#this reminds me I had an anon a while ago tell me the Bill wasn’t supposed to be naked Stellan did it as a joke

[billxharry]

Once the cast was all set, Johnson made some changes to the script to make sure it served each actor. Spending time around the cast and getting to know them gave her a better idea of how far they would go in their performances. For instance, she wrote a scene in which Bill Anderson — one of Donna's former beaus, played by Stellan Skarsgård — is in a towel and flaunts his bare butt.

"I thought, 'He won't mind getting naked.' And I felt quite confident that if I put that in for Bill, Stellan would be up for it," Johnson said, adding, "Spending time with them very much informed what I was writing." x

Okaaaaaay, but with that logic, Harry/Colin got involved in that scene how? 🤔 😉

[dreamties]

Slashers x S/O in a LDR

A/n- Oh, anon! Same hat! Same hat! I’ve considered making something like this a few times, I was so happy to finally make them!! :D

I’m currently working on stuff for Randy Meeks, Kurt Kunkle, and Lester Sinclair- but if there’s still a character you wanted but don’t see here? Feel free to let me know, and I’d be glad to whip something up for them, as well!

Characters: Billy/Stu and Norman Bates

T/W: mostly fluff with a side of abandonment and mommy issues. and some swearing? (is damn a swear word? I used it a lot)

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

Word  Count: 992

Y’all met in high school- the three of you practically inseparable. But then college happens- and you would’ve loved to stay with Billy and Stu, but the sort of situation arises where you can’t possibly turn away the opportunity. It would be such a mistake, especially for the line of work you’d like to be in. 

And now you may be thinking, Stu’s family is rich rich, right? Couldn’t they just,, buy they’re way in, so you didn’t have to part? Well...I guess they could? These boys aren’t afraid to take what they want, no matter what that entails- but I feel like there might be a lost sense of pride buying their way in. 

...plus...they may or may have not tried...and the school definitely did not accept that shit.

So with that, the three of you end up at different colleges- well, Billy and Stu are at the same place but...you’re so far away 🥺🥺

You’re still in California- but you’re far enough away that they can’t do one to two day trips to see you. It still hurts so much to be apart from them though- especially since both of these boys are so, hmm how to put it...they’re very affectionate and needy (while that last bit may be more so Stu, Billy still fits the Bill on that one).

You only visit each other on holidays and during the summer- and you always stay much longer for the summer.

When Stu sees you again, the first thing he does is wrap you in the biggest, almost suffocating hug- Billy trailing close behind him, laughing at his antics. He basically holds on to you for the entire ride from the airport back to the house (depending on who’s visiting who- but you’ll often come back to Woodsboro, and stay with Stu). 

They think about you all the time when you’re gone. It’s kind of nuts. They’ve got so many other things going on in their lives- they’re still participating in Ghostface murders, they’ve got college and Real jobs ((Stu doesn’t even need a job, but he likes staying close with Billy and having something to do !! He doesn’t like staying by himself too much :(  )) and even with all that? You still end up worming your way into their brains. Collective brainrot over you lmao /j

You call each other everyday- or every other day if schedules are tight. The good thing is...is y’all are both in Cali !! There are no stupid time zones, y’all don’t gotta worry about that >:( 

They want to make sure they know everything that’s been going on with you- even if it’s some boring class, it’s totally worth it just to hear you talk.

There’s lot of them telling you all the things they want to do to/with you when they finally see you. It’s all about the heavy yearning folks. The ache that you feel when you realize you can’t do that right now. And not for a long time. 

You just want to stay with your boys, cuddled on the couch, watching B-rated slasher films. You want to look them in their pretty, perfect eyes, and let your fears and worries melt away, while you tell them how much you love and missed them. And to finally feel your boys’ hairs through your fingers again.

And the crashing, sudden realization, after they drop you off at the airport- and you have your drawn out, tearful goodbyes...the kind you see in movies- that you won’t see them again. Not like that, at least. And not for months. It was back to counting down the days again. Being thankful for every little moment you had with them- and every call, and every weird text message they sent. Allowing every soft, intimate moment away from each other to guide you back home.

Billy’s not great at dealing with his emotions...especially in positive ways. The relationship can definitely be super hard on him, even if he doesn’t really show it. It brings up a lot of his abandonment issues with his mom :( Having you go off to college is losing part of his support system, and it physically pains him to not see you in Woodsboro. You’re part of his little found family with him and Stu. And when you’re not there? Sometimes it feels like he’s lost you. that you’re not coming back from school, and you’re going to have left for good. Which is not true at all, and he knows that...but god damn is it hard to not listen to that dark, nagging voice sometimes. 

And for Stu? He doesn’t mind as much. He doesn’t share this same trauma involved with it that Billy seems to have. But it still hits him in all the wrong places. He’s more likely to show his true emotions than Billy. And that’s actually really good !! He’s able to properly communicate with you whats going, where he’s at with things. 

It can be kind of exhausting trying to translate Billy’s feelings to you- for all parties involved. Or Billy, who’s learned a certain way to communicate that works, and then having to find a new way that makes sense over text and phone calls. Since you can’t see all his body language, and the way he tenses up when he’s filled with Big Emotions. 

TLDR; dealing w/ emotions is tough, doing it via limited technology is harder :(

and y’all know it’s tough on each other- but like hell you’re not gonna make it work with each other. Y’all are meant to be, even if the relationship is in a bit of an odd spot right now. 

You always have to remind the boys that this is only temporary. just until your 4+ years of schooling is over, and then you can move back to Woodsboro. Then you’ll have all the time in the world to plan your lives together.

Norman Bates 

Word Count: 784 

You meet Norman at his motel. You’re just passing through, on your way to a gathering with some of your family. He’s a little odd, but such a gentleman, that you make a note to stay at his motel on the way back home, as well.

Norman’s completely enamored by you, and you say “I’ll see you soon” that first time, he can nearly feel his heart skip a beat. He’s a smiling, happy little mess about it. You wanted to come back here, for him? He can’t wait for it.

Part of him was worried you wouldn’t come back, and that part of him was very scared- but you were so genuine, he could tell you’d be back. For real.

He still finds himself surprised, when a few days later you’re back there. When you leave, you give him your home phone number and address. Letting him know if he was ever going through your town, and he needed a place to stay that...well...he was always welcome at yours.

Y’all aren’t even dating at this point, but you definitely felt this spark- this connection- when you met. It was unlike anything the two of you had ever felt before. So...your relationship starts off slow. It builds overtime. 

It had been a few weeks since you met- with Norman’s work at the motel and whatever work you do, it was hard to find time between it all- but you’re finally able to start weekly phone calls with each other. Catching up with each other, asking him about the motel, and his hobbies...he’s so thrilled when you talk to him about the taxidermy! Not many folks are very er...into it. So it’s a nice surprise for him that the person he likes...cares about what he likes.

Further into y’all’s relationship, the weekly calls will turn into twice a week and sometimes and slowly, slowly melt into sending letters with each other as much as you can. Every few weeks or so, you’d get the sweet pleasure of seeing Norman’s simple letter in your mailbox. Smiling as you spot your name in his nice, neat handwriting.

Often you’ll include clippings from articles or magazines that reminded you of him, and little photos of yourself, your family (and pets if you have any) and critters, and bugs and shots of nature. He loves the ones you send of birds and trees the most- but he keeps every single one you send him. He has a whole drawer full of your letters.

A while into exchanging letters, the two of you begin signing off every one with an “I love you”. It’s not until you see each other in person again that you fully realize your feelings. I mean, they were always there- but it took the pair of you an impossibly long to speak it out loud- to make it official. 

It had been just under a year since you met- and you’re finally back at the Bates motel. There’s no special reason, you’re not seeing family, per se. But you’re starting something you should have started ages ago. Every part of your being is teeming with nervous excitement- what if you had read the letters all wrong? Every I love you, meant as friends?

You're quick to let him know of your arrival- he’s surprised, he didn’t expect you and you wrap each other in a large hug. You don’t let go for sometime, and when you finally do, you still clutch on to his smooth, slender hands. You lean into him, “I’ve missed you.” He looks at you with soft, shiny eyes, lost in your own. You press a subtle kiss to his lips, and pull away soon after. You feel your face get hot, and you can only imagine that Norman’s face would be bright pink.

He doesn’t say anything at first, simply squeezing your hands. “I did, too,” he smiles. It’s so delicate, and you can’t help but hold his face in your hands- studying every little detail. Of course, he sent you photos of himself from time to time- but it wasn’t the same.

The week that you spend with him is magical. When you leave you already find yourself missing the time you had with him- but you suppose that feeling and the wait to see Norman- was worth it. Plus, you still had the phone calls and all the letters with I Love You in them. Besides, with time, you’d be back at his motel- or he’d finally take you up on your offer, and you could finally spend a sunny morning, lazing around cuddled with each other in your bed, in your town.

[oldsmobile-hotdogs]

Questions for crossover jatp ghosts crossover fic: I hope Julian and the sunset curve boys talk about the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Yugoslav wars that happened when they were alive + Bill Cilnton. I wonder what pat and the band would talk about considering that they would of been kids when pat died? Do you think Julie would think of Les Mis and Hamilton cos Thomas and Kitty are from about the same time period as those musicals? I hope Julie calls Fanny Mary poppins.

Anon, or "Mimi", or "Lulu", or, heck, maybe even "Carl Birtles": Update: Not Carl Birtles. Carl Birtles sent me an ask and is cool, actually.

Stop. Right now. I'd say stop while you're ahead, but you are so far away from ahead at this point it's laughable.

For everyone confused, this is that "commenter from AO3" I joked about making a 2017-esque story time video about.

A couple days ago I uploaded the first chapter of a Julie and the Phantoms/BBC Ghosts crossover fic.

You know what? I’m gonna promo it here bc it’s my callout post and I can shill if I want to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30681704/chapters/76661471

It was generally very well received and I've had a blast interacting with readers.

Except for this.

Honestly, there's so much to get into, so I’m putting it under a cut:

This was their first correspondence (email notif bc I deleted the comment, the deletion to be explained later):

(Funnily enough, the links very much do not work on AO3, making the comment only more jarring)

I gave you *so much* benefit of the doubt when I saw this comment, and assumed that maybe you're an ESL user, just very enthusiastic to share ideas, and I pretty much said so in my reply, but know that at that point I'd already had friends- who fucking know about this, don't you dare think you're getting me alone- tell me that you were being very demanding.

Below was my reply (another email notif):

I'm gonna be honest, I think I responded really well to what I was given, and now that I'd replied, I was pretty certain the situation was dealt with. You, evidently, didn't agree, as shown by your reply to my reply:

A word of advice: when replying to someone, at least pretend like you read what they wrote.

At this point I'm left wondering two things:

What do they expect from me, if a general reply is not it?

How much more shit do they have waiting to tell me to put in my- reminder, JATP/BBC Ghosts crossover, rated T, comedic- fic?

In order to avoid finding out either, I freeze the thread on AO3. I'm liveblogging all of this on Discord.

It's then that I notice that the username on AO3 isn't clickable, so even if I wanted to block or report them I couldn't. I assume, therefore, that they've deactivated, and since them seeing their comments gone and getting angry was the only thing stopping me deleting the comments, I delete the comments.

It's also at this point I see "Mimi" never left kudos. I guess I don't deserve praise until I mention "Bill Cilnton".

There's relative calm for a short amount of time, until I get another comment:

This one is much kinder than the others and doesn't mention any specific, weird, historical events, so the extent to which I think this is "Mimi" is debatable, but bestie I'm weirded out enough that anything that even uses the enter bar unnecessarily and misses out conjunctive words like "because" and "and" is going to activate fight or flight. Update: Carl Birtles is not Mimi or Lulu. Carl was just being genuinely kind and I misinterpreted it and that's on me.

However, "Carl"'s case is not helped by the fact I can't click his account either, that AO3 offers me the ability to report it as spam, and that guess who replies to "Carl"'s comment: Update: Carl, having done nothing wrong as he has, is therefore also a victim in the situation that is being replied to by Lulu. It would seem Lulu is trying to correct??? some of Carl's commentary.

You must think I didn't get a 7 on my English Literature GCSE because you seem to underestimate my ability to compare two texts.

So clearly this is "Mimi", who has also just replied to "Carl". "Lulu" is also deactivated, and I've fallen off the end of my tether, let alone reached it, at this point so I mark it as spam. "Carl" gets to stay bc he said the idea for the crossover was good. Update: Carl also gets to continue to stay because I have it on good faith that he's a stand-up dude.

So at this point you've readily admitted through your inability to shake up your writing style to using at least one sockpuppet to convince me to talk about the "Yugoslav wars".

If "Carl Birtles" is the real(-est) of them, and "Mimi" and "Lulu" are the sockpuppets, by the way, I have questions and ideas about what you do on your free evenings and I want them neither confirmed nor answered. Update: This is slanderous and I want to apologise wholeheartedly to Carl for making assumptions about him and judging his character. Once again, he is not Mimi or Lulu. He's just a normal, cool guy.

And now you come to me, on the day of my daughter's wedding on a different platform, leave me an anon ask in the exact same format as you're so fond of, and expect any different ??

Well, yeah, then I guess I'll give you special treatment this time.

Here's exactly why I will never include anything you have told me to include:

Julian and the Phantoms discussing the Berlin Wall would be highly inappropriate for the largely fluffy, cracky tone of my fanfiction, especially given how recently the event occurred, how many Eastern Germans still experience prejudice to this day because they were born within the old borders of the DDR, and because of how nuanced this, essentially proxy war, was and how ill-informed a huge amount of the world is on the actual factors in play during this time and the Cold War in general.

Julian and the Phantoms will not discuss Yugoslavia dissolving, nor the fallout and conflict that resulted, because it was genocidal. There is nowhere I can fit Julian, pantsted, casually asking Luke “hey do you remember when the Herzegovinas were killed en masse by the Serbs?” Not gonna happen.

They won’t discuss Bill Clinton because all of them know who the current world leaders are: they don’t have amnesia, they’re ghosts. The fic is also rated T, so it would be inappropriate to make any explicit reference to “sexual relations”. None of them play saxophone.

Julie wouldn’t think of Les Mis or Hamilton because Thomas is Regency, not French Revolution, and Kitty is Georgian, not Colonial.

Julie won’t be calling Fanny Mary Poppins because she is perpetually stuck in a white dress, doesn’t wear a hat, doesn’t own an umbrella or a purse and was not the nanny or housekeeper of Button House.

The ghosts will not discuss the marvels of modern transportation or how long it would’ve taken to cross the Atlantic on dinghy because the ghosts have seen Friends. The house irl is on a flight path. They know airplanes exist. Alison and Mike pulled up in a car.

I will probably have the phantoms and Willie talk to Pat and Julian about being from the ‘80s and ‘90s. That I will actually probably do.

The Captain will not mention FD Roosevelt because, again, they all know who the current world leaders are, and I doubt he expects a ‘90s pop punk band to have any insider knowledge on the man.

It was interesting to think of the phantoms’ grandparents having been alive during WW2. I wasn’t lying. But there is nearly nothing I can do with this information.

But above all: both sets of ghosts have already adapted to modern life. Because the shows are shorter, and meant to actually be able to fit jokes in them.

If you want to see any of this, write your own damn fic. I don’t own the concept of a JATP/BBC Ghosts crossover.

What you will not do, “consonant-vowel-consonant-vowel”-nim, is hound me on multiple accounts and then change platform to hound me again. I’m absolutely not having it.

I have never received an interaction quite like this before, and I cannot help but wonder if this is because this is my first work in the Ghosts/HH/Them There/Six Idiots/Yonderland/Bill fandom: that this is where you primarily camp out.

So it’s at this point I ask the Them There/Six Idiots fandom if they have/if they know anyone who has had a run-in with this person or thinks they may have, or if anyone perhaps even knows who this is? Maybe I’m just one of many. Maybe this is a necessary fandom evil I was unaware of.

This experience has left me royally freaked out, as one might imagine, especially since my anxiety in general has been acting up due to it being exam season. I want to thank everyone who’s read my rambles on Discord and on here and even listened to them irl and offered support from the bottom of my heart.

I’ve enabled comment moderation on the fic. I will continue to write it, and I will put exactly what I, and only what I, want in it.

Believe it or not, I wanted to do literally anything else today.

Anon: Fucking Leave Me Alone.

Update: Just reiterating: Carl is not Mimi or Lulu. Carl is a cool dude and I want to sincerely apologise for having brought him into this mess, passing judgment on his character, and making him feel like he should stop practicing English online.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Jumping off from what that Anon with ADHD and anxiety said.

Thinking positive is hard, very hard, easier said then done. Sometimes you have to force yourself to do it, quite literally.

I meant to sign up for a corse to get certified in medical billing(sending bills to medical insurers, these bills are sent as codes that have corresponding meanings like Y93.D1= hand injury from crochet or knitting) , accidentally signed up for medical coding (taking the doctor’s notes and assessment and turning them into codes.)

And I was panicking for a good while because several people in my life were admittedly, a bit pushy about it, but also it just seemed harder. There were no refunds, and the course was self paced.

All these felt like points against me, because they had been in the past.

I let myself feel my feelings (THIS IS IMPORTANT!), took a panic nap, woke up, panicked a little bit more for good measure. Then did some controlled breathing and felt comfortable and stable, still a little panicky, but it wasn’t as consuming as before.

Thought to myself, “the money’s gone, that sucks, so what else could go wrong?” I think of three possibilities. Best case, worst case, middle ground.

Best case: this turns out to be super easy and I get through it no problem.

Worst case: it’s super hard and I flounder, failing all practice and eventually the practical exam.

Middle ground: I get a C.

Letting yourself feel things is important, I think one of the biggest problems with the “just be positive” advice is that there’s never any room to feel bad about what happened, like you’re expected to ignore the bad possibilities and feelings, but that’s not possible, let alone healthy.

So give yourself time to feel your feelings, if that means putting off making a decision for a day, or taking a nap, or thirst watching a 2 1/2 hour movie by a director you’re not particularly fond of because the hot 47yr(happy B day Pedro!) does stupid tiktok dances and wonders around in pajamas asking everyone if they want to have sex? Then so be it.

Thank you for this. There is never a grey area for me. I'm either freaking out or so calm about something bad that it's scary. But in either case, I tend to keep it to myself. I don't want to burden others just to unburden myself. My friends always tell me it's okay but my brain is always telling me I'm bothering them.

Sometimes I'm afraid to feel my feelings because it seems to never stop. I hang onto things. I'm still hurt and still cry over things that happened months ago. I don't know how to let things go. I feel embarrassed and ashamed really.

I try to forget but something always seems to crop up and remind me and my ADHD brain is throwing 500 other things at me to think about and it all gets a little overwhelming.

I have a long way to go. Of course with ADHD I want everything to be fixed like...right now. I don't wanna have to go through therapy and medication and the like. I just wanna wake up one day and be better. I know that's impossible. I'm teaching myself that it's okay to not be okay and to need help. We all need help sometimes.

Thanks for sharing your own personal experience with me and letting me know that feeling things is okay 💜

[amanda-glassen]

The Wonder Years: Part 8

While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be. Parts 1-7 can be found under the the tag #alex and liv: the wonder years

Thank you @ghostwritingcabenson​ @imaginaryoperagloves​ @cabensons​ @oliviaswifey​ and my lovely anon for all of your really sweet comments and tags.

Cover courtesy of my tumblr wifey @ghostwritingcabenson​

Seeing the brightly colored frozen yogurt shop put Olivia at ease because it was the setting of some of her best childhood memories and now she was going to experience it with her girlfriend.

Olivia did as Jamie had done for her mom and opened the car door for Alex. That small act of chivalry earned a big smile and a ‘thank you’ from Alex, which made Olivia feel as if she had butterflies in her stomach. 

“Babe, why don’t you take Alex inside?” Jamie suggested. “I want to stay out here and talk to Ollie.” Uh oh.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Serena gestured for Alex to follow her. “We can get first pick of the toppings.”

“Yeah!” Alex said excitedly. “I want chocolate chips and chocolate brownie bites.”

“Is everything okay?” Olivia asked, worried that Jamie had a suspicion that she and Alex were hiding something.

“Everything is fine,” Jamie responded. “This is a good talk, I promise.” She pulled a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it to Olivia.

“Cool! Twenty bucks!” Olivia folded the money and put it in her pocket. “Thanks, Jamie. I was saving up to buy a－”

“It’s not for you, kid,” Jamie interrupted. “It’s for you to treat Alex.”

Olivia tried to hide her disappointment. “But my mom always pays for frozen yogurt.”

Jamie made a failed attempt at stifling her laughter. “Think about it, kid. What’ll score you more points, you paying for her frozen yogurt or your mom paying?”

“Me, I guess,” Olivia groaned. “There goes my new bat.”

Jamie shook her head and wrapped her arm around Olivia to guide her toward the entrance. “I have so much to teach you, Ollie.”

Alex and Serena were already choosing their toppings when Olivia and Jamie entered the frozen yogurt shop. Olivia noticed that her mom had gotten their usual and she was eager to get the same－chocolate flavored frozen yogurt with Oreo crumbles, gummy worms and Fruity Pebbles－a tradition in the Benson household that they had named Dirt and Worms. 

“Mom, I’ll pay for me and Alex,” Olivia told her once all four cups of frozen yogurt were on the counter and ready to be weighed.

Serena took her debit card out of a pink and white polka dot Kate Spade wallet. “It’s okay, baby, I’ll get it. Save your money for that bat you’ve been wanting.” Olivia noticed her mom and Jamie exchange glances and she hoped Jamie could read her mind because she no longer had the slightest idea what to do. “On second thought, it’s probably not cool for your mom to pay for you on your first date.”

“I got this,” Olivia tried to say as smoothly as she could while she pulled out her twenty dollar bill and placed it on the counter.

“And I’m getting yours,” Jamie told Serena. “You already paid for dinner. We’re supposed to be in an equal partnership here.” After Alex and Olivia’s cups of frozen yogurt were paid for, Jamie inserted her card to pay for hers and Serena’s. 

“I paid for us to eat at Hot Dog On A Stick, not some expensive restaurant,” Serena reminded her. “That’s all we had time for after Barnes & Noble and GameStop.”

Jamie picked up their frozen yogurt cups and carried them over to the table. Olivia figured she should do the same for Alex until she saw Alex already eating brownie bites from her frozen yogurt. Better not take that away from her. “I learned an important lesson today, Ser. If I value my life, I will never attempt to take one of your fries. Is it the same with frozen yogurt?”

Serena scrunched her nose. “Yours is vanilla with strawberries, blueberries, and bananas. No wonder you want to steal some of mine.”

Within seconds of sitting down at the table, Olivia’s phone started to vibrate. It was a text from Elliot confirming he'd be at their secret meeting, but Olivia didn't want to risk her mom seeing a message from her dad come through so she decided to put her phone in her pocket. 

"What's this big science project about?" Serena asked them. "I've never seen an assignment have that effect on Olivia."

Olivia was in the middle of chewing a gummy worm, so she was grateful when her quick thinking girlfriend decided to answer. "It's the end of the year project which is worth 25% of our grade. Mrs. Rodriguez is supposed to give us more details on Monday, but my brother had her class three years ago and he said she lets her students pick the topic. Sometimes that's harder because the possibilities are endless. She also doesn't like us to pick partners because someone could get their feelings hurt if they aren't picked, so she puts us in alphabetical order. If she does that, it's fine because I'll get to work with Olivia. Alphabetically there's no one in between us. We should start brainstorming, Olivia."

The last thing Olivia wanted was to think about a science project that wasn't due for another month, but her girlfriend’s enthusiasm was contagious and the project was the only thing keeping her mom from asking questions about what was actually on her mind.

Olivia felt her phone vibrate again, except this time it wasn’t a text from Elliot or any of her other friends. It was another message from her dad that read, “Hey Sport. Wanna get some pizza tomorrow?”

“Who’s that, baby?” her mom asked her. 

“Just Elliot,” Olivia said nonchalantly. “He’s asking if I’m still coming over tomorrow to watch the game. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Olivia was grateful that the bathroom was a single stall so nobody could follow her in there. She pulled out her phone from her back pocket immediately after locking the door behind her and started to respond to her dad. “Yeah can we go to Another One Bites the Crust? That’s my favorite. I can meet you there at 1.”

She waited two minutes before another response came through. “Daddy/daughter day tomorrow at 1. They have those rotating basketball hoops outside. Bring your A-game.”

When she returned to their table, a feeling of guilt hit her hard and suddenly. She occasionally hid things from her mom like when she didn’t tell her she had a girlfriend, but this was the first time she had actually lied to her. It was the worst she had ever felt in her entire life and she knew that lie was only the first of many that she’d tell her mom that weekend.

Serena asked Alex about her siblings and Olivia heard Alex talk about her older brother who was fifteen and nice to her and her younger brother who was almost nine and kind of annoying. Olivia loved to hear Alex talk about her home life and her friends and her favorite movies and TV shows, but that night her mind was on her dad and how much fun the two of them were going to have the next day eating pizza and playing basketball.

“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” Alex asked Serena.

With Serena distracted by Alex’s question, Jamie took it upon herself to attempt to steal a gummy worm, but her attempt was soon thwarted by Serena gently smacking her hand. “Hey! Nope. Hands off my worms. If you wanted gummy worms, you should have added some to your frozen yogurt.”

Olivia handed Jamie a couple of her own gummy worms. “Here, Jamie. You can have some of mine. I have a whole bunch.”

Jamie took the worms and held them up to show Serena. “Unlike you, your kid actually shares.”

“What can I say?” Serena smirked. “My kid is better than me. That means I’ve succeeded as a mom.” She held Jamie’s hand on top of the table before turning to Alex. “Sorry, Alex, before we were so rudely interrupted by my gummy worm thief, I was going to tell you that my brother Kyle is two years younger than me and my sister Lexie is one year younger than me. The three of us are really close, like best friends. Kyle and I live in the same building, but Lexie moved back to California after college. She lives in Santa Monica now.”

“Lexie Benson is your sister?” Alex asked, wide eyed and completely in disbelief. “Lexie Benson, the YouTuber? I’ve seen every single one of the videos on her YouTube channel! She does these really funny videos where viewers can request what era or theme they want and she does these in-character spoofs about－” Alex started to blush. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. She’s your sister so you know all about her channel and her videos. Wait, I think I’ve even seen you in some of them!”

“Yeah, she’ll force me every time I go out to Santa Monica,” Serena smiled at her. “And don’t apologize for getting excited over something. I’ll tell Lexie about you next time I talk to her.”

“Babe, your phone,” Jamie told her as she looked down at Serena’s phone and noticed an incoming video call. 

“It’s my mom,” Serena groaned. “If I don’t answer, she’s going to keep calling.” She swiped across the screen to answer. “Hi, Mom. I’m out right now with Olivia, do you mind if I－”

“Where’s my grandbaby?” Mrs. Benson interrupted her. “I want to talk to her.”

Serena handed the phone to Olivia. “Hi, Grandma!” Olivia said excitedly. “Wanna see my girlfriend Alex? She’s having frozen yogurt with me. Me and her went on our first date tonight.”

“Hi, Mrs. Benson,” Alex said after scooting closer to Olivia. “Pleased to meet you.”

“You’re adorable!” Mrs. Benson responded. “And so well mannered. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alex. So, tell me, how is my grandbaby on a date? Does she hold open the door and pull out your chair?”

“She’s a perfect gentleman and she’s so cute and sweet and she got me a rose and frozen yogurt tonight,” Alex beamed. “I like Olivia so much.”

Olivia felt butterflies in her stomach and she wanted nothing more than to kiss Alex if they were alone. “Doesn’t Alex look like a princess?” Olivia asked.

“She looks like Princess Grace,” Mrs. Benson told her granddaughter. “She could be a classic Hollywood starlet. And you look so handsome and grown up, my darling grandbaby.”

“Jamie cut my hair,” Olivia said excitedly.

“Jamie,” Mrs. Benson said in a teasing tone of voice, hoping Serena would hear. “Tall, dark, and handsome, herself, the one woman I would consider switching teams for.”

“Mom,” Serena groaned and Olivia couldn’t help but laugh when her mom put her head down on the table in embarrassment.

Olivia handed the phone over to Jamie. “Hi, Melanie. You’re looking beautiful as always. Where are you? I can see the sunset behind you. Are you on vacation?”

“Oh, no, I’m just on our rooftop,” Mrs. Benson said nonchalantly. “Didn’t my daughter tell you about the beach house in Malibu?”

Serena took the phone from Jamie. “I have to go now, Mom. Alex has to get home soon.”

“Not so fast,” Mrs. Benson told her. “Since you neglected to tell me when your spring break was, I looked it up on Columbia’s website and saw that it’s the week after next. I’m booking your flight to LAX. You can bring Jamie so I can finally meet her in person and my grandbaby can bring her little girlfriend and before you object and say you had something planned for my grandbaby, I will save you the effort and say nothing you can plan in that gloomy state you insist on living in is as much fun as the kids will have at the beach and at Disneyland.”

“Disneyland!” Alex said excitedly. “I’ll ask my mom if I can go as soon as I get home.”

Olivia’s dream of riding the teacups together and buying Alex a pair of sparkly Minnie Mouse ears could finally come true. “Please, Mom. Please can we go? I’ll do anything.”

“Don’t be the bad guy, Serena,” Mrs. Benson told her daughter. “I can hear how happy the kids are.”

“It’s 9:45 over here, Mom,” Serena said in a frustrated tone of voice. “I have to hang up now so we can take Alex home. Bye, Mom. I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Serena set her phone on the table and then turned to face Jamie. “One thing I hate about smartphones is that you can’t angrily close them when you wanna hang up on someone. Nothing gave me more satisfaction as a teenager than hanging up on my mom with my pink bedazzled Motorola Razr phone whenever she nagged me about something like she is right now. She completely undermines my parenting every chance she gets. What if I had something planned for Ollie?”

“At least you knew how to use that phone because, apparently, you can’t use this one,” they heard Mrs. Benson say. “I’m still on the line, Serena. I’m booking your flight and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Olivia looked across the table at her flustered mom and at Jamie who was trying to contain her laughter. The short interaction with her grandma had made all of her negative feelings go away. Tomorrow, she’d spend the afternoon with her dad and, as long as they could convince Mr. and Mrs. Cabot, she’d soon be at Disneyland with the love of her twelve-year-old life.

[singingaboutwishingx]

Hello! For the prompt list: Sam/Josh with Poorly Timed Confession/Grief Fic?

38. grief fic + 60. poorly timed confession

tw: death. starts under the cut.

sam wasn’t at leo’s funeral. he was invited, of course, but he wasn’t there. it’s still unclear as to why, but everyone was so wrapped up in their own grief that they barely noticed.

well, everyone except for josh.

josh looks fine on the outside (well, as fine as a person can be when their surrogate father-slash-vice president-elect dies right before he can become the vice president-elect), but for whatever physical signs of grief and stress his body is showing, it’s infinitely worse inside his head. and so, after he goes home from the white house that night, josh calls sam. and he pours his heart out. 

“listen, sam, i can’t live like this anymore. i... i sat at leo’s funeral this morning, and i realized that i’ve let too many years go by without telling you this. the year we were together was the happiest i’ve ever been, and for a long time, i was content to just be your friend, to be near you, but four years ago, when you left, it nearly killed me. and i thought i could do it, i thought i could move on, but i couldn’t. sam, i’m in love with you. i think i’ve loved you since the day we met, and, god, i would do anything if you would just give me another chance.” josh is completely ruined, on the verge of tears while pacing around his house. 

it takes sam a very long time to respond. josh waits for what feels like an hour.

“josh,” sam says in that choked voice of his that damn near kills josh, “i got engaged three days ago.”

and for once in his life, josh is completely, utterly still. he’s frozen for several moments with the phone to his ear, not moving, not blinking, not breathing. when he can finally move his body, he just hangs up the phone.

josh never goes to california to find sam. he grabs will bailey and asks him be dcos (subconsciously, will still reminds him of sam a little, which absolutely has nothing to do with it, and anyway, despite all the russell drama, josh knows that will can do well in this role). will accepts, and while he’s not afraid to speak up to josh, he doesn’t think it’s his place to tell josh to take a break. so josh doesn’t take a break, and a year into the santos administration, he has an eternal stress headache, too-high blood pressure, and ulcers. he doesn’t have donna this time, either. something in josh just snapped after he hung up on sam, and the heartbreak mixed with the unbelievable stress of the job is literally killing him. eventually, matt forces josh to take a week off because, seriously, between will and lou, we’ve got it covered.

josh spends most of his time in hawaii in his hotel room, essentially having an anxiety attack because there’s no one here to force him to actually relax. he calls once a day and is essentially told to shut the hell up and go sit on the beach. when josh comes back, he is not better, but they barely have time to notice because they’re on the brink of getting matt’s education bill introduced to the house.

all this time, sam has been living in malibu with his now-wife. and he loves her, she’s great, but not a goddamn day goes by where he doesn’t wonder what would have happened if he wasn’t engaged when josh called. he sees josh on the news sometimes, steadily looking worse and worse.

in the end, it’s donna who really notices. it always is. josh has already tempted fate twice, though. he was fine after being shot, and he was fine after putting his hand through a window, but third time’s the charm.

josh, in what sam thinks is the cruelest thing the universe could have possibly bestowed on them, has a heart attack. and unlike for his predecessor, one is enough.

sam travels to dc for the funeral alone. he sits between donna and josh’s mom in the front row, staring at the box that holds josh’s body. the women on either side of him let their tears flow freely, but sam is still barely able to process what’s happening.

in his hotel room that night, the emotion hits him ferociously. he wants to scream, shout, smash the lamp and the television and jump out the fucking window, but all he does is send himself into quiet hysterics, sobbing noiselessly, knuckles white from gripping a pillow to his chest as he sits against the headboard of the bed, feeling like he’s dying, too.

when he goes back to california, he’s quiet. that was to be expected, of course. his best friend just died. but the quiet lasts too long. sam used to be chatty, a nervous talker, but now he only speaks when he absolutely has to do so. he’s... different. his coworkers notice. his wife notices. she gently suggests that he see a therapist. 

he just says “okay.”

the therapist has a lot of trouble getting anything out of him. week after week, he answers in single words, in short sentences.

sam doesn’t write anymore, either. he used to pen short stories, unfinished novels, poems, whatever, but now, he just doesn’t. he can’t. it’s like the sight of josh’s body drained him of his words. legal briefs, which used to be easy, are now a struggle. he pulls them off, he supposes. he’s still good at his job, but he finds no joy in it.

sam knows his wife locks herself in the bathroom and cries and he knows it’s his fault and he feels really bad because he can’t do anything about it because he thinks that there simply is no feeling better because he’s pretty goddamn sure he killed josh lyman.

and when he tells his therapist all this, she’s shocked (of course, she covers it well, as she’s been trained to do) because this is the first time he’s strung together more than six or seven words in one answer.

“i think it was my fault,” sam says. “he called me and told me he was in love with me, and i told him i was engaged, and he just hung up. i didn’t call him back. and when i would see him on the news, he just kept looking worse. i figured i was the last person he wanted to talk to, so i just... didn’t call. and then a month after the last time i see him on television, donna calls me, and he’s dead. and the worst part is that i loved him, too. dammit, i loved him, too.”

he spills everything that session, and a month later, he writes a poem: “requiem for a friend.” one and a half months after that, he starts initiating small talk again. slowly, week by week, he feels the pain in his chest start to ease, and along with it, the guilt.

there are good days and there are bad days and there are worse days, but sam lives through them all. he goes through every single one of them with the same goal: to be there. and he is. goddammit, he is there, he is present, because if josh can’t be, sam sure as hell will be.

and ahead he forges. in grief, in love, in life, ahead he forges.

color palate/vibes: black. too many people dressed in black. too-bright malibu sunshine. an ache in josh’s head, an ache in sam’s chest , and they just won’t go away.

this is partially inspired by that one fic where josh doesn’t take that vacation and works himself to death (that one was josh/donna, though, i think). very sorry, i do not know what it is, but it is on ao3 in case anyone happens to run across this.

also, holy shit. i write a lot of pining, but this is actually the saddest thing I’ve ever written. i’m about 99% sure that this is NOT what you meant, anon, but this is what my brain spit out. my apologies, but as always, if i had to feel things, you all have to feel them, too.

[adenei]

Hi! Could you write about when the Weasleys (all or just the Mr. and Mrs., whichever you prefer) go to the Granger's for dinner and vice versa?

Hi anon, thanks for the ask. Here is Mr. and Mrs. Weasley going to the Granger’s for dinner the summer after the war (I’m thinking August-ish).

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

Dinner Party

“Hermione, dear, stop pacing,” her mother said as she walked back and forth in the kitchen. Her parents had been back for a few weeks now, and they’d invited Ron and his parents over for dinner.

“I’m sorry, Mum, I guess I’m just nervous,” Hermione admitted.

“Oh, come now, Hermione, we’ve met Ron’s parents several times before,” Mr. Granger reminded her.

“I know, but not like, like this,” Hermione said. Before either of her parents could answer, the doorbell rang. Hermione ran for the door, but not before she saw the knowing smirks cross their faces.

Hermione opened the door and was relieved to see Ron there with her parents. She welcomed them inside as her parents came into the foyer. They all exchanged pleasantries as Mrs. Granger led them into the kitchen. Hermione tugged on Ron’s arm to keep him back as they entered the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked her, furrowing his brow.

“I’m nervous! How are you not? This is the first time our parents are actually spending time together!” Hermione said to him in a hurry.

“Hermione, it’s fine! They’ve met before..your parents like me, mine like you, what’s there to worry about?” Ron reassured her.

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it and opened it again, but no words came out. Ron leaned in and kissed her gently. “Everything’s going to be fine. The worst that can happen is they start sharing embarrassing stories.”

“At which point, we vacate the room,” Hermione said as her cheeks flushed.

“Sounds fair to me,” Ron said as he took Hermione’s hand and they walked into the kitchen.

Their parents had already fallen into easy conversation as Arthur wasted no time asking Hugh about the various muggle appliances in the kitchen, and Molly and Jean were discussing recipes. The timer went off, and Hermione made her way over to take the lasagna out of the oven so her parents could continue conversing. She may not be able to cook anything well enough, but she could at least help with this sort of thing. 

“Thank you, dear,” her mother said as she transferred it to the table. They’d decided to have a simple meal, with salad, lasagna and homemade garlic bread. Mrs. Granger had made a chocolate cream pie for dessert. Her parents had explored new hobbies in Australia, and her mum had found a new passion for baking. 

“Jean, this is just delightful!” Molly was saying as they were finishing up dinner. “You’ll share the recipe with me? I’d love to try new meals.”

“Of course, of course! I’m happy to share. Italian cuisine is one of our favorites, isn’t it Hugh?” Jean said to her husband who nodded.

Hermione got up to clear the dishes and get ready for dessert so their parents could continue their conversation. Of course when Hermione put the dishes in the dishwasher, Arthur became fascinated with the appliance, and began asking a multitude of questions.

“And you were the one who was nervous,” Ron muttered to Hermione who chuckled back at him. 

“I guess you’re right,” she said. They worked well together, which did not go unnoticed by their parents.  

They sat back down as Jean got up to put the kettle on for tea, distribute dessert to everyone. As they tucked in, the conversation finally rounded on Ron and Hermione. 

“So, Ron,” Mrs. Weasley said, “when did you and Hermione make things official?”

His ears immediately turned pink and he looked at Hermione. “Er, when we were in Australia,” he said.

“Only then?” Arthur asked. “I thought you two were together well before that.”

“Er, no, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione saved Ron the embarrassment of asking that.

“Well, you two act like you’ve been together for years, so you fooled all of us,” Jean said.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Mum?” Hermione asked. 

“Well, it’s just the way you fall into sync with each other. Neither of you have to ask what the other one needs. It’s really very sweet.”

“And something some couples never quite manage,” Molly added.

“Oh, well, it’s probably just because we’ve been friends for so long,” Hermione tried to divert their observations. “Would anyone like some tea?” she asked as she got up to put the kettle on the stove. 

“Are you looking forward to going back to Hogwarts, Hermione?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Hermione said as she was now pouring tea for everyone. She passed them out to her parents and the Weasley’s first, and then subconsciously prepared hers and Ron’s just the way they liked it. She tried to ignore the looks their parents were sharing. She handed Ron his cup and sat down with her own. “It’ll be strange without Ron and Harry there, but I’ll manage. At least Ginny will be back, too.”

“So, how will that work for you two when you do go back to school?” Mr. Granger looked at Ron sternly. Hermione almost spit out her tea.

“Well, I’ll be starting training with the Aurors, so I reckon I’ll be just as busy at the academy. I’m hoping to be able to visit on Hogsmeade weekends, and Hermione’ll be home for the holidays, too.”

Hermione’s father nodded stiffly, as he contemplated Ron, who’d become a bit defensive at his question. “This isn’t some summer fling, sir. I reckon we’ve been through much worse, and we’ll be able to manage ten months apart.” He’d almost told the table that he loved her and had no intentions of ending things just because of distance, but he wasn’t about to say that in front of their parents.

In all honesty, it was a topic both Ron and Hermione hated. Neither was looking forward to the idea of spending any length of time apart from each other, but they knew it was something they’d have to do. 

Mr. Granger watched him carefully before saying, “And you’re sure this Auror career is the right choice for the both of you?”

“Dad!” Hermione hissed at him as Jean gave him a look. 

“You both have already been through so much. While I think it’s admirable of the field of work he wants to go into, that doesn’t stop me from wanting to make sure that that choice couldn’t potentially break my little girl’s heart,” Mr. Granger defended himself.

“With all due respect, Mr. Granger, I’ve spent a good deal of time fighting dark wizards since I was eleven. I think I can manage a career out of it.” Ron took his napkin out of his lap and placed it on the table. He excused himself from the table and walked out of the kitchen. 

Hermione heard the front door close as she looked at her father. She was torn. She’d just gotten them back. They were a family again, and she didn’t want to upset her parents, but she also didn’t want to let Ron walk away. 

“It’s okay, honey, you can go,” Mrs. Granger said as she sensed her daughter’s inner conflict. Hermione didn’t waste another second. She looked at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley apologetically.

When she’d left the room, Jean rounded on her husband. “Why would you say something like that?” And then to Molly and Arthur, “Please allow me to apologize on my husband’s behalf for being so inconsiderate to your son.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Hugh said. “That was rude of me. I got caught up watching the two of them falling so into sync with each other that I had a protective parent moment. She’s always been my little girl, and sometimes it feels like we’ve lost so much time with her growing up when she went to Hogwarts. And now, it’s hard to accept I’m not the most important man in her life anymore.”

Mr. Weasley’s eyes had softened and fogged over as he nodded softly. “I can only imagine how you feel. I’m sure it won’t be much longer with Ginny, and Molly here had a heck of a time accepting Bill’s engagement two years ago. It’s hard to watch them grow up. But I can assure you our son has a good head on his shoulders. He’ll be vigilant.”

“They truly suit each other so well. I had a feeling there was something more there when he insisted she come along to the Quidditch World Cup before their fourth year,” Molly reflected.

“And Hermione’s letters always spoke of Ron. She included Harry, too, but there were always hints in there that she was feeling something more. At least until their sixth year. Oh, she was miserable over the holidays,” Jean added.

“From what the other children say, that relationship Ron had was a disaster. But maybe it was what he needed,” Molly said as she shook her head.

“Well, some may say it’s a bit too early to tell, but I for one am confident in raising a glass and welcoming you into our family,” Arthur said.

The other three raised their glasses in agreement, as Jean said, “and we welcome you into ours.”

[jalapeno-princess]

In Between the Lines

Librarian Jinyoung X Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Jinyoung is a librarian at your university’s library and you visit the library quite often. The two of you develop crushes on each other but you are both shy to confess to one another. 

A/N: I rushed while writing this so I’m sorry if it sucks but I hope you enjoy it anon!

“Jackson, I don’t care that we’re friends, that isn’t going to stop me from bothering you about returning “To Kill a Mockingbird”. It’s four months overdue man, where is it? I’m tired of having to come up with excuses for you. I don’t understand why you borrowed it in the first place. I bet you haven’t even read it once since you checked it out.” 

The older boy scoffed at his librarian friend while crossing his arms in disbelief. “I did too read it! It’s about killing a mockingbird. Duh. The title practically gives away the entire story. Fine, I’ll be honest. I’ve been meaning to bring it back for the longest time but I misplaced it just a few days ago. I’m sure it’s under the pile of dirty clothes I never end up washing—hey Park Jinyoung! Are you even listening? What are you looking at—oh. God dude, can you make it anymore obvious that you like y/n? Stop staring at her, it’s creepy. Everybody and their mothers know that you have a huge crush on her. I’m sure even she knows. You leave the library open an hour later just so you can continue gawking at her just hurry up and tell her how you feel already—I swear to God Jinyoung—“ he took his hand off of Jackson’s mouth and sent his outspoken friend a death defying glare. 

“Shhhhhh! This is why my manager keeps threatening to ban you from coming here. You’re always so loud. Keep it down would you? To kill a mockingbird has nothing to do with a damn bird so return the damn book by tomorrow or I’m sending you a bill. And can you be any more louder about my feelings for y/n? If she didn’t know before, she probably knows now you loud mouth. This is why nobody tells you anything. Now get out of here.” Jackson scoffed sarcastically and stuck his tongue out before waving to Jinyoung and taking his leave. 

To be quite honest, Jinyoung couldn’t give less of a shit over the missing book. Matter of a fact, he never really understood why he applied to be a librarian at his university’s library. Sure he loved reading, and the library was an extremely quiet place. That was unless one of his friends paid him an unwanted visit. He never had much to do other than to check out books, put back returned books, search through the computer if a student was looking for a specific book and to call people if their books were overdue. It was an easy job and the pay was decent considering he hardly ever did anything but sit there and watch reruns of Friends. 

At one point, he even contemplated on quitting so he could focus on his studies but that all changed the first time his eyes landed on you. He didn’t notice you walk in to the library but his eyes never left your figure once when you first approached him to ask where you could find “The Great Gatsby”. 

Whenever someone would ask Jinyoung where they could find a book, he would just motion them towards the shelf. However, when he found himself getting up and motioning for you to follow him as he made his way down a few rows of books, he knew he was in trouble. You were shy and soft spoken, two traits that caught his attention as soon as you began talking to him. He was quick to pick up on the crack in your voice and the redness that rose on your cheeks and he thought it was the most adorable thing ever. 

As soon as he led you to the literature section, there was something inside of him that didn’t want to leave your presence just yet. “This is actually one of my favorite books. Are you required to read it for a class or are you just reading it to read it?” 

You scrunched your nose while shaking your head and Jinyoung could’ve sworn he’s never seen anything cuter. “I’ve been actually wanting to read it for a while now, but I never had the chance to. Luckily, we have to write a six page essay about it for my English class.” 

He hummed in acknowledgment. “Have you seen the movie? It’s an actual shit show if you ask me. It’s nothing like the book. I don’t think any movie does any justice for the novel it’s based on.” You giggled softly on how irritated he seemed when talking about the movie. He opened his mouth to continue but then he felt a vibration in his pocket. “I’m needed at the front desk. It was nice meeting you—um—“ he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. How could he not have learned your name before talking nonsense to you?

“Y/n. My name is y/n.” He gave you a gentle smile before slowly making his way towards the front. 

“Nice meeting you y/n. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions. You know where to find me! Happy reading!” Once he took his seat back at the counter, he face palmed himself and groaned in frustration. Happy reading? Who says that? He felt like such an awkward loser but he knew it was because he didn’t know how to act around you. 

Park Jinyoung wasn’t one to get involved with girls. He was always so focused on his studies, his job and his pet rabbit that he never had the time for any sort of relationship. Nobody ever caught his eye before. However, he couldn’t get the image of your pretty little face out of his mind. 

From that day on, Jinyoung made it his goal to try and talk to you every time you came in to the library. To his delight, you seemed to frequent the library quite often and you’d always stop by the front desk to say hi to Jinyoung before going to study or find a book to read. Jinyoung would put books away as an excuse to talk with you and whenever he felt like the conversation was flowing well between the two of you, he would completely forget the task at hand and give you his full attention. 

Unfortunately, Jinyoung was a coward and could never build up the guts to tell you how he felt, leaving the two of you in an awkward position. You weren’t necessarily friends, no matter how badly the two of you wanted to be but you weren’t exactly strangers either. In your short talks together, you learned quite a lot about the mysterious and extremely handsome librarian. He was a law major trying to save enough money to open up his own book store. His favorite show was Parks and Recreations, he liked going to the beach when it was storming out and swam in the rain, his favorite color was navy blue and he was allergic to broccoli. 

You enjoyed spending as much time with him as you could but you didn’t understand what it meant. Something about the way he listened to you and looked at you like you were some kind of marvel as you explained your obsession with Keanu Reeves caused you to grow more and more curious about Jinyoung and it made your heart desire things you know you shouldn’t be wanting. 

The more you developed feelings for him, the harder it was going to the library and seeing him knowing that you wanted more than just the simple hellos and small talk in between the bookshelves. It’s been months since your first initial meeting and he’s done nothing to make a move on you, so you felt as if he didn’t see you that way and you accepted it for what it was. 

Right after Jackson left, Jinyoung couldn’t help but think about his words. Was it obvious that he had feelings for you? Were you aware of it? And how did you feel about him? Jinyoung wanted nothing more than to be the one you went running to whenever life got hard. Every time you would bring up how rough your day was going, he wanted to be the one to make it better. He wanted to take you out on cute little dates, stay up talking to you on the phone, hold you in his arms while looking at the sunset, learn more about your likes, dislikes, and he wanted to know how it felt to be loved by someone. By you.

He’s found himself multiple times reading excerpts from books that reminded him of you and the way your smile would light up the room. There were occasions where he would even highlight passages in some of the libraries’ books that reminded him of you and it got to the point where his manager was having him look for the culprit. As he began to come up with ways to ask you out, he didn’t even notice what time it was until you approached the desk. 

“Hey.” His breath hitched at the sight of you. You pulled out your hair from the bun it was in earlier and Jinyoung couldn’t help but stare at you in all your beauty. Whenever you would come in to the library, your hair was always in in either a braid, bun or ponytail. This was the first time he got to see how your hair framed your pretty face and he was on the verge of a breakdown. You felt self conscious under his stare and waved your hand in front of his face to break him out of his reverie and smiled to yourself when you noticed the blush that was now on his cheeks. 

“Hi, sorry. I um—sorry.” You giggled as you gave him the book you were holding. “Ah, Looking for Alaska. A great choice. The movie just came out a few weeks ago.” There he was again, telling you about the book’s movie. Whenever you went to borrow a book, if there was a movie for it, he’d always bring it up and you always wanted for him to lead it in to more. 

“Have you seen it?” He shook his head in disagreement. 

“Nope. I’ve been wanting to though.” With the confidence you didn’t know you were capable of, you spoke up, finally making your move on the handsome boy in front of you. If he didn’t harbor the same feelings for you, then you’d accept it for what it was and just stop going to the library altogether. But you wouldn’t know how the older boy felt if you didn’t ask. The worst thing he could do was say he didn’t feel the same. You could feel your heart rate increase as you began to think about what you would say to him, but the words just fell out before your mind could process them.

“Would you maybe want to watch it together sometime?”

Jinyoung could’ve sworn his heart was about to jump out of his chest at your offer. Did this mean what he could only hope and dream that it meant? “Yes! Ah—I mean I’d love to—sure—God what is going on with me today—“ the gentle kiss that was placed on his cheek made him freeze. 

“I like you, Park Jinyoung. And a little birdie might or might not have told me you like me too.”

The idea of Jackson telling you of his feelings for you made his blood boil, but he wasn’t going to let his now negative feelings for his friend ruin the moment with you that he’s been dreaming of for months. “I uh—that might be true—it is true—why can’t I form actual sentences—I like you a lot y/n. More than I’m willing to admit if I’m being honest and I’m sorry it took so long. But I’d be happy if you’d let me take you out on a date.” 

You beamed up at him while nodding in agreement and before you knew it, he exited the counter and made his way towards you. 

“Oh, and that cute little peck isn’t going to cut it.” 

As you were about to ask him what he meant, his lips were on yours. He brought his hands up to your face and cupped your cheeks while molding your lips together. His lips were chapped and rough against yours, but you loved how it felt as if your body was in flames by the ministration. Every time he would talk with you, you’d find yourself absentmindedly staring at his pretty, pouty lips and wanted nothing more than to experience what they felt like against yours. Now that you’ve had a taste, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough.

“You know y/n, we can skip the date and we can just make out in here all night.” 

You playfully shoved his arm to prevent him from seeing the effect he was having on you. He squeezed your hips while leaving soft, chaste kisses on the juncture of your neck. The feeling of how close your bodies were together as he continued showing love to your body was driving you to the brink of insanity and earned Jinyoung a breathy moan. 

“Shhhh baby, we’re in a library remember? You’re going to have to keep it down. Keep the volume up and I’m just going to have to teach you a lesson.”

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Tidings of Something” (au)

Summary: When Emma gets injured during a routine bail bonds job, it may be the Christmas miracle she never knew she needed, if only because it finally gets her to open her eyes about the man that helps her through everything. Killian would’ve preferred the Christmas without picking Emma up from a hospital, but doesn’t much mind the way it all turns out.

Rating: Barely even T, I think.

A/N: So maybe it would’ve given me away had I said “Hi @captainmorningstar! I’m your secret santa and I’m never on time!” and she would’ve been like “Oh! My santa is lifeinahole because she never posts anything when she’s supposed to!” and then at least it would’ve been anticlimactic when I forgot to hit anon. Despite all that, I had a blast gathering the info for this and writing it. Thanks to @cssecretsanta2k19 for putting this together - for putting us together. I had such a fun time getting to know my darling giftee and writing this tailored gift for her. I hope you enjoy it, my dear!

-x-

It’s the second week of December, and already Emma has heard the song playing over the speakers at least twenty times. It doesn’t help that there are only thirteen Christmas songs total and the radio stations just cycle through each iteration on an endless loop. Despite all of this, though, Emma is humming along to the soft strains of an instrumental “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” as the pain meds finally start to do their job.

“Swan?”

The sound of his voice is sweeter than any song ever could be, and with a struggle, Emma opens her eyes to the bright fluorescents overhead, blinking until Killian’s face comes into focus above her.

“Hi there,” he says when he can see she’s tuned in.

“Hi,” she responds, her voice dreamy and her smile as big and as dopey as she imagines it is. She’s caught up in the blue of his eyes, the perfect lines of his face, the worry lines crinkling his forehead as he visually checks her over.

She’s fine, of course. Not the first time she sprained her wrist, but the rib subluxation is something she could’ve lived without.

The stress on Killian’s face fades slightly as he looks at her, relief taking its place.

“You had me worried, love.”

“Nothing to worry about,” she wheezes out as she struggles to sit up. “I’m fine.” A deep inhale of breath says otherwise as her left side reminds her of that whole rib thing and she winces, doing her best to keep her breathing even so she doesn’t hurt herself again.

He hums his response, settling onto the bed next to her as he asks her to explain what happened. It’s a brief story, thankfully: bail runner caught on, shoved her as hard as he could, and took off. It wasn’t until she’d slapped the cuffs onto him that she realized she was in pain, once the adrenaline started to wear off. Somehow, she made it to the hospital on her own and it wasn’t until they said she wouldn’t be able to drive home that she realized she was going to need help. Enter Killian: faithful friend, dockworker with an understanding boss, love of her life that she’s never told.

He smells like salt today, and there’s a hint of fish from working so close to the cannery, but she doesn’t mind, not when she carefully rests her head on his shoulder and melts into his embrace grabbing onto his prosthetic hand in a gesture of comfort. She’s not sure how much longer she can stay awake, so she’s thankful when the doctor finally comes in with her final advice for recovery.

Emma’s going to be off work for a while, which is going to suck. She’s set for now, but a month is a long time to go without a paycheck. The only bright side is that she works her ass off all year so she can take it easy around Christmas, so she was looking to spend less time chasing after people anyway. 

She’s been here for a couple days staking out this particular mark, so they have to get her packed and checked out of her hotel. They make arrangements with said hotel to leave her car there until Killian and David can come down to get it, and then Killian is bundling her into the passenger side of his vehicle, easing them onto the highway and turning down the volume when Emma inevitably caves and falls asleep after the first five miles.

She doesn’t wake again until they’re pulling up in front of her apartment building. Then it’s a delicate operation getting her out of the truck and into her apartment. The sprain in her wrist isn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Maybe a little more pressure from the fall and she’d be dealing with a fracture instead, but it certainly doesn’t tickle right now. It’s still easy enough to get changed on her own and settled into the bed, accepting the glass of water that Killian hands her after he knocks to make sure she’s decent.

“Try to rest. I’m going to grab us some dinner and come back in a bit, okay?”

Emma’s too tired to even speak, so she nods, nesting down into her bed and letting her body finally rest.

-x-

It’s only after he knows she’s fast asleep that Killian leaves, carefully locking the apartment door behind him when he goes. He heads to the sheriff’s station first, as he knows David needs to hear in person that his adopted “little” sister got the shite kicked out of her at work today.

Getting the call from Emma was terrifying; he probably would’ve panicked if he’d gotten the call about anyone, but with Emma it’s… different. He’s been in love with her for so long now that he can’t even recall when or how it happened. But he’s the person she calls when she’s in trouble, and a devoted best friend. He can’t mess any of that up with feelings that she doesn’t reciprocate.

“Killian? What are you doing out of work so early? I thought you guys were shutting down the spare docks for the season.”

“We were. But I got called away on an emergency so I left this morning before lunch.

“What kind of emergency?” David asks, his voice and face going deadly serious. There are only so many people in this town Killian knows, and David knows which one he would drop everything for without hesitation.

“Don’t worry, it’s all okay,” Killian says first. “Emma called from Portland because she took a bit of a spill. Nothing is broken, but she’s a little bruised.”

Immediately, Killian can see David popping into “overprotective brother” mode and understands that this is exactly why Killian was called to tend to Emma instead of him.

“How bruised?”

“It’s just a sprained wrist and she almost dislocated a rib. Nothing but some standard pain killers involved. She’s already back home and resting. You and I will have to drive down to Portland this weekend and retrieve her vehicle.”

The other man relaxes, even if just slightly, at hearing that nothing is broken and that she’s already home. Killian’s been around long enough that he knows exactly how this all goes.

“I was hoping, however, to enlist your lovely wife to help keep an eye on her. She’s going to have to refrain from work for a little bit but we both know Emma loves to push herself even when she should be resting.”

“Of course. She’s going to do what she wants, in the end, but maybe we can at least keep her entertained enough that she won’t feel the need to go out looking for trouble.”

He’s always thankful for David. Not only is he a friend to Killian, but he’s on similar wavelengths when it comes to how Emma works. They know she’s a woman of her own mind, and that she is not to be directed, so they work to find healthy alternatives.

For all the years that Emma has been in his life, she’s been chasing bail skips. He’s seen it hurt her but he’s also seen how much of a thrill she gets from a victory. It probably feels like vengeance against Neal every time she catches a scumbag that should be in jail, and so he’s happy to support her ventures. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare the daylights out of him when she gets injured, though.

One thing is for sure, he will always stand by her decisions, will stand beside her in every way he can, but he’s still allowed to wish she’d take the position David offered her as a deputy for their sleepy little town. He understands why she can’t, but it doesn’t stop him from hoping sometimes.

-x-

When Emma wakes up, it’s to a much darker apartment, but she can smell food. That’s what draws her slowly from her bedroom, taking her time and being extremely cautious with her left side.

She loves her job. She wishes it wouldn’t lead to moments like this, but this is the exception and definitely not the rule. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about joining the simple life sometimes.

A while ago, David offered her a position at the station as a deputy. She said “no” without even really thinking about it, but over the last couple months she’s been thinking more and more about what it would mean to take it.

She wouldn’t likely get beaten up anymore, that’s for sure. Storybrooke is more about minor traffic violations, and a yearly dispute, usually between two of the miners that happen to be brothers, and only after they’ve been drinking after work. They deal with petty squabbles and neighborly disagreements, but they’re so simple and easy to solve, and at the end of the day, everyone still loves each other in this town.

Having a job at the station would mean seeing her brother more often, and staying in town. It would mean a dedicated health care plan and like, a 401k. It would pay the bills a little more predictably than her current adventures. And while that’s all really boring stuff at this point, it would feel good not to worry about those things as much as she does right now.

And so she considers telling Killian she’s been thinking about it again. Been thinking about a lot of things, really, but she can’t tell him – not when he looks so devastatingly handsome standing in her kitchen plating up whatever’s been heating in her oven while she’s been sleeping. Because there’s always the chance he doesn’t feel the same way, and taking a job at the station means she can’t just leave if it all goes to shit.

“You’re awake!”

Her attention is brought back to the man in her apartment and Emma shakes off the rest of her thoughts. This right here, having time with her friend, is what matters more than anything.

They settle in and eat dinner, watching a movie when they’re done and everything has been cleaned up (by Killian, of course, because he wouldn’t let her lift a finger). She falls asleep on his shoulder less than halfway through, succumbing to the chaos of the day earlier than she meant to.

When she wakes again, it’s morning, and she’s in her bed.

There’s a note on the fridge telling her to take it easy, and she scoffs at it as she goes to brew coffee. It’s not like she had anything planned for the day, work or otherwise.

She’s not sure if he made the plans for her or if Elsa decided on her own, but it’s just after noon when there’s a knock on her door and the blonde is standing there with a deck of cards and a tray of to-go hot chocolates.

“Did he put you up to this?”

“Nope. Told me what happened but I decided to do this all on my own. Besides, you probably didn’t have plans today anyway.”

Her words are an echo of her previous thoughts, so she shrugs a little and opens the door wide to let Elsa in.

“I was surprised you didn’t call David,” Elsa says after they’re settled in around her coffee table, lounging on cushions and blankets, looking like they’ve nested for the remainder of the winter.

“He would’ve flipped out. And Snow would’ve mothered me to death. Killian panicked, but he at least takes care of me the way I need him to.” She’s staring at the cards in her hand, trying to decide if it’s worth it to keep looking for an ace or to start discarding them from her hand.

Elsa hums at that, and Emma gives her a look. “What’s that noise for?”

“Oh, you know.”

When her friend doesn’t continue, Emma stares harder.

“Oh, come on, Emma. What was it you said to me once about knowing me before you knew me?”

Emma takes her time responding, shuffling her cards and finally discarding the five of diamonds instead of the ace. “I said I knew you because I knew myself. We were both loners, looking out for ourselves, and trying not to hurt anyone else along the way.”

“Exactly. That’s the kind of bond we had when we were still a pinch hostile towards each other when I moved here, and now we’re friends. So imagine how much more I know about you now, and how much you’re avoiding the elephant in the room.”

She stares at Elsa, trying to gauge exactly what she’s talking about. She knows it’s in reference to Killian, but Emma works so hard to keep that secret buried deep. There’s no way Elsa could know how she feels, is there?

“When are you going to tell him how you feel?” Elsa asks, eliminating all questions about what thinly veiled conversation they’re having.

“Never.”

“Emma.”

“He can’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t need this baggage hanging around him when I could run at any moment.” She blurts it out, surprising even herself with the intensity of the words.

Elsa puts her cards down, completely abandoning the game at hand and reaches over for Emma.

“Has it ever occurred to you that if you ran, he would follow you?”

“I’m not sure he would, actually.”

“That man would follow you to the ends of the earth, or time, if he had to. But if you need proof, please look at the guy that left work in the middle of the day to drive to Portland to pick you up and take care of you because he knows the right way to take care of you. Your words.”

Her little speech is topped off with a raise of one of her perfect eyebrows.

“I’m not saying you need to confess your feelings right now,” she adds, grabbing the cards from Emma’s hand and gathering them all to re-deal. “But think about it. Also you should’ve discarded the ace. I’m doing you a favor.”

Emma shakes her head as she motions for Elsa to continue, taking a moment to sip from her hot chocolate and consider her options. She sets herself a deadline of January 1. Maybe by then she can make up her mind what to do or not do.

-x-

On Saturday, early in the morning, Killian pulls up outside of Emma’s apartment. David is dropping off Snow to spend time with her while they go down to Portland to get Emma’s Bug. 

But before they can get to that part of the plan, they have to make it there first.

Killian and David actually have a fantastic relationship. They bonded over having pains in the ass for brothers, and their friendship with Emma (even if David’s goes a little deeper than his own – being siblings by legal decree does mean a little more than “best friend” after all). But currently, you’d think they were strangers with the way the silence sits heavy between them in David’s SUV.

He tries to think of things to talk about, but nothing comes to mind but how to tell his very good friend that he’s in love with Emma. That’s not a conversation for a car trip where he literally cannot escape if the other man tries to aim his side of the vehicle at a tree.

Finally, he settles on something more mundane, asking what David got Snow for Christmas, and if he had any good ideas for what to get Emma this year.

That, of course, derails the conversation pretty quickly.

“You could get her your honesty about how you feel about her,” David suggests, still driving in the same calm and collected manner he has been the whole time.

“Pardon?’

“You heard me. I think she’s the only person in Storybrooke that doesn’t know how you feel.”

“Aye, well, all the more reason to not tell her. I don’t need to scare her off.”

“Why would that scare her off?” David asks, glancing over at Killian to see the tired look on his face.

“I know Emma. I know how she thinks. And she’s sworn off love for so long that I feel if I admitted my attractions that she would split as soon as she could,” he says in response.

“You never know until you try,” comes the answer to his statement, but Killian isn’t convinced.

“Does she need a new blanket for the living room, do you think?”

“You two are more alike than you think,” is David’s final comment before letting Killian successfully change the subject without returning to it again.

When they get to Portland, Killian stops in at the front desk to let him know he’s back to gather Emma’s car, making sure everything is still squared away with that before he goes out and gives David a thumbs up. The other man still waits until he sees that the Bug is successfully running, and then they both head back on the road to get home.

Killian has to pull into a gas station not long after they start driving, though, after a glance at the gauges tells him that Emma never bothered to fill up after she got here. He checks over the contents of the car quickly, making sure nothing was disturbed as he finds that the passenger door was also unlocked this whole time.

One item in particular draws him up short, however, when he reads the heading and discovers it to be an apartment application for a building not far from the hotel he just left.

When was she planning on telling anyone she was interested in moving down here? By the looks of it, she got two-thirds through the application before it was left on her passenger seat.

His heart sinks looking it over, where she’s even filled out potential move-in dates for right after the holidays are over. He can’t imagine Emma living outside of Storybrooke. She was there when he moved to the US and she’s been there for him ever since, and he never imagined she would leave. Apparently, though, she had other plans that she wasn’t sharing.

Maybe he should invest in some packing materials for Christmas in order to help her, if that’s what she wishes to do.

With every mile he drives closer to home, the more his heart aches. Should he tell her he found the application? Should he try to convince her to stay? No – he’s always claimed he would support her in anything and everything she ever did, and this change in location will be no different.

Instead, what Killian decides to do by the time he gets back, is bury the knowledge of what he’s found. If Emma wants to move, she will tell him - tell all of them - in her own time. 

By the time he makes it back to Storybrooke, he’s worked his own mind into a frenzy. All he wants to do is drop off the keys and get back home. But when he gets to Emma’s door, he can smell the food first, and hear the laughter of their friends beyond the wood. Emma must sense his arrival because she whips open the door right as he’s about to knock.

“We thought you got lost!” she says, smiling wide and yanking on his sleeve to pull him inside. “We made dinner. Come join us.”

Despite his internal turmoil, Killian obliges, kicking off his shoes by the door and hanging his coat where it always hangs. He heads to the kitchen table when he’s settled, doing his best to put on a happy mask and enjoy the time with his loved ones. 

He sets himself into the easy rhythm of traditions, passing the food in the order they always choose, and stacking the plates in a particular way when everyone is done. 

As a group, they initiate cleanup. Emma and Killian fall to their respective roles of washing and drying the plates, while David packs up the food and stores the leftovers away. He and Snow leave shortly after with their own container of food, leaving Emma and Killian by themselves as they finish the dishes. 

A million times, he tells himself to stay quiet, but that doesn’t stop him from blurting it out after five minutes. “So, the Portland Arms is a nice building.”

“It… you saw the application.”

“It was on the seat of your vehicle, so yes, I saw the application,” he says with much more attitude than he meant to. 

“It’s just…”

“Just what, love? Just a couple hours away? Just a change of scenery and nothing else will change?”

“I was going to say ‘just an application’ but you’re right with both of those, too.”

Killian sighs, deflating a bit as he places the last dry dinner plate on the stack. “I’m sorry, Swan, it’s just the thought of you leaving is a lot to take in. But if it’s truly what you want, then just let me know what you need me to do and I’ll be happy to help.”

“Hold your horses,” she tells him, patting him on the arm when her hands are dry. “I’m not going anywhere yet. Like I said, it’s just an application. I don’t know if I want to move in the middle of winter so it may be a while.”

That her obstacle is the middle of winter rather than anything else tells him a lot about her feelings on the matter, so he lets it drop. 

-x-

It feels like there’s something brewing that Emma can’t control. She’s not sure what exactly, but ever since they went down to get her car and Killian found that stupid application that she left on her seat, there’s been some underlying tension that they can’t seem to shake. He’s been moody, but also pretending he isn’t. She’s not sure why she didn’t tell him the truth, but it’s her own damn business, anyway! 

On Christmas Eve, he comes over as he always does in order to decorate her tree. Normally, Emma is fully immersed in the process of picking out, cutting down, and hauling in of her tree. This year, she had to skip the second and third parts of that, only having a hand in picking out the one she wanted while David and Killian were the ones to bring it in. It’s been in the stand for a couple days now just waiting for the trimming part, but they always wait until the day before to do that together. 

While David and Snow are busy decorating theirs and getting their little family home ready for the holiday, Killian comes to her apartment. He doesn’t put up a tree of his own because he spends so much of his time at Emma’s place. 

He doesn’t do a lot of holiday decorating for that same reason, and Emma gets why he might be upset with the idea of her moving to Portland because all of his traditions that have been formed over the years will be moving with her. 

Clearly, she didn’t consider how hard he might take it if she actually moved away. 

But as she carefully sits there unwrapping and adding ornaments to the tree, she can’t imagine doing this without him. They have assigned parts in this play: they pick the tree together, and Killian puts on the lights while she fetches the skirt and the ornaments, then he’s in charge of the garland and Emma tops the whole thing with the star. 

This year they had to make some concessions to make sure Emma doesn’t hurt herself, but she’s still taking care of the ornaments while Killian struggles to get the beaded garland untangled. He’s muttering to himself, saying how he meant to wrap them around something last year when they packed it all up, but it’s all a diatribe to himself and she just listens and tries her best not to laugh. 

He’s helpless. Adorable and helpless. And she doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she’s already moving towards him - the small swan ornament she’d been holding is abandoned back in the box and she’s grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards her.

There’s a look of shock on his face as she tugs him down, and then she’s not thinking about how there was no warning leading up to this but how right it feels to be kissing him. Killian’s surprise wears off quickly and then he’s kissing her back, wrapping his arms around her waist. She can feel the beads of the garland digging into her side where he clearly didn’t drop the strand but she doesn’t care, especially when her hand buries into his hair and she’s not sure she ever wants to surface from this again. 

He sighs out her name as they break apart at one point, and that’s when reality comes crashing down on her. What is she doing? And what is he doing kissing her back like that?

“I’m - I’m sorry. I’ll be right back,” Emma stutters out, making a dash for the bathroom. She takes her time, pressing a cool washcloth to her face and running the faucet for far too long before she exits again. 

When she comes back, the living room is empty. The garland is neatly strung around the tree, but the coat rack reveals no extras and it’s clear that he’s made a swift exit while she tried to collect herself. 

There’s a note by the tree, hastily scrawled but still more beautiful than most handwriting she’s ever seen. In it, Killian explains that he’s had a rather long day and he’s headed home to get some sleep, but that he’ll see her in the morning when they all exchange gifts. With a sigh, she turns back to her ornaments, adding the last few she had left before.

It takes her that long to realize that Killian has already added the star to the top of the tree, probably foreseeing that she can’t stretch like that on her own right now. She doesn’t even plug it in to see it all completed, instead flipping off the rest of the lights and making sure the door is locked before going to bed.

She knows why she kissed Killian - she wanted to. She wanted… wants him. She just doesn’t know why he kissed her back like a man on a mission and then bolted while she tried to make heads and tails of the situation. 

Her dreams are fraught with weird scenarios, one of which has her tangled in strands of lights and garland, trapped in a Christmas prison. She calls out for help repeatedly, but never gets an answer. Then she calls out Killian’s name and she can immediately hear a response for her to hold on, that he’s on his way.

In the morning, she wakes with that dream fresh in her mind and her heart still aches a little at the message. In all situations, great and small, she knows without a doubt that Killian will be there to help her. So what’s holding her back from telling him how she feels? 

The whole day feels different. Killian is usually the first one at her door in the morning but he’s not there when David and Snow show up. They’re the ones helping Emma put together brunch, just waiting for the oven timer to ding when Killian finally walks through the door looking like he slept about as roughly as Emma did. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he tells her as she helps him out of his coat. “Had to take care of some things at home.”

It’s a lie. She’s not sure she’s ever heard him lie to her this blatantly before. He’s lied to her about small things before, but this is the first time she’s heard him outright lie this bad since they drove down to Boston one summer and he claimed he wasn’t lost. When they ended up in New Hampshire, he finally admitted his wrongdoing. 

But when she looks a little harder at him, he averts his eyes, moving instead to remove his boots and wander over to where Snow and David have already made themselves comfortable in the living room. 

That’s the way it is all through brunch and the cleanup from their meal, and even most of the way through presents. He only really looks at her again when he thanks her for his gift. His eyes say volumes about how he’s feeling, so while the words were quiet, he’s practically screaming his gratitude in looks alone. 

When she opens the gift from him, her heart almost stops. Nestled in the small box is a swan pendant, vastly different than the last one she owned when she was younger, and already holding a lot more meaning than the little keychain some asshole once lifted from a gas station for her. She kept the old pendant for the longest time as a reminder not to trust anyone. It was Killian that helped her finally get rid of that necklace, patiently sitting with her as she took her time, made peace with all the bad memories, and then chucked it into the ocean from the boat he’d taken her out on that day.

“I hoped it would have slightly better memories than the last one,” Killian says, and she didn’t even notice him move closer until she realizes how near his voice is. “May I?”

She nods, watching in silence as he lifts the necklace from the box, taking his time to grasp the clasp between his fingers and pinching it open while holding the other side with his prosthetic. She holds her hair up and out of the way as he latches the necklace behind her, his fingers lingering just a bit before he abruptly stands. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve some work to attend to,” he says, looking regretfully at Emma before he heads for the door. He makes sure to gather his gifts, thanking David and Snow before slipping from the apartment as quickly as he showed up. 

It takes some acting, but she plays off his departure as nothing major. It’s clear he’s never mentioned the apartment application to David and Snow or else one of them would’ve blurted out an objection already. So she plays along and smiles through the rest of their time together. 

Just after they eat dinner, Snow excuses herself. “I’m going home for a moment, and I’ll be back with more cookies,” she tells them. 

Another lie, Emma can tell, but she lets her friend go, realizing pretty quickly this is a case of Divide and Conquer between the married couple. 

“I’m going to make you more hot chocolate. And when it’s done, we’re going to have a talk,” David says when the door has shut behind his wife, confirming her suspicions. 

Emma bites back the smile the best she can and follows him into the kitchen.

-x-

It’s snowing and cold but Killian doesn’t really notice any of it. His hand is shoved into his pocket and his prosthetic is resting on the wooden railing overlooking the docks. 

“I would be lost without you,” he repeats to himself. It’s the inscription she put on the inside of the compass, a beautiful rosewood piece that he would normally be so excited to display in his home until it was time to bring his own boat out of winter storage. 

Now, after everything that’s happened the last couple weeks, he can’t tell its intended meaning. She’s talking about moving, and then she kisses him, and then runs away, and then gives him this particular gift with this particular message? 

He watches his breath fog out in front of him, noticing that even that looks sad and aggravated.

“Thought I might find you out here,” comes a voice from behind him.  He turns to find Snow standing there, bundled against the cold and holding a hot mug that she hands to him.

The tea is one of his favorites, and he sighs in the comfort of the gesture.

“You two have been keeping secrets from us,” Snow says. “You don’t need to tell me everything, since I’m sure it means more to you and Emma than it does to me or David. There’s some things that I do know. It’s that you don’t get a happy ending without working for it, and that everyone deserves love. I can tell you have feelings for Emma that go beyond best friends. And though she’d never admit it, I’m pretty sure Emma feels the same way.”

“You’d get along with my brother,” Killian says, managing a smile. It doesn’t last, though. “And I don’t know if she truly does.”

“You won’t know until you talk to her.” Snow reaches out and clasps his arm. “Look, Emma has waited a long time for someone to come into her life that she trusts enough to give her heart to. And I think she so badly wants it to be you, but she’s too scared to make a move without knowing for sure how you feel.”

It’s sound advice, to maybe even make things a little more obvious to her. Handing her a necklace doesn’t explain his reasoning behind it - that he not only bought it because he thought of the way she’d smile when she saw it, but also because she deserves to replace every last memory from the last man she trusted that broke her heart. 

Snow shivers, bringing him back to the present and he’s finally aware of the snow falling heavier now than it was before. “It’s cold out here. Go home,” she tells him. “And Merry Christmas!” With a quick peck on his cheek, Snow turns and walks up the path back towards where she can see David waiting in his truck to pick her up. 

He turns back towards the water, staring out at the darkness beyond his vision. 

His friend is right. He needs to tell Emma how he feels, and he needs to do it before it’s too late. Liam always tells him that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. With one more look out to the water, he turns to head back to Emma’s apartment, but she’s already there.

She’s a couple meters away, shivering slightly despite her warm weather gear, and it’s only once Killian turns that she seems to come back to herself. 

“What are you doing out here, love? It’s freezing.”

“Says the man out here without a scarf or a glove or a hat?”

“I wasn’t really planning on staying out long. It just sort of… happened.” 

“Killian.”

“No wait, there’s something I need to say before we go any further.” He braces himself quickly, moving towards her slowly as he starts to speak. “When I met you, I was a broken man. I'd lost what I thought was the love of my life. After that first Christmas I spent with you, I felt like maybe my heart could move on one day. You invited me to join your family and your traditions, and for the first time in a long time I felt that hope that I'd find love again. And by the next Christmas, I wanted to find that love with you.”

He stops when he’s close enough to see the way the snowflakes catch on her eyelashes, and the way she keeps brushing them out of her hair. 

“I was always afraid to say anything for fear that you’d go running from me, since I’d heard all the stories you’d told me about the men you’d been with. I figured if you kept repeating ‘I’m never dating again’ enough in my presence that I should probably heed that warning.”

Emma chuckles under her breath at that, inching her way closer to him as he does the same to her. 

“Snow told me you’ve waited a long time to find a man to give your heart to. I’m truly hoping if you’d be lost without me that it means I may be the one you’re ready to try again with?”

“I know the engraving was cheesy but it fits too well, and it’s absolutely true. I would be lost without you.” The words come out quietly, and his breath catches in his throat as her fingers find the pirate’s luck necklace she bought him a few years ago. “I know I didn’t make it easy for you to tell me the truth, but I want you to know I feel the same way. What do you say, should we make this official? Kiss again and not have either of us go running for the hills afterward?” She means for it to lighten the mood, but he can’t help but be perfectly honest with his next words. 

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. That’s all I want.”

Her responding smile is bright and she leans forward just as he does. For a moment, all they do is touch their foreheads together, savoring this moment and breathing the other in - this closeness feels different than all the other times in their shared lives. When her fingers link with his, that’s when Killian moves again, angling his head and pressing his lips to hers. 

This time is sweeter, with much more meaning behind it.

“Does this mean you aren’t moving to Portland?”

“Killian. I was never moving to Portland. My skip worked in the housing office at that building and I needed the application as a cover to get to him.”

“And you couldn’t have just told me that when I brought it up?”

“I got defensive! It’s a knee-jerk reaction.”

“You got the ‘jerk’ part right, at least.”

She points a finger at him, a wordless warning that he’s been on the receiving end of multiple times. 

“Let’s go home,” she tells him, smiling as he lifts one of her gloved hands to press his lips against it. 

It’s later when she kisses him goodnight when she tells him she took the job at the station, and he feels like this may be the best Christmas he’s ever had. 

-x-

The next Christmas, the box she unwraps is engraved, and the contents inside of it make her tear up. 

“Where you lead,” he whispers, “will you let me be by your side?”

Her response of ‘yes’ is quickly lost in the way that they kiss, and they inform David and Snow to make it Christmas dinner instead of brunch, just so they have time to get their celebrating out of the way before they tell everyone else.

The End!

[callboxkat]

Second Chances part 6: Run Away

Author’s note: I decided to fill some prompts and got carried away. Anon(s), I would just like to remind you that you asked for this. Sort of. Also, believe it or not, this is the less angsty version of what could have been. 

Warnings:  homelessness, stealing, food mention, violence, humiliation, hunger, cold, hypothermia/frostbite mention, censored swearing, homophobic slurs, death threats, non-descriptive vomiting, injuries, blood, knife. It’s possible I missed something because this is a doozy, but those are the major ones.

Word count: 7165

Second Chances Masterpost!

Prompts (that middle one made me laugh, thank you):

...

The outdoor market was bustling with life, crowds of people heading this way and that, different vendors selling clothing, jewelry, baked goods, handmade soaps and candles, paintings, and whatever else you could think of to buy spilling out of neat rows of colorful tents. The sounds of laughter, conversation, music, and the popping of kettle corn filled the air along with an array of pleasant aromas. It looked like a very nice place to spend a few hours, whether or not you planned to buy anything.

Roman wished he could be a part of it. Instead, he walked around the edges of the market, never venturing within, looking for a good place to sit. He wanted to find somewhere where he would be out of the way, but near one of the most travelled walkways. He felt very out of place among the marketgoers, clutching a ratty cardboard sign and dressed in dirty, mismatched clothes, shuffling along on limbs stiff with cold and sore from night after night of sleeping on barely-cushioned concrete.

Yes, it was true. He, Roman Prince, was looking for a place to sit and beg. The very idea felt unthinkably demeaning, but the young man had been homeless for three months now, and his situation didn’t seem to be about to improve any time soon. He had perhaps not been the most frugal with his money, so he had run out some time ago. Things were… not good. He hadn’t eaten anything in two days now, the weather was getting colder every day, and he was growing desperate. So, he’d gotten his hands on some cardboard; and he’d borrowed a marker to make his sign. And now here he was, getting ready to beg for pocket change.

Eventually he found what he deemed a fairly decent spot, and he sat down against the wall of the building, propping the sign up against his legs. He took a small, beat up plastic cup out of his pocket and set it down in front of himself, dropping a small rock inside to weigh it down. Here, he was in a slight alcove, more sheltered from the wind, but still visible, and not in anyone’s way.

Plenty of people passed by, on their way to and from the rows of tents across the street. Music drifted his way, along with the tantalizing, heavenly smell of food, a smorgasbord of temptations vying for his attention. It felt rather torturous, to be sitting so close and to be unable to buy any of it, but Roman hoped that perhaps people would feel generous. At the very least, maybe they’d be willing to part with the coins that they received as change from their purchases. No one liked to carry around a purse full of heavy coins, right? At least, that was his hope.

...

Roman had been sitting in his spot on the sidewalk for more than three hours, and the market would be closing down soon.

In Roman’s cup sat a handful of change, pennies and nickels and dimes, along with a crumpled $1 bill. Not a great haul, but he knew it could have been much worse.

Would this be enough to buy something? Roman peered down at the cup. Probably not at the market, unfortunately; but there was a McDonald’s a few blocks away. He could go there. Their dollar menu had been a blessing these past few months, and sitting in the restaurant meant he would get to be inside for a little while. He could even pick up some ketchup and salt and pepper packets while he was there. It wasn’t the most glamorous thing, but he could use them and some water to make a sort of tomato soup. It was a tip he’d been given by another homeless man he sometimes bumped into around the city, a man named Juan. And the workers never cared enough to say anything about it, as long as he bought something. Sometimes they even heated up his cup of water for him.

Decision made, Roman started getting ready to leave.

He had just started packing up his things, putting the change in his pocket, when he noticed it: a fairly full shopping bag, just sitting there about five feet away, perched on the edge between the sidewalk and a patch of weed-filled dirt that could be perhaps be called a flowerbed once spring arrived. It was clearly from the market based on the cheery design, and a few languorous curls of steam rose from within.

Roman’s mouth started watering at the sight. He looked around for the bag’s owner. There were a few people here and there, but no one was looking at the bag. Was it possible that it had been forgotten?

He waited a moment, watching, biting his lip uncertainly; but the temptation proved to be too much. He hurriedly folded up his cardboard sign, stuffed that in his coat with a plastic bag of his other belongings, and snatched the shopping bag.

“HEY!”

Oh, sh*t.

Roman took off. He didn’t think. He just ran, dodging people and cars and tents, focusing only on getting way. He sprinted through the crowd, barely avoiding smacking into a burly man holding a tiny girl with braids; and something fell out of the bag he’d just pilfered. He didn’t look back to see what it was, let alone try to retrieve it.

“Get back here, you—!” Whatever the man said next was interrupted by the sound of a car horn, but Roman could guess that whatever it was wasn’t exactly friendly.

Roman made it away from the market, nearly getting hit by a car in the process, and ducked down an alley. He slowed down only somewhat, hoping to be less conspicuous, and continued on foot for several blocks. His breath billowed out behind him, creating clouds of steam in the cool air. The shopping bag clutched tightly in his fist felt like it weighed an extra twenty pounds, thumping against his leg with every step.

Half convinced he was still being chased, Roman didn’t stop moving until he came to a small pocket park a good distance away from the scene of the crime. He found some overgrown bushes there and ducked down to hide.

Ten minutes went by. Roman’s feet started to go numb from how he was crouching, the pebbles and twigs digging into his knees. Finally, not hearing any sign of pursuers, he slowly sat up. He peeked through the foliage, then cautiously emerged when he saw no one. He sat on a bench, nearly invisible to the road thanks to the bushes and a pair of well placed trees, and opened up his prize, swallowing his guilt and telling himself that it would be worth his efforts.

Or at least, that was what he thought until he saw what was inside.

Whatever had been creating the small cloud of steam, the food he’d been after in the first place, was gone. It must have fallen out back in the market.

What was in the bag were some simple white boxes, carefully packed in with tissue paper, and a small box of gourmet chocolate truffles. Not a complete waste, then, at least.

Roman pulled out the truffles and set them in his lap, already salivating at the thought of them, and then opened the first of the white boxes to see if it was something he could use.

Inside the box sat a very, very expensive-looking watch.

Roman’s eyes widened, and he nearly dropped it. His mouth gaped like a fish.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he whispered, staring at it. He slowly set the watch down. This was a lot more serious than stealing a few baked goods. This was bad. Probably the worst thing he had ever done, at least from a legal standpoint.

Roman simply sat there for a while, letting the reality of what he had just done sink in.

Of course, guilt wasn’t very filling, and after a few minutes, Roman’s stomach growled. Barely taking his eyes off of the watch, he slowly picked up the box of truffles. He figured he might as well have them—the mistake was already made, after all. He peeled off one glove, barely feeling the cold, and tore open the package. He barely tasted the sweets as he stuffed them into his mouth, one after the other. Roman’s mind was elsewhere.

If this watch was in one of the boxes, he thought, then the other boxes probably contained items just as expensive, if not more so.

Roman had just wanted some food, not this. He would be well and truly screwed if he was caught.

That was when he caught a glimpse of the actual price tag on the watch box, a small sticker in the corner with numbers printed in a neat black font. He momentarily forgot to breathe.

This watch had cost somebody nearly four hundred dollars. And it was on sale.

Suddenly Roman knew that he absolutely could not be caught with this. He had to get rid of it. He impulsively shoved the box back in the bag, rolled up the top of it, and shoved the whole thing into the bushes he’d been hiding in earlier. He got to his feet, stuffed the empty chocolate box in a trash can, and quickly walked away, sweating despite the cold.

…

A couple of hours later, sitting in the enclosed space under a bridge that currently served as his “home”, the truffles were not sitting well in Roman’s stomach. It felt like they were trying to claw their way back out. He shifted uncomfortably, the paper shopping bags layered underneath his blanket crinkling in complaint.

The bags were meant to help keep out the chill from the concrete slab beneath him, but it was debatable how much of a difference they actually made. Sometimes it felt as if they did nothing at all, given that the air was almost if not just as cold as the concrete. Still, Roman kept them, since they created a (perhaps pathetic) cushion between his body and the hard ground. Truthfully, they probably were helping to insulate him a little, even if he still wasn’t exactly staying in a five star hotel.

Sitting atop those paper bags, Roman glanced over towards where a couple of figures stood talking. It was dark, and Roman had a feeling that they were probably not supposed to be doing whatever they were doing, but it wasn’t any of Roman’s business. People like that showed up sometimes in this part of the city, but they seemed to know that Roman wasn’t going to bother them, so they usually ignored him, too. He was just another random homeless man, after all. Who cared about him?

Except now, after what had happened earlier that day, Roman found himself more paranoid than usual. He watched the two figures out of the corner of his eye until they were done with whatever they were doing and started walking away in different directions. Neither moved towards him, thankfully. Roman released his breath. He leaned his head back and looked up at the bridge overhead. A car passed by, rumbling over the bridge. Its headlights cast a faint glow in the air until it disappeared.

Roman adjusted one of the napkins he had shoved in his gloves, one of which had been poking him and making his wrist itch. Then he pulled the blankets tighter around himself and lay down on his crinkly bed. He hid his face under the blanket, putting his nose in the crook of one elbow to try to keep it warm. It took him a while to fall asleep, more due to nervousness than the cold or the uncomfortable position he lay in; but, eventually, he managed to drift off into a fitful sleep. His dreams, as always, were filled with visions of the life he could have, should have had.

And as always, he woke up to his own harsh reality.

Roman sighed as he opened his eyes. A bit of frost had formed in his hair overnight, which crackled as he uncurled his stiff limbs from the awkward position he’d slept in.

It was still fairly early, watery gray light leaking over the horizon; but the occasional car ambled down the street. There weren’t many people venturing outside on that crisp Sunday morning, and Roman wasn’t too worried about being bothered. Most people usually chose to ignore Roman, if not outright avoid him.

As if to confirm this, a man and a woman, some of the few daring to walk to work in these temperatures, chose that moment to pass by. As they did, they actually stepped into the street to avoid being too close, as if Roman were going to give them the plague. As if homelessness were contagious.

Rude, but understandable, he supposed.

Roman lay back down for a while and contemplated going back to sleep. But he really had to pee, and his stomach felt like it was trying to gnaw its way out of his abdomen; so, eventually, he reluctantly pushed his blanket to the side and sat up. He pulled a comb through his hair, arranging the greasy locks as neatly as he could. He double checked that he still had the money he’d gotten the day before (several times before, he’d woken up to find some of his things missing, especially in the beginning before he’d learned to keep them better protected). Then he pulled a blanket around his shoulders and got to his feet. He grabbed the plastic bag that held most of his possessions, anything that anyone might want to steal, and set off.

He lumbered down the sidewalk, one untied shoelace skittering across the pavement with each step, the blanket wrapped tightly around himself. The morning was quiet and still, almost pleasantly so, if only it weren’t so cold. Roman missed summer.

He sighed in relief when he made it to the McDonald’s. He ducked inside, nodded awkwardly to one of the cashiers, and made his way over to the restrooms. He did his business, even taking the time to wash his face and hair in the sink. By the time he reemerged, the breakfast menu had been changed to the lunch menu, which was fine by Roman.

Roman ordered a cheeseburger and somewhat sheepishly asked for a cup of hot water to go with it.

While he waited, Roman set down his things at a table and sat down, drumming his fingers absently on the tabletop.

His number was called, and he picked up the bag and the cup with a small, grateful smile. He grabbed far too many packets of ketchup, some salt and pepper, and a straw, and sat back down. He opened up the bag, and swallowed against a lump in his throat when he saw a small order of fries inside along with his cheeseburger.

He decided not to draw any attention to it, not wanting to get anyone in trouble, or worse, risk someone taking the extra food away. Instead, he just ate his cheeseburger and fries, and then made his makeshift tomato soup, stirring the ketchup, pepper, and salt together in the hot water with the straw. He put the rest of the condiments that he hadn’t used in the bag with his other belongings.

He took his time drinking that concoction, not eager to go back outside, but eventually he couldn’t stall any longer. It was approaching midday, the restaurant was growing more crowded, and he figured it was only a matter of time before someone started objecting to his presence. So Roman gathered up his things and took his leave.

…

Roman spent most of the day wandering the city. He didn’t have much else to do, and sitting under a bridge like some kind of troll grew old pretty fast. He avoided the part of the city where the market was set up, just in case the person whose belongings he had stolen returned to try to find him. Under different circumstances, he might have been able to convince himself that he was just being paranoid, but the price tag on the watch kept flashing in his mind’s eye. No, he was going to avoid that area for a while.

Finally, the sun was going down, and Roman made his way back to the bridge.

Other than about thirty cents left over from the day before, Roman only had a dime that he’d found in the street during his wandering. He certainly didn’t have enough money to buy anything for dinner. It seemed he’d have to make do with the ketchup he had left over from his earlier meal. Not exactly a meal fit for a prince, but it was better than nothing, if not by much. He probably should have gone and tried to beg again, but staying in one spot with the same sign as the day before only seemed like a more sure-fire way of being recognized. And if the owner of the watch had gone to the police, they were probably on the lookout for him.

Roman tugged on the collar of his shirt—a Saint Gabriel Academy of Fine Arts shirt, turned inside out—and winced. Just look at what his life had come to. He was supposed to be away at college, right now, pursuing his dreams of becoming an actor. Instead, he was homeless, jobless, penniless, and now, a thief. No better than his brother, after all.

Juan was sitting at the opposite end of the bridge when Roman returned, on the other side of the road. Roman nodded vaguely in his direction, too tired to give more of a greeting. The other homeless man didn’t acknowledge him, busy methodically stacking a pile of plastic bottle caps in different arrangements.

He sat down amongst his paper bags and dirty blankets, and he set down the plastic bag of his belongings. He was hunched over, digging through it for the ketchup packets, when he heard someone’s shoe scrape on the sidewalk. Roman paused, glancing up towards a small group of men, one of whom had just pulled to a sudden stop. He glanced away again just as quickly, not looking to draw unwanted attention.

Too late.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Roman’s blood ran cold. He knew that voice.

“Hey! Get back here!”

“What, you know this ugly f*cker?” one of the other men laughed, coming up to stand next to the first. His dark hair was wild, his eyes glittering.

“Oh, hell no, I don’t. This dirty piece of crap just owes me some money is all.” The man crouched, sneering at Roman, his ice blue eyes piercing right through him. “Ain’t that right?”

Roman scooted back, eyes widening, searching for a way out. Adrenaline hummed in his veins, and yet he felt frozen to the ground. They’d found him. Of course, they’d found him. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, words failing him in his sudden panic.

“This the guy who stole your stuff?” A third man asked, going to stand in front of his other friends, casually blocking Roman’s only escape route.

“This pathetic f*ggot? Really?” said the second. “Man, Mikey, you’re getting robbed by bums now?”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “Shut it,” he growled. Almost immediately, he looked back to Roman with a crocodile grin, crouching down to stare directly into his eyes. “Now, how about it? We don’t want any trouble. So why don’t you just give me back what you took, and we can all go on our merry way?”

Roman’s breath left him in a wheeze. He didn’t have what they wanted. Not anymore. But he knew they wouldn’t believe that. He practically pressed himself against the concrete wall at his back, as if with enough effort he’d be able to pass through the barrier that kept him trapped here with these men.

Mikey’s eyes hardened at Roman’s lack of a response. “Come on, I’m trying to be reasonable here.”

A fourth man, who hadn’t spoken until then, said, “Guys, maybe we should just call the cops, let them take care of this.”

“I bet you sold ’em already, right? What, traded ’em for some drugs or sh*t like that?” The second man, standing at Mikey’s side, sneered.

“You some kind of mute?” the third asked at the same time. They were all clearly growing impatient. Roman had to say something.

“I—I don’t….” Roman stammered, fishing for the right words, for anything that could help get him out of this situation. He looked desperately around them, towards the other side of the street, but Juan had conveniently disappeared, and no one else was around. He wasn’t getting any help. He was alone.

“Ah, he speaks!”

“I paid good money for that stuff,” Mikey said. He squared his shoulders and stepped closer. “So you’re going to tell me… what you did with it. NOW!”

Roman got to his feet and scrambled away so fast that he nearly fell over, tripping on the blankets in his haste. “I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking—Agh!”

He was cut off as a fist sank into his gut, forcing him to bend over at the waist. Tears stung his eyes and he gagged, bile dripping down his chin.

Mikey took him by the shoulders roughly. “Now, lets try that again,” he whispered in Roman’s ear, too loud.

“Mike, I don’t think—”

“Shut up,” Mikey said, still right next to Roman’s head. “Go home if you don’t want to be a part of this.”

A second passed. Roman’s harsh breathing grated on his eardrums. One set of footsteps retreated. Roman choked, still struggling to pull air back into his lungs and straighten back up.

“Third time’s the charm,” the second man suggested, sounding all too happy to join his friend. His breath smelled strongly of menthol. “Where’s my buddy’s sh*t? You see, he paid a lot for it, and it sure would be a shame if he didn’t get it back, wouldn’t it?”

“Might make him angry,” added the third voice, now much closer than before. He shoved Roman, and his back hit the concrete wall, making him cry out.

“I don’t have it,” Roman said desperately, knowing they wouldn’t believe him. He was still looking around, desperate for an escape. But the street was deserted.

Hands appeared on Roman’s back and shoved him forward, sending him sprawling to the ground. Roman’s head smacked the concrete, and he tasted the iron tang of blood as he bit his tongue. His hands felt scraped raw, even inside his gloves, and a painful pins and needles sensation ran through one of his knees. His rib cage felt like it had been hit by a bowling ball.

Roman groaned. A pair of shoes stepped into his field of vision.

“What’s this you’ve got here?”

“Noth—nothing,” Roman offered weakly, not even sure what they were talking about. He was definitely going to have some impressive bruises come morning. If he lived that long. “Just… trash.”

“Hm, then you won’t mind if I have a look, would you?” Roman heard the rustle of plastic as someone, probably Mikey, dug around in the bag he kept his things in. Apparently, the contents—specifically, their lack of any of the items Roman had stolen—didn’t please him. He kicked it to the side. Roman heard some of the items roll into the gutter.

Mikey’s friends dragged Roman to his feet and pinned him against the wall. Roman put up a struggle, but it was almost obligatory. There were three of them, and only one of him. He couldn’t fight them all off if he tried. And if he called for help, would anyone even hear? Would they come, if they did? Or would he just make things worse?

“Where is it?” Mikey snapped, impatient.

Roman was very aware that the odds of him keeping all of his teeth were getting slimmer by the second. “It’s—they’re… they’re in the park. This park, like five blocks from here, I swear. I left them in a bush, you can go right now—”

Smack!

Roman’s head jerked to the side, and he whined despite himself as blood began to drip from his nose, closing his eyes tight. He’d been trying to answer them! This wasn’t fair!

Menthol Breath put his hand on Roman’s neck, his fingers digging in painfully. The smell of menthol was dizzying. Or maybe that was the head wound.

He heard a loud crunching noise, and opened his eyes to see that Mikey was stomping on Roman’s bag of belongings as hard as he could, clearly trying to break them. He picked it up and smacked it repeatedly against the edge of the sidewalk to do even more damage. Bits and pieces of the contents flew out, rips appearing in the plastic.

The two men pinning Roman to the wall laughed at the sight.

“Aw, hell, Mike, you’re gonna make ’im cry,” Menthol Breath cackled. “Little f*ggot gonna cry?”

“’Nooo, please, not my garbage!’” the other mocked in a rude, falsetto voice.

“Now, I know you didn’t just throw my sh*t in a bush,” Mikey said, emphasizing his point by stomping on the bag again. “So you best tell the truth. Right now.”

One of the men, the one who didn’t smell like menthol, let go of Roman and started tearing through his setup, upending his blankets and the paper bags that made up his “bed”. Roman would have taken this opportunity to run, but Menthol Breath was still on him, grinning like the Cheshire cat, and Mikey blocked the way out.

Of course, the man came up empty. Because Roman didn’t have their stuff anymore.

Mikey stomped on the bag again, angry, then started cursing. “God f*cking d*mn it, what the hell? What is this?”

Roman’s eyes drifted down to Mikey’s legs, one of which was splattered with a messy arc of red. He must have stomped on one of the ketchup packets.

“You good, M?”

“Urgh, disgusting.”

Mikey ignored his friends, stalking forward to stand in front of Roman.

“Answer me, now!” Mikey snarled. He reared back and kicked Roman in the stomach, making it rather difficult for him to do as the other man asked. Dark spots swam in his vision as he gagged once again.

Roman was heaved back upright, a dribble of bloody bile dripping from his chin onto his shirt. “I panicked,” he offered weakly, gasping for breath. “I didn’t… I just… wanted food… I didn’t know… the other stuff was in there… swear.”

“Right, right,” said Mikey. He put his foot on top of Roman’s and slowly leaned all of his weight on it, crushing his toes, his face barely an inch away from Roman’s. Roman resisted the urge to spit in it, his eyes watering.

“You believe this guy?” asked the other man. A distant part of Roman, either left over from his theater days or hysterical from fear and pain, decided to dub him Henchman Number Three.

Mikey stared at Roman for a moment longer, eyes narrowed. “You know, he’s just pathetic enough that I actually kind of do,” he said. He stepped back, and Roman gasped slightly as the weight was lifted from his poor toes. “So… here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me where this park of yours is. My buddies and I are going to go there. And you, you are going to hope and pray to God that my stuff is still there. And if it isn’t, I think you know what’s gonna happen.”

Roman swallowed. Or tried to, at least. “It’s—it’s the pocket p-park, the one on Lincoln,” he quickly stammered. “It’s g-g-got those bushes, by the bench. It’s right there, I swear, you can j-just go there, and find them.”

Mikey looked at him appraisingly for a few seconds.

“Drop him.”

Roman was tossed to the ground for a second time, and he barely avoided receiving a second bump on his head to complement the first. He tried to push himself back up, but didn’t make it very far before collapsing back down.

“You sure about this?” Menthol Breath asked skeptically. Roman could feel his eyes on him. “He’s seen our faces.”

Mikey scoffed. “Come on, like he’s gonna go to the cops. He ain’t that dumb.”

Henchman Number Three snorted.

Menthol Breath hummed. “Still,” he said, kneeling next to Roman, “why take that chance?” Roman tried not to choke, barely able to breathe with that overwhelming smell so close to his face. “Who’s going to miss a dirty homeless thief? We’d be doing the world a favor.”

There was a thoughtful sound. “You know… you do make a good point.”

Roman tried to squirm away, eyes wide, but a foot pressed down on his back, pinning him down. He kept struggling, gasping, trying to get up, begging for them to just let him go, but the weight on his back only increased. And then something cold and sharp pressed against Roman’s face, and he immediately went still and silent. The blade slowly traced a line of ice across his cheekbone and down to his neck, settling just under the jawbone.

Roman’s heart felt like it just might explode.

Menthol Breath exhaled right in his face. The blade nicked his skin.

“Oh, f*ck, he’s pissed himself!” someone shouted. Chaos erupted, cackling and various sounds of disgust echoing around him as the men scrambled away from him. The knife disappeared from his neck.

Three sets of footsteps pounded down the street, leaving Roman a battered, shivering heap on the sidewalk.

…

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, sprawled on the concrete, trembling and bleeding. But eventually, he dragged himself over to what was left of his belongings.

Inside, along with the remains of pretty much everything else he owned, was Roman’s cell phone. It had been off ever since he realized that it could be used to track him; but he’d kept it because… well, he wasn’t quite sure why. As a reminder? A comfort item? Perhaps for situations like this, just in case?

Did Roman want to call the cops? An ambulance? Hell, his parents?

He reached into the bag and pulled out the device that had somehow gone unnoticed by his attackers. He wiped off the disgusting mixture of ketchup, toothpaste, and dirt with one of the paper bags, then simply stared at it.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the phone screen, chunks of glass falling out or missing at the edges. The case had broken under the onslaught, hanging off in two pieces. One corner of the phone had bent harshly, and the metal was scraped

For a long moment he just lay there, taking it in. Then, he reached up one hand and pressed the power button, holding it down. He didn’t know why he bothered. He wasn’t even sure if the thing was still charged after so long.

The screen flickered. Random colors spasmed across it, purple and green and blue, odd lines and shapes that followed the cracks like contours on a topographic map.

And then, without any fanfare, it died.

Roman bit back a sob, shoving the useless phone away from him. He didn’t know why he was so upset. Who would he have called, anyway? Who would have answered?

Roman rolled onto his side and struggled to sit up, grimacing as he took in the dark stain on his pants.

How brave he was.

…

After a few hours, Roman found the strength to get to his feet and limp over to the closest open building that he knew had a public restroom. The smell was, admittedly, a strong motivator, as were the sticky feeling of blood and bile on his face and chest and the stiff, cold feeling of his trousers.

He gathered up all of his things—what was worth taking, anyway—and set off. He didn’t plan on returning to the bridge.

Feeling more humiliated than he ever had in his life, Roman shuffled inside the gas station, not making eye contact with the cashier, and made a beeline for the restroom. Thankfully, it was empty, and he locked himself inside.

Roman leaned his head against the closed door and let out a shaky breath, then turned to the sink.

One small miracle was that some of Roman’s clothes hadn’t been in the plastic bag, so he had something to change into that wasn’t covered in ketchup, toothpaste, and bits of broken glass. He set these on the sink and then turned on the faucet, washing his hands and then his face. He rinsed out his mouth, cupping his hands together and spitting out bloody water. He didn’t dare look in the mirror until he was done, afraid of what he would see.

A friend of his in high school who had gotten his front teeth knocked out in a fight had once said that he hadn’t felt any pain. In fact, the guy hadn’t even known that they were gone until he looked in a mirror. At the time, Roman had found the idea surprising, almost laughable in how strange that was, to not even feel your own teeth being knocked out; but now he just felt afraid. Roman knew that he hadn’t lost his own front teeth—he’d actually checked, probing at them with his painful tongue on the walk over—but that didn’t mean another surprise wasn’t waiting for him.

Finally, when the water in the sink ran clear, Roman slowly lifted his head to see the damage.

His right eye and cheekbone were swollen and red, obviously bruised. He would have an impressive black eye in the coming days. A thin red line ran along the opposite cheekbone, down his cheek, and ended in a shallow, inch-long cut just under his jaw. That side of his face was also tinged pink and felt hot to the touch, swollen from the blow he’d received. His nose, meanwhile, had stopped bleeding a while ago, but one nostril still felt clogged. Roman didn’t dare try to clear it, afraid that it would start bleeding again. At least his nose didn’t seem to be broken, even if it was quite tender.

Next, he slowly opened his mouth, taking in his poor bitten tongue with a wince, and gently pulled back his split lip to inspect his teeth. All appeared intact and still in his mouth, where they belonged. He sighed in relief.

After that, Roman moved on to getting out of his disgusting clothes—the pants and underwear went straight in the trash, even though he knew he should try to clean them. At the time, he just wanted them gone. He did, however, do his best to clean the shirt in the sink. He didn’t want to lose that—he knew that his future at Saint Gabriel was as unsalvageable as his shattered phone, but he wasn’t ready to let go of this last relic of that alternate timeline quite yet. While that soaked, he got some damp paper towels and cleaned himself up, wincing whenever his hand passed over the scrapes and bruises.

Occasionally, there was a knock on the door, but Roman just called back “occupied!” in a hoarse voice, and he was left alone.

When he finally emerged, still feeling like garbage but at least relatively clean, there was a worker standing just outside the bathroom. They peered past him, clearly expecting the bathroom to be trashed or something. They turned back towards Roman, probably about to demand why he had been in there so long; but at the sight of Roman’s face, they came up short, their mouth simply hanging open.

Roman looked away and made his way outside without a word.

He left the gas station almost feeling a bit better—almost—and headed straight to the train station.

Obviously, Roman did not plan to stick around. Not with Mikey and company still out there. He didn’t think they would go to the police, not after what they’d done to him in retaliation for his theft, but that wasn’t what Roman was worried about. What if they didn’t find their stuff in the park? What if they did, and they still decided Roman couldn’t keep his mouth shut? What if Menthol Breath just wanted to have some fun?

No, it was better to leave while he still could.

Not that he had a ticket, or the money to get one. But he had to try.

Ideally, he would head somewhere south. Somewhere warmer, where he wouldn’t have to worry about frostbite and hypothermia as the weather got colder. But, truthfully, he would be willing to go anywhere. Even just the next town over, if it meant putting more distance between himself and his problems.

Sometimes it seemed Roman would never stop running from his past.

…

Roman set up shop on one of the benches at the station. His cardboard sign now had a reverse side, which read, “Need Ticket To Anywhere. Anything Helps. God Bless.”

By mid morning, with a grand total of about five dollars and a stick of gum, Roman was starting to nod off. The waiting area of the train station was heated, and the sounds of people walking to and fro, and even the trains when they arrived, settled into a rhythm that felt unexpectedly soothing. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, which only made the temptation harder to resist.

As he drifted in and out of a doze with only a minimal amount of his own input, Roman began to grow paranoid that someone would try to steal his earnings, so he reached forward and took the money out of the cup, sticking it in his pocket instead. He left only the stick of gum and a pebble behind. A little more at ease, Roman leaned against a nearby pillar, closing his eyes and going back to listening to the background noise around him.

Another train or two came and went, and Roman was eyeing the vending machines despite himself. He was starving, but he really needed this money for a ticket. He needed at least twenty dollars, or he wasn’t going anywhere.

A few coins clinked as they were dropped in his cup.

“Thank you,” Roman murmured, unsure at that point of who had even given them to him.

Only fourteen and a half dollars to go, and he was out of there.

…

”…this?” a voice asked.

Roman forced his eyes open, blinking, to see a small hand stuck out in front of him, holding a granola bar. He stared uncomprehendingly.

“Do you want this?” the voice repeated more insistently.

Roman looked up. A kid stood there, certainly no older than 10 and probably younger. Her parents stood behind her, looking a mixture of impatient, exasperated, and wary.

“Yes, please,” Roman croaked.

The girl set the granola bar in Roman’s cup with a small, satisfied nod. Then she looked back up at him. “What happened to your face?” she asked.

The girl’s mom shifted, glancing up from her phone. “Ella, you shouldn’t ask people things like that.”

“It’s okay,” Roman said, straightening slightly. He looked back to Ella. “I had a battle,” he told her after a few seconds, “with a mean old dragon witch.”

“A dragon witch?” the girl repeated, tilting her head.

Roman nodded sagely.

“You’re messing with me.”

“No, no, they’re real,” Roman assured her. “They’re not very nice, though. I had to fight one off.”

“Did it take your ticket?” she asked, frowning.

Roman hesitated. “No,” he decided. “I just need to go someplace else is all. I think the dragon witch might come back, you see.”

“Ella, we need to go,” her mom said. She kept eyeing Roman, probably wondering if he was crazy.

“Okaaay, mom,” she sighed. She turned back to Roman even as her parents pulled her away. “Bye. I hope you beat the dragon witch.”

“Bye, Ella. I hope so, too.”

…

Roman spent several days in that train station, begging during daylight hours and sleeping uneasily on the benches at night, never straying far while he healed from his ordeal and attempted to collect the money for his fare. The setup was, he found, much nicer there than it had been under that bridge. It seemed that the owners of the station didn’t bother turning off the heaters after hours, so Roman (and several stray cats) had a warm place to stay at night.

At one point, he briefly considered going out into the city to find Juan and tell him about it, knowing the other homeless man would probably appreciate a heated place to sleep. And then he remembered how Juan had abandoned him, had left him to be beaten into the ground by Mikey and his friends.

He couldn’t exactly blame the guy. They weren’t exactly close, and what could Juan have done, really? Even if he had helped, it would still have been two against three—four, counting the man Juan had had no way of knowing would back off—and Menthol Breath had had a knife. Juan had been right to run when he did.

Still, the thought of facing him again made Roman’s blood boil and his stomach twist in knots. So he didn’t. Maybe he should have felt bad about that, but he didn’t at the time.

Regardless of any of that, as nice as the train station was in comparison to his previous setup, it was not somewhere that Roman wanted to stay for much longer. He didn’t feel safe there, knowing that Mikey and company could show up at any time. That fact made it all the more stressful each time he had to use some of the money he had collected to buy some food from the vending machines, since it meant he had to stay even longer.

On the morning of the fifth day, when those final quarters were dropped into his cup, Roman almost cried.

Clutching the money, he hesitantly entered the main building, where the tickets were sold. He waited in line, practically shaking with apprehension. But before he knew it, he had his ticket, and he was standing in the crowd of people waiting to get on the train. Maybe most of them avoided standing too close to him, whether due to his obvious homelessness or his still battered appearance, but Roman found that he didn’t mind it that day.

He got onto the train, settling into a seat with all of his possessions piled into the one beside him. He stared out the window, feeling a sort of excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time as the train began to move. The landscape slid by as the train picked up speed, taking him to a new city, and, he hoped, something better.

[dirtydobrik]

getaway - d.d.

plot: you’ve been secretly dating david for a couple months, keeping your relationship a secret from everyone including your friends, and one day you go on a “business trip”/beach vacation to spend time together and a fan sees you out together and shares pictures, essentially outing your relationship

requested: yes, by anon! Reader going on a business trip and being in a secret relationship with david and its like that episode of friends were monica and chandler are hiding their relationship and they go on a “business” trip but its only to spend time together and thats how their friends find out theyre dating.. if that makes sense :) lol

author’s note: hi! i’ve been writing a lot of sad/angst fics lately so here’s another fluff piece. this was requested anonymously so hopefully it was something similar to what you wanted. if you want to send in a request for an imagine, send me a message! (i have been so behind on requests lately but i am trying to get caught up, so i’m trying to post 1-2 times a day so people don’t have to wait ages for me to write their requests) 

this picture just radiates boyfriend vibes i’m in love

word count: 1695

masterlist

"Babe, can we please go on a vacation," you begged. You were tired of being cooped up in LA, hidden from the world. You had to sneak over to David's late at night just to spend time with him since none of your friends knew you were together yet.

"How are we supposed to get away from our friends from an entire week?" he questioned, and you sighed. The idea seemed impossible.

"What about just a couple days?"

"I'll see what I can do," David answered and you grinned. You two were in desperate need of some serious alone time. The hardest part of planning this trip would be figuring out how to hide it from your friends.

A few days later David dropped two planes into your lap while you were sitting on the couch in his living room and your eyes widened. They were for a trip to North Carolina from Tuesday to Friday.

"A beach vacation?" you asked, a huge smile on your face. David nodded, and you gave him a hug.

"I'm going to tell everyone that I need to go to New York to go over some things with my publicist and you can say you have to go on a business trip for work. I think that should work."

"It's a perfect plan," you agreed, mentally reminding yourself to take the days off from work.

Tuesday afternoon, you were on your way to the airport. Natalie was dropping you both off, and although she knew you two had something going on, she didn’t think anything of it. You went checked in and went through security, settling into a seat and waiting for your flight. David had a baseball cap on and his hood up so people wouldn’t recognize him.

Seven hours after boarding, you touched down in North Carolina. You got to your AirBnB, a small house right on the water and you couldn’t stop smiling.

"I can’t believe we're here!" you exclaimed gleefully. You were bouncing off the walls with excitement to just have time to enjoy being David.

Wednesday morning you woke up next to David, and he begged you to not get up yet. You rolled over, draping your arm over his chest and leaning up to kiss him.

"Good morning," you grinned, still not over the fact that you were on vacation and alone for the first time since you started dating two months ago.

"Hi, baby," he smiled, kissing your forehead. "What do you want to do today?"

"Anything, everything," you sighed, running your fingers through his hair. You were just excited to spend uninterrupted time with your boyfriend.

"How does breakfast sound?"

After finally getting out of bed and getting ready for the day, you were walking hand in hand to a small café down the street from where you were staying. You sat at a table outside and you thanked god that Carly and Erin had gotten David hooked on coffee since you both needed some type of caffeine. You snapped a photo of him with his coffee, having to stop yourself from posting it.

You were almost in the clear during your outing, until David was recognized while paying the bill.

"Oh my God! You're David Dobrik!" a voice shrieked form inside the café. "Can I get a picture? I'm a huge fan," she asked, and when David agreed, you feared your cover would be blown. You pushed your hat down to cover most of your face and looked down in case she knew who you were too.

"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, giving David a hug before leaving.

Once the girl was far enough away, David came back outside and sat down with you.

"That was close," he sighed.

"Maybe it's a sign that we shouldn't leave the house," you giggled. "No one will find us if we hide out."

You two decided to lay out on the beach, leaving your phones inside, which turned out to be a bad idea. When you went back inside a couple hours later, your phones were blowing up.

"Shit," David muttered, scrolling through his texts. He had gotten sent pictures of you and him walking together and some of you at the café.

"Babe, this is not good," you groaned. You felt like this was your fault. You had just wanted a few days alone with him and now everyone knew you were on vacation together. You both didn’t want to face your friends, having no clue how they would react, and judging by the texts in the group chat, they weren't too pleased.

David was pacing around the kitchen as he talked on the phone with his publicist asking what, if anything, he should do. Your phone continued to ring but you didn't want to answer.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, when David rejoined you in the living room.

"Hey, no. This is not your fault, babe."

"I wanted to go on a getaway, so yes, it is."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. This easily could've happened in LA," he tried to reassure you.

"But people would expect to see us in LA, since that's where we live. The two of us being alone in North Carolina is unexpected and people are going to make a big deal about it and it's my fault," you rambled, David interrupting you by kissing you.

"Look, I love you, and yeah, it's partly your fault, but that doesn't matter. People know we're dating, how it happened doesn’t matter. We need to figure out what to do next."

"Okay, so what do you want to do?" you asked, looking him in the eye. This was a decision for David to make, since he was the one in the public eye.

"I think the only right thing to do is tell people that we're dating. Our friends are already pissed that we hid it from them for two months, we might as well just announce it to everyone," he shrugged, and you nodded in agreement.

David shared an post introducing you as his girlfriend across all of his social media platforms, and you didn’t feel anxious like you thought you would've.

"Sorry we had to announce it so soon," he frowned, feeling bad that you were now going to be the focus of most of his interviews and that you were going to be publicly thrown into the public eye.

"It's okay, Dave. I'm more worried for how our friends will react when we go home, though," you admitted, breaking eye contact and looking down.  

"They already know and love you, so there's nothing to worry about, I promise."

You felt David's arms pull you into a tight hug and you let out a long exhale, relieved that he had handled the situation with such grace and ease.

For the rest of the trip, you were able to go out and about, not having to worry about hiding from fans that you might run into. But you were still dreading going back to LA and talking to your friends.

You had texted a few of the girls, giving them all of the details they were begging for, and none of them seemed upset that you didn't tell them ahead of time. They understood the difficulties of dating within the friend group and wanting privacy, although most people tried to keep their relationships a secret from David so he wouldn't exploit them on the vlog.  

You and David landed in LA on Friday night with Natalie there to pick you up.

"I should've known something was up when you didn't bring Jason or me with you on your fake trip to New York," Natalie laughed when David opened the door to the passenger seat and slid in.

"Yeah, I'm surprised you and Jason didn't question it. Like I knew no one else would've, but I expected questions from you and Jase," David chuckled.

"Jason said he's known about you two for a month, or at least that's what he's telling everyone."

You racked your brain trying to think of how or when Jason could've found out, but couldn’t think of anything.

Back at David's, your friends were awaiting your arrival, with a list of questions they wanted answers to, starting with why you would pick David when you could've gone for literally any other guy in the entire world.

"I knew something was up when you two had to go to New York together on the same day for the exact same length of time," Carly insisted.

"I knew something was going on when no one else got an invite to New York, not even Jeff, and he's from there," Zane added.

"I knew something was up when David wanted to record the podcast on Monday night when usually he'd have me come out if he had to travel to record the podcast," Jason said.

“Yeah, I knew something was wrong when neither of you posted about going to or being in New York,” Erin piped in.

"Okay, okay, we get it. You all knew about us before we told you," David muttered, rolling his eyes. They had all come up with theories after they saw the pictures since no one said anything or suspected anything until the pictures were leaked.

“We’re happy for you guys,” Erin smiled, everyone else agreeing.

“Thank you,” you replied, giving her a hug.

The rest of the night was spent sitting on the couch with you finally being able to cuddle and be close to David without people asking any questions about it. It was such a relief to have your relationship accepted by your friends. It wasn’t that ever doubted them, you were just nervous telling anyone that you were dating him since you weren’t a YouTuber and didn’t want to take anything away from David and his future.  

And while this wasn’t the way you had planned to tell everyone you were together, it didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was the fact that you two were confident enough in your relationship to tell the world, even if it had come a lot sooner than you anticipated.

[salvejoon]

You Struggling With Money

As anon requested. 

Kim Namjoon

“Y/N.” Namjoon didn’t sound happy. As you turned to face him, you slapped on a smile. 

Ever since you quit your job, it’s been tight with paying rent, bills and staying alive. Your fridge was mostly empty and you’d been living off of cheap foods and you were beginning to lose weight too. 

You hadn’t told him about it because you didn’t want to appear like you wanted his money, you were used to rely only on yourself and he was on tour. He’d only just come back a few days ago. 

“What’s up babe?” You asked, still wearing that smile and you prayed he couldn’t see past it. 

He held up a bunch of bills, “What’s this?” He asked harshly, throwing them onto the counter, pointing at the big fat red ‘reminder’ letters.

You didn’t know what to say. Two things were going through your mind: Why had he been snooping? And what the hell were you supposed to say? 

Your girlfriend has no money and might end up on the streets at this point? 

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were struggling?” He asked, this time a little softer. 

“I didn’t want you to think that I only wanted money and-” You began but was quickly cut off.

“Why the hell would I think that? You’re my girlfriend, Y/N.” Namjoon walked over to you and embraced you, “Please don’t hide things from me. If you’re struggling, let me help you.” 

Kim Seokjin

“I know, mama, but I’ll get through it. It’s just a for couple of months... I know, I know... No, I won’t ask him. That’s out of the question.” 

Jin wasn’t purposefully listening to your conversation with your mother but he couldn’t help but to hear some of it and by the sound of it, it was serious. 

When you got back and sat down on the couch next to him, he swung an arm around your shoulders as you watched TV. After some time, his curiosity got the better of him, “What were you two talking about?” He asked, quickly noticing you stiffening. 

“Uhm... Nothing important.” You said.

“It sounded important.” 

“She just...”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name, you knew instantly that no matter what excuse you came up with, he wouldn’t buy it, “What’s happening?” 

“I quit my job.” You started and Jin nodded, “And I’m just headed for rough couple of months, money-wise, but I’ll get through it. Don’t worry about it.” 

He frowned, “How rough?” 

At your silence, he sighed loudly and pulled you onto his lap, “You do know that your boyfriend is loaded, right?” You slapped his arm, rolling your eyes, “If you need help, just ask. Anything for my princess.” 

Min Yoongi

“I know, Mrs. Tang. I’ll pay the rent, just please, give me a few days.” You pleaded with your landlord and the elderly lady left you with a warning: Pay the rent in a few days or move out.

Yoongi heard the whole thing but pretended that he didn’t, so when you returned to the bedroom, he didn’t mention it. 

A few days later you still hadn’t gotten the money and when someone knocked on your door, you knew it was the landlord. You timidly opened the door, wracking your brain for excuses, “Mrs. Tang.” You greeted with a slight bow, “I know I haven’t paid but I swear-”

“What are you talking about, sweet girl?” Mrs. Tang smiled brightly, “I’m not here to throw you out since you’ve already paid the rent for the next 3 months.” She stated, “I’m here to check up on the kitchen. Your boyfriend said you need a new stove.” 

You raised a brow and let the woman inside your apartment. When you entered the kitchen where Yoongi was standing, talking politely to Mrs. Tang, he briefly caught your eyes and smiled. 

Jung Hoseok

Hoseok’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, raising a brow as he saw a message from your best friend. 

‘Hey. So this isn’t really my place to tell you but Y/N is too damn stubborn to ask for help. She’s been struggling a lot lately with money and she just told me that if she doesn’t pay the bills this month, she’ll lose her apartment, her car, everything.’ 

He sagged against the wall as he read the message and didn’t take long to reply. He was worried for you but also a little mad that you hadn’t told him. 

There was just one tiny problem: he was on tour and wouldn’t be home for another month or so. 

So he called his bank instead. 

The next morning you groggily walked into your kitchen to make yourself a cup of... Whatever you had left of either tea or coffee. Your stomach also growled and you opened the fridge, only to frown as you found it empty. 

You sighed as you began to boil some water, reaching for you phone as you wanted to check how much money you had left. Expecting to see the same small amount you’d seen yesterday, you almost did a double take as you saw a hefty sum of money on your account and there was a message attached to the transaction. 

‘Y/N, next time you’re struggling, please come to me. I’d do anything for you. Love you.’

Kim Taehyung

Tae was confused. Very confused. The two of you were strolling the mall and while he was buying things left and right, you hadn’t bought a single thing, which wasn’t like you. You always bought something. 

“Isn’t there anything that you want, Y/N?” He asked as he glanced at you, “YOu haven’t bought anything.”

You smiled up at him, “I don’t need anything right now.” 

“But what about the pair of shoes you were fawning over? Or the dress? The lingerie? You know, I really want to go back and buy that for you.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Of course, you want the lingerie.” You then sighed, “You don’t have to buy me anything, Tae. I’m just enjoying your company.” 

He frowned confusedly, “Babe, why do I get the feeling that you’re not telling me something?” He heard you sigh again, “Y/N?” 

“If I buy the stuff I want, I don’t have money for food. It’s been a little tight lately with paying the bills and stuff. Don’t worry about it.” You explained. 

Instead of saying anything, he grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the nearest ATM. You stared at it and then at him, “What?” You asked. 

“How much do you need?” He asked, “And don’t say you don’t need it because you do.” 

Park Jimin

Jimin didn’t think much of it the first time he picked you up from your friend’s house. The second time, he found it a little weird. By the fifth time, he grew suspicious. 

You were sitting quietly next to him in the car, on the way back from the restaurant. You were looking out the window, deep in thought when you suddenly felt him take your hand and interlace your fingers. 

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” He asked sweetly, glancing at you as the traffic came to a halt, “You’ve been so quiet tonight.” 

You shrugged, “Just a lot on my mind. Don’t worry about it, baby.” You said with a small smile. 

“Well, you look tired so I’m thinking that once we get back to your place, I’ll prepare the bathtub, light some candles-” He started but you cut him off.

“You can drop me off at my friend’s house.” 

“Again?” He asked, looking puzzled, “Y/N, why are you staying so much at her house?” 

At your silence, he grew worried, “Y/N. Tell me.” He pushed and you sniffled, causing him to almost drive into the car in front of him. 

You had tears in your eyes as you told him that you’d been kicked out of your apartment because you couldn’t pay the rent, how you’d been staying at your friend’s house for a month now, sleeping on a couch and how stressed out you were. 

Jimin let you finish and when he stopped for red light, he leaned over, wiping your tears away, gently kissing your cheeks, “Y/N, I don’t want you to stay there anymore. You’re coming to stay with me.” 

“B-But-” 

“No buts. Let me take care of you until it gets better.” 

Jeon Jungkook

Jungkook knew you were independent. You reminded him every time he bought you a gift or paid for something. 

But he wanted to care for you and provide for you. So when he saw you outside the dorms front door, late at night, holding a bag, tears in your eyes, mumbling something about having to move out because you couldn’t pay rent, he immediately dragged you inside. 

He wiped your tears away, “Y/N. Calm down.” He said calmly as you kept sniffling. 

“I-I swear I had no where else to go. I don’t want to seem like I want your money or anything but I’m so confused as what to do. I have no money, no roof over my head, no job.” You were rambling and hiccuping. 

“Baby, calm down.” He said again, helping you take off your coat. He took your hand and led you to his room and sat you down on his bed. You sniffled and wiped your nose. 

“It’s only for a few days. I won’t be staying for long. I’ll find a place to stay.” You said and he sighed as he sat down next to you, taking your hands into his, putting them on his lap. 

“You are not going anywhere. You’re staying here for as long as you need, until you get back on your feet.” Jungkook reassured you with a warm smile.

“But I don’t want to be a liability...” 

“Stop that. You are my girlfriend and I love you. Forget about the whole money thing. I’ll take care of you until you get back on your feet.” 

[lilliagradiewrites]

baby pogue (part 1) pogue life

Series Summary: Lily Routledge is John B’s fourteen year old little sister, making her a pogue by default. After Big John’s death, John B is left responsible for his sister’s safety and well being. he enlists the help of the pogues to keep himself from cracking under the pressure. A rising freshman, Lily finds herself to be mature and independent. John B, on the other hand, sees her as the exact opposite. A young girl wanting to be grown -up like her brother’s friends, and an older brother begging the girl to not grow up too fast. A collection of stories from the life of Lily Routledge: the littlest pogue.

A/N: I’m so hyped to begin this new series!! Each part of this series will be a little different. Some will be longer like a classic fic, and others will be simply headcanons. These don’t need to be read in order!! Each is a separate story, just with the same characters. This will have a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, but will overall just be a cute and wholesome collection of stories:) Iw ill create a masterlist once I upload more parts! I hope somebody enjoys this series :)))

Part Summary: Lily learns that pogue life isn’t as easy and carefree as she thought. (kind of an introduction type beat)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of death, dirty jokes/sexual innuendos, swearing, mentions of weed and underage drinking. (pretty much what’s in the actual show lol)

(i did not proof read so i apologize for any mistypes or spelling mistakes! if you see one don’t be afraid to point it out!)

let’s do it!

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     Lily Routledge didn’t mind the pogues. Not at all. In fact, she loved them. Each and every one. She cared about each one of them in different and complex ways, but she loved them all nonetheless. 

     First, there was the unofficial leader of the group: John B. Lily’s older brother. Of course she loved him. She loved John B more than she loved anybody or anything else on this planet. They’d been through hell and back two times over, but had still managed to make it through. though they fought like cats and dogs, Lily would take a bullet for her brother, and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.

     Then there was JJ Maybank. John B’s right hand man since third grade. Jj had also been through hell and back, but on his own. Lily had been made aware of his “home situation” since she was little. The blond would come over, beaten, bleeding, and bruised. When she asked questions, “home situation” was the only answer she received. As Lily grew older, she deciphered the what the statement meant by herself. Over the years, she had come to love JJ like a brother, and thought he was one of the strongest people she’d ever met.

     Pope Heyward. At this point, his name spoke for itself. Known as the poster boy for success in the cut, Lily knew Pope’s name before she knew him. Being Heyward’s son was helpful of course, but Pope had created a name for himself. He was polite, well-raised, respectful, responsible. He was astonishingly intelligent, and always did wonderfully in school. So, Lily couldn’t help but be surprised when Heyward’s boy joined the pogues. 

     Next comes Kiara. Where to begin? Kie was a kook, no doubt, but had the heart of a pogue. While most girls of her age and class had a soft spot for designer dresses and high heeled shoes, Kie’s soft spot was for baby sea turtles and the environment. Lily was endlessly grateful for Kiara. Not having a mother figure in her life was difficult, and it was wonderful for Lily when Kie swooped in like the older sister Lily had never had. Kiara had taught the youngest routledge everything she knew about boys, life, and being a female. Lily felt as if she could never repay Kie for her help.

     Finally, there was Sarah. Sarah was the kook princess, known throughout the whole island for her stunning good looks and rich parents. Somehow, she and John B had fallen in love, beginning Sarah’s journey with the pogues. At first, Lily hated the blonde. But only because Kiara hated her, and Lily was faithful to Kie no matter what. When Kiara learned to tolerate her, so did Lily. The three girls became quite close, and the two older girls fought to make sure Lily was included. 

     Lily didn’t even realize she was also considered a pogue until Kie told her that she was.

    “I am?”

     Kiara rolled her eyes and smiled. “Of course you are! Not only are you John B’s little sister, you’re our friend.”

     Lily had attempted to act as if this proclamation didn’t affect her, but it did. A pink crept into her cheeks and she couldn’t hold back a smile. Kiara had noticed and grinned right back.

     Lily had grown up with the pogues. When her father was taken from her, she felt as if she had been blessed with a group of loving older siblings as a form of compensation. She looked up to the group with admiration and slight jealousy. They could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. John B and JJ hardly went to school, even though John B made Lily go. Kiara’s parents trusted her wholeheartedly, meaning she could spend the night wherever without prior plans, and could go wherever she felt like going. Sarah’s parents had their own issues, and couldn’t be bothered with worrying about what their daughter did. Pope’s father was a lot more strict, but Pope seemed to get away with everything anyway. 

     They were young and wild and free. Lily longed to be like them. Whenever they went out to the marsh on the HMS pogue, and Lily had to stay home and study, she reminded herself there was only a few more years before she could join them. Be them. Truly be a pogue.

     She expressed these thoughts to her brother over a dinner of 79 cent ramen one night. John B furrowed his brows at what his little sister had said.

     “Is that really what you think? You think we do nothing? All day long, we drink and smoke and hang out on the boat? That’s what you think?”

    Lily simply nodded, shoveling nooddles into her hungry mouth. John B shook his head and set down his fork. By this, Lily could tell she was in for a lecture.

     “No, Lily. That’s not what we do. Me and JJ don’t go to school anymore because we can’t afford it. We have to work. In order to stay alive. If i went to school, we’d starve. We’re so damn lucky we own this house, and have our own water source. We’re damn lucky Uncle T pays our phone bill. If he didn’t, we’d have gone completely broke months ago. I work so hard, every day, and can barely pay our electricity bill. I can barely feed us. It’s not fucking fair. These kooks own million dollar houses, with three vacation homes in other states, and they can’t pay me enough to feed my little sister. 

     And Kie? her parents care. She’s had to prove herself trustworthy. And Kie works her ass off constantly at The Wreck. She’s come crying to me so many times, worrying about the resturant being understaffed. But they can’t afford any more staff. She’s struggling too.

     And don’t even get me started on Pope. His dad works him to the bone almost every day. Delivering shit across the island, and then coming home and studying for his merit scholarship for hours. Heyward is constantly on that kid’s ass. He’s going through it.

     And, yeah, Sarah’s life may seem perfect. But it’s not. It’s far from it. Sure, she doesn’t have any financial struggles like the rest of us do. But her Dad’s a dickhead who hasn’t paid any attention to her for years. Her older brothers’ a drug addict and a violent asshole. Her stepmom’s a bitch. Her life may be easier, but it sure as hell isn’t easy. 

     We’re all fucked up, Lily. In astronomical ways. We drink and smoke and go out on the pogue to take some of the edge off of life. We do that shit because we’d break down if we didn’t. I make you go to school to keep you safe. You’re smart, Lils. Smart like Pope. You could get a scholarship or something. You could make it out of here. I don’t want this life for you. You deserve better. But you have to work hard, okay?”

     By the end of his rant, John B was crying. Lily moved over to him and hugged him as he sobbed into her shoulder. After a few moments, John B pulled away. “I don’t let you do shit with me and my friends because I love you too much to let you in on the shitshow that is our lives.” 

     Lily nods. They finish their food in silence. Eventually, John B announces he’s going to his room for the rest of the night. The siblings said their goodnights and i-love-yous before retreating into their rooms.

     That night, Lily sat in her bed and cried. Everything she’d thought was a lie. How could she not have seen how they were struggling? She wished she could help, but knew that she couldn’t.

     Being a pogue wasn’t perfect. Not at all. They may not have money, or good parents. But they had each other. Always,without fail, they had each other.

   That, Lily decided, was enough.

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A/N: There’s the end! This ended up being much longer than I anticipated and I kind of don’t like the way it turned out. It’ll get better I promise!!!! Thank you for reading it, if you did. If you could reblog i will be so thankful <3 more parts are coming soon! I hope somebody actually liked this haha. Please drop feedback/tips/words of advice in my asks, anon or not! I welcome all comments, whether criticism or praise :) 

WAIT! Before you go I just wanted to remind you that you are so so so loved. Never forget that. You are beautiful and incredible in every way. Please never let anyone tell you otherwise. You are unstoppable. And you are loved <3

[iamkatehardy]

A Keeper (Tommy Conlon x Reader)

Requests : @bsotstory “Hii!!! I lOVE your Tommy Colon fics!!!!!! Could you use the kiss prompts 44 and 9 for a first kiss between Tommy and the reader, maybe they have to share a bed in a hotel before one of tommy's fights? ❤❤ Thank you!” AND Anon: “Hello can i request a Tommy Conlon and virgin reader with 11 14 and 15 prompts. Like they were dating maybe 5 or 6 months and she want to have sex with him cause she loved him and trusts him soo much.”

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/pills consumption, smut (cute smut, ok?)

A/N: Sorry for ending all of a sudden, but it was getting too long 😂❤  (Smut prompts are in bold) Sorry for possible typos too, it’s 3 am 😂 

Your feedback is really important ❤

 New city, new life; definitely better, but not always easier.

The lack of job vacancies for your profession was certainly an issue; looking for a job had been a tough mission, even with a college degree and a vast resume. Bills were accumulating and they didn’t pay themselves, so you had no other choice but to take a job as a barmaid in a little local bar. The working schedule bordered exploitation, but it was quite well paid and the owner was a kind old man whose helpfulness was only limited by his arthrosis.

The toughest tasks were invariably assigned to the rookie, meaning you, but changing the beer barrels was nothing compared to putting up with drunken folks.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?” – Running back and forth, you huffed exhaustedly while pouring drinks. Despite all the weariness, you kept distributing smiles and thanks to all the costumers.

“Come here a second, will you, please?”

“Sure, sure, sure!” – After serving all the tables around, you spun around one last time to check if everything was in order before walking to your boss. - “Is everything ok? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Do you see that guy over there?” – Mr. Barnes discretely jerked his head in direction of a man sitting on the farthest table.

“I thought Benjamin had taken care of that row of tables, that’s why I didn’t go there. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” – Just as you were about to turn and leave, your boss softly grabbed your arm to get your attention.

“That’s not why I called you, (Y/N). That’s Paddy’s youngest son.”

“Oh.” – You smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.

Paddy Conlon was a regular costumer, although he never touched alcohol. He seemed a decent man, but also very lonely; it was nice that he actually had someone to give him a helping hand now, or so you thought.

“And the most troublesome too. Some nights ago he beat the hell out of some guys after the bar closed. Ben was just leaving, so he tried to stop him, he ended up taking a punch too, that’s why he’s not going there.”

In that moment you didn’t know exactly what to say to that.

“If it wasn’t for his father, I wouldn’t allow him to set foot in here again. I just wanted to warn you that he can snap, just like that.”

“Ok…” – Some nervousness appeared on your face and you swallowed hard. - “I’ve got this.” – You thought to yourself

His size was intimidating enough, let alone his cold stare, but you could find easily some charming features too.

“Good evening, what can I get for you?” – You smiled from ear to ear, ready to take his order.

He drummed his fingers on the table for a second, before he turned to face you.

“Are you new around here or something?”

“Do you think it’s that obvious?” – You wrinkled your nose and giggled. – “What gave me away?”

“ You’re still witty and friendly, that’s not common in people who have been here for a while. That’s what’s giving you away.” – Pausing for a moment, he casually shrugged, shaking his head as his gaze swept over you, intense yet somehow tender. - “ And I’ll have a Jack Daniels, neat.”

Ok, he wasn’t as bad as Mr. Barnes made it seem; if your boss hadn’t told you so, you wouldn’t say he was the aggressive type at all. Although he didn’t seem to be the most extrovert person on Earth, his eyes showed way more pain than wrath.

“Why don’t you try an Irish? I mean, I’m sorry for meddling…” – You rested your hands on the table and leaned slightly toward him, talking quieter.- “ Don’t let Mr. Barnes know I’m telling you this, he’s a hardcore American whiskey fan…  But Irish tastes way better, to be honest. Especially if you’re a fan of neat whiskey; it has a smoother, velvety texture.”

“I think I’ll take your word for that. Amaze me.” – Nodding in agreement, he gave you a cordial smile.

And so you did, for the next couple of weeks you managed to amaze him.

Tommy left his usual spot on the farthest table by the window and started sitting by the counter, where he could occasionally chat with you on the less crowded nights.

“You beat people up for a living?” – You slowly lowered your head and raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, it sounds bad when you say it like that. But we all know what we’re getting into in advance.” – He snickered at the surprised look on your face. – “Think of is as a cathartic release, it’s a great stress reliever.”  

“Jesus, have you tried popping bubble wrap? That’s the definition of soothing stress reliever, at least for me.”

You won a rare broad smile from him; it was always a delightful treat after a long day of work.

“At least that way you don’t get hurt and I’m sure glad for it.” – He looked down, fingers playing with his glass.

“You know, despite being misunderstood, you’re an amazing being, Tommy. The person who catches your heart will doubtlessly be very fortunate.” – You couldn’t help a gentle smile as you smoothly laid your hand on his arm, fondling it, before going to serve the costumers that had arrived.

When it was time for him to leave, he searched for his wallet in his pockets, emptying them during the complicated process and laying his things on the counter.

“Here it is. Keep the change, sweet thing.” – He smile made your stomach flip-flop. He absentmindedly picked his things of the counter, giving you a lingering look before he left.

When you went to clean the counter, you noticed he forgot something and came outside, hoping he wouldn’t be far and you could give it back.

“Fuck. I’ll give it to him tomorrow.” –Curiosity beat you and you found yourself looking more closely at the vial, furrowing your forehead.

Painkillers. An ordinary thing when you do full-contact sports, but not so ordinary when you noticed he had taken half of the bottle within a week, according to the prescription date. Especially not if he had been drinking while taking them.

The next day, Tommy came at the usual time. You put the empty pill bottle right in front of him, leaning the closest you could.  

“Before you ask, they’re in the fucking dumpster, Tommy.” – You spoke quietly, your voice seeming to fade before you even finished the sentence. – “You can get it together, without that stuff. I know you can, you just have to want to.”

He didn’t say a word, just watched you pour him his usual drink and set it before him. You words and the slight hint of disappointment in your eyes weighted on his shoulders, more than he thought they could. Before he even finished the drink, he placed the money on the counter and left the bar, sitting on a staircase nearby. His mind churned out a stream of thoughts for a while; resting his face on his palm, seemingly unaware of the flow of time until much later.

At that time you almost never had costumers, it was nearly closing time. His steps toward the bar were quick and quiet.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask to leave, Sir.” – You asked the last costumer, who was clearly reluctant to leave.

“Or what?” – The man with a cadaverous look got up, walking up to you.

All of a sudden you stepped back, feeling a threatening tone in his voice when he addressed you.

“This is fate, little doll. I won’t hurt you, unless you try to run away from me, of course.” – He pulled out a knife and leaned against the counter. – “The choice is yours.”

The wind chime on the door tinkled aloud when Tommy opened the door and came in. Clearly seeing the panic on your face, he came closer.

“We’re closed. I strongly suggest you leave, now.” – Tommy stated assertively.

The man turned around and faced Tommy with a knife in hand.

“Look. You really, really don’t want to do any stupid move. I’m a former…”

Before Tommy could finish, the man advanced upon him, attacking him savagely, managing to make a small cut on his face.

Stupid move, indeed. Tommy managed to kick the knife of his hand the second after, before launching at him, kicking him in the ribs and guts, hitting him even after he was down.

“This is a friendly reminder to not mess with women ever again. Fucking coward. ” – He kneeled down and rear naked choked the man until he was out, before dumping him on the sidewalk.

You were shaking quite noticeably, dead pale.

“It’s alright now, (Y/N).” – His strong arms locked around you, holding you against his chest. Leaning down, he buried his face on your hair, kissing your temple. It felt more right than anything in his life had ever felt.

“You’re hurt.” – You looked up at him, gently cleaning the blood on his face with your fingers.

“Never mind. It’s not important. Are you hurt?” – He put your hair behind your ear, before cupping your face gently in his hands. He moved closer, staring into your eyes and slowly brushing his thumb on your cheek.

“Yes.” – Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a second. You put your hand over his, bringing it to your mouth and giving it a kiss, as a silent thankful gesture.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” – As he bent forwards, his face was only inches away from yours.

When you opened your eyes, he rested his forehead on yours; you could almost feel his lips on yours and you immediately felt a lump on your throat. With a fluttering heart, you just nodded almost imperceptibly. Your lips slowly parted in invitation, reacting to his proximity, his warmth, his care.

Intensely staring at your eyes, he fought himself to resist his urge to kiss you; at least until he had proven you that his intentions about you were absolutely serious and pure. The last thing he wanted was you to think that he would be the kind of man to take advantage of your fragility, by any means.

“Let’s go, babe.” – Squeezing your shoulders gently, he kissed the top of your head.

Over the next few weeks, he spent all of his free time on the bar, until there wasn’t any costumer left and walked you home after the closing. Altruist motive: he wanted you to be safe. Selfish motive: he wanted to be the one to make you safe, to have the chance to be around you as much time as possible.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” – He chewed his toothpick thoughtfully. – “Do you like to dance?”

“Doesn’t everybody?” – Across the counter, you gave him a dazzling smile.

Tommy didn’t. But if you did, he was willing to give it a try.

“Why don’t we go dance tonight?”

You looked him up and down, furrowing your eyebrows. He certainly didn’t strike you as a dancer, but you were curious to see the outcome, plus, it would be good to spend some time with him outside your working place.

“It’s a date, then.” – You giggled nervously again.

At those words, he sucked in a breath and felt a tingle inside.

Later that night, after hours and hours of overthinking and planning his speeches, he picked you up at home.

“God, you look perfect.” – He smiled to himself when he saw you and the heat of a blush rushed to your face.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” – Smirking, you adjusted his collar. Ever so lightly, your fingers softly grazed his neck, sending shivers through his body and causing his muscles to tense up.

Playfully, you linked your arm on his, but instead of escaping from it, he drew you closer until you were nestling against him.

The second you arrived on the dance club, his face told everything; after some attempts of dancing you could noticeably see he hated that place, it made him uncomfortable. Without further explanations, you grabbed his hand and walked out the door.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d enjoy this place.” – He looked at the building behind him and then stared at your connected hands.

“Yes, I do, but you clearly don’t. I don’t want it to be the worst night of your life.” – You nudged him, laughing innocently. – “I’d rather if it could be good for both of us, you know.” – You ran the fingers through his hair and then his face. – “ I appreciate the effort though, it was  really cute.”

“It was a disaster, wasn’t it?” – He scratched the back of his head with both hands. – “Yeah… Sounds just like me.”

“Tommy?”

“That’s the only thing I, Tommy Riordan Conlon, can do.”

“Tommy?”

“Typical.”

This triggered an involuntary eye roll; before you knew it, you were placing your hands around his face and leaning over to kiss him with a passion he happily returned. It was as if he forgot the whole world; everything disappeared for a moment. In that moment it was only you and him. Time seemed to stand still as long as your lips touched. He placed a hand on the small of your back, slowly bringing you closer. Your breaths, lips and tongues tangled together, perfectly. Both of you were nearly out of breath, but none of you broke the kiss you had been longing for so long.

“It was about damn time.” – You murmured between kisses.

“My bad.”  - You felt him smiling against your lips, just before he kissed you again, claiming you. The warmth of his body surrounded you, making you feel safe and sound. - “For a million reasons, the main one being the fact I am utterly, irrevocably, maybe madly in love with you… I really, really want you to be my girl.” – His eyes glistened and beamed with love as he met your gaze.

“I would really, really love to, baby.” – You trailed your finger over his lips, before you pulled him into another kiss.

The following months felt just like heaven; you quit the job as bartender and found a job on your professional area, Tommy never touched painkillers again and felt much more relaxed, plus your relationship was booming and neither of you had ever been so sure it was what you wanted.

“Babe?” – Snuggling comfortably on the couch, he pulled you closer and rubbed his nose on your hair.

“Yes?” – Smiling, you looked up at him, simultaneously taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

“There’s this tournament coming up…”

You just sighed and took a moment to answer. Multiple times you had seen him fighting and you knew he was good at it, but you couldn’t help feeling tightness on your heart and your stomach every time it happened, wondering what could go wrong.

“As long as you make it in one piece and I can come with you.” – Holding his hand tighter, you gave him a worried smile.

“Now I’ve got a princess to take care of.  I’ll be a lion on that cage, to come back safe for you, I promise.”

“You better, Tommy. I swear, if anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do. I love you.”  - You hid into his chest, feeling safe, yet scared for him.

“I love you too, little one.” – He whispered, petting your hair. His eyes never shifted off you, watching your every feature, instead of whatever you were supposed to be watching.

The date of the tournament came quickly and you both flew across the country, settling on a cozy hotel nearby the tournament’s location.

Although you and Tommy had been dating for quite a while, you had never slept together; this would be the first time. You never brought the subject up and he would never be the one to pressure you to do anything. When you found yourselves alone on the first night, you didn’t quite know what to do and you couldn’t help nervousness at the thought of what could happen.

Tommy smiled when you laid by his side, but he could tense from a mile away.

“What’s the matter?” – He asked with a hint of worry in his voice, looking into your eyes. – “Is it because of the fight? I’ll be ok.”

“No…I…”

He looked puzzled at you and sat upright on the bed.

“Fights have nothing to do with this.”

“Is it something that I did, love? Or said.” – He let out a low sigh.

“No. No. It’s me. I’ve just…” – You looked down, blushing deeply, while chewing your lower lip. -  “I’ve never been with a man before… And by being with a man, I mean…”

“Babe…”

“I know it’s stupid and I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of…”

“Babe.” – Smiling reassuringly, he cupped your face on his hands. – “It’s not stupid; it’s your body, your life, your decision. And it’s not because we’re here alone that it has to happen, ok?” – He placed a lingering peck on your lips. - “I don’t want you to be this terrified; I love you and I won’t ever force things, not on your first time or the hundredth or the billionth. Things will happen if you want them to happen, when you want them to happen.

After a little while, he felt you relaxing again.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” – Laying your head on his chest, you closed your eyes, just listening to his heartbeat. – “And thank you, I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, princess. Get some rest and don’t worry about a thing, ok? I don’t want this to be a torment for you, or you to feel some kind of obligation. I just want you enjoy our time together, day by day. It will happen when it happens.” – Whispering, he rubbed the tip on his nose on yours.

“Have I told you I love you?”

“No, not yet.” – He sneakily looked up.

“I’m pretty sure I did... In fact, I shall never tire of repeating: I love you.”  - Your mouth found his and you bit his lower lip gently.

That night you made a decision, you’d have your first time with Tommy. The following day, before he got to the hotel from the training, you prepared everything.

When Tommy got inside the room, it was dimly lit, with the moonlight shining through the window; it had pleasant scent of candles, mixed with your own scent that filled his head like a strong drink.  He put his things aside and sat on the edge of the bed.

You emerged from the bathroom, wearing black lace lingerie along with a silky robe that clung to your curves.

Tommy was slack-jacked, fascinated, perhaps stunned, for a minute.

As you came closer, he inhaled deeply and your scent flooded him. You laid him down and straddled him, placing several tentative kisses up his neck, each one longer and wetter than the last.

“(Y/N)…”

“Yes?” – You brushed your lips on his as you spoke, before you bit his lower lip and your hands roamed inside his shirt, wreaking havoc on his senses.

“Is this what you want?” – Breathing quicker, he slid his hand down your side, stopping at your thigh and grabbing it firmly, trying to keep it together.

“Yes.” – You pressed closer, whispering breathily in his ear.

“Are you sure? Once I start I might not be able to stop.” – It was hard, if not impossible, for him to control his body in that moment. He loved you and consequently desired you just as much, although he was willing to wait as long as needed.

“I have never felt so certain about anything in my life.” – Your lips reached his ear and you bit his earlobe gently.

He tightened the grip on your thigh and kissed you fervently, conveying his every feeling through his kiss and his warm touch.

Careful not to put too much weight on you, he rolled until he was on top and began shrugging out of his clothing, with your help. Once he was done with his clothes, he started undressing you, slowly, almost with reverence; he left a trail of kisses down your throat and stomach, until he met your sweet spot. His hand cupped your breast gently and you ached for more of his touch. He placed his lips on your sex and began giving it small wet kisses, before sucking your clit gently and teasing it with his tongue.

You gasped and grabbed his hair, moaning it pleasure as he flickered his tongue on your clit. The heat inside you begged for relief.

“Oh, Tommy…” – You ran your fingers through his hair, pushing your hips against him. – “Yes!”

He had heard you saying the word “yes” at least a hundred times in the last minutes, yet he wouldn’t get tired of hearing it. He could literally taste your arousal and it turned him on.

You quivered as he slid a finger inside you, keeping his mouth where it was. It must’ve been the last moment your brain actually functioned, before pleasure took over your body. As his finger slowly made small circles inside you and his tongue made the same motion on your clit, your breathing slowly became panting. Wetter and wetter, you started to ache for him, in ways you didn’t think you could.

His cock was throbbing and he needed relief, but not only he wanted to please you first, he also wanted you to be relaxed enough so he wouldn’t hurt you. Pursing his lips around your clit, he hummed slowly, sucking it into his mouth before teasing it with his tongue once again.

“Fuck.” – A heat started build up inside you, consuming you. Grabbing the sheet tightly, you let out a loud moan, wrapping your legs around him as you came on his mouth. – “Time to return the favor, I want you to feel as I feel…” – You pulled him up on you.

“No. I’m supposed to be making you feel good.” – He slid his tongue across your lower lip, his eyes blazing with desire.

“I want to feel you, Tommy. I need to feel you.” – You whispered against his lips and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He gently slid the tip of his cock inside you and you groaned lowly.

“Am I hurting you?”  - He laid his forehead on yours.

“Well, truth be told, it’s not that bad. I don’t care about pain right now; I just want to make love to you.” – You pecked his lips, moaning lowly when he slid it deeper, stretching you more.

“If you want me to stop, I will.” – He nuzzled his nose between your neck and jaw.

“I don’t…” – Your hands slid down his back, urging him to thrust deeper inside your moist core.

“I love you, baby.” – He kissed you passionately, his tongue dancing with yours, between moans.

“Me too.” – Suddenly your mouth fell agape as you gasped loudly and your nails dug on his back.

His thrusts were controlled and slow, yet incredibly tentative, making you plead for more as you grabbed a fistful of his hair. Slowly, his pace grew faster and his cock swelled inside you, making you tighten reflexively around it. He greedily placed his lips on your necks, trying to stop himself from moaning loudly.

Throwing back your head, you wrapped your legs around him.  

“Harder, baby.” – Your eyes fell shut and your body jerked against him.

“Why don’t you set the pace you like? I don’t want to be too rough.” – Biting you lower lip, he grabbed your buttock.

You rolled until you were on top, taking him deep inside you and sliding your hips, keeping your movements for long minutes, until your juices began to pour across his manhood. Hearing you moaning his name, sped up the process of making him reach the climax as well.

You finally collapsed by his side and held his hand, giggling, happy and exhausted.

“Did you like it?” – Panting heavily, he turned to you and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“It was perfect.” – You snuggled to his chest. – “I don’t think there’s someone as careful and thoughtful as you.”

Feeling your hot breath against his chest, he felt a chill down his spine. Wrapping his muscular arm around you, he pulled you even tighter against his body.

“You know what? If you win the fight tomorrow…” – You held his hand, playing with it. – “I might empty half of my closet, to make room for your things. I want you to come to live with me.”

“And if I lose?”

“Well, if you lose you’re emptying the closet and you only get a third of it. But I obviously still want you to come. If not permanently, at least much more often. You’re a keeper.” – You rubbed your nose gently on his neck, taking in his scent.

“Wait, are you serious?” – His eyes shone with excitement.

“I don’t make jokes out of such serious matters, love.”

Tags: @carmen-kray , @titty-teetee , @iv-nyc , @but--dear-this-is-not-wonderland , @eap1935 , @ellar21 , @tiredoffeelinglost , @original-krays , @marvelgirl7 , @captstefanbrandt , @evilispretty-dead , @mollybegger-blog , @bignastyfan-nz , @scarrasco1325-deactivated201905 , @miidailyinspiration , @harleyquinns , @haroldpain , @marvelslut16 , @willowick13 , @outofbluecomesgreen , @elemeph , @my-little-lucky-scissors

[imperiuswrecked]

Differet anon - I love character analysis, and want all your opinions about Namor, in as much detail as you're willing to provide.

Hello Anon! I have so many opinions about Namor and if you really want then here’s a long meta that covers various things (warning long post ahead):

Now we all know that while Marvel Comics Universe officially begins with the Fantastic Four in the Silver Age, most of the Golden Age isn’t considered “true” MU canon BUT Marvel plays fast and loose with the GA characters and backstories, they pick and choose whatever they like and leave the rest, for instance many GA characters never made it out of the GA however some have in some capacity and the main three who used to be Marvel’s Holy Trinity due to their popularity in the GA were Original Human Torch, Captain America, and the Sub-Mariner. However Marvel took different approaches to bringing them into the SA. For Jim Hammond he was shelved and his superhero name and powers were given to Johnny Storm, the current Human Torch takes his name from his favorite super hero Jim because Johnny used to read comics about the GA heroes and it’s in MU canon that Jim, Steve, and Namor had comics made of their time during WWll. Captain America was put on ice (though this was not revealed until his reemergence in the comics within the pages of the Avengers after Namor’s SA debut) however for Namor, now Namor was special because Stan Lee loved Namor so much that rather than reinvent him like he and Kirby did with the Human Torch, he just brought him into the comics as he was, he gave him amnesia, and Kirby reworked the Atlanteans and Atlantis’s designs and they seamlessly integrated him into the pages of the Fantastic Four.

The reason why I find this so exciting is because Namor has always been a link for connections within the comics, he and Jim Hammond had the very first comic superhero cross over in comic history, this meant that before their crossover, Batman and Superman never hung out, and everyone was in their own universe. Namor then becomes the connection between the Old comics and the New comics when he comes into the SA. Namor connects the X-Men to the wider universe when he appears in their books, he connects Daredevil when he guest stars, and Namor is the reason Steve was found by the Avengers. His actions cause a ripple across comics. Not to mention that Namor as a creation is himself also a connection, he was the first Anti-Hero in a time where such a thing never existed, there was “bad guys vs good guys” only black and white views, there was no grey human mortality involved. His creator, Bill “Blake” Everett was a descendant from William Blake, a Romantic Age Poet and Artist. So the Romanticism and Bryonic elements to Namor cannot be dismissed especially since Everett connects Namor back to more old romantic age stuff when he named him The Sub-Mariner taking inspiration from “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” Another connection Namor has is that he is the prototype Mutant, his ankle wing origin story and how he gained his ability to fly in his teens was covered years before the X-Men were invented in 1963. (Sub-Mariner Comics #38, Published Feb 1955).

In the Golden Age Namor’s childhood is quickly glossed over, but what we do know is that Thakorr, angry at his daughter Princess Fen, for daring to love and marry a human man, locks her away in a cell and within that cell is where Namor was born. Thakorr now realizing he has a male heir but still upset with his daughter releases her and grants her, her life but he also banishes her and the newborn prince as punishment for her actions. He only allows them to return to Atlantis when Namor becomes ten years of age in order to begin his training to become ruler one day. The reason I mentioned earlier that Marvel takes whatever it feels like taking from the GA is because this fact is usually forgotten or glossed over in the comics. However when Namor was a young boy he was beloved by his mother and his only friend, Dorma, and later after she was retconned into being Namor’s cousin, Namora. Other than that Namor was often ostracized for being born different. He endured racism, taunts and his Grandfather abuse as he was growing up. However Thakorr wasn’t stupid and when he and Fen saw what Namor could do, how strong he grew and how he could survive on land, then Namor began to be molded into the “Avenging Son” a weapon of Atlantis and to be used in against the surface world to make them pay for their crimes.

Namor feeling like an outsider and trying to find his place in the world is a core element to the backbone of his character, his morally grey nature allows him more freedom than other characters.

Namor is a very flawed character and I feel he is very relatable because he makes mistakes and rather than ignoring them he faces the consequences for that.

Namor is perhaps the most honest character in Marvel, and I don’t mean as in he himself doesn’t tell a lie now and then but honest as in what you see is what you get and he will cut through the b.s. and tell you exactly what he is thinking whenever he feels like it. Namor will call you out and he makes no apologies for being abrasive or in your face.

Due to his upbringing and also due to Namor having to constantly fight and endure his cousins trying to take his throne by whispering in Thakorr’s ears, the court was not a kind place for the half breed prince, he had to command respect at every opportunity which is why when people disrespect him on the surface world he is quick to assert himself and remind all that he is the king of seas.

Legend of the Blue Marvel (2009) #4

So Namor deals with A LOT which is why he has this salty grumpy outer shell to his personality and not many people get to see the softer side of the Sub-Mariner. He wears this mask of arrogance and confidence but he also backs up everything he says with his actions. Namor is very aware of how others see him and decided long ago that he gives zeros fucks and will do whatever he wants to do, but something that not a lot of writers in the modern age comics get about Namor is that Namor is very honorable just because Namor uses a different moral compass than other heroes doesn’t mean he isn’t a good person in his own way.

Namor hates bullies, being bullied as a child he despises bullies in all forms and often steps in to stop them and takes the side of the underdog. He especially hates child abusers.

Namor respects women, omfg if I have to read another “hot take” from some writer who calls Namor a home wrecking Casanova I will fling myself into the sun. Toxic Masculinity is a thing that people keep trying to attach to Namor but it’s WRONG. This especially happens in the comics where there is Reed/Sue/Namor drama because writers want people to side with Reed and having Namor be a douche and Sue declaring that she would never be with a man like him no matter how hot he is because his personality sucks and Reed is the good choice for Sue. (can you tell I dislike the namorsue ship? lmao)

Namor treats women with respect and would actually fight others who disrespect women, he is a king and a gentleman, however this does not mean that he treats them as inferior. He has had his ass saved by women so many times, he will fight a female villain the same as a male villain, he will listen to women and trust their judgement in situations. Namor is much less likely to trust men and especially men in power due to him growing up under Thakorr’s tyrannic rule.

Namor’s an old school romantic and he loves being in love even if he doesn’t quite know how to make a relationship last (usually because Marvel kills off his love interests).

Namor gives people second chances even if they have betrayed him in the past.

Namor and his mother have a strained relationship, even though they both love each other there’s a wall between them. Fen was crafty, she would do what could to prepare Namor to be king, including keeping secrets from him.

Namor is a loyal person and friend, and once you have his seal of approval he will fight for you.

Namor likes animals far more than he likes people, and I love him for it. He treats scary undersea creatures like pets.

Namor is a very lonely creature who cares far more than he will ever let on and who, no matter what happens, will always stand up to fight for what he thinks is right even if the entire world is against him.

Namor has this thing about touch, he dislikes people touching him without his express permission and when I first starting reading his comics I chalked it up to a part of his arrogant demeanor, then I thought that it might be because he is royalty and there are certain things you just don’t do with royalty and personal touches like a hand on the should might seem to be too familiar and it was a sign of disrespect, however when I read more about Thakorr’s cruelty/abuse I have come to think that its a mix of “Don’t touch me bitch, I’m royalty” and “I won’t let anyone who I don’t like touch me ever again because of the abuse I suffered”.

His soft heart has been hardened by mankind’s cruelty so he protects it. He’s seen more sorrow and pain than others have in their lifetime and he is just a tired old man who wants everyone to leave him alone.

Thanks for letting me ramble on, lmao.

[fakeyellow]

I love angst. Based on an anon prompt, this is a story where MC gets ill. 

“I put my symptoms in WebMD and it says I have leukemia.”

Lily laughed, “Girl, you know WebMD always says you have cancer even if you only have a cold. You cough once and WebMD’s like you’re gonna die in ten seconds.”

“What’s WebMD?” Jax asked, a confused look on his face.

“It’s a website where you put in your symptoms and they tell you what’s probably wrong with you,” Celia replied, smiling at Lily’s words although there still remained a slight worry in her eyes.

“Hmm, you know, I have been feeling a bit tired lately, maybe I’ll try it out,” Jax mused, rubbing his stubble thoughtfully.

“Jax. You’re a vampire,” Lily reminded him, her face scrunched up in disbelief.

“Yeah, well, you never know,” Jax defended himself even as his neck flushed in embarrassment and Lily could only laugh at him.

“Perhaps you should go to the hospital if you’re worried. I’m sure it’ll be just a small cold like Lily said but it’s best to check,” Adrian smoothly interrupted.

“Will you come with me? I don’t like hospitals,” Celia turned to Kamilah with an earnest look reminiscent of a puppy’s.

“Of course,” Kamilah responded, and although she looked like her usual, unruffled self, there was just the slightest bit of concern in her eyes. After all, Kamilah had been there with her the entire week, had noticed how Celia was more tired than usual, had noticed how Celia had lost weight, her hip bones jutting out from her skin.

And strangely, it was that concern in an otherwise unmoveable woman that grounded Celia, rather than further worry her. No matter what, Kamilah lov- well, she had strong feelings for her and that was all she needed.

Besides, Lily was probably right. She probably just had a cold or infection or something.

—-

“I’m sorry but we found that you have acute myeloid leukemia...”

Celia walked about the dark streets of New York, moving as if in a daze.  

“But that’s what WebMD said,” Celia dumbly said, unable to comprehend what her doctor was telling her. 

“It’s not often accurate but I’m afraid it was in this case. Now, what this means is…”

The rest of the doctor’s words had blended into an unintelligible noise and now she was here, in the busy streets, not knowing what to do. Was she supposed to cry? Was she supposed to fall to the ground, wailing that she still had too much of her life yet to live? Was she supposed to lash out in anger at the world that had dropped this atomic bomb on her, at her body that had betrayed her? 

But Celia just felt… nothing. There was an empty numbness in her threatening to consume her, a hollow hole in place of where her heart was supposed to be.  

Without a real destination in mind, Celia just kept walking and walking until she found herself in Kamilah’s apartment, welcomed by that familiar scent of lilies and cinnamon. Her exhausted legs dropped her onto the side of Kamilah’s plush bed, and she just sat there, unable to do anything else.

There was no real sense of time passing in the heavily curtained room with its constant, warm temperature, but eventually, there was the sound of the front door opening. Kamilah briskly stepped into her room, her momentary pause the only sign of her surprise. 

“I went to your apartment but you weren’t there. What did the doctor say?” Kamilah asked casually as she took her blazer off and placed it in her closet.

When there was no response from the still woman, Kamilah went over and joined her on the bed.

“Celia?”

And it was this gentle call of her name, each syllable said with such tender affection, that finally caused her numb façade to shatter into pieces all around them.  

Great, heavy sobs ripped out of her chest and she turned blindly into Kamilah’s warm embrace, the woman’s arms immediately wrapping around her trembling shoulders.

When at last her tears stopped, Celia slowly lifted her head from Kamilah’s chest, looking embarrassed at the wet spot she left behind.

“Wow, that’s gross. I’m sorry I ruined your silk blouse.”

“Think nothing of it. Are you okay?” The Egyptian woman asked, concern written on her ageless face. 

“Yeah, the doctor said it was a virus. I think I was just really worried about it even though I tried to pretend I wasn’t,” Celia admitted, wiping the wet tears from her cheeks with a shaky smile.

The vampire’s eyes narrowed but she did not further press the matter.

“Well, shall we celebrate your clean bill of health?” Kamilah asked with a devious smirk, and when they fell back into the bed together, she noticed the uncharacteristically desperate, almost ferocious passion in Celia’s actions. 

Celia was hiding something from her.

—-

Celia collapsed onto her bed, too tired to be affected by the strong disinfectant smell pervading the apartment. 

The first week after her diagnosis, she’d visited the hospital more times than she’d ever been in her life, undergoing countless tests and even spending a few days in the ICU after she had caught a cold that had quickly gone downhill.

Although she had tried to maintain a double life, spending her days in the hospital and her nights in the world of vampires and corporate finance as Adrian’s chief assistant, it had quickly become too much for her. After falling asleep at her desk multiple times, Adrian had kindly told her to take a few days off to rest and she had all too eagerly accepted. 

But when her first chemotherapy appointment had been scheduled, Celia knew she’d need an excuse that would somehow give her several weeks away from everyone to recover. She had filed for a leave of absence, telling everyone that she needed to go take care of her grandmother who had suddenly fallen ill and praying that Lily would trust her enough to not mention that her grandmother had died two years ago 

Momentarily taken aback, Lily had quickly recovered and wished Grandma Lucia well, before texting Celia later that night that she would be waiting for an explanation. Everyone had accepted her lie without a hint of doubt but Kamilah. 

Celia had successfully avoided Kamilah until that moment, citing her work and her busy schedule as an excuse. For the first time, Celia had been grateful she’d never officially moved into Kamilah’s apartment because there would have been no hiding her secret in such close proximity. 

Her heart had ached at the sight of the beautiful woman she loved, but Celia had forced herself to keep a distance between them, hurriedly running to her car when it looked like Kamilah wanted her to stay back after the others left. 

Part of her had wanted Kamilah to run after her, stopping her, and forcing her to give up what she had been hiding so she could finally be with her again, and part of her continued to want that. But the larger part of her that loved her refused to break Kamilah’s heart, even as she felt unfairly hurt when Kamilah didn’t follow. 

That had been just yesterday, today filled with her first round of chemo. And while she had felt fine at the hospital and her anti-nausea meds seemed to be working, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion had crashed into her. 

It was only after she’d promised her doctor that she had someone to care for her and keep her apartment sterile that she’d been allowed to return to her home after the treatment. Because even though she was alone, Celia needed the comfort of her apartment. Thankfully, it was small enough that it hadn’t taken her much time in the morning to disinfect everything. 

And though her bed was not nearly as soft as Kamilah’s was, Celia found herself falling asleep with no troubles at all. 

—-

She didn’t know what time it was when she woke up, but all she knew was that her meds had failed and she needed to vomit. 

In the dark, she nearly tripped over herself in her frantic run to the bathroom, collapsing onto her knees when she finally reached the toilet. Without a second’s wait, Celia found herself heaving the measly contents of her stomach, hands tightly gripping the white porcelain. It was some time after her vomiting had been replaced by dry heaving that she finally noticed the cool hand on her neck, holding back her hair. 

She closed her eyes, feeling absolutely wretched, and rested her forehead onto the bowl of the toilet without care, when her eyes flew open. She jerked her head to the side only to gaze straight into bottomless, brown eyes, and she recoiled in horror at the implication.

“You can’t be touching me,” Celia gasped, her back pressed up against the bathtub after her attempt to get away. 

Kamilah stared back at her, a flicker of hurt appearing on her face before an unreadable look replaced it. 

Celia struggled to get up, placing a trembling hand on the bathtub for support, and in a flash, Kamilah was right in front of her, ready to support her. But Celia flinched from her touch and Kamilah finally let her arms fall limply to her side, forcing herself to only watch as Celia dragged herself out of the bathroom and into her bed.

Even as a storm of emotions raged in her chest, Celia’s fatigue proved to be the victor and she promptly fell asleep. 

—-

When Celia awoke, a sour taste was in her mouth but she felt infinitely better than she had the last night. The nausea had gone and-

The memories of the night before came back to her and she sat straight up, only to wince at the sudden rush of blood to her head. And Kamilah was right there, sitting at the edge of her bed, looking like she had been watching Celia the entire night even though the clock on the wall told Celia it was noon (a time Kamilah should have been sleeping). 

Her mouth was pressed together in a straight line as if to prevent the worry from escaping and without a word, she gestured to the glass of water on the bedside table. 

Celia hesitated for a second, and Kamilah said, “I didn’t touch it.”

Feeling guilty, Celia gave her a grateful nod and quickly drank the water down, relishing its refreshing taste. There was silence and a fraught tension in the room once the glass was empty, Celia’s eyes determinedly fixed on the glass and Kamilah’s eyes determinedly fixed on Celia. 

“You’ve been hiding something from me.”

Celia felt her throat dry and she wished that the empty glass in her hand was full again. She opened her mouth and closed it and opened it again before deciding she owed Kamilah the truth. She had already seen her last night; Kamilah would find out even without her telling the truth. And so, with a shaky exhale, Celia said,

“When I went to the doctor’s, they told me I have leukemia.”

The silence that followed was the worst Celia had ever experienced; she would have traded this silence for their previously tense silence over and over again.

Kamilah’s hand clenched into a tight fist, veins straining against her taut, tan skin and she suddenly looked every two thousand plus years of her age.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Kamilah said in a deceptively calm voice, “I’m hurt you decided to keep this from me, but that’s not important right now. Why didn’t you tell anyone? Lily, Adrian, and Jax, you should have told someone even if if you didn’t tell me! Why would you go through this alone?”

Celia ignored the second half of Kamilah’s questions, tearily responding, “I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Tears spilled over at the vulnerability she could see in Kamilah’s eyes, the vulnerability she had caused.

“I thought I could just go through the treatments by myself and once I was okay again, I could tell you so you wouldn’t have to be worried. I-I didn’t want to burden you. And I didn’t want to get hurt either,” Celia admitted.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore, not now that I’m sick. Not when you have thousands of years in front of you to be with anyone you choose,” she desperately rambled, needing Kamilah to know why she had lied to her, needing Kamilah to stop looking so heartbroken. 

“I love you so much but I’m just so scared,” Celia finally whimpered.

For one terrible second, Celia was sure that Kamilah was going to walk away from her forever but then Kamilah fiercely embraced her, somehow causing all of her fears to disappear.

“I love you Celia. I’m sorry I haven’t said it before and made you doubt my feelings for you but I love you and you’re going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay.” 

“I promise.”

—-

A/N: I actually had a friend in high school who diagnosed herself with leukemia using WebMD before she went to the doctor’s and got an official diagnosis. 

When you get chemo, your immune system is basically gone/severely compromised so you have to be really careful about germs, which is why MC kept telling Kamilah that she can’t touch her. 

MC didn’t tell Kamiah because she didn’t want Kamilah to worry about her and also they were together but their relationship was never officially defined so MC was scared and also MC just got diagnosed with cancer, she’s scared out of her mind, she’s not thinking properly. 

I’m definitely going to have a second part to this although I’m not sure how long it’ll be. It’ll probably be on the shorter side.