#idk maybe he does find it useful to have a place where a client who's in danger can stay temporarily or whatever

[swamp-adder]

I just read this fanfic which pointed out that after Watson moved out Holmes could have repurposed his bedroom for some other use but apparently chose to keep it as a guest room even though he basically never has any guests other than Watson, and now I can't stop thinking about it.

[ghostatas]

OK, theory time Bois (except its not a real theory it's just a cool idea and I want angst)

So we all basically think those black and green structures are like portals right, or some way to communicate with another dimension?

What if, eventually, each parent has to go into a ring/portal as a trial (like quackity said ooc) and face something- whether this leads to the eggs or not is up yo you to decide

This trial can be anything, but my main ideas for it is it shows them

1. Their past,

2. A possible future (most likely where the eggs are dead/ doomsday or something of the likes),

3. Themselves- something like where they have to fight an exact copy of themselves and try to find a way to beat them (which, BTW, is great for character growth and is anime protagnist as FUCK and sounds cool as shit- can't be done for etoiles tho cuz none of the admins can imitate his pvp skill LOL- but off track)

ANYWAYS, onto the main point, FITMC

Fit motherfucking MC, gets the first option of seeing his past.

2b2t, the place he tried so hard to escape. Oh boy. (It'll only be a replica, he still can't use hacks, there's no one there and there's very minute differences but he's too out of it to realise :] )

When he first enters the portal, it takes him a few seconds to truly realise where he is, but when he does he fucking CRUMBLES. That man's walls break faster than my will to live. He immediately starts panicking, and his panic even overpowers his worry about ramon for a second. Its all just 'I can't be back here, I tried so hard to leave, anywhere but here, please'

I feel like his time at Quesadilla Island softened him, distanced him from his past and made it easier to ignore all the shit he's been through. He became happy, he was safe and he was doing good! Still very emotionally constipated and just not even processing the trauma he's experienced as trauma, but as good as he can be despite that. So when he realises he's back in 2b2t all those decades of shit he's been through comes crashing down all at fucking once. So yeah, he goes through it.

His first instinct is to make one of those tiny, reinforced obsidian and hide. Once he's in he just sits down and... tries to process. Tries.

It takes him a very long while to calm down, but only to think properly. The only thing that gets him to stop panicking about his own situation is trying to find ramon, or any clues, because GOD FORBID ramon is also trapped in here, it's the only thing worse than being there himself.

From there he can think more clearly. He has a goal so he pushes all the other shit back down and locks it up for later- he's got his boy to find. At this point he realises there's none of the usual explosions or noise that's usually very common in 2b2t, he checks and sees his hack client is not working still so yeah, odd. He's still very shaken and more vigilant than usual, but he can actually go out and investigate and think now so he goes and does that.

Does he find Ramon? Idk, I didn't think this far.

Well, I did, but maybe not the way I would want it to go. Imagine he finds Ramon, who's fighting a shit tone of mobs. Fit's just desperate to get him to safety, so he doesn't get much time to actually look over his boy or talk to him or anything. Maybe there's a time limit on how long they can stay in this dimension or something, but the portal back is not too far away and it is slowly getting smaller and smaller.

Fit is leading Ramon to the portal, all the while fending off the barage of mobs. Ramon, thankfully, gets to the portal in time, safely. Everyone's at spawn waiting for them, looking over Ramon and making sure he's OK.

Fit does not make it in time.

He is stuck in 2b2t for the foreseeable future, and he can do nothing but wait, just like he always does. Just waiting. Waiting.

[my-hyperfixation-trash-can]

Alright, I don’t see anyone talking about this and it’s going go bother me, so I’m posting it here and on my hoyolab account. Maybe twitter idk.

So, I kin Albedo, I like to think I understand what he’s doing and thinking. As this is a game, we might never have confirmation of anything, but I would still like this perspective of events discussed.

Now, Albedo has shown to me a pattern of behavior that I cannot ignore, this being a trend since the Irridori Festival, he finds the smartest twink in the room and proceeds to form a relationship with them that almost transcends words. Often finding excuses to take them aside privately as well. The twink in question here is Kazuha, whom he would share silent conversations with as they would simply just look at one another for quite some time before someone would speak.

Now I didn’t think too much of this behavior until the recent Windblume event. And not to worry, this is tagged for Spoilers. I noticed Albedo portrayed these same behaviors with Tighnari, another smart twink. However the dynamic and context was different. This was, after all, during the Windblume festival (which is a Valentine’s Day like event for lovers and friends to show gratitude) and Cyno was very much a factor. His actions alone showed me a narrative that was easy to miss without reading into the subtext and subtleties implied. Now, let me walk you through what I mean.

The first thing I noticed when Cyno, Tighnari and Collei were meeting with Sucrose and traveler will seem unrelated, but isn’t. Tighnari and Sucrose appear to be bonding over shared interests in biology, and Cyno immediately tried to shut it down with closed off body language. I teased him, calling him jealous, but I did not know what was to come once Albedo was involved.

Albedo was quick to notice Tighnari’s intelligence when he correctly deduced that lamp grass was the special ingredient of his dish. This caught Albedo’s attention. He compliments his knowledge and engages in a talk about regional specialties, given Tighnari has a vast knowledge

The next thing Albedo does catches my attention, he asks everyone why they came to Mondtadt, especially noting the time being Windblume. My partner jokingly paraphrased it as “not to assume your marital status, but why are you here?” To which, they give their individual reasons, which seem to have nothing to do with being with each other. This, at least to Albedo, confirms they are not here as a couple. Albedo proceeds to make moves.

He begins to use Cyno’s bad puns as a means to tease Tighnari. He is enjoying seeing him be riled up. He thinks it’s fun watching the reactions of the group. Seems Albedo has a mean streak that Scaramouche would approve of. Anyways, I see behavior like this as teasing and playful and vaguely mischievous. He cares to see the reactions of those involved and play with them.

Then, to top it off, when Tighnari mentions wanting to collect herbs alone, Albedo immediately asks to join him. He could have spent time with Cyno his new client, Sucrose who has her projects, Klee, or anyone, but he determined that spending private time with Tighnari in a secluded place all day was of interest. And thus, Albedo completes his pattern from Inazuma.

That isn’t even when things get spicy. Albedo, Cyno and Tighnari are caught in the library together a few days later, and I noticed Albedo physically wedged himself between Cyno and Tighnari. They begin to have a conversation, just the three of them, in which Academic families are discussed. Albedo makes a comment that could be interpreted as flirting to Tighnari, and this is where Cyno takes action. Cyno begins to exhibit Jealous behaviors, like with Sucrose (assuming he now sees Albedo as a threat to his relationship with Tighnari), including attempting to make Tighnari Sibling zone Albedo. Tighnari seems exasperated by this, but does so in a way that seemed non committal or like it wasn’t the full truth. However, Albedo turns this back on Cyno to observe Tighnari and Cyno’s response to the Sibling accusations to which they demonstrate typical sibling behavior. Albedo also offers some comfort to Cyno in understanding his protectiveness as a brother figure himself.

Tighnari has not completely turned Albedo down in this situation, only Cyno. A huge bummer in my opinion.

So the TLDR,

Albedo is subtly flirting with Tighnari during the event and Cyno is late to realize “oh shit women aren’t all that needs to be fended off my man, it’s this Alchemist twink too!” But it’s a little late and Albedo has him.

[azucanela]

Hi! i’d like to request a Zuko x Reader oneshot please and it takes place a few years after he’s crowned as the Fire Lord: Zuko is entering suitable age for marriage and yet he has no one that he likes enough to take as his queen, what if Uncle Iroh hired the reader whom is a famous matchmaker that usually arranges the courting & marriage between nobles, but instead of all these ladies that she threw at him he ended up falling for her instead but he’s just so awkward and inexperienced Thank u

INAMORATA | ZUKO X READER

SUMMARY: after a few years of being Fire Lord, Zuko still hasn’t found a companion. so naturally, when Iroh comes upon a matchmaker, he does what he does best and helps Zuko out by hiring her to help him find someone. and inadvertently... iroh ends up playing matchmaker himself. 

WORD COUNT: 12.6k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, death threats, kissing, pining, very mild innuendos, blood, injuries, crying

A/N: this is literally art omg i feel kinda honored to be seeing this ngl and i ended up researching matchmaking and they’re basically therapists that help you find love?? kinda. the profile thing is something that some matchmakers do and idk i have fun analyzing zuko so

in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/

noun

a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.

ATTEMPT ZERO

After years of being the Fire Lord, Zuko had come to realize the job was pretty basic if you thought about it long enough. There were just a few major things to deal with. First, there’s the internal relations, like the civil wars and uprising he deal with at the start of his reign because people disliked his ways. Then there’s the external relations, Zuko worked alongside Aang to repair those, helping the Southern Water Tribe rebuild itself from the ground up, and hosting meetings between the nations, friendly and work related. Those are the more diplomatic aspects of the job, and sadly, even as a ruler who sought to end a war, there was still violence in the world. 

When Aang and the rest of Team Avatar ended the One Hundred Year War, that only exposed a variety of other problems within the world, problems that the team seeked to end. There were people out there who disliked this line of thinking, and similarly wanted it to end, but ending the lives of Team Avatar.

Zuko was used to the death threats, and the assassination attempts. He’d had a security detail in place to ensure he lived to rule his nation, this was especially necessary since he lacked an heir and the only other people eligible for the throne were an old man who ran a tea shop and a psychopathic teenage girl in a mental institution. This is where the social aspect of the job came in, the part that Zuko had never been good at. The Galas and the girls who threw themselves at him, the nobility of all nations that approached him offering their children’s hand in marriage. Zuko was an enigma, a young and powerful bachelor, and now all the nobles with children were lining up for a minute alone with him to try and sell their own kids.

It disgusted him. The way they treated their children like cattle reminded Zuko of his own father, how willing he was to get rid of Zuko since he had a replacement on standby. Though, Zuko sincerely doubted he ever would’ve gotten the throne if Ozai had a choice, even if he hadn’t been banished. 

Alas, even Zuko could recognize the urgency of it, the death threats weren’t letting up, and the assassination attempts were only getting more and more elaborate, leaving Zuko wondering when they’d no longer be attempts. He needed and heir, or at least a wife who could rule alongside him and take over entirely in the event of his death.

The problem was, he didn’t want this.

He was in a unique position, where the person he married would have an immense effect on society, on politics. If it was an Earth Kingdom girl, then maybe the years of violence against their people could be mended sooner, and they could begin working together to combat a variety of issues. If he ends up with a Fire Nation girl, it could be viewed as strengthening the traditional ideals of Fire Nation independence and sovereignty because the Fire Nation is “supreme.”

Dating was political now and he hated it. It wasn’t like Zuko wanted to be alone, it’s just that now everything mattered far more than it used to. Of course, even as a prince it had been the same, but now that he was the Fire Lord, things seemed to be ten times worse. Perhaps it was excessive but Zuko couldn’t help but feel paranoid whenever a new person entered his life, he couldn’t help but assume that they were just using him for some other agenda.

Of course, his friends had tried to assure him this wasn’t always the case, and they’d even made attempts to set him up with girls. All of which had failed. Zuko knew he wasn’t an easy person, much less an easy person to date. As Fire Lord, a lot of his time was taken up by meetings, and diplomatic missions, and not-so-diplomatic missions alongside Team Avatar. That and he was rather awkward when it came down to most social interactions, though he’d improved over time, especially as the ruler of a nation, his speeches were elegant and so was the way he negotiated with other kingdoms. 

And yet he struggled to talk to strangers.

Iroh seemed to be tired of this as well, he’d sent Zuko several letters in regards to his lack of romance, insisting that he was a “handsome young man” that had “lots of potential” and he was “wasting” his prime with so much work. Zuko didn’t consider managing a country as a waste, though he understood where Iroh was coming from, Zuko probably should’ve been spending time with friends, going to clubs. Not saving the world.

Regardless, there wasn’t much he could do about, he didn’t have time for dating, and Zuko wasn’t willing to compromise his morals and beliefs just for an heir in the event that he got brutally murdered. He refused to raise a child just for that purpose. He learnt the hard way that you should only have kids if you intend to cherish them. And the idea of marrying someone just to strengthen his nation felt wrong, though he could see the benefits.

God, he hated being Fire Lord sometimes.

On the other hand, Y/N L/N liked her job. Amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom, she was a rather famous woman, Y/N had brought together some of the most powerful couples in the country. A lot of people owed her favors, and the money that came with the job was more than satisfactory. If Y/N had to guess, she was one of the richest people in the kingdom, considering how much people were willing to pay to fine “the one.” Her business had been rather successful since she’d gotten renowned in the inner ring of the city, and now, Y/N was considering expansion, to the Fire Nation. The borders had long since reopened, when the new Fire Lord came into power.

A whole new set of nobles for her to profit from. 

She’d decided to head to a high end tea shop in celebration of her choice to expand her business. Y/N had heard it was only for the best, since the tea shop served the best. One of her clients had insisted that someone of her esteem try the tea there, given that she was the best in her own profession.

So, here she was. It was a nice place, she wouldn’t deny, and Y/N had heard of the shop before. The Jasmine Dragon, run by some old guy who’d appeared in Ba Sing Se just before the war ended with some major talent when it came to brewing tea. The interior was fancy, but not excessive, several people were already seated within. Y/N even recognized one of the couples there, who waved at her enthusiastically, “hello! Lady L/N, how lovely to see you!” One of them called out.

Y/N smiled at them, “how are you two?”

The other beamed at her as she responded, “oh we’re just lovely! Preparing our wedding invitations and one of them has your name on it.” This wasn’t abnormal, most of the couples she’d brought together attributed their love to her. In actuality, Y/N found that if you found two people with compatible personalities, then they’d work things out on their own. All she did was introduce them. 

“I’m excited!” Y/N assured, moving past their table, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to try this famous tea. But, I’m looking forward to the invite.” 

The pair nodded, before returning their attention the friends seated across from them, and Y/N made her way to the front of the shop, bag of coins in hand. An older man stood behind the counter, a smile on his face as he brought his attention to her, “what can I get you today Miss...”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” She replied, small smile on her face as she looked at the menu, “what’s your name?” Y/N asked, meeting his eyes to see the flicker of recognition within them before returning her gaze to the menu.

He nods slowly, “I’m Iroh, and you’re a matchmaker, no?” He’d recognized the name, her business had begun gaining traction amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom shortly after the war, and she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the nation. Iroh himself had looked into her business, seeing as his nephew was yet to find love in his chaotic lifetstyle. 

Y/N smiled at him as she nodded, “indeed.” She placed the menu down, “any suggestions?”

“Perhaps, Jasmine tea?” He suggested.

Y/N nodded, “sounds good.” She places extends a hand with coins, dropping them into his palm, “so are you looking for love?” Though she was certainly famous for her skills, Y/N tended to work behind the scenes, and she was surprised to find this man recognized her.

A small laughed escaped him at her words as he shook his head, “no. I believe it is a little too late for that.” He was working on her tea beyond the counter, and Y/N began to wonder how he was steaming the tea pot when she noticed there was no stove beside him.

“Don’t say that! You seem like a fine man that anyone woman would want.” Y/N assured, though she now wondered why exactly this man knew who she was in the first place. It was rare for those outside of nobility to know who she was.

Turning around, his hand pressed to the pot that Y/N was positive had to have been burning his hand in some way, “oh, you’re too kind.” He replies, a small smile on his face as he poured a bit into a cup, “I was looking to help my nephew find love actually.” 

“Really, now?” Firebending, that was the only explanation for the way this man was handling the tea. “I was looking to expand my business to the Fire Nation, perhaps I could help him out.” He didn’t hold himself the way most Earth Kingdom citizens did, and coupled with the possible Firebending, he was likely from the Fire Nation.

Iroh raises a brow at this, “what gave me away?” He stirs the tea a few times, before placing it on the counter for her to take. 

Y/N shrugs, “it’s my job to know people well enough that I can find them a match.” Taking a sip of her tea, she smiles, “so this nephew of yours. He wouldn’t happen to nobility, would he?”

He laughs at this, pouring himself a cup of tea as well as he sighs, “actually, he is nobility. In a way.”

Now Y/N did not expect the nobility Iroh spoke of the be the nobility. As in the Fire Lord, the actual ruler of the entire nation, though this would certainly be great for business. Once the world hears of how Y/N found the Fire Lord, someone who had been notably difficult to woo apparently, a match, her business will be set. 

“Isn’t this exciting, guys?” Y/N exclaimed, looking to her assistants, they were both on the younger side, Marcella and Evelyn. She’d brought them along since this would definitely be a valuable learning experience, and Y/N figured she’d need a lot of help if the Fire Lord was as difficult as they made him out to be. That and Y/N didn’t want to leave them alone in the Earth Kingdom, both of them had been orphaned at a young age. Y/N couldn’t help but relate to them, so when she’d come upon her newfound wealth, brought about by her job as a matchmaker, she’d taken the pair under her wing. 

With a bag thrown over her shoulder, Evelyn simply nodded while Marcella exclaimed, “yes! I’ve always wanted to see the Fire Nation. Do you think we could find a client in one of the Water Tribes next?” 

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the young girl’s excitement, “if this goes well? We’ll be able to find clients anywhere.” She wasn’t wrong, Y/N had never had the opportunity to work with the actual Earth King, the true ruler of the nation. Now she was working with the ruler of a nation she’d never stepped foot in, entirely new customs and traditions to research, a new social structure, new everything.

What a fun challenge.

With a smile on her face, Y/N followed closely behind Iroh, the palace was stunning, she couldn’t deny it. And compared to the crumbling infrastructure of the lower rings of cities like Ba Sing Se, Fire Nation cities were prospering Fire Lord Zuko’s rule. From what she’d heard, things weren’t always this way.

“Y/N and I are going to wait here,” he gestured to the open space before them, dozens of paintings within it, “these two will take you to your rooms.” He explained to the pair of young girls, nodding to the servants beside them, who began to guide the young girls away.

Y/N’s eyes found their way to the paintings, the newest one being of the current Fire Lord, Zuko himself. She wondered how accurate the painting was, and seeing as she would be meeting him soon, Y/N figured she’d find out as she sighed, turning to Iroh, “so how does the original heir to the throne become the owner of an infamous tea shop?” 

Iroh smiles to himself at her words, “age brings wisdom. And tea is a nice substitute for alcohol.” He jokes, though Y/N can see the pain in his eyes, along with admiration as he stares at Zuko’s portrait alongside her.

“Uncle!” A voice exclaimed, joy clear in his voice as he called out. Y/N watched as Iroh spun around, a broad smile on his face as he moved forwards to embrace the person.

He looked better in person, Y/N quickly decided, though the portrait did its job just as well. She wouldn’t deny he was attractive, but she already knew looks weren’t the issue. Iroh had informed her of the situation, Zuko’s constant rejection of any and every single person that approached him, and the stress he experienced because of the politics of it all.

“Nephew, it is good to see you,” Iroh said, releasing him from the hug, “how are you?” Initially he seemed fairly comfortable at the sight of just his Uncle, but as the Fire Lord’s body seemed to stiffen, Y/N realized she’d been spotted.

So, he wasn’t comfortable with strangers, “I’m alright Uncle... who is this?” He asked. There was an edge to his voice as he spoke, sizing Y/N up, not in the way you did for someone you were attracted to, but for an enemy.

Uncomfortable with new people, clear trust issues, and his mind was always alert. She’d have to write these things down and take them into consideration prior to finding him a potential partner. Though it was starting to look like he was completely unaware of her purpose there as she extended her hand out to him, “Y/N L/N. Professional matchmaker.” She explained with a bright smile, though, based off his personality, that would likely ward him off more.

He was polite though, shaking her hand despite his clear suspicions of her, “Zuko.” Y/N couldn’t help but raise a brow at this, he hadn’t mentioned his title in his introduction. Zuko turned to his Uncle, brows furrowing as he said, “you hired a professional matchmaker?”

With a shrug Iroh responded, “we met by chance! So, it must be destiny.”

Zuko gives him a tight lipped smile, nodding slowly before returning his attention to Y/N who stood away from the pair, examining the decor of the palace. It was minimalistic, truly basic if she was honest, despite the clear amount of riches they possessed, it lacked evidence of them. Bringing her eyes back to him, he spoke, “you don’t need to be here. You can receive your pay, but I personally see no purpose for a matchmaker.”

Iroh frowned at his words, “Zuko, you need to give it a chance! Unlike all those ladies who keep throwing themselves at you. Besides, she seems rather good at her job.” His gaze was on his nephew as he sighed, giving Y/N an apologetic look that she simply waved off.

“Oh, it’s fine. It just won’t be for long.” Zuko raised a brow at her words, and Y/N watched his feet shifted, “no need to prepare for a fight, your majesty.” She hummed, rolling her neck, in the corner of her eye she could see shock flash in his own. “You see, as a matchmaker I do several things, including developing a little... profile of my clients. Now we just met but I can already tell you a variety of things about you that’s making your love life rather trivial.” Even before she had to develop the profiles professionally, in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se, being capable of reading others was a necessary skill.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed at her, “and what have you determined, in the very short time we’ve known each other.”

A small laugh escaped her as she extended her arms and cracked her knuckles, “well. You have major trust issues, which is why you are desperately trying to keep me at arms length. That’s one reason why you have yet to find someone.” Turning her attention to the decor of the large room, Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Given the lack of interior design, I would say you’re struggling with social aspects of your job, and you need a partner. One that I can help you find.” 

“See! I told you she’s good at what she does.” Iroh exclaimed, moving forward to clap a hand onto Y/N’s shoulder, much to Zuko’s dismay. 

Y/N gave the older man a small smile before looking back to Zuko, who eyed her wearily, “you keep avoiding the portrait of your father. But you can’t bring yourself to take it down.” She said, and Y/N could practically feel the tension building with each word. “He’s one of the reasons you’ve yet to find a lover-”

“Because he gave me the scar?” 

Y/N paused, brows furrowing at his words, her eyes found his, “I’m sorry, was that a joke?” She asked, and Iroh stared between the two, amused. “You’re actually rather attractive, which is why I know this is a personality thing. Probably tired of the whole fancy court thing they have going on here, which I’m going to need to research...” Y/N pursed her lips, failing to notice the clear shock on Zuko’s face at her comment, and red flushing his cheeks. Waving off her thoughts, she looked back to him, “anyways. My assistants should’ve already cleared out about an hour in your schedule each day for our sessions. I’m going to be asking you some very personal questions. So, be ready!” 

And with that, Y/N waved to the two, bowing rather questionably shortly after, before heading off in the direction she’d seen Marcella and Evelyn go in. Effectively leaving behind a baffled Zuko, and a rather satisfied Iroh, who began to laugh at Zuko’s reaction. “I really like her, quite the character she has.” 

“Yeah, quite the character.” He brought a hand to his temple, “is this really necessary, Uncle?” 

Iroh simply sighed, looking to his nephew, “whether you want to admit it or not, she was right. Ruling a nation is difficult, and ruling it alone is even harder.” A small huff of laughter escaped Iroh, “and she figured that out by your lack of interior design!” 

Exhaling deeply, Zuko reminded himself that this was all part of the job, the job that consumed his entire life. The life that this girl had analyzed in a matter of moments. 

Yeah, he wasn’t looking forward to their meetings.

Though his morals and his disagreement with practically selling your own child were a major factor in his lack of a love life. There was also the simple fact that there was no love in many of the interactions he had with potential suitors, much less genuine interest. They all wanted the power he could give them should they get married.

There was also the fact that Zuko had very little relationship experience, a fact he was trying to ignore. At the end of the day, he couldn’t bring himself to approach anyone, and if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do. Zuko also doubted that people would act... genuine around him, especially if they knew who he was. And all he really wanted was something real, considering his entire day was surrounded by fake smiles that belonged to both him and others.

It seemed that Y/N wasn’t prepared to ignore this piece of information though, since the following morning she’d seated him down and begun to speak of it, “so. You’ve been in two relationships.”

His brows furrowed, “one actually.” He and Mai had broken up about six months into his work as Fire Lord, “Mai.”

Raising a brow at him, she leaned back in the seat. Zuko couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to decorate the place in such a short period of time, as he could’ve sworn there hadn’t been a desk here the previous day. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d toured his own palace. “Well, I’ve heard rumors of you and a Southern Water Tribe member, but I’m not sure which one so I just-”

“Okay! That’s enough.” His cheeks were flushed red as he looked away.

Y/N grinned at him, leaning forwards, “then let’s discuss Mai. You two were pretty on and off, right?” 

Zuko grimaced at the thought, they were. He wouldn’t deny that he’d gone back to her a few times during his time as Fire Lord, “yeah.” 

Y/N began to write into her notebook, “tell me about her.”

“I don’t see why that’s important.” Came his response, looking at her quizzically as he frowned.

Tilting her head at him, Y/N gave Zuko a look, “come on. Let me do my job, I need to know about her to gauge what types of personalities you like while also determining why the two of you broke it off entirely.” She placed the book down, and Zuko could very clearly see the words ‘commitment issues’ underlined. “The goal isn’t just to find you a suitable wife that can help you rule, but someone you can be happy with.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes on Y/N, her words seem honest. And this was her job, “she was blunt. Honest. Kind of mean at times, but she could be sweet as well. Pretty stoic, expressing her emotions was always... difficult for her.” 

Y/N nodded slowly, scribbling a few more things down, “okay. And what’s your favorite color?” 

“What type of question is that?” Zuko asked, brows furrowing in confusion. 

Crossing her arms, Y/N shrugged, “well. Favorite colors can tell you a lot about a person.” Came her response, “mine is green. Maybe that’s because I associate green with the Earth Kingdom, where I lived. Or maybe it’s because I happen to like nature quite a bit.” Looking around, Zuko could see that she’d already gotten a variety of plants native to the Fire Nation, most were succulents due to the almost year round heat.

At the mention of colors, his mind immediately went back to his first experience with the dragons, when their fire encircled him and Aang. “I.. don’t know how to describe the color- colors?” Zuko’s brows drew together in thought, and Y/N looked at him.

“How would I not understand a color?” The confusion is clear in her voice as she looks at him. Y/N can practically see the nostalgia in his eyes as he looks to the balcony.

Sighing, Zuko shifted in his seat, “these dragons I met ended up making a circle of fire around me and there were just... so many colors. But together it was just,” he paused, searching for the right word, “beautiful.”

Y/N’s mouth gaped open for a moment, “you met dragons?” She exclaimed, nearly throwing her notebook aside. Y/N had never seen such creatures, in fact, the general consensus was that they were still extinct

Zuko seemed to forget about this fact as he straightened himself, eyes meeting hers, “you can’t tell anyone about them!” He exclaimed, “they were hunted to extinction, though I intend to outlaw such things it’s just...” 

She nodded in understanding, “people break laws.” Y/N leaned back into her seat once more, “you owe me a dragon story.” She said, before crossing her legs in her seat and continuing, “favorite food?”

“Well, Aang took me to Avatar Day, and they had these weird Avatar shaped dough things.” He explained, recalling the time he’d gone with Aang and the others. Apparently they used to burn his statue, but now they worship him for some reason.

Y/N brought a hand under her chin, “I have no idea what that is.” She began to scribble something down on her notepad, “but okay.”

“What about you?”

Y/N hummed in response, “what do you mean?” 

Zuko felt his cheeks warm, “this just feels like an interview.”

“Probably because it is an interview.” Y/N said, gesturing for him to elaborate.

Looking away, Zuko frowned, “it’s weird.” Sighing, he spoke once more, “so, what’s your favorite food?” 

Y/N was silent for a moment, staring at Zuko, who was trying his hardest to avoid her gaze. This was a rare occurrence, seeing as most nobles were rather self-centered and liked talking about themselves. She’d never had a client who felt uncomfortable with this portion because it was basically a one-sided conversation. “Jennamite is a good rock candy.”

Zuko turns back to her, a small laugh escaping him, “my friends were nearly killed in Jennamite by the King of Omashu once.” 

“I’m sorry, what?”

ATTEMPT ONE

Y/N wouldn’t deny how odd it was, to be sharing as much information as she was learning about Zuko. She’d never really considered just how personal some of the questions were until she found herself answering them. But, after about a month, she had assembled a pretty good array of potential suitors for Zuko. Along with a few of her own clients, Y/N had found some girls that from the Fire Nation that seemed pretty acceptable.

That’s what she had thought at least.

“What do you mean, you already rejected her?” 

Turns out, Zuko had met half the women, and rejected them. The other half were either from the Earth Kingdom, or yet to attend one of few Galas that Zuko hosted. Seeing as he handed off most of that work to his advisors, it was rare for him to remain at Galas for an extended period of time. 

He grimaced at Y/N’s words nonetheless, his Uncle had informed her of his situation, but clearly not the extent of it. “She was more interested in her guard than me. It was a power grab her parents likely forced her into.” He remembered the girl, she’d been kind to him, but she clearly didn’t want him as much as her parents did.

His words brought about a new level of understanding for Y/N, who nodded slowly, of course it was the parents that Zuko had a problem with. It wasn’t uncommon for nobles to practically throw their children at potential suitors as though they’re a bag of coins. It was something that disgusted her as well, her job found people companions that they liked while these people simply wished for an addition to their power.

Zuko was the ultimate power grab. Y/N could only imagine how many times this had happened to him, random people he’d never met approaching him, offering their child’s hand in marriage. 

Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N sighed, “but the rest are fine?” 

He nodded slowly, flipping through the pages he had yet to remove, Zuko skimmed what Y/N had written. Taking note of her handwriting, he wondered if she’d written his profile like this. “Yeah...” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, and Zuko sighed, removing a few more pages from the binder she’d presented him with. 

Exhaling deeply, Y/N brought a hand to Zuko’s shoulder, “be honest with me. I’m not gonna yell at you for removing them Zuko, this is for you.”

Sometimes he forgot it was her job to be nice to him. 

“Right.” He mumbled, trying to shake off the feeling he got as she removed her hand. “That’s still... a lot of people. Some of which aren’t even in this nation.” Zuko pointed out, a queasy feeling within him as he looked at her.

Y/N plopped down onto the couch in the common room they’d met in, sprawling her body across it, “you’re right, there is a lot. But,” She twisted her body so that she could see him, wiggling her brows suggestively, “it’s been a while since you hosted a Gala.” 

Zuko’s face dropped at her words, in his years of being Fire Lord, he’d had about three total, and hated every single one. But given how rare the Galas were, people got pretty excited when he threw them. “I hate planning those, it’s a waste of time and-” 

A small smile was on her face as she interrupted him, “and you suck at planning them? I can tell by the decor of your palace.” Glaring at her, Zuko watched as she shifted so that her head hung off the couch upside down, “well. This will be the best Gala yet, you’ll impress all the ladies that you can’t meet in the immediate future in about...” Y/N looked to the watch on her wrist, brows furrowing, “eight months. And I’ll help you plan it, since you desperately need help-”

“Alright, I get it, I’m horrible.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his seat across from her after placing the binder on the coffee table between them. “Eight months isn’t a lot of time,” traditionally, Gala’s took at least a year’s worth of planning and preparation, especially since Zuko was so busy he barely had the time to assist in the process. Eight months was no where near enough.

Y/N was still frowning at his words, “no self-deprecation.” She ordered, taking Zuko by surprise, before continuing, “regardless. I’ve planned Gala in less time with less resources. It’ll be fine.” Pursing her lips Y/N sighed, “now we need to discuss your inability to talk to people in general due to your immense trust issues and constant battle field mentality.” 

Zuko’s mouth gaped open at her words, “excuse me?”

Bringing her hands to rest on her stomach as she laid upside down, Y/N spoke, “when we first met you looked like you contemplated attacking me. And when you met Marcella and Evelyn, I’ve never seen someone so awkward.” Zuko is silent and looks away, only proving her point as Y/N continued, “so we need to practice your people skills, and flirting for future reference, seeing as your first date is in about a week-”

Almost immediately, Zuko straightened his posture, sitting up and looking to her as though she’d thrown a bucket of ice cold water onto him. “A week?” He winced at the way his voice cracked.

“Yeah, I spoke with one of the girls, not her parents, and asked her to meet with you later in the week.” Y/N explained, “her name is Elara, she’s in there.”

Frowning, Zuko reached for the binder and began to flip through the pages, “how’d you know I wasn’t going to get rid of her page?” Only to find the girl’s page, details on her personality, skills, hobbies and more on them.

A smirk spread across Y/N’s face, “she was one of few I was sure you’d keep.” With a sigh, Zuko looked back to Y/N, who still sat upside down, “now. You need to practice your romance skills, so come on.” She twisted her body, her legs falling to the side of the couch, and then moving onto the floor, Y/N stood. As the blood rushed to her head, a wave of dizziness came over her, and Y/N found herself stumbling slightly.

A hand came to her back and forearm, steadying her, “you need to practice walking.” Zuko laughed slightly, a nervous edge in his voice as he eyed her. 

Y/N brought a hand to her head as she laughed as well, “oh my...” Y/N blinked several times as the wave of dizziness passed, her hand gripping Zuko’s arm as she grounded herself. Looking up to him, she quickly realized how close they were and cleared her throat, releasing his arm.

He followed suit, removing his hands from her, “sorry-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Zuko.” 

The look her gives her almost hurts. Because Y/N can see the shock within his eyes as he nods slowly in response. She wonders what he’s thinking of as he she gives him a tight lipped smile, clapping her hands together as she turns back to him, “practice.” She repeated, mostly for herself.

And maybe offering to be the person he practiced on was her first mistake. 

ATTEMPT FIVE

Y/N had learnt a lot about Zuko in the past four dates he’d been on. One of these things being the fact that Zuko was a wild card when it came to dates, and they seemed to either go very well with the girls contacting Y/N to let her know they wished for a second date, only for Zuko to reject the possibility. Or, they went very bad. And Zuko returned with some sort of drink splattered onto his clothing.

So, Y/N decided that the best course of action was to discover what exactly Zuko wasn’t mentioning, and to follow him with a disguise. Evelyn had suggested it, Iroh supported the idea full-heartedly, though Marcella had believed it would be a huge invasion of privacy, Y/N didn’t really care, seeing as it was her job to be involved in Zuko’s love life. She was getting paid to ensure he found love. 

And she was curious.

That’s how Y/N ended up dressed in some very suspicious Fire Nation clothing alongside her assistants and the apparent Dragon of the West, famous tea shop owner, and member of the royal family. 

What a wonderful assortment of people.

Marcella and Evelyn had separated from Iroh and Y/N, sitting in another booth across from them, it was a feeble attempt to keep them from sticking out. The girl had chosen a rather upscale restaurant, so dressing appropriately while also maintaining a look that prevented Zuko from recognizing them. 

Y/N pulled her hat further down on her face as she looked to Iroh, who was browsing the menu. She wouldn’t be shocked if he entered the kitchen just to make himself a ‘decent’ cup of tea. He’d been rather helpful during the whole process, anything she didn’t find out from Zuko, Y/N had learnt from Iroh. “See anything you like, Iroh?”

He smiled at her, nodding slowly, “I think I’ll just take some tea.” 

Looking to Marcella and Evelyn, Y/N smiles, the two are speaking with one another like they aren’t supposed to be spying on the Fire Lord. But Y/N doesn’t mind, this was more of a recreational activity anyways, and she was glad they were having fun. Since they’d gotten to the Fire Nation two months ago there had been an... adjustment period to put it simply.

Y/N nodded at Iroh’s statement, and her eyes fell back onto Zuko and his newest date, Amaya, she was a simple girl. She’d possessed organizational skills that Zuko lacked, planned dozens of events, had the expressive qualities that Zuko yearned for in a partner. Amaya was one of few that Y/N was sure Zuko would take a liking to. Especially since she also had training in a variety of fighting styles, and was quite the Firebender. She’d been a little skeptical when she first contacted Amaya, the girl seemed hesitant, but she agreed.

And from the looks of it, he had. The pair was laughing along with each other, but Y/N could see the way Zuko stiffened at any physical contact, in general he’d yet to relax. If Y/N was honest, it was basically like any first date, awkward.

Zuko didn’t really know how to feel about Amaya, she was what he should be looking for in a girl, everything he needed if he was honest. She had an interest in the art, something Zuko had never taken to and the main reason his palace looked, ‘dull’ as Y/N had put it. And she was expressive, the main issue he’d had with Mai was her lack of expression. But, for some reason, Zuko just couldn’t see her as anything more than a good friend. There was something... off about her.

“When that Earth Kingdom girl approached me, I was skeptical.” Amaya explained, taking a sip from her glass, “you know how most Earth Kingdom folk are...” She gave him a look as Zuko listened in confusion. “The Fire Nation citizens simply have more class.” Amaya settled for with a shrug.

Oh.

Zuko laughed nervously, “I’m not sure I understand. I find Earth Kingdom citizens pretty pleasant actually, and Y/N, the one you met, she’s actually very resourceful and kind.” His mind went to Toph as well, who had invented an entirely new type of bending. She was an impressive young woman from the Earth Kingdom, and Y/N was as well, she’d started her own business at a young age and turned it into something incredible.

“Really? She didn’t seem too smart when I met her, but who can say no to a meeting with the Fire Lord?” 

Zuko was pretty sure her words were meant to be taken as a joke. But Amaya wasn’t the first person Zuko had encountered with this mindset, she was just more subtle about it. The supremacy of the Fire Nation was still an idea that ran rampant in some people’s minds, though Zuko had dealt with most disputes regarding his peaceful relations with other nations. Many still missed the time when the Fire Nation practically owned the world, where Fire Nation citizens could treat the people who had their homes taken from them however they pleased.

It was a dark time in his nation’s history, nonetheless, several people missed it. This was something rather prevalent amongst Nobles though, they were the ones who lost an immense amount of land when the war had ended. Many of them were bitter about what had happened. 

If Zuko was honest, she’d probably had these ideas drilled into her since birth, and simply hadn’t grown out of them, which was a shame. But as the ruler of a nation, he couldn’t rule beside someone who looked down on others simply because they weren’t from the Fire Nation.

Zuko shook his head, “Y/N built her business from the ground up. And now she’s helping the Fire Lord get dates.” He knows he sounds defensive, as though he’s prepared to fight her, something his Uncle would likely scold him for, but he doesn’t care at the moment.

“All she does is set you up with people.” 

Zuko’s brows furrowed at this comment, and he raised a hand to get the attention of the waiter, “excuse me, could I get the check please?” The young man nodded, heading off to get the check, and Amaya looked at him incredulously. 

Y/N had done far more than set him up with people, she’d helped him begin planning a Gala, she’d tried her best to find a good assortment of people that would fit both Zuko’s needs and the Fire Nation’s, and that list was probably very difficult to narrow down. Zuko had seen the work she put in for formulating profiles of the potential suitors, and throughout all of it she had done nothing but support him. 

“What are you doing?” Amaya asked, shifting in her seat as she stared at Zuko quizzically.

The waiter came over and handed Zuko the check, and Zuko placed a pouch of money on the table, “thanks. Keep the change.” He explained, nodding to the boy, who’s mouth gaped open in surprise as he took the pouch of money, bowing to Zuko repetitively, though Zuko wasn’t paying much attention to him as he spoke to Amaya. “I don’t think this is going to work out, I’m sorry.”

Amaya is still seated in shock as Zuko rises from his table, and Y/N can’t help it when her mouth gapes open at the sight of him simply abandoning his date. She makes eye contact with Iroh, who raises a brow, and they both sit up. She moves to follow Zuko, only to bump into someone. 

“I’m so sorry!” Y/N exclaims, moving down to help them pick up their hat, that had fallen when they collided.

“No, that was my fault entirely!” He responds, shaking his head as they both leaned town to pick it up.

“Aang, come on! He’s leaving.” The woman behind him exclaims.

Y/N’s brows furrow in recognition as she looks up to see a blue arrow tattooed on the man’s head, and her eyes widen in realization. Zuko had described Aang several times during their conversations, he and the rest of his friends came up often. But Y/N did not expect the first time she met the Avatar and his friends to be when they were both following Zuko on his date.

ATTEMPT FOURTEEN

Y/N simply sighs as she opens her door to see Zuko, in the outfit she’d helped him pick out. “What was it this time?” He’d been on thirteen dates thus far, and Y/N was slowly realizing that Zuko was likely one of her most difficult clients. This was purely because he’d yet to get a second date, though there had been offers, Zuko had declined all of them. 

“She was just-” His hands gestured rather broadly, he was practically throwing them into the air, “she was so rude to the waiter.” This had always been a dealbreaker for him, since he’d worked as a waiter in two different tea shops, Zuko had come to understand the importance of treating a waiter with kindness and how difficult the work could be. 

His eyes dart between Y/N and her door, she’s rubbing her eyes due to the exhaustion and Zuko can’t help the guilt that floods him. Nonetheless, she opens the door wider, heading inside her room and signaling for him to close it as she falls back onto her bed. “You were a waiter once, yeah?” He’d told her a fair share about his life in the Earth Kingdom, she’d inquired quite a bit about that part of his life. 

He asked about her life in the Earth Kingdom too, and she’d told him how poor life could be the in the outer rings, something he’d experienced for himself. Zuko listened as she describe living after her parents had died, working for a matchmaker only to discover she was actually good at the job, making a name for herself in the outer rings and then making her way inwards until she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the kingdom. Y/N spoke of how she’d met Marcella and Evelyn, and how she’d taken them in when she’d discovered they were both orphans, living on the streets as pickpockets.

Zuko wouldn’t help but laugh at this, he could imagine Evelyn as a pickpocket, but Marcella? She was a sweet girl, he couldn’t imagine her in a life of crime. Of course, desperation made people do questionable things. Zuko knew that much from experience. 

“Yeah, I was.” Came his response, taking a seat in the chair by her desk. 

Y/N sat up in her bed, bracing herself with her elbows as she raised a brow at him, “what are you doing?”

Zuko frowned, shifting in the chair, “sitting...?” He moved to get up but Y/N waved him off.

“Just lay with me, idiot.” She allowed her head to fall back onto the bed, patting the spot beside her. Clearly, her suggestion wasn’t bothering her, but Zuko felt his face flush at the possibility.

If he’s honest, he’s not even trying anymore when it comes to dates and women and love. There were three reasons for this, one of which was the fact that he simply wasn’t connecting with any of the women he had met thus far. Sure they were nice, and they probably would be his type has it not been for reason two. The fact that Zuko had realized he had feelings for Y/N, what feelings? He wasn’t sure, but they sure as hell weren’t platonic, if they were he would not be blushing this much. He wouldn’t get that weird feeling in his stomach whenever he spoke to her.

Then there was was reason three, if Zuko succeeded in finding love, then Y/N would leave. It was selfish, but he already knew he wouldn’t find anyone considering he pretty sure he loved someone else already. So now, Zuko was basically procrastinating letting Y/N know that this just wasn’t going to work out, mostly because he didn’t have a plan.

He was debating just firing her, but that likely wouldn’t go over well, and he wanted to see her business succeed. If you get fired by the Fire Lord, that just looks bad. Now Zuko wondered what the best way to go about this was, since there was no point in working for him, even if she was getting paid. He was a waste of time. 

He couldn’t help the smile graced his lips as his own thoughts reminded him of the time she’d scolded him, telling him to quit being self-deprecating. 

Zuko sat up from the chair, making his way over to her bed, Zuko found himself simply plopping down onto it face first, earning a laugh from Y/N.

He rolled over onto his back, turning to look at Y/N, only to find her eyes were already on him, bringing a blush to his cheeks as he mumbled, “what?”

“I’m just trying to figure out why you haven’t gotten a second date yet.” Came her response, propping herself up on her forearm. “You have a nice personality, you’re attractive, I’m sure at least one of the girls caught your eye.” Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as she began to wonder if she’d incidentally allowed her own feelings to get in the way of her work. Maybe that’s why this was going so badly.

This was a problem. 

Zuko simply shook his head, his face on fire as he listened to her words, though he couldn’t help the hand he brought to the scar on his face. Y/N had pointed out before that he was allowing his Father to control his actions even now that he was imprisoned, and Zuko was beginning to see what she meant. 

Removing his hand from his face, Zuko sighed. Though he didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts as her hand hesitantly came to his face, placing a hand on his cheek and allowing her thumb to brush against the scar. Zuko jumped at the sudden contact, and Y/N moved to withdraw her hand almost instantly, but Zuko’s hand came to hers and held it there. Looking to her, he couldn’t read the look in her eyes as she gazed at him, and suddenly he wished he was as good at reading people as she was. 

“No self-deprecating thoughts.” Y/N mumbled, “bad Zuko.” She removed her hand from his to flick his head, causing his brows to furrow.

He pouted, and Y/N let out a laugh as he spoke, “how come you haven’t found someone?” Zuko looked to her, “you’re beautiful, and smart, and just... perfect.” He didn’t notice when her cheeks warmed, “you’re a literal matchmaker, surely you’ve considered who your perfect person is.” 

Y/N fell onto her back, running her hands over her face as she shook her head, “how have you not gotten a second date?” A sigh escaped her, “I haven’t had time for love before, and I just haven’t found that,” looking to him, she pursed her lips, “perfect person.” Growing up in the lower rings, she didn’t have time for an actual relationship, and her business as a matchmaker grew incredibly quickly. At the end of the day, long term just didn’t work out, Y/N barely had for herself, much less another person.

“I guess we both suck at love.” Zuko said, his tone was serious and Y/N couldn’t help but burst out into laughter as she swatted at his chest.

Too bad they couldn’t suck at love together. 

ATTEMPT SEVENTEEN THROUGH TWENTY EIGHT

Smoothing over her green dress, a sign of her citizenship in the Earth Kingdom, Y/N moved to answer the knock on her bedroom door. Given how long she’d been in the Fire Nation, Y/N wondered if the Earth Kingdom would still feel like home when she returned. The idea of going back felt odd, and though that time likely wasn’t soon unless Zuko met the love of his life tonight, it was inevitable.

And it horrified her. 

Holding the edge of the dress slightly to make it easier to walk, Y/N sighed and opened the door, seeing Zuko. A small smile on her face as she eyed his Fire Nation robes, “you look nice.” She complimented, tilting her head at him as she allowed her eyes to travel over his figure.

Zuko nodded, a blush coming over her cheeks, his mouth gaping open as he looked at Y/N. “You look beautiful.” She did, the dress looked amazing on her, her hair styled just right, and bracelets adorning her wrists.

“Thank you, Fire Lord Zuko.” His nose crinkled at the use of his title, coming from her it felt even weirder, wrong almost. But she continued, “mind helping me out?” She asked, moving back to her desk and taking a necklace in hand. Y/N had been struggling to put it on for the past few minutes, and now she had someone to do it for her.

He nodded, closing the door behind him, he took the necklace from her hand, and when Y/N ensured her hair was out of his way, Zuko brought the necklace around her neck. He secured the clasp, hands lingering as he adjusted it to the center of her neck. Zuko couldn’t help but notice a small scar on her shoulder, hand brushing over it.

Y/N looked over her shoulder and to him, brow raised, “how’d you get this?” He asked, brows drawn together. His hand traced the raised skin gently, Y/n could feel her cheeks warming at his touch, inhaling deeply. 

She grimaced, “a knife fight I almost lost my life to.” Was her explanation. Y/N didn’t like to think back to the days when she’d resorted to several... questionable actions to stay alive. But she pushed those thoughts away as she turned to face him. “You ready?” Y/N asked, they had to get to the Gala soon, considering the fact that Zuko was the host, Y/N was shocked he’d even stopped by her room in the first place.

Zuko was silent, simply nodding as he extended his arm for her to take. And Y/N did, looping her arm around his as she smiled, “you are gonna woo so many Earth Kingdom women tonight!” Y/N exclaimed, more confidence in her voice than Zuko had.

Shame the only Earth Kingdom girl he wanted to ‘woo’ was her.

When they’d arrived at the Gala, descending the stairs together, they were greeted with the claps of the other guests. Zuko would feel the anxiety flood him, but he paid it no mind. Though Y/N could feel the way he stiffened as he ended his speech to the diplomats of all nations, “let this be a peaceful, and joyous night!” 

They all burst out into cheers before the party continued, the music starting once more, and everyone returning to feasting upon the buffet, dancing along the ballroom floor or speaking with one another. All while Y/N led Zuko down the stairs, dragging him by the hand, “come on. Enjoy your own party, meet some girls.” She winked, and Zuko swore his face heated up even more than it already had. 

Y/N wasn’t a fool, she knew that if she’d stuck by his side the entire night, she would serve as a repellant of any potential suitors. So naturally, much to Zuko and Y/N’s dismay, she removed herself from him, playfully shoving him towards a group of Earth Kingdom girls she’d mentioned earlier. Though there were several other clusters in the ballroom.

Zuko simply sighed, giving Y/N a small smile before making his way to the group of girls. If he was honest, he would rather be spending the Gala by her side, but he had to put in some effort. He owed Y/N that much. Besides, this was an entirely new group of girls, maybe he would find someone tonight. 

“Hi there.” Zuko greeted, waving awkwardly at the girls. 

This action earned him a few laughs, and he was unsure if they actually found it funny or felt the need to laugh since he was the Fire Lord. Shortly after they began introducing themselves, speaking like there was no tomorrow. 

If Zuko was honest, the number of women here was overwhelming. So, as he excused himself from the conversation, much to their chagrin, he placed his cup down on the platter of one of many waiters. Making his way outside, Zuko couldn’t help but feel relieved at the fresh air that hit him on the balcony. Though he contemplated heading back inside when he noticed another girl was already there, eyes shut as she faced the sky, she turned to see him, eyes widening a fraction. “I’m sorry, I can go-”

“No!” She exclaimed, cheeks flushing in embarrassment due to her outburst, “no... it’s fine.” She turned back to look at the sky, hand clasped together, fidgeting.

Zuko stepped forward, finding himself situated across from her, leaning against the railing, “so why are you out here?”

A small laugh escaped the girl, and she ran a hand through her hair, “it’s rather stress relieving. You have a lovely view in your palace.” 

He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he realized she recognized him, though Zuko nodded along, “what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking?” It was a stupid question, and Zuko nearly facepalmed as he pursed his lips.

“Aileen.” Came her response, and Zuko realized he recognized her name as well. She was the child of one of the more well known members of Fire Nation nobility, her parents had approached him in the past in hopes of arranging a marriage between the two of them. He had declined almost immediately. And now that Aileen turned to him, he had a feeling he made the right decision, “you’re Zuko, right?” 

He exhaled deeply, nodding, “that’s me.” Sometimes, Zuko wondered what his life would’ve been like if he wasn’t Zuko, perhaps things would’ve been simpler. No, things definitely would’ve been simpler. There would be no diplomatic meetings, no wars, no idiots trying to hurt other people, no more assassination attempts, no more fake smiles and no more Galas. Of course, if he wasn’t Zuko, he never would’ve met Y/N.

“I heard you’re looking for a partner in crime.” Aileen prompted, “why aren’t you in there finding that future love of your life?” 

Shrugging, Zuko looked up at the sky, “I found her. She just doesn’t want me.”

He can feel Aileen stare at him, she’s silent for a moment, and Zuko wonders what she’s thinking. Though he doesn’t need to wait long to find out as she responds, “I understand.” Aileen focuses her gaze on the glass she’d placed on the thick railing of the balcony, “the person I love probably doesn’t love me back. And even if they did, my parents disapprove.”

“Did you ask?” He felt hypocritical, Zuko himself had never spoken with Y/N in regards to his feelings, and he likely never would, but he wanted to know. “If they love you?”

Aileen laughs slightly, shaking her head, “I couldn’t bring myself to. I’m scared.” She replied, looking back to him curiously, “did you?”

“No.” He responded lamely, tapping his fingers against the railing with a sigh.

Aileen laughed at this, “I guess we are both cowards then.” She pursed her lips, “I didn’t ask because I was scared, why didn’t you?”

And then the words come spilling out, “whoever I end up with will greatly impact the whole world, whether I want to acknowledge it or not. And she doesn’t deserve that burden, nobody does.” He laughs bitterly as he continues, “she’s also the person that was hired to help me find love in the first place.” Zuko pauses, looking away from Aileen, “and I guess I’m scared too.”

“Ironic.” Aileen mumbles, bringing her eyes back to the sky, “let’s make a deal, Your Majesty.” 

Zuko cringes at the use of that title, almost asking her to simply refer to him by his name, though he simply responds, “what deal?”

“We both confess. And if it goes horribly wrong, we can get married.” 

Y/N can’t see the shock on Zuko’s face, but she can see how comfortable he feels with this girl, Y/N hadn’t seen her before, but she was just happy Zuko was connecting with someone. Except she also wasn’t, a bitter feeling enveloping her as she turned away, looking for something else to focus her attention on, something that didn’t hurt. 

She turned to see Marcella and Evelyn in the distance, speaking with each other. Y/N supposed if she wouldn’t be finding love tonight, then at least they would. She was no fool, she saw the way they looked at each other, the glances when the other wasn’t looking. Maybe it was dumb, but Y/N found herself feeling jealous as she moved over to the buffet with a sigh. Food solved everything in her experience, after a client had a particularly bad day, food made things better.

“Perhaps some tea?” Iroh stood beside her, a kettle in his hand, he had insisted he serve tea at the Gala, though Zuko had assured him it would be just as easy to find someone else to do the job.

Y/N smiled at him, nodding as she took a cup from the array of them within the buffet, allowing Iroh to pour her some tea. “Thank you, Iroh.” Her voice is quieter than normal, and it’s clear that Iroh can tell something is wrong.

“You know, you deserve to be happy to Y/N.” His words catch her by surprise, though she doesn’t have much time to consider their meaning before flames lighting the room begin to move erratically, causing her brows to furrow.

Something was wrong. 

Iroh nods to her, placing the tea kettle down as his brow furrow and she nods back, Iroh disappearing into the crowd of people. Y/N’s eyes fall back to Marcella and Evelyn, and she quickly moves to their side of the room, ignoring the hush that had fallen over the room, panicked gasps amongst them. Her hands fall onto both girl’s arms as she nods to them, “Y/N, whats going-”

Y/N is already dragging them in the direction of the exit, “get out of here, find the guards. I’m going to find Zuko.” The girls didn’t have much time to argue, as Y/N was already working her way through the panicked crowd, back to the balcony where she’d last seen Zuko. But, people were already pushing against her movements, making it difficult. Raising her head above the crowd in an attempt to see what’s going on, Y/N realizes whats happening. 

Firebenders were trying to force them together, and Y/N couldn’t help but panic as she wondered if Marcella and Evelyn managed to escape and find the guards. 

This was an ambush.

No, this was an assassination attempt. Zuko already knew as he watched the atmosphere of the party begin to shift, that and the person who stood before him in all black, brandishing several weapons. Alongside four others who stood by her side. 

“You know, it wasn’t until I met you that I realized how bad it had gotten.” Aileen stood beside Zuko, eyes meeting his in horror as they exchanged looks. Zuko simply hoped the nod he gave her provided some semblance of comfort as he returned his attention to the person before him. “I mean, defending some lowly Earth Kingdom matchmaker? What type of career even is that?” 

Her voice is almost maniacal, and Zuko can’t help but wince as he feels reminded of his sister. But he recognizes it nonetheless, Amaya. It had been months since he’d seen her, but he could still remember her voice. Her face was covered by a mask, and she wielded a sword, and if Zuko remembered correctly, she had been trained in dozens of fighting styles and was a talented bender herself. Alongside the four other men, Zuko couldn’t help but panic internally as he spoke, “Amaya, why don’t you put the swords down, and we talk about this.”

She laughs in response, ripping the mask that covered her face off and throwing it aside, “people have tried to talk to you about this. Your-” She grappled for the word, a hand yanking at her hair as she gestured to him with a sword, “your radical ideas!” 

Zuko didn’t find having morals radical, but he wasn’t going to say that, not while Aileen’s life was on the line. Zuko suddenly realized why having an heir was important as he shook his head, “Amaya, look. Why don’t you let Aileen here leave, and then you and I can talk.” 

Aileen looks like she’s going to protest, but Amaya glances at her red robes, a sign of her Fire Nation citizenship, and gestures for her to leave. “Get out. My problem isn’t with you.” 

When Aileen doesn’t move, Amaya quickly grows frustrated, calling out to one of the guards she’d brought along that lied inside, “take this fool away.” 

There’s no response, and Zuko can see panic flood Amaya’s face. And looking behind her, he quickly realizes that most of the guards have been subdued, Y/N holding one of them in her arms as she knocks them to the ground. Moving towards the balcony stealthily as Amaya’s hands begin to shake, fire sparking in her palms as she focused her attention onto Zuko. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to our nation.” 

But Zuko wasn’t looking at her as he shook his head, hoping Y/N would understand. There was no way she could overpower Amaya, not with her bending. Y/N didn’t even have a weapon.

Now, Y/N knew for a fact that no matter how talented Zuko was, he wouldn’t put the girl beside him in danger. His priority would be keeping her alive, and given the training Amaya had as a noble, in both Firebending and fighting, she might even be as good as Zuko in a fight.

Meaning she had to be taken out of the fight.

Everything happened pretty fast after that. Zuko was shielding body coming forward to shield Aileens as he extended his freehand to Firebend at the people who’d surrounded them, only for Amaya to move out of the way. The girl was practically screaming bloody murder as she lunged at him, now wielding her sword. 

Zuko didn’t have to figure out what to do next because Y/N moved faster than Amaya did, tackling the girl over the railing and down below as he began to scream. 

THE FINAL ATTEMPT

Zuko’s knee is bouncing rapidly as he sits beside Iroh, who knits a scarf of some sort despite the blistering heat of the Fire Nation. He’s insisted that when Y/N returned to the Earth Kingdom she’d need it, and Zuko didn’t have the heart to disagree. Iroh had started stress-knitting about four hours ago, when Y/N had entered the room they all sat before, anxiously awaiting news of her condition.

Marcella and Evelyn are to Zuko’s left, Marcella’s sobs had quieted down, but Zuko wouldn’t be shocked if he looked over and saw tears silently streaming down her face. The girl hadn’t taken it well. Evelyn remained composed, doing her best to comfort Marcella, but the wait was clearly getting to her as well as she fidgeted with Marcella’s hands.

Seeing as Y/N had fallen from several stories up off the balcony and into the water below, Zuko didn’t really think it was possible to take the news well. But he was trying. 

A pang sounded from inside the room, and Zuko practically shot up onto his feet, moving to knock on the door to discover was was wrong, only for Iroh to grab his wrist, shaking his head. Zuko exhaled deeply, beginning to pace across the hall. He found himself wishing that Katara hadn’t been busy with Water Tribe business, she was an excellent healer. Alas, Katara wasn’t there, and Zuko had to settle for one of the skilled Water Tribe diplomats instead, alongside a few others skilled in medicine. 

As he paced, Zuko could feel Evelyn’s eyes on him, and it became clear she was itching to speak and he sighed, “what’s wrong?” There were dozens of answers to this question, the main one being the fact that Y/N could die today, so he hoped she understood what he meant.

The girl is glaring at him, and Zuko can’t help but feel uneasy. Because maybe she blames him for this as much as he blames himself, and maybe she’s going to tell him off, blame him for everything. Because if Y/N dies, she and Marcella will have no one again. 

Not that Zuko would allow that. He’d grown attached to the girls as well, they were kind, and helpful. They’d help improve the interior decor of the palace, and if he was honest, it looked better than anything he ever could’ve done.

“You better tell her how you feel after this.”

Zuko’s mouth gapes open at the girl’s words, and he swears the breath leaves his longs, and its as though everything hits him then. 

He would never get to tell Y/N how he felt if she died. He’d never get to listen to her try and tell a story just to go off on dozens of tangents, he’d never get to watch as she attempted to cook again, and he’d never get to hold her in his arms once more. There would be no more late night talks, and he wouldn’t hear her laugh, she wouldn’t tease him anymore and they wouldn’t walk through the courtyard feeding turtleducks again.

She’d never know he loved her.

Zuko finds himself nodding to Evelyn’s words, frozen in place as he looks to her and asks, “was I that obvious?” His voice is hoarse, and its probably because he didn’t stop screaming, even when Y/N’s body hit the water. 

Marcella is laughing at his words, blowing her nose into a tissue that Evelyn hands her before she speaks, “painfully obvious.”

“For someone who’s job revolves around love, Y/N is one of the most oblivious people I’ve ever met.” Evelyn grumbles out, rubbing her eyes as she yawns.

It was late, Zuko knew that much, the guests of the party had gone to the infirmary in the palace, being tended to by doctors and any other available healers if injured. Otherwise, they’d all returned to their rooms to sleep, or more likely stay up in fear of another attack. Zuko surely would.

“Go to bed guys, it’s getting late.” 

Evelyn looks at him like he’s one of the dumbest people she’s met, and if Zuko was honest, he probably was. But he simply nodded to Marcella, who had started leaning her head against Evelyn’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Uncle, why don’t you take them back to their rooms?”

Considering the fact that Zuko’s guards were around the corner, he wasn’t scared for his safety, but their presence just made him want to remain awake. 

“Nephew, you should sleep as well.” His Uncle replied, though he rose from his seat, bringing the yarn and the start of the scarf under his arm. 

Zuko gave his Uncle a smile, “I will. But if anything happens before then, I’ll be sure to alert you all.” He assured, nodding to Evelyn, who eyed him wearily. But she relented, shaking Marcella gently before standing up alongside her and Iroh. 

When they were out of sight, Zuko plopped back down in the seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought his hands to his face.

And for the first time in the night he cried, his body racked with sobs as tears streamed down his face and he struggled to breathe. The pain of all that had happened felt almost unbearable. She had to live. Y/N had to live. Because Zuko was going to confess. 

His fear of losing her outweighed his fear of rejection.

Wiping his tears away, Zuko suddenly felt grateful that Evelyn had left the box of tissues as he blew his nose. He sighed, his eyes piercing the door, hoping that something would happen.

As though his stare had willed her to exit the room, the healer came out, a grimace on her face as she looked to Zuko, likely because of his bloodshot eyes. The woman simply sighed, the grimace becoming a more sympathetic look. “Miss L/N lost a lot of blood... several of her bones were broken when she hit the water, especially her ribs. Her internal organs were damaged as well and... well it wasn’t very likely for her to survive.”

She’s dead.

Y/N is dead.

Oh.

“Wow, you look like a mess.” 

Zuko’s head whips up, his eyes meeting Y/N’s, she’s leaning against a wooden crutch, grinning lazily at him. The healer beside her looks rather apologetic as she frantically explains, “she woke up far quicker than we anticipated and only agreed to rest if we participated in her rather cruel prank.”

So, she wasn’t a ghost.

Zuko launches himself up from the chair, nearly tackling Y/N, but the wooden crutch she uses for support serves as a reminder of her fragile state as he asks, “can I hug you?”

Her smile falters at the sound of his voice, hoarse and jagged, so she simply extends are free arm outward. Zuko takes this as an invitation for a hug, gently wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her neck, Y/N wrapped her free arm around his neck, hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. “Im s-”

“It’s not your fault Zuko. I swear if you say its your fault I will throw myself over the balcony again.” She threatened, hand tightening in his hair.

Zuko laughs quietly, inhaling deeply before he speaks again, “please never do that again.” 

“I make no promises.”

Sighing, Zuko releases her, “I hate you so much.” 

Y/N scoffed, “you love me.” She was limping over to the bed in the middle of the room, blood coating the surrounding area. Though the doctors in the room were moving across the room that they’d placed Y/N on, and dealt with her injuries on, Zuko couldn’t help but feel sick at the sight.

She could’ve died.

“Yeah, I do.”

Y/N pauses, turning to look back at him, her mouth gapes open. Zuko’s looking away, eyes on anything but her as he inhales deeply.

The healer simply sighs, “before we do this, I should inform the two of you that Miss Y/N cannot do any... strenuous activities for at least one month.”

Zuko’s cheeks are flushing red as he shakes his head rapidly, “ma’am-”

“We’ll be taking our leave. Have fun, but not too much fun. Please.” The woman closes the door behind her once the other doctors are out of the room, and Y/N can’t stop laughing at the mortified expression on Zuko’s face, despite the sharp pain she feels in her ribs.

Taking a seat on the fresh sheets of the bed, Y/N sighs, “so you love me?” She’s picking at the sheets, “as a friend?”

Zuko suddenly realizes just how right Evelyn was as he slowly shakes his head, “no. More than a friend. I think I inadvertently sabotaged half of the dates you sent me on because of it.”

Y/N laughs quietly, eyes falling on Zuko only to see he’s looking anywhere but her, she calls out to him quietly, “Zuko. Look at me.”

He doesn’t hesitate to bring his gaze to her, eyes meeting hers as he begins to fidget with his hand. Y/N simply reaches her hand out, and he takes it. “I love you too, idiot.” She mumbles, pulling him closer and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I just wish you had told me sooner so I didn’t waste so much time trying to set you up with other women.” 

A small laugh escapes him as he brings his hand to her hair, “how do I know you weren’t purposely giving me bad matches because you were in love with me?” 

Y/N removes her head from his stomach, looking up at him, her nose crinkles, “unlike you, I am a professional.” Zuko flicks her forehead, and Y/N pouts at him, hand coming up to his face, “can I kiss you?”

She can feel his face warm, but he nods rather enthusiastically nonetheless, and Y/N finds herself smiling at his as she uses her hands to pull his face downward towards her. His lips meet hers, and Zuko finds himself feeling complete, hands coming to Y/N’s face in an attempt to pull her closer while hers move to his ball up his robes that he’d yet to change.

 Zuko pulls away first, forehead resting on hers, “you need to sleep.” 

Y/N scoffed, eyes narrowing at him, “you need to sleep.” Looking to the bed, she raises a brow at him, “wanna lay with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I could accidentally injure you or-”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N yanks him onto the bed, making her way to the other side and getting comfortable, “I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, everything would be fine. Maybe not for the Fire Nation, seeing as Y/N would potentially help rule a nation but...

Everything would be fine.

in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/

noun

a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.

A/N: i hope this was good enough!!! i tried!!! and idk how it ended up over 12k... that’s crazy man um kjhdsajfhjkah omg i really liked this concept though i hope i did it justice

TAGLISTS [lmk if you want to be added or removed via askbox or replies]

ATLA: @bubblebars​ @jada-cleo​ @Art-flirt @the-deli-meat​ @wemissyou3000​ @ajediherowitchrunner​

ZUKO: @outerxorbit @shawkneecaps @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @celamoon @savemesteeb @shephard17895 @ijustwannabecanadian @duh-dobrik @anime-simp @lammello  

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

*

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

*

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

*

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

*

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

*

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.

[softboiledteacozy]

We Grow Accustomed to the Dark - BrRy drabble

I've been reading a gothic Victorian novel and I'm inspired to write a BaroRyuu thing. Have my brief notes until I have the time/energy to write a proper Thing (which will probably be about three chapters long? Maybe?? Who knows???). Ryuu is back in England for Reasons, IDK. The title comes from an Emily Dickinson poem.

Beware post-DGS2 spoilers.

<> <> <>

A Guilty verdict on a high-profile criminal leads to both Ryuu and Barok being targeted, as Ryuu ended up helping Barok during the trial when it became clear that his client was anything but innocent. After having gone through two separate attacks, Barok suggests they take refuge in his old family estate in the country while Scotland Yard deals with the mess for once. Ryuunosuke agrees, even if he feels rather out of place at first. He's concerned at first that he's come underdressed, or that he is being an inconvenience to Barok, until he realises that this is the first time he's gotten to see the fearsome Reaper of the Bailey at ease, outside the courtroom (or jail) and that Barok is actually a very chill dude. So they get talking and find out more about one another and Ryuu actually starts to feel more at ease, even if the manor where they're staying at is CREEPY AS FUCK and humid and old and with nothing around except the steel-grey sea and a dark, foggy, mossy moor, and they're basically alone because they had to leave in haste and Barok couldn't even send the servants out beforehand and now they've been delayed because of the weather. But. This means Barok ends up cooking for Ryuu, with the provisions they brought over with them, and Ryuu and Barok end up drinking wine in front of a fireplace, their chatter low and cozy even as the wind howls outside. At some point during the night, Ryuu hears something outside his room, somewhere in the house, and he goes to investigate because he's a coward and an idiot, but he's also curious to a fault, and he bumps into Barok, who's also trying to find out what the source of the noise was. Ryuu is shaken by his encounter with Barok (literally can't stop shaking) and his candle goes out and he drops his matches because of course he does. Barok, who knows his way in the dark because he is intimately familiar with the place, tells Ryuu to take his hand so he doesn't get lost, and they slowly make their way through the dark together, only to find out a tree has fallen outside. Tension bleeds out and Barok makes Ryuu a hot posset, something he used to drink when he was a child and got sick. Ryuu likens it to okayu, and they sort of maybe stay cuddled on a sofa for the rest of the night because neither of them is particularly tired after that fright.

The next morning, the servants come back and make a big breakfast for the two, and Ryuu gets to see the place being cleaned up (probably tries to help but ends up getting in the way). It's as if life has been breathed into the old estate again. Barok confesses that he hasn't been back since Klimt died, but that he is glad to be here with Ryuu. Ryuu urges him to come back more often, to put old phantoms to rest, and Barok agrees so long as Ryuunosuke comes with him, to keep said phantoms at bay. Ryuu laughs and nods, amused that Barok would trust him as his protector when he was the one who had led him through the dark. Barok nods and counters by saying that he only led him through the dark because Ryuu braved the dark with a small light in the first place. Metaphors! Pining!

Edit: There is now a fic in the works, if anyone is curious

[i-like-writing-stuff]

four months; part 2 [five hargreeves x reader]

a/n: thank you all so so much for your support and feedback! i literally could not believe that the first part has over 200 notes and yall want a continuation like omagash??? im soft, thank you guys <3

here is the long awaited part two, but before we dive into that, i felt the need to ask yall if you want five to be aged up?? in most x reader i’ve read on this site, five is aged up, but I felt like, in my case, i didn’t really needed to mention that because i am only like two months older than the actor, and its not like im gonna write smut with him- gross. point is, idk. should i age him up tho??? idk what to do, so here are both aidan and timothee to soothe ur heart for this second part!! <3

(the gifs do not belong to me, lemme know if u know who made them so i can give credits- they’re real cute mah gawsh!!!)

alsoo if you want more five imagines or literally any other hargreeves sibling or fictional character ousside tua, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! kisses <3

summary: after a long family meeting and more booze, you decide to make a bold move and profess your buried feelings.

part 1

“Men are stupid shitheads.” You concluded, setting your flask on the counter, looking at the new bangs Allison had just cut for you.

Even in her drunken state, they seemed to be very nicely done. You were quite surprised by the way they turned out, but pleased nonetheless. It was a spontaneous decision, getting bangs. You had been sitting in the hair salon she was working at with her, Klaus and Vanya after a not so great family meeting.

Hugs were shared, true, but then arguments started and before you even knew it, Luther stormed out, Diego followed him, Five went missing for whatever business he had, and Klaus claimed that Ben was not even there- apparently, ghosts can’t time travel.

So, it was just the four of you, drunk in a hair salon, with too much alcohol and way too many scissors around you, complaining about how shitty your love lives could be.

“Amen.” Klaus raised his drink in the air, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Right?” Allison nodded, combing her second client, Klaus, “The nerve of Ray! I mean, one thing goes wrong and he’s on a warpath!” She vented, holding the bottle of liquor in her free hand, “I mean, doesn’t know who I am?! No, no! No, Ray- you know exactly who I am, you just can’t handle it!”

You watched with a raised brow as Vanya was out of zone, pretending to be shooting the long line of empty bottles gathered in front of her, as Allison kept on continuing her rant. Her husband had just seen her use her powers on the night they started the protest, and was now having a real hard time comprehending what was going on. You didn’t see him at home either, so you figured he may have been upset with you as well for maybe hiding the secret. Or maybe he thought you were like her, who knows?

“Hey, wouldn’t it be weird if Five grew up all hot?” Klaus suddenly asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette, as he got up from his seat to walk around the hair salon, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Why would you even think of your brother like that?” You asked riddled, narrowing your eyes at the man as his sisters almost gagged at the thought.

“Oh, please, you’ve been thinking that, haven’t you?” Klaus asked, pointing at you as you took another swig from your nearly empty flask.

“I... I mean- he’s... Five... uh... no comment!” You suddenly declared, at loss of words, as you got up from your seat, trying to maintain your balance as you made your way towards the bottle of liquor to fill your flask again.

“When are you two gonna confess your feelings?” Allison asked with a groan, letting her head fall backwards as she sat on the chair, “It’s getting really tiring!”

“We have an apocalypse going on!” You argued, “There’s no time for feelings!”

“This is the perfect time for feelings!” Klaus chimed in, taking another drag out of his cigarette, “These might be your last six days on Earth! Do you want to die regretting that you never told Five how you felt about him?”

“I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You declared, out of arguments, as you poured liquor in your flask, “Why don’t we talk about Allison’s crush on Luther instead?”

“We have never even kissed!” Allison defended herself, causing Vanya to spin on her chair confused, looking between the three of you.

“Yeah, but you guys were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other all through puberty and breakfasts and... all that.” Klaus waved her off, sipping from his own flask.

“Aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or...?” Vanya wondered confused, as you and Klaus snorted amused at her innocence.

“Well... technically...” Allison tried to find an excuse or explanation, but she was having a hard time putting her thoughts in place.

“Technically?” Klaus raised a brow, “If you....” He stammered, trying to regain his train of thought, “If you have to use the word technically, you’re already in trouble.”

“Okay, can we go back to Five and Y/N?” Allison tried to change the subject, “Or maybe at least help me save my marriage?”

“That’s like...” Klaus stumbled on his own feet, filling his flask again, as you leaned against Vanya’s chair curiously, “That’s like asking a nun how to hump someone’s leg! I mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships? This one?” He asked, pointing at Vanya, “In secret love with some farm Frau!”

“Her name’s Sissy.” Vanya informed him.

“Which is an improvement on her previous love interest.” He said, looking at you and Allison, as you shook your heads to slightly tell him to shut up, “...the serial killer.”

“What?!” Vanya yelled, looking between you and Allison for an explanation, but you just softly waved her off, promising to remind her later.

“And look at this one!” Klaus ignored the three of you, pointing at... well, you, “A fifty year old assassin, who got the chance to be a teen again, but she is too afraid to admit her feelings for the... wait, is Five a boy or a man?”

“Both?” You raised a brow, unsure of the answer.

“Meanwhile, I’m carrying a torch for a soldier I haven’t technically met yet, and Luther is in love with his sister.” Klaus waved you off, trying to keep his balance again on his feet.

“Okay, again- we are not biological!” Allison tried to defend herself once more, but Klaus simply ignored her.

“Face it, the healthiest long-term relationship in this family was when Five was banging that mannequin.” He said, making all of you nod in agreement, as you couldn’t help but confess, taking another chug out of your flask;

“I can’t believe I got to the point where I was jealous of Dolores.”

Okay, maybe ‘banging’ and ‘jealous’ were strong words, but you had to admit you were not that pleased when one of the first things that Five did when he got back to 2019, was go to some store to get back his plastic girlfriend who kept him company in the four decades he spent all by himself in the apocalypse.

You understood his mind, though. You would have gone insane as well if you had to be all alone after the end of the world, without another soul on the planet. Nonetheless, you still were maybe a tad too happy when he decided to return her to the store.

Leaving you the only woman he had eyes for, unbeknownst to you.

“I’m gonna tell Sissy that I love her.” Vanya suddenly declared, straightening her position confidently.

“You go, girl!” You cheered, clapping for your friend.

“I don’t want any secrets.” She said, making you and the other two nod in agreement, contemplating about your own lives.

“Yeah!” Allison said, getting up with the bottle of alcohol tightly clutched in her hand, “Yeah, yeah- you’re right! Yes, ‘cause, you know- if this all goes tits-up, the least I can do is be honest with my husband!

“Oh, does that mean I have to face my cult?” Klaus sighed, “I just hate group break-ups, it’s why I stopped dating twins!”

You pondered about it for a moment, in your state that was definitely not the most sober. You had a lot of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you felt like maybe it was better. You could think with your heart more than you could think with your brain, and your heart was telling you that your friends were right.

They all are getting themselves ready to take big risks in their lives, why shouldn’t you? They had a valid point; the world was gonna end in six days if you guys couldn’t find a way to solve this. Last time you didn’t have the brightest plan, so why should this time be a success? Reality hit you; there was a real big chance that you might die.

So why not just be honest with Five? What was the worst that could happen? You manage to save the world and Five rejects you? Big deal!

Well, it actually was a big deal.

“What if he rejects me?” You asked all of a sudden, causing the three siblings to turn to you, “What if I tell Five how I feel about him and he rejects me? I know maybe at my age I shouldn’t be this anxious about a man, but... it’s not like I’m going anywhere, I’m glued to the Hargreeves clan.”

And it was true. After the events of the 2019 apocalypse, right before you and the others got separated, you shared an adorable moment in which you confessed to each other how happy you were to have met and be taken into their family as one of their own.

“Normally, I’d say to not ponder on that for too... long.” Klaus slurred, “But given that it’s Five, you don’t even have to worry about that.”

“He’s right.” Allison shrugged, “That won’t be a problem.

“I have no memory of any of you, but from the hug I’ve seen you two share earlier- you’re not just friends.” Vanya spoke up, making you stare into nothingness for a moment.

I mean, it’s Five we are talking about. If he were to have any feelings, it’s not like he’d be honest with them or act, right? It would be up to you to make the first move.

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your hands on your upper arms, reminding yourself of the hug. It may have been the first time you and Five actually hugged, in all the years you’ve known each other. The way he held you close and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, feeling you in his arms, even if for him it had been only four days. You had to live with the thought that he may be dead for months.

And you hated that, you knew you wanted him alongside you. You wanted that little rude, at times obnoxious dipshit, with a soft heart- as much as he hated to admit it. You loved how much he cared about his family, about saving the world. Five is a great person; he is caring and has a big heart, as much as he tried to hide it behind his trashmouth.

“Fine!” You groaned, letting your head fall backwards, “I’ll tell Five I fucking love him and his dipshit face!”

“Yes!” Klaus clapped, as Allison and Vanya cheered proudly, “Come here!”

You and Vanya walked towards him, as Allison wrapped an arm around his waist, waiting for the two of you to skip towards them, pulling you into a group hug, as “Twistin’ the night away” by Sam Cooke blasted on the radio, causing the four of you to start a small dance party, letting for the first time in a long while your problems just go away.

For the sake of the song.

After a couple more hours of drinking, gossiping and dancing, the four of you decided to finally part ways and attend your promised business. Klaus went to deal with his cult, as Allison decided to be completely honest with her husband at home and Vanya was going to confess to Sissy.

As for you?

You were going to tell Five Hargreeves you were in love with him.

“Hey, dipshit!” You confidently yelled, running up the stairs of the store, trying to find Five.

“Y/N?” Five frowned, walking out of the kitchen with a coffee mug in his hands and a confused look on his face, “Are you... even more drunk? And did you get bangs- what the...?”

“Shut up.” You waved him off, walking towards him to grab the mug out of his hand to sober yourself up, “Why in the hell are you even drinking coffee at this hour?”

“I’m... trying to calm myself...” He frowned, watching as you chugged his freshly poured coffee.

“Normally I’d ask.” You said, setting the mug on the counter, shaking your head, “But right now what I have to say is more important.”

“Is that so?” Five raised a brow curiously, as you slowly slapped your cheeks, trying to get the room to stop moving, “Why don’t you go to bed?” He asked, gently pushing you towards the couch, “And we talk in the morning? I don’t really have time for this.”

“No!” You yelled, stopping in your tracks to poke his chest, “We don’t have to talk! I talk and you- you listen!” You said, poking his chest again, “You never have time for anything, all you can think of is your stupid apocalypse!”

“Oh yes, isn’t that a trivial thing to be thinking of?” He asked with a sarcastic smile, crossing his arms.

“I don’t need your sarcasm!” You yelled, poking his chest a third time, feeling him get more tense.

“I swear to God, Y/N, if you do that one more time-...” Five took in a deep breath, as he could feel as he was slowly losing his patience.

“Shut up!” You groaned, watching as his brows knitted in confusion, “I’m trying to confess my feelings for you, you moron!”

“W...What?” He asked, as his face suddenly softened, unfolding his arms.

“I’m in love with you!” You sighed, rubbing your face, “Okay? I-I am in love with you and I am trying to sober myself up, but I think I may have had too much to drink.”

“You think?” Five scoffed, slowly leading you towards the couch, “Are you sure you’re not saying this just because you have a ton of alcohol coursing through you?”

“Well... kinda, ‘cause if I were sober there was no way in hell I would have confessed.” You puffed, complying, as you let yourself guided by him, “Allison, Klaus and Vanya all convinced me that I should tell you, that we only have six days left on Earth and in case we don’t save it... I shouldn’t be going down with regrets.”

Five listened to your every word carefully, as you continuing venting about how his siblings spent the whole day trying to convince you to tell him about your feelings, as he slowly held your hands, as you took a seat on the couch. He nodded at your words to let you know that he was listening, as he took two pillows off the armchairs beside, placing them at one end, softly pushing you down.

“...and then Klaus said that he hates group breakups.” You said, not even noticing what was going on, feeling your lids get heavier once your head met the pillow.

“Not a surprise there...” Five muttered, grabbing the blanket that was rested on top of the couch, placing it over you.

“Are you trying to dismiss me?” You wondered, but still making yourself more comfortable, as you sat on your side, with your head facing Five, who knelt in front of you tired.

He bit back a smile, watching as you slowly closed your eyes. He knew you were extremely drunk, he could see that in the way exhaust took over you. Not only you had a lot of alcohol in your system, but you’ve also had some long couple of days, and some longer ones were ahead of you until you knew for a fact the world was safe once more.

“I don’t know how it is, that you’re the one person who actually makes me feel... soft.” He confessed, watching your lips curve into a smile at his words, “You... drunken idiot.”

“I regret nothing.” You said proudly, as Five couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, softly stroking your hair to help you fall asleep sooner.

“We’ll see about that in the morning.” He smirked amused, watching as you pouted.

“You never gave me an answer, you know.” You pointed out, letting his soft touch calm you down, as you felt sleep slowly take over you.

“You never gave me a question.” He retorted, knowing for sure that if your eyes were opened, you would roll them at him.

“I think you like to hear me say that I am in love with you, it’s the third time I have to say it.” You said, slowly placing your hands under your pillow, making yourself more comfortable.

“I am happy to see that you still know how to count.” Five said, placing some wild strands of hair behind your ear.

“Screw you.” You said, making him grin, as he went back to stroking your hair.

“In this whole... shitty situation I managed to get myself into, you, Y/N, might as well be the only thing keeping me sane... surprisingly.” Five frowned at the last bit, watching as you opened your eyes, shifting your head to watch him, “I love you too, moron.”

“I never said I love you.” You smirked, teasing him as he rolled his eyes.

“You little chipmunk...” Five sighed, shaking his head in disbelief amused, as you leaned into his touch more, closing your eyes, pleased with yourself.

“Yeah, but you still love me.” You said, not once dropping that smirk on your lips.

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” He wondered, resting his forearm on the couch beside you, as he knelt on the floor, trying to make himself more comfortable, noticing the way you were enjoying the scalp massage... for free.

“A little bit.” You slowly shrugged, wrapping your arms around his, once you felt it beside you.

Five watched with a soft smile as you pulled his arms closer to your face, nuzzling into it with a satisfied smile, happy that you listened to your friends.

And deep down, so was Five thanking his siblings.

[johnsamericano]

“Darling.” l.t.y

Pairing: mafia!Taeyong x journalist!reader

Genre: fluff (Taeyong’s a really soft boi), angst, (not kinky) smut

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, minor character death, sex, I think that’s it.

Summary: Your boss asks you to write an insight on the mafia gang that’s been causing so many deaths recently. But you don’t expect the leader to be so...different.

Word count: idk but it’s ✨long✨

A/n: I hope you like it 😌

“Yes, boss?” You peeked through the door of your boss’s office.

“Sit down, please.” He removed his glasses, gently massaging his nose bridge afterwards. “How long have you been working with us, y/n?”

“Five months, sir.”

“Do you like working here?” It suddenly sounded like he was about to fire you.

“Yes, very much.” You squeezed your hands nervously. “Have I done something wrong, sir?”

“Not at all, your work is pretty good for a rookie.” His gaze on you was intense. “That’s why I have a special job for you.” Your eyes lit up. You weren’t getting fired and that was a relief.

“I’m sure you’re aware about the recent murders around this area.” You nodded. “After exhaustive research, we’ve found the culprit.” That was good news, yet he seemed so serious.

“Have you told the police?”

“Oh I’m sure they know.” He smirked sarcastically, his mustache making contact with his wide nose. “But they won’t do anything, we’re dealing with a mafia gang after all.”

“Wait, what?” You lived in a small town were everyone knew each other. It was shocking enough to find out that a killer was in town, but mafia? That wasn’t possible. “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am.” He said as cocky as ever. “I’ve worked in this industry for more than thirty years, I have my ways of getting information.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

“I’m not gonna do shit. You are.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “I want you to find a way into the gang, get me as much information as you can and return.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“You don’t have a say in this, y/n. Either you get information or you can pack your things, it won’t be hard to find a replacement for you.” He knew you wouldn’t risk losing your job, being a journalist meant everything to you.

“Is there a deadline?”

“We’ll discuss about that as soon as you find a way in. I’ll make sure all your personal information is well protected.” He smiled, satisfied with your answer. “You may leave now, miss y/n.” You bowed before exiting the office, kicking the plant pot by the door on your way out. One of your superiors approached you as you sat down at your small cubicle.

“What did he want?” He sat down on your desk as usual. The first few times you were afraid it’d break, but it turned out to be pretty resistant.

“He wants me to go on a suicidal mission.” You hid your face behind the palms of your hands. “And I had to say yes to keep my job.”

“The whole office turned him down, I guess he knew you wouldn’t.” He rubbed your back affectionately. “I’m sorry, I should’ve done it myself.”

“Don’t worry Jaemin, let’s just hope I don’t get myself killed.”

(...)

Three weeks. Three weeks you’d been visiting the same coffee shop in an attempt to meet the leader. But he never came, maybe your boss had the wrong information. Nevertheless, you didn’t give up. Sitting at the same spot from 9:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., waiting for something to happen. There was usually no one there since the recent murders had happened nearby.

One day you stayed for a couple more hours, completely immersed in your work. That’s when you saw him. A man surrounded by at least ten men in suits. He was wearing sunglasses even though the sun had hidden a long time ago. His hair was silver, carefully slicked back, revealing his multiple ear piercings. You wrote exactly what he looked like as you peeked through the window, too afraid to take a picture of him. He soon dissapeared through an alley with his bodyguards following closely. You closed your laptop and packed it into your yellow backpack, calling a cab to take you back to your office. Your boss was still there, checking some of the notes your coworkers had written.

“I found him!” You bursted into his office, your journal wide open in front of his face.

“Did you get in?” He remained unfazed.

“No, but-”

“Then you shouldn’t be celebrating.” You internally screamed before going back home. You stayed up all night trying to come up with a plan to approach him without getting beaten up by his bodyguards. But nothing seemed like a good excuse to talk to the leader. You ended up going back to the coffee shop with no ideas and three hours of sleep.

After three cups of espresso, you were finally awake and ready to go back to working on one of your notes. The lady who ran the shop was always nice to you, bringing you some free cupcakes from time to time.

“I’m just grateful to have a client, that’s all.” You almost felt bad for her. The leader was nowhere to be seen, and you honestly wanted to go home as soon as possible. So you packed your stuff and waved goodbye the old lady as usual. You received a call from Jaemin on your way to the bus stop.

“Any good news?”

“Well, I saw him yesterday. But apart from that, nothing.” You bumped into someone. “Sorry.” You looked up, only to find yourself in front of the man you’d wanted to meet for the past few weeks.

He was smirking the slightest, looking down at you while his bodyguards slightly pushed you away from him, using their arms to keep you at a safe distance.

“It’s okay, boys.”

“I’ll call you later Jaemin.” You hung up, your hands shaking.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing at such a dangerous place?” He pushed his bodyguards to the side.

“I-I like the coffee shop back there.” You tried to sound as confident as possible.

“I see.” He smiled before removing his dark sunglasses, revealing a pair of cute doe eyes. Definitely not what you were expecting. “What’s your name, darling?”

‘Should I give him a fake name? No, he’d probably find out. But what if he does a background check on me and finds out I’m a journalist?’ You stared at him with wide eyes while you sorted out your options.

“I’m y/n.” You extended your hand, earning a collective gasp from the men surrounding you. “What’s your name?”

“There’s no need for you to know it.” He shook your hand with a wide smile. “Do you need a ride home?”

It’d be a terrific opportunity to get some information, but then again, he was a stranger. An extremely dangerous stranger. What if he kidnapped you and sold your organs in the black market? Your mom didn’t raise an idiot.

“I appreciate the offer, sir. But I rather take the bus. Good night.”

‘What an interesting little thing.’ Taeyong thought as you walked away.

He spent the next few days trying to gather information about you, but he couldn’t find anything, not even your age or last name. It was frustrating.

You, on the other side, decided not to tell anything to your boss until you had some solid information. That meant going back to the coffee shop.

The lady greeted you cheerfully as always. Your legs found their way to your usual spot by the window.

The day went by slowly, nothing new happened except for the fact that the lady gave you cookies instead of a cupcake this time.

The little bell on the door rang, announcing a new client. Out of pure curiosity, you lifted your gaze from the laptop. A gasp escaped your mouth as you saw the gang leader greet the lady and approach you with a wide smile.

He was wearing his usual sunglasses, but instead of his formal clothing, he was wearing a grey sweatshirt with jeans. He almost looked normal.

“Good evening, darling.”

“Hi.” Was the only answer that came out from your mouth. He never entered the shop, was it because of you?

“Can I take a seat?” You nodded.

He removed his glasses as soon as he was sitting comfortably on the wooden chair. It was amazing how fast he could go from looking like an intimidating man to a fluff ball. ‘Maybe he wears the glasses to look less cute. Yeah, I should probably write that down on my journal later.’ Conversations with yourself were now a habit since you didn’t have any coworker to talk with.

“So, y/n. How old are you?” The atmosphere seemed somehow more intimate now that he’d said your name.

“There’s no need for you to know it.” You replied, quoting his words from last night.

“Witty, I like it.” He laced his fingers, supporting his chin on them as he spoke. “No one has ever talked to me like that.”

He didn’t seem upset, which encouraged you to keep talking.

“I’ll make you an offer.” You closed your laptop, putting any distractions aside. “I’ll answer your questions as long as you answer mine. Deal?”

Taeyong was once again impressed with your boldness.

“Alright, deal.” He softly smiled, waiting for you to talk first.

“What’s your name?”

“Taeyong.” You nodded, repeating it inside your head so you wouldn’t forget it. “How old are you?”

“I’m 23. And you?”

“25. Where were you born?”

You answered to each other’s questions, careful not to give away to much information.

“What’s your job?”

“Let’s say I’m a businessman.” Well that was specific. “What about you?”

“Let’s say I’m a writer.” The screen of your phone lit up as you received a message from Jaemin.

‘How’s your mission going?’ You quickly grabbed the device, afraid that Taeyong would ask you about it. But he was busy looking at your face, appreciating every little detail. From the mole under your right eye to the tiniest pores in your skin.

You quickly typed ‘ttyl’ and turned off the phone, preventing any future messages from your coworker.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Your breath hitched.

“We met yesterday.”

“But I like you.”

“Uhm, it’s getting late, I better get going.” You smiled awkwardly before exiting the small building.

(...)

“Are you stupid?” Your boss spat out with a seemingly calm voice. “This could’ve been our chance.”

“I’m sorry, sir. But my safety comes first.”

“If he wanted to harm you he would’ve done it from the moment he met you.” He had a point. “You better find him again or you can bid goodbye your precious job.”

After your little “meeting” with your boss, you threw up at the nearest bathroom, pushing aside everyone who got on your way.

It happened every time you were under stress, and frankly, you hated it. You just wanted to quit your job, but it’d be hard for a rookie journalist like you to get a nice job.

“Maybe you should take a self defense course or something.” Jaemin mentioned while trying to cheer you up, sitting outside of the convenience store near your office.

“Maybe I should buy a weapon. A taser for example.” You sipped on your strawberry milk, the sweet flavor filling your mouth. Your head found it’s way to Jaemin’s shoulder, using it as a pillow.

A loud ‘bing’ interrupted your peaceful moment. You prayed it wasn’t your boss again.

‘I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, darling.’ Your first instinct was to look around, searching for Taeyong. But he was nowhere to be found.

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m right in front of you, darling.’ Indeed, he was looking at you from the back seat of his armored car, smiling cockily while pushing his sunglasses further down his nose bridge. ‘Why don’t you come join me?’

“You look like you’ve just seen your grandmother’s ghost.” Jaemin muttered while looking at you.

“He’s here, Jaems. I need to go.” He nodded comprehensively before you got up from the rusty metal bench you were sitting on. You walked towards his van with both of your hands inside your pockets, regretting not having worn a pair of gloves in the morning.

“Hop in.”

“How did you get my number?” You asked, facing him from the other side of the door.

“Get in and I’ll answer all of your questions. Deal?” That cocky smile of his was starting to annoy the shit out of you.

“Fine.” You walked around the vehicle to reach for the opposite door, smoothly sliding into it. The scent of his cologne filled the wide space. “How did you get my number?”

“Take us to the coffee shop on the 5th Avenue.” You moved uncomfortably on the cold leather seat. “Do you want me to turn the heater on?”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I have my ways of getting information, darling. But I must admit, it was hard for me to find anything about you.” He spoke as he pressed a button to turn your seat’s heater on. “Better?”

“Thank you.” You were worried he might have discovered about your job, but judging by the fact that he was smiling so sincerely to you, he probably hadn’t. “Why are we going to the coffee shop?”

“I just want to spend some time with you, that’s all.”

“But I didn’t agree to it.” The smile on his lips dropped, discouraged by the possibility of you not wanting to be with him.

“Sorry, we can stop the car if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’ll go. But just so you know, I always carry pepper spray with me.” He laughed. It was such a unique and contagious laugh that you couldn’t help but to smile. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just that no one had ever talked to me like that.” You nodded while tucking your hands under your legs, attempting to defrost your fingers. “Give me your hands.” You reluctantly extended them. He removed his own gloves to put them on you.

“But your hands are gonna be cold.”

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

You would’ve never expected for a gang leader to be so...kind. He helped you down the car, pulling one of your hands into his pocket.

“Is this okay?” How could you say no to such an adorable face? You nodded, feeling his long fingers tracing patterns over the wool glove. “Is it weird that I’ve fallen for you in such a short amount of time?” He’d never had such feelings before, it felt like the butterflies in his stomach would come flying out of his mouth at any moment.

“Yes, it is a bit odd.” You let him hold your hand, somehow comforted by his warmth. “But everything about you seems to be odd, so it’s okay I guess.”

“So I guess you wouldn’t mind if I asked you on a date again?” You suddenly recalled the conversation with your boss. You had to accept this time.

“I suppose we can have a date.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel attracted to Taeyong. Maybe it was his laugh, or the way his doe eyes would sparkle every time he’d look at you. But your work came first, and you were close to getting useful information from him.

“So, where are you from?” He asked, his chin resting on his palm. You’d noticed it was a habit of his to adopt said position when questioning you.

“That’s a secret.” A secret you had to protect with your life if you didn’t want him to know your identity.

“Fair enough.”

(...)

It had been a month since you started “officially” dating Taeyong. He seemed like a normal guy, which often made you question if your boss hadn’t mistaken his identity. But it was on your month anniversary that you discovered your boss was damn right.

“Welcome to my house.” ‘Welcome to my house? More like welcome to my palace.’

“This looks like the palace of Versailles.” You whispered, mesmerized with the ethereal paintings on the ceilings. “Your house looks familiar.” You hummed.

“You like it?” He hugged your waist with one arm, taking your chin between his fingers and forcing you to look at him.

“I mean, sure. It’s amazing.” He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your lips before you abruptly escaped his embrace. Taeyong couldn’t help but to sigh, he wanted to taste your pretty lips so bad, but you’d always find an excuse to avoid him. You walked down the hallway, admiring the paintings hung up on his wall, until you saw a picture of him. An elegant, blonde woman standing at one of his sides, while at the opposite side, a well known man stood.

“Mr. Lee?” You asked to yourself. You’d once written a note on him and his empire, he was one of your boss’s acquaintances.

“Oh, you know my dad?” You felt like fainting due to the excitement, you finally had valuable information.

“The whole city knows your dad.”

“I guess so.” He shrugged before pulling your arm. “Let’s continue with my house tour.” The mansion had at least twenty bedrooms, all of them the size of you apartment to say the least. But the most impressive room, by far, was Taeyong’s room.

“It used to be my parents’ room, but since they moved out I’ve taken it for myself.” He laid down on the bed, tapping his extended arm for you to lay on. “Don’t be shy.” You reluctantly let your body sink into the softness of the matress, Taeyong’s arms cuddling you while he whispers ‘I love you’, hoping you’ll say it back. But you don’t.

“It’s okay, darling. I’m a patient man.” He’d always say.

“Boss, we’ve got an-” A tall man entered the room, cutting himself of as he saw your figures.

“What did I say about knocking the door, John?” His harsh voice tone caused your eyebrows to furrow.

“I’m sorry, boss. But this is urgent.” You tried to remember every single word they said, hoping you’d be able to write them in your journal later.

“Fine.” He scoffed, turning his head to you and pecking your nose. “I’ll be back soon, baby. Don’t leave the room, just call the butler through that phone if you need anything.” The man in front of you seemed extremely confused with the situation, not being used to see his boss in a soft mood. “Let’s go.”

As soon as the door was closed, Taeyong spoke.

“She’s my girlfriend, I don’t want any of you around her. Am I clear?”

“Yes, boss. But if you allow me, how can we assure she isn’t trying to get information?” Taeyong grabbed him by the collar, his true personality making an appearance.

“If you ever bath mouth my girlfriend again I’ll cut your tongue.” Johnny knew he was damn capable of doing it, so he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. “What’s the emergency you were talking about?” The grip on his shirt loosened, resuming their walk to the stairs.

“We found one of Nakamoto’s rats snooping around. He’s in the basement.” Taeyong nodded. “What should we do with him?”

“Maybe we should send his boss a little gift.” That little smirk was one of Johnny’s worst nightmares, it meant something extremely bloody was about to happen. They reached the ground floor, walked towards the kitchen where the fridge had been moved, revealing a hidden metallic door. You, on the other side, used your time to text Jaemin. ‘I’m in. Meet me tomorrow morning at our secret spot.’ To which he responded with a smiley face. By secret spot you meant the convenience store in front of your office.

You placed your head close to the wooden door, patiently waiting to hear footsteps or any sound at all. But even after ten minutes, there was nothing. So you carefully opened the door, pepper spray on your right hand while you peeked through a small opening. After making sure no one was close, you fully exited the bedroom, ready to explore your surroundings. That was until you heard a loud thud coming from the ground floor.

“Huh?” You feet moved by themselves, going down the stairs careful not to make any sound. You walked towards the sound, which became louder with every step you took. It wasn’t long till you found yourself in front of the big metallic door, the weird noises coming from inside giving you goosebumps. The door creaked under your palm as you pushed it open, the sounds of muffled screams now getting clearer. Your opposite hand gripped the small pepper spray, your thumb ready to press the button in case of emergency.

“What should we send to Mr. Nakamoto? Maybe one of your fingers? An ear? Oh, I know. Your head will be the perfect gift, don’t you think?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” A hand grabbed your shoulder, making you jolt and fall down the remaining steps.

“A-ah.” You winced, your eyes shut tightly due to the pain.

“Y/n.” He dropped the knife he was holding, immediately running up to your curled up body. “I’m gonna kill you if something happens to her, Johnny.”

“How is this my fault? You told her to stay in the bedroom!” Taeyong gave him a warning look before he lifted your body. Carrying it all the way upstairs before you could catch a glimpse of the situation downstairs.

“Why did you come out? Something bad could’ve happened.” He wasn’t angry, more like extremely concerned.

“What was going on there? Why do you have a secret door?”

“Let’s take care of your wounds first. I promise to tell you everything later.”

Taeyong kept his promise, applying antiseptic on your open wounds while he told you every detail about his job.

“My father used to run this business, his real estate company was just an easy way to cover it. He retired a few years ago, that’s when I took over. But it wasn’t until five months ago he gave me complete freedom to do whatever I pleased.” He placed a band aid over one of your small scratches, kissing the wound gently afterwards. “We deliver packages mainly on the alley near that coffee shop you like.” You faked surprise.

“So all those dead bodies...that was you?” You were uncapable of hiding the fear you felt. You knew the truth all along, but hearing it from his own mouth was a different story.

“Yes. Most of them were part of rival gangs, trying to get information from our business.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. “Will you still like me after this?” You wanted to say it was because of your job that you wanted to stay with him. But part of you knew that wasn’t the only reason.

“Yes.” You reached for his hand. Taeyong was taken aback, you were never one to start physical contact. “But you can’t keep secrets from me anymore. You need to be honest with me.” Said the woman who’d been lying to him since you met.

“I will be. Just promise you’ll never leave me.” He pulled you into a hug, smelling the lavender scent from your shampoo. That scent that made him feel so calm.

“I promise.” For now, at least. You still didn’t have enough information to go back to you boss. You let yourself get caught in the moment, sliding your hands up his back and hugging him as well.

“I love you.” He said again, hoping this time you’d say it back.

“I know.”

Taeyong sighed before loosening his embrace.

“I need to go downstairs to check up on some stuff.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, admiring your beautiful doll-like face. “Please, stay in the room.”

“Are you gonna...kill him?”

“He saw your face. If we let him go you’ll be in danger, and I can’t let that happen, darling.” He pecked your forehead. “I’ll be back, soon.”

A man was about to lose his life because of you. The thought kept haunting you even after Taeyong went downstairs, making sure to send some of his men to guard the bedroom door. You cuddled into the bedsheets, trying to get rid of your concerns. But nothing worked, your mind creating all sorts of wicked scenarios of that man getting killed.

‘Why did the boss have to choose me?’

“Y/n.” A hand rubbed on your shoulder. “It’s getting late. Come on, I’ll take you home.” You shook your head, not wanting to be alone at the moment. “What’s wrong babe?”

“Can I stay for the night?” Taeyong frowned at first, but then proceeded to kiss your cheek while combing your hair with his fingers.

“You can stay as long as you want, darling.” He went straight to his wardrobe, retrieving a pair of sweats and a hoodie. “It gets a little chilly in here after midnight. I’ll be in the room across the hall in case you need anything.” You held onto his hand tightly, stopping him from taking anymore steps away from you.

“W-wait.” The whole purpose of staying at his house was because you didn’t want to be alone. “Aren’t you gonna stay with me?”

“Do you want me to?” First, a hug from you, and now this. Taeyong’s day was definitely getting better and better.

“Yes.”

You both changed into more comfortable clothes. His baby blue hoodie smelled just like him, like a weird mixture of lavender and lemon. You laid down facing him, his arms wrapped around your waist as he waited for the right moment to speak. Your eyes examines every single part of his face. The scar beside his right eye caught your attention.

“How did you get this?” You fingers gently touched the damaged skin. “A fight with one of your rivals?”

“Actually.” He smiled. “I used to have atopy as a kid.” You’d expected a more dramatic answer.

“Oh.” You nodded, coming closer to his face to take a better look at the scar. “I think it’s cute.” Unconsciously, you pecked it.

“I think you’re cute.” He hugged your waist tighter, pulling you closer to his body. “Can I kiss you?” You nodded, gaze fixated on the way his soft lips would move every time he speaked. He was slow at first, making sure the kiss was something you wanted as well. But the moment your lips started moving against his, all his self control dissapeared.

“I love you.” He repeated for what seemed the hundredth time in the day. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Maybe you were just to caught up in the moment, that’s what you so desperately wanted to believe.

Taeyong smiled against your lips, sliding his hand down to grab a handful of your ass.

“Can you show me how much?” He grinded against your core, stealing a gasp from you.

“Taeyong.” How heavenly his name sounded in your lips. “I want you.”

“I know baby.” He slid your his sweats down as well as your underwear, sneaking a hand between your bodies to caress your lower lips. “I’ve been waiting for so long to show you just how much I love you.” You moaned as two of his long fingers entered you, curling them to reach for your sweet spot.

“I feel l-like I’m the only one receiving something here.” You held onto his silver locks.

“Shhh.” He peppered kisses all over your face as his pace increased. “Let me make you feel good, okay?” Your high came faster and more intense than usual. Taeyong cooed at you, retrieving his fingers to pull down his own sweats

“I’m on the pill, you don’t have to wear a condom.” He nodded, pushing his member through your tight hole as carefully as he could. He helped you to lay on your back, thrusting slowly into you while lacing your fingers together. Taeyong was ashamed to confess he was about to come after a few seconds of being inside you, but your hole clenched around him so deliciously that he couldn’t help it.

“I’m close.” He whispered as his lips made their way to your neck, sucking a mark on the soft skin.

“Me too.” You hugged his bare hips with your legs, feeling another huge wave of pleasure wash over your whole body. “Tae.” He shot his seed deep inside of you. He was about to pull out, but your embrace forced him to stay inside of you, his weight crushing you as he completely laid down on your small body.

“Do you want to stay like this?”

“You said it get’s chilly after midnight, and you’re pretty warm.” He couldn’t help but to smile, skillfully turning your bodies around so you were laying on top of him.

“Good night, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Good night, Tae. I love you too.” His heart swelled with affection as he drifted to sleep with you between his arms.

(...)

“You look so dumb right now.” Jaemin said as he looked at your pink, strawberry sweater. You sat in front of the convenience store you’d usually meet in.

“Shut up, Taeyong bought it for me on our five month anniversary, it was yesterday.” You smiled fondly at the fabric protecting you from the cold weather. “He’s really sweet.”

“The boss has been asking for you.” You felt like vomiting. “I think it’s time for you to come back to the office, we both know you have more than enough information.”

“I can’t do that to Taeyong, Jaemin.” You shook your head, tapping your shoes against the ground. “I’m gonna give the boss my letter of resignation today.”

“But you love your job.” He shook his head before you could even speak. “If you say something cheesy like ‘I love him more’ I’ll punch you.”

“I’m sorry.” You grabbed his hand. “I hope we can still be friends.”

“Of course we can.” He hugged your shoulders. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the building.”

Your boss wasn’t at his office, some of your coworkers said he went out for lunch. It was easier for you to just leave the letter without having to deal with his scolding. You said one last goodbye to everyone before exiting the building. You didn’t expect to find Taeyong outside of the building, waiting for you with a small frown.

“What are you doing here?” He said with a small hint of anger in his voice. “Isn’t this the place where that local newspaper is printed?”

“T-tae, I was just-”

“Fucking liar.” He clenched his jaw. “Get in the car, now.” Tears streamed down your face as you entered the vehicle. “Crying won’t save you from anything, darling. You know what we do to traitors like you?” You shook your head, trying to get him to make eye contact with you. “You’ll find out.”

“Let me explain, please.” You sobbed. “I didn’t tell them anything, I just quit my job.”

“I don’t believe you.” He looked at you, your eyes getting red from crying and your small hands gripping the soft fabric of your sweater.

Despite knowing the truth about you, all he wanted to do was to hug you, to tell you everything was fine. But he couldn’t. The trip to his house was filled with your pleads, begging him to believe you. Taeyong felt like his heart was getting stabbed everytime he’d hear you sob.

“Shut your fucking mouth before I cut your tongue off.” Your breath hitched. You sat still, afraid to make any move. It wasn’t until you felt a tug on your sweater you realized you’d arrived to your destination.

“Miss, you need to come down.” You nodded, taking a deep breath before exiting the vehicle.

The driver guided you all the way to the hidden basement, which you’d only seen once. Taeyong wasn’t there, but Johnny was. He had a pair of black latex gloves and stood in front of a large wooden chair. It looked like the ones used to execute people.

“Take a sit, y/n.” His usual grin was gone as he talked. You had no other option but to do as he said, tensing up as he restrained your wrists and legs.

“Johnny?” He hummed. “Is Taeyong alright?” He laughed bitterly.

“You’re worried about him right now? I’m impressed.” The blade of his sharp knife traced the skin of your jawline. “You should worry about yourself.” He pressed the cold metal harder against you, making you whince. He removed the blade from your neck, letting the thick, red liquid roll down from your wound to stain your pretty sweater.

“Taeyong didn’t give me any instructions on what to do with you.” He took a few steps back, leaving the knife in a metal table. He picked up a metal rod instead. “But I’m guessing he doesn’t want you dead.” He played nervously with the object. “I’m sorry, y/n.” He said before beating your ribs with it. The scream that came out from your lips didn’t even sound like yours.

He kept hitting you with the rod at least ten more times before stopping. His features were filled with regret, but his job wasn’t done yet. His new target was your right hand, you begged for him to stop, but he didn’t.

Before the object could touch your hand, a loud gunshot interrupted him, followed by steps coming down to your location.

“We need your help John, it’s Nakamoto.” He dropped the rod. “They’re too many.”

“I’m coming.” He kneeled down in front of you. “I need you to stay quiet if you don’t want to get killed.” But you couldn’t help the small whines coming out of your mouth, even breathing hurt at this point. “I’m really sorry.”

You were left alone in the room, trying your best to keep quiet, but the pain in your ribs was piercing. All you wanted to do was to curl up and cry.

“There’s someone inside.” You heard a manly voice whisper, immediately followed by more gunshots and steps.

“Oh my god, you’re fine.” Taeyong found you, still tied up to the chair and quietly crying. He released you, pulling your arm to help you stand up, earning a loud whine from you. “What is it?”

“M-my ribs.” You hugged yourself slightly, attempting to ease the piercing pain.

“Let me see.” He removed your arms, lifting your sweater to reveal the purple skin. You weren’t able to see your injuries, but Taeyong assured you it was fine. “You’re alright, I need you to stand up for me, okay?”

“Taeyong, I’m sorry.” You kept muttering. “I’m so sorry.”

“If you’re really sorry then come with me.” You summoned all of your remaining strength to get your legs to work, walking as fast as you could.

You found yourself in front of a man on your way out. He didn’t look like one of Taeyong’s gang members. He pulled out a gun, pointing it directly at Taeyong, but you were faster than him, embracing him as you felt something impact on your back. Taeyong pulled out his own gun, quickly shooting the other male.

“Y/n.” He held you between his arms as he tried to stop the bleeding in your right shoulder, relieved the bullet hadn’t reached any of your vital organs. “I know it hurts, baby, but you need to keep walking for me, okay?”

“I can’t.” Your knees gave in and Taeyong had no other option but to carry you. He successfully walked across the battlefield and reached for his car, only to be pulled down by someone else. You rolled out of his arms, your ribs making contact with the hard concrete and making you scream in pain.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Taeyong and his sweet little girlfriend.” A man with weird accent said before grabbing your boyfriend by the collar. “I wanted to say that I personally disliked your gift. But I thought, maybe I could return the favor by sending your head to your father. I bet he’d really love that.”

“Run, y/n.”

“Awww, how sweet of you.” The man grabbed a handful of his hair, forcing his head back. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her after I finish with you. The boys have been really stressed this past few weeks. I bet she’d be a really nice fuck doll.”

“Don’t you dare, Yuta.” He tried to pull out his gun, but his rival easily snatched it away from him, carelessly throwing it near you. He pulled out a knife from his pocket, placing it directly over Taeyong’s neck. You dragged yourself to reach for the weapon, still completely unnoticed by Yuta.

“You should say goodbye to your-” A bullet pierced through his chest, blood splattering all over Taeyong’s face. The man’s limp body fell backwards, revealing Johnny holding a gun right behind him. Taeyong turned to you, an arm extended while your fingers grazed at the weapon. Blood was still leaking from your wound.

“Darling.” He quickly got up, taking you between his arms once again. “I need to take her to the hospital.”

“Don’t worry, we got the situation under control.” Taeyong nodded before laying you down over the backseats of his car.

He drove as fast as he could, exceeding the speed limits and earning a few honks from nearby cars. But it was all worth it when he saw the nurses taking you into the operation room to heal your wounds.

(...)

“She’s waking up.” Someone whispered while your eyes fluttered open, the bright sunlight forcing you to close them again.

“Darling?” Taeyong held onto your hand tightly. “Are you okay?”

You hummed, attempting to open your eyes again, this time catching a glimpse of a red eyed Taeyong right beside your bed.

“Tae?” He let out a relieved sigh, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a kiss right afterwards.

“You’re alright now baby, you’re safe with me.”

[sleepypeaky]

amore?

michael gray x italian american male reader

wc: 1.5k

warnings: mentions of death, scars, you know the drill

request: My gay italian ass self would LOVE a Micheal Gray fic, but like, not sure he would like a guy who's italian after that fucking Luca incident.. and I dont know if you write for mlm..

a/n:  I hope you enjoy! idk why i made it so long but when i get a plot in my head i mean,,,,,

also i always try not to describe the readers features so everyone can be represented and i full mean for that when i say early on that michael sees him as italian. I personally dont look italian besides my nose- somehow the like 2% irish overrided it- so obviously this is a little off but i didnt know where to fix it

1927

Michael sat in his desk chair facing the window.

He was in New York City, he was the head of this branch of the company.

But he still felt like something was missing. Naturally, part of that feeling was from the fact that he had been exiled from his home. But the other was something else, boredom maybe, depression, loneliness. 

He sighed and turned back to his desk, where his meetings planner was open to the days page. 

His first meeting was a clandestine one, booked under a guise of what it really was. It was always intriguing, Michael thought, running a company that was a front. 

What he knew of this client was they were attached to one of the city’s hundreds of speakeasies, what these prohibition inhibited Americans called their secret pubs. And he assumed the client was coming to purchase some quality booze from the Shelby Company Limited.

What he he didn’t expect was who they were going to send. 

Normally the heads of the pubs sent someone to broker the deal in their place, a tall weasel faced man usually, who reeked of alcohol from every pore. 

Instead, when his secretary opened the door, an incredibly striking Italian lad strode through.

-

You weren’t expecting to see a man like that behind the desk. You figured it’d be some slimy old guy getting rich off of the illegal cash. Not a charming and incredibly handsome British boy.

-

“Uh hi, I’m Michael, Michael Gray.” He held his hand out to you and you shook it.

“I’m (y/n) (l/n).”

 He offered you a seat. 

“You’re not from around here are you?” You said.

He chuckled, “What gave it away?”

The deal was done in barely a half hour. But somehow you both found yourselves at lunch. 

“So how did you find yourself in, well, this line of work?” Michael asked.

“Well it’s pretty simple, there’s always work for people who don’t mind taking risks.” Michael smiled at that. You continued, 

“but I could ask you the same question.”

“Well lets say that this is one of the less illegal ventures of my family. And as you put it, risks are lucrative.”

“Ill cheers to that.” You smiled and raised a glass.

-

The lunches happened again, and then again.

Soon you were meeting daily, making up further excuses for getting to know each other.

-

“My family is, well, its complicated...” Michael chuckled one day as you were at lunch.

You smirked, “Michael, i’m Italian. My family is fucking nuts, trust me, your’s is no worse than mine.”

With people who had said that to Michael in the past he had laughed along and said sure, he was sure you meant it. Probably not in the same way, but he was in no position to argue.

“I might work in the illegal pub world, but some of my family is fucking nuts,”  You began. “My parents are fine, they came over from Italy before the war and brought my grandma, who i’m convinced my grandma used to be a spy or something in Italy. At least 3 of my cousins are working for the mob. It easy work for us, we’re all connected to one family or another between here and the old country.” You noticed a dark look on Michael’s face, a typical reaction “Dont worry, not the big guys like the Black hand, we don’t mix with Sicilians, they think they’re better because they live on an island.”

You went on for a bit more, just basic family outlining. And then it was his turn.

Michael went into the abbreviated version of his past (how he was taken and adopted) and the Shelby’s endeavors- the betting to drugs, smuggling, alcohol. Eventually he got up to the Changretta execution and John.

“John was killed by the Black hand in December ‘25.” 

“Stronzi, I’m sorry.” You cursed. 

He rubbed his right shoulder, “Yeah, after that my cousins decided to take down the boss, unfortunately I made some stupid decisions that could have ruined the plan and ended up exiled here.”

He took a weak bite of food. You tried to lighten the mood.

“Well, you weren’t kidding when you said you’re family was complicated.” 

You both laughed.

Shortly after this lunch you were both walking back to his office when a group of black clad men passed by on the street. They passed by without issue, but you saw that Michael paled and clenched his jaw. They were blatantly Black Hand. You saw he was rubbing his right shoulder again, nd you now figured it was a nervous habit. You endeavored to take his mind off it and started a new conversation.

-

About a month following this, you had brought Michael to the bar where you worked. You danced to the jazz and drank heavily, both getting caught in the energy of the decade. 

You ended up back at his office, now the only ones there, and he cracked open a hidden bottle of Shelby malt. 

Now both of you were on several glasses of liquor from the night, you found yourself floating in and out of conscious perception. Though you came to, suddenly, when you realized your lips were quite incriminatingly interlocked with Michael’s. 

Your inhibitions lowered, you continued gladly. And before anything progressed you both passed out drunk on his office floor.

-

You didn’t talk to him the next day. Mostly because your hangover was so severe you thought you would have permanent brain damage, but also because you were not sure how to proceed.

It would be easy to pretend like nothing had ever happened. To blame it on the booze, or just claim you didn’t have any recollection of the night. That was also gnawing at you, what if Michael didn’t remember?

It would be easy to just move past it, but did you want that?

-

Michael still felt the slight pressure in his head after 2 days. He rubbed his eyes and put the cigarette back to his lips. He was sitting in his apartment contemplating. He knew what he wanted, but did he want to risk it.

The door buzzer rang as he stumped the cigarette out. Who was calling at this hour? He took his pistol from the table.

He walked along the passageway to the door, he unlocked it and looked through the crack.

His heart skipped a beat and he released his grip on the gun.

“I got your address from your secretary.” You said. “I hope that’s o–” 

Michael cut you off by pulling you inside and kissing you against the shut door. You gave in to surprise and kissed back, pushing him through the hallway. 

Without breaking you unbuttoned your shirt and let it fall in your path. He broke for a breath of air.

You kissed him again and began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled back quickly to say something, but it was too late. You had already seen them.

Two knotted scars on his right shoulder.

“Michael what-”

“I didn’t want to tell you.” He looked down. “I was scared.”

Still in shock you watched as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. Low on his abdomen were two more scars. 

Suddenly in your mind you connected the signs, talking about john, the Sicilians, and the instinctive rub of his shoulder.

“They shot you too.” You said in a barely audible whisper.

Michael only nodded.

You walked forward and reached a tentative hand out to one on his shoulder. Tears prickled your eyes. You walked around to his back, you hand trailing over the soft skin before finding the exit scars from 3 of the bullets.

Michael turned to face you. 

“I didn’t think you’d ever find out.” 

You nodded.

He put his hand behind your head and guided it back to his. 

-

“What do your parents think?” Michael asked later.

Your head was tucked in the curve of his neck, your arm laying over his bare chest, playing carelessly with the sheet draped over it.

“My dads not really invested around to care, i think he knows but it’s just brushed over. Ma still thinks that maybe if she pushes the right Italian girl at me i’ll change. But honestly?” You laughed. “You’re catholic, she’ll be over the moon.” 

Michael smiled and threaded his fingers through your hand.

“What about you?” You moved back a little to see his face better, “Does anyone know?”

Michael let out a deep breath, the one that normally proceeded any talk referring to his family. 

“There was always so much going on that i didn't have much time to process, much less let anyone else see it. There were girls, i wont lie. That may have thrown them off. Even now, i think there is so much actual bad going on that what i do wouldn't make any of them bat an eye.”

“Is this what you want?”

He looked at you,

“I didn’t know until now.”

You breathed. 

“And?”

“More than anything.”

And he kissed you again.

☾ ✧ ☾ ✩ ☾ ✧ ☾ ✩ ☾

☾ ✧ ☾ ✩ ☾

☾ ✧ ☾ ✩

☾ ✧ ☾

☾ ✧

☾

[abybweisse]

Ch172, Let’s look at Lau again, too

⚠️ Very long post!

What is he up to?!

I mean, yeah. He’s the Jester archetype, so I shouldn’t be too surprised, but it’s nerve-wracking, all the same.

His main gimmick is saying deep, dark, knowledgeable things (which are probably not a joke at all)... and then giving a well-timed pause... to then play the fool who knows nothing. I could give so many examples, but if you read the manga, you already know exactly what I’m talking about. He’s pulled that running gag almost half a dozen times by now.

I think he’s drawing from his own private experiences, mostly, it’s just that they fit so well with what’s going on, in that moment, that it’s unnerving to our earl, Sebastian, and anyone else present to hear it. Then it hits hard that he apparently doesn’t know what’s going on in the here and now. But the reader gets the distinct impression that he has had terrible experiences that parallel our earl’s enough and that he might also know way more about what’s going on than he pretends. His words might be entirely about himself, and he might be oblivious to the subject at hand. But I don’t think so. He’s pretty damn observant for someone who keeps his eyes closed most of the time. Plus, he’s an informant.

He couldn’t give our earl warnings about Haku and Owl, if he didn’t pay close attention to current events. And he acts hella-fast on the information he has. Somehow gets word about Haku’s assassination plans and has some knowledge about Owl? Sends a warning (by letter) while en route by ship so fast that it arrives at Phantomhive Manor before he can even make landfall in England. Finds out the truth about Mina and Harold? Sends Ran-Mao after them. Knows the Yard is after our earl and company? Locates them almost immediately and shows up in time to thwart the Yard’s manhunt. If Ran-Mao is his “cat”, then who TF are his “little birdies”? 🤨 Seriously, who are his own informants? Who are his messengers? Who needs Claude when you’ve got Lau in the center of his own web? It will be very interesting to learn (if we ever do) the extent of that network. Is it spies all over the place? Is it a handful of trusted people, like the girls at his opium den? Is it... just Ran-Mao? 🤷🏻‍♀️

But this all just makes him fit the Jester archetype even more, because that character is often burdened with extensive and heavy knowledge, and this behavior is a lighthearted way to portion out that knowledge or serious observations to other characters, as well as to the reader. This role gives them an easier way to break the fourth wall, for example. Though I haven’t noticed any examples of him doing that. This is also the archetype that needs to be entertained, otherwise they will lose interest and get bored. We know Lau has even told our earl how he’s motivated to stick around as long as it’s interesting and entertaining for him.

Similarly, Lau has done some hella scary and intimidating things... and then made light of them. Does it even matter to him whether Sebastian can survive the swords through the wardrobe “trick”? Either he knows Sebastian isn’t human and will be okay... or he doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly care. Are Harold West and Mina actually alive or dead? Acupuncture needles used as weapons and kept in your sleeves... are still weapons. He’s probably never even used them for medical purposes. There is a wild recklessness and ruthlessness about him, and the only times I’ve seen him so much as flinch are: 1. When he goes to Undertaker’s funeral parlor. Because Undertaker is scary even when he’s serving tea and offering biscuits... and 2. When Ada and her staff bust in with hazmat suits and spray Lau and Bard down with sanitizers. And strip them bare. And shave... everything. ✨ This is when you know he’s actually surprised.

I know the post is already long, but now it’s time to talk about what he’s doing in ch172. I’m breaking down every panel I noticed him in.

Why Chang, other than the fact it’s another common Chinese name?

This is a good excuse for when the staff finds his acupuncture needles, since I’m sure he brought them with him. Idk if they will return them to him. Possibly, even though he won’t be assigned to treat “Mr. Burgh”. We will have to see who calls him out on his tattoos and when. Someone might decide it’s best to hold onto his “Chinese medicine” supplies.

Qigong.

He can think on the spot, since they didn’t expect to be separated like this.

Bringing “Mr. Burgh’s” family’s wishes into this is a smart idea.

But then he does THIS. 🤦🏻‍♀️ I cannot imagine Lau saying this without realizing what he’s saying.

And he starts to walk out, instead of backing up his previous excuse that he needs to stay because of his client’s sensitivity and his family’s “strong request”.

Where was he going to go, once he got out the door? Sit in the waiting room... snoop around (good luck!)... leave the facility?

The feathers are a bit campy, but it does emphasize the “softness” of the interaction, even if it’s just an act.

Is it 💯 an act? I mean, it is an act. However, there might be a part of Lau that actually feels sorry for Bard, a part of him that sympathizes and knows what it’s like to survive combat while friends (or family) die. I feel as though Lau has extended such kindness to someone else in the past. Ran-Mao? Someone else? Who knows. At this point, it’s merely a feeling I have, since we know so little about his own hardships. But he had the, of that I’m sure....

As cute as many will surely find this image, this is some tense “we are either golden or about to die any moment” shit, right here.

They cling to each other not just in the hope of making this look real... but also possibly with their legit fear of being called out as frauds.

And they hold this pose until they are certain they have gotten their way. Bard with determination and fear on his face. Lau with a look of caring and concern. If you were to replace Bard with someone personally dear to Lau, this would not look odd at all.

I also want to point out that Lau has his eyes open here. It lends credibility to his seriousness. In a way that the sanatorium staff cannot understand. But we know he’s not to be messed with when his eyes are open. To the staff, it might just denote a level of protectiveness. Maybe even a silent plea.

This might be the first time we have seen Lau speak in Chinese. We’ve seen Ran-Mao do it a few times. Given the circumstances, it’s probably fine. It might even help convey a feeling of genuine gratitude.

Here’s a close-up of their facial expressions when they both simply say “Yes”. Bard is still being quite serious. Lau has completely lost the gravity he was displaying a very brief moment ago.

But then Lau completely drops the doctor persona and talks (with eyes open) about them barely making it through this. There, he’s seriously relieved they passed this test.

Closing his eyes again, Lau openly says “master cook” and “acting”! Says he had no plan on how to come back if he had left the room! If I were Bard, I’d want to punch him, too.

I think Lau is seriously scrutinizing this young nurse, Layla, and coming up with an assessment of her. Then he goes from serious to chipper. Gives a big smile. Says nothing is wrong. What does he really think about her?

The last thing he says to Layla reminds me of what Sebastian said to Arthur about taking care of our earl....

I am reminded of the cover page for ch170, and I still can’t make heads or tails of his ultimate goals. The ones that led him all the way to England, where he expects to use whatever means to reach whatever ends.

And I cannot get it out of my head, what the historical Ronald Knox said about not including a “Chinaman” in your detective fiction. It’s one of his “Ten Commandments of Detective Fiction”. Yana-san already broke all ten, in some way or other.

Will Lau turn out to be a Fu Manchu character? We already know he was ruthless in his rise up the ladder of Qīng Bāng. We just don’t have the details. What’s he willing to do now to achieve his ultimate goals?

😬

[steppedoffaflight]

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 16

Catch up on Chapter 15 here

“So,” Danica is the first one to speak, “When are you supposed to see him again?”

Your shoulders slump at this. “He’s in town this weekend, but I don’t think we’re gonna see each other.”

Mary snaps to attention, her eyes locking with yours. “Why not?”

Everyone seems to be on the edge of their seat, waiting for more details with bated breath.

You shrug, but Mary only narrows her eyes. “I think I’m gonna end things,” You keep your voice light, stirring the ice in your now-empty glass.

or

Summer’s coming to an end.

Word count: ~8.2k

Chapter Sixteen October 2019

Those few rushed nights with Van are all you get in September. 

The band’s schedule is less jam-packed this month, and Van promises over text that he’ll be around soon. He responds to you more often, and is able to fit in some phone calls more often when he’s on smoke breaks, even if sometimes he accidentally calls you at three A.M. and has to go to voicemail. 

You know you should be excited to see him again, but you can’t stop remembering how awful you feel each time he leaves. With September under your belt you’re more adapted to his absence, feeling a little more steady on your feet. Wouldn’t seeing him again just fuck it all up? 

Maybe you could still be friends with Van, as long as you kept a little distance between you two. Maybe if you gave yourself some space this month you could accept that Van was just a best friend with a spotty visitation schedule, and not cling to him so tightly. You make a pact with yourself to take October off of seeing Van, with the exception of phone calls and texts. That way you could keep him at arm’s length while you get your head together.

Even making that promise to yourself gives you a rush of relief. Your September funk had been much more serious than you’d realized, and now that you were starting to shake it off you knew you couldn’t jeopardize it. You’d started having regular weekend brunch with Mary at the diner again, and had gone out with the girls at work for drinks after one of them secured a huge client for the company. Everything was starting to fall back into place in your world, returning to the way it had been before your birthday weekend in San Diego had tipped everything over.

\\

On a Monday morning midway through the month, you’re dashing to your desk after running hopelessly late. You’d forgotten to plug your phone in last night, so it’d died in the middle of the night, and your body’s natural clock had woken you up on way too short notice. Thankfully nobody seems to notice as you slide into your cubicle, eagerly tapping the enter key on your keyboard to wake your computer up. 

Your phone is still dead in your bag, and you dig it out before rustling through a drawer for your work charger. As your phone starts to boot up you focus on your computer, using your credentials to log in. You take a moment to collect yourself as everything loads, smoothing your hair down and taking a sip of your coffee you’d poured into a travel mug before rushing out the door. 

You’ve caught your breath by the time you get your browser open and your email loaded. The subject line of the third email in your inbox immediately catches your eye: Y/N OPEN THIS NOW IT’S IMPORTANT

It’s from Danica, one of the girls in your coworker friend group.

The new martini bar on Melrose finally opened and we want to get drinks Friday after work!! Let me know if you’re in!

Getting drinks on Friday sounded fun, but you had no idea what she was talking about. Yeah I’m in, you send back, but what martini bar on Melrose?

You take a quick trip to the bathroom, and when you come back there’s a response at the top of your inbox. She’s linked the website for the bar, and it does look pretty cool. The decor is crisp and modern, and from their ‘about’ section it looks like they’re bordering the fine line of being a club without trying to attract the student crowd. 

Oh, cool! Do you care if I invite my friend Mary? From the photos it looks like the sort of place Mary would be right at home charming everyone at, so you can’t resist asking. 

Once Danica has given her approval to invite Mary, you finally unlock your phone, ready to send a text to her about Friday night. That’s when you see Van’s message.

Guess who’s gonna be flying in on Friday?

Your blood instantly runs cold. Oh shit.

\\

It only takes that simple text to throw you off kilter. How can some words on a screen do that? 

You swipe Van’s message away, hoping to forget about it. You couldn’t, of course, but you’d made a promise to yourself not to see him and now he was trying to mess that up! You’d have to say no. You knew you’d have to say no. Technically, you had plans. And, more importantly, you were not going to spend the weekend crying your eyes out over some stupid guy! It was a no. For sure. The only thing is that you’d have to figure out how to say it.

You proceed with texting Mary about the martini bar, and then decide to focus on work for the day. You were already behind from running late and time wasted emailing Danica, so you needed to get going. It would be good for Van not to have an immediate response. You needed some time to word things in a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. After all, it’s not him- it’s you. 

But after an hour of some market research you pick your phone up again. Omg I just made plans for Friday, You respond with an emoji of a facepalm. You get back to work, ridiculously proud of how you’d brushed him off. Take that, Van McCann. You would not be dropping everything to see him.

\\

Van doesn’t respond until the next afternoon. That’s alright! Saturday?

You bury your head in your hands where you’re sitting at your favorite cafe booth on your lunch. Lord, he was making this so fucking hard.

It isn’t until you’re home, fresh glass of wine in hand, that you reply. Idk. So swamped with work lately.

\\

To keep your guilt at bay, you actually do swamp yourself with work. Van has dropped the subject of meeting up for the moment being, but you know he’ll bring it back up with a vengeance. You don’t know if there’s been one time he’s been in L.A. this entire summer that you two haven’t hung out, and knowing he’s not the type to let subjects drop peacefully leaves a pit of dread in your stomach. 

You smother said dread with the market research you’re currently doing for some sort of waterless shampoo for dogs. It was a successful enough product, given that there were already a few brands on pet store shelves. The only issue is that you were at a loss when it came to what was supposed to make this particular brand special. The client couldn’t answer that question herself, either, so this was essentially a THC-water-rerun where you use up the research budget, don’t get anywhere, and the client eventually gives up. 

As you remember the THC water, your fingers reach across your desk for a pen, so you can jot down a reminder to send them a thank you note for the products they’d sent you. Van had informed you during one of your phone calls last month that he’d brought the bottles on tour, where one night the boys chugged the entire pack. According to him, they’d all actually gotten high. Plus, you’d like an update on how they were doing with their new marketing team. You’d managed to call in a favor from a different firm with more THC experience, who was genuinely interested in taking them on. Hopefully now their product was getting the attention it needed. 

\\

On Friday morning, you wake up sick to your stomach. You’d barely slept, your mind tossing Van’s impending visit back and forth the entire night. He hasn’t texted you about it since you’d brushed him off on Tuesday, and now you were filled with the sinking feeling that he was upset with you. Which, first of all, was a ridiculous thought. You hadn’t done anything wrong by not clearing your schedule for him! Certainly he understood that you had your own life and your own job, and not everything revolved around him. As much as you wanted it to.

And that was the real problem, wasn’t it? The more that Van was sweet and understanding, the harder it was to force yourself to reject him. You literally wanted nothing more than to come home from having drinks tonight and find him curled up in your bed. You were putting yourself through this torture, and it wasn’t even necessary!

But it is necessary, you remind yourself. Look at you! Losing sleep, stumbling around while your stomach does somersaults just because you were so hopelessly in love with Van your body couldn’t bear the concept of having to opt out of seeing him for one weekend. How were you ever supposed to create some distance between you two?

You’re a zombie at work, jumping at your phone each time it buzzed. It was never Van, only the group chat of everyone going out tonight. You let them discuss their outfits and designated driver situation amongst themselves, trying to force yourself to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done to help a client apply for a patent today. 

\\

You startle when your phone vibrates on the bathroom counter, almost falling into the damp sink. You lurch for it with the hand not currently running the flat iron through your hair, sighing in irritation. The group chat has continued to go off incessantly all day, keeping a steady stream of anxiety and adrenaline running through you. What could everyone possibly need to fucking talk about when you guys were about to be face-to-face in less than an hour?

It’s a text from Van. Just got in. 

Although it solidifies the nerves in your stomach, there’s some sort of relief that what you’ve been anticipating has finally happened. Easy flight? You can’t resist responding.

Eh, He says, lots of turbulence.

With no mention of meeting up, your shoulders release the tension they’ve been carrying all day. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s the girls, and you hurry to order your Uber while you finish up your hair and put the final touches on your makeup.

\\

Martinis on Melrose is hard to see from the main road, and it takes your driver a minute to find his way into the parking lot. The name is glowing in a dark blue neon script across the smooth cement of the exterior, casting a glow on all of the sleek cars crammed into the lot. You’re glad you don’t have to worry about finding a spot as you shimmy out of the backseat, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and trying to find your footing on your heels.

Two of the girls are already here and have reserved a table for tonight, but Theo is still en route dropping Mary off. You pause just outside of the front door, eager to stall, and dig around in your purse for your pack of cigarettes.

It’s the quiet before the storm, that moment before you walk into a gathering where you like to mentally brace yourself for the night to come. No offense to the girls, as you enjoy their company a ton, but you’ll always be an introvert at heart. Having a quick cigarette is the perfect way to calm yourself down, get yourself ready to be social for an extended period of time. Your first puff sends relief rushing through your brain, a craving satisfied. 

As you watch your exhaled smoke glow blue from the fluorescent lighting, you feel a pang of disappointment in yourself. You can’t believe Van’s managed to get you hooked on nicotine. Oh, Van. The disappointment in your belly blooms larger, deeper. Disappointment that you won’t be ending your day wrapped in his arms, comforted by his company, his charisma that had weaseled around your introverted tendencies until you felt right at home with him in your space. Disappointed that you don’t have him by your side tonight, your hand in his, anchoring you to the moment. Disappointed that after the fiasco over this weekend, you had the feeling that you’d never be able to remain just friends with him.

“Since when do you smoke alone?” Mary’s voice has you crawling out of your skin, dropping your cigarette from the scare.

“Shit,” You hiss, further disappointed that you have to stomp your cigarette out when it was only halfway done. The cement is so fresh and clean you decide to lean over and pick the butt up, depositing it in the trash directly to your right by the door. “Just getting my head in the game,” You respond to Mary.

Ever the extrovert, she clearly doesn’t understand, blinking at you as she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I fucking love that outfit,” She changes the topic.

You glance down at yourself. It’s actually the same one you’d worn to Lou’s birthday party, complete with the uncomfortable heels and the denim jacket to help dress it down. Looking down at your toes you remember trading shoes with Sam, arguing with Van in hushed tones on the deck stairs. You hadn’t known how deep your feelings were for him then, but you remember how his jealousy both pissed you off and pleased you at the same time, an indication that he might want your arrangement to go deeper than friends. That memory falls into the disappointment abyss when you realize in hindsight how that never happened. 

“Thanks, but look at you!” You beam at her, gesturing to her own dress. It’s a silk slip that looks like you might see a Kardashian posing in it on instagram. It makes her legs look a mile long, and she’s gone braless, always on trend. She’s got her right hand wrapped around a sleek clutch bag, and as you two head into the bar she holds it up.

“Don’t let me get drunk and forget this in the bathroom or at the table,” She warns in a low tone.

“I’ll try,” You mutter, as the hustle and bustle of the club surrounds you two. “But I’m in need of a few martinis myself.”

“Long week?” Mary eyes you after she scans the room. You’re doing the same, looking for the table Danica had texted you they were at. 

You spot the table, starting to head to it, Mary following along. “Oh yeah,” You nod enthusiastically, realizing how emotionally drained you’ve been since Van’s text on Monday.

You introduce everyone to Mary before sliding into the curved booth, exchanging greetings. One of the girls pass you a menu that you look over with curiosity. You need something strong enough to forget these last two months.

Your focus on the menu fades when your phone buzzes against the glossy tabletop. Just as you reach to check what notification has appeared the server comes around to get you and Mary’s drink order. While she opts for a cosmopolitan your eyes quickly flit over the page, your brain scrambling to read the different ingredients in your hurry.

“I’ll have an endless summer,” You recite to the waitress, smiling at her as she hurries away to relay the order. She leaves the menu so that the girls that haven’t arrived yet can look over it. 

As soon as she’s gone you grab for your phone again, unlocking it to see a text from Van: Wanna do lunch at that diner tomorrow? It’ll help with that hangover

You’d told him about your plans to go out for drinks, and his thoughtfulness makes your heart ache. Why does he have to be so fucking nice all of the time?

“Is that Van?” Mary interrupts the wave of sadness welling up in your chest. Everyone has stopped talking, Mary commanding the attention of everyone per usual. 

“Um, yeah,” You respond politely, despite the urge to reach over and strangle her. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and your cheeks burn at the way Mary’s just exposed your Van situation to everyone. 

“Who?” Danica asks, tilting her head as she takes a sip of her drink. “I thought you were single!”

Realizing your coworkers had no idea about him, Mary’s face lights up in joy. You hate her for it, internally groaning. There’s no way she’s going to let you get away without telling everyone what was going on. 

“Y/N hasn’t told you about Van?” Mary asks, leaning in excitedly. Danica and your other coworker that had arrived early, Nicole, are suddenly at attention, waiting for you to explain.

“Hey, hey!” Olivia- forever the loudest coworker in the office- calls from behind your shoulder. She’s sauntering effortlessly on stilettos, Mia trailing behind.

Olivia makes a big scene of plopping down in the booth, Mia shuffling in next to you. Whereas you’re the quiet counterpart to Mary, Mia’s the same to Olivia. You’d always liked Mia, the way she never seemed stressed or worked up over office demands or drama; she tended to let them roll off of her with a quiet shrug. You tended to stay away from Olivia, however. While Mary radiated an outgoing, enjoyable charisma, Olivia radiated an air of lead-cheerleader bitchiness.

The commotion of Olivia and Mia’s arrival has successfully diverted the conversation to how hard the restaurant had been for Olivia to find, and everyone forgets about the Van topic. You sigh in relief when the waitress comes back around to collect the new drink orders, gingerly setting a glass full of sunset-colored alcohol in front of you. It starts deep red at the bottom with the cranberry juice, and somehow fades to a soft orange by the middle of the glass, a pale pink at the top. You suck at your straw eagerly, ready to have some alcohol in your system. It’s overly sweet and burns as it goes down, but Danica and Nicole are already one drink ahead of you, so you’re trying to catch up.

“He’s an annoying motherfucker,” Olivia is complaining about her husband, tossing her phone back into her bag with a scoff. Mia murmurs agreement next to you, and Danica is asking her some question about wedding venues. Danica’s not engaged just yet, but it’s clear she’s desperate for a proposal from her boyfriend. 

Oh, to be surrounded by friends in couples. Mary has chimed in about some pet peeve she has about Theo, and you let their conversation fade to the background of your mind as you pick your phone up again.

This weekend doesn’t really work for me at all, you text Van. It physically pains you to press send, but you know it’s what you’ve got to do. He’s not getting the hint!

“Oh! Y/N!” Danica suddenly exclaims, and when you look up from your screen she is gesturing excitedly, like the words are on the tip of her tongue.

“You were gonna tell us about that Victor guy!” She finally spits it out, and the spotlight is on you again. 

“Van,” You correct absentmindedly, before realizing you’d missed the point. You clear your throat, tucking your phone in the pocket of your jacket, deciding not to check it again. You couldn’t handle Van possibly becoming angry or hurt. “Um, there’s not much to say!” You laugh nervously, glancing at Mary as a call for help. “He’s my best friend.”

“Besides, you, of course,” You hurry to assure Mary. She rolls her eyes in amusement, unbothered.

“He’s her best friend with benefits,” Mary stirs the pot. Everyone’s interest in you had started to fade with your lackluster explanation, but at the mention of the benefits they all perk up again. 

“And get this,” Mary gestures excitedly, and you’re relieved she’s taking over the storytelling. “He’s the lead singer of this band that’s fucking huge in the U.K.”

“No way,” Danica’s eyes widen.

“Yeah,” Mary nods. “We met him after they played a show at the House of Blues in San Diego.” 

“When?” Nicole pipes up, scooting in closer. 

“In January, when I was there for my birthday,” You tell her. 

“You’ve been with him since January?” Danica asks, clearly shocked. “You haven’t said a word!”

You open your mouth to respond, but are interrupted by the waitress passing out another round of drinks. You take the last few sips of your first martini, then stick your straws into the next glass. 

“Girl, explain,” Nicole demands, earning a laugh from everyone at the table. 

“Hold on,” You laugh, feeling a bit more comfortable with their interest. This whole thing has been weighing on you, after all, and now you’ve got the chance to get some fresh opinions on what you should do. Without further ado you hold the straw of your drink between your thumb and forefinger, swallowing it down in a matter of a minute.

“I need to catch up!” Olivia shouts as you pull away, and starts to gulp down her own drink. She’s finished quicker than you, ever the show-off, and waves the waitress over again to request another round for you and her. 

The waitress is back pronto, another endless summer dripping condensation on the table in front of you, a bloody mary perched in front of Olivia. 

You take a sip to wet your throat before you sit back.

You’ve never told the story of you two out loud like this before. Mary’s been present every step of the way, and you’d managed to stay away from your family’s prying by telling them only the basics of your friendship. This is the first time you have to listen to yourself explain all of the time you’ve spent together, and it shocks you as you hear yourself. Like when you explain the story of Van catching strep throat, and Mia is confused as to why he decided to spend over a week crashing at your place. You recite Van’s excuse at the time about the lack of food at his house, but nobody at the booth seems convinced. 

You trail off when you’re finished, deciding not to share anymore details with anyone. Mary had snorted more than once during your chronicles due to your decision to keep everything very surface and PG- although you’re sure none of these girls cared about Catfish, Van’s trust is sacred to you. You’re fiercely protective over the private moments you two have had together; even Mary doesn’t know about the way you’d tied him up during his birthday sex. 

There’s a silence that falls over everyone when you’re finished, punctuating the story of your summer with a long, burning sip of your drink. You’re expecting Olivia to launch into her own story- no doubt somehow more interesting than yours- but you’re surprised to see her stirring her bloody mary, looking lost in thought. Was this Van thing really that crazy?

“So,” Danica is the first one to speak, “When are you supposed to see him again?”

Your shoulders slump at this. “He’s in town this weekend, but I don’t think we’re gonna see each other.”

Mary snaps to attention, her eyes locking with yours. “Why not?”

Everyone seems to be on the edge of their seat, waiting for more details with bated breath. 

You shrug, but Mary only narrows her eyes. “I think I’m gonna end things,” You keep your voice light, stirring the ice in your now-empty glass. 

“What? Why?” Nicole shrieks. “He sounds great!”

“He is great,” You affirm. You’d sworn to yourself a long time ago that no matter how this thing plays out, you’d always maintain that Van had been the best man you’d ever been with. “But he’s just really busy now. He was gone for almost all of September.”

“So you’re gonna give him up?” Nicole scoffs in disbelief. “You’re insane, Y/N.”

“I mean, there’s nothing to give up!” You defend yourself weakly, your voice going higher in pitch. “We’re not together!”

Mary opens her mouth to speak, no doubt to derail you from your plan. You understand why she’s eager to dissuade you from something so drastic, but she also had no idea about the agony you’ve been in, how cutting ties with Van is the only way you know how to save your sanity. 

“Do you have a picture?” Olivia asks, successfully interrupting Mary. Despite your dislike for Olivia, you’re glad for her intervention.

“Um, lemme see,” You murmur, grabbing your phone back out of your pocket. But you forgot you’d been keeping your phone in there on purpose, and as you go to scroll through your photo gallery you’re accosted with Van’s reply to your previous message:

Everything alright?

You swipe it away, reaching your drink before realizing it’s empty. “Ugh, I need another one of these.” How many drinks have you had now? Three? You wish you remembered.

You deliberate over what photo to show them; you hardly take any when you two are together, and most of the ones you’ve taken seem too intimate to share with others. You laugh when you scroll past a photo of Van you’d taken in August, standing by the front door with his ribboned ficus in his arms. He’s got an exaggerated grin, no attempt to look poised for the camera. There’s tons of photos with his blurry hands or feet in them, attempts to obscure snapchats you were trying to take for Mary, and you hurry past the few nudes he’d sent you when you two had decided to exchange a few over text. You settle on one you feel comfortable sharing; it’s a photo of him at some bar, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol. He’s flushed and beaming, leaning against Bob, who was the one taking the picture of the two of them. He’d forwarded it to you the next morning, complaining about his hangover. You present this photo to the others.

Immediately Olivia takes your phone from your hands, sending a shot of anxiety through you. You’ll never understand why some people insist on taking the phone out of your hands rather than just looking at the image on the screen. 

“He’s good looking!” She exclaims, almost like she didn’t expect it. Danica and Nicole nod their agreement. When Olivia hands the phone back you flash the photo at Mia, who seems more interested in Bob’s half of the picture.

“Isn’t he?” Mary agrees, playfully elbowing you. “If you’re finished with him then send him my way,” She jokes, but you can hear her ill-concealed frustration with you underneath. You know she’s dying to know what the fuck you’re doing, messing up the best not-relationship you’ve ever had. Maybe she’ll get lunch with you tomorrow, so you can properly explain. Of course you hadn’t shared your true feelings for Van with everyone, but it was probably time for Mary to know. 

“He sounds like a keeper,” Olivia agrees, and you’re surprised to hear she thinks so. You’re even more surprised at everyone’s enthusiastic nods.

“You’d be an idiot to let him go,” Danica tells you seriously, and Nicole murmurs her assent. “Like, seriously. Have you lost interest in him?”

Lost interest in him? You wish it could be true, but that wasn’t even a possibility you could fathom at the moment.

“Uh, no,” You answer her, trying to seem nonchalant. “It’s just the logistics.”

“Well, make it work,” Nicole urges you. 

There’s some murmurs about ‘the one that got away’ from the other girls, and the conversation about Van finally dies out. You’re relieved when Mia brings up a project she’s working on in the office, looking for some advice from everyone about how to respond to a client who tends to have an aggressive tone in his emails. From there things fade into hilarious client stories and email blunders, and you try to seem as engaged as possible, relieved to have the focus off of you.

You lose track of your drinks, absentmindedly sipping them while everyone’s voices flow and mingle around you. You’ve definitely hit your introvert limit, ready to head home and curl up in bed. Nobody seems to notice how quiet you’ve grown, or how you perk up in relief when Mia finally suggests you guys call it a night. Everyone takes her cue, the table lighting up with phone screens as everyone reaches out to their ride. 

“Theo can take you home,” Mary offers when you pull up the Uber app.

“Oh, it’s fine,” You politely decline. There’s a lot of Ubers doing rounds on a busy street like Melrose during this time, and you know a car will be here soon. More than anything you were craving the quiet, some time away from this loud club music and conversation.

“If you’re sure…” Mary trails off. You remember your idea about lunch suddenly, ready to blurt it out to her, but the sober fraction of your brain shushes you. It would be incredibly rude to make lunch plans with someone right in front of everyone else.

Lunch tomorrow? You text her instead, and watch the notification ping on her phone screen.

YES. she sends back. YOU HAVE EXPLAINING TO DO. 

That would cause sober-you to dread these plans, but thankfully drunk-you is only preoccupied with going home. 

\\

You’re drunker than you’d thought by the end of the night. You’d managed to down all of your drinks without the need to use the restroom (miraculously), but when you had stood up to let Mary shuffle out of the booth it suddenly felt like your bladder was nothing but a bouncing water balloon, and all of the alcohol had rushed to your head. You had struggled to keep yourself walking in a straight line to the bathroom, not to mention staying balanced on your heels while you washed your hands. You get the notification your ride is here as soon as you’re pushing through the heavy swinging door, so you grab your bag back at the booth and exchange goodbyes and promises to do this again with Nicole, who is the last one waiting for a ride, and head out front.

There’s no silence quite as satisfying as the one that follows a night out after you’ve hopped into the car and closed the door. Besides the polite hello the driver offers he doesn’t seem interested in conversation, so you stare out the window at the night sky and try to make sense of the mess in your head.

Only as the car is pulling out onto Melrose do you remember you’d left a text from Van on read. You grab your phone off of the seat next to you, clicking your texts with Van open.

Everything alright? You read to yourself over and over. How the fuck were you supposed to answer that? Was he really that clueless? Were you that amazing at hiding how much this had been hurting you, or had he just not bothered to pay attention?

I’m fine, you decide to reply. Was it the truth? Not exactly. But you knew you would be, eventually. Ending things would hurt like hell at first, but you’d recover. You had from every other heartbreak you’ve experienced in your life, after all. 

You’re surprised when your phone vibrates in your palm, an instant reply from Van: Don’t seem fine. 

Shit. Maybe he’s been paying a bit more attention than you thought. You double down on your lie: It’s fine Van. 

The three dots pop up before you can even lock your phone: ??

You click your screen off, tossing your phone beside you on the bench. It bounces with a soft thud, and you rest your head in your hands, trying to take a deep breath.

Everyone’s advice starts to echo in your mind: He sounds like a keeper! You’d be an idiot to let him go! Make it work! Offered up so happily as if those were actually options, as if there was any fucking possibility Van felt the same way about you. 

It completely overwhelms you then, how in over your head you are. There had been moments where you’d felt a speck of hope, signs that maybe he wanted more than this casual thing, but now it’s been six months of spending time together, and exactly zero attempts by him to broach the subject. It all hits you then, all the emotions you’ve been keeping controlled while you tried to enjoy your night out, and before you know it you’re in tears.

It’s only a few tears at first, but letting go feels so good you give in to it, the car silent except for your loud sniffles and the occasional shaky breath. The Uber driver, to his credit, doesn’t react as you silently bawl your eyes out in the backseat.

Your phone goes off again from where it’s facedown, light seeping out of the sides. You leave it there, for once not pathetically controlled by Van’s moment-to-moment whim. A little laugh bubbles out of you at that thought, and you think absentmindedly that you must sound absolutely crazy, but you’re too drunk to care, the alcohol carrying that thought away as you continue your catharsis.

Time slips by in jumps and starts, your tears slowing eventually, and by the time the car turns onto your block you’re excited to get inside, make yourself a hot mug of tea, and continue your cry in private. Your house is the only one on your side of the street with the light on, and so you watch it slide into view as the car makes its way down the road.

“It’s that one,” You snuffle, “With the light on.”

As the car approaches, your blood goes cold.

Your first instinct is to assume it’s some sort of alcohol-induced hallucination. You wipe the tears from your eyes furiously, but when you look again there’s no mistaking it. The porch light is cascading down your front lawn, and Van’s silhouette is perched on your front steps, smoking a cigarette.

“Here you go, ma’am,” The driver stops the car and unlocks the door for you. As soon as the car pulls up Van tosses his cigarette onto the front path and stomps it out, standing up. You watch him through the car window in disbelief before you grab your things, give a numb thank you, and get out of the car.

There’s a stretch of silence as the Uber pulls away where you stand right outside of the front gate, unable to do anything except gape at Van. 

A car suddenly whizzes down your road, and you realize how close you are to being in the street. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You exclaim, the clatter of the gate clicking closed behind you echoing with your voice off of the silent houses around you.

“I came here to get some answers!” Van says, exasperated. “You won’t tell me nothin’!”

“There’s nothing to say!” You gesture with your arms as you reach the steps, face to face with him. “There’s no answers to get!”

“You’ve been cryin’!” Van gestures towards you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” You wipe at your undereye self consciously and look down at your finger. There’s a smear of mascara. You sigh before moving past Van up the stairs, headed for the front door. He follows.

“Did I do something?” He asks, coming into your peripheral vision. “If I did, just tell me! Let me make this right.”

You look through your purse for your keys, ignoring him.

“Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t do anything on purpose!”

You continue your search for your keys, keeping your head down.

“Fuck,” You say quietly to yourself as you sweep your bag for the third time and fail. You click your phone on, switching on the flashlight and lighting up your bag.

Van groans in frustration, wiping a hand through his hair. “Y/N!”

“What?” You snap at him, looking up. You’ve finally found your key and you jam it into the door, clicking it unlocked.

“Why are you ignorin’ me?” He pleads.

“Van,” You start, trying to keep your voice steady. You look up at him then, and you feel like your breath’s been punched out of you. The light is illuminating him from behind, a halo of golden light that catches each strand of frizz and accentuates the sharp line of his chin. His hair’s grown out since the spring, the light snagging the curls that are upturned at the nape of his neck. You swallow thickly. His eyes are wide in confusion.

“I think we need to end things,” You say quietly, struggling to see through a fresh batch of tears.

His jaw hangs slightly ajar. “What?” He asks in disbelief.

Your eyes are welling up again, and you wipe at them, a mess of mascara on your hands. “We’re done,” You tell him, voice wobbling, as you swing the door open and head inside.

He doesn’t give you a chance to shut the door in his face, heading in right behind you. “You’re fucking joking! What have I done?”

You head straight for the bathroom, examining yourself in the mirror. You cringe inwardly at yourself and grab for your makeup wipes, trying to make yourself look a little less pathetic.

Van is standing in the front room. “I’m not leaving until we talk about this,” He says loudly so you can hear him from behind the bathroom door.

You don’t respond, wiping away your eyeliner vigorously.

“I said I’m sorry!”

You sigh to yourself.

“Look, I-”

“Listen, Van!” You cut him off from the other room. You swing the door open, marching out. “It’s like you said in the hotel that one time, remember? We’re supposed to be simple, easy. And that was working great. You stop by at your convenience, and I throw everything else out of the fucking window to spend time with you. And then you just fucking… disappear! For two months! And it- I-” You struggle to find any words, your voice fading out as you feel yourself start to cry again. And I love you. I miss you. 

Van throws his arms up. “I didn’t mean it like that at all, c’mon! It’s not at my convenience! I was working! I wasn’t trying to ignore ya! I try my hardest to come around!” 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again. When he speaks again, he’s quieter. “It wasn’t like that, honest.”

“I just can’t do this anymore,” You try desperately to explain. “This whole ‘simple’ thing is killing me. The long trips out to see you, and I’m lucky if I get to see you for two whole days…” Your words are interrupted by an embarrassingly pathetic sob, Van’s eyes widening at your outpouring of emotion.

“Please don’t tell me you think this whole thing was about having you around just for a fuck,” Van pleads. “You’re my best mate! I can’t help that I travel a lot!”

You bury your face in your hands.

Van sighs, moving towards you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” He says earnestly. “C’mon. I’m sorry. Get out of that dress and we can turn a film on, yeah? Or we can go grab some food. Whatever you wanna do.” 

You groan into your palms, the sound echoing in your ears. He just wasn’t getting it.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Van offers, his voice soft. “I didn’t… I’m sorry if it seemed like I was using you, or something.”

“But then we’ll go out to eat, and everything’ll be fine tonight, but it’s still gonna be the same! And you’re gonna be so busy with tour, and it’s not fair to me when you’re not around, and I can’t spend my whole life roadtripping with you!”

“The bulk of this leg is over!” Van argues, “And I don’t mind if you’re busy. It’ll be your turn to text me like I’ve been texting you, yeah?” The corner of his lips quirk up in a tired smile.

“Oh my God, Van,” You groan again. You take a long, frustrated inhale. It was now or never, you realize, because he might be the best man you’ve ever been with, but he’s still completely clueless. 

“I’m trying to tell you I fucking love you!” You yell, throwing your arms up. “I fucking love you! I don’t want simple and easy! I want you!”

You feel like you’re about to faint from the admission. For a terrifying moment all of the blood rushes to your head, and the only sound you can hear is your own heartbeat in your ears. You’ve put all your cards on the table, and there was no going back. Van might’ve been eager to fix things moments ago, but he could very well change his entire attitude now that the truth is out.

While you stand there, terrified, you notice his tired smile start to stretch into a grin.

“What?” He asks, grinning ear to ear.

“I love you,” You repeat, no longer yelling. Your throat hurts. It feels like the dust settling after an explosion, but your heart is skipping because Van isn’t running, not yet.

“Are you saying that I’m not simple? Or easy?” Van jokes, still beaming.

“No.” You feel a small laugh of relief bubble up. “I know it’s hard. With the traveling, and the label deadlines and stuff. But I’ve had the trial period. I wanna be able to text you and ask what you’re doing without seeming all clingy. And I don’t wanna go days without hearing from you!” Van groans at that. “And I want you to be able to tell everyone that I’m your girlfriend. Not your mate!” You say that part with a glare, remembering the conversation between him and Bondy you’d overhead by the ice machine in Detroit. 

“You heard that?” Van groans again, laughing. “I didn’t know what to say! He caught me by surprise!”

“And I want my family to be able to meet you!” You add on, “Not have to lie and pretend you’re busy with band stuff because you wouldn’t come in!”

Van’s jaw drops slightly at that. “I wanted to come in!” He confesses, “I thought you were asking as an afterthought! To be polite!” He runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t know how bad I wanted to say yes.”

He wraps his arms around you now, pulling you in close.

“I love you, too,” He admits. “And I have for a long fucking time! I’m sorry it didn’t seem like it. I thought you liked this whole ‘simple’ thing. I was playing it up for your sake!” He sways you back and forth while you bury your head in his chest, wrapping your arms around him. 

“I can’t believe you,” You shake your head against him in exasperation. You lift your head suddenly, your face inches from his. “When did you know?”

Van puffs his cheeks up with air, releasing it with a whoosh as you watch his eyes flit through the air while he considers. “On the couch on the tour bus,” He tells you. “I mean, I already did, but that was my moment of… yeah.” One side of his lips quirk up in a lopsided smile.

“Well, I win,” You tease. “Because I realized it backstage in Phoenix.”

Van’s eyes widen in shock. “You’re fucking joking!” He laughs, “And you’ve been keeping it a secret since?” 

“Yeah!” You exclaim, lifting your hands from where they’re resting on his sides to gesture at him. “You were making it pretty fucking clear you weren’t interested in dating!”

“Oh, yeah?” Van challenges, his playful grin reappearing. “More clear than you attempting to break things off with me?”

“Oh, stop,” You huff, pointing to your puffy eyes and splotchy face. “Clearly you can see it wasn’t an easy decision!”

“Fuck, I thought you had it out for me,” Van laughs, letting one of his hands fall from your back so that he can run it through his hair. “Whatever I did, I was ready to accept your wrath.”

“You don’t even know,” You start, burying your face in his shirt again. Your tears are back, overwhelmed with relief that the truth was finally out, that Van loved you the same way you loved him. “This has been tearing me apart for months now.”

“Me too,” Van sighs, his palm rubbing up and down your spine. “I even told you on accident that one time.”

You freeze, trying to understand what he meant. 

“Wait,” You lift your head, stepping back from him. “Are you talking about that phone call?”

“Yeah.”

At this your jaw drops. You’ve stepped out of Van’s arms, and he’s keeping his hands busy by rolling the sleeves of his button-up over his forearms. “You said you didn’t remember it!”

“I told you I loved you!” Van’s clearly embarrassed, his cheeks burning pink. “And I got all soppy about being apart on my birthday!”

“I said I loved you back!” You shout in complete disbelief. “We both admitted we loved each other and you didn’t think anything of it?”

“I was drunk! I thought you were taking pity on me! Give me a break!”

Oh God, he was impossible. You open your mouth to ridicule him further, but instead you step toward him again, cupping his jaw and bringing your lips together. There’s no sense in arguing about it anymore. Clearly you’d both been oblivious, but what did it matter now that everything had worked out?

Well, technically, you had no idea what the road ahead would bring for you two. But you’ve made it this far, right? Seven months of navigating these unspoken rules between you two, it feels like things can only get easier now that they’re dissolving right before your eyes. You kiss Van harder, and when your lips open for him it feels like all of the possibilities opening up before you: Van was your fucking boyfriend now.

In the thrill of your realization you reach for his belt buckle, struggling to undo it while you’re distracted by the kiss. 

After fussing with it for longer than normal you feel the warm press of Van’s lips being pulled away, his hands coming to wrap around yours.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” He remarks in amusement, brushing your hands aside and undoing his own belt. 

“Because I love you,” You confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” Van chuckles, giving you another quick kiss. “Whew, how much did you have? I feel like I took a shot just fucking kissing ya.”

“It doesn’t matter,” You tell him bluntly. “Help me out of this dress.”

Van knows you’re right because he obliges, tossing your jean jacket in the vicinity of the couch before helping you undo the zipper that runs down your back. Soon your dress has fallen around your ankles, tripping you up as you step out of the puddle of fabric on your heels.

Van’s hands reach out, steadying you. “Christ,” He laughs, guiding you to the couch. “Need help getting those heels off?”

“Please,” You sigh, flopping down on the couch in your bra and underwear, extending your legs out towards Van, who gets down on his knees to be of assistance. His fingers easily undo the straps around your ankles, releasing your feet from the hazard of your heels in no time. 

His fingers tuck into the waistband of your underwear next, tugging them down your thighs and depositing them on the ground before his head’s between your legs.

You sigh happily, slumping against the cushions as you pet his hair. You can’t remember the last time you were as content as you were right now; having drunk sex with your boyfriend, the person you loved and trusted most in the world. 

Your entire body feels like a warm puddle of endless summers and pleasure, but suddenly a thought pierces through the fog in your brain, and you shoot upright in your seat so fast that Van pulls away in concern.

“I have to text Mary!” You remember. Your eyes search around wildly for your bag, and you can feel the air passing between your legs without Van’s mouth keeping you warm.

Van wipes his chin, making to stand up. “Well, text her,” He says, gesturing towards the bedroom door. “Then come meet me in bed.”

You stumble up from the couch, crossing the living room naked and heading into the bathroom, where you’d left your purse.

Hello???? Mary’s sent. Did you get home safe????? Are you okay?!?

Home safe, You send back. Sorry, Van showed up unexpectedly and we talked. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

As soon as you’ve sent it you see the typing indicator pop up. You decide to respond to one last message before catching up to Van so you two can resume your first official romp as a couple.

If you tell me you two are done I’m gonna kill you.

At her words, you grin. 

Haha nope. We both realized we’re in love with each other and we’re official now. It’s a long story. 

\\

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia! I'm a huge fan of your work and deeply enjoying FFS rn, it really shows the love and care you've put into this world and characters and it's an amazing read 🥰🧡

Idk if you've actually answered this question before or if it's a bit too much? So feel free to skip it. Do you have any advice on how to write a therapist and sessions with them? And to go along with that, a therapist&patient relationship that doesn't feel inauthentic but that's a healthy one?

I've had to visit both psychiatrists and psychologists a couple of times along my life, which has almost always been a positive experience to me, but when I get down to business and want to write a character going to therapy, I fall into a bunch of the psychoanalytic clichés US films have hammered us down with, even if I'm not from an Anglophile country!

Thanks a bunch in advance!! Ilu, have a nice start of the year🧡✨

Hiya anon!

I have a few thoughts about writing therapy sessions so I’m just going to put them down in no particular order.

Firstly, I don’t actually think it’s always a good idea to write therapy in stories, and a lot of the time I avoid writing it even when a character is actively seeing a therapist. This is particularly true in The Wind that Cuts the Night where all we see of Alex and his therapist are snippets, and nothing more than that, because therapy sessions would slow down the pacing, focus and value of the story.

Where possible, characters don’t see therapists, but talk to people in a way that is therapeutic, usually with love interests or members of the ensemble cast (Augus and Fenwrel in The Court of Five Thrones, Jack and Eva in The Golden Age that Never Was, Jack and North in From the Darkness We Rise/Into Shadows We Fall, Cullen and Cassandra, Cullen and Bull in Stuck on the Puzzle). All of those characters need therapy, but writing therapy sessions tends to slow down the pace of a fic pretty dramatically, and even I had misgivings about writing Efnisien’s sessions with Dr Gary at first because I’m acutely aware of the fact that:

1. Therapy sessions can be draggy and boring 2. They often take away important emotional realisations from other characters, ruining potential hurt/comfort and character relationship development moments with your actual cast / love interests 3. Fiction is meant to be fiction, not reality. 4. A lot of therapy sessions are actually not that interesting to sit in or write or observe, which is why writers do often find themselves falling into certain cliches while writing them to make them more interesting. Even I cut out huge chunks of sessions to get to the more interesting parts, lol. 5. You can write a character going to therapy without writing the therapy. You can just choose to have the character remember bits and pieces of the session later as it’s relevant to their life. 6. Therapy is different for everyone, and some readers (myself included) don’t enjoy reading it when the therapy is a kind that doesn’t resonate or feel right.

So you really need to ask yourself why you want to write therapy specifically, because a lot of the time it gets boring or - as you point out - falls into cliched territory. Writing a character going to a doctor a lot in detail for regular injections is boring. Writing them thinking about how they have to do this in brief while their love interest is sympathetic to them getting those injections is more interesting. Writing a character suffering from an illness that they need regular injections for, with their love interest comforting them? Interesting.

Falling Falling Stars is a unique fic in that Efnisien has no one before he meets Arden, except for Dr Gary and Gwyn. If you’re writing an FFS style fic, writing therapy sessions might be appropriate. It might be worth really thinking about the kind of fics you want to write, why you want to write therapy, how that will affect your pacing, etc.

If you’re still dead set on writing therapy sessions, then I have some suggestions re: writing more realistic/healthy therapy and how to find that knowledge yourself, and I don’t really know how to shorthand some of it:

1. Get books on therapy that are designed for the therapist. These are often expensive, but sometimes libraries stock them - and university libraries in particular will often have photocopy abilities (or you can just photograph the pages you need) because these books look at how sessions should be structured. Books with case studies are ideal, since they often show dialogue chains between the client and therapist. Books that obviously deal with the mental illnesses you’re planning on writing about are the most ideal.

2. With a view to this, learn about different therapeutic modalities (for example are you trying to write psychology or psychoanalysis or both? Are you writing social work? Are you writing cognitive behavioural therapy, dialectical behavioural therapy, expressive therapies, narrative therapy, transcendental therapy?) Be aware that different modalities have different session structures and learn what they are. Wikipedia is your friend, but your closest friend will be actually acquiring textbooks on the subject. This is a pretty significant financial barrier at times, I’ve been collecting books like this on psychology since like 1997.

3. Learn about your character’s mental instabilities that require them to go to a therapist and then look up the most recommended forms of therapy for your character’s specific issues. Will they suit your character? Why/why not? Will they have a therapist who realises and switches modality if it doesn’t suit? Or will they be lucky and find someone who helps them straight away?

4. All therapy sessions have a structure to them. And therapy often has a narrative arc through the course of therapy over many sessions. They should generally have the attempt at a beginning (greeting / setting up the problem to be discussed), middle (highlighting the source of conflict or inner conflict) and end (helping the client to focus on less stressful things, possible homework assigned, and potentially talking about future work/sessions). Learn this structure. Even if you’re not writing the whole session, you need to know where in the session you’re writing, beginning/middle/end will be different tonally. Structures will be different per therapeutic modality, and a therapist that knows many different modalities (like Dr Gary) will often be using slightly different structures each time depending on the character’s mood/issue.

5. In a healthy therapist/client relationship there will be the ability to discuss boundaries, grievances and the therapist won’t be revealing much about their personal life at all (unless anecdotally it’s super relevant and even then it will be deliberately vague). This is one of those things that will - in many cases - make for more boring sessions on the page, depending on the ‘client.’ For example, if you’re writing someone seeing a therapist for the first time, it might realistically take months or years before they start showing progress or trust. That’s not interesting (there’s a reason ‘therapy fiction’ isn’t a genre), so of course it’s tempting to shortcut into more dramatic moments.

*

I would say if you’re finding yourself leaning towards more cliched or dramatic forms of writing re: therapy, your writing brain may sense that the entire scene/s may not be suited to the story, and is trying to find a way to make them more interesting to yourself and the reader. If that’s not the case, then a lot more research is needed! It’s time to sink many hours into actually understanding what you’re trying to write. This doesn’t matter as much if you’re writing unrealistic or unhealthy therapy, but it’s 100% necessary when you’re trying to write healthier therapy depictions.***

Also a couple of sessions of experience is a start, but you might want to watch or find a way to watch more therapy sessions, because you’ve missed out on experiencing longer arcs, different modalities etc. (This is where my hands on experience with 19 therapists since 1995 is actually really helpful, lmao - I’ve had close to like 800~ sessions by now, with good and bad therapists; I cannot pretend that hasn’t given me a knowledge base that most people don’t share). You can still learn that stuff via research, MedCircle on Youtube is a good place to start, since it offers 30 minute snapshots on what CBT and DBT sessions will look like etc. and has some great playlists.

Most fics I’ve read don’t do a great job of depicting therapy, but the Babes!verse series by @rynfinity has probably some of the most realistic and still really interesting sessions I’ve read as an ongoing arc. The series is long, because it needs to be re: what it’s dealing with, but it’s great, and I definitely recommend looking at another example of how an author tackles these sorts of scenes. Out of the Mouths of Babes / The March of the Damned are the two intertwined series.

I apologise if this sounds discouraging overall, or daunting, but I just want to stress there’s a reason that I’m often not writing therapy in my writing, as anything more than the occasional scene with a non-therapist, or snapshots that are reflected on and that’s it. Falling Falling Stars is the exception to the rule, and unless you’re writing an exception to the rule as well, it’s really worth reflecting on the first six points I wrote - it’ll save you a fuckton of time and research. And if you go ahead with it, I wish you well! :D

*** Also disclaimer: But I still am writing very indulgent therapy that is not beholden to being either a 100% healthy or 100% realistic depiction. The fact is, real therapy sessions are pretty boring for observers except for maybe ten or twenty minutes in the middle at times.

(ETA: It’s just occurred to me that therapy fiction does exist, esp. in the mass media, but that it is - afaik - all unrealistic, dramatised or unhealthy. But if you want to watch a great show - I highly recommend In Treatment with Gabriel Byrne, just by aware that it is depicting, for the most part, unhealthy dynamics which are more character studies than anything).

[icedteaandoldlace]

So there’s this “101 Reasons to Ship Snowbarry” video that keeps coming up on my YouTube suggestions. Idgaf about Snowbarry, and I’ve already hit the “not interested” button on similar videos before, but since I can’t seem to get away from video suggestions like this, I’m just gonna watch it and liveblog it, and bet that for every entry on the list, I can come up with a corresponding rebuttal for why Barrisco would make an even better couple. (I’m not gonna comment this ON the video ofc, this is just for my own amusement.)

Click the link above if you want to see the stuff I’ll be responding to, but be forewarned, that video is like, way long, so naturally it follows that this post is gonna be, too.

Additional note: If you are a Snowbarry shipper who has stumbled across this post somehow, now would be the time to stop reading, and also to add the “anti Snowbarry” tag to your filters if you wish to avoid running into posts like this in the future, ‘cause I ain’t interested in engaging in shipping wars.

Anyways, let’s go:

1. "How they met." Cisco woke Barry out of a coma by playing/singing a song about bisexuality, 'nuff said. (Also, part of the purpose of that scene was to introduce Caitlin as the serious, “down to business” one, and Cisco as the warmer, more easygoing one who’s trying to make Barry feel more comfortable.)

2. "They're both scientists." What is Cisco, an Instagram influencer?

3. If Caitlin being Barry’s personal doctor gets her romantic points, then the same should go for Cisco being his personal tailor. Actually, he should get more points, because there’s no moratorium on romantic relationships between tailors and their clients.

4. The way Barry and Cisco gaze into each other's eyes for non-medical purposes. This is too easy.

5. Uh. Cisco being the voice in Barry's ear while he's running, and often the first person he calls out to for help solving a problem.

6. They frequently take hold of each other's hands and shoulders.

7. Cisco comforts Barry while Caitlin tends to his wounds.

8 through 12 is literally just stuff about Caitlin being a doctor, and I don't find this stuff relevant enough to rebut because there's nothing inherently romantic about any of it.

13. "They both have fun together." Yes, Cisco also, the fun having, it happens, lots. Even more, actually.

14. Not really sure what to say for this one. Barry and Cisco noticing when each other is sad and then checking on each other (at Cecile’s baby shower and Barry’s bachelor party, respectively, and also on other occasions), comes to mind. That doesn’t have to do with noticing each other’s lips, per se, but I’ve never thought of either of these SB scenes as moments where Barry was staring at Caitlin’s lips, just as moments where he’s noticing her expression/overall mood, which is something he does with Cisco (and vice versa), too.

15. They all have nerdy hobbies, dude, they're nerds.

16. This one for SB is "she makes Barry drunk on purpose", which, y'know, she did because he wanted to be able to get buzzed, which Cisco has succeeded in helping him do, too (and the drink he made was more effective and longer lasting), but the way this is phrased is kind of suggestive, like Caitlin was doing it to lower his inhibitions (which she totally wasn’t), and uuuuhhhh, don't romanticize that maybe???

17. Cisco put all that tech into Barry's suit, including delivery menus from his favorite restaurants + wrote him an instruction manual, and sped up all his favorite shows so he could catch up on what he missed while he was in the speed force.

18. Barry makes Cisco's (and everyone's) hair fly everywhere when he speeds out of a room, too. Like, this is just basic physics, fam, wyd?

19. Barry also uses his powers to help Cisco. And...literally everyone who needs his help, this is basic superhero stuff, wyd?

20. He is impressed with Cisco, frequently.

21. Just having nicknames? He calls him "bud", "dude", etc., and one time he called him "Cis". (Bonus: Iris and Cisco have called Caitlin "Cait", too, so it’s not just a Ronnie and Barry thing.)

22. Cisco can make anything to help Barry. They're literally top-notch genius scientists, I don't even

23. Obviously they think each other makes great company, they're best friends. All of them.

24. They comfort each other. Again, best friends + Team Flash pep talks are a major staple of the show.

25. He needs Cisco, too.

26. They...they care about...my god, it's like you people have never heard of FRIENDS.

27. Honestly, how many times have we heard Barry tell Cisco he believes in him, or heard Cisco gush about what a great hero Barry is?

28. Helping each other conquer their fears. Yep, that's another one that applies to like, everyone on this show.

29. "They both have experienced loss" IT'S A SUPERHERO SHOW! Also, that's just life. Name one main character on this show who hasn't experienced loss. Nash and Wally have both experienced loss, and I have yet to see anyone ship them.

30. "They both can sing really well." Okay now. This one is true for Barry and Cisco, but uh...Caitlin is literally tone deaf. I'm not being mean, Danielle Panabaker knows good and well that she can't sing, and she has talked about Carlos side-eyeing her when she gets going because she's not good at it. THAT'S OKAY! There's nothing wrong with not being able to sing, but--WHY would you claim that she's good at something that she clearly is not? She wasn't on pitch for a single line of Summer Nights, and she straight up changes keys mid-line in the mockingbird song in that other clip, and just...what even is this entry?!

31. Watching over each other, yeah, another basic staple of being friends and superheroes.

32. "He is always standing behind Caitlin" AND LOOK WHO'S STANDING BESIDE HIM!

33. Remember that time fake Jay "died" and Cisco stayed with Caitlin until she fell asleep? Remember when Dante died and Caitlin slept on Cisco's couch to keep him company? Remember all those times Barry or Cisco were rendered unconscious, and the other stayed by their bedside until they woke up?

34. Basically just a continuation of 33. See above.

35. "Maybe 'okay' will be our 'always'." Hmm, what WOULD Barry and Cisco's "always/okay" be? Probably just calling out each other's names tbh, they do that a lot. Or perhaps, "For real?"

36. Is2g. Being only one call or text away is, again, a staple of the show, considering everyone in it is a close-knit found family and knows there's a very good chance that that call or text might be saying, "I'm in mortal danger, please come save my life at once."

37. Funny, I already pointed out once before (in a different post) the fun parallel of how Caitlin will sometimes go running to whoever her love interest is at the moment, or she'll call out his name, while Cisco is at the same moment running to Barry/calling out for Barry.

Side note: did they really think including Barry's proposal song to Iris would give more weight to their why-to-ship-Snowbarry argument?

38. I mean...Barry kind of carries everyone everywhere. You don't really get to see it, but how the heck else do you explain all the times he whooshes people in and out of places? He can't just drag them, otherwise the soles of their shoes would either wear down fast or catch on fire.

39. Okay, no shade to Barry and Caitlin's friendship, and some of these moments are really great, but generally speaking, their hugs do not compare to the ones that either of them has with Cisco. Also, note the group hug scene, conveniently cut off before Cisco joins in, because unlike the Romione + Harry hug in the Prisoner of Azkaban movie, there's no way to interpret it as a third wheel/cockblocking moment, because the moment Cisco declares it a group hug moment, Barry and Caitlin both agree, and you can see it on their faces that they are delighted, and think that Cisco joining in their hug has just made it even BETTER.

40. Henry gladly accepts a hug from Caitlin, immediately after laughing at Cisco's awkward moment and giving him a fatherly reassuring pat on the shoulder. I think it's safe to say he approves of all of Team Flash.

41. Oh look, another thing Barry and Cisco and multiple other characters do.

Good god, I'm not even halfway through this yet. This is like that time I tried to climb Diamond Head.

42. Ah, superhero poses, yes. That thing that...superheroes...do. Like, all of the ones on this show. And in general.

43.  "They begin to resemble each other." They're just white, fam. OH MY GOD, I SOMETIMES TAKE MY SUNGLASSES OFF WITH ONE HAND, TOO! OT3 MUCH????? 😱 Lol what even??

44. How many times throughout this video am I gonna have to repeat that everyone on this show has these moments? Also, speaking in unison with someone because you had prior knowledge of what they were going to say due to yourself or someone else time traveling, is not the same as being in sync with them because you’re close. (He said “Weather Wizard” at the same time as Cisco, too.)

45. Idk what to even say to this one. Like, Iris is obviously the love of Barry's life, and Cisco is obviously his favorite best friend and the person he would be with if he didn’t have Iris.

46. *John Mulaney voice* AND THEN THEY DIDN'T! Seriously, though, both of the people they were trying to get over were perfect for them. I don't have a Barrisco specific rebuttal for this one though.

47. So by this video's logic, that one scene from 4x03 means that Barry, Harry, and Cisco should be a threesome, huh?

48. "I did it because it gave me an excuse to bring him back."

49. .................is this even an argument?

50. They're both good looking people, darling.

51. Wrong, sir. They fight like siblings. Trust me on this one, I have six of them.

52. Trauma response. I'm moving away from Barrisco arguments and just saying the first thing that pops into my head now. But seriously, this is a normal reaction to trauma/loss.

53. *Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh* I'm not even gonna say it this time, you already know.

54. Again, have you people ever had anyone in your life that you cared about, ever? I'm starting to get concerned, honestly. But for the sake of bringing Barrisco back into this, hey, remember that time Barry and Caitlin both got kidnapped on the same night and Cisco was completely beside himself?

55. This is getting out of hand.

56. Pretty sure dating Caitlin didn't even make the list for Barry's reasons to dislike Jay and Julian (also, he liked Ronnie, the guy she loved the most, so...)

57. Judging Barry for being a dumbass + helping an exposed girl out =/= jealousy. Granted, there was some jealousy in that last clip, but not because Iris got the man; it was because Barry was all set to live happily ever after while Caitlin was, y'know, struggling with powers she didn't want and another person living in her head that kept fighting her for control of her body.

58. Refer to season 1 episode 2, wherein Cisco is the person helping Barry from the beginning, and Caitlin asserts that she is on Joe's side when he tells Barry what a stupid and reckless idea trying to be a superhero is.

59 + 60. "Let's bring our boy home." / "Let's go get our girl." Do I need to cite either quote?

61. Again I ask, did a human make this list?

62. Don't make me tap the sign.

63. One word: Elseworlds.

64. If you'll scroll waaaaaaaaaaay up there, I already covered that Barry and Cisco hold hands A LOT.

65. Oooh, I made a meme about this one! Not after watching this video, I just see SBers say this all the time, and it drives me crazy.

I used this in my Snowbarry fandom drama presentation for my squad’s presentation party a while back.

Side note: ~INTERESTING~ how Caitlin being a doctor is ““romantic”” when she’s treating Barry but ““motherly”” when she’s treating Cisco. I can’t even.

66. ......I’m sorry, I’m just not seeing how the dramatic irony of them stating that Killer Frost will never be a problem on Earth-1 is pertinent to shipping them as a couple.

67. Hannibal Bates and Caitlin are perfect for each other? Weird take, but okay. Oh, and there Caitlin is trying to freeze Barry to death. Wasn’t there a point somewhere up there about her never wanting him to get hurt?

Side note: Hey, what’s the name of that guy who saved Barry in this scene?

68. Bruh, that’s just her dynamic with everyone that season.

69. Barry and Iris, Barry and Cisco, Cisco and Caitlin, Cisco and Harry, Caitlin and Killer Frost, Cisco and Killer Frost--just naming some duos that are more iconic than Barry and Caitlin. Again, no shade to their friendship--I really like them as friends!--but the shippers stay making it out to be more than it really is.

I also just have to point out that although Killer Frost was the one who willingly teamed up with Savitar/whom Savitar sought out first, when she comments on their team up and says it’s “Barry and Caitlin together again”, his response is to point out that she’s not Caitlin and he’s not Barry. In contrast, when he takes Cisco against his will and forces him to modify the speed force bazooka, he still refers to Cisco as his best friend.

70. Make up your mind, does Savitar count as Barry in this or not? Because he totally grabbed Caitlin by the throat once.

71. I don’t know how to break this to you, but not enjoying it when someone is in pain is just being normal. (Do I even need to point out Cisco’s empathetic cringing compared to Barry’s looks of mild discomfort, or...?)

At some point this went from being about Barrisco to being about Cisco being the favorite friend to both of them, idk.

72. He. Is. Literally. A. Superhero.

73. Man, what did I JUST say? Also, can we just acknowledge the build up to Crisis on Infinite Earths for a second, wherein Frost very quickly accepts that Barry is supposed to die in order to save everyone else, while Cisco has infinite crises of his own at the idea of having to accept Barry’s death--which, I might add, he never actually does? Neither does Iris, for that matter. They tried to accept it, and they thought they did, but they didn’t really.

74. Oh fuck it, just read 73 again.

75. Okay, what even is this one? Two scenes where they are not present for each other’s “deaths” and thus don’t react to them, meanwhile Cisco is devastated in both of them?

76. Same thing I’ve already said several times before.

77. How many times do I gotta point out that this is a superhero show?

78. Just really trying hard to find enough reasons to make this list 101, huh? (What is Firestorm, chopped liver?)

79. Because violence = chemistry apparently. Wasn’t there another entry about how they can never hurt each other or something?

80. I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the vibrating hand that shredded Cisco’s heart before either of those scenes happened.

81. It’s like SBers think they’re the only two characters on the entire show.

82. I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over all the other vibrating hands triggering Cisco at least once per season. But sure, Barry and Caitlin are the only two who know suffering.

83. Two words: Flashpoint. Dante. Also, not seeing how this one is romantic.

84. That’s just a Caitlin/Frost thing, fam, it only happened to Barry because he got whammied by Prism, who caused the same effect in everyone else he whammied. (Cisco’s eyes turned purple once when he got hypnotized.)

85. Please. I beg of you. Get friends. Interact with a human person.

Side note: “I trust you” was almost what I put for Barrisco’s “always/okay”.

86. “Don’t call me that. I don’t know you, string bean.” / “I don’t know who you think you are, but around here, people call me Mr. Ramon.” / “The name is Vibe.” (Again, romance where?)

87. Kinda like how Mirror Iris and Mirror Kamilla have slightly dressier tastes than Real Iris and Real Kamilla.

88. ....Anyways, Vibe........

89. The first time because Cisco saved him, the second time because she froze him just enough to fool Grodd, not enough to actually kill him. (Again I say, what is Firestorm?)

90. So romance. Very love. Much relationship.

91. ANYWAYS, CISCO. (And uh, hello, IRIS???? Joe? Harry?)

92. See 88.

93. This one might be a fun ship parallel if Caitlin had actually been involved in Barry’s brain zapping, but instead it’s just like, “here’s two random scenes that are kinda similar in completely insignificant ways”, like the evil clothes thing a few entries back.

94. Another entry that just demonstrates that their one-on-one moments together, while good, just don’t compare to either of their one-on-one moments with Cisco. I can’t be the only person who sees this.

95 + 96 + 97. I can’t muster up enough interest in any of these shows to watch them all the way through. Is this supposed to impress me?

98 + 99 + 100. The only point this proves is that they have multiple ship names. (I thought their evil ship name was Savifrost?)

101. Mm, sorry, sweetheart, Westallen, Barrisco, and Snowstorm all have them beat in this category.

This post really got away from me, at this point idk what I’m even doing, but I went on too long to stop now.

Oh, shit, there’s a bonus round.

Honestly, I fail to see how a lot of these supposedly “match”? But as for the ones that do, that’s just your basic TV aesthetics, I forget the official name for it. They’re matchy-matchy with Cisco in some of those shots, too, because TV matchy color psychology whatever. It’s a whole thing, every TV show and movie does it.

If anyone actually followed along this far, congratulations on your attention span, my brain could never. Idk how to end this post because it strayed so far from my original intent and basically just turned into a Snowbarry Fandom Doesn’t Make Sense Presentation 2.0

You know, I like to try not to generalize and stuff, and I’d like to think that maybe not all SBers are racist and that some people genuinely just like the ship because they think that makes sense or something, but then I look at their reasons for shipping it, and it’s just the dang blandest thing I ever did see, and they have to reach so far when they try to explain why they think they’re the best “couple” on the show and just??? I am the queen of shipping friends who never get together romantically, but Barry and Caitlin just don’t got it, son. Tbh part of the show’s appeal to me is the fact that there’s no threat of Caitlin ever getting with either of her male bffs in that way, because Cisco is like her brother, and getting with Barry just wouldn’t make sense. It just befuddles me to no end that they are such a wildly popular ship and not a rare pair, because the way their relationship is in canon is just exactly the way it should be.

That’s it, I guess. I’ve already invested this much time in this, so I might as well post it.

Also, please don’t anybody try to start anything in the comments section of this video, this fandom has enough drama as it is.

[somethinginthethunder]

dumb with love [joe mazzello x reader]

I loST THE FIRST VERSION OF THIS SO I’M SORRY THIS IS LATE. Also, I’m back!! I’m so sorry for that really long hiatus. 

I hope this is good. I haven’t written for Joe in such a long time, so he might be a little out of character, and my writing is just really bad and rusty :’)

Hope you enjoy, though! Feel free to drop a like or reblog, idk. 

Also!! I obviously don’t know where Joe lives, so don’t attack me for saying he lives in an apartment. This is for the sake of the fic!!

Plot: a misplaced letter sparks what seems to be a friendship (?) between you and the boy next door.

Word Count: 2,800

Warnings: none, except I haven’t reread this or edited (sorry).

---

“Hades, time to go inside,” you mumbled, tugging on the leash lightly.

The goofy schipperke made its way back to you, allowing slack on the leash that held him to you. His nose rubbed against your hand, signalling he was ready to move.

You clutched the coat against you. It was cold for some reason. You had just gotten back from work, and decided to take Hades out for a bit of a long walk.

When you returned to the apartment building, you had decided to check you mail. You knew there wouldn’t be much, but it wouldn’t hurt to check, obviously.

To your surprise, there was more than usual in your mail box. You pulled a small package out and let Hades hold on to it, collecting the rest for yourself. As you walked to your room via elevator, you decided to check through while you weren’t doing anything else.

And, curiously, as you were exiting onto your floor, there seemed to be one letter out of place. It was not addressed to you, but to a certain Joe Mazzello, your neighbor.

Now, you lived at the end of the hall, and Mazzello lived right next to you. Across from you was the cleaning closet. Had you seen your neighbors very much? No, admittedly. Perhaps you had seen him once or twice.

Of course, you weren’t going to keep the mail from him, so, as anyone would, a return would be in order. But, for now, you were going to drop your mail and Hades off.

Oddly, the universe seemed to want to put your plans off a little.

Right next to you you could hear the click of a lock. Turning your head, you realized someone had left the apartment next to you. He was a young man, with auburn hair and hazel eyes. His hair was a little messy, but his aura was casual and friendly. Was he Joe? Most likely.

“Oh,” you said. Oh??? OH? Outstanding conversation starter, [y/n].

“Oh?” the stranger echoed, just realizing your presence next to him.

You cleared your throat, a bit embarrassed. 

“Sorry, but are you Joe Mazzello?” you asked.

For some reason, that made him break out into a smile. “Yeah, that’s me!”

Relief washed over you for a moment. “Great! Sorry- does that sound weird? It’s just- I think I got one of your letters by mistake,” you said, stumbling over your words. If you could only choose one moment in your life to facepalm, it would be right at that moment.

“Really? That’s pretty weird,” he, Joe, commented, taking the letter that was presented to him by you.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

This left you in a quiet, awkward position. Neither of you knew how to comfortably continue the conversation. Thankfully, Hades didn’t seem to care, as he got impatient. Whining, he pawed at the door to be let in, dropping the package he was tired of holding.

“Ah, I should probably go. Enjoy your mail,” you coughed, opening your door for your furry friend.

“Definitely. Thanks for returning it!” Joe grinned, finishing locking his door.

“No problem.”

And that seemed like the end of the conversation. Until-

“Wait,” he suddenly said. 

You turned back to face him, your hands lingering on the door and entry way. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t get your name,” he murmured, now standing to face you completely.

Something about that gave you a bit of a light and friendly feeling. Almost comfortable, despite being strangers.

“I’m [y/n] [l/n],” you said, reflecting his smile.

“Cool, cool,” he responded. “I’ll see you around then, [y/n],” he beamed.

You hoped that statement to be true when you bid farewell to each other and parted ways.

You just didn’t expect it to be so soon afterward. 

The cafe was quiet and peaceful. You were responding to a client’s email on your phone, sipping your drink. In your mind, you had decided to leave and return home in maybe ten minutes. But, once again, the universe seemed to foil your plans again.

“[y/n]?”

The sound of his voice, and your name, of course, made your head shoot up suddenly in its direction. There he was, clad in a dark shirt, jacket, and jeans. In his hand was a cup of what looked like coffee, his other hand stuffed into his pocket.

Shutting off your phone, you suppressed an unusually large smile. He was just your neighbor, no need for a smile so big. 

“Joe! Hey, take a seat if you want!” you greeted back. He took the seat across from you gratefully.

The conversation that followed lasted, what? Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? No, it was more like an hour, which was strange for someone like you. You had decided to talk about some mundane things, like the weather and how your guys’ day was. Turned out he had just come back from a meeting. And that had pulled in the topic of jobs.

“What do you do?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m a photographer, actually. What about you?” 

“Ooh, I’m an actor.”

Oh, now that really started the conversation. As time passed, you became even more comfortable with each other. He was an actor? Now, how was that not supposed to be interesting? 

“Wait, really? Was that what the meeting was for, then?” you asked, a little shocked by his modest answer. He seemed proud, that wasn’t a lie, but in no way was he boasting.

“Yeah! I got to meet all my co-stars, so that was pretty fun,” he answered. “What about you? You said you were sending emails?”

“Yeah, kind of boring, but it was just for an appointment I had just finished. I need to get them all done since I’m going away for a couple of weeks.”

“For what?” 

“Just visiting family. Kind of like a reunion,” you replied. In reality, you grandmother was sick, but you didn’t feel like it was too important of a detail. Besides, the pity you get from just that statement was a little tiring.

“I bet your dog, Hades, right? Will have a fun time somewhere new, then!” he beamed.

In return, you gave him a bit of a sad smile. “He would, wouldn’t he? But he’s not coming. Travelling stresses him out, so I’d rather not move him unless it was necessary,” you clicked your tongue. “In fact, I still have to find him a dog sitter. Everyone I know is busy so-”

“I’ll watch him!’ he offered immediately.

That made you pause for a moment. “Are you sure? I mean, he’s no trouble at all, but still-”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, a confident sound in his voice. “We haven’t started filming yet, and the project is still new for us. Besides, he sounds like a pretty fun dog to be around.”

You laughed at that statement. “Yeah, he is. I’m leaving in a few days, but if you change your mind, you can tell me. I can really just hire some random dog sitter near me or something.”

“Nonsense, it’ll be fine!” he reassured you, drawing out the “fine” as if it had a million letters in it.. At that moment, he took a quick look at the time. “Look, i’ll give you my number and we can talk about it, okay?” he offered.

The thought of giving him your number made you feel as if you heart had been filled with clouds. How strange, as you had only met a few weeks before.

“I- okay, sounds good. Thank you again! And here,” you held out your phone to him with an open contact, to which he exchanged his number with you.

And only moments after that, though he insisted he really did not want to end this conversation, he decided it was time for him to head out. The cafe closed early that day, and he had to drop by a friend’s house that day to pick something up. However much you didn’t want to admit it, you wished you could talk with him more, but you also had things to do as well, such as pack, plan, and give attention to Hades.

With that, you bid farewell again and parted ways. 

While texting, he made conversation easy, and made everything seem comfortable to you. Now, you had started developing some type of feelings, but there was no way they were real, right? Must’ve been just a little crush that would wear off in about a week or two when you’re away. 

You had talked about the details with taking care of Hades, and when the day came to leave, you unfortunately had to say goodbye to your lovely little boy.

“Bye, sweetheart. I’ll be home before you know it,” you cooed, scratching his head as Joe held the door open to bring his stuff in. It was early in the morning for everyone. He was wearing a plain white shirt and what looked like old shorts, looking as though he had just woken up, which he probably did. Your flight was early, but he insisted he was fine with the hours.

Standing up, you looked up at the boy next door once again.

“You sure you’ve gotten everything?” you asked, slightly worried.

“Don’t worry about it, [y/n]. We’ll have fun, okay? Now, you have some too. I’ll send you pictures even,” he reassured you, a lazy smile on his face. He did that a lot, didn’t he? Smile like there was no problem in the world? It was almost like a domestic sight.

“Thanks, Joe. Really, I’ll pay you right when I get home and-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Who said anything about paying?” he snorted. “This is a favor. Now go, you’re gonna miss your flight!”

Taking one last look, you gave him a quick smile, and a kiss to Hades’ forehead before leaving onto the elevator. 

While you were away in [y/s], Joe had kept his word. Everyday he had texted you goofy pictures of him and Hades, whether it be with him looking over the counter longingly at a piece of meat Joe was eating, or him bounding across the park with Joe’s cheerful commentary in the background. 

And, to make it even better, Joe had started talking to you outside of the topic of Hades. He would strike up conversation every now and then (and even you would, too), or start asking about your day after sending a video of you goof of a dog trying to play hide and seek with Joe. 

It was nice, making you feel like he really did care about knowing you, besides talking about your dog and polite conversations. Eventually, a week in, the conversations became anything. Whatever you felt like talking about, you talked about it. Like why Pringles cans were shaped the way they were, why the letter w isn’t ‘double-v’ instead. It made you excited to come back home besides seeing your pup again.

While sitting with your grandmother in the hospital room, you had gotten a message from Joe. As she was still asleep, you decided to open it. It was a simple video, with Hades rolling around the house, to which Joe described as “trying to get his wiggle-waggles out”. 

A small laugh left your lips as you watched, responding to Joe within only a few seconds.

Because you were so invested in the conversation, you were surprised to hear your grandmother speak up from her supposed slumber.

“You’ve got a boyfriend now? Why does nobody tell me anything,” she murmured under her breath.

You turned your head to look at her, not realizing your phone screen was visible to the woman’s eyes.

“He’s not my boyfriend. We met only a few weeks ago, grandma. He’s dog-sitting Hades for me,” you explained. How absurd it was for someone to assume you were in a romantic relationship just because he was a guy. However, you’d admit you wouldn’t mind a little romance. But this isn’t what we’re talking about right now.

“Oh, really? Hum. A good connection you have, then, from what I can see.”

“You were reading my messages?”

“I may have terrible hearing, but my reading can go to your screen, young lady. If you’ve known each other for only a few weeks, then it seems like you guys clicked very well,” she murmured. “Besides, seems like a friendly guy. You don’t come by those too often, huh? Especially in my time.”

You smiled fondly at the moment, squeezing the woman’s hand gently. “Ah, I think they’re easier to find now, ma, I think you’d be glad to know. But you can’t really tell that just from seeing one of our conversations,” you commented.

“Or can I?” she asked mischeviously, her face morphing into a sly smile. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, voice filled with humor.

…

Could she? She couldn’t, right?

When you returned home, it was like a weight had been pulled off your chest. You couldn’t believe your flight was done, lugging your suitcases and bags across the sidewalk to your apartment building. Oddly, there stood two familiar figures. Hades and Joe.

“Welcome home!” he said, jogging down the steps with your excited companion. He grabbed a suitcase and bag from your hold. “Decided i’d help you with your stuff,” he explained, his eyes squinting against the bright rays of the sun.

“Aw, that’s really sweet, Joe. Thanks, you really didn’t have to!” you laughed.

“Don’t mention it!” he said teasingly, walking up the steps with you. 

Seeing him again had awoken something in you. It made your heart feel high and your intelligence feel low. Something your grandma would say ‘dumb with love’. 

You had thought these feelings would go away when you spent time away from him in another state, but you happened to be wrong. You didn’t know whether to be annoyed or glad of this fact.

Finally, after a short conversation about how your trip went, you had arrived at your guys’ floor. Joe took another extra step in help and decided to help you put your things inside your room. It was as if he was finding every excuse to hang out with you as much as he could.

When you finished with the moving, and the conversation seemed to come to an end, you took out a neat wad of cash. 

“What’s this for?” he asked, before realizing. “Oh. Oh, no. Are you crazy? I’m not taking that. As I said, it’s a favor.”

“Fine, then take this as a favor,” you challenged sassily. 

“You wish, princess,” he joked, laughed at the situation. Before you could process the little nickname, he had pulled out a letter and held it out to you. “Also, I think this is for you,” he said.

What a coincidence. Another misplaced letter, just like the way you two had begun to know each other.

“Really? Weird. Thanks, by the way,” you chuckled, taking the letter from him.

For a fleeting moment, he seemed nervous. How did you pick that feeling up? You weren’t sure. But there was something there between the two of you. This silence wasn’t awkward like the ones before, but nice, actually.

“Well, I should probably head to work. I’ll see you around?” he asked, as if trying to reflect what had happened weeks before.

“Definitely. I’ll look forward to it,” you responded, glee evident in his face when you agreed.

And that was the end of the conversation for that time, with him leaving for work and your heading inside to unpack and catch up on clients. 

Later that night, you had realized you hadn’t opened up the misplaced letter Joe had returned to you, yet. Upon further inspection, you realized that… it wasn’t even a proper letter. All it had was your name on it and gibberish as the return address. How strange.

Opening the letter, it read:

Dear [y/n],

This might be embarrassing to say after only knowing each other for a short amount of time, but I really enjoy being around you. 

I know I won’t let you pay me for taking care of Hades, but maybe you could let me take you out on a date and we can call it even instead of cash? I’ll pay, don’t worry. 

No pressure!

Signed,

Joe

P.S., please let me dog-sit Hades more often- I (really) love him. He’s a good dance partner. And no, I’m not joking.

Enclosed in the envelope were several pictures of Hades playing with Joe and early morning pics that he hadn’t sent to you before. It was like a little bonus, and on the back he had written little notes describing the moment. It was sweet, really.

And so, in response to his letter, it only seemed appropriate that you would respond in the same way, right? 

Taking out a paper and pen, you began to write:

Dear Joe Mazzello,

--

Haha don’t hate me, please :)

I didn’t want to write more because I felt that would be too long, but I don’t know if you guys would even want a part two or to make this a series (which would take some time). Let me know your thoughts!

[purplesurveys]

1243

What happened last night? I passed out at like 10 PM lol. It was a draining work week and I also had so. much. food. for dinner that the only reasonable thing to do after was sleep.

Who is the last boy you hugged? I’m not sure...maybe Hans? I most likely just put an arm over his shoulders though, as opposed to a full bear hug.

What was the last thing you thought? Tried to remember what happened last night so I can answer the first question.

What are you thinking about right now? That I should clean my glasses because all I see are smudges lol, but I can’t seem to find the cleaning cloth for it at the moment.

Would you have sex with the last person you sent a message to? No, plus she has a girlfriend so that would just be a very messy situation.

Would you consider yourself spoiled? In terms of me and my siblings yeah, I was probably the most spoiled. My parents allowed for it as long as I was giving them good grades, but they also knew when to be practical and call me out if I was starting to show brattiness.

What was the last text you sent? I was just asking Kata if she would be able to present for one of our client meetings or if she needed me to take over the meeting for her, since her internet was being unstable.

Do you break things when you are mad? I hurl things but always make sure they land on something soft lol.

If you could run away to any place, where would you go? Some remote island in like Siargao or Palawan where I can have the sea to myself for a couple of days.

Whose hoodie did you last wear besides your own? I don’t really like wearing other people’s clothes.

Did something happen today that made you angry? Hmm, none yet so far.

What did you do today? So far I’ve just done my homework, made a Powerpoint, and attended my Korean lessons. I’m actually learning a lot and it’s so fun! The two-hour session doesn’t feel like two hours at all.

What did you do Friday night? Last night I had jjajangmyeon, tangsuyuk, and a big-ass corndog because I deserveddd a feast after the long work week lol. I tried to stay up and watch Run BTS too, but I was just so exhausted so I allowed myself to sleep early.

Are you afraid of losing the last person you talked to? We’re not the best of friends and I haven’t even met her in real life yet, but Kata and I have built a solid enough relationship in that I would be sad if she resigned or if I suddenly didn’t have to work with her anymore.

Are you lying to yourself about something? Possibly. Idk, I don’t really get introspective all that often.

Is your bed comfortable? I mean it’s comfortable but recently I’ve been thinking about just replacing it with an L-shaped sofa since I find couches infinitely more comfortable. They’re big space savers too...so we’ll see, hahaha.

Does it take a lot to make you happy? Nooooooo I smile easily at a lot of things.

Your best friend says to you now, “lets go to a party and get trashed!”? I will probably reply with a snarky-ish but still lighthearted comment on how she seems to think there is no pandemic around, and politely decline.

Who knows mainly all of your secrets? Angela. And I guess Gabie, too. Can you go a day without thinking about the person that’s on your mind now? I’m not thinking of anyone.

What were you doing at 1 in the morning? Passed out.

If someone looked ON your bed, what would they find? The workbooks for my Korean lessons, my notebook, pillows, hoodie, phone, tumbler, and Tata plushies. It’s a bit crowded there right now hahaha.

Were you single over last summer? Summer of 2020? Nope but it had also been a quickly deteriorating relationship by that point.

Has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes? I don’t think so.

Have you ever been awake for 48 hours straight? I don’t think I’ve ever gone that far. Maybe 30, 32-ish hours but not two days straight.

How many different people of the opposite sex have you cried over? Three - my grandpa (when he died), Nacho (when he died), and my dad (whenever we had to drop him off at the airport).

When you think of the rainbow, what pops in your head? Either Pride or J-Hope.

Is the person you last texted single? She is in a relationship.

Was last night terrible? No, just terribly uneventful.

Do you consider yourself lucky? In some ways, yeah. It’s things like being lucky to have a roof above my head, to have a full-time job during a pandemic, to have a constantly-stocked pantry, etc. I don’t really like using the term ‘lucky,’ though.

Are you ever a freak about cleanliness or organization? Cleanliness not so much, but I am a control freak about keeping things organized, yup.

Are you wasting time on the person you like? I’m not into anyone.

[pokemon-ventures]

Blank Slate

Just something inspired by bonniekf8-blog ‘s ask where Lance’s S/O gets hit in the head and temporarily loses their memory! I’ll say this is the first part, idk where this will go, but i love the idea.

This is a long one, let me know if you like it!

He had been in meeting’s all day while (Y/N) was working when it happened. A pokemon went berserk in the center and they got hurt. Hit in the head. A concussion.

When Lance got to the hospital the doctors warned him (Y/N) might not know who he is. It wouldn’t be permanent, but to take it slow and not rush the process. The more rest they get, the faster the recovery process will go and things will be back to normal.

Normal.

The word rings in his ears as he watches you sleep, your head wrapped up and face set so peacefully like it’s all a dream. He holds your hand in his, fingers laced and pressed to his chest as the monitors beep in a steady rhythm. Within minutes and your lives were thrown for a loop, would normal be attainable?

He hushes his thoughts, his anxiety rearing it’s head to scare him even more than he was earlier. So wrapped up in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize you have awoken and have realized a grown man is holding your hand to his chest. He jumps a bit in his skin when you gently pull your hand away, your brows scrunching together in confusion as you look at him.

Your head pounds and it feels as though you’ve been dragged through a lake upside down. Your memories are a blur and it hurts to even try to think, much less think about what happened.

None of that explains why Lance the Champion is at your bedside, grasping your hand to his chest. This is the head of the Indigo League, Dragon Tamer known all across Johto and Kanto for his pokemon, his position and his looks. And he’s here! Holding your hand!

“Um, hello,” you greet him and grimace at how husky your voice sounds.

“I’ll get you some water, and the nurse,” he stands from the seat and crosses the room in a swift movement.

You can’t help but check him out in that time. Growing up, you and your sisters used to watching his interviews like crazy and cheer for him in the Champion Cup. What would they say if they saw him in your hospital room?

Wait, do they even know you’re in the hospital?

“Thanks,” you rasp, taking the cup from him and down it quickly. You clear your throat and try speaking again, this time you’re more satisfied with how your voice comes out. “Um, does my family know I’m here?”

“Yes, I’ve called your sisters and your parents,” he smiles, standing at the end of the bed. “Do you remember anything?”

You open your mouth to speak when the nurse and doctor come in and take your vitals. They ask the same questions and you glance at Lance, wondering why he’s allowed to stay in the room while your personal info gets said. Have you done something wrong? It’s no secret he’s also a government agent, maybe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Either way, he shouldn’t be listening to this.

“Lastly, what do you remember?” your doctor questions, his fingers hovering over his computer on the tray next to the bed.

You shift a bit. Uncomfortable with all the eyes on you in the room and Lance can’t help it, he has an inkling you don’t know who he is and he wants to confirm it. It’s heartbreaking to think you’ve forgotten him, but he already has a plan to take care of you. If you’ll let him, now technically a stranger. He’ll have to prove to you that you’re married before you check out.

“Um, I went to work this morning in Olivine, I work at the pokemon center,” you start, trying not to strain yourself. These memories come back fast, but a little foggy. “I was taking care of a client’s..... Graveler? And it got defensive. Hit me with it’s arm on the head.”

The doctor frowns and glances at Lance. You do the same, wondering what scene he stumbled upon to find you. Were you helping some criminal’s pokemon?

Lance clears his throat after the doctor nods at him. “You haven’t worked in Olivine for a couple of years, (Y/N).”

“Oh,” you deflate, unsure what this means.

“You were attacked by a Graveler, however, so all is not lost,” the doctor pats your hand. “This is common in these injuries, the Chansey one scene was quick to use Heal Pulse on you. I expect you’ll be getting your memories back within a week or so. Had she been any time later and I would be worried.”

That makes you relax and you thank the doctor for his time as he gets up to leave. He would like for you to have one meal before heading home and prescribes some pain meds for you as well. The nurse gets food from the cart and sets it on the table tray for you.

Once they’re gone, you find it hard to move as Lance unpacks a duffel bag on the couch, pulling out some sweat pants and a t-shirt. He returns to your bed side and pulls the food so that it’s sitting over you. When you shy away from his offer to help you sit up, he smiles warmly, though you can see the hurt in his eyes.

“You don’t remember me,” he states with sadness.

“Um, I know who you are,” you mumble. “I’m just confused... Am I in trouble? Are you investigating something?”

He registers your words after a moment and chuckles. “No (Y/N). We’re married.”

Your world spins on its axis as you gauge his expression, waiting for him to laugh it off and slip into interrogation mode. When it doesn’t come, he lifts your left hand with his to show you the matching bands. You push the food away and sit up slowly, glancing from your hands to his face, wondering who’s pulling this prank on you.

“We’re what now?” you stammer.

He laughs. “We’re married.”

You pinch yourself, then him, when he flinches you glance around the room. “Is this a prank? My sister Emily would do this to me. How much is she paying you?”

While funny, Lance can’t help but feel sad to see you believe you couldn’t have married him. He takes his phone out of his pocket to show you his lock screen, a picture of the two of you at home. Your head on his chest after a rough shift at the center.

“See?”

You take the phone from him and examine the picture. He looks happy with you next to him, his handsome smile familiar from the poster you and your sisters had in your room at home. It all lines up, but it seems too perfect.

Your memories lost from an attack at work, you wake up and this hot man is claiming to be your husband.

You must still be in a coma.