. Who was the last person to be in your bedroom besides you? Mom. What’s one of your locked text messages? da;lsd;fakwer I have one locked from Sara that says something like, "You are so beautiful." I cried. Have you ever finished a game of Monopoly? I think? Jason and I used to play the digital one you could download on the PS3. Is there anyone you know who’s in any way paralyzed? No. I mean, I know of a girl who went to my school who was paralyzed from the waist down in an accident, but I didn't/don't know her personally. She was a MASSIVE deal in my education community. Like you would see "prayers for (name)" on school and church signs. The truth all comes out when someone is drunk, true? Usually true. I sometimes think back on the one time Jason was drunk, and he just told me in the most adoring voice, "I love you, Brittany." It's painful as fuck to remember. I really do wonder if he meant it, given this was in the later half of our relationship. When was the last time you felt disappointed in yourself? Constantly. How about feeling disappointed in someone else? I dunno. For you, do you commonly feel more jealousy or envy? I definitely experience envy more often. Do you rely on the heads/tails flipping of a coin sometimes for decisions? No. Do you have any specific chores you do around the house? I'm supposed to empty the dishwasher in particular. For you, does comfort or fashion come first in dressing? Comfort, 100%. Have you had two friends that absolutely hated each other? No. Do you like Laffy Taffy? I do. That sounds pretty good right about now. Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpeners? Electric. Are your biceps at all noticeable? Yeah, no. Have you ever seen a walrus? Yeah, at SeaWorld as a kid. Did you ever have one of those Easy Bake ovens as a kid? Yeah. My little sister in particular was obsessed. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. From inside of your house, how many doors lead outside? Two. Are there a lot of trees in your yard? No. :/ I miss that. Have you ever liked someone that treated you like crap? No. Have a best friend? Yeah. :') Does it bother you when your best friend does stuff without you? That is so childish. Everyone needs space sometimes. But to answer the question, considering she lives many states away from me, obviously not. Is there a secret you’ve never told your parents? Yes. Does anyone hate you? I wouldn't at all be surprised if Jason does. Colleen might, but I really don't give a shit if she does. What’s the one thing you regret more than anything? The way I spoke to Jason after the breakup. If only I could take those letters back. Do you remember important dates? I am VERY bad at dates, doesn't matter how important they are. What’s some lyrics from a song that means a lot to you? "For such a little thing, you sure are in your own way" from a Mother Mother song. Who gives the best advice? Sara. Who do you usually see in your dreams? :) Jason is nearly a permanent fixture. Jeez, I'm bringing him up a lot in this one. I'm surprised my PTSD isn't dragging me into a pit for it. What type of cake did you last eat? Uhhh I wanna say double chocolate? Mom got two slices from the store for me and herself a long time ago. How many of your friends are gay or bisexual? A large number. I don't feel like counting. What’s your favorite type of sandwich? Just your usual peanut butter and jelly. When was the last time someone asked you out? Did you accept or decline? Years ago by Girt. I accepted. Do you like The Offspring? Sure, I like a handful of their songs. One pillow or two? I sleep with two. Do you like Mad Libs? Sure, they can be funny. Are you suicidal? Well damn, just throw that in there. Anyway, no. I'll admit I've had very brief, passive thoughts very rarely as of the late, just wondering if there really is a point to me being here, but I'm not actively suicidal at all rn. Where do your grandparents live? They're dead. When alive though, they lived in Florida and Michigan. Do you cut yourself? And this one? No, I haven't in many years. What is your pet’s name? Roman and Venus. Have you ever been to Canada? No, but I'd love to visit. Aren’t babies overrated? "Overrated" is definitely the wrong word... I don't particularly find a lot of babies cute and I don't want my own, but they're not overrated. Have a built-in pool in your backyard? Never have. Ever won yourself a stuffed animal? Yeah. Ever had someone else win you a stuffed animal? Yes. Ever been to a circus? No. I wouldn't set foot into one. Ever shot animals? I never, ever could. Do you consider yourself intelligent? I USED to. I think I'm dumb as shit now. School knowledge did not latch onto me well, I guess. Have you ever run away from home? Yes. It was so overdramatic. I came back hours later because I had my phone and Mom texted me threatening to call the cops. Do you put family first, friends, relationships, school, or something else? I will never put my mental health behind anything/one again. What’s something you’ve stood up for in the past? When Colleen and I were friends in middle school, we both spoke before the class in absolute disgust at how our classmates were treating our poor substitute teacher. Colleen had AT them, while I was more tame about it but still wanted to bash into their heads that they were all being absolute trash to the poor man. What’s something you worked extremely hard to get? My mental wellbeing. Granted, I'm not exactly "well" now, but once upon a time I was living in the deepest ocean trench as far as depression goes. Are you satisfied with your body image? Hell no. I really, really, really hope loyally going to the gym will help me with that. Have you ever been labeled negatively or otherwise been called something extremely derogatory? Not that I know of. Have you ever seriously taken advantage of someone or been taken advantage of? No. Have you ever been seriously ill? Mentally, immensely. Physically, not really. I've had some nasty stomach bugs, but nothing truly severe. Have you ever befriended a former enemy? Ha, it's funny, I used to hate Jason's first ex/heartbreak for how badly she hurt him. Like she could've been falling off the face of the earth with only me to save her, and I'd let her keep falling. I hated her. Yet now we're Facebook friends and comment on each other's stuff like it's nothing, ha ha. She reached out to me a few years ago to apologize for high school stuff (she also hated me for Juan - her ex or something along those lines - being interested in me instead of her), we chatted a bit, and now I think she's great. If you’re not religious, would you ever pray as a last resort? If you are religious, do you often pray for other people? I don't pray anymore. That's all I'll say to keep this from becoming potentially very offensive. Have you ever dated someone, then after you dated they came out of the closet or switched (for lack of a better word) sexual orientation? I'm pretty sure my middle school boyfriend Aaron is gay, but I'm not certain. He vanished from Facebook a long time ago. Has a boy/girl ever walked a ridiculous distance just to see you? How about vice versa? I tried doing that the night of the breakup. By car, I know it was a seven-minute drive, but walking there, never mind at night, was ludicrous. I only didn't manage because after a few minutes, Mom came after me and kept cutting me off with the car. When was the last time you felt really uncomfortable? Right now. My abs REALLY hurt, and I'm also cramping like a motherfucker after not having a period for 3+ months because of TMS therapy. I'm still pissed about how it had a physical effect on me, but didn't mentally do what it was meant to. Is there anything that your mom is really known for as to how she is as a person? She is very, very loving and lives to help others. Who have you been talking to the most today? Nobody, really. I've spoken with Mom obviously, but for the most part, today's been quiet. Are you nosy? I can be pretty damn nosy, yes. What’s the meanest thing you have done to a friend? Consistently flirted with her boyfriend behind her back. I was 12, okay? If your ex called you crying, what would it most likely be about? THE ex, I have no idea. I don't know what's going on in his life, besides his mother dying quite a few months ago, but I don't see why he'd contact me about that. Who was the best kisser out of all the people you have kissed? Jason. Have you ever been told that you have an annoying laugh? No, but I think I do.

[gondowan]

Darling, Dearest, Dead

Pairing: Matsukawa Issei/Hanamaki Takahiro

Issei thinks he really should get a straight answer from Takahiro about his three dead husbands, but it’s really hard to think when said person of interest- the one he’s had feelings for since high school- is sucking his soul out through his cock. 

Tags/Warnings: mutual pining. happy ending. post-time skip. confessions. blow jobs. two idiots in love. this is kind of angsty but has a fluffy happy ending i promise lol. I’m all about The Yearning you know?. oc death off-screen.  

Word Count: 4,084

Notes: I set out to write a pwp but ended up with 4k words of feels?

The television is on in Matsukawa Issei’s tiny office at Peaceful Hills Funeral Home. Space is always a premium at a mortician’s, more so if you’re the owner and sole employee of said funeral home, trying to get it to stay afloat. It’s not like Matsukawa can just stack the dead on top of each other, or tetris them to create more space, no. Doing so would be disrespectful. When Matsukawa isn’t busy attending to family members of the recently deceased or embalming, he does all of his paperwork in a tiny, cramped fire hazard of a broom closet, with the television as his sole companion. Matsukawa never minded silence, but well, when you’re surrounded by dead bodies, sometimes you just need a little background noise.

His cigarette is lit between his lips, rapidly turning into ash as he stares blankly at the television, enraptured by the story unfolding in front of him.

POLICE CITE NATURAL CAUSES IN DEATH OF SHIPPING MAGNATE YOSHIOKA HIDEKI.

Yoshioka Hideki, owner of Yoshioka Shipping International, aged 54, husband to Yoshioka Takahiro, nee Hanamaki, Matsukawa’s best friend and the love of his life. As soon as they graduated, Hanamaki had packed his bags for Tokyo, citing an urge to get out there and just try out life in the big city. Matsukawa stayed behind in Miyagi, finished college, and completed his mortician apprenticeship, the first of many milestones in his adult life, alone. Oikawa had gone to Argentina, chasing his dreams of volleyball.  Iwaizumi, although he would never admit it, was doing his best to position himself to cross Oikawa’s path again.

In the cold bitter nights when Matsukawa is behind on work and pulling long hours, he always thought Hanamaki would be there by his side, but he pushes those thoughts away. No amount of regret ever changed the past, no amount of wishing ever changed the future.

If he’s happy, that’s good enough for Matsukawa.

---

The first time Hanamaki told Matsukawa he was engaged was when he was visiting Tokyo to see him, a year after Hanamaki had moved. Matsukawa thought they were going to hang out, just like old times, so when he opens the door of the fancy apartment (how did Takahiro afford all this?) and an older man answers the door, Matsukawa puts two and two together. He attends their elopement as their only witness, feeling the dual bitterness of losing someone and mourning the friendship he thought they shared.

The second time, Hanamaki casually drops the news over the phone as Matsukawa is signing a contract. He falters, and ink splatters over the page. He’ll have to reprint it and start over. This time, Hanamaki elopes in Bali, and although he extends Matsukawa an invitation, Matsukawa knows better than to go.

The third time, Matsukawa finds out via the news.

---

“You either need to tell him or get over it,” Iwaziumi says, stubbing out his cigarette in the tray between them, ever the realist.

“That’s rich coming from you, Hajime.” Matsukawa sneers. He doesn’t mean to be rude to Iwaizumi, the man has been there for him for so long and is really only verbalizing what Matsukawa knows on the inside, but he can’t help it. “Let me know when you tell Oikawa how you feel.”

“I’m about to, actually.” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms with a sigh. “I’m headed to Argentina soon. I’m going to tell him.”

Matsukawa is stunned. He figured Iwaizumi would’ve preferred to evaporate on the spot rather than admit his feelings to Oikawa.  “I...I’m happy for you,” he whispers, “I know he feels the same.”

“We’ll see won’t we?” the shorter man says, an undercurrent of nervousness in his voice, a fond look on his face.

The two get married the following year, a beautiful ceremony on the Argentine beach surrounded by family and friends new and old. The ceremony has an added effect of bringing Hanamaki back into Matsukawa’s life, and they rekindle their friendship over a series of extremely alcoholic margaritas and questionable decisions in the hot Argentine nights. Matsukawa will take what he can get, because Hanamaki seems happy with Yoshioka-san, and as long as Makki is happy, Matsukawa can learn to be too. That acknowledgement doesn’t do anything to fill the hole in his soul, but it does soften the pain just a little. Hanamaki never talks about his husband or anything related to his romantic life past or present, and Matsukawa doesn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss.

---

Matsukawa’s cell rings, disturbing his reverie. He doesn’t even look at the screen before answering.

“Yoshioka-san.” he murmurs, as if it doesn’t hurt each time he has to call the love of his life by another man’s name.

“It’s back to Hanamaki now, Issei”, the voice on the other end of the line is cheerful, playful even for someone who just became a widower for the third time.

“I…” Matsukawa falters and the condolences he had prepared dies on his lips. Hanamaki always had (and continues to have) the stunning ability to catch Matsukawa off-guard. When they would play three-on-three practice games at Seijoh, Hanamaki always gave Matsukawa the most trouble. And just like that, Matsukawa slips back into his old ways, Hanamaki’s name rolling off his tongue like it belongs there, if only he would let him. “Takahiro...how are you doing?”.

---

It’s quite difficult to surprise a mortician in regards to anything having to do with death and dying, but from over a thousand miles away, Hanamaki manages to do just that.

“Let me get this straight, you want to ship the body to Miyagi, again?” Matsukawa sputters. He’s on his third cigarette of the phone call, and there’s too much information for him to process—the death of his best friend’s third spouse, the feelings he’s never addressed, the hurt that’s simmered in the back of his mind that Hanamaki left Miyagi, it’s a lot. I should’ve gone to therapy, the wayward thought has floated in Matsukawa’s mind, but he’s still not ready to face the music.

“Makki, people are going to think that you’re offing these people to help support your best friend’s funeral home.” he jokes.

The question from the last two times lingering on his lips, “You didn’t...have anything to do with their deaths did you?”

The pause before Hanamaki answers stretches a little too long for Matsukawa to be comfortable with.

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” Hanamaki finally says, completely sidestepping the question, the teasing tone in his voice still very at odds with the current circumstances, “Anyways, I’ve arranged for the body to be flown overnight to Miyagi, you just need to pick it up at the regional airport. We can talk about additional arrangements and such after you pick it up.”

“Makki I don’t—”

“Please, Issei?” he pleads, and Matsukawa gives, like he always does.

---

It’s raining softly as Matsukawa parks his car at the airport, the clammy yellow lighting reflecting off the new wax job he had just gotten. While he would’ve liked to drive a flashier car around, a van is just easier for all the transport he has to do, and the hearse is really only used for special occasions (and draws too many eyes). It’s not as if he’s driving dates around anyway or has anyone to impress, so discreet soccer mom van it is.

He checks the time and walks into the lobby. It’s usually a straightforward task, picking up a corpse from an airport. Matsukawa just needs to show the proper ID and his mortician’s license, check that the body is properly labeled and identified (wouldn’t want to take the wrong body back), and load it onto a gurney. If he’s lucky the body has been refrigerated, if not, well, hopefully the recently deceased Yoshioka-san is in an airtight container.

The woman at the Peach Airlines counter looks way too peppy for the hour of day. She confirms his ID and walks into the office to retrieve the container. Matsukawa excuses himself to use the bathroom, and when he walks out, the body has been brought out.

What Matsukawa doesn’t expect however, is the man waiting beside the casket. His breath catches as he allows himself to savor the view in front of him. Hanamaki is dressed simply in a black coat and patterned slacks, looking more formal than Matsukawa has ever seen, strawberry brown hair cut neatly in a way that frames his face perfectly. There are some lines in the corner of his eyes that weren’t there before. Hanamaki is a vision in the dim light of the airport, even as he shifts awkwardly next to his deceased husband’s casket.

It’s 10 PM Japan Standard Time on a cold rainy autumn night, and Matsukawa is still in love.

Thankfully, he manages to compose himself before Hanamaki spots him, and his face breaks out in the most beautiful smile that Matsukawa has ever seen. Before Matsukawa can say anything, Hanamaki folds him into a hug. There’s a strange desperation there that Issei has never seen in Takahiro before, he can feel the tension radiating off the other man’s body, in the way that his hands clench at Matsukawa’s coat. Grief? Relief? Matsukawa isn’t sure.

After a long minute, Hanamaki finally releases him, his hand lingering on Matsukawa’s waist for just a tad longer than appropriate. “I missed you,” Matsukawa says simply, unsure of how else to vocalize the well of emotions he’s gone through the past few years, everything he’s wanted to say but could never find the right time to. I’ve missed you so much it hurts. I’m so in love with you. I think about you all the time. I’m hurt we aren’t as close as we used to be.

Hanamaki looks at him with an expression that Matsukawa can’t quite place, “I’ve missed you too Issei.” There’s a lingering there, like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.

“Shall we?” he pipes up, the happy-go-lucky mask sliding back over his face. “Can’t just leave a body out in the open like this.”

Matsukawa nods.

---

“Issei...you drive a minivan?” Hanamaki says, as if that is the strangest thing out of this whole situation.

“Had I known you were coming with, I would’ve brought out my Maserati,” he jokes as he opens the door for Hanamaki, the body safely secured in the back.

Hanamaki rolls his eyes as he settles in, “I’ll bet you get all the chicks in this hot rod.”

There’s only one person I want to bring home in this car.

“Oh, so many. Chicks love it when you tell them you haul dead bodies in the back. It does wonders to the libido,”.

Hanamaki laughs, a genuine one that brings a smile to Matsukawa’s face, “I’ll bet.” He puts on a high falsetto, “Matsukawa-san, take me now, right here on the floor of this van where you’ve just hauled Uncle to his final resting place. I must have you, you stupid sexy mortician of a man”.

Matsukawa starts the car, “So you think I’m sexy Makki? Is that it?”.

“Never said you weren’t.”

They drive back in silence as Matsukawa turns that statement over and over in his mind. Hanamaki, true to his form, falls asleep as if this is just another late night. He’s still fast asleep when Matsukawa pulls up to the driveway of the funeral home, the streetlights casting a soft glow on his face. In sleep he looks younger, and Matsukawa is reminded of late nights when they would study together. Hanamaki always fell asleep first, as if he were chasing after something in his dreams.

---

He’s still asleep as Matsukawa unlocks the door and pushes the body into the refrigerated section of the home. Matsukawa is lost in his thoughts at the absurdity of the situation, Takahiro, his best friend, a three-time widower, is asleep in his car while Issei tucks his dead husband into the fridge. What the fuck.

His reverie doesn’t last long however.

“Boo”.

Matsukawa jumps as Hanamaki suddenly grabs his waist.

“Jesus Makki I—“

“Gotcha~” he says in a singsong voice. “You know, this is the first time I’ve been here,” he remarks as he looks around, taking it all in.

“Which is odd, considering you’re now a three-time client.”

Hanamaki shrugs, “I require the best of the best.”

“I’m sure there are better and more established funeral homes in Tokyo than my little place,” Matsukawa scoffs. He really needs a cigarette. Or a break. Maybe both. This is all too much to handle.

Hanamaki runs his hands along the desk, “Maybe. But you built this place from the ground up. All by yourself,”.

Matsukawa knows better than to say what’s on his mind, but he can’t help it. It’s been stewing for so fucking long that he needs to get it out. He may as well get closure now, here, as they stand in front of Hanamaki’s dead husband. “I wanted you by my side you know.”

The other man chuckles, clearly misinterpreting the weight of what he just said, “Right, we’d be like Gomez and Morticia Addams, two partners running a funeral home.”

“If you mean being married and running a small business side-by-side, yeah.” It’s a crude confession, not at all what Issei thought it would be like. Matsukawa thought he’d always have some flowery thing to say to Hanamaki when he finally did confess. Something sweet like the profiteroles that Hanamaki loves so much. He didn’t want to confess in the sterile white lighting of the storage room of his funeral home, to his grieving best friend. Hanamaki deserves better than that, he thinks, but it is what it is.

It all spills out of Matsukawa like a torrent. “I’ve been in love with you since before our last Spring High. Every fucking day I’ve wanted nothing but to hold your hand and kiss you. I thought…I thought after we graduated that we would live a boring normal life together while Iwaizumi and Oikawa run around the world,” he scoffs, trying desperately to chase away the wellspring of tears in his eyes. When did he become so emotional? Years of pining will do that to a man, he supposes.

Hanamaki gapes at him like he wants to say something, but Matsukawa doesn’t relent, words just keep spilling out of him. “It’d be boring by their standards but it would be our kind of boring you know? The dumb kind where we go out for ice cream at 2AM, or fall asleep on the couch,”. He runs a hand through his hair, grasping desperately.

“It hurt so much when you moved away…when you got married and I didn’t even know you were dating someone. After…after the first time I tried to date, tried to get over you, but no one can hold any candle to you in my life.” Matsukawa’s breathing is jagged, jagged like his heart. It feels like he’s trying to talk while running.

“I just…I love you so much Takahiro. I’m in love with the crow’s feet on your eyes that weren’t there before, the way your hair frames your face, your stupid humor, your laugh, how you always try to do-it-all and I just…I..”

“Every time I see you, you bring me to my knees,” he whispers.

Hanamaki doesn’t say a word, not that Matsukawa leaves any room for him to speak. He just closes his eyes. By the end, Matsukawa’s head is spinning and he’s pretty sure he just fucked it all up, but somehow, he’s also relieved. Relieved that he finally got it off his chest. Iwaizumi was right. The whole time, he’d been carrying this burden for so long he doesn’t know what it’s like to not have it, like a lovesick Atlas who doesn’t realize that he could just shrug off the burden and stand up straight again.

“Say something.” Please.

Hanamaki says nothing, just walks up to Matsukawa in bold, self-assured steps. He reaches for his face and Matsukawa flinches, actually flinches, at the touch.

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

Before Matsukawa can say anything Hanamaki reaches his hand to the back of Matsukawa’s neck, pulls at his tie, and kisses him. Issei is pretty sure he’s hallucinating but fuck Hanamaki smells so good, looks so good up close. He takes Hanamaki’s face in his hands, deepening the kiss, nothing on his mind except a litany of yes yes yes.

As they kiss, Hanamaki pushes Matsukawa towards the desk. Matsukawa doesn’t mind, all that he can think about is how badly he’s wanted this, how long he’s waited, how fucking happy he feels. He’s so dizzy with want that he doesn’t even remember where he is, all that exists currently is the feel of Hanamaki’s lips on his and his hands around Hanamaki’s waist.

Hanamaki breaks off the kiss, thumb running over Matsukawa’s cheek before he goes for his neck, pulling open his tie, fumbling at the button on his collar. When he can’t get it open fast enough, his hand wanders further down.

“Makki—wait I—”.

“Shut up.” He says as he drops to his knees, “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this.”

Wanted this? Wanted Matsukawa? Issei thinks he might need hearing aids or something, but that thought is wiped out as Hanamaki takes his cock out of his boxers and licks a long, wet stripe along the underside. The groan that escapes him is embarrassing and he grips the edge of the desk for dear life.

“Look at me Issei.” Hanamaki murmurs, pressing a kiss to the tip.

Matsukawa swallows, fluttering his eyes open as he looks down right as Hanamaki takes all of him into his mouth. Had he been a lesser man, he would’ve cum right then and there like a schoolboy. Instead, Matsukawa wills the last of his lucidity into being.

“F-fuck, Makki no—”

Hanamaki looks up at Matsukawa from his knees, a look of shock on his face and an undercurrent of dejection in his plea “You don’t want…?” You don’t want me? Is the unspoken thought.

Matsukawa grits his teeth as he wills himself to pull back, “I do Takahiro, you have no fucking idea how much I want you but no, not here. We need to do this right.”

It’s then that Hanamaki seems to snap out of his daze and remembers where they are. “Oh...oh right, fuck. Uh...let’s go home?”

Matsukawa sighs in relief as Hanamaki gets up. “Yeah..home.”

---

When they get back to Matsukawa’s apartment, he brings out two beers from the fridge, and sets them down on the coffee table.

“Hiro...before we do anything, we should...talk”.

Hanamaki sighs, taking a deep swig, “I know...I owe you that much.”

He fiddles with the label on beer. “The first two times, I needed money, and one of the part-timers suggested this website. I made it clear from the start that it was purely transactional, but I was so afraid of losing everything and coming back to Miyagi with nothing to show for it.”

He looks right at Matsukawa. “I know…I could’ve asked my parents or you or anyone for help but...when you’re in the thick of it you just can’t think straight you know?”

Hanamaki sighs wearily, “The last time, Hideki-kun...was terminally ill and estranged from his family. He didn’t want it to go to them. We got close when I was temping at his office. I..I told him to leave it all to charity, but I guess he felt some sort of strange compulsion to help me. He paid for job training, a therapist, and was just so kind for no reason. All he asked for in return was that I play a role in public.”

“So, you were…arm candy?”

“I wouldn’t even call it that. We had different residences, it was all very compartmentalized. I wish I asked him before but, I think he was just lonely.” Hanamaki scoffs, “At least I did one thing right in my adult life, comfort someone who needed it.”

Matsukawa reaches over, pulling the other man to his chest, running a hand through his hair. Hanamaki fits perfectly on top of Issei’s chest. He lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry Issei.”

Matsukawa presses a kiss to the top of Hanamaki’s head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, “Will you stay this time?”

“Yeah, if you’ll have me.”

“There’s nothing else I want more,” Matsukawa murmurs, before taking Hanamaki’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to his palm.

A muffled voice pipes up, “You..you forgive me?”

“Of course,” Matsukawa says, another kiss to his hand. It’s the easiest thing Matsukawa has ever done. They’ll have to talk more earnestly later and clear years of unspoken pain, but Matsukawa knows that this time, it’ll be alright.

“Just like that?”

Matsukawa angles his head to the side, looking down right into Hanamaki’s eyes as he runs a finger across his eyebrow, “Makki…why do you always think you have to suffer?”.

Hanamaki’s upper lip is quivering. “You sound like my therapist,” he says, voice cracking a little. Matsukawa smiles, and sits up, arms returning to Hanamaki’s waist.

“My clients usually don’t talk back,” he says, planting a soft, tentative kiss to Hanamaki’s cheek.

“Was that an attempt at a funeral joke because if so, you are severely out of practice Issei.” The other man snarks, trying and failing to hide the smile in the corner of his lips as Matsukawa presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re in for it now. There’s plenty more where that came from,” He murmurs before finally meeting Hanamaki’s lips. “No escape from the horrible puns.”  

“What a tragedy,” Hanamaki says, mouth opening to meet Matsukawa’s. He runs his hands down Hanamaki’s side like he’s always envisioned himself doing. A jolt of electricity runs through him and he feels emboldened by both their confessions and Hanamaki finally being in his arms. Matsukawa pushes Hanamaki so that his back is on the cushions, lips on the edge of his neck, hands intertwining with Hanamaki’s. Matsukawa works his way down slowly, kissing every inch of Hanamaki that he can get access to—the other man’s Adam’s apple, the hollow of his throat, his collarbones, trying to immortalize him in his mind. Below him, Hanamaki shivers to his touch, hips rising up to meet Matsukawa’s.  

Matsukawa swallows, fingertips grasping right at the edge of Hanamaki’s slacks. “May I?” he whispers, as if he’s afraid that if he’s any louder, Hanamaki will disappear again.

“I want you. I’ve wanted you.” Hanamaki says, “I—”. Emboldened, Matsukawa quickly undoes his belt and pulls his slacks down. There’s less composure in Matsukawa’s movements then he would like, but fuck it, Hanamaki is front of him in the flesh, and willing. He palms Hanamaki’s cock through his boxers, relishing in the hiss of breath that escapes Hanamaki’s gritted teeth as Matsukawa kisses the v-line of his hips. There’s no particular rhyme or reason to Matsukawa’s movements, and they’re a bit sloppy, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how good Hanamaki tastes and how good it feels when Hanamaki’s hand grips his hair.

He looks up at Hanamaki from between his thighs, wiping his mouth with his thumb. Hanamaki’s face is a pretty pink, lower lip swollen from how hard he’d been biting it. For a second, Matsukawa thinks about all that he’s ever wanted to do, will do, to Hanamaki, and shivers before returning his attentions to Hanamaki’s cock.

Hanamaki is beautiful as he comes undone in Matsukawa’s mouth, his fingers intertwined with Matsukawa’s other hand, back arching off the sofa cushions. They hold each other on the couch, giggling like school children- a heady mix of happiness, joy, and relief having found each other again.

---

The television is on in Matsukawa Issei’s tiny office at Peaceful Hills Funeral Home. Space is always a premium at a mortician’s, more so now that he’s no longer the sole employee of said funeral home. Instead, when he looks up and past the door, he can see his husband Hanamaki on the phone as well, jotting down notes from another client.

Matsukawa’s cigarette is lit, rapidly turning into ash as he just takes in the view in front of him, watching the light catch on the wedding band that Takahiro wears.

Darling, dearest, his.

---

I originally set out to write a PWP where they bang in the funeral home but...this...happened. I fell out of HQ for a long time (dipped out after Seijoh lost), but recently finished the manga and got slapped in the face with Mattsun working at a funeral home post-timeskip like ?? sir?? are you aware how hot you are??? and then I felt an inexplicable need to break his heart for a bit. Just a little. Also big thanks to @/plumtreeforest as always <3 ​

Comments/reblogs/etc always appreciated <3 can’t believe I finally got around to writing fic of my faves in the year 2021. I missed them. 

[bluecastleheadcanons]

Karasuno Youtuber Headcanons

Haikyuu YouTube AU!! +plus some coffee shop stuff

Hinata Shouyou

Very chaotic 

Does challenges

Storytimes

Loud all of the time

Kenma is his internet best friend and they do collab live streams

They also play online video games together but Hinata socks at them

They both have fun though and people love seeing Kodzuken laugh

Collabs with Lev

Sports videos 

He has a part-time job at a sports store

His volleyball highlights 

Also surprisingly good volleyball tips and tricks

"SPIKING TIPS FROM THE FUTURE TINY GIANT!!"

Vlogs

He, Yams, Yachi, Tsukki and Kags have a joint channel where they have sleepovers and do fun little skits

In one of those videos they convinced Tsukki to give Yachi a piggyback ride

It was so cute

The whole sleepover thing is very domestic and Yams makes dinner while the other three will wash up after

His fans think he's very cute

Kageyama Tobio

Volleyball highlights 

Collabs with Hinata a lot

"Quick attack tips ft the human tangerine"

Doesn't post often 

The occasional vlog or challenge 

People think Oikawa is his brother for some reason

No one knows why or where it came from

Oikawa has shown up in only one of his videos and it was during a volleyball collab

They spoke once but apparently, that was enough for fans to make this conspiracy that even though they have different last names they were brothers

Yes volleyball Collabs 

It's when they (everyone mentioned in this list) all come together and play a couple games

Him, Hinata, Daichi, Yaku, Bokuto, Oikawa and Iwaizumi play for the teams in their areas (since they don't go to college and Iwa's FS doesn't have a VB team) the rest play for their college team

He works at the same place as Hinata

his fans think he has two personalities because he acts so different with Hinata

I forgot to mention but Kags lives with Hinata

Yamaguchi Tadashi

Soft 

Does get ready with me plus storytimes 

"Get ready with me pt3 ft the time I got lost at the mall"

Reactions 

Collabs with Tsukki/lives with

His editing is so cute

Lil effects pop up on screen

He works at a cute cafe

Gets to bake the cakes and breads for the place

He really likes it there

Even if he has to take a train and a bus to get there

baking videos

Teaching Yachi to bake and Hinata and Kags to cook 

"Teaching my friends how to adult pt 4 ft Kags, Hinata and Yachi" 

Vlogs when he's out with the others and they do it too

He and Tsukki live the furthest away from everyone and travelling up is a huge hassle but he literally doesn't care

Tsukki does but Yams doesn't 

This man would climb the sun for his friends 

Fans get really sad when its winter and his feckless fade

There's a cute video clip out there from one of the volleyball collabs of Oiks helping Yams with serving

He participates in Sugas mental illness awareness week thing 

Him and Yachi usually do the segment for anxiety and panic disorders

His fans think he is baby and forget how tall he is 

like damn this man is almost as tall as Tsukki

Tsukishima Kei

Reaction channel

Salty saltyshima

Judges everyone its so fucking funny

His reactions consist of him looking into the camera with a look in disgust and mumbling what the fuck 

has one vlog on his challenge and its cus Yams made him make it

Fans ask him to react to Hinata, Kageyama,kuroo and bokuto's channels those are a fan favourite 

He reacts to horror movies occasionally 

"Why do people find these scary pt12"

Those are funny

"Oh my God, just fucking run!" "What is wrong with you??!" "You are the reason I want to dye my hair" "I knew she was gonna die" 

Collabs with Yams featuring soft Tsukki 

Take a shot every time this man rolls his eyes or says "tch" 

Can and will debate with you 

Does something like BuzzFeed unsolved with Kuroo 

He's a sceptic 

Kuroo flinches at every noises

And Tsukki is here sipping his invisible wine not giving a fuck 

"But Tsukki someone died there"

"Someone probably died at the Chipotle we just ate at" 

He works at a book store 

Yachi Hitoka

Very shy and nervous

Anxious baby 

Does get ready with mes

Cute room decor videos 

Her video titles are so misleading 

"Rearranging my entire apartment because I have anxiety ft the Bois"

And then in the video, she is this 4"11 cutie whose living room is pink

Fans find her videos really cute

Goes to college for interior design and graphic design 

Does baking videos sometimes 

She cannot bake to save her life but watching her try is entertaining 

Sometimes her and Oikawa attempt to cook

"Making angel food cake with the grand king"

Her apartment building is across from the one Iwa, Oiks, Makki and Mattsun live in so when she needs some help and the boys are busy she'll go to them

"Painting my living room for the fifth time this year ft new friends???"

That video was messy they were covered in paint

She has a wall of paint handprints of the people who have helped her

So far: hinata, kags, tsukki, yams, dai, suga, asahi, noya, tanaka, iwa, oiks, kiyoko, and kuroo

Can be seen in some of Matsuhana's skits

Works at the same cute cafe as Yams 

She participates in Sugas mental illness awareness week thing

her and Yams do the segment for anxiety and panic disorders

It was highly requested Yams taught her how to bake

Nishinoya + Tanaka

Definitely gaming

Also sports 

Work out videos 

Parkour

Those dumbass who do the dumbest shit like concrete their heads into a microwave 

Please help them

Shares an apartment 

Noya can actually draw and does art ticks and tricks

His drawings are really good and he does commissions

He works at an art studio and helps out kids

Tanaka, however, sucks at drawing and people love to see him try

"TEACHING RYUU TO DRAW PT4" 

He works at the same sports store as Hinata and kags

They do prank videos 

collabs with Makki and mattsun 

Those videos are so fucking chaotic 

Asahi is usually the victim but after one of their pranks went wrong and Daich walked into it they stopped pranking Asahi for a while 

Collabs with Asahi and Kuroo and Bokuto

Sometimes with Yachi, if she needs the extra help 

Constantly post photos of each other sleeping 

Fans think they are fucking hilarious 

Sugawara Koushi

Vlogs

Chaotic storytimes how is this man even alive

Gets Embarrassed very easily which makes all if his storytimes really funny

"I tripped over at the airport...again"

Does advice videos

"What to do when……. Pt21" 

His channel has no consistency his videos are all over the place

Collabs with Daichi and Asahi lives with them

Does cooking videos 

Swears???

Bleeps out with cute noises tho

He's shorter than he looks

Bc most of his videos are with Daichi who is also short when fans meet him its a bit of a surprise 

Collabs with Oikawa sometimes fans like to see them interact 

Collabs with Yaku!!

Goes to college for psychology 

College vlogs

Gets anxious when posting and overthinks a bit too much 

Organises mental health awareness week posts with Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Asahi, Bokuto, Akaashi, Yachi, Yamaguchi and Kenma

Basically where each of them post about me talking health for their assigned topic and some collab like Iwa and Oiks and Yams and Yachi

He does the first post which is where they all do a qna together and fans ask related questions 

Doesn't drive so Daichi drives him everywhere 

He is very good at taking care of people 

Fans think he was some sort of mother spirit in a past live

Sawamura Daichi 

Work out videos 

 Life Advice videos 

Has a bunch of bloopers because Suga doesn't know how to knock 

There is one blooper video where all it is just Suga walking in on him filming

"My roommate doesn't know how to knock" 

Car trips car trips vlogs

He does storytimes in his car

"How I lost my tooth" 

Slight lisp because of said tooth

This man drives a lot

If he's doing a storytime in his car and people start honking (not at him just in general) he will look into the camera as it zooms in and a fun Lil tune plays in the back 

Grocery vlogs

Personal trainer at a gym

Drives Suga to college

doesn't know how to feel about people calling him daddy 

Suga just laughs at him

Is hugely clumsy and trips over everything 

The coffee table has missing pieces because of how many times this man has walked into it

Drops his camera and phone daily 

Most of his fans are thirst and the other ones thank him

Azumane Asahi

DIYs

I'm talking like troomtroom but actually good and useful life hacks 

Does camera work for Suga and started off with that

He looks scary but Suga is the one you gotta look out for

Does tips on how to deal with anxiety 

Meditation 

Posts calming videos to help you sleep 

Photography goals

There are many many compilations of Suga and Daichi bullying him made by fans

Flustered by thirst comments 

works at the same coffee shop as Yachi and Yams

Collabs with Tanaka and Noya

Gets bad post anxiety 

Anxious boi 

Participates in Suga’s mental illness awareness week 

His segment is on what to do to help someone having a panic/anxiety attack and what the differences are

Even tho Dai and Suga are more like the parents if those two are doing something stupid or risky Asahi can go from child to parent real quick 

Honestly, those two can be complete children sometimes

Very good at taking care of people

He never forgets a thing and he makes life hacks for forgetful people 

Daichi and Suga are constantly forgetting things

Asahi thinks he has enough footage of that two forgetting stuff, tripping and just being children in general that he could make at least 5 compilations 

Fans actually really like him

Kiyoko Shimizu 

THE NON CONTROVERSIAL MAKEUP ARTIST

She's so damn nice to everyone 

No one can hate her

Her make-up skills are afuckingmazing

Her looks are always perfect

Her works as a hair and make-up artist for a production school

She appears in Yachi's videos often

I don't really have a lot for Kiyoko 

[writingonacloudblog]

I Will Always be His Daughter

I remember when I was six-years old, my father would deadbolt the doors so no one could get in, but also so I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t go outside to play with the other kids or even run around in the backyard. I always wondered why he did that but even when I was a teenager, I never had the courage to ask. Mostly because my father looked at me like I was a monster he was required to live with. I always thought he would kill me one day, but I actually came out of that house alive. I saved up all the money I could find around the house as my father drank his life away and promised I would never see him again. And if he died, I wouldn’t care.

As I sit in my kitchen with a cup of coffee in my hand, I can’t help but think of what my father is doing right at this moment. Mostly because it’s been twenty years since we last seen each other, and I remember that day vividly. I was sixteen years old at the time and I finally saved up enough to leave his house for good. So, I grabbed 2 outfits and put them into a small trash bag to go on my own journey to find my identity. Sadly, it was a special day for me, the mother I lost, and a tragic day for him.

“You ungrateful little bitch…” He mumbled under his breath as I walked into the living room with my bag in hand. Even though I was 16 I knew I needed to act like an adult and take my life into my own hands. I needed to make sure the life I was given isn’t wasted away on a drunk old man who can’t remember he has a daughter to take care of. I wanted the life I would see on all the TV shows like My Wife and Kids and Good Times where the family would laugh with each other and be understanding even when there are struggles. I wanted a family that would love me unconditionally and not push me towards a dark abyss of depression.

I looked at him with tears in my eyes trying to keep them from cascading down my face. I didn’t want to show weakness as I was about to leave. I wanted show that I was stronger than what he thought I was. I wanted to show him the “monster” that he didn’t create.

“So, you want to leave? You are just like your mother you know?” He laughed as he took another swig of whiskey.

“How can I be someone I never met? She died before I was born, or did you forget? Are you that drunk that you can’t remember that? That drunk that you can’t for a second remember her!” I asked feeling the suppressed frustration being released for the first time. I could feel tension in the room as I said these things most 16-year-olds wouldn’t mouth to their parents. It’s always respect your elders but never respect children as well.

“You should ask yourself that question. Don’t you realize everything I have done for you? The long nights I have worked to make sure you had food or the clothes you are wearing, “

“You made that money so you could drink it away. I am not that innocent child anymore. I know exactly what you have done for me! Nothing. All you have done for me is make me resent you,”

“LAYLA MARIE!”

“You have no right to call me by my name. No right to have kept me locked up in this house. And the audacity to call me the name that my mother gave me? You are a real piece of work.”

“Watch your mouth…”

“No, I won’t. I am tired of not living my life! I have no one here. I am alone here. I am tired of being treated like I am some murderer!” I yelled with every breath I had left. I remember feeling my throat become scratchy from all the yelling. I remember clenching my fist wanting to harm him in some way. I remember hearing him laugh at me and mocking me with a smile like a Cheshire Cat.

“I should have let her give you up you know. Because if you weren’t here, SHEwould be here!” He yelled at me his smile changing like the weather. From sunshine to a thunderstorm his whole demeanor became dark. This man was my father and I had to get away.

________________________________________________________

I put my coffee cup down into the sink and go into the fridge to grab the cupcake with a candle on top that I bought after work. When I place it on the counter all the memories of my father flash before my eyes. Him sitting in his recliner after he got off work, watching the NBA playoffs as I sat in my room wondering why I wasn’t allowed to eat that night. The smell of whiskey and cigarettes in the living room wafting up my nose even though I am in my own house, like my father was right beside me. I lit the candle on the cupcake with my lighter thinking of all the birthdays I had before. They weren’t happy at all.

“Happy Birthday Layla….” I say to myself before I blow out the candle not making a wish. I never made one in the past so why make one now. I could hear my phone ring in the other room. I check the time on the oven and it’s too late for anyone to call me. I have no friends or a lover. Its just me against the world as it should be. But for some odd reason I get a feeling that I should answer immediately. Like my world will crumble if I don’t. So, I walk into the other room and pick up my cell phone, hesitant to answer.

“Hello?” asked the voice on the other line. The words wouldn’t form from my mouth.

“Hello? Is this Layla Jones? I am calling about your father, Fredrick Jones,” Hearing his name for the first time in years made my heartbeat rapidly like a drum. Why am I getting a call about him?

“Y yes this is her. Who am I speaking to?”

“I am a nurse at Matagorda General Hospital. I am sorry to inform you of this news, but your father passed away this morning.”

My heart and time stopped. I didn’t know whether to celebrate or to cry. I didn’t know whether to tell her to go away and leave me alone or to cry and ask if she is lying. 20 years later and no call or an apology from him. And now he’s gone from this earth.

“I’m so sorry Ms. Jones. If you would like I can connect you to,”

“No no that won’t be necessary. Thank you for letting me know,” I said before hanging up the phone and sitting on the floor staring at the wall. I knew I have to go back home and bury him since he didn’t have anyone else. At least that’s how I left him. I left him there with his whiskey in hand drunk like he always was.

I take few deeps breaths to calm my nerves and get up from the floor to pack my suitcase for my flight back home. I know don’t have a ticket, but I know that I can get one for 2 days later. I grab my nice black suitcase with leather handles and grab the clothing that is suitable for the humid weather that makes your hair frizz up into an afro. I close my suitcase up after getting everything packed away neatly and set it to the side in my room. I always thought one day I would have to face him, but I didn’t think I would be facing him in a coffin.

________________________________________________________

A few days later, I landed in my hometown feeling a sense of myself again. The humidity embraced me into a tight hug as I placed my bags into the car I rented for the few days I would be here. I put my old home’s address into the GPS hoping that when I arrive my father still hadn’t moved out. Driving down these small-town roads and seeing places I never got to explore like the schools or the small shopping center, makes me feel like I don’t know this place at all. The only place I remember is my fathers’ house and the airport. The only memory being my father and that’s all.

I pulled up to the house and saw about ten cars parked on the side of the road along with 3 cars parked in the driveway including my dad’s old 1990 Chevrolet Impala. I didn’t think my dad had anyone in his life when I left. He never had friends that came over to watch the game or have a couple drinks. He never really talked about his family or my mom’s family since he was practically disowned, and he felt a lot of guilt about my mother’s death that he never told them that I was still alive.

I got out of my car and locked it, walking up to the front door that has changed since I was last here. I remember staring at the old front door analyzing the rusted screws and the dents on the top and bottom. Now it has changed to a door as white as dove with bronze screws and a beautiful flower wreath that makes me think of the gates to heaven. I try to calm myself taking a few deep breaths as I lift my hand to knock on the door wondering who I will face.

A woman opens the door staring at me, and I don’t recognize her. She was about 5’5’’ with a salt and pepper braided bun greased down to perfection, her eyes red but her demeanor stronger than a bull. I could smell her perfume and felt a sense of nostalgia to the old ladies in church who would always sit in the front of service and fan themselves while singing every church hymn loud for everyone to hear.

“Can I help you?” She asked staring me down like I was a threat to her.

“Yes, ma’am I am just wondering if I am at the right place actually.” I said looking past her and seeing about 20 people in a house with a changed interior from what I left it. The recliner he used to sit in is gone. The smell of smoke and whiskey doesn’t waft towards my nose anymore, but a scent of lavender incense mixed with this woman’s perfume surrounds me.

“Well, I can only tell you if you let me know what you are looking for chile,” She placed her hands on her hips and stared at me like she was trying to figure out who I was.

“A man I used to know lived here and I heard he passed away, so I came to pay respects. But I think I might be at the wrong place,” I stared at the ground and sighed preparing to be on my way to the hotel I booked. I could feel her eyes analyzing my face and my clothing wondering if I was some good for nothing child who is looking for trouble. Most likely asking herself why I had showed up at her house?

“Well, the only man who stayed here was my husband, Fredrick. Are you a friend of his from his old job? Or from the grocery store?” She asked, her eyebrow arched up. I couldn’t tell her I was his daughter because I doubt he ever mentioned me. His daughter who left him behind to find her own life. And imagine being the wife of a man who had daughter you didn’t know about?

“Yes, ma’am I knew him from the grocery store. I am sorry for you’re lost.”

“This gathering is only for family but thank you for the condolences. I am sure Freddie is in a better place.”

“Mom” a feminine yet bright voice called from behind her. When the older woman turned around, I caught glimpse of a girl who looked similar my dad with light brown eyes and his nose. She looked to be in her early twenties with a beautiful black designer dress you would see in Vogue magazine. She must be my fathers’ pride and joy since she doesn’t look like she has suffered at all.

“Yes Kayla?” the older woman asked back.

“Who’s at the door?” Kayla asked catching a glimpse of me before I put my head down looking at the ground, praying to God that I can just run back to my car and get the hell out of here.

“Just a bagger from the grocery store baby girl.”

“Well Aunt Shelly needs help with the potato salad she’s about to put raisins in it again.”

“I swear this woman is gonna make me lose my damn mind…” She mumbled as she turned to look at me. “Thanks again for coming by Honey, we all appreciate it. These last 2 days have been very hard on us. I used to go to the hospital everyday to go check up on him and it hurt me to see him in pain. I am just glad he is back home with the lord. He was such as good father and an even greater husband you know?” She tried to hold back her tears. I couldn’t agree on anything she was saying at all. The father I had was not good at all. He wasn’t some angel sent from heaven, but I guess that’s just her view of a devil in disguise.

As she and I said our goodbyes and the door closed in front of me, I regretted going back to my father’s home. I got back into my car with my suitcase in the trunk and drove back to the airport. There was no reason for me stay there when I’m not his family anyway. The way he treated me I shouldn’t want to pay respects to him at all. He had a new wife and daughter while I was struggling to come to terms that I never will have a sitcom relationship with him. I had to go to therapy and find love within myself because I lacked the love and support of a parental figure. He made me look like a fool again except in death.

I drove back to the airport straight from the funeral. I didn’t care how much a plane ticket would cost me, I just wanted to go back to my life again. I wanted to leave the past behind and pay attention to my future again. I sat in the waiting area and all I could do is stare at the carpet, watching the patterns expecting it to change and have some type of relief. I remember sitting in this airport with a trash bag, a plane ticket, and no plan, crying for someone to save me from him. I begged God to end my suffering and let me be with my mother. Yet, he was a good father?

When I got on the plane, all the comprehension of what just occurred just wouldn’t add up to me. He had a whole replacement family that doesn’t even know about me. I bet they don’t know about my mother or how he was a useless drunk so many years ago. The man who I begged to be my father for years until I had enough.

When I arrived back at my condo from my overnight flight back, I went to check my mailbox for my usual credit card bills and rent reminder. But instead, there was an envelope with a scent I knew too well. I looked at the envelope and read Fredrick Jones on the left-hand corner. A part of me wanted to burn the letter in the fireplace, especially since I wasted a trip to be confronted by his new family that he most likely treated in the way I always hoped he would treat me. But the other side of me wanted to open the letter carefully and cry until my eyes became sore. I wanted to open and see an apology for the way he treated me all those years. I wanted to finally hear him say that I am not a disappointment or a murderer.

So many things in one letter that I wanted to be said so I can cry until I can’t cry anymore. The years of hatred I had for this man and the love I was looking for in this man will be buried 6 feet under. But I will never open this letter. I will never forget my father and I know I will always be his daughter.

[musedblues]

Always Something There To Remind Me [Part: 3]

summary: Home is where the heart is. You're working on finding yours. After a handful of misfortunes, your old friend Joe helps to unravel life's greatest mystery while adding a bit of extra grief to the mix.

warnings:  A few mentions of panic attacks, and getting sick a but also dare I say a bit of fluff?!

w/c: 6k

a/n: This has been one of my favorite chapters to write so far. Thank you for all the lovely feedback, lads!

taglist: @im-an-adult-ish​ @mrsmazzello​ @lettinggosthehardestpart​ @the-moving-finger-writes​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​

Part 4

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

On the walk across the street with your mother, carrying matching bottles of wine, you worried this Christmas Eve was going to be dramatically different than all others that came before it. That you were too far out of the loop to ever fit back in.

But you were at ease the second you passed through the Mazzellos front door. Joe and his mother were the only people bustling around the kitchen, so early in the evening. You'd expected tonight's reunion with your old friend to be even more sensational than the last, but it wasn't. Joe simply greeted you with a grin, taking the bottle of wine from your clutch and spinning around to find a cork right away. Your mothers began spouting gossip near the already set up table, while Joe poured the two of you a drink.

As you followed your old friend toward the living room, you couldn't help but notice how alarmingly normal this routine seemed. This felt much more like coming home than landing at the airport to your teary-eyed mother had, for some reason.

But lots had changed since the last time you'd spent celebrating with the Mazzellos. And you couldn't wait any longer to hear about the things Joe mentioned being apart of the last you saw him. Not long after you settled on the sofa to the tune of his exciting storytelling, you asked for faces to match the names of his new cast of friends he had yet to stop buzzing over. Joe wasted no time pulling up a group photo of himself mixed in with a pretty bunch of actors.

"Lucy is actually the funniest person I know, besides yours truly of course." Joe boasted about a girl who looked as if she was made of porcelain. You had no reason to doubt she was just as flawless in real life. Before you could ask more of her, Joe was already on a roll. "Ben is the love of my life. I mean, come on, look at the guy." Joe proceeded to ramble for a long time about the blonde, telling you how the man with emerald eyes was a loyal and passionate friend, someone Joe had come to trust and admire. "Rami, well, you know him, don't you?" Joe shrugged, glancing your way as he sipped some wine. Oh yeah, you did. The guy was in another production with Joe, back when he facetimed you weekly. Rami had ended up in the background of enough of those facetimes to give you a few meaningful greetings when you called to check-up. You wondered if the superstar remembered you at all. "And Gwilym is-" "Welsh?" You let out a breath of a laugh. Gwilym. There's a name you'd hadn't even known existed until a few summers ago when some old fella down the road kept getting his mail switched up with yours. Joe matched your unexpected chuckle with one of his own, almost like he wasn't sure if he should have acknowledged your remark. So you just shrugged and offered your friend a small grin "Small world."

Thankfully, Joe's muddled expression softened. As you began to wonder one thousand things, he went on...

"He is the best of us. Heart of gold." Joe's bragged as the pair of you focused on his phone screen. There the five of them were, all dressed up, strutting across a lavish purple carpet. Just when you both polished off your glasses of wine, the doorbell rang. Cousins and aunts and uncles started to show up with dessert trays and gift bags. Most of them remembered your name and hugged you like always. It was almost like no time had ever passed, like this Christmas Eve picked up where the last one you attended left off. The most exciting reunion came just before dinner time as Joe's siblings showed up.

John and Mary arrived together, with their spoused and gaggle of children, all of whom you'd never met. A couple of the more rambunctious kids raced up to their grandmother, while John stopped in his tracks when he noticed you.

Growing up, you went to all of his baseball games. You helped him with his homework and bought him birthday presents. He might as well have been your own little brother. But since you'd graduated, Joe's updates about his kid brother stopped coming when his own did, too.

"Oh my God!" John practically tackled you in a hug that everyone around you chuckled over. "I didn't, why did- when did you come back?" John laughed, clearly surprised by your random appearance at Christmas Eve dinner for the first time in forever.

"Is this really happening?" Mary moved toward you. She was pretty as ever, dark hair and bright eyes. You always looked up to her, and she always looked out for you. She rescued you from bad first dates, taught you how to drive and told you highschool secrets, like your own older sister. Now, she shoved John away and hugged you even tighter. You wondered how you'd gone all this time without seeking Mary's counsel and support.

Both of their spouses watched on in confused glee, happy that everyone else was so happy. John's wife was the first to bite.

"Hi! I'm Eva." The pretty brunette smiled at you but cocked her head, clearly lost to why her husband was so excited to see you. Then she said, "How long have you and Joe been...?" Eva pointed to where your best friend stood in the archway of the kitchen, and your mother let out a chortle in passing.

"Ah yes..." You turned to Joe with a sly smile. Maybe you'd been sipping too much pre-dinner wine.  "I'll never forget the day he untied me from those train tracks!" You reached out to latch onto Joe in a comical way, and even though he winced for show, he held onto you like he might have actually wanted too.

"Who's the actor here, y/n?" Mrs. Mazzello joked, batting your arm with a laugh.

"Joe has just been using me for my many talents all these years. I taught him everything he knows." You shrugged with one arm still looped around your friend's neck.

"Those were the days." Joe reminisced with a snicker, keeping his relaxed hold around you.

John was quick to disperse your make-believe bubble to explain to his wife exactly who you were.

"This is y/n. The girl in all our pictures in the hallway." John gestured toward the corner where dozen of snapshots hung of their family at parties and graduations. A handful of which you and your mother happened to sneak into the background of over the years. "She's practically a Mazzello."

"Oh my God." Eva's face fell, and she turned to you with a serious gaze. "I'm so sorry, I've heard so much about you but never- oh, come here." And she pulled you into a hug all the same. John and Mary gathered their excited offspring and made them each introduce themselves to you, well besides the tiniest babies who couldn't. You barely had time to gush over the families before dinner was served.

Everyone devoured plates full of well-cooked food, laughing over things you somehow still understood. Christmas hadn't felt so warm in years. You and Joe moved through even more wine, sharing glances like a secret code when his weird uncle started rambling about politics. When dinner was over, everyone was still happy to linger around together.

When everyone gathered in the living room, you excused yourself to the bathroom. On your trip back down the hallway, a tiny giggle stopped you from rejoining the party just yet. Mary's littlest babe was clinging to the open doorway of Mr. Mazzello's office, a space with oak bookshelves and a writing desk to match. Joe's father could be found there, working until it was time for dinner.

The baby was babbling, pointing into the dark office. He stumbled into the shadows and turned his head before he shifted and looked at you. The baby screwed his brows together and started to ask a question using the only syllables he knew to use.

And somehow, you realized he was looking for Joe's dad. The little boy spun in the doorway again before he wobbled right toward you. Simultaneously, Mary floated down the hall with a baby bag over her shoulder. She must have been looking for the kid. He was reaching up and pulling on your sweater, now.

"I think he wants to go in there." You spoke softly, watching Mary's baby point back toward the dark office. When you looked back up toward Mary her eyes were glossy. She shared a silent glance with you before she bent down to her boy's level. He kept babbling and waving back toward the office.

"He's not there, sweetheart," Mary whispered, smoothing back her baby's hair and breaking your heart. She lifted the kid to her hip and cocked her head, a signal for you to follow.

The office was warm and smelt like cinnamon, not because of Christmas time, but because it always did. Mary flicked the Tiffany lamp on and the room filled with spots of amber light. There were papers scattered on the desk and a chair filled some costumes in the corner like someone was meant to come in and do work at any moment.

"Dad used to let the kids sit in here while he worked." Mary sniffled, while the baby in her arms reached out to touch the book shelve before him. It was filled with awards and photos and crafts.

"I was always afraid to come in and interrupt business." You breathed a laugh, floating closer to monitor the shelve. Right between a photo of Joe and his father at the grand canyon, and a handpainted candle vase, something caught your eye.

There was a Polaroid. You had a camera for a month before one of your friends stole it. With it, someone had taken a photo of you with Joe's dad at play practice. Joe was away that summer, filming and you needed something to do. Your highschool was putting on a production of Grease, the ancient choir director conveniently passed away a week before your first rehearsal, so Joe's dad stepped in to help, last minute. Somehow you ended up as a Pink Lady, without a name or any lines. Joe's dad let you keep that jacket. You gave the Polaroid to Mr. Mazzello as thanks, during the wrap party. Despite having no lines, you were a shite actor, but Joe's dad took it easy on you. That was just one example of the way he'd always sort of looked out for you, you realized.

Mary noticed the photo your gaze was fixated on and said: "You're family, y/n. And I'm glad you're back home."

You couldn't tell if she knew what you'd been through but above all things, you knew Mary was wise enough to read you like she always had. Her baby had retracted away from curiosity and curled into his mother's arm. She noted that it was probably bedtime for all the kids and started to leave her father's old office. You were left alone to turn the light off. Leaving that room on your own terms was the first goodbye you'd said in months that brought you any kind of peace.

///

Your mother left home in a sequined shaw with a camera around her neck. At midnight, a new year would begin, but someone was getting married before then. She invited you along to help take photos, But just days before, you'd made plans of your own. With Joe. He said there were some people from town throwing a party and he'd been invited long ago. Joe asked you to join him, saying something about how he probably would only go if you came along. Something about that made you agree.

So you slipped into some old dress you'd bought in Wales and made a mental note to go on a shopping spree, soon. Joe showed up at your door, dressed for the occasion too. Tonight felt like more of a step outside of your comfort zone, than a simple New Year's Eve party. But even so, falling back into your old spot at Joe's side was natural, and you didn't have time to dwell on the inner workings of things while he sang along to some old Britney Spears album the entire car ride, begging you to join in. By the time you arrived at the party, you almost forgot that Joe's version of carpool karaoke wasn't the main event of the evening.

He kept one hand steady on your shoulder as you walked from the parking lot and into some modernly styled club. Inside, clear bulbs were strung from one sleek pilar to another. One too many bodies occupied the dance floor while those left behind took up nearly every table and booth insight. Joe directed you toward the bar top where two miraculously free seats called your names.

Just then, someone recognized your friend. A tall man in a dark suit called Joe's name as you eased onto the bar stool. You didn't recognize the guy, and the bartender was asking what you wanted. So you ordered two of the same bourbons and turned back to see Joe rolling his eyes while the stranger was walking away.

"I can never remember his name," Joe admitted, leaning toward you. You chuckled and started to respond when another voice cut through the crowd.

"Joey!" The high pitched squeak hurt your head, and when you turned to see who it belonged to, nothing made sense. Lacy Duval was prancing toward the both of you in a tight sparkly dress. The only thing you knew about Lacy Duval, was that in high school, she was two grades below you, but somehow always ended up mingling with everyone in your class. So it wasn't surprising to see she'd recognized one of you, but it was a bit unsettling to see how excitedly Lacy dashed your way. And it was furthermore of a shock to you to find Joe waving to her with a wide smile, like they'd really known each other.

"I'm so glad you could make it, I've been looking around for you all night!" The girl with silvery blonde hair and a matching bright smile gushed. The bartender slid your drink near your elbow and you grinned his way as thanks.

"Well, it is only 9:30." Joe laughed. Then he reached over and rested a hand on your knee. "You remember y/n right?"

"Of course I do." Lacy turned her smile toward you.

"Hi, Lacy." You smiled back, raising your bourbon for a sip. Another set of faces emerged from the party, and you vaguely recognized them. They knew your name and warmly greeted you. But their interest lied in Joe, of course. They talked him into coming with them to meet someone on the other side of the room.

"Don't worry, I'll save your spot!" Lacy giggled in a way that made you kind of want to leave and go back home. But you just sipped your bourbon and smiled at Joe when he turned to you with a sorry shrug. Lacy slinked past Joe as the strangers pulled him in their tow. Somehow while the only person you knew disappeared into the crowd, you managed to down your bourbon until it was gone. You asked for another.

Then, without prompt or consent, Lacy crossed her silky legs and began to tell you a story you never asked to hear. She explained how a couple of summers ago, Joe was in town filming his very own movie. You knew all about it. You were still in touch with him then. But according to Lacy, she was there. She twirled her hair around a finger while she told you how Joe and his cast would sometimes stop in the all-night diner she worked at back then, and how she would hang around with them when no other customers stopped in. According to Lacy, Joe personally invited her to the wrap party.

"We hung out a lot." Lacy propped her elbow on the bar and her head in her hand. "We didn't see much of each other until his dad got sick, or whatever. We did hang out more when he was home for that."

Your bourbon was gone again. So you asked for a shot of whiskey.

"About time he showed up tonight." Lacy smiled, her teeth sparkling like the glitter her dress was made of. "We've had plans."

"Well, Happy New Year." You smiled. Was she finally done talking?  Someone just as scantily clad and pretty spotted Lacy and hurried up to her for a hug. Your whiskey arrived as the girls scurried into the crowd arm in arm without so much as a goodbye your way. You watched Lacy work the room as she moved through it, keeping that giant smile turned up all the way even when no one was looking. Before you could look away, Joe appeared as if he was making his way back to the bar. Lacy had spotted him too, apparently, and moved like a cheetah to corner him on the dance floor.

So, you were alone now. You could be home alone, but you weren't so, you took your shot of whiskey to try and calm your nerves. This party was way out of your league. You didn't know anyone, not even the people who seemed to vaguely remember you. And the music was pretty obnoxious. But as soon as these thoughts plagued you, a familiar face came into view. Some boy you'd known from high school took Lacy's spot on the barstool at your side. He was your first student, the year you taught your peers to play the piano for some extra cash, freshman year. The guy seemed genuinely glad to see you now, and you had always wondered what happened to him after high school. After catching up for a while, asking a few questions you always wanted to ask him, the guy had one of his own.

"Aren't you married, or something? The last time I saw Joe, he said you were living with some guys in the UK."

Whoa, you were not ready for that one. You sort of hoped everyone had decided you fell off the face of the earth. That thought always eased your mind when it began to wonder what people might ask you, when you moved back home. You hadn't properly prepared an answer for times like these...

"Oh, nope not married." You managed to remain cool under pressure, as the guy nodded in understanding. But of course, he didn't really understand. And he didn't know your throat was going dry at the thought of Kris. You politely excused yourself and headed toward the restrooms.

It wasn't even eleven o'clock, yet but the place was packed with party animals and the only people your recognized were across the floor. Lacy was looping her arm around Joe as she motioned for him to meet someone you couldn't see. The rest of the crowd were blank faces.

Maybe it was the drinks you'd downed so quickly. Or the fact that you still felt like shite at the simple thought of what happened to Kris. You had stopped missing him sometime long before he died; when he skipped town on your last birthday and gave you a present a few months later like an afterthought. That's when you really stopped feeling much for Kris at all. But you never got to end things between the two of you on your own terms. That left a million unimportant arguments burning in the back of your mind. By now, you were just pissed that the situation still had such a massive effect on you. Tonight being no exception at all,

Thank God the restroom was empty. You hurried toward the yellow stalls and prayed no one heard you getting sick. The tile floor was sticky and it hurt your knees. Every moment of this night was more uncomfortable than the last... After some time, you stood to better yourself but felt still felt dizzy as you leaned against the sink counter. The party boomed on and your head pounded. Then the bathroom door creaked open.

"Y/n?" Lacy's shrill pitch echoed through the tiled walls. You felt nauseous again.

"Yeah?" You tried to sound normal, bringing the back of your hand to your lips.

"Did you just...?" She trailed off, and you could only muster a tiny nod before hurrying back to the stall to barf again. Lacy's heels clicked toward the door and it slammed shut. Who would want to watch some girl throw up alone on New Year's Eve? You took your sweet time drinking from the faucet and taking deep breaths in the mirror. You decided that the moment you stepped foot back in the party that you were going to have a good time. Or at least pretend a little harder too.

But after you pushed open the restroom door and started to walk into the crowd, a hand grabbed you and spun you back around. It belonged to Joe, and he was pulling you toward the exit.

"We're going home." Joe decided loudly over the annoyingly loud music.

"Oh no, why?" You pretended to dread. He only pulled you close and guided you through the front doors. A few strangers watched on as you left before midnight. The city streets were empty and quiet, and Joe's car looked warm form the outside.

"Lacy said you got sick?"

"Oh, yeah." You shrugged. Your goal wasn't to ruin the party. "We don't have to leave because of me." You felt sick again.

"First of all yes we do. It wouldn't be fun if you feel bad. Secondly, it was already no fun. They were only playing Katy Perry."  Joe seemed truly disturbed. You had to laugh. The ride back home was quiet.

Joe parked outside your front door and followed behind as you walked up your porch steps. You stalled with your hand on the doorknob and announced that you planned on starting the new year off with a bubble bath. But declaring the peaceful plan didn't make you feel any less horrid. Then Joe softly assured you that he'd be across the street if you need him.

"You aren't gonna go back to the party?" You wondered. Why wouldn't he?

"Why would I?" Joe furrowed his brow, truly confused. You only chuckled and shook your head as you slowly twisted your doorknob and thanked Joe one last time. Then you went inside, even though it looked like Joe had something to say. He could tell you in the morning, you thought.

You felt better in the stillness of your home, surrounded by warm bubbles and candlelight. You changed your sheets and put on an oversized sweatshirt from Australia, one Joe shipped you as a Christmas gift the year he spent filming there. You watched the time on your phone turn to midnight and wondered if Tegan was having a good time. Last year, she helped you throw a party in the pub, and you didn't shut down until five a.m. This year you were snug in bed, high off the scent of your freshly cleaned sheets and relishing the quiet.

You must have succumbed to sleep, but it wasn't long before you shot awake with a tightness in your chest. Sometimes the nightmares faded as quickly as they appeared, leaving you with a racing heart all the while. It was still quiet and you were still alone. Your phone read two in the morning, and there was a text from your mother announcing she booked a room across the city after her wedding shoot. She wished you a happy new year, and that's when everything really started to crumble for you.

Something about being all alone, in a new space and time made your throat close. Your hands buzzed and tears stung your eyes. Every time you tried to close them, the worse your heart sped up. You had no choice but to let yourself cry a little but still couldn't fall asleep when you learned to breathe again. So you scrolled mindlessly through your phone hoping the internet would distract you long enough to fall asleep again.

Your Instagram feed was flooded with photos of friends in new year party hats with drinks in hand. There was a video of someone's baby comically dancing to auld lang syne, and a series of firework boomerangs. Then- a picture that caused your eyes to roll.

You didn't even realize you were following Lacy Duval. But lo and behold, the newest post on your feed was one of her very own. It was a selfie of her and Joe, from tonight. Her arm was tight around his neck, and he looked happy under the red-tinted lights. There were a few hundred likes, and the first comment you saw, read: "You two again! Looking good as ever."

What the hell did that mean? You wondered enough to click on Lacy's profile. Sure enough, between rows of facetuned selfies, there was a slew of photos of Joe on Lacy's feed. One photo of him wearing her bedazzled sunglasses, another of the two of them sharing a booth at the diner Lacy mentioned before.

Your bedroom suddenly felt like a trap, like your mind wasn't the issue. You felt like you did when you'd been grounded as a kid. So you got out of bed and descended the staircase, flipping a lamp on in the living room. Somehow the change of scenery completely changed your mood. You sank into the sofa among decorative pillows and a quilt you'd left behind some days before.

You nestled there, flipping on the tv and decided to play Parks and Recreation in search of a reason to smile. Then your phone buzzed from the coffee table where you tossed it. It was a text, from Joe.

Hey, you still up?

You glanced up to the telly, then back down at your phone, wondering why he was. You had just been on social media. Maybe Joe noticed you were active. Maybe he'd gone back to the party after all.

Yep. You good?

A few minutes passed until he responded again.

Want some company?

A tiny laugh escaped your throat. Why would he want to come over at two in the morning? You couldn't understand how Joe had known to offer his company in this moment when you felt the loneliest you had in a long while. You could help but type back that you were unlocking the door and for him to come in whenever he felt like, if he really did.

You sat back down among the den of comforts that was your old sofa, and watched Parks and Recreation with a wandering mind. You weren't even sure what you'd been thinking of until the front door jostled open, and you snapped back from your zone out.

"Happy New Year!" Joe excitedly boasted. He was dressed in joggers and an old sweatshirt, and he held a paper sack close to his chest as he shut the door behind him.

"What's up your sleeve?" You laughed, stretching your arms as you sat up all the way. You watched Joe cross the room to rest his mysterious bag on the coffee table and sit near you on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't quite like your friend had come over for a visit, but rather like he was finally home after a long day. A warmth bloomed in your chest at the thought of Joe existing back in your orbit, and being happy as always to do nothing together.

"Doctors orders." He spoked as he reached into the paper bag. "We've got some overpriced drug store candy. A bag of ginger cookies. A magazine I found with Bruce Springsteen on the cover, and this." Joe named all the things he revealed from the bag one at a time, ending with a small envelope he handed to you. It was a card with the words "Get Well Soon" scrawled in outlandish cursive. Inside was blank, besides the doodled Joe had drawn of a frowny face wearing a droopy party hat. You laughed out loud, glancing up to your friend who looked quite proud.

"Thank you, Joe. You didn't need to come bearing gifts." You gave him a look as you rested the card on the table in front of you. You hadn't even felt sick since after your bath, anyhow.

"Uh, of course I did. Now shut up and try one of these. This was like, twelve dollars." Joe chuckled, reaching for a golden tin of suckers that came in elaborate flavors like ginseng, lavender, and cinnamon.

"You're out of control." You mocked, shaking your head but peering into the tin all the same. "Simply ridiculous."

"So you're saying you don't want one of these?" Joe jeered, pulling the tin away right as you started to reach in. You scoffed a laugh, moving your hand to shove his shoulder in protest.

"'Course I do! You've truly saved the day." You softened, really meaning it. You were having a really rough go of it until he showed back up. Joe reached in for a sucker and you did too, pulling one that was honey flavored. When you settled back into the sofa, happy with your choice, Joe followed suit. His shoulder pressed against yours and a new episode of Parks and Recreation was starting.

"Sorry the party was so lame." Joe pipped up, pouting as he watched the opening theme play through.

"It's okay." You decided after a beat. You could have assured him it wasn't so bad, but it wasn't great. And you really appreciated Joe's efforts to make your night more enjoyable, whether he realized that's what he was doing or not.

"Do you wanna watch something else?" You offered, suddenly realizing you had nothing left to offer him as thanks for everything. Joe shook his head and stuck in sucker in his mouth like a little kid, and you had to laugh over how much this felt like highschool. Then you settled closer near him, enjoying your candy just as well. Joe's arm fell warmly across your shoulders while a couple of episodes played through with Joe's occasional added commentary and bursts of giggles. You laughed too, but your eyes grew heavier with each passing scene. You hadn't even realized you were falling asleep until you felt Joe take your sucker from you loose grasp. Your head had fallen to his shoulder, and your eyes couldn't stay open one second longer. Parks and Rec’s familiar theme song echoed through the room as you dozed off in a flash, the easiest sleep you'd had in weeks.

///

Your home was quiet again when morning came. You were laying on the sofa with your favorite quilt gently draped over you. Joe was gone. When you stretched into the morning, you noticed a note on the coffee table, where Joe's slew of presents were left from the night before.

"Happy first day of the rest of forever. Thank's for letting me crash for a while. Maybe next week we can have a real party. This has all been an elaborate excuse to use one those fancy quill pens your mom keeps around. x o x o."

You snorted at Joe's thoughtfulness, always going out of his way to let you know how he felt. What had you done to deserve his remarkable friendship after all this time? You dwelled on the thought as you tidied up the living room and went about your day.

///

Your mother had started traveling for work. She was currently somewhere in Denver, taking photos of some happy couple. Leaving you alone to jump over the last of many legal hurdles you faced after coming back home. All you had to do was get from one place to another, delivering some business to the social security office, to confirm you were living back in the states.

The winter's thickets blanket of snow had been reduced to sheets of melting mush, but last night's bitter winds froze the mess to the ground. You waited around the house long enough for salt trucks and rush hour to wear down the roads before you hopped in the jeep your mother left behind. No big deal, you'd driven dozens of times before... just not for a while. You decided your reward for this nerve-wracking mission would be getting dinner from the best pizza place uptown.

You drove down the block with white knuckles, and onto the highway without even thinking. When you realized how far you'd safely made it, you relaxed enough to sing along to Billy Jole as you drove. This was way easier than you'd hoped.

After successfully delivering your paperwork,  you parked in the pizza place lot and ate a piping hot slice behind the wheel while scrolling through social media. Your phone was near dying when you decided to head back home.

Billy Jole was still a great company as you felt your self grow more comfortable behind the wheel. You were in complete control and everything was fine.

Until a loud unsettling POP came from somewhere outside your vehicle. Your car had obviously just blown a tire, slumping to the left in the middle of the highway. As you held your breath and tried to slow down, your remaining tires lost traction on a rouge patch of ice.

"Shitshitshitshit!"

Your car gracefully slid off the road toward a speed limit sign, scraped against the pole and spun around to a halt.

"Damn it!" You cried, tearing your white knuckles from the wheel and covering your face in your hands. Your heart was pounding and your throat closed shut, but a pathetic cry still managed to escape.

A couple of cars breezed by, leaving the highway otherwise empty while you sat trying to pull yourself together.

You weren't hurt. The radio was still blaring Scenes From An Italian Restaurant. It was a little cold, but you were okay. That's what you kept repeating over and over until your hands stopped shaking and you could breathe a little better than before.

"Oh shit." You whimpered, hopping out of the car to monitor the front left tire. The rubber smoking, peeling away from the rim. You hurried back in your car and found your phone was only at nine percent. Who were you even going to call forty minutes away from home? Oh, that's right, no one lived there anymore. Joe was in the city again. Mary was a lawyer and John-

You pulled your phone to your ear as it rang.

"Hello?"

"John? Hey, you live uptown don't you?" He said so at Christmas.

"I do! Stopping by to reminisce?" He laughed.

"I have a really huge favor to ask."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, well, I'm having some car troubles." You explained where you had been left stranded on the highway and how it all happened. How your phone was dying and you needed to call a towing service.

John promised he was right on his way, and you were able to call a service to come and get your car while you waited for a ride of your own.

His blue Buick slowed and eased off the side of the road only fifteen minutes later. John stepped into the frost-covered grass and leaned toward your open driver's window as you collected your things.

"Did you get through to a towing service?" He asked right away.

"They should be here in no time." You assured, and right as you had, a truck came creeping toward you from the other side of the road. By the time everything was sorted out and you eased into John's passenger seat, it was nearly nightfall. He cranked up the heating vents as you glanced around, noticing a car seat in the back, piled with a few bright children's books.

"Man I can't believe baby John has his own baby now." You beamed, turning to face Joe's little brother. He chuckled, stealing a glance your way while pulling back onto the road.

"Almost four, I wish he was still a baby."

"Yeah," You halfheartedly agreed. You wished you could have been around to know the families as they grew. You'd missed out on so much, and for what?

"So what's it like being back? Christmas felt like it always used too." John smiled, easy-going as always. Funny how he saved the day and went on chatting as if it wasn't a big deal, you thought. Weren't you the one supposed to be rescuing him from silly little mishaps like these? Maybe this was an all-new alternate reality.

"I was glad to be there. It had been far too long." You breathed, glancing out the window to the cold grey highway.

"Eva still feels bad for not recognizing you right away." John laughed. You couldn't help but chuckle, too.

"Oh, how could she?" You wondered. You hadn't been around. But you didn't want to dwell on that anymore. "It's not the first time someone thought I was Joe's hot date." You chuckled light-heartedly.

"I'm sure it won't be the last." John rose a brow, like he might have had more to say. But after a beat, he went on rambling about how glad he was that you'd been at the first Christmas his dad was absent from. How things felt less grim than he expected. And how he was glad to know space nor time could keep you from crashing the party.

When John dropped you off back home, you couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. You concluded that the indecision was better than falling into your usual downward spiral, and hoped things would only get better from here...

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[detroitbydark]

Have Yourself a Merry Airport Christmas (H.O.) Chp 2

Title: Have Yourself A Marry Airport Christmas

Chapter 2: You’re a Keen One, Mr. Brit.

Summary: You thought your holiday had been ruined until a handsome Brit steps in to rescue your Christmas spirit.

Word Count: 3000+

Authors Notes: This chapter is so self indulgent, particularly the beginning. I'm unrepentant. As before this remains to fluffiest of fluff. No Warnings.

Tags: @aossi​ @the-southernbelle​ @hoforhaz​ @tomsrebeleyebrow​ @skymoonandstardust​

“A bucket list? Like that thing before you die?” You ask a little incredulous. Harrison laughs, your face must show your confusion because he takes pity on you.

“Darling, I’m talking about your Christmas Bucket list.” He explains with raised brows as if it’s common knowledge.  “The things that you just can’t have a holiday without. Like, My family always watches The Polar Express-“

“I love that one! We always watched Scrooged and A Christmas Story.”

Harrison nods, his already bright eyes light up and he gives you a toothy grin. “That’s it exactly! Also, I love Bill Murray. You’ve got excellent taste.” 

It’s silly but you feel your cheeks heating up. You giggle at his praise.

“Ok, so now you tell me something on your bucket list.” He encourages. He leans his elbows on his knees waiting for your answer. You think for a moment. What were those things you had to have?

“Tourtiere” you say slowly, letting your mind roll through your families traditions.

“That’s French, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess, i think it’s more French Canadian? it’s this meat pie we eat every year on Christmas Eve. Oh! And Tom & Jerry’s!” You say enthusiastically

“A what? Like the cartoon?”

“No, no, no…it’s a drink” you laugh and Harrison smiles as you ramble on. Just talking about Christmas at home seems to magically transport you back in time. You're a child sitting on the red shag carpeting at your grandparents. Your Grampa is sneaking your pieces of chocolate out of the 5lb box he’d picked up at Sackley’s. Your Mother is shooting him dirty looks because she’s told you to eat your dinner five times already.   A virgin Tom & Jerry is cooling at your side and you use a spoon to scoop the sweet foam and eat it. The lights twinkling on your Gramma’s ancient artificial tree along with the tacky fiber optics she adored. Everything is right with the world as Bing Crosby songs a song about a White Christmas. 

“Sounds good. An American thing?.” He questions. 

You shake your head as you slip back into the present “Nah, it’s pretty specific to the part of Michigan I’m from.” Harrison is quick to make notes on his phone. 

You feel yourself wilt a little remembering that those are things you're missing as you speak. Harrison notices too, “what else? Tell me more. Don’t stop.” He pokes you gently in the shoulder, gathering your attention back.

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing” you tease, giving him a faux tight-lipped face. “Ummm...presents, of course, and hot coffee and fresh oranges or apples in the morning.”

“My mum always did pastries, sausage and eggs for Christmas breakfast.” He adds. 

“My Great Grandmother grew up during the Great Depression and they never had much for Christmas.” You explain trying to remember your Gramma’s stories, “she’d get,like, hair ribbons and pencils and would be so excited. But they lived on a dairy farm in Wisconsin so fresh fruit in the middle of winter was something crazy, especially like citrus fruit.” You can’t help but smiling at the memory. “My mom always went out and found the biggest, prettiest apples and oranges and put them in our stockings. We were allowed to go through our stockings before the adults got up but we had to wait for them to wake up to get our presents from Santa.” You pause, pulling a face “I feel like I’m talking a lot.”

Harrison moves closer so his knee is bumping against yours, “I like it. Don’t stop.” 

You chew your bottom lip trying to fight back a smile. Your gaze drops to your hands and then begins a slow scan of the gate around you. It’s cleared out a bit, you’d heard plenty of people on phones trying to secure hotel rooms and the like. There was still a good number of people around but it’s wasn’t nearly so crowded and people had more room to spread out. Some of the tension seemed to ease off too as people accepted their fate and tried to make the best of it. Nearby a few soldiers had pulled out a deck of cards and were playing what sounded like a rousing game of spades. By the window, a pair of small children race matchbox cars up and down the sill. A small tree with colored lights twinkles at the gate desk, it’s worker long since vanished.

“We put a pickle on our tree. An ornament” you clarify, not looking away from the tree. “The kid that found the hidden pickle got to open the first present”.

“I’ve heard of that.” He says scrolling through his phone and finding a picture. When he turns it, you’re greeted with one of the most gorgeous trees you’ve ever seen. It’s easily takes up the corner of the room. It’s needles are blue green. it’s full and bushy. You can almost smell the scent of pine just looking at it. White lights and gold ribbon twinkle and shine. Cream, gold, and deep burgundy ornaments cling to the branches and a bright glowing star sits at the peak just barely brushing against the ceiling.

“That’s Mum’s big tree” Harrison says proudly. “It sits by the fireplace and it’s the first thing you see when you come in. She has a smaller one she puts all of the ornaments my sister and I made over the years on. That’s where the presents go.”

You take his phone and let your fingers graze along the screen. “It’s gorgeous. I bet it looks even better in person.”

“Absolutely stunning” he agrees taking his phone back when you offer it, your fingers graze his and you feel a little spark travel through your hand. You don’t look at him but you can hear the deep breath he takes before starts speaking again “I’m...I’m missing her wassail this year. it’s like a spiced wine?.” He chuckles lightly, “now that I think of it quite a bit of our tradition involves alcohol.”

“All the best do” you offer with a wink and a nudge of your elbow.

The pair of you spend the next few hours talking about your families. You sound like a pair of excited children comparing traditions and holidays past. You reach a lull in the conversation and the two of you watch travelers mill by. Harrison inspects the list he’s been making. 

“Ok so I think we need to split up for a few? The shops are open for a bit longer and I need to get some things if we’re going to do this right.”

You laugh but realize he’s serious, “Harrison, we just met. You don’t have to do anything for me.” 

He gives you a soft look, “I want to do something to take my mind off things and if I can cheer you up while I do it? I’m pretty chuffed about the idea!” 

You can’t help the shy smile you fight back. When was the last time someone went out of their way for you. Here was an absolute stranger willing to spend his Christamas Eve and Christmas Day with the sad girl he’d just met for no other reason than to see her happy. 

“Can we just say we’re doing this for us?” He asks when you don’t respond back immediately. You nod, biting your lower lip to keep your smile at bay. Harrison doesn’t bother checking his as he pushes off the ground. He grabs your hands as he goes, pulling you up along with him. Your hands stays in his for an extra second before you pull away. He gives you a smirk, “So now we're going to split up.”

You’ve only just met him and you already feel hesitant to leave. You’ve always been accused of having an awful poker face and Harrison only confirms it. “Do you trust me?” The question startles you. 

You answer without hesitation. 

That startles you even more.

“Yes.”

“Alright then. You’re in charge of dinner tonight. I’ll take care of tomorrow, yeah?” You nod as Harrison continues, “give me your phone” he holds out his hand, palm up, and you quickly fish in your pocket. When you hand him your phone he quickly sets himself up as a contact and calls himself. “Ok, now that we can get up with each other we’ll do what we’ve got to do and meet back here in a few hours. Sound good?”

He’s wandering around one of the handful of airport shops that were still open. Today was definitely turning out to be a lot more interesting than he’d originally thought when he’d first seen his flight was canceled. He couldn’t help himself when he’d spotted you hiding under your hoodie. Alone. Like he was but so much more sad. It had radiated off you in waves and had drawn him to do something, anything to make it go away. 

He’s just finished grabbing a travel toothbrush and toothpaste. His bag was probably already at Heathrow already but regardless of where it was, he didn’t have it and he was going to need to get rid of some wicked morning breath tomorrow. His phone rings as he grabs a tiny bottle of mouthwash.  Tom’s ugly mug stares back at him before he swipes to answer it.

“Ello?”

“Harrison? Don’t tell me you got grounded.” He can hear the teasing tone in his friend's voice. Harrison picks up a Beanie Baby snowman from a display and tosses it in his hand for a moment before setting it back down. 

“Fine, I did NOT get stuck in Boston due to a stupid fucking snow storm.”

Tom laughs loudly, barking into the phone. Harrison holds it away from his ear until he’s sure he won’t rupture an eardrum listening to it. 

“Have you got a hotel. From what they’re saying on the news you’re likely to be there through tomorrow night at least. The whole north east is a mess.”

Harrison grabs some different candy bars, some bottles of water, a few various other little bits and bobs. He wishes he had a buggy because his arms are getting full. The older man at the counter catches his eye and encourages him to make a pile. Harrison nods in thanks as he unloads and starts moving around again. “Nah, I’m here for the duration I think.”

“Bullshit, I’ll make some calls-”

“Tom” Harrison interrupts before his friend can get to far ahead of him, “I’m spending Christmas here with a...friend.” The line goes silent for a moment.

“A friend…” Tom tries the words out slowly. Harrison picks up a travel sized fleece blanket and adds it to the pile along with a few things from his list. “Harrison Osterfield, you’re the only lad I know who gets snowed in at an airport and picks up a girl.”

Harrison makes a dismissive sound, “Not like that. Just two lonely souls finding one another on Christmas Eve.” It sounds a bit dramatic and cliche even to his own ears. It makes him smile.

“A proper Hallmark movie, you are” 

“Shut it Holland. She’s nice and she’s missing her family.” Harrison takes one last look around the store before handing his credit card to the cashier.  

“Well, I’m still making some calls.”

“I figured you would.”  Harrison takes his bags and fights back an eye roll. 

Tom couldn’t help himself. He was one of those people born to be a helper and, if you asked Tom himself, he’d tell you he’d been blessed with the opportunity to help and so he would. Harrison wonders idly what you would do if Tom did come through with a room. Would you come along with him or would that be the end of your budding friendship. He’d had a good time talking to you. He’d loved how your eyes lit up when you spoke of your family, even if he saw a hint of sadness when you spoke about how long it had been since you’d been home, or when you’d slipped and admitted they weren’t always supportive of your pursuits. His family was the exact opposite, so was Tom’s. It was hard to imagine any family not wanting to put all their love and strength behind someone going after their dreams. It made him want to make a night of sleeping in an airport something fun and memorable for you. 

“At this point I’m fine where I am man. Don’t worry so much. Did your Mum and Dad get in before the storms got bad?” He changes the topic to something Tom couldn’t help but talk about; his family. 

Nikki and Dom Holland were supposed to fly in with Sam and Paddy to spend the holiday in Atlanta. Harry had been with Tom for the last month. It was the first time in recent memory they’d have the whole family back together.

“Thank God! Yes! I would have been a fucking mess if they’d gotten stranded.” 

Harrison grins, “well tell them I say ‘hey’ and Merry Christmas.” 

Tom rambles on for a few minutes about the dinner Sam was cooking and marveling over how big Paddy was getting before the conversation starts winding down.  The sound of Paddy’s infectious laugh bleeds into the phone. “Hey, I’ve got a few things to do let me let you-” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Tom cuts him off. Harrison can hear him holding back his youngest brother. He hears the youngest Holland asking ‘Is that Haz? I wanna talk to Haz!’. Tom sounds out of breath and Harrison can only imagine him spinning in circles and holding his baby brother at arms length. “Tell your new lady friend, Merry Christmas for me!”

Harrison laughs as the phone goes dead. He wanders slowly back toward the meeting spot. He hadn’t noticed when he was rushing around but the airport had been neatly decorated for the holidays. Faux pine garlands hung across most shops and the occasional wreath decorated the front of the different gate attendant’s stands. 

A huge tree is simply decorated with white light and red and gold bulbs next to the massive Light up Boston sign created for tourist and instagram pictures. There’s a mother positioning a sulking teen in the gap where the ‘T’ should be.

“Come on Chad!” She encourages bringing her camera up. “Be the ‘T’. Put your arms out”. 

Harrison snickers loud enough that the kids hears him while jutting his arms straight out at his sides. He doesn’t smile but the mother seems to get the picture she wants and tells her son how excited she was to put it in her scrapbook. The kid gives her a soft smile at this. 

Harrison sees  you already back in your spot as he gets closer. You’ve got your phone held up. You must be FaceTiming your family. You’d mentioned earlier that you’d planned on doing it. He can’t help but frown at your strained smile. Your jaw is tight and your free hand is balled into a fist in your lap. 

His lips press into a firm line as crosses to you. Your eyes go wide as he appears next to you but you’re quick to turn your attention back to the woman on screen.

“I’m fine Mom. Really” you force the words out with another plastered on smile. 

“You’re sleeping in an airport, I wouldn’t actually consider that fine.” Your mother's tone is reproachful, “why didn’t you just get a hotel room. You’re always putting yourself in these situatio-“

“Mom” 

Harrison watches your cheeks flush red as he slides down into a sitting position next to you, his body just out of frame. 

“It isn’t in the budget.”

 He catches your eyes darting his way. You’re not sly. He lets his hand creep to your free one and gives it a little squeeze. You’re looking at your mother but your smile is suddenly less forced.

He feels yours fingers twine with his and give a gentle squeeze back. There’s a flurry of activity on screen and suddenly there’s other faces popping into screen, a dark haired man and a small boy’s face. Your smile widens as you see them.

 “Auntie Y/N! Merry Christmas!”

“There’s my little bud-“

“Alright Y/N. Please be safe” your mother starts, effectively cutting you off. Harrison losses site of the new comers as your mother must turns the camera from them.

“Your brother and the kids just got here” she continues in “and I’m going to get them settled in”

“Oh...ok.”  Harrison can hear the disappointment in your voice. He watches quietly as a flurry of ‘I love you’s’ flies back and forth before the screen cuts to black.

“You good, Darling?” Harrison asks after you put your phone away. 

“Perfect.” You force out. It’s clipped but you smile widely and he doesn’t want to push it. Your eyes wander to the bags at his side and you lean closer. He chuckles and tucks them behind him.

“No peeking until Christmas.” He chides. Your smile turns to something much more natural as you laugh. 

“Well fine than. You’re no fun.” You pout playfully before moving your own shopping bags into view.

Harrison watches you sit back, and begin pulling things out of a bag. “You ready for Christmas dinner?”

You dine on luke warm hot pockets that you’d instructed Harrison to pretend were meat pies. Baggies of fruit snacks are to be the substitute for cranberry sauce. He’d got a good laugh at the airport sized bottles of Baileys and rum you’d shown him hidden in your bag and stared at you curiously after everything had been packed and you’d all but dragged him through the terminal to Starbucks. You’d ordered two peppermint mochas and, as discreetly as possible, poured the contents of the bottles into each one.

“Boozy cocoa” you explained, with your arm looped in his while the pair of you strolled around the terminal. You drag him to a large window that looks out over the runways. The pair of you watch the plow trucks try to keep up with the snow.

“It’s pretty. Shitty, but pretty” you note and he laughs, watching you from the corner of his eye. The way the snow reflects the light leaves you softly lit. You're relaxed and leaning slightly into him. 

“It’s gorgeous.”