#the way you can pinpoint the exact moment both their hearts are breaking

[pharawee]

[bri-cheeses]

Evan’s busy reaching across the bar for a couple of drinks, arm outstretched and easy smile on his face, when Regulus walks up next to him.

“Two butterbeers, please,” Regulus nods to the bartender.

Evan turns his head in surprise, clearly not expecting to have been followed. “I was getting you guys drinks, you know. You didn’t have to get up.”

“Yeah, I know. But I needed a bit of a break from all… that.” Regulus tilts his head towards a booth in the corner, indicating the chaos currently taking place there. He’s just escaped the aftermath of Barty attempting to flirt with Remus just to make Sirius mad, which has not ended well. Just like Barty intended. Honestly, Regulus doesn’t know why he puts up with him.

Regulus opens his mouth to continue, feeling somewhat hesitant. He’s not sure how Evan will react to what he’s about say, but he’s going to try anyways. “And also because I wanted to ask you something in private. Or at least, away from them.”

“Hold on,” Evan replies. The bartender’s just handed him his drinks, and he’s trying to find a way to carry them. “Okay, carry on.”

Regulus doesn’t waste any time. “You’re in love with Barty.”

Evan doesn’t look up from the drinks, not giving Regulus’s accusation even a slight reaction. “That wasn’t much of a question, Reg.”

If Regulus didn’t know better, he’d say Evan was completely unbothered by this whole situation. But he does know better, and Evan’s completely straight face as he fiddles with the glasses is a dead giveaway.

“You’re not going to deny it?” He’s genuinely curious. It’s unlike Evan to not, at the very least, try to avoid answering directly.

“Why would I? It’s the truth, and I know you’re not going to tell him.”

“But you’re not really the type of person to be okay with… sharing this sort of thing.”

Evan looks up now, small smile making its way to his face. “No, I’m usually not. But honestly it’s been going on so long that it’s more trouble than it’s worth to keep it hidden. From you, at least.”

“I—” he pauses, not entirely sure what to do with that. “How long has this been a thing?”

“Oh, about…” Evan squints, as if he can look back in time and pinpoint the exact moment it started. “Five years now?”

“Five years?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Reg.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s really not that out of character for me.”

Evan flashes another smile and makes to leave, but Regulus blurts out, “Why haven’t you done anything about it? If it’s been so long?”

Evan glances over at their booth. Regulus follows his gaze, where Barty is now gesturing wildly with his hands in what is probably an attempt to avoid death at Sirius’s hands.

“Because,” Evan says, still looking at Barty, “it would ruin our relationship.”

He sounds so resigned to the fact that Regulus’s heart clenches. He feels like a bad friend. He had no idea, absolutely none, that Evan had been feeling this way for such a long time. “You can’t know that.”

Evan looks back at him, amused expression on his face as he asks, “Can’t I? It’s Barty; even if he did feel the same way—which he doesn’t—he would never be able to let himself commit to a relationship. The fear and discomfort would eat him alive. You know that.”

Regulus does, in fact, know that. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting to fix this, somehow. From wanting to try to get Evan to fight for a chance, at the very least. “But you’re Evan. There used to be be bets about when you guys would finally sort out your shit and start going out.”

Evan blinks, clearly not having known that.

“And it wasn’t because people knew you were in love with him—hell, I didn’t even know that—it was because of the way you both look at and act around each other. And I know that you’re too smart to have not noticed any of that, Evan.”

“Well. Maybe. But that’s also just who he is. He looks at practically everyone like that, acts like that with everyone. So you can stand there and tell me that I’m special, but I’m always going to see that for what it is. A lie, Regulus. And I don’t need you to lie to me. This whole thing is already bad enough already, I don’t need you adding to it, too.”

“But—”

“Don’t, Regulus. Just don’t.”

Regulus changes tactics. “How can you stand it?”

Evan gives a sad smile. “Like you said; I’m Evan. I’m always going to be in love with him, no matter what he does, really. And he’s Barty, so he’s going to do a lot of shit. But that’s just the way things are, I suppose.”

“So you’re just going to let him shatter your heart and stomp all over it?”

Evan smiles bitterly. “He’s been doing that for years, Reg. You’re a bit late to the game.”

Regulus hates this, hates Evan’s defeated tone and tired eyes. “How are you just so calm about this? Don’t you hate it?”

Evan considers that. “I did, for a while. I spent a long, long time hating it. But it only cost me energy I couldn’t afford to lose, and it didn’t change anything in the end.”

And there’s not a lot Regulus can say in response to that, so instead he eyes Evan: the regretful smile, the sad slump of his shoulders, and the way his body is subconsciously turned towards Barty, even now. “Are you… going to be okay?”

“Of course, Reg, why would you even ask?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “This is just the hand life has dealt me. I’m used to it by now. You might as well get used to it, too. Nothing’s going to change between Barty and me.”

And with that, he shoulders past Regulus, drinks in hand. And Regulus watches him go, unable to unsee how painfully in love Evan is. He watches the way Barty’s entire face lights up when he sees Evan, he watches the soft smile Evan gives Barty in return, and he prays to anyone who’s listening that Evan will turn out to be wrong.

[theverystrangegirl27]

˚‧꒰ა♡໒꒱‧˚ Love Me ˚‧꒰ა♡໒꒱‧˚

summary: Bill and Ted find out no one has ever made you come before, and they aim to fix that

Warnings: smut, threesome, oral (f receiving)

“No one's ever made you come before?”

Ted asks, exasperated.

Mortified, you shake your head no.

“Bogus.” Bill declares, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment your innocent conversation about music had turned into a conversation about your lack of orgasms, but here you are, sitting in Bill and Ted's small apartment with an unopened Metallica album in your lap.

Ted's still looking at you in disbelief, eyebrows disappearing behind his shaggy dark hair and his lips parted.

“Like, never?”

Okay, this is getting a little ridiculous. You roll your eyes, setting the album back into its crate.

“I mean, it's not like I've never come before.” You huff, and that blue stain on the carpet is suddenly very interesting.

“Just, no one makes me come like me, y'know?” You shrug your shoulders, looking up through your lashes to find the two boys stuck staring at you.

There's a shift in the room, the atmosphere filled with this strange sexual tension that you're not used to having with these two.

Bill looks at Ted, Ted looks at Bill, and they both grin. Somethings been passed between the two of them, and you can't help but feel a little left out.

You frown, looking between the two of them.

“What?” You ask, a little self-conscious all of a sudden.

You feel too bare in your tank top, the urge to shrug your flannel back over your shoulders overwhelming.

Bill looks at you with a smile, white teeth on display, and a playful look in his eyes.

“Y/N, we've just had the most excellent idea.”

“Yeah,” Ted agrees, a twin smile on his own face.

You tilt your head, resting back on your hands.

“And your idea is…?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“We're gonna make you come!” Ted exclaims, over-eager as always.

Your eyes practically bulge out of your head.

“Huh?” You exclaim, flustered. Your cheeks get hot, and the air in the room feels way too warm.

“C'mon Y/N,” Bill starts leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.“You're like, a total babe! We wanna help.”

You feel a flutter of affection shoot through your heart at his words, and you take a moment to really look at Bill.

His legs are spread from where he's sitting on the couch, expression earnest as ever. Those pretty blue green eyes of his hold no hint of malice, no sign that this is all some elaborate prank.

You swallow, not sure how to respond.

“Uh, only if you're okay with it, though.” Ted adds, mistaking your expression for subtle rejection.

You blink a couple of times, biting your lip as you think on it. Would it really be so bad? Two of your closest friends learning your body, helping you come?

The idea sends a pleasant thrill up your spine, and you break into a shy smile.

“Okay,” you begin. “But I wanna do it on a proper bed, not in the living room.”

The boy's look incredibly pleased, sending each other wide smiles as they air guitar. You shake your head, impossibly endeared.

Once you've made your way to the bedroom- deciding on Bill's bed because it's the least cluttered- Ted puts on a tape, loud guitars and heavy drums filling the room.

You throw your flannel to the ground, left in jeans and your tank top. Leaning back on the bed, you flip your hair over one shoulder.

Bill, eyes wide and a dopey, sweet smile on his face, approaches you first.

“Just relax, babe. We'll take care of you.”

He leans forward, hand coming to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss.

Your fingers grip the comforter beneath you as you lean into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut.

Bill spreads your legs so he can stand between them, one knee bent on the bed as he pushes you back against the mattress.

Kissing Bill is a lot sweeter than you imagined, his usual laid back, charming demeanor changing into something softer.

Out of the two, Ted's always been the romantic, but it seems that Bill has a side of himself he's never shown to you.

How lucky, you think, that he's giving that to you now.

Moved by your own analysis, you move a hand to the back of his head to pull him back with you, his body pressing you gently into the sheets. You tangle your fingers in his curls, licking into his mouth with a muffled sigh.

His hand slips to your waist, fingers splayed across your midriff underneath the tank top.

“Woah,” you hear Ted breathe from where he stands at the foot of the bed.

Bill and you break for air, just looking at one another for a moment before you glance over his shoulder at Ted.

“C’mere, Ted.” You call to him softly, stroking at the nape of Bill's neck as he kisses at your collarbones.

It's so easy with these two - you feel yourself getting wet as Bill pushes your tank top up and over your breasts, lips trailing down the soft skin there.

Usually, you're never this worked up so early, but something about these boys drives you crazy.

Ted moves to your side, leaning over you to kiss you. He's a little clumsy with it, sweet in a way that makes your heart flip around in your chest. You smile as you pull away, looking into his dark, lust blown eyes before leaning back in.

Bill makes a soft noise from below, having exposed you nipples to the cool air of their bedroom.

“You've got like, the best tits babe.” Bill says, making you laugh a little as Ted settles in beside you.

“Totally,” Ted agrees, one hand coming down to toy with your right nipple.

You sigh, watching the both of them as Bill kisses down your chest, hands unzipping your jeans and getting a hand down the front of them.

“You know what would be sick?” Ted says, voice a little rough. “If you got ‘em pierced.”

Bill, momentarily distracted by Ted's comment, looks up with a wide grin.

“Dude, that's an excellent idea!” He exclaims, and you squirm a little to get their attention back on you, sitting up a little to shrug your tank top off fully.

“Bill, baby,” you intone sweetly, batting your eyes. “Could you help me with my jeans please?”

Bill goes kind of soft, eyes molten with lust as he swallows.

“Fuck, sure thing babe.”

What follows next is the quick zip of your fly, and you lift your hips as he drags them down your legs.

You sigh, head rolling onto Ted's shoulder when Bill presses soft, sweet kisses to your panties. His lips are warm over the fabric, and your breath hitches as he hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Bill's really good at giving head,” Ted says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It's his favorite.”

“Yeah?” You breathe, eyes wide as Bill looks up at you through his lashes, lips pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Oh yeah,” Ted says. He's holding you close, fingers toying with one nipple. “You're gonna love it.”

You scoff, face flushed with anticipation.

“We'll see.”

Bill, taking this as a challenge, smiles against your skin. He gets both hands under your hips, pulling your pussy to his mouth in one fell swoop.

You yelp as your lower body shifts and your head lands in Ted's lap.

Dark, lust blown eyes blink down at you, Ted's hair falling into his eyes a little as he smiles.

You bend your neck to look at Bill, ready to chastise him, but all that comes out of your open mouth is a gasp as Bill's tongue swipes over your clit.

He's so gentle with it, lips soft and firm, where they press against your heated flesh. Two blunt fingertips trace your entrance, gathering the wetness there and only just dipping inside.

You find yourself curling your fingers into Ted's jeans, hips twitching a little as Bill suckles a little on your clit.

Most guys you've been with hardly know what the clit is, let alone know where it is.

Bill, on the other hand, looks entirely focused on giving you the best head of your life, brow furrowed as he mouths at your cunt sweetly.

Ted leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Told you he's good.”

You can't respond, lost in the way Bill's fingers move within you. He curls them up, hitting something inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You move to grip his curls with one hand to ground yourself, tilting your head back.

Bill hums against your cunt, content to stay down there forever, and you wouldn't complain if he did.

Ted's playing with your hair, peppering light kisses across your forehead. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and you open your eyes to look at him.

He's looking at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the only thing he wants to see for the rest of your life.

It makes your heart swell and your pussy throb, arching your back a little when Bill curls his fingers up.

He groans against your pussy, low and aroused at the very taste of you. You can't believe this- no man has ever made you feel this good.

“Fuck,” You whimper, Bill's slow and steady pace picking up a quick, pulsing rhythm that leaves your thighs shaking.

“I'm gonna come” you breathe, disbelief lacing your tone as you stare up at Ted with big, watery eyes.

He strokes your hair, fingers trailing down the side of your face.

“Yeah, babe?” Ted asks sweetly, tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “Fuck, I bet you're even prettier when you cum.”

You can't focus, your mouth falling open, back arching, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the sheets.

“Bill, Bill, oh my god-” Is all you're able to get out as your thighs clench around his ears, your pussy pulsing as you come on his fingers and tongue.

You're shaking, eyes closed tight as Ted presses a kiss to your forehead, sweet nothings tumbling out of his mouth.

Bill fingers you through it, kissing the inside of your thigh as those pretty blue eyes look up at you, a self-satisfied smirk settling across his lips.

When you finally open your eyes, Bill's leaning over you, a hand coming to cup your chin.

“Was that good, babe?” He asks, searching your face.

You're still panting a little, and you can't help yourself as you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

Tasting yourself on his lips is hotter than you expected.

You break for air, sitting up and in Ted's lap, whose hard as fuxk in his jeans.

You lick your lips, looking between your boys.

“I'm gonna make both of you come so hard.” You say, a mischievous grin on your face.

Bill and Ted look at each other, then back to you.

“Excellent!”

[itsjusthockey]

When The Partys Over Pt. 2 - Jack Hughes

Here it is, my heart and soul. Enjoy.

wc:4,466 (credit to gif maker)(don't steal my work)

Content Warning: Swearing, major angst

Part 1 (read first)

Unpublished For Fun First Draft

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

When the words fall from your lips, and the sentence registers in his brain, it smacks Jack harder than any hockey hit ever has, and even though you’re the one who’s wasted, he suddenly feels like he wants to pass out.

Instead, he pauses by the door, his entire body freezing, trying to register if he heard you correctly or if being around you just makes him crazy. For what feels like a century, he concentrates on his breathing skills, taking a shaky breath in and letting it go, hoping the extra oxygen will help his brain makes sense of what you’ve thrown at him. He knows you’re drunk, incredibly so, and you probably have no idea what you're saying.

He breaks his focus when he hears slight shuffling behind him, and even though he doesn’t want to, he slowly turns to face you. When his eyes land on your figure, you’re sitting up in his bed, his sheets pooling around your waist. You’re not looking at him for a moment, instead staring out his window, watching the world outside intently, but as if you feel his stare, you tear your eyes away from Jersey and allow your eyes to meet his. You blink slowly, once, twice, and a tear falls from your left eye.

“You fucked me up there for a while.”

You finish the sentence with a forced laugh, and you quickly wipe another tear away, almost seeming embarrassed. Jack feels his face flush, and his heart begins to pound. He can practically hear the thumping in his ears, and his stomach flips in circles. He can’t swallow; the lump forming tight in his throat won’t let him, and even worse, his hands start shaking. His heart is cracking, breaking into a million tiny pieces, and his body is letting him know.

The weight of your words stills time, and he feels like you’re both trapped in the suspended gravity of the moment. Your confession, clearly vulnerable and raw, reverberates through his entire being, continuing to tear him apart bit by bit.

Among the uncomfortable silence, the room grows smaller, almost suffocating, as Jack tries to find his voice. He wants to comfort you, hold you, reach out and understand why you feel this way and why he is the reason why. It’s only been seconds, but he’s trying to play out the entire last year, pinpoint the exact moment where he could have fucked up so badly to make you feel the way you do.

“Wha-what did I do?” His voice is small, almost pleading, as he asks.

You let out a shallow breath, and Jack can almost see the wheels turning inside your head. He has no idea what you’re about to say, and everything that has come out of your mouth is a whiplash, so he can’t even begin to guess.

Your eyes flicker with a mix of emotions—regret, longing, and a hint of resignation—as Jack watches you search for the right words to explain what you’re feeling. It’s as if you're carefully selecting each syllable, fully aware of the impact they will have on him, and you’re scared he’ll break.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Jack," you finally say, your voice soft but laced slightly with bittersweet sadness. "At least not intentionally, and not something you had any control over. My feeling are my own, and I can’t blame you for them.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, and Jack's heart tightens impossibly further as he tries to decipher their meaning. The knots in his stomach tighten with each passing second, and a mixture of anxiety, dread, and anticipation fills the room.

“Do you remember when we met?” You ask, your voice timid.

Jack's mind races, searching through the corridors of memories, until he finds the moment you're referring to—the night that he finally felt a spark of something real, which laid the foundation for the relationship. He nods slowly, his eyes locked with yours, urging you to continue.

An almost wistful smile crosses your lips, and Jack can almost hear the nostalgia coloring your voice. "The crowded bar, the 2000s club music blaring, that stupid fucking costume you were wearing, and it wasn’t even Halloween.”

As you speak, Jack's gaze softens, and the memory floods back as if it was yesterday—your infectious laughter when he’d made a stupid joke as he bought you a drink, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement when he told you he hated mushrooms too, and the genuine connection that bloomed from one single night.

“I think a part of me fell in love with you right away,” you continue, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "In the midst of the chaos, it seemed like we both understood who the person was beneath the facade we put on for the crowd.”

Jack comprehends the weight of your words, realizing that maybe, just maybe, It wasn't just one moment that "fucked you up," but rather a million things he never noticed right away.

“Jack?” You break him out of his headspace, patting the bed beside you. “You’re making this a million times worse just standing by the door looking like I’m killing you. “

Jack realizes he probably hasn’t moved an inch since you started speaking. So he swallows hard, takes a few hesitant steps toward the bed, and sits down. When he settles, you turn to face him and continue.

“It was my fault for getting attached to you so quickly," you sigh. “I think I knew it was too good to be true, and sex was all we would have. But I’d hoped that you were different from the way you looked at me; I’d hoped we’d fight against it, and somehow we’d end up together. “

Before he even knows what’s happening, his own tears are streaming down his face. He thought earlier, when he saw you cry, that nothing would hurt him more, but even though he thinks he’s going to die a lot when he’s with you, this might actually kill him.

A profound ache settles in his chest, intertwining with the shards of his own shattered heart. Your vulnerability cuts through the room, leaving him exposed and raw with emotions he didn’t even know he had. What makes everything worse? When you pause, noticing his tears, you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers through his.

“Anyway, after a while, I got really tired. Like all of a sudden, I was drained of everything I had. I was sick of trying to force something that just wasn't there. And after some major soul-searching and my friends helping me, it clicked. I had to remove my love for you. Tell myself that even though I thought you were everything, you weren’t. So I decided I needed to be done.”

Jack hangs on to every word.

“So I moved on, even though I kinda suck at it because look where I am. But I decided to finally try to allow my heart to let go, close this chapter of my life and start a new one.”

Jack's heart sinks as he listens to your painful admission. The grip of your intertwined fingers provides a fragile lifeline, a small, tenuous connection that somehow manages to offer a glimmer of comfort amidst his shattering soul.

Tears continue to flow out of both your eyes, intermingling with the unspoken words that Jack is trying so hard to find a way to say.

He knows beneath his own heartache; there is a sliver of understanding. He knows that sometimes, moving on is the only choice, even if it feels impossible. But he also knows that he loves you now, somehow even more than anything in the world, and he doesn’t know if he can live without you.

As silence stretches between you, Jack knows time is ticking, and he finally musters the strength to respond.

“I love you,” he whispers, admitting it openly to you for the first time. “I can't pretend that I don’t and that I can just walk away because, for that past half a year, you’ve been all I’ve been able to think about.“

His heart races in his chest, pounding with the force of his love for you. His voice quivers as he continues, desperate to convey the depth of his feelings for you.

“I am so sorry (Y/N), so fucking sorry that I didn’t see how you felt at the beginning. My life was a fucking mess. I hated hockey, I hated living here, and I hated myself. I only cared about a quick high to distract myself from my constant lows, and I couldn’t see anything past that, and I’m so so sorry.”

Jack tightens his grip on your hand, trying to bridge the distance that separates you. His eyes search yours, looking for signs of forgiveness and any chance he has for a future with you.

“You’re everything to me, and I’ve been trying to show you that, but clearly, we both just fucking suck at communication and feelings. But I want this (Y/N); I want you. More than anything.”

Tears are streaming heavily down both your faces, and Jack watches as you wipe them away with your free hand, gently sniffling. You’re both waiting, unsure of what to do next when you speak again.

“Well, this is not how I expected the night to go.” You try to joke, Jack letting out a small snort.

“I know, a lot of information just came to light.”

Jack glances at the clock and sees that it’s incredibly late, and when he peers outside his window, he sees that the city of Jersey is dead asleep, completely unaware of the mess unfolding in two of its inhabitants' lives.

“We should go to sleep, think about things.” Jack offers.

For the first time ever, when he’s offered you to stay, you do. You nod in agreement, wipe away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, and give a small, tired, and maybe still a little drunk smile. Both of you are emotionally drained, and the idea of sleep seems like paradise.

Jack helps you slide under the covers, tucking you in with gentle care for the second time tonight, but this time he feels an odd sense of clarity in understanding of you. He gets you settled, grabbing more water and anything else you could ever need before he moves to leave the room.

“You can stay, Jack; your couch sucks.”

Before he can stop himself, a laugh escapes him, and he steps back into the room. He isn’t sure if sleeping next to you is the best idea for his sake, but he also knows it would take a swat team to remove him now. Grabbing a few other things, he moves to the other side of the bed and settles in beside you, leaving a respectable distance between you for the moment.

His heart about stops, however, when your hands find his again as if you’re seeking comfort in the touch that connects you.

Jack's eyes grow heavy, and he’s fighting off the sleep demons when you take your hand out from his. For a moment, he feels a pang of loss when you pull away. But as if you’re trying to repair his broken heart, you gently shift closer to him. Jack wraps his arm around you instinctively, pulling you to his chest until your bodies are molded together, fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

Jack has never felt more complete as he gently traces circles on your back, his touch soothing on your skin, healing the ache in his heart.

As the minutes tick past, Jack can beat your breathing steady out, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, a silent gesture of reassurance and affection for himself. He quickly feels himself falling away with the warmth of your body pressed against his and the immense amount of love that he has for you.

——————————————————-

When morning sunlight seeps through the curtains and almost blinds Jack, he awakens from the best sleep he’s ever had. His eyes peel open, and the events of last night flood his mind. He quickly turns, expecting to see you still by his side. But as reality sets in, his heart sinks when he realizes you're no longer there.

He sits up, his mind foggy with sleep, and rubs his eyes, desperately trying to shake off the sleepiness. He glances around the room and looks in the bathroom, searching for any sign of you, and that's when he notices a faint sound coming from the kitchen.

Curiosity tugs at him as he makes his way towards the kitchen, his unease ending as he finds you standing with your hands on your hips in front of his coffee maker. You’re still clad in his clothes, and you look so goddamn adorable; he wishes he could stay right here forever.

“Hey, morning, uh—,” you clear your throat, gesturing to the coffee pot. “Want some?”

Jack smiles and nods as you grab two cups. Seconds later, you place a steaming brew on one side of his table, and he sits behind it. He gives you a thank you as you fill your own cup, moving to sit down across from him.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and there's a hint of uncertainty in your eyes that cuts through him like a knife. He grows even more anxious when you take a deep breath and set your cup on the counter.

“I had a little time to think this morning,” you say softly. "I needed to think about the mess last night, which I’m really sorry about, by the way. I shouldn’t have blindsided you like that, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m glad I did because we’ve needed to talk for a while, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. But now is the time, and we can end this here.”

End this?

You take another deep breath. "Last night...everything we said, it made me realize that I don't think you love me, Jack. I think you love an idea of what we could be rather than what we are.”

“No,” he protests softly, "I don’t know what you mean.”

A sad smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head. "I think you need to understand what I do, Jack. We aren’t meant to be. If we were, we would’ve. I loved you once, Jack, with everything I had. But it's gone now, and I don't think it can come back without killing me. I can't keep holding onto something that isn’t there.”

“What about last night?” He chokes out. “You didn’t feel that?

There's a painful silence between you, filled. Jack can feel his world crumbling around him after it felt whole for the first time last night.

“I'm sorry, Jack," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "This past year, we’ve had some great nights, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. We aren’t good for each other, and I think you know that too.”

You grab his hand once more, giving it a quick squeeze. As you both sit there, hands entwined and hearts heavy, realization washes over Jack. You don’t feel the same as you did once, but it’s gone now. You’ve moved on, and he’s holding you here.

Jack has never experienced true heartbreak, but he guesses this is it because it feels like a thousand knives are piercing his soul, and numbness spreads through his body.

You both sit in silence for a while, lost in your own thoughts and emotions, when you finally break the silence.

“I want you to know that I genuinely care about you, and I always will.“ You manage a weak smile before getting up.

“I should go.” You say, moving to gather the few things you had with you the night before.

Jack wordlessly watches as you leave him, his body staying trapped in this seat. He waits, and a few minutes later, you come out dressed in the clothes you’d had on the night before. He watches as you pick up your heels, grab your phone, and cross the room once more to where he’s sitting.

You pause in front of him, your eyes searching his for a moment before you lean down and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It's a bittersweet kiss, filled with heartbreaking emotions and the weight of what could have been.

With that, you offer him one last small smile, straightening up and turning away from him. You walk towards the door and open it, turning around one last time.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

The sentence is final, and a hollow feeling settles in his chest as the door shuts quietly behind you, signaling your last goodbye.

Let's just let it go

Jack is distracted, and it’s all your fault. Well, it is, but it isn’t. He shouldn’t blame you; he knows that’s not the mature thing to do. But he is a simple man, and it’s easier to say his game is off because of someone else rather than owning up to the fact that he’s struggling.

For the past two days, he can't focus on anything else but you during hockey practice. Every move he makes feels robotic as if he's going through the motions without actual purpose. He misses easy passes, shoots wide on every attempted goal, and falls on his ass at each free skate. Every time he finally gets in the right frame of mind, his thoughts drift back to you, and the cycle begins all over again.

It’s about an hour into morning practice when Jack feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see Luke, looking at him with concern and a hint of annoyance.

“You okay?" Luke asks, “You seem a little…off.”

Jack has two options, play it cool, or get defensive. He chooses option two.

“Fuck off, just had a rough couple days.”

Luke rolls his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t push.

“Whatever you say.”

Jack lets out an annoyed huff as it’s his turn to drill, skating away from Luke and running through the play. He makes it most of the way through with ease, but when it’s time for him to shoot, it hits the boards about ten feet from where he aimed.

Frustration wells up inside as he watches the puck slide to a halt. He’s been playing terribly. His brother knows it, his team knows it, and now he does, and it's eating him alive. Jack mutters out a few under his breath and skates back to the line.

Luke, ever observant and fed up, skates back to Jack with new determination.

“So I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but snap out of it. You're better than this."

It’s tough love, and Jack's jaw tenses, his pride wounded a bit. He doesn't want to admit that a girl is causing his downfall, that your absence has left a void in his heart and made him suck at hockey.

“I’m fine,” Jack finally mutters, "I just... I have to figure things out.”

Luke claps him on the back hard and nods. “Good, just let it go.”

Just let it go.

Let me let you go

As if you dropped from the face of the earth, Jack hasn’t seen you. Not that he’s been looking. He hasn’t seen you at the bagel place, not at the bar, not at the library on your campus that he may have snuck into. You’re absolutely nowhere to be found.

He thinks you’re avoiding him, or maybe you just don’t care and forget he even existed.

Jack has no idea you’re in your own hell, going back and forth every day, debating if ending things was the right decision. You know it was, but it still hurts. You don’t check Instagram, you don’t watch hockey, and you stay away from all things that have to do with the boy you once loved.

Jack has no idea that you feel the heartbreak the same as him, and he has no idea that you watched him walk into the bagel place, head down, looking just as dejected as you.

He has no idea that you suddenly told your friend you weren't hungry or that you went home and cried again because even though you’re healing, you’re moving on, you still think about all the things that happened and all the things that could have been.

Jack has no idea it was just as hard for you to walk out the door, and that letting him go hurts like hell.

Quiet when I'm comin' home, and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

*two months later*

Two months have passed since you walked out of Jacks's life, and every minute he thought it’d get easier, it hasn’t.

But, as his mom, dad, and brothers have been telling him ever since he spilled the reason why he’s been a complete and utter mess, he has to move on with his life.

So, slowly but surely, he regained his focus and got back to his regular routine. He drowned his thoughts in the rink, and hockey, once again, became his refuge. Providing him with a sense of purpose and a distraction from the pain that weighs on his heart daily.

He still thinks about you every day, though. Thinks about the good memories and our bad, the inside jokes from the late nights, and all the what-ifs.

He wishes he could move on, he really does, but you invade his mind when he least expects it. He could be doing anything, and suddenly he’s daydreaming about you. But finally, he’s learning to keep those thoughts at bay, push them aside and bury them deep when they try to surface.

He knows that suppressing his feeling is bad and that, eventually, it will all bubble to the surface. But it’s easier this way to pretend you don’t matter and try to move on.

One day, after a particularly grueling practice, Jack decides to treat Luke to his favorite bagel place he’s been avoiding. It’s been months since he’s seen you, and what are the odds of seeing you there?

Apparently, really fucking high.

As Jack and Luke enter the bagel place, the familiar smell makes him slightly ache; he tells Luke about his favorite things on the menu. It isn’t until they order, step back and wait that his heart skips a beat and then stands entirely still.

Jack hears you before he sees you, your perfect laugh echoing behind him, his heart melting as you hiccup a bit, continuing to have trouble breathing between chuckles.

His breath catches in his throat, and he doesn’t want to look, but he turns around anyway. There you are, sitting in your favorite corner table. You look a little bit different but still just as beautiful, and every bit the woman he is still hopelessly in love with.

He almost lets a smile cross his face when it’s wiped away before it can even form.

You’re not alone.

You’re sitting across from a guy whose face he can’t see. He’s clad in a tight black t-shirt that shows off his broad shoulders and a backward cap that Jack knows is your favorite way men wear their hats. You’re laughing again at something the guy says, leaning away from the table slightly and rolling your eyes. Even though you’re playing to look annoyed, he can see how your eyes light up with genuine amusement.

Jack feels a million things at once, primarily pain, and it’s coming from his chest. His heart, after repairing itself bit by bit for two long months, is being ripped open all over again.

He genuinely feels bile rise in his throat when Luke nudges him, "Hey, are you alright?"

Jack is utterly speechless, and he can’t even begin to compose himself as Luke follows his stare, his eyes landing on you.

They both watch as the guy at your table leans in closer, his hands finding yours and intertwining them with his own. Jack's stomach churns again as you smile, blush, and laugh again.

Jack has to fight to keep upright, and he knows he has to get the hell out of here. He can't bear to watch any longer, to witness the love of his life be happy with someone else while he’s still broken.

Not waiting for anything, Jack breaks for the door and out into the open air, trying to get more oxygen to his brain.

The next twenty minutes are a blur, and they make their way back to Jacks's apartment. He’s silent, replaying the vision of you with someone else over and over again. He’s hurting harder than he ever thought possible. He felt he was moving on, making progress, forgetting about you. But seeing you with someone else has reopened the wound he tried so hard to heal.

Sitting alone in his room, Jack knows now that pretending you don't matter and burying his feelings deep inside is only a temporary fix. The harsh truth is that he still loves you,

and It kills him that you’re finally moving on.

He should be happy, you’re happy, and when you love someone, that’s all you want. It is for them to be happy. You got what you wanted, a clean break from him, and you found a way to repair yourself from the damage that the relationship has caused you.

An hour later, Luke walks into the room, making sure he’s still there.

“Are you gonna make it?”

It’s a simple question with an extremely difficult answer. He knows deep down that he needs to let you go, focus on himself, and let you be happy without him.

He owes it to himself to try to heal, focus on other things, and hope that one day, you’ll just be someone he used to know.

But for now, he’ll settle for the heartbreak, let his heart mend at its own pace, and think about you. For a little while longer, you’ll be the girl he’s in love with. The girl who made him realizes love is real. The girl who taught him love is cruel. The girl he’s trying to move on from, and one day will, but for now, you’ll be the girl who means everything to him.

“Yeah Lukey, I’ll be okay.”

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

[quichein-me-softly]

unrequited w/ sans

(Plot: You been in love with Sans, your best friend, for three years, but Sans can’t return those feelings. After Sans begins seeing Toriel, he inadvertently hurts you by talking about his growing affection for her. Though you try to mask your heartbreak, Sans sees through the facade. He acknowledges your feelings, apologizing gently without outright rejection, knowing it’s "for the better." You break down, and in a painful twist, Sans comforts you, even though he’s the one who rejected you. Despite the heartbreak, Sans remains by your side, offering silent, bittersweet support.)

(author's note: we're gettin' down and angsty again. whoop whoop! oh and here is sans' pov :P)

Time had a way of dragging things out when feelings were involved.

You’d harbored them for over three years now—this quiet, steady love for Sans, your best friend. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it started, but somewhere between his dry humor and the rare glimpses of the deeper, serious side he kept hidden, your heart had been caught. You tried to play it off at first, tried to convince yourself it wasn’t real, but the feelings stuck. And grew.

He never noticed, at least not openly. Sans was good at keeping things easy, deflecting the heavy stuff with a joke, a wink, or a quick shift in topic. And you let him, because it was easier that way. But now, watching him with her—Toriel—it all felt heavier than you could bear.

His deeply smitten voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“heh, you should’ve seen her, sunshine,” Sans says, his voice full of warmth. “we went out to this little café, y’know the one near the library? she was crackin’ up at every bad joke i threw her way.”

You force a smile, feeling your heart sink with every word. Sitting across from him at Grillby’s, in your usual spot, the space between you feels wider than ever. He’s talking about Toriel again, and you try to listen, to be the supportive friend you’ve always been. But every time he says her name, paired with the pet name he once gave you, it twists the knife just a little deeper.

“That sounds great. I’m really happy for you, Sans.” you manage, your voice light, even though it feels like your chest is caving in.

Sans gives you a long look, and for a moment, you’re afraid he sees right through you. But then he laughs softly, eyes flicking back down to his ketchup. “yeah, she’s somethin’ else, y’know? she’s just got this... way about her.”

Those words hit you like a punch to the gut, tears prickling behind your eyes. You’d spent months trying to be that person for him—trying to make him laugh, to offer the same warmth he gave you. But it was never enough, was it? You weren’t her.

“I’m glad you found someone like that,” you whisper, hoping your voice doesn’t break. You glance down at the fries on your plate, suddenly losing your appetite.

Sans is quiet for a moment, and that’s when you realize—he’s noticed. He always notices, even when he doesn’t say anything. It’s one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place. He reads you like no one else can, and it’s both a blessing and a curse.

“listen,” he says softly, his tone losing its usual playful edge. “i... i'm sorry.”

Your stomach drops. You blink, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. “For what?”

“i’m so sorry.” he says softly, his voice full of regret. “just... know it’s for the better.”

You nod, though your chest aches with the effort. You knew this was coming. You’d known from the moment you saw the way he looked at Toriel. It wasn’t hard to see why he was drawn to her. She was kind, patient, everything you admired in him reflected back in her. But knowing that didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

For a moment, you can’t breathe. It’s not an outright rejection, but the meaning is clear. He can’t be with you. He never could. And hearing him say it, even in this roundabout way, makes it all so much worse.

You nod again, swallowing back the tears that threaten to spill over. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I know.”

But you don’t know. Not really. It doesn’t feel like it’s for the better. It feels like your heart is being ripped apart, and the worst part is that he’s still here, still being Sans—still the kind, caring friend who’s trying to make this easier for you. And it hurts even more because these are the very qualities you love about him. The qualities that make it impossible for you to just move on.

The tears start to fall, and you hate yourself for it, for breaking in front of him like this. But Sans, in his usual quiet way, shifts closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t make a joke to lighten the mood. Instead, he stays there with you, through the heaviness, even though he’s the one who caused it.

You feel yourself breaking, the tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. You turn away, trying to hide it, but Sans sees. He always sees.

Without a word, he pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you in that familiar, gentle way that only he can. It hurts worse. “i’m so sorry, sunshine,” he whispers again, and this time, you can’t hold back. You sob into his hoodie, your hands gripping the fabric as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“it’s okay,” he whispers, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your shoulder. “let it out. i’m here.”

That’s what hurts the most. He is here, supporting you through your heartbreak, even though he’s the one who turned you down. And yet, it’s those same qualities—his kindness, his care, the way he’s always present when you need him—that made you fall for him in the first place.

He holds you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back, and for a moment, it feels like the world has stopped. It’s cruel, really. The way he’s here, comforting you through the loss, even though he’s the one you’re losing. The one who broke your heart, even though he never meant to.

“i wish things were different,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “i really do.”

You know he means it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. You pull away slightly, wiping at your eyes, embarrassed by how vulnerable you’ve become. But Sans just gives you a soft smile, the kind that shows he understands more than he’s letting on.

“we’ll be okay,” he says quietly. “promise.”

You keep nodding, even though you’re not sure you believe him. But it’s Sans, and he’s always been there for you. Maybe this time, you’ll believe it for his sake.

As the night wears on, the pain lingers, but so does his warmth. And even though it feels like everything has changed, in this moment, you still have him. Even if it’s not in the way you wanted.

[blindluck]

i didn't wanna reply over there cus this ended up getting rly long but there's this post by @shitpostingperidot and @marvelsassbutts about carol and maria's GNR concert in 88 and my brainworms got to making up hc after hc now all i think about is how that could've been the first time they got together despite mutually pining and coparenting monica for like 4/5 years or so anywayyy

idk if there's like a screenshot frame of monica's sword file or smth that shows her birthday in exact terms so i might be going on abt nothing here but listen

mcu wiki says she was born around june/october of 1983

it also says carol and maria met in their first year of AF academy "shortly after turning 18", so that's either late 1983 or early 1984, bc carol's birthday is late 65

which means monica was already in the picture by then 🥺🥺

what i'm thinking is maria got pregnant at around 17/18 and her parents took care of monica for the first year or so when she enlisted bc why wouldn't they

but as soon as she lands the test pilot job and starts making bank they're like "i love you so much and i'm very proud of you now here's your child go be her mom"

this is like in their 2nd or 3rd year of flight school so it catches everyone by surprise, and ofc higher ups use it as excuse to subtly and passive-aggressively ground maria on paid vacations and maternity leaves

obviously she sees right through the fake benevolent facade and overcompensates by not only refusing benefits, but taking on even bigger workloads

which then obviously gets her drained and exhausted and ofc carol notices and worries

she's been trying to give maria space through the whole ordeal but there's a line between giving you space and watching you get put through the wringer without doing anything

so she finally corners maria like "hey i know this is fucked up but maybe you could find another way to stick it to them without slowly killing yourself in the process can u pls just give me a call when it's too much to handle i am begging on my knees"

("my best friend, who supported me as a mother and a pilot when no one else did")

maria does slow down a bit but she still hesitates to call for help, until one particular hard night she cracks and carol gets there at flying speed to do chores and dinner and take care of monica while maria (a single mom in her early 20s who is also an overworked test pilot) finally gets some goddamn rest

(after changing monica's diaper tho bc apparently carol can't help with that)

from then on carol pretty much moves in with them

maria starts slowing down and taking care of herself and getting her due leaves and relying more on her parents and friends and she loves monica so much and things are so overwhelmingly good right now...............except for this one small carol shaped situation

they've been roommates before, you see, and maria is very aware she's been in love with this goobster for a minute

but she's also a black single mom in the US air force she really doesn't have to make things harder on herself so she's been trying rly damn hard to keep carol at arm's length for both their sakes

carol too is very aware that she's in love with maria and probably has been since forever (she's not super in touch with her feelings to pinpoint when the gears shifted, plus thinking back on it she can't rmbr a time when she wasn't in love with her yknow)

but "maria has a kid she's straight" (wrong) and also carol is very insecure (canon) so she's afraid of rejection and doesn't wanna ruin the friendship and she'd rather have maria in her life as a friend instead of not at all

even if it breaks her to wake up literally next to the love of her life every single day and not spill her entire heart out

especially bc maria's mask slips sometimes, mostly when she's drunk (even if just a bit tipsy) or when they share a particularly emotional moment (quite often tbf, considering how close to dying the very nature of their job gets them on a regular basis)

fast forward to 1988

carol and maria pretty much live together and monica loves auntie carol to pieces and their hearts are both so close to exploding they might actually die for real at any given moment

now to finally tie back to where this whole thing started: carol brings home tickets to a GNR concert, maria stares at her dead in the eye like "bitch this is 500 miles away" and carol's like "oh..........................road trip? :D"

you'll never guess what happens there

one year later, carol's missing

presumed dead

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 22

*Warning Adult Content*

- Carlos -

I've never been able to pinpoint the exact moment my consciousness slips free of my body and leaves it behind.

I just know when it's happened.

I know it's happened when I open my eyes and find myself outside the circle, watching myself and John.

My body looks still and peaceful as a statue of the seated Buddha, while John watches warily, on the lookout for any sign of a change.

For the moment, we're both safe.

Things are under control and I sense only one other presence.

"Mr. Martinez?"

I turn, my astral body feeling as real as my physical one and see Kyle watching me from the shadows in the corner of the shop.

Right. Not creepy at all."

Kyle?" I move towards him cautiously. "Are you okay?"

His eyes gleam with uncanny light, like an animal's at night.

"I'm scared," he whispers.

Christ. Poor kid.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He shakes his head.

"I went to buy lunch. Then... I was back here. I keep trying to leave. Sometimes I go home. But I always come back here."

Great. He's stuck in a loop.

I suck my bottom lip and try to come up with the right words.

"Kyle, it's okay. Don't worry about lunch. I'm not hungry anymore. Are you?"

"No," he says, his voice small and soft as a child's. "I don't feel anything anymore. What's happening to me, Mr. Martinez? Why am I like this?"

Fuck. This is messed up.

I hold out my hand to him.

"Kyle, come here. I'm gonna show you something, okay?"

With heartbreaking trust, he comes towards me and takes my hand.

"Close your eyes. I'm gonna take us somewhere. Don't open them until I say."

He nods and shuts his creepily gleaming eyes obediently.

I shut mine as well and envision the place I want to take us as strongly as I can.

When the sounds and smells of the location surround me, I open my eyes and blink against the glare of a bright, mid-morning sun, which makes me very glad my astral body isn't as hungover as my physical one.

"Okay, you can look now," I say.

Kyle blinks and rubs a hand, still blackened with ghostly engine grease, against his brow.

"Why are we in a cemetery, Mr. Martinez?"

Confronting someone with the fact of their death isn't the gentlest way to go about getting them to realize that they're dead but I need Kyle to get the point quickly.

It seems like he's fragmented, probably shattered by the extreme trauma of the manner in which he was killed and he doesn't seem aware of our previous encounters.

He probably forgets everything he's done as soon as he resets in the garage, like an NPC restarting a level in a video game.

Like the Ghost of Christmas Past, I point to the plain, budget grave marker at Kyle's feet.

It's not even a headstone... just a small plaque set in the grass and like someone trying to read in a dream, Kyle struggles to make out what it says.

I give him a minute and when he finally figures it out, his spirit flickers and loses a few shades of saturation as he looks up at me with eyes full of tragic defeat.

"Oh, yeah. I'm dead," he says. "I keep forgetting. Sorry, Mr. Martinez."

"It's okay. I just wanna help you. Do you remember what happened?"

Kyle gets a faraway look, as if he's daydreaming about something else... literally another life but after a moment, he shakes his head.

"Sorry, Mr. Martinez. I remember going for lunch. There were no burgers left. I was afraid you'd be mad, so I went... somewhere else. Then it's all... blurry after that."

I bite back a sigh of exasperation.

On the one hand, it's a mercy Kyle doesn't remember what happened to him.

Seeing his insides become outsides, while he was still alive and knowing there was no way he could survive something like that, is a trauma that would break anyone's mind.

On the other hand, it would have been really convenient if he could just tell me who the bad guy was.

"What's the last thing you remember clearly?" I ask.

"Someone called my name," he says. "They called me and I was happy because..."

He trails off as his expression goes blank.

He flickers again, now so drained of color he's practically in black and white.

'Fuck, I'm losing him. If he resets, I'll have to start all over.'

"Kyle, concentrate. Who was it? Who called your name?"

"My name?"

He looks at me and suddenly his eyes are completely clear and lucid and full of fear.

"My parents."

"What? Kyle, your parents are..."

Sheer terror contorts his face and he reaches for me, grasping my left shoulder with a hand like ice.

'Find my parents, Mr. Martinez. And stay away from him."

"Who is 'him' Kyle?"

He's fading fast, almost transparent and his voice is a thin echo of what it was.

"Help me."

With those two, barely audible words, he's gone.

Then my world tips to the side, flipped like a rotating mirror and goes dark.

Dizzy and disoriented, I pick myself up.

Darkness surrounds me and while I stand in my astral body, I get the sense there is no real 'down' or 'up' in this place.

Great. I slipped into a shadow plane, probably dragged along by Kyle.

He's not here, though. And yet, I'm not alone.

Something dark is watching me... something close.

I've only felt a presence like this once before.

Aunt Toni barely dragged me back to the living world on time and I had nightmares for months.

It's the same feeling of swimming in dark water and being suddenly convinced that there's something beneath you, about to grab you and drag you down or feeling you're being watched from the shadows in the woods.

A primal, instinctive fear that can quickly escalate to panic.

I tamp down on it, hard, doing my best to remain calm.

Emotions are energy and in a place like this, energy attracts demons the way movement attracts the Rex in Jurassic Park.

Then again, just like a real t-rex probably had pretty good eye-sight and would have had no problem spotting someone even if he was holding still, so too, whatever's in this place will have no trouble finding me.

As it nears, its presence overwhelms me.

Whatever it is, it's big and bad and I don't know if even the world's greatest exorcist 'whoever that is' would have a chance against something like this.

It's as many times more powerful than I am as I am to an ant.

Still, ants can bite and I ready what defenses I have and prepare to fight.

Something looms above me, big as a building.

I get an impression of an immense form, leathery wings, bone and stinking flesh... fire, ash and rot.

I choke, falling back beneath the stench and then I'm falling again, my world flips like an hourglass and my eyes... my real, flesh and blood eyes... snap open.

I'm on my back, lying on the hard, cold, deliciously real concrete of my garage and the face of an angel looks down on me.

"Jesus fucking Christ Carlos, are you alive?" John asks.

I cough and fill my lungs with air a few times.

"Yeah. Looks that way."

"Fuck."

He hangs his head and I wince and rub my chest, which is weirdly sore.

Also my mouth tastes like mint.

"What happened?" I ask. "Is the circle intact?"

He lifts his head and glares at me, eyes bloodshot with stress.

"Yeah, the circle's fine. You, on the other hand, fell over and had what looked like a seizure. Then you stopped breathing. I gave you CPR. I just about gave up when... you came back."

He rubs a hand over his mouth and stares down at me, as if afraid I'll pass out again or disappear if he takes his eyes off me.

Meanwhile, I'm boneless as a jellyfish with relief.

Wherever I was, whatever I saw, it didn't follow me through.

Neither is there any trace of Kyle.

"Sorry," I say, sitting up gingerly. "I should have warned you that might happen."

"You think?"

I cough and laugh.

"I'm okay, really. It's not impossible for someone to lose the connection to their physical body entirely while traveling but it's super rare."

"So, what you're saying is the chance you could have died is greater than zero."

"Uh... yeah. I guess."

"Fucking hell," he sighs and shakes his head. "Okay, what now?"

"Help me up."

I ask more because I want to feel the solid, physical warmth of a living body than because I really need help but he obliges.

I lean into his strength, breathe his scent and accidentally find myself resting against his chest, my head on his shoulder and my arms around his waist.

"Uh... So are you okay now?" he asks, sounding a bit strained, when I finally come back to reality.

"Sorry," I release him and step back a pace. "I just needed to get grounded again. This will just take a minute."

Quickly, I complete the ritual, sending any lingering spirits back to their home realms and cleansing the circle before I break it, releasing the sacred space.

"So, what did you get?" John asks, as I cross to my work bench, grab a clean rag and use it to wipe the sweat from my face.

I tell him what Kyle told me.

"He wants you to look for his parents? That case is long cold," John says, frowning. "Anything else?"

After a slight hesitation, I tell him about the presence.

He listens non-reactively, neither accepting nor rejecting but simply absorbing what I have to say.

'Again, perfect guy.'

"What's wrong now?" he asks, as I slump a little and sigh.

"Nothing. Did I say anything on this side?"

"Nope. You just sat there until you fell over and had a fit."

I laugh and then cough again, rubbing my sore sternum.

"Thanks for trying to save me, even if it wasn't necessary."

"Are you sure it wasn't?" he asks. "I gave you artificial respiration for almost five minutes. People have been brain dead after not breathing for less time."

'Mouth to mouth for five minutes? Why did I have to be unconscious for that?'

I frown at him.

"My body is used to it. And it might look like I'm not breathing, but I am... just very slowly. In fact, forcing me to breathe faster might do more harm than good. But... thank you for saving my life."

He breaks eye contact and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he checks his cell-phone.

"Shit," he swears, scrolling through his messages.

"What?"

"They ID'd the body we found in the park."

"Who was it?" I ask, craning to see over his shoulder.

"One Daryl Sparks. A private investigator based out of Shasta City."

He taps a link in a message and a website opens on his phone.

A balding white guy with teeth so bleached they put snow to shame grins from the top of a page full of glowing endorsements, including... 'The best detective since Sherlock Holmes'... which, honestly, seems like a bit of a stretch.

"What was he doing in Spring Lakes?" I ask.

Shasta's only about an hour away, which isn't that much in this region of remote little towns but still not a drive one takes without a reason.

"That, dear Watson, is the question," John murmurs.

"Or rather, given where and how he was killed, I'd bet my last dollar he was investigating Kyle's death. So, the real question is... who hired him?"

"Can't you find out? Hack his computer or whatever?"

He looks over his shoulder at me.

"Probably. That's my next move, anyway. You up for a little drive?"

"You... want me to come with you?" I ask, hoping I don't sound as desperately hopeful as I feel.

He turns and meets my eyes with an intensity that roots me to the spot.

"Yeah. If this guy's a ghost now, he might go back to a place he's connected to, right? Besides, after what just happened, I am not letting you out of my sight until this is over and done. Especially not tonight. Understand?"

I nod. Unless we can stop it, tonight is the night of the second Feast.

"Good. Grab whatever you need for your ghost hunt and let's go." 

[herleaf]

It was moments like these that seemed to make or break situations, her spouting out the inner machinations of her brain, the exact pinpoint where people would decide if she was too inquisitive for them and that they wanted to keep their secrets, well, secret. As if she could read their minds, which was obviously impossible as, if she was able to, she would've messed up and spouted out a reply to a question they were thinking. Sure, it is scientifically possible for mind-readers to be out there; hell, everything is possible in the vastness and the unknown of space and the planets that were yet tread. All of this noise and anguish and haze constantly pilled and congealed behind her smile, forcing herself to be fighting both inwardly and on a whole other mental space. People are well-rounded, and Clara wasn't any different. Except, Clara wanted to be different.

Therefore, Clara Oswald was a liar.

She could spout her words of whimsy and wonder and talk the talk, but deep down she wasn't as confident as the facade let on. It was all some act because, despite saying nothing bothered her and that she didn't care if she was everyone's cup of tea, it was still something that haunted her. Clara Oswald was trying to singlehandedly run from and also be better than the other her--the one from her dreams. Whatever made her so scared surely was just in her unconscious but she couldn't figure out what it was trying to tell her. Her boastful words of excitement and wonder but truthfully she did what she thought was what was needed. Clara Oswald kept to the rhythm and binary of the days.

When the lights were off, Clara Oswald's facade would begin to crack. Who was she, the bubbly outspoken ensign, or was she the scared girl that wished that people would stop pushing her away because she was able to see their intentions. She was desperate for someone to just see her the way she saw the world. But enough of this, because despite the lights being off, the stars still glow. And, despite her wanting to feel like she is some unknown and misunderstood individual, she was still her. And she loved who she was, and if this is how her brain will spiral when having actually two-sided deep conversations, she's going to have to start journaling her feelings instead of just invention ideas.

"My memories remind me how truly human I am. I find excitement in them because no one can change them. They are actually, properly mine and despite the want to shy from them I can't because if I forget them or try to change the trajectory in my mind, I am in danger of repeating them." She noted how his brows furrowed and she truly felt the distance between them. It wasn't the same as when they were truly at work, but it wasn't the completely intimate and fizzling moment of unknown that was around them before. It was just like the other times she'd gone out of step... except he kept going. No excuses to leave or shutting her down, he gave her more information than she could've ever asked for. He let her in despite the wall he put up. It was a boundary, but boundaries are good. "Thank you... for telling me I wasn't correct. Someone's got to bring me down a peg before I begin trying to... well," Where had her energy gone? "I don't know. But not knowing doesn't stop me from trying."

Goodness gracious she wasn't making sense and she honestly welcomed the change in subject. A smile turned up the sides of her lips as she let herself fall back into the light-hearted and inquisitive side of herself that she showed to the universe.

"Well, we could make up our own stories. Try to weave a short tale together, make it however outlandish we want it to be. 'was what my mum always had me do when she caught me pacing about at the wee hours of the morning." Her gaze turned away from him to stare behind the counter, trying to hide the vulnerability in her eyes. She'd never told anyone that before. Shit, backpedal Oswald. "Or I could show you how truly brilliant I am by showing you the absolutely absurdest blueprints I've made for gadgets that are truly useless but I couldn't get off of my mind. Honestly, I don't really know what to suggest as usually the slight flirting of my personality has been put off by work or being in solitude. Please, if you have anything better to suggest, I am all ears."

Her perception is interesting, a fact that he will admit as his hands retreat and he leans back where he is seated. His arms fold across his chest forming a wall between them and he takes to simply staring at her. His gaze is lazy as it traces the heart shape of her face, round cheeks to a pointed chin. A small nose, but overly large brown eyes. In the dark, they are deep, but he imagines them honeyed when she turns them up towards the sun. As individual features, they sound odd, but coalesce into an almost alien beauty. But he's stuck on the way the corner of her lips turn upwards into a dimple.

His own head is tilted. Jaw clenched slightly as he rolls his tongue behind his teeth.

There is an accuracy in her proclamation, and he's impressed by what she's been able to surmise from the snippets he's presented; but equally, Clara is incorrect. His failure to openly share facts has strewn about pitfalls, ones that she has fallen victim too. The most glaring being the presentation of his self as captain. It is what propriety would call for, and yet, in these quiet moments where he is one on one with the crew, he is not.

He is closed off because he is guarded. Because while he is constantly seeking companionship, his true addiction is to the loneliness and the desperation it breeds. It is the strongest emotion Jim has known, so he feels it bleed across the cracks of his soul, destined to always be this way.

It means, when his lips finally peel apart to respond, that his words will be tinged with defensiveness.

"I don't find it exciting at all." Because he is plagued by a fixed point in time. Something that could be argued one of two ways: was predestined for him to be part of, or that was always meant to happen to him. It depended on if he was feeling victimized that day or looking at it logically to admit that he was only a small piece of the puzzle. "It's never been about what choices I could make differently to change the outcome, but to relive the moments. Over and over. Until I admit that nothing could ever be changed. There's no ripple effect, or hopeful lessons to be learned. Nothing changes because the reality of it was the nightmare. Dreaming of it only serves to remind me of it."

The no win scenario he refused to fall back on. Which, perhaps it does give way to Clara's argument in it fueling him. Something that draws a soft smile to his own lips. Suddenly, he's desperate to shove the attention away. "I can't have an engineer dead on their feet, however. So how do you propose we end this sleeplessness once and for all?"

[maddy011901]

call it what you want

the archer | 5,083 words, part 1 of 3 | ao3

Lasko can pinpoint the exact moment he realized his crippling crush on Freelancer. The two of them were out to lunch while they both had breaks from class. Freelancer was telling a story about childhood friends who are dating now. They were laughing and talking with their hands, and Lasko could feel the goofy grin and blush on his face. 

When Freelancer paused, trying to gather themself, Lasko let himself speak a few simple, damaging words. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Freelancer looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes and Lasko’s stomach flipped, his heart sank, and his brain when static with panic. 

Freelancer then smiled, something about it was so real while being so fake. “Thank you, Lasky.” They replied playfully and Lasko wanted to cry. 

They both know how he meant it. That he meant it. And Freelancer sweeps him under the rug with a playful jab. A playful jab that felt like a thousand cuts. 

The rest of that lunch is now a blur to Lasko. He debated on bringing it up again. On how to apologize, if apologizing is even the best course of action. But before he can get those words out, they have parted ways and he’s waiting for students to file into his classroom. 

Freelancer is comfortable, familiar, safe, and warm. Lasko has made plenty of friends here, and sure he’ll make plenty more. But not ones like Freelancer. Because Freelancer is different. Even if they deny it. Freelancer makes Lasko feel feelings he didn’t even know he had. For a long time, he wondered (and, admittedly, worried) if he was aromantic. But if the things he feels about Freelancer are what he thinks they are…then maybe, just maybe that isn’t the case. 

It’s not just Freelancer either though, it’s Gavin too. And maybe Huxley and Damien a little bit. He just felt it with Freelancer first. Which is what makes it all so confusing. Lasko has always had friends, and he knows what it’s like to not have friends…and none of that ever felt like this. If he lost these guys the same way he lost everyone else…Lasko feared it would completely tear him in half. It would ruin him completely. There would be no pieces to pick up and put together. 

And that is terrifying.

Lasko shouldn’t feel this way. It isn’t his place. It isn’t for him. It’s theirs and theirs alone, and he’s just…not meant to be a part of that. Of any of it. If he wants all of that, he can search it out himself. With someone else. 

But that isn’t what Lasko wants. And that will just end up getting himself and someone new hurt. He wants Them. Not just Someone. Them. All of them. 

Lasko curses himself, putting the interaction and those feelings on a shelf in his mind. He’ll get back to it. Eventually. Maybe. Probably not. 

To be entirely honest, he’ll ignore it until the end of time. What other choice does he have?

Freelancer sits alone in the bath that same night, thinking about it. About Lasko. About the cadence in his words. About the way those words made them feel. Warm, loved, and beautiful. That is how Lasko intended it, and yet Freelancer retaliated. Made it some kind of battle of words. They couldn’t take it, the feelings of love and admiration radiating off of the man. So they pushed him away, which only made everything worse. 

“Are you all right?” Gavin asks from the doorway.

Freelancer gives no reply, sinking into the hot, soapy water. When they come back up, Gavin is waiting with a towel, Freelancer takes it and uses it to get the water from their face. 

Does Lasko even know? Does he know how he said it? And the way it made Freelancer feel? Did Lasko truly intend those words to come off that way? Or was it a little mistake? A mistake all of them might have to pay for. 

“Do I have a crush on Lasko?” Freelancer asks. Something about it all make them feel like they were back in junior high, which makes it evermore so conflicting. 

Gavin blinks, before grinning. “You’re the only one who knows the answer to that question.” 

“Not true,” Freelancer sighs, pulling their knees up to rest their face on them. They both know that Gavin won’t give away the answer to a question like that. Despite it, he refuses to hand out the feelings of others. 

Gavin grabs the cup from the shelf near the tub. Freelancer lets Gavin bathe them, thinking about Lasko, about the interaction, about their feelings. 

“Sit up, my love., Gavin instructs, and Freelancer does without hesitation. Gavin begins to shampoo their hair and Freelancer can physically feel the stress falling into the bath water, to inevitably go down the drain. 

“Lasko and I are too much alike.” 

Gavin hums. “What makes you say that?” 

“The moment we realize these feelings, we’re going to both go running in the opposite direction.” 

Gavin chuckles. “I won’t let that happen, my love. I’ll catch you both.” Gavin runs his hand through Freelancer’s hair. “Besides. I think you’ve grown up too much to do that. I can’t speak for him. But I know you, I know you well. My love. You are quite bold with these types of feelings. You are horribly honest, even to a fault.” Freelancer stares up at him, eyes full of so many emotions. Infatuation, yearning, affection. Love. “You already knew the answer to that question when you had asked it. You just wanted my go ahead.” 

“And?” Freelancer asks, barely a whisper. 

“I’ll be waiting for you both, with my arms and heart wide open.”  

“Thank you.” They whisper. 

Gavin just kisses them.

This Saturday, Freelancer was too caught up in dinner prep to properly greet their friends. Telling all of them they would be out in a minute and to get started without them.

No one felt like playing Mario Kart right now, so Damien picked out a show for all of them to watch as they quietly waited for dinner to be done. Lasko stood at the edge of the living room, scanning for somewhere to sit. 

Huxley sat alone in the lone living room chair, hand extended out to be on Damien’s knee. Damien sits against the arm of the L-shaped sofa, looking bored. Gavin sits on the other side of the sofa, sprawled out as much as he could without taking up as much room as possible. 

“You gonna just stand there?” Gavin asks, his voice relaxed and low in the way he knows will make Lasko go numb. 

Lasko moves slowly, sitting awkwardly in the middle of the sofa, not touching either man to his sides. Damien shifts, grabbing Huxley’s extended hand into his own. Lasko observed the couple, his stomach burning in a way it never had before. It’s not rooted in anger, but anxiety. Like everything about his life. 

Lasko’s brain goes in a hundred million directions, pulling thoughts from the deepest part of him. Telling him lies just as much as it tells him truths. 

“Why are you sitting so far away?” Gavin whispers, lifting one arm. 

Lasko hesitates, knowing that this will only make his heartache. But he gives in. Because it’s Gavin. Lasko’s head lands against Gavin’s collarbone lightly and both of them curl into each other in a way that friends don’t do. 

But it’s Gavin. Lasko tells himself over and over again, that it’s okay. It’s normal. They’ve had sex, for fucks sake! Lasko is the one being weird about it, right? They’re friends, who have fucked, it’s normal for them to cuddle on the sofa. It’s not like their friend group isn’t touchy, because they most certainly are. So yes, Lasko is the one making it weird!

Lasko glances up at Gavin. Knowing that the Incubus can sense his feelings, so if Gavin didn’t like or didn’t want Lasko to feel this way, Gavin wouldn’t do this. Right? Gavin may be a tease, Gavin may be a bit of a menace, but Gavin isn’t cruel. Not to real feelings, not to the hearts of those around him. Lasko finds comfort in that thought, knowing that either way, no matter what, Gavin can and does acknowledge his feelings. Even if they both need to be silent about it. For now. 

Freelancer comes into the living room, they look tired or annoyed. “Dinners on.” They mutter as they scan for a place to sit. When their eyes land on Lasko he feels a chill go up his body, every instinct in his body is telling him to move, but when he tries to pull away, Gavin tightens his hold on his shirt. 

Freelancer stretches their back casually and sits on the little sliver of the sofa between Lasko and Damien. Damien moves again, giving room to the other. Lasko attempts to move, but he is still being held in place by Gavin. Freelancer looks past Lasko at Gavin, he doesn’t pay attention but he can feel that they’re having a silent conversation with facial expressions alone. Lasko pretends he didn’t gasp a little when Freelancer grabs his legs, folding them across their lap. 

“How long until dinner?” Damien asks. 

Freelancer stays quiet for a moment. “Fourty minutes, or so.”

Damien gets off the sofa to get the Switch set up. “I wanna go a few rounds.” 

“You just wanna win, Dames.” Huxley laughs. 

Damien chuckles. “Yes? And your point is?” 

Lasko feels that burn again. He just wants it. Anywhere he can find it. In Gavin. In Freelancer. In Huxley. In Damien. 

But it’s not for him. It’s not his. It’s not meant to be his. And he needs to let it go. 

“Lasko?” Damien is staring at him. 

“Huh?” 

“You wanna play?” 

Lasko shakes his head involuntarily. 

Damien nods, not asking any questions. Lasko watches Damien as he hands everyone a controller or joy-con to play, Lasko tucks his hands into his lap and shifts. Gavin and Freelancer move as a result of Lasko’s tiny shift and it makes him want to scream. 

The idea of him affecting them is physically painful. He feels like he’s being suffocated by their touches, by behind held so lovingly by them. When Lasko finally takes in a breath, it’s shaky and anyone with ears and hear that he’s upset. 

“Lasko,” Gavin whispers and it's like a gunshot signaling for the racing dogs to run. 

Lasko stands up. “I have to use the restroom,” Lasko explains, grateful that they’re all focused on the game right now. 

In the bathroom, Lasko does everything he can think of to get himself to just calm down. Splashing water on his face, drinking water, pacing in a small circle, reading the labels on the back of random products. Conditioner, face wash, concealer, the list could go on. 

Leaving the bathroom felt akin to walking into a wolf's den. Which is just dramatic. Lasko is self-aware, everyone is. He knows that this is just his anxiety. It isn’t a big deal. It doesn’t need to be made a big deal. 

But here he is. Having a silent freak out in the bathroom. 

When Lasko returns to everyone, the seating arrangement had changed drastically. Huxley is on the sofa now, and Damien is sitting between his legs on the floor. Gavin is in the middle and Freelancer is where Gavin is sitting. 

Freelancer looks up at Lasko and he feels like they can see all of it. All of him. They can see right through him in the way he can see right through himself. It’s burning and sickening. But for some reason he doesn’t know, he wouldn’t change it for the world. Finally being…seen. 

“You all right?” Freelancer asks in such a quiet voice Lasko barely hears. 

Lasko shakes his head no. “But,” He tacks on. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” 

Freelancer nods, smiling so sweetly it makes Lasko want to melt into a puddle on the floor. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve them. Any of them. They’re too good and he’s just…him. Nothing much, nothing special, nothing more than just…him. 

“You don’t have to talk.” Freelancer assures, “Just sit and try your best not to think about it all.” 

“That feels impossible, to be honest.” Because he’s being surrounded by it.

“Then think about it,” Freelancer says. “But I…we won’t make you talk. But we’re here, whether you want to talk or not.” Freelancer continues. “I know its hard to realise sometimes, but you’re not alone.” 

It felt like Freelancer was saying what they weren’t. Lasko curses himself for reading between the lines. For over-thinking every word that just fell from Freelancer’s mouth. 

Lasko nods, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.” He whispers, then going and sitting in the chair Huxley was sitting in earlier. 

Leaving Freelancers felt like leaving Home. But not in the way a child leaves for a one-night sleepover. But in the way, a member of the royal family leaves in exile. 

And it’s no one's fault but his own. Lasko had no one else to blame, he was the one who fell in love. Right?

Lasko gets to his apartment, turns on no lights, and goes to his bedroom. Lasko allows himself to lay face down in his bed until he feels good enough to get some work done. Because it’s either sit and wallow in these horrible, overwhelming, sickly feelings…or work. 

In reality, he’s doing both. 

Freelancer’s noon lecture was canceled. They considered skipping the rest of their classes for the day and just going home, but that’s dumb. Freelancer texted in the group chat. 

Freelancer, 12:13 PM: i’m free until 3. anyone wanna join me for coffee??

Huxley, 12:15 PM: Sorry, buddy, no can do!

Freelancer sighs, letting him know it’s fine. Freelancer assumed that Damien wouldn’t say anything in the first place, and they were correct. But to their surprise, Lasko does reply. 

Lasko, 12:21 PM: I’ll meet you there. 

Freelancer got to their normal coffee spot first, ordering for themself and getting out their laptop to make themself look busy. 

Lasko sits down, coffee and bagel in hand. He lets out a huff and then smiles at his friend. 

“Hey you,” Freelancer smiles, trying their best to treat this casually and like there isn’t unresolved tension between the two of them.

“Hi.” Lasko takes the lid off his coffee to get it to cool down. “I thought you had a lecture on Tuesdays?”

“Canceled, it’s like the fourth time it’s been canceled, I’m pretty sure I’ve only attended that class like three times.” Freelancer chuckles with a playful eye-roll. “And you?”

“I don’t have any classes on Tuesdays, not that I teach.” He clarified. “Only have Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays.” 

“Ah,” Freelancer nods. 

They both fall quiet and Freelancer decides it’s better to swing and miss than not swing at all. 

“How are you?” Freelancer says, swallowing their anxiety. 

Lasko smiles, it’s not fake but it’s not real either “I’m good,”

“No, Lasko.” Freelancer says, breathily. “How are you?” 

Lasko takes in a big breath, looking at his half-eaten bagel. “Well, um.” He starts. “I’m thinking about going on anxiety medication.” 

“Oh,”

Lasko nods, remaining quiet. Despite wanting to say so much. 

“Lasko,”

“Yeah?”

Freelancer decides now isn’t a good time for…that. “I’m proud of you.”

Lasko nearly chokes on his coffee, looking at Freelancer with wide eyes. “I’m…you, you are?” He almost looked like he was about to cry. 

Freelancer nods, smiling. “Genuinely. I’m proud of you. Whether you go on the meds or not. I’m proud of you and how far you’ve come since we first met.”

Freelancer decided to skip the rest of their classes, going back to their apartment and finding Gavin playing Mario Kart on the sofa. “Hey, you,”

“You’re home early.” Gavin replies, not looking away from the game. 

Freelancer goes into their room to change. “I want to tell Lasko.” Freelancer comes into the living room, changed into comfortable clothing. “I want him to know how I feel…and I want to know how he feels.” Freelancer whispered the last part, not looking at Gavin. 

Freelancer knows how to read Gavin like a picture book. He’s so open and easy, but it’s not his place to speak about Lasko’s feelings. Despite being honest and dropping hints, he’s never gone right out and said it all.

And Freelancer isn’t stupid…rather Lasko himself has made it obvious how he feels about Freelancer and Gavin. “I can tell to at least some extent what Lasko is feeling.” Freelancer continues, sitting on the sofa next to Gavin. “But I need to know what he’s thinking. I need to know what’s holding him back. Why does he feel like he needs to keep me, keep us, at such a distance? Why does he always look like he feels out of place?” 

Gavin remains quiet, before pausing the game. “I…I mean,” He smiles awkwardly, seeming to have no answers for Freelancer. Not that Freelancer expected him to. “I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I certainly know what he’s feeling.” Gavin pauses, dropping eye contact. “And what…we’re feeling.” He continues, looking back up at Freelancer’s face. “How we all feel.”

Freelancer takes a quiet minute to think, clearly trying to come up with some kind of plan or idea on how to approach the situation. “I hate to make him anxious,” They begin, “But we should talk to him about it.” 

“I don’t think it will make him anxious.” Gavin replies, “I…I think it’ll give him relief, to know he’s not entirely alone. To know that we feel the same. To know that we’re all in.” Gavin swallows, seeming to be lost in thought for a moment. “I’ll be honest, with you, Freelancer. I don’t know if he is in…the place to commit to a relationship, especially one of this…context.”

“That’s okay. I just…I hate seeing that look on his face. Like he’s done something wrong.” Freelancer whispers. “I want to be open and clear and effectively communicate with him…with you, with all of you about,” Freelancer pauses, “Everything.” 

Gavin smiles, reaching out to put his hand on Freelancer’s face. “Give me a kiss.” Gavin whispers, pulling them closer. 

Freelancer smiles, giving into the slow kiss.

The pair pull back. “All right, so…after Damien and Huxley leave on Saturday, wanna talk to him then?” Freelancer asks, putting their fingers into Gavin’s hair.

Gavin nods, “Yeah,” leaning in for another kiss.

Saturdays have been reserved for Mario Kart and Freelancer’s cooking for months now, and this Saturday is no different…not yet anyway. 

Lasko use to look forward to Saturdays, and deep down he still does. But now he dreads them, which he hates. Lasko should love it, he gets to be with his people, his family, and the relationship he craves every night. Being on the sideline is better than not being there at all, Lasko had decided. 

Lasko was barely trying at Mario Kart, too caught up in his thoughts. No one noticed though, at least no one said anything about noticing. Probably because Damien and Gavin are feuding and Huxley is laughing like a madman about it. When Huxley would laugh, Lasko would awkwardly giggle as well, hoping to at least make it appear he’s having an all-right time. 

“You are so! Ugh!” Damien’s voice filled the apartment. 

“Damien!” Freelancer snaps. “I already have like five noise complaints!” They say, flying out of the kitchen to reprimand him. 

“But this is bullshit.” Damien laughs, gesturing to the TV. 

Freelancer glances at the screen. The TV screen tells them that Gavin just came in first place for the first time in Mario Kart. Gavin had been putting a lot of time into playing the game to properly compete with the rest of them. And if this is the case, Freelancer is officially the worst player, as they’re the only one who never got first place. 

Freelancer pretends they didn’t make a face of confusion and shock, leaning down to kiss Gavin’s head, “Congrats. Help me in the kitchen?” 

Gavin was on his feet before Freelancer even finished the question. The pair enter the kitchen, Freelancer turns their music back on. 

“You and I both know those noise complains are not from Damien’s screams.” 

Freelancer rolls their eyes, “I can’t hear you.” They say, turning the music up. Not too loud of course, because any more noise complaints and Freelancer might genuinely have to worry about being kicked out. 

Gavin laughs loudly but doesn’t reply as he and Freelancer finish dinner. 

The five sit for dinner, the TV playing Mario Kart music quietly. “So, how’s is been going for everyone?” Freelancer asks before digging into their meal. Freelancer prefers not to be the one to talk all the time, so they find ways to be a listener in most conversations. And the easiest way to do that is to get people to talk about themselves and their lives. 

Lasko waits patiently for his turn to speak, and finally, he smiles anxiously. “I ugh, I’m trying some medication.” He admits. 

Freelancer looks up at him, beaming with surprise and pride. “Yeah?”

“Oh really?” Damien asks, seeming intrigued. 

Huxley and Gavin were busy whisperings about something to be involved. 

Lasko nods. “Yeah, I haven’t filled the prescription yet, because it’s the weekend. But, but I’m hoping to start them by Wednesday.” 

“I’ve gone back and forth with medication,” Damien admits. “I’d love for you to keep me posted, cause if you give a rave enough review I might just be forced to try them.” He chuckles. Like he's joking.  

The conversation naturally progresses in other directions. Which was more than fine with Lasko, anything to keep his static mind occupied. Even if that's not happening. If he can just give the appearance of it, that's more than enough for him. 

Eventually, though, Damien was tiredly pulling Huxley out the door. Lasko and Gavin were in the kitchen as Freelancer and the couple said final goodbyes.

“Hey, ugh, do you mind if I take these leftovers?” Lasko asked when Freelancer came into the kitchen. 

Freelancer nods happily, “Of course.” 

Gavin clears his throat, grabbing Freelancer and pulling them into the dining space. Lasko honestly doesn’t think much of it as he packs some of the leftovers into a Tupperware container. 

Freelancer comes back into the kitchen with a nervous look on their face, which instantly makes Lasko’s stomach drop and heart race. His thoughts are being pulled in every different direction by every single emotion he could have. The lies and truths resurface at the front of his mind. 

Freelancer approaches him with a softer expression now. “Hey, so…I’m not trying to freak you out or anything, I promise." They pause, swallowing and closing their eyes. "I promise, it’s not bad, but Gav and I wanted to talk to you about something. Something kinda,” Freelancer stops themself again, opening their eyes now, but refusing to hold eye contact with Lasko for more than half a second. “Something important to us. To me." They shrug like they're unsure of how Lasko will respond. 

Lasko closes his eyes and nods. There isn’t much choice that he has, he can’t just be like, “oh no thanks” and be on his way out the door. Lasko will just have to accept whatever it is. If it's a confrontation, then so be it. If it's something he could barely care about, then so be it. He'll just have to endure this. It won't last forever. Nothing does. Not even this. 

The three of them at sitting at the dining table. Gavin is looking at the two of them with a curious face, while both Lasko and Freelancer seem to be waiting for something to happen. Something. Anything. Even if that thing is the goddamn world imploding on itself. It's not like it'd be the first time. 

“Freelancer,” Gavin encourages with his soft voice and a gentle touch. 

Freelancer takes in a deep breath, eyes closed. “Lasko.” They say his name and he feels like a dog with a bird in his teeth. 

Lasko looks up but keeps his head down, showing that he’s listening to whatever it is they have to say. 

“We’re…aware of your feelings.” Freelancer starts, Gavin lets out a breath, and Freelancer tenses. Freelancer has so much more than they want to say, that they have to say. Because that isn't enough, and that isn't right. But when Freelancer tries to say any more, no words will come out. 

Lasko's eyes are wide and brimming with so many indescribable feelings. “I’m-” 

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Gavin snaps, smiling. He is so relaxed, he feels comfortable making a playful jab. A thousand more cuts. “Freelancer.” He pressures, never taking his eyes off Lasko's face. 

Freelancer opens their eyes and looks at Lasko. And for a short, quiet moment the two of them just stare at each other. Both of them wished they were better at telepathy. 

“Lasko. I am just going to speak for myself, right now. Okay?” Freelancer begins. It's never been one of their strong suits. Speaking on their behalf. 

Lasko gives a small nod, leaning forward with hope and fear in his chest. 

“I have had this like little, tiny, baby crush on you since the day I met you. Right?” Freelancer is smiling so happily and Lasko almost cries in relief. “And over time, my crush on you has developed and changed and I honestly still don’t entirely know much about my own feelings.” Freelancer pauses, seeming to regret their words. Lasko agreed that they could have maybe said it more elegantly, but they shouldn’t regret it. 

Gavin puts his hand on Freelancers. Reassurance is something they all need from time to time. Right? Lasko isn't alone, and somehow, for some reason, that all seems so much clearer now. 

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, or backed into a corner, but Lasko I know you like me like that. And we know you like Gavin like that.” 

Gavin nods in agreement and encouragement, still looking at Lasko. 

“If you’re okay with it if you want it too. We’d be happy to let you in…”

Lasko doesn’t realize how quiet he’s gone, just looking at the two of them, lost in his thoughts. Until finally, he takes in a breath and opens his mouth to speak. But no words come out. 

“Lasko?” Gavin whispers, leaning forward a bit. 

“I thought you two were upset with me,” Lasko admits, looking away from them and at the tabletop. Lasko racks his brain for the right words. “I felt guilty and invasive and unworthy.”

Gavin sights out, “Oh.”

“Lasko, no.” Freelancer whispers, shaking their head.

Lasko looks up, but not at them. At anything but them. “I have never felt good enough, or that I have worked hard enough, or that I belong somewhere. And I was scared that this would be no different. Whether I made a move or not, I thought that I would be rejected. Not because you two made me feel that way, or because anyone has made me feel that way.” 

The three of them remain quiet, waiting for Lasko to finish. Lasko struggled to find his next words. Struggled with how to finish this rant of his. 

“I always made myself feel that way.” 

“That’s okay.” Freelancer whispers, bumping their fingers against Lasko’s hand. “It's all okay.” They promise. 

Tears well in Lasko’s eyes. “Fuck.” 

Freelancer is smiling again, which makes his heart feel so full. “Just,” They start with a whisper. “You say stop, we stop. You say go, we go. Not just now. Always." Another promise.  

Gavin makes a face of pride at Freelancer. 

Lasko swallows. “Ugh.” He swallows and finally allows himself to just smile. “Go?” 

Freelancer moved, grabbing his beautiful face into their gentle hands. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” Lasko says clearly, looking into their eyes. 

Freelancer kisses him, and he melts into their very being. Everything about the beautiful, loving, caring touches and kisses from Freelancer made Lasko feel high. A type of high he hasn't felt in...god knows how long. It felt good. It felt right. 

Lasko feels Gavin’s eyes on them, burning with anticipation. All three of them wondered where this would go, in general, and at this moment. Lasko and Gavin have been together like that before, and Gavin and Freelancer have been dating for years now…so it would be comfortable and safe and somewhat familiar. 

Freelancer released him from the kiss and Lasko couldn’t stop himself from burring his face into their neck, searching for comfort and assurance. Chasing the high. 

Gavin steps in verbally, “You’re good, you’re all right. Both of you.” He assures in that voice he knows can make both of them soften. 

Lasko smiles, nodding against Freelancer. 

“Lasko?” Freelancer whispers, placing a soft kiss on his ear. “Wanna stay the night?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lasko says, shuttering at their hands running up and down his back. 

Freelancer seems to move to look up at Gavin. 

“Lasko, are you okay?” Gavin asks in that low, soft voice that makes Lasko’s brain tingle. 

Lasko looks up but doesn’t remove himself from Freelancer. “I’m okay,” He smiles, “I’m just…you know.”

Gavin nods with a smile, “I do know.”

Freelancer takes in a breath. “Lasko, do you want to go to bed?”

Lasko nods. “Yeah, that would be nice.” Lasko allows himself to fall, knowing that they'll catch him. It's so unfamiliar, but not scary at all. Lasko would miss this feeling, and will probably spend the rest of his life searching for it again. But that's okay. 

And so the three of them go, off to lay in Freelancer’s bed. Which is entirely too small for them, but they still made it work. 

In the morning, Lasko took the kisses goodbye and made his way back home. Feeling attained, and complete. Feeling loved.

[shotorozu]

hi bae!!! deku, shoto, denki with an s/o who's like affectionate with all her friends and they get insecure and kinda jealous :( ?? tysm in advance <33

s/o that’s affectionate to friends

character(s) : midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, kaminari denki (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name, L/N = last name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not specific

headcanon type : fluff, kinda angsty but there’s reassurance (x reader)

note(s) : another one i kinda held off doing because of it getting buried in the inbox sndjwkd i’m sorry for the delay! i didn’t like how denki’s turned out im so sorry

➽───────────────❥

midoriya izuku

man already knows that you’re very touchy with your friends, that’s just who you are

heck, i think before you guys started dating, you were touchy to him too! (but even more because,, you like him)

so he shouldn’t be shocked when you link onto kirishima’s arm, or when you jump to give mina a back hug

and most especially, when you poke at bakugou’s cheeks— and he just LETS YOU for some reason

he’s glad that you feel comfortable around people, considering that it’s why you’re even touchy in the first place.

but he can’t help but wonder,, is he doing enough to you? i mean, you basically do the same to him, but added the cheek, lip kisses

and the wonderful words you get to shower him in daily.

not only that, but he does tend to flush up when you try to initiate some sort of physical affection. maybe,, he’s supposed to let you be?

let you do all of that, since it makes you happy? i mean,, he supposes that he’s willing to do that.

izuku’s not a restrictive person when it comes to things like that, so he supposes that he’ll just have to ignore the weighted feeling on his shoulders despite not carrying a thing at that very moment

on the other hand, you couldn’t help but notice a change in izuku. not anything too concerning, of course

but he’d turn a blind eye— whenever you’d initiate physical affection to your other friends. he’d go silent, until it was over

eventually, you overhear a rather heartbreaking conversation between the dekusquad, and izuku himself

“deku! if you’re so down about it, then maybe you should tell Y/N about it! i don’t think they mean any harm.” you could hear uraraka console him

“correct. L/N-kun does not look like the type to be unfaithful. and even if they were, that would’ve been unacceptable behavior!”

and through out the discussion on how izuku could confront you, his s/o— he speaks abruptly

“i mean.. if Y/N is happy with being physically affectionate with their friends then,, i can’t stop them.” he says sadly, but it breaks your heart knowing that you’ve caused him to sound like this

“plus, i’m sure they have a reason to be acting that way, right?” you didn’t think how your affectionate attitude would have its effects on him

so, the next time you saw your boyfriend, you had a talk with him

“hey, honey!” he’d greet you with the usual demeanor, as if he didn’t just talk about his feelings “how are you? sorry that i was a little late, i was talking with the others!”

you smile, accepting the reason (since it’s true) “izuku, can you be honest with me?”

and this statement shocks him for a bit, “oh uhm,, yeah i can! did i do something wrong?” he scoots next to you, waiting for your reply

“does me being physically affectionate towards my friends make you,, uncomfortable?” you inquire, as straightforward as you could

he’s silent for a bit, which makes you speak again “you can be honest, it’s okay. you’re not in any trouble, zuku.” you ruffle his hair softly for comfort

then, he finally answers. “uhm,, uncomfortable isn’t the word. it’s not that i don’t trust you but,,”

“yeah?”

“i don’t trust,, me.”

this statement takes you by surprise, “oh, why?”

“i don’t trust myself that i could make you happy,” he continues “with physical affection, i mean. i understand if you weren’t, i just feel like i’m not giving you enough.”

“i understand though!” izuku continues, “whenever you initiate physical affection, i can’t help but get all staggery and nervous,” he rambles

he sounds normal, sure— but he’s not looking at you, his emerald eyes set in a downcast state

you make him face you, gently grabbing a hold of his shoulders “i’m sorry, zuku.” you press a kiss on his temples

“in truth, yes. i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with my physical affection.” you confess, “i’d see that you’d go red whenever i’d initiate something,” you tease, which gives you the exact reaction you’ve wanted

“but then,, i also didn’t think about how you felt about it. i didn’t consider the possibility of you being uncomfortable with it, so i want to apologize for that.” you lean against him, taking his hand and pressing a kiss on his palm

“if you want, i could stop it. there are other ways i could show affection to my friends anyway!” you suggest, but he shakes his head, smiling

“i appreciate it, but you don’t have to.” he reassures, “if it makes you happy then i’ll be happy.”

“is there anything else?”

“just maybe uhm,,” he trails off for a second, before continuing “give me what you give them, but multiply it by 200!” he suggests, his regular self coming back to you

you laugh, leaning forward to kiss him softly, “i love you, izuku. only you. people may receive my affection, yes— but you’re the only one that deserves all of it.”

and with that, the weight on his shoulders is lifted, and he didn’t actually have anything to worry about.

todoroki shouto

despite shouto being sometimes socially ignorant, he is a very observant person when it comes to the person he likes

so the first thing he noticed was your touchy behavior, specifically towards your friends

sure, he’s had some of that physical affection— but it was like you knew him too well. so, he received it less that the others

it doesn’t mean that todoroki disliked your physical affection. during those few times, he did tend to,, not mind it at all, when he’d usually pull them off

and it doesn’t automatically mean that you didn’t like being around todoroki, it was given that he wasn’t very big on being physical

he didn’t care, again— as long as you were happy, but then there would be this tight feeling in his chest whenever you’d run off to do it to bakugou, hugging him leisurely

or even midoriya, sometimes

so, when you guys finally confess to each other— it doesn’t appear that your physical affection towards your peers came to an end

it remained the same, and while he’s the one that received your delightful words, fully devoted love, and time— he can’t help but frown whenever he sees you latch onto kaminari

or when you sit beside midoriya and count all the freckles on his cheeks— the blush on his face being hard to ignore, in your boyfriend’s eyes.

i don’t think shouto’s a jealous person— protective is one thing, and possessive? maybe that one time, he was. but jealous? maybe not.

well, it’s not like he doesn’t trust you to stay loyal and faithful, that’s a different thing. but it’s more like,, he wants for the affection you’re giving to them

needy, that’s the word

early on, (and maybe even before you got together with shouto) it’s been established that shouto wasn’t a biggest fan of physical affection, besides hand holding, and cheek kisses for now

it makes sense to you, especially hearing about his childhood, and his father’s true colors— that are far from anything heroic.

and you definitely respect what he wants— if he wants space, you’ll comply! and if he wanted more, you’ll also be willing to comply!

that’s why you’ve been keeping things just at that— the last thing you want is making shouto uncomfortable, the concept terrifies you

but,, shouto doesn’t exactly know how to tell you that he wants more, more and more— he wants all of your affection

so, what does he do? he tells you in one exact way— he tells you what’s on his mind

and quite bluntly for that matter

the both of you have been sitting in silence for a bit, no words were exchanged. however, glances were sent towards your way

his stare has a different edge to it, as if he had something in particular he wanted to say— mouth gaping open as if he were to speak, but no words come out

“shou,” you call out to him softly, “it looks like you have something to say,” you smile at him, wanting to know what was in that head of his “you can talk to me.”

a minute flies by, and he’s still silent, and you’re about to drop the topic for good— until he finally speaks up “i don’t know what i’m feeling.”

this quirks your interest, “oh, what,, are you feeling?” what he said worries you, since it kinda sounds like he was about to deliver some bad news

“i’m,, not sure myself.” he stares down at his hands “i feel weird, whenever i see you be.. touchy around the others.”

weird, huh? “what kind of weird? could you try to explain? maybe i could pinpoint what you’re feeling.”

“i feel weird, since i haven’t experienced this before,” he breathes in, before he goes on “i feel like i want more, selfishly more. i thought i would’ve been fine with receiving minimal physical affection,”

he turns to you, heterochromatic eyes staring deep into yours “but i’m not fine with it! i want more, like what you give to the others. so that’s why,, it’s weird.”

and it suddenly dawns onto you on what he’s talking about, he’s talking about you being physically affectionate towards your friends and classmates

and how he doesn’t like it.

you frown, scooting next to him “i’m sorry you feel that way, shou.” you fix a stray piece of hair that has been misplaced, hanging near his brow

“i’m glad that you were being honest, and told me,” you cautiously hold his hand, looking at him to detect any discomfort

there’s none

“yes, i’ve been careful. i don’t wish to make you feel weird— in the bad way, and most especially uncomfortable!” he nods in understanding, he adjusts the hold on your hand, choosing to place his hand on top of yours

“and i didn’t.. think about how you would’ve felt about it. i should’ve asked you about it first.” you look at him with meaning, “‘m sorry.”

his gaze softens, and he leans closer— ever than before “it’s alright, love, no need to apologize,”

“that’s just who you are, if you show gratitude and affection with being physical, then that’s okay. i just,, want more— if that’s okay with you.” you nod, laughing softly

“i’ll give you more, if that’s what you wish. i’ll give you everything you want, whatever makes you happy.” shouto presses a kiss on your temple

“so,, does that mean you’re going to.. stop?” he asks— just because he wanted to know

“oh, if you want to, then i will.”

“you don’t have to but.. maybe tone it down?” he suggests, because although the idea of your physical affection towards your friends coming to a halt, is nice he wouldn’t admit that outloud

he doesn’t want you to stop, if that’s how you show gratitude to your friends. so, toning it down’s the best option

“i will,” you smile, “only high fives, pats on the back, and quick hugs, from now on!”

the statement makes him smile, a genuine one— he’s just glad that his concerns have a resolve now. man was just really touch starved, couldn’t blame him

kaminari denki

it took a while for him to actually start being concerned

i mean— dude’s practically the same as you. have you seen him play with ojirou’s tail? he always finds himself touching someone

whether it’d be him poking bakugou’s spiky head of hair (until he’d scream at him) or him resting his elbows on kirishima— he’s always touching someone

so, he understands if you’re going to be touchy feely with others. he actually finds it quite cute when you show your endearing side to your friends with touch (without crossing boundaries of course)

so, it was okay keyword : was

until you slowly started kissing your friends on the cheek— and it erupted,, something from within

it was so casual, that he had to process what just happened— following it up with a smile, to play it off.

he feels bad for feeling iffy about it, honest! he doesn’t have a reason to distrust you, so this feels all,, wrong for him

the gesture was definitely a gradual process. it wasn’t like you just randomly started to kiss people on the cheek— and it wasn’t like you were depriving him

so this made him think harder than he has ever thought before. maybe you were getting tired of being affectionate to him only, so you moved away from that?

or maybe you were tired of HIS affection?

maybe you were giving people affection, because they deserved it, and he didn’t? if this was the case, denki can’t complain.

denki knows he’s not smart like iida, or serious like bakugou.

but even to denki, all of that is a stretch. he’s just laying out all of the possible reasons— rational or not

and before he realized it, you knew that there was something up

denki; utterly afraid of losing you, switches from super affectionate to being isolated in his room— every single day

this is his way of experimenting with your reactions

even the bakusquad didn’t know what was up so,, yeah. there must be something bothering him.

you’re given a few ideas as to why kaminari might be acting this way, and the exact idea popped into your mind

you made him insecure

and you instantly felt bad— yes, you give all of your friends cheek kisses, and you give them to your boyfriend too!

but you didn’t realize that you would’ve potentially harmed him in the process. so, you sought out to talk to him

“hey babe,” it was just in time, your boyfriend enters through your door, “i was looking everywhere for you, you won’t believe it! i would’ve evaporated if i had to endure bakugou’s screaming one more time!”

“i was looking for you too,” you smile, ushering him to sit on your bed, “listen, i want to talk to you.”

“oh,”

“don’t worry, denki. you’re not in any trouble,” you reassure, “i just want to apologize”

it’s his turn to be confused “what? why?”

“let me ask you one thing, how do you feel about me giving people affection?”

he swallows harshly, but answers truthfully “i like it a lot, babe! i do find it cute.” he smiles, but you’re not fully convinced that his statement made it’s end

“i feel like there’s more i should know.”

“i,, yeah.” he admits, and not very gracefully “it’s— ugh! i’m sorry. i know this is really out of character for me, and i’m sorry that you have to see me feeling like,,”

“you can be honest.” you remind him briefly

“—weird. look, it’s not like your love language is weird to me. i think it’s just me being a needy idiot! and it’s not like i think you’re cheating on me!” he holds his hands up in defense

“but in a way,, i didn’t expect you to do that— you’ve only started doing it recently.”

“so it made you uncomfortable?” you’re preparing for the expected answer, ready for what’s about to be said

“,, if the shoe fits.”

seeing denki in this sort of manner gave you the biggest reality check. yes, you knew that you had something to do with his recent personality change

but you didn’t realize how much it made him question himself.

“i’m sorry, once again” you apologize, “it was wrong of me to assume you were fine with it, i just thought you’d be fine with it since well,,”

“hey, it’s okay,” denki smiles, his mood slightly better “i’m touchy too, i mean,, we both show affection physically! i’m not very surprised that you thought i was fine with it.” he brushes his thumb on your cheekbone

“i mean it, denki. i didn’t realize how much it would’ve affected you. you might not realize it, but i do.”

“it’s fineeee,” he whines playfully when you’re still upset, “Y/N, you’re affectionate, which is a trait i absolutely love. if you’re physically affectionate, that fine.”

“just uhm,,” he trails off, almost awkwardly. “maybe,, don’t bless them with your,, cheek kisses? ugh! omg there was definitely a better way to say that.”

to any other person, that would’ve been awkward— like,, really. but you understood, that’s how much you know about him

“got it, they will be exclusively for you.” you kiss him on the cheek, “thanks for being honest, denki.”

at that moment, denki’s shoulders felt lighter, and he suddenly forgot about why he even felt this way. yes, you still gave people physical affection BUT

denki kaminari still wins 😎 your kisses and ultimate tokens of affection are strictly for him

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

[twistedmusings]

I'm not going to request it now because requests are closed, but that Savanaclaw petting scenario was really cute and like,, Octavinelle petting and examining them

(,,• W •,,)

A/N: If you can pinpoint the exact moment I started to slowly doubt my writing ability and how to write these characters, I will give you, the reader, 100 points. Cause man this was rough to write when you have writer's block q wq But anyways, this was when my requests were closed BUT I WANTED TO COME THROUGH WITH IT! I would like to dedicate it to @kirayamidemon since I read their comic and it was...excellent.

But in other news, I found out that eels like to be petted!

Warnings: Eel petting, Octopus petting and all three Octavinelle members feeling a certain way when you finally give them those pats.

[Floyd-Senpai: Shrimpy~! Meet us in the mirror room tonight! Azul says he wants to give you something!] 

Your eyes look down at your phone before pocketing it back into your jacket, taking another sip of the Coral Pink drink Floyd had made for you before you left Monstro Lounge as you reminisce back on the day you just had. 

Today has been probably the most successful day the Monstro Lounge has had in a while. You had offered up the idea to Azul while you two walked to the cafeteria, mentioning touching a manta ray once and how you didn’t expect them to be so slimy. He had looked at you curiously and asked if you had just been a curious child when you were growing up, but you told him that you used to go to a lot of aquariums and how you would go straight to the petting exhibit. 

And the moment you said petting exhibit, Azul already had cashed the idea in. 

Aquariums had been placed elegantly among the tables of Monstro Lounge tonight. The smaller aquariums on the tables were closed lid, giving the customers a chance to enjoy the little ecosystems Jade had personally made for the creatures Azul had brought in while partaking in their drinks and meals. It made for a killer Magicam picture and Azul had predicted with Vil’s and Cater’s attendance the hashtag #MonstroLoungeExperience would be trending by the time they reached the dinner rush.

It trended faster than they thought. 

Most foot traffic, however, came from the piece de resistance. 

In the middle of the Lounge, a large aquarium had been placed at foot level where various customers could reach down and pet larger animals such as sting rays, sturgeon fish, starfishes and sea cucumbers. All of them with little placards stating fun facts as well as little sections with a bunch of coral that made for another perfect Magicam photo opportunity. 

It had been an amazing experience and you felt like you had almost grown closer to the three Octavinelle students, which was always an ‘A+’ in your book. 

You were pretty sure you saw Azul smiling from ear to ear by the time they closed and Floyd and Jade looked physically exhausted from having to deal with so many customers. They had been busy from opening to closing with no breaks in between so you figured that they would want to rest. 

So getting a message from Floyd so late at night had been somewhat confusing. 

But you didn’t question it, the fact that Azul wants to give you something making you ever so curious. 

Who knows, maybe if the sea creatures were still around Azul could let you pet them some more? 

Out of everyone you had probably been the most excited for the petting exhibit and you had given him the idea so the possibility of playing more with the starfishes and manta rays pushed you to move faster. 

Finishing the last of your drink and throwing it away in the nearest trash can, you push open the doors to the mirror room with a smile--!  

Only to find nobody. 

“...huh.” 

You look around, not daring to call out either of their names since, technically, you weren’t even supposed to be here. The only thing you could do was take a few steps further, looking around as you try to make some sense of the situation. 

Why wouldn’t they meet you in Octavinelle? The Monstro Lounge was there, as well as all the creatures. Azul’s office was there as well so if he wanted to give you something he could have given it to you there, so why had Floyd asked to meet them in the Mirror room? You look around for a moment before frowning as the realization set in. 

It was a prank. 

“Dammit.” 

Of course. Why would Floyd even act this nice towards you if it wasn’t to lull you into a false sense of security? The table you had sat in today had a beautiful aquarium with a bunch of little shrimps floating around and the mereel, more than once, had opened the lid and stuck his hand inside to grab one of the shrimps and hang it over his open mouth. 

You thought he was just acting this way because he was stressed from working so much but he probably had just done it to tease you! With a huff, you pull out your phone and open up his contact number to give him a piece of your mind--! 

“Aha! Shrimpy is here!” 

Only to gag as the back of your jacket is grabbed by a slimy aquamarine hand, pulling you into the nearest mirror and leaving nothing but your phone laying on the ground. 

Floyd’s hands pull you into a hug the moment you are pulled into the water, laughing as he sees you thrashing around and pulling at the arms keeping you pressed close to him. 

“Ahhhh! Shrimpy stop moving!” 

The mereel squeezes you tight, smiling as he looks down at the moment you realize who is holding you and what you are able to do. 

He grins and wraps his tail around you, the fins brushing your fingertips as the shock slowly starts to die down and the curiosity starts to set in. Floyd’s eyes shine brighter under the sea, your hand going to your chest as you expected to drown immediately but finding it simple to breathe in and out. 

“What--?!”

“Finally!” 

“There we go~ Breathe in--”

You take a deep breath. 

“And out~” 

Your chest relaxes as Floyd giggles at how wide your eyes have gotten, letting you go with his arms but his tail wrapping around one of your legs and pulling you close to him once again. He smiles when your hands go up to inspect the fins on his ears but stop as if the situation was still highly unreal for you to believe. 

He guessed humans rarely got to see the sea during the night, but he was glad he got to show you this sight. Even if it was Azul’s idea in the first place. 

Looking around, you notice that you had been here before. 

It was the Coral Sea. 

You look back at the mereel as Floyd tilts his head at your confusion, smiling as he sees the shining in your eyes get brighter when you notice that the veins in his arms and the ones going up his neck are all shining in the moonlit water. 

“Floyd…” 

Ah. You really looked too cute. Especially when you were looking at him with so much wonder. Maybe he should just take you out further and hide near the corals, somewhere Jade nor Azul would look as he preens under your attention. 

He blinks as you break out of the spell long enough to point a finger at him. 

“You--! Why did you call me to the Mirror room so late! The last thing I need to do is get in trouble with the Headmaster!” 

Floyd frowns, “You didn’t get in trouble! I pulled you when I heard your voice! Why didn’t you call out to me!” 

“Because I couldn’t see tail nor fin of you!”

Both of you stop talking after your dumb joke, looking at each other with surprise before a giggle escapes your lips first, turning into a full blown laugh between you both as he takes your hand and presses it under the fins in his ears. 

“Shrimpy was so mean today. Petting all those creatures and ignoring everything else. It made me want to eat all of them up.” 

You smile and rub right under the juncture where fins meet skin, Floyd shivering as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Eels don’t eat any invertebrates, right? You guys are mostly carnivores.” 

He grins and gives you a small squeeze. You even knew of his diet? Why hadn’t you mentioned you knew some things about sea creatures. If you had, Floyd would have dragged you to the Coral Sea way before this! He smiles as your hands go all the way down to his neck, tracing each vein slowly but not going any further than his clavicle and choosing instead to run your fingers from his shoulder blades all the way to his Adam's apple. 

“Shrimpy is being too shy. Here!” 

You gasp as Floyd grabs your hand and helps you swim over to a pair of rocks, sitting you down on top as the bottom of his tail wrapped around your legs to keep you anchored. He laughs as he practically sits on you, choosing instead to lay the top half of his tail on your lap as you look down at the shiny, swishing fins. 

“Now you can touch as much as you’d like!” 

Floyd was ready to make a joke about how this would a much better petting experience for you but his eyes widen when he sees the wonder in yours, the smile in his face disappearing as he watches your fascination with his fins, running your fingers through his caudal fin and rubbing the edges with your hand. His hands twitch as you run yours up his tail, taking in the slimy but firm feeling before looking up at him and reaching out to cup his face with one hand. 

He presses his cheek against your palm, smiling as you scratch right over his ear fin and almost jumping up from the rock as you start to rub the appendage. 

“Shrimpy wait--” 

Shit, he almost bit his tongue. He could barely look into your curious eyes as his heart sped up, the most sensitive area of his body being played and inspected with being a far too new feeling for him to just laugh it off. 

Floyd bites his bottom lip as his tail squeezes your legs, closing his eyes as he felt several shivers go up his spine. It felt too good--

“Floyd?” 

The mereel slowly comes down from the high as he glares at the intruder, clicking his tongue as he saw who it was. 

A pair of identical eyes to Floyd’s turn in your direction, your hand pulling away from the other as you turned to greet Jade. 

“You certainly took them farther than I thought you would.” 

He chuckles as his brother turns away, clearly not wanting you to see the blush on his cheeks. Nevertheless, his attention immediately goes back to you, swimming over to your side and sitting on the opposite of where Floyd was situated. 

“Did you have any troubles finding us?” 

You shook your head, “Floyd grabbed me and pulled me in before I could leave.” 

Jade nods and looks down at how Floyd had situated himself, a brief pang of jealousy overtaking him as he scoots closer, takes your hand and presses it on his chest. You immediately try to pull back but Jade’s eyes lid as he tugs you in closer, the veins in his chest shining even brighter than Floyd’s as he immediately feels you relax in his touch. 

“Do you know what this is, [Y/N]-san?” 

His eyes take their time to take in all of you as you nod your head, whispering the word ‘bioluminescence’ as Jade licks his lips. 

How strange was it to see you so focused. Jade had taken his time during the lull of the Monstro Lounge hours to watch you near the petting tank, your fingers running over the manta rays and tapping at the carapaces of the horseshoe crabs. And like his brother he did feel a certain sort of jealousy for those creatures, but he also saw an opportunity. 

An opportunity to get your guard down. 

His eyes look over at Floyd, the other pouting as your fingers start to trace Jade’s chest all by themselves.

“Uhm--” 

Jade’s attention goes back to you, “Yes?” 

“I didn’t think that moray eels had bioluminescence.” 

He smiles and takes your hand again, guiding it from the middle of his chest all the way to his cheek making sure that your fingers feel the light travel in his veins as you start to wriggle out of Floyd’s hold and into Jade’s. 

“Our kind is a mixture of many eels types. While our exterior is that of a moray eel, our interior is also made up of certain eels that use this feature as a way to communicate with other animals, warn predators…” 

The mereel decides to keep the ‘lure prey’ part out of his explanation. 

Jade’s eyes immediately went to Floyd’s as the other was about to speak up, glaring at him to keep his mouth quiet for he had his turn. His eyes soften when they go back to you, your eyes still taking in all of the small trails of light decorating Jade’s body as your hands trace against the caudal fins on his arms. 

They were rougher than the ones near their ears…

Slowly, your hands go to the fins on the side of Jade’s face, the mereel tensing up but keeping his eyes on you as you start to tug and rub at the appendages. 

“[Y/N]-san…” 

His nails scratch against the rocks as he feels your fingers trace every line they can find, his fins giving a little twitch as you push them back only to watch them slowly move back to their original spot. You had no idea what you were making him feel, what you probably made Floyd feel. 

And if his dear brother wanted to keep it a secret, then he would keep his mouth shut as well. 

Having someone touch them so freely, especially that area, was an act reserved for mates only. Even during courtship this was prohibited and if any other merperson happened to swim by it would be as if they just tumbled into the merman equivalent of someone shoving their fingers in between someone else’s legs. 

But your curiosity was so endearing and Jade just couldn’t find it in himself to pull you away. In fact, that look of yours full of innocence and naivety was so cute that if he let his instincts run wild you would find yourself being dragged to the Leech's home--

“What--you two!” 

His reason kicks back in as Jade smiles and turns to look at the new visitor. 

The octomer’s face is bright red as he locks eyes with you, your hands letting go of Jade’s fins as he smiles and waves at Azul. 

“I’m glad you decided to join us, Azul.”

He wants to say something about what the hell he just saw but he decides to save it, knowing full well that Jade nor Floyd were going to give him a straight answer. Instead, he decides to address you directly. 

“Inferring from our conversation from early this morning as well as your actions during the Monstro Lounge opening hours, I figured you would like this sort of surprise." 

He clears his throat, sneaking a peek at your face and quickly looking away as he saw your eyes staring straight at him. 

Humans like you are still curious about the different types of merpeople, especially those like Jade and Floyd, so after much consideration I decided--” 

"Azul, you're beautiful." 

Oh no. He bit his tongue. Fuck, fuck, fuck he bit his tongue and now it hurts like a shell clamping down on his hand--why had you gone and say something like that so suddenly?! 

"Excuse me?" 

The spell Jade had you in was completely broken as you pulled out of the brother's hold and swam over to him, stopping when you noticed him backing away. 

Azul stared at you and you stared back at him. 

He couldn't help it. After all the things he had to deal with, it was hard enough for him to even appear in front of you like this. And it wasn't like he was doing it as a showing of any sort of affection towards you, he just didn't want to owe you any favours from the idea you had given him! 

All he had to do was just...reach a tentacle out-- 

"Huh?" 

Azul notices you swimming back a tiny bit, smiling at the tentacle shyly reaching out to you. 

"You can turn back, you know. I don't want you to feel forced to do this." 

You point at him, your eyes still wide with curiosity but keeping your distance. 

"The fact that I get to see you like this is enough." 

Azul can feel his heart skip a beat, tentacles unfurling even more as the need to hide melted away. 

But...he owed you a favor... 

"Honestly. Thank you so much Azul." 

For the Sea Witch's sake, he really couldn't pin you down, could he? 

The octomer swims over, floating right in front of you as one tentacle shyly brushes against your fingertips. They twitch in interest but you do not move, looking up at Azul expectantly. 

You really were too nice for your own good, waiting for someone to give you the okay when he clearly wanted you to at least inspect that part of him. 

"Go...go ahead." 

Your touch is soft, pressing your hands right against his suckers and chuckling at the small noise they made as they attached themselves to your skin. Azul moves in a bit closer as some tentacles start wrapping around your ankles and wrists, his natural instincts taking over as his tentacles wrap around the person he really liked. 

Well not like as in like like but a like he had yet to put a definition to. And it's not like it needed a definition, you certainly weren't asking him what sort of like it was and the thought of what kind of like it really was didn't keep him up at night at all. 

"Oop!" 

Azul almost wants to screech at the tentacle going in between your legs and hoisting you up, offering you a sort of makeshift seat as the other appendages start to press against your neck, leaving behind little sucker marks in their wake. 

This situation was not only testing his boundaries but also his patience. 

"I didn't think they would be so slippery...and so soft!" 

Please don't look so curious about him! It's going to give him wild expectations! 

The tip of a tentacle rubs against your cheek, Azul's face an almost red tomato as he hears you chuckle and push the appendage back but for some reason his tentacles weren't listening to him so the thing only pushed forward even more--

"Ah! No fair!" 

Floyd comes up behind you, wrapping you up in a hug as he points a finger at Azul. 

"No hogging Shrimpy to yourself!" 

Azul swims back in alarm. 

"I wasn't hogging anyone!" 

Jade laughs as he swims right up behind you, a hand on your shoulder as he pulls you back. 

"Azul you might want to look down." 

The octomer blinks only to look down, seeing that one of his tentacles had stubbornly wrapped around your waist. 

"Ahh...ahhhh….!" 

You, Jade and Floyd blink as dark ink fills the water, Azul covering his face and letting you go, swimming to the nearest hole and curling up inside as he strangles one of his tentacles. 

Of all the things to embarrass him it just had  to be himself, huh?! 

"Azul? Wait come back!" 

"Shrimpy tell me I'm beautiful as well~!" 

"Floyd let me go! There's ink everywhere!" 

"Not until you tell me I'm beautiful!" 

"Jade!" 

"Azul is more than okay, I can assure you...although I would also like the same compliment as well, [Y/N]-san." 

The next day, you woke up with a high fever due to swimming all night, a present from all of the Octavinelle students at your doorstep with an apology card neatly placed on top. 

[actualbird]

the nxx boys as songs that i think encapsulate how they first felt once they realized theyve fallen in love

(+ some explanation from my end cuz i got REALLY EMOTIONAL, OKAY!!!!)

-

artem wing: So It Goes by Marianas Trench

I spoke to you in cautious tones You answered me with no pretense And still I feel I said too much My silence is my self defense And this is why my eyes are closed It's just as well for all I've seen And so it goes and so it goes And you're the only one who knows

(aka: hesitation is what riddles him in the beginning. artem goes about it in stops and starts, sudden halts, stilted words because hes always needed to do everything right. he needs to be careful, and he is, and when he's met with gentleness, he doesnt know what to do. in spite of it all, the trust hes got is solid. it's just for who hes in love with, not for himself. one day, artem will get there. until then, he leaves his heart in their care.)

-

marius von hagen: What I'm Trying To Say by Stars

You look so good in the clothes of a poser And when you smiled all the kids fell apart here I know a place where it's warm and it's dry, dear Let me take you there North of the river all the streets are the same We can pretend that they don't know our name And the heat is turned all the way to full So don't pretend that you don't feel the pull I am trying to say What I want to say Without having to say, "I love you"

(aka: well fuck, this is scary, isnt it? but it's clear as day to him and hes ready to pull whoever it is along with him. but "head on" isnt how he begins because thats a lot. and marius has always been one to put on certain masks. he doesnt lie, he goes for the half-truths or jokes or over-exaggerated teasing or saying it's nothing, just anything but actually saying it. he'll grow the courage slowly but for now, he communicates everything without having to say...)

-

vyn richter: Close to Home by Vienna Teng

Claim the truth that gets lost In the miles of memory and open folds So change these rules and let’s cross All the sacred boundaries we’ve overgrown Build a brave new foundry close to home Here’s unbroken bone It’s a psalm from the book of lies Language you don’t recognize as part of your own This is the taste you were forever chasing There is no way to contain it when it comes to set You off Accept the shame on some shaky basis Admit that you were mistaken about it after all But oh the ache, the fantasy forsaken The alien and adjacent you would give anything to Take off This is the claim that you’ll keep on making This is the point of the breaking Here it comes to set you off

(aka: vyn both knows what this is and doesnt. he just wasnt expecting himself to experience it, the whole "love at first sight" thing. it's strange, it's alien, he doesnt recognize it, and it pushes him to realize that maybe he was wrong about how he viewed love prior to this. but as off-kilter as he feels, he yearns as well and wants to get acquainted with the feeling. wants build a home in this new place he once thought was a lie)

-

luke pearce: Your Universe by Rico Blanco

Tell me something When I'm 'bout to lose control How do you patiently hold my hand And gently calm me down? Tell me something When you sing and when you laugh Why do I always photograph My heart flying way above the clouds? I don't think that you even realize The joy you make me feel when I'm inside Your universe You hold me like I'm the one who's precious I hate to break it to you but it's just The other way around You can thank your stars all you want but I'll always be the lucky one

(aka: hes always had this gratefulness inside his heart. but he only realizes the added layer later because if you asked luke to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love, he wouldnt be able to answer. his love built with every small moment, beautiful mundanities stacked up brick by brick, day by day, and his realization of what it isn't shocking to him. it's like a fact of life: the sky is blue, the sun rises every day, and he's in love straight down to his soul. and what colors every moment that led up to him knowing for sure is this: thank you, thank you, thank you)

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[staticscreenwriting]

Where the heart is // B. B.

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) are getting a divorce because they are silly and both love the other so damn much. (Happy Ending!)

TW: Talk of divorce. Talk of potential pregnancy and babies.

A/N: Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.] 

TAGLIST: Find the link to join my taglist in my bio. Will reblog this post with the taglist attached seperately. 

Waking up from this nightmare How's your life, what's it like there? Is it all what you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me? And how broken my heart is

The apartment is deadly quiet as Bucky steps inside, only the rattling of his keys echoing through the halls that once seemed so warm and inviting are now but a cold reminder of what used to be.

People never really talk about these moments. The after. The wreckage. The ruins of what used to be. Sure there are movies and books and countless songs but they take the feeling and they wrap it up in beautiful words and prose and make something beautiful of it.

There’s nothing beautiful in the way Bucky feels as his feet drag him towards what used to be his bedroom, which is now hers. There’s nothing beautiful in the way he feels as his eyes wander over to the closed door behind which lays an empty room. One that is empty not because of choice but because of the shitty cards life has dealt both him and her.

There is nothing beautiful about the way he feels. Only sadness. Only hurt.

When he turns the corner and steps into the bedroom, his heart drops for a second. He hadn’t expected her to be here, not with how quiet the place is. But sure enough, there she is. Sitting on the fluffy comforter they bought together, legs tucked underneath herself. She said that comforter was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. Now she doesn’t even lift her head to look at him, focusing only on the box resting on the bed before her.

“Hey uh — I didn’t expect to run into you.”  

“ I live here. Sorry to disappoint.“

“ I know, that’s not what I meant. It’s just so quiet. “

She shrugs but still doesn’t look up. There’s so much resentment there, dripping from every word. He can’t fault her for it. Not even a little. If he was her, he’d hate himself too. Maybe this will make it easier for them. If she hates him, that’s a straight cut. Right? Hating is easy. It’s loving that’s hard.

“ It’s like that now. You here to get some of your stuff?” she asks, looking up at him for the first time. Her eyes are red and tired. Not like they were when he left, filled with tears and sorrow. Now they’re just infinitely sad and exhausted. Like all the life and all the warmth and all the passion that he fell so deeply in love with, has been sucked out of her. He hates knowing it’s partially his fault.

“ If that’s okay with you.”

“ sure. “

The movies and the poems and the books and the songs, they never talk about this. The after. The limbo. The “will you keep this or shall I take it?”

They don’t talk about the fact that you’re supposed to pack 5 years of relationship into a bunch of boxes and figure out what to do with it.

He quietly walks into the closet, as if making any noise would break whatever bubble is currently surrounding the two of them. Sometimes he wonders if things would be different had they been different people. Had they been able to express their feelings differently. Sometimes, in the most secret part of his heart, Bucky wishes there would’ve been screaming. Maybe screaming would’ve been helpful. Sure, it’s not the most eloquent way of communication but at least it is communication. But there was no screaming. Only silence. Only feelings swallowed up to never be spoken about. To suffocate them from the inside out.

Making as little noise as possible, Bucky grabs some of his clothes and stuffs them into the duffle bag Sam gave him. He had that look on his face, the pitiful one. The one that says “sorry, man”. There’s no reason to feel sorry for Bucky. This is his fault after all.

There’s a sound coming from behind him, and for a second he really believes it’s his mind playing tricks on him. But then he hears it again, louder this time, more clearly.

She’s laughing. Maybe not a full-on laugh but a chuckle. It’s been a while since he’s heard that sound.

“ What’s got you laughing like that ? “ Bucky asks as he turns back around only to be greeted by her smiling face. God how much he misses that smile.

She looks back down towards the box in front of her and the picture in her hand.

“ It’s uh — it’s a picture of the first time you stayed over. “

His legs carry him towards the bed as if they work on autopilot. As he sits down next to he can just about make out the scent of her shampoo. The one he bought for himself last week, not because he necessarily likes to use it. He bought it because he misses the scent. Because he misses her. And if he can keep her close like this, even for a small moment, he’ll buy an entire store's worth of shampoo.

Her fingers gently grip the picture so as to not rip or crumble it. He can’t hold back the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips as he recognizes the picture. It’s a slightly less gloomy version of him, in love and asleep. Curled up on her old tiny couch in her old tiny apartment with her dog Yoda sleeping soundly on his chest. He was so nervous to stay over at her place the first time he did. Nervous about so many different things but mostly about doing something to hurt her. Physically but also emotionally. To think that now his biggest fear came true, crushes his heart even further.

“ I miss Yoda. He was a good dog,” she says as she puts the photo back into the box. Truth be told, Bucky misses him too. He was grumpy and lazy and he didn’t ever really listen to them. But he was loyal and cuddly and all in all, he was the perfect dog for the two of them. And he had accepted Bucky into his and her life immediately. As if he knew that Bucky of all people needed nothing more than a chance to prove himself to be something other than a killer.

There are more pictures in the box, alongside other clutter that Bucky can’t quite make out. One of the other pictures he can see clearly, is one of the two of them on their first Halloween. The Halloween that Bucky didn’t want to dress up for. The one he promised himself he would spend curled up on his couch watching a scary movie and not open the door to anyone, Trick or Treaters or otherwise.

He ended up going out anyway. With her. FOR her. And it was one of the best nights of his life even if it meant he had to dress up like a skeleton.

“ What is all this? “ he asks though, by the way his heart starts beating faster, Bucky isn’t sure he even wants to know the answer to that question. “ You getting rid of our pictures? “

He doesn’t want it to sound so accusatory. They’re broken up. Separated. In the early process of a divorce. She has every right to get rid of their pictures. Get rid of him. Bury the memories. Just because he can’t let go doesn’t mean that she’s grieving in the same way.

“ No, “ she scoffs and pulls out a small scrap of paper, “ this is a memory box I started when we first got together. It’s things I didn’t know where to put but that I wanted to hold on to. I had planned to give it to you for our 10 year anniversary but … well “

She doesn’t have to say it. He knows.

“ Then after the — seperation I put some other stuff in there. Memories.” 

“ Can I see what else is in there? “ he asks “ since I won’t get to see it on our 10 year anniversary.”

Bucks isn’t quite sure why he adds that to the end of his sentence. It makes him sound spiteful and mean and he can tell, by the look on her face, that it hurts her. And he’s done enough of that in the past. Isn’t that exactly the reason they are here in the first place?

She considers it for a moment and Buck can only guess the different kinds of emotions running through her then. He feels them too. All of them. They are confusing and most of them are negative. She has no reason to let him see this, relish in sweet nostalgia with him as if everything is okay and they’re not getting a fucking divorce.

“ Sure, I guess. I —  yeah.”

She scoots more to the middle of the bed, making more space for Bucky to sit down properly. He’s perched on the side that was his. The side he fell asleep on and woke up on so many times. And she was there next to him. Always there and warm and soft. And she’d smile at him through sleepy eyes and a hazy mind and she’d rival the sun. And then she’d gently comb her fingers through his hair and say good morning and he knew it would be — a good morning.

He hasn’t had a good morning since he left.

She moves the box to sit between them on the bed and motions for Bucky to start digging in.

There’s a pile of what he realizes are old movie tickets. It's something they used to do when they first started dating. Thursdays were movie days. But while everyone went to see the new blockbusters, the two of them would pick the movies that sounded the weirdest and they’d buy a big bucket of popcorn and blue raspberry slushies and just relish in the grandeur that is bad cinema. Most of the time they were the only ones at the cinema. Sometimes things got — R rated.

“ Why did we stop doing this? “ she asks as Bucky looks up from the tickets “ going to the movies I mean. It was always my favorite day of the week. “

He tries to remember. Tries to pinpoint the moment when life changed and their Thursdays weren’t their Thursdays anymore. He can’t. He comes up empty.

Sometimes life changes in little ways, ones you don’t realize at that moment and they don’t seem significant either. It’s a broken tradition. A missed movie night. It’s slow and creeping but at some point, you stop and look at your life now and it doesn’t resemble your life then anymore. Everything has changed and you didn’t even notice. Not for one single second.

“ I have —  I have no idea. “ he has to confess.

“ Remember that movie with the killer florist ? “ she asks and her voice is laced with laughter. Something sparks up in his heart. A tiny flicker of something he’s missed. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. He can’t help but laugh along.

“ I do! Or the one where the woman fell in love with the Koi in her neighbor's pond? ”

“ Oh god! That was terrible. “

“ It was.”

She looks wistful for a moment as if her thoughts wander off to some long-forgotten memory.

“ What are you thinking about? “

He never usually had to ask her. He’d either know or she’d tell him on her own accord. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between them. One he wants to break down or climb over so badly. But does she want him there? After everything?

“ The day we saw that movie was the first time you said I love you. “

It’s true. Now that she mentions it he remembers it so clearly. It’s like he’s suddenly faced with a scene from a movie he’s forgotten about a long time ago but once someone mentions it, he remembers it in great detail. Knows every word. Every line.

“ I still don’t quite know what it was about that moment that made you say it but — “ she trails off, a smile playing on her lips.

Bucky knows. It wasn’t a groundbreaking realization back then. He’d been feeling it for months. Fell deeper in love with her with every glance, every smile, every silly movie he got to watch with her. They went to some dingy diner after the movie to grab a burger and some fries. The leather seats were old and the filling was spilling out, the air smelled of grease and air freshener, and the laminated menu cards were sticky with undefinable stains. All things considered, it should’ve been a bad date. It wasn’t though. Nothing was ever bad with her. She smiled. All she did was smile and hum along to some song Bucky didn’t know as it spilled from the jukebox. And it occurred to him then, that there was no need for a big gesture or a special moment. Every moment with her was special. Life couldn’t get any better than this. Existing was enough if only she was there.

“ Nothing. “

“ Hm? “

“ There was nothing special about that moment. I just realized that I would be okay with anything if only you are there. You — that’s all I need in life. “

She looks at him then and for a second he thinks that maybe she’ll kiss him. Tell him that they are making a mistake and ask him to come back. Tell him that she doesn’t blame him. That she forgives him. That she wants him anyway. Despite — everything. She doesn’t though. Just sighs and pulls another picture from the box.

It’s a picture of the two of them cuddled up on the couch with a tiny white ball of fluff resting on her chest.

“ Our first picture with Alpine. “

“ That was taken on the day we found him. Look, you can clearly see the scratches on my face from crawling around the dumpsters to rescue him. “ Bucky points out.

He had never thought of himself as a cat person. Really he wasn’t so much an anything-person anymore, after Hydra. But somehow that little cat had wormed his way into his heart and refused to leave.

“ Was worth it though! “

Bucky nods his head in agreement “ it was. “

“ You should — you should take him. He’s really more your cat than mine.”

“ He’s our cat.” he points out.

“ Bucky there won’t be an ours anymore. Soon.”

It breaks his heart. Over and over again. He just got used to being himself. The version he was when he was with her. How is he gonna deal with doing it all over again? He doesn’t want to be a version of himself after her.

“ I don’t have a place yet and Sam’s allergic. “

“ He can stay here until then, of course. I love him. “

There’s a lot of love there that’s being given up on, Bucky realizes. And he hates every part of it.

“ Shit, remember this? “ she chimes up again as her hand holds onto a thin receipt, the black ink bleached away and thinned out from years of being stuck in a box. From years of memories fading.

“ Is that from the —”

“ The tattoo place, yeah. “

The patch of skin on the inside of his arm grows hot as if he is suddenly aware of what is there. Something long forgotten. A small letter forever etched into his skin in black ink like the way she’s forever etched into his heart. Always there. Forever. Just like the delicate lines that write his own name onto her collar bone. James. Not Bucky. Not Winter Soldier. James.

“ Oh god, I can’t believe you kept these,” Buck exclaims as he picks a pair of bright blue knitted socks from the box. They’re made from scratchy wool and there are a million and one holes in them. It’s so her. So quintessentially her. To keep them. With their holes and their scratchy wool and all. Even if they’re a mess. Even if they’re broken. She holds onto things no matter how bad. No matter how lost and sad and broken and useless. She holds on tight and doesn’t let go. Unless you make her. Unless you force her to. Unless you break her heart.

“ Umm … you made them for me. Like you literally learned how to knit to make me a pair of socks to keep my feet warm. That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, Buck. Of course, I kept them. “

Bucky bashfully shrugs his shoulders, a tint of red dusting his cheeks. “ I’m glad you liked them. Even if they’re scratchy. “

“ I like you and Alpine and you guys are the scratchiest,” she points out. She’s not wrong.

“ Was I a good boyfriend? “ Bucky asks and while in the grand scheme of things it really doesn’t matter, he wants to know anyway. Wants to know he did something right.

“ You were the best boyfriend. “

“ I’m sorry I was a shit husband. “

She stays quiet for a moment and with every second that passes by he breaks more and more. He wonders how much of him is left at this point. How much there’s still to lose. Then again, what does it matter? He lost her and that’s all that really matters.

“ You weren’t a shit husband, Bucky. “

It’s like the world suddenly moves in slow motion as they both grab the 2 things left in the box.

Bucky holds onto the blue velvet box knowing exactly what’s inside. The last time he held it, got on his knees in front of her, put the ring on her finger, that was one of the best days of his life. A sign that the Winter Soldier was his past and that he could finally truly move on. They were younger, in love. Happy. Now he hardly remembers what happiness feels like.

“ I was so nervous to give this to you. Not because I thought you’d say no or anything. I just — I just wanted to be enough. The ring and the proposal and — me. “

“ You were always enough. “ she says and he can hear the tears in her voice. It’s thick and heavy and he knows that if he looks at her now, there will be tears in her eyes too.

But he doesn’t look at her then. His eyes fall onto the piece of fabric in her hands. It’s so small. Soft peached colored with a little bunny embroidered on the front. It’s tiny and cute and it belongs to no one. It’s tiny and it should’ve been theirs. But it isn’t.

“ No, I wasn’t. He says and shakes his head. You deserve more than I can give you. “

She throws the baby romper back into the box and gets off the bed as if someone has set it on fire.

“ What’s wrong? “ he asks as if he doesn’t know. Everything. Everything about this situation is wrong. They’re supposed to make love on this bed, not cry over memories long gone. Push away thoughts of their looming divorce.

“ I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe you can tell me. “ She calls out to him as she pulls the rest of his shirts from the closet and throws them into the bedroom. Colors of fabric flying through the air like wings of a bird flapping through the winds. Some of them she lops at him, passion and anger and wrath and sadness filling her eyes. “ Maybe you can tell me why the fuck we’re doing this. Why we’re putting ourselves through all this pain and suffering and this bullshit divorce. Maybe you can tell me why you left me to have a fucking breakdown every time I walk into my closet and see this goddamn dress, “ she cries while holding up the hanger over which her beautiful white wedding dress is draped. God, she looked so beautiful that day. Like a goddess. Like an angel. Like his redemption.

“ We were happy. We were trying to have a family. And then what — it doesn’t work and you leave? You just gave up. “

“ I didn’t give up. “

“ Yes, you fucking did! You gave up and you served me divorce papers and you didn’t even give me a fucking choice. “

“ You agreed! “

“ Because I love you and if you don’t want to be with me, then I am not keeping you. I love you enough to let you be happy even if it’s without me.”

Those words send a shock through his heart. Like an icicle. Cold and sharp and unforgiving.

“ You think I don’t love you? You think YOU are the reason?,” Bucky questions before grabbing the romper from the box and holding it up “ this is the reason. This is my fault and mine alone. It’s my fault that this belongs to no one. It’s my fault that there’s an empty room in this apartment that you can’t walk into because it hurts you too much to see it empty. You deserve to be a mother and clearly, I can’t give that to you. That’s the burden I carry but it’s not one that should be put on you. I can’t give you this but you deserve it and you should have it. So this is me letting you go so you can find someone that can give you a baby. Someone who isn’t broken. Someone who doesn't have a body that doesn’t work anymore. Not in the way it should. “

“ James, “ her words a but a whisper as his name tumbles from her lips and she lets her wedding dress fall to the floor to sit next to him and hold his face in between her hands. “ That wasn’t your fault and you are not broken. I want a family, yes. I want a child. But with you. I want a family with you and it doesn’t matter if it’s my blood or not. It’s our family whichever way we decide to do this. And if we — if we stay just us and Alpine that’s fine too. I just want you and whatever else we decide on. Together. I love you, James. I love you and I miss you and I don’t want a baby if it’s not with you. A family means nothing if it doesn’t include you. Whatever the consequences of the serum are, they are not your fault. You are not broken, James. You are you. You’re a hero. A husband. And maybe one day a father but above all, you are James Buchanan Barnes, a survivor and you are not broken.  “

He knows he should be saying so many things right then but all his thoughts get tangled up and won't find the way to his lips.

Instead, he says the only other thing he can think about right then.

“ You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress. “

She laughs through the flood of tears that leak from her eyes and trail down her face.

“ I mean you always look beautiful but that day. My god. I honestly couldn’t believe you said yes to me — of all people. 106 year old me. Wouldn’t believe it until the moment you walked down the aisle. Then I knew that this was really the start of my new life. Of my forever. “

“ I miss you Bucky. “

“ I miss you too. “

“ I don’t want to divorce you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.”

“ Even without the babies? “

“ Yes, “ she nods and brushes her fingers through his short hair. “ You are my family James and you are enough for me. Always”

“ I love you. “ he says because really, it’s the only thing he can think of. The thing he wants most. The only thing that matters.

Without another word, he pulls the ring from the box and delicately slips it back onto her finger. Where it belongs. Where it always belonged.

“ I’m sorry I was ever this stupid. I should’ve just talked to you “

“ Yeah you should have but right now can you — can you just kiss me? “

She doesn’t need to ask him twice. He kisses her once, then twice, then once again. It’s been a long long time since the last time he’s kissed her. Too long. Way too long.

He’s not gonna stop anytime soon. Never again. Never ever again.

“ Hey, “ he says “ how about you slip into your wedding dress I think for all my stupid decisions I owe you a dance. “

“ I think you might be right. “

And she’s smiling, so bright and radiant. Like the sun. Like all the stars. Like his own personal light in the darkness.

“ Don’t expect too much though. I just cried, my hair is a mess — I won’t look the way you remember me looking in this dress. “

“ You’ll look gorgeous.”

And he’s right. She looks breathtaking. She looks like a wonderful, wonderful dream. Like love captured in a person. Like a second chance. Like his home.

There are a lot of thoughts racing through Bucky’s mind as he pulls her close and they sway to the melodic tunes of their wedding song as it sounds from the speakers of her cellphone. But above all there’s love. And the knowledge that he is enough. That they are enough. Their tiny little family. Perfect and not broken or missing anything. It’s good as it is.

They don’t have to think about who gets to keep the decorative throw pillows, the records they used to collect together, the plates that were a wedding gift, the cat. Because it’s theirs. Together. Shared.

And forever.

[thekingofwinterblog]

Andrias/Anne Parallels and Contrasts - Revenge is a Suckers Game

There are many, many parallels and contrasts between Anne and her predecessor as the wielder of the blue Gem's power Andrias, which is not too surprising given that the main point of her character arc is specifically to NOT repeat his mistakes, and instead manage to be a true successor as the Heart of Amphibia.

One of these parallels is that Anne and Andrias both were betrayed by the two people they trusted the most. And not only were they both betrayed by the other two gem wielders, but it even happened in the exact same room.

The difference though, is that Andrias never got any closure on it. He didn't get revenge on them. He didn't get to make up with his friends. He doesn't seem to have even gotten the chance to talk with them ever again. In fact, i'd guess the bitterness over this, the fact that he never, ever managed to move on with his life one way or another is probably the single biggest reason Andrias turned into the bitter, emotionally dead inside person he is today.

Anne however, did. She DID get her revenge, and not only did she get her revenge, she got it on the same day, in spectacular fashion.

After Sasha's betrayal in the throne room, Anne gets to call Sasha out with a declaration of anger, bile and rage that was so strong, that you can pinpoint it as the moment when Sasha's belief in herself as a "good" person disintegrated(though it would take the rest of the day before it finally sunk in for her).

Frankly if it hadn't been for the themes of the story, and the strength of Sasha's character arc, it could really, really easily have been the climax of Anne's journey, where she finally finds the strength to break things off with her abusive friend once and for all.

And it doesn't stop there either.

Around one hour later or so, Anne once more faces Sasha, this time as the would be queen comes to parlay with her, to try and convince her that whatever happens, they can't let Andrias have the music box.

Anne however, tells her to fuck off.

The things is though, I don't think Anne would have listened, even if Sasha had been smart enough to have brought proof with her to this parlay(Like say, taking a photo of the mural). Because to Anne, this sword fight isn't about the strategic objective. Not really.

It's about finally getting even with Sasha, and to make her hurt, just as much as Sasha hurt Anne in the throne room.

This is why she is flat out to kill her during this fight, while Sasha(Who is both very conflicted, and far the better warrior of the two) fights both defensively and sluggishly.

And in the end, she does it. She wins. And not only does she win, she manages to beat Sasha both in a very, very humiliating way, she also gets the satisfaction of punching her in the face.

And as she stands over Sasha, she gloats, and is positively gleeful at the sight of all of Sasha's hopes and dreams having gone up in smoke.

It is incredibly unlike Anne Boonchuy, and in this moment, Anne resembles nothing more than Andrias real personality.

She is happy that Sasha is suffering. She spitefully enjoys seeing her former best friend in complete and total defeat.

Not because good has triumphed over evil, but because in this moment, she just wants Sasha to hurt, just like Sasha spitefully wanted her to hurt after Anne told her their friendship was over.

It is an incredible human way to feel.

And again, if Amphibia was of lesser quality in it's writing, this moment could have served as the endpoint of Anne's character arc.

Instead, the plot moves on, and in one final act of defiance to Sasha's words, Anne gives Andrias the music box.

And just like that, the entire narrative changes.

Rather than being rewarded for her revenge, Anne is immediately confronted by the fact that her actions today, completely despite her wishes and intentions have ultimately brought about doom and destruction for countless people.

But the story doesn't end there, because there was another person who betrayed Anne, as she learns in this very moment.

Andrias reveals to both Sasha and Anne that Marcy was the original traitor in this group.

That she betrayed both of them and got them stranded in this world on purpose to live out her own fantasies.

And just like with Sasha, Anne's choice is not to try and reconcile, or talk it out. She instead rejects her, making Marcy's greatest fear of being all alone in in the world come true.

Anne got the ultimate revenge on both her friends who betrayed her. She got to punch Sasha in the face while feeling incredibly righteous about it, and she made Marcy have to suffer her worst nightmare.

Both of her betrayers are miserable, and she was the one who made sure it happened.

And yet... At the end of the day, it did not make her feel happier. Anne isn't better off now than she was at the start of the day, in fact she is far, far worse off emotionally now.

Revenge is a suckers game. Especially when the target is someone you love. The only thing it does, is make you, and everyone else miserable. Wanting to hurt the people you love because they hurt you just makes both of you worse off, a conclusion even Sasha manage to come to after she cooled down a bit.

It's a lesson Andrias never learned, and he's been stewing over his injustices for a good 10 centuries now, only making things worse for everyone else with his stupid wish for some kind of cathartic revenge upon people long, long dead.

By contrast, Anne got her revenge on both Sasha and Marcy, and the only thing it did was make her, and both of the other two miserable.

And so, she choses to do better. She chooses to try and work through things, rather than just leave her relationships to rot like Andrias did. Rather than take the easy way out and stop trusting people, she decides to open her heart once more, even despite the risks, and how much it could hurt.

Unlike Andrias and his friends, who went their separate ways forever, Anne chooses to give these relationships another go, and by doing so, she gives Sasha and Marcy the chance to grow, to be better people.

Something Andrias and his friends never managed to do with each other.

[lacontroller1991]

Night of the Living Dead (Rick Flag x Vampire!Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: SOOOOOOOOO LMAO Finally got to write this, hope you guys enjoy

Warnings: Langauge, Blood, Blood drinking, Multiple character deaths, graphic violence, gun usage, spoilers for TSS, Rick does die, sorry guys, murder, purgatory, cannibalism, 

Word Count: 2k

Something wasn’t right, your gut tells you as your head looks around the stairwell, taking everyone into account. The stairwell is tight, and if you had claustrophobia, you might even have a panic attack, but as you watch the man shark place explosives on the wall behind you, you notice one person missing. Peacemaker. Glancing up at the others, you quickly sneak away and follow the smell of Peacemaker’s aftershave that he somehow managed to bring overseas from Belle Reve to the small nation of Corto Maltese. Tiptoeing, you hold your hands out in front of you, readying for a fight if it comes to it before looking around the foyer where you had previously entered with the rest of the squad. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you inhale, absorbing the stench of sweat, gun powder, mildew and blood. Your eyes snap open, pupils dilating with hunger as your stomach growls. It’s been a while since you fed on anyone, and now as you stand in the middle of the room with the building shaking around you, the smell of blood amplifies in your nose. The building rumbles above you as dust coats you in a fine layer while you try to pinpoint the exact smell of Peacemaker. Your head snaps to the back stairwell where a gust of wind carries the scent of his aftershave to you. There he is. You sprint toward the stairwell, your enhanced speed helping you reach the stairs before zooming down them. A loud roar breaks your focus as the building rocks again, throwing you off balance while you try to clutch onto the railing. After regaining your balance, you hurry down the rest of the stairs to the sounds of the grunts coming from both Peacemaker and Rick. Rick. He’s in danger. Trying to peek around the blockade of rubble, you outwardly sigh in frustration as you start moving the rubble out of your way as fast as possible, desperate to get to him; your anxiety picking up each and every time he grunts out in pain. After making a clearing, you quickly run through before freezing in your spot, the sight making your undead body crumble in pain.

“Peacemaker… what a joke,” Rick whispers as blood pours out of his chest, drenching the silly yellow shirt with the burgundy liquid. Your throat scratches at the scent of the fresh blood spilling from Rick’s heart, but it’s said blood spilling from said heart that makes your own shatter.

“No…” you whisper in denial as you sink to your knees, Rick’s life quickly leaving his body in a pool of his blood, Peacemaker grabbing a gun and pointing the barrel at your head, Cleo watching unbeknownst to you and Smith, “why?” You don’t bother looking at Peacemaker as you crawl to Rick’s body, pulling his head in your lap, his blood drenching your hands.

“You’re not supposed to be down here. I’m sorry, but I’m thorough,” Peacemaker explains as time slows down, your hand shooting out as your powers paralyze him, “what did you do?”

“I’m going to kill you,” you growl, moving away from Rick before a voice pops up in your head. You can still save him. Turn him. It’s not what he wants. How would you know? Because he’s a good person, it would kill him to be a monster. Turn him, you and him would be together forever. Your gaze turns back to Rick, stomach sinking as you return to his side, not minding Peacemaker who remains frozen in place. Your fingers gently push his sweaty hair out of the way as you caress his face. Leaning over him, you turn his face gently toward you, exposing his weakly pulsing vein. Your venom salivates in your mouth, prepping to take a victim as you gently kiss his neck.

“I’m so sorry Rick,” apologizing, you sink your teeth into his neck, pumping his jugular with your venom as Peacemaker and Cleo watch. Tasting his blood, you moan at the sweet flavor but your internal monologue keeps you in place. He needs his blood to circulate the venom. Pulling your mouth away, you rip open his shirt and pull out the porcelain before trying to close his chest with the shirt. Moving your head down below his chest, you bite into the flesh there, injecting more of your venom before repeating the process several times over his body. Pulling his body into yours, you rock him as an explosion goes off.

“Please work,” you beg to yourself while Cleo places a hand on your shoulder.

“We need to go, this building is about to collapse,” she notes as you nod, zooming over to where Peacemaker remains frozen, your eyes coal black with hunger, anger, pain, and hurt.

“You’re going to pay,” you utter before sinking your teeth in his neck, Christopher letting out a scream of agony as you rapidly suck his blood into your body, draining his lifeforce before his eyes. Once you were sure you got the last drop of his blood, you let go of your hold on the man, him instantly crumpling to the ground. Grabbing his gun, you point it to his head and pull the trigger, his brains splattering to the floor, “I’m thorough too, you mother fucker.” Tossing the gun to the side, you pick Rick up gently into your arms as if he weighed nothing, much to Cleo’s amazement.

“How?”

“It’s best if you don't know. Grab that disc and let’s get out of here.”

----------

Voices screamed in his head as vivid images of people eating other people played in his mind. Every face dripping with blood and remnants of flesh as others gnaw off the meat from bones, Rick could probably guess were human bones. Chaos filled the air as fires burned everywhere, children and women screaming as these cannibals chased them around their camp, sinking their teeth into the soft necks, and in the middle of the chaos stood you, beaconing Rick with a manicured hand. Your body was covered in a thin, white silk dress and your lips were painted the color of blood. Your eyes burned with a passion that had Rick weak at the knees.

“Come to me, Richard,” your voice called to him as Rick makes his way through the sea of dead and dying bodies before stopping in front of you, though he knows it wasn’t you.

“Where am I?” He questioned as you raised an eyebrow, your hands covered in blood as they found a place on his cheeks.

“You’re in purgatory, my dear. You have a choice to make.”

“What choice?”

“Life as the dead, or death of your life.”

“What do you mean?” You stared at him with blood red irises. It was clear to him that this was not the same person he loves.

“I have given you the opportunity to either live or die. If you live, you will be dead. You will become one of us. If you die, you lose me forever,” Rick nodded, trying to wrap his head around the concept. People tearing into other people’s necks, the theme of blood, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she was asking him.

“Live life as the dead? A vampire?” She grins, though it’s not the same smile he knows. No, it’s a bloodthirsty smile.

“Atta boy. But you must choose, and you must hurry. Time is running out,” Rick swallows, looking around the field. He would become one of them if he agreed, but he would have you. Were you worth it though?

“If I choose to become one of you, will I be with you?”

“That is for you to find out,” your body retracted to the mist, leaving two doors, one leading to a paradise and one leading to nowhere, but the door to nowhere carried your voice.

“Come back to me, Rick. Please,” your voice comes through as a cry of desperation, “please come to me. I love you.” Taking a deep breath, Rick stalled for a moment before nodding his head, his path clear.

----------

The noise of birds chirping is the first thing Rick hears, that and a soft, delicate voice calling to him.

“Rick, please choose me. I can’t live without you,” you sob as Rick’s eyes flutter open, everything crystal clear. The sun illuminates the dust in the air and a soft but gentle smell wafts into his nose. You. Except you smell way better, like lavender and a soft breeze. After a moment of getting used to his new senses, he realises two things; the lack of porcelain in his chest and the painful, scratching of his throat.

“(Y/N)?” Your eyes pop open as you look up to Rick, a look of pure joy captivated in your irises as you crash into his body, holding him as close as possible. A deep, but instinctual urge to protect you brews in Rick’s abdomen.

“Rick! Oh my God. You came back. You chose me,” you cry into his neck before pulling away and pressing kisses all over his face, “you’re back.”

“What happened? Why is my throat killing me?” You quickly get off of him and sprint to another room out of Rick’s vision before coming back a second later, a bag of red liquid in your hand.

“Drink this,” you instruct, tearing the top off as Rick grabs the bag and gulps down the contents, the milky texture instantly soothing his throat. Finishing the bag, he glances down to read the label. A+. Shooting out of the bed he was laying on, he backs into the corner as you frown, “hey, baby. It’s ok. It was donated. No one was hurt.”

“Is that human blood?” Rick shouts as you nod, Rick’s thoughts running a mile a minute, but he couldn’t deny how good the liquid felt running down his throat, “you just gave me human blood to drink. Are you fucking sick?”

“Rick, you gotta understand. You’re not human anymore. Please, just calm down and we can talk about it,” he nods before moving to sit down while you immediately take a seat next to him and take his hand into yours, “I’m not human. Neither are you. While we were in Corto Maltese, I made a selfish decision and I made you into one of my kind,” Rick eyes you with disbelief as you continue, “I turned you into a vampire. I didn’t want to because I know you wouldn’t like this life, but I couldn’t live without you Rick. You’re it for me. You’re the only one I will ever love, and I’m sorry,” you hang your head as Rick takes in all the new information. Deciding to go with it, Rick presses a kiss to your forehead, causing you to look up at him.

“Can I at least drink animal blood?”

“Of course you can, silly. You can actually eat human food too, it’s just not as sustaining,” you explain as Rick nods, his eyes remaining on you.

“So you were never metahuman?” You shake your head in disagreement as Rick looks around the room, “where even are we?”

“Venezuela. Where I was turned. It’s abandoned so it’ll do for now ‘til we get your thirst under control.”

“How long have you been like this?” You let out a sigh before looking into his eyes, “1606 years,” Rick lets out a low whistle with amusement, “damn, never knew I would be into old ladies.” You smack his arm playfully as he laughs before grabbing your face in his hands, “I love you.” Pressing your lips against his, you sigh into the kiss as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, begging for entrance. Allowing him access, you both moan at the feeling of each other's tongues as if it were your first time. Pulling back, Rick rests his forehead against yours, “we should get to know each other’s bodies first,” he suggests as you pull him back in for a kiss, your body straddling his.

“Well, buckle in, Colonel, because we have the rest of forever to learn.”

Author’s Note: AAAAAA HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY, Might make a mini Drabble series about reader x vampire rick but not positive yet!

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