#then you get to end on a cheery stupid gays note
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Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 6
Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates
Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths (3)
The first person to leave a door could gain a hint about the next door. This was preferential treatment and leniency that the door awarded the victor. This was also an affirmation of strength.
But what many people didn't know was that when only one person was left in a door, that person, upon leaving the door, would earn a very special sort of hint. The person who possessed this hint gained not only detailed insight into the next door, but also a chance to save their own life.
For reasons, Ruan Nanzhu had never told Cheng Yixie about this. Cheng Yixie only learned about it by accident.
And Cheng Yixie, after just barely scraping his way out of the seventh door, had also come to a realization. He'd realized that he couldn't protect Cheng Qianli. The world of the doors was treacherous and ever-changing; no matter how smart he was, he was just a mortal in the end, and all mortals made mistakes. Mistakes in daily life may be utterly unimportant, but mistakes made inside the doors could cost you your life.
Cheng Yixie returned to the mansion, saw Cheng Qianli's brilliant grin embracing Toast, and made a silent decision.
Everything that followed became so reasonable.
Cheng Yixie was clever, and when clever people did bad things, they were naturally adept.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing, Cheng Yixie." Ruan Nanzhu very quickly figured out Cheng Yixie's deviancy, and he and Cheng Yixie had their very first explosive argument. "You're going to get Cheng Qianli killed, as well as yourself!"
Against Ruan Nanzhu's accusations, Cheng Yixie chose silence.
"Stop this, while you still can," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Don't wait until it's too late to turn backâŚ"
Cheng Yixie gave Ruan Nanzhu an answer. He said, "Cheng Qianli's not even eighteen yet."
He held onto the railings, looking out over the lush green yard where Cheng Qianli and Toast were chasing each other around in play.
"If only one of us can survive, I hope it to be him."
Ruan Nanzhu, "but there are other ways. You're choosing the stupidest methodâ"
"But it's the most lucrative." Cheng Yixie was no older than fourteen, but there wasnât any trace of a child's innocence to be found in his eyes. His pupils were deep lakes, in which were hidden things even Ruan Nanzhu couldn't comprehend. "Sorry, Ruan-ge, I really can't just watch Qianli die."
Ruan Nanzhu knew he had no chance of convincing Cheng Yixie. He said no more, and walked away.
At this point, the worst that Cheng Yixie had done was let people go to their deaths. But afterâŚCheng Yixie closed his eyes. He never wanted to talk about what happened after anymore.
Once someone broke their bottom line, it was like plunging into a quagmire; you could only keep sinking.
Had it been anybody else, Ruan Nanzhu would likely have already kicked Cheng Yixie out of Obsidian. But Cheng Yixie was just a kid. He was like a fresh-grown sapling that, before it could even grow up straight, got snapped at the waist by the battering rains and winds.
Cheng Yixie began to sink deeper and deeper in to the abyss, until he had no way of ever getting out.
Everybody said what went around would always come back around; Cheng Yixie thought that he would be the one to pay for the things he did. Once people do wrong, they had to pay a price. Cheng Yixie was willing to pay for his sins with his life.
But on the day retribution truly came, Cheng Yixie finally learned that some things didn't happen as easily as he's imagined.
The tenth door was hellishly difficult.
Even with the special hint slip, Cheng Yixie was running on the last of nine lives inside.
Just as he had Cheng Qianli, and the two were stumbling their way to the door, they discovered that where the door should have been was instead a giant green bronze statue. The statue was beastly and looked like a demon, and the green bronze encasing it was beginning to crack, revealing hard skin as black as lava rock underneath.
Seeing such a scene, Cheng Yixie knew the monster before him was about to wake. Though the door was right behind it, they still couldn't make their way through.
"Gege," Cheng Yixie spoke quietly, standing behind Cheng Yixie. "I'm scared." The hand he held Cheng Yixie's with was covered in sweat, and there was a helpless tremor in his voice.
"Don't be scared, I'm right here," Cheng Yixie comforted Cheng Qianli quietly. He took a deep breath, and then stuck a hand in his pants pocket, settling on the sharp dagger folded inside. "Just listen to me, and it'll be fine."
Cheng Qianli scooted closer. He seemed to have sensed something, and wrapped Cheng Yixie up in a tight embrace. They were twins, after all; they felt everything together. Through the thin clothing between them, Cheng Yixie could feel the heat of Cheng Qianli's body as well as the anxiety in Cheng Qianli's heart.
"Gege." Cheng Qianli's voice was filled with woe, and even sounded a bit choked. "Is it about to come to life?"
The monster behind them had already exposed the blood red of its eyes. The giant jaw packed full of fangs began to savagely snap. It looked ready to pounce at any moment.
"Mh," Cheng Yixie said. "But it won't be able to hurt you."
"Why am I so stupid?" Cheng Qianli said. "If only I were smarter." His tone of voice was agonized. "If only I were smarter, then Gege wouldn't have to work so hardâŚ"
Cheng Qianli's arms around Cheng Yixie slowly began to loosen, and his voice too grew faint.
"But no matter how stupid I am, I still know what Gege wants to doâŚ"
Cheng Yixie felt that something had gone wrong. His voice froze for a moment, and he slowly turned his head.
"QianliâŚ"
"Hey, I brought one too," Cheng Qianli said. "I hid it in my pants pocket, just like you."
He was smiling, but was likely also in agonyâthis smile was particularly hideous.
Cheng Yixieâs head inched down, and he saw a dagger stuck in Cheng Qianliâs chest. Bright red blood was flowing like a babbling brook down his chest, soaking his clothes and puddling on the ground.
Cheng Yixie saw that dagger, and felt himself reeling. He opened his mouth to say something, but the image before him appeared to have utterly stolen his ability to talk. He couldn't say anything, and his body slowly slumped forward.
"GeâŚit hurtsâŚ" Cheng Qianli collapsed in Cheng Yixie's arms, black eyes big and staring. His pupils reflected Cheng Yixie's figure. He called, "GeâŚ"
"AahâŚAaaah!!" A wretched scream came out of his mouth, and Cheng Yixie could only watch as Cheng Qianli's breaths grew fainter. The roar of the monster behind him came from a spot directly over Cheng Yixie's head, but Cheng Yixie didn't turn around. The monster lunged at him andâ
A black shadow enveloped Cheng Yixie. He ought to have been torn to pieces by the monster, but a faint sheen of light was emanating from his body. It partitioned the monster's attack directly away from him.
In Cheng Yixie's arms, Cheng Qianli's chest had stopped moving. With a numb expression Cheng Yixie turned around, spotting that huge black door behind the monster. He saw that door and stumbled to his feet with Cheng Qianli in his arms. He made a run for that door, unlocking it with the key drenched in blood. He still wanted to see Cheng Qianli again. There were still so many things he hadn't said to him.
Cheng Yixie sprinted out that tunnel like he had gone crazy, grabbing the Cheng Qianli outside in an embrace. The moment Cheng Qianli offered him a smile, mouthful after mouthful of blood began pouring out of Cheng Qianli's mouth. Cheng Qianli touched his face, called him Ge, told him not be sad.
Cheng Yixie was wailing. His Qianli, this was his Qianliâthe kid he loved the most still hadn't been able to grow up. Hadn't even passed his eighteenth birthday. Certainly hadn't gotten to see all the beautiful sceneries of the world like he'd hoped.
What came afterwards, Cheng Yixie didn't really remember. He didn't really remember how he got through that time. By the time he came back to himself, he'd already left Obsidian, and was crossing doors with Zhuo Feiquan.
Zhuo Feiquan, like him, was a person left behind at the end of the world. Zhuo Feiquan no longer had a sister, and Cheng Yixie no longer had a brother. Zhuo Feiquan's luck was just a lot better than Cheng Yixie's, that's allâhe had a pendant that his sister's soul laid in.
"Hey, you're not planning on getting me killed inside the doors and stealing my pendant, are you?" Zhuo Feiquan spoke frankly. "I'm telling you, I'm hardy as hell."
Cheng Yixie looked at him, answering faintly, "forget it. I thought about it, but it's better not to do it."
"Why not?" Zhuo Feiquan asked.
"I'm afraid he'll have to pay for the bad things I do again." Cheng Yixie's tone was cold. "Look, isn't that the case now?"
He didn't even dare to die, because his life had been traded in for Qianli's. That little fool had to be smart just this once, but this one time was all it took to torture him to death and back.
Zhuo Feiquan threw back his head and laughed.
To have experienced the same pain of losing family, the two actually had an odd resonance. Only those days didn't last. Zhuo Feiquan died in his own tenth door, and before dying, he placed his pendant in Cheng Yixie's hand. He didn't say anything, because both of them already knew.
Cheng Yixie clutched the pendant that Zhuo Feiquan gave him and managed a smile, meaning he had accepted Zhuo Feiquan's good will.
Once he had the pendant, Cheng Yixie wondered if he should use it to summon Cheng Qianli. But after thinking about it, he didn't do it. Because he remembered that Cheng Qianli was scared of ghosts.
If he wasn't there, Cheng Qianli could only wait around inside the doors. That was probably another kind of torture.
Cheng Yixie wouldn't do that to him.
The days went on one at a time. So Cheng Yixie thought that this would be the end of his and Cheng Qianli's story. He still went through doors in a state of numbness. He might die inside one of these days, but to the him right now, death seemed more like a merciful blessing and escape.
This continued on like this until Cheng Yixie went into his own eleventh door.
In his eleventh door, when he saw Tan Zaozao on television, Cheng Yixie became conscious of something. He left the hospital that he'd entered the door through in a hurry. He went back to his house and knocked on that familiar door.
Moments later, the door opened to reveal a face completely identical to his. And when he saw Cheng Yixie, he looked on with a stunned expression.
Cheng Yixie began to laugh, ignoring Cheng Qianli's shock completely and wrapping him up in a hug. He said, "idiot, Gege's been looking for you for such a long time." I thought that once I'd lost you, I would never get you back.
Good thing that now, he was finally found.
And since he was found, staying in this illusory world of the door seemed to beâŚnot all that bad.
The once-split soul merged back together then, from two to one, just like the moment they were birthed from their mother's body. A satisfied smile appeared on Cheng Yixie's face. He dried the tears at the corners of his eyes and watched as the sun outside the window slowly descended beneath the horizon.
Translatorâs Note:
Look, I need those of you who have even a passing understanding of Chinese to suffer this passage with me: ç¨ä¸ćŚĺĺ大ĺďźäťçĺéďźäťçĺéĺââäťĺżćçĺ°ĺŠéćŻć˛č˝éˇĺ¤§. The original is simply âHIs Qianli, his Qianli ah...â Just a fucking WAIL. Like me. Just fucking head back, sobbing at the ceiling.
[Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(2)] | [Extra: Bai Ming and Zhang Yiqing]
#kaleidoscope of death#xi zixu#cnovel#chinese translation#ćťäşĄčŹčąç#look mother i'm crying again#but this counts as HE i think#we get a break in the next extra#and then the last extra is Tan Zaozao ahahahah--#look i'll get those two done at the same time too#and recommend you read the tzz one first bc#y'know#then you get to end on a cheery stupid gays note
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sakusa who genuinely doesnt like reader for a big while but we hang aruond him anyways. by the time we realize that he doesn't like us and we start to move on, he starts catching feelings for us
happy endings bc the sakusa angst was ouch :/
ăďťżď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝
ď˝ă
Warnings - Sakusa no like you at first
Note: In light of đđ˝ getting a boyfriend im writing this. definitely projecting D: oops, no happy ending? ill make a part 2. out here making this inspired by Flipped by Wendlin Van Draanen because why not
FEMALE AND FEM ALIGNED READERS (SHE/HER, SHE/THEY), DO NOT INTERACT
Not everything in the fanfic circle is yours smh. I don't care if you like reading it, back off. Don't think I'll allow it under any circumstance.
Sakusa Kiyoomi was perfect. At least, to you he was. (And about a million other people). He was tall, he was mysterious, he was determined, those black eyes of his were like a well of secrets that you were sure you could unlock. After all, those lingering glances your way had to mean something! You never saw him looking at other people like that, right?
All throughout junior high and then your first year of high school, you were convinced he could do no wrong. You signed up to be manager in your first year, thinking that 'hey, he's shy! I can help make him comfortable!' You were always so bright and cheery, yet he was the opposite.
To him, you were annoying. That silly boy who kept following him around, who wouldn't just leave him alone. He dreaded going into practice just because he had to see your all too bright smile and hear your annoyingly happy 'Good morning Sakusa-kun!' Fuck, he hated it. You never seemed to just get the hint that he wanted you to leave him alone.
So now he's left here, wondering why everything changed in your second year.
~ "Good morning, Kiyoomi-kun," You said to yourself in the mirror, practicing how to greet him. "No, that's too flat." You rubbed your temples and tried again. "Good morning, Kiyoomi-kun!"
You let yourself grin toothily in the mirror. You didn't know when you started practicing to say good morning to him. It used to be natural every morning, but now you find yourself not wanting to mess anything up.
As the years wore on, you started to get a little...discouraged. Sakusa was so handsome. Not even in a gay way, you were jealous. You weren't oblivious to how many confessions he got as time continued. You weren't oblivious to how many people were talking about him, the strong, tall ace. You knew he would grow to be something amazing, but you always thought you would grow with him.
With a sigh, you threw your bag over your shoulder and pulled your manager jacket on, trudging out the door. Even with all of this, you were still excited to see Sakusa every morning and evening. He didn't text you often, (Because of how shy he is, you figured), but you broke out into a stupid smile whenever he did. You borderline skipped all the way to school, waiting to see him.
"Good morning, Kiyoomi-kun!" You said without fail once you spotted him. You instantly hated how it came out, frowning softly before breaking out into a smile again. He visibly tensed, because of the shock of course. He nodded gruffly, not sparing a glance at you.
In truth, Sakusa hated you. You and your stupid, obvious crush on him since the first day of junior high. Of course Motoya always egged you on, giving you his number. He wasn't even into guys, but you never got the hint and never stopped pursuing. As the years wore on, he hated you more. How you wouldn't stop greeting him in the morning, giving him hand sanitizer when he forgot his or wearing a mask around him. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't complain about you intruding on boundaries.
He considered getting a girlfriend in hopes that it would throw you off, showing you that he was straight and not interested. That was ultimately too much work though, and he decided against it.
"Here, Kiyoomi," you handed him a water bottle at the end of practice first. "You did great!" He looked away, muttered a strained thank you, and turned around. You didn't miss how he handed the bottle off to Lizuna.
In the afternoon practice, nothing changed. Except you got to walk home with him in the evenings. "Sakusa-kun!" You called happily, running up to him. You looked around. "Where's Motoya?"
"Helping his teacher." He responded. You nodded, feeling yourself flush softly. Whether he could tell or not, you were flustered. You were walking home with him, alone, for the second time.
After a couple minutes you broke the silence, not missing the agitated tic appearing in his forehead. "So, how was your day Omi-kun?"
"Fine," he gritted out.
You played with your hands. He didn't try to talk to you further. "Omi," you start, feeling your voice get shaky and your heart start hammering in your chest. Moyota wasn't here, the afternoon sky was painted with pink and orange- it was perfect.
You waited a beat before speaking.
"Do you- do you like me?" Romantically or platonically, you didn't care. He stopped in his tracks, causing you to stop after him, turning around to face him. It felt like hours before he responded, icy silence freezing you in your tracks.
Finally, he looked up from the floor, meeting your eyes. (When was the last time he looked you in the eyes)? You didn't miss the hatred in them. You shook, waiting for his answer. You were glad your mask was on, or he'd see your lips shaking.
"No."
There it was. It felt like everything you had thought for the past five years shattered before you. You managed to force out a weak "Why?"
He didn't even change his tone, flat and uninterested. "You're annoying. When have I ever asked you to show me all this attention?" You didn't get a word in before he continued. "I'm not gay, (y/n), when have I ever showed interest in you? What do you even see in me that prompted you to annoy me for five years?"
You held your hands in a death grip. "But I- " I love you. "I just thought that-"
"You thought wrong." He rolled his flat black eyes, once so mysterious and deep, moving to walk away. He stopped just behind you, facing away. "Stop bothering me."
~
That hurt.
That hurt like nothing in the world had hurt before. His cold black eyes glowering down at you, voice flat and uninterested. Was he always like that? So devoid of emotion? So cruel? Had he always looked at you like...that. Like you were a burden on his strong back. You brought a hand up to stifle a hic. A sob.
Now that you think about it, he never really did try, did he? Scrolling back through your texts. He never sent more than one at a time, a curt, two to three word answer. You always started and ended conversations, the blue bubble always being longer and bigger.
He wasn't all that, was he.
Just a guy- a guy who wanted nothing to do with you.
You let your finger hover over the block button. Somehow though, you couldn't do it. Instead you turned your phone on vibrate, not being able to completely disconnect. Maybe it was a mistake...maybe he would apologize, say he was being foolish and that he couldn't bear to lose your smile and your laughter.
You sobbed again.
No, he wouldn't. Because he didn't care for you. Motoya would apologize for him. Because Sakusa was handsome and talented and all you ever wanted. All you wanted. You were nowhere near what he wanted. You wanted to be his somebody- the person he calls at 2am when he can't sleep. The person he randomly texts during the day, the person he lets his guard down to hold hands with.
You thought that maybe all the care you showed him- keeping your distance, wearing masks near him, caring for him- you thought that would thaw him a little bit. Get him to open up, to see the beauty inside you that you saw in him.
Pulling yourself together, you gently stood up. Maybe it was a rash decision on your part. Still, the only reason you joined was for him right? And he didn't want you. He didn't need you. You folded your manager uniform neatly, placing a note on it. You'll return it to the gym tomorrow before morning practice, then you'll wait in the library for school to start.
Sakusa Kiyoomi turned out to be far less than the sum of his parts, and you didn't know how to feel about that. He got you so high, so giddy.
Turns out you were nothing more than a stain on his boot.
~
Do not repost, translate, or copy my work on to other platforms.
#x male reader#male reader#haikyuu x male reader#hq x male reader#anime x male reader#m!reader#sakusa kyoomi x male reader#sakusa x male reader
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My first post received a pretty good response so I'm here with part two. Link to part one is below:
I'm screwing around with formatting so it looks better (hopefully)
These take place in the same universe as the others.
Anyways, to the head canons!
Ok so first of all, I want to add that Keith has anxiety and a touch of ADHD. Like specifically the kind that makes you fidget.
Keith's ADHD causes him to fidget with his fingers and bounces his leg a bit. Sometimes he can be heard snapping his fingers (a way he fidgets, he does it without thinking) while walking down the halls. Everyone has mainly gotten used to it but Lance starts snapping as well and this can cause a chain reaction that leaves everyone in the castle snapping their fingers.
Keith's anxiety makes it so he has a hard time around the whole crew and often isolates himself from conversation during meal times and such. This is why he has the reputation of the lone wolf. Allura is trying to make a habit of asking Keith questions as a way to include him in the conversation and the paladins learn something new about Keith.
Keith usually doesn't have anything to do at meal times but eat so he's started making mental note of things the others say in hopes he can use it to get closer to them at some point. Things like how Hunk is really proud when he learns a new recipe or some of Coran's old stories. He especially likes hearing the crew talk about the things dearest to them.
The crew are suprised when Keith approaches them (individually) to talk about things that they like. Keith has sat through many a demonstration of Pidge's programs and quite a few mechanical explanations from Hunk. Coran is always eager to talk about old Altea or some weird space animal. Keith has even tried to use this on Lance but it doesn't work as well. Keith can't seem to find something Lance will talk about with him.
Keith treats Allura like a sister and is really close to her. He would sooner die than see Allura hurt and knows things about her that not even Coran knows. When she was kidnapped, he advised that they don't rescue her right away because he knew she could handle herself and wanted to be more prepared against the Galra so further damage didn't come to their team. He'd rather Allura not come back to a shattered crew.
Keith had a crush on Lance back at Garrison but could never get close enough to Lance to get to know him better. Lance was always abrasive but Keith couldn't understand why. All his offers to "hang out" were met with rejection or competition. Keith tried to forget Lance but nothing could dull his feelings. Lance's cheery disposition, beautiful smile, and bad comedy that left everyone laughing made Keith admire him from afar.
Keith ended up trying to bury his feelings on the ship as well but they only grew stronger as Keith got closer to him. Lance was daring and flirtatious and not afraid to be stupid. He openly showed emotional weakness regardless of how vulnerable it made him to the crew.
Allura is the only one on the ship that knows how deep Keith's crush for Lance goes. Shiro only knows of the crush. Keith never would've told Allura but one night she kept asking about Keith's love life because he knew so much about her and she wanted to learn something about him. Keith ended up going on a tangent about Lance and his feelings until he realized that he had been talking for an Earth hour. Allura has now made it her side mission to see if she can get Keith and Lance together.
Lance's feelings for Keith get triggered every time Keith does anything really. Keith smiles and Lance is out. He zones out at the dinner table and stares into nothingness? Oh dear god Lance adores that. Every little thing that Keith does deepens Lance's feelings for him. It's like Lance's personal corner of hell. He's slowly falling in love with the boy that he's designated to be his rival. It doesn't help that Keith keeps approaching Lance and trying to befriend him.
Keith has a collection of string that he uses to make bracelets. They're usually pride themed and he has one that he usually wears (Masc gay pride flag). He's afraid of how feminine the bracelet thing makes him seem so he hides it from others. He even wears the bracelet in a way that isn't visible with the outfit he's wearing with it. He views it as a weakness.
The truth is revealed about Keith's craftiness after he makes a bracelet for Allura with the lesbian pride flag on it. Lance goes up to Allura thinking she made it but is understandably surprised to learn that Keith made it. You better believe that Keith was surprised to see Lance come up to him later to ask if Keith could make one for him. Funnily enough, Lance asked if he could make a pride flag themed one (specifically bi), not realizing that Allura's was a pride flag (Cut him a break, he hasn't seen it in months).
Lance asking for Keith to make something for him was the highlight of the week. He got to work on it, making sure it was perfect. He even put seed beads on the ends of the string to make tiny pride flags. He wanted to make it the best for Lance even if he wouldn't notice or appreciate the smaller details. Lance totally noticed and appreciated the small details.
Lance: "So Allura told me that you made the bracelet for her"
Keith: "Oh uhhhh"
Lance: "The fact that you can do that is really cool and I was wondering if you could make one for me."
Keith: "You want me... to make something... for you?"
Lance: (Now worried he overstepped a boundary) "Yes?"
Keith: (With stars in his eyes) "I'll do it."
#lance mcclain#lance voltron#keith voltron#klance#vld lance#voltron#allura#keith kogane#vld keith#headcanon#head canon
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One of the Boys
Virgil is a new tenant to an apartment complex and his landlord seems real nice. He told Virgil that should he ever need anything fixed to just give a call. He managed to get over the anxiety of calling someone for help, now he needs to get over the gay panic he experiences every time his landlord sends âone of the boysâ over.
Pairing: Everyone has a crush on Virgil who is also gay for everyone.
Warnings: panic descriptions from talking over the phone/to new people. Possible second hand embarrassment, swearing
Prompt pic at the end.
--
In all fairness, Virgil loves his new place. Way more than the old place he used to live at least. At least here the walls werenât cracked and seemed sturdy enough that he wouldnât be able to hear his neighbors through them. While he does his sweep of the place, writing down anything that might be wrong so the landlord canât blame them on him, thereâs barely anything broken or messed up. A clear step up from his old apartment.
âWhat you say Oogies?â Virgil nods to the black cat lounging on the cat tower after heâs finished his walk through. The cat stares at him, he stares back. They blink slowly at the same time and Virgil puffs out a breath. OogieBoogie wasnât fond of the move. Complaining loudly at every jostle of the cat carrier. Virgil wanted to let her out but couldnât until all his stuff was moved in for her safety. Seems like heâs forgiven.
âCome on lazy bones,â He finagles the cat out of the tower and she curls over his shoulders, paws dipping into the hood of his hoodie, and purrs. He smiles and scratches at her chin. For the most part she blends into the patterned fabric, her grey stripes the only thing that pop out, and even then only barely.
Virgil locks the apartment door, cat on his shoulders, and walk-through papers in hand. They walk their way around the complex and to the main office building. Virgil almost hesitates, thinking maybe he should go tomorrow morning at a better time, but OggieBoogie nuzzles his head encouragingly.
âYeah okay,â He whispers to the animal, knowing sheâs smug as he opens the door. Itâs fluorescently bright. Thereâs no one at the front desk. Virgil takes two steps, and nearly backs out, when a friendly face pops out of one of the offices.
âOh Virgil!â Virgil lets out a sigh of relief. He recognizes the elderly faceÂ
âHey Mr Sanders,â He gives an awkward wave. The cheery man laughs.
âYou may call me Thomas you know,â He says smiling at his cat and waving to the animal. She blinks at him.
âRight, yeah, course, Mr. Thomas yeah,â Virgil says. Thomas gives him a fond smile but doesnât correct him. Thank god. Thomas helped him fill out lease papers when he first came to check out new apartments. Honestly a blessing as Virgil had no idea what he was doing. Bonus that Thomas professed the place to be queer friendly as well. Virgil hung up his rainbow flag in the window the moment he found it.
âOh I brought the walk through papers back,â He hands them over and Thomas takes them happily.Â
âEverything good so far?â He asks. Virgil nods, nothing on there that he thought needed fixing, at least right away.
âOh,â Thomas says softly. Virgil tenses and Oogie starts purring on his shoulder to comfort him.
âAre you having problems with the lights?â Thomas asks, very sincerely. Virgil shrugs a little and Oogie shifts to accommodate his motions.
âNot really, nothing serious,â He tries to play it off. Thomas pouts at his papers.
âSome of the plugs not screwed in properly, not working, a light out in the laundry area,â Thomas âtsksâ as he reads off Virgilâs writing. He perks up and offers Virgil a bright smile.
âNo worries at all! Iâll send one of the boys over to fix it.â He offers Virgil a wink and riffles through his pockets. He pulls out his wallet and inside it a business card for the office that he promptly hands over.
âYou ever need anything fixed, do not be afraid to call ya hear?â Virgil just nods, taking the card with him.
âWait the boys?â He finds himself questioning. Thomas smiles again with a flippant wave of his hand.
âItâs the name of the contractor company I have hired here for the apartments. Someone should be over in about an hour to help you with the lights.â And with that Thomas is walking away to his own office, leaving Virgil to go back to his new home.
âShit,â He mutters as he now realizes. Company coming over, and his new home is a mess. He walks quicker than he normally does to try and clean a little before âone of the boysâ makes it over. Oogie is not as impressed.
--
Virgil does well distracting himself. He organizes the boxes and even rearranges the hazardously brought in furniture to his liking. Oogie is lounging in her cat tower again, watching him try not to be frantic. Heâs in the middle of putting some tupperware containers in the cabinets when thereâs a knock on the door.
He wipes his hands on his jeans to make sure theyâre not sweaty, and opens the door. Somewhere in the back of his mind he debates slamming it shut but in the end remains frozen with the front door wide open. Cause there in front of him is an absolutely gorgeous guy, hair slicked back and a cunning smile.
âGood afternoon, my name is Damien. Mr. Sanders said you needed help with some of your lights?â His voice sounds like silk and though thereâs a long scar across side of his face, it takes nothing away from his beauty.
âUh yeah.â Virgil says awkwardly.
âYeah, yeah,â He says even more awkwardly and moves to the side to let the guy in.
âMuch appreciated,â The guy, Damien says. Virgil canât tell if the dude is cheeky or not, but damn is he flustered trying not to stare at his arms and the way he moves in those white jeans. Who wears white jeans to fix things? Virgil should send them a thank you note.
âWhich plugs were having issues?â Damien asks then and Virgil decides words are not needed just this moment and deigns to gesture as best he can. Damien smiles at him and sets to work straightening some of the plugs out and replacing one in the corner when he notices a crack in the casing.
âExcuse me, miss.â He hears Damien say and peeks over his kitchen counter to see Damien gently nudging Oogie away from some of his tools. Virgil whines.
âOogies come on let the man do his job,â Virgil goes over and scoops the cat up, petting her head to keep her from getting annoyed that she couldnât continue with her curiosity. Damien laughs though and stands, now taking out the walk through Virgil so diligently wrote not 2 hours ago.
âYou said that some of the plugs donât work and that some of the switches donât lead to anything?â He glances at Virgil with just a hint of a smirk. Virgil hugs Oogie a little tighter to keep his gay panic from spiraling.
âYeah just seemed weird? I didnât know if it was something wrong or what,â He says with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. Damien lets out a small laugh and waves Virgil to follow. He pulls out a small plug in light and pushes into one of the sockets Virgil said wasnât working. He flicks the switch on the wall and the light pops on.
âOh,â Virgil says and wants to die of embarrassment.Â
âWell now I feel stupid as fuck,â He says. Damien lets out another laugh, flicking the light twice more to demonstrate.
âItâs to save power that some of the switches lead to the plugs. Nothing broken there. Youâre not stupid because you didnât know.â He takes back his light and once more gives Virgil that sly smile. The worst is he smiles in a way that makes it seem like he knows what heâs doing to Virgil, which is just rude. Except heâs not, Damien is insanely polite which does not help Virgil in the slightest.
âIs there anything else I can help you with?â Damien asks as he puts the last of his tools back in the case.
âNah. Iâm good, thank you,â Virgil says, determined not to make a fool of himself this time. Damien nods his head.
âHave a good rest of your day then. It was a pleasure meeting you,â And this smug bastard winks at him and closes the door behind him. Virgil lets Oogie fall to the floor, picks up the nearest pillow, and screams into it. At least he can do it with proper working lights.
--
Virgil is freaking out. Thereâs no other way to put it. He is freaking out. So he got a little lazy and didnât do his dishes. Heâs been working so often and never found the energy to keep up. He decided he had a dishwasher for a reason, and even though he felt bad because the machine wasnât even full, he ran it, and now there is water over the floor. Shit.
He sits on the couch, legs bouncing, with his phone in his hands. Thomasâs number is on the screen, ready to be dialed at the press of a button. Virgil still isnât sure if this counts as a proper emergency. He managed to clean up most the water with some of his towels, but water is still coming out. Maybe if he just keeps rinsing out the towels and waits for the cycle to be done, he can pretend it never happened.
OogieBoogie jumps into his lap. She kneeds at his leg and is put out when he doesnât move right away to pet her or give her proper access to his lap. She bumps her head against him and pushes her way to his chest, knocking his phone with her foot in the process.Virgil hisses at the action and ruffles her face in revenge.
âHello?â A very faint voice calls out. Virgil swears softly and picks up his phone.
âUh Mr Sanders Thomas?â He says into the receiver, then pulls it away to stare at the ceiling to briefly wonder what is wrong with himself.
âYes?â Thomas says on the other line.
âItâs Virgil from Unit 16 B.â
âVirgil! How are you?â Thomas doesnât sound put out that Virgil is calling him, which is a good sign so far. Virgil takes a deep breath, hands working methodically though Oogieâs fur.
âDoing okay yeah, how are you?â He says, itâs important to be polite. Thomas laughs.
âDoing good over here. What can I help you with?â
âUhm, my dishwasher is leaking? And thereâs water on the floor and I donât know how to fix it. You said I could call if something is wrong and I just, yeah.â Virgil shrugs to himself. Thomas gasps on the other end.
âOh no! That wonât do. Iâll send one of the boys over to help clean it up.â And Thomas hangs up. Virgil stares at the phone, then at his cat, then back at the dishwasher. He really doesnât want Damien to see him embarrassed like this again. He buries his face in Oogieâs side and lets her purr calm him down. He must be there for a while because soon enough thereâs a knock on the door.
Thankfully, itâs not Damien on the other end. However, itâs another incredibly attractive guy with a wild smile and even wilder hair that makes Virgil tense up because how. This one wears a shirt with the sleeves ripped off to show how ripped their arms are, and again, white jeans, though this time, the jeans are not as white as they once were, evidence of the work that has been done in them.
âAfternoodle! Iâm Remus. The Sanderâs Man said something was wishy-washy with your dishy-washy?â His smile in untamed and Virgil stares at him dumbly trying to understand what the hell just came out of his mouth.
âYes?â He ends up asking more than saying, and moves over so Remus can come inside.
âMuch appreciated, now what is gong on here?â Remus smirks down at the mess of the kitchen with his hands on his hips.
âI just ran the dishwasher and water started coming out. I was in the kitchen when I felt it on my foot.â Virgil explains as Remus moves some of the soaked towels over. He finagles the machine to open, something Virgil was too scared to try.
âOh boy, I see. Give me one hot second here hot tamale, and Iâll get this all cleaned up.â Virgil isnât sure what he should be more flustered by. Being called hot by a hot guy, or the fact the dude flexed while talking and there is some serious definition in his arms. So Virgil just nods as Remus skips out to the maintenance golf cart outside the door, and brings back in a tool box.
Virgil watches from over the counter as Remus pulls out the racks and practically crawls his way into the dishwasher. Virgil decides itâs a good time to walk away so he doesnât end up staring at Remusâs ass while he works. Thatâs not proper behavior for someone who is trying to help.
Itâs a few minutes, one colorful yet not quite a swear, and a victory noise later that Virgil feels okay going back to the kitchen area.
âOh! Hello~ pusspuss!â Virgil gets to watch the exact moment Remus looks up to see Oogie staring at him working. Virgil scoops the cat up.
âSorry sheâs really into strangers.â He says. Though really, she hides from everyone. Remus lets out a cackle of a laugh.
âThatâs fine, Iâm into strangers too. So I fixed the problem here, no more soggy floors for you. Make sure to run it every so often so it keeps things going clean and unclogged.â Remus says far too quickly for Virgil to respond properly. He picks up his tools and returns them to the case. Virgil does a half-assed job of not staring at his back which is now water soaked.
âIs there anything else I can help you with?â Remus asks at the door. Virgil shakes his head.
âAs long as it works I think Iâm good,â He says. Remus smiles openly.
âHave a good rest of your day then!â He says and closes the door behind him. There was really no reason for him to flex as he said that but Virgil enjoyed it and no one else has to know.
--
âShit shit shit,â Virgil is fumbling. He had to go grocery shopping and get some cat food for OogieBoogieBaby. And no self respecting trash panda such as himself would dream of carrying it back inside in more than one trip. So heâs fumbling with his arms lined with bags that would be cutting into his skin if not for his hoodie sleeves, but even then, those are falling and he wishes it wasn't so hot out.
He manages to make it to his door, shift some bags around so he can get his key out, when the bag of cat food starts slipping. Virgil can see it now, cat food all over the front porch to either collect ants, or other cats, or any other large animal. He wouldnât feed it to Oogie, to afraid of what is on the ground and if itâll upset her stomach. He braces for impact and for another quick trip to the store.
âWhoa!â Virgil feels the weight leave him but not the crash. He blinks at the ground, then at a pair of white jeans, then at the bag of cat food in someone elseâs arms, then up to the face of a bespectacled stranger with brilliant blue eyes.
âAre you alright?â Stranger asks calmly and takes another bag from Virgil that looks ready to topple at a secondâs notice. Virgil snaps out of it once itâs out of his hands.
âShit yeah thanks,â He breathes out in a rush, thankful as all hell as he manages to finally get the door open. He pushes it with his hip and Oogie is waiting at the door for him, meowing up at him. He coos a greeting to her and sets the bags down in the kitchen, the stranger follows only to the inside door and puts the bags down there to not intrude.
âThank you so much,â Virgil says once heâs done pretending he can carry that much. The stranger just offers him a small smile, kneeling down to let Oogie sniff his gardening glove covered hands.
âIt was my pleasure to help you. My name is Logan, Iâm one of the workers on site.â He says and stands. His voice is low and calming, it would make for a great audio book, and Virgil is not going to spend the rest of the day thinking about that.
âThough I do apologize for suddenly grabbing your things, I know that can come across as âcreepyâ and I do not wish for that to be my first impression.â He pries a glove off and holds out his hand. Virgil takes it and gives it a small shake.
âIâm Virgil, and this is OogieBoogie,â He introduces himself and his cat who has deigned to jump on the counter and sniff at the contraption on Loganâs back. He gently pushes the cat away with a soft look in his eyes.
âPleasure to meet both of you. None for you Iâm afraid,â He chides Oogie gently. Virgil swallows because damn, someone interacting gently with his cat more of a heart throb than originally intended. And Logan is nothing if not simply scholarly stunning.
âMy apologies again, be sure to let someone know if thereâs anything we can help you with. Have a wonderful rest of your day,â Logan nods his head softly and there is just the smallest crinkle around his eyes hidden under his glasses and Virgil is so weak as he closes the door to his apartment. Heâs come into contact with one too many pretty people at this complex and it will be the death of him. Still, it is nice to wave to Logan every so often as he preens the landscaping around the buildings.
--
Virgil watches as water drips down the window. It started the other day after some rains. He put a towel under it to keep some of the water from ruining anything, but itâs still going the next day. Virgil sighs and looks at his phone, Thomasâs number on the screen. He takes a deep breath and presses call.
âHello?â Thomas answers.
âHey Mr. Thomas itâs Virgil, from Unit 16 B.â A practiced line. Thomas gives a happy gasp.
âVirgil how are you?â Thomas always sounds excited to speak to him. It helps.
âDoing okay, how are you?â He asks, absently petting Oogieâs back.
âGood good! How can I help you?â Thomas asks in turn. Virgil looks at the window.
âSomethingâs up with my window? Itâs like.. leaking.â He explains but not really. Thomas hums.
âDid this start up with the rain?â
âYeah, Iâve tried cleaning it with towels but it keeps going.â Virgil says. Thomas makes another hum noise.
âSounds like a problem with the roof. Iâll send one of the boys over.â And Thomas hangs up. Virgil isnât as put off with the abrupt ending, expecting it this time around. He glares at the window and goes to wait for âone of the boysâ. Oogie follows over and demands pets. It a decent distraction till a loud knock comes from the door.
Virgil opens it and it's just unbelievable how down right beautiful this guy is. His hair in perfect waves and a charming smile on his face. His sleeves are also cut like Remus's were, but far less frayed.
"Wonderful morning, my name is Roman. Our dear Mr. Sanders told me there were some ill issues with the roof is that right?" He speaks with such confident flamboyance Virgil is a loss for words.
"Yeah," Is all he manages to say. He's pretty. Way too pretty for this.
"Yeah, sorry it's over here," He turns and leaves the door open for Roman to follow. Roman laughs loud and proud and does just that. Virgil shows him the window and does not bit his lip as Roman jostles the frame showing off muscles that are illegal.
"The panes seems closed but I'll check outside as well." He turns and heads out the door. Virgil follows.
"And the roof?" He asks. Roman offers him a dashing smile, checking his tools that he attaches to his belt, holding up pristine white jeans.
"You may hear some noises for a while as I'm up there, but fear not, I'll find the problem." He gives Virgil a wink and with ease, he finds a ledge on the building and hoists himself up. Virgil does not squeak. Certainly not cause he's scared that Roman will fall, and certainly not cause he rolls his shoulders and Virgil can see his body move and god damn it heâs so not straight.
So he goes inside and pretends thereâs not a real attractive guy fixing his roof. The noises of fixing continue for an hour or so, Virgil keeping busy with cleaning and some mild work emails. Then the noises stop. Virgil glances at his ceiling curiously.
"Uh, Roman?" He calls from his front door, making sure the dude didn't fall off and die.
"Be down in a moment fair tenant!" He hears. Virgil rolls his eyes and barely turns when Roman suddenly lands in front of him.
"Roof is all set. There were a few shingles out of-"
"Did you just jump off the roof?!" Virgil interrupts. Roman blinks at him and has the nerve to smiling so dashingly again.
"I dare say I did," he says as if it's no big deal. Virgil sputters at the reckless, careless, brash attitude. Roman is far too entertained by it.
"I'm honored by the concern, dearest. Just one more moment to check the window from the other side." He winks again and is walking around the building before Virgil can say anything.
He grabs Oogie and plants his face in her fur. Too gay to function. He talks to her plainly about how unfair it is that pretty boys plague his life, only to find out he can absolutely be heard through the window by Roman asking in a muffled voice.
"You think I'm pretty?" Virgil screams and hides in his room, hearing Roman laugh through the wall. This is how he dies, he decides. This is even worse than the time Damien had to tell him his lights werenât broken, he just didnât know how to use them. This is so much worse.
He groans loud and dramatically when thereâs a knock on his front door. He doesnât want to open it. But he does, cause itâs rude other wise.Roman stands there, smug expression and a bright smile.
âChecked everything and cleaned up some water. A few shingles out of place and a loose vent, got those all patched down. If it continues to leak it might be a bigger issue so be sure to call if it does. Anything else I can help you with?â He asks. Virgil takes a steady breath to say no.
âI think Iâve dug my own grave enough for today,â He says, further digging his own embarrassment grave. Roman gives another laugh.
âEnchanted to meet you pretty boy, have an amazing rest of your day.â And then Roman honest to goodness bows and drives off in the golf cart. Virgil closes his door softly and looks at Oogie who stares back from her perch on the counter.
âDonât even start,â He tells the cat. She looks away like she doesnât know what heâs talking about.
--
âBoogs! No!â Virgil does not like shouting at his cat. He doesnât like shouting in general. But it gets OogieBoogieBitchBaby away from the wall she is using as a scratching post. She scampers off as he approaches, fingers going over the claw marks in the wall. He groans to himself.
He moved her cat tower because she kept getting onto his work papers. In revenge for disposing her from her favorite perch and sights of the room, she clawed at the wall instead, leaving a few nasty scratches behind.
âHow am I supposed to fix this?â He asks where sheâs run off, hearing her run around. He bangs his head on the wall. This is not how he wanted his night to go. In the end, he has Thomasâs number on his phone and piece of paper he tore to shreds in worry over what he could possibly say.
âHello?â Thomas answers.
âHey Mr. Sanders, itâs Virgil. I-â
âVirgil! How are you?â Thomas asks. Virgil takes a deep breath.
âIâm- Iâm so sorry Mr. Sanders. It was an accident I swear.â He needs to apologize, cause if Mr. Sanders kicks him out, heâll have to go hunting for places to live again, and who is going to take him with a cat who destroys things, and then because no one will take him, heâll die on the streets and Oogie will eat his toes.
âMy cat Oogie she got upset with me and she clawed the wall and Iâm so sorry,â He says in a rush.
âHey, hey Virgil itâs okay. It happens, our furry friends do funny things. Iâll send one of the boys over to help fix it right up, okay?â Virgil swallows a lump in his throat at Thomasâs easy solution.
âOkay,â He croaks out and then hears the click of someone hanging up. He lets his phone drop and then puts his head in his hands. He doesnât want to be kicked out his apartment, or to have Mr. Sanders think bad of him as a tenant, or as a bad pet owner. He throws himself back on his couch. He feels so dumb.
Thankfully, thereâs a gentle knock to his door. Hopefully his savior in this mess. He opens it to bubbly boy in round glasses, giving him the most cheerful smile Virgilâs ever seen.
âHey there, evening to you, my name is Patton. Mr. Sanders said we have some kitty claws on the walls?â He asks. Virgil lets his shoulders drop.
âYeah, Iâm so sorry about it.â He says Patton waves his hand.
âItâs not a cat-astrophe, it happens. Can you show me where it is?â He asks. Virgil nods and steps back to let the boy in white jeans in, then pauses.
âDid you just make a pun?â He deadpans. And Patton giggles.
âSorry, sorry, just slipped out. Iâm pawfully bad at them.â He says with a bright smile. Virgil stares at him, then snorts into his hand.
âThat was really bad,â He says but Patton just beams at him.
âGot you to laugh though.â And Patton should not sound so proud of making a stranger laugh. Virgil coughs to cover his awkward and shows him where Oogie got to the wall and Patton âtutsâ in response, putting down a bag of tools on the floor.
âI have just the thing to get this back in purr-fect conditions.â Patton opens his bag and pulls out some paint and calking. Virgil steps back to let him do his job, very aware that Oogie is hiding somewhere away from him. It makes him nervous to not see his cat in the area. Sure Oogie isnât a registered therapy animal, but she does a good job of keeping him calm.
âThere, al-meow-st done!â Patton smiles at him over his shoulder and adds another coat of paint to the wall, looking good as new. Maybe itâs the puns or the cute, but Virgil does relax.
âThanks for that.â Virgil says as Patton cleans up. He giggles once more and waves Virgilâs concern off again.
âItâs no big deal, itâs what weâre here for.â He reassures. Virgil sighs and turns to the small meow behind him. Oogie is on the table staring at him. Patton lets out a squeal of happiness.
âOh sheâs precious!â He says in syrupy sweet voice. Virgil snorts again and looks between the two.
âWanna pet her?â He asks and before he finishes Patton is shaking his head.
âUn-fur-tunately Iâm allergic. But she is paws-itively adorable.â Patton coos and waves to the cat, Oogie does nothing in return but thatâs to be expected. Virgil rolls his eyes at the both of them.
âThanks again for your help,â He says. Patton beams and there are freckles on his cheeks. Freckles, too cute, not allowed.
âOf course! Anything else I can help you with?â He asks. Virgilâs turn to shake his head.
âI think weâre good now,â He says. Patton giggles once more.
âHave a claw-some rest of your night,â And that shouldnât be funny but Virgil snorts again and Patton is proudly walking off.
--
What the fuck, what the fuck. Virgil stares at the door knob in his hand. He just went for a late walk to get his mail, Oogie joining him on his shoulders. Something rattled in the door knob when he opened it, having to actually shove the door open to get back inside after unlocking it. When he went to close the door, the handle came off in his hand before he could close it proper.
What the fuck.
He stares at the space where the door knob was and his open door. His mind immediately races to all the creepy people who can break in and steal things or kidnap his cat. Or even all the bugs that will make home in his food and hair. Nope. None of that.
âHey Mr Sanders?â Virgil says first, his anxiety over the open door he can not close for fear it wonât open again overriding his normal fear of calling his land lord.
âVirgil! How are you? Itâs very late,â Thomas yawns on the other end. Virgil winces. He probably should have thought this through considering the time.
âIâm okay, so sorry to wake you, itâs just. My door handle uh, fell off?â Thereâs a pause.
âWell thatâs not good.â Thomas says.
âIâll send one of the boys over.â He hangs up plainly. Virgil has enough time to worry if he made Thomas upset by calling so late, and worry Oogie somehow got out only to find her cuddled in her tower, when the bad lights from the maintenance golf cart shine through the crack in the door.
Thereâs an awkward knock and Virgil pulls the door open. Heâs not sure who in their right mind has sunglasses on this late, but at least this gorgeous person isnât using them to hide their bright eyes. They give him a quirky smile.
âWell this isnât something you see every day.â They remark and Virgil has to huff out a laugh, some of his panic subsiding.
âEvening babes, Iâm Remy. What happened?â He asks and goes about unscrewing the rest of the door knob, kneeling down and scuffing his white jeans that nearly glow in the darkness. Virgil tells him the lead up and Remy scoffs out a laugh of their own, giving Virgil a glance, that turns into a once over, that shakes him to the core.
âNo worries, I can see the broken piece. Easy fix.â He winks at Virgil and gets a spare doorknob from the golf cart. Virgil stand idly by as he fixes it, keeping Oogie from getting too close.
âWassup cat?â Remy asks and gently puts his knuckles to her head in greeting. She makes a noise and then trots off, satisfied with the attention.
âWhatâs their name?â Remy asks while he screws things back together.
âThat OogieBoogie, Oogie for short, though sheâs been more of an OogieBoogieBastard lately.â She meows at Virgil from the top of her tower. He hisses back at her. Remy snorts.
âNice, I have an orange cat named Pumpkin.â
âNice,â Virgil says back. Remy smirks at his response and keeps working. Vigil pretends the look on Remyâs face didnât give him reckless night vibes, that he would take Remy up on if he asked, cause damn, the dudeâs hot.
âMay I borrow your key for a second babes?â Remy twists the knob a few times and with Virgilâs borrowed key, closes, locks, and opens the door with no problems.
âAll good to go, anything else I can help you with?â He asks as he hands back the key. Virgil shakes his head.
âNah, Iâm good, thanks for that,â He says. Remy gives him a wink.
âHave a good night babes.â Another wicked smirk and Virgil does his best to close his door at a proper speed. His heart is pounding and these pretty boys will be the end of him.
--
âHi! Welcome in, how can I help you?â Cute, is all Virgil can think when he enters the office. Pastel, is second. Thereâs a new receptionist at the desk, freckles and a mega-watt smile.
âHi uh, I got a notification I have a package?â He stammers out. Oogie purrs at his shoulder, reminding him itâs okay.
âSure! What apartment number?â Virgil rattles off his numbers as the receptionist looks in the package closet.
âFor Virgil?â They ask. He nods and takes his box, keeping it away from Oogie as itâs a surprise for her birthday.
âOh! Iâm Emile by the way. Iâm working in the office now so if you need anything just give us a call okay?â Theyâre so earnest. Virgil ends up just nodding his head, only speaking when Oogie bumps her head to his.
âYeah, thanks,â He says and before he can make an exit Thomas appears from inside one of the offices.
âI thought I head you! Virgil, how are you?â He asks. Virgil gives him a soft smile.
âGood, and you?â Itâs only polite. Thomas lets out a laugh.
âGood here too. Say, the staff is hosting a tenant party here, some games and some food, you should join us if youâre not busy.â Thomas hands Virgil a flyer with some gaudy colors. Virgil does a good job of not letting his dislike of the idea show.
âYou should totally come!â Emile beams at him and it does something gay to Virgilâs heart. Virgil glances at the two of them smiling at him.
âI could stop by?â He offers not waiting to make them mad at him. They cheer and turn back to their jobs. Virgil walks back to his apartment, petting Oogie as he does.
âWhat did I just get myself into?â He asks her. She bumps her head to his hand in response.
--
Itâs not a bad turnout for an apartment complex party. Virgil does show up, Oogie situated on his shoulders. Even though its closer to summer, Heâs still wearing his hoodie if not just to give her a place to put her paws should she wish to.
Thereâs those plastic cheap tables lining around the pool area, boxes of pizza and some crinkly plastic containers of mini sub sandwiches sit on top. Thereâs a section for drinks and cups right next to. Virgil gets himself a cup of lemonade.
He glances about. Some people are playing some bean bag toss game, others are playing on the mini putt putt area Virgil didnât even know they had. Lots of people are in the pool, messing around and splashing water at each other. He sticks to the sidelines.
âVirgil!â Or maybe not. He looks to who called his name and though heâs happy Logan called for him so he doesnât have to be alone, heâs lamenting the fact that not only is it Logan, heâs also with Patton, Damien, and Remy. Fuck. Virgil goes bug eyed, giving himself a pep talk, helped along by Oogie making a âmrrpâ noise in his ear, and walks to his doom.
âHey Logan,â Virgil says once heâs close. Patton waves as best he can with hands full of pizza.
âSup babes?â Remy asks with damn smirk, sunglasses appropriate now. Virgil rolls his eyes.
âDamien, if you donât remember,â Damien holds out his hand. Virgil of course remembers embarrassing himself in front of freaking sleek attractive Damien, but he isn't about to say that. Virgil takes his hand to shake and Damien flips it to bring a kiss to the back of Virgilâs hand. Virgilâs jaw drops as Patton giggles helplessly.
âDee donât do that!â He says but thereâs not force behind it. Damien just smiles like the cat that got the cream.
âI didnât know you two were familiar?â Damien turns the attention to Logan now. Logan just pushes up his glasses.
âI admit to helping Virgil carry in groceries more than once.â Logan says, giving Damien a look that Virgil doesnât have the power to decipher. Patton whines.
âKiddo you could have asked for more help,â He says. Virgil shrugs.
âTwo trips are for the weak.â He and Remy tap their glasses together in a cheers.
âYes and Iâm sure dropping your groceries is also for the weak.â Logan chides and it does hit a little harder, but still Virgil taps his glass to Remyâs again in a cheers.
âVirgil!â Someone calls and Virgil is blinded by the force of Emileâs smile so suddenly in his face.
âYou came!â Heâs excited. Virgil nods and takes a step back. Oogie murmurs upset on his shoulder.
âYep, I said I would and hey, free food.â He ignores the looks the others give each other and Emile just bounces.
âWell Iâm glad youâre here. Me and Patton were gunna play corn-hole later, you should join us!â Patton gives an equally excited gasp as Emile gestures to the bean bag toss.
âUh sure,â Virgil says. Emile bounces and waves, and is off to say hi to other residents as soon as he came. Virgil is reeling from the interaction and it only gets worse.
âIs that pretty boy??â Virgil hears the splash before he sees anyone but then Remus is there in his face, shirtless and in swim trunks and dear god, he has a tramp stamp.
âHello again stranger~â He coos. Virgil musters up a hi when suddenly another shirtless person is standing next to Remus.
âIt is pretty boy! How are you darling?â Roman says. Virgil has officially hit gay panic mode. If the earlier mix of suave and cute wasnât enough to do him in, the pure amount of muscle now is going to do him in.
âFine,â He chokes out. Remus and Roman both laugh at his answer. Great. If he hoped for any kind of saving from the others, itâs surely a dashed hope by the amused looks on their faces.
âAre you joining us in the pool?â Remus asks excited. Oogie hisses from his shoulders. Vigil raises a hand to calm her and she nuzzles his knuckles.
âUh not today.â He says, which is the wrong thing to say.
âBut another day?â Remus asks all wild excited. Roman shoves him.
âLike he wants to spend time with your gross ass!â Roman shouts playfully. Patton huffs and calls him for his language but he is ignored. Remus gasps offended with a wild smirk on his face.
âSure he does, canât keep his eyes off these guns,â And Remus flexes. Virgil smacks a hand to his face. Oogie dips to hide in his hood. Roman lets out a laugh and firmly shoves Remus back into the pool.
âThe only gun he needs is a glock to the face.â Roman puts a fist in his hand, flexing as well. The pun does get Patton to giggle though and Damien rolls his eyes.
âVirgil I am going to get some food, would you like to accompany me?â Logan asks finally done with the nonsense.
âHow do you know his name!?â Roman screeches.
âI asked.â Roman let's out an outright offended gasp for whatever reason. He doesnât get to say another word as Remus from out of no where, runs and tackles Roman back into the pool with no such boundaries.
âFood sounds good,â Virgil says. Logan smiles softly at him.
âI think I shall join you,â Damien says looking into his cup which doesnât look empty but who is Virgil to judge.Â
âCome find me and Emile when youâre done okay?â Patton interjects before they can leave. Virgil offers him a two finger salute, and then leaves Patton and Remy to go find Emile, while he finds food.
âIdiots,â Logan mutters once they are away from the pool. Damien hums in thought.
âBut not wrong,â He says.
âThey arenât right either.â Logan snaps back.
âShould I go?â Virgil asks as they are clearly not talking to him. Both Damien and Logan look at him scandalized.
âCertainly not!â Damien says and gives him a slick smile. Virgil swallows down his lemonade to keep his throat from clogging up. He spends some time talking to the two of them, making sarcastic comments and opening up. Oogie pops out to lick his hair at one point.
At that, Virgil finds Emile somewhere, letting them know heâll be right back, wanting to drop Oogie off at home. Heâs comfortable enough here to not need her reassurances, besides, sheâs tired from napping and needs to go home to sleep. With some âhurry backâ wishes, heâs off back to his place.
He makes sure Oogie is comfy and goes to leave, finding Thomas waiting in one of the golf carts outside his door.
âNeed a ride?â He offers. Virgil laughs and joins him in the small vehicle.
âVirgil if I may, I have a favor to ask of you?â Thomas says seriously. Virgil nods his head as his lungs refuse to let him breathe for fear of the favor.
âPlease be kind to my grand kids yeah?â Thomas asks, an earnest look in his eyes. Virgil isnât sure what heâs talking about, but then he looks up. All of the boys who have been coming in and out of his life to fix his home are there staring and waiting for him to get back with the same look in their eyes.
Oh. Virgil thinks.
Oh no.
--
AN: Lol that multiship life

Edit: now with a part 2
#virgil sanders#polyamsanders#deceit sanders#remus sanders#logan sanders#patton sanders#roman sanders#remy sanders#emile picani#anxceit#dukexiety#analogical#moxiety#prinxiety#sleepxiety#virmile#fic#my post#everyone has a crush on virgil cause i said so#one of the boys au
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Letâs say #10 of the Spotify wrapped writing for Korra :)
ANON HOW DID YOU KNOW
girls - korra x reader
pairing: korra x fem!reader
wc: 1.7k with lyrics
warning/notes: i canât think of anything, but if there is fee free to message me!
taglist (message me/fill out form): @draqondance @biqherosix
i've been hiding for so long, these feelings, they're not gone, can i tell anyone?
you stared at her from across the room, god she was beautiful. the way she laughed and joked around with your brother made you heart soar, the sheer sound of her joy making your day.
you snapped out of your staring when your older brother came by, a stack of empty boxes in his arms as he dropped them on the ground, the thump getting your attention.
âoh thank god you found the boxes mako.â you sighed in relief at the fear of not finding the boxes to put back all the decorations used for varrick and zhu liâs wedding.
âthey were in ikkiâs room for some reason.â makos discovery caused a laugh to come out, your brother following your lead.
âhow in the world did they end up there?â you wondered as you grabbed some of the decorations off the tables and placed them delicately into one of the boxes.
âno idea.â he answered, taking the decorations off of the other tables and copying you.
âyou two need some help?â you felt your cheeks heat up and heart pick up as you heard the voice of the woman you loved dearly. you met her eyes and smiled.
âi wouldnât say no to it.â you joked, smile growing bigger as you watched her laugh.
mako called bolin over for help as korra worked on the same tables as you did. working in unison, your hands accidentally landed on top of each otherâs as you grabbed the same center piece, a blush erupting on both of your cheeks.
once you were done and your brothers went to bring the majority of the boxes to where varrick wanted them to, you were left alone with your girlfriend.
âi saw you staring before, youâre not very discreet.â korra teased once the both of you were alone which just made heat rush to your cheeks which just made her laugh at your flustered expression.
âyeah well youre insanely cute when you laugh.â you answered, arms wrapping around her waist and head being placed on her chest as you breathed in her comforting scent.
âiâm always cute.â she joked, earning a small chuckle from you as you looked up to her, loving smile adorning her face.
when you thought you heard someone coming, you quickly unwrapped yourself and jumped back, afraid of them seeing you two hug. you looked around frantically only to find that you were still alone. with a sigh of relief, you returned your attention to the avatar whos expression had changed to one of slight disappointment.
ây/n, we canât keep sneaking around like this. one day or another, we should tell the others. you especially should come out to your brothers.â she sighed. you two had gotten together right after defeating kuvira but she had come out a while before leaving for the south pole after zaheer.
it hurt korra to see you living some sort of double life, lying to your brothers who tried to get you to bring someone to th wedding about you seeing someone, your brothers still fully thinking that you were only interested in men which would be the opposite of the truth.
âi know, iâll tell them one day but i just, donât know when.â you shrugged off your concerns and told a white lie to the girl in front of you.
afraid of what they'll say, so i push them away, iâm acting so strange
ây/n, youâre not telling the truth. iâm your girlfriend, we may have only been together for a little over two weeks but weâve been friends for years, i can tell when youâre lying.â she informed, placing her hand over yours that was limp next to your hip. you grabbed onto it and sighed, you knew you were going to caught and have to voice your fears eventually but some part of you had hoped that your girlfriend wasnât as smart as she said she was, she unfortunately wasnât.
âsometimes i forgot how much of a genius you are.â you smiled half heartedly as she looked at you concerned, wanting to know the reason why you were still in the closet after supposed years of knowing your sexuality.
âbabe come on, you can tell me.â she insisted, giving your hand a little squeeze from encouragement.
you took a deep breath in and let it out it, coming yourself in order to tell your girlfriend the reason why you hadnât come out yet.
âi just. i donât know how mako and bolin will react.â you finally admitted, feeling as though a huge weight was lifted from your shoulders when suddenly, the girl in front of you starting laughing. you quirked an eyebrow, wondering why the hell was she laughing.
ây/n! you saw how they reacted when i came out! they were completely and utterly fine with it! hell they were super supportive of me!â she reasoned once her laughter died down.
âi know but iâm their sister, itâs different.â
âno y/n it isnât. why would it be any different.â she asked, confused at your stupid reasoning:
âi mean for one, theyâre going to be mad i never told them anything, especially since iâve already dated a girl or two. two, they might find it a tad bit weird when we tell them weâre dating.â
âwell your first reason couldâve been avoided if youâd told them in the first place.â she pointed out, earning a small blush from you. âand second, they wonât, trust me. mako might be a bit stunned but heâll be 100% supportive, donât even get me started on bolin.â
âyouâre right, i should probably tell them.â you sighed in defeat, head turning slightly to stare at the building on air temple island where your brothers probably were.
âif you want ill be there.â she proposed, her free hand placing itself on your cheek to which you gladly leaned into.
âyeah, iâd like that.â
they're so pretty, it hurts, im not talking 'bout boys, I'm talking 'bout girls, they're so pretty with their button-up shirts.
after dinner, mako, bolin, and you were on kitchen duty to clean the dishes, giving you the perfect opportunity to finally come out to your brothers and stop hiding.
as you finished drying a plate, you decided that it was time. especially since bolin was bringing up the idea of setting you up with someone.
âokay so y/n, i found this great guy that youâll love. super sweet, super nice, super good looking, bolin approved guy.â your younger brother told you, scrubbing the food off one of the dishes.
âthatâs nice bo but iâve got something to tell you both.â in an almost perfect synchronised moment, both of them stopped what they were doing and turned to you. with both of their eyes on you, you froze a bit.
âsure y/n, whatâs up?â mako encouraged, seeing your slightly stunned state and helping you snap out of it.
âiâm gay.â you blurted out. mentally smacking yourself for saying it so bluntly and straight to the point.
âknew it.â mako smirked as bolin let out a big âohhhhhâ.
âokay then, i think i know this one really nice, sweet, bolin approved girl that i believe also likes girls.â the earthbender quickly responded, correcting his previous date proposition to adjust it to the news.
âthanks bo but thatâs not necessary.â you smiled gratefully at the youngest of you three before turning your attention to the eldest.
âwhat makes you say that mako?â you inquired, curious as to why your brother wasnât very surprised at the news.
âwell um, i.â mako stumbled over his words, slightly unsure of how to go about it but he recomposed himself. âi think you forget that as your older brother, i was able to see things that you didnât.â
âgo on, iâm intrigued.â it was now your turn to smirk.
âat first it was probably the constantly stealing momâs kyoshi book, only to stare at the pictures of kyoshi warriors.â he joked.
âhey i still know a lot about kyoshi warriors!â you protested, half joking about the reason why you were addicted to the book.
âyeah but i literally walked into your room when you were about five only to see you open at the same page for a solid ten minutes. also, you couldnât read!â
âiâm surprised mako caught any of it because itâs news to me. good news though!â bolin inserted himself back into the conversation, a cheery grin on his face.
âi think the longing stares between you and that waterbender from the red sands rabaroos couldâve also been an indication. and the constant cheering for them.â mako teased, resuming his dunking of plates in the water.
âyeah, umi and i didnât last too long but it was fun while it lasted.â you reminisced over your first girlfriend, and followed your brothers lead to return to drying plates, leaving a dumbfounded brother to connect the dots.
âwait, you dated someone in an enemy team? y/n!â bolin gasped, accusing you in a joking manor.
âguilty as charged.â you smirked.
âokay well, let me set you up with someone! iâm sure i know another lesbian or bisexual!â bolin persisted with his idea so you thought that you might as well come out about korra and you.
âwell bo, mako, iâm kinda seeing someone right now.â you started but were interrupted by someone barging in, the exact person you were about to mention.
âare you idiots done yet? we figured weâd all go see a probending match tonight but if you slowpokes arenât done we might miss it!â korra informed the three of them. the two boys quickly returned to work but your gaze lingered on the avatar.
âso are you going to tell us or?â mako asked as korra left.
âi think youâll figure it out.â your eyes stayed a little too long in the direction that your girlfriend left, a smirk on your lips at the idea of making your brothers wait.
when you all made your way to the probending arena, you caught up with korra and asami in the front, making sure to interlock your fingers with the watertribe girl.
âim guessing you told them?â asami asked, a knowing smile on her face at the romantic gesture.
ânot exactly.â you guiltily admitted as you heard two gasps behind you. one was almost dramatically loud while the other was a bit more subtle.
ây/n!â you heard from the two boys behind you, and korra gave you a knowing smile, your idiot brothers had figured it out.
#korra x reader#krew x reader#korra#the legend of korra#korra x you#korra x y/n#atla x reader#lok x reader#mako x reader#bolin x reader#avatar x reader#avatar korra#avatar the last airbender x reader#avatar the legend of korra#atla korra#atla korra x reader#lok korra#lok korra x reader
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in honor of eddie month, iâm releasing a collection of WIPs that will never be completed (usually because i just ran out of momentum writing them). theyâre all eddie centric and canon divergent. hereâs the third!
 this is about 3600 words! featuring a lot of internalized homophobia, a gay crisis, and eddieâs issues from the book with religion and worrying about going to hell and how that ties into his sexuality
âMeet back in half an hour?â Mikeâs voice was cheery as he looked around at the six other Losers that stood in the hotel lobby.
Beverly and Eddie spoke at the same time â Beverly suggesting they do breakfast instead so everyone could get some rest, and Eddie loudly saying: âYou expect me to get this nasty shit off of my body in less than thirty minutes?â He noticed Richie wince next to him. âWhat?â
âDude, youâre screaming,â Richie told him, just as Mike agreed with Beverly.
âNo Iâm fucking not,â Eddie countered, frowning.
âAs much as I hate to agree with Richie,â Stan said, âyou are. Clean out your ears while youâre in the shower.â
Eddie gaped at his friend. âMy⌠my ears?â
âBet you got leper puke in there,â Richie added, grinning. Eddie was horrified. He hadnât realized everyone else had already headed upstairs to their respective rooms to shower â except Beverly and Ben, who seemed to have entered the same room. He wasnât even sure where Mike had gone.
âWhile you guys argue, Iâm going to take a shower and call my wife,â Stan said, an embarrassed expression crossing his face. Eddie wasnât sure what to say; they all knew the story: Patty had caught Stan in the midst of writing seven letters, stopping him from making any permanent decisions and calling Mike to find out what had been so awful that her happy husband had decided to calmly sit down and write suicide notes for the people he loved. Mike and Stan had explained the situation to her as well as they could; in the end, it had been his own wife who convinced Stan that he couldnât turn his back on a promise.
âWell, Iâll see you in thirty minutes, Eds,â Richie said, when the door closed behind Stan. He started up the stairs when Eddieâs voice stopped him.
âThereâs⌠I donât have a shower curtain anymore,â Eddie told him, voice still too loud. âOr, it has a knife hole and blood on itâŚâ
âEddie Spaghetti, are you trying to get naked with me?â
Eddie floundered, face turning red. âWh â I â No! I just. Shut the fuck up, Richie!â
Richie laughed, gesturing at Eddie to follow him. âCâmon, dumbass, you can use my shower. Iâll even let you go first.â
âWow, my knight in shining armor,â Eddie muttered, following Richie up the stairs. Heâd already brought his luggage back up and left it outside his own room, so he grabbed it and entered Richieâs room. Richie was already digging through the one small suitcase heâd brought.
âYou knowâŚâ Richie started, then paused. Eddie looked at him, dropping his toiletry bag on the bed next to Richieâs luggage. Richie looked back, biting his lip. He finally shook his head. âNever mind.â
âWhat?â Eddie asked.
âJust take your shower, Eds,â Richie sighed. Eddie felt his stomach drop and knew there was disappointment on his face. Richie was looking down at his bag, still moving clothes around like he was looking for something, but Eddie was sure it was just a way to avoid eye contact. He waited for Richie to say something for a few moments, and when he didnât, he rolled his eyes and went into the bathroom.
It was disgusting work, peeling off the clothes heâd been wearing for over 24 hours. He realized this outfit had been on an airplane, in a rental car, at a restaurant, in the basement of the pharmacy, covered in Leper puke, bled on from his own stab wound, through the Derry sewer system, into Itâs lair and finally into the Quarry.
He already began making plans to burn all of it.
The shower in Richieâs bathroom was exactly the same as the one in his own, down to the ugly green color of the curtain, and the sight of it made him shiver. He stood under the water unable to close his eyes, constantly checking to make sure a crazy escaped inmate wasnât waiting on the other side of the curtain with a knife. Heâd seen Bowersâ dead body, but he couldnât help but think the sharp end of a knife was going to tear through the curtain at any moment.
He started by cleaning out his ears, steadfastly avoiding looking at the gunk that he removed, then moved onto his hair, because he knew heâd have to keep his eyes closed the longest to rinse out shampoo and he wanted to get it over with. It took three washes before his hair felt sufficiently clean, and heâd only peeked around the shower curtain four times. After that, he used a washcloth from the hotel, lathered in his own antibacterial body wash, to scrub every inch of his skin until he was bright red but clean. He checked for an intruder only twice as he did so. He washed only the bottom half of his face with his face wash, choosing to scrub his forehead with the washcloth so as not to risk soap in the eyes. It wasnât until he had opened the curtain and begun to dry off that he realized how hard his heart had pounded the entire time heâd been showering.
He was going to have to find a place with a walk-in shower, the kind with a glass door and glass walls, once he decided where he was going to live after he left Derry. Not only did his house in New York have tubs with shower curtains, but it had Myra and years of unhappiness, and he had already decided he was not going back.
Once he was dry, he stepped out of the shower and frowned, wincing when it pulled at his cheek. He wrapped the towel around himself tightly and exited the bathroom, already planning to avoid Richieâs gaze and letting his eyes go directly toward his suitcase on the bed.
However, they landed on Richie in nothing but a white t-shirt and boxers on the bed, instead. He was clean, hair wet against the pillow, and he grinned wolfishly at Eddie.
âOh,â Richie said. âDo you have something you need to tell me, Eds? You sleep in the nude? Iâm sorry, but Iâm not your wife, so â â
âShut the fuck up,â he groaned, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. âI forgot to bring a change of clothes with me. How did you shower?â
âI used Benâs, since heâs busy fucking Beverly in hers,â Richie answered casually.
âChrist, Rich,â Eddie muttered, shaking his head. âDonât⌠You canât say shit like that, theyâre our friends.â
âJust because theyâre our friends doesnât mean we have to pretend like theyâre not absolutely having sex right now.â
âIâd prefer not to think about it, actually,â Eddie said, kneeling down to the floor where Richie had placed his luggage and looking for something to use as pajamas.
âIâd prefer to think about it,â Richie grinned, waggling his eyebrows at Eddie, who had glanced up to give him a disgusted look.
âStop thinking about Beverly naked, Richie.â
âOh, itâs not Beverly Iâm thinking about,â he said.
Eddie whipped his head around, clutching a t-shirt in his hand.
âOh, come on,â Richie said, looking in the opposite direction. His fingers fidgeted where they rested on his chest. âBenâs super hot now, and Beverlyâs like⌠my sister.â
Eddie wasnât sure what to say. Was this a joke?
âUm,â he cleared his throat when his voice cracked. âWhat?â
âDonât act all oblivious now, Eds,â Richie continued, though Eddie could hear the discomfort in his voice. He always resorted to that fake laughter, to jokes that didnât quite land, when he was nervous.
âUh â Is thisâŚâ Eddie trailed off, staring at Richieâs poker face. âI canât tell if youâre being serious about Ben. Like, are you actually attracted to him?â
Richie glanced to the side. âAttracted to him how?â
Eddie felt the urge to stomp his foot. Richie was being difficult on purpose and he wasnât sure how, but somehow this was a ruse to make fun of him. âAttracted to him the normal way, Richie. Like, physically. Sexually. Whatever.â
âWell I certainly wouldnât say no if he offered,â Richie shrugged.
âIâm sorry,â Eddie said, âbut is this you coming out to me right now?â
âI thought I did that at dinner when I talked about how hot Ben was.â
âCan you be serious for like, five seconds?â
âI am being serious!â Richie insisted, sitting up. Eddie pulled his t-shirt over his head without removing the towel from his waist. âI mean⌠if youâre okay with that?â
âIf Iâm okay⌠With you being attracted to Ben.â
âNo, you fucking dumbass!â Richie rolled his eyes. âI donât give a shit about Ben!â He paused and shook his head. âOkay, no, I give a shit about Ben, just not like that. I just meant⌠if youâre okay with me being⌠not straight.â
âOh,â Eddie breathed. He was clutching his towel.
âI uh, probably shouldâve done this at a better time, huh?â Richie said, cheeks red. He laid back down, staring up at the ceiling. âLike, when youâre not naked.â
âIâm not naked,â Eddie argued weakly.
âYouâre naked enough,â Richie muttered.
âI donât know what that means.â
âGod, Eddie, please tell me youâre not this fucking stupid.â
âWhat the fuck is that supposed to mean?â Eddie asked angrily.
âNothing,â Richie answered, shaking his head. âJust go back to your room, Eds. Iâm sure your bed doesnât have blood on it.â
âDude, no,â he said.
âIâm not asking, Eddie. You need to leave.â
Eddie stared, eyes wide. Heâd never heard Richieâs voice like that and it made his stomach drop. He felt glued to the floor, watching as Richie sat up and put his feet on the floor.
âEddie,â Richie said, his voice still cold. âI canât do this right now, okay?â
âDo what?â He knew he sounded whiny but he couldnât help it, Richie wasnât making any sense.
âI canât talk about my fucking feelings with you, Eddie,â Richie yelled, standing up from the bed. âNot when I just came out to you and you had no fucking reaction, and youâre either stupid or purposely ignoring what Iâm trying to tell you, and youâre fucking naked!â
Eddie exhaled heavily. âYou said you were attracted to Ben.â
âOh my God,â Richie laughed to himself, though there was no humor in it. âSo you are actually just that fucking stupid, then.â
âIâm not stupid, Richie, I understand what youâre telling me!â He shouted, finding a pair of underwear and gripping them in his hand. âI just â I donât know what to say! I donât know what you want me to say!â
âJust say you donât hate me,â Richie choked. He looked up and there were tears in his eyes. Eddieâs heart lurched. His eyes drifted down, taking in the way Richieâs t-shirt was tight on his broad shoulders, the way it was so thin he could see the pink of his nipples and the black of his chest hair, and even lower than that more black, leading down⌠âEddie?â
His head snapped up, heat crawling down his chest. âI-â He took a moment to regain his thoughts. âI donât hate you.â
âYou sound very believable,â Richie snarked, falling back down onto the bed. âNow that weâve had this shitty conversation, can you please just leave?â
He was trying to sound unbothered, even verging on annoyed, but Eddie could hear the hurt underneath. He didnât know how he felt, but he knew he hated to hear Richie sound like that. Gathering his resolve, he found a pair of pajama pants in his luggage and marched back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He made short work of dropping the towel and dressing, ignoring the way his hands were shaking.
He'd never thought of another man like that. Heâd never â
But that was a lie, and he knew it.
He had thought, heâd just ignored it. Even though heâd told Myra he wasnât coming home, she was still technically his wife. And for his entire life, heâd technically been a straight man.
(Straight men donât want a better look at their best friendâs happy trail, his brain told him, and he shut his eyes tightly to try and make the mental image go away.)
So he occasionally spent a little too long looking at other men. And he occasionally thought of strong thighs and broad shoulders and low groans when he got off. But it wasnâtâŚ
He thought back to childhood. Had he felt like this about Richie then, too? He remembered how close they had been, physically. Had he been leading Richie on, all those times he climbed into the hammock with him? All the sleepovers where they shared a twin bed? The movie nights where he hid his head in Richieâs shoulder during the scary parts?
Was it leading someone on if you wanted it, too?
What if you didnât even know you wanted it?
Did he want it?
He didnât notice he had begun to wheeze loudly until there were two knocks on the bathroom door. He jumped, gasping for breath he didnât have. He felt dizzy.
âEds? Are you okay in there?â
There was concern in Richieâs voice, none of the hurt from before. Eddie yanked the door open to find Richie standing on the other side, his worried look exactly how Eddie had pictured it.
âIâm sorry, Eds,â he mumbled, stepping back so Eddie had room to get through the doorway without getting too close. Eddie didnât move. He tried to breathe in deeply, gripping onto the door handle. âI didnât mean to freak you out-â
âCan you help me?â He asked, interrupting Richieâs apology. Before he could answer, Eddie went on. âWhen I â When I breathe, can you count? Slow; 4 in, hold for 4, out for 4?â
He wasnât sure if Richie could even understand what he was saying, but Richie was nodding, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed. Once he was sitting he closed his eyes against the dizziness and gasped for air, ignoring the tears that leaked out the side of his closed eyelids.
Richieâs voice was quiet as he counted. It only took a few minutes before Eddie was breathing on time with Richieâs count, and it was only then he realized they were holding hands. With his free hand, he wiped the stray tears from his face. Once he felt like he could speak again, he turned to Richie.
âPanic attack,â he whispered. âNot asthma. Myra always just made me use my inhaler but⌠I saw a therapist, for a little bit. She taught me how to⌠How to make it stop, without it.â
âWhy would she still think you needed your inhaler if itâs not asthma?â Richie asked, keeping his voice at the same quiet level as Eddieâs.
Eddie huffed a laugh. âBecause it makes me weak. She likes me weak.â
âEds, youâre not weak. Youâre probably the bravest of all of us.â
He shook his head. Richie didnât say anything else, just sat next to him while he focused on keeping his breathing even. He didnât want to think about Myra, or about the kinds of things you need to be brave for. Richie was still holding his hand, and he let his eyes wander his direction, past where their hands lay in between them and to Richieâs legs, bare in just his boxers.
Heâd never paid much attention to his own legs, or really the legs of other men. It wasnât something that had crossed his mind
(except maybe it had, when he was younger and laying in a hammock, but it wasnât really about legs then, it was about skin, the electricity he felt on days they both wore shorts)
Except in his dreams, the fantasies he pretended he didnât have, the ones where thick, hairy thighs were wrapped around him, around his waist, around his head, on either side of his own â and he pretended not to think about what was in between, either, how lightheaded he felt when he got fucked up enough to really let himself think about it, to think about what was inside Richieâs boxers
(but it wasnât Richieâs cock he dreamed about (wasnât it, though?) when he took enough of those anxiety meds that his filter turned off)
And he could see it now, at least the outline, where thin material didnât do enough to hide what was inside.
He was breathing too quickly again.
âEddie-â
âYou need to put pants on,â he choked out, taking in a deep breath.
Richie stood up immediately but Eddie couldnât look at him as he spoke, embarrassment evident in his voice. âFuck, Eddie, Iâm sorry, I didnât even think about it â I â fuck, I swear Iâm not â I really donât want to make you uncomfortable-â
âItâs just-â He sucked in another deep breath, clenching his fists. His mouth started moving without his permission. âItâs â Itâs hard to have a fucking gay crisis when your legs and your â your fucking dick are right there and I want-â he closed his eyes when he heard Richieâs breath hitch. âI just⌠want. And I canât have because the second I do Iâm â I canât â Itâs wrong, Richie. Itâs wrong, right?â
Richie had put on a pair of sweatpants while he was talking, and now he knelt next to Eddie, making sure to keep some distance between them. His face was red, and Eddie could tell his breaths were harsher than normal, could see his own hands clenched into fists. But he didnât say anything, just looked at Eddie, who choked out a sob. âHelp me,â he begged, though he wasnât sure what exactly he was asking for. He just wanted, and he needed that to be okay.
âItâs not wrong, Eds,â Richie finally said. He sounded breathless. One hand came up to rest on the mattress next to where he sat. âI know it â it was fucking hard growing up when we did, right? Getting called names and listening to people talk about AIDS like it was punishment, and even now, hearing all the bullshit from people who swear itâs all a sin, like itâs something we chose. But we didnât, okay? You didnât do anything wrong, and if you⌠If you choose to act on it, youâre still not doing anything wrong.â
âHow do you know we wonât go to Hell?â Eddie whispered, grasping the comforter in his hands. He felt young, like a child asking for reassurance, but he felt trapped in his own mind.
âI donât, really,â Richie answered. Eddie looked at him, helplessly. âBut I think⌠You go to Hell for doing bad shit, right? For being a bad person. But thereâs nothing â thereâs nothing bad about love. Iâm not doing anything bad by loving you.â
âWhat about sex? Thatâs â thatâs the bad part, right? Love is great and whatever, but when itâs sexâŚâ
âThatâs not bad, either,â Richie promised. Eddie jolted when he grabbed one of his hands, uncurling his fingers from the blanket. âItâs natural and normal. But I donât â I really donât know what else to say, Eds. Thatâs probably more suited for like, intense therapy.â
Eddie nodded jerkily, laughing a little and squeezing Richieâs hand.
âThank you,â he mumbled, ���for talking me down. You were always the one that took care of me.â
âYeah, well,â Richie shrugged, voice still soft. âI love you, so Iâm gonna take care of you no matter what.â
Eddie wanted to tell him, wanted to say he loved him, too, but the words felt stuck in his throat.
âIâll always let you take care of me,â he said instead, and hoped Richie understood what he meant.
âWhat are you going to do next? With â As far as, you know, your marriage?â
Eddie sighed. âShe already knows Iâm not coming home, but⌠I still have a job in New York. I guess Iâll have to find an apartment. I donât know. And youâre right, I should go back to therapy, because I clearly have some shit to work out.â
Richie nodded. âI donât think thereâs a single one of us that doesnât need to go to therapy weekly for the rest of our lives.â
Eddie snorted. âI donât know how well a therapist would take it if you walked in and started talking about how you fought and killed an evil alien clown.â
Richie laughed. âEh, Iâll write it into a standup routine instead. Comedy is basically therapy, anyway.â
âNo,â Eddie said, vaguely alarmed. Richie was grinning at him. âNo, Richie. Itâs important to me that you understand joking about your trauma onstage to a bunch of strangers is not the same as therapy.â
âYeah, yeah,â Richie said, waving him off. He crawled backward until he was leaning against the pillows again, the same way heâd been when Eddie had gotten out of the shower. The bed was big enough that if Eddie were to lay next to him, they wouldnât be touching. He thought about it. âAnd if you want, I have an apartment in the city. Iâm not there very often, I spend most of my time in LA or on tour, but. Thereâs two more bedrooms than I need and⌠I mean, we could split rent or whatever. Even if itâs just til you find a place for yourself.â
Eddie looked at him. He wasnât avoiding eye contact, but he wasnât making an effort to look at Eddie, either. His hands were folded on his chest.
âOkay,â Eddie agreed, taking a leap and situating himself next to Richie on the bed. His head hit the pillow and he sighed. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how close Richie was. He fell asleep to the soothing sound of Richieâs even breaths, and when he woke he felt more rested than he had in years.
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honesty and promise me, part 2 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]
Goth isnât really Annabethâs sceneâhasnât been since she was twelve, hiding in her room and blasting Evanescence or Avril Lavigne so she didnât have to spend quality time with her brothers, or even talk to her stepmother at allâbut Percy had insisted. She could almost picture his pathetic, baby seal-eyed face as he wheedled and whined at her over text, until she eventually (not at all reluctantly) gave in.
Sheâs only known him for a few weeks. Itâs a little embarrassing how quickly her willpower had crumbled.
Thalia, for whatever reason, had decidedly not been game, even when presented with a large, post-bartending hangover coffee as an opening salvo. âThis is a bad idea,â she had said, glaring at the sun so intensely that, were it not for her thick, black sunglasses, she probably would have vaporized it.
âWe donât have to go.â
âNo, the show will be great. Plutoâs Daughter is great,â she said between sips of her too-bitter-to-be-real black coffee. âYou and Percy, is a bad idea.â
âProtective of your baby cousin?â Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow, her eyebrow ring awkwardly bumping up against her hair, sorely in need of a shave. She was thinking of getting a second ring. Her mother had once told her that they were the epitome of trashâbut Thalia had two, and they looked so badass.
She scoffed. âHeâs not the baby.â
âThen thereâs no problem.â
Thalia narrowed her eyes, really considering Annabeth. Annabethâs own eyes had been described more often than not as storm clouds, dark and heavy. If hers were storm clouds, then Thaliaâs were lightning, electric blue, piercing, beautiful, and dangerous, with a temper to match. âBefore you started seeing him,â she said, âIâd have said that youâd eat him alive.â
Annabeth smirked. âI have done no eating yet.â
âUgh,â she rolled her eyes. âYeah, well, now Iâm going to be honest with you. Heâs going to eat you aliveâand your self-esteem is never going to be able to recover. Honestly, I shouldnât even let you two within ten feet of each other.â
She scoffed, taking a long drink of her own coffee, black but with just enough sugar to make it bearable.
As if a ballerina would ever intimidate her. A fucking ballerina.
The conversation hadnât exactly ended the way either of them wanted, but Annabeth was still going to keep fucking Percy for the time being, and Thalia was going to let herself be dragged to the damn concert.
The night of, the bar has a line, but Thalia alternately sweet-talks and intimidates the bouncer, and he lets them in. Having tended bar for any place that would take her and not put her on the payroll, Annabeth assumes that she just has dirt on everyone in the service industry in New York City, so they skip a lot of cover charges, and get a lot of free drinks.
It's fucking crowded inside, too, packed to the brim with sweaty bodies and heavy boots. Just another day in paradise.
Thalia glances at her phone. âTheyâre at the bar, up front?â
âThey?â
Thalia doesnât hear her, apparently, just wraps her mesh covered hand over Annabethâs wrist and pulls her through the crush of people. Annabeth has her eyes peeled for Percyâs typical blue hoodie or orange muscle tees, thinking that they would stand out like a sore thumb in this place, but she canât see a goddamned thing.
Now, punks arenât exactly known for their radical use of color, but this was another thing entirely, a sea of black and lace and leather. Looking for his black hair is a waste of her time. âSo many bad bottle jobs,â she murmurs.
Thalia pauses for a second, frowning at her. âWhat?â
âEveryone here has decided that they just had to dye their hair black. How original.â
She is silent for a moment, squinting, then looks away. âI see them, come on.â
Her blunt nails dig into Annabethâs arm as she yanks her even harder.
There, at the end of the bar, a tall guy stands, dressed to the ninesâthe nines of this particular scene, anyway.
He looks kind of familiar: curly black hair in a sharp undercut that Annabeth definitely admires, extremely tight, black skinny jeans that leave nothing to the imagination and really went out of style with My Chemical Romance, a t-shirt with a skull on it (because goths, obviously), and a leather jacket, covered in patches. She spots the Italian flag, several for Plutoâs Daughter and a handful of other bands, a pride flag, a couple of music notes, and one that says, âNot gay as in happy, queer as in fuck you.â
âAnnabeth,â says Thalia, âyou remember Nico.â
Annabeth blinks. The last time sheâd met Nico, heâd been wearing a three-piece suit that had cost as much as her rent. Now the hand she shakes has black fingernails and a skull ring, leading up to a face with eyes lined heavier than either Thaliaâs or Annabethâs, with a septum ring and a line of studs up one ear. âHey.â
âWhereâs our prima ballerina?â Thalia asks as Nico offers her a glass of something brown.
Thalia likesâand cannot often affordâexpensive booze, which means that Nico must be paying. Unwilling to be caught in another embarrassing little social snafu, Annabeth tries really hard to remember what it is that he does. Hadnât he sold his soul to some law firm or other?
âHe went to consign himself to a slow and agonizing death,â says Nico.
âWhat?â Annabeth asks, glancing between the cousins.
Thalia rolls her eyes. âHe means Percy went out for a smoke. Nico doesnât approve.â
âItâs bad for you! This is not a controversial topic,â he says. âI donât like that he does it, I donât like that he got you to start, and Iâm not going to like it when I go to both of your funerals. But I am going to tell you I told you so.â Then, seemingly as if to undermine his point, he throws back the rest of his own drink, holding up the empty glass to the bartender. âAnother,â he calls, âGodfather, if you please.â
If drinks were on Nico tonight, maybe Annabeth could use the cover of the goth crowd to order a glass of red wine instead. It would certainly be a nice change of pace from the shit-ass beer she sucks down on the regular.
âThere he is!â Thalia calls, bursting into applause. âThe hell took you so long? Wardrobe malfunction?â
âYeah,â she hears Percyâs voice. âSomeone stole my best pair of tights.â
Turning, Annabeth is suddenly very glad she hadnât yet ordered a drink, because then she would have dropped it, spilling it all over not only the dirty bar floor, but also her second favorite pair of boots.
Itâs definitely Percy, but she never would have spotted him. Having gone to a dozen or so shows with her and Thalia so far, he had always dressed pretty consistently in baggy jeans and whatever stupid dance pun t-shirt Annabeth hadnât pilfered already to wear to breakfast: very normal, and just a little bit out of place for the goth/punk scene.
Tonight, he is not dressed like that.
She canât focus on everything all at once, so she starts with his too tight t-shirt, with the logo for Plutoâs Daughter splashed across it, like the artist had taken paint and hurled it at the fabric from a mile away. Ripped and sleeveless, she can see every single ridge and line of his biceps, his forearms, his shoulders, even a bit of his decolletage. His pants are black, per the unspoken dress code, and baggy, but he has belts wrapped up and down his legs, emphasizing the size of his muscular thighs and calves. And that isnât even the worst part. Neither are the studs in his ears, or the black liner around his eyes.
The worst part is the blue lipstick painting his mouth, making his eyes pop, making his troublemaker smile look that much more depraved.
The worst part is how that blue lipstick will almost certainly be all over her thighs by the end of the night.
Thaliaâs advice was never going to win out, but now it has no chance.
Despite being dressed up like the goth ballet prince of her dreams, the hero of an angsty, middle school novel Annabeth might have dreamed up instead of paying attention in class but had been too embarrassed to ever write it down, he smiles at her, cheery and bright as ever, kissing her so deeply her mouth must turn blue. In the corner of her eye, she sees Thalia and Nico exchange a capital-L look, one that Percy canât see, because all of his attention is focused on her. She doesnât know what that means, but sheâs too far gone to ask.
Percy moves away, still close, still oriented around her, but she has to clasp her own hands together to keep herself from reaching out and pulling him back to her, biting her tongue, rubbing the ring along the inside of her teeth to keep from letting the word âpleaseâ escape her lips.
She doesnât think sheâs ever been so instantly taken with any guyâever. Not even the almost one night stand her sophomore year was college, nineteen and fresh-faced and totally unprepared for the heartbreak that would follow. Last time, Luke had suggested wine to help her get over her mystery man, so thatâs what she orders now, taking too big sips and ignoring the slight concern in Percyâs too pretty eyes.
Itâs all packaging, she thinks, packaging designed to make the product more desirable. Basic marketing and design. She knows him, and she knows what he can do with his teeth and his tongue and his hand and his dick. She recognizes it, sees it coming, so she wonât be affected by it.
âI didnât know you were coming, Nico,â she says, wrangling her thoughts together. âItâs nice to see you again.â
âNever miss a show,â he says.
âFlew back from London just for it,â Thalia says, bumping him with her shoulder.
âI flew back because my business trip was over,â he corrects. ââŚBut I did take the redeye so Iâd be here on time.â
Percy beams at that, so hard she can actually feel it. âAnyone else joining us I should know about?â Annabeth asks.
Itâs so weird to look at them all togetherâall dark hair, strong jaws, cheekbones carved from stone, sexy and just a little bit intimidating. âAny other cousins, maybe?â
Nico glances at Percy, suddenly apprehensive. âActually, Percy,â he says, âIâm pretty sure I sawââ
âPerseus Jackson!â A whirlwind of blue-green silk assaults her senses as a woman sweeps over to them, headed straight for Percy, almost knocking Annabeth out of the way, wrapping him up in a hug and ignoring everyone else. âHowâs my darling little brother?â
Percy awkwardly pats her on the back, shooting a grimace at the rest of them. âUh, hey, Kym. I⌠didnât know youâd be here.â
âIt was a last minute thing, I had a free night for once in my life and was casting about for something to do, you know how much I hate not working, and I thought Iâd come by and support our dear Hazel.â
Nico raises an eyebrow. âSince when have you been into goth rock?â
Itâs not an unwarranted question. She looks wildly out of place here, in her sleek, silk dress and the scent of Dolce and Gabbanaâs Light Blue coming off her like waves, in sharp contrast to the sea of ripped jeans and sewed up shirts that surround them.
Kym, again, ignores him. âMojito, Perseus? I know itâs your favorite.â
Annabethâs eyebrows shoot up past her hairline. Percy? Percy half-a-cider-no-thank-you-I-donât-care-for-any-more Jackson likes to drink mojitos? âAhââ He grimaces, trying to extract himself from her grip, âno, thank youâ"
âOh, youâre no fun anymore.â
âI just donât like toââ
âWell itâs not like this place will have any rum worth drinking anyway,â she sniffs.
Thalia rolls her eyes.
âHere, take a selfie with me.â Her phone is already raised, thumb poised for action.
âKym, come onââ
But she pulls Percy close, shoving his head against hers, mouth already pouting. Thalia sighs, turning back to the bar.
After a moment of refusal, Percy sighs too, giving into his fate, and mustering his best vogue for the camera. They make an odd pair, her with her perfect Instaglam and him with his blue lipstick and smudged liner, but with the two of them pressed together like this, itâs easy to tell that this Kym is another cousin. Same eyes, same brow, same inky black hair, she looks exactly like Percy, only whiter.
Satisfied with her selfie, itâs only then that she notices Annabeth staring at her. âAnd you are?â
Percy sighs, rubbing his eye. âKym, this is Annabeth. Annabeth, this is my sister Kymopoleia.â
Kym does not reach out her hand. âAnd what do you do?â
Thalia, from nowhere, slings an arm over Annabethâs shoulder, whisky in hand. âNothing that would interest you, leech.â
âIâm an architect,â Annabeth offers.
âMy friend studies at Bartlett, in London. Did you go there?â Kym asks.
âNo,â Annabeth says, biting back an automatic retort about Bartlettâs global ranking in Forbes. Ninth in the world, not even top five.
Kym curls her lip a little, like she knew what Annabeth would have said anyway. âWhat have you designed? Anything I would know?â
âShe designs community gardens and stages for festivals.â Thalia says.
âOh, so not a real architect, then.â
âThe Man doesnât have to approve of something to make it real. No, her name isnât on file in some state office. Sheâs an anarchist architect.â Thalia says. Annabeth bits back a line of her own retorts.
Kym sniffs again. âThrilling.â Then she turns back to Percy, writing her off entirely. âPerseus, it was lovely to see you againâwill you be coming to Santorini this year?â
âDepends on my rehearsal schedule.â The words sound very rehearsed. Heâs said this exact phrase a lot.
âWell get that sorted out! You know how mother likes her itineraries.â
He nods, beleaguered. âAs soon as I can, promise.â
âSee that you do.â Then with a final kiss on Percyâs cheek, off she flounces, disappearing into the dirty, grungy crowd, leaving silence in her wake like the wreckage after a storm.
âOkay,â says Annabeth.
Percy sighs, turning to the bar to order his own drink.
âSorry about that,â says Nico. âIf I had known she was coming, I swear I would have told you.â
âYou canât just go around saying the word âcousin,â Annabeth,â says Thalia, returning to her own space. âItâs like Beetlejuice. Say it three times and you summon one of Percyâs douchey relatives.â
âTheyâre your relatives, too.â
Thalia scoffs. âBarely.â
âOh yeah?â asks Percy. âHowâs Hercules?â
âHopefully dead.â
âAt least he doesnât show up out of the blue in wildly incongruous places,â Nico points out.
Percy takes a pull of his drink, and Annabeth does not watch his neck as he swallows. âYeah, what was up with that? Since when has Kym been into goth rock?â
âThatâs what I said!â
âSheâs planning something,â Thalia mutters, glaring angrily into her drink. âI donât know what it is, but sheâs planning something.â
âSo, Iâm guessing this isnât usually her scene?â Annabeth asks.
âArt is her scene,â Thalia replies, gesturing widely, nearly smacking someone in the shoulder. âThe whole of the New York art world.â
Looking back around to the half-lit bar full of badly dressed goths, she thinks maybe calling this the âart worldâ might be a little bit generous.
âSheâs kind of like an art world barometer,â says Percy. âWherever she goes, the critics followâlike little baby ducklings.â
âToo bad sheâs a fucking snob about it.â Thalia tosses back the rest of her drink, slamming the glass down on the wood, signaling for another with a toss of her head.
âShame she has such good taste,â Nico muses.
âShe has such good taste!â Despite her bravado, Thalia is absolutely a tiny bit of a lightweight, the whisky already going to her head, slurring her speech just a little. âWhole fucking familyâs so goddammed good at art.â
âNot the whole family,â says Percy, shaking his head. âKym canât make art, she just appreciates it, like Jason. And Triton canât do either.â
Annabeth has never seen Thalia so much as draw a picture or pick a song at karaoke, but she had been left out of Percyâs little list. In all Annabethâs years of knowing Thalia, she never even thought that it had bothered her. âI mean,â she says, âif you like art, you couldââ
As one, Nico and Percy both shake their heads. Insistently. Violently.
Staring at her empty glass, Thalia doesnât notice. Nico replaces hers with his half-finished one, and Thalia drinks without missing a beat. âWhat about you?â she turns to Annabeth, blue eyes wide. Thatâs another thing that the cousins all have in common; their eyes are a variety of colors, but theyâre all the same wide, almond shape, made more pronounced with heavy, grungy liner. âGot any artistic cousins?â
âNo,â she says, wondering how little she can get away with saying. âI only have one, and heâs not.â
Everyone stares at her.
She capitulates, just a little. âHis partner is an artist,â she offers. âAlex is a sculptor.â
Percy looks at her, half-smile on his face. âWhat does your cousin do if he isnât an artist?â
His question makes it sound like there are only two types of people in the world to him: artists and non-artists. Given that Annabeth had been sketching buildings since the time she had the dexterity to hold a crayon, it might be true. âHeâs in med school,â she says, âfourth year, at Harvard.â
âEw.â He wrinkles his nose.
âOkay, smartass,â she says, âyou talk to your podiatrist like that?â
âYou still fucking that med student?â Thalia asks Nico.
âDating him, actually.â
âWhatâs the difference?â
âDinner,â Nico says. âSometimes lunch. This is going to shock you, but you can actually spend time with the people you sleep with, and even develop feelings for them.â
They glare at each other for a long moment, then, as one, turn and glare at Percy.
âNo,â he says, âI am not getting in between this.â
Nico, somehow, glares even harder. âCome on, youâreââ
âIâm not talking about this,â Percy says, his face a hard mask, lips set firmly in a frown.
For the first time ever, it occurs to Annabeth that this ballet dancer could be scary if he wanted to be.
That is⌠so not a problem.
The cousins continue glaring at each other, the family telepathy practically brimming with unspoken pasts. A part of her really, really wants to hear where itâs going. She wants to know what Percyâs feelings are on romance, just to make sure that they are on the same page. Casual sex, fun nights, the occasional concertâthatâs where they are now. If the arrangement is going to change, sheâs going to need to know about it.
Then, the lights flicker, dimming. A roar takes over the crowd, and when Annabeth can see again, Plutoâs Daughter is onstage.
Thereâs no introduction, no greeting, the band diving right into their first number, an intense, high-octane whirlwind of drums and bass and screaming. Percy screams right alongside them, hands raised and jumping, Nico and Thalia close behind, every unintelligible lyric learned by heart. Even Annabeth canât help but get swept up in it, her typical aloofness melting away into the crowd.
It really is a great show.
âThat was amazing!â Annabeth is almost breathless at the end of it. Her throat feels raw, like sandpaper, her cheeks aching from smiling.
Percy hands her one of those little plastic cups of water, knocking his own back like a shot, wiping his mouth with his knuckles. âArenât they awesome?â
âI had no idea you were such a fan,â she says. âYour Spotify Wrapped must be a mess.â
âI like all music,â he replies, glib. âEven rap and country.â
âOh, how well-rounded of you.â
âBut Plutoâs Daughter is special,â he says. âYou know the drummer is my cousin?â
âVery funny.â
âNo, really,â says Percy. âHazel is Nicoâs half-sister.â
She blinks at him. âYou have too many cousins.â
He just laughs, throwing his head back. âTell that to our parents.â
Whatever else he might have said gets lost as a small bundle of leather and fishnet emerges from the crowd, launching herself at Percy. âYou came!â cries the drummer for Plutoâs Daughter--Hazel. âOh, Iâm so happy you came!â
In stark, stark opposition to how he had been Kym, Percy swings his little cousin around in a big hug. He probably has close to a foot on her, even in her black platform boots, their broad smiles so uncharacteristic in such a dour crowd. Annabeth hadnât been able to get a good look at her up on stage, but now sheâs flush with adrenaline, her dark skin glistening with equal parts sweat and glitter, baby hairs escape from the artful crown of bantu knots, septum ring shining in the dim light of the bar.
âOf course I came,â says Percy, somehow still hugging her. âWouldnât miss it for the world.â
âMs. Hazel Levesque!â Thalia crows, well and truly wasted. âThereâs my gal!â And she rushes over to join them, almost bowling them both over.
A truly affectionate Thalia is rare, like a four-leaf clover or snow on Christmas. It does happen on occasion, if sheâs gotten enough sleep or enough to drink, but the moment is usually fleeting, meant to be treasured, kept close to the heart. Annabeth can count the number of times Thalia has been sweet to her on one hand--never cruel, or mean, but just⌠brusque. Sarcastic. And yeah, sometimes mean, but never in a demeaning way. Just in a Thalia way. Itâs one of the many, many things she loves about her.
The only downside to affectionate Thalia right now is that it leaves her alone with Nico.
She doesnât not like Nico, she just doesnât really know him. Heâs swaying a little, not dangerously so, just vibing to the noise and the booze heâs already had.
âHey,â he says, lurching over to her. âGot a question for you.â
âOkay?â
âI was. Working on those permits. For your show.â He waves a hand. âWhatever. You know that stage set up for that show in the West Village last winter?"
The first time she had met Nico, Annabeth and Thalia had been helping out one of her friends with their outdoor theater, and had needed a little legal assistance with getting the venue all squared away, as they were technically trespassing on some private property. It was nice to flex her creative muscles, though. She didnât always get the chance these days.
She nods. âYeah?â
"Your New York State architect license was on the paperwork."
Annabeth's blood runs cold.
Swallowing away her anxiety, she takes another sip of her water, hoping heâs too buzzed to notice. "What, was I supposed to try and impress Kym with my license?"
Nico snorts. "God, no.â Taking another sip of his drink, he goes to hug his sister, and Annabeth quietly berates herself for not taking care of that sooner.
Yes, her license is still on file with the state, because itâs so much more convenient to leave it like that, rather than let it lapse and reapply every time she has to do something bigger than a birdbath in a tiny community garden, and being registered still means she has access to the network and can apply for certain grants and it always looks good on her portfolio and she didnât think the two worlds would ever collide, especially not in a place where Thalia, of all people, would ever find out--
âSo,â says Percy, sidling back over to her. âWorking on anything good?â
She blinks, the spiral of her thoughts coming to a screeching halt. âHuh?â
âAny cool projects on the docket?â
Projects. Right. âSorta in between projects right now,â she says, tapping her fingers against the bar. âI finished up that community garden a couple months ago, now Iâm just⌠waiting for the next thing coming along.â
He nods. âI feel that. The precarityâs a bitch, isnât it.â
âTotally. Almost makes you want to work a 9 to 5 just for job security, right?â
âAbsolutely not,â he says. âWouldnât give up ballet for the world. I could never work in an office; sitting for so long might actually kill me.â
It might--even now he canât help but move, shifting around on heel to toe and back again. Everything about him is about movement. Even an office where everyone was on their feet, like hers had been, wouldnât have been enough for Percy Jackson, she thinks.
âWhat about you?â he asks. âHow would you fair in an office?â Â
âBeen there, done that,â she says, before she can even think it through.
âReally?â She sees him scan her. Normally when he does that, heâs thinking of her without her clothes on, but now, sheâs pretty sure heâs thinking of the ink that runs up and down her legs, and how that might all look forced into some sort of pencil skirt.
 "Once upon a time,â she says.
 âWas that before or after you decided to become an anarchist architect?â
Long after she decided to become an architect, but before anything about an anarchist crossed her mind, though her freshman Poli Sci professor, or maybe that sophomore philosophy TA, would probably argue that she isnât actually an anarchist now. âBefore,â she says. âI once tried to be very very different.â Tried and failed, oh so very spectacularly.
 âHow so?â
She looks at him for a moment. There are layers of mystery that need to be upheld. But she canât spill her lifeâs story to Percy after only a few weeks of knowing him, no matter how easy and disarming he may be. She isnât that girl anymore, and she doesnât want people to know she ever was. Especially not these people: Thalia, Percy, Nico, even Hazel, who she hasnât properly met. She can see, standing here, how very genuine and clear they are about themselves. They probably have actual skeletons in their closets, real, agonizing pasts, so much worse than her own.
She doesnât want them to know she had an honest to god debutante ball. Murder would be vastly preferable. But still, Percyâs eyes are so bright, even in the dark light. His smile is so non-judgmental.
âI used to dream about adding to the skyline,â she says, eventually, âdesigning something so cool and so fresh that even after I died, everyone would look up and they would know my name.â For a second she thinks he might actually understand. And then she remembers Kym, and his utter distaste for his own sister, whose friend had only managed to get into Bartlett. âBut I realized that kind of ego wasn't going to do me any good. And office work wasnât going to take me anywhere I wanted to go.â
That bruise to her ego still stings, on occasion. That, and the loss of the only thing sheâd ever wanted as much as something permanent. They were separate dreams, really, but two years ago, in that little Upper East Side cafĂŠ, they had seemed like one and the same. Failing so spectacularly in one had felt like she might as well throw in the towel about the other.
Percy in blue lipstick, eye liner, and a very tight shirt makes her think it might have been the right choice.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Assuming she never got another call. Though after that award she and Leo got earlier this yearâŚ
No, she reminds herself. She shouldnât dream big anymore. She wasnât going to get there, and she had to be ok with that.
He smiles, lopsided, sympathetic. âI know what you mean. Like, after so many amazing dancers, you have to be crazy to think that you can add something to the canon, something thatâs never been done before. But here we are.â
âHere we are indeed.â She clinks her glass against his, and they drink.
He finishes with a long gasp, licking his lips.
âWanna go be somewhere else?â she asks.
âDamn right I do,â he says, grabbing her hand, lacing her fingers together with his.
An hour or so and a few orgasms each later, they lie side by side on Percyâs bed, soft and sweaty.
âSo your sister is kind of⌠intense,â Annabeth says.
Percy snorts so hard, Annabeth can feel it vibrating into her. âYeah. Thatâs a word for it.â
âWhat was it like, growing up with her?â
âOh, I didnât grow up with her. I grew up here with my mom; she grew up in Athens with our father.â
âIn Athens? Cool.â Sheâd done a study abroad in Rome, but sheâd never made it out to Athens like she had wanted. Too much Pantheon, not enough Parthenon. âHave you ever been?â
He screws up his face, thinking cutely. âA few times. Theyâre not⌠great memories, exactly. In retrospect, itâs nice that my dad wanted me to feel included, but bringing his mistressâ kid on the annual family vacation to Santorini probably wasnât his brightest idea.â
Annabethâs eyes shoot up to her hairline. âWow.â
âKym was actually always pretty cool about it,â he continues, thoughtfully. âShe likes to pretend sheâs this ice queen alpha bitch type, but sheâs got a secret soft spot. And my dadâs wife eventually came around--she even sends me a birthday card each year. My half-brother, though.â Percy blows out a breath. âHeâs always been a douchebag.â
Dropping a kiss to his bare shoulder, she squeezes him. Thereâs a story there, but she knows better than anyone about not wanting to talk about bad family relationships. Percy likes Kym, though, and that makes her safe territory. âTell me more about Kym. You said she was some kind of art collector or something?â
âNo, sheâs not a collector.â Percy bites his lip, considering. âItâs kind of hard to explain. I guess you could say that sheâs, like⌠a professional socialite?â
Annabeth sits up, squinting down at Percy. âAre you trying to tell me that your sister is a courtesan?â
He sputters, completely taken by surprise, choking on his inhale. After thirty seconds, Annabeth is afraid sheâs going to have to try CPR, before Percy starts to calm down. âNo,â he wheezes, coughing. âNo, sheâs not a courtesan.â
âSo, what does a âprofessional socialiteâ even do?â
âYou know, she⌠socializes.â Percy waves a hand in front of him. âShe goes to parties, meets people, facilitates meetings--she socializes.â
Annabeth frowns. âWhat does that even mean?â
âI literally donât know how else to explain it to you.â
âWhat, is she a spy?â
He opens his mouth to argue, then pauses. âNot⌠technically.â
âNot technically?â
âThink more corporate, less political.â
Okay, now sheâs even more confused. âHuh?â
Percy sighs. âMy dad runs this big shipping company that does business all over the Mediterranean. Pretty much the whole family works for him in some way: Triton is some kind of assistant executive, and Kym and my step-mom do, you know, outreach or fundraising or whatever.â
Sheâs silent for a moment, collecting the information presented to her. âIs this some kind of mob thing?â
He grimaces. âMaybe we should change the subject.â
âIs your dad a mob boss, Percy?â Objectively, she knows that the mob is a terrible organization responsible for many different types of atrocities, but honestly, the idea is kind of exciting, Annabeth hooking up with the secret lovechild of a mob boss. Itâs romantic and sexy in a film noir kind of way.
âNo, he just--does some light smuggling. I think.â
âHow does one engage in âlightâ smuggling?â
âOkay, so his business is totally legitimate, but he may also smuggle art on the side. Or oil. Or both. I donât know and Iâve been told never to ask.â
And she thought her family was weird. She tells him as much. âThatâs wild.â
âHonestly? Thatâs not even the wildest thing about my family.â
She flops back down on the bed, already exhausted. âPercy, I donât know how many more revelations about your mob family I can take.â
âTheyâre not part of the mob!â He laughs. âBut,â he smirks, looming over her with a familiar desire, âI can neither confirm nor deny that I had to swear a blood oath to the family when I turned eighteen.â
Rolling her eyes, she still easily submits to the heady feeling of his lips on hers, tilting her head back as he travels down her neck. âOkay, I did not sign up for any Don Corleone bullshit.â
âBut youâd make such a great mob wife. Though we would have to kill the rest of my immediate family.â
Annabeth giggles, only partly at the ticklish feeling of his lips between her breasts. âIâd help you kill your douchey half-brother any day.â
He glances up at her from her belly button, long lashes fluttering. âThat is legitimately one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. Full disclosure, Thalia has already called dibs.â
âThatâs fair.â Then she pushes his head down further. âNow get to work, Godfather.â
#IT'S ALIVE#my fic#percabeth#pjo#the rivalry ends here#honesty and promise me#darkmagyk#we took a detour to 15th century europe but we're back babeyyy
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got tagged by @riosgoodgirll for this game like [checks notes] almost two weeks ago, sorry itâs super late but it got long because I ramble about ladies I like
rules: list 10 different female faves from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 peopleÂ
under cut, because it really did get long
1.      Farscape â Aeryn Sun Where do I start with her? She is everything. Sheâs one of the earliest examples that I can remember seeing on tv of a strong female character that has trouble connecting to her emotions, while the male counterpart of her pairing is the one who wanted to talk about his feelings. Sheâs also a tough soldier for a dodgy race of militant space-humans (but not really humans) whose sole purpose in life is to fight and die, and through her relationship with her fellow shipmates, learns that thereâs more to life than following orders and killing people. I just love her more than words can say. She definitely broke the mould.
 2.      True Blood â Jessica God, sheâs so sweet. I love her character growth. She goes from this god-fearing teen girl, to spoilt, angry goth baby vamp, to total sweetheart with a serious vicious streak when it comes to protecting those she loves. Also sheâs more beautiful than I have words for and I am so gay. Like, I could look at her for hours, wow what a face.
 3.      Buffy the vampire slayer â Buffy The OG strong female lead, the first of many in my life. Also one half of my first foray into enemies to lovers shipping â you never forget your first, as they say! I love her cheery wisecracks as she kicks vampire ass, the way she mimes staking, and her bouncy shampoo-commercial-hair
 4.      Harry Potter â Hermione I saw so much of myself in her when I was a young, frizzy-haired bookworm that I immediately identified with her, hard, and sheâs left a permanent mark on my heart. I only liked her more as the series went on and more of her âflawsâ were layered onto her character, which really brought her to life in my mind. I say âflawsâ because I fucking love how vindictive she is and how much of a flaw is being intelligent enough to find dirt on people that you can blackmail them with, really? Especially if theyâre sucky people. When she doesnât like someone she absolutely destroys them, mad respect.
 5.      Penny Dreadful â Vanessa Ives I have a type, and she is it. Dark, brooding and with otherworldly good looks (I still remember Eva Green as the witch Serafina Pekkala the best) I still canât recall her character without getting a pang in my chest. The showâs ending DID HER SO DIRTY but we wonât get into that, Iâm just gonna talk about why sheâs my fave, I promise. She is so mentally strong and yet simultaneously so fragile at the same time, I want to take care of her so bad. The Devil with a capital D has been trying to possess her all her life, and she is in constant mental battle against him, and she just never stopped trying (until the stupid finale but we arenât talking about that!) and sheâs so strong, I adore her. When she does a tarot card spread you canât look away, her gaze is so piercing and haunting.
 6.      LOTR â Ăowyn This is another one that got a strong hold of me in my formative years and shook me to my core. From the moment I read the ICONIC âwhat do you fear my lady?â speech I was a fan for life. I strongly identified with her attitude to life (I, too, fear growing old and useless) and her totally boss moment against the Witch-King (more like BITCH king) made her my hero. Whenever I rewatch LOTR I have a stupid sappy expression on my face when sheâs on screen.
 7.      The Walking Dead â Michonne Back when I watched this show, and when she graced our screens for the first time I was shaking with excitement. She had such an iconic look â the dreads, the bandana, the katana slung over her back. Her strong & silent archetype was something I was very into, and enjoyed watching. She just oozes cool. The only one on the show with the skills to use something other than a gun on a daily basis, so her kills were not only skillful but super stylish too! Oh and I really liked the vibe she had with Andrea â they should totally have been gfs but network tv are cowards
 8.      Killing Eve â Villanelle the inherent eroticism of a woman who is trying to kill you. I find assassins sexy, always have, donât judge me. I really enjoy the fine line Jodie Comer straddles playing her as a sociopath with feelings that can get hurt. Also the chemissssstry with Eve is *chefs kiss*
 9.      Lirael â Lirael She spends her entire life up until early young adulthood feeling out of place and wondering why she doesnât belong, and I just want to hug her. She is so lonely that she teaches herself a spell to MAKE HER OWN DOG (which is 100% relatable tbh) and then she and the dog strike out on their own adventure, which is super cute and heart warming to me. Sheâs so shy and withdrawn at first but then she really grows into herself with time, and teaches herself to be more confident in her own abilities, despite the fact that these donât necessarily match up with the powers she has dreamed of her whole life.
 10.  GLOW â the whole cast Ok so itâs cheating a bit but how can you choose one favourite woman from that whole cast? Everyone is amazing and has their own strengths and character flaws, their own little quirks⌠itâs such good writing, real shame the show was cancelled (another ârona casualty)
and Iâll tag anyone who sees this and wants to do this because I canât think of 10 whole people lol
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I Pretend It Doesnât Bother Me - Owl/Azuma Genkaku - SFW
Title:Â I Pretend It Doesnât Bother Me Author:Â Donnie and Autumn Fandom:Â Deadman Wonderland Setting:Â Infirmary at Deadman Wonderland, Ăbermusic Pairing:Â Owl/Azuma Genkaku Characters:Â Azuma Genkaku, Tamaki Tsunenaga, Owl, Nagi Kengamine, Nagiâs Wife Genre:Â Hurt/Comfort/Romance Rating:Â T Chapters:Â 1/1 Word Count:Â 766 Type of Work:Â One-Shot, Prelude to Reincarnal Status:Â Complete Warnings:Â Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Reincarnation, Removal From Life Support, Tamaki is an ass, Owl and Nagi are separate people, Akari is Nagiâs wife, Genkaku has Anemia, AU - Canon Divergent Disclaimer:Â I donât own anything. Summary:Â Genkaku didnât know which way was up, but he did know he shouldnât have woken up from that. AN:Â So, this is the first little bit, kind of a prelude into a series that Iâm writing with input/editing exclusively done by my friend Maidenofchains! I got her into Deadman Wonderland and we were both wounded so weâre fixing it. This one will be kind of short and sweet, to the point, even if itâs a bit bitter-sweet. I hope it kind of leads into what we want to do with the series when it gets going a bit more.
Deadman Wonderland Fic Masterlist I Pretend It Doesnât Bother Me ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ That damn beeping always seemed to be in the background of whatever he was doing. It was honestly driving him up a wall, but he couldnât deny that he enjoyed what he was doing these days. Perusing through Ăbermusic, something he most definitely could agree with, seemed to be most of what he did lately. Occasionally, a man would slide up behind him, kiss his neck and gruff something soft in his ear. It felt both familiar and foreign in the same breath, but he wasnât really complaining. He felt safe in this manâs arms, like he belonged there. A clowder of cats frequented the shop, happy to come to rub on his legs or accept ear scratches, and life seemed⌠Good. Too good, almost.
A muted conversation, as if he heard it through a wall or a door, happened somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice he recognized but couldnât quite grasp the identity of its user. As he had been about to pick up a particularly vocal kitten, yelling for attention or treats, surely, the world seemed to drop around him and his eyes shot open to see a white ceiling speckled with gray above him. That stupid, long face with a sadistic twist to the smile stood over him, peering at his gray eyes and clapping when he noted Genkaku was awake. âItâs about time, Genkaku.â Tamaki told him, that usual cheery tone to his words, âWeâve been trying to wake you for a few days.â Had he been able to, Genkaku would have raised his hand and smacked him right out of his space. Instead, he was strapped down, and upon watching him struggle, Tamaki chuckled. âSorry, itâs for your own good. You were pretty well in pieces when we scraped you off the floor.â Tutting as he shook his head, he walked two fingers up the veritably numb left arm of the Ubermonk, stopping at his cheek and to give him a gentle caress. âIâm afraid youâre not going to be of much use to me anymore.â Not to mention that there had been a pretty intense jailbreak after The Undertakerâs failure to stop Scar Chain entirely. âSo,â Genkakuâs voice cracked from misuse, his throat dry as he peeked to the bedside table to see if there was water, âWhy am I awake?â There wasnât, but it wasnât like Tamaki would give him a drink without drowning him. âI thought it was best to tell you that youâve been fired. That way you donât question anything in death.â âDea--â âYes, sadly, thatâs all we can afford to do with you. With Wonderland,â My game, âComing to an end, it seems that keeping you on life support is just costing us too much money. So⌠I guess I just wanted to tell youâŚâ He leaned over to the main plug on all of the equipment hooked up to the ex-Undertaker, âGame over.â With that, the plug was pulled and the last thing Genkaku remembered as he convulsed in the uncomfortable hospital bed was the intense shriek of the heart rate monitor. What felt like an eternity later, he was pulled back into the world, sunlight spilling in through the large picture windows of the store he remembered never actually being in. He lay mostly on the floor and somewhat in the arms of a man speaking above him, who hugged him the second his eyes fluttered open. âDonât you ever do that to me, again.â The voice spoke, lips pressed to the shell of his ear, âScared me half to death.â âBetter not get that scared again, then, Owl, or weâll be down the best bounty hunter in Tokyo.â For a minute, none of these details sounded right. Brain swimming as it caught up to what was happening, he simply hugged the other slowly, carefully turning in his arms. âWhat happened?â âI came in during your lunch break.â Owl informed him easily, âAnd then you just⌠Collapsed.â Holding him that much tighter, Owl kissed his sweaty forehead and he sighed, âItâs probably time for you to eat, isnât it? I bet thatâs what happened. When was the last time you ate?â Genkaku had no better explanation, his life swimming into view of his mindâs eye as he nodded. âFood sounds good. We should go to Nagi and Akariâs place.â He offered lamely, to which Owl rose a brow. âYouâre going to walk that far after fainting?â The grin on Genkakuâs lips told him that the answer was a resounding âyesâ. âIâm probably fine. I just need to get food in me. If you have to, you can always carry me.â He purred, nuzzling the elder manâs chest. After a few seconds of debating, Owl sighed and nodded. âLetâs go get you fed, then.â ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: Alrightyo, we have that done finally! Iâve been somewhat procrastinating for a day or so, but Iâm pretty happy with how this came out. I hope you guys are ready for this big AU, this is only the first part. I hope you enjoyed it!
#deadman wonderland fanfic#deadman wonderland fanfiction#deadman wonderland azuma genkaku#deadman wonderland tamaki#deadman wonderland owl
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target.
pairing | derek morgan x reader
word count | 2417
warnings | none yet. (iâm sorry).
part one | part two | part three | part four
criminal minds masterlist
|
Pulling himself up from the bed, he smiled as her hand slid away from his chest and he walked downstairs. Clooney greeted him at the base of the stairs and he gave a quick scratch to the dogâs ears before looking back up at the door.
It was closed.
|
His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked around the house, his hand resting on the holster of his gun. He looked around the hallway, then walked quietly into the kitchen. Nothing had been touched or otherwise disturbed, and a sudden fear grasped at his heart. âBaby?â
âYeah?â She called back from their bedroom.
âNevermind, baby girl,â Derek looked around the rest of the first floor, cautious as ever, then walked slowly back up the stairs. As he stepped back into the bedroom, he made eye contact with y/n, relief suddenly flowing back through his body. âIs there, uh,â he cleared his throat, âis there any wind out there tonight?â
She furrowed her eyebrows, âYou would be the one to know, babe. You were just out there.â
He shook his head, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the weather. No wind, not even the slightest bit. âWhat the hell?â
âWhatâs up?â
âDid you close the door?â He knew the question was ridiculous â she couldnât teleport from the bedroom to the front door, and she didnât walk down there with him.
âWhat? No, I was up here,â she raised a shirt, âfolding clothes?â
âWhen I came in, the door was open,â he looked at her, âwhen I went back down there, the door was closed.â
She laughed a little, a breathy giggle that, given any other situation, wouldâve put him at ease, âDerek, sweetheart, you probably closed the door when you walked in. Everythingâs okay.â
Blinking, he nodded, smiling and laughing at himself a little, âYeah, yeah. Youâre right. Need anymore help?â
She pointed to the closet, âHangers, if you would.â
He walked into the closet, grabbing what he felt was enough, then walked back into the bedroom. As Derek set the hangers down on the bed, he took that time to unbuckle his belt and get comfortable, setting his gun on the bedside table before helping with the laundry. They talked about the other parts of their day, including Kyraâs forever struggling relationship, Hotch and JJâs sons, and then later about what kind of movies they were going to watch.
Just as she handed him the last t-shirt, which was his, she smiled up at him and sighed, âYou know that one is, like, definitely one of my favorites on you.â
âReally, now?â He raised an eyebrow, giving her a smirk.
âReally,â she laughed, âfirst, it was the shirt I met you in. Second, red is a hell of a color on you. Third, itâs super comfortable and so easy to steal.â
âYou remember the shirt you met me in?â He held the cloth in his hands, making a subconscious note to wear it more often.
âUh, yeah,â she said, like it was obvious, âI remember a lot of random things like that. Like, for instance, whenever you used to completely shave all of your facial hair off, simply because you couldnât stop thinking about the one time I said it was scratchy. Also, those pants with the pockets on the thigh, you love those â you wear them twice a week, and I think itâs because you like having your phone on your leg.â
He listened to her speak as he changed into more comfortable clothes, and when she finished, Derek blinked, his head coming back just a bit as a surprised smile filled his face, âWow. Remind me not to pick a fight with you, beautifull. Donât know what typâa dirt you got on me.â
She laughed, walking into the bathroom and kissing his cheek, âYou have no idea, Agent Morgan.â
They both laughed and she walked into the closet after he walked out, changing into her pajamas. She heard Derek let out a whistle before he placed a kiss on her bare shoulder, âWhat did I do to deserve someone like you, baby?â
âI have no idea, man,â she shrugged, âdefinitely wasnât somethinâ good.â
âDamn,â he whispered, âokay. Okay.â
She laughed, grabbing the red shirt off the rack and slipping it over her head. Turning, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, âNow, how about that movie?â
Derek nodded, placing one last, rather slow kiss on her lips before turning so that she could walk in front of him. They went downstairs, her walking into the kitchen, and him walking into the living room. âWhat kinda movie you wanna watch?â
She hummed in thought, âI dunno. You pick.â
He turned, looking at her back as she moved around, âYou sure about that, beautiful?â
âPositive,â she smiled, turning towards him, âjust donât put on 42 again. Weâve watched it at least six times within the last three months. I know the scenes by heart, now.â
He put his hands up, âOkay, okay, no 42. How âbout⌠Imitation Game?â
She let out an ooh, âInteresting. Whatâs it about?â
âThis mathematician works on this thing called Enigma, a Nazi code, but heâs completely disgraced âcause heâs gay,â Derek said, nodding and turning. âWhatâcha think?â
âSounds good to me,â she nodded, âpopcorn?â
âYeah,â he set down the remote and shuffled out from between the table and couch, âIâll go get some blankets.â
As he left the area, he heard the door, then the beeps of the microwave as Y/n put their snack in. The smell of popcorn filled the house as Derek grabbed the blankets, taking only a moment to fix everything in the closet before closing it and walking back into the living room. He threw them onto the couch, looking up into the kitchen to see that Y/n wasnât there. He raised his eyebrows and looked around, âBabe?â
There was no response from anywhere in the house, so Derek called again, âY/n?â
When his words were left hanging in the air, Derek rushed into the hallway, checking the bathroom, then the laundry room. The thuds of his feet and the beat of his heart were the only things he could hear, and it was terrifying. She wasnât anywhere.
He ran upstairs, checking each room up there, and coming up empty, before running back down to the kitchen. Just as he got down there, his phone vibrated on the coffee table in front of the couch.
Quickly walking over, he read the number that went across the top of the screen and clenched his jaw, inducing a dull pain in his temple that could only be labeled as angry. Answering, he pulled the phone up to his ear, âWhere is she?â
âAgent Morgan!â He answered, a cheery attitude with his tone, âHow are you, tonight?â
âThis isnât a game, you son of a bitch,â he growled, âwhere is she?â
âIf I told you, that would be no fun,â he said, mocking a sad tone. âYou gotta find her, makes everything more⌠exciting!â
Derek felt fury bubble through his throat, but he couldnât bring himself to say anything. He was so furious, so angry, that he was speechless. And Robert Freeman got off on it.
He let out a laugh, high-pitched and just as sadistic as his personality, âIâll give you a clue, Derek. 454.â
The line went dead and Derek cursed, looking down at his phone as he tried to think of what 454 could possibly mean. Quickly, he dialed Hotch, giving him a quick explanation, and got into his car, driving to the Quantico building right after. There was so much running through his mind, so much he was trying to figure out.
As he pulled into the parking lot and raced into the building, he couldnât stop thinking about what he could have done. Maybe if he had paid closer attention to her, maybe if he hadnât have turned his back on her. He should have been protecting her, but instead, he let his guard down. He thought that he was safe, that everything was going to be okay. Now, here he is.
He was so stupid.
As the elevator dinged and opened, Derek shook away his thoughts with every step he took and walked into the briefing room. Hotchner, Reid, and Garcia were already there. Prentiss, Rossi, and JJ were on their way. The entire team, whether present or not, was more than worried for y/nâs safety â they all saw her as family, and to know that she was in danger, it was terrifying for them.
So, as soon as they all sat down, Derek briefed them the same way he briefed Hotch. At the end of his explanation, they sat in silence. How had he done that? How had Freeman gotten in the house, entirely undetected, and slip away within a matter of minutes? How had the dog not barked?
âThe door,â Reid said, âyou said it was open? And you went downstairs, and it was closed. That was how he got in. Obvious, yes, but if that was how he got in, then thatâs more than likely how he got out. Statistically speaking, serial kidnappers or killers are eighty-four times more likely to use their point of entry as their point of exit. Was the door unlocked whenever you went downstairs and checked it?â
Derek stared down at the floor, thinking about what he saw. âYes,â he said lowly. âI didnât lock it. I didnât think to. I was just thinking about getting back up to y/n.â
Hotch nodded, âIf it were anyone else, Morgan, they wouldâve thought the same thing. This is not your fault.â
Derek looked up, âWhy is it so hard for me to believe that, Hotch? Why is it so hard for me to believe that my carelessness didnât get my fiancĂŠe abducted from my own house, with me in it?â
They all looked around the room, Derek rubbing his head and trying to think. It was so hard to think of anything but Freeman hurting her, so hard to think of anything but her needing his help when he wasnât there.
âGarcia, see if y/nâs phone can be tracked, if thereâs anything about the whereabouts of Freeman within the last week. Morgan, do the numbers 454 mean anything to you, at all?â Hotch turned to him, his eyes expectant.
Morgan couldnât think, rubbing his eyebrows and trying to clear his mind, like he had been since he got in the truck and drove here. âNo,â he said lowly, âno. It doesnât mean anything to me.â
Reid watched Garcia type on the keyboard, pulling up various windows and GPS tracking services. âHer phone is pinging at their house, and there arenât any signs of Freeman anywhere. At least, not under that name.â
âWait, Morgan,â Reid said, eyes moving to Derekâs as he came upon a realization, âwhatâs your house number?â
â448?â Derek couldnât see why that had any significance â it was just a house number.Â
âAnd the street?â
âPrinceton,â within moments, Derek was starting to put the dots together, eyes widening as he looked up at Spencer.
âDo a search for 454 Princeton,â Reid said, a knowing tone starting to coat his voice, âDerek and Y/nâs address is 448, and if Iâm correct, 454 is another address on the same street.â
Garcia went silent, eyes darting around the screen, âYes, yes it is. 454 Princeton, recently bought by the bank, previously owned by a Sarah Reynolds. Oh,â Garcia breathed, âshe died about four months ago, they found her body in the house. After that, they took it off the market, and ever since, itâs been abandoned.â
âPerfect place for our unsub to sit and wait for a moment to strike,â Hotch said, looking at the rest of the team, âletâs go.â
Morgan stood up, JJ and Prentiss following shortly behind him. Within minutes, he was out of the building and in the SUV, starting the engine and peeling out of the parking lot. His foot floored the pedal, his focus solely on the road ahead. JJ and Emily sat back against the seat, the entire car in tense silence.Â
Then his phone rang.
The three members of the team all looked down at the phone on the console Derek looking up at the road before grabbing it and answering the call. âWhat?â
âHave you cracked my code?â The happiness put a lilt in his tone that was unmistakable, and it made Derek sick to his stomach.
Derek chose to not answer, to not give in to the manâs sick pleasure. He glanced over to Prentiss, then to JJ through the rear-view mirror before the Freeman started to talk again.
âIâll take your silence as a yes,â he let out a breath, âbut, either way, it wonât be worth it, Derek. You wonât like what you see.â
The line went dead again, Derek punching the steering wheel in frustration. He let out a huff, feeling a knot form in his throat. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, to choke Freeman out, but all he could do was find a faster way to get to that damned house before Freeman hurt Y/n.
âMorgan,â JJ said softly, doing her best to try and calm him down â when all three of them knew that it wouldnât work that easy, not when y/n was involved, âwhat did he say?â
âThe son of a bitch is toyinâ with me,â he said, jerking the wheel to the right as they pulled onto Princeton. âJust said I wouldnât like what I saw, and the line went dead. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?â
The two women in the SUV had nothing to say, no answers to his question. You couldnât really do anything with what Freeman had said. 454 was the only lead they had, and even then, there was no chance that it would come through â especially with Freemanâs words of it wonât be worth it.
They pulled into the driveway of 454 Princeton, and Morgan was the first out of his car, weapon drawn and moving fast. He busted through the door, looking through the empty house. It was kind of like his, laid out in the same way. But the colors were drained, and the floors were caked in layers of dust.Â
Derek walked through the first floor, flashlight illuminating the dark rooms and corridors. Nothing was there, no evidence of anyone having been in the house at all. He went up the stairs, eyes darting across the floor, then up to the walls. He froze in his tracks as he looked across the hallway, to the master bedroom door.
Blood.
#derek morgan x reader#target#derek morgan fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#derek morgan#derek morgan gif#derek morgan imagine#criminal minds gif#my gif#ash's writings#*cmfic
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A Good Man Goes To War - Doctor Who blog
(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you havenât seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Itâs been a long time since Iâve seen A Good Man Goes To War. I remember at the time thinking it was dumb, but I had forgotten just how dumb it actually was until now. Iâve seen bad Doctor Who before. Iâve seen stupid Doctor Who before. But A Good Man Goes To War reaches new levels of bollocks I didnât even think was possible to reach. Itâs really quite astounding.
So Amy is trapped on Demonâs Run with Eye Patch Lady about to steal her child. And already weâve hit our first problem. Iâve mentioned in the past how rubbish Moffat is at writing female characters, and this episode is where its most obvious. Eye Patch Lady is taking her baby away and all Amy does in response is throw sassy putdowns at people. Now if someone were to take away my child, Iâd be in fucking hysterics. Iâd be shouting and screaming and trying to put up a fight. But as Iâve said in the past, Amy isnât a character. Sheâs a plot device. And Moffat writes her as such. She is pretty much nothing but a walking womb.
Meanwhile the Doctor is travelling around time and space and calling in markers in order to save Amy. And here is our second problem. Does this sound like the Doctor to you? Expecting favours from people as a repayment for helping them out in the past? Again, I find myself asking, has Steven Moffat ever actually watched Doctor Who before? The Doctor helps people because itâs the right thing to do. He doesnât do it with the cynical expectation that theyâll return the favour at some point down the line. Itâs just wildly out of character for him.
I suppose Iâd be a little more comfortable with it if we actually got to know the Paternoster Gang. Find out how they met the Doctor and why they feel they owe him a favour, but we donât. For some strange reason people really seem to like the Paternoster Gang, but for the life of me I canât see why. Theyâre complete non-entities. Thereâs nothing remotely interesting about them. Strax is basically just the shit comic relief, diminishing any possible threat the Sontarans could have in future stories with every unfunny one liner, and we learn precisely fuck all about Madame Vastra or Jenny other than theyâre gay (on a side note, why do they keep casting Neve McIntosh to play Silurians? Donât get me wrong. Sheâs a good actor, but the Silurians arenât like the Sontarans. Theyâre not clones).
At this point it seems appropriate to talk about LGBT representation. Specifically how rubbish Moffat is at doing it. Donât get me wrong, Iâm grateful that Moffat is willing to put gay characters into his stories, but the way he does it is a tad dodgy to say the least. See, when youâre writing a gay character, there needs to be a lot more to them than just being gay. Russell T Davies understood that perfectly. There were a number of queer characters during his tenure as showrunner, most notably Captain Jack Harkness, and they were all written fairly well for the most part. What I especially appreciated was how their sexuality was never the primary focus. Rather it was just another aspect to their character. Look at Jack Harkness. Heâs openly pansexual, but they never make a big deal out of it. Itâs just casually mentioned and treated as any other character trait. Plus thereâs a lot more to Jack than just being pan. Heâs an outgoing adventurer. He seeks redemption for his conman days. He puts on a cheery facade to hide the dark traumas he went through during his long, immortal life. This is good LGBT representation because what it does is it normalises his sexuality. The show treats him as any other character. Thereâs nothing special or different about him. Heâs no different from a heterosexual person. He just has different sexual preferences, and thatâs fine. Thereâs nothing wrong or strange about that, and so the show doesnât treat it as such. I think thatâs a really good message to send to kids.
Then we come to the Moffat era. Madame Vastra and Jenny are gay. Thatâs their sole defining character traits. Thatâs not representation. Thatâs tokenism. Whereas the queer characters of the RTD era felt like real people, the ones in the Moffat era feel like cardboard cutouts with the word âgayâ written on their foreheads. And it just gets worse when those two Cleric marines show up:
âWe're the Thin Fat Gay Married Anglican Marines. Why would we need names as well?â
Ugh! Okay, let me tell you precisely why I hate this line so much. Itâs incredibly important, particularly in a kids show, to represent and normalise the LGBT community. My issue is this. If being gay is perfectly normal (which of course it is)... why is Moffat drawing so much attention to it? That would be like me making a big fuss about the colour of the sky. The only reason you would do that is if thereâs something unusual about it, which is precisely the opposite thing you should be conveying. Itâs heavily implied that the Thin Fat Gay Couple are the only ones who are gay, and thatâs treated as a novelty. Theyâre such a novelty in fact that they donât even have names. The reason I hate this so much is because theyâre not characters in their own right. Rather theyâre the equivalent of a carnival sideshow attraction with Moffat as the ringmaster inviting spectators to pay tuppence to poke the freaks in the cages. Rather than putting in the effort to write gay characters that are actually well developed and complex, heâs just using these shallow caricatures to boast about how seemingly progressive he is. Heâs more bothered about winning brownie points and massaging his own ego rather than providing compelling representation for minority figures.Â
He treats his female characters the same way. He boasts about how strong Amy and River Song are, but theyâre really not. Yes theyâre seemingly independent at first glance, but they very frequently fall into the same, tired old sexist tropes weâve seen dozens of times before and we never actually learn anything significant about them outside of their lives with the Doctor. Look at this very episode. Amy loses her baby, but she never reacts in a believable or empathetic way. She just resorts to her sassy putdowns and pointing guns at people because thatâs the only way Moffat knows how to write women. In fact Amy isnât even that independent. In a rather telling scene, the Doctor asks Roryâs permission to hug Amy as though sheâs Roryâs property as opposed to the strong, independent woman she apparently is. Moffat keeps insisting heâs a feminist and yet he doesnât see anything wrong with a woman not being able to hug another man without her husbandâs permission first.
This is the biggest reason why I hate Moffat as a writer so much. It goes beyond the plot hole riddled stories, the convoluted series arcs and the bad characterisation. Moffat is a man more concerned with looking progressive rather than actually being progressive.
So anyway, the Doctor and Rory (who is dressed in his Roman gear for some stupid reason) manage to save Amy without a single drop of blood being spilt (you know, if you donât count the Clerics that got killed by the Headless Monks during the Doctorâs deception or the millions of Cybermen that the Doctor kills just to make a point. Brief side note, why would the Cybermen know or care where Amy is? Okay their Legion monitors everything in that particular quadrant, but somehow I doubt that extends to pregnant women. Plus itâs highly unlikely the Cybermen would want to divulge any information after youâve just blown them up).
Actually itâs a shame that the Headless Monks were wasted on this stupid series arc because I actually thought they were a pretty cool idea. The theology is well thought out and it could have potentially served as a damning criticism of organised religion (thinking from the heart as opposed to the head. I like it). Instead we get treated to more bollocks. So the Monks, Clerics, Silence and Eye Patch Lady have all teamed up to kill the Doctor because apparently heâs a very bad man. Why do they think that?
I donât know! Iâve got no fucking idea! I mean Iâm not going to pretend that the Doctor is a saint, but if you want us to believe heâs a dangerous warrior, youâre going to have to show us some actual evidence. And thatâs the problem. There isnât any. Yes the Doctor has killed, but itâs always been for the greater good. To help others who couldnât defend themselves. He may not be perfect, but heâs a good man at heart. Unless you give me a compelling reason to believe otherwise, Iâm just going to snort and roll my eyes. Obviously Moffat isnât giving us the full story until much later, but all it does is negatively impact this one. Basically, in this episode, the only reason weâre given as to why Eye Patch Lady thinks the Doctor is evil is âtrust me. He just is.â Not good enough.
Also, if you want to kill the Doctor, WHY NOT JUST KILL HIM?! Heâs standing right there! Donât let him finish his monologue! Just shoot the fucker! (Also raise your hand if you saw the Flesh baby plot twist coming. If you didnât, youâre lying).
And it just gets worse when River shows up at the end to lecture the Doctor about how heâs too violent.
Now Iâll repeat that.
River Song, the gun toting archaeologist who massacred a bunch of Silence in her last appearance and clearly enjoyed every minute of it, is chastising the Doctor for being too violent. Fuck off!
And then the moment none of us have been waiting for. Who is River Song? Sheâs Amyâs daughter.
Um... I mean... OOOOOOH! Well I did NOT see THAT coming! And hereâs me thinking she was Rassilonâs second cousin! Silly me!
Yeah, not only was this head thuddingly obvious what with the aquatic surnames and everything, but also Moffat gave the game away right at the beginning. Melody Pond. get it? Give me fucking strength.
Whatâs even weirder is that the focus is all out of whack. The reveal is directed more at the Doctor than Amy and Rory (you know, her parents). But why would the Doctor care? And more to the point, why should we care? Okay, River Song is Amy and Roryâs daughter. Thatâs some interesting information, but thatâs hardly mid-season finale material. What we really care about is who River is in relation to the Doctor. And I suspect thatâs what the Doctor is more concerned with too. And while I think of it, how is the Doctor learning about Riverâs true parentage constitute as âhis darkest day?â He doesnât seem to take the news badly or anything. In fact the opposite.
Itâs all so mind-bogglingly stupid. A Good Man Goes To War represents the point where Moffat officially starts to disappear up his own arsehole, weaving a convoluted web of bullshit whilst forgetting all the ingredients that make a good story. The answers weâre provided for some of the series arc mysteries are painfully obvious, unsatisfactory and just plain daft, none of the characters act like actual people or behave in a believable way, and crucially I donât give a shit about anything thatâs happening onscreen because at no point does Moffat ever give me a reason to care. Better get used to this folks because these issues are going to become the staple of the Moffat era going forward.
#a good man goes to war#steven moffat#doctor who#eleventh doctor#matt smith#amy pond#karen gillan#rory williams#arthur darvill#river song#alex kingston#bbc#review#spoilers
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