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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

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Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

#ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagines #ben chilwell #england national team imagine #chelsea imagine #footie fic #football fic #footballer fic

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years

Text

Take My Hand (Part Four)

Summary: doing what you think is best for another person never ends well (four of ??? parts - more parts to come!)

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Reader, Rafael Barba x Reader

Word Count: 7,579

Song: I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush / I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush (gold rush by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, lots of angst, but a happy ending?

A/N: thank you to all of you for reading, your comments and reblogs have kept me going! thank you to @laneygthememequeen and @bucky-of-the-opera for being the best beta readers!!

“Rafael, you don’t have to leave—” Sonny crossed his arms, as Rafael raised an eyebrow at him over his drink, sipping at his scotch mournfully, “McCoy said you could still work—”

“You know a lawyer’s reputation is everything, Carisi,” he swirled what remained of his drink in his glass, “it’s our main commodity, and mine has been taken out back and shot — by my own hand,” he downs the rest of the drink, “besides,” he sighs, “there’s nothing left for me here.”

Sonny frowns, sipping at his own drink, “What’re gonna do next?” Rafael shrugs, “I think I’ll broaden my horizons— this is the first time since before law school that I haven’t had a plan for my life — it’s just wide open.”

“And that’s?”

“Terrifying, surprising — I never thought I’d have to start over at this point in my career, but,” he leans against the counter, “it’s a change,” and then he looks over at Sonny, “and what about you?”

He furrows his brow, “What about me?”

“Are you going to apply for the opening in the D.A.’s office?” Sonny nearly chokes on his drink, “come on, Carisi, you’re more than qualified.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know — I’m not sure if I’m ready for that change quite yet, besides,” he shifts in his seat, “I heard from Liv that McCoy has someone else in mind for the job.”

“Stone?” Rafael asks, and Sonny tilts his head, “I may not be in that office, but it doesn’t change the fact that it leaks like a rusty faucet.”

“If you know that—”

“Sonny, a piece of advice,” Rafael turns to face him, one elbow on the counter, “no one job is forever — Stone may last a while, he may not — but get your name in the ring at least because the next time the position is open, they’ll look to you—”

“But—”

“You have been part of the squad, you’ve seen these cases for years, you’re an officer and you have the education to back it up,” he pulls his wallet out, waving off Carisi, and placing a few bills on the counter, “Look, you went to law school for a reason right? If you keep making excuses, you won’t be able to do the good you could do.”

Sonny knew, he knew that he should but— “I’m just afraid that I won’t be able to handle it,”

Rafael raises an eyebrow, “You are a detective in one of the toughest units in the NYPD and you went to law school at the same time — I think you’ll be fine.”

Sonny blinks, trying to hide his smile, “Thank you — for everything. I’ve appreciated you mentoring me these past years.”

Rafael gives a small chuckle at that, “You shouldn’t be thanking me,”

Sonny tilts his head, “Then who should I be thanking?”

Your name leaves his lips, and Sonny frowns, “I didn’t really want to mentor you, but with some encouragement, well—” he shrugs, “my point is there’s no need to thanks, at least not me.”

A sentence burns on his tongue, hot as the anger sitting on his chest, and I should thank the person who cut me out of their life without any to-do? But Sonny doesn’t say that, he only smiles — as always.

He didn’t want to admit how much it hurt when you left. When you didn’t say goodbye. When you quit without warning. When you left him with nothing but a note and no explanation, only the feeling of your lips on his.

But it did hurt.

Especially because he didn’t know if it was because of him. He didn’t presume himself to be that important in your life — and maybe he wasn’t with how easily you had removed yourself from his life — but what other explanation was there really?

“I should go,” Rafael slips off the stool, pulling his coat on, and he holds out his hand to Sonny, “I hope to see you again sometime, Detective,”

Sonny offers a smile, shaking his hand, “Counselor, I expect to hear things about what you do next.”

“Same to you — your name is associated with me, I can't have you sullying it, now can I?” but then he grimaces, shrugging, “well, at least the bar is low.”

“Bye, Rafael,” and he nods, disappearing out the door, and Sonny straightens his coat, walking towards the door, before glancing at the bar stool you had sat at the night he picked you up — so much had changed and in so little time.

“How long has it been, Jack?” you skip the handshake for a hug, sliding into the booth across from him.

“Far too long,” he sighs, already had ordered his own food, “I heard about the stir you’re making in the Bronx,” he splits his chopsticks, dousing in his food in a very modest amount of sriracha, as you raise a questioning eyebrow at his remark, “The Brown case — I heard an earful from the Bronx D.A. about that case.”

You shake your head, ordering yourself a soda, “It was his fault that he didn’t have proper chain of custody on that evidence—”

“I know,” Jack nods, “it was a good catch.”

“Thank you,” you smile, pleased with yourself, “although I suspect this isn’t just for you to compliment me on my exceptional work.”

“Developed an ego at No-Go?” you roll your eyes at his “loving” nickname for your firm, Noble-Gordon LLP, before shrugging, “you know you could start your own practice and make more money.”

“I could, but I also wouldn’t get some control over where their pro bono hours go,” you order your food, stirring your drink with a straw, “now what do you want McCoy? And then I can bore you with the details of my life plan.”

Jack smiles, “Always straight to the point, huh, counselor?” he leans back, “what do you think of Detective Carisi?”

You furrow your brow, “Sonny? Is something—”

“Nothing is wrong,” Jack waved you off, “but what was your opinion of him?”

You tilt your head, “As what? Detective, a barred attorney, or person?”

Jack raises an eyebrow, “Let’s start with detective, and then we’ll get to the other two,”

You pause — how could you describe Sonny? “When he first started, I didn’t know what to think of Sonny — he was eager to learn, but green,” you suppress a snort at the thought of him the unfortunate incidents of him pestering victims and suspects alike, “but despite that, he was always willing to learn, quick on his feet. He was good with the victims, maybe not at first, but he’s a seasoned detective now, and I have confidence in his skills.”

“And as an attorney?”

“Well, I never was around to see him get barred,” and you feel a twinge of guilt crawl up your throat — you had promised to help him study, promised to help him celebrate — you didn’t do either, “but when he applied his legal knowledge to cases we worked on together and while shadowing at the Manhattan office, he showed aptitude, skill, and passion.”

“And as a person?”

You smile softly, “Sonny is kind, to a fault, but he’s practical, he knows there are grays to S.V.U. cases — he’s seen them firsthand. He knows how to handle tough cases, while having the empathy to handle victims,” Jack nods, sipping at his drink, “now I assume you’re asking for a reason?”

“Stone resigned,” Jack sighs, “effective immediately — and we’re looking for someone to get their foot in the door — quick.”

“Peter? What—”

“It wasn’t the right fit,” he shook his head, “he’s landing on his feet — don’t worry.”

You frowned, you didn’t know Peter personally, but you had heard stories of him and his father — both were legendary, “I’m sorry to hear that, but,” you tilt your head, “you’re considering Sonny for the position?”

“Yes, and now hearing what you had to say, I think I will," and you smile, "after an interview, of course."

"Of course," you shake your head, "I remember interviewing with you."

He raises an eyebrow, "And?"

"I think I convinced myself you thought I was a moron, until you gave me the offer after a week," he shrugs.

"Had to make you sweat," he purses his lips, "do you regret saying yes?"

You glance at the bar, a frown pressing onto your lips, "I regret a lot of things," and your food arrives at the table, and you break your chopsticks, smiling, "but never that."

You were not happy.

You hurried up the steps of the Manhattan courthouse — steps you had hoped you wouldn’t have had to hurry up ever again — not only had this case been unceremoniously dumped on the firm with a notice of one whole day, but it had been shafted to you with a whole two hours notice after one of your junior associates called out sick.

Sick or hungover? You couldn’t tell over from the 4:00 AM message left on your voicemail, but by the sounds of the clinking glasses in the background — they certainly didn’t have the flu.

This was not only the son of one of your firm’s biggest clients — the firm practicing not only criminal defense but also some business law matters. It was a simple case — a white first time offender on a petty marijuana possession — he would likely get no jail time, and get time served at most — with an expungement in the near future.

But that wasn’t the problem.

The crime was committed and the son charged in the jurisdiction of Manhattan, so that meant this was in a Manhattan courtroom, one that you hadn’t stepped into in what — two, nearly three years?

And on top of it all, there was the matter of who the prosecutor was. A silent curse muttered under your breath as you rushed to the courtroom — and it was someone you hadn’t seen in about the same amount of time.

Why a sex crimes prosecutor was covering for a narcotics case — you didn’t know, but you figured it was either a chance to learn the ropes in different departments or the D.A. needed someone to cover, and the new guy drew the short straw.

Just your luck.

You stood outside the courtroom, catching your breath, your heart thumping against your ribs — and you didn’t know whether it was from the running or from the fact you were about to see Sonny again for the first time in three years after you kissed him.

And he didn’t know you were coming.

Fuck it, you pulled open the door, stepping inside.

And you saw him— standing where Rafael and you once stood, his eyes first lying on his notes, but drawn to the noise of the creaking door and your footsteps against the marble floor.

You try not to look at him. You can’t help it, as you pass him by you catch a glimmer of his reaction — shock scrawled plainly across his face, eyes widened and nearly slack jawed.

“Your Honor, I apologize to you and to my client, ” you spare a small smile to the privileged 18-year-old, Jason Baker, beside you, before your eyes flicker over to Sonny — dress in a pressed suit, his hair slicked back, lips no longer curled in the smile he once had for you, but instead, in a thin line, “ as well as A.D.A. Carisi. I was only informed of this case this morning and I rushed here as soon as I could—”

“Yes, I understand,” Judge Lopez nods — Lopez being a judge you had dealt with many a time on cases — tough, but always fair, a definite leftist progressive (even by New York standards), “Do you need a moment to confer with your client?”

“Just a moment,” you confirmed the details of the case with Jason, before nodding, “I think we’re ready to proceed.”

The hearing went without much to-do, both of you agreeing to meet about a plea agreement to settle this case out of court. You promised your client you would meet with him after, as Sonny began to make a beeline out of the courtroom.

You barely caught up to him, on the heels of him striding toward the elevators, jaw set, “Sonny—”

“Counselor,” he replied coolly, and you frowned, “do you want to set a time for your client’s plea agreement?”

“Yes, but—” the elevator dings and he steps in without another word.

“I’ll send you and your office an email,” his smile is curt and cordial, but his words have an edge to them, “nice to see you again.”

And the doors shut.

So, you stare at the closed elevator doors, he was mad.

"Can you believe—"

Rollins sighs, leaning back against her sofa, head resting against the top, "No I can't, Carisi, just like I couldn't the first twenty times," she murmurs under her breath.

He pauses, his jaw tight, “Am I annoying you?”

“No, Sonny, but—” she gestures for him to sit, “you’re stressing me out with all that pacing, can you sit down?”

Sonny collapsed into a chair, arms crossed and leg still bobbing up and down, “I always thought about what I would say when I saw—” he cuts off, “it was like no time had passed, acting like nothing had happened—”

Amanda raises an eyebrow, “What did happen between you two?” Sonny falls silent, his eyes falling to the carpeted floor, “this is what I mean, you’re telling me half of the story and expecting me to have a reaction,” she pushes his knee, “what happened?”

He said nothing, and Amanda sighs, “When I gave you the sweatshirt, you barely said anything, and now you’re not saying anything when you saw—” a cry breaks her sentence off, and they listen as the baby settles back down, “You know I always knew you had a thing for—”

“I didn’t have a thing—” he cuts off when he sees her raise an eyebrow, “okay maybe I did, but it has nothing to do with this—”

“If it doesn’t, then why are you mad?”

“I’m mad,” his voice raises, before she shushes him, and he sighs, apologizing, “I’m angry because I didn’t get a goodbye.”

You were gone.

You were gone before he woke up. You were gone from S.V.U. before he came in. You were gone from your apartment when he came knocking — moved out.

And he was only left with a note and a sweatshirt.

He continues, “I didn’t get a goodbye, but guess who recommended me for the A.D.A. position?”

It hadn’t been long enough since the last time he had thought about you. And the last time was his interview for the A.D.A. position.

“I’ll cut to the chase, son,” Jack said, making Sonny sit up straighter in his chair — he had spent the last forty-five minutes trying to impress Jack McCoy only for him to cut the chase now, “You know I’m not the type to mince my words, so I’ll ask you the question that really matters — why should we hire you over other candidates with more experience?”

This was the question he was dreading — he fought the urge to tug at his collar or wipe the palms down the front of his pants.

“Honestly, sir, I’ve thought about this question a lot, and yes, I don’t have the legal experience of some of the other candidates,” he didn’t — he had shadowing, he had done clinics, but he hadn’t practiced since being barred, “but I know S.V.U. — more than any of your candidates because I’ve seen these cases firsthand. Not only have I seen the cases, the victims, but I’ve worked with the team — I know the ins and the outs, and I’ve worked with A.D.A.s before—” he nearly flinched at the thought of you, “I know what I’m getting into — I know a lot of cases aren’t a win and I know we have to push sometimes, and I’m not afraid to do that,” he swallows, his throat dry — unable to discern the expression on Jack’s face, “You’ll have to train any candidate you have — whether they have practiced or not, especially when it comes to S.V.U., but you will have to teach one less thing, and it’s the most important one.”

And after the longest moment, he smiles, and Sonny can barely hear what he says over his blood roaring in his ears, “I think you’re right,”

“You do?”

Jack laughs, “Don’t sound so surprised, Dominick,” he tilts his head, “after hearing you talk about your work in and out of the department, I thought you would have more faith in yourself.”

And you would think that but—

“I’ll work on that,”

Jack smiles, clearing his throat, “Based on that and the recommendation I received from who you shadowed—”

He frowns, “You talked to someone I shadowed?”

When your name leaves his lips, he blinks, “Haven’t you spoken—”

Not since leaving my apartment and disappearing, “Not in a long time,” he gives a tight smile, “How are—”

“Doing great at Noble-Gordon as a defense attorney in the Bronx — giving the Bronx D.A. hell,” he smiles with pride, and he remembers how you had told him that McCoy had been one of your mentors, the man who had helped you become the attorney you are today — and now he was Sonny’s boss, “Better them than us, right?”

“Sonny—” Amanda’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

He gets to his feet again, walking towards the window, “Leaves, and then thinks to interfere in my life, doesn’t even bother to reach out, I haven’t heard a thing in years — years — but still gives me a recommendation,” he gives a bitter chuckle, “apparently our friendship meant that little.”

Apparently he had meant that little.

“I’m sorry, Sonny,”

He shakes his head, “What are you sorry for?” he asks, getting to his feet — I got kissed. I got cut out. And I didn’t even get an explanation — “Nothing happened.”

“I want jail time,” your head snaps up at the sound of Sonny’s voice, closing the door behind him, as you sat waiting in his office — the one that was next door to your old one, “at least six months.”

“What?” No greeting, no handshake, no smile — that much you half-expected, but jail time— “it’s a first time offense, and it’s not 1980, we’re not in the war on drugs—”

Sonny slides into his chair across from you his hands folded, “Counselor, your client isn’t an innocent school boy — he is an adult—”

“Barely, he just turned 18—”

“Exactly my point, he’s an adult, and—”

“And no competent attorney would ever take that deal—”

Sonny leans back in his seat, “Well a competent attorney would consider any deal in front of them, wouldn’t they?”

And your eyes narrow, “My client will not accept anything more than probation with no jail time, and hell, maybe we'll even throw in drug tests in, but anything more is a disgrace to the legal system,”

“Then I guess a jury can decide,” his jaw is set, and you see the quiet anger in his eyes — frigid as an icy lake, one that you were currently drowning in. His chair screeches as he moves to rise, and you stop him.

“We both know this isn’t about the case, Sonny,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my prosecutorial authority?”

“Are you trying to send a barely adult first time offender to jail when it makes absolutely no sense?” he grits his teeth, “is that justice? Is that what you’ve learned in S.V.U.?”

“I’m sorry that I’m not playing soft ball with you, counselor—”

“I’m sorry that you’re trying to take your anger at me out on my client,” you snap, rising from the table. And it snaps him into silence, his eyes falling to his notes, brow furrowed, mouth a thin line. Your anger simmers slowly, but as you speak again, your voice is even, but tempered, “The way I see it — we have three options — one, get over yourself and let us make a reasonable plea agreement; two, I get someone else from my office to handle this; or three, we work out our issues like fucking adults and move on with this agreement,”

His voice is quiet when he speaks, “So are we finally going to act like adults now?”

You waver, “Sonny—”

“After you cut me out with no explanation and left, I didn’t realize now we could act like adults,” he flips shut his leather folder, “I apologize for my behavior — maybe you’re right, someone else from your office should handle—”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off, and he doesn’t look up, “I’m so sorry, Sonny, I didn’t mean to—” you swallow, fuck, “I thought — I thought it would be easier after—”

“Easier? For you or for me?”

The truth cut deep, especially when you know it was true, “You’re right — I know, what I did,” you sigh, “It was awful — I was so embarrassed after how I treated you, after I kiss—” you break off, “I know I have a lot of things to make up for, but I want you to know that I didn’t cut you off because of anything you did — even if you know that already — it was me, I didn’t want to burden you—”

“How did you think cutting me off wasn’t going to burden me?” his words are softer, but sharper, digging into your chest with the guilt you knew was yours only to bear, “how did you think losing one of my friends wasn’t going to— you kissed me after I picked you up, and then nothing for three years. Nothing.”

“I wanted to call, I wanted to text—”

“Then why didn’t you?” and you wonder if this is how a suspect felt when they were being interrogated by him, but surely his eyes weren’t nearly this glassy with emotions then, “You promised me — you promised me you would be there for me—”

Your voice breaks, “Sonny—”

“Do you know the hell I’ve gone through?” His voice is quiet, “do you know?”

And you didn’t, “I don’t,” your words are quiet. “Because you’re right — it was easier, after what happened — not with you — with everything else, it was easier to cut ties and move on. It was easier to pretend none of it happened,” you admit, “but it wasn’t right — and I can’t change that. But I’m sorry,” you add, “and I know I have a lot of making up to do, if we ever can get to that point again, I would like to try.”

His expression is inscrutable — and you know Sonny has changed, you could read him so easily before — an open book who’s pages that you had familiarized yourself with, his emotions scrawled clearly across his brow, nose, lips, and eyes. And now you could barely make out a single word.

“Try?”

“Try to be your friend,” you bite your lip, wringing your hands in your lap, “I missed you, Sonny, and I know I don’t have a right to say that, but I did. And seeing you has only made me realize how shitty I’ve been — please?”

A frown pulls at his lips, and he wavers, before rising, tucking his folder into his briefcase, “Probation with weekly drug tests, and I want him do some community service—”

“But—”

“He’s spent years with a silver spoon in his mouth — let’s try to fix that,” and you tilt your head, hiding a smile.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” you get up too, beginning to pack up your things even as you watch him turn to the door, “Can we discuss it over lunch? My treat.”

He pauses, his back turned, “I’m a little busy these next few weeks,”

You wave him off, feeling your chest squeeze, rejection stinging — as it should, as you deserve — “Of course," nothing was that simple — trust was easy to lose, hard to get back.

“But how about I call you?” you blink, as he looks over his shoulder, there’s a hint of a sigh in his throat, a certain sort of begrudged reluctance, but still an almost undetectable smile ghosts his lips — and you’ll take it.

“You got it,” But it wasn’t impossible to earn trust back. Your heart swells with hope, your hand brushing as your hand moves to hold the door open — and you would get it back, one way or another.

“Penny for your thought, counselor?” Sonny’s head snaps up, finding you standing, suit jacket slung over your arm, a smile on your lips, “I would say a dollar, but I know you took quite a pay cut compared to your old job.”

“But I could make a buck prosecuting you for stalking,” and you scoff, looking at the table strewn with pages of briefs and yellow legal pads marked in reds, blacks and blues. It had been your fifth time running into him the last few weeks — and you had weaseled your way into conversations, though not a lunch. You were trying to earn his trust back, and you had gotten a little closer each time, but it didn’t mean it was all over and done with.

The distrust still sat squarely in his expression — but this time it was being overwritten by something else — stress.

You gape at him, affronted, “Forlini’s was mine before it was yours, thank you very much,” you gesture to the seat across from him, he grunts, nodding and you slide in, “I think I can settle for joint custody if you can.”

“I’d fight ya on it, but,” he sighs, eyes flickering back to his notes, “I got my hands full already.”

You purse your lips when you see the heaviness in his brow, “What’s wrong?”

He gives a grim smile, “You already know what’s wrong,”

Yes, you knew it well — your first tough case had the ability to unravel you to pieces, especially one from S.V.U., “Well, the facts aren’t any different when you’re the prosecutor versus the detective,”

“But the job is completely different,” he shakes his head, covering his face, before wiping his palm down it, “and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You frown, “Have you eaten?”

“Eating isn’t the problem,” he shoves his papers aside, a few wrinkling and falling under the booth, the legal pad slamming against the end of the booth. He squeezes his eyes shut, before relaxing, “sorry, I—”

“No, trust me,” you catch a glimpse of the photos of one of the victims — a bruised and battered girl no older than fifteen, “I get the frustration, but you know there’s only so much you can do in these cases.”

“I’m not doing enough,” he leans on his elbow, his fist pressed to his mouth, before resting it against his forehead, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I have my first grand jury tomorrow and I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“Sonny,” you resist the urge to reach out to him, “you can do this.”

“You would say that,” he mutters, and you tilt your head, “you recommended me for the job, McCoy told me.”

“I didn’t recommend you — Jack was already looking at you, he asked for my opinion and I gave it,” you raise an eyebrow, “do I need to tell you now?”

He shakes his head, “I—”

“Sonny,” he looks up at you, “I have not an inch of doubt in your abilities — I’ve seen you grow as a detective and as a law student, and now,” you smile softly, “I’ve seen you grow as an attorney the last few weeks. You are ready — you know why?”

He sighs, his hands folded on the table, “Because of my training?”

“No,” you say, and he frowns, “because you are sensitive and kind, but you are also tough — tough enough to make the hard calls,” your hand brushes his tentatively, hovering before settling, “weren’t you nervous before becoming a detective? When you were a cop?”

“I was, but I was confident, bordering on arrogant — I always went in, guns blazing, so to speak,” he adds, shaking his head at the implication, “now, I’m—”

“Now you’re cautious — it comes with experience, that’s normal and good — overconfidence bites you in the ass, every time,” you squeeze his hand, “you will do great — and more importantly,” he raises his gaze to meet yours, “you will do your job and do it well — and that’s all you can do.”

He purses his lips, “You really believe in me?”

You scoff at his disbelief, “Sonny, I’ll always bet on you — every single time,” his gaze softens, a smile gracing his lips and your stomach flips when he squeezes your hand back.

“Thank you,” his words are as soft as his touch, his fingers intertwined with yours for a moment, and your eyes flicker across his face — how was it you never realized just how beautiful he was?

And the moment is broken when he pulls his hand away, gathering all his materials and slipping them into his bag, “If you need any help—”

He frowns, “Y’know as well as I do that these cases are—”

“I meant with your self-esteem or advice about how to phrase questions — no specifics and no actual questions,” you cross your arms, “I know about confidentiality and professional responsibility, counselor — I have been at this longer than you have. You could afford to take my advice.”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing, “Pulling seniority? You’re not at the D.A.’s office anymore,”

“But I know your boss,” you tease right back, and he rolls his eyes, as you lean forward, “and it’s ‘counselor’ to you,”

He dares forward, “Well, counselor,” he replies, lips curled in a smile, “I’ll take it under advisement, and I’ll give my boss your best,” And he slips from the booth, pausing only to add, “do this again?”

And you can’t hide your smile, “Next week?”

He nods, slipping out of the doors from Forlini’s and you watch him, your eyes falling across the bar — and the two seats where you had sat, now reupholstered and refurbished — and then back again to the door he left from, before turning back to your booth. As you sat, his smile and the faint fluttering left in your chest, a smile you couldn’t stave off

Things really did change, didn’t they?

“Trial’s in a few weeks?” and Sonny nods, Rollins sips at her drink, “you have to testify, Amanda?”

“Unfortunately,” she jerks a thumb towards Sonny, setting her drink down on the counter of the bar, “he’s been prepping me and it’s somehow worse than Barba.”

The sting of his name hurt less, your easy smile not wavering, “I find that hard to believe,”

“Oh believe me,” Amanda turns to Sonny, who sips at his drink sheepishly, “how long did we practice yesterday?”

“Not important,” he brushes her remark off, as you and Amanda share a look and chuckle, “I just want to be ready — Hadid has been all over me about this trial. If she’s been looking for an excuse to fire me, this would be the perfect one.”

“Hey,” your hand finds his, “you’re going to do great. You have practiced your closing a thousand times — I’ve heard it half a million times — you know what the points you have to make are. I know you’re ready.”

He squeezes your hand back, smiling softly, “Thank you,” and butterflies bloom under his steady gaze, before he slips from the stool, “I’m going to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” his hand grazes your back before he finds his way to the restroom.

You sip at your drink, before you find Amanda staring at you. You frown, placing the drink down, “What?”

“What’s going on between you two?”

You wrinkle your brow, as Amanda scratches her brow, her lips pursed.“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to get involved, but,” she craned her neck to check if Sonny was gone, “I know something happened between you two before you left,” Your head snaps to your drink, biting your lip, “I may be a detective, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you two, whatever this is,” she gestures, “it’s not just a friendship,”

You blink — but wasn’t it? “But—”

“I don’t know how you feel, but I’m not blind,” she tilts her head, trying to catch your gaze, “just don’t hurt him okay?”

“Amanda—”

“I don’t need to hear specifics about what happened,” she shrugs, “I just want him to be okay ‘cause he may not be my partner now, but he is my best friend.”

You nod, “Of course, I won’t, Amanda — I care about him too.”

But it was complicated.

It was simple before — but it was different — you were in love with someone else — blinded. Sonny was your friend, one of your closest, but a friend nonetheless. Your stomach didn’t flip when you saw him, you didn’t text him so often, there weren't brief touches that you wished would last forever — like there was now.

And you couldn’t deny it forever.

Amanda chuckles, shaking her head, “I can’t believe I just said Carisi is my best friend,”

You smile, “Guess he really grew on you after he shaved the ‘stache,”

Amanda raised her eyebrows, snorting, “Like an infection,”

You grinned, sipping at your drink, “What are you two laughing at?” and both of you share a smile, “what?”

“Nothing, Sonny,” Amanda waves him off, “I gotta go — babysitter’s time is almost up, and I have to check on the girls,” Amanda nods at you, “It was nice to see you again, counselor.”

“Same here, Amanda,” and she nods at Sonny, slipping from the bar, as he takes her seat, leaning against the counter, his knee brushing yours. The low light of the bar catches in his eyes, a dark blue that makes your heart stutter a moment as his lips curl into a smile. And you remember the moment you kissed him.

“Now what?” you blink, biting your lip.

Would it be so bad to fall in love with him?

To fall in love with an A.D.A. again? Falling into old habits?

“Walk me home?”

And fall you would.

~~~

It wasn’t a walk so much as it was a subway ride away and a walk to your apartment, “Do you ever miss the D.A.’s office?” and you spare a glance at Sonny.

“Why? Want another person bossing you around the office?” he chuckles, licking his lips.

“When you put it like that,” and you laugh, “no, I just mean—”

“You mean if I ever miss being on the right side of justice?” and he opens his mouth to retort, “I’m joking, Sonny — I mean criminal defense is a different way I can do justice — I get to take on a lot of the firm’s pro bono work and I get to help people who are at the lowest points of their lives put it back together.”

“Even murderers?” he frowns.

You bite your lip, “You saw the Ortiz case on the news didn’t you?” Ortiz, a husband who murdered his wife in cold blood — or that was the story the media and prosecutors’ were selling, “Did you read his interview?”

He raises an eyebrow, “No?”

“It turns out his wife had been abusive for years — verbally, emotionally, and physically—” your shoes scrape against the pavement, “he snapped when she turned it on their son.”

“Is that an excuse—”

“Yes, by law it is — it isn’t premeditated murder, it’s manslaughter,” you slip your hands into your pockets, “but even then, do people get any better locked up in cages?”

“Do you think they should be—”

“Walking free and clear? No,” you look up at the sky, “but you know in Sweden — they have one of, if not the, lowest recidivism rates? They have less than 4,000 prisoners, compared to America’s millions. It’s because they focus on rehabilitation, not punishment. Instead of locking up people in tiny cells and inhumane conditions, they give them care in all aspects of their lives — education, psychological help, medical — everything,” Sonny opens his mouth to interject, and you hold your hands up, “I’m not saying all people are capable of reform — but a lot of them are, and don’t we owe people that chance?”

“But with S.V.U.—”

“With S.V.U., it’s more complicated — I won’t deny that, rapists are more likely to victimize again compared to other crimes,” you shake your head, “I don’t have all the answers, but I know locking people up and having them be victimized in prison isn’t the answer,” you offer a small smile, “but to answer your question, I miss the people, but I’m happy where I landed. I think it’s the right place for me.”

“How do you know? I mean, how do you know it’s the right place?”

You shrug, “You just feel it after some time—” you tilt your head, “where’s this coming from?”

Sonny sighs, “I got a big case coming up in a week,” his hands slipped into his pockets, “My first trial.”

“Hadid letting you off the leash?” he barks out a laugh.

“Barely,” he shakes his head, “not that I blame her — this job, I swear I come home more tired than I did chasing down perps.”

“That seems like a stretch, and hindsight bias,” you add, elbowing him before rubbing your shoulders, biting back a shiver — wearing only a suit coat out was a mistake, “besides I know you can handle it.”

He unwraps his scarf, as you open your mouth to protest, but the scarf is already around your neck, and you can’t help but smile — it smells like him — “Sometimes I think you have more faith in me than I do,”

“I have enough faith in you for the both of us,” you pull the scarf snug around yourself, resisting the urge to bury your nose in it. You bite your lip, “is the gallery open to the public?”

“Think so,” he nods.

“Do you want me to be there in court?” the words come out carefully — afraid to cross a line you weren’t sure was there.

“Watching the case?”

“Just the verdict,” you say, “I didn’t get to be there for you when you passed the bar or when you got hired at the D.A.’s office — we could get dinner after — guilty verdict or not.”

“Not gonna disappear on me for three years, are you?” you flinch, and he sighs, “sorry that came out wrong—”

“It’s okay,” you smile ruefully, “I kind of deserved it, but,” you add, “I’m not going anywhere — and this time I mean it.”

The quiet settled over you both for a moment, and you knew he was going to ask — you knew he was working up the courage to do so, “Why did you leave?” you cross your arms, “you don’t—”

“I want to,” you shake your head — and you could see Rafael’s smile, feel his touch, and see his heart break — “It’s just complicated.”

“So complicated that you had to leave?” he pressed, and you nodded.

“I didn’t want to — but I had to,” you glance at him, see his brows knit together, “but the one thing I regretted and I will always regret is leaving you too, and I promise, I won’t do it again,” you reach for his hand, your fingers intertwining, just as you reach the doorstep of your apartment, “you can hold me to that.”

He stares down at you, the flickering light of your apartment barely illuminating his face, but a soft smile on his lips, “I will, sweetheart,” and warmth bloomed in your stomach — no, you really couldn’t deny it anymore could you? But he squeezes your hand, stepping back, “See you in a week?”

You lick your lips, heart thumping in your ears — you nod, “Yeah,” you feel his coat around your shoulders, “oh your scar—”

He waves you off, “Keep it,” he walks down your steps, turning around, pointing a finger at you, grinning, “But make sure Rollins isn’t the one bringing it by.”

You hear the humor in his voice and smile, “No promises.”

And you spare one more glance at his returning back, before slipping inside your apartment building and into your apartment. Your fingers fisted in the soft red cotton of his scarf — your cheeks and heart warm.

Oh, what were you getting yourself into?

Sonny tried not to glance behind him — you still hadn’t arrived. His nerves were shot after this week — everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong.

Of course it did — it did little to inspire faith in himself, or in Hadid for that matter.

“All rise,” Judge Abbas said, and Sonny had to stop himself from jumping to his feet — he knew, he knew in his gut that he had given his best case, though this case was sticky to begin with, “Foreperson of the jury, what say you on the charge of rape in the second degree?”

Sonny’s heart jumped into his throat, blood roaring in his ears, and he barely caught the verdict, mouth dry — the feeling of the victims’ gazes boring into the back of his head.

“We find the defendant guilty,” and he nearly couldn’t believe it — he had done it, they had done it. The judge announces they will reconvene for sentencing in two weeks. He turns around, shaking the hands of the victims, thanking them for their testimony, sparing one glance at the defendant.

Adneradline and relief is pumping through him, his chest lighter — he had done it, he had gotten justice.

And then he sees you — through the crowd, you’re standing by the door, smiling brightly at him, mouthing congratulations, jerking your head and slipping from the courtroom. He nearly trips over himself to get to you, trying to maintain decorum as he leaves through the double doors. He slips by people he knows and those he doesn’t until finally he finds you in a discrete corner of the courthouse, away from prying eyes and reporters.

“Sonny, I’m so proud of you,” you say, your hands on his shoulders, your lips curled in a smile he hoped that was just for him, “I knew you could do it,”

And you did — you had told him he could do it time and time again when he didn’t believe in himself, you had been there for him, as you promised to be.

Everything slows for a moment.

And he couldn’t help think you were the only one he needed to believe in him, to be by his side, the one he wanted to tell good news first, the one he wanted to wake up beside in the morning. He’s breathless as he looks at you, and you seem to realize — the air between you two becoming thick, as he looms closer, a bag on your arm, slipping to your fingers now.

“Sonny,” you breathe, as you tilt your head upwards to look into his eyes.

And he knows this may be a mistake — the last time he kissed you, you disappeared, and every relationship he’s had has ended in disaster, but he can’t bring himself to care — not when he could kiss you again.

“Can I kiss you?” the words slip past his lips without much to-do, and he has to stop himself from biting his tongue or stumbling back, especially when you nod, and his lips crash to yours.

His kiss is still hesitant, and so are you, your lips parting and meeting again and again — chaste, but he tasted you — and he swore he never tasted anything like you before, nothing so sweet. And he pulls away a moment, eyes fluttering and he sees your eyes do the same. And his heart is in his throat again — what if you thought it was a mistake?

But you only smile, your warm hand cupping his cheek, the bag slipping from your fingers, as the other intertwines with his fingers, “Where do you think you’re going?”

And you kiss him again, and he doesn’t hold back this time, his arms wrapping around you, tugging you impossibly closer, smiling against your lips. And he couldn’t help but think — as warmth bloomed in his stomach, your fingers curling in his hair — how did he ever get so lucky?

#sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #sonny carisi imagines #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagines #svu #svu imagines #law and order: svu #svu fanfiction

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rovelae · 3 years

Text

Behind the Scenes of “Hologram”

Today marks exactly one year since I posted arguably my most popular fic. “Hologram” is a postgame Saiouma one-shot about escapism, loneliness, and running away from the past. I put a lot of myself into this fic and I’m blown away by all the love it’s received, not only on AO3 but in Discord servers and other social media. All that excitement made me keep thinking about it, so I thought I’d share a (very self-indulgent) behind-the-scenes of sorts about how I wrote it, as well as what I think of the story.

This essay will contain spoilers for the whole fic, so if you’d like to read it first, you can find it here. Of course, if the tags scare you off, that’s valid, but you might want to skip this post too since I’ll be quoting it throughout (so, just to be safe, expect the warnings I’ve posted on AO3 to apply here too).

If you’re a Lorde fan you’ll recognize the lyrics in the fic summary – “Nothing’s wrong when nothing’s true,” from “Buzzcut Season.” The inspiration for this fic came to me while I was on my way to an early shift at work, and I needed a good song in my head to give me the will to live for the next eight hours. Not sure why I chose that song in particular, but maybe part of it is because I like imagining stories to go along with the songs I listen to, like AMVs playing in my head, and I’d never been able to pin down exactly what this song reminded me of.

The mood of the music is really what compelled me – there’s something lonely about it, and the lyrics sound like the singer’s trying to convince herself that everything’s okay even when all evidence points otherwise. There are “explosions on TV”, and “The men up on the news / They try to tell us all that we will lose,” but “we live beside the pool / Where everything is good.” Despite everything going wrong, despite the notes of fear creeping into the pre-chorus, the character will “play along… in a hologram with you” and “never go home again.”

From there, it was an easy jump to “postgame Saiou” and that was that.

There’s a cloud of seagulls hovering in the air around him, and a dozen or so more standing just out of reach, staring him down with beady black eyes. Kokichi takes a slice of bread from the loaf he’s holding and tosses it to one of the birds, watches it catch it and stumble under the weight, watches its head bob as it tries to swallow the whole thing at once. It gets remarkably far before four other birds descend on it, shrieking wildly.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbles into his folded arms, wondering if Shuichi would get the reference.

He really wishes Shuichi was here.

Kokichi upends the rest of the loaf of bread onto the sidewalk and laughs at the resulting chaos until his chest aches.

To start off, I wanted to create the same lonely mood from “Buzzcut Season” in Kokichi’s simulation. He’s not exactly trapped there, but he’s refusing to leave, because as long as he’s on the fake Jabberwock Island, he can pretend the killing game never happened. The trade-off to that escapism is that the only people he can talk to are the NPCs, who aren’t complex enough to be remotely interesting to him, and Usami, who… well, tries her best, but is more of an informational / moderation program and can’t offer him what a therapist could.

The only thing Kokichi has to look forward to is Shuichi, who he’s convinced is an extremely lifelike computer program rather than the real thing, because the real Shuichi would definitely hate him for everything that happened during the killing game. He’s so locked into this line of logic that he doesn’t let himself consider that Shuichi has forgiven him – he doesn’t even have a good answer for why the Future Foundation wouldn’t just keep the supposed Shuichi AI on indefinitely, believing it’s their way of baiting him into leaving the simulation.

It’s not a healthy or sustainable lifestyle in the slightest, but Kokichi stubbornly refuses to do anything but wander the islands aimlessly, passing the time with ice cream and feeding seagulls until the next time he can see Shuichi.

He dreams that DICE is here in the simulation with him, smiling and carefree as they explore the weird music venue. One of them has gotten the karaoke machine working, and another found a box of kazoos and maracas in the back room. Kokichi already pities anyone unfortunate enough to walk by the building tonight.

“Not going to sing, Joker?” one of his DICE asks (over the sound of their youngest member shrieking through seven kazoos at once), sitting on the bench next to him.

“Some games are more fun to watch than play,” he answers, leaning back on his hands and sighing.

“Like a killing game.”

The warm dream-atmosphere turns cold then, and Kokichi’s head snaps over to look at him—but his brother is gone and Kaito’s looking back at him instead, blood in his teeth and face ashen pale.

“You... we don’t have to do this, man,” Kaito says, but it’s a lie and they both know it, and he doesn’t want to look behind him because he knows the machine’s looming over him with its unyielding steel and slow slow slow descent—

“You’re not real,” he snaps at dream-Kaito, who doesn’t respond except to lift him up again. “Nothing’s real, none of—PUT ME DOWN! LET GO OF ME! DON’T PUT ME BACK IN THERE!”

“Death is more mercy than you deserve,” Kaito says, and Kokichi claws and bites and kicks his way out of Kaito’s grasp like a wild animal, only to end up in front of a prison cell full of—

DICE, his beloved DICE, trapped and hurt and afraid, bloodied and beaten and helpless.

“Why didn’t you save us, boss?” says his second-in-command, clutching the bars with bleeding hands. “Why didn’t you do more? Now we’re all dead and it’s because of you.”

Moments like this are my reference to Buzzcut Season’s pre-chorus, where the not-okay starts to creep into the illusion. Despite Kokichi’s valiant efforts to forget, he’s still dealing with the aftermath of seeing his family hurt and in danger, watching his friends die, orchestrating the deaths of two of them, being killed himself— and then being told every bit of it was made up to entertain an audience who sees nothing wrong with that picture. Running away is not the way to heal from trauma, and one day soon it’s all bound to come crashing down around him.

“Do you know what this … island paradise represents, Kokichi?” [Hinata] asks, and Kokichi’s really not in the mood for a lecture but he continues anyway. “Jabberwock Island … was the setting for the fiftieth season of Danganronpa. The golden anniversary, they called it. It was my season.”

Kokichi hunches over, hugging his arms over his torso and stifiling a scream. He does not want to think about this right now—

“They wanted it to be the best season of all, which, unfortunately for us, meant it was also the bloodiest,” Hinata says. “Twice as many participants, deadly traps hidden across each of the islands— they even changed the way the motives worked, like when they told Fuyuhiko to cut out his own eye so Peko could have a quick death instead of suffering for days.”

“Do I look like your therapist, porcupine-head?” Kokichi hisses. A sharp pain is pounding into his skull, and there’s a bitter, metallic taste at the back of his throat. A taste like poison and blood.

“There was so much going on that the simulation malfunctioned,” Hinata says. “When people died, their Ultimate talents downloaded themselves into me. I’m told that the stress of so many personality grafts came close to liquefying my frontal lobe. I’m lucky I woke up at all… especially considering more than half of the others didn’t.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Kokichi grates out through the static building in his head. If he opens his eyes, will he see the beach or the dull chrome of the machine closing in on him?

“Because I know how much you want to forget about what happened,” Hinata says. “Believe me, I get it.”

….

“These things that happened to us… we can’t erase them, no matter how much we want to. Some things have to be remembered.”

I’d mostly like to leave Hajime’s season up to interpretation, but there are a couple things I wanted to say about it. I imagine Danganronpa is like the Hunger Games in that it’d go all out for big anniversaries. So, there were twice as many participants for the Jabberwock Island beatdown that was probably subtitled “Bloodbath Bay” or something equally appealing. The game’s formula changed from a focus on the mystery and the trials to “look at all these kids massacring each other a la Lord of the Flies,” and since the VR system wasn’t equipped to handle that many people and their deaths, it malfunctioned, giving Hajime way too many Ultimate talents and putting half the cast into comas from which they never woke up.

Viewers either absolutely loved or absolutely hated this season, depending on whether they were DR fans because of the “blood n’ guts” factor or the “mystery and psychological thriller” aspect. Team Danganronpa faced quite a bit of backlash for actually causing the real-life deaths of half its participants, but were able to weasel their way out of serious legal repercussions because of the waivers the participants had signed beforehand (plus a lot of bribery and falling back on their longstanding popularity). So, the cast of Season 50 failed to end the killing game, but helped provide great evidence for the “Danganronpa is morally wrong” argument.

Hajime works as a victim liaison for the Future Foundation and has been trying to take down Danganronpa since he got out of it. He’s like that in a few of my fics, actually; I like the idea of Hajime acting as a big brother of sorts to the V3 cast. It’s especially entertaining to imagine his interactions with Kokichi— though maybe not so much in Hologram, since to Kokichi he’s a representation of the past he’s trying so desperately to forget and the future he refuses to acknowledge.

“SHUT UP!” He launches himself at Hinata, his hands wrapping around the other man’s throat as he uses his momentum to slam him to the ground. “SHUT! UP!”

“Ko— ghk—” Hinata coughs, eyes wide with surprise, but aside from moving his hands up to grip Kokichi’s wrists, he doesn’t seem all that worried about fighting back.

The thought only fuels Kokichi’s rage until he’s choking Hinata so hard his knuckles are white. “If you want me out of this simulation so badly, you can kill me,” he snarls. “I’m never waking up! I’m never leaving, do you UNDERSTAND ME?”

Hinata grimaces, the outline of his avatar flickering, but he still doesn’t struggle, and Kokichi hates him all the more for it, despises him with a seething malice that festers low in his stomach. He wonders distantly if he’d actually kill this man in real life. Or if he’d be able to stop himself, feeling like this.

Kokichi’s breakdown here is more out of fear than anger. Like I mentioned, Kokichi sees Hajime as another piece of what’s hurt him, and no matter how Hajime tries to help, Kokichi will always remember Danganronpa whenever he sees him.

Warm yellow-orange light casts a relaxed, cozy glow over the dining hall. It’s an ambience compounded by the flickering candles on the table, which seems overly idyllic, but Kokichi will let it slide because of the adorable way Shuichi flushed when he noticed them as they sat down. Well, if he’s being honest, everything about Shuichi right now is adorable, from the way his hair keeps falling into his eyes to the way he’s nervously fiddling wth his chopsticks. Kokichi wishes he could keep staring at him forever.

Ah, not… not in a weird way, though, just… because Shuichi’s beautiful, and when Kokichi looks at him he can forget everything bad that’s ever happened, can create some new and brighter world to exist in.

This is an idea I wish I’d had room to explore a bit more in the story— that is, just how far Kokichi will go to pretend everything’s fine. I thought about making him border on delusional, like having him talk to people who aren’t there or forget what’s actually happening around him because he’s so lost in his fiction-within-a-fiction. It would have creeped Shuichi out a whole lot.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much room for that past the plot I’d already nailed down, so I focused on his loneliness and escapism instead. I do touch on it later in this scene, though— the couple paragraphs where he slips into fantasizing about being a phantom thief having a surreptitious meeting with his detective under the not-so-subtle supervision of his DICE. There would have been a lot more of that if I’d gone with the ‘delusion’ stylistic choice, to the point where even the readers would be confused about what’s real. Maybe I’ll look into writing something similar in a future story.

Eventually, Shuichi sets down his bowl and looks away with a little sigh, and Kokichi clenches his teeth because that’s the sigh he does when it’s time for that conversation.

“Um… Kokichi?”

Kokichi’s only response is to exhale the breath he’d been holding in a quiet hiss.

“I-I know you don’t want to, but… but I really need to talk to you about something,” Shuichi says. “Please?”

“My Mr. Detective can talk about whatever he’d like!” Kokichi says with a lilt to his tone that makes it sound more sarcastic than he wants it to. He takes the last bite of curry and wishes that it burns hot enough to hurt.

“It’s about Kaito.”

This more serious part of the date scene is meant to reflect the little bridge in “Buzzcut Season”:

“Cola with the burnt-out taste

I’m the one you tell your fears to

There’ll never be enough of us.”

It’s a part of the song that sounds especially bittersweet to me, a bit of self-awareness between the insistence that everything’s okay.

Really all I think I managed was to reference it when Kokichi’s internal dialogue comments on his drink being “so sweet it tastes burnt” and then later not tasting like anything. But hopefully the mood’s still there.

“Tell him… that I have nothing against him,” he says.

“That’s … not a lie?” Shuichi presses.

Kokichi shakes his head idly, still not raising his gaze. “I wanted to wreck the killing game and he wanted to save his friend. We both got what we wanted. I’d say the end more than justifies the means.”

Was that a lie?

(I don’t want to die Shuichi I’m sorry I’m sorry save me Shuichi please I’m sorry ithurtsmakeitstop—)

His fingers tighten into clawlike shapes, nails digging sharply into his forearms.

I really don’t think Kokichi would have anything against Kaito, even if here he’s not being completely honest with how much he’s affected by what happened. It wouldn’t make sense to him to hate Kaito for something he himself proposed, but I think there’d still be a subconscious barrier between them. Too much history.

“Don’t go, Shuichi, I’m so sorry, I— that was so dumb, what I said, please don’t be sad anymore.” He’s not sure if he can’t breathe because of the exertion of running or because of the hysteria boiling over in his head. “Please don’t go, I didn’t mean to hurt you— please don’t leave, Shuichi, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Kokichi….” Shuichi’s tone is strange, soft and pitying, like he sees something Kokichi doesn’t, and he shakes his head slowly as more tears follow the paths of the others.

Kokichi goes to his knees, ready to grovel if that’s what it takes, but Shuichi follows him down, closing his other hand over Kokichi’s, and then they’re both crying and he doesn’t know why, and all he can do is repeat a mantra of I’m sorry and hold on as tight as he can.

It’s horrible. Shuichi’s horrible. Shuichi’s wonderful, and kind and lovely and perfect and Kokichi hates him, Kokichi adores him, and it doesn’t matter because Shuichi’s not actually here but Kokichi doesn’t want to be alone, just let me pretend some more, please, please let me have this—

“I’ll… I’ll stay,” Shuichi says at last. “I can stay a while longer.”

You shouldn’t, Kokichi wants to say, but his mouth won’t obey him. You shouldn’t stay if you don’t want to. I don’t deserve having you here. I’m not worth your mercy.

But there on the bridge, crying tears of relief, he soaks up as much mercy as he can get and hopes it’s enough to drown him.

I wanted to create a contrast between them that highlights just how the isolation and trauma Kokichi’s experiencing has affected him. He has an almost unhealthy reliance on Shuichi as “the only thing that makes this world bearable,” and panics when faced with the prospect of being alone again so soon. Part of why Shuichi’s crying is because he’s realized the extent of Kokichi’s desperation. It’s not that he thinks Kokichi’s apology is insincere, but that he’s hardly heard him apologize for anything before, so Kokichi going this far has him realizing how bad things really are.

The door rumbles and slides open when they approach, revealing the bright light of the log-out point that took Shuichi away every time, that would wake Kokichi up in his real body if he walked into it. Shuichi stops just a step away from it, biting his lip as if searching for something to say, but before he can find it, Kokichi reaches out to tug at his sleeve.

“Shuichi?” he says, distant as the waves on the beach that he can still hear if he listens closely enough. Shuichi turns back toward him. “Before you go, can I be selfish one more time?”

“Huh…?”

Shuichi doesn’t move when Kokichi steps closer, reaches up to ghost his fingertips over Shuichi’s jaw and around the back of his neck. He lets Kokichi tilt his head downward, lets him hover inches away, close enough to feel their breath mingle in the night air. Kokichi pauses there to give him the chance to pull away. He doesn’t.

So Kokichi closes his eyes and the distance between them.

That last line is a ZEUGMA! It’s a literary device where one word refers to two more in a different way. A popular example is the hyenas’ line “Our teeth and ambitions are bared” from The Lion King. It’s my favorite grammatical trick and I’d love to see more of it in fanfic.

Slowly, he slides his hand down to Shuichi’s shoulder, using it as leverage to push himself away. That hurts even more. He can’t seem to open his eyes, and he feels so weakened, breathless, fragile. Cracked open, hollowed out.

When he finally does open his eyes, Shuichi’s are wide with some mix of astonishment and a dozen other emotions. Kokichi bows his head, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I just wanted to know.”

“Kokichi,” Shuichi breathes, like a bullet through his heart.

“Goodbye, Shuichi,” Kokichi says, and shoves him into the light.

Shuichi’s little yelp of surprise cuts off abruptly as he falls through the door, vanishing into the glow, and all too soon, Kokichi’s alone again in a dream that suddenly seems far too vast. Alone, with the faintest taste of Shuichi’s lips still lingering on his own.

And he thinks, It was enough just to know you.

It’s a lie.

Nothing to say here except that this is my favorite scene and I’m so happy with how it turned out.

Fake sun rises over fake ocean, fake seagulls glide through fake sky while fake wind tousles fake palm fronds. Kokichi lies on his stomach in the fake grass and talks to his fake family in the fake notebook. Gives them fake names and runs through everything he remembers about them. Apologizes, over and over, wishes he could hug each of them goodbye one last time. Wonders if it would be more painful to die or to never have existed at all.

He leaves the notebook of his memories on the seat of one of the Ferris wheel cars on the fourth island, because one time he promised them they’d steal the London Eye together.

He buys a can of fake soda from the fake convenience store on the first island and sits on the fake beach watching the fake waves. Wonders when he’d hit the end of the simulation if he started swimming, or if he’d drown first.

White sand, blue sea, bluer sky. Washed out, like an amateur watercolor painting.

He opens the soda can and raises it to his mouth, but … even the thought of drinking it makes him sick to his stomach. He sets it down in the sand and flicks it over, watching the bubbly liquid run down and sink into the sand. The color’s all wrong, like blood streaked against a metal floor.

He walks the fake streets of the fifth island, passing fake skyscrapers and fake commuters and their fake conversations, until he finally stops outside the factory he’s never been able to bring himself to go into. Smells like oil, and metal and machines and he can hear the sounds and he’s immediately back in the hangar, dizzy on adrenaline and desperation and leaning heavily on Kaito so he doesn’t keel over and die then and there. Kaito says something about how maybe he should sit down for a minute, and Kokichi didn’t agree back then but he does now, goes down on all fours and dry heaves.

When his vision solidifies and he can stop gasping for breath, he sits up and presses his back against the factory wall, covering his ears and hiding his face in his knees. Tries to convince himself not to imagine Shuichi’s there with him, holding his hand again, promising everything’s going to be okay.

“I’ve got you. No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” or maybe, “Breathe with me, it’ll be over soon. You’re safe now.”

I love you.

He laughs until there’s nothing left in his lungs. He called these little daydreams obsession, before, but now they just seem sick and insane.

I wanted to indicate throughout this scene that Kokichi’s gotten substantially worse. Instead of halfheartedly interacting with the NPCs or finding something to spend time doing, he’s aimlessly wandering the islands, focused on how fake all of it is. Not even talking to his sketches of DICE can make him feel better. The suicidal ideation starts to slip in even if he doesn’t realize it— a fixation on wondering what death is like, purposefully triggering himself by walking by the factory….

The thing I want to talk about most though is the italicized I love you. I left it outside of quotation marks and dialogue tags on purpose because I wanted it to be ambiguous as to who’s saying it. If it’s Kokichi’s line, it’s sudden and almost out of place, like he couldn’t hold back from thinking it anymore. But it could be Shuichi saying it, too. Since it’s outside quotation marks, unlike the previous dream-Shuichi lines, it’s more vague, almost a whisper in Kokichi’s thoughts— like he can barely bring himself to imagine it and even feels guilty doing so, because there’s no way it could possibly be real.

Which do you think?

Eh, I don’t have an answer. When I hear it in my head, they say it at the same time.

“How did you know?” he finally croaks.

Shuichi’s breathing still sounds shaky, too. “Because you said ‘goodbye,’” he says.

Kokichi finally looks up at him in a silent question.

“You never say goodbye,” Shuichi says, rubbing his sleeve over his eyes. “It’s always….”

“‘See you later,’” Kokichi finishes for him. Despite himself, a tiny huff of astonished laughter escapes him. “I didn’t even know, not until a couple of hours ago. And you figured it all out from one word?”

Shuichi bites his lip at that. “You kissed me,” he says.

Kokichi’s stomach twists and he looks away. “I said I was sorry—”

“No.” Shuichi squeezes his hand into a fist and lets it fall to thump against Kokichi’s chest, like he’s trying to knock some sense into him. “It was so honest, and vulnerable, and… and I know how much you hate showing how you really feel.” Another tiny sob catches in his throat. “And so it felt like … like something you’d do if you weren’t going to s-see me again.”

“Shuichi….” Kokichi trails off as Shuichi muffles his cries in his hand again. He’s so breathtakingly smart. There’s no one else in the world who thinks that way, no one else who could possibly be that attentive and that clever. Not a programmer, not a team of shrinks… how can an AI manage it? How is it that Shuichi always manages to take him by surprise? How can he see straight through him when he least expects it?

Kokichi’s hand reaches up to Shuichi’s cheek. Reverently traces the path of the tears falling down it.

“I wish you were real,” he confesses in a whisper.

Kokichi’s stubborn. So, so stubborn. And he’s not used to being cared about, if the way he does everything by himself is any indication. So it makes sense to me that he’ll refuse to believe anything good can happen to him even in the face of convincing evidence. He’s pretty self-hating for someone so arrogant.

Kokichi’s weak, deep down to his core, weak for this man. Already knows he’d do anything for him, and the thought is terrifying—that one person could have that much power over him, even if he doesn’t realize it.

But what if he has realized it? Couldn’t this all be an elaborate ruse, a lie he knew Kokichi would be so desperate to believe that he wouldn’t bother questioning it?

…Shuichi’s never hurt him, though. Only that one time, when he really deserved it. Shuichi wouldn’t … betray him, even for what he thinks is Kokichi’s own good. They’re… different from each other, that way.

But still….

“I’m so scared, Shuichi.” It’s barely a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You won’t be.” It’s so hard to be skeptical, lost in his eyes. “I’ll be right there with you, for as long as you want. I won’t let you feel like this anymore.”

Promise me, he wants to blurt out. Promise you’ll stay. Promise me you’ll never leave me, Shuichi, he wants to demand, but that’s wrong, that’s manipulative and selfish and everything he doesn’t want to be for Shuichi anymore.

Shuichi, of course, says it anyway.

“I promise, Kokichi.”

…

“Kiss me again,” he says. “Please?”

Shuichi leans in close, then pauses, his brow furrowing the way it does when he catches him in a lie.

“I’ll kiss you again in the real world,” Shuichi says. “Okay?”

Kokichi shakes his head. “Shuichi, please.” Please, I don’t think I can do this. Please, I don’t want to wake up to a lie. Please, one last kiss for me to remember in case it was all fake.

Shuichi reaches out to tilt his chin up and Kokichi closes his eyes, savoring every second, burning it into his memory.

Shuichi’s soft breath ghosts over his lips.

“Trust me,” he murmurs.

Kokichi’s eyes flutter back open, searching his face. Shifting him around on the white board in his head, seeing what categories he fits into this time. Weird, of course. Suspicious, maybe not. Trustworthy?

Trustworthy….

“I do trust you,” he realizes.

Kokichi’s still hesitant to accept all of this— Shuichi kissing him didn’t magically fix everything. He’ll still doubt all the way to the log-out point, but at least now he realizes that this simulation is only hurting him— that if things are to get better they’re going to have to change, too. He’s got a long way to go before he’s all right, but he’s not going to have to face it alone anymore.

And that’s a wrap!

Once again, I’m really proud of this story, and I feel like I grew as a writer because of it. There are a few things I would change if I wrote it again, but for all its flaws it’s still my baby and I like how it turned out.

Thanks again for all your support for “Hologram,” and thanks even more if you actually waded through all this nonsense of a director’s cut. It’s a huge confidence-boost to think that people liked what I wrote, and even wanted to hear what I had to say about it. If there’s any interest, I’d love to review some of my other fics here, or theorize or brainstorm or whatever else you’re into. (Ask me what Byakuya’s Thing is in my superhero AU, I dare you 😉)

I do have a WIP in my folder of bits and pieces currently titled “boy finally gets that kiss”, and it’s a post-Hologram scene from Shuichi’s point of view to just sorta… tie it all together, have them talk things over again… and kiss, of course. We’ll see if anything comes out of that.

Until next time!

#Rov talks #Hologram #Saiouma #Oumasai #Behind the scenes #Director's cut #Fanfic review

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kaznejis · 4 years

Text

I choose you- Marco Peña x reader

@rayof-sunnie said: Hi! I absolutely love your Marco fanfics and I hope to see more of them, since I literally fell in love with him. I was wondering if you can write a fanfic where the reader (a singer) knows Marco is falling out of love with her and she lets him go and it’s all sad and angst but bam he realizes she’s the one after she sings I choose you by Alessia Cara. Sorry if it’s too much to ask

A/N: Thankyou so much for sending this prompt! I’ve noticed this is a recurring quote during requests and I just want to say that no request is ever too much, I enjoy writing and I love turning your prompts into something real! <3

Sorry for the wait on this one, I had a first draft that I wrote about 1200 words of but then ended up scrapping it- so here’s the second draft!

Word Count: 2820 words

Feel free to send in any prompts!

High school relationships don’t always last. It’s what the people around you had said for years- their advice was always to save relationships for college because then the two of you would have a better chance at surviving the real world. You’d promise to stick to this, going to the lengths of keeping to yourself so that you wouldn’t ever be enticed.

But then, Marco came to your school.

Obviously, you hadn’t jumped straight into it there and then. The two of you had been mere acquaintances at first; nothing but polite smiles in the hallway and casual conversation if you were seated beside each other. Marco had been focusing on sport and Elle Evans at the time, so nothing happened between the two of you.

Though you did think the guy was hot- you couldn’t deny that. With his dark curly hair, broad muscles and smiles to die for; what wasn’t there to like? You brushed it off as just a small interest though due to the whole, you know, saving yourself until college thing.

Nevertheless, Marco’s sort of relationship with Elle quickly crashed to the ground almost as soon as it had started- leaving the boy devastated and confused. This is where you came into the picture, going from an outlined figure in the background to the centre point of the illustration.

It had been like any other day: walk to school, grab essentials from your locker, go to class. Despite this, an interruption came in the pursuit to said class. Marco, leant against his locker with his head resting on the cool metal.

“Hey, uh, are you okay?”

“What?” Marco’s head shot up, his hair a wild mess as he turned to look at you, “Oh, hey Y/N.”

“Hey,” You smiled slightly before repeating your previous statement, “Are you okay?”

Marco turned to lean his back against the locker and practically crumpled into it before releasing a heavy breath out of his nose, “I think everyone in this school is aware of what happened.”

“Yeah,” You coughed out as you lent against the locker beside his, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Don’t be, I’m better off without her.”

“Well, at least you're staying confident and optimistic?”

“Yeah,” He laughed, it looked like he hadn’t done that in a while, “It’s the only way to stay afloat.”

You nodded, pursing your lips as you stared at the sad boy beside you, “Do you want to skip class and grab a coffee?”

“Sure.”

And that is where it all began.

It looked like a whirlwind had swept through your dorm room as you rushed to find the bracelet Marco had gifted you for your previous birthday- the two of you were going on a date, something that you hadn’t been able to do in forever due to the stress of college and separation in general. It was weird though, you and Marco had attended the same college therefore causing you to be relieved that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t be necessary.

Despite this, you felt like Marco was far away and not in the vicinity of a 5 minute walk across campus.

At the start of the school year, you and Marco had been attached at the hip- meeting before and after classes, sleeping in each other’s room most nights, doing homework/studying and just generally being together. Eventually, the stress of exam season got to the both of you and seeing each other every day turned to seeing each other once a week.

But now you were just confused, exam season had ended weeks ago but at this point you and Marco saw each other once or twice every two weeks. So, you swallowed your pride and arranged a romantic night out consisting of a candle lit dinner.

Turning in the mirror and running your eyes up and down your outfit- you decided that you looked good. After weeks of wearing nothing but sweatpants and oversized hoodies, wearing a flattering dress was exactly the confidence boost you needed; seeing Marco’s reaction would only fuel that. For the date itself you’d decided on a small Italian restaurant only a few minutes walk from campus, after that the two of you would stroll leisurely back to campus before returning to one of your respective dorms where you would spend the night together. A perfect, fool proof plan.

At least, that’s what you had thought.

The most essential factor for a successful date with your boyfriend…is that said boyfriend actually shows up.

This is the thought you mused to yourself in a burst of sarcasm as you curled into your stupidly thin coat on a bench in front of the restaurant you had arranged to meet Marco at- 40 minutes ago. Exhaling harshly, you hauled yourself up from the bench and did nothing but stare up at the sky as thunder crackled from above. At that moment, you made a decision- one that did not make your dorm the desired location.

Embarrassment filled every fibre of your being as you trudged through the halls of the college dorms completely alone wearing a tight dress and heels. Once you reached the dorm in question, you rapped loudly on the door (which earned you a number of dirty looks) and waited for the person on the other side of the door to answer.

“Hello, Who’s there?” A voice called sleepily from the other side of the door as it opened, “Oh...hey Y/N.”

“Marco,” You pushed past him and walked into the room, moving to grab a fluffy towel, “You better have a great excuse for what happened tonight.”

As you made an attempt to wring out your soaked hair, Marco went and sat back down on the messy bed at the side of the room- he must’ve been asleep, “What do you mean ‘what happened tonight?’ I’ve been asleep since 7, you know college has me exhausted.”

You stopped your frantic scrubbing and paused, letting the towel drop to the floor, “What?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

“You don’t know what you were supposed to do tonight,” You wiped a hand over your face in disbelief, “What we were supposed to do.”

Marco froze, chewing on his fingernail as he visibly tried to remember. “No, I’m sorry-”

“We had plans,” You snapped, causing Marco to snap his mouth shut, “Solid plans for an actual night out for the first time in months.”.

Realisation dawned upon Marco’s face as his whole figure slumped, though his actions showed no signs of regret, “I completely forgot.”

“Yeah, I assumed that.”

Marco huffed loudly, before leaning back on his elbows, “Y/N, I-”

“How long is this going to go on for?”

“What?” Marco raised both eyebrows.

“How long are we going to go on like this?” Despite the sadness you felt your eyes were completely dry, “How long are we going to be in this dying relationship where we never talk and never see each other,” You let out a deadly laugh, “I mean, I haven’t even said I love you in weeks let alone touch you.”

Marco looked down, unable to meet your eyes, “I noticed.”

You had been ready to go off on another rant, but the lack of empathy and straight up emotions in Marco’s voice left you mystified- leaving you feeling defeated, “Me too.”

“What have you noticed?”

“You don’t love me anymore.”

Marco didn’t reply. He just stared blankly at the wall behind you, his face portraying no emotion. That was all you needed in order to nod numbly before hightailing out of there. As the door slammed shut behind you- all you could do was slide down the wall beside it and stare at the bright red heels adorning your feet.

Although not a single emotion slipped out during the initial breakup, the fallout hit you during the following weeks. You did nothing but eat, sleep and go to class; the first two were still very much lacking. To say the least, the people around you were worried- some would pop their head into your room every now and then only to find you curled up in a ball beneath the covers.

Marco, on the other hand, had seemed completely fine; hanging out with friends and keeping up with his usual routine of work and play- at least, that is what your friends had told you. It was almost like he didn’t care, that he was happy you had ended things. A small part of you knew that wasn’t true though. You knew Marco, having seen him at his lowest and highest points- you knew that he hid his sadness behind a mask of either anger or pure joy. This instance was obviously the latter.

Stumbling out of the shower you had finally managed to drag yourself into, you pulled on an old hoodie as you walked towards the exit; where a notice board stood.

There, on the board, was an advertisement for a Karaoke Night in a local bar.

This is exactly what you needed. A chance to let go, sing silly songs and possibly even meet someone new. You would do anything to fill the crater in your heart that Marco had left behind. So, you texted all your friends (who were really just glad to see you enthusiastic about something) and invited them to go with you- it took place that very night, meaning you only had a number of hours before it began.

The bar was a small, hole in the wall venue that students of the college tend to frequent regularly. Despite the majority of patrons not yet being of legal age, the workers found their way around these guidelines and supplied students with the majority of their alcoholic intake.

“It’s really busy here tonight,” Molly, one of your close friends, spoke as you entered the main area, “You sure you still want to sing?”

Shooting her an amused look, you followed the group over to the bar, “That doesn’t faze me, it means more people can appreciate my gorgeous voice.”

“As someone who has never heard it- I’m not sure about that one.”

The whole group burst into laughter, you just shook your head and let out a small huff yourself, “I cannot wait to prove you wrong.”

As each of you settled into a seat on a high-table close to the bar, you all broke into conversation as you fed off of the energy the bar supplied. For once, you weren’t curled into your bed antagonising over what went wrong in your relationship with Marco or sitting in class unable to concentrate because your ex was all you could think about. For the first time in over a month, you felt really great.

Of course, that was abruptly cut short.

“Y/N,” One of your friends gasped, staring at something behind you with wide eyes, “Don’t turn around but Marco just walked in.”

Your entire body seized up, a cold wave of shock trickled down your body, “You’re joking, right?”

She shook her head, sympathy painted her features before she reached forward and squeezed your hand, “Don’t even give him the benefit of looking at you.” All you could do was nod, blinking through the panic that was quickly rising.

“Mhm,” Molly nodded, rubbing your shoulder, “Don’t even talk to him and then blow him away with your singing.”

“Yeah!” A few girls at the table cheered around you, “You’re still going to do that right?”

“No going back.” You twisted your mouth into a nervous smile as the group surrounding you cheered and held up their respective drinks. Taking the girls advice, you didn’t even look at Marco- which was extremely nerve wracking as you had no idea what he looked like or what state he was in. Your night went from being calm and a relief from drama to a tense and gnawing situation as you fought to not look over at Marco; wherever he was.

“The karaoke event is beginning soon! If you want to take part just come up here and grab the mic from whoever is on stage.”

“That’s your queue.” Molly squealed, shaking your shoulder excitedly.

“Not yet.” You laughed, moving away from her teasingly, “I have to work up my confidence first.”

“Hey,” Molly shoved at your shoulder a lot softer this time, “You’ll be great, don’t even think about Marco.”

“How do you always know what to say?”

Molly shrugged, a smile crinkling at her eyes, “I guess I’m just a great friend.”

“Oh, shut up.” You both broke into laughter and continued to talk until the first act came onto the stage, which you all turned to watch and cheer on. The event had a mix of talent, to say the least- some were extremely talented and left the crowd erupting into cheers, though some were obviously there as a dare or joke.

“Who wants to come up next?” The current singer behind the microphone grinned as they held it before them.

“I’ll go!” You yelled without thinking twice, having drunk a little bit of liquid since the original announcement- your friends around you cheered for what felt like the millionth time but the most interesting point was the head of black hair across the room that whipped around in shock at the sound of your voice.

As you clambered up the stairs towards the stage, the guy manning the sound beckoned you over and asked for your song choice, “I choose you by Alessia Cara.” You grinned as the guy gave you an encouraging thumbs up. Grabbing the microphone, you stood in the middle of the stage and waited for your queue to begin singing.

Relishing in the cheers the crowd gifted you with, you grinned nervously as you walked back to the table; laughing as your friends pulled you into their arms and shouted numerous compliments at you.

“Thanks guys,” You smiled, allowing yourself to breath now that you weren’t under the bright lights of the stage, “Told you I could sing.”

“You sure can,” Molly laughed brightly, slight shock showing in her features, “You should do that more.”

Before you could reply, an unusually timid voice sounded behind you, “Hey Y/N.”

Slowly, you turned to face Marco who stood behind you- he had a nervous look on his face as he wrung his hands in circles and silently begged you.

“Marco.”

“Can I talk to you?”

Oh, hell no.” Molly barked, stepping in front of you, “You’ve already broken her hear once.”

“No, Molly,” You pulled her back, smiling at her reassuringly, “I’ll be okay.”

Marco nodded before leading you out of the building as you walked together side by side- it felt weird for him to not have his hand on the small of your back like he usually would in places like that, which only drove in the fact that you were broken up.

“You were amazing up there.”

“Thanks,” You smiled tightly, hugging yourself with your arms with the same enthusiasm.

“Y/N-”

“What do you want Marco?”

He frowned at you, his eyes teared up slightly, “You didn’t give me the chance to speak, Y/N.”

“What?”

“When you said that I didn’t love you anymore,” He gulped and looked down, “You left before I could prove you wrong.”

You pressed your lips together tightly, “Your reaction was enough of an answer.”

He just shook his head, smiling slightly at your antics, “I left you alone after that because I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me...but then I saw you singing tonight and I realised that you are the one for me.”

“Marco-” Your voice wobbled as you looked on at the man before you.

“Please let me speak,” Marco laughed, “I never stopped loving you and I’m so sorry that I made you feel that way. The stress just got to me and I shouldn’t have let you be a victim of that too.”

“It’s okay.”

“No,” Marco wrapped both of your hands in his, he was begging now, “It isn’t and if you let me I will never shut you out like that again.”

“Really?” You hiccupped slightly, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“Yeah.” Marco whispered softly, letting go of your hands to wipe the tears coating your face, “Unless you realised that you’re better off without me and if so-”

“Shut up.” You sighed before reaching forward and pressing a much needed kiss to his lips. Finally, you thought.

“Fuck, I missed that.”

“Just that?”

“No,” He laughed, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs, “I missed everything about you. I know I’ve seemed happy but I really wasn’t.”

You smile sadly at him as you snaked your arms around his neck, “I never stopped loving you too.”

If you would like to be added to my taglist for any future posts- please let me know!

“Good.” And the two of you met in a kiss once again as a nearby street lamp illuminated the night-cold air surrounding you.

#marco peña #Marco peña x reader #Marco x reader #the kissing booth #the kissing booth 2 #Marco #fanfiction #oneshot #imagine

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thevioletjones · 4 years

Note

I’d love to see you tackle 5 or 44! Congrats on the Kudos!

Thank you! 5 was included previously, so just 44. 🙂 This one is explicit, FYI.

Prompt 5:��“I still remember the way you taste.”

Cell Date

Getting smart about how he acted behind bars was really starting to pay off for Mickey. Not only was he staying out of trouble so that he’d have a chance of making early parole, he was also forging advantageous relationships, mostly with the guards and the old-timers that liked to do good deeds like helping other inmates get an education or decent legal representation.

Little things like that, plus abstaining from shanking for pay or cold-cocking bitches who got mouthy, were making this Mickey’s most pleasant and drama-free stint in prison since his unceremonious induction into juvie ten years previous.

Along with his cooperation and best behavior came some quality perks: first pick of audiobooks from the dude he helped in the library; extra jello, pudding, and french fries from that dude’s kitchen husband; extended yard and gym time when the guard he had people doing favors for on the outside was on duty; and the holy grail, his very own recently acquired smartphone, which he could keep with him in his cell whenever the right people were working, and otherwise stow with a friend when sweep checks were imminent. All he had to do to get safekeeping was provide phone privilege favors. Gave him an extra source of income too, when he sold video call time to inmates on the side.

Tonight, though, he was finally gonna have the damn cell to himself all night long. His bunkmate had just been released, no one else had been assigned to his bed yet, and the overnight guard was a friendly. That meant that at long last, he’d be able to have some kind of sexual escapade with his boyfriend for the first time since he’d gotten locked up nine months ago. As a bonus, they could maybe stay up shooting the shit too. But really, Mickey was horny as hell, and he imagined that Ian was too.

They had a kind of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy when it came to banging other people while they were apart, but as a rule, they weren’t allowed to do it more than once a month, or with the same guy twice, blowjobs included. That meant a lot of lonely masturbation sessions on both sides of the prison walls.

It was cruel that the only relief they could get from each other was by proxy of their own hands anyway, but at least now they’d be able to watch each other and egg each other on. It wasn’t the most ideal situation ever, but it was way better than having to stick to innocuous topics on the prison landlines that ran out at the ten minute mark.

This was going to be a treat.

He waited ’til 30 minutes past lights out just to be sure the coast was clear, counting down the minutes like a fucking schoolgirl waiting to make an illicit phone call after her parents fell asleep. As soon as the digital display hit 9:30, he was eagerly punching in the memorized number, smirking as he selected the video option.

He actually felt nervous as it rang, irrationally worried that Ian would be indisposed despite their agreed upon time and date. It took almost four whole rings before the display lit up, and a buffering vision of Ian appeared.

Mickey’s smile couldn’t help but mirror the cheerful redhead’s, and it only widened when he heard his deep, familiar voice.

“Hey, Mick.”

“Gallagher,” he replied softly and full of affection.

“I can barely see you,” Ian said with a chuckle. “That's not really fair.”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Forgot. Hang on.”

He’d managed to get his hands on a clip-on reading light through the library contraband network, so it would have to do. He dug it out from the hole in his thin-ass mattress pad and clipped it to the bar of the lower bunk, angling it toward his face and flipping it on. It wasn’t exactly super-bright, but it was good enough.

“Happy now? This is the best I could do on the after-hours lighting.”

“Yeah, I am. You look good.”

“Shut the fuck up. You look way better. Like a free man.”

Ian ran a hand through his hair, and Mickey wished it were his hand. “It is a nifty advantage, but it’d be a lot better if you were next to me.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m getting the rawer deal here.”

“Who’s fault is that?” Ian challenged with a raised brow.

Mickey licked his lips, humming. “Didn’t realize the purpose of this call was to get on my ass about gettin’ locked up. Thought we already did that fun routine.”

Ian sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just miss you.”

“I’m doin’ what I can, gingerbread. Might get lucky in the next few months. Been playin’ the game all nice like. No demerits on my scorecard.”

“I appreciate that. You know I’ll be waiting.”

“Mm.”

“So… what’s new?”

Mickey laughed. “You want me to recount the thrilling tales of the jailbird jerk-offs? How would that be interesting or entertaining?”

“I’m pretty sure you witness more random acts of weirdness than I do everyday. You want me to talk about my job and coworkers, or my niece and nephew? I’m sure you’re dying to know on all counts.”

“Yeah, you got me figured out, Gallagher. That’s exactly why I wanted this dimly lit video call with your pale ass.”

Ian snickered. “Is this the part where we jump straight to the sex?”

Mickey shrugged and scratched his balls. “I mean, if we were in person without that fuckin’ glass between us, we woulda already been bangin’ by now.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“So?”

“What?”

“Show me your dick.”

Ian snorted, and it was nice to see him laugh unrestrainedly. They usually didn’t do too much laughing during his visits.

“It’s not hard yet.”

“Well, what the fuck you waitin’ for? Shoulda started before I called.”

“God, Mick, you really know how to romance a guy on his first date in nearly a year.”

“If this is a date, you got a really low bar, man.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“‘Ey! Fuck you.”

Ian laughed again and it made Mickey smile wide. He was gonna get addicted to these phone interludes, he could tell.

“Which reminds me… I expect you to take me out a few times when you get sprung, Milkovich. Restaurants, clubs, movies, the works.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Exactly how many acts of penance are on your little atonement list?”

“As many as I want. You got a problem with that?”

“You know I didn’t get locked up on purpose, right? Cuz I think you maybe don’t know that.”

“I think that I want you to stop putting yourself in situations where one of the possible outcomes is getting locked up. Cuz then we’re forced to resort to one sad long-distance video wank every nine months, which kinda fuckin’ blows, and not in the good way.”

“First of all, as long as I don’t get this shit confiscated by one of the asshole guards, we can keep doin’ this pretty regularly. Secondly, we haven’t even gotten to the wank part yet, so don’t call it sad. Also, is sex all that matters to you?”

“Says the guy who just told me to shut up and get my dick out.”

“Like you said, it’s been a long time.”

“And I’ve already told you that I miss you and want you beside me. I thought you wanted your dick stroked, not your ego.”

“Good one,” said Mickey, reaching down to fondle himself. “So how we gonna do this?”

“The only way we can, I guess.”

“Fine. Do I get to ask you to start touching yourself now?”

Ian giggled. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get it over with.”

“What kind of attitude is that? Get the hell on board or this ain’t gonna work.”

“Calm down and get your cock hard, convict boy.”

Mickey didn’t need to be told twice. He slipped his hand under the waistband of his boxers, rubbing and squeezing gently.

“You gonna give me somethin’ to look at or what?”

“Gimme a minute, fool. It’s not gonna be very pretty in its current state.”

They both went non-verbal for a while as their arms started working, the only sounds being stray gasps, rustling noises, and slick skin against skin.

“‘Kay,” urged Mickey, “lemme see it.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Fine, just flip the camera.”

Mickey pressed around and activated the rear camera with flash, licking his lips when the screen filled with Ian’s lower half, hand jerking his big dick in that perfect rhythm he remembered so well. It forced out a moan before he could catch himself.

“Mick,” Ian whispered, and he suddenly missed the feel of his boyfriend’s breath blowing hot against his skin as they fucked. And that just reminded him of the way he’d nip and lick at Mickey’s neck, or pinch his nipples at just the right time.

“Ian,” he groaned, his strokes getting faster and more deliberate now that he was fully hard. “Miss you.”

And that was definitely the lamest shit to say when you were supposed to be talking dirty for the purposes of video sex, but it’s what came out of his mouth on account of all the memories surfacing, coupled with the regret of not being able to put his hands on Ian or have Ian’s hands put on him.

Mickey had never wanted to suck a dick so badly in his entire life, simply because he was being denied the opportunity. He’d almost forgotten how delicious Ian’s cock really was. It could wreck him all night long, or Mickey could worship it a little on his hands and knees when the urge overcame him. He wanted it in him one way or the other. Keeping him away from it was cruel and unusual punishment.

“Wanna fuck you, Mick.” Ian was still using this soft, breathy voice that was making him crazy. “Wanna see your ass.”

Mickey’s hand faltered for a moment as he snickered. “How the fuck am I supposed to get you that camera angle right now, genius?”

“You really didn’t think this through enough first,” chided Ian.

“Suck my dick, Gallagher.”

“Mmm, I’d love to get my mouth on you right now. I still remember the way you taste.”

“Oh, shit.”

Mickey’s jerks got tighter with that fantasy egging him on, and silkier with the ease of the pre-cum oozing from his slit.

“You got something to stick up your ass?”

Mickey whined. “Fuckin’ wish. Don’t exactly got a dildo permit, and that’s the kinda contraband no one tries to smuggle or sell.”

“A finger or two will do, right?” asked Ian, pausing for a moment to squirt some lube into his hand.

“‘Ey! What the fuck? No fair! You want me to try and prop this thing somewhere so you can watch me finger myself without lube, and you’re gonna casually use some to jack off with right in front of me? Read the room, fuckhead.”

Ian chuckled. “Sorry, Mick. What happened to the mayo packets?”

Mickey grimaced, regretting ever having told Ian about sometimes using that condiment as lube when he wanted to spice up a solo sesh. “Shut the fuck up and just help me get a damn orgasm.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know! What am I, the video sex expert?”

“You’re not a sexpert?”

“Now is not the time for your lame jokes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, but I’ve never done this before either, jackass. I already made my request and you’re ignoring it. You do that for me, I’ll do something for you.”

“Fine, but if I do this for you, I won’t be able to see shit while it’s happenin’, so you have to fuckin’ wait to blow your load, or I’ll never do this with you again.”

“So is that your request? To see me blow my load?”

“Bitch, do I need to explain how porn works to you? You know how at the end of the video, you get to see everybody come? Jizz flyin’ everywhere?”

“Oh, believe me, next time we’re actually together in bed, I will cover you in jizz from head to toe.”

“That’s a lofty goal. Could take a while.”

“I’m willing to put in the hours. Now… get to it.”

Mickey sighed and let his cock fall out of his grip, glancing around to try and figure out how he could set the camera up in a decent place to where it would actually get what Ian wanted in frame.

“You’re gonna have to tell me if I need to adjust it, but I don’t have a lot of options, so just tell me when it’s good enough. Don’t need to get all Scorcese with the precision.”

It took a couple of minutes to figure out something that worked, his erection flagging to half-mast as he concentrated on the task Ian had given him. He was pretty sure that Ian should be the one going out of his way to give Mickey a nice show, but he figured if he let Ian have one first, he could make requests for their next long-distance fuck date.

Once Ian said it was good, Mickey kneeled and sat on his haunches, body remaining upright. He could only imagine what his asshole looked like through that badly lit phone camera, but whatever. At least he didn’t have to look at it. Ian could go crazy for it if he wanted to, and apparently he was if the renewed moaning was any indication.

“Get it wet,” Ian directed.

Mickey licked his palm and gave his cock a few tugs to get it back into the game, then spit in his hand and did what he could to work it around his hole. He was crouched with the damn top bunk rubbing against his bent head, with no view other than stiff white sheets and his own thighs and dick.

Yes, Ian was going to owe him a nice fucking show for this crap.

“Well?” the cocky little prick demanded. “Play with it.”

“Hold your damn horses, I ain’t a cam boy,” retorted Mickey.

With a deep sigh, he emptied his mind of the discomfort of his position and the embarrassment of his actions, and just went for it, wetting his finger with his mouth, then shoving it in as far as he could get it on initial entry. It wasn’t very far, but he wiggled and shimmied it as he slid it in and out, until eventually it was in as far as it could go from the angle he was in. He could faintly hear Ian going to town on himself, and he once again longed to be the one doing it to him. Pressing his ass back onto Ian’s cock instead of his own measly finger. Getting Ian’s big hand around his own dick while he did it.

As it were, he had to use his left hand to get some action on his dick, and as soon as he got back into the swing of things on that score, he set about trying to hit his prostate with his right hand.

“Add another one,” rasped Ian.

“You’re gettin’ real mouthy, ain’t you,” Mickey complained, wetting his hand again before sliding in two fingers to the knuckles.

“Oh, sorry, am I supposed to just remain quiet during this phone sex?”

“Stop sassin' me while I try to hit the spot. Some of us don’t got long-ass E.T. fingers.”

Ian chortled. “Jesus, Mick. Can you not bring my favorite childhood movie into this? Plus, you don’t need to go that deep. Just flip your hand over and crook your fingers. You’ll find it.”

“You think you know my ass better than I do?”

“Probably.”

Mickey did as suggested, even though it was the weirdest combination of body angles. It didn’t do anything at first, then all of a sudden, “Oh.”

Both hands got fast and furious as he felt that familiar tingly throb building up inside. He let himself get lost in it for a few minutes, then came to just enough to realize that he wanted a visual of Ian to orgasm to. It’s what he'd been looking forward to all week.

All at once, he stopped, flipping onto his back and grabbing the phone. All he could see on screen now was the damn ceiling, which was annoying, but also hilarious, since it meant that Ian was probably holding the stupid phone a few inches from his stupid face.

“Why’d you stop?” asked Ian breathily.

“Cuz I wanna see you, numbnuts. As fascinating as your ceiling is, it'd be great if you got the main attraction back onscreen. Please and thank you.”

Ian tittered and angled the camera back down, pushing it past his sternum. “‘Kay, where’s yours?”

Mickey pointed his phone back toward his crotch, eyes extremely focused on Ian’s impossibly hard red dick and large pale hand, sighing when he touched himself again. He needed a finger or two back in his ass, though. He always came harder with something up his ass, and it reminded him more of Ian too.

But there was no way to film himself and still get a view of Ian, plus use both hands to get himself off. He had to choose one type of orgasm to have, and since he wasn’t entirely sure he could pop from anal only, he stuck with the jerking off.

Maybe Ian was right. He hadn’t thought this through enough. But he knew exactly what his daydreams would be scheming up until their next interlude.

“You gonna come all over yourself like I asked?” said Mickey.

“Just a sec,” Ian replied with a grunt.

Mickey’s hand synced up with Ian’s, flying up and down his length on the phone screen. “Wanna see it on your stomach and in your pubes.”

Ian’s moans and groans got louder and closer together, building Mickey’s excitement up to the edge.

And then of course his gay-ass boyfriend had to go and say some gay-ass shit like, “I love you!”

And then he was shooting jizz out the tip of his dick, letting it get everywhere.

And the effect was the same as a quality porno scene in that it made Mickey come too, eyes squinting shut as the sensations overwhelmed him. He wanted to throw the phone across the room, but he somehow managed to keep it resting against his chest and filming everything.

As soon as the last of it gushed out, he did let the phone drop next to him for a short time, and Ian must’ve been recovering too, because he didn’t hear any complaints. He reached for the toilet paper roll and wiped himself down as best he could, not bothering to put his shorts back on when he was done.

He flipped onto his stomach, picked up the phone and went back to the front camera, leaning it up against the wall as he burrowed a pillow under his chin.

“That was halfway decent, Gallagher.” He grinned in relaxed satisfaction.

Ian flipped his camera back too, lying on his side, and propping the phone up against what was probably the empty pillow next to him that Mickey should be on.

“You’ll get the real thing soon enough,” Ian replied with a sleepy smile.

“Fuckin’ hope so…” he trailed off in thought. “Sorry I can’t be there. It is my fault.”

“Nah, just forget about all that, okay? All we can do now is get through the time that’s left. But if you think I’m not gonna ride your ass the non-sexy way when you get out, you’re dead wrong. Not gonna let this shit happen again.”

“You want me workin’ some minimum wage bullshit legit job?”

“Yep. We know how to be poor, Mick. Tired of getting the shitty end of all the risk.”

“Your pillow talk could use some work, Red.”

“I know. Thanks for showing me your asshole earlier.”

Mickey laughed. “No sweat. Well, probly some sweat.”

Ian snorted and shook his head. “Shut up. I’m glad we get to do this. It’s nice being with you at bedtime.”

“Be nicer if it included your dick in my ass, but I guess it’s alright.”

“Want me to tell you about the boring shit now?”

“Might as well.”

“As long as you don’t fall asleep before you tell me you love me, bitch.”

Mickey frowned. “Normal people don’t shout that shit as they’re coming, you freak.”

“I don’t care when you say it, just fit it in.”

It wasn’t really something they could comfortably say to one another on their regular taped prison calls and visits. It was better for Mickey's orientation not to be common knowledge to the wrong people around the joint.

“I love you, you silly bastard, now tell me about your dumbass day.”

Ian smiled brightly. “Franny did the cutest shit…”

Mickey half-listened, content to be in the distant presence of Ian’s face, voice, and manner; imagining a day soon to come when they would be reunited for good in the great wide open.

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

The Tower: Family - 6

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 4012

Warnings: Pregnancy, smut (bisexual orgy, baby making, edging, over-stimulation, oral sex, anal sex, rough sex, throat fucking, face sitting, vibrators, cock-rings, electrostimulation, multiple orgasms).

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 6: Making a Baby

Immediately after the ceremony, we had to sign all the legal paperwork and we had some photos taken. The bots Tony had made when we were in Asgard had taken some photos at the bonding but as that had been interrupted by a large battle, there were none posed of us together as a family. It was definitely nice we got to have this moment recorded when the bigger one hadn’t been.

The sun was setting by the time we walked over to the area on the beach set up with tables and hanging lanterns that would host our reception. There were two large round tables, one for us and one for the guests, and next to the long tables where the buffet would be set up, there was a small round table with a large cake shaped like the Avengers Tower.

Waiters had been walking around handing out tropical-themed canapés that included coconut shrimp, chicken skewers with pineapple and mango, and mini black bean and corn empanadas, while the band played soft rock songs by Tony’s favorite bands.

When we arrived, the band stopped playing and Rhodey went up to the podium.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Looks like our little group of deviates has finally arrived, all official and everything. Can we all stand and welcome them, complete and whole, and two of them legally married.”

Everyone stood and clapped as we moved up to the dance floor. Tony and I moved to the center while the other’s circled the edge. The band began to play ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica. Tony spun me into his arms and we began to slow dance to it, turning slowly around the dance floor. Steve and Bruce stepped out onto the dance floor and Tony spun me into Steve’s arms before turning and pulling Bruce against him. We danced in pairs for a few bars and Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and Thor moved in. Wanda began to dance with me and I kept my cheek pressed against hers as we moved around the floor. Finally, Sam and Clint moved in and we all switched again. We spent the rest of the song slow dancing around each other and switching from partner to partner until we had each danced with everyone.

The song ended and we took our seats and Rhodey got back up to the podium.

“Now, we all came here from pretty far away… not like when they dragged our asses to Asgard, but still, it was a trip. But we all know why we’re here,” Rhodey said as the staff began to set up the buffet with the starters. “These guys are our family. So thank you all for coming to celebrate with them. It looks like they’re bringing out the food. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s go eat.”

Our table went first. The buffet was set up in sections. One had a selection of cold seafood, like shrimp, oysters, and smoked salmon, one had things like crab cakes, different kinds of skewers with things from fish to tofu, stuffed mushrooms, tacos, and warm tartlets with tomato and bocconcini. There was a salad station, and one with soups, as well as a table full of tropical fruit. There was also a bar that was specializing in brightly colored tropical cocktails.

“Thank god,” Tony said as he began loading up his plate with crab legs. “I’m starving. I’ve been fasting so I’d look good in a suit.”

“Are you kidding?” Natasha asked. “You’re basically a coat hanger. Everything looks good on you.”

Tony chuckled. “Thanks, Red,” he said. “But I didn’t want to be all bloated.”

“Well, eat up, you dope,” I teased. “Gonna need your energy.”

“Already calling me a dope?” Tony asked.

“You are a dope,” I teased. “And don’t drink too much either.”

“Wow, Elise,” Tony deadpanned. “We’re married two minutes and you’re already trying to change me.”

“I need you at your peak performance tonight,” I whispered and headed back to the table with my plate piled high with different things.

“Pfft,” Tony scoffed as he followed along after me. “That’s what Thor is for.”

“I can only ensure that you are fertile. I can’t ensure you’ll be able to perform,” Thor said playfully.

“But if you’d like one of us to get Elise pregnant,” Steve added.

“Woah now,” Tony said, putting his hands up. “Let’s not be hasty here.”

We ate our starters and drank and talked and as the plates were cleared away Rhodey got up to the podium again with a glass of champagne. Waiters started filling everyone’s glasses. There was a hibiscus flower in syrup sitting in the bottom of each glass and when the champagne was added to it, the flower appeared to bloom in the glass.

“Now, platypus,” Tony said. “No bad mouthing me. You promised.”

“I feel like this speech should have been done in Asgard. But then there was some battle with angels and it became a little like work. So we’ll do it here,” Rhodey said. “I met Tony way back at MIT. He was just an annoying kid who liked to show up all the students who were at least three years his senior. But he has a way of growing on you. I don’t know what I expected him to do with his life. He was smart and funny and partying hard and that never ended for a long, long time. For a while, I was worried he was going to burn out hot and leave a pretty corpse. But it turns out, he’ll most likely outlive us all. Back then I didn’t really see him as the marrying type. Yet here we are. At his wedding. The official Earth one after he just committed himself for 5000 years to 9 other people. If you’d asked me back then if I thought he’d do that I’d have thought you were as drunk as Tony probably was.”

Rhodey looked over at Tony affectionately and Tony winked at him. “I’m so happy for him. He deserves a happy ending and he’s found it. I know he loves them all. And he loves being a dad. He’s finally seemed to find that exact thing he needed. A loving family. I know it’s unconventional. It took me a long time to understand it. But Tony isn’t conventional. Conventional was never going to work. And while he went in reluctantly at first because a woman he got a crush on was gently leading him in, it’s been exactly what he needed,” Rhodey said and raised his glass. “So I’d like you all to raise your glasses to finding your people and unconventional love.”

Everyone toasted to unconventional love and clinked their glasses together before taking a drink. Rhodey returned to his chair, ruffling Tony’s hair as he passed him.

Steve stood and approached the podium. “That’s quite the speech to be following,” Steve said. “But I’d like to follow with the same theme about not believing what the future would bring. I was born in 1918. Over one hundred years ago. I had a list of ailments that was taller than I was. I was told I wouldn’t make it to adulthood. Despite being told all the things I couldn’t do, I was determined to do them. I made it to adulthood. I started dating the boy I had a crush on for so long. I even managed to ride the Cyclone at Coney Island. But if you had told me back then, I would not only be marrying that boy but also eight other people, one of them an actual god, on a completely different planet, well, I probably would have had an asthma attack.”

There was laughter from everyone and Steve looked over at us all. “Here we are though. I didn’t expect it, let me tell you. Someone once told me that if it wasn’t for war I was nothing. It took nine people to make me realize otherwise. And I love them all. They each touch a part in me that’s unique and I’m so happy that… well, we all fell into this little arrangement.” He took a breath and looked over at us. “It hasn’t been without its obstacles. But you can’t say you have a strong bond until you’ve overcome some obstacles together. And we made it. We’re getting our happily ever after. So let’s toast to that. Happily ever after.”

He raised his glass and everyone repeated ‘happily ever after’ while raising theirs. Steve came back and took his seat and I went up next.

“We like to joke about being in the bad dad’s club,” I said as I stood in front of everyone. “Most of us have our own stories of parental neglect. I was raised being told I needed to marry rich, lock him in with some kids, and not care who he was sleeping with. It made me reject all of that I barely dated. I expected to just die alone. And then one day I knocked a certain red-head over when I was running late for work and it changed my life forever.

“I have had my two kids. And I did marry rich. I also don’t care who my husband sleeps with. But I don’t think my parents had this in mind. They’d hate this. I don’t care. I am happy. I love these people. I love the thing we’ve built together. I’m excited about our future and what that means. I’m excited to see how our family grows and what that means for us. I love them all so much. I never thought I’d ever want anything like this, but love is like a drug and I’m addicted. Now I have it, I can’t imagine it being any other way.” I lifted my glass. “So I ask you to raise your glass to finding your family.”

I took a drink while everyone repeated me and then returned to my seat. Natasha grabbed my hand as I passed and pulled me down into a kiss. Tony got up and spanked my ass as he passed me and I made a choked giggle into Natasha’s lips.

“So,” Tony said as he waggled his glass and a waiter came back over to refill it. “We've all heard I was a bit of a mess. All I ever knew was abuse, manipulation, and neglect. So it took me a while to even think about trying to attempt monogamy. And well, we're here today, so obviously, that didn't work out for me either.” There was laughter from everyone and Tony paused until it died down. “These guys started up their little den of iniquity under my nose. Oh, they invited me to join. In fact, they told everyone else I was part of it, completely ignoring how closed off and angry I was. They really didn’t want to take no for an answer, but I guess, I am me, so who can blame them?” There was more laughter and he looked over at me. “Then one day, I found this stray roaming around my tower. I tried to resist her. I even tried to get FRIDAY to kick her out of the building. But she managed to crawl right in under my skin and take up residence there. It hasn’t been smooth sailing. Like Spangles said, there have been some rough and downright scary times. I kept locking them out, scared I was going to get hurt or end up hurting them. It took a long, long time for them to teach me they were here for me and I was worth it. Slowly, I realized I was healing. That I was in love with all these people. So I guess that is proof we all have hearts. So I ask you to raise your glasses to love. Whatever form it finds you in.”

I got up and kissed him deeply as everyone toasted and he pulled me close. “I love you so much,” I whispered.

“Alright,” Sam said standing. “Enough talking. Looks like the second course is here, let’s eat.”

The reception turned a little more party after that. We ate, danced. Cut the cake. Bucky shoved his slice right into Steve’s face much to Tony’s amusement. The cake was 10 different flavors and I was pretty determined to try them all. The kids were taken to bed by their aunt and uncle just after the cake and by the time we left I was a tipsy, exhausted, and yet completely hyped up.

“Alright,” Tony said, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and kissing my neck. “Let’s make a baby.”

“Not so fast, Tony,” Steve scolded. “We all want to be part of this. We are a family after all.”

“Besides,” Thor said. “I thought you wanted my assistance.”

“Oh, yes,” I said as Sam approached me. He ran his hands up under my skirt, pushing it up at the sides as he moved his hands to my ass.

“I don’t like the tone,” Tony said, suspiciously. “What exactly are you people planning?”

“You people?” Steve teased, pulling Tony back against him and palming his cock through Tony’s pants. Sam brought his lips to mine and began to kiss me deeply and lovingly. “Come on now, Tony. We’re family.”

Tony made a choked groan and leaned his head back on Steve’s shoulder as Thor approached Tony. He leaned in and kissed Tony hungrily and slipped one large hand into Tony’s pants and began to massage Tony’s balls. There was a spark and a ripple through the air and Tony groaned loudly into Thor’s lips.

“All the other babies were conceived in an orgy by accident. The only reason we know paternity is because Thor just knows that kind of thing,” Natasha said running her fingers down my neck. “This is the first time we’re planning to get pregnant and we all want to be part of that even if we are planning paternity too. So, little Elise here is going to be overstimulated. We’re each going to make her come over and over and over until she can’t take it anymore.”

Thor released Tony and moved over to me, pressing himself behind me and kissing my neck. Sam pulled back and Thor tilted my head back and kissed me deeply. He pressed his palm low on my stomach, just above my pubic mound. There was that same spark and ripple as with Tony, and a dull ache ran through my core.

“You on the other hand,” Natasha said, grabbing Tony by the lapels and pulling him toward the bed. “Will be edged until you're begging us to let you come.”

Thor pulled my dress off over my head and everyone else began to undress, either themselves or each other. Clint picked me up and carried me to the bed tossing me on it. Tony was on the far side of the bed. He was naked and Natasha was sitting on his thighs and putting a cock ring on him.

Clint crawled between my legs and pushed them apart kneeling down and nosing at my cunt. He pulled off my panties and licked a stripe up my folds, making my skin buzz. Wanda climbed up on the bed beside me and straddled my face. I hummed and lapped over her cunt, swirling it over her folds and dipping it inside her. Clint began to flick his tongue over my clit and sucking on my pussy.

My hips jerked under him as Wanda’s rolled on my face and her fluids dripped down into my mouth. I was vaguely aware that the others were kissing and grinding on each other near me and right on the other side of the bed Thor was sucking Tony’s cock while Natasha rode his face.

Clint thrust a finger inside me and began to suck on my clit. He hit my g-spot immediately like his fingers had a magnetic attraction to that sweet spot inside me. He sucked on my clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over it. I moaned loudly into Wanda’s cunt, trying to focus my tongue on her clit, moaning louder each time she shuddered over me. Clint’s fingers pushed harder and harder on my g-spot sending a jolt up my spine each time he did it. My legs began to shake as my orgasm approached being fed by the feelings the others had and intensified. I focussed on Wanda, sucking hard on her clit and pushing my tongue inside her. I knew she was close too, I could feel it through her thread. She always sat close to the edge once the rest of us began to enjoy ourselves. I nipped at her clit and she moaned, coming on my face. I let myself relax and as soon as I did, Clint pushed hard on my g-spot with two fingers and twisted his wrist. I screamed out and came hard, bucking my hips against his face.

Clint got up and crawled over to where Tony was and Wanda climbed off me. Natasha, Steve, and Bucky approached me. Natasha guided me so I was straddling her face and Bucky pushed me forward so my face was at Natasha’s cunt. Sam had pulled Wanda into his lap and they were kissing hungrily, while Thor was fucking Tony, and Tony sucked Bruce’s cock.

Bucky poured lube onto my ass and pushed a finger inside, fucking it slowly. I moaned loudly and nuzzled at Natasha’s cunt as Natasha lapped over mine. Steve slapped the head of his cock on Natasha's clit and teased it over my lips. I sucked on the head and he thrust shallowly in and out of my mouth.

More lube was added to my ass along with a second finger. I mewled and tried my best to relax as Bucky worked to loosen me up. Steve pulled his cock from my mouth and sunk into Natasha. I licked over his base and flicked my tongue over Natasha’s clit as Steve began to fuck her. Bucky pulled his fingers out and added more lube. I felt the head of his cock press against my ass and he began to ease into my ass.

“Fuck!” I gasped. The sound muffled by Natasha’s cunt.

Natasha gave my ass a spank and I clenched hard around Bucky’s cock, making him groan loudly.

Steve was fucking Natasha at a steady pace and I lapped over her cunt and the base of his cock, drinking up her arousal as it ran down his shaft. Bucky fucked me slowly as Natasha sucked on my clit. My muscles spasmed and clenched and I struggled to keep myself up. The way I clenched and moaned seemed to spur Bucky on. He picked up his pace, adding to the burn through me. I started panting against Natasha’s cunt and she moaned and bucked under me. I sucked her clit into my mouth and pressed my lips against it and flicked my tongue back and forth quickly. Natasha mirrored my action and we both came moaning into each other. Bucky and Steve fucked us through it before slipping out. I rolled off the top of Natasha and lay panting as people moved around me. Thor, Sam, and Bruce approached and I looked up at them and swallowed hard. “How many times have you climaxed, my queen?” Thor asked as he lifted me and moved me so my head was hanging over the end of the bed.

“Two,” I answered as I let my head drop over the edge of the bed. I could see what the others were doing to Tony now, but I knew he was struggling to hold it together.

Sam tutted. “That doesn’t sound like nearly enough. I think we might need the vibrator boys.”

He went to the drawers and pulled out a small bullet vibrator. Bruce and Thor both lubed up their cocks and Bruce put pillows under my hips and eased his cock into my ass. Thor straddled my chest, pinning me to the mattress and pushed my tits around his thick shaft and slowly began to roll his hips. Sam gave Bruce the vibrator and he turned it on and pressed it onto my clit. The setting was low but it still made me buck up and moan loudly.

“Open up, princess,” Sam said.

I opened my mouth and he pushed his cock into my mouth.

Thus began one of the most intense sexual experiences I’ve ever had.

It started slow, Thor massaging my tits as he fucked them slowly, Bruce matched his pace as he fucked my ass and held the vibrator against my clit, and I sucked Sam’s cock. It very quickly escalated. Each man seemed to be spurred on by the others. Bruce started fingering me as he fucked me and Sam started fucking my throat.

The first orgasm hit quickly and Bruce upped the setting of the vibrator. I cried out and bucked under them and Thor sent a jolt through me making me come again. Each time I came they went harder and upped the buzz on the vibe. By the third my vision was going fuzzy thanks to the brutal pace they were setting. Bruce groaned and jerked hard into my ass coming inside me. He slipped out and Thor moved down and took his place. He was large and his cock stretched me painfully, but I was light-headed and fuzzy and I welcomed the pain. He upped the buzz on the vibrator and I came immediately.

Thor made an almost graphic squelching sound each time he thrust into me as Bruce’s come acted as a lubricant for his cock. Sam groaned and pulled back slightly as he came into my mouth, coating my tongue with thick, salty ropes of semen.

I moaned and swallowed it but Thor didn’t even seem close. Bruce and Sam stayed close to me as Thor kept fucking my ass. Sam massaged my breasts and pinched my nipples and Bruce took over with the vibrator leaving Thor free to just hold my hips and fuck my ass hard. One orgasm just blended into the next and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I screamed out and everything went black. When I came to Thor had moved me a little and was no longer inside me. “Oh good,” he said smiling. “Did we push you too far?”

I shook my head slowly.

“Good, because Tony is ready for you,” Thor said, gently and kissed me softly.

He moved away and I opened my arms. Tony crawled up between my legs. “I’m not gonna last long,” he said, apologetically as he eased inside of me.

I moaned. “Good.”

He chuckled and slowly rolled his hips as his body stayed pressed close to me. Everything ached but my cunt welcomed him. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight and we began to kiss. Everyone else was just sitting around us watching. Tony was right though, he was sitting right on the edge and it was only a minute before he groaned and was releasing inside me. I didn’t care that I didn’t come again. I had done more than enough of that. I hummed happily as he filled me and collapsed down on top of him.

“Was that it? Is she pregnant now?” Clint asked.

There was laughter in the group. “Takes a week or so, Clint,” Bruce said, with no patronization in the tone, just kindly educating his husband.

“It will, though, right?” Clint asked.

“They are both at peak fertility,” Thor said. “It still may not happen and I would recommend that Elise and Tony try again tomorrow. But it should work.”

I hummed and kissed Tony’s neck. “You hear that?”

He hummed in return. “Yeah. More sex or us.”

I giggled and nudged his cheek with my nose. “Not that part.”

He laughed and kissed me just under my ear. “Yeah. We’re gonna have another baby on the way.”

// NEXT

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anotheronechicagobog · 4 years

Text

Bulletproofness and Playing God Jay Halstead x reader

written by: @anotheronechicagobog

requested by @confusedpimp, I hope you like it!

warnings: swearing, addiction, Hannah Asher is NOT porprayed well in this you have been warned, malpractice, emergency c-section complications, involves Chicago Med episode ‘Do No Harm’, police being idiots and assholes, warrants served incorrectly, drugs, drug dealers, bad neighbourhood created by systematic oppression and gentrification, Will is a prick with issues, and canon compliant violence

A/N: I am very sympathetic and supportive of people who have addictions because not only are there a tone of genetic factors that weigh in on it, but environmental factors that most people have very little to no control over. That being said, I am strongly against people with addictions working in healthcare, first responding, and/or law enforcement who spend most of their time with vulnerable people who don’t have much of a choice about whether to trust them or not. If someone works in an area where they have someone’s life in their hands they cannot be addicted to a substance that will control their ability to make judgements, affect how/their ability to work, and function as a whole.

In the past eight months, a warrant has been served to your apartment twenty-one times. You haven’t done anything wrong, the name on the warrants was always for your upstairs neighbour, did this make being woken up and the fucking crack of dawn and being interrogated (sometimes arrested) any easier? Not even a fucking bit. So you weren’t surprised when at 3:28 am, your door was busted open (again), heard shouts of “Chicago PD!” (again), and heard your house being “cleared” (again). You groaned and sat up, holding your hands up. Your bedroom door was thrown open with a bang. “I am unarmed, Marcus Evans lives in the apartment upstairs, and I have no association to him.” In the blandest voice possible, you recited the statement the legal aid at your university wrote you. “Uh... Sorry? Hey, Sarg, I think I’ve figured out why there were so many unsuccessful warrants on this place.” The blonde man was still pointing a gun at your head, but more members of his unit came to surround him.

“Can I put my hands down now? I have documents that prove I am innocent, that the warrant was served to the wrong address, again, and that the only connection I have to Marcus Evans is that he is my annoying upstairs neighbour.”

They all sheepishly looked at you. The Latina woman spoke up, “the apartment is clear of anything even remotely illegal. Well, aside from the power lines attached to her box outside that show that her neighbours have been stealing power and internet from her.”

‘Sarg’, an older man with silver hair with a surprised look on his face nodded. “Alright, put ‘em down and get us the papers.”

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Despite all the evidence that the warrant wasn’t meant for you, they still insisted on taking you down to the station. You refused since they couldn’t arrest you and had no grounds to hold you on, and Sergeant Voight did not like that. “I’m too tired to give a shit about what you want. I have three jobs, student loans, and university to deal with. The only things of value in my apartment are my crappy laptop and internet access. The only time I am ever here is to sleep. You already disturbed what little sleep I was able to get, and I have work in... Forty-five minutes. Just great. Please leave, and can one of you, for the love of all things holy put a note in the system that this is NOT Marcus Evans’ apartment?!” Everyone flinched at your outburst, all looking both sympathetic and annoyed except for Detective Halstead, he just looked very sad for you. “Of course,” he said as he handed you a business card, “if you could call me when you have time, we have some pretty important questions.” Sargent Voight shot him a look, one that clearly said ‘what the fuck are you doing? That’s not your call.’ “Okay. Now seriously, please leave.” Irritated and muttering under their breath, barring Halstead who gave you a smirk and a wink, they all left stepping over the splinters of the door you replaced three weeks before.

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The next day after entering your sparsely decorated apartment, dropping dead on your bed/couch, you heard the distinctive sounds of a door being broken down, followed by the police announcing themselves, and an apartment being searched... Above yours. They finally got the right apartment! Despite the ache in your muscles and bones, you jumped up and cheered. Complete and utter elation surrounded you and your soul. A few minutes into your dancing and celebrating there was a knock on the door. Smiling brighter than you had in years you answered the door. “Good morning detective!”

“Well, good morning to you too, Ms. Y/L/N. You’re in a much better mood.”

“To be fair, you guys busted into my apartment at three in the morning, again, and I just heard everything that happened upstairs, you guys finally got the right apartment!”

“Hey, we never served more than one warrant here.”

“Your unit only served one, but your brothers in blue served twenty-one. Destroying property, unlawful arrest, causing severe anxiety, and just general harassment for eight months. The only reason I didn’t move was because I couldn’t afford to. I’m just happy it’s over now, I’ll never have a Marcus Evans warrant served at my apartment again!” Halstead looked happy when you opened the door and your conversation began, but when you finally took a breath you noticed how guilty he looked. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, looking like he was in physical pain, before he nodded at you and walked away, leaving you feeling incredibly confused.

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Two days later you returned from two ten-hour shifts to Jay Halstead in front of your door. “Detective?”

“Please, call me Jay.”

“Alright, Jay, what are you doing here? Is everything okay with Marcus’s arrest?”

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine with that. I came here because of this.” He handed you a large manilla envelope. “What’s this?”

“Compensation. For everything that happened over the last eight months. And apartment listings in better neighbourhoods. Seriously, you need to get out of here, it’s way too dangerous.”

“Thanks for the advice, and the compensation, I’ll think about it. But it just might not be doable for me.”

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You couldn’t afford to move, something that irked Jay to no end. So he came around often. Dropping by with coffee and Irish breakfasts. Sharing his Netflix password and watching B99 together. Driving you home from work or university when it was late. The days grew shorter, and your hours of work grew longer. Jay worried. About you. About the number of hours you worked. About how much university work you had. About your health, how much (or little, really) you slept and ate, how you didn’t see the doctor as often you should (ironic considering you were in med school), and about how you never took time to relax, always jumping from one task to the next.

You slumped against the passenger seat of Jay’s truck, exhausted after working for thirty hours straight, ten at each of your jobs. “Okay, seriously, you can’t keep living like this. I have a spare room, I can get you a civilian job at my precinct. You are wearing yourself to the bone. Please, Y/N.”

“I get my residency assignment tomorrow. I quit today.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“All three.”

“And you’ll move out of your apartment?”

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’. Jay sighed and shook his head, before looking at your half-asleep form. “I’ll take you to the shithole you call a home.”

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TWO YEARS LATER

Jumping up and down you waited for Jay to open the door. The envelopes sitting on his coffee table glaring at you. You flopped onto his couch (that didn’t also double as a bed) and huffed impatiently. Fidgeting.

The door opened and you jumped up, startling your best friend. His cop/ranger instincts taking over. He stiffly dropped his jacket and yanked out his gun before aiming it for your head. Panic coursed through you, tightening your chest. Reflexively you put up your hands, not able to control the words that bubbled out of your throat. “I’m bulletproof... But please don’t shoot me.” Jay lowered his gun, laughing. “‘Bulletproof’? Really?”

“Hey, I panicked, shut up.”

“What’re you doing here, anyway? I thought you were taking another shift?”

“I was, but then Sarah’s plans fell through so she decided to take her shift back, plus I got my fellowship applications back!”

“Where did you get accepted?!”

“I don’t know I was waiting for you to get back to open them!”

“Well I’m here now, so open them!”

“Okay, okay, here we go; Honolulu general, accepted, Seattle Grace, no, but they had a bomb blow up there recently so I’m not heartbroken, Chicago med, yes, and Miami Dade Memorial, yes. Okay 3/4, that’s great! What do you think?”

“Well I’m biased, so Chicago Med, but it would be fun to visit you in Hawaii.”

“Hawaii is so expensive though, I’d probably have to have a part-time job to make rent.”

“In a decent apartment this time.”

“Two part-time jobs, then. So Hawaii is out, now Miami... It is hot there, beaches, the ocean, the food, but Miami Dade Memorial isn’t very prominent in the research department and the crime rate is awful in the part I’d need to live and work in. I mean I know isn’t a whole lot better but... It would feel a bit like moving from bad to worse, especially on my budget.”

“So that leaves Chicago...”

“It does, but I think I need to find a new place that’s closer to Med and filled with less dug dealers.”

“Please tell me this was a subtle way of asking if you can move in with me.”

“It wasn’t, but now that you bring it up, would that be okay?”

“YES! Oh thank fuck, you’re finally moving out of that rat’s nest! C’mon, let’s go get your stuff now!”

“But Jay I just paid this month’s rent-“

“Let’s gooooooooooo!”

——————————————————————————————————-

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Because your apartment was in such a “great location” (in the same building as three drug dealers) your landlord was willing to give half of your rent back. It had only taken you twenty-something minutes to pack your things and leave. Now you were starting your surgical OB/GYN fellowship, excited to not be working multiple jobs at once for the first time since you were twelve. While Jay’s brother, Will, worked at Med as well he worked in the ED while you worked in the gynecology unit and you were thankful you only had to work together for consults or in an all hands on deck situation because he could be a fucking prick. When you first met him years ago he spent two hours quizzing your medical knowledge, and he got annoyed when you got everything right and he couldn’t correct you. So when you got a consult from him your first week there, you were apprehensive. “Hey Y/N, treatment room four.”

“Thanks, Maggie.” You pushed back the curtain and were met with the sight of a pregnant woman clearly in immense pain and a frustrating ginger. “Dr. Asher is her OB but we can’t find her anywhere. She was on-call but I, and a couple of nurses, and her secretary have been blowing up her phone and we’ve got nothing back. This is her patient Sienna. She’s in a lot of pain but is refusing painkillers, you’ve been working with her a lot lately-“ You snorted. His facial expression hardened. “Just come out and say it Y/L/N.”

“First of all it’s doctor Y/L/N, second of all, I haven’t been ‘working’ with her, I’ve been taking care of ‘her’ patients because she’s almost never at work. She just cancels the appointments short notice and since these women are kind of on a timeline their appointments get reassigned to other doctors. She’s listed as their doctor on all the forms but she’s never even met half of them. Sienna is the only patient that Dr. Asher has seen more than once.”

“Don’t talk about her like that, you don’t know-“

“That she’s an addict? The entire OB floor knows we just don’t have enough proof to do anything about it. And don’t get me wrong, I know that there’s a lot of genetic components to addiction and I would be sympathetic if she wasn’t responsible for multiple lives at a time on a daily basis.” You turned on your heel and entered the room, done with Will Halstead and his bullshit. “Hi Sienna, my name is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, and I’ll be filling in for Dr. Asher, I understand that you don’t want any drugs and while that’s fine, if your condition gets bad enough we may have to intervene but we’ll do everything we can for you and your baby, okay?”

“Where’s Dr. Asher? I need her here, she understands!”

“Okay, we’re still trying to find her okay?”

—————————————————————————————————

“So I heard that you and my brother locked horns today.”

“Your brother is a prick.”

“I know that he is, I’m just wondering what happened this time.”

“He’s doing this weird ethical-puppy love-guilt trippy-Romeo and Juliet level of doomed-unnecessary drama-thing going on and it’s completely affecting how he treats his patients. We already had one loose cannon we couldn’t disarm, now we have another. It’s come to the point that I’m genuinely worried about the patients that come into Med, and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry, I wish there was something I could do.”

“Just try not to antagonize Will, okay? He’s more on edge and that makes him erratic, I would really appreciate it if you wouldn’t make it worse.”

“Okay. I’ll leave him alone.”

“Thank you. I’m starving, what should we do for dinner?”

“Vietnamese is on the way.”

“Have I told you how amazing you are today?”

“Yes, but I would love to hear it again.”

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Dr. Asher’s medical negligence had finally caught up with her, and for once Will wasn’t even remotely involved. He and Asher were having one of their silent spats again when Asher dropped the ball, or baby rather, during an emergency c-section of a patient she misdiagnosed and mistreated because she was in need of a fix. The only reason the mother didn’t hemorrhage and baby didn’t crack his skull was because of your observations and quick reflexes. The baby was healthy and mom was recovering and you were fuming. After scrubbing out you approached the, understandably distressed, father and told him that on your best medical opinion he and his wife should file a malpractice suit for missing an easy and obvious diagnosis, screwing up a routine surgery, and almost killing his son seconds after he was born.

You met with him, his lawyer and Asher two days later in a conference room with Goodwin and Peter the Stressed Out Lawyer. You accused her of having an addiction. The father requested a drug test. Goodwin glared, you glared back. If she didn’t want it handled like this then she should have dealt with it months ago when you brought it up your second week at Med. She tried to approach you in the hall, condescension on the tip of her tongue when you levelled her with a glare so fierce it rivalled that of Godzilla. “You do not get to scold me like I am a child. I told you when I first got here that she has a problem. That she is a danger to everyone who comes into her care. That she is a danger to other doctors. That she is a liability. Do not bitch to me when I told a husband and father who almost his wife and son to her recklessness to sue. To get angry and fight back. Do not take that petty, catty, condescending tone with me because I went around you. You have absolutely no ground to stand on. Because. You. Were. Wrong.”

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You were surprised you had a job to come back to the next day. So was a very pissed off and ‘heartbroken’ Will Halstead. He kept running around to your colleagues, badmouthing you, trying to get them to join in and turn on you, but that didn’t happen. They not only agreed with you but rallied around you. Doctors are not gods. They do not get to ignore a patient’s wishes or act like they don’t have restrictions and limitations. It came to the point that Will told Jay he didn’t approve of you and that he had to dump you... Despite the fact that you weren’t dating.

Jay had rolled his eyes and pushed Will out of the apartment before giving you a hug and made you pancakes for dinner. “I’m sorry that I messed up your relationship with Will.”

“Don’t be. We’re brothers, we fight from time to time, and sometimes those fights are bigger than others and that’s okay. Will, well Halsteads in general, are pretty good at torpedoing any and all romantic relationships.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“My parents only got married cause my mom got knocked up and fought non-stop, Will was and still is in love with Natalie but he was too controlling, secretive, and refused to tell her about Burke, and me... Lindsay and I were on a break before we left because my Vegas wife refused to divorce me and I didn’t tell her I had even been to Vegas.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s a little true, but it’s not because you’re bad people or Even just saying ‘yes there’s something going on but I don’t feel ready to talk about it with you’ would go a long way. Cause all you Halstead guys say is that you’re fine but you never are and if you lie to yourself you lie to your partner.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. And tell Will when his head is surgically removed from Asher’s ass. You’ve seen that he follows her around like a puppy, right?”

“Yup, everyone on the OB floor has been talking about it nonstop since he started his whatever it was with Asher.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

Because of the suit, the hospital conducted an internal investigation in relation to Dr. Asher that pretty much everyone could confirm. Erratic behaviour and attendance, leaving other doctors to tend to her patients while keeping her name on the case files, and horrifying evidence of being high while working. Granted that had only happened twice and she literally just sat in her office staring at paperwork the whole time. Still, she was fired, the suit was settled, and Asher lost her license. You had destroyed her career and while there was a part of you that felt guilty, you knew that in the end she did the right thing. She refused help and kept carrying on in a way that would have been detrimental to more patients if other doctors hadn’t stepped in. Will still wasn’t talking to you and had started avoiding Jay recently because you two started dating.

Barring the tension from all the Will stuff, your relationship was doing well. You had great dates (both out and at the apartment), were radiating happiness together, and Jay was taking your words about communication to heart. Not once has the phrase ‘I’m fine’ dripped off of his lips. If he didn’t want to tell you something or was more comfortable talking about it with his therapist or Upton before you he’d let you know. Most times he would just talk about what was bothering him, even if it was only bullet points sometimes you both felt relieved that functional relationships were actually possible.

You were on a date with Jay at your favourite Jamaican restaurant when you ran into Hannah Asher. She did not look pleased to see you and quite honestly you could have lived the rest of your life happily if you never had to see her again. After a few seconds of glaring at you and your boyfriend, an annoying ginger put his arm around her. “Hi Will. How are you?”

“My girlfriend and I are doing well Jacob.”

“Really Will? You’re using my whole name because my-”

“Okay, you know what? Let’s go our separate ways. It looked like you guys were just leaving, and we’re probably confusing our poor hostess. So let’s both just walk away.”

“You ruined my life.”

“Asher-”

“You took everything from me!”

“Do you have any idea how many patients you almost killed in your time at Med? Because I do, and it’s a triple-digit number. You shouldn’t have been practicing in your condition and you know it. So you need to drop the victim act and walk away.” You saw her face contort into complete and utter rage, then everything is hazy. There were lights, bright red ones, and screaming, you were pretty sure Jay was there, and there was... Copper? Why did your mouth feel like it was full of liquid pennies? There was gurgling, was there a baby? Were they okay? You tried to speak, get up, look around, but you were too tired. You were begging yourself to move, to do something, but it felt like your bones turned into melting iron.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You didn’t remember waking up, or falling asleep for that matter, you were just looking at the glass door and suddenly it came into focus. You didn’t even know how you got to the ED, what happened at the restaurant. Dr. Choi entered your room apprehensively. “Y/L/N? How are you feeling?”

“Like I was mauled by a tiger.”

“That’s... Actually pretty close to what happened, honey.”

“Jay?”

“Hey, I’m right here. So, what’s the prognosis Choi?”

“Multiple contusions on the right side of the abdomen, lower back and around your neck, multiple lacerations all over your abdomen, forearms, and two on your head. Your liver was also perforated, we couldn’t stop the bleeding so we had to remove half of it, which you know means it’ll take a couple of months to grow back and you won’t be able to drink for around a year. We’re going to need to monitor you and run some tests, so you’re gonna be here for a few days.”

“Well I should hope so. What? Why are you two looking at me like I have eight heads? I could’ve died.”

“... You actually want to stay in the hospital and be cared for by your colleagues?”

“I trust you, besides I’ll only make things worse if I check myself out AMA, doesn’t matter how good of a doctor I am. It’ll be hard and I’m not going to enjoy it, but I have to stay here and get treated regardless so I might as well be as positive as I can about it.”

“You are officially my favourite patient.”

“And I love you even more.”

“Thanks guys, I appreciate it.”

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“What happened Jay? I don’t remember anything after telling her to walk away.”

“She went berserk. Attacked you. I tried to pull her off but Will lost his mind, telling me not to hurt her. I managed to toss him after a couple of seconds but I was too late. She’d already slashed you up and stabbed you twice. I grabbed her but she managed to get a bunch of kicks in while I was hauling her away from you all while screaming that she was going to kill you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you. She’s sitting in a cell at the 21st right now with Platt breathing down her neck. We also did a drug test on her, she was high as all hell.”

“Please don’t feel bad Jay, I know that you reacted as fast and did as much as you could. And I know that Will did what he could to stop you. How is Will by the way?”

“He’s in the cell next to hers. He assaulted a police officer and was an accomplice in assault. Voight’s been asking if I want to drop the charges against him because he’s my brother. And I just don’t know, I wanted to talk to you first.”

“I don’t want to charge him. And I don’t want you to press charges either, but I won’t stop you if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want him to go to jail, I want him to go to therapy. He needs it.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but he really does. And I think you need to be the one to bring it up with him. We can do some research, too, and find psychiatrists that have their own practices so that it’s not connected to the hospital at all.”

“That sounds like a great idea, but I think you mean I do the research cause you are supposed to be resting and not doing any physically or mentally strenuous tasks.”

“Fine, fine. Just give Will a hug from me when you see him.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ONE YEAR LATER

The day of the trial had finally arrived and you were pissed off about it. The date of the trial was the same day as your due date. The defence had done everything they could to delay the trial, and when they finally settled on the worst possible day three weeks ago, you’d tried to have it delayed again because you didn’t want to give birth in a courtroom. The defence had convinced the judge to deny it, so here you were, sitting in a sweltering room that smelled like old wood and seventies carpet for five hours beside your husband behind the district attorney doing your best not to glare at the judge. “It’s going to be okay, honey, she won’t get away with anything, it’s cut and dry. The only real thing to do is to determine her sentence.” Jay kissed your forehead and placed his hand on top of yours on your protruding stomach. You winced. “She just kicked again, Jay.”

“That’s seven minutes apart.”

“I’m in labour, we need to go.” Jay nodded to your lawyer who motioned to the judge for permission to speak. “Your honour, my client is in labour, may we adjourn so that she and her husband can go to the hospital?”

“Objection your honour!”

“Ms. Asher, do not interrupt the prosecution. I’ve heard and seen more than enough evidence. Ms. Asher, you are hereby sentenced to twenty-five years in prison for aggravated assault and attempted murder. The court now is adjourned. Oh, and Dr. Y/L/N and detective Halstead? Congratulations.”

#One Chicago #Chicago PD #chicago med #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #will halstead #Hannah Asher #sharon goodwin

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

The Crane Team: Raise a Glass

In the rundown part of Tokyo, there were nothing but convenient stores, used furniture shops, pharmacies and dental clinics. People were stacked end to end in coffin like apartments, one hundred to a building that would more comfortably fit forty units. Yet this was Japan, so it was still clean. Old people walked the streets that they had walked for years. But there were no fancy shops, no neon lights and no young people save those that went to the internet cafe to play on the better hardware.

Yoko insisted that Crow take a more modest car, so as not to stand out, even though it was not bulletproof.

“Plus it will show that you feel safe here.” She said.

“I’m not safe here though.”

“You are with me.” She smiled at him. He’d been chain smoking the whole way. “Besides, only the owner of the building is an actual Ghost, and he’s already in black prison. It’s just his son here now.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” Crow grumbled, putting the car into park.

“Okay, real talk? Yeah you’re going to turn some heads. People are going to get riled up. It’s just how you handle it! Just pretend it’s nothing and don’t shy away or look guilty. But don’t be belligerent either. Just smile! If you’re not sure what to say, just don’t say anything.”

Crow gaved his head a stressed scratch. “Alright! Let’s do this!” He grunted as he got out of the car.

It was late in the evening, not quite sundown but the bar was already full of patrons. The voices spilled out when she opened the door, ringing the little bell and walked right inside.

Crow kept his eyes forward, despite the fact that the chatter noticeably died down.

Yoko grinned and lowered her hands in a quietening gesture. “Easy, he’s with me.” She said in casual japanese likely learned from rubbing shoulders with the Devil Clan.

People were seated around round wooden tables with saucers of sake, playing cards and dice. Nothing had really replaced Bliss Hall. The Devil Clan still ran gambling establishments but they were scattered hole-in-the-wall places like this.

Yoko displayed a cool, easy confidence that Crow did not feel as she greeted the bartender who gave him a dark look.

“Shouta… I know what you’re thinking. But stop thinking about it. He’s not like some you might have met.”

Crow would have disputed that if he didn’t have such a huge target on his back. He was already counting the likely hidden firearms, as well as hidden exits and places that might block heavy ammunition. But even with this knowledge, he was in a pit of vipers and it was unlikely he’d escape without injury.

“Besides, I bring good news! My budget for the appeals process in the legal department has been approved. Which means, I will be able to hire a few folks from here to go work on getting people out of prison. I just need a name and a number where you can be reached. I’ll be the contact so I won’t share it with anyone else, same as always.” The last words were spoken with a soft sigh.

“You mean you wanna come in here and hire folks to work for Hydra?” The bartender Shouta put a bottle down in front of Yoko and pointedly ignored Crow.

“It’s not working for Hydra. It’s working for yourself and taking Hydra’s money. The cases you’ll be working on will be for Devil Clan members. You’ll be making sure they get a fair shake. It’s easier than running back and forth between the two of you. And you’ll be paid enough to live on your own in Tokyo.” Yoko popped the top off her bottle. “Crow, go ahead and order. Don’t be shy.”

“I’ll have what she’s having.” Crow said, his posture still guarded.

She wrote down a slip of paper and slid it over to the bartender who looked at it.

Everyone in the bar turned to the bartender who nodded. “Pretty good.”

“Is she for real?” One of the patrons spoke up. “Where will we be working?” A bright eyed young man with a ponytail and a stubble goatee wobbled up to the bar.

“Oh hey… Ryuusei…” Yoko leaned back away from him. “Right in Genji Heavy Industries.”

“Nice!” Ryuusei said. “Hah. I can’t wait to thumb my nose at these execs! Should I buy a nice suit? Heehee.” He looked over at Crow. “I’m Ryouma Ryuusei. Soon to be your coworker!”

Crow was deadpan. “You have to get hired first…”

“Wait… wait… let me see.” Another one got up and looked at the paper curiously. “Wow! Do we get paid that much? That’s way better than slaving down at the drycleaners. Man, finally I won’t have to work with my parents and maybe… just maybe I can move out?” He sighed and then blinked at Crow. “Oh… I’m Hayato.” He bowed politely to him. He looked barely sixteen. “What do we have to do?’

“Just follow up on the cases and hound the legal department to get things done.”

“You mean we’ll be telling those bastards what to do?” A deep voice boomed. “Sign me up! I’ll work full time!”

“Hey you have to be polite, Koki!” Yoko cut in.

‘Koki’ stomped up to the bar and tossed down a card.

That seemed to break the ice. In a few minutes, Yoko gathered more than two dozen business cards. “Thanks guys. I’ll be in touch. Also, for being good sports about my friend here, drinks are on the house!”

That seemed to excite them and the mood lifted instantly. She smiled over at Crow as everyone put in orders. Then she looked at the barkeep who was still unmoved.

“What about the Black Prison?” The man asked.

“I’m still working on that. One step at a time, please.”

“We don’t exactly have a lot of time.” The bartender answered back.

The mood in the room dampened.

Ryuusei, Hayato and Koki all gave Shouta the bartender a thumbs down. “Money is money and we need money!” They said in unison.

Yoko sighed. “And that’s no way to talk, Shouta. I didn’t think I’d make it to 20 years old. And I still might not for other reasons. But you can’t think that way and expect a reversal of fortune. I still dream of finding a nice handsome man and settling down and having a lovely wedding and raising my kids!”

“Maybe you can raise my kids?” Ryuusei leaned over at her.

She pushed him away laughing brightly. “You have to get a job first! You can’t expect to live off my paycheck! And that’s just step one!”

“What’s step two?” He asked, not giving up.

“You’re gonna need to get a scholarship to Cassell College. I’m not dating a drop out! As much as I love Japan, I’m not staying here. I have a world to see and promises to keep! I’ve earned my days after all! Once I’ve finished rebuilding the Japan branch with my two hands, I’ll have earned all the more.”

“Hey…” The men around her said with some annoyance.

“It’ll be all me unless you guys step up.” She looked down at them haughtily through her lashes.

“Of course, I’ll step up!” Koki reached for another bottle that Shouta seamlessly slid over to him. “It’s just that I’ll just have to learn to keep my fists at bay! Those Hydras won’t have a nose to look down on me if they keep it up.”

“Don’t ruin it for me though... “ Hayato said softly. “I don’t want to get fired with you.”

Shouta sighed. “You people… fine, get your hopes up. I hope it does work out. I really do. But Hydra and Devils have never gotten along. Don't buy in too much. When things break apart, you don't want them to know where to find you.”

“Come on, Shouta!” Yoko pleaded. “Don’t kill the mood! Koki can stay out of trouble, Ryuusei will keep brown-nosing me and Hayato just wants to get a good job. If we want the Japan Branch to run independently and we can’t do that without throwing our hats into the game! You are part of the Japan Branch. No more of this Hydra versus Devil Clan… it’s just Japan from now on!” Yoko cheered, raising her bottle. “To conquering Japan!”

“To conquering Japan!” They all chorused.

“To conquering Japan!” The bottles of cheap beer clinked and the mood in the bar was downright festive.

Yoko had no idea how big the tab was getting. Hybrids were rough drinkers and she swore there were more people in the bar than when she first announced all the drinks were on her. But she smiled over at a still sober Crow who had relaxed considerably.

Yoko looked different to him. Far from the serious faced woman, she looked more like she actually was, a young college girl out on the town, drinking with her friends. It made sense that she was more at home with the Devil Clan. It was likely true between her and Cassell as well.

She stood up. “It’s true that not everyone we remember can be with us tonight, but we can say because we’re here tonight, we can have another round for them. Right! Serve us another Shouta!” Her eyes sparkled at the barkeep who was finally getting infected by her charm, no doubt persuaded by the healthy tab she was racking up.

“We’ll be able to tell them all about it once they get out. And then we’ll have another round with them!” She added, hiccuping. “On this round, let’s raise a glass to our future! It’s so bright we have to wear shades!”

She handed a bottle to Crow who accepted it with a smile. Shouta raised his own bottle and together, they all drank.

#Dragon Raja

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deeeelightfuldee · 3 years

Text

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say? ooooof. I don’t think i’d buy that. I hardly think people who DO show they have feelings for me are being truthful, so I doubt that.

Do you play video games? haven’t in some time, but I want to get back into it a little.

Do you spend a lot of time with family? oh heck yeah. I have a really great family.

Is your house more than two stories tall? nah, it’s the two stories with a basement.

Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you? I will never raise my hands to another human being. I once dated someone who was a veteran and had severe ptsd. we were napping one time and he got aggressive. that wasn’t HIM though.

What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!) physically, I suppose I have nice eyes and a decent smile. personality wise, I am warm, friendly, loving, supportive, sometimes funny, very loyal.

What color is your hairbrush/comb? depends which one I use. I have a pink one right now.

What snacks do you have available in your household atm? I honestly haven’t got a clue. I haven’t been let out of my room in 2 weeks.

Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive? yes. it’s weird.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? DEF not. he has been asking me out since we worked together maybeeeee.. 8-9 years ago?

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you? yes! I am trying to learn how to undo that. it’s not that I don’t want to care about him, but I know and can soooooooo clearly see that he doesn’t care anymore, and it is extremely emotionally draining to watch.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female? I wanna say female but idk

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? scott

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? couple days ago.

Do you play any games on Facebook? Nope.

What would you like to get a degree in? I have two degrees -- one in psych and one in SLP.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? ahahahaha yes. almost always wide awake from 3-6

Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? typically more in the movie/show or book mood.

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? Both. nothing like that buttery, salty goodness that obvs requires an enormous drink

What genre of films do you like the best? either make me EXTREMELY sad, or romantic.

How many bank accounts do you have? 2

Have you ever had the flu? Yeah.

What is your goal for the next few months? i have several. the only one that can/will be public right now, is to get my lungs back to functioning as they were.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life? yes. I have very bad breathing during sleep. I have had 11 sleep studies done, because my breathing will just stop randomly, which luckily my brain wakes me. it doesn’t really affect my like severely.. I function normally. but shoooooot, if I got normal levels of sleep i’d be a force to be reckoned with.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience. Yes. It was AWFUL. vomiting for 2 days straight. it was so gross.

Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex. smart and romantic.

Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it? hmm. I think there have been times where i’ve let people have more access to me than they should have had. or there have definitely been times I’ve been used in school groups. But honestly, I tend to be protective of myself. I stop when I feel enough is enough.

You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? I would want either Bill to not die, or for her to be spoiled incessantly by someone else.

Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? psh. no. my friends are all tiny which is just not fun.

Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you? Yeah. i found it so fun.

Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see? ahahahaha no.

Which is worse: dusting or mopping? mopping. i hate doing the floors.

Did you pull a senior prank? Not really advised when a homeschooler.

Did you graduate? Yes. that was a rough, rough day.

Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? Nope

What was the last song you listened to? i think it was Happier than Ever by billie eilish. the lyrics are ... woof.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision? 20/12 -- the last time I had insurance anyway.

Is fashion one of your interests? honestly, if I had money, it would be. but it isnt right now.

Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone? It’s getting harder and harder to believe that will be the case. I knowwwww I need to start dating, but every time I go to open up an app, I hesitate and chicken out. I just was so happy before.. its hard to think I could be able to offer anything to anyone right now.

Do you care what people think? veryyyyyy few people. I care about the thoughts of those I genuinely love and respect. However, I still ensure I’m protecting myself regardless.

Is acting something you enjoy? No.

What was the last thing you broke/sprained? I have a bum knee, so I sprain that from time to time. I last broke a finger.

Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours? ahahahaha yes. but years ago. never because of mine.

Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language? No. I don’t cuss.

Whose house, other than yours and your families’, are you most comfortable at? probably either nathan’s or em’s.

Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you? alix’s family used to yell at me a lot for being fat. that used to mess me up.

Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? soccer. no, i found the endless running to be unnecessary.

Did you ever watch the show Full House? yup

Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry? no, thats so out-of-touch with reality

Have you ever burned someone’s picture? yes, i have.

What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on? i think it was 8 hours. I hate hate hate hikes. But, thats because I have really weak lungs, so my doctor says it’s like lighting them on fire.

Would you ever get a lip tattoo? No.

Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? kile

Do your parents smoke cigarettes? my mom hasn’t since a teenager. I think my dad does still. though, i dunno for certain.

What does one of your T-shirts have written on it? uhhhh, PTK honors society

Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. Any reptile or insect. <<<< same

Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller? Taller.

Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Yes. very much so.

Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? No, i respect people who are truthful saying they either try not to judge, or that they do judge despite their desire to stop.

What did you love the most about the town you grew up in? sooooooo much. it’s small town-y, quiet, safe, lots of trees, family close by.

What’s a movie you cried the hardest during? ps i love you will always shatter my heart.

What’s your favorite restaurant? buona or ashford

Is there a dessert you don’t like? im not wild about pastries.

What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it? hmmm maybe that one mrs. pettigrews home for peculiar children.

Underwater or outer space? i’m fascinated by both. typically more interested in the water.

Dogs or cats? both. all of them.

Kittens or puppies? kittens.

Bird watching or whale watching? whales!!!!!!!!

What was your best subject in school? in HS probably history. or science. in college, psych or neuro.

What was your worst subject in school? Math. always freakin’ math.

What is one thing you wish you knew in high school? Uhhh. hm. i don’t think anything. I liked my experience.

Who is your fashion icon? nada.

Diamonds or pearls? Both are nice. I love pearl stud earrings and I really want a simple, one pearl necklace. I am kinda ruined for diamonds for some time. My favorite rings and necklace were diamonds from kile and I just cant bring myself to wear those anymore.

What color dress did you wear to prom? pink

Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? oh sure. I am envious of those with bangin’ bods. I’m envious of those who have great finances. I am envious of those who live life married to their love. I’m envious of people who see kile regularly. But there are difficulties that come with any of those situations.

Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out? not long ago. the whole crushing reality of losing kile just destroyed me. I’m OK now.

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? ahahahahah. I just reject all calls.

Who are you closest to? My mom and nathan rn.

Have you ever had a bad concert experience? no

Are you currently sad about anything? several things have recently been really saddening, but I’m ok. Ill get thru it.

Have you had any form of exercise today? Its going to be some time before I’m cleared for that. I almost faint from taking a shower and I have to be on oxygen after doing the one flight of stairs.

Can you handle blood? doesn’t bother me at all.

Has any place hired you underage for a job? yes. I mean technically, I was legal to work in that I was 17, but the company didn’t want to hire younger than 18.

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? not like in public, but at a house or gun range, yes.

Are you currently searching for a job? soon.

Does eating breakfast make you sick? i’m never ever ever hungry for it. I know i should, but its the worst. I don’t even like breakfast foods.

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letsbenditlikebennett · 4 years

Text

Encounters of the Strange Kind || Ariana & Frank

TIMING: Before the last full moon during the nightmares POTW PARTIES: @frankmulloy & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana goes to watch a soccer match and bug her favorite bartender, Frank. Some nightmares brought to life make for a strange afternoon.

It wasn’t often lately that Ariana found herself with a free afternoon and as much had been preferred. Just when she felt like she was finally beginning to move forward again, Winn had to go and die on her, too. If she let herself sit in all those feelings for too long, she was almost certain she wouldn’t be able to find it in her to get up again. Moving was easier. At least that’s what she had kept telling herself, but now the erratic weather meant soccer practice was cancelled which means she wouldn’t spend the rest of her day coaching. She was far ahead on all of her projects for school and she didn’t want to bother Blanche or Grace yet again. The weather also meant a run with her dog was out of the question so she opted to drink beer and watch some soccer matches at Perfect Pint. It wasn’t the world’s best distraction, but bugging the bartender had always proven to be a good time. While the USWNT wasn’t playing, she threw on the Rapinoe jersey Athena had gotten her anyway. Something about channeling Rapinoe had always left her feeling a little tougher. Which was saying a lot because most days, she considered herself to be pretty badass.

Considering it was a weekday afternoon, Ariana found the bar wasn’t overly crowded, so she grabbed a seat in front of the women’s Olympique Lyons team’s match. While they weren’t her team, she remembered Kaden was a Lyons fan. It gave her some sort of deeper attachment to the game which meant it’d be more likely to hold her attention. She waved at Frank as she settled into her seat and gave him a wide smile. Confidence was key to no one questioning her fake ID. “How are you doing today,” she asked brightly before adding, “I’ll take a Guinness when you get a chance.” She hadn’t liked it at first, but it grew on her. She admittedly just said the first thing she looked at the first time she came here and just kept going with it.

Frank had always considered Perfect Pint a lesser form of Soul. Less sticky, less sleazy, less were the chance of someone kicking someone else’s teeth in—or maybe that was just his shift. Maybe in his absence the patrons that gathered at the latter establishment were perfectly pleasant, either way, the Irish bar was a welcomed breath of civility before the shit-storm the evening would no doubt bring. The presence of another gancanagh added to the ease of simply being as the pub owner exercised a control over his ability that even after all these years Frank had never fully mastered. His pheromones fluctuated to a rhythm of its own make, a song Frank was not privy to and struggled still to understand. But the shadow of a smile that threatened to break his mask of perpetual indifference came at the hands of one that, legally, shouldn’t even be allowed at the bar. They both knew this— that no matter what her ID said, Ariana was not 21, not the fact that he silently enjoyed her company. No drink was strong enough to make him admit anything so personal. But more than that, if he admitted it, then it must be true, and if that was true then so was the very real possibility that she was only hanging around him because of the reason that most people were. The same reason he slid people their drinks across the bar, why he was always so generous with his distance, why he didn’t smile when he turned to meet Ariana but rather regarded that she was there—of course she was wearing a fucking Rapinoe jersey—another body to warm the bar’s seat.

“Do you have an ID for that Guinness?” Frank said, with perhaps a little too much enjoyment, after the glass was already in his hand. “I get the pub is Irish but you know that American laws still apply right?”

Something about the chatter around the bar was much more comforting than the near silence of her apartment. Ariana was glad this place was close to her new apartment and that her fake ID never seemed to be extensively questioned even though it seemed fairly obvious Frank knew she wasn’t 21 yet. Plus, they always played the soccer matches so it always gave her something engaging to do even if she didn’t have someone joining her. As Frank asked for her ID, she pouted and dramatically pulled her wallet out of one of the pockets in her cargo pants. “You know, you keep not remembering me and my very iconic blue hair, I’m gonna stop tipping… okay, that’s a lie,” she responded with a small laugh as she slid her ID across to him. She gave him a pointed look as she waited for him to set her beer down. The urge to do a triumph fist pump was resisted. Instead, she motioned her glass up in a cheers motion and took a sip before commenting, “You never told me how you were doing. You haven’t seen any weird fish lately, have you?” She’d seen a few of them floating around along with some other strange things. Still felt like a good idea to check in and make sure everyone was staying safe amidst the crazy that was White Crest.

The threat of no tip was met with a slight upward lean to the corner of Frank’s mouth, which was more of a smile than most could say they’ve ever received from the infamously stoic bartender. The Guinness had already slid across the bar’s top to her awaiting hand before she had even pulled the ID out; the presence of the little card vaguely acknowledged though not such attention was paid to its content. “Fine,” he said, and he was fine, and was happy to leave it at fine, but of course, Ariana had a talent for catching his attention when he least expected it. Like, say, a remark about weird fishes. “This whole fucking town is weird.” Frank would be remiss to say that the amount of fog that blanketed the town was a common occurrence, not to mention the pair of bright glowing lights that peered eerily behind them. Logically, he’d sooner owe it to a pair of headlights, than anything stranger, which was rich coming from a guy with giant wings sticking out of his back. Logically, he also knew that no vehicle or trunk had lights that large, that moved so silently, seamlessly-- there was nothing mechanical about these lights. “Why? What have you seen?” A pause. The temptation was to close the distance between them, but alas (at least this time) habit dug down its heel, and so did Frank. “What have you been up to kid?”

Of course he hadn’t actually bothered to look at her ID which made Ariana laugh a bit. While Frank was never the overly talkative type, she did enjoy his mostly quiet company. It gave her something else to focus on when the game wasn’t enough to keep her thoughts from drifting somewhere darker. He was a bit of mystery though and fine almost never meant fine. She knew better than anyone because she’d put that brave face on every day for the kids and a little bit for herself. “I hate that word,” she stated plainly, “90% of the time it’s bullshit, but I’ll give you that one.” At least his response to the question about fish led her to believe he wasn’t completely clueless to the ways of this town. That made it easier for him to stay safe. “You know, you’re not wrong,” she agreed, “Some of it is good weird though, like the dog toys falling from the sky. My dog had a field day with that one. Still, probably a good idea to avoid the giant floating fish if you can.” For a moment, she could almost detect a hint of concern in his voice though he still kept his distance. She didn’t want to alarm him, so she shrugged and answered, “Honestly, I’ve seen a lot, but more recently it’s been the floating fish. Thankfully, they seem to mostly just kind of float by if you don’t bother them. I may be tough, but I’m not exactly eager to see if I can take on an oversized flying fish.” The answer to his next question was decidedly nothing good outside of school and work. Between ghost hunting, avoiding sleep, and her plans to turn Ace into a werewolf like her, she was decidedly not staying out of trouble. Not even a little bit. “Oh, you know-- work, class, typical young we-- people things. I opened up an Etsy shop, so if you need any custom woodwork or repairs, I’m your girl,” she responded hoping her answer sufficed even if she definitely left big bits of the truth out. She shifted in her seat slightly and a puzzled look crossed her face as all the TV screens in the bar went fuzzy. That was weird. It was a perfectly sunny day out so she couldn’t think of any good reason for the television picture to just go out.

For reasons too complicated, and probably too depressing, to dissect without the supervision of his therapist, Frank had somehow convinced himself of being able to care for little else beyond that which directly affected him. Now Frank was a great many things but never the uncaring type, and while he was a talented wordsmith (when he had the energy to be) he was, as was the nature of his species, a poor liar. Even to himself. So when “fine” was met with a reaction that was far from it, his heart—he was frequently surprised to learn, or be reminded, of its existence—reared its head, and fixed a tender gaze on the younger girl. He said nothing however, feeling that it was the wrong time to press, but he would remember the minor outburst, and keep it close to heart. While Frank himself was still challenged with admitting to the existence of the strange and unnatural, despite himself being one of those strange and unnatural things, to have Ariana confess to it so readily, and so casually at that, made it concrete, and real. No, the lights were not in fact a truck in the foggy distance, it was indeed a giant floating fish. That was normal now. He was part of that normal. So what happened then when a normal person has spent his entire life believing he was not? How does he come to terms with that? The answer: he doesn’t. He instead focused his attention on anything else, on anyone else. “Right, so that sounded decidedly unconvincing. Your fake ID is more convincing than…whatever that was.” He waited for a characteristically snappy response, but when she looked up at him—no, past him, her brows knitted together at whatever the TV was showing. “What are you…?” Nothing, the TV was showing nothing, and yet she seemed entranced, or at least concerned enough to be curious. This made him concerned, and by the way the few patrons that were in the bar were whispering and mumbling to themselves and each other, it was going around.

“Jesus H,” the dish rag draped over his shoulder, Frank sought for the remote and tried to turn it off, but the battery was either flat or the TV refused to obey. Logic supported the former, and logic made him reach up to press the button on the monitor itself. That was when water started leaking from the screen. Logic offered no sound explanation for that. Somewhere within the bar came a yelp as the water from one of the leaking TVs (was he seriously admitting to that?) short-circuited the juke box. No, Frank thought decidedly, it had been two weeks since he last fed and he was too fucking tired for this shit. “Yeah, I’m not cleaning that shit up.” He tossed the towel aside, stuck his head into the kitchen and announced his early finish. “No offence but I don’t think your game is playing kid,” he said and ducked out from behind the bar. Something wasn’t right, and frankly he felt no great desire to stick around, and owed to some strange endearment he’s found in Ariana, he didn’t want her to stick around either. “I’m heading out. Finish your Guinness. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Normally, she would have been quick to comment on the fake ID remark. Ariana wasn’t sure just how serious he was, because would he really be serving her if he thought her ID was fake? Maybe he just didn’t give a crap which actually checked out to a degree. The water leaking from the TVs was far more pressing though. She was pretty sure electronics and water didn’t mix, so she took a step back. “TVs,” she answered as she pointed upward. How were they even doing that? She doubted there was any satisfying answer, but slowly scooted away from any electronics. After all she’d been through, she wasn’t about to go out by electrocution of all things. She took a big gulp from her glass of beer because frankly it was warranted with the current level of insanity. So much for having a nice escape from White Crest reality. It hadn’t been all that surprise to see Frank ditch the bar. She laughed a bit and commented, “I don’t blame you. Probably dangerous back there right now anyway.” The jukebox seemed to agree with her so she was glad he was seemingly away from any spots that may cause electrical shock.

While the TV situation was still concerning, Ariana figured she didn’t have much of a reason to stick around with both the game off and Frank gone. Beer alone wasn’t going to be enough to distract her from the whirlwind of emotions she currently didn’t feel like acknowledging. His offer to walk her home was unexpected though. She looked up to him and said, “Yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate that even if I am probably a lot tougher than you think I am.” She jokingly sized him up, but agreed her beer was worth finishing. “For sure gonna finish this bad boy. Can’t be out here wasting a perfectly good beer!” She was quick to polish off her beer. She refrained from burping as she set the glass down because as Celeste taught her growing up, it wasn’t proper table manners. Not that she truly understood why table manners were a thing humans cared about, but for the sake of blending in, she did her best to follow some sort of norm. “So we adding bodyguard to your business card now,” she joked as they left the now nightmarish scene behind. Thankfully, everyone else had also been quick to bolt, so she wasn’t too concerned for their safety. Every so often, a creepy face would flash on the screen and she muttered, “Wow, I fucking hate that.” She pointed down the block and said, “I live this way, not too far away and surprisingly decent rent. Not sure if you know the area well or not, but it really is a steal.”

“I am sure that you are.” Frank’s lips twitched as a genesis of a smile began to take shape across his mouth, one that came very close to becoming fully formed, until he too saw the ghostly face that haunted the TV screens. Fuck. That. Many of the pub’s patrons shared the same sentiment and a steady stream of people trickled out behind them, and for the first time (and hopefully the last) Frank was glad that he had the evening shift at Soul that day. A snort escaped his guard, harsh and full, a gleam of something mirthful reflected in his eyes as he turned them toward Ariana. “Depends on how much you’re willing to pay me,” he said and was only half joking. Bartending doesn’t pay a great deal, and there were many artefacts in his piece of crap apartment, including the piece of crap apartment itself, that would attest to this. The Bend wasn’t exactly known for its New England style living, but then again, neither was Frank.

“It’s nice.” He mused, quietly observing the shops that lined the streets and the plants and bushes that trimmed the sidewalks. Frank spied what looked like a stray dog toy tangled in the leaves of one of the passing bushes. Raining dog toys. That was normal too. Another thing he had to come to terms with getting used to. Not the fact that that particular thing happened, but the possibility of something similar, and equally strange and outlandish happening again. “I never really took the time to take in the streets. I mostly just come in for work, and then go to Soul and then go home. But this street, this place, I can see you living in it.” In the same weird way that you can somehow just sense that someone does not belong in a certain place, you can also sense when someone else belonged exactly where they were-- the latter was usually a lot more pleasant to observe. Walking next to Ariana, in the street she lived, Frank came to the conclusion that she looked like she was exactly where she needed to be; a place bustling with life, and events, and possibilities...even if it was a little strange. “It’s nice.”

Ariana noted the almost smile that Frank made though she didn’t comment on it. He was seemingly gruff, but she was pretty sure he enjoyed her company. Well, at least more so than the rest of the bar’s patrons. Which was fair, she was way cooler and far more adorable. As they walked, she laughed a bit at the mention of paying him. “Thankfully, I don’t need my own bodyguard, not that I could afford one. As it turns out, coaching kids’ soccer a few times a week doesn’t pay enough for a glamorous lifestyle. Not that I want one, but building a cabin one day would still be nice. If my woodworking really takes off, I may have a job for you.” They rounded a corner and something about the sky felt off. She ignored it and added, “I should warn, I’m good at finding trouble.” To be fair to herself, trouble often found her based on her species alone, but she definitely had a knack for following her nose right into some sort of White Crest nonsense.

It surprised Ariana that Frank hadn’t done much exploring the streets yet. While the more populated parts of town weren’t necessarily her thing, she did know the woods like the back of her hand. Or paw, depending on the day of the month. “Yeah, there’s a lot of good shops and restaurants down here. It’s a good area, I prefer the woods, but it’s nice living across the hall from one of my best friends. So thanks.” She was almost wistful for that cabin in the woods she was supposed to build with Celeste one day. Hell, she even missed the place she helped Ulfric build, but there was a sense of pride that came with having a place of her own. Plus, hiking with her school projects that were often bigger than her was a bit much. She’d been smiling softly when a strange smell hit her nose. She paused in the middle of the sidewalk and looked in the direction her nose was picking up a more animalistic smell. Before it could even register fully in her mind, a raging moose was charging them. “Shit,” she yelled out and pushed Frank out of the way as she barely dodged getting impaled by a fucking antler. “What the fuck,” she grumbled as she regained her balance and stared the moose down, letting out a low growl.

“Me too.” Frank’s smile hiked a little higher, and there was something knowing about it, like sharing in a secret that they both had, even if it was from each other. Though he did not necessarily indulge in the more cursed aspects of his existence, he always found that it was better to take it with good humour lest he drowns himself in self-pity; the latter being a significantly worse reality.

Frank spent the rest of their walk quietly observing the younger girl, his eyes squinted in a mixture of easy amusement and sharp curiosity. She spoke, a lot, and he listened, filing away pieces of information that he found useful or interesting: her relationship with the woods, her best friend, woodwork, how the three worked together to form an idyllic picture of the life Ariana wanted for herself. The pieces of information that went untold, fueled by a detailed history, alive and well as evidence in how she spoke. It made him wistful for a future that he never imagined for himself (he never tried to), and wanted dearly for her to have—her sudden stop elicited the same reaction in him, though it was obvious that she was sensing something that he wasn’t. Something he couldn’t. He heard the rumbling of hooves on pavement before he saw it, and even then he saw very little as a force, and a very impressive one at that, pushed him out of harm’s way, very nearly knocking him off his feet were it not for the swift sweep of his wings slowing gravity just enough for him to recover his balance—the product of instinct rather than any great skill. And then a low growl, unmistakably animal, and too near for comfort. First the ghost child TV, then the moose, now if he was about to get mauled by a fucking wolf Frank was going to lose his shit. Alas, there was just Ariana, and a very angry moose carving its way through the street before disappearing around the corner. No wolves to be seen…and yet. “Ariana, are you okay?” Concern coloured his words and made his touch more gentle as he reached out to examine her for any obvious injury. “Are you hurt?” And then finally, inevitably, “only in this fucking town.”

As she reoriented herself she swore she saw a flicker of wings on Frank. Ariana blinked slowly a few times and realized it must have been a trick of the light. Not that wings would be totally off base in this town, but the rest of their surroundings still felt surreal enough that she wrote it off. There was still a small lingering suspicion that maybe Frank wasn’t quite so human either. She’d have to observe him more carefully. She brushed herself off and answered, “Yeah, I’m fine. More startled than anything.” The moose kept running and rounded a corner. Maybe she should have been more concerned, but she simply didn’t have the energy to chase a moose right now. Not in this form. She figured she could shoot Kaden a text and let animal control deal with the seemingly pissed off moose. She stood still for a moment as he looked her over and kept her demeanor calm despite the internal ‘what the fuck just happened’ vibes she had going on. “I’m not hurt. Did only narrowly dodge becoming a moose kebab, but it be like that I guess,” she said with a slight laugh. “Yeah, that was super on brand for White Crest, but hey, neither of us turned into moose-pops today, so I’ll call it a win.” She was dying to ask about the wings, but she still wasn’t entirely sure of what she saw, so she’d file that one away for later. “To be safe, let’s keep moving in case he decides to come back for round 2.” She paused briefly as she started leading the way to her apartment before she finally caved and noted, “So… you were pretty good at catching your balance there.”

Ariana’s note was like a plunged blade, spearing through the glamour that he has tried so hard to maintain. Did it fall? Did she see? She couldn’t have. Frank’s wings were not little plastic accessories that you found hanging off some rack at some halloween store. They were huge, and not something that usually elicited such a casual response...not that he’s had many experiences to draw from. Yet at her remark, he prompted his face to smooth over any evidence of emotion, trying his best to manufacture the closest imitation to nonchalance. “Oh yeah? Thanks kid,” he said before allowing an edge of gentle humor pushed into the timber of his voice, “I mean I’d be a pretty shoddy bodyguard if I’m tripping over my own damn feet.” This made sense--even if Frank’s history of fighting recorded more losses than wins. “Maybe you should consider getting into the bodyguard business. That’s some arm you’ve got.” Needless to say, had it not been for Ariana’s quick reaction, his day would have gone in a very different, most likely more painful, direction. The reminder beckoned curiosity’s head to surface through the crack’s of his apathy, and despite the strangeness of the TV, the moose, he could not erase from his memory the distinct sound of a dog’s growl.

Curiosity also prompted him to vocalise his next words, but Frank was careful with them, lest he risked sounding insane in a town known for its strangeness. “After that moose, did you, I don’t know, hear anything weird? Like a growl?” Was he suggesting that he heard the moose...growl? Perhaps. But what was the more likely event: the moose growling or Ariana growling? Then again, little ghost girls were crawling out of leaky TVs and only moments ago they were almost ran over by a rampant moose and Frank himself had a literal silver tongue and giant wings stuck to his back, Ariana growling was hardly the strangest thing that happened in that afternoon alone.

“Fair point,” Ariana responded with a laugh. A clumsy bodyguard seemed like more of a hazard than protection. At the mention of having a strong arm, she shrugged. The full moon was quickly approaching so her strength was peaking though even during the new moon she liked to think her athleticism afforded her a bit more in the way of strength. “What can I say? My natural athletic prowess surprises yet again,” she answered with a laugh. It wasn’t entirely a lie and she was tempted to just throw out the fact she was a werewolf. She was almost positive she had seen the briefest glimpse of giant ass wings on his back when he stumbled from her push. It was unlikely he’d have anything against werewolves. She was trying to have a little bit more in the way of tact regarding this kind of thing, but was pretty much failing at that. Would there really be much harm in telling him? As stoic as he was, he seemed to have a soft spot for her. Not that she could blame him. She was adorable and she knew it.

As Ariana started to lead the way toward her apartment again, Frank mentioned the growl and she stopped in her tracks. Of course he heard that. Sometimes her instincts were stronger than her common fucking sense. If she was being honest, it was probably more than sometimes. She sighed and explained, “That wasn’t the moose. You did hear a growl. That was me.” She was already most of the way there to telling him, might as well go for it. “I’m a werewolf, that happens sometimes.” And there it was. Did this give her the ground to ask if she saw wings or would he just think she was crazy? She could probably chalk it up to weird teenaged Twilight daydreams if anything else. She watched Frank carefully, looking for any sign of how he was taking that little bomb.

In summation: little ghost girls were crawling out of leaking TVs, they were almost ran over by a raging moose, flying fishes were a thing, and so was raining dog toys apparently, and Ariana was a werewolf. The truth settled over Frank like a blanket and he was unpanicked and strangely unperturbed, though either would have seemed a more conventional reaction to the news. In fairness, that tends to happen when you have a tongue that is literally silver and giant wings sticking out of your back. She could have told him that she was Irish (considering how often she was at the Irish pub), and his reaction would not have differed greatly from that he had on now: raised brows, mouth slightly parted as if wanting to say something but unsure of what, and a pensiveness had settled over his eyes as he digested this new discovery. “You are…a werewolf.”

The first time Patrick told Frank that he was a fae, and that Frank was one too, he laughed (and then punched him again, but that could also be accredited to several other factors), and though the reality of his situation seemed entirely too impossible to be logical, his father’s explanation was the only one that made sense. Frank didn’t laugh this time, but was instead preoccupied with another thought: why was she volunteering this information? He was suddenly very acutely aware of his wings, and the effort he exerted to keep them hidden—like one who was suddenly very cognizant of their own breathing, and the mechanics of that unconscious process. She did see his wings, was the first thought, followed by a question of whether he minded that she did? Was he comfortable enough to let her know of what he was, as she apparently was with her secret? Was it ever a secret? It wasn’t as if the subject came up in a lot of their conversations to begin with. “A werewolf like…Michael J. Fox, werewolf?”

The news of her being a werewolf didn’t seem to come across as too much of a shock and Ariana was grateful for that. There was definitely some processing happening, but as much was to be expected. At least he wasn’t looking at her like she had five heads or something which meant he most likely believed her. “Yes, I’m a werewolf,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a secret, but shouting it from the rooftops would likely attract hunters that weren’t as understanding as the ones she knew. If she could help it, she’d rather not be a trophy on some asshole’s wall. She wanted to follow that statement with ‘you have wings’ because she was pretty sure she’d gotten a glimpse of them, but if she was wrong, he’d really think she was insane. At the mention of being a Michael J. Fox werewolf, her features contorted in confusion and she paused for a moment. “Wait, what?” Her head tilted as she looked at him in earnest and said, “I have no idea what that means or who Michael J. Fox is. The gist of it is I become wolfy around the full moon, have a good sense of smell and strength, and really like red meat. Oh, and I guess I growl sometimes.”

Well, fuck. There’s nothing quite like making an aged reference to remind you exactly of how old you are. “Michael J. Fox...like, Teen Wolf nineteen-eighty—you know what, don’t worry about it.” Although Ariana’s general description seemed to follow, more or less, the general formula of the werewolf myth Frank was familiar with, the strangest part of all of this was not that she was a werewolf but that he felt no distance between them since the discovery. No unease, or distrust; she was still exactly the Ariana he had come to know. The same Ariana who knew exactly which buttons of his to press, and the right words to say to coax a grin or a chuckle out of him, especially when he least expected it. In fact what he did feel was something more akin to relief. She wasn’t a fae but she wasn’t entirely human either—like him. A small part of Frank was almost envious of her. She was so comfortable with herself, she knew exactly what she was, and unapologetically so. She listed her traits with the familiarity and ease of a cook listing the ingredients of a well-known dish: no judgement, no prejudice, just simple facts. The same could not be said of himself. The subject of his fae heritage had always left a bitter taste in his mouth. One Frank washed down with cheap cigarettes and even cheaper alcohol, finished with a serving of good old fashioned denial. You know, healthy things. “You didn’t have to tell me that you know,” he said, “why did you?”

No one had ever really asked Ariana that question before and it left her a bit curious. Frank definitely did not seemed bothered by her revelation or afraid of her in any way which was good. It wasn’t like she’d ever hurt him. Still, she supposed other people were a bit more tight lipped about their species than she was. The fact of the matter was that she liked Frank and she didn’t believe he’d ever do anything to hurt her. She shrugged as they rounded the corner toward her building and she answered, “I don’t know, it’s not like a big secret or anything. I mean, I don’t like broadcast it for the world to know, but given everything today, I didn’t think you’d be too shocked. Plus, pretty sure you’re not a hunter… not that hunters are automatically bad. I’m friends with a few, but still.” It dawned on her she was growing more curious about what he was so she added, “Plus, you don’t seem too shocked. Do you have like some sort of background with this stuff?”

Frank kept his eyes forward, his expression betrayed little of his thoughts, but he could not deny the sliver of ice that slid down his spine at the mention of the word. Hunters. He didn’t know why that was. He also didn’t know why he started thinking about his father. Didn’t know why the word triggered the image of him to come to the forefront of his mind, and the fear that he saw in his eyes, or perhaps most frightening: the resignation in them. Most faes were immune to things that otherwise proved fatal to humans; difficult to kill if you didn’t know what you were doing, entirely possible if you did. Hunters would. Was that what happened to Patrick? Frank had never cared to ask, and thought little of that night since, until now. Not that hunters were automatically bad, Ariana had assured him. Frank offered her a smile (it looked off, but then again, it was Frank), though he wasn’t particularly eager to go out and test that theory either. He turned his gaze back down, and for a moment their eyes met. She knows. He lets out a sigh, his fingers raked through the side of his beard, unsure of how to put together the words he struggled to say even to himself in front of a mirror. “Er…yeah, you could say something like that. I mean not werewolves, obviously, you’d be the first, but other things.”

While it was still a mystery of how Frank knew all of this, he seemed to take it relatively with stride. At least, he wasn’t any more or less stoic than he normally was. Ariana was still curious to know if her hunch was correct, but he could tell her in his own time. She knew not everyone was as comfortable sharing their species as she was. Or maybe he was human and just didn’t try to make excuses for everything weird that happened in this town. She’d sworn she saw wings for a second there, but with everything else that happened, it was hard to tell. Either way, she offered him a warm smile as they neared her building. “Well, whoever said save the best for last was wrong then,” she joked with a smirk present on her face. She took on a more serious tone and added, “I know a lot of people here who have a bit of something extra, so if you ever find yourself in trouble or anything, let me know. Even if it’s not something you can throw a werewolf at, I usually know who to ask for help.” She stopped outside the front of her building and turned to Frank. With a small gesture, she said, “This is my stop. Keep an eye out for angry moose and let me know you make it home safe, alright?”

The invitation was a door and Ariana had so graciously held it open for him. All warm smiles and not even a glimpse of a shadow to hint judgement or malice or a well to use the knowledge of what he was against him. But Frank’s history shackled his feet and he didn’t move but looked at her with feigned ignorance. He’d as good as closed the door himself and every part of him wondered why. Simply, it was not Ariana he wanted to hide the truth from but himself. So he could play grumpy bartender a little bit longer, supplying banter and alcohol to underage werewolves and deny the responsibility of his supernatural inheritance. It was fucking pathetic, he knew it, and he swallowed the truth with a smile as Ariana was delivered safely to her front door. Although that was perhaps more her doing than his. “I’m not going to ask who or how you know said persons, but I will keep that in mind. Personally, I hope that it never comes to that.” He mirrored the gesture back to her, a reluctant grin cracked across his face in a way only Ariana could force out of him, “yes ma’am. You stay out of trouble kiddo.” Somehow he knew, as soon as he said it, trouble and Ariana were never too far away from each other.

#wickedswriting #encounters of the strange kind #frank #// this was so fun and i love their dynamic #JT also sent me with that last line

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et-lesailes · 5 years

Text

i’ll help you // part two

PART ONE

pairing: michael weiss x reader

word count: 1508

summary: you and mike have finally achieved having a healthy and loving relationship.

themes: romance, angst

WARNINGS: mentions of drug use and death

taglist: @evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @denisemarieangelina, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb, @raveviolet

notes: I FINALLY DID THIS!!! get early access to my oneshots on patreon! graphic creds to @thewritingdoll ~

“C’mon, c’mon-- it’s a fuckin’ party, no more work talk. Get outta here with that bullshit. Have a fuckin’ drink, c’mon.”

You rolled your eyes fondly upon hearing your boyfriend’s strong Boston accent, striding up to the bar of the house party and placing a hand on his shoulder, arching a brow. “But none for you, correct?” He scoffed and threw an arm around you, pulling you into his body. “The fuck do I need a drink for when my girl’s way more intoxicating?”

“Smooth.” You replied sarcastically, but couldn’t help but smile as you leaned into his hold.

The past year had been rocky, to say the least. It usually was, recovering from addiction. There were times where you had been frustrated, angry, miserable-- you had even gone as far as to quit your job at Weiss & Danziger because seeing Mike high and fucked up when he consistently promised to quit was too much. The two of you broke up for a good month or so before you gave in, getting back together with him. You loved him. You had to accept that. And you had to be patient.

That didn’t mean the fights stopped. The second you thought he was improving, he’d be taking pills whenever he thought you weren’t looking. You even received concerned messages from his students who had seen him out at clubs or parties. You felt trapped. Besides for the drugs, he was an excellent boyfriend-- truly attentive, observant, and had no issues showing his admiration and love for you. He wouldn’t even look at other women, despite the countless drugged out, barely legal affairs from before showing up at his door. He loved you.

But he was struggling from a disease.

It took his literal death for him to finally, finally understand.

You had been at your parents’ place for the weekend. You needed to get away, being around him was suffocating. The problem with dating a lawyer was that he knew just how to talk. He was manipulative without even trying. It was practically in his DNA; your own bedroom would turn into a goddamn courtroom. And so, understandably, a break was much needed.

He was depressed. Miserable. Terrified of losing you, but too stubborn and too deep into his addiction. You had been sitting at the dinner table when you received a phone call from the hospital informing you that Mike had overdosed and had quite literally been declared dead for three minutes before the paramedics had managed to revive him.

You had rushed to the hospital-- to this day you were unsure how the hell you had made it there in one piece, considering your tears had been blurring your vision the entire time. You burst into the room only to see that he had been crying too, his face pale, his eyes bloodshot, and dark circles extending to his cheeks. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments before the waterworks began again, you screaming and bawling about how worried you were, him apologizing over and over again looking both frustrated and anguished at the same time.

“If you want me to stay, Mike,” you managed to finally sputter through your sobs, “you need to get help.”

And that he did. He was sent to rehab, and there he stayed for three months. For obvious reasons, it was horrible in the beginning. He was sick, angry, lashing out, depressed, suicidal-- but he was getting help, and so you stuck to your promise. You stayed. You were patient, and you were there for him when barely anyone else was. When he was finally released, it felt like a dream. He was finally wholly the man you had fallen for to begin with-- the man you would catch glimpses of those rare moments he wasn’t high, the man who was filled with love and compassion despite sometimes seeming so cold and calculating. Of course, he wasn’t perfect. There were times he was tempted to relapse, but you were there to talk sense into him. There were still fights, but every healthy couple had those. It finally felt like the two of you were in a real functioning relationship, and you could finally be wholeheartedly proud of the man you loved so much.

You convinced him to avoid parties for a while, which was difficult for him- he was an extroverted guy, and one of his ways of unwinding after a long day of work was spending quality time with people. Still, the temptation of alcohol and drugs was far too risky.

Now that it had been four months since he had been released, the two of you were finally out at your first social gathering together in months. And he was doing wonderfully. He was still the same old Mike-- witty, loud, blunt, and a bit of a smart-ass, and you loved all of it.

“You having fun, sweetheart?” he questioned, holding his arm around you as he gestured to the bar with his other hand. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” You shook your head with a smile; ever since he had become sober, you had also decided to stop drinking to help encourage him. “I’m good. And yes, I am having fun. It’s been forever since we’ve done this, it feels kinda good being around all these people again,” you remarked as you looked around at your friends. “Mm, it does, but if we’re bein’ perfectly honest I just wanna bring you back home and fuck you into tomorrow.” He replied bluntly, and you blinked before laughing loudly. “Michael! Please, can you be appropriate for at least five seconds?” you jokingly scolded, and he laughed as he pulled you into a rough hug, playfully shaking you around. “It’s all your fault, you’re just so damn pretty all the time I can't help but be aroused! Be ugly for once in your life, huh? That’s all I’m sayin’.”

You laughed as you let him jostle you about, wrapping your arms back around him to return the embrace. “Please. You’ve seen what I look like completely sleep deprived and bawling my eyes out like a little baby. You know perfectly well I’m not always pretty.” You teased- you were expecting some banter in return, just like there usually was with Mike, but instead he pulled back and looked down at you with a more serious expression. “Yeah. I have, and I was the reason for it. And I never, ever want to see it again, baby doll.” You blinked when you saw the sadness in his blue eyes, frowning lightly as you reached up to gently touch his beard. “Hey. I didn’t mean it like that, I was only kidding around. You make me happier and happier everyday, Mike, I’ve never felt so complete with someone. Honestly.”

He barely smiled but you could tell he was still somewhat melancholy. Rehab really had changed him; you noticed the lawyer expressed much more serious, sentimental and heartfelt emotions with you ever since he had been released, but you appreciated this. In the past, he had been a little too rational minded, only thinking of things in straight lines with no gray areas. “I just need you to know I love you.” He mumbled, taking your hands in his. “And I don’t think I could ever stop apologizing for everything I’ve done to you. And even then, a million apologies wouldn’t be enough.”

“But you learned from your mistakes,” you gently reassured him, squeezing his hands, “and you were able to be brave and take the step needed to make our relationship work. I knew I loved you for a reason, Mike, and it’s because of this. You’re resilient and you’re compassionate. You’re a lawyer because you care about standing up for what’s right, and you’re my boyfriend because you care about me.” You leaned upwards to kiss him gently, rubbing his fingers with yours. “So thank you. For working so hard and fighting your addiction. I love you so much.”

When you pulled back, his eyes were already somewhat wet. You smiled, shaking your head to yourself as you reached up to caress his cheek with your thumb. “Hey, mister, don’t you dare fucking cry because you know I will too…”

He chuckled lowly and suddenly pulled you into a tight hug. “Christ, I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore. Cryin’ at a fuckin’ party like some sorority chick who drank too much Franzia. Why do you even put up with me?”

“Didn’t I just give you that spiel? Gosh, Mike, do you even listen to me?” you joked, though hugged him back just as tight, sighing in content. “Maybe we’re both nearing our limits with the whole party scene, because going back home and cuddling up in bed and watching a movie sounds… way better right now.”

“Agreed.” He scoffed, pulling back though keeping one arm around you as he looked around. “Fuck this place. C’mon baby, let’s head back home.”

#michael weiss x reader #mike weiss x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #mike weiss imagine

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lynyrdwrites · 4 years

Text

The Big Bad Wolf

Here it is, @goldcaught, the first part of the Psy-Changeling rockstar AU. Also posted on AO3.

---

The bar was hot.

She didn't know how Kit could stand it, up on the stage, under the spot light. She could see that his skin was slicked with sweat, but it didn't seem to bother him at all, as he continued to sing along with a thumping bass line. He was natural born performer, and the crowd that he had gathered proved it.

But Sienna would admit she preferred to listen to him in the studio he used in the basement of DarkRiver Records, the one with the table where she could work on her homework while he picked out chords for a new song. Not that she didn't love to see him in her element - she did - but clubs brought back bad memories, and since she had lost Tai and Evie in the crowd when she'd snuck away for a break in the ladies' room she didn't have them to keep her mind off of those memories.

She tried to ease through the crowd, to the last place she had seen her friends. Instead her drink, orange juice mixed with some gingerale, was knocked from her hands, and a particularly enthusiastic dancer caught her with an elbow, making her stumble backwards into a sudden gap in the dancers. Sienna barely had time to even consider how to stop herself from falling when she hit something hard and warm.

A chest.

She didn't have a whole lot of experience, but she still recognized a man's chest when she hit it.

She jerked to move away, but a pair of hands had dropped to her waist when she hit the chest, and they held her in place, just preventing her from running into a writhing couple that had filled in the spot she had previously stood in.

"Careful. It's crazy in here. The kid has quite the following."

The voice was a deep, low growl. It made Sienna shiver in awareness, and the sensation made her feel off kilter. She didn't tend to react to boys. It wasn't that she didn't find them attractive - she did - but she'd made way too many mistakes during that dark year when she had almost completely fallen apart, and it had left her on guard and almost immune to being truly affected by that attraction.

Yet still the voice made her shiver.

"You should let me go," she replied, trying to look over her shoulder to see who the voice belonged to. She ended up having to tilt her head back, because he was tall - very tall - and Sienna had never been known for exceptional height. "I don't know you."

The man looked down, and his lips curved into a slow smile. Sienna got the sense he wasn't a man that smiled all that often, but she had to admit that it turned his face from attractive to something almost breathtaking.

And the heat in her cheeks was caused by the heat in the club. At least that's what she would say if anyone asked. It definitely wasn't because this stranger was attractive. Sienna was no stranger to attractive after all; it had shed it's appeal before she even became a legal adult.

"Well, Baby, we can change that real easy." The crowd seemed to press in around them, forcing Sienna further into his chest, something that he didn't seem to mind at all. The music turned from a rocking beat into something slower, and Kit began to croon about being held by a lover and staying with them. It was one of Sienna's favorite songs, and the man began to sway to it, Sienna's body moving with his.

"I don't think we're close enough for you to use pet names," Sienna said to him pertly, but she didn't pull away again. It felt nice, she realized, to be held against him and to move to the music. And really, the dance floor was so crazy that trying to pull away would just make her uncomfortable.

Everyone gave the man some space - just a bit. But it was enough to let Sienna breathe more easily than she would be able to do pressed in among the masses.

"Then what would you like me to call you?" the man's voice was a low rumble against her ear - just loud enough that she could hear it despite the music.

"Sin," she said after a second - a spur of the moment decision. He might not have even recognized her, if she'd used her real name. But there was always that chance that he would, and she didn't want reality to burst in on this moment, if he realized that she was Sienna Lauren, and everything that meant. Besides, Evie and Tai did call her Sin, so she wasn't even lying. "And what should I call you?"

She thought he might have tensed, but in a quick move he spun her around, so that they were face-to-face, his hands on her hips still as they began to sway once more.

"I'm okay if you call me Baby," he said to her, and Sienna swallowed, her throat feeling dry. She thought she was very likely in way over her head with this man, but the thought of pulling away from him and searching out Evie and Tai again was... beyond unappealing.

"I doubt that's really your name," she said at last, pressing a bit closer to him when the crowd pushed against her. When she was given some room once more, she didn't pull away. She kind of liked being pressed up against this man, even if her uncles would totally give her a lecture if they ever found out about it. Walker in particular had given her The Talk about getting too close to strangers. There had been a PowerPoint involved.

But something about this man... he set her off-kilter emotionally, but something about his presence seemed familiar in a way that made her feel comfortable with him, in a way she never was with strangers. It had taken Evie a month of incessant talking and bringing Sienna hot chocolate before she would even give the other girl her number. Trust didn't tend to come easily to Sienna.

So letting go of this... Walker would have to forgive her for ignoring the PowerPoint. Just this once.

"And Sin is yours?" the man asked, bringing Sienna away from thoughts of anyone but her. He leaned down, his breath warm against her neck, and then paused. When Sienna's only response was to stroke her fingers through his hair, he pressed a teasing kiss against her neck, just under her ear. "Although I gotta say it's accurate."

The words were appreciative, and Sienna preened under them. Evie had convinced her to dress up for a night out in the club, in a tight t-shirt and knee high heeled boots that still left her far shorter than the man, but put their heights somewhat closer, so he wouldn't strain his neck bending down like he was, for access to her own with his lips.

And didn't those lips feel just amazing?

"Y-you're pretty forward, aren't you?" she asked, stuttering on the first word in a way that made her mentally wince. Her dance partner was smooth and suave, and Sienna didn't sound like either of those when she was stuttering. She cleared her throat and hoped he didn't hear it over the sound of Kit's music, which had switched to a faster pace once more.

Her dance partner smirked at her in a way that said he was entirely to aware of the effect he was having on her, and he gave a twirl that was so unexpected it made a surprised laugh burst out of her. She was twirled back into his arms again, and she still laughed as he held her close again, moving them to the quicker pace.

"You're pretty good at dancing, Baby," Sienna said, deciding that she wanted to feel carefree for the night. If that meant playing games with this man... well, why not?

"You're not bad yourself, Sin."

Sienna grinned in reply, and tried not to think about the reason she was "not bad". Those thoughts didn't belong in this moment, in this man's arms. Tonight, she was Sin and he was Baby, and tomorrow would bring reality back.

"I'm going to kiss you," she decided after several minutes of enjoying being held in his arms. She'd been eyeing his lips almost the whole time, but he hadn't been taking her hint, even though the way they curled said he knew exactly where her attention was.

"I've been hoping you would."

She tangled her fingers in his hair again, and tugged him down. Her experience with kissing was pretty limited; the downside to rarely trusting anyone enough to let them in her personal space. There had been a few attempts with Kit - they had been pleasant, even heated, but never enough for her to completely forget herself. And she wanted to forget herself. She wanted that sort of crazy, stupid love that Walker had with Lara, that Judd was working towards with Brenna.

Their lips touched, and he took control of the contact almost immediately. He used his teeth to nip at her bottom lip, and swept his tongue against hers, and Sienna's mind went utterly, gloriously blank.

This was crazy. This was stupid.

She didn't know how long they continued to kiss. She just knew that it felt glorious, and that she was completely unaware of what songs made up the rest of Kit's set. She would apologize to him later, but she wouldn't mean it at all. Because this was what she had wanted so desperately, what she'd been envious of, when she'd seen it others.

It felt sort of like a dream, and when the set ended, signalling the end of the night, and the lights in the club came out, they seemed blindingly bright to Sienna.

"It's over," she said, feeling somewhat disappointed as she looked around. Her dance partner back them into a corner, against a pair of steps, and he grasped Sienna's hand. A pen appeared out of a pocket, and he scrawled a number on the back of her hand.

"It doesn't have to be. Give me a call, Sin. We'll do this again."

He disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, and Sienna stared after him. She probably looked stupid and longing... but that's what college students were supposed to do, right?

"Oh my God." She almost fell on her face when Evie was suddenly grabbing her shoulders. Tai caught them before they could go sprawling, however, and Sienna grinned at him in thanks while Evie, who had clearly had at least a drink too much, just bounced with way too much energy. "I didn't know you and Hawke were a thing, Sin! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Indigo?"

Sienna stared at Evie. At first, she just felt confused. But then her expression slowly transformed to what she knew must be horror. Because there was only one Hawke that Evie could be talking about. Known as The Bad Wolf in tabloids the world round, he was even somewhat responsible for Sienna and Evie meeting. Evie's older sister and Judd both worked with Hawke, and it had been Indigo that had first introduced the two girls, although Evie's subsequent determination to make it a friendship had been all her.

"Damn," Tai murmured, whistling through his teeth, making Evie look up at him with bleary confusion. "You didn't know? But Judd is his manager."

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly follow Judd to work," Sienna pointed out, feeling somewhat faint. She needed to sit, and looked around for a place. But Tai grabbed her arm, and began to muscle her and Evie towards the exit. "But Kit..."

"I'll text him. You can send him flowers later. We need to get you to the car before you're sick, Sin."

Getting back to the apartment she shared with Evie was another blur, this one entirely different from the night dancing with Hawke. This was a blur of nausea and horror, because a rock star was the last thing Sienna wanted in her life.

Was the last thing she needed.

She felt numb until she was finally staring at her reflection in her mirror. She was sweat soaked and pale. She hadn't actually gotten sick, but she still sort of wanted. She looked down once and saw the phone number on her hand, and determinedly turned away from it and the mirror. It wasn't until she was in the shower and had finished washing her hair that she looked at it again.

The numbers were streaky, but still legible.

Sienna scrubbed at them until they were gone, and tried to ignore the disappointed sinking in her stomach. It was stupid. She was being stupid. Even if she were willing to let someone like Hawke Snow into her life, she knew his type. He wouldn't remember her name in the morning; she'd be just another number. That's what fame did to you. You became just a number.

Sienna had learned that the hard way. Judd had learned that hard way; and her uncle might have taken steps back into that world, even if it was just on the edges, but Sienna knew better than to take even those small steps. It was an addictive lifestyle - the type that ruined who you were and left you as a shell you were ashamed to acknowledge.

The number was gone, and soon enough Hawke would be as well - removed from her mind. It would be for the best.

She finally left the bathroom, wearing sweats and an over-large t-shirt to find Evie sitting on her bed. She looked smaller and far more sober than she had in the club.

"Did you really not know it was Hawke?" she asked in a small voice, looking incredibly guilty.

"Don't look at me like that, Evie. You didn't do anything wrong. It was... a night. I enjoyed it. I won't regret it." The words burned on her tongue, because they were a lie. But she didn't know if it was because she would regret it, or if it was the way she made it seem so much... less than it had felt.

"What will you do on Monday? You're going to work at his school."

The school Hawke had created for the artistically gifted. If families could afford it, the tuition was hefty. But for those gifted students whose families couldn't cover the cost... Hawke did so himself. Walker was the principal, and her cousin and brother were both students. The next day, Sienna was going to be shadowing her aunt, the on campus physician, who also went with Hawke on tour.

It had seemed like such a huge opportunity at the time.

It was still a huge opportunity.

"It's not like he'll be there," Sienna pointed out at last. "It'll be fine. You need to sleep off your drunk."

"Okay," Evie replied, and she curled up right there against Sienna's side.

Sienna didn't fall asleep for a long time after that. She stared at the roof and tried not to imagine the form next to her was muscular and blonde instead.

---

"I don't generally care about your moods, but if you stay in this one you'll frighten the children."

Hawke bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile at Judd. His manager just looked back with the blank stare that had once driven Hawke somewhat crazy. He had since learned to accept the other man's stoicism - mostly because he could always pull Judd's reaction to Brenna out of his pocket if he needed ammo to get under his skin. Judd could play at being expressionless... up until he was faced with the pretty tech leader. Then he was what Hawke could only call a disaster.

But even the thought of Judd around Brenna wasn't enough to fix the foul mood Hawke had been in for three days.

He had danced with the pretty read hair at the club where he was scoping out the newest act for DarkRiver, he had given her his number... and it had been radio silence ever since.

It wasn't that Hawke thought he was irresistible. He had a healthy ego, knew he was attractive and never lacked for partners in bed, but he knew that women were capable of turning him down. Take Brenna for instance - there had never been any heat between them. She viewed him as just another brother. He was perfectly fine with that.

But the red head, Sin... there had been heat there. And it had been mutual. He knew when women were attracted to him, dammit.

She had felt the heat, too.

And she had been smiling at him when he left her on that dance floor. He hadn't wanted to, but with the lights coming up he knew he was in danger of being recognized. Sin had seemed clueless as to his identity, and it had been kind of nice. So he'd figured he'd take the steps to keep it that way and tell her all about himself when he could do it in private.

Preferably while feeding her dessert. Did she like chocolate?

But in order for that to happen, she'd have to damn well call. And she hadn't.

So yeah, Hawke was in a foul mood.

"Don't worry, I won't scare your niece and nephew," Hawke muttered, trying to force his expression into something more neutral. The last thing he wanted was to scare his kids.

"It's nieces now - Sienna has started her summer position with Lara. And I wasn't referring to them. It takes more than an angry expression to scare those three."

Despite his foul mood, Hawke felt his curiosity perk at Judd's words. He knew about Sienna Lauren of course - the child star that had abruptly disappeared from public view when she was seventeen, amidst rumors of a drug addiction and a sex scandal. When she had applied to work with Lara, Judd had said that she was clean now, and that the experience had left her with a distaste for the spot light. Since Hawke knew a bit of Judd's own history with fame and trusted the other man implicitly, he had given his okay to Lara hiring Sienna if she aced the interview.

He remembered how she'd looked as a kid - dark eyes and red hair. She'd been a cute kid. More than one teenager had had a crush on her in the day. He wondered how she'd grown up since.

"How has the job been going?"

"Very well. Sienna's even more certain that psychiatry is the path she wants to take; Lara's tried to lure her to the general med side, but so far it's a no go." A small smile curved Judd's lips - talking about his family was one of the few times he allowed himself to openly show emotions. Seeing him with his niece and nephew had cemented Hawke's desire to hire the other man as his manager two years ago. It had taken several months to convince Judd of the same.

They entered the school, and Hawke's thoughts were interrupted by two children barreling towards them. He recognized Ben and Marlee immediately - the former was there for art, while the latter was still vacillating between whether she wanted to focus on music or acting. Between Sienna and Judd, there was a history of both in the Lauren family, and Marlee didn't have to make decision any time soon. The whole point of the school was to let the kids explore their artistic sides freely.

"Uncle Judd!" she exclaimed, stopping just before she would have rammed into him, throwing her arms around his waist. Ben didn't show the same restraint, however. He nearly took Hawke out at the knees, and it was just what he needed, to dispel some of his terrible mood.

"Has Walker loosened up his rules since the last time I was here?" Hawke asked, ruffling the boy's hair. "He letting you kids run around the halls like animals."

Ben looked sheepish and glanced around, as if he expected Walker to suddenly appear and look at him with that look that seemed to always make the students immediately regret poor behavior and listen to whatever he said. Walker never got mad... he just looked at the kids until they were mad at themselves. it made him a great principal.

Ben motioned Hawke closer, and he knelt down so they were the same height.

"Don't tell Mr. Walker," he said in a psuedo-whisper. "He'll give us a lecture, and keep us inside at recess, and I finally got permission to take the camera out with me."

"And what do I get if I don't tell?"

Ben looked so thoughtful that Hawke had to look away from him to avoid laughing. His gaze met Judd's, so bland that he knew the other man was struggling to hold his own mirth in, even as he hugged his niece close with one arm.

"I'll give you one of the pictures I take," Ben offered finally. "I'm getting better at it!"

"We'll call it a deal, just stick to indoor speed in the future."

"Okay!" Ben grinned widely at him, then glanced back at Marlee. "We gotta go, or we'll be late for our classes!"

The two took off once more, this time at a more appropriate speed, and Judd and Hawke were left to continue down the hall. They encountered a few more straggling students, who gave bright greetings but had to hurry off to classes. Back at the beginning, Hawke's presence had always caused an uproar. Now the kids were so used to his presence that they considered him just another teacher.

It was nice, to be looked at for lessons instead of an autograph.

They were nearly to Walker's office when the door opened and Lara stepped out. Hawke was ready to make a joke to her, about fooling around on company time - her and Walker were one of the most solid couples he knew, but they were also affectionate - only another woman followed behind her.

In the dark of the club, her hair had seemed black, and Hawke hadn't stayed with her long enough once the light came up to realize otherwise. But now he saw that it was actually red. A deep, dark red - like the heart of a ruby. She was even shorter now, having replaced her heeled boots for flats, and the tight t-shirt for a flowing blouse. But despite those differences, it was her.

His Sin.

"Sienna," Judd greeted, his voice and eyes warm, and Hawke felt his stomach drop as his manager greeted her with a warm hug that spoke of the endless affection of a close family. She hugged him back, with a surprised but pleased smile on her face, until her gaze met his.

Then her expression became shocked, and Hawke felt his own shock turn to something closer to anger.

Sin.

Sienna Lauren.

And some of that anger was self-directed, because he could see it now. Not so much the party animal teenager she had been once, but now that he looked close, he could see Toby in her hair - a few shades darker than his, but her the boy's hair would darken to that same shade - and in her eyes. He could even see something of Judd and Walker in the tilt of her chin and the shape of her lips.

Of course, he still wanted to kiss that mouth, something he'd never wanted to do to her uncles.

After he gave her shit for not telling him who she was.

And for not calling him.

But did he even want her to have called him, now that he knew who she really was? He was pretty sure Judd's niece was off limits.

"Hawke?"

Hawke jerked, and realized that both Judd and Lara were staring at him, while Sienna looked everywhere else besides him.

"What?" he asked, and Lara's brows rose at his defensive tone, while Judd's eyes narrowed, just slightly, in a way that said he was saying entirely too much. It was a dangerous look, that one, from a man that Hawke knew was protective of the girl he still hugged with an arm.

"I asked if you had met Sienna," Lara said after a beat of silence. "She's shadowing me for the summer, before she starts med school. Sienna, this is-"

"Hawke Snow," Sienna finished with a strained smile. She stepped away from her uncle and held out her hand. "My friend, Evie, owns several of your albums. I guess she's a fan."

"Evie is a sweet kid," Hawke replied, his own expression as flat as the one Judd usually wore. Of course, it was a far more foreign expression for him. Hawke could be serious, but he knew how to have fun as well. "Says she's morally obligated to be a fan because of Indigo."

He took her hand, and for a wild moment he wondered what she would do, if he tugged on the limb and pulled her against his chest, kissed her like he had at the club. Her palm was warm against his, and he felt a shiver go down his spine. Sienna's eyes sparked with awareness that was quickly hidden by her distantly polite expression. But she wasn't that good at it; if they ever played poker, Hawke was pretty sure he'd figure out her tell. It was a valiant effort, though.

But still... he'd seen that look. The attraction between them was still mutual, even in the light of day.

"Your school is impressive," Sienna said, and she had to jerk her hand away twice before Hawke would let it go. He glanced down, saw the way she flexed her fingers, before looking in her eyes again. "I'm really looking forward to my role here."

She looked polite and demure, but Hawke knew that the smart mouthed girl from the club was still there. He just-

The thought was interrupted by a cleared throat. Judd, who was watching him with a less than impressed look. At the sound, Sienna retreated to Lara's side, while the doctor looked between all three of them with an expression that said she already felt tired.

"We need to meet with Walker," Judd pointed out, and Hawke rolled his shoulders.

"'Course. Can't keep the boss waiting. It was very nice meeting you, Sienna."

Sienna gave him a tight smile, and then hurried after Lara as the older woman headed down the hall. Hawke watched her, until she was out of sight.

"I am trying very hard," Judd said slowly, each word short and precise, "not to demand you tell me what that was."

"Med school," Hawke said after a moment. "She's in her twenties, right?"

"Twenty-one," Judd said after a moment, and Hawke felt a thrill of relief. He knew that she was the kid of Judd's older deceased older sister, but it was still a close age gap. He'd admit to being a bit worried. Twenty-one, though... still damn young. "Hawke, you know some of what she went through."

Yeah, he did.

"Christ, Judd," he said, with what he hoped was an easy smile. "She's a pretty girl. But I'm not that kind of guy."

He was, apparently, exactly that kind of guy. But he wouldn't be again. It was a promise he made to himself. Sienna Lauren was too young and too scarred for him to ever drag into his orbit. Hawke knew he wasn't easy to deal with. Dealing with him and the celebrity lifestyle... he'd resigned himself to never finding that particular unicorn in his life time.

He wouldn't do that to Judd's niece.

His Sin - Sienna - she was off limits. He'd step away, wouldn't think of her again.

It was a lie, but at the time he thought it was a pretty damn good one.

#Psy-Changeling #Hawke x Sienna #Psy-C fic #goldcaught

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thisselflovecamebacktome · 4 years

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My personal connection with Taylor’s discography, part three: Evermore

Basically this is just a series I’m doing where I write down my feelings on what each of the Taylor songs means to me personally. Part one was my relationship with It’s Time To Go, which you can find here and part two was Right Where You Left Me which you can find here.

Before we get started I want to give a quick trigger warning that this particular post is going to talk about sexual violence, suicidality, and revenge porn, so please keep that in mind if you’re someone with a history of those topics.

Anyway, with that being said, this is how I personally relate to this song.

Evermore

As a whole, this song feels like a recollection of all of my darkest times as well as a reminder that even though it felt like those moments would define the rest of my life, I have reached a point where they no longer do. It is also a good reminder that timing and love are such important aspects in life and sometimes you have to trust and rely on them to get you through the rough times, even when there’s no solid evidence that it will work out, because that’s all you have.

Gray November, I've been down since July

2011 was an absolute shitshow for me. It was my final year of high school (year 10 where I live) and two of my closest friends had just moved across the country. Likewise, I had two friends die in the space of a month, one from a brain tumor and one from a suicide that I witnessed. And to top it all off, it was when my family issues really started ramping up. Just when I thought that I was moving forward and starting to recover and find my footing from all of that, July 3rd happened. In short, on July 3rd, I non-consensually lost my virginity, a concept that was very important to me at the time as a Christian teen, to multiple men. As a result, I spent the next year and a half in a depressive and suicidal state over the events of that night and regressing the progress I had made from the other bad things that had happened in 2011.

Motion capture put me in a bad light

A few weeks after the events of July 3, I had found out that those events had been filmed and distributed on porn websites. It took almost a year and a bunch of legal action to get it down and I remember going to school each day in fear that one of the boys were going to announce that they watched it, or worse yet, I would be called to the psychologist’s office because one of the teachers had seen it, and the one area that I could be “my usual self” was going to be taken away from me.

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone trying to find the one where I went wrong. Writing letters addressed to the fire

This line feels very reminiscent of my relationship with my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in general to be honest. Like through triggers, nightmares and just general feelings of not being able to move past it, I was forced to consistently revisit both the trauma of my friend’s suicide and the gang rape. As a result, I used writing, both fictional and not, as a mechanism to discover and express my emotions and try to figure out how a “good girl” (yes I did have a lot of internalised misogyny issues at the time before someone says it) had gotten herself in that position. At the end of the day, all of the pieces I wrote ended up as unsaved drafts on my first laptop, but it was a very therapeutic and “healthy” way to figure out what had happened and how I felt.

And I was catching my breath staring out an open window catching my death

The events of July 3 made me agoraphobic to the point of not leaving my house for the remainder of the holidays I had and only leaving when I did because my parents forced me to go back to school. It took another two years to feel comfortable outside my home and to this day, certain environments (loud places, night times etc) still make me very anxious. It genuinely felt like I was going to die in that room, and though unhealthy, feeling the icy cold breeze of Winter nights on my skin was the beginning of my deliberately unhealthy habits as it felt like the only time I felt anything at all. This later translated into actions like excessive drug/alcohol use, self harm and forming bonds with people I know weren’t good for me so it also reminds me of sticking my head out of car windows if I’m honest.

And I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore

This is pretty self explanatory. At the time it really did feel as if that pain was all there was of my life anymore, and as a result, I almost ended my life at seventeen.

Hey December, guess I'm feeling unmoored. Can't remember what I used to fight for

Moving forward in my life, this line reminds me of the destruction of my family. Yeah, yeah, it always comes back to this I know. A warning for anyone who is already sick of me talking about my family in these posts, all up there are 39 songs in Taylor’s current discography that remind me of them so it’s going to be a very common theme and you should leave now if it bugs you. But as I was saying, this line basically encompasses what I feel about that whole situation and the damage it did now. Like there’s this part of me that feels like I don’t have a good, stable place in my current reality and just feel disconnected because like fighting to keep us together was literally 23 years of my life and now it’s just not because things didn’t work out. And because things didn’t work out and somehow (barring my mother) everyone is surviving just fine from what it seems, it just feels like that fight was not worth it and I can’t see why I stood my ground for so long anymore.

I rewind the tape but all it does is pause on the very moment all was lost

Despite knowing the signs of my family falling apart were present long before we fell apart in 2015, and certainly more before I accepted it in 2017, it is still impossible for me to comprehend that. All I can think about is that moment when it hit me that I was going to have a future without a family of any kind. Like none of the signs leading up to that live rent free in my mind in the way my father’s last words to me and the devastating realisation that I had been delusional for ever thinking things would work out does.

Sending signals to be double crossed

Basically just a reminder that my family fell apart not because I didn’t try hard enough or didn’t voice myself enough, it was because those signals weren’t received because the people who were meant to receive them didn’t want to and sent them out into the abyss in order to fulfil their objecting desires.

And I was catching my breath, barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death and I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore

When I cut off my father in late 2017 after accepting him, my sister nor extended family wanted to reunite with my mother, brother or I as a family, I was in a moment of time where I didn’t have time to fall apart. I was in the middle of a university semester, dealing with a manipulative acquaintance tearing apart one of my friendships, and dealing with my mother’s far more concerning suicidality. But as a result of continuously trying to fake it til I made it, I fell apart and 2018 led to almost a full year of me feeling as suicidal as I had in 2011. And while I was now better equip to deal with that thanks to therapy, there was definitely an overarching feeling of “well if I can ‘recover’ and feel great just for this to come back years later, what’s the point of getting better? I’m never going to recover from this” for the better part of the year.

Can't not think of all the cost and the things that will be lost. Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again

After my family fell apart in 2015, nearly every moment of my time was dedicated to three things; my mother’s mental illnesses, working to make sure we didn’t become homeless and my university degree. As a result of that and issues my partner had to overcome, the relationship fell through, But as part of that, we ended up meeting up a few months after and discussing the idea of getting back together. However, while there was nothing more that I wanted at the time, realistically I knew that it wasn’t the time. The same issues were still occurring and unlikely to change in the short run and I knew deep down we’d end up resenting each other if we went head first back into a romantic relationship without resolving those issues. And quite frankly, after everything I had lost, I felt like I couldn’t lose him too. So I asked him to wait to give us our best chance at a future together.

Whether weather be the frost or the violence of the dog days. I'm on waves, out being tossed. Is there a line that I could just go cross?

There are two scenarios I think of when considering this line.

Following the above, the first I feel like this was pretty much how my partner felt after my family fell apart. He was suddenly thrown into a rough (potentially triggering considering he lost his family too in his childhood) situation where he was barring the grunt of my reaction to the situation without any type of benefit given I wasn’t even spending any time with him or considering his feelings because I was so wrapped up in my own. And in that, he was just trying to find a point where he could help me and our relationship would be on good terms.

And then, again, it feels like 2018 for me personally over again. Like I spent every day feeling like I was drowning and just trying to get through to the next and just trying to find that one switch that would make me feel non-suicidal again.

And when I was shipwrecked I thought of you. In the cracks of light I dreamed of you. It was real enough to get me through. I swear, you were there

Throughout 2018, there was nothing physical that I could hold onto to get me through the days. Instead, I had to really lean into my friendships, many of which didn’t live in the same city I did so couldn’t be physically present, and the hope that one day this would all pass and I’d be living my imagined best life with my partner. And it did, and I thank god everyday that it did.

And I was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step and I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar this pain wouldn't be for evermore

November 2nd, 2018. Perhaps some of you recognise that date as a certain Reputation Sydney show date, as you should. Look, I’m not one for saying music saves lives. I find that far too simplistic and takes away from the effort the person made to save their own life. But my god did that night make me want to save my own life. After almost a full year of feeling suicidal, something clicked in me while watching one of my closest friends (who ironically wasn’t meant to be there, another friend dropped out) screaming out to lyrics to the Long Live/New Year’s Day mashup and 22. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt loved and appreciated to the point where I stopped missing everyone I had been missing and overall just felt happy. It was genuinely as if I had found that switch and from that day have bounced back and not felt anywhere near as terrible as I did in 2018 or 2011. And you know, while those days will probably come back, after defeating them twice, I know that any days like it that are in my future won’t last and ultimately I will be happy.

#evermore album #evermore #taylor swift #about me

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hydrangeasimagination · 5 years

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Mochi and admires as disney princesses movies Tama(Snow white) Tsu(Little mermaid)Neito(Princess and the frog) Toshi (Tangled) Mei(Atlantis) Ocha(Cinderella ) Miri(Sleeping beauty ) Momo (Aladin)

Alright, why not?? I love this idea! Honestly, I’d switch Tsu and Neito around but I can definitely see all of these.

This is gonna be a long one!

Oh, and spoilers for all mentioned Disney Movies.

~ Dari

Tamaki as Prince Florian

when he met you at your parents’ castle, he was taken by you immediately as you were so accepting to his timid behavior

which he was unused to as people thought it was unsuitable for him as such a strong prince

he had heard of a royal being placed to rest in the deep part of the forest from a fairy friend of his

he longed for the change to see you again but… not like this

there he found you in a glass box, guarded by the four men that had taken you in

upon hearing what had happened, he was saddened but had requested to give you one last kiss goodbye

your adopted brothers and father, were the slightest bit weary of him at first

but when they see that he has nothing but good intentions, only wanting to say goodbye to the person he loved one last time

when you woke though, the entire forest seemed to thrum with life again and you were so happy to see him

he took you and your family to live with him in his castle, taking the throne with you by his side

Tsuyu as Ariel

she had always longed to see what humans were truly like and she had the chance to one night upon a large ship is where she spotted you, playing the flute whilst you danced with your crew

the devastatingly beautiful smile that graced your lips had her heart bubbling with adoration and when a storm broke your ship to pieces, she was quick to save you and struggled to drag you onto land

when you were awoken, all you could remember was being saved by a gorgeous woman with a lovely voice

she took off for the sea when she noticed a certain loud-mouth ash blond almost desperately searching for you

after seeing the sea witch to be able to walk on land, unfortunately at the expense of being unable to speak and having to get true love’s kiss from you to keep her legs

over the days she spends with you, she’s so happy that she’s able to slowly draw your heart into her hands

a woman suddenly appears that claimed to be the person that’s going to save you, someone that you stated you were going to marry

but it seemed the three that you introduced as your brothers were skeptical of her, as you seemed so deeply enamoured with Tsu

the two of you combined and a ship were able to defeat the sea witch

after seeing that you were willing to do anything to save his daughter, her father gives you both what you had wanted; your happily ever after

Neito as Prince Naveen

you wanted nothing more than to reach your dream of finally opening a restaurant, bringing smiles to everyone and making your family proud; being the type of person to never ask for help, you wanted to be able to make the money yourself

even so, you had the support of your loving father, brothers, and your dearest friend: Mina

the chance to be able to achieve your dream came on the night of at the Ashido’s where you were catering to a large masquerade ball, but it was quickly snatched from you as soon as it came

you thought it came again when you found a little frog that claiming to be Prince Neito that if you kissed him, you would undo his spell(cast onto him by a witch doctor) and he’d fund your restaurant

it only turned you into a frog as well since you weren’t royalty as he had thought

afterwards, you were pulled into an adventure that had you not only realize that hard work should be in moderation but also falling in love with the previously egoistical Prince who grew to fall for you too

along the way, you meet a trumpet playing gator named Kirishima, a singing firefly named Ray, and the sorceress by the name of Mama Chiyo

even after escaping the shadow man and being unable to break the spell in the way you thought and finally revealing to your family and closest friend of your transformation, the two of you were just happy to be in love no matter what you happen to be

the minute you became his spouse, you were considered royalty and therefore, had ended up breaking the spell that had made you both meet and fall in love in the first place

you got your restaurant… but you now also had a husband and new friends

Hitoshi as Eugene Fitzherbert

the two of you didn’t meet on the best of circumstances but upon meeting you, the sheltered ditz with a crap ton of hair, he couldn’t help but be a little charmed

he doesn’t really show you to the lantern festival willingly, at least, at first as you had the crown he stole and he had got through so much trouble procuring it after all

as you help him evade the guards and saved him from the ire of a very intelligent horse

throughout the entire thing, he finds himself more and more endeared to you, especially when you save and and heal him with that hair of yours

right under his nose, his heart was stolen by you and the crown is something he considered as nothing more than secondary

Gothel had used his previous reputation to get him arrested, only for him to escape again with the help of the charmed tavern of criminals

with the help of the horse that once was trying to put him behind bars, he found his way to you again, only to find that it was a trap set by Gothel

his heart sunk at the mention of you being locked away again, even if you were just to heal him from the mortal wound he sported; instead, he cut your hair to save you from that fate

he genuinely didn’t expect to survive to once again look into the eyes he loved so much, to be able to reunite you with the family that had been missing you for all of these years

being able to get married to you was a dream and he finally figured out something that he had wanted, somewhere he belonged

Mei as Milo Thatch

it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Atlantis: The Lost Empire so I'mma just write what I can

when she discovered the book, she poured everything into it and followed her fathers footsteps into the search for Atlantis

despite being rather skeptical of those she came with, she nonetheless trekked onwards

upon meeting you and your brothers, of whom saved and healed her and her party, she grows a deep fasination in the crystals that you all donned

despite your father’s worry and deep concern for the appearance of outsiders, she tries to prove that they were peaceful and bring no harm

as she finally has time with you, swimming and talking, she finds herself slowly growing more and more enraptured

the events of the expedition leader, Rourke taking you as hostage and fusing you with the Heart of Atlantis happens as it does

but she had the support of your brothers and father, who had almost succumbed to his injuries if not for her quick thinking; he told her how to save you

Rourke and his men were thankfully defeated, especially with your brothers’ destructive use of their crystals

despite the chance to tell the world that her father wasn’t a madman and that Atlantis was real, she decided to stay with you, the person she grew to love

Ochako as Cinderella

after the death of her birth parents, Ochako had no one else except for her stepmother and step sisters and she was tight under her thumb

when she had the chance to leave the house, to finally feel free, it was ripped from her… along with the dress her friends had made her

but with the appearance of her fairy god mother, she once again was able to help Ochako have just a night of freedom

meanwhile, your father had arranged a ball to allow you and your brothers to meet people, you were technically the only one other than Izuku, that were legally counted as the heir to his throne

when you saw Ochako, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her but neither could your brother but he gently urged you to go and ask her to dance

which you did, completely blowing past her stepsisters, much to the dismay of Katsuki; who now had to deal with them

the two of you danced and talked the whole night and soon, by the time the clock struck midnight, you chased after her after she said she had to leave but was only had the glass slipper she accidentally left behind as a reminder

that morning, your brothers and you went on a mission to find the girl that you started to fall for but the difference is… you could never forget her face

Izuku was also smart enough to check over the records of every house to make sure no one could be missed

she was freed at last, even though she was sad to leave behind the home her parents had left to her

Mirio as Prince Phillip

he had seen you once when you were barely even a year old, but nonetheless

you were whisked away by your fairy brothers under the request of your father as a way to keep Maleficent from making her curse on you come true

but the sight of you dancing through the forest though and can’t but be amused and amazed at the sight

your beauty caught his eye and your kindness ensnared his heart, after dancing with you, he told you he would see you again but when he went to the cottage that was your home; he was taken by Maleficent and imprisioned

at the same time, you were put to an eternal sleep by the spinning wheel, as she had said

to keep sadness from plaguing the entire kingdom, your brothers put the rest of them to sleep with you as they try to find a way to undo the spell that would help everyone awaken

upon hearing true love’s kiss would break the spell, they went to find Mirio trapped, barely alive but alive nonetheless

reversing the effects of what had happened to him, they aided him in defeating and slaying Maleficent

they knew they were right in choosing him to break the spell, as he and you were already deeply in love with each other and it was able to completely undo the spell

he was happy to take your hand once you were awake, and if you would have him

Momo as Princess Jasmine

when she met you, she couldn’t help but be charmed by you and your seemingly simple life although her heart aches when you softly state you wish you didn’t have to worry about food and things of the sort since you had stolen for your family

but unfortunately, you were imprisoned due to your stealing but it was better you than your brothers or father

it turned around when an old man busted you out and said you were the only one to be able to enter an enchanted cave to retrieve a lamp for him, he tried to just take the lamp and leave you trapped

the genie of the lamp was able to save you from the cave and turn you into a royal, as per your request

Momo thought she’d never see you again so when a noble like you appeared before her, she was incredibly prickly

you felt bad for misleading her but you thought that perhaps it was the only way that her father would ever consider letting you have her hand

also you had your family’s’ support in trying to court her; along with the help of the genie and your magical flying carpet, of which, you took her for a ride on to make her more comfortable being around you

by the time you were ready to tell her the truth, you were nearly killed by the Sultan’s adviser and his men

your identity was revealed after the same man that had attempted to kill you, after learning of his true nature as well coming up with the idea to completely defeat and trap him was forged

you had apologized to Momo over and over again, but she had already forgiven you… And her father had given you both his blessing

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