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ereawrites · 8 months

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Book Club (Kakashi Hatake)

Prologue - The Ambush

Kakashi sure as hell isn't going to flirt. Good thing you've got sleep-deprived courage (and Gai) at your back.

cw: alcohol use

word count 1.9k (chapter 1/9)

read it on ao3 here

"Maa, Asuma, did you forget to invite Kakashi again?", you scold, scanning the room for a flicker of silver hair even though you know you won't find it. All you see is Genma at the bar, buying a drink for a woman you're pretty sure is different to the one he was flirting with fifteen minutes ago.

"No. He just didn't want to come.", Asuma states this in a tone that suggests a lack of surprise, even as Gai slumps in his seat with disappointment. Kakashi has never been much for getting together with your old academy class, even when alcohol is involved. Asuma shoots you a sideways glance over his drink. "Although I'm sure that would have changed if I'd told him you'd be here."

"Huh?"

"Come on-", he takes another sip of sake and scoffs, not unkindly. "You've noticed how strange he acts around you."

You also take a swig of your drink, intrigued but not quite sober enough to really think about his words. "It's Kakashi. Isn't he strange all the time?"

Asuma laughs loudly - Kurenai looks at him from all the way across the room, you notice, you'll have to corner her in the bathroom later on - and claps a hand onto your shoulder. "Alright, I won't spoil it for you." He's smiling at you like the cat that's got the cream. You don't like it one bit.

"Asumaaaaaaa, don't be like that!", you complain, shrugging his hand off your shoulder and trying to fix him with a stern glare. When he returns it, you crumble - you're glad you didn't have him as a sensei back in your genin days. Besides, Asuma is too loyal to Kakashi, and not much for gossip. But-

"Gai! You know what he's talking about, don't you?!". You point an accusatory finger across the table at Gai, who has already won three separate drinking contests and has the flush to prove it. It's comical how hard he tries to avoid your gaze.

One more drinking contest later, he's yours. Asuma sighs as Gai begins his usual speech.

"My eternal rival Kakashi feels very strongly about me! Our rivalry is intensely passionate, in fact, it is unmatched! But, because our hearts are so inexplicably connected-", Gai lurches to his feet here, eyes shining with tears, "-I can sense that Kakashi feels almost as passionately about you!"

Huh? That can't be right, can it? You take a deep drink and barely even wince; then you look at Asuma, who surely can put the story straight. It's probably more like you've accidentally offended Kakashi, and inadvertently sucked yourself into a weird eternal-rival-threeway. Maybe one of his ninken likes you more than him. Yes, that'll be it. Pakkun was particularly taken with you that time you had to swing by Kakashi's apartment to deliver a message. Asuma looks somewhat defeated, but also a little pleased. "Oh, yeah. He's got it bad for you. Remember how he disappeared from your birthday party?" You'd assumed Kakashi had just got bored and went home to nap. He'd barely even said hello to you that night. "Genma got him pretty drunk and we managed to get it out of him. Then I got him more drunk, and he fell out the chair when he tried to get up and wish you a happy birthday."

"And I carried him home in my arms.", Gai sniffles, clasping your hand tightly. "And he opened his soul to me and cried freely from the power of his love!"

"No he didn't.", you deadpan.

"No-", he concedes. "But I know he wanted to!"

This is not how you expected the evening to go. Part of you doesn't quite believe them - then again, Asuma isn't the type to stir the pot and he knows Kakashi well - and you've heard enough of Gai's power of love speeches to know how serious he is about the topic. Thank God Kakashi isn't here tonight, or you might combust.

"He's going to bolt if I tell him I like him, isn't he?" Both of your friends nod gravely. One thing you remember very well from the academy is that Kakashi loves to brood: you need to let him stew in his feelings until he can't ignore them anymore, or you'll just scare him off. It only takes you and Gai two more drinks to come up with a brilliant idea - why not give him a little push in the right direction?

Ah. There he is.

He's running late - again - to meet Gai. You're not sure why Gai doesn't just start scheduling their weekly training sessions for the afternoon, instead of an ungodly time in the morning. You don't remember ever seeing Kakashi out before noon of his own volition. Then again, you don't remember Kakashi being on time for anything either. You briefly imagine Gai trying to fit in 1000 pushups before his eternal rival arrives at the training ground.

Oh, well. He's already late. Might as well commit to it.

Clearly, Kakashi is unbothered by the thought of neglecting his poor, dedicated rival. In fact, he isn't even looking where he's walking - and why would he? The wide street down to the yard is always empty at this time, because any sensible shinobi is in bed, asleep, and staying out of trouble. He doesn't notice you perched up on the rooftop of the ramen shop even when he walks right in front of it. You grin a little to yourself: you really are quite good at masking your chakra. You're so confident in your abilities that you even lean over the edge of the roof to get a proper look at the book he's buried his nose in.

It takes everything in you not to gasp out loud with glee. You'd recognise Jiraiya's preposterous illustrations anywhere.

This makes everything so much easier.

There's a little side alley a short way up, that weaves between shinobi apartments before coming out onto the boulevard right by the weapons store. Kakashi is wandering along at the leisurely pace of a man with nowhere to be, so it isn't much of a rush to reach it, but you're still a little breathless with anticipation. He's chuckling quietly at his book when you dash out the alley, swing a left, and crash square into his chest. Right as you do, you unmask your chakra, allowing it to just brush against his in a faux expression of surprise. He recognises your chakra, you can feel it, how his own energy reflexively gives way to yours. Kakashi doesn't stagger at all and you pretty much bounce right off him, but you do hear the snap of his book closing swiftly.

"Woah! I'm so sorry, I'm in such a rush to-", you exclaim, with what you think is a pretty good attempt at shock, as you right yourself and look him in the eye. "Oh. Hey, Kakashi!"

He blinks, then greets you in return. "You should be more careful. There's no need to be in such a rush all the time."

Your heart flutters a little bit at the implication that he pays such close attention to the chaotic pace you live life at. If you aren't careful, you're going to be the one leaving this encounter flustered. So you laugh it off, and pretend to readjust your flak jacket. "I do rush, don't I? It's just, I've been up all night pretending to be a particularly noisy owl outside one of my genin's window, and honestly I'm just desperate to go home and sleep." This is true - Haruki called you old for needing a nap yesterday, the little shit.

Kakashi doesn't even question why you've decided to torture one of your students. "I prefer to make monster noises outside Naruto's door when I'm aiming for sleep deprivation."

The one eye you can see crinkles slightly at the corner when you laugh. Otherwise, he doesn't react, so you decide to store away the image of him growling with his face pressed up against a dingy apartment door for a time when you need cheering up. Instead, you decide to set your plan into action. You're going to lose your nerve if you don't get a move on.

"Are you going to train with Gai?", you ask, as if you don't already know. Kakashi hums nonchalantly, switches his book to the other hand, and leans his weight against the wall of the store. You inch forward just a little as you continue, "We should get together someday soon too."

Kakashi's eye widens slightly. "Hm - to train, oh -", and you're so glad he has a dirty mind, because the thought of flustering him has your courage building by the second.

Finally, you allow your eyes to flicker down to his Icha Icha novel - he's carrying the discreet cover version, rather than the much more lewd one you've seen in the bookshop underneath your apartment. The plain binding makes it easy to see how well-thumbed the book really is. Flashing him your loveliest smile, you move in for the kill. "Say, Kakashi, what are you reading? It must be quite a book for you to be so engrossed so early in the morning."

It's hard not to almost, almost, feel bad for him as his whole body tenses up. "It's, ah... well... it's...", Kakashi pauses, clears his throat, and then clears it again. You give him an encouraging mhm as his knuckles turn white against the cover. "...An action novel." He finishes, his voice strained.

"Well, I've been looking for a new book to read in my downtime. Would you mind if I borrow it once you're finished?", you ask. You're starting to grin a bit too much as you speak, but hopefully you're managing to pass it off as just being happy to talk to him - to be honest, you smile at Kakashi far too much even when you aren't torturing him.

He's starting to slide down the wall just a little as his knees weaken."You want to read it?"

"If that's okay with you. It would be interesting to see what you like," you respond, allowing the pause to drag out just a little longer than necessary,"...to read." He might actually be having a nosebleed under his mask, you think, as he fixes his gaze very intently at the lamppost behind your head.

"Everything alright, Kakashi?"

Suddenly, he's skirting around you like you're hot coals. He starts to skitter away up the street, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he mumbles,"Yes. I just realised how late I am to meet Gai, I should go, hate to leave him waiting-"

A gentle hand on his forearm stops him dead in his tracks. "Of course. Well, it was a lovely surprise to see you. Enjoy your training session." You're sure to give the exposed skin there a gentle squeeze before letting go. His chakra chases after you.

"Enjoy your nap.", he replies, staring at you unblinkingly, voice absent. Something tells you Gai will be winning whatever fresh hell he's got planned for this morning - he's probably about 500 pushups deep right now, so you really should get going. Maybe you'll have a nice warm bath and read an action novel of your own. You start down the boulevard in the opposite direction, in much less of a rush than you began, and wave back over your shoulder.

"See you soon, Kakashi. Remember to bring me that book once you're finished!"

You can only see one quarter of his face, but you're pretty sure he's blushing. God, you really do like him.

#naruto #naruto x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi #kakashi x reader

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taschamonnii · 6 months

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Take My Breath Away

Clextober23 Day 3 Annual Fall Festival

Here is the title song: Take My Breath Away (WLW)

SMUT 18+

Just a lil Meet-Cute that gets a little Spicy and ends in…

Clexa X Harlivy

Clarke is dressed up as Harley Quinn

Lexa is dressed up as Poison Ivy

(If you haven’t watched Harley Quinn the Animated 2019 Series you MUST! It’s sooo good the gays win in it! Harlivy stan!)

Read On Ao3

Word Count: 6,363

It's October Clarke Griffin's favorite month not only because it's her birthday month but because it's Halloween! Clarke has always loved Halloween. Her friends Raven and Octavia know that October is peak Party Griffin season and know she won't turn down a chance to dress up. Luckily there are tons of festivals and parties and clubs to attend. Clarke is full of excitement there is something in the air she just knows this will be a great October and she can’t wait to wear her Harley Quinn costume. She is an artist for the cartoon series and absolutely loves Harlivy and the show really favors them as well. Kaley Cuoco and Lake Bell play Harley and Ivy perfectly and she just loves how much they also love the relationship. She truly loves her job as an artist on the show and for the series-related comics. She has always loved the characters since 1993 when they first interacted on Batman the Animated Series. She loved comic books and animation as a kid and drawing those characters was her favorite thing to do as a kid and now she gets paid to do it.

Lexa Woods is not a people person in fact she kind of hates most people. She thinks holidays are the worst because they all encourage wasteful consumerism. Her sister Anya, however, loves to party and refuses to let Lexa be a grump at home. The persuasion was difficult but Anya is a pro and told Lexa she could even dress up as one of her favorite nerdy comic book characters. Little did Anya know Lexa would pick a character that is basically just a green version of Lexa’s nerdy self. Lexa chose her career because of Poison Ivy. She got into Environmental Biology solely because of the 1993 animated series. Watching Poison Ivy be brilliant while being this untouchable goddess well it was everything Lexa wanted to be as a kid. Not to mention the Harley Ivy episode which made her realize she was so incredibly gay. Now as an adult, her inner child is happier than ever. There is a GAY animated series dedicated to Harlivy and comic series and she is actually helping the environment the way she always dreamed. Obviously, she had to dress up as Poison Ivy.

>>>>

The Spooktacular Arkadia Festival is always fun but always crowded even on off days. The gang is navigating the crowd with ease though since this is their favorite event they know all the tricks to have the best time and experience everything the festival has to offer. The gang's all dressed up in DC characters to support Clarke's work and because they actually love the show! Raven is dressed as Bane which is no surprise to anyone since she “Loves Sploshions!” Of course, she has adjusted his costume slightly instead of a mask she painted her face. Octavia convinced her boyfriend that they are alternate reality Cat Woman and Bruce Wane/Batman where their races are reversed. Jasper and Monty are the Riddler and Clock King. Murphy is Clayface. Nathan is King Shark. As a group, they look amazingly nerdy and have been receiving compliments all night. Some people even recognized Clarke as an artist for the show and asked for her signature. They have gone through all the haunted houses and played all the games. Ate and drank everything pumpkin flavored and is currently headed for the haunted corn maze since the sun has finally set.

The maze is huge and full of creepy surprises around every corner. As the group gets farther into the dark maze the sounds of the festival become distanced and muted. The eerie sound of the wind through the corn stalks and distant screams surround the group. The calm before the storm.

“BOOM!”

A loud crash of metal trash cans falling in their path has the groups scrambling and running from the “monsters”. It’s all fun and games until Raven sets off a smoke bomb making it impossible to see. The group gets separated as they cough and attempt to escape the chaos. Raven ends up with Octavia and Lincoln while Monty, Jasper, Nathan, and Murphy flee back the way they came in leaving Clarke alone in the dark maze. She doesn’t scare easily but it's definitely not as fun alone. She curses Raven under her breath; she should have known to check the Latina’s pockets before leaving Octavia’s house.

Clarke decides she will outsmart all of the scare traps and sneak around rustling the corn to scare other groups. She is lurking around when she sees a woman standing alone looking down at her phone.

Bright red hair is illuminated by the blue light of her phone screen. Clarke can’t help but soak in every detail of the woman in front of her. Well as best as she can in the dim lighting. Green tights with elaborate vines stitched up the sides making long legs seem like they go on forever. Black Doc Marines give the woman some height making her taller than Clarke by just the right amount that Clarke's thoughts drift to how perfectly her head could rest on the woman's shoulder. She shakes her head trying not to lose herself but it has just been forever since she’s felt any kind of way about anyone let alone a stranger, a beautiful stranger. The black jacket the woman wears hugs her thin but toned frame perfectly and Clarke doesn’t miss the tiny details of stitched green stripes. This woman is perfectly dressed as her Ivy. Clarke can’t help herself and takes a few steps forward, the hay on the ground crunching beneath her makes the other woman fully turn to face her.

Wow is all Clarke can think of as she takes in the jawline of the woman and her delicate features. Her eyes she thinks may be a gray color but it’s too dark to tell. All Clarke knows is this woman is absolutely stunning and she can’t stop staring. Luckily it seems the woman is also awe-struck by Clarke.

Lexa is shocked and stunned beyond belief. When she heard footsteps she had been hoping it was Anya. Never in her life was she so grateful that it wasn’t her sister. It took her maybe a second to recognize the woman in front of her. Lexa thought she must be dreaming. There was no way Clarke Griffin, one of her favorite illustrators, was standing in front of her in the middle of a corn maze. Not only standing there but staring at Lexa like she was a work of art or something. All while dressed up as her favorite version of Harley Quinn. The red and black Converse and knee-high socks. The incredibly short black and red shorts hugged thick muscular thighs. The cropped tight red and black top presented ample cleavage in the most incredible way. Her makeup was done with the classic blue eyeshadow on one lid and pink on the other to match the dyed ends of her pigtails one pink and one blue. She looked incredible. It truly didn’t help that Lexa already had a deep appreciation for Clarke Griffin the artist and Harley Quinn the character. The combination in front of her was everything and if she wanted to believe in love at first sight this would be it for her.

Somehow Lexa seemed to pull herself out of her head and use her words. Unfortunately, her words were just as embarrassing as her staring. “Wow, you’re Clarke Griffin! You’re even prettier in real life-oh my god-not that you are not pretty in photos and videos! Not in a creepy way, I'm a fan of your art! Oh my god LEXA shut up!”

Lexa managed to stop rambling for a second just long enough for an amused Clarke to smile at her. “Lexa, was it?”

Lexa nodded. Clarke smiled wider “Lexa, take a deep breath you are as red as your hair.”

Lexa nodded once more and gave Clarke a shy smile that made it hard for Clarke to focus on anything other than the other woman's plump lips. Lexa took a deep breath and decided to attempt to salvage the situation. “I’m sorry. Gawd I just talked at you. I am so sorry.”

Clarke smirked “I thought it was kind of cute, actually. The costume suits your body and your personality it seems.”

Lexa could feel the heat rise on her cheeks all the way to her ears. DID CLARKE GRIFFIN JUST FLIRT WITH HER! Pull it together!

Lexa bit her bottom lip as she let her gaze travel Clarke’s body down and then back up to meet intense blue eyes. “Your costume seems to fit you perfectly as well.”

Clarke tilted her head with a grin. “Is Poison Ivy flirtin’ with lil old me, Harley Quinn?”

Clarke teased trying her best to mimic the character's voice. Lexa swallowed hard this woman might be the death of her. Lexa took a step closer now standing toe to toe. Only a few inches between them “Maybe I am.” Lexa Husked.

Clarke’s knees buckled but before she could trip Lexa reached out grabbing both her hands in hers.

Something was in the air, a sort of magical feeling like this was destiny or fate that they just happened to meet here and now like this. There was a magnetic pull between them that they could both feel. There was no denying the attraction it was written all over their faces. It filled the air around them with an eclectic buzz.

Clarke leaned up and Lexa leaned down. Their lips brushed with a tingling spark in a soft kiss. Lexa moved her hands to wrap around Clarke’s waist to pull her flush against her as she sucked on Clarke’s bottom lip lightly. Clarke tangled her hands in thick red hair as she matched Lexa’s lips and melted into their bodies being flush against each other.

The feel of Lexa's warm soft hands caressing the skin of her lower back made her dizzy. Clarke forgot where they were and that this woman was basically a stranger. But this felt too right to care. Clarke licked at Lexa’s bottom lip and Lexa met her with her own tongue making Clarke let out a soft hum of a moan. She tugged harder on red hair. She needed more of this woman.

They both needed so much more.

"BOOM!"

They both jumped at the sound and looked around while holding each other. Lights flashed in the row over and screams followed.

The moment seemed to bring them back to reality. "We should probably get out of this maze," Lexa said.

Clarke nodded in agreement "I lost my friends because my idiot best friend set off a smoke bomb."

"That was your friend? I lost my sister because of the smoke."

"Yeah, Raven is really into explosions. She's actually dressed as Bane and my friends are all dressed as DC characters."

"That is amazing! I'd love to meet them. I'm a huge fan of the show. I've loved Harley and Ivy since I was a kid."

"They will love your costume. Me too, was it the 1993 animated series for you too?"

"Of course! It was so gay without being gay!" Lexa said happily.

"Ugh, I know right? I'm so happy Harlivy is a real thing now!"

“Right it has taken ages of teasing the couple for it to actually fully happen and your show does it so well! For once the problem in the queer relationship isn’t homophobia it’s that they are both troubled and complex characters. I love the way they are not perfect but constantly strive to be the best versions of themselves for the other and how much love they have for each other. I’m sorry I’m rambling. I just love the show, and your art is incredible!”

Clarke couldn’t contain her smile, the conversation was light and natural and she honestly didn’t want to stop talking to this woman. Lexa seemed to feel the same if her excitement for the conversation was any indication.

Fuck Lexa was adorable when she rambled and it took everything in Clarke not to pull at the collar of the woman's jacket and crash their lips together once more. “Don’t apologize. I love seeing people love the show as much as I do. Plus, you are really cute when you ramble.”

The blush that crept up Lexa’s neck was priceless. Clarke really couldn’t help herself now. She grabbed the collar of Lexa’s jacket and quickly pulled her down into a kiss. Their lips fit so damn perfectly. Clarke didn't let it last; she couldn't start something here. "Let's get out of here."

Lexa blinked as Clarke straightened her jacket and released it. Lexa was in awe of this woman. She quickly took Clarke’s hand making the blonde glance at their joined hands. Her blue eyes were light when her gaze traveled back to meet Lexa’s. The smiles that took over both of their faces as Clarke squeezed Lexa’s hand and interlaced their fingers could have lit the entire cornfield if this was a cartoon.

Lexa reached into her pocket for her phone and pulled up Google Maps again. Clarke took Lexa’s phone in her free hand. “This is cheating, Lexa.” She teased.

“No. Hey! What are you-” Clarke interrupted her “I’m texting myself so I don’t lose you if we get separated.”

Clarke closed Google Maps and observed the background with a smile finding Harlivy art. She recognized the picture, the two characters were lying in some greenery holding hands and lovingly gazing at each other. Lexa could not get any more adorable. She quickly opened the text app and typed in her number and typed a message to herself. She hit send and pulled maps back up then handed the phone back.

Lexa looked at the map and then around “This way looks fastest.”

“Lead the way, Red.”

Lexa laughed, “This is not my natural color.”

“No! You’re telling me you don’t have fire truck red hair, naturally?”

Lexa bumped her shoulder against Clarke’s laughing lightly as she said, “fuck you.”

“Buy me a drink first.”

“Okay, what are you drinking?” Lexa said, tugging Clarke faster towards the exit of the maze.

Clarke couldn’t stop her laughter if she tried. They made it out of the maze faster than Clarke thought was possible and wow was it attractive to watch a determined Lexa lead the way. Lexa led them to one of the drink stands and Clarke smiled. “What would you like to drink?”

“I was joking, Lexa. You don’t have to buy me a drink.”

Lexa smiled dorkily. “I know but I want to even if it’s just a drink and conversation.”

“You are something else. Seriously, how are you so cute and sexy at the same time?”

“I’m a woman of many talents.”

“I bet you are.” Clarke bit her bottom lip, unable to stop her mind from wandering to naughty places.

“What can I get you ladies?” The cashier interrupted their silent eye contact.

Lexa broke eye contact first smiling at the guy behind the counter. “Oh hi, um can I get the Pumpkin Spooktacular dark brew, please? And whatever this beautiful woman-” Clarke interrupted Lexa softly, “I’ll have the same thing.”

Lexa smiled at Clarke then looked back at the guy as he asked “Anything else?”

She looked back to Clake who shook her head. “That’s it, thanks.”

Lexa paid and they got their adorable pumpkin-flavored coffees and found an empty table under one of the trees that was decorated with sparking lights. Lexa is quick to pull out Clarke’s chair and then sit next to her. Clarke can’t handle how Lexa is treating her. It has been far too long since she's even just had a one-night stand let alone been on a date and this feels like a date. No, it felt like more than just a date. It felt like they were already girlfriends and this was just a cute Saturday date night. It all just felt so comfy, familiar, and right. She felt like she could get used to this. She sipped her coffee and sighed at the warmth and tasted happy she got something warm. The cool night air was starting to get to her exposed skin.

Lexa watched Clarke trying to soak in the comfortable feelings of ease the blonde gave her. She honestly felt like she must be dreaming. There was no way this was her life. Clarke Griffin is sitting across from her happily sipping on a pumpkin-flavored coffee. Face illuminated by the twinkling lights that seemed to make blue eyes sparkle. She was in awe of the woman before her.

Clarke held her drink in both hands and had been glancing around but she felt eyes on her and smiled when her gaze met intense green orbs. Wow was all she could think. She had never seen green eyes like Lexa’s before. They are the kind of green that changes hues in different lighting and, gawd the twinkle lights made them shine like the sun on a lake the reflection of lush green trees surrounding the water. Clarke couldn't stop the shiver that ran up her spine.

“Are you cold?”

Clarke cleared her thoughts as she returned to earth. “Oh, uhm, a little but this is helping. Thank you.”

“It’s colder than I thought it was going to be and I’m wearing more clothes than you here.”

Lexa got up removed her jacket and draped it over Clarke’’s shoulders.

Clarke despite herself sunk into the warmth the jacket offered and the sweet woodsy scent that was so very Lexa. She couldn’t help her smile even as she said. “I can’t take your jacket.”

Lexa could almost melt seeing the beautiful woman melt into her jacket and smile at her. “It looks good on you.”

“Not as good as you.”

Clarke flushed as Lexa peered down at her from her standing position. She knows the angle gives Lexa a perfect view of her boobs. Lexa doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she’s staring. Clarke is definitely warm now.

Lexa forces her gaze back up to meet those mesmerizing blue orbs. “You are so beautiful, Clarke.”

Clarke is a fairly confident woman who has grown to love her curves and womanly figure but Lexa is all lean fit muscle with delicate yet sharp facial features. Clarke is pretty sure Lexa is the most gorgeous woman she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. Hearing Lexa so genuinely compliment her is too much. She grabs the hand that still lingers on her shoulder and pulls lightly. Luckily Lexa gets the hint and leans down to kiss Clarke. It feels far too intimate but also so natural. They keep it short and Lexa returns to her seat. Clarke grabs the chair and scoots Lexa to be tucked in closer to her and leans into the warmth and comfort. They observe the crowd in a comfortable silence watching teenagers scream and laugh. Observing awkward first dates and seeing families smile for pictures. The atmosphere is something out of a Hallmark movie. It’s the cheesy annual Halloween Festival regardless of how cheesy it all is Clarke and Lexa soak up every last bit of it. They have some casual conversation and sip their delicious drinks before a loud group is heard calling their names. Clarke looks around to see her friends wandering about looking for her. Clarke looks back to Lexa “I take it that is your sister walking with her arm over my friend Raven's shoulder.”

Lexa glances over to the group and smiles “Wow, you weren’t kidding all your friends are dressed as DC characters! They look awesome!”

“I don’t joke about my friends' enthusiasm.” Clarke Laughed.

“That’s my sister alright, it seems Anya has her sight set on your friend. Wait, that's my cousin Lincoln with the short brunette.”

“Raven looks like a smitten kitten! Damn, how are all the people in your family so attractive?”

Lexa snorts out a laugh that is downright adorable. It makes Clarke want to keep her forever.

The group hasn’t noticed them yet and Raven keeps yelling both their names. “Should we run and hide or?” Clarke teased.

“You can have me all to yourself later, Clarke.”

Fucking hell Clarke really loves the way Lexa says her name. Clarke licks and then bites her bottom lips softly. Dropping her voice an octave to whisper huskily, “You promise?”

Lexa swallows the lump in her suddenly dry throat. “If you want. I will follow you anywhere.”

Lexa has never been more confident in her feelings towards another. She thinks maybe she was always meant to find and love this woman. Clarke seems to be feeling something similar with the way she’s visibly swooning. Clarke leans in close to Lexa and softly presses their foreheads together, their lips are almost touching. “Damn, you’re going to be the death of me.” Clarke husked.

Before Clarke could say or do anything else Lexa closed the space between them softly capturing a top lip right where that adorable beauty mark is. Clarke automatically melted into the kiss sucking lightly on Lexa’s plump bottom lip. Hands tangled into thick red hair. While slender fingers rested on pale thighs.

To anyone who didn’t know they would assume the two were a long-time couple. Unfortunately, the people who noticed were all too aware that the two were not dating. Raven whistled at them as the rest of the group cheered. The loud group made them part from their kiss but Clarke tugged lightly at the curls on the back of Lexa’s neck. “You better keep your promise.”

Lexa squeezed Clarke’s thigh “I never break a promise.”

The two detangled from each other just in time for the group to get to them. Anya is the first to say something “You ditched me in the maze to make out with a girl?”

“I didn’t ditch you. I lost you in the smoke.” Lexa turned to Raven “Thanks for that by the way, Raven.”

Raven smirked, “I see Clarke has told you about her awesome step-sister/mom!”

“Oh my god Raven shut up you can’t be my step-sister and stepmom!”

“I can’t help the fact your mom is hot Griffin.”

“Oh you have a thing for older women do you?” Anya lifted her brow at Raven.

“Uh yeah, have you seen yourself!” Raven smirked.

“Raven cut it out, we haven't even properly met Lexa yet.” Octavia tried.

Raven rolled her eyes at her friend. “Your boyfriend's cousins are going to have to learn how to deal with this madness if they want to be part of the group.”

Lexa and Lincoln waved to each other silently observing the friends. Octavia rolled her eyes right back “Just because Anya seems to like you doesn’t mean you get to act insane.”

“Oh, you like me, cheekbones?”

“I never said that.”

“But you didn’t not say it either.”

Nathan spoke up “Can we be introduced so we can continue the fun?”

Clarke smiled at Nathan and grabbed Lexa’s hand. She stood up leading Lexa to stand next to her “Everyone this is Lexa!”

Lexa waved “Hi!”

“You know Raven now and your cousin's girlfriend is Octavia.”

Both girls waved at Lexa. “You can call me O. Everyone does.”

“Nice to finally meet you O. I have heard a lot about you. My cousin is mad about you.”

Clarke pointed at the two guys holding hands, “That's Jasper and Monty.” She pointed to the other two, “That's Nathan and that's Murphy.”

“It’s nice to meet you all. I love the costumes!”

The group all greeted Lexa with open arms appreciating her costume and nerding out with her about the show and characters. It made Clarke dizzy with what she could only call affection for the woman. She fit in so perfectly! Honestly Lincoln and Anya seemed to fit in as well and something about it all just seemed like it was written in the stars. The whole group seemed to feel it too.

The night air was crisp, the company was perfect, and the place was everything. The last activity was always the group's favorite. They reserved a private firepit and always got the s'mores package deal. This year they reserved early enough to get a lake-side pit and it was worth every cent.

The firepit was lit for them by an employee and they gathered around the cozy fire. The light illuminated the shore. Clarke pulled Lexa over to one of the benches and gave her back her jacket. “It looks so much better on you and really completes your outfit.”

“I will only take this back if you let me keep you warm.”

“Oh, that was the plan, Lex.”

Clarke snuggles into Lexa grabbing her arm to drape around her. They shared s’mores and laughs and the best conversations. The group took a bunch of pictures and before they knew it the night was coming to an end. The witching hour had come and it was time to go but Lexa and Clarke didn’t want the night to end here. The group split off into their different cars. No one was surprised to see Anya and Raven leave together and so no one even questioned when Clarke left with Lexa.

The drive to Lexa’s was filled with an electric anticipation in the air. They both felt it. Lexa drove faster than usual but was still careful. Lexa placed a hand lightly on Clarke's thigh. It was too much and not enough for Clarke so she slid her hands around Lexa’s and held it in her lap. It’s comfy, familiar even but more than that it’s electric.

They arrived at Lexa’s apartment complex and only disconnected long enough for Lexa to get out and walk around to Clarke’s door. She opened it and offered Clarke her hand which Clarke happily took.

They walked close, fingers interlaced and locked. The elevator ride up was silent but again so comfortable and normal. Lexa led the way unlocking her door and ushering them both inside. She shut and locked the door behind them, never letting go of Clarke’s hand. Clarke stayed basically attached to Lexa’s side as she took in the spacious open apartment. Lexa squeezed her hand “Well this is basically it. Would you like some water?”

“It’s beautiful. Yes, please.”

Lexa guided them into the open kitchen. She turned to face Clarke fully. She was going to ask her something else but was distracted by those eyes and then by the slightest movement just a few inches lower. She watched helplessly as Clarke licked her lips and then she snapped her gaze back up to meet dilated pupils. Lexa couldn't help but lick her own lips and Clarke noticed right away.

Clarke is quick to pull Lexa in and kiss those ridiculously soft lips. Her hands tangle into Lexa’s hair and Lexa finds her balance by holding Clarke’s hips. She presses the blonde into the counter of the island and it makes them both groan. Lexa moves her hands lower and hooks them around soft thighs. She lifts the blonde with ease and sets her on the countertop. A sound escapes Clarke that is delicious and Lexa is desperate to hear more. The cool stone under Clarke does nothing to ease the heat surging through her entire body.

Clarke wraps her legs around Lexa and pulls her flush against her. She pulls strong shoulders to get those lips back on hers. They moan into the kiss as their bodies are tightly fitted together. Lexa’s hands are on silky thighs massaging the firm muscles there. Clarke can’t help but move her hips in a sad attempt to get friction but they are so tightly pressed she can barely move. It fills her with need and she pulls off Lexa’s jacket then her shirt then her bra. Lexa quickly catches up unclasping the tight top that somehow supports Clarke’s ample breasts. She pulls the straps down slowly and moves her kisses to follow as more silky smooth skin gets revealed. Clarke throws her head back in a moan when lips ghost down her neck and collar bones and teeth scrape the soft sensitive skin. “You smell so good, can I taste you?”

“Please!”

“I like that word on your lips.”

“Fuck please, Lexa!”

“Oh, that’s even better. Fuck Clarke say my name again.”

“Lexa!”

Clarke didn’t expect the brunette to be so talkative but fuck if it wasn’t making her so much wetter than she’d ever been before from someone just talking. Lexa trails her tongue down Clarke’s neck stopping at the crook and sucking lightly. “You taste so good.”

“Fuck Lexa!”

“Can I kiss your breasts?”

“Gawd yes!”

Clarke arches her back pushing her exposed chest out. Lexa kisses down the center and palms both full breasts in her hands. They fit perfectly and feel gloriously heavy in her slender hands.

She runs her thumbs over stiff nipples making them stiffer. She kisses around each one and then finally wraps her lips around a stiff bud and lightly runs her tongue over it. She pinches the other as she begins to suck and bite the nipple in her mouth. She moans at the taste and Clarke moans at the feeling. Images of that mouth and tongue lower make her clit throb. Lexa is lost devouring Clarke’s beautiful breasts. Until she feels Clarke leaning back. She reluctantly detached herself from Clarke’s chest to look at her worried she did something wrong. “Are you okay?”

Clarke stops and grabs Lexa’s face “More than okay. I just need these off.”

She moved her hands to her shorts. Lexa bit her bottom lip “I need those off too, here lay back.”

Lexa guided Clarke to lie on the cool stone; it made Clarke shiver and that caused her breasts to bounce. Lexa is so thankful for gravity. Green eyes are intense as her gaze rolls down. Lexa hooks her fingers into the waistband of tight shorts and pulls them down. She takes a deep shuddered breath when she discovers nothing underneath but slick wet skin. “Oh wow, Clarke!”

“It’s all because of you.”

“Mmm in that case is it all mine to taste?”

Clarke whimpers at the thought of the deep raspy neediness of Lexa’s voice. “Fuck, Lexa yes.”

Lexa quickly lowers herself and wastes no time. Her lips press against Clarke’s clit and she is instantly addicted to the taste and rushes to get more enthusiastically licking and sucking. She can’t get enough; she explores and makes some of the most vulgar sounds as she fully loses herself in the taste and feel.

“Fuck! Lexa OH! Slow down. You’re going to make me cum AH!”

Lexa doesn’t ease up, Clarke's words encourage her.

Lexa hums and then whispers hotly “You taste so good, Clarke.”

The combination of heated breath and vibrations has Clarke trembling. “Mmm So, Fucking, Good.”

Lexa latches on with more pressure sucking and it sends Clarke barreling over the edge. “IM CU UH AH AH FUCK Oh FUCK LEXA!”

Lexa doesn’t let up as Clarke’s legs tremble forcing Clarke to pull her up by her hair. “Jesus Lexa!”

“I can’t help it, Clarke. I could do that all day. I love your pussy.”

“I love your tongue but fuck I need to feel and taste you too.”

Clarke sits up and wraps her arms around Lexa and Lexa follows along wrapping her arms around Clarke. She picks her up, almost losing her mind at how wet pussy presses against her abs as her legs wrap around her tightly. She takes them to her bedroom. She lays Clarke down but the blonde keeps her locked in her embrace pulling Lexa down on top of her. She flips them over and straddles Lexa’s hips. “You are far too dressed.”

Clarke moves to stand and pulls Lexa’s Leggings off. She licks and bites her lip when her gaze falls to the little green lace that is soaked through. She takes a shaky breath “Ffuuck, Lex.”

She is quick to remove the lace and even quicker to kiss up long smooth legs. “Gawd your legs!”

Clarke bites and sucks at inner thighs coaxing whimpers from the woman below her. “I love the little sounds you're making. Be louder for me.”

She moved her kisses up and sank into the taste of Lexa. She had never tasted anyone so divine. Lexa moaned louder as Clarke explored. “Fuck! Clarke!”

Clarke hummed against her and repeated the actions that had Lexa unraveling underneath her. She quickly found the right pressure to make long legs tremble and relentlessly repeated it until Lexa arched off the bed “Oh Fuck! Oh MY FuCkInG CLARKE! YES!”

Clarke couldn’t get enough and Lexa had to tug her up by the hair just like she had done earlier to her. Clarke happily laid over Lexa pressing their bodies together. They both moved in for a kiss and moaned at the combined taste. Their bodies were far from sated; they needed more. More of each other. More of this moment. More.

Clarke moved her legs to slot with Lexa's. Lexa adjusted and pressed her thigh up between Clarke's legs. She moaned at the feel of just how wet Clarke was. "You like this? Do you feel how wet I am? I'm dripping down your thigh."

"I love it! Gawd Clarke, it's so hot."

Clarke moved her thigh to press against Lexa and sighed out a shaky breath. "Fuck Lex."

Clarke held herself up slightly to look down between them. "You're so fucking wet! Can I?"

She adjusted her position and hovered her own pussy just above Lexa's. Lexa looked down and swallowed hard. "Please!"

Lexa grabbed Clarke's hips and pulled her down. They both moaned at the contact. Their hips moved slowly. Slick filthy wet noise filled the room. "Fuck Lexa! Can you cum like this?"

"I could cum just watching you, Clarke."

Clarke smirked as she pressed into Lexa. "It's my boobs, isn't it? I knew you were a boob girl."

"I mean you have gorgeous breasts but Clarke it's all of you."

Lexa's gaze traveled over every inch of Clarke's body. Green landed on deep blue and they stayed locked. Lexa bucked her hips up slowly. Clarke matched her movements. "It's all of you too, Lexa. Gawd I think you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen!"

Their hips bucked harder. "Fuck, Clarke!"

"Yes faster!"

Hips bucked, breasts bounced, skin glistened. It was just enough to have them both unraveling quickly. It wasn't enough. Clarke groaned as she came. Contracting around nothing. "Please Lex, I need more!"

Lexa quickly flipped Clarke over and hovered over her. "What do you need, Clarke?"

She trailed her fingers down down down. "I need those fingers inside me. I need my fingers inside of you."

Clarke snaked her hand between them and didn't wait for Lexa. Her fingers slid into Lexa with ease.

"Fuck! Clarke!"

Lexa's arm buckled and she lost her balance. She fell beside Clarke. "Shit sorry! Fuck!"

Clarke let out a soft laugh and moved to lie on her side facing Lexa. "Come here."

Clarke scooted closer leaning in for a kiss. Lexa happily met her lips. Clarke took Lexa's hand and guided it to her hip and then between them. Lexa bit Clarke's bottom lip and sucked on it as she took control of her hand sliding her fingers through slick folds. She circled Clarke's clit softly and it made her shiver. "Don't tease me please, I need you inside."

Lexa couldn't help but obey. She pressed her fingertips softly to her tight entrance and could feel Clarke pull her in. "Fuck, Lex!"

Lexa leaned in for another kiss and swallowed Clarke's moans as she curled her fingers and pressed her palm against Clarke's clit. Clarke snaked her own hand between them and slid her fingers into Lexa curling them the same as Lexa's and pressing her palm against her clit. She kept her palm in place and curled her fingers staying mostly inside timing the spongy front wall. Lexa mirrored the movements of Clarke as Clarke captured plump lips once again. The kisses got messier as moans escaped them. Teeth scraped against lips until all they could do was moan against each other's lips hot breath filling the space between them.

The sound of their movements was porn worthy. They were both so wet so close to cuming. Each press of fingers just made more wet squelches.

"Fuck Lex I'm gonna cum! Cum with me?"

"Yes fuck yes! Oh Clarke!"

"Ah, Lex! Lex! Yes ah ah!"

Walls contracted and gushes of slick heat spilled over palms and thighs. Finally sated at least for the moment exhaustion settled between them. They lazily kissed slow and sweet. They pressed their foreheads together and sighed contently. “We should rinse off.”

“We should but I can’t move.” Big blue eyes pouted.

Lexa got up and quickly picked up the blonde and carried her to the shower. They rinsed off and languidly kissed. They took turns washing each other softly and did the same as they dried off. Lexa removed the comforter that was soaked and grabbed a clean one. “Do you want a shirt and shorts?”

“No. I need you to feel you. Have you close.”

“Same.”

Lexa helped Clarke into bed and snuggled into her. They both felt the exhaustion settle in their bones tired yawns and slow breaths were lulling them to sleep.

It was the most blissful sleep either of them had ever experienced. It would become the only way they could sleep. Wrapped up in each other. That’s the thing about soulmates once you find your person everything changes. Fall would have a whole new special place in Clarke’s heart. Another reason to love it. Lexa too. The Spooktacular Arkadia Festival would remain a tradition for them, their children, and their grandchildren. Soulmates in this little life and in so many others. Forever Clexa lives on. <3

#Clextober23 #Day 3 Annual Fall Festival #Clexa #Day 3 #Clarke Griffin #Lexa Woods #The100AU #Soulmates #Harley Quinn #Poison Ivy #Harlivy

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blushblushbear · 4 months

Note

cashew headcanons please im so so gay for him

TIME FOR DIS NUT aka our darling little bookworm

cut cause I went on for a bit and none of it is important OOPS

okay first off since he's a college boy let's start with the fact that he has zero alcohol tolerance

like none

he'll have 2 sips of a light beer or a half a shot of malibu and he's red in the face sweating and swaying like 'oh wow, I'm really feeling it haha'

Same with coffee

anything past a normal strength cup he's VIBRATING

he doesn't have a heart condition like Nimh but give him a shot of espresso and he'll think he does

is constantly waiting for someone to ask him for book recommendations

and when they do he is sponge bob's eager face BOY IS OVER THE MOON

also he doesn't just read good books

he'll literally read anything

he ADORES trashy novels

especially if they're spicy *eyebrow wiggle*

he recognizes they aren't good but they are so wild and out of pocket like

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S SECRETLY HIS EX'S BROTHER AND ALSO HIS STEP MOM'S LOVER AND DATING HIS EVIL SECRET HALF COUSIN WHOSE TRYING TO KILL THEIR UNCLE AND HIS DAD BUT CAUGHT FEELINGS AND IS NOW PLOTTING TO TAKE HIM HOSTAGE ////WHAT?!////

he'd love shows like gossip girl and pretty little liars if they were BOOKS instead

except OOPS they are actually and he'd love to infodump about that little fact to me if I let him (at least I think they both are?? I know pretty little liars is-- THAT PLOT IS /NUTS/)

honestly he loves when things are written well but he also loves when plots are NUTS

the only kind of nuts he can have

well... second kind

he'd be a secret college slut (respectfully and also def not actually a secret) if he wasn't head over heels for you

now he's just in your dms/texts constantly

his family is just as quiet and mousey as he is

everyone is just as nerdy

though his dad doesn't read as much-- he's more tv and movies and games nerd

he gets his love of books from his mom's side

he'd KILL to be a librarian

or work at a bookstore

English major vibes

but not just vibes that actually is his major lol

has def had a crush on 3 different librarians growing up and 1 creative writing teacher

can't math for shit

his favorite parts of campus friends taking him on nights out is him getting to read in little corners he can find and the 3am breakfasts at the local diner

I've talked about this before but him Nimh and Poe are in a book club together

he thinks Nimh is the coolest cause he's a PA for a publisher

can read a harry potter length book series in an afternoon (also hates terfs <3 )

his favorite genres are romance of any kind but he does have a special fondness for the trashier romances, fantasy, and he does love a mystery but mostly cause he can never see the twists coming

the smartest idiot you'll ever meet

or maybe he's the dumbest smart guy???

either way he is both very clever and very simple all at once

also very well meaning

incapable of wrong

only of oops

(a lot of oops actually, he's kinda clumsy)

once went a whole day without eating cause someone recommended a new series and he LIKED IT VERY MUCH

I wish for the life of me I could remember ANY book series atm

I know of a few by like--- vaguely what they're about but I can't remember their names

he could though

he will spend whole dates telling you the plot of a book series in great detail

loves pets

not great with them

also low key allergic to a few

big rip cause he loves cuddles

cries over a cat at a distance while sniffing

also really likes birds

met a few birds as a squirrel and now he knows Poe who was a bird so like--

birds are buds of his

can't say no to something cute

cute eraser, cute pen, cute notebook, cute cookie, cute you

just can't refuse cute

would totally rock a cottage core vibe if he could manage to keep a plant alive

he lost his ficus Marcel and he's still low key getting over it

uses a wallet sized photo of you as a book mark

def has you or a pic of you and him as a lock screen

the home screen is a pic of a page of a book

is very good at those 'name the book this opening line is from' challenge

good omens, both the book and the show, WRECKED HIM

actually good omens was his fav book to screen adaption thus far

he has a few others but he's more excited about good omens

wants to be friends with Aziraphale

I could ramble on forever but I think I'll end it here

loves that hack where you put cheese on ramen

#bear text #blush blush #blush blush game #bb game #bear talks #bb #cashew blush blush #blush blush cashew #cashew bb #cashew #bear answers

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melanieathene · 1 month

Text

Mr. Wonderful

This is a love story.

I'd like to say it was a classic case of love at first sight, but I don't know if that's true.

All I know for certain is that it's a love that was meant to be.

We don't get many quality folk in this dump that calls itself a diner. Truckers who haven't seen a washcloth in days – weeks maybe. Bums who stumble in to get out of the cold, taking up table space long after they've drained the last drop of coffee in their cup. Old folks on a tight budget looking for a cheap meal. Cheaters looking to score, streetwalkers looking to oblige them. Impatient, forlorn, pitiful people. Losers, every one.

He stood out like a sunbeam slicing through a cloudy sky. Clean, well-dressed, and handsome – god, he took my breath away with his movie star good looks. He was way prettier than the models you see in those fancy magazines – the ones I leaf through in the grocery line, but can never afford to buy.

“I'm gonna to marry that man,” I murmured.

Rhonda snapped her gum as she turned her head to follow my gaze. “Him?” She snorted. “Honey, he's out of your league. Married. Or gay. My money is on gay. Look at the long-haired fella he's with. There's something going on between them.”

“I don't care. I want that table. I'll trade you for the party of six.” I hitched my thumb towards table three.

The cackling old biddies sitting there were fussy, but they were surprisingly good tippers. Regulars who liked to meet up after church, or their book club, or whatever. Normally, Rhonda and I butted heads over who got to serve 'em.

“Your loss.” Rhonda shrugged and sauntered away. I saw the good-looking guy shoot a glance at her ample bosom as she walked by.

Gay, my ass.

I popped a couple of buttons on my blouse, the better to display my cleavage. If he liked boobs, mine were an even bigger eyeful than Rhonda's. The rest of the package wasn't bad either.

The green eyes that turned my way as I approached the back-corner booth set me in mind of an emerald I once saw in a store window. Dazzling. No other word for it.

“What can I offer you, gentlemen?” I asked in as sultry a voice as I could muster.

“Well, I don't know,” Mr. Wonderful drawled – and damned if he didn't sound just as good as he looked. “What do you have to offer?” The suggestive smile that accompanied the question set my pulse racing and my cheeks ablaze.

“Dean!” the tall one barked.

Oh-oh. I quickly suppressed a sigh. Jealous boyfriend alert. Abort! Abort!

But it would appear luck was on my side, because the next words out of his mouth were:

“You'll have to excuse my brother. He... He's...” Mr. Tall flung up his hands, as if giving up on trying to explain the unexplainable.

His (hallelujah!) brother grinned unrepentantly.

“I'll have a salad – the house dressing is fine,” Mr. Tall continued, obviously deeming it better for all concerned if he changed the subject. “He'll have the double cheeseburger with fries. And, uh... two coffees, please. Make mine decaf.”

“And pie,” Dean added. His eyes caressed my name tag, before straying over to the curve of my breast. “Apple if you've got it, Sherri with an 'i'. With whipped cream –”

“And a cherry on top?”

“Ahh, a woman after my own heart. Thank you, darlin'.”

I could feel the weight of his stare as I walked away. Who could blame me if I put a little extra wiggle in my walk?

“Not gay,” I whispered as Rhonda and I crossed paths. “With his brother. And he's a first class flirt.”

“Hrmph,” she muttered. “That don't mean nothing. I might bump him from gay to bi, but that's the best I can do for you. My gaydar's never wrong.”

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Rhonda? She's my best friend and I love her to bits, but she can be an insufferable pain in the ass when she thinks she's right. Which is all the time.

I wasn't going to let her be right this time. Mr. Wonderful – Dean! – was the kind of man I'd been dreaming of for far too many years. I was through with settling for Cracker Jack toys! I wanted a real prize. And there he was... not ten feet away.

A glance over my shoulder at the booth showed Dean frowning as Mr. Tall shoved his laptop towards him. They both seemed pretty engrossed by whatever was on that screen. Real serious, like. So it would appear that I had a little competition after all. Digital competition. Pfftt! I wasn't worried about that. With my looks and bubbly personality, most men easily sway the way I want them to go. I fluffed my hair and unfastened yet another button. Hey, when you're going for the gold, you gotta give it all you've got.

I picked up the tray containing their order and called up my best smile. The megawatt one that best shows off my dimples and pearly whites.

That smile dimmed considerably as I turned to face them.

There was a third person in the booth. Another man. Another looker, with dark, wind-swept hair and heavy five o'clock shadow on his chiseled jaw. Dean had scooched over to make room for Mr. Trench Coat, but they were sitting close. Really close. In fact, they were pressed together from shoulder to hip to knee.

Dean caught my eye as I approached and hissed, “Personal space!”

“My apologies,” Mr. Trench Coat replied in a low rumble that rivalled Dean's for the honour of sexiest voice ever. Though why he was apologizing wasn't clear to me. Dean was the one who hadn't moved over far enough in the first place. The bigger question was where he had come from, though. I hadn't heard the bell ring to announce his arrival. It was a mystery that didn't sit well with me.

“Would you like to place an order, sir?” I said, polite and frosty in the same breath, as I set plates in front of the two brothers.

“No.”

No, thank you. Lovely manners you have, there.

Blue eyes lifted to meet my gaze, staring at me – through me – as if they could see into my very soul.

“No, thank you,” he intoned.

And just like that, I was dismissed. I mattered less to him than the cockroaches in the kitchen.

His eyes turned back to Dean. Dean's gaze fell to his plate. Mr. Tall choked back what could have been a chuckle – or maybe he just swallowed funny.

I beat a hasty retreat. But I wasn't done with table nine yet. Dean was clearly a dessert man. And I had pie as my secret weapon. Homemade pie, too. None of that pasty store-bought stuff most dives like ours serve. I baked it myself twice a week to squeeze a few extra bucks from our skinflint boss, and I wasn't beyond letting that little fact slip when I brought a slice over to Dean. So, take that, Blue Eyes.

Confidence restored, I felt almost generous towards the poor guy. I even brought him a glass of ice water – which he didn't touch. Nor did he thank me for it.

It was a fairly busy night, but I kept glancing over to that corner as I hurried about my tasks. Dean had once again inched closer to Blue Eyes – or maybe Blue Eyes was crowding him? Either way, their knees and elbows were knocking. Mr. Tall noticed this too. Judging from the knowing little smirk he wore, it wasn't the first time he'd seen it happen. But even his eyebrows rose when Blue Eyes casually swiped a fry from Dean's plate, and Dean didn't so much as blink. He'd slapped Mr. Tall's hand when he'd tried that trick not five minutes before, hard, growling something along the lines of, “if you insist on eating rabbit food, don't expect me to share the good stuff.”

Blue Eyes dove in for another fry. And then a third. And then he snagged Dean's coffee and took a tentative sip.

Apparently, that wasn't much to his liking. I had to turn away from the sourpuss face he pulled, just so I didn't laugh out loud. When I turned back, Dean was doctoring his coffee – pouring in creamer and adding tons of sugar – all without taking his eyes off the computer screen or his mind off his ongoing conversation with Mr. Tall. He removed the stir stick from the mug and licked it. Blue Eyes took advantage of his distracted state to grab the coffee and cautiously sample the results. He smiled and took a second, deeper drink. And a fourth fry.

It was with considerably less enthusiasm than I had originally planned that I delivered the pie and declared it was made by yours truly.

Oh, I hovered in the vicinity, ready and eager to reap the rewards of my labour, but I had a sinking feeling that Rhonda – once again – was going to be proven right.

Sure enough, I wasn't the one Dean sought out after the first bite. The look of bliss that crossed his face was all I'd wished for – and more – but it was Blue Eyes he turned to. Blue Eyes on the receiving end of an ecstatic smile. Blue Eyes who obligingly opened his mouth when so prompted, and thus received the second forkful of my pie.

What Blue Eyes thought of it, I'll never know. For at that very moment, the bell that had been faithfully announcing arrivals and departures (except for Blue Eyes', of course) blasted from its place above the door, followed by the door itself. Shattered glass flew in all directions, and the metal frame embedded itself in table five. I heard Rhonda scream, saw her limping for the kitchen with blood seeping from a gash on her left leg. Customers who jumped up, preparing to follow her example and flee, were trampled as a horde of people poured into the diner – fifteen – twenty – maybe more. They looked like a biker gang, all dressed in black leather with dangling chains, all tattoos and piercings and unkempt beards. We've had a lot of bikers pass through. Most of 'em never cause a spot of trouble, though a couple of times we've had rival gangs rumbling in our parking lot. But I'd never, ever before seen black eyes like this lot had. Black. So very black. Like the gates of hell must be...

I'm a little hazy on what happened next. There was a lot of hollering and pushing and crashing. Things flew through the air – tables, chairs, even people.

I slipped in a puddle of what I sincerely hoped was ketchup, and felt myself falling... but, somehow, Dean was there to catch me. He scooped me up in his arms like the hero in one of those stupid romance novels Rhonda likes to read. He carried me through the mêlée, shoved me into the restroom, and told me to lock the door and keep it locked.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I didn't have to see any more to know that whatever was happening out there, it was bad. Really bad.

I just prayed the bathroom door was strong enough to keep it from happening to me.

If there had been a window, I would have climbed out of it and run away.

But there wasn't a window. And I would never have known the end of the story if I had skipped out at the middle.

Two clear voices rang out, rising above the continuous chorus of furious shouts and frantic cries. A sudden wash of light crept under the door, almost blinding me with its intensity. The silence that followed was almost worse than the horrible noise that preceded it.

I'm not ashamed to admit I screamed like a little girl when a quiet knock sounded on the door. I was bawling like one too, I was that scared: snot and mascara smearing my face, breath hitching and heart hammering fit to burst.

“Sherri? Sherri, it's Sam. It's over. It's okay to come out.”

“I don't know you, Sam.” I sniffled and drew closer to the door, but I wasn't about to open it. “Why should I trust you?”

“I'm Dean's brother.”

“Where's Dean?”

“He was injured in the attack. Cas is... uh... patching him up. Don't worry, Dean's in good hands.”

“Is Cas a doctor?”

“No... not exactly. He's... It's hard to explain. Sherri, will you open the door? We have to get you out of here.”

“Dean told me to stay put.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” I heard Sam mutter. And then, louder, “Cas! Can you help Dean over here? I need him to convince Sherri that it's safe.”

Slow, shuffling footsteps made their way across the floor. It felt like an eternity before the voice I wanted to hear finally spoke my name.

“Sherri,” he said wearily. “It's Dean. Open the door.”

Blue Eyes was standing there scowling at me when I cracked the door open. His arm was snugly draped around Dean's waist, clearly supporting most of his weight. Dean's arm was slung around Blue Eyes' shoulders, further steading himself. I suppose I should have felt guilty for making Dean come to me in his condition, but I didn't. I flung myself against his chest and hugged him tight. But not too tight, and not for as long as I really wanted to hold him. His quick gasp let me know how much his ribs were hurting him.

“Thank you,” I said, reluctantly stepping back. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“It's what we do. Besides, how could I deprive the world of a five star pie maker like you?” The cocky grin was back and (damn!) it looked good on his face. Even bruised and bleeding, he was one fine looking man.

Blue Eyes' fingers twitched, knotting into the fabric of Dean's shirt. His little finger brushed against bare flesh where the shirt had rucked up. Dean shivered and turned a questioning gaze his way. “Sam will take you home,” he said absentmindedly, as if he'd already forgotten I was still standing there. It was obvious he was trying real hard to fit a puzzle together, as if he'd just found a missing piece and the picture was finally making sense.

Sam ushered me away, his giant hand hovering near my face, ready to shield me from the worst of the carnage, or so I believed at that moment. We were almost to the door when a thought struck me.

“Rhonda!” I exclaimed, suddenly stopping dead in my tracks. “She went into the kitchen. She was hurt.”

“Wait here.” Sam righted a toppled chair and gently but firmly insisted I sit down. I bit my lip as I looked around. Carnage? Where was the carnage? There should have been bodies. Lots of bodies. But there were none, just a strange, dark ash that coated every surface. As if the people had been burned away.

I remembered the blazing light.

Just before it flared, I remembered a voice calling, “Dean! Dean!” Desperation filled the cry. The anguish of a man about to lose all that he held dear. The voice of a blue-eyed man who liked his coffee overly sweet.

And I remembered Dean's voice crying out in reply. One single word: “Cas!” As if the name carried with it a thousand conversations they'd never had – should have had – might now have.

The kitchen door swung on its rusty hinges, and Sam came towards me carrying Rhonda as if she weighed no more than a kitten. She was unconscious, but alive. I felt my heart blossom in relief as I rose from the chair and rested a hand on her arm. Sam led us out the door. Out to the blessed smell of fresh air, where a hint of rain lingered like a promise on the breeze.

I don't know why I turned around for one final look at Mr. Wonderful.

He didn't look back at me.

He and Blue Eyes were too busy staring into each other's eyes.

Slowly, Dean leaned forward. Just as slowly, Blue Eyes tilted his head and leaned in to meet him halfway.

All love stories should end with such a tender, yearning kiss.

And, like I said at the beginning, this is a love story.

It just isn't mine.

Originally posted 2015-03-03. Just thought it might be fun to post some old stories here. :)

#supernatural #spn #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #original character #destiel fanfic

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butmakeitgayblog · 11 months

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I'm not the same anon who asked about the story but I would love to know more about when Clarke finds out Lexa is gay. Love your fics and your blog <3

Thank you bby 💕

Clarke finds out by accident.

Gay serendipity, if you will.

It's on a night about a week or so into her ill-conceived visit home when she's bouncing off the walls of her mother and stepfather's very quiet, very 'Bud Lite is hard alchohol, Clarke', very everyone's already in bed by 9:45pm home.

So she does what her little bisexual heart used to dream of back when she'd be sighing over a mountain of homework that she'd put off until the night when there truly was nothing in podunk town to do. She grabs her keys and drives two towns over to the nearest hole-in-the-wall gay bar.

It's not that she's looking to hookup or anything, but she's banking on the booze being cheaper, the bartender less sleezy, and the music being at least nominally better than any of its close straight counterparts. And she gets a few raised eyebrows at her obviously not-from-around-here attire, but it's find cuz Clarke works well under pressure snd it's no time before she's 3 drinks in and made best friends with the bouncer decked out in leather.

So imagine her shock when she traipses her way toward the bathroom in the back, already mentally planning her gymnastics of how she's gonna pee in this place without actually having to touch anything, when she catches a glimpse of a familiar head of brunette in the corner.

That? Pulls her up short quick as shit. Steps fully grinding to stop, need for a bathroom long forgotten.

Because.... yyyyeah... Ok.

Ok.

That's... That is definitely Lexa.

That is Lexa sitting in the corner of dingy gay bar, wearing that godawful sweater and nursing what looks like a whiskey sour.

The same woman who'd lead every student council anti-drug and alcohol school assembly. The same woman who'd been active in 4-H Club and who'd probably made honor roll when she was still in diapers. The same woman who'd sassed Clarke just a few days prior for being stupid enough to ask if Gus's could manage a cappuccino or an espresso, and had served her up a cup of plain black coffee instead.

With a smile and an offer of her choice between regular or decaf, and the option of store bought hazelnut creamer or sugar free vanilla ("We keep it stocked for Mr. Parker's diabetes" she'd explained for no reason at all) if Clarke would like, because customer service, obviously.

So yeah, that is definitely her sitting there sipping her drink while reading a book in a bar, because of course she would be.

And Clarke approaches her with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, making her way over and plunking down in the small table's spare seat with little more than a, "What in the hell are you doing here?"

Lexa, having far more tact and just a bit less liquor in her system, marks her place with her finger and flips the book closed and greets Clarke with a perfectly friendly, if not tired, "Hello, Clarke."

As though running into each other at gay bar isn't something worth causing Clarke's brain to short circuit.

"What are you doing here?"

"I suspect the same thing as you," Lexa says on the tail end of a dainty sip and rattle of the ice cubes in her drink.

Which, yeah duh, obviously that makes sense, but also, "How— Wha— How did I never know you were..."

"A lesbian?"

It's the way she says it. With just that soft lilt of amusement mixed with a touch of scandal, all glinting eyes in the bar's neon lowlight and those ridiculously full lips pulled up in a secret kind of grin.

It all has Clarke struggling to ignore the sudden swoop of her belly as she sits back in her chair. "Well... yeah," she breathes around the inexplicable feeling that somehow her entire childhood had been a lie. "How did I never know this? How did no one ever know this?"

Lexa just shrugs.

"No one ever bothered to ask."

And that lands like a boulder-sized punch to the gut. Because she's right. And Clarke knows it.

A piece of her aches imagining how lonely that must've felt.

"I'm bi," she finds herself blurting just to fill in the awkward silence that stretches between then and because it suddenly feels important that Lexa know that about her as well.

Lexa must take mercy on her, or maybe it's just pity with the way she nods, like that wasn't a completely redundant and idiotic thing to say considering they are both sitting in a gay bar.

"I know, Clarke."

"Wait, you already knew?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"I'm honestly not sure."

"We did— You and I, we never talked... How exactly did you know then?"

She hums and tips back another sip. "Hm... In the wise words of a great thinker that came before me, 'One can observe a lot just by watching'."

Clarke can't help the roll of her eyes, because of course Lexa would still spout philosophical crap when drinking whiskey. "What does that— Is that some kind of zen shit or something?"

"Mmm, close," Lexa says in a quiet laugh. "Yogi Berra. Dad's a big baseball history fanatic."

Right.

She should've expected something like that.

Because Clarke is in fact still talking to the Alexandria Woods. The one who can't seem to manage to just be normal at any goddamn point in her life. But as perplexing as this woman is - as she's always been, apparently - that still doesn't answer her question.

"Okaaay. So, what? Are you saying I was obvious?"

Lexa's eyes feel magnetic. Dangerous at how they pin Clarke under their stare. The few seconds it takes for Lexa to slowly shake her head feel like an eternity in Clarke's mind before she offers up nothing more than simple, "No."

Clarke has no idea what to make of that answer.

And Clarke decides right then that maybe she's too drunk for all this. For this woman and her riddles and her general weird ass confusing... ness. Maybe her brain is just too addled by cheap beer and the faint scent of cigarettes to make sense of the night's revelations on top of the look Lexa sits there and gives her.

Or why it has her body getting warm and tingly from the inside...

So she excuses herself in the form of a scraping chair legs across the linoleum and an eloquent declaration of her suddenly dire need to pee.

Lexa takes it stride. As though she'd been expecting as much all along, not missing a beat as she flips her book back open and goes right back to her saved spot on the page.

Clarke can only manage a grunt in return in her haste to get some air when Lexa quietly tells her to get home safe.

#anon #a walk to remember au #AWTR synopsis #anonymous-red-506 I saw you asked for this too 💕

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mandiffe · 1 year

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probably ted lasso spoilers

I went through the TL season 3 playlist so you don't have to and made some notes! (I considered this playlist done but we'll see how this goes) hope you enjoy!

The song Superstar is from the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar. It’s sung by Judas’ spirit who had committed suicide earlier. I don’t want to put a parallel between Ted and Jesus and Nate and Judas but it kinda lies on the surface? And lines Every time I look at you I don't understand Why you let the things you did get so out of hand. You'd have managed better if you'd had it planned. Why'd you choose such a backward time in such a strange land? OH MY GOD

Three songs by Nigerian artists go in a row, so ep3 or 4 is probably about Sam and his restaurant or include this plotline in any way. Or we're getting another Nigerian player!

Everybody knows is an interesting choice because this song raises a lot of social and relationship problems. I think the most important is hypocrisy or, rather, knowing about issues and not doing anything to fix them, letting them be. Maybe it refers to everyone who is close to Ted and notices what’s happening with him but not paying proper attention.

Joker and The Thief is used in “The Hangover” which is referred in s2e11 when Beard calls Ted out for being too closed off.

I bet Fist Fight! is either about Jamie’s dad or Rupert being beaten up. Please.

Sinister Kid may be about Nate and him thinking that he was naturally-born evil and he can’t change it? But he’ll soon find out that it’s untrue. (And that's me, that's me The boy with the broken halo That's me, that's me The devil won't let me be)

Something tells me that Don’t think twice, it’s all right is about Tedbecca. Also second Bob Dylan song per season, first one plays when Ted cleans up his flat. So it’s also can be about Michelle. (I ain't saying you treated me unkind You could have done better, but I don't mind And you just sorta wasted my precious time But don't think twice it's all right) Upd: it occurred to me that it might be about Jamie or Keeley referring to each other.

Oh What A Performance! (I won an Oscar for playing a fool) and Quiet (Goodbye Don't cry You know why And it'll be just as quiet when I leave As it was when I first got here) give me an ache for some reason. Ep 6’s (apparently) gonna hurt.

But Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go straight after Nirvana’s song is suspicious. Hopefully it’s about Roykeeley who are back together.

CONGRATS GUYS HET WERD ZOMER, VENUS AND ZIJ GELOOFT IN MIJ ARE DUTCH SONGS AND IN THE PLAYLIST THEY’RE SOMEWHERE NEAR EP8 THEREFORE “WE’LL NEVER HAVE PARIS” IS MOST LIKELY THE NETHERLANDS EP!

Let’s talk about Boy by Book of Love!!! The song is said to be about woman who has feelings for a gay man. To me this song is also kind of trans-coded. AND Book of Love’s songwriter stated that this song “written about Boy Bar, which was a very exclusive gay club in the East Village.”. (I want to be where the boys are But I'm not allowed I wait outside of the boy's bar I wait for them to all come out)

I’m 99% sure that ep8 is THE episode.

It’s interesting that after Three Little Birds (Ajax anthem) comes The Angel (North London Forever) (song dedicated to Arsenal). Maybe we’ll see UEFA Champions League in some way or it’s just a coincidence and it’s just Richmond playing with Arsenal.

Dreams was used in the trailer of “Boys on The Side” where one of the main plotlines is unrequited love of a woman to a woman who has something with a man. But then both girls admit their love for each other (not necessarily romantic but still). Interesting, right? Might be another coincidence though.

Centerfield confuses me, song about baseball in a show about football? Is it irony or what.

Doomed speaks about the experience of aromantic people, the song is in the album “Aromanticism” and its writer explores corners of life without possibility of feeling romantic attraction. Are we getting an aromantic character??

Criminal feels like a Nate song, him feeling bad for mistakes and wanting to pay for his wrongdoings. (Heaven help me for the way I am Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand But I keep living this day like the next will never come)

And finally songs from “La Cage aux Folles”, a 1983 musical about gay couple, Georges, who’s an owner of a drag nightclub named “La Cage aux Folles”, and Albin, who’s a drag queen. Let’s add a little bit of a context. Georges and Albin’s son Jean-Michel is engaged to Anne whose parents are conservative and they don’t know yet that their daughter’s future-in-laws are a gay couple. Jean-Michel asks Georges to tell Albin to absent himself from his extravagant behavior and even invite Jean-Michel’s biological mother for a dinner instead of Albin so they can seem ‘normal’. Georges hadn’t had a chance to explain the situation to his spouse as Albin went performing to the club.

It’s the moment when La Cage aux Folles plays, the song describes the nightclub, its vulgarity and eccentricity, how it’s tolerant and welcoming to everyone (https://www.songlyrics.com/la-cage-aux-folles/la-cage-aux-folles-lyrics/ - here’s the lyrics if someone needs). I have no idea when this song might play in s3, especially when it comes to the end of it, honestly.

So, Georges and Jean-Michel started redecorating their house to make it look less gay without Albin knowing. Albin accidentally notices the two, Georges has to explain and Albin performs I Am What I Am practically letting them know that he’s proud of being himself and won’t change for anyone.

As someone had mentioned before this song basically became a “gay anthem” and was widely recorded. It’s the finale number of the first act as it apparently will be the last song of the third season. Considering all of the above I doubt that they chose both of these songs by accident and put them in an exact same order as they are in the musical. Something’s coming.

We know that we’re getting Ted at the airport as the last scene of the season. He might be waiting for his mother or Michelle with Henry to arrive (or leave) but either way he’s not going to change for them and they’ll have to accept him the way he is. And yes, I believe it’ll be a message about queerness. There are too much signs (and songs) pointing at that.

Perhaps when Jason said “Maybe by May 31, once all 12 episodes of the season [have been released], they’re like, ‘Man, you know what, we get it, we’re fine. We don’t need anymore, we got it.’” he addressed conservative fans of the show (they form a great percentage of the audience, don’t forget) who wouldn’t want more of TL since it became ‘woke’.

That’s it, let me know your thoughts :)

#thoughts?#and prayers #ted lasso #ted lasso season 3 #ted lasso s3 #ted lasso spoilers

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hoochieblues · 3 months

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tagged for a last line written by @aria-i-adagio (ty!) and... there has been very little writing. But, because 'tis the season, and because the second round eds will be continuing for another three million years until I get time to finish them, here's a whole ass excerpt from the Valentine's lottery chapter of The Fountain and the Nightjar (title? title!! ...title...?) which is one of the latest to get _FINAL-final(2)_FINALFINAL appended to the scriv subdoc heading. Yay!

My brain is fried today so I forget who's actively doing these rn, but tagging with love and no pressure @faux-fires, @dreadfutures and @highwayphantoms. If you would like to consider yourself tagged, please do so. :)

For context: I'm admitting it now... TFANT is basically Georgian noir. This chapter takes place in the story's equivalent of a smoky jazz club (lol), i.e. a molly house run by an old dandy and his toyboy abolitionist husband. A Valentine's lottery was basically like secret Santa, but for V-Day gifts and/or 'dates.' Also, if you need the historical primer, molly houses were the gay bars of their time (c.1700-1820-ish) but more 'lowkey local institution' than 'hot 'n' cruisey clubland.' Similarly, 'maiden names' were queer nicknames or alter egos, closer to C20th Polari/camp slang than, say, a femme persona associated exclusively with drag (or allied to gender identity). I pulled a lot from primary sources, so not only is much of the book based on real(ish) people's lives, I've also got a... uh. lot. of research material on C18th queer culture. It is interesting as all hell, so I have to cut myself off before I digress.

Behold, my protagonist, thrust into that most chilling of scenarios: a social event. Gasp.

----------------------

The exchange of gifts began, Julius intoning the names and matching the lottery couples together. Sukey Hackabout, a heavy, round-cheeked man of about five and thirty, was Valentine to Kingston Sally, part-time barman at the Green Dragon Inn, who had a faint Jamaican accent and a sweetly gentle smile. He presented Sukey with a painted paper fan, to much delight, and ‘Cupid’ held up his arms in triumph at the evening’s first official kiss.

“There, now!” Julius cried, taking the hands of his next victims. “Who braves the little god’s barb, eh? Molly Irons, with arms like Vulcan—”

Molly, a thickset, well-muscled blacksmith, unsurprisingly a popular fixture of the house, looked a little embarrassed at the catcalls, but preened all the same.

“—and Miss Guzzle herself, Susie Crimson. Who has to wonder what a gift’s in store here, indeed!”

Susie was a slender, unassuming young man at first glance, fair-haired and freckled, but utterly notorious for a single-minded interest, and talent. Molly offered Susie a small gift wrapped in brown paper. She tore it open, revealing a neatly wrought pair of polished shoe buckles which, judging by the shy pride in Molly’s face, she’d made herself. Somewhere among the bawdy comments and whistles, Susie looked genuinely flattered, and they smiled at each other as Julius set them palm-to-palm.

“There, now, and who first feels love’s sting? The poet says ‘Love is a fiend, a fire, a heaven—’” Julius paused just long enough to glance over at Lippy with a wink. “—and a hell, / Where pleasure, pain, and sad repentance dwell.’ But what do we say? What do we say? Take the first, and damn the rest! Now, who’s next?”

The company’s laughter and applause spilled over into cheers. In the corner, Kit had wrapped his arms around Oliver’s waist and stood behind him, chin on his shoulder and soft words in his ear as they watched the festivities unfold. Ollie’s nerves appeared to be giving way to glassy-eyed wonder. Someone had brought out a fiddle and, as Julius continued with the lottery, the first drawn-out note of a folk song rang out in warning.

“Barnfield,” Lippy confided to Will, topping off both their glasses before apparently remembering it was the watered brandy they were drinking. He sneered at the decanter as he put it down, but took a sip anyway. “One of the great poets. Aside from the classics, of course.”

“Of course,” Will agreed dutifully. “I know how you cleave unto Ovid.”

“Oh, shove your claws back in, Miss Kitten. Naughty puss don’t get no cream.”

Will snorted into his glass. Such a prospect seemed distant enough anyway.

Lippy tilted his head. A question seemed to waver behind his eyes until he shook it off and touched Will’s sleeve. “Well, you’re here, at least. I confess, I’d rather hear you hissing than not hear you at all, my dear.”

Will dredged up a smile, but could find nothing to say. The brandy barely softened the taste of guilt. The fiddle sawed into his brain, and he wondered how soon he could slip away without seeming more of a churl than he already felt. Julius called the names of another set of Valentines—Sal Draper, who was here with his long-time love, Russian Mary, matched to an older man who went by Queen Hook—and Will eyed the door, intent on fixing his escape route before any dancing threatened to begin.

#tfant tag #original bathtub hooch

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raspberryconverse · 9 months

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(pardon my bad cropping: it's been at least 8 years since I took a class on video editing and I can't figure out how to do it the way I want it)

When I saw this scene, it really got me thinking. At first I thought, "I never had any crushes on girls when I was younger. Discovering I was bisexual came out of nowhere." Or so I thought, until a few days ago.

I realized I was bisexual when I took a photography class my senior year of high school. My best friend was gay (so gay my mom could tell from across the street when we were 13), so it's not like I didn't know any queer people, but it just never really occurred to me that I could be queer too. Enter Purple-Haired Sarah. She had just moved to our town (I lived in one of those places the majority of people spend their entire childhood there), so I had just met her that year. She wasn't just pretty, but she (obviously) had purple hair and a fun style. If we had to work in pairs or groups, I wanted to be with her. Then one night I had a sexy dream about her. And that's when it clicked for me. Definitely a, "Well, guess I'm bi now." (There was a bit of experimentation with a friend of a friend to confirm, not that you necessarily need to do that)

But I really, truly thought I never had any crushes on other girls when I was younger. I saw this scene and thought, "Yeah, that was never me." I never had that urge to impress or desire to always be around certain friends- oh wait. Maybe I did.

My very first best friend was named Steph, or Steffy when we were younger. We met in second grade. I was always at her house or she was at mine (more often at hers because she had a computer and AOL so we could go in the chat rooms and do other online stuff in the early 90s). She used to live around the corner from me, but she moved a little bit away. Luckily, the school district let her and her brother still go to the same elementary school, but she did end up going to a different junior high/middle school (my district switched when we were in 8th grade, so we only spent 2 years at those schools). We also joined orchestra in 4th grade (violin for me, cello for her), though she didn't continue into JH/MS and I did. What was really interesting was that she facilitated in a crush I had on a boy who played viola (who eventually became a good friend in high school and we did make out a few times). I'd write him notes and she'd drop them in his viola case on her way to the cello section when we had rehearsals for the district wide Orchestra Festival. When we were younger, we both had a major love for the Baby-Sitters Club books. I remember one year I wanted us to dress as two of the characters for Halloween. She was supposed to be Kristy and I was Mary Anne (before her dad loosened up and let her wear things other than skirts and dresses). She didn't follow through with it though, and I was really upset about it.

I was really sad when Steph wasn't able to go to the same school as me for JH/MS. And when she went there, she really changed. TBH, I kinda did too, but I always was really disappointed that she changed so much. We were both big Hanson fans when they first were popular, but I never got into any of the other boy bands or pop artists of the late 90s/early 00s. She became really preppy and I was more punk/alternative (I went through a big Nirvana phase in 8th grade). It broke my heart that she wasn't my best friend anymore and we didn't have as much in common as we used to. We did go to the same high school and we were still friends, but it definitely wasn't the same. But I think the fact that I always wanted to hang out with her, was so disappointed when we weren't at the same school and that she changed so much might have been signs of an early crush (even if I was having crushes on boys at the same time).

The next one without a doubt (though I just thought of this yesterday) was my best friend Rachael. Rachael and I met in third grade and she was a part of my friend group with Steph. Later in elementary school, we were inseparable. She was definitely my best friend out of the friend group. In seventh grade, I spent a lot of time at her house. She even took me on a vacation with her family one summer. Unfortunately, in eighth grade she moved out to the county (IDK why my particular area uses the term "county" instead of "country," but that's just the local vernacular for the area west of the interstate). We stayed close friends, though. I still spent a lot of time at her house because my mom really liked her (not that she didn't like Steph) and as we got older, we got into similar music and clothing styles, unlike Steph. All through high school we spent a ton of time together, despite her being a 25 minute drive away (if that doesn't say something about how much I loved being with her, IDK what does). She was my partner in crime when I had a boyfriend my mom didn't like and she kind of a had thing with his friend too. We talked my grandma into taking us to see them, even though my mom forbade it. When I got a car, I would drive out to hang out with her all the time (and drive her and her boyfriend around and they'd make out in the backseat of my mid 80s Buick and I'd "accidentally" have to slam on the brakes so they'd go flying off the seat). We remained super close all through high school, despite not even being in the same school district. We went to local punk band concerts together, thrift shopped for fun random t-shirts from the kids section (that was kind of our style) and crushed on similar boys.

The only thing that was a bit of a problem with Rachael was when I came out as bisexual, it made her uncomfortable. Maybe she realized my feelings for her were more than platonic even though I didn't. I mean, there was always a lot of ass smacking and other silly things that could totally be seen as flirting, even though I didn't perceive it that way. But looking back, I totally see it now.

The last crush I didn't realize was a crush was the first one that got me thinking about this: Rhianon. I met Rhianon in seventh grade and she was just so cool, especially with such a cool name and I was boring Nicole V. Her parent let her dye fun color streaks in her dark hair and she wore such cool clothes. She was fairly popular, but not in a preppy way like it was in the late 90s. She didn't like boy bands or the other pop singers like Steph. She liked bands like No Doubt (she was very inspired by Gwen Stefani's fashion) and other alternative bands of the time. Honestly, she was kind of an inspiration. I wanted to be more like her. I wanted to be her. Maybe I just wanted her.

We were friends in high school because we still hung with the same crowd. I was definitely jealous of her: her confidence, her style, the boys she was able to date. I distinctly remember a local band show where she was dating one of the trombonist of one of the ska bands who I really like and I legit spent most of the show crying in the bathroom because seeing them all over each other made me so jealous. But was I jealous of her or was I jealous of him?

I certainly wouldn't have thought so at the time, but looking back, it probably was.

I definitely remember her posting on LiveJournal after she went to college that she had joined a sorority. I actually commented on the post and said I was very disappointed that she had because that just wasn't the Rhianon I knew. One of her new friends replied and didn't understand why I felt so strongly about it. But sororities just weren't very Rhianon, if you asked me. She still remained pretty cool all this time, though. She got married a few years before I did and she wore this really cute almost sort of rockabilly shorter wedding dress with a birdcage veil. I would have loved to be able to pull off something like that (not that I didn't love my wedding dress, because I wouldn't change a thing about the way my wedding turned out, minus the way the arch got set up), but I've just never had the confidence she's always had.

Oh, and the interesting thing about my Rhianon crush I didn't realize was still definitely a crush: she often comments or reacts to my Facebook posts and I was super disappointed that she didn't go to our high school reunion. I would have loved to have seen her. And now I know why.

That a-ha moment is really interesting to think about. Needless to say, Nick's bisexual discovery has made a lot of us older bis realize we had some of those feelings earlier than we originally thought. Even me, who swore up and down it was just Purple-Haired Sarah during senior year that did it for me. The more I think about it, the more I realize she probably wasn't the first.

#oh look guess i'm bi now #except i was all along #childhood crush #bisexual #bisexuality #bisexual awakening #bisexual glitter explosions #heartstopper #heartstopper netflix #heartstopper tv #heartstopper season 2 #heartstopper s2 #nick nelson

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fandomdaydreamer · 2 months

Text

Of a Sun and Flower

Pt. 2 You Fit Me

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC

Summary: Conflict induces a positive development when Nini meets the right person at the right time.

Warnings: alcohol, drug use, a psychoanalysis by someone who is not in any kind of medical field (me), symptoms of anxiety and depression, mentions of past abuse and overdose, domestic fights (with resolution, phew)

Notes: Well well well, if it isn't my late ass. Sorry, is all I can say. Life gets in the way and this chapter was fkn hard to write. Actually, I'm working on making Book 1 a real novel now, might be a real published author. Wheee

Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist -here-

Length: 8.8k

You Fit Me

The floor was littered with old chewing gum and spilt, sticky puddles of alcohol when I lowered my gaze at my mechanically piloted feet. It was hot, too hot underneath my wig, too hot between these strange bodies. With nothing but numbness in my mind, I made my hips sway to the rhythm of the heavy beat, felt the base resonate in my chest and alter my perception as my nostrils filled with the scent of people's sweat, cheap liquor and the stale dampness of the fog machines.

My eyes wandered into the dark corners of the club, where hidden figures were locked in a passionate kiss or lived out their high with their mouths wide open as they gazed into the flickering lights. They were but quick illuminations of limbs and faces, pale picture frames of colourful people dancing to a heavy electronic beat. A hypnotic voice was singing and people upon people danced to it like they were in a trance. The air was thick and condensation threatened to drip from the ceiling. It was easy to be sucked into their midst, give in to the alluring promise of forgetful hedonism and just float into the river Styx. Float into another dimension while fate would handpick the gluttons who would descend into the third circle of hell.

What would Pedro say if he saw me like this? Not having fun and denying myself any peace. Was I pretending to push myself into a nihilist universe to chase fatalism and toxicity? A blind person would have been able to see it.

Maybe I wasn't drunk enough to stop my mind from constantly wandering back home and wane between regret and anger. However, I was intoxicated enough to tilt my head into the sticky air, close my eyes and remain in the eternal Asphodel meadows for a little while longer. I felt so alone yet free of all that I knew. An anonymous, ordinary soul drifting through the night.

My state in limbo felt complete until a slimy touch seized my hip and I was promptly forced to take a step away. "No!" My protest fell on deaf ears.

"C'mon, baby. You gotta try this!" A guy in a gay club of all places forced a shot on me. He waved a friend over who brought more glasses that were filled with some kind of dark liquid.

I batted his wandering hands away and yelled at him to leave me alone.

"Fucking fa-." I could read the slur from his lips before he took another leering step towards me. How easily his words shattered against the heavy armour I had braced my soul with.

"She said no, dickface! Fuck off!" A woman with rhinestone eyebrows stepped in. Her shrill voice was loud against the music and she shoved him away. She flipped the man off and cackled at the range of slurs he threw back at us. "You okay?" My saviour hollered in my direction once he'd left us alone on the dance floor.

"Yeah, thank you!" I yelled back. I had seen and gone through worse things. Infinitely worse. "I'm sorry-" I gestured aimlessly when everything became too much anyway. In an attempt to escape, I made my way through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

I had no clue how much time I spent trying to sober up inside the stall that was plastered with graffiti and scribbles. A stick figure lay horizontal with x's crossed over instead of their eyes and memories of last summer flashed through my mind. Overdosed eyes had glazed over into a blur and I recalled how scary it had been to not be able to move my body as I nearly choked on foam and vomit. In a hazy fever dream, Pedro had found me just in time and in the worst way possible. How terrified he'd been. How stupid I felt about the way I behaved again.

In my overwhelmed state, I kept ignoring my phone as it buzzed for the millionth time this night. Pedro's ID blinked up again, the pet name I gave him mocked me along with all the hearts we'd sent back and forth in our recent past. Such a stark contrast to his currently unanswered texts. I wasn't tone-deaf to their urgency.

01:34 - Baby, I just need to know if you're ok, then I'll let you do your thing. Promise

Can you please pick up?

02:04 - Where are you? I can come and pick you up, wherever you are. I'm not mad at you

02:11 - Please just tell me you're safe

02:50 - Leonie, this has to stop! You've made your point ok?

03:00 - I swear tfg, the least you could do is answer! You care at all??

03:01 - *(Angel deleted this message)*

03:02 - Pick up the fucking phone.

The last text, I imagined he had written before pulling his hair out in sheer frustration. A full stop. Yikes.

"Fuck." I whispered to myself.

Inside the filthy stall, I closed my hands over my eyes and slumped over with my elbows resting on my knees. I tried willing my cramp to go away or at least deal with the pain of heavy guilt setting into another part of my stomach. "I'm such a fucking fraud," I admitted to myself in a moment of clarity and regret. Impulsive and short-tempered Leonie van Fleet, the misophonic asshole who doesn't know what she's doing, everyone. Round of applause.

A voice in the stall next to mine ripped me out of my thoughts. "Does anybody have a tampon?" They asked obnoxiously above the dull sound of thumping music.

"I do! Hold up." I yelled back immediately, pondering on my last one and deciding giving it away would limit my time here but maybe having no other choice was a good thing. "I'll trade you for some toilet paper." I put my hands through the bottom of the stall door and crouched down, hoping I wouldn't lose my balance when chipped white nail polish met equally broken black polish as they grabbed for the tampon.

"Thank you so fucking much. My night is saved." They said, made the exchange and I felt dizzy when I decided to end my crisis and finish up myself. "No problem, that's what uterus pals are for." I slurred before flushing and walking up to the sink. I felt a little more drunk than I had originally thought.

"What was that you were saying?" The voice sounded nasal like it's been through quite a bit of crying before. "You're a fraud? What do you mean by that?"

Nosey, this one.

"I mean uh... I'm pretending to be this destructive version of myself. Or what am I doing here?" I was reeling with thoughts while washing my hands with barely existent soap. With no option to dry them in sight, I let the water drip as I stared at my reflection. A stranger stared back, a vision of everything gone wrong.

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into it." The voice ripped me out of my tunnel vision again.

I crossed my arms and the words somehow kept flowing out almost too easily. "I just keep making the wrong decisions," I spoke above the sound of the distant, thumping beat. "Just don't know why. Maybe just to punish myself for my perfect life." I narrated my unthought-through, impulsive actions and concluded my crisis with the afterthought of a selfish brat. "You know what? What's worse is that all I do is punish the person that matters to me most."

"Huh." The toilet flushed and out the stall came the same woman from earlier and a look of recognition washed over our faces. "Oh, it's you!" We burst out at the same time. She was of similar height, maybe in her early forties but it was impossible to say with that skincare routine she had going for her. Apart from the eccentric decorations on her face, she had black shiny hair and red-painted lips. "The self-punishment over a hypothetical would make sense if you think you might not deserve the positive things in your life. Have you been through some shit? Apologies for assuming-" She washed her hands messily and also noticed the lack of soap. "I'm drunk."

My brain caught up with her a second later. "Yeah, horrendous stuff." I dramatised in my tipsy state and leaned my weight against the neighbouring sink.

I lacked the ability to comprehend how she could have been so spot-on at first sight. Maybe my cry for help was painted above my head as obvious as the neon sign of this club. The woman spoke with an equal amount of compassion and anger. "Many of us have. Bullied and chased out of our homes. Fewer rights as a marginalised group. It's worse even for the trans community. So many places where you must have felt not accepted. I'm sorry, that had to be tough."

"I'm... Yes, that's true but I'm not trans." I informed her with a smile, amused she'd thought I was.

She froze like an elephant in a porcelain shop. "That wig-"

"It's a wig, yes." She had a fair point for assuming. It was a high probability in a queer scene club like this and my heavy makeup and a wig I hadn't even glued on.

"Well..." She grinned, making it obvious to me that my hairline was crappy enough for me to not pass as a woman. "Anyway then, your partner, she's the best thing in your life and you're emotionally dependent on her?" She asked before bending down and took a sip straight from the tap.

Feeling like such a fraud again, I suddenly felt ashamed. I was out of place. "He is. I hope I'm not but the truth is, I couldn't live without him. He's the best thing in my life." I corrected her and she coughed into the stream.

"Damn, I assumed you'd at least be part of the L in the alphabet mafia. What were the odds?" "No, it's fine. We're in a queer club so... I'm sorry for invading this space. I guess I just wanted a peaceful night out. Can't escape men anywhere though. Surprise." I chuckled at her before being serious again. "Karma. I haven't been treating my partner well these past couple of months." Suddenly admitting it felt devastating and my voice quivered so much, it made her turn her entire body and meet me with a worried frown. "I had a very abusive dad and I'm afraid, so fucking afraid I'm the abuser now." I was taken aback by my confession, for it was so unlike me to bring up my past, let alone to a stranger. However, there was something about this woman. Something so comforting and familiar, I had to reveal a well-hidden part of my life to an equally drunk stranger in a filthy bathroom.

Yet I received nothing but her entire attention and while her presence felt comforting, her voice was clear and cool as ice. "My best guess is you have tried to cope with everything yourself, depending on whatever distracted you and fed your love deprivation." She deducted.

I gaped at her. "How-"

"Do you mind?" She pulled a cigarette from a battered package and I shook my head 'no' when she offered me one. "I think I get it now. Wait for it-" She climbed onto the heater and blew smoke out of the tiny window. For a moment, she digested the first drag, smoking in a kind of club where nobody would bat an eye anyway. I felt like a lost little kitten, staring up at her with big hungry eyes. It nearly seemed she gathered information by scanning me from head to toe. "You have some kind of European accent, maybe you were new here at some point and lonely. You're a petite, pretty little thing with daddy issues in a queer club, still unable to escape that predatory behaviour from earlier. So in theory, you know how to protect yourself because you had trauma to deal with but you feel deep hurt all the time. Plus, a loving partner and a domestic fight, equals the fragile state you're in. Babe, you're trying to run away from happiness. It's called self-sabotage."

My throat hurt from having swallowed too hard. Mind completely blank from unadulterated surprise, I stuttered. "Self- self-sabotage... is that what this is?"

She clicked her tongue. "It's a behaviour that makes you think you have control over the negative outcome of your actions and be in charge of your pain. It's not real. You're just calming yourself with predictability." She had opened her arms like she had presented me with a magic trick and I was the stupified spectator who couldn't appreciate her art form. Although, what she said, sounded perfectly logical.

Impressed by her quick mind, I stood there with a frown between my brows while I took my time to process. "I was not expecting free therapy at three in the morning," I said numbly.

"Surprise." She grinned like a Cheshire cat despite the thin veil of tears that was still evident in her eyes.

"Are you in a psychological field of any kind? You seem so..." I tried to think of a better word than 'intelligent' and a kinder word than 'crazy yet wise. "Analytical."

She disposed of the burning cigarette through the crack in the window and hopped down to me. "Psychiatrist in crisis." She winked before turning to the mirror and giving her lips a fresh coat of red paint. A burst of frustration made her voice quiver. "But I have come to the realisation my work is fruitless in a world where people keep having normal fucking reactions to toxic post-capitalism. I'll never accomplish anything." She stopped doing her makeup to let go of her rage as she reenacted a conversation with one of her patients. "Oh, you're having a burnout and you live in a constant state of anxiety? You're a single mom working two jobs and you still can't pay rent let alone your medical bills but sure, you must have problems because Mercury is in retrograde." She was close to crying again and angrily tossed her lipstick into her purse. "I'm supposed to help people but all I see are unsolvable problems and stupid shit." She stared ahead in a nearly manic way and then breathed out like she was trying to get it out of her system.

Our tearful eyes locked in the mirror and I felt we had bonded in that moment. "I'm Giulia." My new companion introduced herself then.

"Nini." We shook hands and I came straight back to the point with something she said that had bothered me. "How did you know I have some unresolved issues?"

She didn't conceal an ironic smile. "You were talking to yourself in a bathroom stall. That's not a tough one to guess." She was right and my eyes started to become blurry before she interrupted me with a suggestion. "Wanna go outside? Dr Oswald will see you now." She offered with the grin of a siren who seemed to lure me in with a promising song of mental stability. After a short consideration, I sighed and nodded.

My path tonight had brought me to a club with a bright pink neon sign buzzing above its entrance. This hole-in-the-ground club's heavy electro-dance beat could only be revealed when its doors swung open. After falling shut, the soundproofing reduced the thumping music down to a dull ache in my memory. Some friends had shown me 'Nomi's' a few years ago and my disguise was either good enough to remain anonymous or simply nobody was bothered by the fact that a celebrity, and a hetero-normative one at that, was floating through an LGBTQ scene. The buff goth lady simply nodded at us before setting us free into the cold night.

Giulia poked me in the arm. "You hungry? I'm starving."

I shuffled about in the cold, considering if my anxiety was treatable with some food, then everything would be fine again. "I could eat."

"Wanna get kebab or pizza?" She held onto a street light and swung around playfully.

The corners of my mouth turned down into pathetic pout. "Chicago pizza?"

She smiled and frowned at the same time. "Yeah, why not? I know a place that's still open."

We talked on our entire way to the pizza place, shared our worries and doubts and she listened like we were two old friends who had finally reconnected but had never grown apart. The more she poured her interest into my problems, the more she lit up and somehow, I had overshared my entire trauma history. I was free to pretend to just be someone ordinary while in reality, I was opening up to a past life my public persona only dealt with when ugly rumours after a speculative peer-review turned into invasive interview questions. Giulia on the other hand had no idea who I was. To her, I was just another lost person.

The buzz of the alcohol had somewhat lessened during our cold morning walk. Some delis were already opening their shops for the day while the pizza place served their last customers.

A chosen New Yorker claiming Chicago-style pizza was superior was a dangerous opinion to have. Yet, I never felt more certain of it when the cheese string connecting to my piece seemed to never end. I chuckled darkly and groaned in delight while Giulia gave me an approving "Yeees, get in there."

"All I needed was some damn pizza." I sighed lowly, and yet again, battled my crisis with humour. "Can you believe that my ex-therapist advised me to go on a crash diet? All he wanted to talk about was my weight and my sex life. He wanted to stop me from being a massive kinky bitch and why would I want that?" Both of us cackled.

"Shit." She frowned, the doctor having a habit of leaning into me when she found something interesting. "I don't get how someone like that is able to keep a license."

"Yeah! Right?" I cried out, mouth full of hot pizza. I found enjoyment in being a hot mess when I mimicked his voice. "Oh, doesn't matter if you have a drug history. I have you under my wing, this is completely safe. Now here's some Ketamine. And boom, I'm dealing with withdrawal, cheers. Thanks a lot, dickhead."

"You weren't safe with him. Therapy shouldn't be manipulative." Dr Oswald stated.

"I swear, I have no verbal filter anymore. Being off meds is the worst." Though I had conveniently left out the part that I was famous, I remembered we were still in public and I shouldn't talk about too private things. I stared into the starless night above Manhattan and missed them as much as my sanity. "I can't help missing this... howling loneliness and complete lack of ego inside what was just mind fog." There wasn't any other way to describe ketamine to me. My nose clogged up at the pain and struggle of it all. "My sweet boyfriend- I was so mean to him and I know I'm also on my period and extra mean and the sauce I made was way too runny!" I sobbed at this point, nearly inarticulate, drifting off towards a point that was still very important to me.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad." "It was practically water!" I sobbed out at the memory of our unsatisfactory dinner last night, shoulders shaking from crying.

"No... I meant what you said about being mean." She clarified while I suppressed a threatening hiccup. "What's your underlying concern?" Doc redirected our conversation with an annoyingly stereotypical therapy question but I guessed that had to be part of it.

"You know, I lost my cat-" A gulp broke my speech and I breathed until I got it together. "And it shouldn't feel this marginal but watching her die and realising I wasn't over my mum's death and feeling this profound sense of grief made me realise that maybe I don't want to be loved like that when I die. This much." Thick drops of tears streamed down my face and I knew I must have not made a lot of sense. "Never expressing this much love again. Feel the way I'm feeling... in that moment. I never stopped grieving and I figured, if he'd hate me, that would be easier."

The look she gave me was one of full understanding. "Go on, you got this." She encouraged me with a firm hand on my shoulder.

I wiped my face with my sleeve, snot, tears and makeup got stuck on the black fabric. "You know what my angel said? He said he could never hate me and he would never regret loving me, that I taught him that." I stifled myself with more pizza.

"Sounds like your person is there to help you navigate your pain," Doc said. "Maybe you're looking to become the people who would rather love like no one has ever loved before than to avoid the greatest suffering."

It seemed Pedro and I kept growing together. Through good and bad times. Despite the hardship, we still remained a unit and maybe that was all that mattered.

I soon rediscovered that food made everything better again and I filled the hole in my soul with cheese until my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Pedro was calling again.

"That's him?" Giulia asked with a look at the caller ID showing that 'Angel' with a load of heart emojis was calling. I showed her a picture of him and me together from our last New Year's celebration and she cooed at our big smiles. "I miss him," I admitted.

"He looks sweet. A bit... older than you, I guess?" She slurred back.

Bless her heart, she didn't recognise him either. "A bit." I downplayed our eighteen-year age gap. "Truth is, I am lucky to be with this treasure of a man, he's kind, sexy, smart and so talented." I gushed over him.

"But you've not communicated about your argument?" A slight smile spread on her lips despite her seriousness and somehow, I saw someone competent past those rhinestone eyebrows.

"No. I ran. Like always." I said in pure disappointment in myself. "I don't know if I fucked up for good this time. I can be such a bitch these days. But imagine me going home after this, what the fuck." I chewed slowly. "He already worries so much." I already knew my eyes were puffy and my lips were swollen from biting them. "Pedro thought he'd get a fun and bubbly, nurturing girlfriend but then he met my insecure dramatic traumatised and needy ass. What if I can't give him everything he deserves? He somehow still settled for me." A fresh tear ran down my cheek, this time I thought it might have been a happy one.

"You don't think your relationship is healthy?" Doc asked with a cough and I shrugged my shoulders. My fingers played with my sea glass necklace. "Do you think it's bad that... I don't feel like I'm not constantly on fire?"

"You think about the mind games that kept you interested?" "Don't call me out like that." My eyes narrowed.

"Let me ask you something. Does your relationship feel like an up-and-down roller coaster?"

I felt stupified and stammered out. "No?"

She kept insisting. "When someone has a hard time, do you make time to be there for the other? Not to improve things but just to be there."

"We can be miles away from each other at times but... yes. He's my lighthouse." I smiled widely despite her not getting the reference.

Giulia licked sauce off her thumb. "Do you bring the inner child up in each other?"

"Always." I laughed with tears in my eyes at every happy memory. I recalled our Christmases, birthdays, interviews and public events or simply the ordinary evenings just between the two of us.

Dr Oswald's shoulders relaxed with a sigh. "I think your relationship is more than healthy. Healthier than average couples. Don't let your insecurities talk you down, grow from them." With that, she shoved her last bite of pizza into her mouth and clapped her hands-free from crumbs.

My eyes skipped between her and the floor awkwardly. "Thanks, I guess."

She hummed before sharing an amused memory. "When my ex was fed up with me, I made her a sock puppet and tried to talk about it. She never called again." She demonstrated it with her glove. "Why don't you trust people?" She voiced her hand.

I gave her a fond smile as we began our walk back. "You're weird," I said with a chuckle as I retrieved a pre-rolled blunt from my purse and held it up to Giulia in an offer.

She grinned before passing me her lighter. "You're a cliché." She watched me light joint and take a practiced drag of the spicy herb.

"You're the one who said she dismembered Barbies as a kid." I countered with a deep exhale.

"Don't pretend you're not just as weird. You probably tortured your Sims or played with scary spiders or something." Giulia assumed, judging by my goth outfit by all accounts before taking a drag herself.

I couldn't help but play a joke on her. "There were indeed only spiders in the basement to play with," I commented dryly and her eyes closed while mine widened. Having just listened to the story of my sad childhood and the fact that my father used to lock me up in the cellar, she choked on the smoke. For a moment we were both shocked by my words until I noticed she was slowly breaking into laughter. She tried to keep it behind her hand but now we were both finished trying to hold back and instead of trying to work through and process my trauma, we let go of a hollering laugh. She at least tried to remain decent. "That's not funny. That's so not... funny."

I thought I was allowed to think it was. "It's a bit funny." She shook her head no, tearing up when she gave me my weed back. "See, you helped me already. I could talk about my dad without having an emotional breakdown. It's been easier already but I haven't felt this... relieved in a long time." I blinked away my tears stubbornly, finally admitting to myself that I was not fine and I was constantly reacting to my trauma. I decided then and there that if I would ever mistreat a future child of mine, I would not deserve to waste any more oxygen on this world. "You're really good at this. Knocking sense into people." I said sincerely.

"I appreciate you trying to end my lost cause. You made me feel like I'm not a total failure after all." She said on our way back through the calm side alleys. Our steps echoed from the red brick stone walls as we passed the joint back and forth.

"Are you kidding me? I appreciate your work so much. You do matter. This was... this was really helpful. I mean it." I saw her bottom lip trembling at my promise.

"Thank you. You're very nice."

Like a cool cat, I flicked the joint away. "I have my moments." She let me drape my arm across her shoulders as we made our way out of the last alley.

The night was slowly lifting and my mind felt light as a feather when the club came back into view. "I don't think I'll go back inside again." I said at the end of our journey.

Giulia turned and her hands clapped onto her sides with a sigh. "Now imma tell you what I'd say as a therapist and imma tell you what I'd say as a parent from an Italian household." She took a step closer and lowered her voice, her concern sounding far from patronising. "I would very much like to test you for PTSD and bipolar disorder and I want to break down generational trauma and introduce you to the right medication and progressive, beneficial habits because you girl, are not making wise choices." She finally put her finger down. "Second, and this is my nonna speaking-" Suddenly she raised her voice and I jumped. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET YOUR ASS HOME, PRONTO." She gestured like her Italian grandma and I chirped out a laugh.

"O-okay." I was met with a passionate grin I had to somewhat dampen. "PTSD has kind of already been diagnosed though." A deep intuitive feeling matched and I somehow knew she would be able to help me.

"No depression?" "It's more of an anxiety disorder." "Shame. People with depression have the best Spotify playlists."

I blinked at the sound of her disappointment. "I would very much like to become your patient." I decided then and there.

"Fantastic." She wrestled her hand into her boot in return to give me a white business card with a font that promised a brutalist interior design. 'M.D. G. Oswald' written on it with an office address in Manhattan not far from here.

"Fancy," I noted and tucked it away into my bra. She seemed genuinely happy at the encounter. "God knows, I've made my partner age ten years tonight. After this-" I began to walk backwards towards the street. "I owe him a lifetime of happiness... and no more runny sauces."

"Try creme fraiche next time." Giulia advised me and the only thing I could do was comment with an awkward 'ah.

I shifted my weight from one to the other foot, pointing in the direction of an approaching cab. "I should probably... I'll give you a call." I turned one last time after I had already managed to hail it. "Hey Doc, one more thing."

"What?"

I couldn't have addressed her with a sterner tone as I stood by the open door of my ride. "If you ever tell me I need to forgive my dad, I'll be out the door." I threatened and at first she looked puzzled, but then saluted me in understanding and we smiled at each other.

I was already inside the taxi when she whistled sharply with her fingers and provoked me to roll the window down. "Ey, one last word of advice." She began as she stood in front of the door back where our journey had originally started. "Make up with your fella. If he's mad, suck his dick. He'll get over it."

"Amen!" A bunch of suddenly cheerleading people roaming the club's entrance in their colourful outfits contributed with loud and some lewd additions.

I nodded and sank a little deeper into my seat with my cheeks heating up at her thumbs up. "Thanks." Giulia slapped the roof of my taxi for goodbye and as I drove off, I looked back to see her going back inside the club.

~~~

At around five in the morning, the house was dark and perfectly quiet. Everything seemed to go according to plan if it meant Pedro had finally gone to sleep. The key and wind chime at the door hardly made a noise when I crept inside, yet having to greet a pathetically whining Edgar who had been waiting for me on the doormat required an advanced level of discreteness. "Hey, good boy, hi! Oh, dear. Oh, dear." I went over to pacify our boy before I snuck inside bare feet with my shoes dangling from my fingers.

Completely parched, I passed into the kitchen, unloaded all of my belongings onto the counter and fumbled at my earrings with a sigh. My mouth tasted weird.

I was stretching towards the glasses when sudden bright headlight illuminated the entire room and scared the living hell out of me. His sudden appearance had been nearly enough to drop my glass before I could even retrieve it from the cupboard. "Kut, fuck! You scared me!" I cursed after swishing around to see one particular unpleased Pedro in the French doorway. His frown only deepened and he gave me a thin-lipped stare as he leaned against the frame and crossed his toned arms over his chest.

I knew I had to look like an absolute mess, yet I gestured around as if I couldn't see what the point of him busting me like a naughty teenager was. This was terribly like a bad childhood memory of my father doing practically the same thing, the only difference was that I wasn't scared of Pedro. He was dressed in his old pyjamas and his hair was adorably ruffled post-shower but his softness was entirely replaced by harsh tension. Deep bags cast a shadow underneath his eyes and it was then that I noticed the sheen of tears in their hardness, something between pure anger and also, relief.

"Hi." I gulped, sensing I was in deep trouble regardless. I slowly pulled my wig off my head, discarding the long black strands as they flowed off my shoulders. He didn't echo my greeting as usual.

My eyes skipped to the floor at the sight of his obvious disappointment in me and I wondered if I would manage to raise any kind of reaction from him other than eyes that stared daggers into my soul. Pedro's anger was a chilling thing to behold. It was rare.

His chest first expanded and he tore his hand over his mouth like he needed to stop all the necessary curses from tumbling out with his next exhale. "How was it?" He asked instead, ironically with a sharp edge to each word. His eyes radiated a kind of severe heat that promised this was merely the calm before the storm.

I forced myself not to stutter but my heart beat out of my chest. "It was... nice. I feel good. Really good. Better um... I thought you'd maybe be asleep by the time I get home."

"Oh, really?" He parroted with dripping sarcasm, finally stepping down the few stairs and stalking intimidatingly closer. I shrunk underneath him and bumped into the counter, wincing at his proximity more than the impact. "Where were you?" He growled, jaw clicking.

Irritation glared up at me at his patronising tone and I realised I wasn't done provoking him after all. It was like I couldn't stop myself. With an attitude, I raised my chin and snarked up at him. "Why does it matter? I'm no longer there."

"Did you take anything?" He turned my face into the light above with force and I blinked, irritated at the examination. The light was too bright and his grip pinched my cheeks a little too harsh for his gentle character. He held heated eye contact that made my pride resolve and finally crumble. "Leonie, did you take anything?" He bit down at me after he couldn't detect something unusual about the dilation reflex in my pupils.

I freed myself from his grasp. "No, I didn't! Let go of me." I pouted childishly and he let it be for the moment, stepping back and letting me go like my touch burned him. "I'm fine!" I added when he walked away from me.

He faced the garden, his broad back casting a shadow onto the blueish-hued floor when I dared to speak up again. "I'm... I'm tired. I think I should just go to bed." I tried to sneak my way out but he was quicker to strut to the couch and toss me a pillow.

"No, you're not." He ordered, clearly insinuating I was sleeping here tonight.

"Fine." I bit out and aggressively fumbled with a blanket while he turned around and didn't take another look at me. A gush of air pushed through his nose when he walked past me.

I could only watch as he went to leave, a rush of sympathy and guilt provoking me to finally do the right thing. "I'm s-"

He broke off my apology. "Go to sleep and sober up. We'll speak in the morning."

A heavy stone settled in my heart. "Pedro."

He went to go upstairs and not once turned to look at my sad, lost form that waited in vain for a sign of forgiveness.

~~~

When I woke about five hours later, it was by the sound of items banging in the kitchen. The smell of something delicious sizzled in a pan but my stomach dreaded it and my head felt like it could burst. The first wave of sickness crashed into me when I remembered the resemblance of hatred in Pedro's eyes. Mine opened to the sight of his chocolate curls bouncing as he chopped something with a knife. His gaze was still turned down even though he must have seen that I was up and the more I told myself that he didn't care for me anymore, the more I felt like I deserved it.

The smell of bacon suggested that the thick tension hanging in this house was merely a delusion. Normally it meant something different. A cosy breakfast with a newspaper and coffee, loving banter and plans for the future.

Pedro discarded something into the bin when I sat up and disturbed Edgar, who had been sleeping cuddled into my side.

Pedro sighed and tossed the towel he'd been using over his shoulder. It was like he needed to brace himself before acknowledging me with a side glance and a tight pull of his moustache. I threw my blanket off and felt nothing but awful at the sight of the fatigue on his face.

"Good morning," I muttered meekly and got up to go and sit at the table with my hands folded sheepishly in front of me. I didn't even dare to walk up to him and get myself a cup of coffee. Pedro on the other hand, knowing me inside and out, fetched it for me and the creamy liquid sloshed over the rim at the force he used to slam it down in front of me. A plate with a croissant followed next with a harsh clatter of porcelain on wood. Before this 'talk' I dreaded more than anything would ensue, he waited for me to examine my favourite breakfast that I still adored him for. "Thank you." I barely managed to say.

He watched me dunk a piece of buttery deliciousness into my coffee, slip it into my mouth and treat him to a careful smile. I knew he had gone out of his way to get me fresh croissants but I couldn't tell if it was a peace offering or should merely act like a little sugar to make the medicine taste not so bitter. I braced myself for the latter. "D'd you sleep well?" He muttered tiredly and I nodded.

"The couch is pretty comfortable, actually." I attempted to make an insignificant observation before returning the question and receiving a hardly noticeable shake of his head as he brushed it off.

"Pedro, talk to me," I begged him, still hoping I could fix this. "Please."

Yell at me, throw something. Just anything.

I could hardly swallow as he stalked through the room. He took deep breath before his agitation finally unfolded. "Do you have any idea-" he spoke slow and patiently. "-how worried I was all night?"

Finally, his eyes met mine and it was nearly devastating. A heavy gulp forced my food down and I inhaled to start with an apology but he stopped me from making even the tiniest approach. "I was frightened, I didn't know what to do. You just... storm out after we had a fight, I have no idea where you're going-" The heat still radiated from his eyes when his voice turned a mocking tone. "The problem is you don't fucking care about anything! I wait for a fucking sign of life from you but you ignore my texts, you don't answer my calls-" His voice rose in volume with each word. "And then, finally at five in the morning, you come home, reeking of alcohol and weed and I knew-- I knew that would happen. Who else but you would just disappear, then pop up like nothing happened?" He had bent over the table, hands splayed out across when he spoke to me in calm anger. "You know what you did? You mixed painkillers with alcohol and drugs, you're lucky you didn't end up in the ER! And don't get me started on the scandal you could have caused when you walk around fucking wasted like that." He shook his head at me and I decided to keep it to myself that I had been to a gay club on top of that. "Irresponsible, stupid, impulsive girl. Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn't think you're a fucking danger hazard to yourself!"

"I was 'not' wasted," I muttered under my breath, but he looked past my antics and the flaw of design I called self-medication. He was speechless. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Oh, you're sorry?" he chastised me, louder this time, ready to berate me a little more. "I'm sorry is not fucking good enough this time!" He was breathing irregularly.

"I needed a little bit of freedom, Pedro!" I cried out.

Maybe emotion made him irrational at this point too. He didn't care Edgar was whining at us. "Oh, remind me again how horrible living in LA was and make me feel guilty about it."

"I begged to come with you, to just leave New York, remember? Poen died and I wanted to leave." I yelled back, frantically wiping away the first couple of tears at his fury. "I love you, wherever you go, I go!" I sobbed. Silence hung in the room like thick fog clouding us.

He sighed, holding back the severity of his anger when he realised he had made me cry. Finally he sat next to me at the head of the table and with a terrible sigh, ruffled his hand through his hair.

He sounded so tired. "I was so fucking mad. Still am. You treat my concern like it's nothing. I get you're searching for yourself and what's good for you but call me out on my delusion if I assume it's not in self-medication but right here." He told me with his eyes closed. "Honey, I'm so invested in helping and supporting you and I also know you won't find that sort of thing while going out and risking your wellbeing. I have... a lot of empathy for what you're going through. Be selfish, by all means, but I am 'not-" he fixed my eyes with his and put his index finger onto the table. "deserving of being treated like shit. Trust goes both ways. If I can't convince you to do what's best for you, I trust that you at least won't disrespect my compassion."

Finally it sank in and I was struck by so much shame, my eyes stung violently and I hated myself for ever hurting him. Even if unintentionally, he was the only one who could stop me on my way down because he was in control of my heart. I was the first to break our tense silence. "I need help," I admitted in tears. "I want to get better."

We finally seemed to understand each other's dire struggle, for when he grasped my hand, it meant the world to me. "Maybe you want to try this clinic I found. I heard it's-" He began but I interrupted him and tried to conceal my disgust at even the mention of rehab.

"I already found a new therapist," I announced and he leaned back in a puzzled state. "Good, eh... good. What?" He stuttered.

"Last night." I finished and watched his jaw drop. He gave me a look like he was finally done with my bullshit and the hand he'd previously held so comfortingly let me go again. I aimed to pacify him before he could say anything. "A good psychiatrist, I met her in the club and I got a free session but I'm already a hundred per cent sure, she's the right one for me. She is... incredible."

Pedro was still too baffled to even process this piece of information. "That's... that's-" Pedro didn't know what exactly this was, he tried to think about his words but failed. He put his palm to his forehead to relieve the headache that had to be forming there. "I feel like you forgot everything I just said. You don't get it." Pedro looked at me, puzzled.

"I do." "No, I begged you to make more sensible decisions and then you barge in with this." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "God, you're a piece of work."

I tried not to take that past comment personally. "I mean something good came out of my manic episode. I realised important things. For example, that I'm self-sabotaging."

"Okay... okay. Let's think this through." Pedro had calmed down somewhat and ran his hand over his beard in an attempt to try and start over. "Does this therapist have any credentials? What's her background? References? Do you have any idea who she is?" His questions were all reasonable but I had no answers to them. All I knew was that none mattered because I had a good feeling I about her.

"She's extremely smart and empathetic, she's boisterous, a lesbian and she's a socialist. You'd like her." I explained and he blinked at me. Dumbfounded, he folded his hands and I felt free to tell him the entire story of how Doc and I met.

Even after I was done explaining, he was still not convinced. "You know can't have a personal relationship with your therapist. This meeting while going out... thing and smoking together doesn't sound good at all. Who parties with their therapist?"

"I know, I know we can't be friends. She already said something like that. That and, that I should suck your dick if you're still mad at me." His frown seemed edged in stone, causing my innocent expression to crumble bit by bit. "You don't want that." I assumed, quietly.

"No, I don't." He dismissed, low and pointedly. "This is a bad idea. And this... therapist suggesting a blow job would fix this-" he looked up with a spark of humour I fixed my hope on. "Maybe."

I raised my eyebrows and he pointed a finger at me. "No, I was joking." "Okay, jeez." "I'd appreciate it if you took this seriously."

Maybe it had dawned on me or my manic episode was finally tranquillized by cold sobriety but my eyes stung with tears and my voice cracked when I spoke under my breath. "I am taking it more seriously than ever." I tried and was met with a look of love and pain in his eyes that nearly broke my heart.

"Don't say that if you don't mean it." He begged quietly.

A heavy gulp got stuck in my throat and for several moments, I gathered the right things to say. "I know... I know you have a good reason to be angry with me but I felt... so helpless." I choked up. "So unseen."

For several long, insufferable beats, we stayed mute until the quietness became too much to bear. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way." His voice had cracked mid-sentence. "Just the thought anything could happen to you... and it would have been my fault. When I didn't hear anything from you, I was so angry."

When his eyes filled with tears, I reached over the table to gently try and loosen the arms he had crossed in front of his chest. Reluctantly, he opened up and let me hold his hand.

"Baby, I know it's been hard. I know-" My voice quivered while he tried to compose himself and meet my eyes. He was right, I hadn't been myself lately and I was so sorry for everything. For last night, for what nearly happened in LA. He was the one person I wanted to keep trying for and I made a promise with the only words that mattered. "I'll do better."

Pedro nodded, the flicker of warmth in his moist eyes. He believed me. "Okay." He decided and merely the thought of ever disappointing him again broke my heart. Never in my entire life had I felt such shame. The tears that had gradually been filling my eyes spilled over and I watched them fall into my lap when I couldn't hold them any longer.

He cupped my cheek when a sob shook my body and raised my chin so he could look me in the eyes and make something clear. "I was scared, for you. And you- you don't understand how much it hurts when you run out the door like that. Please, at least let me know you're okay next time." He admitted quietly.

"I'm so sorry." I cried out.

"You were right, I was too controlling. And I'm sorry for letting you sleep on the couch and being too harsh on you." He sighed, wiped first mine, then his tears away before he regained his composure. "If you need time for yourself, I won't stop you."

"Not... time away from you but-" I sighed. "Maybe I just need to get back to work. Do my own thing again and work on some music."

"That's a very good idea." He smiled for the first time and it was soothing, even though something seemed to still weigh on his mind. "Can you promise me something?" His eyes snapped back up from our entwined hands and I braced myself to receive an expectation I would have trouble meeting. "Promise you'll tell me when you feel like I'm smothering you, so you won't start to resent me?"

Finally, the consequences of my actions had an impact when I realised he was definitely the more mature person about this. The fact that I made him worry about that deeply saddened me. "I could never resent you." I squeaked out, finally broken.

Pedro breathed out a relieved sigh when I threw myself into his arms and I could hold him tight. His shoulders sank low as he hid his face in the crook of my neck and hugged me close. He needed me as much as I needed him, right here and wrapped up in his arms.

"Lost my fucking Duolingo streak." He grumped, spoke muffled into my shoulder and triggered a peal of laughter to bubble up between us.

"I'm so sorry, angel. I really am." I replied nasally but somewhat relieved of all tension. Looking back at him, I wiped away the moisture underneath his eyes.

"It's okay now." He promised. "I promise it'll be okay."

I revelled in his gentle touch. "I'm sorry for being all wrong in the head." My voice thinned out.

He caught my chin between his finger and thumb. "Hey, hey, you're not. Look at me." I did, looking into his still glistening, beautiful brown eyes to see him sniff and brace me for some uplifting words. "You think there's something wrong with you? There's nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong with you. Anxiety and depression fucking suck but you're gonna stop being so hard on yourself. It gets better, I promise. And when we fight, we fight hard but we love even harder." His eyes were so soulful and he was in every way, kindness and beauty while I was ashamed of the way I looked, felt and behaved. Somehow he made me feel deserving again just by looking at me.

"You don't know how much that means to me." I was hardly able to say through my throat closing up in tears as I held his face in between my palms. "I'm sorry, Pedro. My sweetheart." Gazing into his shimmery, yet determined eyes and finally seeing no sign of irritation in them lifted an enormous weight off my heart. A desperate need for closeness forced its way into our embrace. It was nearly too harsh, the way he pulled me closer when his fingers tangled into the roots of my hair like he'd lose me if he didn't but I needed it to survive.

He held me close for what felt like forever and again, I felt the need to just disappear within him. "Hey, I don't want a mentally stable partner. That's boring." I said in an uplifting tone and I nearly giggled. "Because that's not fun. It doesn't fit me. You fit me. I want you, with all of your issues. To me, you are perfect." He placed many, loving kisses on my head and made his devotion and immortal support finally resonate within me. I was a path without an end and he was happy to keep treading on it.

Part 3 - Coming Soon

Translation notes:

(it): nonna - (eng): grandma

(it): pronto - (eng): now

(dut): kut - (eng): cunt

#pedro pascal x actress #pedro pascal #series #fanfiction series #of a sun and flower #pedro pascal/original female character #fluff #domestic fluff

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