#my new year’s resolution was to shut the fuck up. glad to see just how miserably i am failing at that

[campbyler]

okay, so, i will admit that even though i keep seeing your fic EVERYWHERE, i avoided it despite being a byler, for the sole reason that it's so popular. idk why but when i tried reading it before, i barely got past the first paragraph before going nope, nope, NOPE.

but now i'm reading it again and I AM OBSESSED. what the hell did you all put in this fic?! i literally missed my train AND bus stop on the way home because i got too hooked reading the fic SIJXNDKSKSK

anyways, you guys are such amazing writers and this fic of yours is going to live in my soul rent free for a LONG TIME.

hello! warning for a long post incoming, but like 90% of this is just some thoughts i have on the matter, not directed at your specific ask anon. so glad you ended up liking it though!! i can deeply sympathize with the public transit horrors though omg a couple weeks ago i accidentally rode my first bus almost to the end of its line when i should’ve gotten off about eight stops earlier. genuinely don’t know what i was doing to not notice for that long lol. i also am not putting this under a read more because mobile decided it hates me so i am so sorry if it doesn’t automatically add one 😭

neither of us are believers in having to like things solely on the basis of them being big — there are plenty of popular things in fandom and outside of it that we don’t personally care for — and while we are so so grateful for all the support and interaction and appreciation we’ve gotten, i feel like this is also part of the inevitable consequences of a fandom piece breaching containment? our fic isn’t going to be for everyone, and there will always be people who dislike it but that’s ok! it’s a niche au with a Lot of lore and longgggg chapters in a fandom with a seemingly significant preference towards in-universe best friends to lovers fics, usually some form of canon divergence or compliance. we have said this so many times before but we literally expected our first chapter to get a FRACTION of the interaction it did, because a lot of people also don’t love to read long incomplete chaptered fics while they’re still updating. if we were writing a fic hoping it would get popular, we would have chosen literally any other premise, and so i would like to make this one thing clear: whether someone doesn’t like the fic itself or doesn’t care enough for the premise to try, it’s okay! it happens and it happens often and we literally do not care.

with that being said, the thing that does get a little 🤨 — both as authors of a larger fic and also just seeing it happen for other Popular Things — is this weird like. groupthink mentality that often seems to come with the Popular Thing in question? while we do actually get this sentiment directed at us pretty often, people usually aren’t saying it To Our Faces — it’s more often posts under the tag or mentions or whatever being like “everyone’s read acswy but me, should i read it?” or “am i the only one here who isn’t obsessed with acswy” or “why is it so popular what’s the hype” etc. and while, like i said, we don’t care if someone likes or doesn’t like our fic, what does annoy us a bit is when people seemingly have to like. conduct a survey or something just to see if they should even TRY reading a fic. like, you have ao3 access, you know the title of the fic and the fandom and probably even have a link — literally just open it up and read a little bit! why are you waiting for 20 replies to your post to hype you up to try something that will have absolutely zero consequences if you end up disliking it!! it just honestly feels like people are trying to gauge whether their investment of time will be worth it and i get it to an extent — fics are long (guilty), they take time to read, sometimes the plot takes a bit to pick up if there’s a lot of exposition and it’s hard to get past that hurdle, and we are all busy people — but to a farther extent it does make it feel like fanworks turn into a product to consume after they reach a certain level of popularity, and “is [insert fic] good, should i start it even if it’s long?” starts sounding an awful lot like asking if something is worth your money to buy. i just can’t wrap my head around why something as innocuous as a fanfiction, created by other fans for you to read for freeeeeeee, would require so much deliberation and crowdsourced input to even just be checked out. and i cannot stress enough that there is no consequence to disliking this fic or any fic, popular or not. like, the worst thing that can happen is you lose 20 minutes of your life, but tbh people who hit post on this stuff at 2am don’t strike me as particularly concerned about this lol

anyways, genuinely all we ask is that our readers give acswy a good faith effort because they actually want to, not because they feel like they have to or are trying to slog through it just to feel included or whatever. even from the interaction we actually get via asks, comments, etc (not even counting stuff like twt mentions or the general tag) it immediately becomes sooo apparent who’s reading our fic because they like it and are having fun engaging with it and us as part of a fandom community vs the people that are…. Not doing that lol. and all that to say: thank you for giving us that good faith effort! we get it, we would both be lying if we said that we have never fallen victim to the anti-popularity mindset — that’s not at all what we are implying here. there have been so many times i have not cared for a popular fandom fic and so many other times i’ve loved them. i guess i just wish it was a more common mindset to accept that you won’t necessarily like something if it’s popular, but also that the fact of it being popular doesn’t automatically detract from its quality. the only way you’ll know is to try for yourselffff (maybe without having to conduct that survey first. lol)

[waters-and-the-wilde]

okay speaking of wrestling and also apropos of 'Rita drags him in by his tie', I was previously having Thoughts about imminently post Got His Ass wherein Rita is bound and determined to drag Nureyev kicking and screaming back into being family again so uh. scenario.

Rita corners Nureyev for A Conversation after they Get His Ass, like plot resolution denouement loose ends and stuff where he's in the clear debt-wise, made his peace with Slip however that looks, he and Juno Have Talked but they're like just on the other side of Having Talked. like Things Are Okay but also everything's just so raw and they're being So Careful with each other, it's like the early days on the Carte Blanche again and it's hard to shake the feeling that any more disturbance is going to topple whatever they're trying to rebuild

so Nureyev is just. his whole brain is full of fire alarms. he's vibrating in place like a greyhound that just got picked up at the shelter after it got spooked and ran away from home. this time he has no high ground as the injured party, he and Rita have known each other for a year now so there's a lot less of her initial 'sniff out the new beau' hesitancy, and sure he knows Rita well enough that it's obvious she's not gonna up and Ruin Him on purpose when she wholeheartedly volunteered to get him out of the mess he was in but still. she's the most unpredictable person he's ever met, he has no idea how this is going to go.

like logically he knows that he and Juno are working shit out and logically he knows that Rita's kinder than the people in her life deserve and might continue to tolerate him, but ultimately she's Juno's best friend who might well just be about to give him the mother of all 'you're on thin fucking ice' shovel talks, like she can't possibly still approve of him anymore right??

so he's scrambling to do preemptive damage control, he's throwing everything he's got into trying to Fix This. going on about how he knows what she must think of him and how sorry he is and that all he has to say for himself is that he only wanted to keep Juno safe, that he couldn't bear the thought of dragging him down with him, not when he was free and their family was together and he knows he should have ended it when Juno asked him to and he just wasn't strong enough and Rita's like. yeah that's nice i know Mista' Nureyev, hey can I tell you what I said to Mista' Steel when he told me about leaving you in that hotel?

and Nureyev shuts up and braces himself and nods very seriously and then she's like, actually you might wanna take off your glasses for this, and now he's extra confused and possibly even more terrified, and she waits until he's put them in a little case and set it on a side table and then there's just kind of a blur and a whole Rita NYEEERRRRRRAAaGGHHH!!!! noise and WHOOMP

pillow to the face

(for context. in my brain. I sorta presume that Juno told her about what happened with Miasma at some point in the aftermath of Newtown bc he owed her an explanation about both times he went missing, and yes she was glad that Juno didn't run away on an adventure across the galaxy without her but she knows a dick move when she sees one and also probably has the full context of baby Mista' Steel's self-sabotaging romantic choices (Juno said there was a whole thing about him walking out when he was with Diamond so I am assuming that Rita was privy to any number of related incidents over the course of those years). finding out that he passed up the chance to run away on a romantic adventure with the mysterious and dashing gentleman who he'd been mooning over for month, who was apparently also smitten with him the whole time and saved his life and tried to take care of him when he lost his eye?? she waited until he was staring into the bottom of his glass and then started whaling on him with a pillow)

anyway Nureyev doesn't get a chance to do much except yelp and sputter and get his arms up before she whacks him with the pillow again. and again. and starts yelling like 'YOu! are! such! a! big! dumb! baBY! Just! 'Cause! YOU! Think! People're better off! Without you! Don't make you! All! Noble 'n stuff!'

and he gets with the program pretty fast, which is to say that he's just on the floor letting her do her worst because that's just what's happening now

'alright I yield! I surrender! have mercy your honor!'

'DAMN! RIGHT! YOU! DO! DidN'T! Captain! Mom! Teach! you! aNYThInG! Big! Stupid! Tough guy! Tryin'a! Do it all! Yourself! We're! S'posed to be! FaMBLY! Now you're! Stuck with us! FoReVeR!!'

tackles him with the pillow. starts tickling him. both of them are shrieking. he vaguely registers that Juno has appeared and is slouching in the doorway 'my love i beg of you call off the attack i'll do anything' and Juno's like 'sorry honey i'm a little busy' and is holding up something that is probably comms-shaped and 'Nooooo, Juno how could you, JUNO SINCE WHEN DO YOU KNOW HOW TO RECORD THINGS'

(and the thing is Nureyev was just letting it happen because he assumed this was catharsis for Rita's sake and sure it's not not for Rita getting it out of her system but she processes things pretty fast you know? and she runs out of steam and goes off to get a snack and he's just there on the floor with his hair in his face kinda punch-drunk and Juno sidles up and sits beside him and whoops turns out Rita found the Release Feelings Valve and Juno's like 'yeah she does that. went a lot easier on me but I think that was mostly because I'd just gotten out of the hospital when i told her about all that.')

(a couple months later Ruby turns up to scoop Jet in the nick of time from a dangerous raid on Dark Matters and he asks what it's been up to and it pulls up the footage that Juno copied to the databanks. he gets a good kick out of the fact that Rita was on the same page about the whole 'he is solitary and overconfident and alone he can only fail' thing and that she got the opportunity to address it in the most rita way possible)

[mackmontgomery]

The waiting in the present for Cricket to catch up to what he was trying to tell her felt as eternal as every second of the last few months, leaving him to brace himself for an impact that would no doubt shatter him despite his reassurances otherwise.

"You're not supposed to think that," He says feebly when she asks what else she was supposed to think, knowing there was little scope for him to claim it was ludicrous to ever put him and Lori together in a sentence like that given what he had to tell her after Halloween. Logic was one thing, his feelings were another and he couldn't imagine ever having feelings for Lori the way he did and does about Cricket.

( He couldn't imagine feeling that way about anyone, not on the same magnitude. )

It doesn't all seem quite as lost when he sees her hear him and believe him, eradicating some of that fear that had been seizing a hold of him. He still feels like he may be skating on ice, but it doesn't feel as thin underfoot and he doesn't feel as wobbly when she tells him she wants him to be happy with her more than anything else.

He wishes he could get a timeout then so he could hone in on that with, to get it's definition from her on whether she meant it as alongside her like a friend or with as in something more.

Mack knows he wants the more, but he's fallen into the pitfall of being too much far too often, so he focuses instead on what he knows to be true.

( Between with or without, he's hearing her say the one he's been praying for. )

"I did want to kiss you," He blurts out, like the window to confess that might slam shut on him if he didn't throw himself through it there and then, "I don't think I've ever wanted to kiss anymore more than I wanted to in that kitchen with you but I didn't want to put you in another situation like Valentine's Day where I'm doing something dumb like kissing you and you're doing something smart like telling me why we shouldn't. Not on your birthday."

Despite the slight sting it had caused him at the time, she had made the right call for both of them on her doorstep when she had sent him home rather than invited him in.

"And I'm glad you did that because I don't think we would have ever figured out how to be friends again if we kept fucking around and fucking up and I might be fucking up in a whole other way right now, but I can't shake it and I can't shake you and I don't want to."

The sight of tears cuts through him easily, his heart sinking at being the cause of it. He can't keep his hands to himself then, framing her face with both of his as he gently brushes away a stray tear from her cheek like he could banish all the bad by gesture alone as he looks down at her.

"I'm sorry, I'm really not trying to make you cry. That's literally one of my big resolutions for the new year and I'm already fucking it before it's even here," Mack hopes he can pull it back with confirmation of what might have been his dumbest move in what had become a long stretch of moves that fell under the same definition.

"Yeah, I have. And trust me, I hear how ridiculous that sounds. Up and down, up and down like a doofus. But I'd hang out in that sweaty deathbox all day every day just for the chance to see you."

That plan being a complete and utter fail made him acutely aware that the reality of where he stood at that very second -- though not ideal in how it had started -- was the exact kind he had been trying to manifest in the elevator and her kitchen and the rooftop of Ocean Crest and stood by the dance floor at X and Van's wedding.

Just her, him and a moment he's not willing to pass him by like each of the ones that had preceded it.

"I know we shouldn't but can we just--"

With no end to his sentence along with little care to whether or not it was midnight and the built in excuse he had been pinning his hopes on earlier, Mack rolls the dice on leaning down and pressing his lips to hers that would either be the first of many or the last they would share.

@cricketcampbell

There's no satisfaction gained from the acknowledgement of what Cricket knows had been weeks of radio silence on her end.

Part of her had figured (hoped?) that he'd been aware of it, at least on some level. The switch up from their previous months of rambling texts about anything and everything to a read receipt and nothing more felt obvious to her on the nights she couldn't keep from scrolling back through their past conversations, which was most of them these days, but if Mack had noticed the shift, she was confident that nothing about his texts had said so.

(Not that it would have mattered. She wasn't sure what she'd even have said to him if they had.)

Cricket crosses her arms over her chest, a fight against both the nighttime chill and the weight of Mack's suddenly pitying gaze on her. He might not have actually been laughing at her then, but Cricket could hear it in his tone that he thought she was being ridiculous, which meant it was only a matter of time before they started to say things she wasn't sure they'd be able to come back from this time.

This was exactly why she hadn't wanted to do this tonight--or ever at all, ideally. She didn't want to go into another new year not knowing if he'd be a part of it.

"Yeah, well," Cricket scoffed. "What else am I supposed to think, Mack?"

She knows she isn't wrong, is the thing. Completely or otherwise, Cricket knows what it was that she'd seen happening between Lori and Mack the last few weeks. Of course she did, when every instance, every interaction, every day that passed where they looked her in the eyes and continued to lie to her had ultimately led to her inability to even be in the same room as them, two of her favorite people.

(But that was all just supposed to be okay because they had talked about her while continuing to sneak around behind her back?)

"Oh my God." Cricket had to laugh, or else she'd cry, but she was embarrassed to find that she was already doing the latter. "You do get how that's worse, right? Like I'm just so sorry that I was the one who had to remind you that maybe you should feel just, like, a little guilty about--"

Not being in love with Lori?

Cricket blinked to clear her blurred vision, as if the tears clinging to her lashes were the cause for her mishearing the words coming from his mouth. Even that somehow made more sense to her than thinking he'd actually meant for her to be the one to hear them...

At least, it did before she watched him pinch the air in the space between them; a distance that'd felt like miles narrowed down to mere inches with a mirror of a silly gesture that two months ago she never would've imagined had the power of making her heart stop beating right in her chest the way it did seeing it tonight.

It picks back up in a panic when Cricket realizes her stunned silence has allowed Mack to jump to a conclusion that couldn't be further from the truth that'd been threatening to claw it's way to the surface for months now.

"No! I mean, no, you--" She shook her head, forcing herself to take a deep breath as she tried to decide where to begin. "You're right. I have been ignoring your texts."

Not the most pressing matter, but perhaps the easiest for Cricket to be able to address and explain.

"But not because I don't want to talk to you. I, like, always want to talk to you, and you have no idea how much it's been killing me to pretend that I don't."

Her face softens as she realizes that maybe she was wrong about that, too.

"Or that the thought of you and Lori being together hasn't actually been killing me. Because it has. And I told myself that it was just because I hated that you guys were lying to me, and that if you would just tell me, then I could get over it and be happy for you because literally all I want more than almost anything is for you both to be happy...but to be so completely honest, Mack?" Cricket sniffled. "I think the one thing I want maybe even more than that is for you to be happy with me again."

A desire she hadn't thought was a real possibility not even five minutes ago, but that the hope of was already beginning to bloom something fierce in her chest.

"It's just--after the wedding, and then everything we talked about after Halloween, I thought maybe--some part of me thought maybe you could want that again too. But then on my birthday there was like this moment in the kitchen after everyone left where I thought you were going to kiss me and I realized then just how much I wanted you to but then you didn't and that's when I really started to notice how much you'd been hanging around and I just thought--"

Well, he knew exactly what it was she'd thought. She could feel her embarrassment from the sudden heat of her own tear-stained cheeks, but Cricket doesn't shy away from looking at him. Not when it's the closest she'd been to him all month and still had the slightest possibility of being the closest she'd be to him ever again after the scene she'd caused tonight.

"Have you really been riding in the elevator every day just to see me?"

@mackmontgomery

[yeongwvnhi]

ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ᴬᵍᵃⁱⁿ

Pairing - Baekhyun x fem reader -> exes to lovers | Genre - Angst, fluff | warnings - none | taglist - @twancingyunhoe @trashlord-007 @tiddy-boys | synopsis - when Baekhyun and you broke things off a year ago, it felt alright, but you came to the painful realization that nobody could ever replace him or love you like he did | word count - 2.1k | thanks to @tiddy-boys for beta-reading ♡

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It's days like these, rain hitting the window in harsh taps and angry wind blowing, when the nostalgia hits the hardest. After all, you were always one to dwell on the past. It's just what you do. 

Every day felt the same after the two of you broke things off. You don't even remember why exactly you even ended it in the first place. The pain still sits deep, coming to haunt you when you least expect it. 

Rainy days like those just trigger the nostalgia, the memories and bygone feelings. 

It's 12pm when you check your phone, yet you're still laying in bed. The lack of motivation due to this sudden wave of sadness is something you're not experiencing for the first time. 

And it's killing you slowly. These feelings are eating you up from the inside out. 

Without even realizing, tears are running down your cheeks in even, salty streams. 

"Why am I even crying…" You mumble and lift your arm to cover your face, trying to make it stop. "God, I'm so pathetic" 

You try to manage to stop your tears, wrist harshly rubbing your eyes. After a minute or so, you succeed in stopping them. 

instead pick up your phone, unlocking it and opening Instagram. 

One peek won't hurt, right…? 

His name at the top of your searches seems to be mocking you as you hover your finger above it. Should you really do it? What if he found someone new and his profile is filled with couple pictures? Or what if he feels nothing and is glad to be alone? What if, what if, what if…

"Fuck it" you hiss and tap on his username, his profile popping up after a brief second of loading the page. 

He… hasn't posted anything for a few months, his last post being from October last year. 

Oh for fucks sake… is this a good sign or not? It could mean he's been seeing someone new, but it could also mean he's just been living his life like usual. 

So many possibilities, yet no resolution seems to be in sight. 

"This is so annoying, oh my gooood" You groan and smack your head into your pillow, laying sprawled out like a star with an annoyed pout on your face. 

"It's been a god damn year," You grumble, "why do I still feel like this?" 

The sound of your fist hitting the mattress of your bed is dull, not the way you wanted it to sound. "I hate this, UGHH" The frustration in your voice is for sure loud and clear, accentuated well by the 'ugh'. 

This whole situation is stressing you out. "I need a shower.." You mumble, absent-minded, as you fling the covers back and swing your legs over the edge of your bed. 

—

Despite the gloomy weather, you decided to take a walk outside. The rain still hasn't let up, droplets of it occasionally hitting your face. 

"Why is it so cold today? It's already spring…" You mumble quietly to yourself, eyes strictly trained on the path in front of your feet and head held low. 

You're so lost in your thoughts, you don't see the person headed your way. 

And apparently, the person doesn't seem to notice you as well. So your shoulders collide and you stumble, umbrella falling out of your hand and fast quick steps to regain your balance. 

"I'm so sorry! Are you al-" The man rushes to apologize, but his words get stuck in his throat as he takes in who he just, quite literally, stumbled into. 

Rain has hit you mercilessly, soaking you from head to toe within seconds as you stand there, paralyzed. "Baek…Baekhyun?" 

His eyes are wide and mouth slightly open in shock as he doesn't know what to say or do. 

He hasn't seen or talked to you in at least nine or ten months for sure. What is he even supposed to say? "Yeah… it's- it's surely been a while" he dumbly answers. "Ah! Your umbrella!" Baekhyun rushes to pick it up and hold it over your figure. 

But the damage is already done. 

You're shivering, dripping with water but still you've a tiny smile on your lips at the sight of him. 

You delicately take hold of the handle, fingers gently enclosing around the man's hand. 

He doesn't move to let go, just standing there and staring into your eyes. "I-" 

You cut him off by mistake with a sneeze, the cold creeping in deep. It feels like your bones might freeze, grasp around both Baekhyun's hand and the handle of your umbrella tightening, muscles contracting to desperately stay warm. "S-Sorry for interrupting you" You say, teeth clattering and eyes averting. 

"No no don't worry about it!" He insists, "but we should get you home, your hand is cold as ice, Y/N" 

"Ah… you're right" You nod and he flashes you a warm smile. 

"Do you still live in the same apartment or did you move?" Baekhyun asks, back to being concerned about your wellbeing now. 

"I- I still live in the same place" You reply, your free hand holding onto your jacket for warmth, but in vain. 

"That's too far away, my place is way closer" He objects and gently pulls you along, "come on, let's get you freshened up before you really get sick" 

You only manage an awkward nod and let him lead you along, a surprisingly pleasant silence engulfing you two. 

—

Baekhyun unlocks the door to his apartment and firstly puts both of your umbrellas away, taking off his wet shoes in the process and you follow along. 

"Come on, I'll show you the bathroom" He says and you tag after him. 

He opens the door, turns on the light and quickly pulls out two towels for you. "You can just use my shampoo, I don't have anything suitable here for you, sor-" 

"Thank you" you break his rambling. "You wouldn't need to do this, so thank you" 

Baekhyun smiles softly, although his eyes tell a different story. "I'll bring you some clothes in a bit, okay?" 

"Mhm" you nod and give him a curt bow before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. 

You waste no time in stepping out of your soaked clothes and into the shower. 

You set the water to a nice warm temperature and rinse off the cold first, feeling relieved. 

Then there's a knock. "Hey Y/N, I'm putting some clothes on top of the washing machine for you now" he announces before opening the door, doing as he said and then leaving just as quickly as he came. 

"Still the considerate guy he always was…" You mumble with a sad smile, old memories coming back to haunt your mind with sweet images of the two of you. Him always knocking before he'd enter a room you would be in to announce himself. 

You loved that about him, he was always mindful of others and you're happy to see it hasn't changed at all. 

—

You finished quickly and put on the clothes he gave you. Some boxers and a way too big on you, black shirt. You dried your hair as best as you could with the towel he gave you and made sure you don't look like a lion by patting down your hair a bit. 

"Baekhyun?" You timidly call out after opening the door a bit. 

"Yeah?" He replies and you hear his footsteps approach. "What is it?" 

"Uhm- Where to put my wet clothes?" You ask. 

"Oh- Hold on, I'll put them in the washing machine" He says with big eyes and opens the machine for you to put them in. "I'll dry them after they're washed so you can change back, alright?" 

You nod quickly and thank him quietly. He opens the machine and you put your clothes inside, him doing the rest. 

"So, uh-" 

"Do you want some water?" He quickly asks, ears flaring red as he avoids your eyes. 

"Sure" you squeak back and follow him into the kitchen. He gets a glass out of a cupboard and fills it with water before handing it to you. 

You nip at the liquid as Baekhyun leans against the countertop adjacent to you, eyes taking in your figure. 

He missed seeing you in his clothes, you always looked so good in them. He just missed you in general. 

The reason why the two of you broke up a year ago? 

Baekhyun remembers it all too well. 

It was a work related thing actually. The two of you worked in different shifts and barely saw each other, yet alone had time for any couple stuff. 

Free days? Spent alone or arguing about never seeing each other. 

And at one point you had said to just break up. In that moment Baekhyun felt like he was hit by lightning, body stiff and eyes wide. He couldn't believe what he heard. Baekhyun felt anxiety cursing through his veins as his brain processed your words.

You had told him that you wouldn't hate him, but that your situation at that time just didn't allow any dating. The two of you never had hard feelings about the outcome, but it was hard to suddenly go back to being alone. 

And now you're here, in his apartment, wearing his clothes and smelling just like him. He can't believe this is happening. 

"Uhm, so" You speak up after setting the glass down on the other counter behind you. Your hands come up to grab the surface besides your waist and you avoid the man's eyes. 

"Yes?" Baekhyun can't help the hopeful hint in his voice as he urges you to continue your thoughts. 

"How has life been for you?" 

A chuckle escaped his lips at your question, shoulders jumping up and down in the process before he answered. "It's been rather boring but nice, if you get what I mean? I found a different job and work from home now" 

You nod quietly, "I've also found a new job and my shifts are less hectic" 

"Have you… found someone new?" 

You halt at his inquiry, gears in your mind temporarily stopping and he seems to take the lacking answer the wrong way. A frown pulls at his normally friendly and soft expression, making him look grumpy and bothered. "I see" 

"No, no! I- I haven't found anyone!" You quickly say, "I just… I couldn't move on" 

His expression changes to a sad smile, although he's kind of glad you're still somehow his. "Me neither" 

You scoff lightly, a cheeky smirk suddenly on your face. "No wonder, nobody could put up with your annoying ass anyway" 

"Hey!" He exclaims in shock. 

"I'm joking, I'm joking!" You insist, holding your stomach and laughing. "You're bearable most of the time" 

"That doesn't make it any better!" Baekhyun whines and you laugh out loud, hand flying up to cover your mouth. 

"Still the cocky little girl you've always been" He fires back and you snort. 

"Like you're one to talk" You roll your eyes at him and he exhales through his nose. 

His hands grab you by the collar of his shirt you're wearing and unexpectedly pull you into him. You squeal, hands shooting up to brace against his broad chest and you look up to be met by his cocky smile. "You never knew when to stop, no change at all there" he playfully nags. 

"Shut up" You weakly fight back. 

Baekhyun chuckles and you feel the rumble drumming against the palms of your hands. "How come you haven't moved on?" 

You lower your head, hands fumbling with his shirt. "Well… I came to the conclusion that just nobody could replace you. Nobody could love me like you did…" You mumble against his chest and Baekhyun feels a smile creeping up on his face. 

"I felt the same" He whispers back and his arms move to pull you into him more by your waist. 

After hearing that, you look back up at him with big eyes. "Really?" 

He nods and flashes you a bright smile. "Even though we fought a lot and barely had time for each other, I never stopped loving you" 

"Shut up" You almost whimper and move your hands to pull him closer by the back of his neck, lips meeting in the middle. 

Baekhyun's eyes almost fell out of their sockets before he came to his senses. 

One of his hands found its place on the back of your head as he moved his lips against yours with fervor. He greedily breathes you in, not wanting this to end as moves his mouth against yours. 

You shiver when his tongue meets yours and that's when you draw the line… for now. 

He chases after you for a second and you chuckle, dazed eyes meeting yours. "Slow down tiger" you say and peck the corner of his mouth. 

"Okay, okay" He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, "will you let me love you again?" 

"You bet" 

[jaskicr]

sequel to the clothes swap featuring buffskier i wrote for this ask:

for buffskier, for some reason jaskier has to wear geralt’s armour (this is like @spielzeugkaiser’s art) and geralt realises that his armour fits jaskier extremely well. and also jaskier can lift his (rather heavy) sword and can also fight with it

As Geralt follows Jaskier back to the village, he hangs back, and if he’s doing it for the glorious view in front of him, that’s no one’s business but his. 

Those tight leather trousers really bring out Jaskier’s considerable assets, hugging Jaskier’s thighs and ass and highlighting every flex of muscle as he walks. Clearly, walking beside Roach for hours every day has done wonders for Jaskier’s legs, and Geralt stares, unable to tear his eyes away, gulping as he takes in the strength of those thighs, wondering how hard they would be able to squeeze -

Suddenly, the thighs stop moving, and Jaskier’s amused voice reaches his ears. “Geralt, are you alright? You seem rather… preoccupied.”

Geralt jerks his gaze upwards to meet Jaskier’s twinkling blue eyes. “Uh?”

Then he realises that his mouth is hanging wide open, possibly about to drool, and he quickly snaps it shut, looking away. He really needs a dip into a river later. Preferably a very cold river. 

“You good?” Jaskier asks, turning around and stepping towards him, and for a moment, Geralt mourns the loss of that wonderful view of his behind, until he’s faced with Jaskier’s chest, made broader by the bulk of Geralt’s armour.

“Hm. Yes. Um.” Geralt struggles valiantly to keep his eyes on Jaskier’s face. “Let’s. Keep going?”

“If you’re sure.” Jaskier's lips are tilted in a smirk, unfairly red lips that Geralt wants to punch. With his mouth. Fuck, what is he thinking? “Do you want to walk next to me, or do you want to follow, ah, behind?”

Geralt grunts. Jaskier has totally picked up on his not-so-subtle staring, and Geralt speeds up to walk next to Jaskier, determined not to get caught out again, and Jaskier huffs a low laugh that sends pleasant shivers up Geralt’s spine. He resolutely ignores the warmth radiating from Jaskier’s bulk as they walk side by side, Jaskier silent for once as they trace their steps back to the village.

Without the distraction of Jaskier’s chatter, Geralt’s mind wanders once again. He recalls Jaskier cutting down the nekkers with expert ease, wielding Geralt’s sword like it’s an extension of himself, swinging the sword through the air with a savage grin on his face. Gods, Jaskier’s strength and unexpected skill with a sword - Geralt used to think that Jaskier was a bumbling bard who relied wholly on Geralt to protect him, who had little strength to speak of, but the past few hours had proved him so utterly wrong.

And he has never been more glad to be wrong. Jaskier’s strength and competence with a sword is an absolutely delightful revelation.

When they reach the village, Jaskier’s stance changes, his shoulders going back and his head tilting upwards, his face schooling into a stoic mask as he falls back into the part of a witcher, and it shouldn’t be as hot as Geralt finds it. Geralt follows him as he stalks into the tavern - no, he struts, hips swaying just so, bringing Geralt’s attention, once again, to his shapely ass. He struts like he wants to conquer the world, like he’s challenging anyone to stand up to him, projecting an aura of danger that Geralt is inexplicably attracted to.

He looks away, cheeks burning. Yes, he’s only just realised that Jaskier has a rather - fine physique, but that doesn’t give Geralt the right to - to ogle him. Jaskier has always been attractive, and Geralt has always admired him - objectively, of course - and there’s no reason that this new development should fluster Geralt as much as it does.

Not that he’s flustered. He has more composure than that. He’s simply shocked, that’s all. All these years of travelling with Jaskier and he hadn’t noticed - he’s simply ashamed of his own lack of observational skills, nothing more. 

His denial sounds flimsy even to himself.

Once Jaskier has collected the payment, they fetch Roach and head out of the village, a silent consensus between them to travel a good distance from it before they change back, during which Geralt tries to contain his thoughts and wrestle them back into appropriate best friend territory.

Because Jaskier is his best friend, and he definitely doesn’t look at Geralt like that, and Geralt shouldn’t be looking at Jaskier like that.

“We’re far enough,” Geralt grunts, pulling Roach to a halt. They’ve travelled a fair distance from the village, far enough that no one should be following them, and they’re obscured by the trees if anyone does pass by. “We should. Change.”

He dismounts Roach and finds himself face to face with Jaskier, who’s standing right in front of him, arms crossed, and Geralt may be a witcher, but even his immense self control can’t stop him from sneaking a glance at the way Jaskier’s crossed arms emphasise the thickness of his biceps, pushing his chest up. 

“You know, Geralt,” Jaskier begins, eyes trailing over Geralt’s face before dipping lower, and when he continues, his voice is raspy. “I couldn’t help but notice you looking at me… quite a lot today.”

Jaskier’s gaze burns through Geralt’s body, lighting him up, and he looks away. “Hm.”

“Oh, don’t hm me, my dear bard.” A gloved finger presses against Geralt’s cheek, forcing his face back to look straight at Jaskier. “Did you think I didn’t notice? You weren’t exactly subtle.” 

There’s laughter in his voice, and something else too, something that Geralt has heard Jaskier use before, but never directed at him. He swallows audibly, and Jaskier’s gaze drops to his throat for a second before flicking back up, blue eyes bright and piercing.

“I -” Geralt’s voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat. “I wasn’t.”

“Oh, you totally were,” Jaskier murmurs with a slow grin. He takes a step closer to Geralt, the movement slow and deliberate. “If I’d known wearing your armour would get you to look at me like this, I would’ve suggested swapping clothes long ago.”

“Like… like what?” Geralt’s heart pounds loudly in his ears, and Jaskier is too close and not close enough.

“Like you want to eat me alive,” Jaskier murmurs, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and Geralt stares. “Like you want to take your armour off me, piece by piece.”

Geralt’s mouth opens and closes, but only a faint, strangled noise comes out, and Jaskier’s face breaks into a pleased grin.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs, and then he’s pressed against Geralt, all that bulk and muscle fitted under Geralt’s black armour, all that warmth right there. “Do go ahead.”

Geralt is frozen, his mind barely processing Jaskier’s invitation, and when he doesn’t move, Jaskier sighs fondly and cups his cheek with a gloved hand.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he murmurs, searching Geralt’s eyes. When Geralt lets out something akin to a strangled whine, Jaskier’s proximity turning his brain to mush and making his head spin, Jaskier chuckles and leans in.

The kiss starts slow and tender, Jaskier’s lips slightly chapped as he presses his mouth to Geralt’s. Then Geralt’s brain catches up to what’s happening, realising that Jaskier is kissing him, that Jaskier is pressed against him and cupping his face with gentle hands, and Geralt deepens the kiss, placing his hands on that broad chest.

When Jaskier pulls away, breathing quick and shallow, his eyes are dark, his lips swollen. “You like seeing me in your armour, huh?” 

Geralt more than likes it. Maybe he should just let Jaskier wear his clothes all the time, which would make their travels far more interesting, and far more torturous on Geralt’s end.

“I like you,” he blurts out, and flushes at the too-honest words.

Jaskier’s eyes widen, and Geralt is about to retract his statement when Jaskier beams, delight spreading across his face, and he leans in again, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of Geralt’s mouth. “I like you too, sweetheart,” he whispers, breath hot against Geralt’s skin, and Geralt shudders. “I like you a lot.”

“Mmf.” His face is burning. “You - uh. I. You look good.” Apparently, Geralt’s brain has lost its filter, but when Jaskier’s gaze turns smouldering, he can’t really complain.

“Good, huh? Care to tell me more?”

“You look good in my clothes.” Geralt’s mouth is running, his thoughts spilling from his lips in an uncontrollable flood, unable to hold back his words under Jaskier’s heated gaze. “I like how my clothes fit you, I like how you fight -”

Jaskier crowds him back until his back hits a tree, trapping him between the tree and the solid bulk of Jaskier’s body, and then Jaskier is pressing him against the tree trunk and Geralt is gasping into the fierce, passionate kiss.

He lets his hands roam around Jaskier’s body, mapping the breadth of his chest and shoulders, relishing in the feeling of leather under his fingertips, and Jaskier presses impossibly closer, one hand bracing himself against the tree and the other dropping to rest on Geralt’s waist, sending a brand of heat through his body.

But it’s not enough, and Geralt finds himself tugging at the straps of his armour, desperate to get it off Jaskier, desperate to see, and Jaskier breaks the kiss with a raspy laugh.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

Geralt only tugs more insistently, throwing a piece of the armour off to the side. There’s something enticing about taking his armour off piece by piece when it’s on Jaskier, and his hands shake slightly as he undoes the straps. Jaskier starts nosing at his neck, and he almost goes pliant, but his determination to see Jaskier bare in front of him keeps his hands from dropping, and finally, the last piece of armour falls away, and Geralt drinks in the magnificent sight.

Jaskier’s shoulders are wonderfully broad, and Geralt skates his hands over warm skin, marvelling at the strength in them. He slips his hands down, tangling his fingers in the dark hair that decorates Jaskier’s chest, hair that Geralt has only seen glimpses of through unbuttoned shirts, hair that Geralt now tugs at appreciatively. 

“Mm, like what you see?” Jaskier rumbles lowly, and Geralt doesn’t answer, showing his appreciation by pulling Jaskier into another kiss as he wraps his arms around Jaskier, hands roaming his large, muscled back.

Suddenly, Jaskier’s hands are underneath his thighs and Geralt is being lifted, his back still pressed against the tree, and he yelps, wrapping his legs instinctively around Jaskier’s waist, arms gripping tighter around Jaskier’s neck as his body lights up in arousal.

Holy fuck.

“What -”

Jaskier swallows his exclamation, and Geralt whimpers. He’s never been lifted before, certainly not with such ease, and there’s barely any strain in Jaskier’s breathing as he continues holding Geralt up, never breaking the kiss.

Gods, Jaskier is strong, and it’s utterly thrilling.

Geralt lets his gaze trail downwards, appreciating the way Jaskier’s thick biceps bulge and flex as he bears Geralt’s weight easily, and he gives in to the urge to palm at Jaskier’s arms, trusting Jaskier not to drop him as he lets one hand fall from its grip around Jaskier to squeeze one strong bicep, enjoying the feeling of the muscles underneath his palm.

“My darling witcher,” Jaskier murmurs against Geralt’s lips. “As much as I like where this is going, perhaps we should move somewhere more comfortable.”

A rush of heat floods Geralt’s body, and he meets Jaskier’s eyes, fixed on him with something like hunger, and Geralt inhales sharply. 

He can’t wait to be devoured.

[prentissinred]

Already Gone pt.2

Special shoutout to @eprcntiss for the nudge to write a part two ☺️

Rated T Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Word Count: 2k  AO3

Part One: Already Gone

Part Two: Love Me Better

Aaron closed the door to the study behind him, pretending he didn't hear that final choked sob. He blinked his own tears back; they had no place on what was supposed to be the second happiest day of his life.

She was leaving.

Some twisted part of him was almost glad. That he no longer had to walk into work and feel like his heart was being slowly carved out of his chest every time she looked at him, every time she got into her own car to return to a home that wasn't theirs. It was unfair to the point of cruelty, having to face the future he had been planning for years, ripped away in the course of an evening...only to return months later, just out of his reach.

He had grieved her, as surely as if she had died on that operating table. Grieved the sight of the diamond he had picked out on her left hand. Grieved the house they'd been eyeing, the one with enough rooms for all the plans they’d made and a yard big enough for the dog they had promised to Jack. Grieved every night of fevered touches under the covers and every night they had been too exhausted to do anything except curl against the warmth of the other.

She had eventually returned, like a phantom coming back to him. Relieved though he was that she was finally safe, there wasn't a moment where he saw her and was not reminded of every deception, every moment she had chosen to tell him that she was fine instead of the truth. Running became the only healthy outlet for the pain. And a few weeks later, it led him to a funny, kind brunette who had him smiling for the first time in over a year.

Beth. He shook himself out of the internal crisis he was having against the wall of Dave's living room. He had to find her, hold her, remind himself why he'd asked her to marry him and why it had felt so right just yesterday. Remind himself of everything good about them. Because she was good — exceedingly so. Because she was not frustrating and complicated and closed-off and asking the worst kinds of questions at the worst possible time. He jogged up the stairs to the master bedroom where she was getting ready with her mother.

“You know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” Dave’s voice came up behind him.

He gave his friend a wane smile. "I think we can dispense with the superstitions."

"Say what you will, but I said the same thing at my first, and look how well that turned out." Aaron could only chuckle dryly in response.

Dave clapped his arm. “Nervous?”

"A little." He hadn't been. In fact, he’d been filled with certainty at the start of the evening. He tried not to think too much about why that had changed. I loved you. I love you.

"I saw Emily left.” Dave’s voice was pointedly relaxed.

"Oh?"

"Tonight can't have been easy for her." I love you.

"I suppose."

"Mmm. Anyway, I think Beth's just about ready." Dave placed a guiding hand on his shoulder. "We should head down, get this show on the road." Aaron let himself be led down the stairs, glancing back just once at the door that hid his soon-to-be wife from view.

He stood underneath the decorated archway, next to his beaming son, and faced his team, all looking at him with encouraging smiles. He tried to return them, despite the knot that was steadily growing in his stomach. The music started, a lilting, romantic track, as the crowd turned to face the house. Beth emerged, lovely in her strapless gown, carrying a simple bouquet of white roses, walking towards him on her mother's arm.

And maybe it would have been different if he had spoken to her upstairs. Or if he had never walked into Dave's study in the first place. But as Beth took her first step onto the aisle, Aaron knew with an absolute, terrifying clarity that he couldn’t go through with this. That this moment he had been picturing for so long was missing a woman who was currently making plans to leave the country.

Before he could talk himself over to the side of propriety, he walked up the aisle. The music cut off abruptly, and there was a ripple of whispers from his guests. By the time he reached her, pieces of his heart chipped away at the sight of her confused face. He held her hand in both of his and pleaded, "I need to talk to you."

She listened to his insufficient explanation, the tears welling her eyes the only reflection of the hurt he was causing her. He told her that she was beautiful and wonderful and he did love her and she had made him so happy and yesterday there hadn't been a doubt in his mind when he asked her to be his wife. She let him ramble for a while, eventually shutting him up with a cupped hand to his face. Lips pressed lightly against his cheek, then in a voice infinitely kinder than he deserved, she let him go. "I hope you get her back."

And that was it. He stood there, watching her head back up the stairs, and silently wished her every happiness with someone worthy of her.

With a deep breath and a brush over his face to clear any lingering tears, he exited the house with renewed determination to find a huddled group of guests. The only outlier was Beth's mother, who stared at him in consternation before following her daughter into the house without another word to him. At the movement, his team turned towards him, a mixture of confusion and shock on their faces — or, in the case of Dave, an enigmatic smile.

"JJ," Aaron called out.

She approached him, frown lines etched into her forehead and brows. "Aaron, what's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I need your help, please. The address to Emily's new apartment."

Understanding smoothed her features and she gave him a wide grin as she entered the address into his phone. "Oh, and would you mind watching Jack for a little while?"

"Even better, why don't Jack and Henry have a sleepover tonight? What do you say, boys?" JJ presented her plans animatedly to the two boys who had appeared by their feet. Aaron bent down to tell his son that he would explain everything tomorrow, but his words fell on already distracted ears. He thanked her and made his way to his car, the eyes of his friends on his back reminding him that this was his last chance to bring her home.

Her apartment was tucked away in a nondescript brick mid-rise. A far cry from the lush DC duplex he had spent countless nights in. She opened the door on his second knock. Dressed down in shorts and a loose shirt that hung off her shoulder, makeup-free with her curled hair pulled up into a ponytail. She looked as beautiful as she had a few hours ago. Every impassioned word he had rehearsed on his way over landed dead on his tongue, and instead, his first words to her were a brusque, "Can I come in?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He didn't reply, pressing past her into an apartment he had never entered before. Sparse, only the bare essentials, cardboard boxes stacked in the corner. Nothing more than a passing stop, a sign that she had never really come back to them.

"You told me you love me. Was that the truth?" He stood in the center of her small living room, arms crossed over his chest, his tone more biting than he had planned.

She gaped at him, ignoring the question. "Seriously, Aaron, what the fuck are you doing here?"

He forged on, pacing small steps next to the couch, glancing up at her every few seconds. "It destroyed me, you know. Seeing your credentials open in your desk because you had run. Sitting by your fucking hospital bed because I was too late to save you. Listening to you tell me that you didn’t want to marry me. Everything we had talked about, all the plans we had, just...gone."

“Aaron. I told you, I had to." Her voice broke, but her eyes stayed dry. Aaron wondered if the two of them had shed enough tears over the other to last a lifetime. "I had to—“

“Protect me. I know. But, god, Em." He gestured between them. "We’re supposed to be a team. We work through everything, even the ugly stuff, together. You were supposed to trust that I would be there for you. Not run away, and nearly get yourself killed in the process.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It is exactly that simple.”

“No.” Her voice was sharp and resolute. “It isn’t. It was my fight. My past, my mistakes. If you, any of you, had gotten hurt because of that, I could have never lived with myself. You can't tell me you don't understand that."

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose and decided to cede this particular battle. Maddening, stubborn woman.

“Fine. I accept.”

“What?”

"I accept that you did what you had to do. That you thought you had to handle it alone. I accept why you left then." He stepped closer to her and she unconsciously took a step back, nearly flush with her front door. "But why are you leaving now?"

"This again..." she sighed wearily. "Aaron, I told you. I can't stay here anymore."

"And why is that?"

He watched her nostrils flare in indignation. "Fuck, because I can't! I can't pretend anymore, I won't do it. I came back expecting my life to go back to normal. Except it isn't normal. It isn’t even my life anymore. I'm like a fucking spectator, watching everyone move on while I can’t. "

The implication — accusation — was clear, and the guilt struck hard and low in his gut. Her only mistake was thinking that he had ever really moved on.

"I'm sorry," his voice shifted to quiet contriteness. "I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me. It hurt too much to be around you. And you seemed...okay. So I convinced myself you were."

She said nothing for a while, her arms wrapping around her middle defensively. "It's okay. It wasn't your job to take care of me. You've already done more—"

"Emily, why don't you get it?" The frustration pierced through once more, coming out more desperate than anything else.

"Get what?!" she rose to his pitch.

"You're supposed to depend on me. We’re supposed to depend on each other. I know you're strong, you're so fucking strong sweetheart, but I get to take care of you sometimes too. Fuck, how are we supposed to spend the rest of our lives together if you can’t trust me enough to do that?”

She sucked in a sharp breath and her entire body, even the air around them, shifted. “Spend the rest of our lives together?”

“Of course. I thought that was fairly obvious.”

She glared at him. “It really wasn't."

“Oh. My apologies.” He stepped closer to her. “Consider this your notice then.”

He caught the way her lips turned up for a split second before she remembered herself, wanting to hold onto her heated temper for a little longer. “Where’s Beth?”

“At home, I suspect.”

“I already told Easter I’d take the job.” Her voice was just a whisper now, devoid of almost all conviction.

“What, like 2 hours ago? Call him back, Emily.”

He was looming over her, barely an inch of space between them, their eyes locked onto each other. It was a different kind of battle, the kind where victory only came when neither side backed down.

Finally — “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I'll call him back."

There wasn't an adequate word to describe the relief he felt at those five words. Every inch of him ached to touch her, but he held onto his patience for a few more seconds, bending his head towards her and whispering, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Her eyes were closed in anticipation. "What question?" she breathed.

"Were you telling me the truth? When you said you love me?"

"Don't be an idiot. Of course I was." And she pushed up on her toes and closed the gap between them.

It felt like coming home. There were still discussions to be had and arguments to be fought as they re-learned and re-trusted. But, for now, the familiar taste of her warmed every particle in his body until he was practically vibrating with want. It was desperate and urgent, their lips and teeth and tongues clashing and biting and invading. His hands roamed the entirety of her, a need to ensure that she was really here this time. She clung to him just as tightly, pressing into him until he could feel her heart hammering away in her chest.

When they pulled apart, both gasping for the air that had escaped their lungs, he touched his forehead to hers. "In case this wasn't obvious either...I’ve never stopped loving you."

[pinky-the-polar-bear]

What's that? It's officially 2022 where I live? Fuck yeah! I know just how to kick off the new year: A list of resolutions! They are as follows:

Support my dear friends and acquaintances financially because I make a decent chunk of change now.

Obsess over fictional men.

Make horny content in more ways than one.

In general, just keep up the good vibes I've started when creating this blog.

2021 was a life-changing year for me. So much happened to me in those 12 months, many of which were fantastic.

January was the month my hyperfixation for HTF went to the next level. After years of not having a presence on social media, I contributed to a fandom once again by writing Bear Necessities and Just Guys Being Dudes.

In February, I completed my first draft of BN. Even with the hiatus I took from writing fanfiction, I still managed to pump out over 40,000 words with these fics. That's honestly amazing to think about. I was so dedicated to BN, and completing it was a remarkable feeling. Various additions and revisions were done throughout 2021, but I'm still proud of how my short DiscoPop novel came out. I remembered how much I loved writing, and seeing all the love my fics got filled me with such joy.

In March, after a year of having to do odd jobs for a living, I got my first traditional job at Pizza Hut. As glad as I am to be away from that job, those 3 and a half months I spent there gave me the experience I needed to find something better.

In July, I started working at the Domino's in my old town. It paid better, the conditions were better, and it gave me more experience on my resume. I was only there for 2 and a half months, but that's because something incredible happened.

In September, my mom and I moved out of our old town and into the city we live in now. We went from a shitty mobile home in a small town to a nice apartment in a city that's still growing. My mom found a job that paid well enough for her to live in our apartment alone. Regardless, we've planned for years about moving away from the mobile home my grandparents let us live in. Living the dream brought a sense of happiness we hadn't felt in years. And because the first Domino's I worked at was cool, they let me transfer to a Domino's in the city, so finding new work was a breeze. Unfortunately, I grew to hate this Domino's more than Pizza Hut. It was so bad, I didn't work the last day I said I'd work. I was so done with their bullshit at that point, and I was getting somewhere with my current job, so I just didn't go.

But while those issues were going on, I created this blog. Out of all the social media I've ever used, Tumblr has become my favorite. Sure, it's heavily flawed, and I gravely miss having a wider variety of adult content. However, I love how I can write this essay and have actual discussions here. The good thing about this site being less popular is that a lot of the extremists moved on to other sites. From what I've experienced, people on here are cool and thoughtful. Any vitriolic comments that wouldn't be out of place on Twitter are usually shut down pretty fast. And honestly, not having a character limit does this site wonders.

I met several people on here, several of them friendly acquaintances. Two in particular, however, became my friends. One is a trans man with the username @ghostypeppers, and the other is a nonbinary babby whose username is @northerngrail.

Ghosty approached me via DMs after I said DMing me was cool. Even with his uncertainty towards my personality, he grew to like me. And boy, did I like him too! In fact, I quickly set up a Discord after DMing on here for a while.

Not too long after, he encouraged me to approach Nyssa via DMs. He was positive they'd like me too, but they were too shy to approach me themselves. I took it upon myself to approach them since Ghosty gave me enough confidence to do what he did. Nyssa and I got along wonderfully too. I grew so confident that I set up our own Discord group. And we've been talking in there ever since.

I've known these guys for only more than 3 months, but I cherish them like they were my own siblings. I forgot what it was like having friends. Not gonna lie, that effected how much I was willing to share with them. They can confirm how much I spilled onto them early on. It was a lot for them to take at first, but ultimately, they forgave me. I'm thankful my trauma dumping didn't scare them away. I'm also thankful for how much they supported me when I felt like garbage. They made it easier to deal with my shitty job. And they're such a blast to be around. I could talk about whatever with them for hours. I anticipate all the fun things we'll do with each other in the future.

And finally, last month, I got hired at Walmart. It's my highest-paying job yet, and it's pretty decent working there. And the best part? It's within walking distance. Other than wanting a consistent schedule, I couldn't ask for better circumstances. I hope this becomes the first traditional job I work at for over a year. Or at least until I'm getting paid to do something I actually love. Whichever comes first.

So yeah, that's been my 2021 in a nutshell. Cheers to wonderful friends, friendly acquaintances, and hunky furries! *chugs Dr. Pepper*.

[em-responds-to-things]

in the heat of the summer

i. rory - forever

Everyone was sitting at the edge of their seats as the minute hand ticked closer to three pm signalling the start of summer. The shrill bell rang as students got up out of their seats, ignoring the teacher who was struggling to speak up above the group of rowdy teenagers who were more interested in the freedom summer vacation gave them. This was Rory’s last summer before senior year and potentially last one together with all her friends before they go their separate ways for college. In a way she was sad that this could be the last time having the excitement of getting up to no good with the Pogues, Marli, and Parker over the upcoming weeks.

Rory laughed as she made her way down the hallway, watching as JJ ran pass everyone, hooting and hollering with Pope trying to keep up with him and John B. She didn’t miss the wink John B sent her making her stomach do flips. Neither did Marli as she snorted throwing her arm around Rory’s neck. “Don’t say anything.”

She put her hands up in defence, trying to hide to smirk that was creeping onto her face. “I was just wondering what time you want me and Parker to pick you up?”

“I’m not coming tonight.” Rory shrugged, her friend grabbed her arm stopping her as if she had just said the most absurd thing.

“What do you mean you’re not coming? Its tradition!” Rory wasn’t exactly sure where this tradition came from but every summer, the students becoming seniors in the fall, start it off by jumping off a cliff so wonderfully named ‘Dead Man’s cliff’.

“Firstly, I’ve got to clean up the crap you caused at my house before my parents come home. Secondly, its family dinner tonight and I can’t bail.” The brunette told her.

“Okay, fine.” Marli gave in, although Rory wasn’t convinced she was going to let this go so easily. “P and I will help you tidy.” She said, hooking her arm through Rory’s as they headed towards her house, meeting Parker there.

They didn’t end up helping, instead sitting on Rory’s garden chairs passing a joint between them. The chairs were haphazardly positioned facing the house where Rory was cleaning the mess up. It wasn’t too far from Parker’s house and just a little further away from Marli’s and Pope’s. The Bennett’s house was close enough to the water to suffer when a storm hit but not enough to have a boat tied up which was why Rory loved going on HMS Pogue with her friends. She loved the feeling of wind through her hair and water spraying her, cooling her down from the North Carolinian heat.

“You know this is your mess I’m cleaning here.” Rory pointed out.

“And you’re doing such an amazing job that I would simply be no use.” Marli said and Rory had to hide the laugh that was threatening to escape while Parker didn’t care and laughed. “Moving on though as to why you’re not coming out tonight.”

“You’re not coming?” Parker asked. “but it’s tradition!”

Rory sighed. To her it wasn’t a big deal but apparently to her friends it was as if she turned Kook or something. “It’s family dinner night and I can’t miss it, okay.”

“I’m sure your dad’s will let you go if you ask them. Want me to talk to them?” Marli asked making the both of them burst out laughing. “What? They love me.” She frowned slightly.

“No, they don’t. They tolerate us because we’re Rory’s friends.” Marli squinted at Parker trying to come up with an argument against his point but gave up. She knows they don’t hate her it was just that the three of them would sometimes get in trouble and they are just doing what parents do, worry and protect.

“Fine, you’re right. I’ll drop it.” She gave in, reaching out for the joint off Parker. “So, what’s everyone’s resolutions for the summer.”

“This isn’t fucking New Year.” Parker mumbled as Marli rolled her eye’s at him and chose to ignore her friend.

“Are you finally going to tell a certain Pogue how you feel?” Her grin was mischievous, matching the sparkle in her eye.

“There’s no Pogue on Pogue macking, remember?”

“Aha! So you do have a crush on John B!” Marli exclaimed, excited that she just got you to reveal your deepest secret even though apparently everyone knows about Rory’s blatant crush except John.

She took a breath, not wanting to blow up on her friend as she knew she meant well. Plus, her minimal filter disappears further when she gets high. “What about you and boardshorts? You gonna tell us who it is?” Rory pointed out snatching the joint from Marli’s hands and taking a hit.

The playful banter between friends when a car pulled up and the deep voice of Rory’s dad called out of the window. “Aurora Skye Bennett! That best be not what I think it is!” The teenagers panicked. Rory stubbed the joint out while Marli wafted away the smoke and Parker shoved everything back in his bag.

“Hi, Mr Bennett.” Marli greeted, standing up and failing to act normal. “We were just- we were just heading home so we’ll see you around.” She grabbed Parker’s arm and dragged him away with her, waving goodbye at the Bennett family.

“Hey, dad.” Rory said into Jack’s chest as she hugged him. She could feel a hearty laugh coming from him making her playfully elbow him. “You know they think you hate them.”

“Then I’m doing my job as your dad.” He pressed a kiss on top of her hair before letting her go to head inside with Don and Rory following.

-x-

John B rubbed his hands on his trousers as he got ready to knock on Rory’s door. He could hear her laughter trickling out of the open window bringing a smile onto his face. It didn’t take long before the door opened. John gulped, forgetting how intimidating her dad could look. “Hi, sir.” He greeted clearing his throat.

“John B, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Don asked, a smile on his face relaxing the boy in front of him.

“I was- err I was wondering if Rory is free tonight? We were going to hang out at Dead Man’s Cliff.” John B asked.

“Rory!” Don called for his daughter. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were supposed to be hanging out with your friends tonight?”

Her mouth opened then shut, surprised at John B standing on her doorstep. “Well we were having family dinner tonight.”

“And that can wait ‘til tomorrow.” Jack assured her from his spot by the oven so he could keep an eye on dinner.

“Go and get ready.” Don urged her and she did, leaving him and John alone. “You take care of her tonight, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” He stuttered out, surprised that him coming out here to ask if Rory could come out actually worked.

“And please call me Don.” He said. John nodded, his averting from the man to Rory who stood beside him. She was wearing a thin sweatshirt, to take the chill off, and a pair of shorts covering the swimsuit she was wearing underneath.

“Ready?” Rory asked after saying her goodbyes to her dad’s and assuring them that she won’t be back and late and that she’ll be safe. The two teenagers made it to John’s truck and climbed in. He put his hand on the gear stick as he started driving away from the house and up to the cliff. Rory had the urge to put her hand on top of his but instead stopped herself by sitting on it and looking out of the window. “I’m surprised that worked.” She hummed. “I’m guessing Marli put you up to this.”

John B laughed. “Yeah, it was her plan. I honestly thought your dad would have shut the door in my face.”

“They love you, what can I say?” She giggled before silence fell between them. It was suffocating. There was so much tension that Rory felt like she was about to explode. John felt it too. Luckily the sound of JJ shouting broke it letting them know that they had arrived.

“Look who finally joined us!” John B shouted wrapping his arm around Rory as if nothing happened in the truck.

“Thank you.” Marli grinned at JJ, holding her hand out for the ten dollars he owed for losing the wager. Pope was quick to take it from his cousin before she could pocket it. “Hey!” She exclaimed while everyone else laughed.

“You owe me remember.” He said while she just grumbled.

“Let’s get this party started!” JJ exclaimed before running to jump off the cliff followed by Parker and the rest of them with John jumping last leaving Rory alone up there.

Standing at the top of Dead Man’s Cliff with her feet at the edge, Rory realised that she wasn’t just hiding behind the fact that she had family dinner tonight but rather she was scared to jump. It didn’t make sense because she jumps off HMS Pogue.

John B seemed to notice her hesitance when Rory didn’t follow him down. He brushed his wet hair out of his face as he climbed out of the water making his way back up to the cliff. No one else seemed to notice, so engrossed in splashing each other which Rory was glad for, knowing she won’t be able to live it down. “Hey, you okay?” John nudged her.

“I’m fine.” She scoffed, trying to play off that she wasn’t in fact freaking out internally which only caused John to giver her a pointed look. He didn’t say anything though, not wanting to embarrass her. Instead, he just held his hand out.

“You got this.” Was all he said, his voice soft and calming. Rory took his hand and smiled at him before jumping off the cliff with John. The start of summer officially beginning.

Tag List: @mayaslifeinabox @princess-of-the-fandoms @live--aloud @les-bio-lie @ivvitm1109 @seninjakitey @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @genius2050 @tiannawashere @brithedemonspawn

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part eighty four/

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Enjoy! 

Warnings: language, semi fluff, angst

Taglist:  @brideofdraculana​, @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol​,  @anntheboneless,  @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @awkwrdcait,  @countrygirlswonderland, @thatbandchick39 @awesomealmostdopestudent, @oskea93, @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox,  @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @broke-n-bitchy @thanks2pete,  @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001,  @waywardprincess666, , @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london​, @nassauartist  @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe,  @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @sleepyjunhong  @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @youretheonlyonewhomakesme, @xxisxxisxxis, @dogmom2014, @cruesixxlover1991, @xpoisonousrosesx, , @m0rnlngstar, @love-struck-aries, @findingmyths, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @motleycrueprincess, @redlipscrystalskies14, @samanthadegaro @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @thechangingme, @patheticgay69, @idkmanhereisshitilike, @makaelahdelvalle

“You said you got rid of it?! Why do you still have her number, Nikki? Am I just a fucking joke to you?! I am coming here to talk to her-“ I shouted, pointing my finger at our therapist as I burrowed holes into green hues, “-because you wanted to work on things! This was your idea and yet you are still doing the same crap I don’t want you doing!”

We were currently standing in the middle of the therapy office, nose to nose as our chests heaved in anger. Nikki's cheeks were red, matching mine as his jaw was clenched and my fists were balled tight at my sides. The thunder claps were barely audible outside over our yelling match.

"It's nothing! It's just a god damn phone number, Vanity! You are blowing this all out of proportion like fucking always! She is just a friend!" Nikki raises his voice, his breath hot as I shook my head and smirked in his face.

"Oh bullshit Nikki! I wasn't born yesterday. She's a pretty blonde with fake tits and she has bad intentions, why can't you just see that and say sorry?! She knows about me and knows about Arianna!"

Nikki groaned, rubbing his face "Jesus, Van. You don't know her like I do! Donna isn't like that! We're just friends and it isn't romantic or sexual! You don't need to be insecure over it."

"Insecure?" A confused expression riddled my face as I stared at him, "Are you even listening to yourself? Maybe I wouldn't be insecure if you didn't talk to other women Nikki."

"Vanity! I'm not talking to her like you think I am!! Jesus Christ!" I took a step back when Nikki threw the plastic water bottle in his hands down at the floor, "Just fucking trust me for once and believe me when I say nothing is going on!"

I turned my cheek, glancing out the window at the rain droplets hitting the glass as the fog was rolling in. I sat back down in the chair, resting fist against my cheek as I glared at the clock. I-I just don't understand why he would lie, say he threw it away and then have it again. If he didn't want to do this he should just say so and save us the fucking trouble.

"Vanity?" I glanced at Crystal, "Did you hear me?"

"No, sorry." I mumbled crossing my leg over my knee and sitting up straight.

"I think you two should consider seeing other people for the time being. I thought you two were making progress, it's like you two took five steps back from where we were getting. Now, I'm not talking about moving out and finding someone to marry. Just some dates, see all the options that are out there." Crystal suggested as I shook my head bitterly, "Can you two do that? We'll try this approach and if it becomes to much of a problem the we'll try something else, alright?"

I saw Nikki shrug out of the corner of my eye, "Yeah, sure. I can do that." I rolled my eyes and roughly pulled a string off my jeans, "I'll be seeing Donna Friday evening anyways."

My eyes darted to him as I quickly got up and grabbed my purse and walked out of the office, "Van-" I heard them both yell for me as I slammed the door shut. I stormed out of the office and onto the front steps before I started walking to the car, being absolutely drenched by the pouring rain.

How can Nikki tell me it's harmless and it's nothing and then turn around and say he's going out with her? That doesn't make any sense to me. Why would he suggest going to therapy if he was just going to talk to another women behind my back again? I wiped my eyes, rain and tears mixing as they dripped off my chin. My teeth were chattering and my finger tips were turning numb from the cold as I dug the car keys out of my purse, hearing Nikki yell for me as well as boot prints splashing in puddles.

"Look, I'm sorry that I just said it like that back there. But I think it might be good if we did take a break."  Nikki spoke, attempting to catch his breath as I glared at him and got in the car, turning it on and immediately cranking up the heater, "I love you but fuck, we ain't getting anywhere with the therapy Vanity."

I shook my head, staring out the window before I started to drive us home "Glad you already decided this for us Nikki. How long have you been talking to her?"

Nikki sighed, "Just a week or two. I ran into her. Our publicists office is in the same building as her managers office. It's not serious Van, I swear. I haven't done anything with her either, it's just been phone calls here and there and she asked if i wanted to go to dinner with her Friday, and I said yes."

I sighed as I reached for one of his cigarettes in the cup holder, it was a New Years resolution to quit but I think this was a reasonable reason to have one, "You should've just been honest with me."

"So you could be pissed even more-"

"No, Nikki! Out of fucking respect." I snapped quickly, "You could have told me so I wouldn't have been blind sided in there. I feel like a damn idiot." I wiped hot tears and rain droplets of my cheeks, feeling Nikki's hand rest on my knee before squeezing it lightly, "Please don't touch me right now." I shoved it off of my body as I gripped the steering wheel after.

"Vanity, I'm sorry. I really am. I just didn't know how to tell you. But, I think we should consider using the therapists advice and and trying it out. That's all."

I ended up tuning him out. I didn't understand how Nikki could be so, so calm and collected about this. If it was the other way around and I wanted to see another man he would absolutely go berserk. But that's not the case because I don't, I just want him.

*Friday Evening*

~Nikki's POV~

I could feel Vanity's eyes drilling holes into the back of my head as I checked my hair in the accent mirror we had on the living room wall. I smirked at myself before my eyes met hers, "Yes?"

I turned around to look at her, seeing her curled up on the couch with a blanket and Anarchy by her side, "Nothing, you look nice."

"You think so? Thanks Van." I smiled at her as she started glaring before turning her attention back to the tv, eyebrows pulled together tight and her jaw clenched, more than likely teeth grinding against teeth, "What's the problem princess?" I attempted to bite back a laugh as she ripped the blanket off of her and got up.

"What do you think the problem is, Nikki?" She questioned, as she rolled her eyes and walked to the kitchen.

"Uh...is Mother Nature visiting this week?" I smirked as I glanced over, seeing her at the island opening a bottle of wine.

"The therapist is stupid and you know it. What kind of sane therapist suggest to go see other people where one half of the couple is a cheater?  It's bull Nikki." She stated, stormy eyes staring deep as she brought the wine glass to her lips.

"To see if we should be together, Vanity. You heard her the other day. I think it's good for us ya know? We never have time away from one another and it's smothering-" I watched as her eyebrows raised, "T-that's not what I meant Van. That isn't-" I closed my eyes when she slammed the fridge door close.

"Ari, say bye to daddy." Van spoke softly as Arianna came bolting into the kitchen with Anarchy.

"I'll be back later sweet pea." I smiled as I picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "You be good and don't have too much fun without me."

Arianna pressed her little hands against my cheeks and smushed them together, "You have to be good too!" I chuckled and nodded, "Pinky!"

"Yes Arianna, I promise I'll be good if you'll be good. And if you are good, maybe we can take your bike out to the park and ride around a bit tomorrow. Sound like a deal?" I held my pinky out for her as she wrapped hers around mine.

"Deal!"

I smiled brightly, "That's my girl!" I gave her another quick kiss on the cheek before putting her down as she went over to the couch and stole Vans spot. I grabbed my jacket and went over to the table near the door to grab my keys and the flowers for Donna, "Hey, where's those sunflowers at?"

"They're in the dining room? You didn't have to get them for me but they are really pretty.." Van pointed as I glanced over at the dining table and seeing them arranged in a crystal vase.

"Uh-" I let out an awkward laugh, "Those were for Donna..."

I saw her expression change, the faint smile being replaced with a frown, "But they're sunflowers..."

I fidgeted with the key ring around my finger, "Donna likes them too...but uh, you can keep them. I can just stop at the store to get roses or something. I'm already running a bit late.." I mumbled, glancing down at my watch and then back at her, "So I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be here and I hope you have fun." Van spoke with a defeated sigh as she turned her back towards me. I watched for a moment as she went to go sit with Arianna and cuddle under the blanket. I shook it off before I walked out the front door.

*Nikki's Date*

What a fucking babe.

Nikki smirked, sauntering over to the table as he saw Donna, a tight red dress and sleek blonde hair resting on her shoulders in loose curls. She takes a sip out of a glass half full of club soda and a lime wedge. Her eyes light up when they find Nikki, "Hey! You look handsome!" Her voice was cheerful as she stood up and they gave one another a quick hug.

"Thank you, you look amazing. These are for you.." he holds out a bouquet of red roses, "I'm sorry if I'm a little late, traffic was kinda bad getting over here."  He sits down, declining when the waiter offers a glass of wine and opts for water instead.

"It's okay. I was enjoying the free bread. It's good." Donna chuckles nervously a bit, "I hope this is okay for you? I'm sure you're use to five star dining and what not."

Nikki brushes it off, "Oh, it's not a problem-" He smiles at her, "I actually take the family here a lot."

"Oh? Well I guess you should have picked then. That's so sweet of you to take Arianna to fancy places like this. She must be really well behaved."

Nikki nodded reaching for a bread roll out of the basket, "Yeah she is. Sometimes she’s a brat and has the temper of her mom and I. So...it's fun."

"But I bet it's fun to have a little break from watching her right? I know my friends and they sometimes have issues with the co-parenting." Donna expressed as her eyes stayed glued to the menu, searching for her dinner as dessert sat in front of her.

"Yeah, well...we live like roommates kinda and Arianna is like a mutual pet-" Nikki laughs, "But it works out fine at the end of the day."

"Oh! I didn't know you too lived with each other. I shouldn't have assumed but how you were explaining it...but it sounds like a good system you have."

Nikki cleared his throat and took a sip, thinking how he wants that glass of wine after all, "Yeah, sorry. I should have been more clear. I bought the house for Vanity years ago and it's in both of our names."

Donna smiled at him, "It's okay. Whatever is best for Arianna, right?"

"Exactly, how's Rhyan? Is he feeling better yet?" Nikki questioned. He was glad he found someone that had a kid and could understand the responsibilities that come with being a parent, that he could get advice from if he ever didn't know what to do.

"He's starting to. Took him to the urgent care the other day and they gave him some antibiotics. I hope by Monday he can go back to school, I don't want him to miss too much. But enough about the kids, how was your week?"

Nikki let out a long breath, "It was tiring, meetings and phone calls nonstop. The album comes out next month so now we're working on merchandising and how we want it to look. Tommy's...girlfriend is helping." He rolls his eyes and Donna laughs, "What?" He smiled.

"I can't wait to here it. I'm super excited from what you've been telling me. You made that last part sound like it's a nails on a chalk board for you. Not a fan of her?" Donna questioned as she leaned closer a bit.

"It's definitely different. Doesn't sound like the usual Mötley but that's a good thing." He looks at her, "She's just- we don't get along but she's Arianna's godmother so I have to play nice."

"You'll give me a signed copy right?" She jokes, "That's too bad, I bet it puts a rift between you and Tommy and Vanity."

He nodded, "Sometimes it does but she's pregnant now so she hasn't been that much of a bother." He smiles at her and gently reaches across to touch her hand "You'll get it hot off the press and signed by all of us, I promise."  Donna blushes a bit when he winks at her and she gives his hand a light squeeze.

They order dinner and some wine, chit chatting about anything and everything. Donna laughs at some of his corny jokes and Nikki's completely mesmerized by how down to earth she actually is despite being an actress and model. She enjoyed being outdoors and hiking, he could rarely get Vanity to break a sweat outside of the bedroom without complaining. She liked volunteering in her free time when she wasn't being super mom and a baywatch babe. Donna was impressed with how many articulate thoughts and ideas Nikki actually had. He wasn't like the dumb basketball stars or other musicians she had met. She swooned hearing him talk about his passions of music and song writing and even at the vulnerability about how his childhood wasn't so great and his sobriety.  She heard many, many stories about him and clearly most of that was just gossip she had figured.

After dinner, Nikki paid even though Donna argued that they could at least split it evenly, they were walking through a near by park before going their seperate ways. It was only a bit chilly as sparkling lights were wrapped around the stumps of oak trees and some light music was playing from a street performer. They both had small cups of hot chocolate in their hands as they walked side by side.

"Thank you for tonight Nikki and for the roses. I've had a lot of fun tonight. Who knew rockstars could be so chivalrous and kind?" Donna laughs a bit as she nudges his shoulder.

"Who knew actresses couldn't be snobs?" He let's his free hand brush against hers, "But you're welcome Donna, thank you for wanting to go out with me. I wanna do this again if you do?"

Donna nodded as they came back to the entrance as their cars were parked across the street, "I'd like to do this again too Nikki." She smiles up at him taking the extra step and holds his hand gently, feeling how warm his palm was and the roughness from playing his instrument.

"I'll call you okay?" Nikki smiled, gnawing on the inside of his cheek before leaning down and kissing her on the lips softly. He pulls away after a moment seeing her bright blue eyes shining and her cheeks a crimson shade, "Goodnight."

*Nikki's POV*

I sat in the car, a permanent smile on my face. I think that's one of the best dates I've ever been on. I got a whiff of Donnas perfume on my jacket, it smelt like tulips and fresh linen. I sighed deeply before getting out of the car and locking up. I headed to the front door and walked in, being met by loud music and Arianna yelling.

What. The. Fuck.

I walked into the living room seeing Arianna jumping up and down and attempting to sing along to a Backstreet Boy music video, "Arianna? What the hell are you doing up? You're suppose to be in bed." I grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned it off "Van!?!" I flipped open the pizza box, seeing a few remnants of left over crust and a carton of melted ice cream as well.

"Daddy! I missed you! Ca-can you spin me around!? Please?!" Arianna was jittery beyond belief as I then saw two empty cans of Mountain Dew on the living room floor.

"No, Arianna it's time for bed. It was time for bed-" I looked at the clock "-three hours ago." I quickly picked her up as I turned around to see Vanity, my eyes narrowing at that arrogant smirk she had plastered on her lips.

"What the hell Vanity? It's almost midnight and she's doped up on sugar." I glared at her as I started taking her upstairs to her room.

"Well, we were having fun and we lost track of time. It's the weekend Nikki, she's fine. Can you relax? She’s stayed up later than this before." I rolled my eyes as Arianna nodded at me.

I sighed, "Fine, at least you had fun. Did you save me ice cream?" I asked Ari as I took her to the bathroom and started wiping dried chocolate and Cheeto dust from her lips and cheek.

"Mommy and I ate it! She said you had dessert and wouldn't want any!" Arianna giggled like a maniac, "I'm not sleepy." I watched as she rubbed her eyes.

"Something tells me otherwise. Come on. Let's go get PJs on." I helped her down as we walked to her bedroom, "Any cookies left at least? You know daddy has a sweet tooth."

"Mommy ate the last of them. She wouldn't share with me."  Ari mumbled as she got in bed and grabbed her stuffed monkey. Anarchy then jumped on her bed and laid by her feet. I smiled at her and patted her head, "And Ana had cookies too. Her poop was funny!"

I hushed her, "Okay, okay. It's time for bed. I love you." I kissed the top of her head, "Sweet dreams  princess." She told me goodnight as I left her bedroom quietly closing her door shut. I headed downstairs seeing Van cleaning up the mess, "What the fuck, Vanity?"

She looked at me, "Huh?"

"Huh?" I copied as I rolled my eyes "Don't act fucking stupid. She never eats this much junk food so what gives? Is this because I went on a date?" I questioned as she laughed and tossed the garbage in the trash.

"Oh please-" she rolled her eyes at me, "We eat healthy all week Nikki so why not splurge on junk food?" She questioned as she fixed the decorative pillows and folded the blanket before draping it over the back of the couch.

"And you ate all of it? Aren't you trying to diet?" I questioned as I saw an eyebrow raise in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm not playboy bunny skinny or baywatch actress skinny." She glares at me, "...and it's a high calorie diet!"

I scoffed, "Unbelievable...I fucking knew it. At least I can give a decent god damn time!"

"You just made a subtle comment about my weight so of course I'm gonna be upset! And good, I'm glad you had a wonderful time."

I laughed as I knew she was lying straight through her teeth, "Yeah, I'm sure you're really glad Vanity."

Van shrugged, "No, really Nikki. I'm happy you had a good time with her. Me and Arianna had a good time too. We painted our toes and took Anarchy for a walk. Oh! And we made the living room into a fort."

I exhaled slowly as I sat down on the couch, I glanced at her seeing her smile as she played her facade well, "Fine, I'm glad you and Ari had a good time too."

"So...where'd you guys go?" Van questioned as I looked at her, "C'mon tell me. I asked so I want to know." She says down beside me, resting her elbow against the back of the couch and putting her chin in her palm.

"Well...we went to that restaurant we always go to with Ari...the one down by the pier.." I glanced over at her, eyes narrowing as she nodded, "And then we went for a walk at that park with the duck pond."

"Sounds like fun. What did you two talk about?"

I laughed, "Vanity, relax. We just talked about normal first date topics but it was nice going there and not having to beg someone to eat something."

"What do you mean? Arianna has a good appetite. A lot better than most six year olds." Vanity stated as she flipped on the tv and searched for something to watch.

"Not the kid I gotta force to eat something other than chicken strips and fries."

"Why are you trying to start shit right now?" Vanity side eyed me, the jaw muscle twitching as she scooted away from me.

"I'm not trying to start anything princess. It was just nice to not a waste a breath on deaf ears." I chuckled a bit as I kicked off my boots and perched my feet up on the coffee table.

"It's cause you take us there all the time." She mumbled, "We never go anywhere else. I've already tried almost everything on the menu."

"That's not true. We went somewhere new a few weeks ago and you still ordered a damn chicken strip basket. Why can't you just eat like an adult?"

"Jesus Christ Nikki, I'm not gonna argue about my eating habits because it's pointless." I stared as she stood up and tossed the remote near me, "I don't want you to see her again."

I looked past her and kept my eyes glued on the TV, "We decided to try it and take the therapists advice, Van."

"No, you decided it for us. I didn't have a say in that conversation Nikki." Van spoke quietly, but I knew how upset she was getting by the way her voice trembled.

"...And I said, in front of you, I would be up for trying. Because what if-Van what if we're not meant to be like we think we are?" I looked at her, sighing and leaning my head back against the couch as I saw tears in her eyes.

"How can you even say that-"

"Because look at us Vanity!! Look at how much fighting we've been doing! All the snide comments and glares! We're just fucking hurting one another!"

I closed my eyes, hearing her sniffle a bit "If this was gonna be the end result then what was the point of New York and begging me to come home? I coulda just stayed there. I didn't want to come back home  just to see you going out with someone else. I don't want to do this Nikki. I don't want anyone else."

Van wiped her eyes when I looked at her, her eyes an almost honey color as they always were whenever she cried, "You really don't want anyone else? Or to even attempt to see someone?" I smiled just a little when she shook her head.

"No, Nik. I don't want anyone else. I just want you." She shook her head in frustration and looked at me, "But do you? Do you want me? Can you picture your future with out me?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Of course I couldn't see a future without her. The idea of her not in it scared the fuck out of me. She's my whole life, world and everything in between. No one else could ever deal or stick around with me like the way she could. But at the same time, is our future just going to be fighting to the point where we don't even love each other anymore? That we just stick together for Arianna? That we begin to resent and hate one another?

"Just...whatever Nikki." Van frowned and wiped her cheek when I took to long to give her an answer, "Goodnight and I'm glad you had a good time with her. I'm sorry you had to come home to a mess." She mumbled, her tone riddled with disappointment and hurt as she wrapped herself in a hug and turned her back towards me. I watched her as she went all the way up the stairs before turning around the corner.

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 15

Chapters: 15/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14]

Almost a year into their relationship, Martin's lease comes up.

There's brief romantic talk of them all moving in together, but they're all attached to their own spaces, especially with Gerry needing to keep his art studio, and it trails off without any real resolution.

When Martin's landlord doesn't want to renew and he essentially has no choice but to find a new place to live, he panics.

Jon is with him when he opens the letter, and witnesses the heartbreak on his face, a look far more appropriate to the death of a loved one than to having to move house.

He understands though. This is Martin's first home. The first rent he paid, the first freedom he claimed. The first place he had whispered 'I love you' to Jon, and the first place Gerry had pressed his lips to Martin's.

Jon is settled in his own flat in a more practical way. It's close to the library, Gerry's bar and also to Martin's bookstore, but he still understands Martin's heartache, even if it is detached from his scope of personal attachment.

As Jon takes the time to think things through, he knows they're being silly. When was the last time he had commuted to work from his own flat? And if Martin had to move anyway, why shouldn't the three of them be living together? Gerry would happily spend every spare second with them and frequently tells them so.

At their knock, Gerry opens the door in a pair of leather pants and not much else, hair faded out from navy to a soft violet.

He physically reacts to see Martin tear-stained and Jon frowning intensely at his side.

"Why tears? Who do I need to murder?" Gerry mutters darkly as he draws Martin inside and into his arms.

"He has to move out of his flat," Jon tells him angrily, still standing in the doorway.

"Oh, love." He whispers, rocking Martin gently.

"It's so stupid to cry about it. It's just a shitty little flat." He hiccups into Gerry's chest.

"Fuck that. We all know better than that. That flat was important to you," Gerry retreats further into the studio, dragging his weepy partner with him and leaving Jon to shut the door. "And you're important to us, so here's the plan. Gertrude and I are gonna dig up some dirt, we're gonna have a little chat with your landlord, and he's gonna agree to sell you your flat. Problem solved."

Martin laughs wetly as he is deposited in the cushion pile and Gerry follows him down to sit in front of him and take his hands.

Jon strips his jacket and scarf off and tosses them on the couch (the biggest indication of his upset, really, as he normally always meticulously hangs things up), before flopping down on the floor with them. Martin and Gerry offer a hand each, and they sit in a triangle, connected.

"Gerry, you can't blackmail my landlord into selling me my flat." Martin starts, voice still choked with tears, "Not least of all because I can't afford to buy it anyway. I already have a business loan, not to mention all the debt from before my mother died."

Apparently able to sense any great excess of emotion, Luna and Saturn wander in and both attempt to curl up in Martin's lap. Jon takes Saturn, leaving Luna to her tearful human. Martin smiles gratefully and disentangles his hands to pet behind her ears.

There's silence for a moment as they consider Martin's words. Gerry opens his mouth, closes it, then decides to say what he wants to anyway. "I could lend you the money. Or give it to you. Whichever you prefer."

The look on his face could be accurately described as casually angelic, and he reaches out a hand to stroke Saturn benevolently.

Martin and Jon stare at him, stunned.

"What do you mean?" Jon eventually prods him, incredulously.

Gerry opens his mouth to respond, but Jon senses the sass coming and adds, "A real answer please," rather firmly.

"Fine then," Gerry mutters, rolling his pretty teal eyes. "I have some money in savings. And in investments and stuff, I'm not actually irresponsible, despite what my appearance might imply. And the years I spent galivanting about the county. And Europe." He shrugs, rambling on, "Okay, maybe I am irresponsible."

His partners stare at him for a moment, then exchange a look.

“Define some money?” Jon says, poking him in the ribs. Gerry tells them.

“What!?” At Jon’s exclamation, Gerry blushes from the roots of his hair, and all the way down his bare chest.

"Where did you get it?" Martin finally asks.

"From selling my paintings?" Gerry responds, but it comes out as a question, and he rubs his burning neck in embarrassment.

"And," Jon says, voice carefully neutral; having regained some sense of composure, "why do you keep your job at the bar if you have enough money to casually offer to buy Martin a flat?"

"Don't feel left out Jon, I'll buy your flat too." Gerry offers, smiling at him beatifically.

"Gerry…" Martin lets out his name in the significant tone of voice that lets him know this is a 'serious conversation'™ and to get his shit together.

"Okay, okay," Gerry flaps his hands uncomfortably. "At first it was just because I was convinced that the painting money was gonna dry up and I didn't want to be left in the lurch. I've always operated anonymously and that made it hard to make money as an artist, it was only when Gertrude joined the crusade that I found any success. She insisted that people would buy prints online, and she was right. The digital art and prints were really popular, and it led to people wanting the originals." Gerry pauses and shakes his head in disbelief. "And Gertrude always has to be extra about everything, so she sold them at fucking auction instead of pricing them, which made me seem edgy and exclusive."

"You are edgy and exclusive," Jon interrupts to insist, a slight petulant edge staining his voice.

"Thanks," Gerry mutters, still blushing. "Anyway, so then I had all this money, but I was convinced it wouldn't last and now it's been years and it's only gotten worse and I was panicking so Gertrude took half the money and helped me put it into investments, which have mostly been pretty successful too, so now I have all this fucking money that I don't know what to do with, so Martin, would you like a flat?" Gerry ends his monologue slightly hysterical and Martin laughs out loud at the slight desperation in his voice.

"Do you even own this flat? I've been wondering how you could possibly afford it." Martin asks him, gesturing around at the massive space in one of the most up-and-coming parts of London.

"Yes, it's one of the only significant things I've ever actually paid for with the art money. You know, to do art in."

"And were you ever planning to mention this?" Jon queries, sounding slightly put out. He frowns down at the cat, instead of his ridiculous boyfriend. Saturn decides at that moment that he's had enough belly-rubs, and without warning, sinks his claws in, bites Jon's hand and then scurries off. Jon glares at his fluffy black tail as it disappears up the stairs and Gerry tries very hard not to laugh at him.

"Jonathan!" Martin scolds him, pushing his shoulder gently to regain his attention. "Gerry doesn't have to tell us about his finances."

Jon pouts even harder.

"Jon's right, I should have said something. I just didn't want it to be a big deal." Gerry responds, voice quiet and unusually reserved. He looks a little adrift and helpless, and they can see just how uncomfortable the money talk has made him.

Jon sighs and dislodges the stick from up his ass. "It's not a big deal, love, I'm only surprised. I'm glad it's out the way now." He collects Gerry's hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

Gerry relaxes and tugs Jon closer to kiss him, before offering the same to Martin.

They all sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, digesting the day's many revelations.

“Not that I’m not incandescently happy to see you both, but why did you actually come over?” Gerry asks eventually.

“Oh,” Martin sits up straighter, remembering their original objective. He looks down at the cat in his lap, stroking its back in an effort to distract himself. “It’s a little awkward actually.”

Gerry raises his eyebrows, thinking of what could make Martin feel awkward after all the things they’ve done together, occasionally right where they are currently sitting.

"Do tell." Gerry urges him. Martin and Jon share a look. Gerry rolls his eyes at the pair of them. "Come on, guys, whatever it is, just tell me. It can't possibly be that bad. Unless you're breaking up with me? Because fuck that."

"No, Gerry," Jon says, sounding amused. "The opposite."

"The opposite?" Gerry asks, frowning.

"Yes, the opposite," Jon tells him more firmly. "We were thinking," Martin makes a small nose at this, "that is, I was thinking, that since Martin has to move anyway, the three of us should finally take the plunge."

"You know," Gerry mutters peevishly, "I love riddles as much as the next overdramatic goth with a young adult book obsession, but could you please spit it the fuck out."

"Jonthinksweshouldallmoveintogetherhere." Martin finally rushes out, breathlessly.

"Martin, baby, those are separate words."

He takes a deep breath and tries again. "Jon thinks we should all move in together, here, with you."

Gerry sits up taller abruptly, a wide grin spreading over his handsome face. "What, really? You actually want to."

"Well, yes," Jon says, although his voice still sounds nervous.

"Okay great. Luna and Saturn are gonna love this." Gerry jumps up excitedly. "So I know you guys like having your own personal space, and I always have my art shit everywhere, but I've been thinking and I think we can make you both comfortable here too."

Martin and Jon share a perplexed look at Gerry's sudden frenetic burst of energy.

"We'll be comfortable here no matter what," Martin rushes to reassure him.

"Hush," Gerry speaks over him. "We both know you're just saying that because you feel like an inconvenience. But you're not and we all have to make this our home. Come, come on, I want to show you."

Gerry grabs a hand from each of them and drags them behind him and around and under the wide stairs that lead up to the loft space.

He leads them to two doors under the stairs, leading them into one. It's a large storeroom, technically, and Gerry has filled it with extra paint, canvases of many different sizes, and a plethora of other painting supplies. There aren't any windows, and the industrial light makes the space look stark. The scent of oil paint and turpentine is pervasive, but homey since those are things they associate heavily with Gerry himself.

"They're both the same. I've been thinking that if you two ever did want to move in here, you could take one each. A creative space just for yourselves, or your own bedrooms if you need some space once in a while. If you want them." His typical self-confidence is slightly lacking, the nervous twist of his fingers belaying his nerves at the admission.

"Oh Gerry," Martin says with something akin to wonder in his voice.

"But aren't you using them?" Jon asks, never one to let romanticism come in the way of practicality.

Gerry shrugs, "I've been thinking of having cupboards installed in the studio space and moving all this in there anyway. It will be more convenient for me when I'm working and it will be worth it to have you here all the time."

Gerry pauses, brow furrowing. "I've also considered moving the art studio in here so you two don't have to trip over my art stuff all the time."

Martin and Jon both understand the significance of that offer, knowing that Gerry's favourite things about this place are the high ceilings, giant windows, and natural lighting at most times of the day and even at night.

"You would be willing to give up your art space for us?" Martin asks in some wonder.

"Well yeah, of course," Gerry says as if it's obvious. "We'll all have to share the bedroom then, but the living space will be bigger. Whatever you would prefer."

"Just like that?" Jon's blunt incredulity finally tips Gerry off to their shock.

"Oh come on. I obviously haven't been a very good boyfriend if you two don't already know that you're more important to me than painting." It was the most romantic thing Gerry could say to anyone, really.

Martin kisses him, tearing up again.

"What did I say? Don't cry, love." He reaches up to wipe the tears away, and Martin offers him a wobbly smile.

Jon goes over to kiss him too. "You love us more than art."

"We're going in circles here. Yes, I love you both more than literally anything." Gerry is starting to wonder if they're being obtuse on purpose.

"We love you too," Jon tells him emphatically.

"Of course you do. I'm delightful." They all dissolve into laughter at that, the weighty mood breaking with it.

"So do you think you'll both be happy here?" Gerry asks when the laughter has faded.

Even standing in the mildly dusty storeroom and breathing in paint fumes, Jon knows the answer already. "I think we might be able to make it work."

[notcanoncompliant]

I Never Doubted (pt. 1)

(first Starkercest woo)(it’s not going to be as long as I was thinking, but here’s the first 2,320 words)

I totes wrote this for @silkystark (I hope you like it! <3) and I know I always say I’ll have something done in like a day and then it takes me a week or longer...but I actually do have a part 2 already partially written and I promise (like, full pinky-promise, heart-crossing, needles-in-eyes promise) it will be up by tomorrow evening at the LATEST.

ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS FIRST BIT *hides under a blanket*

@plsstopgivingpetertrauma​ @tightaroundthewebslinger​ @readysetstarker​ @the-amazing-spidertwink​ @stxrker-fan-xx

******************************************************

When his mom had said "Your father wants to meet you", Peter hadn't really thought much of it.

He used to wonder where his biological father was, what the man might be like, whether this mystery person had ever actually wanted to meet him; but the resentment's mostly buried, now. The guy left before Peter was born, and Peter's mom remarried when he was six. Richard's a good man, a good stepfather (if a little distant); so, it wasn't with the hope of filling some kind of hole that Peter had agreed to the meeting. Now he seriously regrets not pushing his mom for at least a name (while simultaneously being very glad she's left the room). Tony Stark is standing in his living room. Billionaire, tech genius, philanthropist, Tony Stark. The man featured on the cover of every one of the considerable stack of magazines under Peter's bed. "Hi, Peter," Tony says, smiling a little, thought it's nervous and fades quickly. "I'm--" "Tony Stark," Peter interrupts faintly, "Wow, um--you're my--" "Yeah," Tony says. Oh, no. "It's--it's nice to meet you," Peter says, walking up and extending a hand that Tony takes. "You too, kid."

***

An hour later, Peter's back up in his room, flat on his back in bed. His jeans are on the floor, where they ended up when he'd hastily shed them after shutting himself in. He rests a shaking hand just above the line of his boxers, easing his fingers under the elastic waistband and staring up into the dark.

He's going on vacation with Tony Stark in a week. A father-son getaway. Christ. As he slowly, lightly drags his finger tips along the underside of his erection, base to tip and back, Peter lets himself think about the thrill of seeing Tony Stark perched in his favorite worn chair, asking questions and cracking jokes, everything about him confident and relaxed save for his long, thick fingers tapping random, ever-changing beats against the armrest.

Tony'd looked scandalized to hear that Peter'd never been on a real vacation. Whipped out his phone, done some digging, and asked if Peter'd ever been on a cruise. When Peter'd said 'no', he'd arched a brow and asked if he'd like to go on one, smiled when Peter had blushed and stammered out a 'yes, yeah, sure'.

Peter's never been on a cruise. He's never really been out on the ocean.

There are a lot of things Peter's never done.

He stops teasing himself long enough to push his boxers down, licks a moist stripe up his palm before returning his grip to his cock. Thinks about the warmth of Tony's hand, the roughness of the callouses. Would Tony offer to remedy his lack of experience the way he offered the cruise? Smirk the way he did when Peter had accepted, an unmistakable flash across his features, excited to be able to give this to Peter, to do this for him? To give him something he's never had? That's what fathers are supposed to do, right? Provide? Teach? "I’m sure you'll love it." The memory of those words, the warmth, the hint of something Peter could swear he saw in those too familiar dark eyes-- When he cums, he bites down on his other hand to keep Tony's name from spilling out of his mouth.

***

He doesn't tell Ned or MJ. There's no part of that conversation he wants to have, isn't really sure how to say it. It's...too big. They can tell something's happened (because they're his best friends, of course they can), but Peter can be stubborn when he needs to, and he spends every day at school resolutely deflecting every attempt either of them make to get him to talk. His time after school, though, he spends a lot more honestly. Jerking himself off to pictures and fantasies of the tech genius is a habit, an addiction, and not something he's trying all that hard to give up. The shame and the secrecy weave through the heat, give him something fresh to think about...and he does. Tony helps, if unknowingly. The billionaire texts him sporadically in the days leading up to the trip (regular things--questions he hadn't asked when they'd met, photos of things in his lab or the view of the city out the penthouse windows) but he keeps eccentric-genius hours, so sometimes Peter wakes up to messages timestamped at two, three in the morning. He gets himself off, not to the messages themselves, but to the idea that Tony Stark is paying attention to him, going out of his way to know Peter in some way, sending him little pieces of his life so Peter can be a part of it, even if they aren't physically near each other.    By the night before the cruise, Peter's given up trying to justify it (there’s really only one flimsy justification, how Tony's never been and never will be his dad beyond the biological sense) and admitted to himself the knowledge isn't (maybe never has been) a deterrent. Just a new scenario, the latest in the endless procession of fantasies Peter's had since he was fourteen years old. He still feels the shame, the heaviness of it, but it thickens the heat instead of detracting from it as he settles back on his bed, naked and teased to full hardness.  

When his phone buzzes, his cock jumps in his grip. No one else texts him this late, not on a school night.

>Hey, kid.

Peter bites his lip, stroking himself slowly as he types out a response with one hand.

>hey >why're you still up

>I could ask you the same thing. >I'm probably supposed to. >That's a dad thing, right? "Fuck," Peter gasps, pulling a little faster. >sounds like a dad thing >I'm sensing a 'but'. "How’d you know," Peter mutters into the dark, blushing and biting back a self-deprecating laugh. He turns, stretching to pull open his nightstand drawer, the near-empty bottle of lube calling his name. When he types out the next response, it takes him a little longer; his texting-hand is a little uncoordinated, most of his focus on running the slick fingers of his other over the tight furl between his cheeks. >BUT youre the one texting me at 2 am >You're right. Not a dad thing, is it.

Peter gasps, broken but nearly soundless, as he breaches himself with a finger, pumping a couple times before adding another--almost too quickly, but he wants to feel it right now; needs to. >i dont think youre supposed to ask my opinion on the subject >Your sass is a positive DNA test. >All Stark. A warm of curl of pleasure winds through him. >did you doubt it Peter's honestly not sure what he's asking for, but he needs the answer like he needed the too-soon stretch of that second finger. Wants a manifestation of his fantasy, to hear (see, read, whatever) that Tony hadn't immediately thought of him as his son, that he wants the same things Peter wants-- The response he gets is simple, and so, so loaded.  >I never doubted you were mine. It knocks the wind out of him. He drops his phone to grab his cock, cumming in a few quick tugs, biting his lip to stifle a groan that's shaped like Tony's name.

****

Reality's an ugly thing, Peter decides when his mom drops him off at the port. He stands there during the awkward interaction between Tony and his mom, listens to them exchange casual (if slightly stilted) conversation. Tries not to flinch when his mom hugs him and tells him to behave himself... ...and then she's gone, and it's just him and Tony. His father. Fuck. "Alright, kid, let's do this," Tony says with a slightly tight smile. They drop off their bags, go through security and the first class line, making cursory small talk (how Peter's week went at school, and a couple of the questions Tony hadn't asked when they'd met the week before), Peter's anxiety building with each step, each word. (When Tony apologizes for texting him so late, Peter nearly chokes on his own spit. He manages to get out a "Yeah, no, it's fine, I was up, anyway", and isn’t sure if he does or doesn’t want Tony to know what he means.) In a masochistic twist, his brain decides to bring every fantasy-driven orgasm from the last few days to the forefront of his mind. By the time they've reached the door to the suite, he's screaming internally, guilty and hard as a rock in his jeans and praying Tony doesn't notice. He follows Tony through the door, to the inner soundtrack of his own panic. Tony'd be disgusted if he knew--Peter is disgusting, thinking about his father like this, sick for getting off on it-- A quiet curse pulls him out of his head. His frantic apology is on the tip of his tongue--I'm so sorry, Tony, Mr. Stark--and then he sees why Tony cursed. There's one bed. It's huge, but it's still just one.     "I'll take the couch," Peter says quickly, because even sort of freaking out, he’s not going to completely throw away the potential opportunity to end up in bed with his number one fantasy. "Yeah, no," Tony says, wandering over to check the dresser drawers, "This is a new experience, kid. Your first time's not going to be on a couch. It's big enough to share." Peter's face heats, gut swooping. "It's--it's fine, really--"

Tony turns to give him a pointed, slightly amused look, and Peter's in hell.    "Okay, yeah, that's. Yeah." "Good," Tony says, shooting him a smirk, "Now. I don't know about you, but I've been on a diet of protein bars, Gatorade, and scotch for the last couple days, and I'm ready for some actual food. Buffet or room service?"

****

"Aren't you darling!"  They should've gotten room service.

MJ's said, before, that Peter's 'pretty', and Ned...well, Ned usually gives a helpless shrug in agreement. He doesn't hold it against either of them; he's aware of his baby face, knows he looks a little younger than his seventeen years. It usually doesn't cause him any problems or draw much attention, except for some of the 'negative' variety from his shittier classmates.

Everyone in the first-class dining hall, though, seem to think it's the best thing. At least six different people have made some kind of blatant comment over the last two hours, but many more of them are looking. A small, still-amorphous part of him is enjoying the attention, and...he maybe (definitely) likes the idea a little too much, that he's whatever they think he is to Tony, whether they believe they’re related or they’re sure Tony’s paying for his time. It doesn't help that Tony keeps touching him. Nothing explicit; the brush of a hand on his elbow or his shoulder, a palm at the middle of his spine, guiding and reassuring. He's leading Peter around, standing or sitting down, talking with these high-society strangers who keep shooting these looks at Peter, and after a while, all of Peter's energy is devoted to not reacting. Not flinching at every fleeting instance of contact. Not gasping whenever the now-familiar weight of Tony's palm presses at the middle of his back. Not giving any sign of all of it's wearing him down to the quick.     "Um, thank you, ma'am," Peter smiles weakly at the white-haired lady, praying she's not about to actually try pinching his burning cheeks. "And so polite, too!" she croons. Peter steels himself, has to fight not to let his eyelids flutter closed when Tony squeezes him where his neck and shoulder meet. A reassuring, paternally-affectionate gesture that shoots straight to Peter's aching cock.

"Careful, I think he might implode. He's not used to the attention," Tony says, and Peter nearly whimpers at the warm, teasing tone. "Well, he better get used to it, an angel-face like that!" They keep talking, but Peter couldn’t say what about. Tony's hand is pleasantly heavy at the juncture of his shoulder, a thumb drawing slow, warm circles against the back of his neck. Peter has one hand under the table, gripping his own thigh for some semblance of control. He's losing it, though, imagining what it would be like cup himself through his pants, to touch himself while Tony touches him like this, easy and familiar. It would be nice, that comfort, that approval, that care-- "--eter, sweetheart." Oh. Peter’s eyes flip open (he hadn't even realized he'd closed them, oh, god) to Tony, gazing at him. He knows. Oh, fuck, he knows. "You're looking a little warm," Tony says, sounding appropriately concerned. "Why don't you say goodbye to Ms. Lancaster and we'll go back so you can lay down?" The woman is clearly eating this up, has noticed none of the tension, none of the heat, as far as Peter can tell when he looks up at her. "Sorry, um--bye, Ms. Lancaster, it was nice to meet you," he manages, and he didn’t know his face could get any warmer. "Nice to meet you, too, dear, both of you," she says, all charmed sympathy, "You just get some rest and try to enjoy the rest of your weekend!" After a last farewell exchange with Tony, she turns to leave. Tony rises from his seat, and Peter freezes. He can't stand up. Tony knows, but he hasn't seen-- That hand returns to his nape, flexing gently, and then Tony's bending down, breath warm at Peter's ear. "Take off your coat, fold it over your arm," Tony murmurs. Peter wordlessly complies, grateful and mortified all at once. He stands, shield in place in front of himself, and studiously avoids looking up at Tony.    A hand settles low on his spine as they walk out of the hall, and Peter is so, so wonderfully, terribly fucked.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @petitgateau911 donated $25, and requested weecest first time. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

They’re just outside Wheeling, and Dad’s been gone for twenty-four days, and it’s friggin’ cold outside but it’s going to be 1999 in an hour, and Sammy’s--

“Dude, are you drunk?” Dean says.

“No,” Sam says, with affronted dignity. He puts his beer down in the snow and stands on one leg, easy balance. “See. You’re drunk.”

“Sure thing, squirt,” Dean says, laughing, and Sam grins at him in a total unexpected bloom out of nowhere, and it warms his gut just as much as the bonfire’s doing. It’s not much of a New Year’s Eve, but he’s got himself with no broken bones, and he’s got Sammy smiling, and Dad’s in the wind but they’ve got a twelve-pack and bottle of five-buck champagne waiting and a fire, out back of the trailer, and things aren’t all right with the world but, shit, Dean’s known them of a hell of a lot more wrong, so. He lifts his beer in a little toast, to Sam’s balance and to the world in general, and kicks his boots out into the snow. “You let me know if we’re up too far past your bedtime.”

Sam sticks his tongue out, kinda proving Dean’s point, but hell. He’s cheerful, which can get in short supply most days. No school to miss, with everything closed for the winter break, and Dad’s top-secret-no-sons-allowed hunt’s been keeping the boat unrocked, since Dad pretty much just calls Dean every few days to check in as proof of life, and so it’s just been them, and the woods out here, and the trailer. No job in this town, but Dad left enough cash that they’re floated for a while, and Christmas was pretty lame but Dean made a mega-batch of brownies from a box mix that turned out pretty good and Sam nearly ate his weight in ‘em, and there was enough cash left in Dean’s budget to do New Year’s right. Sammy’s even unbent enough to have some drinks, which frankly Dean’s surprised didn’t take more wheedling, but Sam shrugged and said, “It’s traditional, right?” and Dean could’ve just hugged him, but he settled for a noogie instead.

Sam’s still insisting on his sobriety. Dean can’t stop laughing, from his tree-stump that’s serving as a seat. “Shut up, watch,” Sam says, and does the whole rigamarole of the DUI stop to prove it. Walks a straight line, and stands on one foot, and recites the alphabet backwards while touching his nose. “See?”

“Sammy, how the hell do you know all that stuff?” Dean says. “You drunk-driving when I’m not around?”

He keeps holding his balance, looking up at the dark sky with his finger still on his nose. “DARE class, when we were in New Mexico,” Sam says, and finally drops the stance, shrugging. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to be good at it, just in case.”

Just in case. Dean’s little brother, ladies and gents. “You’re such a freak,” Dean says, glad, and Sam rolls his eyes but stumps over through the snow in his too-big boots, shaking his empty can. “Oh, and now you want a refill?”

“How long until we can open the champagne?” Sam says, practical, and Dean checks his watch. 47 minutes. “So, beer,” Sam says, and Dean shrugs, and gives him one.

“All right, short stuff,” Dean says, getting to his feet. He really is getting kinda tipsy--five beers to Sam’s two, that’s maybe understandable. “One thing about being a Winchester--you gotta hold your liquor.” Sam snorts, which Dean ignores. “Second thing, though, is that no matter what, you gotta be able to handle yourself. No matter what.”

“You said no matter what twice,” Sam says, helpfully, and Dean tugs his hat down over his face.

“So,” Dean says, and hops inside for their pistols, and a box of rounds. When he comes back out into the cold Sam’s resettled his hat and his face is pink and his eyes bright, and Dean does hug him then, a one-armed sling around his neck that makes Sam squawk but drags him all warm and bony up into Dean’s side, and then Dean drags them to the other side of the bonfire, where the light starts to fade as the trees encroach on the yard. The fence is kinda falling apart, but it’s steady enough to hold their empties.

Dean sets it up while Sam’s making skeptical-face. “You’re making me do training now?” Sam says, and Dean jumps back over through the deeper snow, crunching into the holes he already made. “Dude, this is lame.”

“Dude, it’s gonna be great,” Dean says, “because check it out: every can you take out, you get to take a drink!”

Sam sighs, like he’s aggravated, but he’s just being fifteen, because he’s grinning right after. Dean stands a pace behind him while he loads, professional, checking his weapon right just like Dean taught him--and he lines up, skinny shoulders square, and sights along his strong arm just like he’s supposed to. Shot--whipcrack sound that ricochets through the clearing--and-- “Yes!” Dean says, punching Sam’s shoulder, and he grabs their beers and toasts Sam, clunking the cans together, and even Sam going wait, you don’t get to drink yet! doesn’t dim Dean’s cheer.

“Okay,” Dean says, waggling his eyebrows, “my turn,” and Sam squints at him thoughtfully and then stoops and flings at handful of snow at Dean just as he’s lining up to fire, and he sputters and the shot goes wild into a tree, and he yells “Dude!”, scraping snow off his face, but Sam’s dancing backwards, laughing, saying, “Hey, you never said that was against the rules!” and oh, it is on.

Snowball fights aren’t supposed to involve gunfire, Dean’s pretty sure, but sometimes the Winchesters play on different rules than other people. All bets are off after Dean dumps a handful of snow down Sammy’s jeans when he’s aiming for his next can, and Sam’s girly-ass scream could probably be heard down at city hall. Dean makes his next shot even with Sam jumping around behind him making crazy monkey noises, and he drains his beer that time, and watches Sammy do the same. There’s a brief stand-off when Dean’s got two snowballs packed and ready, tossing them back and forth between his gloved hands, and Sam keeps watching him instead of raising his pistol to fire--solved when Sam raises--Dean throws--Sam immediately ducks and rolls forward in the snow, and fires closer--and totally misses, but Dean’s so impressed at the shitty attempt at ninjahood that he says Sam earned a drink anyway, and before long they’re laying on the ground, laughing and breathless, the cans all shot and the beer mostly gone, things pretty much perfect.

“How long,” Sam says, and Dean checks his watch.

“Eight minutes,” he says. Sam hums, sits up. He’s still got on his hat, somehow, but his nose is bright pink with cold. “Damn, kiddo. You’re gonna turn into a popsicle.”

Eyeroll, very obvious over Sam’s shoulder. “You’re the one who’s not wearing a hat,” he says, and Dean shrugs. Some things are just too dorky. When Sam’s a little older he’ll know it. “Anyway, whose fault is it that I’ve got snow in my boxers.”

“Um, yours,” Dean says, and Sam raises his eyebrows outraged and Dean says, “Hey, you started it, squirt,” and Sam says, “Only because you cheated first!” and Dean scoops a little clump of snow up and tosses it at Sam’s head, and Sam squawks and launched a full out tackle at Dean, and it’s on, yet again.

Sam’s wriggly and he’s got the bony elbows, but Dean still has five inches on him and the reach to match, and also he’s been fighting dirty way longer. He gets Sam pinned in pretty short order, an armbar over his chest and Dean grinning down into his face, and Sam puffs in irritation but then melts back into the ground--Sam’s special way of losing where somehow he tries to make it seem like it was always his idea, and he doesn’t care, anyway. “Uncle?” Dean says, and Sam says, “Whatever,” and Dean roll his eyes but sits up, straddling Sam just in case he tries anything else, and checks his watch again.

“Hey, one minute!” he says. “Got any resolutions planned?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, quiet. Different, to his usual moody Sam-ness, and Dean frowns, looks at him. His face is still all pink, nose and cheeks and what Dean can see of his ears where his hat’s not tugged down, and he doesn’t look--sad, or anything. Sam licks his lips, looks back at him like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how to get it out.

“What?” Dean says, and Sam’s mouth twitches, and then he grabs Dean by the lapels of his leather jacket and pulls him down, and kisses him.

Dean catches himself with one hand in the snow to stop from toppling forward. He hovers there, shocked, and Sam--Sam holds on tight, presses their lips clumsily together. Like he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s determined to do it anyway. “Sam,” Dean mumbles, brain still not quite together, and Sam huffs against his mouth and kisses him again, this weird smoochy noise that makes it really click in Dean’s head--Sam, kissing him. Sammy, kissing him. He blinks, pushes up, and Sam lets him go, back in the snow, face bright red and his mouth set like he knows he’s lost a bet but is determined not to care.

“Sammy,” Dean says. Everything’s static, two-am test pattern in his head.

Sam looks at him, then at the fire. “Midnight,” he says, and Dean glances at his watch to see that--yeah, jesus, it’s midnight, happy 1999, and Sammy fucking kissed him in the snow and that’s not--

“I just wanted to,” Sam says, quiet. Dean sits there, uncertain. “Just one thing, for me. Doesn’t have to be a big deal, Dean.”

“It doesn’t?” Dean says, and Sam gets redder somehow, his face all washed-out warm in the firelight, and Dean thinks--just one thing. For him. For all those days and days of curling up on the fold-out together and elbowing each other through Escape from LA and Sam falling asleep in the curve of Dean’s arm, that time, and Dean touching his cheek and thinking--wondering--

“Can we open the champagne?” Sam says, fake cheerful, pressing his hands down against the ground to squirm backwards, to get away, and Dean leans down and kisses him right--full contact, spreading himself over Sam’s body, a hand on Sam’s cheek and pressing Sam’s mouth open, wet touch of beery heat and Sam full-on gasps against Dean like a girl having her first time, and Dean pulls back for a second, turned upside down, inside out. Sam shudders, grabs at him, says his name.

“Sammy,” Dean says back, and then, weird and raw, “you never did this before?”

Sam stares at him, four inches away. Shakes his head, and the ends of his hair are wet with snow, clinging to his cheeks, and Dean licks his lips and tastes--beer--and tugs Sam up, and over, and when he sits down on the stump Sam collapses into his lap in total and ongoing surprise, like having started this he had absolutely no idea it could go further. “What?” he says, dumb, which is a nice change for once, for Dean to be the one who knows what’s going on, and Dean says, “Shut up, Sammy,” and tucks his hands on either side of Sam’s jaw and kisses him again, and again, soft and slow like he learned to do with the nervous chicks, and Sam just melts into his lap, grabbing at him awkward but eager. Wanting, and that’s just--Dean can’t think about that.

He gets an arm around Sam’s waist, keeps him close, and Sam squirms, his weight shifting in Dean’s lap. “Yeah?” Dean says, and his dick--jesus, his dick’s on board, has been, rocking a half-chub since Sam started wrestling with him but he’s been able to put that away--has always been able to put that away--only this time he doesn’t have to and it’s got his head spinning, his body moving on weird autopilot, since Sam wants it, Sam’s been wanting it. He grabs Sam’s ass and Sam jerks, gasping into his mouth, and Dean squeezes, instinct telling him that that’s a good thing, a good turned-on sound, and Sam shivers and his hips push back, and then cringe forward against Dean’s stomach, and then he jerks and says, “Oh,” soft, and Dean doesn’t get what that means until Sam’s hiding his face in Dean’s shoulder, shaking, and Dean realizes that Sam came in his pants, just from Dean touching him and having him in his lap, and his whole body feels like it about catches fire, right then.

Sam’s still quivering, though, and Dean’s not a dickhead. “Sammy,” he says, and tugs off a glove with his teeth to touch Sam’s bare skin--his neck, exposed to the cold, and the silky hair at the base of his skull.

“I didn’t--” Sam mumbles, clutching at Dean’s coat, and Dean doesn’t know what that means but he’s got a lot of experience reassuring his little brother, and even if this situation is--insane--world-ending maybe--well, he knows what to do here.

“Probably got jizz on my jeans, freak,” he says, super soft, and Sam pulls back and looks at him horrified, and then sees his expression and punches him in the shoulder, hard. “Ow,” Dean says, obligingly, and then touches Sam’s jaw, easy. “Hey. It’s cool.”

“Is it cool?” Sam says, echoing, and Dean bites the corner of his mouth, knowing he doesn’t really have an answer. Sam snorts, bitter. Dean doesn’t know if he was ever so bitter. “Yeah, see? I--I shouldn’t have--”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean says, again, and Sam looks at him, miserable. Dean shrugs. “New year. We still got that bottle of champagne. We could go inside. Whatever--whatever you want to do, man. Night’s still young.”

Sam stares at him. “Really?” he says, and Dean says, maybe more honest than he can ever remember being with anyone, “It’s all good with me,” because--it is. For once. Maybe for the first time in Dean’s whole life--everything is completely, totally, bizarrely, freakily--good. He blames it on the beer, and on how Sam starts, even if uncertainly, to smile.

[gothpanda]

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch. 33: Nikki

WORD COUNT: 6.8k

A/N: Happy Holidays!!!

TAGS: @madamsixx​ @emariehorror​

WARNINGS: Drug mention

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December 31st, 1985

Los Angeles, California

Nikki grasped Sammi's hand, pulling her into his side, and wrapped his muscular arm around her shoulders. Sammi broke out into a smile from the surprise, almost tripping over her heels as the two walked across the front of a Bel Air mansion, feeling a pair of lips on her cheek. She cocked an eyebrow at Nikki, matching the smile on his lips.

"You seem happy to be going to a party for once," said Sammi.

"What do you mean for once? I like parties,"

"For about an hour then you're begging to go home. You're never the first to suggest a party. What's up with you?" asked Sammi, snaking her arms around Nikki's waist. The couple stood by the front door, ignoring the passing guest who entered. Nikki huffed out and shrugged his shoulders, remaining a comforting hold on his girlfriend.

"I just want to have a great New Year's Eve with you and Tommy. I'm still on cloud nine after Christmas," said Nikki with a genuine smile. Sammi couldn't help herself, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss Nikki lovingly.

"I know exactly what you mean. Come on let's try to find Tommy in this circus," said Sammi, pulling Nikki by the hand, entering the white marble mansion. The party was filled with many familiar faces to anyone, mingling with actors or musicians as they drank expensive champagne served by waiters. Nikki tried his best to feel comfortable with the number of people, reminding himself to keep holding Sammi's hand. The couple's attention lit up from the sight of a tall, teased up hair man coming straight towards them.

"Sammi! Nikki! You're back!" yelled out Tommy, hands in the air, ready to hug them. He wrapped the two in a group hug, resting his chin told of Sammi's head, smiling gleefully. "I've missed you so much!"

"Are you drunk already?" asked Sammi, pulling away from her brother.

"I thought you and Heather got here an hour ago," said Nikki, resting an arm around Sammi.

"Yeah but this party is fucking boring. I have to entertain myself somehow. I didn't think you two were going to make it!" yelled out Tommy, a smile still glued on.

Sammi shook her head playfully. "Where's your future wife anyway?"

"Oh she ran into some actress friends that I don't even know, but I'm so happy to see you. Christmas was boring with Heather,"

"Tommy!" chuckled Sammi, smacking Tommy in the chest lightly. "You can't say that about your future in-laws,"

"It's true! Sixx, you gotta come to our house for our Bass Christmas! Our mom promised to make kebabs!" said Tommy.

"Oh completely and maybe I'll finally get Athena to like me after all the dirty stares," joked Nikki sarcastically.

"It's not a bad idea. You'll get some nice greek food in you," smirked Sammi, gingerly patting Nikki's stomach. "Think about it. We're having our Christmas on the 3rd,"

"Yeah! And to convince you some more, let me get you a drink," said Tommy. He walked behind the couple, guiding them through the sea of people to the classy bar.

Once there, the three quickly found Heather rambling on with a guest she knew, almost oblivious to Tommy touching her arm. Sammi gave a polite kiss on the cheek to Heather, learning to be nice to her soon to be sister-in-law. Nikki only said a short hello, paying more attention to ordering drinks for him and Sammi. Heather glanced over to Nikki, becoming self-aware to not make a crude or sour face. She wanted to be cordial even if she didn't care for the man. Nikki didn't need to read too much into Heather to know he wasn't liked by the actress. Instead of carrying on a fake conversation to please the siblings, Nikki guided Sammi to another area. With their classic drinks in hand, the couple found a more secluded part of the mansion, laying down on a loveseat. Sammi laid against Nikki's chest, a content smile as she watched the party go around her. She held onto Nikki's hand, kissing it unexpectedly.

Nikki scrunched his brows together. "What was that for?"

"I don't know. I'm just really happy right now. I'm glad we went out tonight,"

Nikki hooked his chin on Sammi's shoulder. "Even if it's just us alone here?"

"Yeah," said Sammi, sipping on her drink.

"Are you excited for '86 to roll around? Another year of putting up with me,"

"I really am. Tommy's wedding coming up. You and I are still going strong together. Maybe this new year something new will change for the better,"

"I like hearing the optimism, Princess," muttered Nikki, kissing Sammi's neck.

"What about you? Do you have resolution up in that big head of yours?"

"Am I going to have to expect more big head jokes from you?" Sammi giggled, shrugging her shoulders. Nikki sighed out. "I have three main plans. First, get a number one album. Second, finally going on a vacation to wherever you want in the world. And finally getting you a new car,"

Sammi pushed herself up off Nikki, looking at him with a cock brow. "Getting me a new car?"

"Yep," said Nikki, popping the last sound out with a smirk.

"I don't need a new car or have my boyfriend buy me one," objected Sammi,

"Say no all you want Princess. I have a whole year to convince you. Or just drop it off on your doorstep. I'm thinking a nice blue corvette or camaro would look good on you," thought Nikki, pursing his lips out.

"Good luck with that!" chuckled Sammi.

"Hey everybody, it's almost midnight!" someone yelled out. The guest quickly gathered to the foyer of the house, the countdown radio on full volume. Sammi jumped on her feet, pulling Nikki up by the hand and tugging him to the party. The two made their way to the outskirts of the sea, finding Tommy and Heather. Tommy's tipsy demeanor changed to a more giddy appearance, smiling wide when seeing his sister and best friend. He couldn't help but admit how happy the two looked together, seeing a change in Nikki. "Okay ready? 10! 9! 8!" the crowd began to chant. Nikki grasped Sammi's waist with a feather-like touch, turning her to face him as they got close. "7! 6! 5! 4!" Sammi swung her arms around Nikki's neck, staring deep into his eyes. "3! 2! 1!" The two fell into a romantic kiss, right on time with the loud happy screams and confetti that filled the foyer. "Happy New Year!"

June 14th, 1987

A gasp. A loud constant beeping echoed throughout Emma's bedroom, the radio alarm reading 11:30. Sammi's eyes shot open awake, gasping from the startling feeling to be woken up. Her dream from a past memory stayed in Sammi's mind, almost feeling like she was there again. Sammi rolled onto her back, wiping away the sleep from her eyes. When she turned to Emma's side of the bed, Sammi was surprised to see nothing but a half-made bed. Sammi reached over to shut the annoying alarm clock off, frowning as she looked around. The smell of cooked food soon waft into the bedroom, sounds of cabinets and pans carefully clashing in the kitchen. While Sammi didn't want to get out of bed, she knew that she needed to acknowledge the day as a guest in her friend's home. She tossed her legs out from the duvet, shuffling across the hall to Emma's bathroom. The splash of cold water helped Sammi feel more awake, the small hangover losing. Sammi stared into the round bathroom mirror, scuffing at her almost neglected appearance as she wiped her face with a wet wipe. Remnants of last nights were soon gone, but Sammi knew they would return for another round. Another round of questioning and confronting, something the twenty-three-year-old didn't want to encounter.

In the front of the apartment, Emma kept her head peeking into the hallway as she 'helped' make brunch with Sabrina. Sabrina switched her glance from the stove to Emma, carefully listening to Sammi's footsteps.

"Em, just wait for her to come," whispered Sabrina, flipping one side of a cooking pancake.

Emma sighed. "I am. I just thought she was going to come out already," said Emma, walking over to the refrigerator. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the counter, still looking over to the hallway. "She slept through the first alarm. You don't think that's worrying?" whispered Emma.

"No I don't. I'm sure if you weren't a workout freak, you would've slept in after last night," hissed Sabrina, plating the pancakes with a side of eggs. Right as Emma was close to objecting, Sammi appeared out of the hallway, mustering up a small smile to the girls. She sat up on the high barstool, looking over the breakfast bar to see what Sabrina was making.

"Sam! You're up!" gleefully said, Emma.

Sabrina presented the plate of food in front of Sammi, not showing any visible emotion. "Thank you. How early did you guys wake up? Your alarm just went off, Em," asked Sammi, taking a bite of scrambled eggs.

"That wasn't our alarm. We've been awake since 7," said Sabrina, her back to Sammi.

"Since you didn't get up, I just put in a different time. I didn't want you to sleep the day away," said Emma.

"Which is why we're also not eating," uttered Sabrina, folding her arms as she coldly looked at Sammi.

"Oh. You know it wouldn't be the end of the world if I did sleep in," answered Sammi. "Besides that was my plan anyway," joked Sammi, smiling, disappearing when Emma or Sabrina didn't budge.

"Sammi, it's Saturday. It's pointless to be lazy, especially when you're visiting all of us," said Emma.

"More like especially when you have a mess to clean up," said Sabrina. "We need to talk about what happened at Tommy's, Sammi," Sammi bit the inside of her cheek and continued to eat her food. She pushed away fallen pieces of hair away from her face, glancing at Sabrina's cold front.

Emma sighed. "Sabrina's right, Sammi. I don't think you can hide from this,"

"Why not? I'm great at hiding and running away from my problems as of late. One more day couldn't hurt," said Sammi with a shrug.

Sabrina rolled her eyes. "But hurting Nikki as the days go is the better option? What happened to you wanting to talk to him, huh?" asked Sabrina, cocking a brow.

Sammi frowned deeply. "I changed my mind. I'm fine not talking to him anymore,"

"Bullshit! We all know you had a list of things to talk about, and for you to drop him again is pretty shit!" argued Sabrina.

"Sabrina," muttered Emma, a calming voice between the two.

"No, Em, she needs to hear this! What you did to Nikki from the moment you left was shitty. You continuing to ignore him after last night is shitty. But I know what's right and that's talking to him," said Sabrina, her voice carrying out. Sammi looked away from Sabrina, resting her chin in the palm of her hands. "Don't you want to make things civil with him? It's Nikki!"

"I do," mumbled Sammi, inhaling a deep breath of air. "And I know you're right. I have been shitty to him, but I don't know if I can speak to him,"

"Why not, Sammi? Out of everyone, I'm sure you missed Nikki the most. So what if he has a girlfriend?" said Emma.

"It has nothing to do with Veronica. I'm scared to even look at him let alone talk about our bullshit. Nikki's never been angry at me like this, and I don't know how to fix it," said Sammi, rubbing her temple.

"By admitting you fucked up to him. Start off there and then listen to him," said Sabrina. "But you have to go today. He's going to leave again pissed off at you and Vince, for months before coming home,"

"We can give you as much advice as you need, but you also have to swallow the hard pill of going to Nikki's," said Emma.

Sammi nodded with Emma, her eyes looking at the two people she knew she couldn't avoid. Sabrina walked over to Sammi, putting a supportive hand on top of hers just as Emma did. "Once you get it over with, you'll feel so much better,"

"How are you so sure about that?" asked Sammi.

"Because it's Nikki. He cares about you more than anyone else in all of L.A. Don't forget that," said Emma.

*

It was a beautiful sunny day in the California Valley, Sammi feeling nothing but anxiety and dread as she drove. She was somewhat grateful for Nikki living far away, giving her enough time to think of what to fully say. Sammi thought of every possible way Nikki would react to her but remembering she couldn't hide any longer. Unfortunately, the moment Sammi turned into the mansion gate, all confidence left her body. With a trembling finger, Sammi pressed the gate intercom, heart beginning to race from waiting. Sammi almost pushed it for a second time.

"Who is it?" asked Nikki. He sounded surprisingly well to Sammi.

Sammi bit the inside of her cheek. "It's-It's me. Can I come in, Nik?" asked Sammi. Nikki didn't bother with a worded response, only opening the automatic gate. "Thanks," muttered Sammi, driving through to park right next to one of Nikki's cars. She inhaled deeply before stepping out of the impala, swallowing away nerves as the double wooden doors appeared right in front of her. Sammi didn't need to ring or knock, Nikki, swinging the door wide open and almost making Sammi jump out of her skin.

The look in Nikki's eyes was hard for Sammi to read. He didn't seem mad, but it wasn't the same warmth he would give to only Sammi. Nikki blinked a few times as if to check he wasn't hallucinating Sammi in his front steps, looking up and down at her. He cleared his throat, wiping the clammy feeling from his palms on the back of his jeans. "Hi," uttered Nikki.

"Hi," mumbled Sammi, shifting her weight between the balls of her feet.

Nikki looked anywhere that wasn't the short girl in front of him. His feet. The outside. Anywhere. He didn't want to look into her eyes. "What do you want?"

"Can we please talk, Nikki?" begged Sammi, wrinkling the gap between her brows, frowning.

"Sure," said Nikki, stepping aside to 'welcome' Sammi in, closing the door behind her. Sammi was quick to see the growing changes within the gothic castle, impressed by Nikki's ability to find his taste. She followed behind the man throughout the front of the house, heading straight for the kitchen. Everything around the house looked clean. Only three dirty dishes in the sink. "I like what you've done with the place," said Sammi, sitting down on the round breakfast table.

"Thanks. I had all the time in the world," said Nikki, placing two bottles of water between them, sitting across from Sammi. The tension was thick in the atmosphere, silence with only faint sounds from the outside could be heard. Nikki bounced his leg underneath the table, glancing up every so often at Sammi. Sammi would only take a sip of water and look around the kitchen. She then began to bite the nail of her ring finger, still looking anywhere but Nikki.

"Stop biting your nails," said Nikki

"Sorry. You know it's a bad habit when I'm nervous," muttered Sammi, dropping her hands onto the table.

"Yeah which is why I'm telling you to freaking stop. Then you complain about your nails looking like shit," frowned Nikki.

"Wow, nice to know you remember the little details," smiled Sammi

Nikki scoffed, folding his arms against his chest. "That's because I remember details of the people I care about and don't pretend they don't exist anymore,"

Sammi's smile soon dropped, pressing her lips firmly together. "Ouch. I guess I deserved that,"

"What? Expected me to be all smiles just because you're here at my house?" asked Nikki, cocking a brow.

Sammi glared at Nikki. "No, I didn't. I thought you'd be as cold as you possibly could be,"

"Do you blame me?" asked Nikki, a sarcastic smile on his lips. "I hear nothing from you. No calls. No Letters. Only to find out from Tommy you ran away. Oh and of course from Vince. Then to see you pop out of thin air as if nothing,"

"And whose fault is that? And I didn't run away," asked Sammi, raising her voice.

"Then what did I do for you to ditch everything and run all the way upstate?"

"I didn't ditch! I didn't run away! I left for school!"

"Bullshit,"

"It's true!"

"Then please further explain, Samantha," asked Nikki.

Sammi clenched her jaw. "Samantha? Really?" Nikki shrugged his shoulders in an almost taunting way. "I went to San Francisco for school. I decided to go back to get an actual career because some of us need school. Alright?"

"Still could've told me anything about school and that you were leaving," said Nikki.

"You made me not say goodbye to you, Nikki. If you remember at all, the last time I saw you you were gripping onto me high on heroin at my brother's wedding. Hurting me," spit out Sammi.

Nikki's face turned frozen, any angry winkle disappearing. He shifted in his seat, wiping his hand over his lips. "I didn't hurt you,"

"Are you sure about that?" asked Sammi, cocking an eyebrow.

Nikki's eyes rested heavily on the table, only remembering fragments of last year. "I'm sorry I did that to you, Sammi. I am," Nikki sighed out. "If it makes up for it in the slightest bit, I haven't touched junk in almost two months,"

Sammi rolled her eyes, scuffing. "Now it's my turn to say bullshit,"

"Fuck you," spit Nikki, regaining his frown.

"You expect me to believe that just by word of mouth? As if you haven't said it before when we were together?" said Sammi with an icy stare.

"Look through the entire fucking house if you want! I threw everything out. I didn't need you to figure out how fucked up heroin was making me. Clearly, since I had a whole fucking year without you," Nikki jumped out of his chair, walking further away from Sammi. Sammi kept her eyes on Nikki, the feeling of anger overcasting everything.

"I shouldn't have come here," uttered Sammi.

"Why because you're finally facing a mistake you made? How we both fucked up?" asked Nikki, his voice echoing out throughout the kitchen.

"What mistake?!"

"That you hurt me! Just admit you hurt me! Admit it!" yelled out Nikki. It was Sammi's turn to hear out an ounce of her mistake. Sammi softened her expression, lowering the walls around her. It was only fair if Nikki was about to drop them. "I've hurt you before! I can admit how shitty of a person I was to you! But accept the fact I have feelings too under all this shit," Nikki walked closer to Sammi, a safe distance but close. "I had to beg Tommy to give me your number so I can tell you about Nona, and I get nothing in return. When Nona passed I didn't tell anyone but you. I didn't care if you were mad at me. I still wanted to tell you because I knew how much you cared about her. Then come to find out you were with Vince, fucking and him rubbing it in my face," chuckled Nikki dryly, biting his lip as he looked down at Sammi.

"You had Veronica all that time," uttered Sammi, looking away from Nikki.

"Veronica doesn't mean shit to me! All she is is nothing but a problem!"

"Really? Then why are you two all over magazine covers? Vince told me about how fast you moved on? I had to find out about you two in a music store!" asked Sammi.

"To get you out of my head! Everything I've done after you left was to get you out of my head! The one reason I was with other girls was to try to get you out of my fucking head. High and sober you were all I thought about. The only time I'm even around Veronica is to get high,"

"And you're not getting high anymore? No more heroin?" asked Sammi, eyes beginning to become reflected like glass.

Nikki nodded, exhaling shakingly. "You know I've tried to quit before, but this time I needed to stop. It was getting scary even for me,"

Sammi bit her lip, swallowing away the lump in her throat. "Nikki, I am sorry,"

"For?"

"For everything. For just getting up and leaving. I know I'm not perfect. I know I fucked up when you needed me after Nona,"

"It's fine. You were busy with your new life, and letting Vince in it," mumbled Nikki, looking down at his feet.

"Vince and I are nothing. It meant nothing," reassured Sammi.

Nikki chuckled. "That's not how he put it,"

"It's Vince. You really think he's going to tell you the truth?" Nikki shook his head. "I was drinking, and he kept putting things into my head about you. I asked him to not tell you. I pushed him into a pool last night because I was so mad at him,"

Nikki's eyes widened with an amused smile. "Did you really?"

"Yeah, I did. It was either that or punch him and the pool just so happen to be close by,"

"Damn I wish I stayed for that," said Nikki, sitting down right next to Sammi. Sammi smiled at him, the two softening their daggers at each other. "I'm sorry too for being a shitty boyfriend. You didn't deserve any of that,"

"Apology accepted. And I did want to say goodbye, Nikki. I really did,"

"But you thought I was high that day so you left?"

"Not necessarily. I was a mess trying not to crack in front of everyone. When I was about to head over here, I burst and just couldn't do it. I wished I had you with me to help say goodbye. Holding my hand," sighed Sammi.

"That wouldn't have happened,"

"Why not?" Sammi scrunched her brows together.

"Because I wouldn't have let you leave,"

"But it was my choice,"

"You think I believe that, Princess? You left because of me and found an excuse,"

"Nik, I didn't-"

Nikki inched himself closer to Sammi, narrowing his eyes towards her. Sammi only stayed still, confused. "I know you better than anyone to know you love your family with everything in your tiny body. Yes or no?" Sammi nodded. "So you're really going to tell me you wanted to move by yourself away from everyone just for school?"

"No…" said Sammi, slouching her shoulders.

"Exactly. If you had told me about going back to school, I'd be by your side helping out in any way my dumbass could. But I would've never told you to leave because you would miss everyone way too much," said Nikki, reclining back against the wooden seat.

"Goddammit. I hate that you actually listen," groaned Sammi, resting her chin in the palm of her hands with a pout.

"I think it has more to do with the fact I'm right for once," smirked Nikki.

"Wipe that smirk off your face,"

"I am right. Damn that feels good to say," said Nikki, almost in a singing tone with the smirk growing into a smile.

Sammi rolled her eyes. "God I forgot how annoying you can be,"

"But isn't that why you like me so much?" asked Nikki, still smiling. Sammi couldn't help but crack, hiding her smile behind her hands, looking away from Nikki in a fun manner. Nikki chuckled at Sammi, noticing the light tint of red on her cheeks. He couldn't help but mess with his fingers, a little habit when he felt nervous around Sammi initially. Since Nikki was so used to just touching girls, he needed a way to restrain himself in the beginning days of knowing the girl. He glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall, seeing how it was almost time for the sun to set. "Hey, do you want to get out of here?"

"And go where?" asked Sammi, raising an eyebrow.

Nikki shrugged his shoulders. "Haven't gone to Little Tuscany yet?"

Sammi's eyes lit up, a short smile appearing on her lips. "No, I haven't. I would love to go out for dinner,"

"Perfect. We can go on my new bike," said Nikki, nipping Sammi's chin, matching her smile. A small ounce of old routine running back into them.

"Your new bike? Why can we just go in your or my car?" asked Sammi.

"Because that would be the boring option, and we know I don't like to be boring," said Nikki, standing up to walk over to the coat closet that divided the kitchen from the rest of the house. He reached inside the small coat closet, pulling out two jean jackets, one being too small for the man. Nikki held it up to Sammi, pleased to see her eyes light up. "I think you might need this to wear,"

"I knew I left some stuff over here," said Sammi, grabbing the jacket from Nikki to slip it on. "Let's head out,"

*

The Italian restaurant was a comforting place, which was what Sammi loved about it, dimly lit by candles and lamps for the evening shift. A family-owned business with an old man always sitting in the entrance to welcome every customer. Nikki opened the door, gesturing Sammi to enter like a proper gentleman. They were regulars to the point a young hostess smiled at Sammi, reaching over for menus to guide them through the restaurant. Wooden tables with blue tablecloths in the middle and dark emerald booths on the sides. The hostess showed them to their booth in the restaurant's corner that felt secluded for Nikki and Sammi. It was busy for a typical Saturday, families, and couples enjoying themselves. As Sammi read through the menu, Nikki kept his eyes on her, not paying attention to anything else. Not even the pop music that was playing in the background softly could interrupt Nikki. He played with a sugar packet between his hands, reading every little detail of Sammi. Nikki didn't think Sammi appeared any different, but he didn't want to miss anything. Nikki didn't want to miss the way Sammi played with a lock of hair that framed her face or the way she pursed her lips as she read. That is until a waiter approached the table to cut Nikki out of his concentration.

"Good evening! What can I get you two to drink?" asked the waiter with a polite smile on his face.

"Can I have a raspberry soda," asked Sammi, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Make that two sodas, please," added Nikki, Sammi raising an eyebrow.

"Okay I'll be right back with your drinks," said the waiter, dashing to the back near the kitchen.

"No drinking tonight?" asked Sammi.

Nikki shook his head. "I have to drive the bike, remember?"

"That, unfortunately, hasn't stopped you before in the past. You can have one drink if you want, Nik," said Sammi.

"No can do. I'm being serious, Sammi. I really don't want to drink and have a sober night for once. Just the two of us" smiled Nikki shortly. The waiter placed two old-fashioned glass soda bottles right on queue, tossing two straws between Nikki and Sammi.

"Are you two ready to order some food or need a minute more?" asked the waiter, pulling out his notepad from his apron.

"Do you want to split a Margherita?" Nikki asked Sammi, gaining a nod from her.

"Alright, one full Margherita pizza coming up!" said the waiter, giving his best polite smile and heading to another table he was assigned.

When it was only the two of them again, Nikki and Sammi began the staring game except without any anger. Sammi didn't know what to make of this evening, unsure if Nikki was trying to win her over by being nice. She knew Nikki wasn't like Vince, who did things to gain something, but it was something to keep in the back of her mind. So Sammi acted as if this was an expected date with Nikki, extending her legs out from under the table to rest on Nikki's lap. Nikki paid attention to this, squeezing Sammi's ankle, and gained a giggle from her.

"So how's San Francisco been? And be honest this time, please. You haven't mentioned what exactly you're doing over there," asked Nikki, hands resting on Sammi.

Sammi sighed out, crossing her arms against her chest as she tried to summarize in a few words. "People, horrible. Food, great. School, difficult because I'm studying to be a pharmacist. Stupidly expensive for no reason. I was quick to remember why you hate it there a month after moving,"  

"Oh so you did think of me?" teased Nikki, earning a specific finger from Sammi. "But school is going great right? Passing everything and being a little miss A student?"

"More like a B student, but it's way better than not passing," said Sammi with a shrug. "Hey, and how has Tom been since Nona? Is he still living in the house or?"

It was Nikki's turn to shrug. "Tom's been doing okay, and he is still living there. He came down to visit not that long ago, he mentioned selling to get a smaller piece of land,"

"Was it the first time seeing him after the funeral?"

Nikki stiffened his shoulders, looking down at the table. "I didn't go to the funeral," Nikki muttered.

Sammi couldn't help but make a face of shock, eyes changing in a second. "What?"

"I couldn't go because I was too high. It wouldn't have been fair to the both of them if I showed up like that," Nikki sighed, biting his cheek as he recalled last year. Sammi only gave a sympathetic smile. "Tom's asked about you… a lot,"

"And?" asked Sammi with worry.

"I sugarcoated as best as I could so he wouldn't worry. To him, we broke up because our jobs were getting in the way and you needed time to focus. Which isn't the worst lie I've told,"

"No it's not, but it's nice to hear Tom still cares to ask,"

"It's Tom, of course, he cares. Tom and Nona really did love you after a few days, Sammi," Nikki nodded to himself, the memories of Nona playing in his head, letting out a sad sigh.

"Can I ask you a question?" Sammi firmly pressed her lips together.

"Shoot," muttered Nikki, looking down at his hands.

"Do you still care about me?" Nikki cocked his head and curled his lip, not expecting to hear this kind of question. It was stupid for Sammi to ask this question, Nikki thought, knowing how different he is with Sammi only.

"That's a dumb question. Of course, I still care about you. Why would you think I didn't?" asked Nikki, trying to regain some amount of stolidness.

"Because maybe I just need a little reassurance. You can't blame me for still thinking the worst," said Sammi, taking a sip of her soda. "And I don't expect you to be nice after an hour of being angry,"

The man nodded at Sammi's words, beginning to think before he said anything. Nikki leaned closer onto the table, reaching over to Sammi as he laced his finger through hers. Sammi didn't object, letting Nikki hold her hands in the middle of the table. "We both fucked up in our own ways, right? And we're both sorry, right?" Sammi nodded. "Alright then. I wouldn't see why we'd have to throw away a good thing just because we weren't nice to each other," said Nikki, shooting a smile at Sammi, his classic crooked one that made Sammi melt.

"You make it sound so nice and easy to fall back into it," joked Sammi.

"It could be. We could work on it after I get back from being on the road," said Nikki squeezing Sammi's hands. "Speaking of which, there's a show the day before your birthday in Oakland. Would you want to come,"

"It would definitely beat spending it alone in my apartment! Of course, I'll go. I haven't seen you guys play in a while anyway," said Sammi.

"Excellent point," smirked Nikki. Before Sammi could get another word in, their waiter walked up with the perfect Margherita pizza right between them, Nikki letting go of Sammi's hands. The two said their thank you's and didn't hesitate to dive into their meal, eating in blissful silence—a delightful dinner after the days of chaos in their lives.

"Oh and we're getting the cheesecake after this," said Sammi in all seriousness.

Nikki chuckled, wiping the corner of his mouth. "You read my mind, princess," winked Nikki.

*

The ride back home was a calm one, Sammi with her arms wrapped around Nikki and resting against his shoulder. A Saturday night in Los Angeles remained busy as always, riding through the party bar streets. It made Sammi miss her hometown even more than she thought. When Nikki slowed down into his neighborhood, he was surprised to find his security gate wide open. For a moment, Nikki was trying to rack his brain if he ever closed the gate after taking off for dinner. He didn't think to see an uninvited guest sitting on his steps, smoking a cigarette. Nikki parked the bike right by Sammi's car, a safe distance for Sammi to not be near Veronica. Sammi took off Nikki's spare helmet, smooth the back of her hair, unaware of Veronica's presence. Veronica held a glare right onto Nikki and Sammi, finishing her cigarette with disgust to see the pair.

"Sammi," Nikki stood right in front of Sammi, blocking Veronica from her line of sight, lightly holding onto her. "I think you should be heading home. It's getting kind of late don't you think?"

Sammi scrunched her brows together, looking down at the watch on her wrist. "I mean it's 10:30, but I don't think it's late in our world. I wanted to see if I left any other stuff around the house," Sammi told Nikki, stepping aside from Nikki only to get blocked again.

"I'll drop off anything I find tomorrow at Emma and Sabrina's. You can just call and give the address," said Nikki, biting his lip.

"Nik, what's going on? Why are you acting-"

"Nikki! You motherfucker!" yelled Veronica, marching right on her heels over to the pair. Nikki cursed under his breath, finally acknowledging Veronica as she stood right in front of him. Sammi stood frozen behind Nikki, stepping back away from the two. "Now I know why you've been ignoring me all day!" yelled out Veronica again, smacking Nikki in the chest.

"V, I've been ignoring you before today. What do you even want?" asked Nikki, pushing Veronica away from him. Veronica almost tripped over her feet, stumbling to regain her balance. Nikki narrowed his eyes at her, reading her body language. He scuffed. "Of course you're fucking high,"

"Oh, and you're so great just 'cause you're off it for a while. Don't fool yourself, sweetheart, you're going to come back," said Veronica, inching closer to Nikki. She peeked behind him, curling her lip at Sammi. "Do you know you're a fucking slut?"

"What?" asked Sammi, scrunching her brows together.

"You're a slut. Because you're out doing god knows what with an engaged man, you bitch," Veronica spit out, pushing Nikki out of the way to get closer to Sammi. "But I'm guessing Nikki never told you,"

Sammi's face fell, lips parted as Veronica flashed a diamond ring on her finger. She frowned at Nikki. "Well, then congratulations on the engagement. Your ring looks beautiful," said Sammi, pressing her lips firmly together.

"Thank you. Hey!" shouted Veronica. Nikki didn't need to say anything to Veronica, grabbing her by the shoulders, almost dragging her away. He tried to not let her fall onto the pavement, finally letting go once they crossed to the outside of Nikki's property. "Fuck you!"

"Here! Have twenty bucks, get yourself a cab, and get the fuck away from me!" shouted Nikki, throwing the money at Veronica. "We're not together, you psycho bitch," Nikki said, walking back into his property and shutting the automatic gate behind him.

"You'll be back! You'll be back after everything!" shouted Veronica before walking away, aimlessly. Before Nikki could have a moment to catch his breath, he now had to run after Sammi, seeing her already heading to her car.

"Sammi! Sammi," Nikki laid a hand on Sammi's shoulder only to be shoved off. "Sammi please listen, I am not engaged to Veronica," said Nikki, standing between Sammi and the car door. Sammi only glared right at him, trying her best to open the door. "She asked me when we both high out of our minds. That isn't an engagement,"

"Bullshit! You asked me the same way in Vegas, except this time you got a ring for it," said Sammi with a frown.

"That was different! And I didn't even give Veronica that ring! She stole my credit card and bought it herself," Sammi glared at Nikki once more, finally getting enough strength to push him off her car. Nikki could be heard through the window as she got into the old impala, but Sammi paid no attention. She was ready to leave, but the impala had a different plan. Sammi tried to turn on the ignition only to get the rough sound of the engine failing. She did this three more times until finally giving up, dropping her head against the steering wheel. Nikki knocked on the window once Sammi gave up, seeing the stubborn girl roll down the window. "I think it's dead,"

Sammi clenched her jaw, continuing her glare. "You don't say,"

Nikki shook his head. "I told you needed a new car. See what happens when you don't listen,"

"The impala's fine! It's just being a pain in the ass out of all days to be one!" shouted Sammi, groaning as she stepped out of the car, slamming the door. She folded her arms against her chest, trying to not look at Nikki.

"I knew I should have just given you a car on your birthday randomly," said Nikki.

"Well you didn't give me shit for my birthday so shut it," Sammi said. Silence ascended between them again, Nikki sitting on the hood as he watched Sammi sulk with an intense frown. "Are you just going to stand there or are you gonna say anything?"

"What do you want me to say, Sammi? If it's about your car, there's nothing I can do because I'm not a mechanic and everything is closed,"

"I'm talking about your stupid fiance,"

Nikki blinked. "Oh. Well, she's not my fiance, simple as that. I was high when she asked and said yes. But that is completely different from when I asked you in Vegas,"

"How so?" scowled Sammi.

Nikki rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the car. "Because when have I kicked you out of my house? Or been embarrassed by everything you do when we're out? When I asked you, it was because I felt like we could be married. That isn't how I feel about Veronica. After I stopped shooting up, I stopped calling every single person that could bring that crap around me. Veronica included. She is nothing but a pain in my ass," This didn't lessen Sammi's scowl at Nikki, but she began making her way to the front door. Nikki scrunched his brows together. "What are you doing?"

"Going inside to go to bed," said Sammi, turning on her heels. "Or do you want to take me back to Emma and Sabrina's apartment that's 30 minutes away?" Nikki opened his mouth to say something but then closed it as he tried to think of words, following Sammi to the door.

"Are we gonna sleep in my bed? Together?" asked Nikki, unlocking the door.  

"Is your bed clean from anything gross?" Sammi asked, heading straight for the stairs.

"Actually yeah, I just changed the sheets three days ago," smirked Nikki.

"Okay then we'll share the bed," Sammi stood at the top of the stairs, arms still crossed, looking up at Nikki. Nikki couldn't help himself any longer from touching Sammi. With hesitation, Nikki softly cupped Sammi's cheeks in his hands, leaning down to kiss her lips but without any hungry force. He pulled away, cheeks flushed as if he was back to being a teenager, clearing his throat. Sammi had the same tint of blush on her cheeks, almost stunned with surprise.

"Sorry," muttered Nikki.

"It's okay," smiled Sammi. Before continuing to Nikki's room, Sammi stood on her toes' tips, kissing Nikki in what felt short to the man. "That is all you're getting tonight," said Sammi.

Nikki chuckled to himself, wrapping an arm around Sammi's shoulders. "I am not complaining one bit,"

[likecastle]

Witcher Noir AU

Here’s the beginning of the Witcher noir AU I was talking about the other day. If anyone has scenes they’d like to see, or suggestions of any kind, I am very open to prompts on this! Please make me write more of this!

This first scene doesn’t suggest it, but this is headed in a Geraskier direction, though Yennefer is definitely in the picture and she and Geralt definitely have A Past. So possibly eventual Geraskefer? I’m not making any promises at this point. Maybe that will depend on what suggestions I get!

CW for mentions of canonical character death.

When he unlocks the door to his office, he finds her waiting for him—not seated in the chair like any other client would be, but perched on the edge of his desk, the slit in her black skirt carefully arranged to give him a long look at the legs he doesn’t get to touch anymore. He resolutely doesn’t let his gaze linger.

“Do I want to know how you got in here?” He lowers himself into his chair and hunts around in his desk drawers for a fifth of whiskey and the first aid kit. It’s been a long day already, and he has the feeling it’s only going to get longer.

Yennefer taps her nails—blood red and filed sharp—impatiently on the surface of the desk. “I can’t say it was much of a challenge.”

He takes a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, then holds it out to her. She declines with a disdainful shake of her head that sends her glossy curls spilling back over her shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to tell me how much you’ve missed me, Geralt?”

“No,” he says flatly. She knows anyway.  

Gingerly he shrugs off his jacket and pulls his tie loose. She watches him undo his shirt buttons, violet eyes avid in her otherwise perfectly composed face. She makes no move to help him as he sheds his shirt, or when he tugs his undershirt up over his head—which causes the pain in his ribs to flare sharply. They’re not broken, he knows, but fuck if it doesn’t hurt anyway. It hurts more to raise his arms and wrap the bandages from the first aid kit around his chest, but he grits his teeth and does it anyway.

Yennefer says nothing, leaning back on the desk like she’s taking in a vaguely amusing show. She doesn’t bother to avert her eyes.

Pulling his shirt back on is no less painful, but he manages to dress himself again, and takes another drink of the whiskey as a reward. “Well?” he says finally. “I’m guessing you didn’t come here to watch me undress.”

She smiles long and slow. “I was going to offer you a job,” she says. She casts a glance around his dingy office, taking in his split knuckles and bloody lip, the PI license hanging crooked on the wall, the waste paper basket full of empty bottles. “But from the looks of things, maybe you don’t need my help.”

“I don’t want to play games with you, Yen.” He’s tired, and sore, and he’s never shared her love of artifice. He prefers to speak plainly, or not at all. “What’s the case?”

Her expression softens slightly—or maybe he imagines it. A trick of the light coming in through the blinds, probably. “Calanthe’s dead.”

“I heard about that.” When the city’s second most notorious crime boss takes a swan dive out a twelfth-story window, it tends to make the news. “I didn’t think you’d shed any tears over Calanthe’s demise.”

“I’m not about to mourn that bitch.” Behind Yennefer’s expression of bored annoyance is something else he can’t quite name. He may not excel at her kind of manipulation, but he knows her well enough that he can tell when she’s hiding something. “But now that she’s dead, there’s going to be a war, Geralt. There’s no other word for it. Emhyr’s going to make a play for her territory, and I promise you, he’ll leave no survivors. Those of us who’ve managed to scrape by living in Calanthe’s shadow—all of the two-bit fences and madams and blackmarket dealers she so magnanimously turned a blind eye to because we’re too small-time to pose a threat—are going to have two options: submit to Emhyr, or be destroyed.”

Geralt frowns. “You think Emhyr had her killed so he could consolidate power.”

Yennefer examines her nails for a moment before meeting his eye. “I think no one else has even realized it was a murder yet—not the police, not Calanthe’s lackeys—and that means they’re not going to see Emhyr coming until it’s too late.”

“Hm.” If Yennefer’s right, it’ll be the worst bloodbath the city’s seen in years—and, if he succeeds, it’ll mean that Emhyr has a total monopoly on the city’s criminal underworld. “What makes you so sure it wasn’t suicide—or, hell, an accident?”

“Someone saw it happen. A singer. He emcees the stage show at one of Calanthe’s nightclubs.”

“And this singer, he—what?—just volunteered this information to you out of the goodness of his heart?”

Yennefer rolls her eyes. “I overheard him talking to some of the dancers about how traumatic it was, being practically the last person to see Calanthe alive. He’s an insufferable fool. I don’t think he even realizes what he actually saw. But he said enough to convince me Calanthe’s death wasn’t what it looked like.”

If this singer has been running his mouth, chances are Yennefer’s not the only one who’s put two and two together. And if word gets out that he knows something that would incriminate Emhyr, he’s as good as dead. “All right, I’ll talk to him,” Geralt promises. If only to convince the idiot to shut up and get out of town until this all blows over.

“Good,” Yennefer says, in that self-satisfied tone she used to use whenever he finally gave in to her demands—which was most of the time, if he’s being honest with himself. She hops down from his desk and smooths out her skirt, though it’s hardly wrinkled at all. “I’m glad I could convince you to take this case, Geralt.”

“What case?” he asks wryly, though he can feel a smile trying to form in spite of his better judgment and the pain in his ribs. “I don’t see any client here who’s likely to pay me for my trouble, do you? Sounds more like I’m doing you a favor.”

“Well,” she says, with a shrug, “and why shouldn’t you?” She’s already halfway to the door, and he can almost feel her putting this whole conversation behind her. “I’m sure there’s something you owe me for.”

There is, of course. There will always be a debt between them, one that he will never be able to repay, no matter how many favors he does.

“You’ll let me know what you find out,” she says, without looking back at him. Her hand is on the doorknob, and for a moment, he thinks she’ll turn around and say something else—something he’s been waiting to hear for so long. The light bends again through the blinds, bright slashes on her dark shape in the doorway, and then she’s gone.

*

Part two

[love-killed-the-superstar]

what the hell is this i’m so LATE for the last day of cassunzel week but here, take it

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 7 - HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE

Cassandra has been everywhere at this point. She has climbed mountains, drifted for days on the open sea, trudged through deserts and forests, passed through quaint town after quaint town, bustling city after bustling city. Every life is so very different from her own.

Still, after just over six years of walking this earth, nothing quite feels like home when she’s alone. Letters from Rapunzel find her easily, thanks to Owl, scrawled with child-like excitement; they document long days in the palace court and fun little mishaps with their friends in the same chipper tone, all while telling her each time without fail how much she misses her… how much she loves her.

Cass, in return, has done her best to keep Rapunzel in the loop in regards to her travels. There’s a letter sent from the peaks of the Koto mountain range, slightly blood-stained from scraping her hand on a rock during her climb; a postcard reading With Love, From Arendelle! on the cover, with warm regards from Anna and Elsa along with her own; several letters that are more ink prints of various fish she’s caught than anything, with a few words about how good they tasted and a vague grid location of whatever woodland she’s been wandering through between settlements. She’s even sent Rapunzel crude copies of maps she’s made, spinning the tale of how she’s made a small side business out of selling her maps to travellers she meets on her journeys. They don’t sell for all that much, with most travellers being just as broke and starving as she is, but it’s a small, honest living, and it does feel good to have her efforts appreciated.

She never used to be much of a sentimental type, but if Rapunzel is good at anything it’s rubbing off onto others, so for every loving letter that Rapunzel writes to her, she saves it in a small wooden box and sends her own back in return. Cass is pretty bad at writing mushy things to Rapunzel, but she does try to throw in an I-Love-You on occasion. More often than not, she writes what she knows, waxing poetic in her own special love language.

One such letter comes to her tonight, as she winds down for the day and watches the sky darken overhead.

Hey Raps,

It’s been another long day of travelling. Fortunately for me, I mapped out this area the last time I travelled through, so as long as I keep my wits about me I’ll be out of the woods in no time. For now, I’ve made camp. Owl is out hunting, so I will wait until he returns to entrust this letter to him, and Fidella is just outside the cave, grazing. I’m at the mouth, just sheltered enough so that my fire doesn’t blow out, but still with a view of the night sky. I hope you’re looking too.

I often find myself staring up at Polaris these days when the nights are clear, and I’m ever thankful for all those times you’ve taught me what you know about stargazing. I don’t have quite enough time or patience to chart the skies each night, but that’s why I’m grateful for navigational stars like Polaris. I LOVE that it doesn’t move. The other stars will stray from port, but no matter how far they go Polaris is always there like an anchor until they pass by once more. In that sense, I suppose that makes you the Polaris to my own fleeting skies.

Thank you for that. I love you.

Always Yours – Cassandra.

As she awaits Owl’s return, Cass watches that star like she does every night – the star that burns so brightly night after night, as though holding up an oil lamp, waiting in the darkness for something, some one – and hopes that maybe Rapunzel is watching that same sky with matched wonder.

Rapunzel’s reply comes a few days later, and Cass is knee-deep in a river trying her hand at spear-fishing when Owl swoops overhead, a letter clutched in his talons. She hoists herself out from the water and reaches for the letter, uncaring of the mud that squelches uncomfortably between her toes. She wastes no time in tearing open the envelope with that familiar purple royal seal.

Parts of the letter are nearly illegible; Cassandra can only imagine that Rapunzel scrawled it feverishly, so as not to keep Owl away from her for too long. But her reply is as lovestruck as ever, and Cass is unable to hold back her laughter at the adoring response.

My Darling Cassandra,

I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. Your letters have grown a little infrequent lately, I thought maybe you were somewhere new and remote, and perhaps too far away for Owl to fly or for the courier to travel. I’m grateful you wrote to me. I treasure each and every letter you send my way, I hope you know! I scrapbook them so that I can flick through and read them whenever I miss you. They’ve filled up almost an entire journal at this point.

Castle life is as it always is: hard. Everyone is wonderful and I feel like I’m making good strides, but gruelling work is gruelling work, as you perfectly well know. Entertaining allied royals and diplomats is always a treat, but they ask after my absent wife often since you’re rarely back in Corona these days. (I’ve also heard rumours that a few don’t truly believe you exist, because you’ve alluded their notice. Lucky you! They can be very boring. Oh, I know that sounds mean, but we’re just incompatible people! I’m sure they find me boring too!)

Cass laughs aloud at that. Rapunzel may be many things, and they certainly might not enjoy her company, but the notion of Rapunzel being boring, even to people who don’t understand her, is just too ludicrous.

But anyway. Let’s talk about stars.

Your words on Polaris moved me when I read them. Eugene thought I had seen a ghost! I will gladly treat you to another astronomy lesson the next time you come home. I never knew you to be such a poet, Cass, but here you are! I find it hard to pick a favourite star, but now that I know your favourite I’ll have to watch Polaris each night too, and hope you’re also looking. Watching the same sky does make me feel closer to you now. I just wish there was some way to fully bridge that gap. Do you know that I miss you when I climb into bed at night and you’re not at my side, ready to hold me? I’d give anything to have you in my arms right now.

I love you so much. Please be safe, wherever you go next.

With all my love, Rapunzel.

PS. Eugene says hi. Well, he’s actually working right now, but I’m sure if he was here he’d be saying hi.

With a heavy sigh, Cass leans back, bringing the letter up close. It smells faintly of Rapunzel, somehow – a trace of her perfume or something. Just enough that if she shuts her eyes tight, she can pretend her wife is hovering over, a playful smile on her lips, ready to kiss her.

She can’t wait any longer.

“We’re going back to Corona,” Cass tells Owl and Fidella, who seem unsurprised that the change of plan comes so soon after a letter from her sweetheart. “At first light, we’re heading east.”

I’ll be home soon, she thinks to herself, resolutely. Wait for me, just a little longer.

…

A week later, home is in sight. She passes through the Corona gates just as night is about to fall. The guards at the gates are pissed that she’s slipped through at this time of night, grumbling that it makes their life harder having to carry out ID checks by lamplight, but when she says as sweetly as she can that she’s the princess fucking consort and hasn’t posed a threat to the kingdom for many, many years now, they shut up surprisingly fast.

Cassandra feels a little bad for them, in all honesty; she used to be just like them, after all, and they’re only following orders. So she thanks them for their service and crosses over the bridge, choosing to ignore Fidella’s disapproving snort. After all, she’s so damn close.

She rides through the courtyard, nodding towards Stan and Pete and asking breathlessly if they’ve seen Rapunzel this evening. She’ll catch up with them later, but she’s on a mission that leaves no time to stop and smell the roses.

“The princess has already retired to her room for the night,” Stan begins, and Cass gives him her thanks and swiftly rides on, giving a quick wave as she goes. Owl, who has been silently perched on her shoulder the entire time, takes off into the sky and soars upwards, past the balcony of Rapunzel’s room. Cass and Fidella wait at the bottom, watching with bated breath as he disappears from sight.

She feels… disheveled. Maybe she should have freshened up a bit first? But then again, Rapunzel has seen her in just about every state of dirty, sweaty and tired known to mankind, so to pretend that she’s been fresh as a daisy this whole trip would be a little ridiculous.

Cass reaches up to smooth down her hair, self-consciously trace a thumb across the crows feet that have become more noticeable in the last few months, and for a moment she considers turning around and heading towards her old quarters to freshen up.

But then there’s the creaking of a window pane, and suddenly Rapunzel’s face, flung over the edge of the balcony, stares down at her in starry-eyed wonder. Cass stares up at her, a beacon in the fading light.

Ah, Polaris.

“Cassandra, you came back?!”

“I am! Didn’t I tell you?” Cass calls up to her, cocking her head in confusion. “I could have sworn I wrote another letter.”

“No,” Rapunzel says simply. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, then Cass stretches out her hand towards her. “Hey, come for a ride with me?”

“Are you sure?” Rapunzel asks, craning her neck a little further. “It’s getting late.”

“Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time we snuck out at night, would it?” Cass grins up at her. “Come on, Raps. Let’s go on an adventure.”

Rapunzel matches her grin with equal glee, and nods.

“Okay, okay, yes! Give me a moment to change, I’m in my nightgown.”

She blows a kiss and then turns, disappearing from view. Cass waits patiently, reveling in the silence of the empty courtyard, before seeing another figure peeking over the edge, looking more pasty than usual.

“Oh, look what the cavalry dragged in.”

Cass can’t fight her eye-roll back. “Evening to you too, Fitzherbert. What’s that on your face?”

“It’s an oat facial,” he retorts. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, I’m just glad to hear it’s not mould, because from here…” She waves her hand in an uncertain manner, earning a harsh laugh from him. Her face softens. “How have you been?”

“Oh, just great. I’m training some new recruits and they’re right cocky little shits. You planning on sticking around for a few days? I need someone to scare ‘em straight and you look like you have at least six facial scars at this point. I’ll tell them you were barred from the guard for extreme war crimes.”

“Sure, it’s a better story than choosing not to join after having all of my extreme war crime charges dropped in court because of my quote-unquote ‘emotional issues’.” She clicks her tongue. “So an oat facial won’t help my cause, then?”

“Cass, if you want to do facials with me all you have to do is ask, I’ve been dying to set you up with a skincare routine for years.”

“I’ll pass, but thanks for the consideration,” she says dryly.

“Rapunzel will be down in a second.” Eugene hesitates, and for a moment Cass gets the sinking feeling he’s going to ask to tag along on their would-be date, but then he adds, “You’ll keep each other safe?”

Cass cracks a smile.

“We can handle ourselves,” she promises. “I’ll be sure to get her back in one piece.”

“You’d better, because I can’t be waiting up for you two, I have morning drills at five and I need my damn beauty rest.”

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Cass says cheerily. “I only came for my wife.”

“Our wife.”

“Details, details.”

Cass hears the heavy creak of the main doors opening and closing, and turns her head to see Rapunzel approaching. In terms of physical appearance, she looks marginally the same as always, but Cassandra is pleasantly surprised by the fact that she’s donned a pair of riding trousers for their big adventure, though has still foregone any shoes. They suit her, Cass muses. She finds her gaze lingering on Rapunzel’s legs a little longer than she should, but then Rapunzel is right in front of her and all thoughts leave her head as they lean down to kiss.

“Hey there, stranger,” Rapunzel whispers, giggling as Cass takes the opportunity to pepper her brow and nose and cheeks with quick kisses.

“Hello to you too, Princess. Here, hop on.”

Rapunzel reaches over to give Fidella a loving pat in greeting, and Cass outstretches her arm to pull her up. Rapunzel hugs her waist once she’s settled down, and Cass shivers happily at the contact.

“You kids have fun now,” Eugene calls, punctuated by a yawn. “I expect no funny business, all right? Make good choices!”

Rapunzel blows him an exaggerated kiss as Cass rolls her eyes, and they take off towards the gates once more. The guards from earlier are perplexed by the sudden appearance of the princess, while being revisited by the grumpy woman they’d only just ushered in; but after taking a brief statement as per safety protocol (“A romantic rendezvous with my wife,” Rapunzel says cheerfully, while Cass simply responds, “We’re going out, what other reason would we have for leaving?”) the gates are opened, and they take off into the night.

With Rapunzel clinging to her, whooping and cheering, Cassandra feels happier than she has in a long time. She encourages Fidella to go faster, faster… the thrill sets her heart aglow, the blood thrumming in her veins.

They soar through the country roads and follow the light of the moon, and Rapunzel is squealing with laughter, uncaring of any attention they may draw from shopkeepers locking up, or drunkards leaving The Snuggly Duckling. They glide past effortlessly, and Rapunzel asks, “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Oh trust me, you’ll know,” Cass calls back. They veer off the roads and into the woodland, heading west for a while. Rapunzel’s laughter dies out once Fidella begins to slow down, weaving through unruly trees. Under the cover of the forest, moonlight barely peeking through the high branches, it becomes increasingly difficult to see. Cass blinks rapidly, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, thankful Fidella is having an easier time of it than she is.

“You didn’t find another strange cottage with a magic teapot on your travels, did you Cass?” Rapunzel teases. “Because wherever you’re taking us…”

“Trust me, will you?” Cass says again, tilting her head back to fix Rapunzel with a raised eyebrow. “You think I’ve ever gone to someone’s creepy magic shack after what happened out on the road with those bird-brains?”

Rapunzel giggles and leans forward to press a quick kiss to Cassandra’s cheek.

“Sorry, sorry. I trust you! Wherever you’re taking us, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

They ride on in comfortable silence for another few minutes, both happily revelling in each other’s company, until they pass through a pair of old oaks.

“Ah, I see,” Rapunzel sings, squeezing Cassandra’s waist a little tighter. “You’ll go all out on the romantic gestures when it’s the middle of the night, but if I invite you to come home and spend the most romantic Coronan holiday with me…”

“Nice try, but you can never guilt me to join you for the Day of Hearts, Raps,” Cass sing-songs back to her. They follow the path as it grows narrower, and Fidella treads carefully through the gulch, raising their feet to avoid the cold rush of water. The lagoon comes into view, the moon gleaming on the water’s deep indigo surface.

“Oh, it’s beautiful as ever,” breathes Rapunzel. “I haven’t been back here in a long time.”

Cass cocks her head towards her. “You never visit?”

“Not without you. It feels weird.”

“Well fear not, I’m here now!” Cass reaches over to pat Fidella’s head. “Think you can hang back here for a while so Raps and I can have a little… alone time?”

Fidella grunts in reply, and Cass reluctantly pries Rapunzel’s arms from her waist before climbing down and reaching into her travel pack to offer Fidella up an apple.

“Good girl, thank you.”

She helps Rapunzel down and the two of them take off, running through the narrow strip of shoreline. Rapunzel wastes no time in shimmying off her trousers and wading in, while Cass hangs back to take off her boots, pouring sand out of them with a grimace and slipping down her stockings.

“Augh, it’s cold!” squeals Rapunzel. “Not like, horribly cold? Lagoon-cold? But still, it’s cold!!”

Cass laughs at Rapunzel’s shrieks, but still finds herself shivering a little once she slips her tunic off. She takes a few tentative steps in, gasping sharply as the cool water laps around her ankles. Rapunzel, at this point, has slipped off the waistcoat and blouse she’d been wearing, and flings them in the vague direction of the shore. They land, unsuccessfully, in the shallows.

“Oh, well done. You’re lucky I have some spare shirts in my travel pack.”

Rapunzel cheers. “Yes! You know I love wearing your clothes!”

“It’ll be a bit spicy,” Cass warns. “I haven’t had a chance to do laundry in the past week.”

“Eh, I’ll manage.”

Cass plucks the now drenched clothing from the water and tosses it onto shore, before following Rapunzel further into the water. She makes it up just above her waist, shivering and grumbling all the way, when suddenly the sand beneath gives away and she plunges below the surface. For a split second, panic settles in; that primal fear of sinking like a stone and never coming back up that has haunted her since she was a child. Her arms thrash wildly, trying to push herself up to the surface, when a pair of arms wrap around her waist and pull her up.

Cass gasps and splutters, and Rapunzel’s face swims into view.

“Cass! Cass, it’s okay! You’re okay, I’ve got you!”

Gulping a few deep breaths, Cass is pulled in close, and Rapunzel kisses her brow and strokes her soaking wet hair.

“It was just a sand bank that gave away underneath you. You’re okay. You’re treading water without even realising, see?”

Cassandra realises dizzily that Rapunzel has a point. She’s doing okay. She’s not drowning, not even close.

“I… I don’t normally, uh,” she begins, and Rapunzel shushes her.

“I know. It just took you by surprise, huh?” Cass nods numbly, and Rapunzel pulls back a little, hands reaching to cup Cassandra’s face. “I’ve got you,” she says again, quietly, eyes bearing into hers with fierce devotion.

Cass manages to smile, heart still pounding in her chest, her mouth dry. “Yeah. You’ve got me.”

They swim a little further out, with Rapunzel facing her the whole time and offering smiles of encouragement, and when Cass’s heart has calmed down, she leans over to kiss Rapunzel softly.

“Well,” breathes Rapunzel, punctuated with another kiss, “this has been quite the excursion, huh.”

“I aim to please.” Cass kisses her again, humming happily against her mouth. “By the way, those riding pants you were wearing? They really suit you.”

“I had a feeling you’d like them,” Rapunzel grins.

She holds her arms out, and hesitantly, Cass leans back into them. She focuses her centre of gravity and lightly sculls the water with cupped hands to keep afloat while Rapunzel lays back beside her, arms and legs spread out like a starfish. It’s only once Cass properly looks up at the stunning sky above, stars and light everywhere, that her body grows still and simply floats on the lagoon’s surface.

“What a view,” she murmurs.

“I know it’s the same sky, no matter what,” Rapunzel muses, “but somehow the stars look even prettier here in the lagoon, don’t they?”

“Corona is always lit up,” Cass explains, voice tuning in and out as the water laps against her ears. “The sky isn’t as visible in places where a lot of people gather because of the light they produce. You remember how many stars we could see on the road, whenever we spent the night between towns?”

Rapunzel nods. “It was beautiful. I suppose you enjoy views like this all the time, then?”

“When the weather permits,” Cass laughs. “But yeah. Out in nature, it’s much easier to see a full sky of stars.”

“But Polaris is your favourite!”

Cass feels the heat come to her face a little, knowing Rapunzel is about to steer this somewhere overly sentimental. “Yeah. I mean, It’s a key navigational star, so… it’s a pretty obvious pick.”

“I like that,” insists Rapunzel. “The reasoning, it’s… authentically you. I think.”

“Why, because I like things based on how practical they are?”

“Because only you could make a navigational tool sound romantic.”

“Is that a gift or a curse?”

Rapunzel giggles and Cass joins in, their hands lacing together as they stare at the patchwork sky above.

“I love the idea, though,” Rapunzel murmurs, once their laughter dies down. “That I’m your anchorpoint.”

“You’re so much more than that.”

“Oh, I am?” grins Rapunzel, tilting her head towards Cass.

“Don’t ruin it,” Cass says flatly.

“Sorry, sorry. Please, tell me?”

Cassandra stares up at the northern star, twinkling bright, and exhales. “Rapunzel, when I’m coming back to visit and I’m riding through Corona, all that I really feel is that I’m in Corona. It might as well be any other place. Sure, I’m more familiar with each side street and stray cobble, but… there’s no real, you know, connection there, not after everything that’s happened. But when I turn the corner and lay eyes upon your face, that – that’s the moment I think to myself, ‘I’m home’.”

The world is still, just for a moment, before Rapunzel lets go of her hand and changes to an upright position in the water, reaching up to smooth her soaking hair back. Cass also gives up on floating on her back, already thinking of ways to backtrack if what she said was too embarrassing, even for Rapunzel to bear. But then she notices the way the tips of Rapunzel’s ears are burning.

She turns to face Cass, all red-faced and slicked back hair and wide, longing eyes, and utters, “Cass, I love what you’re saying, but Corona and I are kind of a package deal.”

Cassandra snorts with laughter. “Yes, Raps, I know that. And I do love Corona, in my own way. But my point is that if you were… I don’t know, living life out in the marshes as a bog witch or something, I’d still feel the same way. To me, home is wherever you are.”

“If this is your way of saying you want to go live in a marsh for a while,” Rapunzel begins, a sly gleam in her eye, and Cass reaches over to splash her.

“Shut up! This is why I don’t do schmaltz.”

Rapunzel squeals and splashes back, before swimming over to her and reaching for her waist, pulling her in close. The constellations above don’t compare to the galaxy of freckles dusting Rapunzel’s nose, or the universe in her irises. Cass reaches up to cup her jaw, and Rapunzel shivers when her cold wedding band makes contact with the soft skin of her cheek.

“Cass,” she murmurs, eyes bearing into her own, almost afraid of the answer she’ll find, “do you think you’ll stick around this time?”

“I don’t know,” Cass admits. “I’m not ready to settle down just yet, if that’s what you mean. I’m… I’m getting good at making my own happiness, Rapunzel. Real good.”

Rapunzel nods, offering up a bittersweet smile. “Okay. I understand. I’m proud of you, Cass, I really am.”

Cassandra sees herself as Rapunzel sees her, just for a moment as she catches her brief reflection; an older soul, face marred with scars, eyes tired but kinder. The road has been hers for a fair few years now – the events prior to the eclipse feel like a lifetime ago, out of sight and out of mind. She likes to keep it that way, and perhaps that’s why she never stopped moving, even after the honeymoon, even after her textbook happily ever after.

She isn’t ready to give up that life yet – maybe she never will be – but perhaps she can take a short reprieve from destiny. Maybe staying in one place for a little while, being around Rapunzel, letting Corona get used to the idea that someday she’ll be around for a long time… maybe this is something she can do.

“I know you are,” Cass affirms, offering up a warm smile. “I don’t know if you’ll be so impressed with me once I start sitting in on some of these fancy diplomat dinners as your wife, though. Any training I might have had is long gone by this point.”

Her proposition takes a few moments to really dawn on Rapunzel, who then squeals, launches herself at Cassandra and hones in with a kiss, drinking her in readily as the placid water laps around them. When they part, Rapunzel hugs her tightly, resting her head against the crook of Cassandra’s neck and pressing kiss after gentle kiss to whatever bare skin she can find.

“I never said this earlier,” Rapunzel utters, dithering happily, “but welcome home, Cassandra. Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Cassandra whispers.

She holds Rapunzel close as they tread water in the quiet of the lagoon, the stars their only witnesses as they enter the next chapter of their happily ever after.

…

(Eugene is unimpressed when they finally stagger into the castle at 4:30, shivering from a night of swimming and Rapunzel in Cassandra’s grubby clothes and barely standing upright from the way that sleep seizes her. He helps Cassandra set her down on the bed, and is about to launch into a speech about how they promised to be safe and responsible in their late night tomfoolery, before catching the goofy smile on Cassandra’s face.

“What’s got you so chipper?” he asks.

“I’m home,” she says with a shrug. “That’s all there is to it.”)

[editorialsonlife]

New Year musings

We’re finally home and back on our own couch and in our own bed and my god is it ever good. We spent Christmas with my fam and New years with Dave’s and got home sunday evening. Glad we had yesterday off as we got so much shit done honestly, it was ridiculous but the garden is all sorted and looks amazing so yay for that. Now to just maintain it! 

I also realised that one of the reasons visiting Dave’s fam is so fucking miserable is because neither of us sleep well while we’re there. The bed is so freaking uncomfortable and because of the cat we have to sleep with the bedroom door shut (do not want any half dead things being dragged in in the middle of the night no one needs  a repeat of that thank you) and then the room gets stiflingly hot and all told just very little quality sleep happens. which, combined with the alcohol and general stress of being there is an incredibly bad combination. I am going to start saving to buy us a new mattress, or a decent topper or something because its just hopeless. 

Anyway, it was a nice break regardless and I’m glad I still have the rest of this week off work which is nice. and the weather is actually cooperating which is even nicer! 

January basically started for us yesterday since it was the first day home that we could organise our own food, and the sugar/dairy/vanilla coke detox is hitting hard man. Two headachey days so far but hopefully it won’t last much longer. 

I’ve been in such a weird place with goals and resolutions and plans for this year to the point where I literally have a mental block about anything in 2021 apart from wedding 2.0 which is in April. I don’t know what the rest of the year is gunna be and it’s so weird. I don’t really have any big goals or trips to plan and none of the usual markers to divide up the year. God knows I’m normally a planner but apparently 2020 removed the need for it but anyway. 

I think the only real intention I have right now is to start approaching my physical health the same way I’ve been managing my mental health for the last year. Focussed on looking after myself the best way I can, in a way that is like, the tiniest baby steps on a regular basis, being as kind to myself as humanly possible, and doing my best to look after future Catherine as much as I can. So that’s kind of the plan for now. Gunna keep up the yoga once my studio reopens (not til 18 Feb, cry!!!), Shelley and I are gunna start swimming once a week on Tuesdays since pilates didn’t work out for us, gunna aim to get three walks a week in and then just see what else sounds appealing when the time comes to mix it up a wee bit I think. I might finally be over the whole ‘This is the decision I made and now i must stick with it forever even though it makes me miserable and I hate it’ mindset I’ve had previously which is a lovely change. 

Dave and I had a life discussion session while we were driving (literally don’t know what our lives will turn into without summer roadtrips for all the serious discussions, hilarious) and I think we’re going to start trying for kids at the end of the year. Which I haven’t said out loud or told anyone about since we discussed it and it was fine at the time and now I’m sitting here like uuuuuugggggh not good not good not good but anyway. It’ll be fine. Kinda drives home the need for good physical health and to start saving a bit more. I bought a lot of houseplants this christmas so I need to go on a plant shopping ban. oopsies. oh well. 

We’re also going to talk to an architect or someone about house renovations and get some costings for all of that to hopefully turn this into a 4 bedroom home I think. Gunna try and stage it a wee bit and see if we can work it out so we can still live in it while it’s being done so we don’t have to move out but we shall see. also need to confirm that the bank will lend us money to do it. I can’t see why they wouldn’t, given how much equity we have and that our mortgage is less than $250k but we’ll see where it ends up. again, need to factor all of that in if we’re going to start trying for kids or not. I dunno. 

I’m also going to set up monthly dinner dates with m girls and then also the cousins as well I think so that some of the annoying catch ups are just automated and I don’t feel bad about leaving them so long all the time coz it’s a bit of a fail. Might set those up after this. We shall see. 

Anyway, the gist of it is, take the approach I’ve given to my mental health over the last wee while and spread the joy everywhere else. Add in the good shit, and hope it all falls into place in the most beautiful way possible.