#please i need them to be happy

[dinosaur-mayonnaise]

I have HAD it from now on bsd wan is canon and the general anime is an angsty spin off 

[edenous]

*cries* y-yuri.... *sniffle sniffle* YURRRRRI YURI YURI *kneels and punches the floor*EUGHHHHHH YURRRRRII *punch* YURI (thud) АААНННННН YURRRRRRRI *pukes*YU- *BLOOD DRIPPING FROM NOSE*AGHHHHHHH YURI YU-*COUGHS BLOOD* RI *snorts and wipes tears* YURI !!!!! yuri..

[kiwis098]

💗💗💗

'Crowley was so excited when Aziraphale asked him if they could do something different, go where nobody could see them, just for a few hours, in alpha century. clouds were all around them, the porfume of something new was in the air, and even if Aziraphale's hat flew away, in the end he didn't care that much. he was happy, and spoiled'

[arsenicboobop]

i’m so not ready for tomorrow AHHHHH if wilmon isn’t end game i might die and everything seems to be leading up to them not being together and i can’t take it 😭😭

[chloesimaginationthings]

The Peni and Noir scene we deserve

[erabu-san]

I enjoyed every second of this quest

[This art has platonic intention. Thank you for not tag ship!]

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

LOST THIS SERIES FOR A MINUTE BUT NOW I'M BACK✨! OKAY FIRST OFF SHE'S A GREAT FUCKIN PARTY PLANNER! LITERALLY SO RELIABLE! SHE'D BE A DREAM FOR ANY WEDDING HONESTLY🥰! I LOVE THEY'RE LITTLE CODE FOR WHEN HE GOES OFF, IT'S SO PRECIOUS! MAN AND THE GIRLS NIGHT SCENE? BEI G THE ONE LEFT OUT OF MOST OF THE CONVO? I FEEL THAT SO HARD😭! AND JOHNNY CONFESSING TO HER OVER THE PHONE THAT HE'S FALLING IN LOVE WITH HER HAD ME LIKE🥹! BUT SHE IS SO DEDICATED TO THAT PROMISE SHE MADE TO PIDGE! "YOU HAVE ME, DON'T YOU, THEIF?" "DO I?" THAT'S THE KIND OF ANGST I LIVE FOR😫! AND HER HAVING KYLE TELL JOHNNY THAT HE'S RIGHT AND SHE'S SORRY?! I'M SOBBING😭😭!

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 06)

Johnny texts you while he's deployed, but when he calls you one night, you are forced to face your consequences.

MDNI/18+

Link to AO3

OCTOBER, MONDAY MORNING, TWO WEEKS LATER

Your apartment was bathed in the cold gray light of a foggy morning, and you curled your duvet closer around you trying to stave off the dawn’s chill. You’d been awake for a while, which was very uncharacteristic of you. Usually more of a late riser, the only reason for your early bird behavior was Johnny MacTavish. 

He was three hours ahead of you, and every morning, when the sun came up in the Urzikstani hillside, you were sent an image of Johnny’s hand, clutching whatever his breakfast was that day. Sometimes it was a tin cup of black coffee, other times you’d get a banana or a protein bar. But, it was always his giant hand and a sherbet orange sky. This morning, it was cloudy and dark, and his breakfast of choice was a slab of toast, smeared with butter and jam. 

MoChroi: sunrise_sand.jpg

You: wow. quite the delicacy today. cant believe you found actual jam out there

Mo Chroi: bit suspicious. when the food gets better the missions get worse

You: uh oh

Mo Chroi: dinnae fash thief xx

Mo Chroi: writing today?

You: yep. and meeting with my prof

Mo Chroi: what ya got on then

Mo Chroi: give us a show bonnie

Mo Chroi: is it naughty?? lol

You: nope

You: rangers_tee.jpg

You sent a photo of your torso, cutting out your head, wearing his own tee shirt. His typing bubbles percolated along the bottom of the screen immediately. Then, an indignant response:

Mo Chroi: thief!! xx

You: youre the one who stole my hair tie

Mo Chroi: hairtie.jpg

Mo Chroi: needed a hostage

Mo Chroi: your bad habits are rubbin off. stole cap’s clothes out of the shower this morning

Mo Chroi: price_hat.jpg

You: you learn quick mo chroi

His typing bubbles appeared, and then they disappeared. You watched them pop up in the chat and then vanish three more times until finally all you got was silence. This was a common occurrence, so you tried not to overthink it. Over the past two weeks of texting with him, you knew he disappeared sometimes. He’d get a call to go into the field, or there would be some crisis. You wondered if his captain had discovered his prank. 

The room was still cold, and you were reluctant to leave your cocoon of warmth, but you needed to write. You had promised yourself that you’d go into the office early today before your meeting with your major professor. After a deep sigh and some very challenging mental gymnastics, you stuck a leg out and onto the frigid concrete floor.

Your apartment was very modern. So modern, in fact, that it had been a challenge to make it feel homey. There was very little room inside for anything more than a queen bed, a short futon, and your desk. Your bathroom was sleek and full of brutalist, functional, concrete stylings, but the kitchen was barely big enough for a sink and a toaster oven. You had kept the futon for guests, not that you had many (any) visitors, but aside from the stacks of books in the corners of each room, your entire studio was practical to a fault. 

But, it was enough for you and your rescue cat, Marlowe, so you didn’t complain.

On the wall opposite the front door, a huge plexiglass window overlooked the River Kelvin, conveniently situated right across from some student housing so you could access the bus. Not having a car went against your Floridian roots, but you’d fallen in love with the ease of public transportation. 

After throwing on an oversized sweater and a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you slipped on your wellies and headed to the bus stop. You’d brought a big thermos of coffee, ready to face the day. 

Your phone buzzed again.

Pidge: I’m so excited to see you this weekend!! :D

You: me too! is hammie picking me up after all or no

Pidge: Yes, I told him to be at the platform at 4.

You: cool 

Pidge: Have you spoken with my brother?

You paused for a moment, riding the elevator and staring at your phone. You didn’t want to lie to her, but you probably shouldn’t tell her the truth. The truth was that you’d been texting her brother every day since he left for leave. You went with a half-truth instead:

You: yeah a few times why

She did not respond. You waited for the other shoe to drop like a blindfolded prisoner waits for their firing squad. The bus came to your stop, and you climbed on, sitting on the carpeted seat closest to the door, knowing your stop was only three away. 

When you got to your office, your phone buzzed again. You set your bag and your coffee down before you even looked at it, avoiding touching your cell as if it had thorns. 

You flipped over the screen.

Mo Chroi: make it to the office?

You: office.jpg

Mo Chroi: have a good day today thief

Mo Chroi: helicopter1.jpg

Mo Chroi: going on a wee trip. afk xx

You: promise xx

Mo Chroi: promise xx

Promise. Promise. It was you and Johnny’s little code. You hadn’t liked hearing about his “little trips” in the beginning, especially after he had shown you a photo of his truck, riddled with bullet holes. You used to say “good luck”, but you didn’t like that sound of that. You hoped luck had nothing to do with it. So, you just asked him to promise to text you back or to promise to be safe. And he always replied that he promised he would. Now, it had shortened to your one-word ritual. You always said it and he always said it back. 

Another buzz:

Pidge: No reason. He has my phone charge the little nugget.

You: omg lol 

You were not laughing out loud. If anything, you were sighing in relief. 

It took most of the morning, but you fell into a routine. You had your meeting, came back, and wrote some more. Lunch was a pre-packaged lunch box from the student center and a refill on your coffee. You missed dinner. The sun set on you as you finished a critical section of your thesis, looking it over for flow and mistakes. 

Worn out, and finally feeling hungry again, you checked your phone on your way back to the bus stop. No new messages. You waited for the bus, flipping through his photos again as if you would have forgotten them from when you looked at them from last night. Or the night before last. 

You stopped looking at them, challenging yourself to have a non-Johnny thought in your head for once.

Maybe you would make a ramen with eggs in it tonight. 

Maybe he’ll text you back. 

You could watch another episode of that K-drama you liked. 

Maybe he’ll send you a picture of him shirtless.

You could go for a run.

Maybe he will run his tongue back over your —

The bus came. You blocked out your thoughts from your mind, desperate to regain some semblance of control. 

THURSDAY NIGHT

It had been three days, and you still hadn’t heard from him. You tried not to think about all of the terrible reasons why that might be the case. But, you did. You thought about them all the time. Every time you checked your phone or read an email or scrolled through your feeds; it was the only thing you thought about. 

You had his shirt on again, eating leftover Chinese on your futon. You were thinking about all of the things you needed to take care of before tomorrow. It was Pidge’s bridal shower weekend and you were trying to wrangle all the final touches together. You’d rented out Ettrick’s, at Pidge’s request, and you had sent the invites two weeks ago. Almost everyone had RSVP’d yes, so you were looking at nearly 45 people to host. The custom bridal cookies were set for pick up when Hamish took you into town tomorrow afternoon, and the champagne was paid for. And you were dreading it. 

You were excited to be there for Brigette. She had always been there for you. When you first moved to Scotland, you were well and truly alone. But, she met you for lunch almost every day after class, claiming to need her caffeine fix. But, as time went on, you realized she wanted to be friends. Having no one and being in a new country was so tough, but she had made it feel so easy. So, even though you hated the prim and proper social situation of a shower, you resolved to tough it out. 

You put the half-eaten Chinese back in the fridge and climbed into bed. Your phone buzzed as you went to put it on the charger.

Mo Chroi: you up?

Your heart stopped for a moment, making your breath hitch in your chest. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to open his message.

Mo Chroi: camels.jpg

You: omg! are those REAL

You: shes not a camel but ill trade you one critter pic for a Marlowe pic

You: marlowethecat.jpg

Mo Chroi: her cheeks are brilliant lol so big

You: so your mission went okay?

Mo Chroi: lol yeah. and we got the guy who owned the camels to take a cool pic of us. can you tell which one’s me?

Mo Chroi: group_pic.jpg

You: gotta be number 3

Mo Chroi: how’d you know

You: your wide shoulders. and you always stand like that

Mo Chroi: like my shoulders do you

You: yep 

You: you should send me a selfie

There was a long pause. You were a little afraid that you’d overstepped a boundary. Sure, his long, hungry tongue had been buried between your legs three weeks ago, eating you like he was starving, but people were cagey about their online privacy. You backtracked:

You: if you want to. nbd if not

Mo Chroi: selfie.jpg

You checked the image, and your heart sank like a stone. Johnny wore a green and yellow bruise over his eye, and his head had been shaved.

You: you okay? bruise looks nasty

Mo Chroi: you should see the other lad

You: and they shaved you?

Mo Chroi: got a nasty wee cut on the back of my head and doc sheared me like a damn sheep

He sent you a series of frowny faces and sheep emojis, and you felt a wave of calm settle in your chest. The latent fear was still there, and would be until you saw him again, but it was good to know he was alright. 

FRIDAY MORNING

You were back on the bus, toting around your overnight bag, planning on heading to the train straight after your colloquium lecture this afternoon. Your phone had been beeping at you all morning. Johnny was begging for you to record your talk, asking you to let him sit in on your “class”. 

You: johnny its not a class! its just a lecture. we have to give them every now and then to show what we’ve been doing with our research. its not fun. you’d be bored.

Mo Chroi: meirleach! i dinnae care how fun it is. let me see!!

You: campus.jpg

You: look. its all stuffy and campusy. you wouldnt like it

Mo Chroi: youre breaking my heart lass xx

You smiled. He was so bright, and he made you feel like you were so very special. It was no wonder he was such a danger to single women everywhere. Your confidence was soaring.

When you made it to your office, you sent him another picture of your current work. You were writing a short paper on German poems, not really related to your thesis, for a conference coming up in the spring.

You: look. you dont even speak german! it would be like torture

You: german_poem.jpg   

Mo Chroi: so cool. im beggin you. let me watch you. i won’t say a word. 

You: maybe if you come back a little early from leave next time, you can sneak into one

Mo Chroi: if i survive this training, i will. 

Mo Chroi: thinking about seeing you up there teaching. got me all turned on

You sent him an emoji with a shocked look on its face, feigning coy shyness. He was relentless.

Mo Chroi: think youd let me be teachers pet?

You: more like class clown

Mo Chroi: you did seem fond of all of my tricks. wanna see what else i can do?

You: lecture_hall.jpg

You: i have to prep for this talk. keep your naughty thoughts to yourself soldier

Mo Chroi: yes maam 

Mo Chroi: wait!

You: what

Mo Chroi: before you go. what color knickers are you in

Mo Chroi: just trying to imagine your lecture 

Mo Chroi: with accuracy

Mo Chroi: cmon lass. for extra credit

You smiled down at your phone again, knowing your answer was going to win this little back and forth game he was playing.

You: im not wearing any this morning. gonna do my washing at your place.

Mo Chroi: jesus mary and joseph

You: and all the saints?

Mo Chroi: every one of them xx

Your lecture went off without a hitch. You earned yourself a few crowd questions and a round of polite applause. Stopping back by your office on the way out, you grabbed your laptop and headed for the bus stop. You’d forgotten your phone was on silent, and it wasn’t until you made it to the train station that you realized it. Two missed calls from Pidge and three texts from her brother.

You checked the texts as you returned her call, unable to hold yourself back from seeing what he wrote to you.

She answered quickly,

“Hey! Are you on your way?”

“Yep,” you replied, “I’ll be there around three forty-five, I think.”

“Okay, perfect. I just wanted to tell you that we’re adding two more to the list. Anjali invited Steph and Tiff. Is that alright, babes?”

You tried not to groan directly into the mouthpiece,

“Yes! The more the merrier.”

What were you going to do about the seating chart? You’d figure it out later. 

“Fantastic! You’re amazing, hen. You know that?”

“Anything for you, bestie.”

She kissed you over the phone and hung up. You let out that sigh you’d been holding. As much as you loved her, you were ready for your friend’s wedding to be over with..

You checked the messages from Johnny, looking to escape from your thoughts again. He was the perfect distraction.

Mo Chroi: oh fuck no

Mo Chroi: its dog day for training

Mo Chroi: army_dog.jpg

You: you dont like dogs?

Mo Chroi: not these

Mo Chroi: had a bad time with attack dogs in russia a few tours back

The train arrived and you got settled. You weren’t sure how to respond. It was back again, that funny feeling in your chest about him being in constant danger. You didn’t know how to handle it. It wasn’t like you could ask him to stop. That was his job, and he was one of the best. He’d been enlisted on this elite task force, and even though you barely understood what that meant, you knew it was special. What right did you have to stand in the way of his greatness? The world needed Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, and you were just a distraction. 

You waited for him to text again, a distraction for you and you for him. A two-way street. That’s all it was, right? How could it be anything more? 

You thought about his sister. She’d been so painfully clear about her boundaries. You imagined telling her you liked him, telling her you wanted to date him. She’d explode. There’d be Scottish yelling, and Scottish fighting, and Scottish siblings rowing at each other all over the house. You couldn’t do that to her, especially not now. So, you just went back to distracting him.

You: did you get bitten?

Mo Chroi: yeah, right on the belly. those bastards. can you see it 

Mo Chroi: shirtless.jpg

You gasped audibly, hoping no one had heard you on the train. You’d already seen him naked, but having a picture of his bare, muscled torso on your phone was another thing entirely. You glanced around, checking behind you and clutching your screen to your chest, holding it to you shamefully, praying no one saw it. 

You typed a message, then deleted it. You tried again, and then deleted it. You knew he could see your text bubbles popping up, and it embarrassed you to no end. Eventually, you decided to just be honest.

You: youre so damn hot

The wait was going to kill you. Seconds became minutes, which became hours, which became eons. You stared at the bottom of your message like it would disappear if you looked away. You opened the picture of his bare torso again, unable to stop yourself from indulging in his huge body. You knew how those muscles felt, and you wanted to feel them again.

He didn’t respond. Your heart sank like a rock. You felt the train screech to a halt at the station, and it took everything in you to pocket your phone and leave the car.

You marched down to meet Hamish, trying to control the look on your face. 

“Hey! Over here!” he called to you from the carpark.

You saw his smiling face and tried to match his energy,

“Hey! Thanks for coming.”

“You bet,” he said as he took your bags. 

“Can we stop by the bakery around the corner? They’ve got all the cookies and pastries we ordered for tomorrow.”

“Of course, lass. No problem. Hop in.”

Hamish drove you around, the perfect gentleman, carrying box after box of dessert for his fiance’s shower, storing them carefully in the boot of the car. 

“Wow, these smell incredible, don’t they,” he crooned, “Wish I could crash your wee party.”

“No boys allowed,” you said wryly, smiling at him, eliciting a genuine laugh.

The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence. He talked a little about his research, and you shared a bit about yours, mentioning your latest lecture. Otherwise, you checked your phone constantly. 

Then, just as you pulled into the driveway of the MacTavish house, you got a text.

Unknown: Hello this is Captain John Price. Sergeant MacTavish’s phone is dead, and he is making me text you the word: promise. 

You: oh thank you. can you tell him promise back?

Captain: Roger

Your stomach twisted for a different reason now. He wasn’t upset with you, which was a relief, but he had just shipped out on another mission. It was so sudden, it seemed like an emergency. You saved the captain’s number in your phone, just in case. 

After hugging Pidge and helping Hamish with the boxes, you unpacked your bags and started the laundry. You met Pidge in the living room, watching her put the finishing touches on some gift bags.

“These are cute,” you commented, feeling the soft ripple of the ribbons tied around the bags in your fingers. 

“Thanks,” she said as she fixed one of the bows, “Hope I made enough.” 

“They’ll live,” you smiled. 

“Hey, did you hear from Johnny again?”

“Uh…no, why?” You panicked.

“He said he doesn’t have my charger but now that muppet is not answerin’ me. Gonna pop him when he’s down for Christmas, I swear.”

“He’s coming back for the holidays?” You asked, a little too enthusiastically. 

Pidge cut her eyes up at you briefly, responding in a measured voice,

“Yeah, just a week. Why?”

You wracked your brain for a reason, pretending to look at the calendar on your phone. Finally, you said,

“Think he’d drive me up from Glasgow? The train is awful at Christmas.”

“Oh,” she sighed, “God, he’s so irresponsible, babes. Not sure I trust him to get you here on time. But, I’ll threaten him. He’ll do it for me. He’s been so accommodating lately. Johnny boy is like a new man.”

“Oh, really?” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going, but you pried anyway.

“Did you know he paid for the rehearsal dinner? The whole damn thing! Having it at the wee distillery and everything. Right proper party we’ll be havin’. Cannae believe it.”

The Auchentoshan Distillery was Old Kilpatrick’s pride and joy. He’d spent a pretty penny if he’d booked it out for her.

“He loves you,” you confessed softly.  

“He tries to,” she said a little bitterly.

You watched her pack up the bags, and you began to wonder about their relationship with each other. It was clear to you that there was some immovable object that was being pressed upon by some unstoppable force. They were at a quiet, bubbling impasse, ready to boil over at any moment. Yes, they loved each other. But, Johnny and Pidge had diverged somewhere, and it was a rift that needed to be mended. 

The washer buzzed. You went to move over the clothes. 

“I’m heading over to grab the girls. Wanna come?” Pidge asked you, her keys in hand. 

“No room,” you observed, realizing they wouldn’t all fit in the car.

“Ugh, guess you’re right, hen. No worry, we’ll be right back. I’m excited to have a girls’ night.”

“Me, too,” you lied. 

Well, it was a half-lie. You didn’t mind a girls’ night. It was more the fact that you’d have to hide your phone from view as you waited for Johnny to report he was back safe and sound. 

After Pidge left, you crawled into his sheets. The memories of you and your soldier came flooding back again, but this time they swirled together with all of the complexities that you were facing. The simplicity of that brief night you shared had become warped by reality, and you realized you needed to come to terms with your emotions before you got hurt. 

FRIDAY EVENING

Your phone buzzed in your hand, waking you. It was warm from being on the charger and covered up by your body. You hoped that didn’t break anything. Sleep had taken you over like a surging wave. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from your week. 

Unknown: heyyyyy this is soaps mate kyle. he wanted to let you know we’re back. 

You: thanks for letting me know

Kyle: you bet

You were kicking yourself. You should have asked if he was okay. Just when you were about to ask Kyle to check on him, you heard the keys jingle in the door. Swinging your feet to the wooden floor, you got out of bed and met the gaggle of ladies in the foyer.

Cheek kisses, bright hellos and how-are-yous filled the once-quiet house, and you pocketed your phone, trying to distance yourself from the pang of concern. 

You tried to keep up with the fast-paced conversation, but you weren’t the social butterfly that Pidge was. Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise were all gushing about their own lives, and you had very little to share. They were polite enough, asking you about your studies and pretending to care when you answered them.

“Oh, cool,” Cherise said, sipping on wine out of one of Pidge’s nicer glasses, “Poems are cool.”

“Yeah, I was Juliet in that one play,” Bekah said, proudly. 

“And she’ll never let us forget it either,” Anjali rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed.

They were quick to forget you again, turning back to their recent Tinder date disasters and successes. 

“And this bloke - the one with the beard thing - he ask me and this other girl to the same restaurant, on the same night! I thought she was gonna kill him right there in front of the maître de!” Anjali lamented.

Cherise smiled like a Cheshire cat, 

“Lachlan is taking me on his boat next weekend.”

“We know! Shut up about the boat, you slag,” Bekah clipped. 

Cherise shot back quickly, 

“You’re just mad ‘cause Soap hasn’t texted you today.”

You gave the girls your full attention now. You darted your eyes to Pidge who rolled them, but looked otherwise unbothered. Bekah turned her phone around and you saw the image she was eager to display,

“He’s on bloody thin ice. I asked for a pic of him in his uniform, and all he sent me was a picture of some nasty sand!”

Your chest clenched tight enough that you couldnt breathe. It was your picture. Your morning photo from a few days ago. He was holding his breakfast, outstretched, and you could even see your hair tie on his wrist, the rolling dunes of the desert stretching out before him into infinity. 

“Men, am I right?” Anjali finished her wine. 

Maybe she was right. 

SATURDAY MORNING

You’d slept beside Anjali that night, sharing the bed willingly but not enthusiastically. She had snored through most of it, and you’d barely gotten any sleep. It wasn’t just her snoring that kept you up. In fact, you were using her as a scapegoat. You had been thinking about Johnny. 

It was like you were having a war in your mind. On one hand, it was just a picture of some sand, but on the other, you had no idea how many texts they had shared before or after that. Your heart broke easily, shattering melodramatically, whining about how you weren’t special and that if you didnt control yourself, you’d be sorry for it. He was just a playboy, just like everyone said.

Your brain, however, begged you to see reason. He sent her a picture of sand, not his naked torso, and he had forced his teammates to text you your passcode when he went on his mission. Surely that was enough proof that he cared about you and not Bekah.

It wasn’t enough, said the heart. 

It has to be enough, said the head. 

It shouldn’t even be happening, said the soul. 

You watched the sun peek through the blinds just as they had when you’d been wrapped in Johnny’s arms, naked and warm against his pink skin. 

You sighed and got up to shower. 

The party was at two, so you had plenty of time. You made it over to Ettrick’s early to help set up, walking alone since you knew the others would be in heels and wouldn’t all fit in the car. You’d brought flats, sensible but stylish, and a comfortable, albeit sparkly, maxi dress. You felt like shit. Sleep would have been nice, you thought. 

Hamish had delivered all of the boxes for you this morning, and the wait staff at Ettrick’s was setting it out for you. You rearranged it as artfully as you could, and you were just about finished when your phone buzzed.

Mo Chroi: phone’s alive! sorry i disappeared on you thief. forgive me?

You: glad youre ok

You: party starts soon

You: cookies.jpg

You: dessert_table.jpg

Mo Chroi: wow! did you do all that? pigeon is gonna be chuffed

Mo Chroi: heading out to the next spot

Mo Chroi: helicopter2.jpg

You: want me to tell Bekah hi? she was waiting on you to text her back last night

Mo Chroi: ?? no 

Mo Chroi: why 

Mo Chroi: what did she say

Mo Chroi: thief? 

You: just that she was hoping you would text her back. idk

You thought about it for a little while before sending a final text.

You: i think she wanted more than just a sunrise. 

SATURDAY NIGHT

You had three missed calls from Johnny, but you were too busy trying to deal with gift unwrapping, keeping the peace at the over-crowded tables, and rushing out appetizer trays when the wait staff became too overwhelmed. It was chilly tonight, but you were sweating under your long dress. 

You thought about what you’d said to Johnny, and you were mad at yourself for trying to get a rise out of him. You didn’t want to be the one playing games, and you needed to curb your jealousy. He was allowed to text whoever he wanted, just like you were.

You: sorry. cant pick up. busy with your sister

You: champagne.jpg

Mo Chroi: answer my calls thief

Mo Chroi: i have to drive the rig but im calling you as soon as we get to our site

Mo Chroi: trucks.jpg

Mo Chroi: at least tell me when you get back. promise

You: promise

SUNDAY, 0200

You: i made it back to my apartment. hamish drove me. train was down for maintenance.

You: marlowe-in-a-bag.jpg

You: marlowe is mad that i was gone

Mo Chroi: im glad youre alright.

Mo Chroi: gaz took this at our training today

Mo Chroi: group_pic2.jpg

You: yall look tough

You: whos the one in the middle

Mo Chroi: thats the captain and ghost has the dog

Mo Chroi: go to bed thief. its late 

Mo Chroi: sunrise2.jpg

Mo Chroi: can i call you later? its important

You: ok

SUNDAY, NOON

You woke to the sound of rain. A loud peal of thunder pulled you from the darkness of your sleep. You would have stayed with Pidge, but you just couldn’t face his bed again. Hamish was happy to be your chauffeur, even after you learned that the train was out of service. You tried to buy him some gas, but he adamantly refused. 

A headache stung behind your eyes, drilling into you, punishing you for the champagne. You hadn’t been drunk, but it had been sweet, and now you were paying the price for your sugar rush. You checked your phone.

Pidge: hHad such a great night!!. Thanku for everytingf i lov youuuu!!

Pidge: omg Anji just boked inthe sink

You didn’t reply. She was probably still asleep, along with the rest of the household. There was nothing from Johnny, yet. It wasn’t unusual. He was busy with terrorism, you figured. He would text you if he wanted to text you. 

Digging in your freezer, you found some leftover soup and put it on to reheat. Your phone rang.

The selfie of you and Johnny at Glencoe flashed onto your screen. You let it ring again before you picked up.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

“You still asleep, thief. I’m sorry to wake you,” he didn’t sound sorry. 

“It’s okay,” you sighed, “Just making some soup. Rainy here. Cold.”

You: rainy_window.jpg

He groaned, and you could hear the creak of a mattress in the background,

“Mm. Spent the whole day on my belly doing target practice. I miss home.”

Mo Chroi: sniperpractice.jpg

“Yeah? Looks sandy and hot. Too bad there’s no beach,” you stirred the soup.

“I miss you, mo mèirleach.”

You stopped stirring the soup. 

“I miss you, too.”

“Do you? Or are you cross about my texting Beks?”

“Both,” you went back to stirring the soup.

“Sent it to Hamish, too. You cross about tha’?”

You sent back silence. 

“And if I told you Bekah’s an old friend from grammar school, and that’s all she’ll ever be, would you believe me, lass?”

Silence was all you had to give, apparently. Finally, you poured the soup into a big bowl and set it down on your coffee table, shoving your papers and books aside, and said, 

“This soup looks amazing. Wanna see it?”

You: soup.jpg

“Thief. She’s just a friend.”

“I think there’s a song about this actually…”

“I think I’m fallin’ for you, and I need to know if you’re fallin’ for me, too.”

The bite of soup you were about to take hovered in your spoon, frozen in time. You could hear him breathing in your ear, waiting on your response. You could feel your heart shudder in your chest. 

“Johnny. We can’t…”

“Don’t. Don’t start with tha’ mess, thief. Tell me you aren’t fallin’ for me, and I’ll stop. No more texts. I’ll leave it alone.”

“She’ll never forgive me, Johnny. I don’t have anybody else, don’t you get that? I’m not even from here. I’m spending Christmas with her because I don’t have anywhere else to go. You have a whole town who loves you, and she’s your sister. She’ll forgive you in a heartbeat.”

“You have me, don’t you, thief?”

“Do I?”

It was his turn to push silence out through time and space, sending it up to the cellular satellites and mirroring it back down to you. Firing frustrated breathing noises across cables and wires and whatever other stupid fucking technology was happening to you right now. 

“Alright, lass.”

The phone beeped at you to inform you that the call had ended, but you kept it pinned on the shell of your ear, desperate for even a moment of that silence again. You regretted your honor the moment you’d held it up, and you were angry at yourself for keeping a promise you’d promised to keep. 

The phone clattered to the coffee table. The soup went cold. 

MONDAY MORNING

There was no sunrise text for you this time. Your phone didn’t have any notifications at all, in fact.  You made it all the way to the bus before you caved.

You: bus.jpg

You waited. Then, you waited some more. Nothing happened. You tried not to cry, and you failed. Luckily, the bus was empty, and the driver didn’t care about you enough to ask what was wrong.

WEDNESDAY MORNING

You: stuck in the library today. office is being cleaned.

You: library.jpg

Again, you were met with the cold emptiness of staring at your own responses at the bottom of your messages. You tried not to feel the sting of it, but you failed at that, too.

THURSDAY MORNING

You: giving a lecture today. kinda nervous about this one.

You: lectureroom2.jpg

You: hope youre okay

FRIDAY MORNING

Your phone buzzed three times, waking you up with a jolt. It was still dark outside. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to see the messages. 

Kyle: Hey this is Kyle, Soap’s mate. We’re heading back to the black site, so it’ll be a few weeks until you hear from him. 

Kyle: airplane_loading.jpg

You: thanks for telling me

Kyle: Soap asked me to tell you he promises??  I think thats what he said.

You: tell him i promise

You: and can you tell him that i made a mistake? he was right. about everything.

You: and im sorry.

Kyle: Will do!

You stared out of the window until the deep purples of night gave way to a cool pink morning glow, and you watched as the sun stretched its gentle arms up and over the river.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Chapter 07

[pineapple-frenzy]

Book 2 au doodles

It's just a bunch of random moments with Zuko looking grumpy for most of them,,, he can be happy for at least one drawing tho

[hinamie]

cursed kids v2 ⚠️👹

i've been a jjk first years stan since day one and have been wanting to redraw the first art i did featuring the three of them

[ravenpureforever]

On one hand, Young Justice is kind of neglected by the actual superheroes that should be looking out for them in a lot of crucial ways and very much failed by the adults around them

But on the other hand Red Tornado straight up hosts a parent-teacher conference where their respective legal guardians all show up, barring Batman who’s in traffic so Nightwing fills in instead because Robin’s dad does not know he’s a vigilante which is objectively hilarious

[kiwis098]

Please, I'm actually begin 😭🥺

I need season 3. I need to hear aziraphale call crowley darling, dearest, love. I need to see crowley give aziraphale forehead kisses. I need to see them hug and hold hands and be soft and gentle with each other. I need to see them happy and in love.

[sahaminiloki]

Wake up, Fushiguro

[inkskinned]

before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.

you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"

and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.

it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.

you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.

in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.

the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.

you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.

after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.

the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.

you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.

[hansoeii]

still a wip but I need to share this mobius with croki I drew because it brings me an unimaginable amount of joy

[blackswnns]

the way rio looks at agatha with so much love in her eyes...

[emzurl]

❤️❓