#we started with what seemed like a promise for competitive high school career with the concept of beastars | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets.

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you.

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter.

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

973 notes · View notes

17tetsuro · 4 years ago

Note

could u do fake dating headcanons where they slowly fall for u w atsumu, kenma & oikawa,, gn pronounces are fine :)

haikyuu boys slowly falling for you (fake dating edition) (gn!reader)

feat: atsumu, kenma, oikawa

warnings: fake dating, abuse of cliche tropes and commas and question marks, timeskip setting because im anything but creative, swearing

requests are open!

a/n: thank you for requesting this!! i hope you like it :D

atsumu

* you’ve been friends with him ever since high school and you watched his career grow

* youre both equally proud of each other n your friendship is built on mutual respect, trust and love

* you basically live in his apartment, with how much time you spend over there

* he would complain 24/7 about not having anyone to go to events with

* at one point you wanted to strangle him for never shutting up about it so you propose you go with him from time to time

* atsumu: “yeah, that was a setup”

* he KNOWS you’re drop dead gorgeous and everyone will be jealous of him that you’re with him (and you also look very good in formalwear, which he very much enjoys)

* and you get to have free food and drinks and also wear immaculate expensive clothes

* so,, you became his regular date for sponsorship events and stuff

* and you never really outright said you were just friends?? so you’re used to the media portraying you two as lovers but your close circle is aware that your relationship is platonic

* everything was going great until one of his sponsor company’s heir started hitting on you

* atsumu saw you flirting with the person and his mind went blank

* he,, he didn’t understand why he wanted to commit multiple crimes on the spot

* bokuto conveniently showed up next to atsumu at that moment

“hey, atsumu? why is your date flirting with them?” bokuto asked, suddenly appearing next to atsumu, which startled the latter out of his thoughts.

a better question would be why atsumu saw red at the thought of you getting friendly with anyone but him that night. he tried his best to keep his composure, but it was hard when you rested a hand on the heir’s shoulder, leaning your head back while laughing.

“atsumu, are you not going to answer me? your lover is-“

“my what?” atsumu asked, attention now completely off you.

“your lover? is that a term you don’t like? i could say partner... significant other... or anything you want, really,” bokuto answered, apologizing.

“you- you think me and (y/n) are together?”

“aren’t you? what, with the way you look at each other i was convinced you two were like... high school sweethearts or something, who hate pda,” bokuto explained, while atsumu’s eyes trailed back to you.

“you think... you think they’d wan’ me?”

“are you blind, buddy?”

you must have sensed their gazes, because as soon as those words left bokuto’s mouth, your eyes snapped towards atsumu and bokuto. the latter started waving with a cheerful smile while the former just stood, entranced by you and your presence. atsumu noticed traces of confusion appearing on your face, and watched as you excused yourself from the conversation you were previously interested in.

“‘tsumu, are you alright?” you questioned, approaching the pair. bokuto grinned and left, which made you even more confused.

“yeah, i’m fi- fine. hey, uh, (y/n), say... do you- why did you offer to come to these events as my date?” atsumu asked, eyes dead set on yours. you cracked a confused smile. you seemed to be capable of nothing but confusion at the moment.

“because you’re my best friend and i hated to see you so down because of your loneliness at these gatherings,” you replied, holding his gaze. “why didn’t you oppose it?”

his eyes studied you and when he saw nothing but sincerity, he let out a loud sigh. this was all very new and confusing to him. it’s like bokuto calling you atsumu’s lover set off a bomb inside his head that instead of causing a mess, made everything fall into place; why his gaze seemed to linger on you more often than before, why he was so eager to choose your outfits for these events, why he went to parties he didn’t even have to attend, why he got so jealous and angry when he saw you with the cute heir.

“holy shit,” he breathed and ran his hands through his hair, letting out a nervous chuckle and lowering his gaze to the ground. “holy shit.”

“you look like you’ve been enlightened, and i love that for you, but ‘tsumu, i’m still very confused.”

“i’m in love with you,” he said in disbelief, and quickly snapped his eyes back to your face when he realized he said it out loud. “i- i mean- i’m not in love with you, no way in hell, you’re- you’re my best friend, you- you smack my head whenever i say somethin’ inappropriate, you keep me from underminin’ myself, you always lift my spirits and for fuck’s sake, please, stop lookin’ at me like that because i will be getting hopeful and if you’re just joking, i will never hear the end of it and-“

you finally hd enough of his rambling and cut him off with a kiss. at first he froze, but seconds later he melted into your embrace, hands sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

when your lips separated, atsumu gasping for air after his word vomit and the long kiss you shared, you spoke up. “miya atsumu, you’re a real dumbass, you know that?”

his breath hitched and you kept quiet for a second to let him suffer a bit.

“but you’re my dumbass. i love you, you absolute piece of work.”

atsumu honest to god giggled and leaned in for another kiss, which you gave him without hesitation.

somewhere in the room, bokuto was collecting the money sakusa promised to give him if he got you two to kiss.

kenma

* kenma and you are both twitch streamers with similar content so you knew of each other but weren’t properly introduced

* until one of your mutual friends invited you both to stream among us with them

* you obv accepted

* so during the 3 hr stream, you and kenma were imposters together a lot and had the biggest, most twisted imp plays

* a friendly competition broke out at one point, too, trying to see who exposed the most impostors between the two of you

* your fans ate your dynamic up

* from then on, you two interacted more and started to appear in each others’ streams

* kenma even invited you to his minecraft smp

* you became besties basically

* SO

* all fun and games

* and then a huge sponsorship opportunity rolled in

* and the people at the company assumed you were dating

* uh oh

* you couldnt just tell them they have it wrong bc the whole thing depended on your relationship

* so

* big brain kenma suggest you two start to “date”

* you were against deceiving your followers but kenma assured you you could have a public breakup and tell everyone you were better off as friends

* so you reluctantly agreed

* it was only for two months anyways, what could go wrong?

* both of you, on week 3, in separate discord calls: uh oh, im in l*ve

* you both tried to cope (read: repress everything) but the realization on both of your parts threw your dynamic off a bit and fans have noticed

* so you had to do something abt it

* so kenma suggested you try your hand at a minecraft challenge together

* it was all fun and games until it wasnt

* you somehow ended up flirting back and forth ????

* chat was goin crazy, even in sub only mode

* both of you: ha ha im in danger

* when the stream ended, you stayed on call, because that was a routine you stuck to no matter what

“so... how are you doing?” you asked kenma, trying to clear the awkwardness from the air.

“good.”

maybe you should have taken kenma’s refusal to talk about anything into account when initiating conversation.

kenma, on the other end of the call was anxiously playing with his fingers, trying to figure out if his chat was right, and you were indeed flirting with him. and him with you. god.

“hey, y/n,” kenma said after a while, “were you flirting with me?”

his bluntness startled you and you had to mute yourself for a few seconds while you collected yourself.

“is there a correct answer?” you asked hesitantly.

“yes.”

“oh... uhm, maybe? it wasn’t intentional. or maybe it was, subconsciously, i don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

“good. it was intentional on my part, i think,” and okay, that was not the reply you expected to hear.

“really?”

“yeah, i- i like you i guess,” he said, sounding more confident by the minute. “do you like me too?”

“i- yeah. i do. i like you, kenma,” you replied, sighing a breath of relief. it felt good to admit it aloud to him.

“do you- would you maybe want to come over?” he asked sheepishly, which made absolutely no sense because he sounded so confident a second ago. “we could play mario kart?”

you let the beaming smile you were holding back take over your face. “i’ll be there in 10, kenma.”

“i’ll be waiting for you.”

oikawa

* on god mans hated your guts

* like,, okay, you were iwa’s close friend but you were so annoyingly honest all the time

* it drove him mad

* what also drove him mad is the fact that you loved to tease him

* no matter what the circumstance, whether he was in japan or in argentina, you always found a way to make him blush

* okay so maybe hate is a strong word, because he kind of thought you were pretty, but in a platonic way

* dumbass

* iwa always give both of you shit for not liking each other

* so you came up with a big brain idea

* you: ”oikawa! we should date!”

* oikawa: “what”

* after you explained the concept of fake dating to him and its benefits (which included a staged dramatic breakup, giving you both a reason to hate each other without iwa complaining)

* he was totally down

* iwa, when he first saw you holding hands: “i knew it”

* SO!! thus began weeks of pretending to be in love with each other for the sake of iwa

* which turned from pretending to not pretending real quick for your liking

* falling in love with oikawa was not a plan of yours

* (falling in love with you wasn’t his, either)

* with iwa’s constant nagging of “i knew it, you both were head over heels for each other from the moment you met”, the time for the breakup came quicker than expected (maybe you both had enough. so what.)

* you agreed to do it in front of iwa so he could see it happen

* you chose a mcdonalds parking lot, because then you could storm off and iwa would follow you to make sure you were ok and oikawa could go home and sleep

* maybe winging it was not the best idea

“babe,” you said with venom, “haven’t i told you a thousand times that i do not want to hear about your exes? seriously, it’s like the only thing you talk about,” you complained, as your fake-boyfriend took a sip from his drink.

“well, babe,” his tone matching yours, “i would shut up about them if took the hint sometimes. maybe i don’t like going to the movies as much as you seem to, it’s boring,” he rolled his eyes, subtly glancing at iwa, who looked very uncomfortable third wheeling your argument. good

“jerk. i don’t even want to go to the movies that much, asshole,” you spat, crushing your empty cup in your hand.

“oh, you want to go to the movies plenty. face it, (y/n), you’re boring. no wonder you didn’t have a boyfriend before me,” he replied and his words, even though you knew were fake, still hit hard and you couldn’t help the tears gathering in your eyes.

“okay, then, thanks for these wonderful past few weeks, so glad you decided to take pity on me.” you tried to keep acting, encouraging yourself with the fact that if oikwa meant what he said, you wouldn’t have to talk to him if iwaizumi finally saw you two break up.

you expected a lot of things, but genuineness in oikawa’s eyes was not one of them.

“(y/n), i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that,” oikawa pleaded, clearly forgetting about your mutual goal.

with a mumbled whatever, you started walking home, letting the sunset wash over your face. when you knew you were out of sight, you sat down on a bench and just started crying.

you don’t know how much time passed, but you heard a voice behind you speak up.

“hey (y/n).”

“what the fuck do you want, oikawa? to rub in the fact that my first boyfriend was just faking it so his best friend would get off his back? leave me alone, jerk,” you said, trying to wipe your tears away.

“i- i didn’t mean it like that, please, believe me,” he replied, taking a seat next to you. you scooted away from him. he sighed.

“why would i believe you? why do you want to make up, anyways? this fight was pretty real, no way iwaizumi didn’t believe it,” you sniffed.

“because maybe... maybe i was very happy about the fact that i could be your boyfriend, even if it was fake. maybe i’m in love with you,” he said softly, leaning towards you.

“please, stop playing games. it’s over,” you replied, trying very hard to ignore the raw emotion in his voice as he spoke.

“i really am, (y/n). i wasn’t at first, i admit it, but now i am. i love you, please, believe me,” he begged and you finally made eye contact with him. eyes were mirrors of the soul, after all.

you studied his face for a few minutes, looking for anything that could indicate he was trying to pull a shit prank on you, but you found nothing.

“asshole. maybe i’m in love with you too, what would you do if i said that?” you asked, wiping your nose with your sleeves.

“kiss you.”

“do it, then, i guess. but you’re still not completely forgiven.”

“what do i have to do to earn your forgiveness, (y/n)?” he asked and you sent him a mischievous smile.

“take the blame for this whole fiasco with iwaizumi.” he froze at your words and visibly gulped, but nodded nonetheless.

“okay, i will. can i kiss you now?”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah.”

and he did.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #atsumu x reader #kenma x reader

168 notes · View notes

thenovelartist · 4 years ago

Text

Burned Beginnings, Chapter 3

<<Previous Next>>

7. Homemade Gifts

Marinette prided herself in not caring about the looks of others. After all, beauty meant nothing if their heart was trash. They’d always just be a pig in lipstick.

Unfortunately, if they did have a good heart, Marinette discovered that she did care for their looks a little more than she would have cared to admit. Particularly when it came to a former model turned baker.

Which was why, much to her chagrin, she’d ended up losing the bet.

It was just a pair of glasses. A simple, functional accessory. However, with the frame he had, ones that held a dark green hue that accented his eyes and were square in form—somehow, a perfect match for his angular face—she couldn’t help but to have stared a bit.

By the time she caught herself, Adrien was already grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

She hoped beyond all hope her cheeks hadn’t colored, or at the very least, Adrien hadn’t caught it.

And now, she was having to bite the bullet and watch an anime of his choosing. Honestly, it wasn’t a bad loss.

Hopefully.

Depending on what he chose…

Oh, please don’t be anything stupid.

Marinette finished her work, then clocked out, hurrying to go shower quickly before Adrien came over. Not that Adrien hadn’t seen her covered in flour and looking like a hot mess already, but she’d rather be clean and comfy if she was going to have to suffer through her punishment for losing the bet. They had planned to meet at her house for the viewing. Adrien would bring over his computer and cables to hook it up to their tv so that he could easily access his anime accounts. He said it would be a piece of cake.

She threw on a comfy t-shirt and lounge pants, then she dried her hair. Once that was done, she went downstairs to begin preparing the dinner she’d prepped earlier that day.

Halfway through, a knock sounded on the door, signaling Adrien’s arrival. She answered, only for her gaze to fall to the box in his hands. “What’s that?”

One of his hands reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I wanted to bring some homemade food since I knew you’d be working all day. And I need to practice my cooking skills, anyway.”

She smiled, taking the offered gift. “Thanks, but I actually started making something thinking that it was the least I could do since you were bringing everything over.”

Adrien looked surprised for a moment before he chuckled. “We should have planned that better.”

“Oh well. Left overs for days, right?” she said with a shrug, stepping aside to let him in.

“That’s one way to look at it.”

8. Commissions

“Can I ask a question?”

“I don’t know? Can you?”

Adrien looked up from his computer screen to shoot a grinning Marinette a flat look. This was the fourth time he’d come over so they could continue the anime he’d chosen. He had known from Mr. Dupain that he and his daughter both loved video games, and henceforth, he’d chosen accordingly in hopes to get Marinette hooked.

He knew he’d succeeded when they binged the first four episodes the first day. He’d then hung it over her head that “why would he come back again? He’d won the bet, and she’d paid her price, so for what reason did he have to come over again?”

He had had fun teasing her, because her huffy, unamused expression was too darn endearing.

“Look,” she’d said. “I just need to know what happens to Princess Bitch.”

He’d snorted, trying and failing to withhold his laugh. “You don’t get to call her that yet.”

“Why not? You don’t get to pull that level of manipulative bullshit, ruining the other person’s life like that, and not be dubbed with the title ‘Princess Bitch’.”

“So…” he drawled out, teasingly. “Are you saying you care about this anime?”

She’d fallen silent, and he couldn’t help but to laugh once more.

In the end, after more teasing on his part, he’d caved and said he’d come over again so they could finish it out.

Hence why he was here now.

“Haha, funny,” Adrien deadpanned, turning back to his screen.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be nice,” she said a little too sweetly, placing two plates of food on the coffee table before plopping down on the couch. “What’s on your mind?”

He took a second to log into his account before turning back to her. “I don’t know if this is overstepping, but… are you happy working at your parents’ bakery?”

Marinette froze, and for a moment, Adrien grew worried.

Thankfully, she seemed to take it well, although it was clear she was confused. “What brought that on?”

Adrien shrugged, looking at his screen again to select their anime of choice. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I feel like we’re close enough to be friends. Right?”

Marinette didn’t hesitate to nod. “Yeah, I would consider you one.”

Adrien pushed aside the very happy feeling that blossomed in his chest. “I guess I’m just… curious… about you… as a friend, of course.”

“No, I get it,” she assured. “Now that you mention it, I guess I could say the same for you.”

Adrien felt extra warm now. “So, do I get an answer to my question?”

Marinette paused, her expression falling as she bit her lip. “Only if you promise to keep it secret from my parents.”

“Yeah, totally,” he promised, smile falling from his face. “Cat’s honor.”

Marinette sighed. “I… I am happy,” she said. “Really. It’s not an issue of me being happy here. But running my parents’ bakery wasn’t my dream, you know?”

With the episode loading, Adrien decided to take a seat next to Marinette. “What was your dream?”

“I wanted to be a fashion designer.”

That came as a surprise to Adrien. “Really? What stopped you?”

“Chloe.”

Somehow… that answer shouldn’t have surprised him. “Chloe?”

“She got her mom to block me from going to any fashion or design school.”

“She what?!”

“Shhh!” Marinette shushed, finger over his lips. “Not so loud.”

Adrien felt his face heat at her touch. “Er…sorry.”

She then took her finger away, and Adrien tried not to think about why he was disappointed. “Chloe did that?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. “How? And how’d you know?”

“Um…” She suddenly turned sheepish, and that spitfire edge he’d come to love diminished a bit. It made her look younger and sweeter. He didn’t mind that change. “Well, due to the methods used to acquire such information, I must refrain from answering that. Just know I trust my source and the information that was found.”

Adrien sighed. Honestly, even if he wanted to come to Chloe’s defense, he couldn’t. She ran in a pretty elite crowd and had some powerful connections. If she wanted to block someone from entering a fashion school, she could. And since Adrien knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t be above such tricks, Adrien accepted Marinette’s word as truth.

Besides, he knew Marinette well enough by now to know she hated liars. He doubted she’d lie about this.

“So, have you thought about applying outside the country?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “I just… didn’t. It felt too overwhelming.”

“So, what about skipping the education entirely? Find a niche and start your own business taking commissions or what not?”

Marinette paused, her eyes glazing over a moment as she thought. “I… it’s an idea that’s come up before.”

“So, what’s stopping you?” Adrien asked. “Even if you got an education later, you’d at least have a reputation you’re building up now.”

Again, Marinette was silent. “You know…” she began, her tone softer and more earnest than he’d ever heard before. It felt raw. Open. And that did something to his heart.

Protect her. The words popped up in his head, and his heart clenched onto them before he could even realize it. But all he could do at the moment was listen. So he would.

“I decided I’d step back and do a lot of thinking.”

“About?”

She sighed. “It’s easy to say ‘I love fashion so I want to be a designer’. It’s easy to have those dreams. It’s easy to think that your hobby can become your profession. But the easy stuff isn’t all the fashion world consists of. It’s a competitive world filled with both nice people and people like Audrey Bourgeois. It’s filled with more than fashion, and when faced with the reality that I’d been barred from fashion college because one person in the industry had that much power, I had to do some reflecting. If I accept fashion as my career, I get to set foot into that world. And I had to face the question of ‘am I ready and willing to accept that?’”

When Marinette came to a pause, Adrien stopped to think of his response. “Honestly, as someone who comes from that world, I completely understand your feelings. I’ve seen the good, and I’ve seen the bad. I’ve watched people succeed and climb the ladder, and I’ve watched people crash and burn. And I think there’s such a fine line between the two.”

“See, that just feels validating,” Marinette said, small smile on her face. “I understand that that is basically every job field. I understand some are better than others. But with what I’ve seen from the fashion world… I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m as adamant about it as I was when I was in high school.”

Adrien sighed. “I don’t understand what it’s like to have a passion,” he admitted. “I’ve never had one, so this might not mean anything coming from me, but I think… it would be better to keep your passion a hobby… if the profession will burn you out. Because then you’re not just loosing your profession, but the hobby meant to bring you joy.”

Marinette was silent for a minute, and Adrien thought he’d said something wrong. But that tension in his chest eased hen a small smile crept up on her lips. “That’s good advice,” she finally said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Adrien reached out to pat her shoulder, surprising her a moment. When she turned to him, eyes wide and clear once again, he gave her a smile. “I’ll be rooting for you. And if there’s anything I can help you with, I’d be happy to assist.”

Slowly, her small smile grew. “Thanks,” she said, her voice surprisingly sweet. But she soon turned away, and Adrien pulled his hand back. “So, um… fair’s fair,” she started up again. “Are you happy working here?”

Adrien didn’t hesitate to nod. “Honestly, it’s hard work, but it’s something that I chose, for once. This is something I myself am doing. I don’t want to say the novelty of doing this hasn’t worn off yet, but it feels… worthwhile.”

Marinette nodded. “Have you considered other paths or what you want to do for the future? Or do you see this being long term?”

Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know, yet,” he said. “Honestly, this whole ‘I’m my own person and on my own’ thing still hasn’t fully caught up to me yet. I feel like I’m still playing pretend. It’s… weird.” He turned back to her, forcing a smile. “Hazard of growing up super sheltered, I guess.”

Marinette hummed. “Well, I think you know Papa will love having you around as long as you plan to stay.”

He smiled, a genuine grin this time. “Yeah, I know. And you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you mind having Asshole Agreste around?”

Her expression changed from shock to irritation. “Are you really gonna dredge up that old nickname? No, wait!” Her brow furrowed in a mix of anger and confusion. “Where did you even hear that? I never called you that here!”

He grinned a little wider than he’d thought he would. “Chloe.”

Marinette growled.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“You know I don’t think of you like that anymore, right?”

He couldn’t help teasing her a bit more. “I don’t know. Do I?”

Marinette glowered at him, and he burst into laughter again.

With a growl, she turned away, crossing her arms with a huff. “Just turn on the anime again. I need to see Princess Bitch get her comeuppance.”

Adrien laughed. “We’re only on episode fourteen. You still don’t get to call her that yet.”

“Why?” she cried. “What’s gonna happen in the next few episodes that changes? Does she get worse? And if so, how? She’s already about as low as she can go. Like, almost past Chloe-level.”

He shook his head. “Nevermind. Just wait and see.”

9. Baking Lessons

Marinette felt like she was up to her ears in information.

After her talk with Adrien, she decided that she should do her research on the fashion industry as much as she could. But she also knew to take everything with a grain of salt. Only once she felt prepared enough would she make a decision on her future.

On one hand, it was satisfying to pick up her dreams again, dust them off, and put plans to them. On the other, it was overwhelming, and more did once did Adrien’s warning of “don’t burn out your passion” cross her mind.

It was well into the afternoon that she realized a break might be in order and food would be beneficial.

She headed down into kitchen, only to startle at the unfamiliar face there.

“Um… what are you doing in my house?”

Adrien glanced over his shoulder to look at her, then shot her a smile. “Your parents asked me to. They each had their break and said you hadn’t been down all day. So now it’s my turn for a break, and they asked if I’d take a minute to make sure you ate.”

Marinette looked at the sandwich on the plate he extended towards her. After staring at it a moment, she realized she should take it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Busy?”

“Yeah. I… kinda forgot the last time I was so engrossed in something that I forgot to eat like this.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Um… I decided to dig into researching the fashion industry.”

Adrien turned back around, glancing at her with surprise. “Oh? How’s it going?”

Marinette’s lips pursed in thought. “Up and down. Every other article seems to pull me the opposite direction.”

“Fair,” he said with a nod. “Which way are you leaning now?”

“The ‘This is bullshit. Why do I want to be in this hellish industry?’ direction.”

A lopsided grin flashed across Adrien’s face. “I feel that on a personal level.”

“I’m sure you do,” she muttered, walking over to the table to have a seat. “But enough of me griping. You? Have you thought of your future at all since our talk?”

He grabbed a paper bag on the counter, pulling out a tupperware container with a sandwich of his own inside. “Not really.”

“Not really?” she probed, pointing at the seat directly across from her.

He took the hint and took a seat. “I haven’t given much thought to anything beyond the baking lessons your father has been giving me. I mean, maybe one day I’ll go to school for something, but I’ve really decided to give myself a full year of this before committing to anything. Let me learn how to be an adult on my own first before I move forward, you know? It’s easier to start running when your feet are solidly under you.”

“Understandable,” Marinette said. “But just so you know, I’m going to hold you to that, now.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. I’d like you to know you have six months, three weeks, and five days remaining before you have to make a decision.”

Adrien froze, sandwich halfway to his mouth.

Marinette couldn’t help but giggle.

“Is that a legit number or one you just threw out.”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“I think that when it comes to you, I don’t always know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

She giggled, feeling a little too giddy for her liking. She played it off with a wink. “Got to keep you on your toes somehow.”

Adrien scoffed. “Don’t worry about that,” he dismissed with a charming smile that she hated to admit could knock her off her feet if she were standing. “You already do.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #AdrinetteApril2021 #teasing #fluff #and a heart to heart talk #Bonus points to whoever guesses the anime XD

80 notes · View notes

nothisis-ridiculous · 3 years ago

Text

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Country Roads, Take Me Home

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite.

FemShepxKaidan

"Hey Shepard," Kaidan smiled broadly, shuffling over to a side table, "there you are."

"In my apartment?" Mary teased. Appreciating the cable knit sweater Kaidan sported. It was a little tacky, white and covered with blue reindeer, but she loved the gaudiness.

Her obvious comment dismissed with the wave of a hand and the rolling of his eyes, "if we're done sassing, I brought you something."

"Not up for it today, Alenko?" It was no longer necessary to refer to each other by sir names, but it became a game. Once one started, the other joined in. Competition didn't deter Mary from approaching the biotic, glancing over his shoulder on tiptoes.

His jump wasn't expected, "I'm always up for it, Shepard, but you are being a little difficult." Kaidan's head tilted back and over his shoulder, leaving Mary to take the initiative.

Mary closed the distance with a chaste peck, leaving her jaw to rest on his shoulder, brushing against his back. They had forced their relationship to rebuild slowly over the months, no explosive sex, no sleepovers... just lots of talking. Sharing. Opening up about things they never had the time to talk about and the time after the Reaper War. It was a strange kind of intimacy when she let her arms encircle his waist, a test of what they would both accept.

"Difficult? I'm not sure what I've defied yet," her gaze briefly wandered to the package in his hands, "is something up?"

Kaidan chuckled, pressing his lips against her skull, "maybe I'm striking preemptively; you never know. But I have something you for- my mom made it so be nice."

She yoinked the package from him, falling ass-first onto her bed before she tore impatiently into the package. Out tumbled another sweater, a plain grey turtleneck with a doubled-up cuff. Best of all, it was huge, Kaidan likely playing a part in that. Mary grinned up at him, "this is nice."

"Well, hurry up and put it on," he urged.

Mary took her turn at the eye-rolling, "for what, Alenko? Yes, Canada is cold, but I'm inside."

"What if we're not staying inside?"

"Really, Alenko?" she half whined, but it was a show. She was excited to go outside, it was starting to snow and she felt restless.

"Come on! Let us celebrate your official release, I had to convince everyone else that breaking you out was grounds for war. Something about assaulting an Alliance Base being a terrible idea..." his grin widened, "though, Garrus had some solid plans."

"Fine," Shepard didn't fight the grin as she wrestled on the sweater. It was much bulkier than she expected, even the sleeves far too long, and the neck threatened to swallow her face. She let it rest below eye level, lumbering over to Kaidan.

The pure silliness emanating from the woman tugged at his heart; this was a much different person from the Officer that commanded the Normandy.

His hands took her face, lowering the fabric to kiss her gently, "looks good, Shepard."

"It might be a bit big."

He caught her eyes wandering to the sweater he wore and his chuckle escaped," you'll have to ask."

"You didn't," her face turned brighter under his touch, only the trace of a scar left along her jawline.

It was another game they had played aboard the Normandy- as high school as taking your lover's clothing was, Mary found simple pleasure in it. In the privacy of her cabin, it was comfortable to wear something a few sizes too large and his subtle smell on the clothing made it better. She'd pretend to steal an article of clothing here and there, or he'd forget to take something with him. Kaidan enjoyed occasionally finding her wrapped up in his shirt and her signature pooh bear PJ shorts. It was a rare human moment for the Commander- Captain, hopefully, less rare in the future.

"That's stealing," she harrumphed.

Kaidan retook her lips, she froze for a moment from the surprise but eagerly complied. God, he loved this woman.

"And I can't have you going out looking that hot," she murmured on his lips, "we'll just have to trade."

"A little possessive there-," he pulled the sweater off, revealing his shirtless form, "at least take me to dinner first."

She was a little distracted but followed suit, tearing her gaze away, "I know a place with steak."

"Heh. Now, now that is how you butter me up."

"Kaidan," Mary faltered on three beats, "this look better?"

Those weren't the three words he expected, "beautiful as ever, Mary." He carefully trained his gaze on her pretty blue eyes, watching them sparkle brighter for a second. She wouldn't acknowledge the compliment, but it was her favorite.

"Where we going?"

A classic Shepard deflection.

"You did mention steak."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

With full bellies, Kaidan guided them through the decorated square. Christmas music drifted gently from all directions mixing with the sounds of life. Deep laughter, feet on fresh snow, and the wafting smells emanating from the food stands. Mary grew a little quiet, so he gently took her hand.

"Is this too much?"

She shook her head, "I just remembered what tomorrow is."

He nodded, December eleventh, the day of the final push on the Reapers. Three years from the day, there was a lot to mourn and as much to celebrate. Mary just struggled to remember the latter, often caught in the sacrifices made to get to and on that day.

"Do we need to head back?"

Mary shook her head.

"You sure."

"It's fine," the smile was only a little forced, "just let me center."

"Sit down, and I'll be right back."

"Really-"

"Mary, please."

"I don't want to ruin-"

"You're not, but sit."

The Captain sighed heavily but parked her ass on a bench. Distracting herself as she studied a nearby pine tree all decked up in lights. The bright blue lighting of the home fabrication building. Watched the people walk by, comforted in a moment of invisibility to let the knot in her chest loosen. It was too much to expect it to disappear, but it could be made less heavy. If life could return to normal for all these people, it could for her.

The Major returned with two paper cups, steam rising from the vent, "drink."

"I'm pretty full."

"Just drink. It will help you focus on something else," his frown grew a smidge.

Her mouth was met with sudden sweetness; hot chocolate was not her jam, even when seasoned with cinnamon. Kaidan seemed satisfied, even if she grimaced.

"Mary, I just-"

"Kaidan," her interruption hinted with exasperation, "is something up?"

He reeled, forcing out a grumbling chuckle, "what do you mean?"

"You've been acting a little strange."

"I mean," he rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes pinned on the ground, "hell, Shepard. Can one part of this relationship be normal?"

"You didn't have to drag me out here just to break up with me," her voice came out small.

"No- I'm not," he suddenly turned to look at her, running a finger along a cheek and rested it on her lip, gently taking up her chin. Once his drink was in no danger of spilling her held her other hand, "that's the last thing on my mind. It's the future. Mine. Yours. "

"I feel like I am missing something."

His smile drooped, and his head turned away, staring straight into the building in front of them, "what do you want, Mary?"

Freedom was a hell of a thing. After spending so much time in duress, were forging forward for the future was the only option. That freedom was foreign, alien. Her career had also taken a lot of her choice, and she was content with that life. Now, with her field wide open, she didn't know how to run. Her family would be scattered, irrevocably. If she stayed with the Alliance, could she be with Kaidan? If she didn't retire from the Spectre life, her priorities were further in shambles. Mary didn't want to return to further solitude, making her way without companionship and connection. But the thought of returning to active duty terrified her- she had seen and caused enough bloodshed for one person. So much seemed in question. In reality, it was hard to admit what she wanted—a peaceful place to return home to more often than not.

Her time aboard the Normandy had been the closest to calling anything home since Mindoir, almost twenty years ago.

Did Kaidan want that with her? That was the biggest hurdle, deciding to start that process alone and hoping he caught up... if that is what he wanted. She knew her name wouldn't give her all the time in the world to delay a decision.

It hardly helped that the biotic didn't look at her, completely removed from her in all ways. The tangle in her heart spread into her throat, pathetically as it echoed; nowhere would really feel like home without him. Not for a long time anyway. As challenging, heartbreaking, and frustrating her time with Alenko had proven to be-, he had remained stable. A solid foundation.

"You," the word spat out, "I still love you and-"

The Shepard bravery only went so far with emotions, her hand stopping inches from his thigh. It was a boundary she was afraid to cross. She was already too bold.

Kaidan's gaze left the building, returning suddenly to her. Mary retracted only to be stopped by Kaidan yanking both of them from the bench, pulling her tightly into his arms. His nose nuzzling her cheek before moving to her ear, a hand cradling the base of her skull, "I've always loved you, through all these years, through..." his voice a whisper, "through everything. I'm the luckiest man alive. I don't know where all of this will go- our careers, our lives, but I want to be with you. No matter how slow I have to take things. If that's a no, or a not yet, I promise it won't hurt me."

Mary titled her head and furrowed her brows, a no?

Kaidan chuckled, his belly rolling as the laughter overtook him. Forcing him to step away from her, needing his forearms to counteract his balance as he crumpled inward.

"Kaidan?"

Shepard watched him compose himself with growing impatience, arms folding tightly across her chest. Whatever joke she was the butt of, it wasn't funny. Not now.

"Mary," Kaidan's voice turning to the graveled cadence that made her tummy flutter. The man closed the distance between them again, turning her body in the direction of the storefront, "you don't have to decide now. We don't have to go in, and you can even tell me to get lost."

Oh. OOH.

The home fabrication company. The home fabrication company she had been sitting in front of for the last several minutes.

"Kaidan..." it must have been the snow prickling at the corner of her eye.

"Shepard, Mary- I can't promise to know what happens next. I just- I just want a place for both of us. I have some property and I thought... hoped that it could," he took in a steadying breath, the pressure of his hands a somewhat uncomfortable, "that we could make it our own. Somewhere soft for us to land, whenever we can make the time."

"Or as much as possible?" Mary pivoted, hooking her fingers into his pockets, "we could both quit, everything! Retire and watch every sunset!"

Kaidan stole a kiss, "I'm not sure the Shepard I know could sit still that long."

"You'd have the time to teach me," Mary kept him close, practically grinning into his mouth.

"You know, I think I'd have better luck potty training Kalros," Kaidan mused, wisely knowing what Thresher Maw Mary could handle mention of, "but I think I get your meaning. You'll try to stick it out with me?"

"I can handle an outdated L2."

"Outdated!? Ouch."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"Everyone would understand if this is too much," Kaidan murmured beside her, "and if you want company, I'd rather be with you."

Mary slowly turned to look at him, the flickering of the white string lights illuminating the contours of her face and the flash of annoyance in her eyes. That was fair, it felt like the millionth time he had beat around that bush. He wanted her to feel comfortable, to not push her into anything that might trigger a reaction. Yes, she could handle herself, but he had to ask. To make sure.

Kaidan had made sure springing the party on her wasn't an utter surprise. Spilling the beans shortly after they had left Alliance Headquarters. Shepard seemed genuinely excited, and he was hopeful; her time sequestered away had chipped at the edges exposed after the war. By all means, she had been cleared by the professionals, but that didn't mean complete freedom. He knew that from experience.

"Traynor better have brought along another bottle of Serrice Ice," she grinned, "Chakwas and I have our tradition to fulfill."

Mary grabbed his hand, pulling him another few steps through the snow and closer to his parent's place. Already it was lit up, and the drifting of music wafted over the otherwise quiet plot. She paused within casual eyesight of a window, watching the figures within with a soft sigh. Kaidan slowly put an arm around her waist.

The glitter of snow in her hair was beautiful.

"You were right," she said with a snort, "I found a way."

"I never doubted you," placing his lips firmly against her temple.

Her head tilted up at him, eyes drinking him in, "I have an answer to your question."

Kaidan waited.

"Jane was me, before the Alliance. My original name... before Toombs took pity on a Batarian's slave," Mary's glance softened, "I thought you deserved to know."

"If-"

"It's long dead and gone," Kaidan believed her, even if he burned with questions, "Alenko, I want to drink. To hug my friends again- I'm looking forward to my hangover tomorrow, so I have something else to be miserable about instead of the past. Maybe, even a tad excited to further disappoint your mother."

#fshenko #shenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect fancition #uugggh #take me home

6 notes · View notes

sasuhinasno1fan · 3 years ago

Text

Crushing on the rival-Lukadrien June Day 3

Ok, yes I’m technically late, but I don’t care! I wanted to do a Glee AU so bad and this was so hard to do. Usually when reading Glee Klaine fics as lukadrien, Nino is at Dalton since either Nick or Jeff becomes Kurt’s best friend and you can’t split up Nino and Adrien. So Nino attended for a while before budget cuts messed up his scholarship. Kieran is from @depressed-teacup-inc and @sarcasticsparkles Divergence. I meant for him to featured just a little more but it just didn’t work out like that. Adrien’s mom is alive but is spliting up with his dad and I put Chloe in Rachel’s position when it came to dating the enemy first since it always comes up in Anderberry fics when Rachel doesn’t say who Blaine is because she doesn’t want to be accused of selling secrets to her brother. Anyway, please enjoy and we’ll see if day 4 actually comes out. Rival Musicians

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Nino said, adjusting his white tie. He’d forgotten how much he hadn’t been a fan of the Quantic Academy uniform. The pale blue shirts with the black blazers and white ties weren’t his aesthetic and even though it sucked to lose his scholarship, he’d been beyond happy to never put the uniform on again. He looked over to Marc and Nath, who seemed to pull it off with ease.

Totally unfair.

“I can’t believe you let Alya and Marinette bully you into coming to spy.” Nath said.

“No you’re not.” Marc clarified. “Remember how we got together?”

“Yeah, no. this fits perfectly. We should just be glad Chloe wasn’t the one to find out you used to go to school with our competitor. That would have been worse.”

“Yeah, especially since we all experienced her dating the ‘enemy’ last year. Last thing I need is her accusing me of giving secrets away. I really don’t want to bring up her asshole ex in her face. She’s finally starting to open up again.” Nino said.

“Where’s Adrien?” Marc asked, changing the subject. “You made it sound like we have a small window.”

“We do. Assuming things haven’t changed in a year, teachers take the afternoon to have a meeting while letting the students study and such. Or in the Warbler’s case, have impromptu performances to test songs out. If we don’t want to get caught, we need to be there when the mass text goes out and everyone is heading to the Senior Commons.”

Just then, a very familiar silver car pulled up in front of the boys. Adrien climbed out, in a black leather jacket and a white rocker tie but still in the same colours.

“Sorry I’m late. Mom promised the appointment would be over before I had to leave, but divorce proceedings involving my dad aren’t exactly easy. They were arguing over my ‘modelling’ career for a full hour before my mom’s lawyer managed to shut my dad up. I think, that woman speaks like a pirate and is just as ruthless and doesn’t like my dad, so she could have been insulting him for all I know.”

“Sorry you have to deal with this.” Nino said, patting his best friend on his shoulder.

“You haven’t modelled for almost 3 years. Your ‘career’ is just your dad reusing old photos of you for campaigns.” Nath said. “We can only hope we don’t have another instance like when it was your first day at school and you ran into the glee room to hide from your fans.”

“But, hey! We got you out of it.” Nino said. “You stick out like a sore thumb though.”

“It’s not my fault. You said you had enough extra uniforms. You’re the one who didn’t include yourself in the count. Let’s just be happy I have enough clothes to make an iteration of it.” Adrien said.

“Fair enough. Come on.”

All four of them walked into the main building. It was beautiful, a mix of old architecture and new, like a classic hotel or something along the lines. They slowed when Nino did as they approached the front desk, which was thankfully empty with a note to call when arrived.

“I’m so happy the headmaster uses the front desk secretary as his own. I mean, she gives as good as she gets and doesn’t take shit, but she’s also got a practical eidetic memory.” Nino said. “Ok, now there’s a student that we called the Caterpillar – he lived in my dorm and everyone had Alice in Wonderland names – who has access to everyone’s phone number and he’s in the Warblers, so he sends out a massive text message to everyone.”

“How are we even sure they’re planning on doing a performance?” Adrien asked.

“We don’t but I know so close to competition time Marin would want to practise when they have the chance, so at the very least we can peak into the Senior Commons were they practise.”

They got to the first hallway and Adrien saw that what he thought ground level was actually the first floor.

“Cafeteria is downstairs and exits for the gardens and the library. This floor holds some classrooms and common rooms, more classrooms and offices upstairs. The Senior Commons is actually down the hall and downstairs. They got first pick when the place was being built and it has the closest exit to where the dorms are.”

“Should we hang near there or somewhere else?” Nath asked.

However, before Nino could offer a suggestion, the one thing Adrien dreaded pierced through the empty and quite hallway.

“Ohmygod! It’s Adrien Agreste!”

Adrien liked anime, especially the feel-good ones. The one he liked the most was Gakuen Babysitter. The scene before him reminded him of when the twins’ father, a famous actor came to school and was found out by one of the students and suddenly the area around him were swarming with fans. What happened was a bit like that, except screaming boys instead of girls and Adrien actually got a head start in running away.

Nino hated his best friend had to suffer through this, so when he was separated from him and the rest of the guys and only found Marc and Nath not long after, he felt worried.

“Where’s Adrien?”

“We thought he was with you.”

“Ok, screw Marinette and Alya telling us not to get caught.” Nino said, pulling his phone out and scrolling through his contacts until he reached one with the name being just a butterfly emoji. “If they want info, they can come look themselves. My best friend is in a school that’s not desensitized to him being around and we’re find him before we leave.”

Of course, before he could call, he saw a text from the same butterfly named person.

I’m gonna let Marin yell at you for coming to spy.

Nino cursed. He’d been hoping to avoid that. Marinette and Alya were bad and Chloe worse, but Marin lording over him with his gavel, that was something he didn’t miss from attending school here.

But don’t worry. A certain blue haired Hatter was placed in the little Alice’s path. He’ll take care of him. Also, I know a certain March Hare misses you too.

Ok, maybe he’d have to kiss that Caterpillar after all.

____________________

Adrien slowly opened the door after finally hearing the hallway fill up and all move in one direction. Everyone was speaking excitedly, so no one noticed Adrien slipping out and joining the crowd. He looked around, hoping to see 3 familiar faces but no luck. he didn’t even know if this crowd was people going to see the Warblers. He bit his lip, trying to decide what to do. He could ask and then be in a bad spot if someone recognised him or he could ask what was going on and duck into a bathroom if it wasn’t Warblers related. He decided to risk it.

“Excuse me,” he said, tapping someone on the shoulder. The guy had dyed blue hair and when he turned around Adrien saw he had the piercings to match his punk look. The uniform really didn’t match him at all. “Hi, I’m new here. What’s going on?”

He gave Adrien this smirk as if to say, ‘I know why you’re here’. “I’m Luka.”

“Adrien, nice to meet you.”

“Adrien. Well, don’t worry, I won’t scream your name. and to answer your question, the Warblers are doing an impromptu performance.”

“Oh.”

“If you want, I can take you there. You know, bump into your friends who came to spy with you.”

“S-spy? I didn’t come to spy.”

“Right, so your lack of uniform and Nino being here is a happy coincidence.”

Adrien couldn’t really think of a lie, so thrown off. He let out a squeak when Luka grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hallway. This one was emptier and Adrien took a closer at Luka. his uniform was perfect but his shoes were emblem covered high tops. His nails were painted and fingers home to a few rings. He also noticed a few bracelets peaking out from under shirt sleeve. Luka seemed like such an anomaly in his perfect uniform but things that spoke to his personal aesthetic.

Before he knew it, they were back in a crowd as they entered a room, no doubt the Senior Commons.

“Shot, I do stick out like a sore thumb.” Adrien said, once he saw himself compared to everyone.

“I don’t know, I like your version better.” Luka said, tugging at one of the lapels of Adrien’s leather jacket. “Your friends are over there.” He nodded towards the door, where Marc, Nath and Nino were, all standing on their toes trying to look over the crowd. Nino got distracted by someone with light brown hair and purple rain boots, but Marc and Nath spotted him.

“How did…?”

“I’m sure Nino will tell you about the special ways of the Warblers.” Just at the front of the room, 2 lines of boys appeared as they started to create a beat. “Now if you excuse me. Kieran!”

The guy Nino had been talking to darted over to the lines and Adrien took his place, hearing his friends ask him what happened and if he was ok, but his attention was focused on Luka, who stood in the very front singing.

Before you met me, I was alright But things were kinda heavy, you brought me to life Now every February, you'll be my Valentine Valentine

Let's go all the way tonight No regrets, just love We can dance until we die You and I will be young forever You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream

He was good, really good. And he kept staring right at Adrien.

“That’s Luka. we were roommates when I was here.” Nino said, finally getting his attention. “He was well on his way to being lead vocalist when I left.”

“He’s really good.”

“Yeah. Don’t let his accessories fool you, he’s a cool guy.”

Yeah, he was.

When the song was over and the room burst into loud applause, cheers and whistles, Luka found his way over, with the same guy who’d been talking to Nino before and two new people. They reminded him a bit of Marinette and Alya, though one of them had a sever expression currently directed at Nino.

“You come spy and you don’t even come to say hello? I’m ashamed of you Nino.” The one who reminded Adrien of Marinette said.

“Please give it a rest Marin.” Nino begged.

“No, no, let him suffer more. I’m enjoying this.” Kieran said.

“Just to check, you’re not going to report us, right?” Marc asked, looking nervous.

“Don’t worry. Your attempts are endearing and we know Nino wouldn’t bring you over here without good reason.” The other guy said. “we’re not planning on using that song for the Sectionals, so you won’t go home empty handed.”

“How about coffee? Nino doesn’t know this, but we finally opened the coffee bar in the cafeteria, student run. We can stay here if you want.” Luka offered.

In the end, Adrien waited in the room, with Nino getting dragged to be lectured by his old friends and Nath and Marc having such complicated orders, it just made more sense to go with them. Adrien looked around the commons, taking in the couches and many side tables. A few had an almost permanent show print in them, like they’d been jumped on. The few people inside the room still paid his no attention, other than glancing at him.

“Here you go.” Luka said, handing him a to go cup. “Nino mentioned you didn’t like coffee so I got you hot chocolate. Better than most cafes, we make our own with milk.”

“Thanks. Where are the others?”

“Kieran is still making Marin lecture Nino and it turns out Alan is a fan of your friends’ comic, so just me for now.”

“That’s fine. Maybe you can tell me why the tables have footprints on them.” Adrien said, tugging his jacket off as Luka plopped down next to him.

“I have a habit of jumping around on tables during practise. Marin yells at me for it, but I can’t help it. Which is surprising, since I’m pretty stationary during performances.”

Adrien let out a little laugh. “You sound like my cat. Doesn’t matter how many cat perches we have for him; he just climbs up anywhere else. Granted, focusing on him and glee has been a godsend for my mental health recently.”

“Yeah, I’m sure dealing with arguing parents and divorce isn’t easy.”

Adrien looked over at Luka, confused as to how he knew that.

“Oh, yeah. My mom is your mom’s lawyer.” Adrien raised an eyebrow not believing him. “She sounds like this.” Luka said in the same thick accent Anarka had.

“Holy, hey wait. Juleka is Anarka’s daughter, which means she’s…”

“My sister. Competing against each other, but don’t worry. Music is sacred in our house so we don’t play dirty.”

“Whoa.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t go fishing for anything. I just thought that things must be pretty difficult. Your dad makes mom pretty upset.”

“Yeah. It hasn’t been easy. The whole divorce hasn’t but this modelling thing is making things worse. Honestly, I’d be happy with glee drama. It’s the only thing that feels like it makes sense.”

“I get that. I’m older than Juleka, but I’ll be graduating at the same time as her because I ended up pulling out of school for a while. During all that, music was the only thing that made sense.”

“Was everything ok?” Adrien asked.

“Come here.” Luka led Adrien over to a piano that sat in the corner. “Take a breath and listen.” He ordered, resting his fingers on the keys. He watched Adrien do as he was told and he let his fingers move across the keys.

Adrien stared as he heard the emotions he’d been feeling were played. Every note and beat was everything.

“I’ve never been good at words. Mom struggled to get me to talk but she knew I liked music, so that started to become my voice. I guess the easiest way to explain it is I’m an empath. I can hear emotions and I tend to stay quiet. Some people at my old school didn’t like that I kept quite or I could play what they felt. Add on the muscle heads who didn’t understand that liking guys didn’t mean I liked them, things got insane. So I left and came here.” Luka ended Adrien’s song and sat on the bench to look at the blonde. “Even though music sort of got me into that mess, I get it being the only thing that feels like it makes sense.”

Adrien sat next to Luka. “And now you have glee. I was running from fans when I ran into our glee room. Mlle Bustier was ok with letting me hide there but when I saw how much fun everyone was having singing, I wanted to do the same. It’s been my escape.”

Luka bumped his elbow into Adrien’s side. “And people think models aren’t anything like us.”

“I’m really sorry you had to deal with that stuff, but I guess if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met Nino and he wouldn’t have taken us here and we wouldn’t get to meet.”

“Guess there’s a silver lining for everything. It’s a shame we’re going up against each other in Sectionals. Hanging out with you would be fun.”

“Well,” Adrien said, shrugging, “No one said we can’t text.”

“I thought one of your team members dated a guy from an opposing team?”

“Who said anything about dating? We’re just texting. I mean, Nino texts you and the others, right? What makes me so different?”

Luka let out a laugh. “Fair enough. Adrien Agreste, rebel. I think you’ve been around my mom too much; she’s starting to take an effect on you.”

“You say that as if being a rebel is a bad thing.”

______________________

Well Adrien wasn’t a rebel, but he did enjoy talking to Luka. he was easy to talk to and they had a lot in common. When employing the same rules Juleka and Luka had on their houseboat when it came to glee, it was easy to forget he was competing against him. Nino encouraged it when he found out.

“Besides, if you end up liking Lu and asking him out, then I can ask Kieran out. Maybe. I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

It wasn’t hard to like Luka. he was good looking and funny and nice and his singing voice was amazing. But Adrien also knew dating during competition season was asking for another Chloe situation even if Luka would never do what that asshole ex did. So, Adrien made a deal with himself, he’d ask Luka out after Sectionals. One of them would win and then they wouldn’t compete anymore unless a space opened up. It would be fine.

I used to rule the world Seas would rise when I gave the word Now in the morning I sleep alone Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes Listen as the crowd would sing "Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key Next the walls were closed on me And I discovered that my castles stand Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

And of course listening to Luka sing Viva la Vida made Marc lean over to him and tell him if he didn’t ask him out, he would.

But like the world was against him, both the most amazing and worst thing happened. They tied. Chole had said how rare that happened. Adrien could only think about how he felt cheated out of asking Luka out. Which was why he waited in the bathroom, waiting for Luka to come in.

“Hi.” Luka said when he came in. he looked a bit disheartened and Adrien really hoped he was reading the reason right.

“Hey. Congratulations by the way. Your Viva la Vida was amazing. Chloe thought so too and she doesn’t compliment the competition much.”

“Thanks. I know you said you were a countertenor but I never expected you to hold that note in So much better.”

“Thanks. Um, listen. I really hope I haven’t been reading the signs wrong, but…I like you, enough to tell myself that after Sectionals were over, no matter what happened, I’d ask you out. But I wasn’t expecting us to both win. But that hasn’t exactly discouraged me.”

“You haven’t been reading them wrong. It was my plan too but it would really be a bad idea to date. The stakes are even higher now. Though…God, Marin might kill me for suggesting this, but how about one date? One date to get it out of our system and to also give us something to look forward to after Regionals. There isn’t a chance we’ll tie again so it’ll be fine after then, but I don’t think either of us can wait that long.”

The door to the bathroom opened and Nino poked his head in. “Adrien, bro. the bus is here, time to go.”

“Yes.” He said to Luka as he headed to the door. “I’ll text you.”

As Nino dragged him to the bus before the group got angry, Adrien told him what he and Luka planned on doing.

“As your teammate, this is a horrible idea. As your best friend, this is the best idea ever and I demand details after.”

#lukadrien june 2021 #glee au

10 notes · View notes

thekillerssluts · 4 years ago

Photo

We’ve Got A File On You: Win Butler

In a year when a lot of our plans have been on hold, Win Butler has been busy. In April, the Arcade Fire ringleader let us know that the band had been working on music shortly before lockdown, and then he let us hear some of it. Last week, on the night of the election, the band debuted a new song called “Generation A.” Apparently, Butler was one of the people who found quarantine more inspiring than suffocating. Just a couple weeks ago, he amended his previous hints with the update that he’s written “two or three” Arcade Fire albums thanks to having to stay still all year long.

It seems like there’ll be a whole lot of new Arcade Fire goings-on to parse sometime on the horizon, but that isn’t the reason Butler and I got on the phone one recent October afternoon. Butler’s not quite ready to talk about forthcoming music yet, aside from saying this era of writing gives him flashbacks to that which preceded The Suburbs and promising “The new shit is about some of the best shit we’ve ever done” as we say goodbye.

In the meantime, there have been some milestones this year: The Suburbs turned 10; Butler turned 40. There is, of course, a whole lot of rich Arcade Fire history between their early ’00s origins and now. There are too many high-profile collabs to dig through, too many pop culture crossovers to cover, in just one conversation. But before Arcade Fire’s next chapter begins, while we both had a moment of quiet at home in the year 2020, Butler and I took some time to dig back through highlights and surprises from across his career.

Appearing In Bill & Ted Face The Music (2020)

How did this happen?

WIN BUTLER: They were filming in New Orleans. I’m kind of the exact age where Bill & Ted really has a soft spot in my worldview. [Laughs] That was just like, yeah, of course I want to be in the Future Council. That’s the part I was born to play. No, it’s funny, it was just one of these random things that come through the email. Usually, it’s, “Nope, nope, nope, nope.” But this was, “Tell me when, tell me where, I’ll be there.” It was on soundstages. When we were filming it, Tommy Lee from Mötley Crüe was back there, and he sort of disappeared at some point. I got to bring my son, who’s six. He was hanging out and we were talking to Keanu about Canada and punk bands back in the day. It was a pretty sweet hang. It was a bright spot in 2020, let me put it that way.

You say you get these emails — is that random stuff they want Arcade Fire to do, or there’ve been other cameos you turned down?

BUTLER: Oh, no, it’s mostly random licensing or stuff that goes to the junk box. But every once in a while, it’s like, “Hey, that sounds like a nice way to spend the day.” I started out in film. I went to Sarah Lawrence College in New York around 2000. I had really wanted to go to film school, and I could never get in. [Laughs] Initially, the song “The Suburbs” was an idea I had for a film and it seemed easier to make a song than a film.

The Suburbs (2010)

That was a convenient segue. The Suburbs just turned 10. I was wondering if you have gone back and revisited it much amidst that anniversary.

BUTLER: The whole experience of Funeral was such a rollercoaster. We were on the road so long. We didn’t have much of a break going into the second record. For The Suburbs, Régine and I — I don’t think we saw anyone for a year straight before we even started demoing or anything for that record.

It was a time in my life… I don’t know, I was in my late twenties, and there were all these details of my childhood in Houston. You know, I moved to Canada when I was 19. [Houston] almost felt like this other life I had. I would close my eyes and imagine riding my bike through town and trying to find the edges of my memory. There was kind of all this emotion that came up through that, and I wanted to capture it. It’s funny, as a songwriter, most of the time I feel like my mind is living in the near future. You’re listening for these little signals in the air. This was almost inhabiting the emotional space of these memories but thinking about it as the future.

When you say it like that, I’m curious if the album feels different to you now that you’re a father yourself and another 10 years down the line. Like another layer to that refracted youth, sort of?

BUTLER: Totally. In a way, I feel like the last year has been a parallel to that year before The Suburbs. Then I was kind of a hermit by choice, and this has more been the world conspiring to make me a hermit, but it has been a really introspective. In a sense, the material that we’ve been working on feels the same way, this hybrid of your emotional landscape and the future.

It’s almost seasonal, like a trade wind that blows in once in a while. I remember we played with Neil Young when he was still doing the Bridge School Benefit and hearing him sing “Old Man” as an old man, almost like he wrote the song when he was 22 to sing when he was 80. I think there’s an element on that Suburbs record that’s like that as well.

Winning The Grammy For Album Of The Year (2011)

Obviously that was a huge turning point for Arcade Fire because you won the Grammy the following year. As a suburban indie fan at the time, I had no real grasp on how big certain bands were. From where I was, it was pretty trippy that you guys won that.

BUTLER: I mean, tell me about it. It was definitely pretty trippy.

There are very, very early moments of you guys getting linked up with some iconic artists. Arcade Fire got plenty of respect from the beginning. But at the same time, the Grammys is something different. That’s a moment of mainstream insurgency. Ten years on, you’re one of the big indie bands of your generation, but also one of the only rock bands to get to that level in recent times.

BUTLER: I don’t know it was the best record that year, but it was definitely the best record nominated that year. I mean, we were up against a Lady Gaga remix record and like, Katy Perry. We weren’t up against a great Eminem record, we were up against a not-that-great Eminem record. In a certain sense, I was like, “Well, I think we should win.” [Laughs] I think we had the best record.

I remember in high school Radiohead and Björk were the two [new artists I loved]. I bought The Bends the day it came out, I bought Homogenic the day it came out. And then everything else I listened to was artists that had broken up 20 years earlier. I remember watching the Grammys the year OK Computer was nominated and it didn’t win, and I was just like, “Oh, that thing must not mean anything then.” I remember Dylan won, and it’s a really great Dylan record, but objectively OK Computer was the best record. So if that didn’t win, then what the hell does that thing mean? After that, I didn’t think about the Grammys that much. It wasn’t on my list of my dreams of my career and what I could accomplish and what I wanted to do.

For me, I was looking more at a band like the Cure or New Order, these bands that were really just artistic entities but you would hear them at a pharmacy once in a while. Like, I’d hear “Bizarre Love Triangle” come on in the pharmacy in Houston and just be like, “Is this from outer space? What the fuck is this?” My dreams for our band was to do for other people what those bands did for me, which was just throw me a fucking lifeline. Because I was just like, “What is this world, and where are my people, and how can I feel OK existing?” My grandfather played in big bands and played with Louis Armstrong, and he bought me a guitar when I was 15. I held on to that thing — if I didn’t have that I don’t think I would’ve made it out of high school. It literally saved my life. I don’t think I could exist without that.

For me, the Grammy thing was strangely moving. Even up until the moment we won, I just felt like an interloper. Even when we won, people looked at us like aliens. Like, “Who? What?” You know, I’m a competitive person. It was really exciting. Cool, awesome, the universe makes sense for one second. It’s interesting, I didn’t expect it to mean anything until we won, and then it meant something.

David Bowie (2005, 2013, Throughout)

I alluded to this earlier but: The Grammys were like an industry stamp of approval. From the beginning, however, you guys were embraced by a lot of elder artists — particularly artists who were influences on the band. One I wanted to talk about was David Bowie. He was a very early supporter; you performed together in 2005, which turned into a live EP. Then he shows up on “Reflektor” in 2013. Somewhere around 2015, you talked about how you’d come to regard him as this professor-type character in your life. He came to your first New York show, right?

BUTLER: Our first headlining show, when we played at the Bowery, Bowie and David Byrne came to that show.

Wow, no pressure huh.

BUTLER: It sort of set the table. Like, “Well, I guess this is how it’s going to be right out of the gate.” [Laughs] It’s funny, I have a photo of David in my studio that I look at when I’m working sometimes. It’s just him in a dressing room with one of those kind of Hollywood mirrors behind him. He really… I don’t know, he felt some sort of spiritual connection with us. It wasn’t like he wanted anything from us. I just think he wanted to say, “Hey guys, you’re going on the right path, keep going.”

I was emailing him over all those years. I don’t know if you have anyone close to you that’s died and you go back and read those emails, it’s really these strange digital fragments of someone you care about. After he sang on “Reflektor,” Régine and I bought him a painting in Haiti as a thank you gift. We were supposed to mail it to him and we got busy and forgot about it, and in the interim he passed. I knew he wasn’t well, but I didn’t know he was dying. Maybe a couple months later I remembered the painting and I dug it out and it was a painting of a black star. A voodoo painting of a black star with rays coming out of it.

I didn’t know anything about his record being Blackstar or anything like that. Now it’s on the wall of my bedroom. Shit like that sometimes happens in my life. I take it for what it is. I don’t know exactly what that means and I just feel grateful… I don’t know man. Even just how inspiring, what he put into his art even in death. He’s someone I think about at least on a weekly basis.

Backing Up Mick Jagger On SNL (2012), Playing With The Rolling Stones (2013)

Obviously that was an ongoing relationship, and you’ve worked with David Byrne too, and you referenced playing with Neil Young. Still: Being onstage with the Rolling Stones seems particularly daunting.

BUTLER: We were Mick’s backing band on SNL. SNL is maybe one of my favorite American institutions. I don’t know if it’s the Canadian thing since Lorne [Michaels] is Canadian. The first time we did it, it was just like, “This dude is my friend.” I don’t know if Lorne’s kids like Arcade Fire or something. But I was in New York randomly and he was like, “Mick’s doing a thing,” and I said, “We do a pretty amazing cover of ‘The Last Time,’” and he said “Come on down, let’s do it.” Then we’re Mick’s backing band. I don’t know, pretty fucking cool.

What is Mick Jagger like to work with?

BUTLER: Mick is like: As soon as the light goes on, he’s a different person. When he turns it on, it’s like this muscle memory — like if you were with the greatest ballet dancer ever, and you say go and this energy comes out of him that is so practiced. It’s someone who’s an absolute master, after practicing something for decades and decades and decades. That was pretty amazing to see. You’re chatting with someone, we’re at the piano and we’re talking about an arrangement, “OK, let’s do a run,” and then, “Boom! Shit!” There he is.

It’s this other level. I feel like people at that level, music’s not something they’re fucking around with. [Laughs] Music is a spirit. You hear something, and if it strikes a chord with you, it connects something at your deepest core. People like that, when you see them do their thing, it really is this other plane. It’s not this show thing. It’s more of a possession. You can hear it in the music.

I feel like I’ve listened to more music during COVID than any time since I was like, 18. I had this moment when I was listening to these amazing records from the 1950s. You can hear the room. It’s almost like audio VR — you can hear the drummer here and the bass player over here. There’s a sense of space, particularly to that older music. It’s a snapshot. If you hear “La Bamba,” right now, that is what it is. It’s a spirit captured on vinyl, on a piece of tape. It’s alive within that.

With people like Mick, they’re a little bit closer to the spirit of rock ’n’ roll — a literal spirit, not a figurative spirit. Bowie was the same. When he played with us in Central Park, the second he hit the stage he’s illuminated. You’re like, “Oh, shit, that’s what it is.” He’s a human when you’re talking to him and as soon as he’s in it, he’s touched by another thing.

SNL (2007-Present)

I’m glad you brought SNL up, because you’ve been on it a bunch of times, but you’re also one of the musical acts they’ve brought into skits. Like, they actually wrote a game show around you. How does that work? Did they write that sketch with you guys, or you walked in and they’re like, “Hey, by the way…”

BUTLER: I can’t remember, I think we’ve been six or seven times. We’ve been there for a couple different casts at this point. The Lonely Island dudes, those are so my dudes. In another life, I would’ve been in Lonely Island, that would’ve been my dream to just fuck around with my friends; when we were first writing music we were kinda joking around because you’re too insecure to try. A lot of times [at SNL], we’ve played for the staff when we’re there, because you get so fired up to play one or two songs and you’re playing live so your endorphins are running so we just sort of keep playing afterwards. I feel like they appreciate that, it kinda feels like you’re on the same team or something.

I was backstage at SNL once last year, and it is pretty crazy to see it all from the inside like that.

BUTLER: It’s so crazy. They write it all that fucking week, and then to see the differences between the dress rehearsal and the live show. They do a little meeting in Lorne’s office. They’ve done the dress rehearsal and it’s still this tiny office and every cameraman and every cast member is crammed in this little office and Lorne’s like, “Make it a blue light instead of a green light at minute 23, and change this word to this word, I don’t think that’s funny, change that, OK, go,” and everyone’s got pencils writing this down. It’s still fucking that. And you know, it hits and misses sometimes, but they’re doing it.

How long did you have to work on your De Niro impression for that skit?

BUTLER: It’s actually more of a Billy Baldwin impersonation, but it seemed to work for De Niro as well. [Laughs] My only real impression is I can look exactly like Billy Baldwin if I want to. If there’s any casting directors reading this and you need a Billy Baldwin impersonator, I’m your man.

LCD Soundsystem’s Goodbye Show (2011)

You’re the one who ended up serendipitously coining the title of the live album.

BUTLER: [Laughs] That is true. That was genuine. He was being a little talky.

I moved to New York before I moved to Montreal, and I would go to the city and go to shows and I didn’t see one fucking thing that was good in the whole year. I was like, “Wait, I thought New York was the shit, where is it?” All I saw was bad, very industry bands. I couldn’t find anything, I wasn’t cool enough to figure out what was going on. There’s very few bands that I really think of, like bands of my generation where I heard them and thought “These are my people.” For me it was the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LCD, and Wolf Parade. When I heard those bands, I thought, “These are my fellow pilgrims.” It was art, DIY, no bullshit, just trying to make something great that communicates to people. It’s real and emotional.

James is really just one of us. He’s just such a great engineer and really into the way things sound and really passionate about details. It’s rare to meet people like that. James was working with us when Bowie came in, when we were in Electric Lady. James had never met Bowie before. The first 7” he ever bought was “Fame.” We’re in this studio, and the last time Bowie was there he had cut “Fame” with John Lennon, in the same studio. We were all like, “This is the right place to be.”

James is just a man after my own heart. We did a tour with them on Neon Bible. We were playing to a thousand people in Salt Like City and I was like, “Man, in a couple years a lot more people are going to wish they were at this show.” What a fucking great live band.

Scoring Her (2013)

What kind of headspace did you have to get into for this vs. making an album?

BUTLER: Spike [Jonze] came to a bunch of our early shows on Funeral. The second I met him he was just immediately one of my best friends. He thinks about the world the same way. Even though we work in different mediums he was someone I knew I’d be working with in some capacity. I was visiting LA and I was staying with Spike just randomly one time, in the early days of him working on the script for Her. I was reading the script and immediately thinking about how it could sound, and I was like, “Well, we should fucking do the score to this movie.”

When you’re working on a record, it’s so rigid, what works on a song and what doesn’t work on a song. It can be so limiting in a way. Within the band, there’s so many different talents and color palettes and things people bring to the table, so it was cool to do something where the boss is the picture. It doesn’t matter how anyone feels about a piece, if it’s working for Spike, if it’s working in harmony with the picture, that’s what the boss is — the emotionality of the picture. It’s not about you, it’s in service to this bigger thing. It was a cool opportunity for all of us to use different aspects of things we do, and to work with Owen [Pallett], who had done a lot of strings on our records. It uses a totally different part of your brain.

Do you want to do more of that kind of work, or was it this specific story from Spike that spoke to you?

BUTLER: I can say pretty confidently that I’ll work with Spike in the future. It definitely takes a lot of energy. It’s definitely something I’m interested in, but I feel like while I’ve got the juice it’s good to spend as much energy writing songs as we can. It’s pretty fucking hard to make a record, believe it or not.

Future’s “Might As Well” Sampling “Owl” From Her(2017)

Are you a big Future fan?

BUTLER: I love Future. There’s something in the rhythm of the thing he does that actually reminds me of some music from Haiti, in this really deep, subtle way I can’t put my finger on. There’s something almost mystical in the way he sounds, and I thought that was really cool that they sampled that soundtrack. His shit does sound like the future still. I think it’s pretty special.

The Reach Of ”Wake Up” (2004-Present)

This song has had this big pop-culture reach over the years. U2 used it as their walk-on music in the ‘00s. It was used in the trailer for another Spike movie, Where The Wild Things Are. Macy Gray and John Legend both covered it. Microsoft ripped it off for a commercial. It was used in a commercial for LA’s bid for the Olympics.

BUTLER: That Microsoft money went to Haiti, by the way. They did rip it off. [Laughs] Thank you Microsoft.

As far as I know that’s far from an exhaustive list, too. It’s just one of those songs that’s gone out and become a part of the atmosphere. Even a lot of big bands don’t necessarily have a song like that. What do you think it is about “Wake Up” that’s registered in so many different contexts?

BUTLER: From the time we wrote that song to now, the biggest difference in my life is I’ve traveled the world and I’ve been able to play music in all these different cultures and feel the ways different countries feel music. Not only listening to the music in other countries but seeing how they feel the music I play.

I remember around The Suburbs we played in rural Haiti. It was our first time playing in a place where nobody in the audience had any of the reference points of the music we played. We were playing in the mountains, there were people walking in barefoot to the concert. We were playing these songs we had been touring the world with, and the energy from the crowd was so different. The things they responded to, the things they felt, it actually fundamentally changed the way I heard my own music. It made me start to think about music not just from my own perspective but culturally how people hear it and feel it.

I think the one thing that kind of transcends everything across all cultures is melody. Régine was playing that melody on piano in our rehearsal room. I hear it like it was yesterday. It was like, “That’s the shit.” [Laughs] Being present and being in the room, hearing something and really giving yourself to it, just singing that shit like it really meant it and feeling the power of that melody and trying to push it until it breaks. That’s something I think about, just how great it is to have people to play music with. To say it like you mean it.

I remember singing that song in Montreal, in these lofts. Most of our early fans, the first time we played that song, they were like “Fuck this shit, I want the acoustic shit.” People were so negative. I remember a lot of early fans didn’t come to our shows after that because we were suddenly screaming at the top of our lungs and playing electric guitars. It was like, “Everyone here hates this, that means we must be going in the right direction.” [Laughs] But yeah, don’t be discouraged if people hate something. It doesn’t mean shit.

https://www.stereogum.com/2105395/win-butler-interview-spike-jonze-arcade-fire-snl-mick-jagger-david-bowie/interviews/weve-got-a-file-on-you/

#Arcade Fire #Win Butler #interview

52 notes · View notes

utterlyinevitable · 4 years ago

Note

Please can you continue the angst and do Bryce and MC breaking up after OHSY?

OK but... why would anyone break up with Bryce Lahela?????

Bryce and MC (Becca) OHSY/OH3 Breakup

Bryce and Becca’s relationship has always been easy. Everything flowed - their bodies fit together divinely. It was natural.

So natural that they didn’t need to verbally define anything. They didn’t need to.

Now that Keiki was at boarding school Becca could stay over more freely and more often. Nothing could have been better than evenings curled up on his couch with the duvet and a bucket of kettle popcorn.

As soon as they got the official letter that Edenbrook would not be operating any longer, Bryce put in for a transfer at Mass Kenmore. He’d applied to other places but Boston is where he needed to be. He has his apartment and needed to be close to Keiki.

He was happy and a weight lifted off his shoulders when he got his acceptance letter.

He kept the news mostly to himself, only casually dropping the info one night when he was grilled about his plans by the gang.

He was attacked with a hug. Everyone was so happy for him. They celebrated with shots and then the afterparty in Becca’s room was slow and sweet. Savoring.

For purely selfish reasons Becca would not apply to MK. She did not fit in with the likes of Tobias, June and Landry and really couldn’t trust a hospital that did. The idea of working beside them made her skin crawl.

But she didn’t want to be too far away from the life she built in Boston.

So she applied everywhere within a 3-hour drive.

Nothing.

No responses from anywhere, or bland rejections to try again next term.

So she threw caution to the wind and applied to other cities: LA, Miami, Dallas, San Fran, Phoenix, New York.

Still, she hadn’t heard back from a single one.

In the office one night, while reassigning paperwork, she spoke of the issues with Ethan.

He considered things and offered to reach out to Chief Fredricks at Weill in NYC.

She wasn’t thrilled about moving back home, but she accepted the gesture nonetheless.

The next week, she had a truly competitive offer from Weill.

The salary package and benefits were astounding. She couldn’t believe it. This opportunity was too good to be true.

She called Bryce immediately. “No way! That’s awesome, Becks!” “I know! And it’s not too far either, we can still spend long weekends together” “Totally. Look at us getting our lives together!”

Then, unexpectedly, Edenbrook was saved and Ethan offered her her position back.

She wanted to accept. Oh, man, did she want to stay. But the Weill gig was too good. Edenbrook could never match that. She’d be a fool to throw this opportunity away.

She declined and Ethan told her the position will still be available whenever she wants it. “You’re one hell of a doctor, Lao. When you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

She thanked him and promised to revert back after her final year. “We’ll be on the same level then, you ready for that?” “No,” he huffed with a smirk. “You’ll always be a rookie in comparison.”

Later that evening, Bryce was waiting for Becca at her apartment. Every staff member at Edenbrook got the same email about their jobs being reinstated should they want them back.

He was miffed she didn’t take the Edenbrook job.

He understands her issue with the MK internal team but... her old job was safe. Nothing has to change for her.

That was the start of the longest goodbye.

They still made the best of their moments together.

He packed up all her things and they took a road trip down to move her in. She stayed in a family-owned apartment in Brooklyn and was lucky enough to save money that way.

It was a cute one bedroom. They christened it immediately.

As they settled further into their residencies and the weeks turned into months. The weekend meetings became less and less.

Becca made a whole new group of friends and even ran into a few from her youth. She had a new local bar and 24/7 eatery. New parks and food trucks and cocky colleagues to help her destress after an egregious shift.

Bryce couldn’t stand some of the MK doctors - they were arrogant and cocky, and not in the wholesome way he is. He tried to see the gang as much as possible. But Donahue’s was a bit farther now.

He spent most nights commuting home and leaving Becca video messages about his day when she’s unable to pick up his call.

Bryce never really noticed how lonely he was before Becca and Keiki made his apartment a home.

They’ve spent 4 weekends together before the distancing feelings started settling in.

They were growing apart.

For their 5th weekend, Becca had to cut it short one day because of a case and then two hours before leaving Bryce was called into emergency surgery. Besides Tanaka, he was the only one available that knew the procedure forwards and backwards.

Instead, they had a video chat date. They got in their pajamas and snuggled on their respective beds with a snack, some beer and started watching Deadpool 2 together.

“I was thinking of coming back to Edenbrook next year,” she said randomly during the movie. That week was one of the toughest she’s ever had and all she wanted was the comfort she found in Boston. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in months!” “Better than when that hair product company sent you a free gift basket?” “100%. Without a doubt. I can’t cuddle my hair gel every night and leave kisses all over it’s body. I mean... I could but it’d be weird as hell.”

They talked about what that would be like and how fun living together for real would be.

Everything seemed good.

They seemed happy.

They seemed like they were planning a forever.

Well, one of them was.

Three months later Bryce finally made it down to see her. Their last few trips had been rescheduled again and again and again and it was finally here.

He ran out of MK so fast no one dared to stop him.

Becca planned a very lowkey date night for them in Williamsburg. They had Tacos at a pop up and drinks at an improv studio. Nothing seemed to be different. They held hands over the table at dinner, she rested her head in the crook of his neck perfectly carved to fit her. They joked and laughed as they walked arm in arm back to her place.

Then why did they feel so distance?

Why was she having trouble look him in the eye?

Why did the edges of her lips curl down when she smiled now?

He held her in his arms, folded her around him as they snuggled on her couch.

That’s when she told him. A mumble into the heat of his skin.

“I thought you were coming to Boston when you’re done?” Bryce was stunned.

He thought they had settled on a plan weeks ago that she’d be back in Boston and they’d share his apartment and they’d start their lives together.

“I was. But they offered me an opportunity of a lifetime, B. And it’s kinda nice being close to my family... I didn’t realize how much I was missing out on..”

He said the next words so quickly and full of honest intentions: “Do you want me to move?”

She didn’t expect him to offer that. He knows how important his career is to him.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” “Sure you could. I still have three years left of residency. Could transfer nearby.” “Another transfer? Don’t you think that’ll put you behind?” “I’m the top resident at MK and was at Edenbrook. Didn’t you know?”

He tried to joke but the way she wouldn’t look him in eye has his chest constricting.

“Do.. do you not want me to move?”

Tbh she hadn’t given much thought to her relationship or goals in months. It was all just wishful thinking when she spoke of things with Bryce.

She had her eyes on the prize and that was becoming the best doctor of her generation. She’d been much too busy fabricating her new life.

“I don’t know.”

Bryce sat back. He thought she was the one. “What are we doing, Rebecca?”

She gave a confused furrow of her brows.

“Are we end game?” he clarified, trying to keep his calm.

Her jaw opened and closed, trying and failing to find all the words she needed him to hear; “I don’t know.” “Okay. I’ll tell you what I DO know. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life making you snort and smile. I can transfer residency and move here for you. All I’m asking, is if you feel the same way.”

There was a wall of silence between them towering so high.

“I love you so much, Bryce.”

It was said so softly he might’ve missed it if he kept talking.

The sadness etched on her face and the light reflecting off the glistening in her eyes told him she wasn’t ready to commit.

She wasn’t going to commit.

Bryce grabbed his bag, snatched his keys and wallet from the table, and walked out the door.

#Anonymous #asked #open heart #open heart headcanons #bryce x mc #bryce lahela #hc

32 notes · View notes

linkfms · 4 years ago

Text

☠️ * what is up, party people ! i’m jojo ( she/her ), 23, and in the pst timezone. it’s been a while since i’ve been in a group so... pls bear with me. anyway, under the cut you’ll find more info on resident emo boy: link ! i’m so excited to write with u all, and, if u ever want to plot give this a lil’ like or send an im over @ yea right#4256 !

lincoln “link” seong was spotted in the fashion district adorning prada combat boots, with some airpod pros on. they’re most likely listening to when you were young by the killers. you may know them as @hyperlink or as that jeon jungkook lookalike. their twenty - fourth birthday just passed. while living in tribeca, they’ve gained a bit of a reputation. they’re known to be erratic but on the other hand vehement. wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines. ( cis male & he/him )

↳ THE BASICS: STATISTICS.

full name: seong hyunjae ( 성 현재 ) / lincoln seong.

nickname: link, and will probably only answer to link !

age & date of birth: 24 & november 21, 1996.

hometown: born in busan, south korea, but moved to jefferson, connecticut in 2006.

current location: tribeca, new york.

education: completed high school and attempted first semester of university, but decided to pursue music instead.

occupation: drummer for indie/alternative rock band, my time ( sound is similar to bands like the killers, the 1975, and paramore ). also is an affiliate with an esports organization ! doesn’t play competitively, but streams and creates content for them weekly.

sexual orientation: pansexual & panromantic.

gender & pronouns: cisgender male & he/him pronouns.

↳ THE BACKGROUND: BIOGRAPHY. ( tw: mentions of alcoholism & abuse )

seong hyunjae ( later given the english name lincoln seong... thanks linkin park ! ) was born in the heart of busan, south korea. his parents married at the age of 21, due to the cultural expectations of having a child born out of wedlock. while things seemed to be smooth sailing for a while, the couple realized the real struggles of adulthood. financial issues came into play. stress from working multiple jobs every single day took a toll on their mental health, as well as their relationship with each other. link’s mother began to develop an alcohol addiction, and her abusive behavior came following after. their home was falling apart, with four-year-old link falling asleep to muffled screaming and glass being thrown on the next room over. his father was able to withstand it for a while, but he drew the line after coming home from work to see large cuts on the side of his son’s thigh, and a bruise forming across his cheek. that was when he knew his wife was dangerous. so, one night when lincoln’s mother as at work, he packed his belongings, grabbed link, and left without looking back.

for a while, it was just the two of them. they found ways to make it work, and despite the fact that it was a constant struggle, his father never wanted link to lose his childhood. in fact, his father gave him everything he could give — but most importantly, as cheesy as it sounds, his unconditional love and support. as someone who lost his own parents young, he made sure that link would never feel like he’s being deprived of that, ever. they created this tight-knight bond because of that, which can’t ever be broken. and now, link’s fondest memories always involved spending time with his father. one favorite memory of his involved morning jam sessions after breakfast. link’s father was previously a lead guitarist in a garage band with a few of his high school friends, so while he was playing riffs on his electric guitar, eight-year-old link would be banging the coffee table with plastic straws.

when link was about ten, he and his father sold all of their belongings and moved all the way to jefferson, connecticut for a job offer that he couldn’t refuse. fast forward a few years, and he’s a teenager in high school. growing up link was more of an introvert, and would spend his time in the computer lab playing video games or browsing in online forums. he was a regular in this my chemical romance forum ( under the username @hyperlink ), and made a lot of his lifelong friends over there. one of his online friends jokingly suggested one afternoon that they should start a band over their nightly skype call, and while it was initially shrugged off as dream more than an arm’s reach away, my time was born. link had to endlessly plead his father to buy him a secondhand drum kit off of craigslist for christmas. but once he found it under their tree that year, it sparked this drive in him to learn and practice nonstop.

their first official band practice happened a day after link’s high school graduation ( which was also the first time everyone saw each other in person ! ), and they spent that entire summer making music. at first, link only thought of it as a hobby... since, he was attending his first year of university that fall. but after playing their first few shows and making all these memories, he couldn’t keep the band in the backburner. he dropped out not too long after to pursue his music career full-time. moved out, spent the next few months working long shifts at the local amusement park, and shared one two-bedroom apartment with his bandmates. one of their songs went viral one crazy night, and the next thing they knew, they were being signed into a record label. now ? they’re one of the biggest alternative/indie rock bands out there with multiple platinum records, sold out world tours, and millions of streams each year. their time finally came.

↳ THE INSIDE LOOK: PERSONALITY.

link definitely... gets babied a lot ( by his bandmates and his fans ), and he uses that to his advantage :] because of that he gets away with a lot of things, but it’s usually with things that are small like eating the last slice of pizza and it would be justified with “ no he is a growing BOY he NEEDS it ! ”

that being said, he eats nonstop. the guy carries a sandwich bag full of cheerios wherever he goes. his friends know that if they can’t finish eating something, they can always donate it to link for a good cause.

when my chemical romance announced their reunion tour in 2019, he threw his phone across the room and cried. my chemical romance ( with green day and linkin park as a close second ! ) are his all-time favorite bands, and a lot of my time’s sound is heavily inspired by them.

when i tell u that this man is so chill, i mean it. like things could LITERALLY be on fire and he’d be like “ just throw some water on it it’ll be fine 😎 ” ... he’s not the type to worry about things, and is more of a go with the flow type of person. he doesn’t even need to be zooted to be like this. KJFGDG

being in the band and a part of the entertainment industry caused a small shift in his personality. maybe he just blossomed ? who knows ! but because he’s been exposed to the rockstar life, he was able to open up more. he’s always seeking thrills, big or small, and won’t have the time to think about the consequences for his actions.

because the my chemical romance forum that was once his second home shut down, he’s since moved on to reddit. social media isn’t really his thing ( and his fans always get mad at him for posting a selfie once a month then dipping ), but catch him on subreddits making comments or starting fights for the sheer entertainment of proving someone wrong.

this might sound bad but... he still can’t wrap his head around the fact that he isn’t ? financially struggling anymore ? even if he’s already bought a house and two luxury cars for his dad, he still gets ticked off if he sees something small like an APPLE that is marked a dollar and a few cents over the usual. he catches himself using things until they’re ABSOLUTELY worn out, and still leeches off of his bandmates/friends when he can. <3 also, if something is broken, he’ll be the type to figure it out and fix it himself.

people... don’t exactly remember the last time he’s slept. it could be the insomnia ( it’s definitely insomnia, thx childhood trauma ! ) but it’s almost gotten to the point where he’s afraid to fall asleep on his own. he’ll always try to find ways to sleep in someone’s company, even if it’s just him crashing on a couch while someone is watching tv right there. if he’s alone though, he’ll always try to find ways to distract himself like stream for 10 hours straight.

speaking of trauma... he’s also scared of relationships. after witnessing the way his mother treated his father, he’s cautious of history repeating itself... but with him. so whenever he catches himself even falling for just a little, he dips.

his life revolves around the 4 m’s: marvel movies, minecraft, music, and my chemical romance. that’s it.

a link 😏 to his pinterest ! also, i don’t have any wcs, but if we plot, i promise i’ll use my big brain to brainstorm something with u. <3

#wealthyhq:intro #the way i spent too much time writing this.................

17 notes · View notes

missluthorwillseeyounow · 4 years ago

Text

Never To Touch And Never To Keep

Westenray AU (NBC Dracula)

A/N: So, here it is, the Westenray AU where Henry Cavill is Lucy’s beard. Fair warning, I didn’t really watch much of the show, just the Lucy scenes, and not even all of those. Basically, this is a peeled-back modern AU of the whole story, without the Dracula stuff. It’ll follow canon for a little bit, unfortunately *cringe* but I need a happy ending for my gays.

Also, this gets quite dark before it gets better. TW: gaslighting, attempted suicide, poisoning, and manipulation. Like for real, guys, I promise a happy ending, but if any of these trigger you, please don’t read it.

Lucy and Mina have been friends since they were fifteen. Lucy's father is an affluent businessman, and Lucy grows up with her every whim catered to. She’s at the center of everyone’s attention. All heads turn whenever she enters a room, and she accepts the adoration as her due.

She and Mina meet at boarding school, and the bond between the two girls is immediate.

That first year is spent in bare feet and nightgowns, dancing idly to Fleetwood Mac, drunk on youth and the vodka Lucy stole from the headmistress’ office. In the acrid scent of illicit cigarettes being passed from one to the other, and the soft curve of Mina’s lips under Lucy’s fingers whenever she slips the cigarette into Mina’s mouth.

Mina is quiet and earnest, where Lucy is vivacious and impertinent. Mina gently chastises her when she breaks yet another boy’s heart, and Lucy merely laughs.

And when Mina breaks Lucy’s heart and falls in love with Jonathan Harker, Lucy just laughs and laughs, and cruelly breaks another boy’s heart in retaliation.

Between the two of them, Mina is the more logical one, whose head and heart are grounded and centered, while Lucy is a creature of flight and fancy -- the one who flits from one thing to another, the charming social butterfly who lights up any room she walks into and creates a spectacle to hide every insecurity she keeps inside.

Lucy lives with bravado, but retreats behind a glittering mask. Mina, she thinks, is the one who is actually brave, the one who is unafraid to live her life as herself.

At the time of this AU, they’re around 21, and Mina and Jonathan are engaged. They're still quite young, but they've been together for years. The "perfect couple", it was only a matter of time before they got married.

Mina is in med school at this time, when she meets Alexander Grayson.

Grayson is a wealthy businessman, the new owner of the hospital where Mina’s father had practiced before he died. He encounters Mina once, at a benefit for the hospital’s cancer ward. Mina speaks to him in her gentle, forthright way, and Grayson is immediately drawn to her.

The encounter leaves an indelible mark on Grayson, and he decides he has to have her.

He’s no stranger to manipulation, and he comes at the problem on all sides. The key, he knows, is isolation. If she has no one left to turn to, Mina will come to him.

Harker, he thinks, is easy enough. With his uncertain finances, the young man is insecure and doubts his place in Mina’s esteem or at least in her social circles. It’s easy enough to see in the way his teeth grit and his jaw tightens whenever Lucy delightedly plucks on this particular insecurity like a note well-played.

Grayson buys into Harker’s graces through his wealth, offers him a career in which he can succeed. The work keeps Harker rewarded and therefore docile, out of the shadow Mina’s condescending friends, and high on his own sense of self-importance for the first time in his life.

His seduction of Mina, however, requires more thought and subtlety. He applies himself to discovering more about her, the things that interest her and resonate with her.

He finds out about her admiration and respect for a prestigious doctor, Gabriel van Helsing, and he extorts van Helsing into offering his mentorship to Mina. He finds out about her passion for helping children and starts a charity for children in need, and offers her the chance to be more involved in the project.

Through it all, Grayson places himself as the supposed catalyst of her advancement.

And Mina, grounded though she is, is still fallible. Grayson seems to her a kind man, misunderstood by some perhaps because of his brooding disposition, but still -- a good man. And he is attractive, that’s undeniable. Enigmatic, charming in a mysterious way.

Slowly, but surely, Mina is lured in.

Because Grayson presents himself as a pleasant and urbane gentleman, most people rarely suspect him of anything nefarious.

Except for Lucy.

Like recognizes like, and Lucy has used her own charm to get her way enough times to know when people use it for their own machinations.

Grayson knows that Lucy is less susceptible to his manipulations and will be more difficult to eliminate as competition.

However, he learns that his intervention is not required. Someone like Lucy, whose emotions overrule even her own penchant for manipulation, will set her own self on fire. All it takes is a few whispers in Mina’s ear, and Lucy orchestrates her own destruction.

Lucy has been hiding her feelings for years, and she's become adept at it. But Grayson’s arrival has thrown Mina into turmoil and by extension, Lucy is thrown into turmoil as well.

And Lucy, when backed into a corner, always lashes out. She barely hides her resentment for Grayson, alienating herself from Mina, who thinks so highly of him, for the first time in their friendship. Not even her disparaging of Jonathan had lowered her in Mina’s esteem, but this causes the first real point of contention between the two of them.

For the first time, Lucy feels her slipping away, and her reflexive response is to pull closer, fearing the loss of Mina in her life. She holds fast to the bond between her and Mina, and clings to her friend.

And one night -- an ordinary night that finds Lucy stretched out on Mina’s bed as usual, their faces inches apart as they seek each other under Mina’s covers like they always do -- Lucy, grateful that no matter what contention they have about one man, they still find each other, becomes brave enough, desperate enough to close that familiar distance between them and press her lips to Mina’s.

"We could be so much more.... I've always loved you, Mina."

"Has our whole friendship been a pretense?!?"

Grayson’s insidious whispers flare in Mina’s mind, and every moment of their friendship is called into question. Every embrace, every sweet word, and every barb thrown at Jonathan viewed in the light of this new and terrifying revelation.

"You need to leave."

And leave Lucy does, feeling small and worthless and hollow, as if a crater has opened up in the middle of her chest. This is not a feeling she knows -- not this shame and this hurt and this dejection.

She’s suffered for Mina before, the heartache of seeing the woman she loves in love with another. But this.... it feels as if all the love she’d kept in her heart has been spit back at her in acid.

It rankles at her skin, and claws at her pride, and so Lucy does what she knows best. She claws back.

Harker is almost laughably easy, a pawn Lucy moves with disturbing ease -- she almost feels sorry for Mina that she loved a man whose loyalty can break with a pair of tear-filled eyes and a silk robe. Almost.

When Mina catches them together, as planned, Lucy catches Mina's eye with a level look over Jonathan's shoulder. She pushes Jonathan off, his erection twitching unsatisfied between them. Lucy rises to her feet, slipping on her silk robe -- never taking her eyes off Mina -- then brushes past her without another word.

And Mina... Mina knows Lucy. She knows how cruel she can be, and has long accepted it as a part of her, but never has that cruelty been directed at her.

This, more than anything, seals it all in Mina’s mind.

The two most important people in her life have betrayed her, and it feels as if the very foundations of the life she’s known until now have been shaken.

The only person she can confide in, who listens to her and comforts her with a solemn touch of a hand, is Grayson.

And Grayson thinks, now that he has her, he means to keep her.

He makes her happy, makes her smile and laugh, builds her back up when her life is at its lowest. When she cries at her losses, he embraces her, and bids her forget about them.

A year later, Mina discovers she’s pregnant, and her Alexander is overjoyed. It’s a difficult pregnancy and keeps her weak and bed-ridden for most of it. Through it all, Alexander is the one person she can depend on.

It’s an even more difficult birth, but Mina immediately falls in love with her baby. But her pregnancy took its toll on her body, and she’s still having a hard time bouncing back. Her energy flags more and more, and at first, she attributes it to the enormous stress of juggling her studies and a new baby. She's just stressed, Alexander says, maybe they should go for a vacation.

A vacation smack in the middle of her training?? It’s unthinkable at first, but as Mina finds herself more and more fatigued, she relents. Perhaps it will do her good.

During the vacation, without the stress of med school and all the worries at home, Mina finally has some time to think about her old life before this whirlwind romance she’s found herself in. As much as she loves Alexander and their baby, she knows there are some things that were left unresolved, and she’s been covering them up long enough.

When they return from the vacation, Mina begins to write letters:

Dear Lucy,

You cannot imagine how much I long to see you again. Today will make it a year, nine months and fifteen days since we last saw each other. I can't believe it's been that long. Remember when we had that fight in chemistry class and you didn't speak to me for three days? Before our separation, that was the longest we'd ever been apart. I miss those days.

Every letter I have sent to you has returned unread and unopened. I know you don’t want anything to do with me anymore, and after the way I treated you, I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again. But still, it doesn't erase the yearning to see your face again.

I miss the nights we would sleep in each other's beds, talking until midnight. Your face -- your dear, loving eyes and your beloved smile -- would be the last thing I saw before falling asleep, and the first thing to wake me in the morning. I never knew what a blessing that was, until I was deprived of such a gift.

Too much has happened. We both hurt each other, I know. You hurt me -- yes, it still hurts -- but I know, I hurt you first. I realize now that what you did was born out of anger and deep pain, because of what I did.

You were never anything but loving toward me. My sweetest friend who always stood by me, always lifted me up, and gave me whatever happiness you could. With others you were always so cold, so cruel, that I could hardly believe you were the same person, because with me, you were so soft, and you took such great care to be gentle.

And I cast you aside. I treated you as if your love as something to be ashamed of, when really, I did not deserve any of it. You betrayed me out of pain, but I betrayed you without provocation. And I am so sorry. God, if you could only know how much I regret everything I said that night...

My infant daughter is sleeping beside me as I write this. My daughter, Lucy. Can you believe it?

She is so beautiful. She has a shock of jet-black hair that is resistant to combing (I can already tell we will have problems with that), and such mesmerizing grey eyes, and the cheekiest smile. She reminds me of you, but that might be because I love her so much.

I've named her Lucy Alexandra Grayson. After Alexander, and after you. Her father likes to call her Alexandra. I'm afraid he doesn't like your name, my dear, but he can't stop me. I've taken to calling her Lucky, as I confess, there has only ever been one Lucy for me, and always will be.

And anyway, Alexander is far too happy, spending time with the baby. He's so proud of her, and it makes me happy to see Alexander happy. He spends all day with us, and is devoted to me and my happiness. He tells me every day that Lucky and I are everything to him.

Oh, Lucy dear, if you could only know the joy I feel at this moment. I wish you were here so i could share this with you. I so wish that you could see Lucky. If you did, you would love her, I know. She is perfection. I can hardly believe that she came from me. That I made something so beautiful and precious.

Oh, Lucy, today my joy knows no bounds, save for one. I feel as if you should be here. Your presence, as warm and sorely missed as it is, would complete my happiness.

Love, Mina.

Mina feels better during the vacation, but when they get back home, she becomes worse. Fatigue sets in quickly, and she gets daily headaches so bad that she has to stay home. She finally admits that her body is having a hard time bouncing back and handling the stress of it all, and after spending several sleepless weeks thinking about it, Mina finally agrees when Alexander suggests she take a break from medical school. This way, she can stay home and rest. Her body can recuperate, and she’ll have more time with Lucky.

What she doesn’t know is that her symptoms are not part of an illness. Grayson has been slowly introducing medication into her system. Nothing life-threatening, or anything that would raise alarms. He’s much too careful for that. But enough that its effects keep her weak and drained of energy

After they returned from their vacation and Mina had expressed her desire to reconcile with Lucy, Grayson had decided that it wasn’t safe yet to stop drugging her, and so the small doses of the medication resumed.

As for the letters, Lucy never receives any of them. Grayson makes sure of it. He even takes precautions to make sure that every email, every text is blocked. Now that Lucy has excised herself out of Mina’s life, he’ll make sure she remains that way.

As for Lucy herself, in the passing years since their separation, she’s made quite a few changes.

Lucy has always been... aware of the effect she has on people. She knows she appears as a charming coquette, and as she makes her own way in the world, she uses that to her advantage. In fact, she delights in it.

She rarely lets anyone see how clever she is until it's too late, and by then, she's already destroying their lives or their reputations. It makes people underestimate her abilities, and she gets to still play in her glittering little world.

Lucy meets Nick at a friend’s bachelorette party.

When they first meet, he’s a stripper hired for the night.

It would have been easy to dismiss him then, but Lucy, clever as she is, sees his potential and cleans him up.

She had been planning on using Nick’s past as a stripper and her role as his benefactor to hold over him as blackmail if needed, but she soon realizes that he genuinely does not give a fuck about that.

“What are you getting out of this, then?”

“Aside from the suits and the Maserati? Honestly, I’m just along for the ride. This beats dancing Friday nights at Hunk-O-Rama. Besides, you’re cute.”

Lucy laughs derisively. “You’re not my type.”

Nick throws his head back and laughs even louder. “I have a feeling you don’t hear this a lot, but you’re not my type either.”

Aside from Mina, it’s easily the closest relationship Lucy has ever had. Nick is one of the few people perceptive enough to really see her, and surprisingly enough, he’s not enamored by her. Which works well enough for both of them.

Nick sees Lucy for the mess that she is. When they’re not in public, he treats her like an annoying, reckless little sister, and it amuses him to watch her wreak havoc and play her little games. When she doesn’t annoy the crap out of him.

Nick, however, knows very little about Mina.

All he knows is that she’s a sore subject. He's deduced by now that Lucy was in love with her, but beyond that, he lets Lucy keep her secrets.

As for Mina, over the years, Grayson’s manipulations become more and more overt, and it becomes harder and harder for her to leave.

As Lucky grows up, Alexander showers her with affection and spoils her, making the little girl devoted to him. “Daddy’s little girl” he calls her.

"Mummy, why are you and Daddy fighting?"

"Daddy wasn't being nice."

“But Mummy, Daddy's the nicest! He loves us. He says so all the time."

Mina tries to leave once, when Lucky is 7 years old. She tries to take Lucky with her, but her daughter runs to Grayson and clings to him. “No! I want to stay with Daddy!”

And Grayson levels Mina a look, daring her to separate her child from her father, or leave her behind.

From then on, Grayson keeps Lucky close. She hears him whispering things into the child’s ear (”Mummy’s sick. She’s not well.”) and it reminds her so forcibly of the things he used to whisper in her ear.

That’s when she knows. She has to leave, for her daughter’s sake.

She takes some of the pills she keeps in the cupboard, carefully calculates enough to make her sick but not kill herself. She only needs enough to be taken to the ER, and put in a temporary psych hold.

It's dangerous, her plan. She could actually kill herself, and if she's on psych hold, Lucky will be left alone with Alexander, and though she's sure Alexander won't hurt her, because Lucky is his bargaining chip to get Mina back, she can’t be sure of what he’ll be putting into her daughter’s head.

Her attempt fails when Grayson brings in a doctor friend of his to help her instead of taking her to the hospital

He performs gastric lavage on her at home to flush the drugs from her stomach. As Mina lies on her bed, lethargic with the tube in her nose, Alexander grips her wrist and murmurs under his breath "You are everything to me. I won’t let you go."

As Mina recovers, she finds herself locked in her room. She asks in vain for Lucky, but Alexander’s only reply is that “She shouldn’t have to see her mother like this.”

Days pass, and the sense of urgency and panic rises, unstoppable, in Mina’s throat like bile. She knows she has no choice. When she’s strong enough, she pushes herself out of bed, locks the door to buy herself time, and breaks one of the windows. She picks up one of the shards, and thinking of her beautiful little girl, Mina cuts through the flesh of her wrists.

It takes a while before Grayson and the doctor realize what she’s done, and she loses enough blood that the doctor decides she needs to go to the hospital or she will going to die.

Once she's at the hospital, she asks a kind nurse to contact Lucy, but she’s told that Lucy’s number is unlisted. The nurse tries the business number, but gets the usual run-around.

And so, as a last resort, Mina gives the nurse the address to Lucy’s family home, hoping and praying that someone there -- Lucy’s father or her mother -- will see her name and remember it. Then she gives the nurse a bundle of letters. The ones that were returned unopened, and the ones she wrote but didn't send because she knew by now Lucy wouldn't read them.

The nurse kindly agrees, and Mina wishes she could tell her everything, that it could help her and her daughter. But Alexander is too influential, and he has Lucky with him, and Mina will not risk her daughter.

The letters are forwarded to Lucy. Nick hands them to her over the breakfast table. But when Lucy hears who they’re from, she goes silent and refuses to open them.

"Do what you want with them. Take them, or they'll end up in the fire. I won't read them."

Nick reads them. The next day, he approaches Lucy again, letters in hand. "The letters, that Mina wrote you..."

Lucy doesn't even look up from her cup of coffee. Her jaw twitches. "I don't want to hear it."

The letters drop onto the table next to her plate. "I think she may need your help. I think she's being abused."

Lucy applies herself to recovering Mina and Lucky, as well as sinking Alexander Grayson, like Nick has never seen her apply herself to anything before.

Nick loses track of how many people Lucy bribes, threatens or blackmails to get Grayson arrested and the charges to stick, or how long it takes for her to get Grayson’s properties seized and his assets frozen.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s seen Grayson’s face in the news, getting condemned and absolutely dragged by every news outlet Lucy and her family have access to.

Nick also has no idea know how she managed to get a decent-sized portion of Grayson’s fortune back for Mina and Lucky -- and honestly, given Lucy’s pervasive, systematic destruction of everything Alexander Grayson holds dear, he’s kind of afraid to ask.

As Lucy’s “business face”, Nick has to field everyone from the press to the lawyers. Fortunately for them, he’s a competent son of a bitch, and he tells Lucy the one time she’d asked "Don't worry about it, kid. Your family is my family."

Lucy doesn't quite know what to respond to -- the declaration that Nick considers her family, or that he thinks Mina is her family. "They're not my family."

"Sure, whatever you say, babe." Nick just laughs and walks away. "Oh, and I better get a raise after this."

Nick, however, does suspect that Lucy’s almost manic focus on sinking Grayson to the mud is at least partly so that she doesn’t have to deal with Mina being back. The fact that she had stashed Mina and Lucky in one of her summer homes, hidden away from her, is evidence enough of that.

Lucy says it’s to keep them out of the public eye, and while that’s true enough, there is also some truth to Nick’s theory.

Ruining Grayson is easy. Revenge is easier and altogether more satisfying that hashing out old feelings that never really died -- just got shoved to the back of her mind, and only came up whenever Lucy was with another woman and, instead of red hair, she'd see Mina's black curls; or when she said the wrong name in the throes of an orgasm.

And looking across the courtroom at Grayson with a triumphant smile on her face is infinitely easier than looking Mina in the eye.

Lucy puts off visiting the summer house as long as she can. But she has to eventually, to let Mina know how the trials went

For once, Lucy, the social butterfly who can charm birds off trees, has no idea what to say. Mina is quiet too. She wants to tease Lucy for her awkwardness, and if it had been 8 years ago and the Lucy of old, she would have.

Now all she can really do is stare at Lucy and drink her in, cataloging every feature that has changed or remained the same

In the end, Lucky saves them. The little girl looks up at Lucy with a sweet smile "Hi! You're Lucy!"

Lucy can only stare at her for a second before shaking herself with a nod. "I am."

"We have the same name! But my Mummy calls me Lucky."

Lucy finally meets Mina's eye. "So I've heard."

Lucky quickly warms to Lucy, and Lucy, who has never spent more than an hour with any person younger than herself, finds herself feeling strangely attached to the child.

Lucky is what brings Lucy and Mina together.

In truth, they're each so desperate to know the other again, to somehow find their way back to how things were before that night. They've both changed so much, but they both want to see how much has remained the same, how much they can still salvage and patch together.

It's too much to say, but too much to leave unsaid, so they focus the affection they can't give the other on Lucky

Lucy and Mina are never quite alone together at first. Lucky is usually a buffer between them

Then one day, Lucy brings Lucky a whole new wardrobe of dresses and Lucky tries them on for her and Mina one at a time. As Lucky flounces off to change into another sparkly tulle dress, Mina chuckles, “Remember that time we got drunk and we snuck into the the props room in school and tried on all of the costumes for ‘Hamlet’?”

Lucy smiles. "I remember having to drag you there because you were too scared of getting caught.”

"And I remember you trying on every gaudy thing you could find. Just like Lucky.” Mina laughs, her eyes softening. “I swear, sometimes I think she's your child."

Lucy looks away for a second, but Mina murmurs "She reminded me so much of you all those years."

Lucy hides the tremor in her voice behind an arrogant smirk. "She's amazing then."

Mina looks at her, eyes clear and bright. "She is."

Nick joins them some weekends, and Lucky adores him almost as much as Lucy. On one particular visit, he comes bearing some “sensitive information” for Lucy.

When Mina had first been rescued, she had asked Nick if he had any information on Jonathan Harker. When he reported this to Lucy, she had tasked Nick to find him. Not out of sentimentality for the man, she couldn't care less about Harker. But for Mina...

Nick finds Lucy and Mina in the sunroom, talking quietly. Mina is reaching over to brush a non-existent stray hair out of Lucy's face, and Lucy is smiling in a way Nick has never seen before. Gentle, almost tender.

And this is the woman who has left a trail of broken hearts a mile long behind her.

Nick almost doesn't interrupt them -- but then Mina leans forward, bringing her that much closer to Lucy... And the smile disappears on Lucy's face like water evaporating. She pulls away abruptly, her eyes sliding away from Mina's to find Nick in the doorway.

He holds up the folder for her to see. Lucy rises and leads him to her office, where they won't be overheard. When Nick hands her folder, she scans it silently, her jaw tight. The file contains all of Harker's information, including how to contact him.

"He's unmarried and working as a writer for a newspaper."

Lucy closes the folder and hands it to Nick, her eyes stony. "Give it to her."

Nick blinks and pauses. "Are you su--"

Lucy silences him with a sharp look that berates him for daring to question her. "Give it to her."

Nick's lips narrow. "Yes, ma'am."

Lucy cringes inwardly. She knows she was a little bit too blunt with Nick, but honestly she's in no mood to be nice. "Oh, and have my team prepare the jet."

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here."

Lucy flies off to see a frequent bedfellow in Paris for a week. She heads to Italy for another the next week. By the time she gets back, she’s informed her that Mina and Lucky are gone. Nick tells her that he gave Mina the file on Jonathan and she left the next day.

Lucy arrives home to an empty summer house, and finds that she misses Mina and Lucky too much. She misses Lucky's mischievous giggles and Mina's light laughter. She misses having tea with Mina in the sunroom, and sitting in the library while Lucky reads her old children's books to her.

She misses the days spent on the lake, Lucky swinging into the water from the old rope on the tree, and somehow managing to coax Lucy along with her, while Mina, quietly radiant in her white linen dress, sips tea and watches them from the dock. She used to laugh whenever Lucy and Lucky emerged dripping wet from the lake, hair stringy and waterlogged, dresses stuck uncomfortably to their skin, but having the time of their lives.

Everyday there just reminds her more of what she doesn't have anymore. So she goes back to her home in the city. It's not much better there, but at least there aren't any reminders of Mina or Lucky there

Mina calls her several times, but Lucy ignores each call.

When they were younger, she used to listen to Mina talk about her relationship with Harker, not a secret between them, except one. And Lucy was just content to listen because it kept her in Mina's life.

And while she doesn't want to lose Mina again, she thinks she's grown up enough to set limits on what she can or will take. And she doesn't think she can take hearing about Mina's new life with Jonathan. How she's rebuilding her old life with him, and shaping her new one around it.

She does allow herself some bitterness over the thought of how perfect that new little family would be. Mina and her old love, Jonathan, a perfect new father for Lucky, to replace the twisted one she got.

It's perfect for them, she thinks. Absolutely fucking meant to be. A happy ending after the hell Mina went through. She deserves that, Lucy thinks as she downs yet another glass of wine

And Lucy bets that within the next six months, she'll receive a call from Mina asking her to be her bridesmaid. A year later, Lucky will be getting a new brother or sister.

On nights like these, when Lucy drowns herself in enough wine to numb the crater in chest, Nick has to scoop her up and take her home himself.

On one such night, she doesn't come home to an empty house. Mina's waiting for her there. She follows Nick to Lucy's room then gives him a small smile. "I'll take it from here."

Lucy is half passed out, but Mina manages to get her to drink some water and helps her change out of her clothes. Then she tucks Lucy under her covers and slips in with her.

Lucy's eyes open blearily, "Aren't you going back home to Jonathan and Lucky?"

Mina smiles at her. "I left Lucky with my cousin, and I'm sure Jonathan can manage without me."

Lucy mutters something into her pillow.

"What was that?"

"He doesn't deserve you."

Mina brushes her hair back "Then who does?"

"No one."

"You think too highly of me."

"Rightly so."

"Even after..... even after the way I treated you that night?"

"That night wasn't your fault," Lucy mumbles sleepily, voice slurred from the wine. In vino veritas. "It was my fault. It was me -- my feelings. I was responsible for them, not you. I was doing so well before that, and you, you my darling brilliant Mina, are so stupid when it comes to love. You would never have known anything if I hadn't opened my stupid mouth - or kissed you with it."

Mina's eyes search hers in the dim light. "Would you never have told me? Would you have kept it a secret from me forever?"

Lucy nods, making herself slightly dizzy. Her eyes close and she murmurs. "If I could go back, I would never have kissed you."

Mina doesn't speak for a while. She just listens to the sound of Lucy's breathing even out to sleep. She just stares at Lucy. "It's funny. I often think about things I regretted about that night. I regretted the way I acted toward you, the things I said.... But that kiss was the one thing I never regretted."

When they were at the summer house, there were several moments when Mina almost got carried away and kissed her, her eyes flicking down to Lucy's lips, lush and candy-pink. She's spent nights reliving that kiss over the years, trying to recall details of it, but it's been blurred by time and guilt and confusion.

She wonders how she never knew how Lucy felt. She wonders if Alexander hadn't been manipulating her, if she would have said the things she did. If she hadn't been so in love with Jonathan then, would she have kissed Lucy back?

She looks at Lucy now and wonders if she would taste the same.

But every time Mina lets any hint of these thoughts show on her face, Lucy looks away.

Lucy -- who, even after all these years and all this turmoil, has opened her heart and home to her and her daughter -- shows all the fear of a trapped animal whenever Mina looks at her with want in her eyes, and closes herself off.

Mina knows she's damaged that beyond repair. Lucy -- dear Lucy who never kept a secret from her but this one -- showed one moment of vulnerability and Mina had all but slapped her in the face

And she still knows Lucy well. Lucy always lashes out from hurt at first, but after, she hides in dark corners where no one can see, like a heart-hurt little kitten seeking the comfort and safety of being unseen.

So she doesn't bring it up in the morning, when Lucy pads softly into the kitchen where Mina is making her breakfast and the hangover remedy she came up with in college.

Lucy looks up at her gratefully, if a little confused. Her eyes are a little cloudy, and her perfect hair tousled just enough for Mina to want to run her hands through the golden mess.

She knows she can. This is Lucy, and since they were teenagers, touch has been a language between them. Mina's heart twinges, and she wonders if this is how Lucy felt all those years ago, wanting to touch her as she always does, but this time with a lover's hand, each nerve ending coming alive with the stark difference.

Lucy watches her with a question on her lips that Mina can almost see, even as she hesitates, her mouth fearful and unwilling to open.

Mina reassures her with a gentle smile as she places a plate of Lucy's favorite scrambled eggs in front of her. She leans forward and kisses the top of her head. They don't have to talk about it now.

Hope is a cruel thing to entertain, she knows from years living with Alexander. And she knows that sometimes the best defense from it is to reject it.

And right now, she knows they're both brimming with it. The rigidly suppressed hope in Lucy's eyes, marshaled by years of emotions never expressed, and the answering hope in Mina that prays she still feels the same way

This is not a conversation that can be had while Lucy is hungover and barely awake. Lucy waited for her for years before that kiss, then the duty of waiting fell to Mina. She thinks she can wait a little bit longer for Lucy.

After breakfast, when her wits are more collected, Lucy sits with her feet curled up on the wicker love seat, and Mina sits opposite her. Lucy's no longer drunk, but she nurses a cup of tea in both hands, gripping the porcelain as if her life depends on it

"Why are you here, Mina? Shouldn't you be at home with Jonathan and Lucky?"

Mina regards her with a tranquil look. "I told you, Lucky is at my cousin's place. And Jonathan... I don't know where Jonathan is."

At that, Lucy looks up. "What do you mean?"

Mina shrugs. "I haven't seen him since the day I went to visit him."

"Haven't you moved in with him by now?"

Mina casts her an exasperated look. "I've been living with my cousin for the past few weeks. You would know that if you answered any of my phone calls."

Lucy is quiet, and Mina ducks her head so she can meet Lucy's eye. "Did you think I moved in with Jonathan?"

Lucy looks up at her, and there's something almost accusatory in her green eyes. "You went back to him."

Mina gives her a level look. "Of course I went back to him. I loved him for years, Lucy. I owed it to Jonathan to see him again. We were together since we were teenagers! We were engaged to be married, before Alexander. I owed it to myself."

Lucy has turned away again, not wanting to meet her eye, and Mina wants to shake her. "..... But Lucy, above all that, I owed it to you."

“Me?? You went back to your old lover for me?" Lucy scoffs, tears forming in her crystal eyes. Her voice breaks, but Lucy is always Lucy, and her words bite back, even if she's hurt -- especially when she's hurt.

"Forgive my skepticism, Mina, but I fail to understand how returning to the man you loved first, the man who could have given you everything I never could -- the first man you chose over me -- could possibly be about me."

"Because!" MIna can feel her voice rising out of desperation and frustration and anger and love at this woman who owns her heart now. "Because you deserve the truth.... Because you deserve to look me in the eye and know beyond a doubt that I'm telling the truth when I say I choose you. Not Jonathan. Not Alexander. You."

Lucy's mouth drops open, and Mina feels a sense of satisfaction that she has managed to render Lucy Westenra, of all people, speechless.

"I went to see Jonathan, I let him hold me in his arms, and I knew that what I feel for him, even what I felt for him then is not even half of what I feel for you. After all these years. After everything we've all been through -- you are the one I choose.... It might not mean anything at all to you now, after what I did to you, but I know now without a single doubt that it's the truth. And so do you. I choose you, Lucy."

Lucy just stares at Mina, her eyes wide. Her hands are shaking so much, Mina fears the tea in her cup will spill. She crosses the room and kneels down in front of her chair. She takes the cup carefully from Lucy’s hands and sets it down.

Lucy has looked away from her again, like she does now whenever Mina tells her the truth, with her eyes or her words. Mina almost sighs, because she was right. She has damaged this beyond repair.

But then, Lucy's trembling fingers catch her own in a fearful, hopeful grip. "Please tell me it's real. Tell me you're telling the truth."

“Oh, Lucy...” Mina reaches up and her fingers curling around the nape of Lucy's neck. She brings their foreheads together, until she can practically taste the salt of Lucy's tears. "I love you. I'm so in love with you."

Finally she kisses her, the taste of Lucy touching her lips, unadulterated by blurry memory and guilt. This time, it's Lucy who hesitates, who is still beneath Mina's mouth, and Mina knows the terror of Lucy that night, whispers the same prayers Lucy did into the kiss of so many years ago.

Then Lucy's mouth parts beneath her with a soft sobbing moan, and bliss floods Mina's whole body. She never knew bliss tasted like Lucy and her tears. She laughs into the kiss, her own tears slipping from her closed eyes to Lucy's waiting lips.

Lucy's hands, greedy and fearful, grip onto her dress and haul her up into the chair above her. The love seat is small and cramped, but Mina doesn't care, not when Lucy holds her like she's never ever going to let go, like she's afraid Mina will change her mind.

She imagines that it will take some time, for Lucy to truly believe that she's here to stay. So Mina holds her gently and firmly, like a cherished thing, pushes her down into the soft cushion of the chair just so Lucy can feel her weight, the permanence of her and her choice.

Mina will wait and she'll show her. She will show Lucy every single day of the rest of their lives.

#westenray #lucy westenra #mina murray #katie mcgrath #jessica de gouw #dracula #westenray au #i am tired and aware that this is a mess #ANOTHER night without sleep w00t w00t #my writing #tw: abuse #tw: suicide #tw: poisoning

92 notes · View notes

whatisthisidefk · 4 years ago

Text

The River, the Sea, and the Stars Part 1 (SFW version)

Here is the SFW version of part 1 of The River, the Sea, and the Stars, my serial-style novel. If you want to read the full version, you can follow the story on my Patreon and get chapters a week early! I hope you enjoy. This story features mlm, romance, True Love, quests, polyamory, and Fey shenanigans, this is the story for you! Enjoy. :) ***** After two hours of mediocre food, speeches, and shitty champagne, Therien had had enough. As banquets went, this one ranked among the lowest five that he could recall, and that counted the ones put on by his high school athletics committee at the end of swim season. This one should have been of better quality, but then, no one really came to these things for the post-competition parties. Anyway, the Olympic speed trials promised much better celebrations, and better rewards than even the first-place trophy currently waiting for him in the hotel safe.

What really made this particular banquet grate on his nerves was that he had to sit calmly beside Andros Kaitos, his longtime friend, trainer, confidant, and unrequited love. Andros of the golden skin and sun-bleached hair, almost as powerful a swimmer as Therien, with broad shoulders that filled out the jacket of his tailored suit.

Andros of the sweet laugh and supportive smile, who had given up his competitive career to help Therien chase his own.

Tonight. Tonight, Therien would admit everything. Maybe he would say it first, or maybe he'd just drag the man by the lapels of his suit jacket into the nearest quiet alcove and kiss him senseless. He let his mind wander with the possibilities. They would be so striking together, he knew, the visual contrast of Therien's dark olive skin and black, curly hair beside Andros's burnished gold. There would be some minor scandal about it, perhaps, but trainer and athlete relationships weren't unheard-of. And, Therien reasoned, they were the same age, both adults, and he really didn't care what other people thought anymore. So long as Andros was happy.

He tried not to think about what would happen if, after Therien bared his soul to Andros, Andros didn't feel the same way. Utter embarrassment, certainly, though Andros would have the grace to be kind, to let him down gently, and they would just never speak of it again.

No. Therien shook his head to banish the thought. This had to work out. If he never said anything, he would regret it always. Risk nothing, gain nothing. And all that was mere speculation, for at the moment, Therien was trapped by a plate of dry chicken and the endless droning of whatever local dignitary liked hearing himself speak.

Andros sighed as he shifted in the uncomfortable banquet chair. He caught Therien watching him and rolled his eyes. They shared a grin, and Therien let himself relax the tiniest bit. This was his friend. No matter what happened tonight, they would survive it. Therien would be bold and take the consequences. Or rewards, whichever it turned out to be.

Then, miraculously, the emcee took the podium back from the dignitary and thanked everyone for their hard work, and then there was applause, the shuffle of people standing to stretch, to go back to the buffet, to mingle socially and listen to the band a bit. Therien took the opportunity to nudge Andros with his shoulder. "Enfin alors. I thought that would never end."

Andros laughed. "How did you manage to stay awake for that whole thing?"

"I had other things on my mind. Come with?" Therien nodded his head toward the less-populated side of the room. "I want to talk to you for a moment."

They made their way out of the crowd and into the dimmed lobby of the hotel. The sounds of the party seemed to dim as well, leaving them entirely alone for the moment, before others got the same idea to filter away to their respective rooms. Therien and Andros had a room waiting, four floors up, but Therien determined that he had to make a move before they got there. Otherwise, he'd lose his nerve as he had the last twenty or so times they'd been in similar hotels on similar occasions.

The familiar smell of chlorine reached them as they passed the entrance to the hotel pool. Andros paused and craned his neck to see over the barrier of plants, then sent Therien a wicked grin. "No one's there. Come on, I'll race you."

Without waiting for a reply, he dashed off toward the pool, shedding his jacket as he went. Therien groaned in frustration. He was never going to convince Andros to pass up the chance to have an entire Olympic-sized pool all to themselves.

That, and Therien couldn't pass up a chance to race.

They stripped down to boxer briefs, snickering in the cavernous, echoing room like schoolboys as they hastily folded their clothes out of reach of the water. Andros waited impatiently at the edge of the deep end. "Seven turns, right?" he said, but didn't give Therien time to reply before he dove in.

"Not fair!" Therien hissed, feet slapping the wet tile. With a smooth motion, honed by years of practice, he, too, dove in with barely a splash.

Water was his element. Andros was a strong swimmer, but even he couldn't compare to Therien's speed or stamina. Even with the head start, by the second turn, Therien caught up to him. By the fourth turn, they were nearly even, and by the sixth, Therien was ahead by a full length.

Therien finished his seven turns with enough time to pull himself out of the water, sit on the edge of the pool, and catch his breath. He laughed when Andros finally joined him, shaking his hair out of his face. "I swear, one day, I'm going to figure out how you do that. I had half a pool length on you!"

With a shrug, Therien offered him a hand out of the water. "If you don't know by now, chances are you'll never guess my secret."

"If it's that you're part fish or something, well...maybe I'll just accept defeat and go back to watching you from the sidelines." He grabbed two of the white hotel towels and thrust one at Therien's chest and shivered. "Why do they keep these places so freakin' cold?"

They dried off and gathered their things, wrapped in the towels and walking close together for warmth as they often did during meets. Therien stole glances when Andros wasn't looking, enjoyed the beads of moisture on that golden skin and the way his cheeks showed the flush of exertion from the race. He couldn't help but imagine another context, a different situation.

He was going to ruin himself if he didn't do something soon.

They were completely alone. There was a perfectly dark alcove right there. They were in good spirits from the race. The plants hid them in case anyone happened by. It was about time that Therien finally, finally acted.

He caught Andros by the hand and pulled him into the shadowy space, and before he could lose his momentum, he reached up a hand behind Andros's head and urged him down to kiss him.

For one mortifying moment, Andros froze, but then his hands were at the sides of Therien's face, and then Andros was the one taking charge of the moment. Andros swept his tongue into Therien's mouth with a ragged moan. Therien gasped, not expecting quite such a reaction, and Andros only kissed him harder.

They broke for air, foreheads touching, hands clutching at slippery skin as if they were falling through space. Therien thought they might be, for at the moment, nothing existed except Andros.

"I have wanted to do that forever," he said as he tried to control the beating of his heart. "Pour toujours."

Andros gave a weak laugh. "And here I wanted you to do it for about as long," he admitted. "But I didn't have the guts to ask you myself."

"I want you," said Therien. "Merde, I want you so badly. I can't even think."

"Yeah," Andros replied, "Upstairs. Now, yeah?"

***

They managed to walk somewhat normally to the elevator on the off chance they'd run into people from the banquet, but as soon as the lift doors closed, Andros pinned Therien to the wall and kissed him again. Then the doors opened all too quickly; Andros groaned in frustration and took Therien by the hand.

"Almost there," he said.

Getting into their room was difficult as Therien tried to dig through his folded clothes for his wallet and the keycard while Andros pressed up against him from behind. With shaking hands, Therien managed to get the door open after a couple of clumsy attempts. The second the latch clicked behind them, they thudded against the door, and Andros captured his mouth again, hungrily.

Alone now, they tossed away the bundles of their clothes; the towels were tugged off by eager hands and kicked aside in a trail to one of the queen-sized beds of the room, all while they drank each other's kisses and threaded hands into still-dripping hair.

Therien dragged Andros down to the bed, still kissing him; he pulled back and studied the reaction of the man above him. "Is this real?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer. "It cannot be this easy. Do you know how long I agonized over this? Over you?"

"I'm sorry it took so long to get here." Andros kissed him again. "Can we both agree that we've been uncertain idiots for long enough, so we can become idiots in love instead?"

Therien ceased breathing for the span of several heartbeats. "Andros...did you just..."

"Yeah, I said it. And," he added, "I'm gonna say it again for real. I love you."

"Abruti! I cannot believe you!" Therien said, laughing, punctuating every other word with a poke into the center of Andros's chest. "I have been trying to think of ways to tell you forever, and you just go and say it! Injuste! Unfair!"

Andros laughed, caught his hands and placed a kiss on each one. "You took too long, beautiful. I had the chance--"

"Fuck you," said Therien, laughing as well. He sobered then, fixing Andros with his gaze. "Je t'aime, Andros. Je t'aime."

With the words out of both of them, they stilled, as if sensing the importance of what they'd both said aloud. "Say it again," Andros said at length, voice small.

"Je t'aime," said Therien. "I love you. J'ai toujours été amoureux de toi."

I have always been in love with you.

A hand cupped the side of his face; Andros wore an expression Therien had never seen before. Something between hope and disbelief. There was desire there, too; something Therien had only ever dreamed he'd have directed at him. "I miss hearing you speak French. It used to be more often than English."

Therien shrugged. "Being in America does that. Do you...do you want me to speak it more? I will, if you like."

"Only if you're comfortable with it. I admit it's hot when you do."

"Then...je t'aime, mon amour. Tu es beau, comme le soleil et la lune et les étoiles. Je t'aime. Je t'aime--ah!"

Therien cried out as Andros yanked him down with a hand behind his neck; their mouths crashed into one another. Andros tasted of chlorine and salt and the wine they'd had at dinner. He pressed kisses along his lips, his jaw, his throat. Andros was beautiful, wanting him like this.

"Gods above and below," he panted as they parted for air, "You're so beautiful."

"Keep talking like that," Therien said, equally out of breath as he gazed fondly up at Andros. "And don't you dare apologize for any of this." He waved a languid hand to indicate the two of them, the bed, everything. "I am still reeling from kissing you the first time."

"So am I." With a soft laugh, Andros nuzzled his cheek and kissed him again for good measure.

In the restful quiet of the room, Therien drifted a little, focusing on the gentle pressure of Andros beside him, the warmth of laying in bed and being so close. It was an achingly domestic feeling. He imagined them like this in another place, content with each other in some future setting. After all his fear, all his worry, Andros loved him and wanted him in return. Nothing could take that from them, nothing.

A faint noise reached through the haze of happiness, something out of place, like something metallic being unraveled, or dragged. Perhaps the a/c unit was malfunctioning, he reasoned.

But Andros heard it, too; he held up a hand, suddenly intense, listening. Therien opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, when Andros gripped Therien by the shoulders.

"Listen to me," he said urgently, all loving warmth fled in the face of--fear? "I love you. I love you more than I can say, and I am sorry I never said it before. I've wasted so much of our time together. Forgive me."

"What--I--"

The sound came again, louder this time, from somewhere in the room. Therien tried to look around but Andros loomed above him on the bed, pressing him down, worried and sad and terrified all at once. "I don't have time to explain. I let down my guard, and now I've been found. Just...please, if you love me, don't look for me." The last words came out strangled. "I love you."

"Andros, what is--"

The hotel room, already dim, seemed to grow darker. From that darkness, something shining whipped through the air. It glinted in the low light of the room, then resolved itself into a pair of golden chains that slithered out of the shadows. At their ends, golden manacles snapped open and closed like hungry mouths. They spiraled around each other as if searching for something. Therien gasped, flinched as they hissed toward him, but they shied back like threatened snakes to lunge at Andros and catch him by the wrists.

As soon as the manacles clinked shut, a second pair appeared in a similar manner, and clamped onto Andros's ankles. He cried out and struggled, but the chains pulled his arms away and behind him. "No!" he shouted, "I don't want to go back. I can't! Please, let me stay here!"

If there was any answer, Therien did not hear it. Instead, the chains went taut again and pulled Andros off-balance. Though he fought against the writhing chains, they looped themselves around his arms, bound him, crisscrossed his torso and pulled him relentlessly away. He sent one last frantic glance to Therien.

"I love you," he whispered desperately. Then, with a backward yank of the chains, his body disappeared into shadow.

The room returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. Therien laid where he was for a moment, processing. "Andros...?"

No reply. Just the hum of the air conditioner and the muted sounds of the hotel. Therien struggled to sit up. He looked around himself. The bed had been mussed, and on the floor he could see both sets of clothes. It hadn't been a dream; their towels were there, Andros's suitcase, his phone carelessly tossed onto the bedside table while they'd kissed.

Just no Andros.

"Andros?" Therien said again, panic rising in his throat. "What--where are you? Andros?!"

No reply.

#jenny writes #original fiction #mlm #fantasy #river sea stars #sfw version

5 notes · View notes

noethicalconsumptionunderdisney · 4 years ago

Text

Ranked: Hannah Montana — Mamaw vs. Dolly

So this seemed like a fun one for me to do! These are two of the most iconic recurring guest stars, so naturally I had to pit them against each other (or, well, pit their episodes against each other). This competition isn’t particularly serious, but it is a nice excuse for me to talk about some of my favorite episodes on the show. Like before, I’m going in reverse-order of how much I liked them, or Worst->Best, so I can save the best for last.

“B-B-B-Bad to the Chrome” (Season Three)

It’s a testament to how awesome Vicki Lawrence is that even in the “worst” episode she’s in, she still brings it and is in many ways the strongest part of it. This one loses out mainly on writing, and me fucking hating the subplot. I’m sorry. “You forgot some really arbitrary timestamp I decided to put on our relationship without telling you, which means you don’t love me” will just never be anything but annoying to me ever, no matter how much I like the couple involved. Honestly, it was shit like that that made me glad I didn’t do a lot of dating in high school.

The main plot is kind of weak too tbh, but I’m still in some ways fond of it, because it’s very clear that it’s all coming from a place of love. They replace her car because they love her, and they try to recreate the old crappy car because they love her, and she pretends not to notice because she loves them right back. The best scenes are the one-on-one interactions between Miley and Mamaw, where you can see how much they understand each other. It was because of those that I almost bumped this up one… but they weren’t quite enough to sell me on this episode. Sorry again.

“You Give Lunch A Bad Name” (Season Three)

This one, again, not a very strong episode, but there are a few reasons I liked this one just a little bit more. Part of it is I’m a sucker for Miley/Jackson centrics, and they strike such a perfect balance of brother-sister solidarity and sibling rivalry in this: the song in the beginning, the schemes, the mimic fights, them immediately pointing at each other when Mamaw asks them who the “guiltiest grandchild” is. Another part is that weirdly, Lilly and Oliver seem to have more of their natural chemistry in this episode than they do in the one where they’re actually dating. Case in point, their little quiet communication to leave in the middle of the siblings’ bickering without having to say a word to each other.

What’s interesting about this one is, Mamaw isn’t necessarily wrong that the kids are gonna take advantage of their dad being gone. That’s exactly what they’re planning to do. But then she takes it too far and holds on too hard, treating them like they’re 10 rather than 16 and 18 respectively. There’s a classic conflict here of teenagers thinking they’re more mature than they really are, versus their family knowing they’re still kids but treating them like outright children instead of meeting them where they are. And I think it’s harder for her to accept they’re growing up than it is for Robby Ray because she isn’t around very much to see it happening. While she recognizes in the end that they had good reason to be embarrassed, that theme of holding on to how things were because she’s afraid of losing them seems to be a consistent one with her in later seasons.

“I Am Mamaw, Hear Me Roar!” (Season Four)

First off, I just want to say that I think having a Dolly episode and a Mamaw episode after “I’ll Always Remember You,” and right after each other, was a really smart choice, especially the way they did it. Dolly can help her embrace what it’s like to be all-celebrity, all the time, and Mamaw reminds her not to forget her family, and how hard that kind of life can actually be. Not just for Miley, but for the people around her. They just tie really well into that whole, “She’s always had the best of both worlds, but now she’s gotta learn what living without her secret feels like” theme that late stage Season 4 has going for it.

One thing that always strikes me about this episode is how it puts so much of her actions in context, not just in this episode, but retroactively. Of course Robby Ray forgot to visit her when he was younger and his own music career was in full swing. Of course she would panic when the same seems to be happening to Miley, when they can’t take one picture or have one tea without Miley getting hounded by her fans, because she doesn’t have Hannah Montana to hide behind anymore. (Of course, I’m not so sure the timeline adds up there, but I’m gonna let that go because of the point it was trying to make.) Being smacked in the face with Miley’s fame is really a wakeup call for all of them, but that makes Miley’s efforts to make sure Mamaw understands how much she cares all the more sweet.

“Good Golly, Miss Dolly” (Season One)

I’d initially put “Kiss It Goodbye” here, but I switched them when I realized I was underrating it— that episode was better than I remembered. But I like this one, too!

This is Dolly’s first appearance and introduction, and she comes in with a bang. The frou-frou, the flowers, and of course, the infamous camera that kickstarts the conflict of the episode. Well, sort of— the real conflict is Miley’s confused feelings for Jake Ryan, torn between “falling all over him,” playing hard to get, and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable. The way it ends up intersecting with Oliver’s subplot of trying to compile a goodbye video for the principal is brilliant, and that sneaking scene? Just amazing.

Of course, this puts her right back where she started, and she ends up regretting it when it’s seemingly too late for her and Jake, but her ripping up the flowers is funny, and then Dolly gets to show off her singing chops a little when she and Robby Ray cheer her up in a really sweet scene. Beyond that, the subplot is… fine. It’s pretty forgettable, but I liked it okay. It’s not frustrating like some of the subplots in previous episodes on this list, but not quite as awesome as…

#3: “Kiss It Goodbye” (Season Four)

And with that, we’ve cracked the top three! This one surprised me upon rewatch. I knew I liked it, I just didn’t know how much I liked it until I saw it again. I think part of it might be me attributing some of my own feelings about Cancel Culture as a whole and how that’s affected us for the worse overall, celebrity or not, as well as some meta-significance to Miley’s career, both at the time and afterwards. But let me get into the episode itself rather than getting on those tangents.

Miley starts off being a little careless with her image… but this is understandable, as she’s used to having her privacy, and living without it’s gonna take some getting used to. Dolly has this legendary entrance in a personalized helicopter, complete with a pink ladder. She uses her own know-how about fame to help Miley navigate the paparazzi, reassures her after a brutal interview with Colin Lassiter, and then encourages both her and Robby Ray to sing with her at her performance. While both of them object at first, Robby Ray eventually gets up the courage to go… which is the push Miley needs to get past her fears and get back on the horse herself.

Beyond the main plotline and overall message that I love, it’s really quotable, and has one of the best subplots this show has ever had. Rico goes practically catatonic because the Stewarts, a family of “idiots” he looks down upon, fooled him, an evil genius with an ego that can’t handle that. I also like that we see Lilly’s compassionate side coming back in this episode in both plotlines, it’s the one thing I felt season 4’s Lilly was lacking overall, and it was fun to see her point her sharp tongue towards herself for once this season. And of course, Jackson enjoying Rico’s suffering, but ultimately being the one to help him out of it was perfect, and bringing back the choir from earlier that season was even better.

#2: “I Will Always Loathe You” (Season Two)

Before anyone gets mad that this wasn’t my #1 pick, let me just say for the record that this episode is AWESOME. Mamaw and Dolly’s rivalry is so explosive and they play off each other so beautifully, and the culmination of that into the “Granny Smackdown” is so well-done. And look, yeah, I know that there were stunt doubles and probably a mannequin or two involved, but I don’t care, it’s a fantastic scene. I love Robby Ray trying to make peace and ending up getting dragged into it, I love Hannah Montana awkwardly trying to salvage the situation, and ultimately breaking them up, and I love Jackson and Lilly scarfing down popcorn and watching the whole thing unfold from home.

If I had to pick which one of these episodes was the funniest, it would be this one, no contest. The subplot here is great too; simple yes, but I think the simplicity works in contrast to just how much is going on in the main plot, and Oliver’s shame at his own involvement in the end? Wonderful. The contrast between the two women picking clothes for Miley’s award show, and the decision to genuinely make up after seeing how much it hurt Miley were executed beautifully too. We don’t get the sense that they’re going to be BFFs, but I do like that the ending scene shows promise, that they’re at least capable of getting along, when they want to. As Miley says, “You’re trying. That is all I’ve ever wanted.”

So yeah, this episode? Amazing. But… not quite my favorite.

#1: “Grandmas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Play Favorites” (Season One)

Remember when I said I’m a sucker for Miley/Jackson centrics? Yeah. This episode was probably where all of that began for me. (Also the beginning of my feelings about Jackson going from “oh he’s pretty funny” to “LET ME LOVE YOU,” but I’ll try to keep my stanning to a minimum here.)

We start off with what appears to be a fairly straightforward story. Hannah Montana is meeting the queen. Jackson has a volleyball game. Mamaw’s coming to visit, and she’s critical of Robby Ray, particularly his eating habits, she’s tepidly nice to Miley, but treats her as an afterthought, and she heaps praise and adoration and attention onto Jackson by the bucketload. On the surface, it seems that this is about Mamaw unfairly favoring Jackson over Miley. Right up until this happens:

“She’s gonna insult the queen and ruin my command performance all because of her ‘little Jackson.’ It’s always about you!”

“Me?! Well, it’s never about me! Everything in this family revolves around you!”

One comeback, and the tables are turned. Yes, Mamaw hasn’t treated Hannah Montana getting to sing for the Queen of England with the respect and admiration it deserves. But Robby Ray and Miley haven’t been treating Jackson with the respect and admiration he deserves. When Miley snarks that Mamaw would rather go to Jackson’s volleyball game than her performance, she responds with, “Well, if I don’t, who will? I don’t see either one of you heading for the door.” She doesn’t ignore Miley because she loves her any less. In an ironic turn of events, the reason she ignores Miley isn’t about her at all.

I do like, though, that the episode doesn’t treat this as “two wrongs make a right.” Mamaw still apologizes for making Miley feel “invisible,” like her accomplishments don’t matter, like she doesn’t care. Jackson feeling invisible because his dad and his sister and the whole rest of the world treat him that way, doesn’t excuse Mamaw treating Miley that way. And the fact that all of it’s unintentional, and that the neglect is coming from someone who does, genuinely, love that person, doesn’t erase the harm it causes. This is a lesson for both of them, and Miley comes away with a greater understanding of what her brother goes through.

There is still a part of me that wishes this had gotten elaborated on more in the show? Not that Jackson doesn’t bring up the favoritism issue multiple times afterward, but it’s not treated seriously very often after this, considering how often it comes up. It saddens me to think that, for all the efforts they make in this episode to make sure they’re there for Jackson in the end, Miley and Robby Ray still end up falling into the same patterns with Jackson as the show goes on, and worse. I can’t help but think this pattern of neglect and Jackson’s deterioration into “the family failure” are related, and while I don’t need every single episode to treat it as A Big Deal, the truth is, it is a big deal, and I wish the show had been more consistent in actually taking it seriously.

So that’s my list! In the end, I think we can all agree Mamaw and Dolly are both pretty iconic characters, and made the show all the richer for being on it. I’ve loved getting a chance to look at their episodes again, and make sure to stay tuned for my next Ranked post for this series, where I may be talking about another iconic recurring character on this show…. (Hint: one of these episodes is on that list, too.) Until next time!

10 notes · View notes

cle1024 · 5 years ago

Text

save me, save you | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin

genre: angst, fluff

summary: getting involved with the mafia was certainly not something you aimed to do in life―it was something you would’ve gratefully avoided, you much preferred breathing and living peacefully. yet, somehow, meeting him made the danger worth it. mafia!au, gang!au, fem!reader

warnings: mentions of murder, violence, drugs, swearing

a/n: so uh,, i know nothing about saving someone’s life or fixing up a stab/bullet wound, and i also wasn’t taught much about human anatomy, so there WILL be inaccuracies in the medical scenes. i apologise in advance and i guess this is a cringe warning for anyone who is actually educated on those situations, i dropped out of science so can’t relate. i started this not long after miroh dropped i could just never be bothered to finish it until recently, but third hyunjin fanfic in a row here we come!!!!!!

There was no doubt in your mind that Felix Lee was your best friend and always had been.

The two of you grew up near one another, subsequently attending school together for the majority of your lives. It was the third day of school when the freckled boy approached you, tanned skin and dark hair, but a bright smile and sparkly eyes.

“My name is Felix, let’s be friends!”

“Okay.”

Life by Felix’s side was enjoyable, content. Life was normal. And so, when Felix broke the news that he was moving to South Korea, you were understandably devastated. Though, you knew how much it meant to Felix: getting more in touch with his culture, family, and pursuing his studies more seriously and competitively. Nonetheless, despite all the pain and upset you felt, you supported his decision and maintained contact with him.

That was six years ago when Felix left. Now, you’d both graduated from high school, Felix had acquired a stable job (that’s all he would tell you about it), and you were applying for an international studies program. You had no interest in the program initially, but your local universities had less than stellar resources for the course you wanted to study, and your teachers had constantly reassured that you were smart enough for a more prestigious institution elsewhere in the world. That and the fact the program meant your tuition would cost much less. You hadn’t expected to be accepted into the program, nor did you expect to receive a letter from the prestigious Seoul National University accepting your enrolment, yet you sat there with the printed letter in front of your awestruck face. It was only natural that you immediately text Felix—you told each other, almost, everything and he lived in Seoul, this could be the reunion you’d joked about when he first left.

| so i got accepted into seoul national university | but i don’t speak good korean | lix: LMAO ME NEITHER HOLY FUCK

Twelve months had passed since that message was sent. Your were almost fluent in speaking Korean, you much preferred just listening to it and speaking English with Felix. A sigh escaped your lips as you trudged to your apartment door, exhaustion racked your body from the unbearable demand of studying medical science. You tried to convince yourself it would pay off, but you weren’t certain yet. Perhaps when you sit your exams you’ll find out. Exams. Why did you have to think that up? It drew a small groan from your mouth as you shoved the key into your apartment door, prepared to fall face first into the couch and complain to the air. Though your desires could not be fulfilled. Sitting on the very couch you intended to fall into was Felix, twirling a swiss army knife twirl around his right fingers as he watched his phone intently. There was also a gun on the coffee table. Someone’s gun was on your coffee table. You had a lot running through your mind, many questions and minor concerns about why the fuck Felix had illicit weaponry in your house, but all you managed to say was, “oh.” The boy obviously hadn’t heard you come in, his head snapping up and his fingers halting their twirling. Looking in your eyes, he felt obligated to tell you everything.

“That means I’m, basically, part of the mafia,” he paused to lick his lips, “we don’t sell weapons to the wrong people or kill for money. It’s more about… corruption and the occasional cocaine,” he summed up gently. You could definitively say it was the wildest fucking thing Felix had ever said to you, and you’d had some pretty odd conversations at two in the morning. As far as you knew, his job was stable and high paying, but you didn’t know it was completely and utterly illegal. Most sane people would flip their shit in this situation, cut off ties with Felix and shove him—along with all his weapons—out of the apartment. You didn’t react that way, and you weren’t sure whether it was because you were far too open-minded or because you had slowly lost your mind over time and become desensitised to any sort of shocking news.

“Oh.”

Felix chewed on his lip as you processed the information, clasping and unclasping his hands. He prepared for the worst, but you simply shrugged, “okay.”

Felix was beyond bewildered, “y-you’re not mad? Or scared?” Your eyes softened at his questioning.

“Felix, why would I be mad? It’s your life, do whatever you want with it. Your job doesn’t change the fact you’re a freckled sook who cried when you made your ramen too spicy.”

“Okay, that was one time,” you laughed at his defensive expression and that was enough to break the facade completely. The two of you laughed for a little while until Felix’s face returned to a more serious expression, “Y/N, I promise you, you’re in no danger whatsoever. The golden rule in this district is to leave innocent people out of it, regardless of how much someone fucked you over. If anyone, and I mean anyone, does anything that alarms you or threatens you, you call me right away. Understand?”

A soft smile stretched across your face at his concern, “of course I will,” Felix breathed a sigh of relief. If anything happened to you, especially at the fault of his job, he’d never forgive himself. To him, family came before his own safety; you were his unbiological sibling and he would always protect you as best as he could.

It was all fine and dandy until someone broke that rule. Your eyes stung with exhaustion, the bright screen of your laptop glared at you as you tiredly read the words displayed on the screen. There was nothing you craved more at the moment than sleep; you seemed to be craving that a lot since you came to Korea. At first, you thought the distant sound of a doorknob being wobbled was one of your neighbours. It was a Friday night—or Saturday morning, you supposed—they’d probably gone out, got shit-faced and stumbled back home, having forgotten how to unlock a door. But then the noise stopped, a door squeaked open and was gently shut. You heard the door click back into place, and that’s when things started to feel off. It sounded too close to be next door—now that you thought about it, neither of your neighbours would even be out at this time. Perhaps it was Felix, he had often complained about how shitty the door to your apartment was. With a stretch of your arms and legs momentarily you pushed yourself from the bed, creeping towards your bedroom door. The cool metal of the doorknob brushed against your skin, seconds away from being opened when a series of crashes sounded from the small living room on the other side of the door. Felix may be clumsy, he may sit up too quickly and hit his head on tables, but he rarely managed to break anything in the process—if he did then the sound was followed with a string of English curses, but cuss words never came. You were starting to believe it was Felix. With all the courage you could muster, you opened the bedroom door and stood shocked at the scene in front of you. A vase lay broken on the floor—crash one. Your white sofa had been tipped backwards, the cushions scattered the floor. The coffee table had been overturned, candles left strewn on the floor. Your porcelain plate, which had previously sat by the sink, was attempting to escape the kitchen in hundreds of pieces—crash two. The wooden shelving unit diagonal to your bedroom had been tipped over, all your picture frames smashed into dangerous shards of glass—crash three. The chest of drawers near your bedroom door had been left untouched for the time being, a photo of you and Felix at seven years old perfectly intact. In the midst of chaos, a man stood with a black ski mask covering his face. All you could see where his ominous brown eyes, staring right back at you. It felt like you were staring into a dark pool, full of mystery yet devoid of emotion or sense of reality. It seemed to happen in an instant; one minute you were standing there in an intense stare off, the next you had been shoved against the wall of your living room right next to your bedroom door, your phone falling from your free hand in the process. His glove-clad hand wrapped securely around your throat, the pressure of his fingers increasing to cut off your air supply once and for all. You clawed at him, but you already knew it was no use. He was twice the size of you, had the upper hand, and had already weakened you significantly. You’d already accepted that you were destined to die at some point, everyone was, but you’d always secretly prayed that you’d get to say goodbye first. You didn’t want to leave without telling your parents you loved them, or telling your friends back home that they were some of the greatest people you’d ever met, or just saying a simple ‘cya’ to Felix, as you always did. Felix. The memory struck you like lightning as your vision started to spot slightly. When he confessed to you about his career, made that promise of protection, he had purposefully left something behind.

“Take this,” Felix said as he held the swiss army knife towards you.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“If you ever need to defend yourself and I can’t, for some reason, use it.”

You’d made the wise decision to hide it in your living room, behind that picture of you and Felix. If you could stretch your arm just a little further, you could grab the red covering. Your fingers strained as you held out for the weapon, head lifting up as your vision worsened. The sharp metal tickled at your fingers, causing you to desperately snatch the weapon up. You used all the coherence you had left, swiftly flicking the knife out of the plastic covering. Your vision was blurred, severely, and you could feel yourself losing consciousness. Just a little longer. With all the strength you could muster, you brought the blade upwards, taking no notice of where you stabbed him. A grunt left his lips, followed by some choked gasps. His hand unlatched from your neck to grab his own. You fell to your knees, wheezing for oxygen desperately, taking deep breaths as you coughed and gasped. Your eyes traveled downwards, catching sight of the red. There was blood all along the knife, staining your fingers. The man lay ahead of you on his back, blood spilling from his throat as he twitched and choked up the metallic substance. It was all over the floor around him. You could tell you’d caught an artery. In desperation, you tugged the purple hoodie from your shoulders, holding it against the man’s open neck wound. It seemed to get harder to breathe, even without the hand working to restrict your. Hands shaking, covered in the man’s crimson blood, tears streamed down your face. With the absence of your purple hoodie, now stained with the blood of someone else, the cold air nipped at your exposed skin. There were some red smears on your once white singlet. Why was there so much red? The shaking of your hands only worsened as you crawled to sit against the wall, hand reaching for the cellphone you’d dropped in the commotion. You only needed one person right now. The phone didn’t ring for long.

“Y/N, what’s up?” Felix spoke calmly through the phone, blissfully unaware. A sob forced up your throat as you tried to talk.

“F-Felix, I killed someone. Oh, God, I killed someone,” your voice came out between broken sobs. You could imagine Felix standing up in a panic, gathering his shit and furrowing his eyebrows.

“What do you mean? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at home, someone came in and I didn’t know what was happening and I-I stabbed him, Felix I sta-”

“Hey, take a deep breath, okay? I’m on my way right now, don’t move,” you nodded in response, knowing fully well that Felix couldn’t see you. Mumbling an okay, you ended the call.

Felix gently pushed open the door, ushering in the others. Chan, Minho and Changbin had insisted on coming along with Felix, worried someone else could be lurking and waiting for Felix to enter your apartment block. The apartment was in disarray: furniture tipped, photo frames shattered, a plate thrown carelessly like a toy. A body surrounded by blood, and Felix’s childhood friend sitting against the wall behind it, shaking. The purple material of your hoodie was stained, noticeably so, laying across your legs haphazardly. Felix rushed forward, crouching to your level and pulling you into his chest. The others watched from a few feet away, uncertain of what to say or do.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Felix cooed as sobs wracked your form. He swayed you gently, petting your hair to calm you down. The youngest turned his attention towards the other boys once your sobs quietened slightly, “Minho, can you take Y/N back down to the car? We’ll be down in a minute,” Minho nodded silently, gently walking towards you to scoop you up in his arms, the hoodie remaining bundled up on your legs. Neither of you said a word once you entered the car. Minho peeled the cover up from your lap, slightly gagging at the toxic iron scent of the blood. He gently take your hands in his as he washed off as much blood as he could with a white cloth and water bottle. Your mind was evidently elsewhere.

Chan and Felix returned to the car ten minutes later after thoroughly searching for stolen possessions. Chan filled Minho in on the details, hoping you’d gain some closure from hearing them, “he was from NCT, had some silver bracelets and their wallet shoved in his bag. Changbin called Woojin, they’ll put everything back in place,” Minho nodded softly as Felix opened up the car door on your other side. The car starts as Felix takes one of your hands in his, the red stains faded to a lighter tone. You seemed to take no notice, staring blankly at the car’s console in front of you.

It was late, or early depending on how you see it. Red lines illuminated in formation of the time, 3:36am. The car had pulled up in front of a dark house in a quieter area of Seoul, yet still off one of the main roads. You concluded that it was only quiet because of the ungodly time, otherwise there would be cars cramming the streets, honking left and right. Chan exited the car first, purposefully closing the door gently to not alarm or shock you, Minho following suit. Felix opened his door, tugging your hand gently to encourage you to leave the vehicle. It was as if you were on autopilot. Blood splattered legs moved on their own as the green hoodie Minho had leant you protected your arms from the chilling night air, Felix’s arm slipped around your waist to support you as you walked into the house. He noticed that Woojin’s car was missing from the street; he wondered how long it would take Woojin and Changbin to fix up your apartment. As you stepped foot inside the quiet house, it revealed itself to be much larger than you initially thought. The kitchen was furthest from you, a spiral staircase to the right that led you both upstairs and downstairs, a hallway that trailed off from the left side of the living room. The living room was cozy and inhabited by two boys packing cocaine. Lovely.

“Hey ma- what the fuck?” The smaller of the two, a brunette boy with chubby cheeks, spoke as he raised his head to greet the returning members. The other boy, with lighter brown hair, almost a dirty blonde, mirrored the other’s confusion. Neither had expected to see a random person with bloody hands, legs and absent eyes being guided through the house by Felix. The freckled boy didn’t stop to greet them, immediately guiding you upstairs to wash off in the bathroom. The two boys immediately understood the severity of the situation, but they still craved for answers.

“NCT went after them. All they did was defend themselves from death,” Chan spoke firmly, his eyebrows slightly curved in a mix of sympathy and fury.

Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed, “but we don’t go after innocent people?”

Chan huffed in response, “clearly NCT had other plans. Where’s Seungmin?”

“Basement. Jeongin’s there too,” Hyunjin spoke as he turned his attention back to the white substance on the coffee table. Chan nodded firmly before leaving, Minho falling onto the empty couch across from the two boys to stretch his tired limbs. Hyunjin sat with furrowed eyebrows, staring at the table intensely.

“Hyunjin, you good?” Minho questioned in concern.

“Yeah, just… something feels off about this.”

Jisung huffed a laugh, “well, yeah, NCT just broke a golden rule.”

“That’s the point, why would they?” Jisung had suddenly lost interest in the business transaction being organised on the table, Minho sitting up in curiosity. Hyunjin flickered his eyes to the staircase momentarily, “you know how anal they are about maintaining that rule. Taeyong made the damn rule after…” Hyunjin trailed off as all eyes lowered solemnly, no one wanted to utter her name. They all knew how much it hurt Taeyong when she was murdered, everyone was hurt, shocked. There was no reason to bring up old pain, “why would they break it now?” Minho tilted his head as he wandered over the possibilities, Jisung put his focus back on the white substance with a sigh.

“Whatever the reason, Chan will make them pay,” his nimbled hands continued with his previous work, “no fucking doubt.”

Chan stood as Taeyong entered the cafe, bowing and shaking hands before sitting down again. It was better to meet in a public setting, less likely for emotions and irrationality to get the better of anyone involved. The older ran a hand through his fiery red hair in frustration, “what happened?”

Chan lowered his voice cautiously, “Felix’s friend, Y/N... one of your men tried to kill them this past Friday.”

Taeyong moved forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on the table with narrowed eyes, “what are you talking about?”

“Ji Hansol broke into their apartment and almost killed an innocent person. One of your men broke the golden rule.”

“Where is he?” Taeyong was evidently furious; that rule was the one thing he drilled into his employees’ minds.

“Dead. It was either him or them.”

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “if they hadn’t have already killed him I would’ve done it myself,” he paused abruptly, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, “wait—Ji Hansol?” Chan nodded, “how is that possible? He’s meant to be in China.”

Chan mirrored Taeyong’s look of confusion, “then what the hell was he doing here?”

Taeyong sighed, “as suspicious as it looks, I swear on her life that NCT was not behind this in any way. I’ll get the documents to prove he wasn’t meant to be here, I’ll help you get to the bottom of this, I’ll do whatever I can,” his voice softened significantly, “no innocent person deserves to die.”

Lee Taeyong, as intimidating as he could be, was truly a weakened man. Behind the eyebrow slit, dark narrowed eyes, fiery red hair and commanding presence, he was a grieving lover, a leader of men who could die under his call. Chan knew he hadn’t lived the same experiences as the older, but he understood the fear that plagued him. The fear of losing everything, everyone—the only difference was that Taeyong had already experienced that when she died. Seulgi had done such a good job at keeping Taeyong together, but in doing so she became the only thing that could tear him apart.

No one had a clue as to why you were targeted to begin with. NCT had proven their lack of involvement, none of Chan’s gang — which you’d come to know as ‘Stray Kids’ — had done anything to provoke Hansol, and he clearly wasn’t here to give an explanation. Seungmin had spent weeks researching the man, with the occasional help of Jeongin when he wasn’t at school or using an innocent childlike facade to coax information. After just over two months, Seungmin had finally found out what happened. During that time, you hadn��t left the guest room unless it was absolutely necessary. Felix and Changbin had returned to your apartment the day after the break-in to collect the belongings you’d need most desperately; none of them wanted you returning to the apartment until there was an answer.

Seungmin’s chair swivelled around to face Chan and Taeyong in the doorway, “Voler.”

“What?”

“It’s French for ‘steal’ apparently,” Seungmin gestured his pen towards his desk, “it’s also the name of a huge hitman and robbery scheme across Asia. It’s believed to have stemmed from the Yakuza, but nothing’s confirmed. Our dear Hansol happened to be a loyal member.”

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “I-I don’t understand, how could he betray us like that?”

Seungmin sighed softly, “it paid very high, mainly because the stakes were so high. That doesn’t matter though, we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands now,” Seungmin’s hands sifted through the scattered information on his desk, a small noise of triumph leaving his soft lips once he retrieved the piece he was looking for, “they’ve got a base in Ilsandong-gu, Hansol was stationed at that specific base-”

“Which means they were more likely to have involvement in Y/N’s robbery,” Chan voiced earning a satisfied nod from Seungmin. The curly-haired man turned to Taeyong, “you in?”

Taeyong eyed the younger two momentarily, “without a fucking doubt.”

Woojin grunted slightly as he supported Hyunjin with his left arm. They all knew the dangers this mission presented, but none of them quite preempted severe injury. Everything had been going to plan; Changbin sniped the first man who presented himself, Minho snuck up on the second, then all hell broke loose. There was blood everywhere, gunshots whizzing past barricades left and right, it was pure chaos. Hyunjin had been grappling with a rival member, trying to gain dominance in order to reach for the gun abandoned beside the two. He had almost reached it when the other forced a knife through his abdomen towards the upper right of his belly button. Changbin took the chance to shoot the perpetrator in the head after noticing the situation, desperately signalling to Woojin. Soon, all of SKZ were alerted of Hyunjin’s state, covering Woojin from gunfire as he half-dragged half-carried Hyunjin out of the warehouse.

When you heard the door burst open, the last thing you expected to see was a groaning Hyunjin leaning on Woojin for support. You saw the blood staining his shirt, pouring from his abdomen, causing your stomach to churn and rid of the desire to eat the sandwich you’d just made. You hardly knew Hyunjin, or Woojin, or any of SKZ except for Felix, but you knew where your morals lied. If there was a man bleeding out in front of you, you’d do everything you could to save his life. There’s no denying that you didn’t have extreme confidence in your medical ability, at least in terms of operating on dying people, but you put that aside in the moment. You knew how the human body worked and how to save it, all you had to do was not fuck up in the process. Instantly, you snap into action, trailing behind Woojin towards their designated medical room. The only time you’d entered the room was when Felix forced you inside so Woojin could properly check the bruises on your neck. You had taken notice of the lack of anesthesia or oxygen masks to be used in desperate situations—Felix had once told you that Woojin always patched them up, but he also told you that no one had ever been fatally wounded.

Woojin’s panic was evident in the way he hastily laid Hyunjin down on the operating table, eyes darting around frantically. With quick steps, you moved beside Woojin, “get a cloth or something to put in his mouth, it’ll muffle the screams,” the older nodded quickly. You turned your attention back to Hyunjin—he was paler than usual, sweating and groaning, his condition was only worsening. As soon as Woojin had shoved the cloth in his mouth you proceeded, ordering him to hold Hyunjin down to the best of his ability. You were glad Woojin was strong; Hyunjin would be in a hell of a lot of pain. Hyunjin’s neck tensed as you placed a hand on the knife’s handle, grunting slightly at the movement. You took a deep breath, laying a hand on his abdomen for support as you removed the knife from him as quickly as you could. A pained scream tore from Hyunjin’s throat, guttural and haunting. The cloth had done little to muffle the sound. Your hands applied pressure to the wound, frantically working to halt the bleeding before it was too late, all the while Woojin promised he would treat Hyunjin to a free meal if he got through the pain.

Hyunjin’s chest raised up and down peacefully as he slept in the white bed of the medical room. After screaming and groaning his way through the process of getting stitches, he haphazardly downed a glass of water before falling asleep. You found it difficult to monitor whether the boy had made it or not due to the lack of heart monitor, the peaceful sounds of his breathing would have to do for now.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N, really,” Woojin spoke warmly. You’d have previous assumptions about the mafia and gangs, mainly based on Hollywood flicks that dramatised the career choice, but the nine boys seemed to throw those all out the window. Woojin had a nurturing and calming presence, Felix was playful and giving, that Minho guy who’d fixed you up that night was quiet and respectful. To be fair, the rest of them could have entirely fit the stereotype of the mafia, you just hadn’t interacted with them enough to find out. After the events that brought you here, you decided it would be best to just stay out of the way and keep to yourself—both for your benefit and theirs. You didn’t want to interrupt what they had going on and you didn’t want to interact with anyone. With a polite smile you nodded your head, unsure of how to respond to Woojin.

Chan stood in the doorway as you laid the damp cloth on Hyunjin’s head. Two days had passed since the stabbing and you’d devoted all your time to helping Hyunjin—you figured it would be a good way to repay them for letting you stay here, and you were the most qualified to do so. Hyunjin wanted nothing more than to get back to work but his body simply refused. Exhaustion wracked his limbs when he was awake and every time he attempted to sit up, let alone stand, his head felt like a bowling ball and weighed him back down. He’d fallen asleep not long ago, before Chan came to check on him. You weren’t aware of the older’s presence until he spoke up, startling you into a flinch of fright.

“Thank you for doing this.”

You half-smiled at him, “it’s okay.”

The male sighed gently before walking into the room, the click of the door shutting behind him sliced through the room’s air. You felt his presence beside you as you refused to meet his gaze—he was far too intimidating even by just standing there, “I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” his voice was gentler than before. Soft, calm, genuine—he probably wouldn’t fit the stone cold stereotype set by Vito Corleone in The Godfather, “we’ll figure out a safer place for you to go, but, in the meantime, just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I truly am sorry that you got dragged into this.”

You turned your head in order to meet Chan’s gaze. It was soft, genuine, and almost broken. You got the feeling that he didn’t enter this lifestyle willingly, that he knew exactly what it was like to suddenly be affiliated with a lifestyle you had little to no prior knowledge about. Chan wasn’t here by choice, but he stuck by it. He followed through with what fate served him and he built an empire from it, he found a family to live through the darkest of days. You admired that more than he could know, “I will. Thank you for what you’ve done.”

Chan didn’t voice it, but he saw your arrival as a potential opportunity. You were familiar with medicine and how to properly patch someone up after they receive a life-threatening injury. Rather than losing two fighters when someone is injured, surely it would be better to have a designated nurse who could stick to the job, instead of forcing Woojin to rush through life-saving surgery in order to make it back to a mission in time to drive everyone back to the house. Chan knew it was a desperate deal, stupid and selfish in all honesty, but your arrival could’ve been a long-term blessing in disguise. After all, Chan’s life had been largely riddled with bad luck, perhaps karma had finally taken mercy on him.

At least a month had passed since the incident—you really had no concept of time in this place—and Hyunjin was slowly, but surely, recovering with no sign of infection. You’d also seen his bare abdomen one too many times at this point since he insists on being shirtless―he avidly insists “it’ll be easier than fucking up my shirt.” Aside from monitoring his recovery and trying not to stare at his perfectly sculpted abdomen, you’d began to form a good bond with Hyunjin during your time together. You never talked to him until the incident, mainly because you never had a reason to leave the room you were staying in, and you couldn’t deny you were slightly mad with yourself for not conversing sooner. He was entertaining to talk to, a little bit of a drama queen sometimes, yet intelligent and open-minded. Hyunjin had a good mix of personality traits, you slightly envied him for such. Surely conversing with someone like yourself was bland and repetitive.

Of course it was unbeknownst to you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth; Hyunjin had taken an interest in you since you began caring for him. All he had known about you prior to your care was that you and Felix had been good friends for a while, you were studying at university, and your shit got rocked by someone you didn’t even know―it was an unfortunate turn to say the least. The fact it happened to you made Hyunjin curse the forces that caused it; there was no reason for you to be dragged into this kind of unforgiving, inescapable lifestyle when you had a heart of gold. He could vividly recall the conversation that prompted the revelation, it must’ve been two or more weeks into his recovery.

“I assume you study nursing or something, right?”

“Medical science, but close enough,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“Why medical science instead of becoming a doctor or something?”

“We all die one day, I’d rather help find a cure for something than force people to suffer through it slowly.”

Hyunjin hadn’t known how to respond to that, so he didn’t, but it resonated with him. The whole reason he’d joined the business, this kind of inescapable lifestyle, was to earn enough money to pay for better treatment for his mother. He got close, really damn close, but he just didn’t get there in time. The first non-business phone call he got was to inform him about his mother’s passing, he hadn’t received another since.

It was evident to Hyunjin, and every other member, that you were incredibly smart―a fact Felix would boast as if it was his own. Your skills, mainly in the science field, could come in useful to the gang: you had a good medical understanding, knew which chemicals could do harm or hinder a person momentarily. Chan was intrigued by your abilities and more than willing to take you on board, but no one ever joined without the approval of every member. Gaining such had been a difficult task, with Felix insisting that he didn’t want to see you hurt or in harm’s way―his mind quickly changed when Jeongin asked “wouldn’t it be just like a sleepover?” Hyunjin wasn’t as easy to persuade. He didn’t share the fact he was hesitant, but he didn’t need to. It was written all over his symmetrical face.

Truthfully, Hyunjin had grown a little too close to you during his recovery, obliviously until he had a startling epiphany. You were the last thing he saw when he fell asleep, the first thing he saw when he woke up. You cared for him more than yourself, it was evident in your under eye bags and weight loss ― to the point where he had refused to eat unless you were eating with him. When he looked at you, the evening sunset highlighting you perfectly and your hair unstyled, yet sitting neatly on your head, he knew he was in deep. Regarding his feelings, he had two concerns: whether you felt the same way, and whether Felix would be accepting of his feelings and approve him as a candidate for your love; he didn’t need the added possibility of you fucking dying to become the third concern. At the end of the day, he supposed it didn’t matter. Felix would never want anyone to hurt you, and even if he didn’t intend to, Hyunjin knew he would inevitably end up doing so.

When Chan proposed for you to join their gang, you were hesitant to say the least. For you, there was no desperate situation in which you needed cash quickly, no reason to put yourself in harm’s way. It was dangerous, Chan admitted that to your face, but he promised you consistent protection and a position that didn’t include staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Y/N, you’ve been here for four months already. How many times have you been hurt?”

You didn’t like his persuasiveness, or the fact he was right. Since you moved into their guest bedroom you’d felt safer, no longer feeling eyes follow you or whispers of your name in the middle of the night. There was a small part of you that wanted to decline the offer, return home to your apartment and never look in the eyes of Chan or Hyunjin ever again. Of course, that was only a small part of you. Although you hated to admit it, you knew you’d never be able to return to that apartment. Not without seeing the blood all over again, feeling the breath leave your lungs or hearing unexplainable noises elsewhere in the apartment. With a soft movement of your head, you agreed, “okay.”

Chan smiled with a strong nod, he was fond of you after all, as were the others in the group. It seemed that everyone was in support of the decision, especially your freckled friend who beamed as he exclaimed, “it’ll be like an eternal sleepover!”

“That sounds like a nightmare if you’re involved,” Seungmin deadpanned, but his stoic expression was quickly replaced by an amused smile at Felix’s pout. Though, everything wasn’t as it seemed. Hyunjin, as much as he wanted to be, wasn’t excited. You joining the gang ― regardless of whether you would be in the middle of the action ― meant seeing you everyday. Seeing you everyday meant realising how much he admired you. And admiring you meant he would only fall deeper. How could he tell anyone that, though? Such an objection would send a rift of embarrassment, discomfort, awkwardness through the house; everything would fall. There was no time for silly crushes. All he could do was admire you from afar and ache every time you walked away from him, completely oblivious to how he felt. When did he become so weak? Hyunjin didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and that’s exactly how you made him feel. With a soft sigh, he decided it would be better to just stay away.

It was a solid plan―for a month, until Hyunjin was injured again in a trade gone wrong. If he was being completely honest with himself, which he recently was not, the constant thought of you kept him from concentrating during the trade. He felt so out of it, blocking out the sounds of his non-biological brothers yelling as a bullet whizzed towards him. No, all he saw was the way you looked so ethereal in the light, the way you would always be just out of reach. All he could think about with you, there was no time to consider the scars being etched in his abdomen. Faintly, he could feel the burning in his chest, Chan’s arms dragging him away as bullets rang out from Changbin’s position on the roof. He didn’t register being put in the car, or Chan demanding he keep his eyes open with a hand pressed tightly against his chest. He could feel his feet dragging slightly as Chan and Woojin dragged him inside, the sight of Hyunjin’s pale face and bleeding chest forcing Seungmin, Minho and Jeongin to abandon their intense game of uno.

“Oh fuck, fuck, shit,” Chan and Woojin couldn’t find the time to scold Jeongin’s language, too concerned with the dying boy in their arms. Jeongin’s feet pounded up the stairs, throwing your door open and tugging you to the first aid room. The confusion on your features transformed to gut-wrenching worry as soon as you caught sight of Hyunjin, his shirt off and a cloth being stuffed in his mouth―you couldn’t tell whether it was Minho or Woojin who was holding him down while the other gathered the necessary equipment, everything seemed to blur as you jumped into action. You’d found someone willing to sell you, an unlicensed medical student, anesthesia, but it was due to arrive next week―just your luck. Chan’s hands clamped on Hyunjin’s legs, Seungmin turned away to avoid the gruesome sight, Jeongin lingered by the door.

“I’m sorry,” the words came out as a whisper as you took the scalpel from Woojin, slicing across where the bullet had entered. The entry hole was too small to get it out safety―who were you kidding, you weren’t even sure if you could get it out. The cloth only slightly muffled the pained groan Hyunjin let out, gosh, you wished that anesthesia could’ve come sooner. Screams of agony tore from his throat as tweezers worked to remove the bullet, the writhing of his legs causing anxiety to rise in your chest.

“Keep him still,” Woojin ordered. One sudden move and you’d live with the crushing guilt of knowing you let Hyunjin die. Hyunjin seemed to vaguely register Woojin’s words, opting to tense his muscles rather than squirm away from the pain. Seungmin covered his ears with a solemn expression while Jeongin looked away in discomfort, the shrill cries continuing. It was close, too close for your liking, to hitting Hyunjin in a fatal area or embedding deeply in his chest.

“I got it,” you mumbled as the bloody metal was dumped in the dish beside you. Woojin ushered everyone out of the room, Hyunjin’s screams of agony downgrading to groans.

“Give me a call if you need anything,” the oldest closed the door behind him. You heard the front door slam open and shut with frantic footsteps, marking the return of Felix, Changbin and Jisung. Words were calmly and indistinguishably spoken by Chan. Though, it didn’t matter what he was telling them, your priority was making sure Hyunjin wouldn’t cease breathing. His eyelids were fluttering shut from exhaustion, an action that would flare alarm in your chest.

“Please, don’t fall asleep.”

The cloth was removed from his mouth when it was over, your hand raking his hair away from his sweaty forehead, ridding of the uncomfortable sensation. A sigh passed your lips, voice soft as you spoke, “you need to stop making a habit out of this,” it was directed towards Hyunjin, but you weren’t sure he heard it.

Hyunjin wanted to respond, something flirty he could blame on his disorientation and pain, but you were already urging him to down some bottled water. As you cleaned the utensils, Hyunjin allowed his eyes to flutter closed, whispering a gentle “thank you, Y/N.”

Time passed without your acknowledgement; had it been weeks, months? It all blended together, you couldn’t be certain. Hyunjin was close to recovery, but not quite there. Frankly, you were getting tired of his occasional complaints about not “being in action”. Part of you hoped he’d stay out of action if it kept him safe, but you knew that wasn’t an option in this kind of lifestyle. The roots of his hair were coming through, the dirty blonde darkening to have a light brown tone instead. It was the little things that were becoming noticeable as you spent more time with him; the moles on his face, the way the sun seeped through the window and reflected so clearly in his eyes. He sat on what was referred to as the ‘operation table’―except it wasn’t padded and was likely meant for veterinarians―as you searched for mild pain medication. When you turned around, you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him. His head was turned away from you, gazing wistfully out the window, the setting sun illuminating his honey skin in rays of golden sunshine. He looked like a statue from Greek mythology, sculpted by the Gods to embody perfection, frame marked with the scars of a warrior. They littered his abdomen, one from the stabbing, one from the bullet, one on his lower back that Woojin had patched up for him before you came ― it was obvious in the way it was majorly faded. A sigh passed the male’s plump lips, looking down at his fidgeting hands before looking up at you. If only you knew what he thought about you. How he felt you were incomparable, the finest piece of art to ever be masterfully painted. The oversized white shirt you wore contrasted your glowing skin and hung around your figure in an unfitted, yet still accentuating, manner. It wasn’t quite long enough to hide your blue pyjama shorts from sight. You approached him quietly, holding out the painkillers and a glass of water. Pulling yourself on the table, you sit beside Hyunjin as he downs the painkillers and watch the sunset. He glances over at you curiously, gulping down a mouthful of water, “you seem to be pretty good at saving lives, why aren’t you a doctor already?” A light laugh passed your lips.

“Because I’m not studying to become a doctor, and I haven’t spent, what? Nine years studying?”

“It takes nine years to become a doctor?” Hyunjin’s eyes almost bulged out of his skull. You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Something like that,” a comfortable silence settled between the two of you, watching as the sun swam closer to the horizon, “besides, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the pressure of saving someone’s life.”

A chuckle sounded from Hyunjin, “you say that, yet you’ve saved me from death twice.” You grew silent, he looked at you knowingly. The thought had never crossed your mind, you didn’t want to consider the possibility of Hyunjin dying―you didn’t want to imagine any of them dying, Hyunjin was the only one who’d come close so far.

“Yeah, but that’s… different.”

“How is it different?” Hyunjin looked towards you with a quirked eyebrow; you often wondered that too. You refused to look at him, too afraid of spilling all your secrets with one glance―but they came out in whispers, regardless.

“Because… I can’t live a life where you’re dead.”

The words almost slipped by him, blending in with the light breeze swirling outside, but he caught them. In one sentence, Hyunjin had the answers to every question that’d swarmed his brain since the week after his stabbing. There was no hesitation in his actions, cupping your left cheek in his hand and turning your face towards him. The sun glistened in your eyes, highlighting the enchanting colour of your orbs, shadows danced lightly on your face. In that moment, he wanted you to know that you wouldn’t lose him, no matter what. His eyes fluttered shut as his head dipped down, fulfilling the dream he’d chased since you first saved him. Your lips pressed together in a warm embrace, melting together as if they were made for each other. His tongue swiped at your lower lip, asking for access that you granted. As the sun rays of gold heated your skin and framed your soul, Hyunjin swore he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

272 notes · View notes