#luckily he doesn’t go there anymore. in fact i don’t even think that church still exists.

[genderqueer-karma]

good morning i just remembered the time my dad took me to his church for crimbo service when i was eight and the pastor made a sexual joke about the virgin mary. during his sermon. anyway.

[niksixx]

Plus One

FINALLY!!! After a few months’ hiatus, I am proud to announce the ending of Plus One. It has been a pleasure writing this for you. Please enjoy part 7, and don’t forget to leave feedback. 

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Pia’s POV

I take one look at Josh and Jackie, and I can feel the love on every level. It’s the kind of love that can make you shake with envy and question whether everyone can find it.

And when they kiss for the first time as husband and wife, the church erupts into applause from the guests, hoots and hollers from the wedding party. There’s a few tears sliding down the apples of my cheeks and before I can flick them away with my finger, I feel the gentle touch and warmth from Nikki’s finger brushing away the salty tears. He gives me a small smile before turning his attention back to the bride and groom.

He hasn’t spoken much to me today despite being my plus one to my own cousin’s wedding. I question whether he’s just in a mood, knowing I haven't done anything to cause this distance between us. It’s Josh and Jackie’s day after all. I don’t want to be preoccupied with my own drama, if that’s even what you could call it.

The reception hall gleams with silver, white, and gold for their Christmas wedding, and it looks like something out of a Hallmark movie. Cocktail hour, luckily, isn’t as awkward as I’d imagined it would be. I took the time to introduce Nikki to my distant relatives and close family, and he managed to charm each person he met. Whether his hand was entwined with mine or lightly resting on the small of my back, he sold our relationship, especially to Aunt Rita, who made Nikki promise her a dance.

We made small conversation at dinner, not as much as I would have liked. There was definitely something going on with Nikki, and I vowed to get to the bottom of it before the night ended. Even with his hand resting on my inner thigh under the table, I wasn’t satisfied.

After dancing with Aunt Rita, Nikki had found me and guided me to the dance floor. With his hands linked around my waist, my own entwined around his neck, we slowly swayed to the song. I should have kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the feeling of being safely tucked in Nikki’s arms, but the words came out before they’d registered in my brain.

“Are we okay?”

I wasn’t surprised by the confusion on his face. It was clear he didn’t want me to know something was wrong, so the confusion was quickly replaced by a look of neutrality. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t be?”

For some reason, I can’t look him in the eye. “Something is off with you, Nikki. You’ve barely spoken to me today. Actually, forget today. The past few months have been more awkward between us than anything I can remember, starting after Janielle’s party. So, I’m asking you, are we okay?”

“Pia--.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Pia,” Nikki says firmly, fingers digging into my back to grab my attention. His eyes bore into mine, and for only a split second my breath is caught in my throat. “Not now. Please.”

My jaw ticks angrily, and with as much subtlety as I can master, I break away from Nikki’s hold and excuse myself from the reception. Frustrated tears cloud my vision as I quickly race outside the reception venue into the dark night.

“Pia.” Heavy footsteps chase after me.

I bite my tongue and keep walking, not willing myself to answer him.

“Pia!”

“Fuck you!”

It stuns us both. Nikki retracts, mouth pressed together in a hard, thin line. My chest heaves with every strangled breath, and I will myself not to let the tears fall. There’s no chance I’ll let Nikki see me weak.

“What is your problem?” Nikki suddenly asks defensively.

“My problem?” I spit, crossing my arms. I look like a child, feel like a child, but hell if I’m not the angriest I’ve been in a long time. “My problem is that I don’t know what your problem is. For months, you’ve barely said a word to me. And then I confront you about it, and you have the nerve to try and shut me up?”

His jaw ticks, mirroring my anger. “I have a lot to say, but I don’t know where to start and I don’t want to do this here.” He grabs my hand and pulls me with him. I want to protest, but I’m finally getting some type of answer from him, so it’s best I keep my mouth shut.

The walk feels like forever, but when I finally glance up from my shoes, my brows furrow. We’re right smack in the middle of the garden behind the reception hall. It’s brightly lit and quiet with the exception of the soft drops from the fountain. It’s an oddly romantic setting for a somewhat hostile situation.

And he hasn’t let go of my hand yet. In fact, his grasp seems to have gotten tighter. Not that I mind. It’s the first genuine gesture he’s shown in weeks.

“Nikki, what are we doing here? I want to go inside.”

“Not yet,” he says softly, eyes dodging my gaze. “Just...not yet. I have so much going on inside my head right now, and there’s no starting point. Just scrambled thoughts that don’t make any damn sense to me.”

I sigh, pursing my lips together. “Then start with the most important thought.”

No hesitation, just honesty. “I’m in love with you.”

My spine straightens. Blood rushes to my cheeks, my ears, all the while my brain fails to process the words. “I--You...what?”

He laughs a little, dropping his hand from mine. It’s not followed by anything else, just silence. He stares at me instead, hoping I’ll say something, or do something, but the only thing I can do is channel all my pent up feelings into strength, and before either one of us realizes it, Nikki flies backward into the fountain.

I’m dazed myself, looking from one outstretched arm to the other as Nikki resurfaces from the icy water. He stands, teetering a bit, before flicking his hair from his eyes. “Part of me thinks I deserve that.” There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. “And the other part thinks you’re entirely too dry.”

The cold water sloshes over me as I’m pulled into the fountain. I flail my arms wildly when I’m met with the cool December air, and I manage to push myself to a stand. Fists balled, I use my knuckles to wipe my eyes, no doubt resembling a drenched raccoon. “I could kill you!”

“You started it!” Nikki retorts, throwing his arms in the air. It’s the truth, so I say nothing back. All I can do is stare, and when I stare long enough, a smile breaks through. And a laugh falls from Nikki’s grin, and soon we’re laughing at each other, laughing at this fucked up situation we’ve found ourselves in.

And when the energy between us settles into calmness, I speak. “I remember the moment when I first knew I was in love with you.” Nikki’s eyes narrow, daring me to go on. “Junior year. When I first started making my own lipstick. You sat with me for hours and let me try them on you.”

The corners of his lips tilt slightly at the memory. “The purple one stained my mouth for days.”

I cringe. “Yeah, not my best formula. Sorry about that.”

Nikki laughs, and then it’s silent all over again. I tug my lip between my teeth anxiously. I wait and wait and wait for him to say something. Minutes later when I turn to step out of the fountain, I hear a strangled voice. “We should have been together from the start.”

“You never gave me a chance, Nikki.” I say, hurt. “And to this day, I don’t understand why. What did Charlotte, Viv, and Amanda have that I didn’t? What is so wrong with me that I wasn’t worthy of your love?”

He closes the space between us, chest just inches from mine as his hands cup my cheeks. “There has never been a damn thing wrong with you. I never thought I was worthy of you, so I settled for less. We come from two different worlds P, and I’ve always known you deserve everything good in this life, but I don’t know if I am capable of being the man that gives it to you.”

I reach out to hold his cheeks instinctively. He relaxes under my touch, but he can’t look at me. “It doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he answers defeatedly.

“Well, you’ve been doing a damn good job over the last few months with the exception of ignoring me for the last few weeks,” I chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. I bite my lip nervously. “I know the fake dating was fake to you. But...it was real for me.”

“It was fake at first,” Nikki says truthfully, hands coming up to his face to cover mine. “And then when I started falling, shit I fell hard. And the only way I knew how to deal with it, was run, hide, and try to ignore what I felt. But I can’t do that anymore. I am in love with you, Pia Jane. I am so in love with every piece of you. And maybe if you’re up for it,” he nudges my nose with his, “We can try again. For real this time.”

We’re still in the fountain, standing in chilly knee deep water in the cold December air, but I can’t feel a thing except the warmth that comes from my heart that is so full of love.  

[darling-dummy-blogs]

A Broken Promise- Victor Li

Summary: It's the day Cassandra has been waiting for her entire life. Her and Victor's wedding day. However.. Victor doesn't show up to the wedding…

Paring: Victor Li X OC (Mentions of Victor Li x F!MC [Mia])

Genre: Angst, Fluffy Ending (And a bit of an Angst Ending as well..)

Warnings: None!

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Word Count: 4k

Notes: In spirit of the re-run of the wedding event in MLQC I had written this piece a while back with the help of my dear friend @silv3rrin! (Thank you so much for your help with this!) This had also been written on the idea of my own experience of the wedding event haha (so enjoy my pain lol.) Based off the prompt below:

“Don’t promise me you won’t leave. Just don’t leave. I don’t think I can handle another promise right now.”

The day had finally come. One that Cassandra had looked forward to since the day she got engaged to Victor.

Their wedding day. Her excitement and nervousness really got to her, making her feel extra bouncy and happy. The moment she woke up, she didn’t get to see her soon to be husband.

He had to do a few things at work so he had come in quite early in the morning to prepare for that.

Victor had left her some breakfast and the schedule for today. He had even let her know that he would be back at least an hour or two before the wedding to get himself ready.

Although just because Victor had to work, that didn’t mean she could slack off, she had to prepare and get herself ready for the wedding. Which luckily started later on in the afternoon. She did her usual morning routine.

She had to prepare herself for the arrival of her hairdresser and makeup artist. Once they had finished with her hair and makeup: Her hair had been curled and styled into an elegant bun, small strands of hair on the sides of her face along with her bangs, overall she loved how her hair had been styled.

She now has to get herself dressed. Her dress was stunning, it was off the shoulder, laced and fitted to her body, which showed off her curves in the best way, while at the bottom it had flowed out beautifully.

She loved how the dress had looked on her and with her hair and makeup done, it felt as though the dress complimented and completed her look. Now all she needed to do was to head to the church to make sure things were running smoothly.

When she got there, she could not believe how beautiful the scenery was.

Everything had been set to perfection. From the church that was beautifully decorated to their wedding reception.

Of course there was no limit to it, given Victor being the wealthy man he was. However he had wanted the day to go smoothly, and for it to be perfect just for her.

As the time grew closer to her getting married, she grew more and more nervous. But she tried to stay as calm as possible.

Only 2 more hours…

While the nervous bride had been trying to calm her oncoming nerves, Victor had been at LFG, finalizing a few things before leaving to prepare for the wedding.

However a sudden knock on his door had interrupted his train of focus, he looked towards the door, confused. Nobody would be bothering him considering he was leaving relatively soon for his own wedding. “Come in.” he called out.

The door opened, revealing Mia, who he was slightly surprised to see. Yet he kept his usual stoic expression

She smiled softly at him, "Hey Victor!"

“Mia, what are you doing here?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“Ah well.. I should be asking you that! Don’t you have a wedding to prepare for?” She walked over to his desk after shutting the door.

“Yes I do, I was just finishing up. But why are you here exactly? We don't have a meeting today and shouldn’t you get yourself prepared to come to the wedding?”

Of course, he had invited Mia to his wedding, even though he used to have feelings for her, they were still friends and Victor was still her boss. It was only polite of him to do so.

Mia had been more than happy to come, however, one of the main reasons as to why she came was because of the fact that she wanted to see him on his big day.

Her expression changed from happiness to one of nervousness. “W-well.. I came here to tell you something actually..”

He raised an eyebrow, his attention focused on her, “What is it..?” He hesitantly asked.

She gulped, taking a deep breath, “I know this isn’t ideal timing nor is it something I should be doing right now, on the day of yours and Cassie’s wedding but…” She took a pause, “I’ve been thinking about this for such a long time and it was bothering me to the point where I have to tell you.”

“..Go on…” He pressed, awaiting her answer.

A moment of silence had passed before she said, “I’m in love with you.”

His breath hitched in his throat. The words he wished to have heard a few years ago suddenly came out of her mouth.

“Why are you telling me this now?!” Victor’s voice boomed.

“...I-I don’t know.. I only just figured it out myself and.. I just wanted to tell you this. I know it's too late and I know you are with Cassie now but..” She looked down, growing quiet.

“I would never want to get in between you two because I care for both of you but you deserve to know how I feel.” She spoke firmly, as she looked at him, “I’m sorry...” She spoke with sincerity

“You saying this to me now is getting in between the both of us!” his voice was cold. “What do you gain from telling me now? Satisfaction that you could possibly ruin our relationship?”

“No! I don’t….I-I just... “ She balled up her hands into fists, stumbling on her words, “I just needed to tell you, if I didn’t then it would continue to eat at me for god knows how long..” A pause, her heart was pounding loudly within her chest, “I’m not trying to gain anything from it. Nor would I be trying to, I just had to tell you. You don’t have to respond or reciprocate my feelings.”

“If… if you told me earlier, then maybe, just maybe we could have been together instead… but it’s too late now.”

She didn’t know what else to say, she knew that there was no possible way that he would reciprocate her feelings now that he was marrying someone else. If only she could go back and realize earlier. “...I should have known sooner..” Tears welled up in her eyes

“I have tried to make it obvious though..” She muttered, tears sliding down her face. “But I guess since you were with her, you never noticed.” She sighed, wiping away her tears, as she shook her head.

“I shouldn’t have done this…” She couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry.. I shouldn’t have mentioned it..”

“You realized that now?”

“I really am an idiot for doing this..” Mia muttered, the doubt that she felt suddenly kicked in, she finally looked him in the eye, “I’m sorry… I am so sorry.. For doing this.. I-it was stupid and.. I shouldn’t even go to the wedding.. I ruined it..” She sniffled.

A part of Victor felt conflicted, he didn’t really know what else to do, and he didn’t like to see Mia like this, he let out a sigh, “Mia.. It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize.”

A moment of silence passed, “...I’m sorry.” Victor suddenly said, in a slightly gentle tone. Mia looked at him, shocked, however he continued, a look of sorrow had covered his features. “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize at the time, that you had feelings for me.”

“However, I don’t think you’ve realized that, before I met Cassie, I had feelings for you. And I was very obvious about it. Yet you didn’t notice.”

Mia’s eyes widened, she didn’t seem to realize that he had been in love with her before. How could she have known? She never took into consideration that he had even remotely liked her in such a way. After all, he was her boss.

“I never knew…” She trailed off.

‘And that’s not your fault. I should have been more clear at the time, but I wasn’t. That was my mistake.” He spoke earnestly, as he gazed at her.

“I’m so sorry again Victor.” She spoke up. “You don’t have to apologize, but I am sorry that I just don’t feel the same way anymore.”

“I understand.” She spoke, slightly dejected but she knew that there was no going back now. She has to move on.

Mia glanced at the time, her eyes widening, “U-Um..Victor… Y-Your wedding is going to start soon, shouldn’t you be leaving??”

Victor looked at the time. His eyes widening as he abruptly stood up, “Oh no..” He checked his phone, seeing several missed calls from Cassandra and many angry and anxious messages from her. How did his phone not go off?!

He grabbed his belongings as he rushed out the office.

He was in so much trouble now...

--

‘The wedding is going to start soon... why isn’t Victor here?’ Cassie thought to herself, she tried calling him and messaging him but she wasn’t getting any replies. Which stressed and worried her very much.

She was pacing back and forth in the hall of the church, still trying to call him. “Is his phone off or something???” She was growing frustrated and was getting anxious, suddenly her thoughts were getting to her.

‘What if he doesn’t want to marry me all of a sudden?’ She gulped, shaking her head as she tried to keep those kinds of thoughts from taking over her mind.

‘No, that’s just silly, he wouldn’t do that to me, he said that he would never hurt me like that..’ She thought to herself as she tried once again to get a hold of him. However to no avail, it would go straight to voicemail.

Her pacing didn’t slow down, it got to the point where her feet began to hurt due to her wearing heels. ‘For someone who doesn’t enjoy being late OR wasting time, he is very much late! To his own wedding especially.’ She groaned, as she peaked her head into the church where all their friends and family had sat, idly chatting with one another, waiting for the bride or groom to show up.

She looked at all the bridesmaids and groomsmen who had been standing at the end, and glanced over the spot where Victor would be standing, had he been there.

She whimpered quietly, ‘Come on Victor.. Where are you...’ She shut the door, the panic never really settling with her. It only seemed to continue to grow more and more as more time had passed. She was barely managing after the first few times she tried to reach him.

50 minutes. No Victor

40 minutes. Still no sign of Victor, she tried calling him yet again, no response.

30 minutes. Cassie kept checking the clock, still not a trace of Victor to be seen

20 minutes. She trembled, the anxiety building up again, she was beginning to feel as though he will never show up.

10 minutes. Tears appeared in her eyes, as she tried to not let them out, she couldn’t risk ruining her make-up now. He wasn’t coming. That was clear.

...2 hours late… She slowly opened the door, tears in her eyes as she slowly made her way to the front of the aisle, everyone gazed at her, worried and saddened as she kept her head low. Once she made her way to the front, she looked out at everyone, giving them her best yet weakest smile.

“..The wedding is cancelled. I am so sorry.. You all may go home.” She spoke, her voice wavering as she felt a sudden pang in her heart, which had split into two.

She watched as everyone got up, they felt sympathetic for her, wishing her better before saying their goodbyes. She was soon left alone, her whole body shook as she quietly stood there, the only sounds of her ragged breathing could be heard before she let out a loud sob and scream.

Which echoed throughout the entire church. She sat down on the edge of the step by the wedding arch. Sobbing as she gazed down at the engagement ring on her finger. The white diamond shone brightly in the church.

Cassandra then looked over at the rings that laid tied gently on a plush white pillow which was placed on a pillar next to the arch. She leaned forward, grabbing it and yanking off both the rings, staring at both of them, sniffling, her hands shaking as she couldn’t calm down her nerves.

Suddenly the door to the church had opened and in came a very panicked Victor. He looked around frantically, seeing that the church was empty, and had spotted Cassandra, sitting at the end by herself. His heart panged with guilt.

As she looked up, they made eye contact, tears staining her face as she glared at him. Pure anger and hurt evident on her face as she stood up, clenching both the wedding rings in her hands. Her hands balled up into tight fists.

Victor quickly walked over to her although halted as she suddenly spoke up, anger in her voice, “Don’t come anywhere near me.” She spat, her voice wavering with hurt.

“Cassie..” he spoke, his voice laced with despair.

“I can’t believe you.” She spoke, ignoring his sudden plea of her name, “You.. are 2 hours late, Victor. 2 HOURS!” She cried out. “You left me WAITING here for you! I have never felt so hurt and so embarrassed to have to come up here to both our friends and family BY MYSELF and CANCEL our wedding.”

“I-I’m sorry..” He spoke up again, he tried moving closer to her but she stepped back, shaking her head, she let out a bitter laugh, “You know.. You always say to never be late to anything and to not waste your time.. But yet, you were the one who was late.”

“I just got caught up with things,” he reasoned.

“Things that are more important than our wedding?!” she screamed. “Something we’ve been planning for months? You chose something trivial over our wedding?!”

“It was not trivial,” Victor defended Mia without a second thought.

"Oh? Well then tell me, WHAT exactly was it then?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I… I was talking with… with someone and I got caught up.”

"Who is this 'someone' Victor?" She inquired, impatiently

He let out a sigh, knowing what would come once he uttered that name but he couldn’t avoid it. “I was talking… with Mia…”

A moment of silence. She stared at him, unable to say anything. She knew of their history, she knew of his feelings for her.

Cassie didn't have anything against Mia. However, that didn't change the fact that she had fears and insecurities of Victor leaving her for Mia.

"...Alright." Was all she uttered. She looked down at the wedding rings in her right hand, she sniffled.

The only feeling she could feel was the numbing pain in her heart. Tears slid down her face even more, her makeup completely ruined.

She cleared her throat, "What exactly did you talk about with her?"

His lip tightened. He didn’t want to disclose anything to her, know that it would just continue to ruin what they have… well now it seems more like ‘had'.

“She… she needed to tell me something before our wedding… for some closure I suppose,” he tried to beat around the bush, hoping she wouldn’t push it any further.

"Victor… I am not an idiot, cut the crap and tell me the damn truth! I deserve to know after all that has happened today!" She screamed at him, glaring.

Guilt rose up in him. “It was her confessing to me that… she… loves me…” he didn’t want to say it but pushed himself to utter those words.

"..." Her eyes darkened, those words echoing throughout her head, she could faintly hear the cracking of her heart which went from being split into two, to shattering into itty bitty pieces.

"..What did you tell her?" She spat out, her voice void of any emotion.

“I… I asked her why… and if- if she had told me earlier… then maybe… we- we could have been…” he trailed off, afraid to hurt her further.

Just as he had said that, the door to the church had opened. Both Cassie and Victor looked over, seeing Mia walk in.

If this was a nightmare, Cassandra would definitely want to be awake now.

Cassie’s breathing pace quickened as she began shaking again. She wanted to let out a scream but she couldn't seem to move or let out a sound, she was silent.

Mia, locked eyes with both of them. She immediately made her way over to them. “H-hey guys..”

Cassie clenched her fists, she gave her a hard glare. She was the last person that Cassie had wanted to come into contact with. “What do you want?” She spat out, anger evident in her voice.

Victor tensed at her tone, ready to intervene.

Mia gulped, already knowing that Cassie did not want to see her. “I-I just came here.. To apologize. Specifically to you, Cassie.” She stepped closer but Cassandra didn’t move, nor did she want to hear what she had to tell her.

“Sorry, isn’t going to change the fact that because of your conversation with Victor, you made him late to our wedding.” She spoke in such a cold tone. One that she never uses, unless she was very much pissed off.

And in this case, she was.

Mia shrunk at the coldness of her words. She looked down fiddling with her fingers. “I-I know… I know I cannot change what I have done.. B-But you deserve to know that I am sorry. I didn’t mean for my feelings to take over and to make Victor late.. I-It’s just that… He needed to know how I felt about him before..-”

“Before what?” She spat out, anger only growing within her.

Mia looked up at them, looking at Cassie’s angered expression, then to Victor’s. She kept her gaze on him, as she spoke out these words:

“Before it was too late.”

“It was already too late when we got engaged.”

“Don’t invalidate her feelings, Cassandra. She wasn’t sure at the time until now,” Victor finally spoke, trying to diffuse the situation.

Cassie looked at Victor, a laugh escaped her, “You are already on thin ice, and you are defending her right now?!” She glared, there was no way that she would calm down.

Victor faced Mia before speaking. “Wait outside, We’ll talk later.”

Mia nodded, as she quickly turned onto her heel and left the church, leaving the two of them alone once again.

Cassandra watched her leave, her arms crossed over her chest. She then turned to Victor. “So. Care to explain what that was about?”

“I don’t want to deal with anymore fighting, and I don’t want to drag anyone else in our problem.”

“Kind of hard to do that when she caused this problem, Victor.”

She looked at him, staring into his eyes. Finally after a rather dreadful silence she asked a simple question:

"...Do you still have feelings for her?"

“I…” he hesitated. “I don’t… not anymore...”

"Why did you hesitate?"

Victor kept quiet. Even he didn’t know why he hesitated when the answer was so obvious. “SHE was the reason why you were late.”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to be married to you! Maybe it’s because Mia makes me happier than what you’ve done, these past years!” Victor snapped.

Cassie staggered back slightly from that. Her eyes watering as new tears began trailing down her face. Her heart now throbbed in aching pain at his words which only added salt to the wound.

Sudden anger welled up within her as she dropped the two wedding rings that were in her right hand to the floor as her hand made an impact with Victor’s face.

SMACK! Right across the face. The sound echoing across the grand hall loudly.

She let out a sob as she spoke, “How dare you?! IF YOU FELT THAT WAY, WHY DID YOU ASK ME TO MARRY YOU?! WHY DID YOU KEEP ME IN YOUR LIFE?! WHY BOTHER LOVING ME WHEN SHE MAKES YOU HAPPIER THAN I CAN?!” She screamed at him, her whole body growing numb with pain and sadness.

“Are you just toying with my feelings now?! Do you even love me!? DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT ME?! OR WAS EVERYTHING THAT WE HAVE GONE THROUGH TOGETHER A LIE!?” She sobbed, her heart unable to handle the unbearable pain. She let out a scream of pain.

She looked down, wrapping her arms around herself, she couldn’t even look him in the eyes, "Y-You told me…” Her voice ached as she swallowed, “You don't have feelings for her anymore the first time when we were dating. But I cannot help but wonder… Was that a lie too?"

Victor’s eyes widened in disbelief. There was a dull throb on his cheek as he brought his hand to it. The pain snapped him back to reality as he finally registered the unfiltered words that came out of his mouth.

“No, wait! I don’t mean anything I said just now! I promise that I don’t love her anymore! I love you! It’s always been you ever since! I promise I won’t leave! I don’t want to lose you… I can’t lose you…”

She shook her head, "..Don’t promise me you won’t leave. Just don’t leave. I don’t think I can handle another promise right now.”

“I- Then I won’t… but for now… just know that I won’t leave you again. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

She wiped away her tears, as she looked at him, "I don’t know Victor, I really don’t know trust you again… It's going to take a while to fully forgive you for this… What you said, r-really hurt..."

"I know. I know that I messed up and it’s not easily reversible.... You shouldn't have to forgive me for what I've done." His voice filled with sorrow.

"I regret doing this to you. You don't deserve to be treated this way… Not when all you’ve been is understanding and loving. " Victor took a step forward, gently taking her hand, the one that held her engagement ring. He gazed at that ring for a long moment.

"There is one thing that I don't regret though.." His thumb swiped over the ring gently. The shimmering gem glistening back at him. "I don't regret proposing to you, nor do I regret loving you." His voice came out softer, as he looked at her.

Cassie didn't flinch. She watched his actions, sniffling lightly, she was met with a soft and loving gaze. One that he had always given her.

Victor continued, "Cassie, Everything I've ever told you is all genuine, I love you and only you. That will never change. No matter where you are, or whatever timeline we’re in, I will always find you." He brought his other hand to her cheek, wiping away stray tears that still shed from her eyes.

"I know words cannot make up for what I did, but I will show you that I am sorry. I didn't mean to ruin this day for the both of us." He frowned.

"I may have had a history with Mia, but you are my future. And you are the only person I can see myself spending my life with."

Cassandra was at a loss for words. He always knew how to make her feel soft and warm, with just words alone.

She felt more tears well up in her eyes, however they were less of sad tears and more of happy tears. She couldn't hide the big smile on her face.

Victor smiled upon seeing her beautiful smile, he loved seeing her happy. She looked beautiful whenever there was a smile on her face.

Although in this moment, she looked even more beautiful.

“You’ve made it really hard to stay upset at you.” She let out a giggle as blush dusted her cheeks lightly.

He chuckled slightly, “Dummy… You are just very easy to please.”

“Just shut up and let me kiss you.” She shook her head, as she moved to wrap her arms around his neck.

He shook his head, smiling as he leaned in, still cupping her cheeks in his hands, placing a loving kiss to her lips. One that she reciprocated happily.

---

He slowly approached Mia as he called out to her. She quickly turned before letting out a small, regretful smile.

“Mia, I don’t hold any feelings for you anymore. I wish for you to respect that. I want us to keep a professional relationship as boss and employee in the future,” he spoke in his typical stern and unapproachable tone.

Mia’s smile dropped for a second before another bigger but faker smile rested on her lips. “Of course Mr Li. I apologize for stepping out of line.”

Victor gave a quick nod before returning back to Cassie, leaving a broken Mia behind. Tears welled up in her eyes, as her body collapsed to the ground, knees and legs unable to keep her up.

She quietly sobbed as she watched him walk towards the love of his life before picking her up in his arms, his eyes filled with adoration and pure happiness. ~ (Lowkey remembering how we wrote this ending and Rin was just adding more angst even though it is initially supposed to have a happy ending. That was a fun time for both of us XD)

[ateezmakemeweep]

four in the morning.

yunho x reader; strangers to lovers

word count: 11k

angst, fluff, smut

10:05 p.m.

you never wanted a public proposal. you had told your boyfriend every time you saw someone get down on one knee in times square on new year's eve or in front of cinderella's castle at disney world that you would absolutely die if he did that to you.

and maybe it speaks to your naivety, to your complete disregard of just how shitty he's treated you over these past five years, that you thought that would ever be a problem in your relationship. because he's the guy who ditches you for his friends and religiously forgets date night, who falls asleep right after extremely unsatisfying sex that has you faking orgasms, who doesn't answer your texts all day but freely like posts on instagram.

and evidently, he's also the guy who breaks up with his girlfriend in the middle of dinner.

because one second the waitress is putting down the dessert, a tiramisu cheesecake you were drooling just thinking about all night, and then the next, before she's even out of ears reach, he blurts out, "we should break up."

you don't even say anything at first, just stare blankly and shake your head because he didn't just that. he wouldn't say that. not today on this day and not right now in this setting.

"wh-what?"

but he doesn't miss a beat.

"i've been thinking about it for a while, y/n," he says to you, leaning on his hand like this whole conversation is about to be a bore. "i just...we've been together for so long and i'm really kind of...sick of it."

"you're... you're sick of it?" you squeak.

"well yeah, i mean it's been four years and i don't wanna lie and say i feel like i'm still in love with y-"

"five."

"what?" he asks, looking at you in pure and utter confusion and you don't know if you feel more heartbroken or angry at this very moment.

"five. we've been together for five years," you tell him, voice too calm and composed for how you're feeling inside. "in fact, today marks our fifth year together. but you didn't remember that, did you?"

you think you would've felt better if he showed some sort of regretful or guilty reaction, his mouth dropping open or face lighting up like the date sent off alarm bells in that stupid little head of his. but nothing. just a thoughtful nod, like you told him the food was good or you needed another drink.

"oh," he says with a small shrug, "well five years then, even longer than i thought. see, y/n, i'm just over it. i'm over this relationship and i'm over being someone's boyfriend."

"hm....hm," is all you hum because you refuse to make a warner and elle woods type of scene in this restaurant right now. but your burning throat and shaking hands want so badly to do something. to scream and curse at him or throw that cake right in his face or maybe even slap him for being so cold and harsh and detached.

"are you mad?"

a laugh bubbles out of your mouth now and anyone around can probably hear how unhinged it sounds, like you're a second away from having some sort of breakdown or bursting into tears and screaming.

"am i mad?" you ask, a cold edge finally seeping into your tone. "am i mad my boyfriend just broke up with me, in public, at our anniversary dinner? are you seriously fucking asking me that?" you grunt out the words through clenched teeth, lowering your voice when you let the profanity slip out.

"well...yeah," he says dopily, "i still care about you as a person. i just- don't wanna be in a relationship anymore. i kind of figured i was making it obvious these past few weeks."

"then why wouldn't you have just told me the second you had these thoughts!" you spit and now the volume of your voice is considerably louder. "why make me wait and then do it at this very moment!"

"i-i don't know, i didn't really know how or when was a good time to tell you."

"oh, well thank god you waited, this was truly ideal," you growl sarcastically.

and then, like he has any right to be offended or upset, he lets out a scoff. "look, i'm sorry but this is what i want....i'll still pay for dinner if that's what you're-"

"you think i give a single fuck if you pay for dinner!"

you finally break whatever composure you were channeling, voice breaking and raising and causing the several groups of people to look in your direction. some of them are subtle with their side-eyes and whispers while others are full on staring, mouths agape with looks of pity and you wouldn't be surprised if you find a video of this on the internet later.

"what is your problem," he says, "i said i'm sorry but you really can't be that-"

"leave," you tell him, quietly now, with your head down and eyes on the table. "i'll take care of it. just please...get away from me."

there's a few beats of silence before he mumbles something along the lines of "whatever," deeply sighing like this is actually causing him any distress, like he's the one who has to stay here with lingering gazes and pitiful stares. you think he might take a breath to say something else but then ultimately decides against it, the squeaking of a chair and heavy foot steps walking away indicating you're finally alone.

and it's during that time your tears start falling, your head hung and hand cupping your forehead so the people around you don't get more of a show.

maybe a part of you knew deep down that the relationship was gonna be over, that it really should've been for your sake and you were just too scared to accept it. but it was just the manner in which he did it, so coldly and out of nowhere, like the past five years didn't mean anything to him. and you can't deny the sickening parallel to years of you telling him you didn't want him to fucking propose to you in public and then going and dumping you at one of your favorite resturants.

"i'm so stupid, oh my, god, i'm so fucking stupid," you mumble out, voice wobbly and wet before you feel the presence of the waitress at your side. you peak up at her as she bends down holding out a packet of tissues, a sympathetic look on her face that has you realizing she probably watched the whole thing go down.

"you're not stupid, baby, don't say that," she says, placing her hand on your arm comfortingly.

you thank her quietly for the tissues, taking one out and dapping at your wet face. "i'm sorry, this is so embarrassing," you squeak out, "i'm gonna pay the bill don't worry, i just...i needed him to leave."

"no, i'm so sorry that just happened. i can't believe he thought that was okay."

you sniffle as you scrunch up the tissue. "i-i know," you say, "i mean i knew he was an asshole but he really just...our anniversary dinner! and during dessert! i was so excited for this cake."

she laughs softly at your sad whine, placing down the tissue packet and moving the plate closer to you. "well, you can still be excited. don't you dare let him ruin this tiramisu." you're pleastantly surprised when a small chuckle leaves your mouth, wiping at your face with your wrist.

"you're right, he can't taint it," you say before catching the side glances of people surrounding you, "but i think i have to get out of here before i cause any more of a disturbance."

she nods her head sympathetically, urging you to take a few bites and that she'll bring the check right over.

you keep your head down as embarrassed tears threaten to fall again, the feeling like a milllion eyes are on you making you feel even more awkward and unsettled; you're sure it's just paranoia but you swear you can feel eyes boring into the side of your face, someone probably laughing and mocking and feeling so incredibly sorry for your pitiful situation.

sorry enough that when the waitress comes back, she tells you someone has already paid for your bill. your eyes widen upon hearing the news, looking around curiously and stuttering out incoherent bits of sentences.

"who?" is the only clear thing you're able to ask.

"i don't know, he just left," she tells you, "brown-haired guy. very tall. cute, too." you feel her hand on the back of your chair when you stand up. "and i'm sorry again, honey. i didn't charge you for the cake but i hope to see you in here again enjoying it," she adds on quietly.

you give her a grateful smile and nod, assuring her you'll definitely be back before rushing out to catch up with the mysterious man who just dropped well over $100 on two complete strangers. and luckily, you don't have to look very far. because there he is, all dark hair and broad shoulders, leant against the side of the building with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

he sees your teary-gaze meet his and his lips quirk up ever so slightly before he flicks the ashes and begins to turn around. but your low "hey!" stops him in his tracks. he cranes his neck back to look at you, the sky dark around you both but the light from the streetpoles clearly showing both of your expressions.

his is unnervingly blank, only a flicker of soft sympathy in his eye while your own, still heartbroken, also holds a curious, maybe even a wary look. because why would this stranger do that? could he have felt that bad?

you make your way up to him, feeling slightly intimidated when he fully turns around and you see just how much he towers over you. but it's funny because his face is shockingly...sweet looking, like a fresh-faced boy you'd see in church or volunteering at a nursing home.

but then his large stature, the shoulders you can't stop eyeing, his all black attire mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke and cologne makes for a very strange contrast. even his voice, when he finally mumbles back a "hi," is sweet sounding.

"why did you...the waitress said you paid my bill." your tone is quiet and small but still manages to sound accusatory.

"i did, i'm sorry," he says and you're wondering if the pink flush on his cheeks is from the cold. "i hope you didn't mind." you find yourself staring at him blankly, eyebrows pinched together because...did he really just apologize for that?

"i...well no but..i..it was probably expensive," you eventually get out, "you didn't have to do that."

"well, neither did he," yunho mumbles and you can tell by the airiness in his tone he didn't mean anything bad by it. but it doesn't stop your face from dropping slightly, lips pressing into a firm line to distract yourself from your stinging eyes.

"i'm sorry, that was insensitive," he winces, the sincerity in his tone only confirming your thoughts. "but i just... i wanted to pay for it. why should you have?"

you swallow the lump in your throat, shrugging your shoulders lightly because you don't really know what to say back to that.

"because i'm the one who got dumped," you squeak out before a humorless laugh bubbles out of you. "dumped on our anniversary. how pathetic is that?"

"it's pathetic of him," the boy grunts out and you cock your head to the side at how mad he sounds.

"i-i guess..." you say after a few quiet seconds before words start pouring out of you. "i just.. can't believe it. i don't know what i'm gonna do now. i've been with him for so long and got so used to him and then he really went and-" your voice breaking cuts off your sentence, like it's finally hitting you that the relationship is over.

because no matter how bad it was, it was still something you put years of yourself into. years of effort and years of memories and you feel so stupid for feeling this upset when there's far more bad than good.

"i'm sorry, you definitely don't wanna hear this," you laugh out humorlessly as tears sting your eyes. "but...i just wanted to thank you for paying the bill. i wish i could make it up to you somehow, it was probably expensive."

you meet his gaze to see him smiling slightly at you, even though you're on the verge of a breakdown and talking far too much.

"you're welcome," he says before hesitantly continuing. "i was gonna go walk around for a bit. do you wanna join?"

when you look up at him with a wary expression, he puts his hands up in defense, eyes soft and wide as he shakes his head. "it might clear your head a little, that's all."

your fragile heart warms at the gesture but you find yourself declining, insisting you're not the best company right now and that'd he probably regret inviting you.

"i don't think so," he says and his voice is just so kind that you're questioning if he's even real, questioning why on earth this stranger seems to care about your wellbeing. and when he sees you're still teetering, teeth sunk into your lip as you look at him with conflict in your eyes, a sweet smile spreads across his face.

"c'mon, you said you wanted to make it up to me."

your lips purse to the side, eyebrow raised ever so slightly before letting out a quiet sigh. "okay... but don't say i didn't warn you."

his smile widens as his long arms come out to showcase the sidewalk in front of him and you find yourself giggling slightly at his dramatics. you take one last look back at the restaurant before exhaling sharply and feeling his looming presence next to you as you both begin to walk.

"so....were you there with friends tonight?" you chirp, hoping to distract your impending nervousness with conversation.

he tells you he had met his mom there for dinner, who brought along his new step-father he can't help but detest. but he sat politely all throughout the appetizer and main course until one too many ignorant and snappy comments had him putting the man in his place.

"he was also mean to the waitress which is why i eventually snapped," he tells you. and by snapped, he means lowly speaking for him to either find some manners or piss off. "my mom asked for the check so fast and they left within five minutes. so i stayed for a drink."

"i could so use a drink right now," you laugh out, "but it sounds like you were in the right. you're just all types of chivarlous, huh?"

you peak up at him to see a smirk cross his face, his eyes falling to you at the same time and pink covers both your cheeks at being caught. but you and him will pretend it's because of the harsh winds whipping through the city; yes, the whipping wind, definitely not the soft curious gazes and arms bumping into each other clumsily.

"what made that obvious?"

you shake your head as another giggle falls from your lips, tightening the sweater around your body when a particularly harsh breeze pelts into you again. and of course, the boy next to you immediately notices, hears the clattering of your teeth and sharp intake of breath.

"you cold?"

"no, i'm okay," you squeak out. but you already see his movements from the corner of your eye taking off the black bomber jacket.

"please don't give me your coat, i can not-"

but it's already placed around your shoulders before you can finish your sentence, a knowing smirk on his lips when you huff at him, exasperated.

"....i was gonna say your name but it appears i don't even know it."

his deep chuckle rings through the air, stopping his feet so he can properly put his hand out.

"i'm yunho."

"y/n," you say back, taking his large hand in yours and what an innapropriate time for you to admire its sheer size and the length of his fingers. "you're... nice, too nice."

his smile widens looking down at you, hands still intertwined as he cocks his head to the side. "because i gave a cold girl my jacket?"

"and paid for her bill. and welcomed her on a walk," you say, "i'm wondering how much more i can get out of your very obvious pity."

his smile falters, eyebrows knitting as he shakes his head. "i'm not doing this out of pity."

the firm way in which he says it has you lowering your head shyly, eyes on the concrete as you take the hand in his back. all of your emotions are out of wack tonight, your chest not knowing how to feel, broken and aching over that awful dinner but also...slightly warmed by the actions of this random boy.

"then why are you doing it?" your voice sounds so small and it makes a frown cover his face now.

"can't i just be nice to you?" he asks, "why do i need a reason?"

"because we're...strangers," you say, looking up at him hesitantly and pressing your lips together nervously, "and you don't know me."

"everyone's strangers until they're not," he retorts, stepping just a smidge closer to you and it makes you swallow down the dry patch in your throat. "and maybe i want to know you."

when you can't find the words to respond, heart racing and throat clogged, he speaks up again.

"let me distract you tonight."

your eyebrow raises, head turning to the side because you don't know what to make of that comment. because you know you're vulnerable right now, know you should probably go home and cope normally in the form of crying and ice cream.

but you trust him for some reason. trust his soft voice and kind eyes and the way he seems so genuine and pure despite his dark appearance.

"what do you have in mind?" you find yourself asking, stomach fluttering and whether it's from nervousness or his bright smile, you don't know.

"could you still use a drink?"

12:22 a.m

"okay, i think....this is a weeeee bit unsafe!" you say as you stumble up the stairs behind him, his hand pulling you carefully by one of your fingers.

"probably," he says, "but we'll be okay."

the sound of a door squeaking open is the first thing you hear, the harsh whipping of wind the next as your hair blows back and coldness envelops your body. yunho bends to stick a brick in the door before guiding you to the middle of the rooftop.

the dark sky is lit by faint lights shining from apartment buildings and bulletin boards, the only sound an occasional honk of a horn making it's way up the 20 stories. you disconnect your hands to stumble over to the edge, placing them on the cold concrete to peer your head over. you take in the sight of tall buildings and taxis and little figures of people walking the streets.

"heeelllooo!" you scream down at them, your hands cupping your mouth in hopes someone will hear you. yunho's laugh echoes through the sky, quickly walking over to place a hand on your lower back.

"be careful."

you turn around, back now resting on the ledge as you poke his chest lightly. "you're the one that said we'll be okay," you mutter, lowering your voice to imitate his words. "because i'm big and strong and a suspiciously nice boy."

"okay, nice you told me," he says, voice teasing as he stares down at you with bright eyes. "but big and strong, you say?"

"very big and very strong," you say, letting your finger travel from his chest to his shoulder. he watches your eyes follow your hand, roaming from one side of him to the other before meeting his eyes. and it's like his gaze acts as an electric shock, your hand immediately falling from the black material.

"and i had very too much drink."

he smiles down at you, making sure to stay close because he'd be lying if he said you being so close to the edge didn't make him nervous. and perhaps this wasn't his best idea, bringing you up to the roof of his apartment complex after you had one too many beers.

but it's a nice place to clear your head, to take in the sights of the city in a less noisy and crowded way. and he thinks you could use that after the night you had, after the night he couldn't help but hear take place as he sat alone at the bar.

he had ohad a perfect view of you all night. you caught his eye the second he sat down, your shy smile and the way you fidgeted nervously with your hair making him not being able to tear his gaze away.

but then he'd heard the bored tone of the guy across from you, the way he was barely entertaining the conversation and just avoided all your softly spoken questions. he had tightened his grip around the beer bottle one too many times, sick and tired of asshole men who never learned how to respect other people.

"i just wanted my cheesecake."

your sudden whine rips him from his thoughts and he can't help the smirk creeping up on his face.

"which one? the tiramisu?"

it's your surprised gasp and bright eyes that has a smile stretching across his face and your own heart warms upon seeing it. because he is super cute.

"yes! oh, my gosh, yes!" you giggle, "have you had it?"

"every time i go," he chuckles out, "except tonight."

"me too," you say and the sudden thought that he wants to kiss the pout off your face comes into his head. but that would absolutely absurd because he's only known you two hours and you just got broken up with and you're a bit tipsy; there's just far too many reasons for him not to do it.

so he lifts his hand to your mouth, his thumb and pointer finger lifting your face into a smile. you giggle against his hand, opening your mouth playfully and pretending to bite it but he quickly rips it away.

"hey!" his voice is deep but teasing and it makes you squeal as you drunkely trot away from him. in fear that you'll somehow stumble over the edge, he chases after you but the sound of his feet causes you to speed up. your laugh echoes on the rooftop, his own deep chuckles and pleas of "stop!" ringing through the air.

and he wishes you would've listened because no less than ten seconds later do you trip over your shoe lace, stumbling and crashing down right on your side. he yelps your name, rushing over and is grateful to see your head didn't ricochet off the concrete.

"oops," you giggle out, rolling onto your back as you rub at your side. he kneels over you, assessing your face for any injuries and sighing in relief when you're unscathed. but then you sit up, looking around in a daze before your eyes land on the untied white lace.

"okay so not my fault....my shoe was untied."

"i see that," yunho laughs out, tapping his large hand on his knee. you look at him with a small unsure smile.

"let me tie you up."

your eyes widen for a split second, mouth dropping open and you see how bright red his face his face gets even in the dark.

"your shoe! let me tie your shoe up! so you don't fall again." you plop your foot down with a nervous laugh and watch his long fingers double knot your laces before gently placing it down. "next one," he says with a smile, "just in case."

you purse your lips to the side to hide your own, sticking your foot on him before laying back on the cold ground. he plops on his butt after he finishes tying the second shoe, watching you lay there and he hopes you don't fall asleep.

a few moments pass before he hears your quiet voice.

"what'd you say?" he asks, leaning his head towards you. but now it's his eyes that are widening, your hand pulling him by his sweater and if he didn't put his arms out, he probably would've fallen right on top of you. his large figure rolls off, laying right beside you just as you speak again.

"stars," you slur, "i wish we could see them here." because you're just staring at the black abyss, the crescent shaped moon the only thing beaming down at you. but what you'd give to see a sky full of twinkling stars, because there's a sense of wonder in them that always makes you feel better.

"i know, that'd be nice," he sighs. and it's a thought he's also had when he'd sneak up here. whether it was after rough days or okay days or great days, he always found solace up here. but he always thought, especially on those particular nights he felt gloomy, that the stars would've been good company.

"what made you take me up here, anyway?" you hum curiously.

he moves his gaze, watching you look at the sky and he feels his chest tighten. because it's like the moon is reflecting in your eyes, the only source of light shining down on you as you look up and take it all in. and even though your cheeks are red from the wind and tears and your hair is windblown and knotty, "you're beautiful."

he says it so lowly that you wouldn't have heard it if a harsh blow of wind whipped through the air. but because it didn't, because everything up here is now still and unmoving, you crane your neck to look at him.

"what?"

his cheeks flush ever so slightly because he did not mean to blurt that out. but he got lost in his admiration, in the way you looked so angelic and at peace and content and now he really has to work on answering you.

"i'm sorry," he says, voice sounding breathy and flustered. "i meant....i mean, i don't know, really. i just think it's a nice place to get away for a bit."

he thinks he might've scared you off by his compliment, watching you turn your head back to the sky and remain silent for a few beats of time. his brain is screaming at him now that you're gonna jump up and run away and think his intentions were anything but pure. but then his brain and body relax when your soft voice begins to speak up.

"it is," you squeak quietly, "i...think this was a good first choice."

"first choice?"

your head snaps to look at him again, a smile on your face at just his presence next to you. because he's the type of person who has a light around them, who makes you feel at ease and whose soul you just know is good.

"well yeah," you squeak out, "i have you as a distraction all night, right?"

a big smile of his own brightens his face and you feel your heart flutter, jumping and shifting at the way he just looks so happy.

"you do."

"well, i have our second place in mind. but we might have to take a taxi," you explain to him, "on me, of course."

"no need," he says, "this is actually my apartment building. my car is downstairs."

you huff out as your eyes roll and he chuckles when you stare at him with a pained expression.

"what?"

"you're too chivalrous!" you whine, smacking his chest lightly as you cross your legs. he only smiles as he shakes his head at you. but his heart hurts because the bare minimum for you would probably seem like an act of chivarly.

"fine. i'll drive myself there and you can walk," he teases, poking your kneecap lightly when he says the word 'you'.

"deal," you giggle and he bites his lip at the sound, placing his large arm behind his head before you continue. "but first..."

he watches you unzip his jacket, fishing inside of it before whipping out two beer bottles with a smile. "i'd like to finish these, if that's okay."

"did you smuggle those out?!" he asks, humor in his tone as he leans up on his elbows.

"well, i paid for them of course!" you squeak, cheeks heating up at the way he's looking at you with his soft eyes and red cheeks. but then it occurs to you why his poor face is probably bright red. "and since we're at your house now....can i please ask something of you?"

he raises his eyebrow at you.

"please get yourself a jacket."

2:38 a.m.

he'd been driving for a little over an hour when you quietly alert him that you've almost arrived. he'd been led to a suburban area, brick houses lined with garden gnomes and mini vans in a quiet town. he smiles when he drives around the corner and sees a fenced in playground, two jungle gyms equipped with monkey bars and slides as well as a swingset in the farthest corner.

"ah, so this is destination 2?"

"yeah..." he hears you mumble quietly, "do you think it's stupid?"

he looks over at you when he hears the almost whispered tone in your voice, eyes staring down at your lap with your hands tucked into one another tightly. it seems like you think he's gonna berate you, like you're reliving some sort of bad memory and expecting history to repeat itself.

so without thinking, he reaches out with his hand and places it over yours. the unexpected warmth causes you to jump, looking up at him with glossy, hazed eyes.

"of course not," he says softly and you swallow the lump in your throat. "i'm pleasantly surprised. i haven't been on a playground in forever."

the smallest of smiles makes its way on your face, whipping your head back to the park and wiggling your feet. "me either," you mumble.

"then let's go, shall we?" he hums, removing his hand from yours as he turns off the car and opens his door to get out. you just manage to place your hand on the handle when five seconds later, he's opening and holding the passenger side door for you.

"i'm not even gonna say it," you mumble before thanking him quietly. he chuckles as he follows you to one side of the park, a gaping hole in the fence that easily allows the average sized body to slip through. but it proves a bit more challengingly for him, a giggle leaving your mouth as you take him by the hand and pull him the rest of the way in.

"i forgot you're a giant."

he scoffs playfully at you, running past you to get to the swings first. but you're sluggish in your movements, teetering and eyes heavy because you really shouldn't have had those two drinks. you were hoping it'd liven your spirits, make you more fun and playful.

but it appears when you're as sad as you are, the fun parts of drinking get skipped over and the sorrow you're feeling only heightens. and the boy smiling at you on the swing is making it easier, the way he talked and laughed with you in the car, the way he's parading you around and keeping you company so you're not lonely and sad. but you still feel it, feel like you're being crushed by the pain in your chest and torn in two different directions.

"i shouldn't have drank," you whine, taking a seat on the swing and leaning your head against the cool chain. your statement immediately has his eyes widening, his feet stopping on the gravel and looking at you.

"why?" he asks, slight panic in his voice, "are you gonna puke?"

"no," you giggle out slightly as you shake your head. "i just...i know my company's about to get pretty depressing." you swallow the lump forming in your throat, feeling tight and like you're about to choke on it. "your distractions have been....great but i'm still feeling so- i don't know why i'm-"

you feel his hands on your knee, the warmth radiating through your pants as he's bent down and looking at you with those kind brown eyes.

"hey, it's okay," he says softly and it has tears stinging behind your own because he looks at you nicer than he ever did and here you are crying over that waste when you could be getting to know him. "it'd be unusual if you didn't, y/n, it just happened."

your teeth dig into your lip to stop it from trembling, sniffling against the cold air. "i guess...i brought him here once you know."

"yeah?"

his heart wrenches seeing you stare down at your lap dejectedly, moving your foot in small circles that his thumbs micmic on your knee. and that's the way you stay for a while, in the cold silence together as he stays bent down rubbing your knee, your eyes trailing from your lip to his long fingers that have such a gentle touch.

"when we first started dating," you finally say quietly because it was probably one the first red flags that he wasn't gonna be the best boyfriend. you'd been dating for two months, driving back into the city after his first time meeting your parents when you asked him if you could show him one of your favorite places.

and you don't know why you were so surprised when he laughed at you, raised an eyebrow and scoffed  because 'why would a grown adult wanna go to a playground?'

"did he like it?" he asks, seeing that you're in your head again.

"of course not," you laugh out humorlessly, "he thought it was so stupid. asked why either of us would even wanna go here when we're full grown adults. but i...i don't know, i came here all the time when i was younger and wanted to show him. i though it'd be fun."

he forgets he's holding onto your knee so you look down when he squeezes it between his large hand, eyes tight and jaw slightly clenched as he shakes his head.

"he's the stupid one," yunho bites into the cold air, "you wanted to show him something meaningful and he couldn't see that."

you shrug as a quiet sigh leaves your mouth. you don't even know why you keep talking but words just keep falling out of you, making you even more mopey and sad and you know he's absolutely regretting this. regretting spending his night with a whiney loser who can't stay out of her own sad head, who doesn't ever know what to say back so you lapse into silence while uncomfortable thoughts plague your mind.

"would you break up with someone like that?" he hears your voice ask lowly and his stomach twists at your question. because it was so random and out of nowhere, he knows you've probably been mulling over everything for these past few silent minutes.

"would you just spring it on a person like that? at a restaurant in front of people?"

he doesn't even have to think about his response.

"no," he mumbles truthfully, "i...don't think i could ever."

you sniffle because you had known that would be his answer. he's nice and kind and everything you wanted your boy....ex-boyfriend to be.

"but i've also never broken up with anyone before," he shares quietly.

you wipe at the lone tear that finally escaped your eye, cringing when you see your makeup on his jacket.

"oh? but you've had a girlfriend before, right?"

when he doesn't answer, your eyes widen and you quickly correct yourself when you meet his gaze. "or boyfriend..."

a small smile crosses his face as he shakes his head. "it'd be girlfriend..." he says teasingly, "but no... i've never really dated anyone, officially. just flings and stuff."

"why?" you squeak out and his eyes flicker to you, roaming your face to see an avid curiosity in your wide, glossy eyes.

"i don't know," he says honestly and he wishes he had a better answer for you. "it's not like i haven't wanted one...i just never found the right person, i guess."

you can only hum thoughtfully, nodding as you take in this new bit of information. because how is it possible that he can't manage to find the right person?

"well who would that be then?"

when he looks up from your knees, he sees you looking down at him with your head back against the chain. and if was anyone else, he'd think they were asking coyly. like they were trying flirt or be tempting.

but he knows that's not the case, even if he wants it to be.

"someone good," he says after thinking about it for a second, "someone i can have fun with but also be serious with. just someone...genuine and sweet, who i know deserves the best."

"you just described yourself," you mumble and he can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

"yeah? i thought that kind of sounded like someone else here," he responds lowly, his deep voice causing your gaze to meet his. you bite your lip nervously at the eye contact and any other time it'd make you nervous and fidgety. but now, because you're in the state you're in, you can't look away.

and it's a state he knows you're in as well which is what causes him to look away and stand up, moving himself behind you until his hands meet the middle of your back. you jump in surprise, craning your neck back to look at him.

but before you can ask him what's happening, you start flying into the air. you let out a small squeal as you tighten your hold on the chains, his large hands pushing on your back as you swing.  

"don't fall again!"

"well, a warning would've been nice!" you squeak before another uncontrollable laugh cuts you off.

"that's not as fun."

he continues to push you until you whine for him to sit down next to you, pumping your legs as you two fight to get higher. but when he leans his head back a few minutes later and catches a glimpse of the dark sky, he's halting and grabbing you to stop the swing.

"what're you doing, cheater! i was winning!"

"come with me."

he grabs your hand and leads you over to the jungle gym, guiding you up to the highest platform before craning his neck up.

"what're you doing?" you ask as you mimic him before a gasp cuts you off. because the exposed ceiling of the playground shows off the sky full of bright twinkling stars, the lack of light pollution from the bustling city allowing you to see just what you're robbed of every night.

"the stars!" you squeal, looking at him excitedly and he feels his chest constrict like it has every time that bright smile comes out. "they're so pretty."

"they are," he mumbles, watching you plop down on the cold floor and lay out to stargaze. he smiles softly before joining you, bending his legs so he fits on the platform. and just like on the rooftop, your arms press together but neither of you make any attempts to move them.

and then if your head somehow ends up grazing his shoulder, he only peaks down with a smile that matches your own.

4:10 a.m.

once the cold got too much, lips chapped and hands red, you both ran to the car and waited anxiously for the heat to crank up. there was a sense in the air that your time wasn't over yet, neither one of you mentioning going home or ending the night despite the early morning hours creeping around.

so it's why you ended up picking up food at a 24-hour conveience store, crumps of snacks and water bottles littering the floor of his car. why you're both just pulled over on the side of the empty highway, the occurence of another flashing pair of headlights rare.

"so what do you usually do on a friday night?" you chirp as your feet rest on the dashboard, "you know, when you're not accompanying a weepy dumpee?"

"don't call yourself that," he laughs out, "but usually just at one of my friends. we're a boring bunch so you've actually spiced up my night."

"now i know that's a lie," you quip, poking his arm lightly and the sound of his deep chuckle has your cheeks heating. he is cute.

"it's not," he assures turning his head to the side to throw you a wink. "and thank you."

your body freezes as a gasp leaves your mouth, snapping your head to look at him. he doesn't laugh because of how wide your eyes are, how shocked and horrified you look that you just said that aloud, but he really wants to.

"i...i didn't say- oh, my god."

"what's so bad about that? i blurted out that you were beautiful two hours into meeting," he says, embarassment laced in his tone.

your cheeks heat at the memory, a shy smile on your face as you look down to hide the bright blush. it's daring on his part, daring to reach out and lift your face, rub his thumb along the warm skin and smile softly as he does so.

"why are you hiding?"

"because you're crazy," you say lowly, quietly, and you're cursing the dinner and the way this sweet boy affects you for your low self-esteem ruining the car's atmosphere.

"fine, i'm crazy," he says, "but you're still bea-"

"i'm not," you interupt quietly, before he can say those words and warm your heart and make you wanna kiss him. because that would be a terrible idea. even though you want to, even though you've developed the fastest crush in history and it would be so easy to just scoot over a few inches, move your head in just a little and-

"why? because he broke up with you?"

you bite your lip at the reminder, roaming over his face that's unwavering and serious. dark eyes looking into yours, focused on nothing but you with his hand still on your cheek. you swallow the ball forming in your throat as he waits for you to answer.

"yes," you mumble, feeling your eyes gloss over before you move your face to look back out the window. he sighs next to you and you can feel his gaze on you, boring into you and the tightness in your throat is almost suffocating you.

"i'm sorry, y/n, but you have to know-"

"stop it," you mumble brokenly, "please stop."

"why," he says softly and he's surprised by himself for pushing you. but he can't help it, not as he watches your fleeting moments of happiness fade in and out the way they have all night, sees your eyes water and hands start to fidget.

there's only a tense silence in the car for the next few moments, your eyes out the window and his on you as he watches your fingers fold into each other.

"he didn't deserve you," he suddenly says and you look up with your eyebrows furrowed, a humorless laugh leaving your mouth.

"how could you say that, you don't even know him," you mumble, hating that you're sitting here and defending him. and for what? you already knew he was the worst.  

"from the things you've told me. from what i saw and heard with my own ears," he tells you quietly. "i...he acted as if he wanted to be anywhere else but with you. and i just couldn't imagine why. because you seemed so... sweet and happy to be there with him."

you swallow nervously at his intense gaze and words, reaching out to fumble with the heat because it just got uncomfortably warm in here.

"why are you saying these things?" you ask suddenly, snapping your head up to look at him. "why are you still being so nice to me?"

he lets out a strangled sigh, his hard eyes looking you over and it makes something in you burn.

"i get it, you feel bad and wanted to play the knight in shining armor for a pathetic girl. but i can't take it, tonight. i can't take you...saying these things to me and not meaning it. just saying it out of pity."

"that wasn't why i did it," he's quick to say and there's something building in the air, a light buzzing as you become more snappy and he becomes more adament to prove himself to you. "and how do you know i don't mean it? i never felt pity for you."

"because it doesn't make any sense," you squeak out brokenly, "you're...you and i'm just some sad girl who can't keep her boyfriend interested enough to remember their fucking anniversary. can't keep her boyfriend happy enough to wanna stay with her and instead be dumped at-"

it's his large hand grabbing your jaw that starts it. halts your words and connects your gazes and has shaky, strangled breaths leaving your mouth. has him mumbling "stop it," through gritted teeth and you snarling a firm, "no."

and it could've been him bringing you forward or you pulling him closer but somehow, after a few beats of lingering gazes and breathy sighs, your lips connect.

at first neither of you even realized what happened, lips instinctually moving against one another and eyes shutting. his hand moves to your cheek and yours move to his shoulder, squeezing it lightly to ground yourself, make sure this is really happening because apparently the warm tingly feeling in your body isn't proof enough.

but it's what makes him rips himself away from you, chest heaving up and down from the adrenline of acting upon the feelings and actions he wanted to the moment he saw your smile on the rooftop.

"i'm sorry," he breaths out, eyes trained on the steering wheel, "i shouldn't have done that."

and if he thinks he shouldn't have done that, then you certainly don't think crawling over the console to straddle his lap would be the next appropriate move. but you do because it's like the second your lips met, you realized just how much you wanted and needed that.

his body freezes, back pressed right up against the black leather seat when watches you climb over. he looks down at you, dark eyes with a mix of agony and surprise and he's trying so hard to remain the nice, gentle boy he's been all night.

but then you bunch his shirt up between your hands, pull him down a few inches from your lips and mumble a plea to kiss you again against his mouth that has your lips crashing into one another again. his arms wrap around your waist hesitantly, your back arching when you feel how big his hands feel on your back, the warmth from his skin penetrating through your shirt. and it's all the encouragement he needs to tighten his hold around you, part his mouth and allow his tongue to sweep across your lips.

you stiffle a moan at the intrusion, meet his with yours as you slightly roll your hips on him. "y/n..." he groans against your lips but you only hum against them, body buzzing and the sound of heavy breathing fanning throughout the car only is only making you more willing to kiss him, to press yourself against his body and give yourself over to him.

but he quickly stops again, disconnecting your lips and squeezing your hips lightly. "wait..we shouldn't ...i don't wanna make you-"

"please," you say breathlessly, almost like a whine because your desire had been harboured by sadness but you now you don't even care. not with the feeling of him under you and the taste of him lingering on your lips and the way he's looking at you. "i want you."

"this isn't how how or why i wanted to distract you," he grunts out, "i swear i didn't-"

"yunho," you say, eyes boring into his and when he looks at you with wide, questioning eyes, you place a peck on his lips. "shut up."

and shut up he does when you bring his face down to yours, grinding his hips up into you at your eagerness and a tiny moan leaves your mouth at the feeling. because you feel the hint of a bulge and now arousal is just pounding through you.

your hands move to his hair, pulling and tugging and grinding against him and you hadn't realized how pent up sexually you were. and like the man under you has transformed into a new person, you just about faint when he disconnects your lips and mumbles against them, "he wasn't fucking you right, was he?"

your hazy, half-lidded gaze moves to him and you swallow at how different he looks. messy hair, red lips, dark eyes looking at you with such an intense, lustful gaze. and his voice, his deep and almost condescending tone causing wetness to pool between your legs.

"no," you whine out frustratedly.

"i can tell," he mutters teasingly and the way he says it makes your stomach flutter. his lips trail against your neck, kissing down and down as you lean your head back and bite your lips to suppress a moan.

"i'm gonna make you feel good, make you moan my name and come on my tongue and then fuck you right," he says pulling away from your neck to make you look at him, "is that good, baby? is that what you want?"

his dick twitches when he sees your roused hair and flushed face, eyes glossy and lips abused from his kiss and your teeth.

"hm?" he mutters again when you can only stare at him as your chest heaves.

"yes," you moan out and you can't believe how quickly you've fallen so needy and wet, "please."

"yes what?" he growls, "say my name."

"yunho. yes, yunho, please."

he lays you down on the seat, sliding it all the way back until he has just enough leg room to crouch down by the floor. he snakes his hands up your legs and thighs slowly, rubbing along your core and smiling when you thrash and twitch on the seat.

"are you gonna be wet for me, baby? i hope that's what i'm gonna see."

"yes, yunho," you repeat and he sharply inhales at how quickly you've learned to listen, how eager you are to respond and how you're already widening your legs.

"you're such a good girl, you know that?" he hums, undoing your pants with his fingers and you make sure to crane your neck to watch him. and it doesn't get lost on him either, smirking as his tugs your pants down to mid-thigh and you moan in response. your eyes roll back when you see his long finger trail against your wet lace thong and he has to surpress the growl in his throat.

"look at these," he hums moving them to the side just a little to graze your wetness and licks his lips when he feels his fingers get slick with your arousal.

"you," you gasp out, desperate for his touch or his tongue or just to feel him do anything but teasingly have his finger on you. "for you."

"yeah?" he mumbles, slowly moving around your dripping slit and you swallow down a loud moan. "you know. i wanted to kiss you all night," he hums, sliding your soaked thong down slowly and kissing in your inner thigh, "but i didn't think i'd get this lucky."

and with that, his hair grazes your stomach as he dips his head and places his tongue on your clit, lapping over it before trailing down to lick and taste more of you.

"holy shit," you gasp out and it only causes his tongue's assault to build frantically, sucking and licking and moaning against your wetness as he mumbles how good you taste. your hand moves to his hair, pulling and twisting the strands of hair and then gripping it harshly when you feel his finger slide into you.

"yunho," you screech out and you catch his eyes looking up at you, the image of him right between your legs, his mouth grazes over your burning core causing your own to roll back.

"look at me."

his deep voice commands it with such deep authority, so different than his sweet soft-spoken words, that you roll your head back to look at him with hazy eyes.

"i want you to watch me. watch me eat and finger this tight little pussy until you're screaming my name," he growls, bringing his other hand up to squeeze your bare thigh. "understand? i want you to watch me."

you nod your head frantically and you think you would've agreed to anything just for his tongue to go back on you and his finger to start pounding into you. and when it does, when he finally starts again between your legs, you bite your lips so your eyes don't roll back again.

because his tongue lapping over your clit, his long finger pounding up into you as looks right at you is quickly becoming too much. you can't ever remember a time oral felt like this, felt so consuming and had you making the sorts of moans and whines vibrating throughout the car.

"oh my god," you whine lowly, rolling your hips over his face but it only causes the hand not in your pussy to pin you down by your hips.

"hey," he warns lowly, his wet lips retracting from between your legs, "you've been so good for me, baby. what happened?"

"i'm sorry," you whine, "it just feels so-" his tongue laps at your clit teasingly and you screech "good, feels so good," when he sucks it into his hot mouth.

"i think i need to sit you on my cock," he says and the pride that floods through him when you clench around his finger is all consuming. "what do you think?"

"yes, yunho," you say, trying to remember how he likes you good, "please, i wanna sit on your cock." and it pays off because one second your laid out on your back, the next your pants are at your ankles and he's flipped you guys so you're straddling him again.

you feel his hardness under you, peaking down and your eyes widening when you see his sheer size. "whoa..."

your cheeks flush when you hear his deep chuckle, his hand running through your sweaty hair as he lifts your head.

"i'll be gentle."

but in a bold move, you spit on your hand and jerk his cock causing him to sputter in the seat below you. "i hope not," you mutter, eyes teasing and voice low and he squints his eyes at you.

"oh no?" he hums, "then sit."

thighs wet from the arousal dripping out of you, you swirl the tip around your slit teasingly and throw your heard back with a moan. and it's the only reason he humors it, because the way you look with your head thrown back, chest heaving and mouth hung open, is enough to make his already throbbing cock ache for you even more.

you move it to your clit, pressing him into it and grinding as a whiney cry leaves your lips. "oh my god," you squeak, your eyes shooting to his and you connect your lips again. he meets your kiss with the same fervor, taking his cock from your hold and lining it up with your entrance.

"i need to fuck you now," he growls, "please, baby."

"yes," you mumble against his lips, groaning out against him when you feel him enter you and stretch your walls. you both let out breathy moans when he fully enters, him because "you're so fucking tight" and you because "you're so big, yunho," and it's all the motivation you need to start grinding your hips onto him.

his hands dig into your hips, urging you on with coos of pet names and expletives that have you grinding and bouncing and moaning out. and if anyone were hitch hiking on the side of the road right now, it wouldn't take an expert to know just what was going on inside.

because both your deep moans and grunts are echoing throughout the car. your heavy breathing and sighs have fogged up the windows of the shaking car from your rolling and grinding and his thrusting to find that spot within you.

the spot he finds only a few minutes later that has you falling forward into the crook of his neck, bouncing your wet heat on him because you hear his strangled breathing and loud grunts until the familiar hot feeling of him releasing inside you has moans ripping out of your chests in unison.

it takes a while for your breathing to turn even, for your shaking legs to simmer and the ringing in his ears to stop. but when it does, he kisses the top of your head still buried in the crook of his neck and gently places you in the seat next to him.

he fumbles with the glove compartment and takes out a wipe, gently dabbing between your legs as you lay your head back on the leather seat.

"you okay?" he quietly laughs out seeing you still in a post-orgasm daze.

"i'm....good, great," you say, a laugh bubbling out of you before shyly thanking him for cleaning you. because even in the car, directly after an intense sex-crazed adrenaline rush, he still remembers aftercare. and you think if it was possible to fall in love with someone in a night, with a heart as fragile as yours, he'd be the person to make it happen.

"me too," he says quietly, throwing the wipe in the empty plastic bag before he looks over your face. "i...that was uh great, really great."

his face burns when you turn away to laugh into your shoulder, his deep of groan of "stop!" only making you giggle more. and like it wasn't the cause of what just happened in the first place, you mumble again that he's cute.

"also," you say, when your laugh and his red cheeks subside, "it'd probably be a good time to mention i'm on the pill."

6:49 a.m.

you're half asleep in the front seat of yunho's car, the familiar sounds of horns honking and the bustling city keeping you from falling into a full slumber. he had asked on the way back if he could bring you to one more place before you called it a night (even though the birds were chirping and sun was rising). and who were you to say no when he had smiled and asked so softly.

you pop your eyes open, hands under your cheek as you watch him silently bob his head to the soft music. he's at a red light, one hand atop the steering wheel as he looks over to see you staring.

"hey sleepy," he says, reaching out to fix your slightly messy hair. "i'm sorry, i know you're tired but we're almost there."

"s'okay," you mumble, meeting his soft eyes with a smile, "i don't wanna leave you yet anyway."

"oh no?" he hums softly and his heart tightens when you sees a shy blush cross your face.

"i didn't mean to say that," you sigh out sleepily and his small chuckle rings through the car.

"i was hoping you did," he says, hand moving from your head to pink cheek, "because i don't wanna leave you yet either."

the sound of a honk promptly ruins the moment, yunho's eyes moving to squint into the mirror before he drives off. you giggle as you shut your eyes again, burrowing yourself further into the leather.

he shakes you awake a few moments later, his hand on your shoulder as he looks down at with you soft brown eyes.

"we're here."

"where?" you mumble, sitting up and peaking out the window to see a small bakery.

"let me show you."

he gets out and meets you around the passenger side door, opening it for you and extending his hand out to you; you take it without a second thought and he smiles as he intertwines your fingers.

you walk up to the bakery door, the fresh smell of baked bread wafting through the empty store. the faint welcome from the worker is drowned out as your eyes peer over the shelves, bread and cookies and cakes lined up behind the streak-free glass.

you look up at him curiously when he leads you over to the cakes, tightening his hold on your hand when you guys stop in front of the display.

"pick anything you want."

you cock your head to the side before your eyes roam over the selection, squinting your eyes to read the script in front of every pastry when a tiny gasp escapes your lips.

"is that a-"

"tiramisu cheesecake," he confirms, "i heard it's really good here."

you stare at the glass as your heart tightens in your chest and you can't believe you have any tears left to sting behind your eyes today. but you don't wanna cry, even if they're happy tears, so it's why you lean your head against his arm and press your lips into a firm line.

"and i don't know if it's as good as that one," he says lowly, "but i figured it could hold you over until we....until you go back."

you lift your head to stare at him and he pouts upon seeing the one on your face. but before he can ask what's wrong or if he overstepped, your arm is wrapped around his body as you press your head into his chest.

"thank you," you choke out, "i....thank you." because if you try to say anymore, your hope that not even happy tears escape your eyes will be gone to shit.

and it's like he knows that. so he presses his lips to the top of your head and asks for a slice, your body still attached to his when he pays and ushers you out to the car.

and that's where you tell him you're so thankful for this cake but you also wanna enjoy the other one too. and at first he doesn't understand, his eyebrows furrowed together as he nods his head hesitantly.

"so i was thinking....maybe not this week, so i don't show up with a new boy right away...but next week, maybe we can go to-"

"yes," he blurts out and a big smile makes its way on your face when you see he can barely hold back his excitement. and he doesn't even care too.

because as he takes you home, you excitedly talk it over and exchange numbers. and he's quick to tell you you can start out as friends first, that he doesn't expect anything from you and will take this new found relationship at whatever pace you decide to set.

but you hope the smirk you throw his way shows him that you know within a few weeks time, you'll completely forget about the boy who made you so upset and dropped you into his lap, now filling you with such an excited, hopeful feeling even in your sleep deprived state.

you direct him to your apartment building and you thank him again for the night, sweet smiles and lingering gazes as you both delay separating.

but because that time has come, you gather your cake and open the door after teasing him that he better not get out and do it for you.

"so, i'll see you next week?" you ask quietly, a small shy smile on your face.

"next week," he says, watching you with a smile and light heart as you barrel up your apartment stairs and he gives himself two hours before his fingers start itching to text you.

[seanfalco]

Want | Priest!Kay x Reader {Part I}

Fandom: Season of the Witch Modern!AU Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None yet, other than maybe some sacrilege? (I’m not Catholic and I know this is probably not going to be everyone’s cup of tea) but there will be smut in later parts.

a/n: I got this prompt (below) & at first wasn’t sure what to do for it, until @midnightseance inspired the idea & @immortalled encouraged me to go for it lol. Thank you two for being my sounding boards 💛

Prompt: Initially I wasn’t gonna request anything because I... didn’t really have anything in mind but then I had a brain blast. I request you writing something you’ve really wanted to write but maybe have talked yourself out of. Like something you thought no one would want- like this is your sign this is your signal. I want to read it! Watching you write something your heart is fully in is one of my favorite things i’ve seen since following you. It doesn’t matter what it is I want to see it!!

Requested by: Anonymous

masterlist

You’d always thought Catholic churches were gorgeous — the architecture, the sculptures, the stained glass windows — so why did you feel this gut churning sense of dread at the sight as you approached.

“You sure I’m not gunna burst into flame as soon as we cross the threshold, like in some sort of horror movie?” you leaned in to whisper in your fiance’s ear and he scoffed.

“If that actually happened in real life, then I probably would’ve spontaneously combusted years ago,” he answered wryly, his eyes flicking to his parents on his other side.

“Right,” you muttered, taking a deep breath as you passed through the large double doors with the rest of the parishioners.

The inside was just as beautiful as the outside and you gaped at the sprawling windows, glittering colourfully as the sun hit them just right, while trying not to think about how anxious you felt. As you filed into the pew with your fiance and his parents, you could feel eyes on you from all sides as people whispered under their breath.

“Is that Matthew’s fiance? She looks rather plainer than I’d expected.”

“Is it true they’re having the ceremony here? She’s not even Catholic.”

“Well, she must be converting.”

Sinking down in the pew, you felt very out of place, and it was obvious to those around you that you were an outsider. You’d never been to a Catholic Mass before, much less any church service, really, and truth be told you weren’t really sure if you even believed or not, but this was what your fiance’s family wanted, though you knew he didn’t really care either way.

Matthew wasn’t exactly what you’d call a good Catholic boy — you’d definitely performed several cardinal sins with him already: sex before marriage, masturbation, use of contraceptives, the list goes on. But either way it wasn’t like you had much of a choice in the matter, you were joining the Catholic Church for better or for worse.

Soon the service began and you listened quietly, trying to pay attention, but amidst all the standing, sitting, and kneeling, you were getting dizzy trying to remember it all, and you tried to follow your fiance’s lead, but you were always a beat behind the rest, feeling more self conscious by the minute.

What are you doing here? you asked yourself for about the tenth time, grimacing as you quickly sat once more, glancing around hastily. It was obvious you didn’t belong, and your fiance didn’t even seem to care. In fact, he didn’t seem to be paying attention at all.

And that was when you saw him, quite possibly the last person you had expected to see.

Stepping up to the pulpit, he was dressed in black robes and a white collar, but you’d recognize him anywhere -- those wild curls, kind eyes, and breathtaking smile.

Kay.

Your Kay— no, not anymore. He’d gone to seminary school and you were marrying someone else, remember?

He was older now, and even from where you sat you could see the faint lines creasing his face, but he was still as gorgeous as you remembered him and your heart constricted for a moment as memories assailed you, overwhelming you — of awkward fumblings in the back of your car, of stumbled “I love you’s” for the first time, of —

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

Matthew’s voice in your ear snapped you out of your thoughts and you weren’t sure if you were grateful or annoyed.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you replied, trying to compose yourself, though you still felt like you couldn’t quite catch your breath.

“You went white as a sheet,” Matthew answered with a frown and you shook your head, your eyes returning to Kay.

“Is that your Priest?” you asked instead and your fiance glanced at you curiously.

“Yeah, he’s pretty new though, why?”

“He’s uhm, he’s just so… so young,” you whispered, stumbling over your words. “I thought priests were usually supposed to be, you know… old?”

Matthew snorted softly. “Don’t tell me you have the hots for him too.”

“What?” you hissed, glancing past him to see if his parents had overheard; they hadn’t seemed to and Matthew merely looked amused.

“Oh yeah, he’s rather popular with the other church girls, but I can’t see it,” he scoffed and your lips twitched angrily.

“I dunno, I can see the appeal,” you murmured under your breath. “I think he’s rather handsome.”

Your fiance rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever,” he mumbled and you ignored him, turning back to the front. For a moment Kay’s gaze seemed to pass over you and he froze, his words dying on his tongue as he faltered, his eyes going wide with shock, and he hastily cleared his throat, unable to look away.

Smiling uncertainly, you met his gaze and his reaction seemed to answer the unvoiced question that had been plaguing you since he’d stepped up to the pulpit.

Clearly, he remembered you.

What were the odds that he’d be the priest here, you thought, settling back in your seat. It seemed like some sort of cruel cosmic joke, taunting you. Or maybe it’s a sign? a little voice in the back of your head whispered. Maybe, you agreed hesitantly… if you believed in that sort of thing.

——

The rest of the sermon seemed to go by much quicker, though every time Kay’s eyes passed over you he seemed to tense slightly, while your knotted stomach would give a flutter, too lost in memories you hadn’t thought of in years to remember much of the message.

So when your fiance’s mom asked you what you thought of the homily, you had to lie through your teeth, sorry God, and hope she didn’t question you further.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really paying attention either,” Matthew muttered as you filed out of the sanctuary after his parents and turned down a side hall toward the Parish office.

Shit, you thought frantically, you’d almost forgotten you were to meet with the Priest after Mass to speak about converting and beginning that process. Which meant you’d be meeting with Kay. Great.

“Ah, Father, there you are, lovely sermon,” Matthew’s mother exclaimed and you gave a start, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned to find Kay approaching.

Cool it, [y/n], you told yourself, trying to calm your pounding heart. How many years has it been? Besides, you’re getting married and he’s a fucking priest for Christ’s sake —shit, sorry, God. He chose this life over you, remember that.

“Father, this is our soon to be daughter-in-law, [y/n].”

Shit, you were being introduced, say something, [y/n].

Luckily, before you could decide whether to pretend you’d never met before or explain that you already knew each other, Kay was reaching out to shake your hand, and wordlessly you slipped your hand in his.

“How do you do?” he murmured, holding onto you a beat longer than was proper, but you didn’t exactly want to let go either.

“Good, I’m good,” you managed to stammer, his smile still doing things to your pulse.

“So, uhm, shall we step into my office?” he asked, finally letting go of your hand, almost seeming to have forgotten he was still holding it.

“Actually, we’ll be on our way. She’s in your hands now, Father,” your future in-laws exclaimed, and you waved as they exchanged a few more pleasantries before making their exit.

“Do I need to be part of this meeting too?” Matthew asked suddenly, as soon as his parents had gone and you turned to frown at him, sharp suspicion filling you, but you kept your mouth shut and swallowed it, not wanting to cause a scene in front of Kay.

“I… I suppose not,” Kay answered hesitantly, and a look of relief flashed across your fiance’s face.

“Sorry to run. I’ll see you later, hun,” he exclaimed, planting a distracted kiss to the top of your head before striding away, already pulling his phone from his pocket and you scowled after him.

“Sure, make me go through all this for you and then don’t even stick around,” you muttered under your breath as you watched him go.

“Er… shall we?” Kay prompted, holding his office door open and you gave a small jolt, shaking yourself out of your thoughts to enter the dark room, Kay reaching for the light switch as he followed.

“Have a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the set of chairs facing his desk before hanging up his robes and taking a seat as well, facing you. “[y/n],” he exclaimed, familiarity leeching into his voice now that you were alone. “To say I’m surprised to see you here would be a bit of an understatement.”

“That makes two of us,” you replied, looking around his office.

“It’s been so long,” he murmured, gazing down at his hands, “you look so —it’s uh, it’s good to see you,” he said, cutting himself off and you desperately wished you knew what he had been going to say instead.

“You look good,” you replied, offering him a hesitant smile, your eyes flicking over him. “Am I supposed to call you Father, or--? Because, I’ll be honest, that’s kinda weird,” you admitted, and Kay grimaced slightly.

“I mean technically you’re supposed to, but…” he paused to clear his throat, “—I agree, it is a little … strange,” he admitted as well and you were glad to see he hadn’t changed too much.

“Right? It’s too close to calling you ‘daddy’,” you muttered, realizing too late what you’d just said, feeling your face heat with embarrassment, as across from you, Kay had turned nearly as red as you felt, and he quickly cleared his throat, hooking his finger under his collar in discomfort.

“Let’s uhm, let’s talk about what you’ll need to do to join the Church,” he said, quickly changing the subject and you heaved a breath, thankful to ignore that awkwardness.

“Right, yeah,” you agreed. “So, what exactly do I have to do?”

Composing himself, Kay folded his hands atop his desk. “Well, usually new converts wishing to become baptized in the Catholic Church have to attend a series of classes for nearly a year—“

“A year?” you yelped, cutting him off, your eyes widening at the thought.

“—But,” Kay continued wryly, “we usually make exceptions for those marrying into the Church, letting them join on a more condensed timeline, opting for uh...private lessons,” he explained, his voice constricting at the word private.

“So… you’re saying I’ll be taking one on one lessons... with you?” you asked, chewing the inside of your lip. This sounds like a bad idea.

You were already painfully aware of the fact that you’d never truly gotten over your feelings for Kay and now you’d be spending one on one time with him on a weekly basis, all the while knowing it was only so you could enter into a marriage you didn’t truly want. Already your heart was racing and your mind was reeling with memories all clamoring for your attention.

You didn’t know if you could do this. If you should do this.

But part of you wanted to, if only to be close to him again.

“Will that… be a problem?” Kay asked slowly, as if he had to force the words out.

“No,” you answered quickly, “no, that sounds good.”

Liar.

“Are-are you sure? I mean, with our, ahh… history, I wouldn’t want —“

“I don’t want anyone else.”

At your words Kay’s eyes widened and you could practically hear his breath hitch from where you sat and for a moment neither of you spoke, the words hanging in the air like a confession and you felt your face once more grow hot.

“I mean, I don’t want anyone else for a teacher,” you amended, clutching your hands together in your lap.

I want you.

“Oh, y-yes, that’s… that’s good,” Kay murmured, taking a deep breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “We’ll start next week then.”

You nodded as you stood. “Sounds good to me.”

“[y/n]—“

Opening his office door, you hesitated, glancing back at him as he quickly called your name.

“Yes… Father?”

Kay swallowed thickly. “It… it truly is good to see you again.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, it is. Til next week, then.”

———————

Everything Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @etherealsxnder @iamsexytrash @orions-nebula @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @misskittysmagicportal

[its-me-jessi]

Back To The History PT9

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader

Summary: Y/N and Hvitserk’s relationship will reach the next level and get more intimate, but what next?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10

"I may consider taking her as my wife!”, Ivars words obviously enraged Hvitserk, since he angrily hissed at his brother, “Don’t you dare, Ivar!”. “Why should I not?! Since she’s from the future, she’ll bring many benefits. I’m sure, I’ll profit from having her by my side, don’t you think?”, Ivar kept provoking him and Hvitserk let himself in for it, “You know exactly how I feel about Y/N, I won’t let you take her away from me and watch you take advantage of her!”. Watching him being all protective over me I realized how much I must mean to him and just the thought of it made me feel all warm inside. I took his clenched hand into both of my hands and stepped right beside him. “I agreed to help you with your plan, Ivar, that has to be enough. I don’t want to get involved with you in the way you proposed!”, I said surprisingly calmly. I should have felt alarmed by Ivar’s words but Hvitserk’s presence took away all my worries. I felt safe with him, safe enough to counter Ivar. Ivar certainly did not expect me to speak up, thus he glared at me skeptically shortly before he gave a laugh. “She’s all yours, brother, but only under the understanding that you won’t interfere in our agreement in any kind of way, got that?”, Ivar scrutinized Hvitserk, not quite sure whether to trust him or not, „I assume you want to win the battle as much as I do.” “I do!”, Hvitserk agreed locking eyes with Ivar. “Good!”, Ivar said, before he left the room and went back to his room but not without commanding his men to keep an eye on us.  

As soon as Ivar left the room accompanied by the men who was guarding me a while ago, Hvitserk immediately took the chance on privacy. He pulled me back in his embrace, pressing me against his body while he embraced me in a passionate kiss. I was completely taken aback at first but shortly after I gave myself to him. A pleasant, warm feeling went through my body and his touch left tingles on my skin. When he softly pulled away and took away the warmth of his lips off of mine a quiet sigh escaped my lips. I looked up to him, watching him watching me desperately. “Come!”, he said in a deep voice, “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable!”. Not even for a second did I hesitate until I took his hand which he’d offered me. As we went or rather hurried to Hvitserk’s room, I felt my heart literally banging against my chest. Soon I, myself and my body would be his.

“I love you!”, I heard Hvitserk whisper as he was caressing my arm which was resting on his chest. I lift my head to look at him and locked eyes with him. “I wanted to tell you right after I came back from Kattegat, but then you were gone. I thought I would never get another chance to tell you but luckily, now I do. I love you, Y/N.”, he confessed. I smiled brightly at him before I kissed him lovingly. “I love you too!”, I replied happily and made him smile his brightest smile. Overjoyed we snuggled back together, feeling each other’s warmth and closeness.

“Tell me”, Hvitserk sat up, “what kind of plan does Ivar has in mind and what exactly is your role in it?”. “His plan is to win the battle through my help”, I sighed, “Ivar expects me to use my knowledge from future to help him set up a plan in order to prove my loyalty to him, otherwise I’ll be punished for spying.”. “That’s complete nonsense!”, Hvitserk shook his head in disbelief, “Where did he get that idea from?”. I shrugged my shoulders and slid up the wall, “Apparently, He doesn’t trust me. I admit, I do understand, why. If I were in his position, I wouldn’t trust me either. I mean, who would easily trust a reputed time-traveler?”. “Well, in your case I did.”, Hvitserk disagreed, “And since you just have to share your knowledge with Ivar, it will be easy for you to prove him wrong.”. “If my knowledge was sufficient and if I wouldn’t risk changing future developments by interfering into such important matters, it would in fact be quite easy.”, I said, “All I know is based on a book and even the content of the book is limited to the basic information. I don’t think he’ll be satisfied with it.”. “I’ll help you explain it to him. Don’t worry I won’t let him harm you in any way, I promise!”, he offered. I nodded, accepting his offer and knowing having him with me reassured me, but I still didn’t believe we would come to terms with Ivar.

“By the way, at some point you’re not longer mentioned in the book.”, I turned to him. He looked at me completely irritated and raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean? Will I die soon?” “No!”, I nearly screamed out, refusing to even give it a thought, “That would’ve been stated!”.

We laid in his bed for quite a long time letting our thoughts wander as Hvitserk suddenly bend over me and as if out of the blue spoke up, “I’ll come with you!”. “What?”, my eyes widen. He doesn’t possible mean coming with me back to my original time zone, does he? “Think about it. Maybe the reason why I’m not longer mentioned is that I won’t be part of this time zone any longer. Maybe I’m fated to come with you.”, Hvitserk said. “I’d love to take you back with me but we both know very well that you can’t. Your place is here, this is your home, Hvitserk!”, saying this made me sad but I had to stay down to earth. “I think you’re wrong. If I really belong here, tell me, why did I not discover my own path yet? What’s my purpose? I’m just following Ivar around, carrying out Ivar’s plans instead of my own. To be honest, I don’t see any meaning in me being here.”, he intensively looked down at me, “I think it’s you who I belong to, Since you’re here with me I don’t feel useless anymore. You gave a meaning to my life, and I think I’m fated to be with you.”. A great smile formed on my face and I pulled him down to me to kiss him happily. “We can stay together forever!”, I said full of euphoria. “And back in your time zone, Ivar can’t do anything to you anymore! So, we killed two birds with one stone.”, he said smiling back at me, but his smile faded as he saw my frustrated face impression, “What is it?”. “It could all be so simple if I only knew how exactly we can go back to my time zone and even if I knew, I can’t assure it’s going to work for you too.”, I sighed and looked out of the window in the direction of the old church. “Every time I traveled in time it had something to do with that church.”, I thought carefully, “And it always happened in the late evening”. “That’s something we can work with!”, Hvitserk grinned not only reassuringly but also mischievously right before he took me by my waist and turned us both over, “There’s got to be time for that!”.

I was awoken rather by the bright sunlight coming through the window into the room than by the sweet twittering of the birds. As I opened my eyes the sun directly shined into my eyes and it took me some time to adjust to the daylight, but I really wasn’t in the position to complain, after all I had slept in a comfortable and warm bed. If Hvitserk didn’t find me I would’ve spent the night not quite as nicely. Thinking back to last night I couldn’t help myself but smile. I really loved that man and I couldn’t imagine being without him again.

I hope everything works out well for us and we will not get separated by Ivar nor the time.

Thank you so so much for reading!🤗🧡 I hope you enjoyed this part of “Back to the History”!

Tagged: @thefightingdragon @buckysjuicyplums @alexa4040 @lordsexmachine

[heknewwhoyoureallyare]

There are two bestfriends: the blonde guy and the brunette guy. The blonde guy is an out and proud gay man, the brunette guy is still closeted. The blonde guy ask the brunette guy to make a Tiktok video with him, since he think that it should be fun. The brunette guy sort of agree. The blonde guy is always look more confident than the brunette guy, he was very extroverted and highly talkative, he’s also extremely effeminate, whereas the brunette guy. He always seem so reserved, relax, and quite. The blonde guy always think that he knows everything, he even like to talk down to his friend sometime, even about his smoking habit (which is something that the brunette guy has that the blonde guy doesn’t) What he doesn’t know is that secretly behind close door, the brunette guy is a dominant top, who is into sadism, and sexual degradation. He doesn’t give a fuck about what society thinks of him and he’s only in the closet because it’s for his convenience. Luckily for the blonde guy today, he’s extremely horny now, so when the two about to create this silly video, well lets just say the brunette guy went totally off the script and this happens:

The blonde guy just smile awkwardly, he doesn’t know how confident his friend can be, and he secretly enjoying it (unknowingly to him). His not sure that he likes the new power hierarchy though, the brunette guy seems to be dominating him. It doesn’t stop there, oh no! The brunette guy then drop his pants off in public and started to ask the blonde guy to suck his dick! The blonde guy say:

The blonde guy: I thought we were just gonna make Tiktok video for today!

The brunette guy: Just suck my dick!

The brunette guy then force the blonde guy to suck his dick in public, the blonde guy comply only because its still quite out here. The brunette guy started ramming his dick inside and outside the blonde guy mouth. He started cursing fowl words that the blonde guy doesn’t know that he could.

The brunette guy: Oh Fuck! Oh Shit! Oh Holy fucking Shit!

The blonde guy can’t believe what he’s hearing! They were outside the church! How can the brunette guy cursed and doing an ungodly behavior like this just outside the church? The blonde guy is weirdly arouse by now, somehow! He always see the brunette guy as the Peter Parker of the group, always so shy and nerdy. He never knew that Peter Parker can be such a Man if he wants to. A couple of people started to walk pass by, they were very shocked to see these two doing the ungodly behavior just outside the church. The blonde guy wanted to stop, but the brunette guy put his hand on his head and gently and forcefully make him to continue sucking his dick. He then give the people the middle finger, and everyone just walked pass by. Some might be very impressed with his confidence. The blonde guy then said:

The blonde guy: I ‘gluck’ think ‘gluck’ we ‘gluck’ should ‘gluck’ stop!!!

The brunette guy: What?

The blonde guy: I ‘gluck’ think ‘gluck’ we ‘gluck’ should...

The brunette guy: It’s really hard to hear you with my dick in your mouth.

The blonde guy (pull his head out): I think we should stop! Were in front of the church! What would people say?

The brunette guy: Nah! I don’t want to!

The blonde guy: What do you mean you don’t want to?

The brunette guy: I just don’t want to!

The blonde guy: But, but people are looking!!!

The brunette guy: I don’t fucking care! I feel like I wanted to do what I want for today.

The blonde guy: What do you mean?

The brunette guy: Hmmmmmm what do I mean? I know! You know what we should do?

The blonde guy: What?

The brunette guy: We should fuck right here!

The blonde guy: What?!

The brunette guy then force the blonde guy to take his pants off. He then started to ram his dick using the blonde guy saliva as his lube inside the blonde guy, perfectly juicy and plump ass. The blonde guy who is completely surprised about the brunette guy secret hidden strength, can’t do anything then to comply with his wants.

The brunette guy: Omg you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to fuck this ass!!! Now I get to fuck it! Just outside the church! Thank you God!!!

The blonde guy: Agh agh agh, Don’t say that! That is so embarrassing!

The brunette guy: I’ve been wanting to fuck this ass for a very long time, especially after you’ve been bragging to me that you did 100 times squats per day! You’ve been flaunting this ass to me, for a very long time and I just couldn’t take it anymore! Squeeze your ass on my dick!

The blonde guy: but were in in in.... Publ

The brunette guy: Just do it!!!

The blonde guy: Omg AGHHHHHH

The brunette guy: It feels so good isn’t it! It feels so fucking good and dirty!!!

The blonde guy: You’re so sick!

The brunette guy: I am! I am the sickest cunt in the world!

The blonde guy who secretly enjoyed this experience started to feel relax and let out a romantic almost spoiled and girly moan.

The blonde guy: Awwhhhh awhhhhh awwhhhh

The brunette guy: You’re enjoying this are you?

The blonde guy: I.... I... I...

The brunette guy: You’re a little slut! Aren’t you? A dirty little slut!

The blonde guy: I.... am.... not..... a......

The brunette guy then shout.

The brunette guy: Look at here everyone! Look this Slut! He likes it! He likes getting fuck just outside the church! What a dirty little slut!

People around them started to laugh! The blonde guy started to feel embarrassed!

The brunette guy: Give me your phone!

The blonde guy: Agh agh agh for what?

The brunette guy: Just give me your fucking phone!!!

The blonde guy then reluctantly give his phone to the brunette guy who has completely took control over him. He then said:

The brunette guy: This is going straight to my xvideos channel!

The blonde guy: No no no please don’t!

The brunette guy: Shut the fuck up and just enjoy my cock!

The next day the blonde guy face is in the cover of the news, the video went viral, and the blonde guy could never talk down to his friend again. He is officially the ‘slut’ of their little town. This doesn’t stop him to keep meeting the brunette guy though. Oh no, in fact, They start to have a relationship afterwards. A healthy, happy, romantic and rough relationship! The Fucking End...

[jtsfavslut]

Stages [4/6]

Description: In which a girl goes through six stages to realize and accept the fact that her marriage is going downhill.

Stage Three: Revenge

- Stages 1

- Stages 2

- Stages 3

- Stages 5

Description: Yeimy plans a way to confront Grayson about his affair, only she doesn’t want him to think she was affected.

Warnings: Yeimy goes psycho, cursing, threats, mentions of serial killers but it sounds funny.

Word Count: 2.6k+

After Grayson ended the phone call, you went back to the kitchen and cried.

You cried like a fucking bitch. But you had the right to. Someone just broke your heart without a tad bit of care. 

You felt disgusting for letting him touch you that way, even if it wasn’t your fault, he was the love of your life for the love of God.

You wiped your tears and with a few deep breaths, you looked as happy as ever, thanks to the powers of being a woman and childhood trauma. You walked into the room as if nothing happened, sending him death glares when he wasn’t looking. 

“Hey, whatcha eat?” he asked with a smile that made you sick to your stomach.

“A few fruit roll ups,” you replied casually, thanking those few theater classes you were forced to take in high school, giving you the ability to act casual. 

“Oh nice,” he replied and went back to his phone, while you glared the fuck out of his face.

Hatred wasn’t enough to describe what you were feeling for him at the moment. You despised him if that was enough, for betraying your trust, for playing you as if you were some kind of special edition monopoly. 

You stayed quiet for the rest of the night, on your phone until he finally went to bed. 

You knew he was a deep sleeper so you waited a few minutes to make sure he was really asleep and carefully grabbed his phone from the nightstand, typing in his dad’s birthday, unlocking it, and going to his recent calls. 

The last called being ‘love <3’ you clicked on the contact and your heart rate dropped immediately. 

You knew that number from the bottom of your heart, ignoring your feelings you checked the messages with that number, taking pictures with your phone, while your stomach was filled with disgust, hatred, anger, and hurt. 

You quickly put everything back the way it was, making sure to close all the apps, and placed his phone back on the nightstand while your mind ran faster than the speed of light. 

You didn’t cry. You couldn’t cry, you were too upset too, however, the punching bag that Grayson used to practice with at the little gym area in your basement felt a tad bit relieving. 

It was 2, almost 3 in the morning and you were still in your basement, crying and punching, beating the shit out of the innocent bag that your imagination made sure to place his and her face on, letting out all your anger on it.

You took a short shower, washing away some part of your anger and memories from the night, and made your way to one of the many guest rooms to try and get some rest. 

And a week later you were on your way to his office. Ethan had told you it was everyone’s day off today, including Grayson’s; While Grayson told you that he had two meetings today. 

You had made sure to pack all of your belongings before leaving the dreadful property, that was once your happy home. 

Your black and highly expensive Louis Vuitton heels made clicking sounds as you walked inside the building, your skin-tight black dress wrapped around your body oh so perfectly, hugging your curves exactly the way you wanted it to.

“Grayson, Ambar,” you said, walking inside his office to be met with Ambar straddling Grayson on his office chair while his lips were on her neck, that was until they heard your voice causing them to jump up and pull away from each other. “Lovely to see you both,” you sarcastically added and sat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

“What the-,” Amber began saying as she got off from his lap before you cut her off. 

“Ambar, you shut the fuck up,” you calmly said, moving up your glasses to your forehead. “You’re lucky I go to church now” you muttered.

“Yeimy what are you doing here?” Grayson had the nerve to ask, making you chuckle. 

“Oh, what a great question Grayson, I’m actually here to give you this” you smiled holding up a manila folder before placing it on his desk. 

“What is this?” he asked, picking it up from his desk. 

“Divorce papers. I don’t want to be associated with your pig cheating ass pendejo self,” you shrugged.

“Don’t talk to him that way,” Ambar shouted, getting closer to you, too close for your comfort. 

“You dear, are hilarious. You know how I get Ambar, and I suggest you shut your fucking mouth the fuck up before I have to remind you,” you said through gritted teeth while getting up from your chair causing her to take a step back.

“I’m not scared of you Yeimy,” she laughed, yet you managed to hear the nerves within her laugh, making you laugh. 

“I don’t want you to be scared of me, I just want you to remember about the time I almost went to jail because of you. Remember that? How I almost murdered someone because of you, because you pick fights and run away. Remember, how I slammed her head on the table. Because I sure know I do,” you said recalling a certain event from the past year, you don’t even remember what it was about, because it wasn’t your fight, it was her. She messed with the wrong people and someone had touched you and Karina making you join in and clean her mess while she went away. Luckily the girl didn’t press charges otherwise this would have been a different story.

“That’s just psychotic,” she scoffed and you shook your head. 

“Nah, I think it’s more Ted Bundy like, but that’s not the point,” you replied, getting fed up with the conversation.

“The point is you and you are dead to me,” you said pointing to her and Grayson noticing Grayson had an unreadable look on his face. 

“My lawyer will be here on Friday to pick up those papers, and I expect them to be signed by then Grayson. Don’t waste any more of my fucking time,” You added picking up your purse and putting your glasses back on your eyes.

“Have a nice drive back to your home Grayson, espero que te pudras en el Infierno, hijo de puta. ( I hope you rot in hell son of a bitch. I'm sorry Lisa I love you) You smirked as you walked away swaying your hips as your hair bounced with every step you took.

You finally reached the parking lot, where Grayson’s freshly painted Buggati laid, the car that he had rambled on and on about until he finally got it. 

While you happened to have a nice fresh bat in your hand, that accidentally busted all of his windows open.

“What are you doing you psycho,” Ambar said running over to you while Grayson stood frozen by the entrance. “You think you’re Harley Quinn” she shouted, ripping the bat off of your hands. 

“I mean she is hot, so thanks” you shrugged, and pat your dress to get any pieces of glass off. 

“Grayson’s mine now, and you’re mad just admit it,” she said causing you to laugh.

“I feel bad for you, that man couldn’t care less about you, you wanna fucking see?” you asked and she lifted up one of her brows challenging you. 

You quickly wrapped your left hand around her neck, slamming her against the car while her face was filled with fear. “You see, he didn’t move an inch,” you said and let go of her and wiped your hands on your clothes. 

“Just remember something Ambar. I made you who you are today. I begged Grayson to let you work here, I let you stay at my house when you got kicked out of yours, I fucking fed you when you didn’t have enough money to even buy a pack of Ramen. And I don’t like to talk about the things I do for people because I do them out of love, but just remember that without me you wouldn’t be shit today. Without me, you would have no job, no house, and no car. But I wish you well,” you said and began to walk back to your car. 

“I wish you both well, have a nice fucking life, Dolan. Oh and you might want to do laundry, all your clothes smell like me, actually the entire house does,” you said before getting in your car and speeding away to who knows where. 

You couldn’t go back to your house since it was no longer yours, Karina was at work. And all hotel check out started at three and it was barely 1 pm leaving you with only one choice. 

“Get in Grant,” you shouted at Ethan through the open car window. 

He got in the car and didn’t speak, noticing your tense state, and he didn’t speak for the rest of the drive to your favorite spot. The beach. 

“He cheated on me E. He cheated on me with Ambar,” you cried once you put the car in park and took off your seatbelt. 

“I’m sorry Yeimy, I’m so fucking sorry,” he said and his arms immediately wrapped around you pulling you closer to him. 

He let you cry on his shoulder until there were no more tears left for you to cry. 

You lifted your head off his shoulder and he got out of the car, walking over to your side and opening your door. 

“Come on, take off your shoes,” he said once he noticed you were wearing heels, you quickly bent down and took them off, carefully throwing them inside your car. 

He took your hand and led you down the sand, where he found a nice rock for you both to sit in. 

“I don’t know if you want to talk about it, but I’m here to listen if you’re willing too,” he softly said as you laid your head on his shoulder once again. He sent a quick text to Karina to let her know what was happening and she replied that she would be there as soon as possible.

“It was so obvious E. So fucking obvious, he would leave for work three hours early and come back at three am with lipstick stains all over his collar, he wouldn’t kiss me anymore, he wasn’t even wearing his ring. And I saw all of it. I saw it all, but I pushed it to the side like a dumb bitch. And then he returned back to his normal self for about a week, and everything was alright, and I know this sounds nasty, but we had sex one night and I went to get a snack and when I came back he was on the phone with her. Telling her how he only did it so that I would lay off of him. And I cried for hours E. And what hurts the most is that I still love him,” you ranted but he listened. 

He listened to every word you said because you were important to him and you were hurting because of his twin. He wanted to punch him so badly for hurting you. The only one that knew him for who he was, the one that wanted nothing for the best for him, the one that left it all behind just so that you could be there for him, to be there when he needed you the most. He couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing. 

He wanted to know what was going through his brother’s mind. But at the same time, he didn’t even want to see his face in pictures. 

“Yeimy, I know everything I’m going to say isn’t going to help much, but it’s the truth. I have no fucking idea of what is going through his mind right now. And I hope he comes to his senses soon, even if it’s too late. And I know that as his brother I should be defending him, but I can’t. I can’t because this is his mess not mine, and the same way he got himself into it he can get himself out of it. However, Karina and I are going to be with you every step of the way because we love you and you don’t deserve any of this. Hell, no one should go through this. And as for Ambar, you knew I never fucking liked her, her vibes were always off. And she should be thankful because you helped her when no one else did. You’re a good person Yeimy and you’re gonna get through this, I know you can” he reassured you giving you a tight hug making you feel a bit better. 

You sat in silence until Karina arrived, where she talked to you and let you cry on her shoulder just when you thought you were done with crying. 

“You know, I just want to know what I did wrong,” you sighed looking into the horizon, where the sun seemed to be getting closer to meeting the ocean water. 

“You did nothing wrong, bebe. You did exactly what a wife should do. Now where is E, I’m hungry,” she said, asking about her husband's whereabouts. He had left about 20 minutes ago to go get food for all of you.

“I don’t know, he should be here soon tho,” you shrugged as your hand played with some sand. 

“Yeimy, y dónde te vas a quedar?” Karina asked where you were going to stay since it was pretty obvious you couldn’t go back home.

“In a hotel until Thursday, I went apartment hunting the day after his phone call, y encontre uno, caro but it’s LA so you know. (and I found one, it’s expensive)” you shrugged and pulled out your phone to show her your apartment. 

“It’s so cute Yeimy, how many rooms?” she asked, scrolling through the pictures. 

“Three rooms, it’s the only one that was available, and it’s only three thousand which is not that bad,” you shrugged and she nodded her head.

“You have money, and you’re working at Vogue now. I love having rich friends,” she joked, making you laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Ethan asked from behind, making both of you jump up, he sat down handing out burgers from some restaurant he liked. 

“Nothing, just that Yeimy is rich. Also, did you see her new apartment?” she asked him, unwrapping her food and taking a bite.

“No so show me,” he said and you handed him your phone with the pictures. “How are you gonna get your jeep there, you can only drive one car at the time you know?” he asked, making you chuckle. 

“One of ya’ll can take it there for me, and I’ll just drive this one,” you shrugged referring to the car you took here, a Tesla that Grayson insisted on you getting. 

Karina said she’ll take it for you, and you ate your food in silence, the only sounds coming for the animals and the waves.

After that, you went to your hotel and cried. 

You cried until you fell asleep. (me as fuck)

Stages 5

Tags:  @angelgrayson @rhyrhy462 @333dolans @vinylhazza @foxglovedolan @dolanissues @mercurygrant @persistence-ofmemories @dolansficsandpics @blindedbythelightt @kinkygrays @pineappledols @the-evolution-of-stupidity @evergreendolan @beatement-l @graydolan12

[sorry-apsalar]

I Kissed a Bot and I Liked It

I started watching Futurama recently on a whim (currently only a few episodes into season 4 so if things aren't consistent with stuff that happens later in the series, that's why) and I'm really enjoying it so far except for a few things. Mainly the compulsory heteronormativity that's present in every episode (that I've seen so far) that deals with romantic relationships (with sort of one exception but it doesn't really count in my opinion). Which is mostly whatever, it's to be expected, especially since it's an older show but the Fry/Leela stuff is frustrating because personally I feel like they don't have good romantic chemistry (I'm open to this changing later but I doubt it will) and this is just another case of 'there's a male main character and a female main character and they're friends, therefore they must have romantic feelings for each other' that I've seen a hundred times before. It's aggravating enough that it spurred a fic idea for an AU where Fry is a repressed gay man. I decided to make it an Xmas gift for myself for reasons and because why not?

So Merry Xmas everyone, especially me!

~

The future was great. Everything about it was grand and exciting and Fry had friends now. Yeah, sure he was still a delivery boy but he was delivering a variety of things across space alongside his friends. And yeah, sure his living area was smaller than he would’ve chosen and it was technically a closet but he was roommates with his best friend and despite being a closet, it was still a little bigger than his old apartment had been. So, the future was great in every possible way even if parts of it made little to no sense.

Luckily, he had friends so some of those things that made no sense, he could ask about and have explained to him. Sometimes they didn’t even make fun of him for not knowing. There was one thing though that he was afraid to ask about. What exactly made it a scary thing to ask about he wasn’t sure of but it wasn’t because he worried they’d think him stupid because everyone already thought that and honestly it was true, brains weren’t his thing. The more often it popped up though, the more he wanted an explanation. He finally reaching a breaking point on that one evening when watching TV with Bender after returning home from work.

In an episode of All My Circuits two of the side characters ended up hooking up. Which wasn’t weird in itself, it was a soap opera, everyone was pairing up and breaking up all the time, but what was odd was the fact that it was two dudes. It was far from the first time Fry had seen such things in the past month or so he’d been here for, in other shows, movies, and even in prior episodes, same-sex couples popped up fairly frequently and if there was ever any issue with the couple, that was never one of them. So…

“Hey Bender,” he said as the credits for the episode rolled, glancing over at Bender sitting on the couch next to him, “those two robots that got together at the end there are both uh… men, right?”

The look Bender gave him reflected how stupid of a question that was. But how else was he supposed to broach the topic? He wasn’t good with words. “Man-bots yes, what else would they be?” Bender replied, sounding annoyed as he looked.

“Well uh… I don’t know but…” Unable to maintain eye contact, Fry looked away, instead focusing his gaze on one of the many crumbled cans of Slurm on the floor by the coffee table. He shouldn’t have brought this up because it was… uh… awkward or something. But it was too late now and he needed to understand because he just did. “If they’re both man-bots then why are they a couple?” And why wasn’t that viewed as remarkable by anyone else? “Isn’t that a thing normally only men and women are supposed to do?”

“Wow Fry, of all people I didn’t expect you to be homophobic.”

“What?” Fry snapped his gaze back to look at Bender. “I’m not… whatever you just said, I don’t even know what that means.” Which meant it could describe him but the context made it sound bad so it wasn’t him… probably. ‘Phobic’ meant fear, right? What did ‘homo’ mean though?

“It means you hate gay people,” Bender said as he pulled another cigar out of his casing. “Though I suppose that was common back when you came from now that I think about it.” After lighting up, he blew a cloud of smoke in Fry’s general direction. “I forget how primitive you are sometimes. That’s fine though, I hate humans so we both harbor hatred for an entire group of people. Though my hatred’s justified while yours isn’t.”

Fry coughed, waving a hand in front of his face to clear the smoke. “I don’t hate gay people.” He never had even if that’s what he’d been lowkey taught at the church he’d been forced to go to as a kid and young teen. “I just… it’s supposed to be a sin, right? Like… you go to hell forever if you chose to be gay. Though… I guess I don’t really believe in God anymore so… I don’t know. But still… that’s normal now? Or uh… or least acceptable? To choose to be gay, I mean?”

The look Bender gave him this time might’ve been a concerned one if it had come from almost anyone else. “You don’t ‘choose’ to be gay. Did you meatbags really used to believe it was a choice?”

“Uh… that’s what I was always taught. Or that like… gay people are confused and think that being able to recognize that another man is attractive means you’re attracted to him.” And that that was wrong and shameful and should never be admitted to once one was cleared of that misunderstanding. Because marriage and love and all that was supposed to be between a man and a woman for the sole purpose of making babies or whatever. The fact that that viewpoint was no longer common a thousand years later wasn’t surprising now that he really thought about it but somehow it seemed significant.

Bender took another puff from his cigar before replying. “Well, it ain’t a choice. Now shut up, the next episode’s starting.”

Fry sighed as he pulled his legs up onto the couch to hug to his chest as he turned his attention back on the TV. But now that the topic had been brought up, he didn’t seem able to fully focus. The fact that the episode dealt with the gay romance and treated it like every other side romance in the show made it even harder not to think about. Not that there was even a whole lot to think about, just that that kind of thing was socially acceptable now. Which was… a good thing, yes, definitely a good thing. It didn’t affect him any of course, he was attracted to women and only women, but it was good for the people it did affect. …

“What about robots?” he eventually asked.

“What about them?” Bender didn’t even look away from the TV.

“Is it a choice for you? Or are you manufactured that way? And if so is it a choice whatever or whoever is making you makes or is it like random or something?”

“Oh, you’re still thinking about that, huh? That kind of thing develops at the same time as our personality so it’s not a choice anyone makes. It’s complex stuff, you wouldn’t understand.”

That was undoubtedly true but before Fry could drop it, he wanted to know one more thing. … “What about you? Are you uh… you know?”

With the start of the ad-break, Bender finally turned his head to look at Fry again. “Are you asking if I’m gay?”

Fry nodded. How rude was it to ask that kind of thing? Surely it had to be mostly chill since it was socially acceptable now.

“What’s it’s to you? Why do you want to know?” Oh no, he seemed offended. Though that might just be him being him.

“I’m just curious.” There was no harm wanting to know that kind of thing about one’s best friend, right? “We’ve been best friends for a whole month now and I don’t even know what kind of people you’re into.”

“Very well,” he relaxed, seemingly taking that as an acceptable answer, “if you must know, I’m pansexual.”

“Um… does that mean you’re attracted to pans?” What else could it mean? This was the future and lots of things were weird and Bender was a robot so maybe that was just a thing.

“No! What kind of idiot would even think that? It means somebody’s gender plays no role in whether or not I find the attractive. For me the only thing I care about is if they’re a robot.”

“Okay, I guess.”

“What about you Fry?” Bender pointed an almost accusing finger at him. “Now it’s your turn. Are you gay?”

“Uh… no.” It almost sounded like a question even to his own ears. But he wasn’t gay, he was normal, always had been even if he had been picked on in middle and high school with accusations of being gay.

Bender gave him a skeptical look but seemed to shrug as he turned his attention back onto the TV; the ad-break was over. With a sigh, Fry followed suit. He was more than ready to stop talking about that subject now.

Later that night

“Wake up Bender,” Fry said, shaking Bender by the shoulders.

Bender groaned as the metal flap that covered his eyes when he slept lifted. “Huh? What?” Understandably he both looked and sounded sleepy. Which Fry felt bad for but this was urgent.

“If I was gay, which I’m not, but if I was, it’d be okay with you, right?” After the thought that it might not be okay with Bender had come to him while he lay in bed, waiting for sleep, he hadn’t been able to get any rest so he needed to know for sure.

“Are you kidding me? That’s what you woke me up for? To ask a dumb question like that? Man, Fry get out of her and go back to bed.” Bender put a hand on Fry’s shoulder to push him back into the closet, hard but nowhere near as hard as he was capable of so really it probably counted as gentle.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Fry said, putting his foot in the door before Bender could close it. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Bender rolled his eyes. “Yes Fry, if you were gay, I’d be fine with it. Happy?”

“Uh yeah, thanks pal. Sorry for waking you up, I just wanted to know. Even though I’m not gay so it doesn’t really matter, I just wanted to know if you’d accept me even if I was because…  I don’t know. I just wanted to know I guess.”

“Yeah, whatever. Go back to sleep meatbag.” With that Bender pulled the door closed, seemingly little caring that Fry only barely managed to get his foot out of the way in time.

A few months later

‘~ I kissed a guy and I liked it…~’ Fry had to admit it was a bop. More so than a lot of the other songs he’d found while trying to catch up on some of the music he’d missed in the last thousand years. Who would’ve thought so much bad music would be what persisted throughout the years? Yeah sure it was one of those opinion things but his taste in music was great and no one could convince him otherwise.

As the second chorus hit, he found himself half singing along with it as he resumed scrolling through the song list on the tablet, searching for more titles that caught his eye. … What would it be like to kiss a guy? Would it be like kissing a girl? (Not that he had much experience with that even despite having had a girlfriend once upon a time. The few kisses they had shared had been meh at best.) Probably not, right? It had to be different. … He kind of wanted to find out for sure now that he’d thought of it. Maybe it would even be not terrible. Who could he kiss to try it though? …

The sound of the door opening prompted him to look up as Bender strode in. Ah, he’d be perfect because he was a guy. And they were best friends so there wouldn’t be any confusion about intentions.

“Hey Bender,” Fry said as he placed the tablet, still playing music on the coffee table and hopped up off the couch. “Would it be all right if we kissed?”

Bender froze mid-step as the door swung shut behind him. “Uh… what?”

“Well, I’m listening to this song here and it’s about a guy kissing another guy and liking it and it got me thinking what that would be like. It has to be different from kissing a girl, right? But like how different? So I’m curious and I want to find out and you’re a guy so… yeah. It’s fine if you’d rather not, I know it’s a weird request. I could always ask someone else, I’m sure it wouldn’t be…”

“Yes!” Bender interrupted with a surprising amount of intensity as he lowered his foot. He let out a nervous chuckle as his eyes darted away. “I mean if it’s just one kiss, it should be fine. Nothing wrong with experimenting a little and satisfying some curiosity, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah! This is the year 3000, things like that aren’t a big deal anymore.” It was so freeing and wonderful. So without further ado, Fry pranced over to stand in front of Bender. Hmmm… he was a robot though so kissing him wouldn’t be like kissing any human – or humanoid alien – guy or not. But he was still a guy so the basic idea was still there so…

Fry put his hands on Bender’s shoulders as he leaned in for a kiss. Bender’s mouth was cold and unsurprisingly tasted of booze, in a good way though. A slight tingly sensation hit Fry’s lips as Bender’s hands reached up to light touch his sides. Odd but not necessarily unpleasant, he could probably easily get used to it.

They lingered like that for several long seconds before Fry pulled back, letting out a shaky sigh. “Uh… that was interesting, huh?” he said, tugging at his shirt collar a bit because it was suddenly a bit hotter in here for some reason. They were still standing a bit closer than they normally did too. How had he never noticed that Bender was just a tad shorter than him? … The perfect height for a forehead kiss if Fry were inclined to do so.

“Eh, I’ve had better.” Bender avoided eye contact as he stepped back. Which seemed to release the sudden tension in the air as if an important moment had just passed by them.

Fry looked away too, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah sorry, I’m not a great kisser. I don’t really have much experience.”

“So, curiosity satisfied?”

“Uh… yeah. Thanks.” It had been nice actually if a bit weird. … That meant he was into guys though, wasn’t it? …. Oh well, that kind of thing was perfectly fine now so yeah, he was into guys and not ashamed of it.

“Good, now… let’s move on and pretend this never happened, okay? We don’t want anyone thinking we’re dating when we’re not.”

“Um… yeah.” Fry nodded, holding his smile even though for some reason Bender’s words made him a bit uncomfortable. If it wasn’t a big deal, why did they have to pretend it had never happened? “Let’s watch some TV, huh? All My Circuits should be starting soon.”

~~~

Despite how it was supposed to have just been an experiment and not a big deal, Fry thought about that kiss a lot. He wanted to do it again and do it better so that maybe Bender would like it too. How did he even go about that though?

That wasn’t all he thought about. Now that he was comfortable and willing to accept that he liked guys like that he allowed his mind to go to other places to. Like dating and holding hands and cuddling and sometimes even sex. What would all the be like with another guy? A robot? Specifically Bender? He wanted to know. He lay in bed at night thinking about it more nights than not. Often it turned into barely remembered dreams that left him more unsatisfied than anything.

He’d never find out though, would he? Because Bender didn’t like humans like that. He’d said so himself directly and had implied it in other instances too, always insisting he hated humans and all that – even if he didn’t really act like it most of the time. So… Fry didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell with him.

Damn! He was finally in a place where he was comfortable with his sexuality and in a time when he wouldn’t be persecuted for it and the first man he fell for was unattainable. That was just his luck, huh? … But then again, this was the year 3000 and almost anything was possible with today’s technology, right? …

Waking up early and getting out of bed was absolutely terrible, even worse was going into work that early. But he had no choice if he wanted some time to talk to Professor Farnsworth without Bender around or hopefully anyone else.

As he knew from the handful of weeks he’d lived at the Planet Express building, Farnsworth should be one of the first people here. He typically went straight to his office … and lo and behold, that’s where Fry found him this morning; asleep in his office chair.

Fry walked over to prod his shoulder. “Hey Professor?”

The only response was a loud snore. How he slept so soundly faceup in his desk chair like that, Fry would never understand. But it was important so Fry poked him again, harder this time.

“Wake up, I got something important to ask you about.”

With a grunt, Farnsworth jerked awake. “Huh? What?” He looked blearily around for a few seconds before his gaze settled on Fry. “Oh, you’re here early… I think.”

“Yep because I got something important to ask. You see I’m uh…” Fry gulped, suddenly regretting this a little bit but he’d already come this far so putting his hands behind his back, he soldiered on. “I think I’m gay, well uh… I don’t just think, I know… I think. I’m not entirely sure yet but do I do know I like guys and I’ve never really got girls, you know? Like I thought I was supposed to so I would flirt with them and stuff but it never really felt good even when one finally agreed to date me, you know what I mean?”

“That’s what’s so important you came to work early to tell me about? Well earlier than normal. This is the year 3000, no one cares if you’re gay Fry. The fact that that was ever viewed as a reason to hate people is astounding when there’s so many more actual reasons, such as their taste in music or sports teams.”

“Uh… that’s only part of what I came here to tell you. What I need to ask you is um… well in discovering that I like guys I also discovered that I got a thing for Bender. A kind of big thing. I’ve never felt this way before so I don’t really know what it is for sure but I really want to kiss him and hold his hand and stuff. I know that probably sounds weird because he’s Bender and…”

“Just get to the point,” Farnsworth interrupted.

“Oh uh… sorry. I don’t think he likes humans, not like that anyway. So I was thinking would it be possible to upload my mind into a robot body so that I might have a real chance with him?” Fry had seen such things in movies and stuff a few times, surely that was possible with today’s technology, right?

“Hmmm…” Farnsworth lifted a hand to tap a finger on his chin. “I suppose we could give it a try. You’d be more useful as a robot anyway.” … Wow he’d agreed to that without any need for convincing.

“Awesome, let’s go.”

With a grunt and crack of his old bones, Farnsworth pushed himself off the chair and led the way out of his office. He seemed to know where he was going so Fry followed. In the hallway, they ran into Leela.

“Oh hey Fry,” she said, “You’re here on time for once, good job.”

“Thanks! The Professor’s about to turn me into a robot, you want to watch?”

“Uh… what?”

“I’m turning him into a robot,” Farnsworth replied. “Now come along Fry, we need determine what kind of robot will be most useful to us. I’m thinking one with built in weaponry.”

Leela fell into step with Fry as Farnsworth resumed leading the way presumably to the lab. “Why exactly do you want to be a robot?” she asked in her suspicious voice.

“Because um… well uh…” Fry wasn’t ashamed to admit it or anything but he wasn’t ready for her to know especially when she was looking at him with that looks of hers she always had on her face whenever she caught him doing something stupid.

“He’s in love with Bender or some such bull crap,” Farnsworth said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Is that true Fry?”

“Uh… I think so, yes. I don’t really know what love feels like but… regardless he won’t be interested in me as long as I’m human so… I’m becoming a robot. Don’t tell him though please. I want to be the one who tells him.” … What if even becoming a robot didn’t work though? What would Fry do then? He didn’t have time to think on that much as they reached the professor’s lab.

“All right Fry,” Farnsworth said. “You go sit on the table while I work on getting you a good robot body and then when Doctor Zoidberg gets here we’ll call him in to help remove your brain from your skull.”

Oh! Fry didn’t like the sound of that. Before he could voice a protest though, Leela did. “Uh no, that’s not happening. Come on Fry.” She grabbed Fry by the arm and dragged him right back into the hallway. She then closed the door, cutting off Farnsworth’s groan of disappointment.

“But Leela,” Fry tried only to be interrupted as she kept pulling him away.

“Have you even tried talking to Bender and telling him how you feel yet?”

“Well, no but…”

“That’s what I thought. Try that first before going and doing something dumb like having the Professor turn you into a robot. Seriously what were you thinking? It’s the Professor, there’s no way that could ever turn out well. Now come on, we’re going back to the main room and when Bender shows up, you’re going to tell him how you feel, okay?”

Before Fry could even try to answer…

“What’s this about Fry telling Bender how he feels?” Hermes asked as they entered the main room.

“He’s in love,” Leela replied as if it weren’t a big deal.

“Really?” Oh great, Amy was here now too. “I guess that makes sense though, huh? Since they’re roommates and all, the romance practically writes itself. Congrats on realizing it sooner rather than later though Fry.”

With a groan and free Leela’s grasp at last, Fry slunk over to sit at the round table so he could hide his burning face in his arms. He was never going to live this down. Basically everyone knew now and it was only a matter of time before that ‘basically’ was no more. His only solace was the fact that Bender wouldn’t be arriving at work for at least another hour or two so he had some time to figure out what he might say… not much though, nowhere near enough.

 -

The next couple hours were awful. Hermes lectured him about the risks and dangers of workplace romance and what was and was not allowed as if proper romance were a foregone conclusion and not the vain hope it actually was. Amy quizzed him about what he even saw in Bender because Bender was an ‘egotistical kleptomaniac’, whatever that meant. Zoidberg came in and was immediately told and expressed joy that his friends were ‘in love’ and that it was beautiful, again as if it wasn’t just Fry with these feelings which was far more likely to be the case, right? Leela was the only one who left him alone about it despite the fact that she was the one that let the cat out of the bag to everyone else.

The awfulness of all that came to a point when Bender finally arrived. Everyone in the room froze as they looked up at him. Amy let out an excited giggle that made Fry kind of want to die.

“Uh… hey guys,” Bender said as he strode into room. “Why’s everyone looking at me?”

“No reason,” Leela as she stood up. “Fry’s got something important to tell you though. Come on guys, let’s give them some privacy.” She led the way out of the room, quickly followed by everyone else, leaving Fry and Bender alone together within a matter of seconds.

Bender looked after them as they closed the door for a few seconds before turning to look at Fry. “All right, that’s weird. What’s this you want tell me?” he said as he strode over to sit at the table next to Fry. He bent legs up to rest his feet on the table as he pulled out a bottle of booze.

Unable to maintain eye contact, Fry looked away, focusing his gaze on the table instead. He rubbed his finger idly over the little scratch on it that he somehow hadn’t noticed before. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t ready to tell Bender… more like wasn’t ready to be rejected. How badly was this going to hurt their friendship?

He couldn’t brush it off as nothing, could he? … No, now that Bender knew there was something, he’d probably take offense to any attempt to keep it from him. He’d likely assume the worst too – whatever that might be in his mind – and thus be quite angry. So Fry either had to come up with a convincing important thing to tell him or the truth. The former would be difficult but…

“Out with it meatbag, what is it?”

“Uh… um… it’s uh…” Fry had never been good with words.

“Just spit it out. Am I fired? You don’t want to be my friend anymore? You moving out? … That’s what it is, isn’t it? You hooked up with Amy or Leela and you’re going to move in with them now, huh?”

“What?” Fry jerked his gaze back up to meet Bender’s angry glare. “No, no, no, that’s not it at all.”

Bender didn’t seem much placated. “Then what is it?”

Fry had never been very good at lying or coming up with convincing tales so… with a deep breath he stood up. “You um… remember a couple weeks ago when we kissed and it was supposed to be an experiment to see what it was like to kiss a guy and nothing more?”

Bender’s expression softened a little, though the suspicious anger didn’t leave completely yet. “Yes.”

“Well uh… I’d like to do it again sometime if that’s okay with you. Maybe uh… multiple times.”

“Uh…”

“What I’m saying,” Fry quickly interrupted before he could be shot down before even really saying what he meant, “is that I um… really like you and stuff. So uh… do you maybe want go on a date sometime and like… see what happens?” Fry forced himself to meet Bender’s gaze again. He seemed more surprised than angry now. Was it pleasant surprise though or the opposite? It was hard to tell.

Before replying, Bender took a long drink from the bottle still in his hand, finishing it off and slamming it onto the table as he stood up too. “Is this some fetish thing? You want to fuck a robot and I’m the only one you know so you’re getting all sweet on me to try to get in bed with me?” Right back to being angry, suspicious, and wanting to believe the worst. Why was he like that?

“No, Bender, that’s not it. I like you for you.” Fry pointed at him to emphasize his point. If he were in a less delicate situation he might’ve pointed out how Bender kind of resembled a walking trashcan and therefore wasn’t exactly sexy enough to be worth going to so much trouble for just the purpose of sex. “You’re great and you’re my best friend. And I love spending time with you whether we’re off on a space adventure or just lazing around the apartment watching TV together. So, I’d like to be more than just friends if that’s what you want too. If not, that’s… okay too, I’d understand.” And hopefully this confession wouldn’t hurt that any.

“Oh, hmmm… what else do you like about me?” Well, he was chill now and even grinning, that was good.

“You’re always fun to talk to and you’ve got great ideas for ways to pass the time when we’re bored. And even though you steal my wallet all the time, you always give it back eventually. And you’re a robot and that’s still super cool even if I’m used to robots by now because you were the first one I met and I wasn’t lying when I said I’d always wanted a robot for a best friend. So really by being my pal, you’re fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine. I’ve never thought about dating one before now though, it just never occurred to me until after that uh… kiss experiment we did.”

“Go on,” Bender said in the pause that followed, leaning in eagerly.

Fry sighed. “You’re also very confident, especially in yourself.” Too the point of annoyance at times but even during those instances Fry still wished he could have even a fraction of that level of confidence. “And you’re also super strong, you can bend metal like it’s made of paper which is super cool. And sometimes you use that strength to open jars for me and sometimes you don’t even make fun of me for not being able to open it myself. Also, even despite our occasional disagreements, we always make up eventually and then we’re friends again like nothing ever happened and… that’s really nice.” Fry had never had a friend that would do that for him before, normally one disagreement was all it took for someone to decide they didn’t want to hang out with him ever again. “So… will you go out with me?” Forcing a grin, Fry held out a hand in hopes of Bender taking it.

Bender stared at him in silence for a few horrible seconds that seemed to drag into eternity before finally speaking. “Well, if you’re going to butter me up that much, I suppose we can go on one date and see what happens.” Looking away awkwardly, he even put his hand into Fry’s.

With a rush of giddy relief and grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, Fry use that grip to pull him closer so that their bodies were almost touching, earning a small but very satisfying surprised gasp from him. “Can I kiss you again? For real this time, not just as an experiment?” One was always supposed to ask before doing such a thing, right?

“I just agreed to go on a date with you meatbag, what do you think?”

Fry didn’t answer or make a further move because he didn’t know what to think. He’d never done this before, not with someone he actually wanted to be with.

Bender sighed. “Yes moron, you can kiss me again.”

Fry did so before any self-doubt could get in the way. Bender’s mouth plate was still cool, the taste of beer even stronger than last time. The slight tingling buzz was still there too, just as odd but nice.

“Better than last time?” Fry said, letting out a heavy breath as the pulled apart a few seconds later. He was a bit lightheaded and wanted to sit down but that would mean letting go of Bender’s hand and moving away from him.

“A little.”

Fry took a breath, intending to suggest maybe he needed some more practice but he didn’t get a single syllable out before a small squeak to their right drew his attention. He glanced over just in time to see the door close, silently as whoever was on the other side did so carefully.

Bender had clearly noticed too; he let go of Fry hand and left him to sneak over fling the door all the way open. Perhaps not so surprisingly Leela, Amy, Hermes, Zoidberg and even Professor Farnsworth were gathered in close on the other side. The looks of guilt on their faces made it quite clear what they were doing there.

“Uh, hey Bender,” Leela said with a slight grimace. “What you up to? We were just uh… passing by.”

“And we’re quickly moving on,” Hermes added before turning to flee. The others wasted no time in following suit, Amy dragging away Zoidberg and Leela dragging away Farnsworth.

Bender sighed as he turned back to Fry. If he were as embarrassed as Fry, he was doing a good job of not showing it – though as a robot he couldn’t blush so maybe that had something to do with it. “They’re a bunch of disgusting voyeurs, ,” he said with a scoff as he walked over back over to Fry. “Let’s go to the break room and watch some TV. They should be ashamed enough over being caught spying to not yell at us to go back to work for at least an hour or two.” He put an arm around Fry’s waist to guide him out of the room. Fry was more than happy to go along with it. And maybe, just maybe,  they could practice kissing during the ad breaks.

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog, Ch.11-13

This is the “Balance of Power” arc.

One of the things that frustrated me about the Hellsing TV anime (as opposed to the Hellsing Ultimate version) was that the TV series aired while the manga was still running, and it seemed to struggle between following the source material or just diverging into all new stories.    I think if Gonzo had made up their minds one way or the other, it would have ended up a better show.   Instead, there were all these filler scenes of Seras training with human soldiers, which seemed like an utter waste of the character’s time.    Worse, this meant the human soldiers featured much more prominently than they ever did in the manga, where they all get killed off by Chapter 9 or something.   And if you know that’s coming, like I did, it makes the human soldiers that much more insufferable, because you know dorks like Farguson aren’t going to matter, but they get tons of screen time anyway.    Farguson is like every episode of Dragon Ball GT condensed into a single character.  

Here, in the original manga, it’s pretty clear that the soldiers never mattered, because the only time you ever see them is when Jan Valentines’ ghoul army slaughters them all.    They only existed so Integra would have something to be in charge of, but the only ones who actually matter here are herself, Alucard, Seras, and Walter.    In this chapter, Walter practically admits as much, when he states that there were 96 staff members, and now we’re down to ten: Walter, Integra, and eight jabrones who weren’t at the base that day.    Well, maybe those eight guys will show up later and do something important?   Bullshit they will, they never get mentioned again.   The Gonzoverse might have been able to break some new ground by focusing on those human characters more, but what they actually did was half-assed, and it looks all the more futile when you know how unimportant they are to the original work.   Walter just hires a band of mercenaries to backfill all the vacant positions, and I’ll give you three guesses what happens to those guys.

Concerning “Millennium”, their mysterious new enemy, no one has any idea what they are.    A bunch of people try to research it, because we didn’t have Google in 1999, or at least not Google as we now know it, so if you wanted to know something cryptic you just had to rummage through a card catalog in a library or whatever.    But Integra just makes the logical leap that “Millennium” is a reference to the “Thousand Year Reich” dreamed of by Nazi Germany.   This seems like a stretch, but I think Integra’s reasoning is that this is the only “Millennium” reference that could possibly be worth Hellsing’s attention.

Later, Integra meets the Wild Geese, the merc group Walter hired, and explains their assignment even referencing the Bram Stoker novel.    So I guess Dracula is a real book in the Hellsing world, but it must be at least partially based on a true story, right?   The Geese don’t buy any of this, so Integra introduces them to Seras to prove that vampires are real.

They all laugh at Seras until she starts flicking their leader, Pip Bernadotte, with her fingers.    Then Alucard shows up, and that seems to be enough to convince them.

After this, Integra gets a letter from the Iscariot Organization, inviting her to a meeting with Enrico Maxwell at the Imperial War Museum.    The whole thing introduces Bishop Maxwell very effectively.   He tries to play this off as a peaceful, diplomatic conference, but he makes Integra wait, and she’s still sore about Anderson’s violation of their treaty back in Chapter 5-6.   Maxwell takes all this in stride, then replies that he could care less about the deaths of even two billion Protestants, so the two guys Anderson killed mean nothing to him.    He’s only here because the Pope ordered him to do this, and he calls Integra a “Protestant sow” for good measure.  

At this, Alucard comes out to stand up for Integra’s honor, and then Maxwell responds by bringing out Anderson, except Anderson has a berzerker rage thing going, so it kind of ruins Maxwell’s posturing.    For all his contempt, he really was ordered to London to talk to Integra, so he’d probably get in trouble with the Pope if Anderson starts a big superhero battle in a museum.

In Cross Fire, the unpublished manga that was sort of a precursor to Hellsing, Maxwell looked a lot like Sir Integra does now, so when Kouta Hirano brought him back for this arc, he slicked his hair back and removed his glasses.   On the other hand, Integra doesn’t look much like the early Integra anymore either.    By now, Hirano seems to have settled on her design, straightening her hair out and making her face longer and thinner.   Anyway, Maxwell’s brinkmanship has backfired, and now even he can’t stop Anderson, so what can be done?

Luckily, Seras is here to provide a distraction, as she leads a tour group of elderly Japanese tourists through the gallery.    For some reason this kills Anderson’s fighting mood completely, so he leaves.    Alucard also leaves, because he hates being up during the day.    Walter gives Seras a hearty thumbs up for defusing this tense situation.    Good job, Seras.    You’re doing amazing, sweetie.

All right, so what’s so blamed important that the Pope would send Maxwell to London?    Well, he knows about Millennium’s attack on Hellsing’s base, and he has some juicy deets on them.   After making Integra say “please”, he explains that “Millennium” was a Nazi military unit responsible for transferring resources and personnel for Nazi Germany.    They relocated a ton of these resources and personnel to South America for safe keeping.    Integra’s not too impressed with that, since “Nazis fleeing to South America after the war” isn’t exactly a shocking revelation.  

The twist here, though, is that Millennium was smuggling Nazi stuff to South America during World War II. 

Also, the Vatican helped Millennium do this?   I never understood this part of the story, but I think it gets explained later.   I mean, it explains how Maxwell would have this lead to share with Hellsing, but it raises more questions than answers.

  Volume 2 ends with another chapter of Cross Fire, starring Heinkel Wolfe and Yumiko Takagi.    In the first story, they saved hostages from Islamic terrorists.    This one is them recovering stolen church money from radical communists, which I guess could have been a thing in 1998?    It’s basically the same story, though, as they send Yumiko to infiltrate the bad guys, then they slaughter everyone in sight.    Mostly, I want to focus on the part at the end, where Maxwell, the leader of Iscariot, justifies the use of extreme hyper-violence in the name of the Catholic Church.   You sort of get the sense that the Iscariot Organization in Cross Fire was a concept in search of a villain.   the idea of two girl-assassins dressed as a nun and a priest might have had some traction, but Hirano really seems to have had trouble coming up with worthy enemies for them to fight.    But Hellsing brings vampires into the mix, which suits the Iscariots quite nicely.

Back to “Balance of Power”, the third part features Seras training with the Wild Geese in the middle of the night.   For some reason, Seras expects them to shoot targets from over 4km away.   She can do it, but only thanks to the vampiric senses Alucard showed her how to use.    It’s like she doesn’t realize that this is an ability she only has because she’s a vampire or something.   

Indoors, Alucard and Walter discuss the whole Nazi angle.    Al isn’t terribly surprised, because he only knows three who have ever used undead warriors for combat.   

1) Hellsing

2) Himself

3) The Nazis.

He knows #3 is legit, because he and Walter destroyed a Nazi research facility during the war.    Supposedly that contained all their work on the undead, but now that we know Millennium was smuggling important stuff from Nazi Germany to South America, it only makes sense that they’re the ones who devised the Valentines’ ghoul attack.    The bigger point of this scene is to reinforce that Walter used to be a big wheel in Hellsing, teaming up with Alucard to have Golden Age WWII adventures.   And now, Hellsing will be sending Alucard and Seras to South America to investigate this new threat.   

Here, Walter asks the big question: Why make Seras a vampire?   I’ll have more to say about this later, but I dig this scene because it works as an exposition scene, but there’s more to it than that.   Alucard’s only apparent motivations are over-the-top violence and doing his master’s bidding.   Helping Seras doesn’t seem to fit either of those, so it does indeed feel out-of-character.   You’d expect someone to ask this question, and by now there’s really only two people left who know Alucard well: Walter and Integra.   So yeah, let’s have Walter ask the question.    But later on, it becomes clear that the point is not the question itself, but the fact that Walter is the one asking it.  

For what it’s worth, Alucard doesn’t seem to know, or maybe he just doesn’t want to spell it out.   He keeps saying that it was her “choice”, except he had to make his own choice that night.    He could have just let her die, regardless of any requests she might have made.   Al remarks on her tremendous resilience on that night, since she was surrounded by death and hopelessness, but didn’t resign to her fate.    That impresses him, so I guess we can say that he chose her because he found her to be such an impressive specimen, in spite of some of her goofier behavior.    As it currently stands, Seras can’t even travel across rivers or oceans, a weakness for lesser vampires, but not a problem for Alucard himself.    He seems to think that’ll all be resolved once she finally drinks blood, and he expects that it’ll just be a matter of time before she does.    Ominous!

As far as transporting Seras to South America, Alucard figures the easiest thing to do is nail her shut in her own coffin.   The Wild Geese know a smuggling operation that can fly them to Brazil without any messy customs.   That works out, since they also have to transport Alucard’s coffin, and all the guns.

Integra asks why Alucard is dressed like this, and he says he can’t wear his usual stuff because he’d be too obvious to their enemies.    Also, he doesn’t need to spend the whole trip in his coffin, because sunlight and traveling over water doesn’t bother him, I guess?    I don’t really get the water thing.    If Seras can’t travel over running water, what difference does it make if she’s in her coffin or not?    I can accept that Alucard, who’s basically a super-vampire, would be immune to the whole water thing, but it becomes a plot point later on, so... aw, forget it   

Integra gives Alucard only one order: Search and Destroy, which seems kind of vague when you think about it.   Anyway, she’ll be saying this about a hundred times before the story is over, so we may as well appreciate the original.

[ilovesausagerollsandchocolate]

Thank you for the tag @theageofsims!

Rules:  1. Pick a sim of your choice

2. Tell us about them

3. Tag someone else (if you want to!)

Name: John Anderson

How old is your sim? Late 50s/early 60s

When is your sim’s birthday? I’m not actually sure when it is haha, so I’ll use Harrison Ford’s birthday (who this character is based on) which is July 13th 

What is your sim’s zodiac sign? He would therefore be a Cancer 

Martial Status: He was very happily married to his wife Joanne and they also had a daughter but very sadly they both were murdered in a house fire which he’s now investigating. He is devastated by their deaths but deep down he will always be married to Joanne despite her death. He just loves her too much!

Does your sim have any nicknames? No I don’t think so, apart from him being called grumpy John where he used to work. 

Do they have a job? If so what is it?  He’s a Detective Inspector, and he’s always been a workaholic and claims he loves his job, but recently it’s all caught up with him how much pain and illness this job had caused him over the years and he’s devastated it’s lead to his family being killed and having to work on their case and his friend’s case after his friend was shot in front of him 2 years prior to his families’ deaths. Working too much and stress has also caused him to suffer more than 1 heart attack and he really isn’t too well anymore.

Where does your sim live? A rural midlands village/town in the UK.

Who does your sim live with? Used to live with his wife (daughter moved out to go to work but visited often) but now he’s living with Abby Sullivan, a detective who’s helping him out and working on the case too. 

What environment did your sims grow up in? It was loving but became quite tense when his bother Robbie started becoming jealous and aggressive towards him. 

What are your sim’s favorite food? He hates everything these days, but normally he loves any kind of pasta dish.

What is your sim’s favorite drink? Water (I know haha) because he barely drinks anything and he usually has water when he gulps his pills down, he also should lay off caffeine because of his heart condition

If they have one what is your sim’s favorite color? Green, black, grey and brown

Is your sim introverted or extroverted? He’s most likely introverted and likes to keep himself to himself but he’ll shout happily (or angrily rather) at any criminal who’s being difficult.

What is your sims favorite woohoo position? I’m not actually sure haha, I’ll have to ask him!

Is your sim a pet person? He loves dogs and cats, he doesn’t own one at the moment, but is thinking about it to help with his grief and loss. 

Does your sim have a best friend? He used to be best friends with his colleague Reg who was sadly shot in front of him on duty 2 years ago which he still has flashbacks from. Of course he was best friends with his beloved wife Joanne and loved his daughter very much. Now he’s become friends with Abby who has helped him a lot and also has remained good friends with a colleague Matt who visits him often. 

What is/was your sim’s favorite school subject? He enjoyed English literature and some science, particularly when he became interested in joining the police as the forensic side of science started to become relevant to the work he was drawn to. He also had interests in criminology but didn’t do a full degree, he joined the police and worked himself up.

Are they planning to go or have they already been to college? He went to college to study courses he was interested in but didn’t go to university, he joined the police, as mentioned above.

What are your sims political beliefs? John literally despises every politician to have ever walked the land and hates the government haha! He has no party so to speak. How do you know a politician is lying? Their lips are moving. That’s John’s outlook and actually kind of mine since I’ve gone into a depression recently haha! He just doesn’t trust any of them and thinks they’re all out of touch. He knows what real pain feels like, he’s been through hell and back, those guys don’t understand a thing!

Does your sim have a favorite TV show: Doesn’t have one, he hates everything!

Does your sim like books? He did like books but really hasn’t had the time to pick one up in ages, the only thing he’s been reading are crime files full of distressing images and details about real deaths not fictional ones. And any kind of novel would be way too heavy going for him right now!

What is your sim’s personal style? He wears a suit for his job as a DI but usually just wears cute green jumpers (I think they look cute on him haha) and shirts, which are usually green or brown, grey or black. 

Is your sim religious? He hasn’t thought about God in ages but is drawn to go into a church after he’s been told he needs a major operation on his heart and has lost hope with everything. However, he wonders why he even bothered going in because he feels like this God guy has just given him all this suffering so loses hope again. But he does slowly gain more of a connection with the church nearby, especially after his families’ funerals but overall he’s not really religious. He questions it and doesn’t really know if he believes in it. 

What kind of music does your sim listen to? As he hates everything he hasn’t had time to listen to anything but he quite likes classical music and rock music. He has fond memories of listening to music with his wife when they met and further on into their lives together. He’d probably well up and cry if he listened to music he used to love again for this reason ;(

What is your sim’s favorite type of weather? He doesn’t really care, he’ll take whatever comes his way!

Does your sim have a dream job? Not really, he used to think being a detective was his dream but it’s caused him to witness awful things and has now taken his family away. He’s had to bury it all over the years the pain it’s really caused him. After his operation, he tries to look for something he can do to keep him busy but not dangerously busy like before!

Does your sim have any siblings? Yes, an older brother who’s a massive twat and a younger sister who’s nice luckily.

Does your sim get along with their family? He obviously loved his wife and daughter very much, but despises his brother with a passion as it was his brother Robbie who had criminals burn the house down his family perished in. He cannot believe his own brother would do this and the shock of the news brings on a massive heart attack which really does nearly kill him. He gets on well with his nephew, Nathan (Robbie’s son) and essentially raised him as well when Robbie was controlling Nathan’s mother and treating him like shit (this makes Robbie very jealous and wanting revenge, hence the murder).

What is your sims favorite hobby? Walking, he finds peace when he goes out for a walk in the woods or somewhere peaceful even if he’s despairing. He likes to clear his head, although it has been a mistake him going out alone after he suffered a heart attack alone in the woods after his families’ funeral.

What does your sim look for in a romantic partner? He refuses to ever look for anyone else again. It was Joanne and always will be Joanne, she was the love of his life. 

What is a flaw your sim has? He’s a bit too much of a workaholic and buries his head in the sand about the fact working so vigorously is making his condition worse, despite everyone around him telling him so. He constantly misses counselling appointments and heart checkups out of fear his health has declined further which he knows it is doing. He struggles to face up to these things and works even harder as a result to bury that fear away. It’s a downward spiral that’s just making him worse. He also gets incredibly angry at others very easily, but it’s understandable given what’s happened in his life lately. 

Does your sim have a greatest achievement? If so what is it?  For John, probably surviving in the first place! He’s survived so much, he survived his heart condition, he’s survived dangerous situations in his job and has survived all this grief and misery (that’s not to say it won’t ever go away) but he has somehow been managing to carry on and I’m proud of him haha! He needs a massive hug rn.

If they have one, what is your sim’s greatest regret? Being unable to save his wife and daughter from the house fire and this is something that haunts him daily, nightly and for the rest of his life. 

I’m tagging whoever wants to do this!

[missorgana]

coffee with an old friend

pairing: finn/poe dameron, background rey/rose tico

fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy)

rating: teen and up

word count: 6420

warning: swearing

summary: This gap year was supposed to be uneventful. Free of stumbling into his childhood friend slash man of his dreams, at least, but it seems like Finn's waking up to a surprise every day now. (coffee shop au + childhood friends)

(after being stuck on this in 3 months, i’m back!! i’m not too happy with the ending tbh but,, i just want it done and i miss them a lot. this isn’t beta read so all mistakes are my own! really hope you all enjoy this!!)

read on ao3

Finn’s missed London.

He only landed a week ago, but the memories from his childhood are already creeping back into his mind.

He still knows these streets like the palm of his hand.

As much Finn loves California, it can’t really compare, now, standing in the misty afternoon, the rush of the stores very much going despite the weather.

It almost seems quiet now, upon his return. The fact that he thought this was crowded as a child is incredible.

He’s missed the kindness, as well as the blunt honesty of the British.

And, surprisingly, the smell of rain’s missed too.

It’s almost comforting.

Finn knows he can’t stand in the rain forever, though, and if there’s something London never gets enough of, it’s coffee shops.

So it’s only a five minute walk before he spots one, which he, oddly enough, doesn’t remember seeing here before. Must be newly opened.

And there’s plenty of tables available once Finn’s inside, only residents are people looking around his age, occupying their laptops with cappuccinos on the side.

And, figuring he’ll go for the usual ice latte, the queue it is. It’s only consisting of one person, really, so Finn’s not sure he can call it that.

Regardless, when it’s his turn, he quickly forgets that thought.

Because a man he hasn’t seen in years in standing behind the counter.

Finn’s mind goes back to video games and model planes and caramel apples and it’s almost as if he’s ten years old again.

Poe fucking Dameron.

He’s changed, so very much, but Finn’s a hundred percent certain it’s him.

The curly haired man in front of him takes a minute to register what’s happening, so he’s probably just as surprised as Finn himself.

His face morphs from cluelessness to a slightly open mouth to a smile that slowly grows.

“Poe?”

“Finn! Buddy!”

And Finn really can’t think about how that old pet name makes his stomach feel right now, cause a woman with a slightly loud child, standing behind him, tells him to “Hurry up, already!”

So, naturally, Finn apologizes while getting his order out. Poe looks disappointed.

Cut to two minutes later where his coffee is called, by another barista, cause Poe’s seemingly busy, and Finn shouldn’t instantly feel sad about that, but he does.

That is, until he notices the scribbles on the cup saying, I’m off in an hour and a half. Wait for me?

Finn should be looking for a job right now. Should let his parents know he’s back in town, they’ll probably give him a three course meal and convince him to stay forever.

But despite not having seen the man for four years, he still can’t say no to Poe Dameron. Damn him.

Which is why Finn sticks around, shuffling his playlists and texting Rey for a bit.

She’ll surely freak out when she hears about this.

He should really tell her, but he spots Poe getting rid of the apron and Finn figures he’ll call her in the evening.

The older man, only by two years, he reminds himself, sits down across from him.

Finn wants to stand up for a hug, but doesn’t.

He wants to hold the hand that’s placed on the table, but doesn’t.

Regardless, Poe looks beyond excited. He’s grown a scruffy beard, and it’s funny to see the long curls again.

Finn nearly cried when he had shaved it all off for the army, but his old friend doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, man. Hey, I- well. When did you get back in town, buddy?” and his voice is a tad hoarse, but warm, and Finn’s stomach starts doing loops on itself from hearing it again.

He can’t really deny it, can he?

Ever since the sleepover the two had with Rey, when they were ten and Poe twelve, Finn’s had this feeling.

This feeling when the boy grabbed his hand and told him his parents could take them to Comic Con, and Finn’s young mind didn’t get it, then, but he did when he turned fourteen.

Sixteen year old Poe texted him a little past midnight and asked if he could come over, which is far from unusual for them, and the golden boy laid in his bean bag, concentrating hard on the ceiling, only to shift his gaze to Finn and tell him, “I think I’m gay.”

Two days later, Finn asked his mum what the difference between liking a girl and a boy is, and she smiled that knowing smile of hers, “Well, depends on the boy and the girl.”

And he can’t really claim he’s surprised that his childhood crush washes over him in full force, after only a couple of hours worth of reunion.

Fucking hell.

All the time he spent crying over Poe leaving for the military makes him feel utterly stupid.

He feels utterly stupid sitting here, across from the man he’s been in love with since his early teens, who is just as, if not more, beautiful as he was four years ago, can he just stop?

“A week ago.” Finn tells the older man, coughing as a way of possibly restraining the thoughts going through his head, about his friends’ hands, that must be unhealthy, “More importantly, when did you get back?”

And Poe turns his eyes to the table in a soft laugh, proceeding to rest his chin on his hands before replying, “A year ago, more or less.”

“You- what? Why didn’t I hear about this?” Finn asks, and immediately regrets.

He can’t say it’s not completely on him for their loss of contact.

Poe’s number’s still saved on his phone, no doubt, which has caused him many late night considerations of a confession call, just for the hell of it.

But, well, his friend became less frequent, too. Which is understandable, because he was a pilot in the fucking military.

Finn feels bad, and somehow Poe realises this, cause he grabs his hand over the table, “If you’re about to apologise for losing contact, save it, okay? Things like that happen, I don’t blame you.”

And now they’re holding hands, and god, stop it already, before Finn does something stupid, like kissing the man across from him.

Soon enough, Poe retracts his hand, without seeming fazed.

The phone pings for twentieth time, and Finn apologises, “It’s Rey.”

“Oh my god!” the other man exclaims, “How is she?”

And Finn has to smile, there’s so many updates from their lives, and he swears this fuzzy feeling he’s having needs to leave.

They’ve always been friends. Best friends.

The only thing in his entire life Finn haven’t told Poe about is this, something Rey’s encouraged him to do numerous times.

And maybe he should’ve, but he always thought his best friend too good for him, and even if he didn’t, the thought of getting rejected always kicked in when he was close to coming clean.

But what’s the point of it now?

Poe probably has a gorgeous, strong, strategic, interesting veteran boyfriend waiting for him at home.

If there was no chance when they were teenagers attached at the hip, how would there be any now?

“She’s great!” Finn finally tells him, storing all the emotions in the back of his mind for later, “Still in Paris, but she swore to me yesterday that she would book a flight now that I’m back.”

“Hold her to that. A reunion’s just what I need, buddy. My friends from the army are awesome, but I can’t help comparing them to you two, you know?”

Finn really hopes he isn’t blushing, but he’s feeling embarrassed, and warm.

Maybe he should feel bad about being satisfied about this, but he’s relieved, because Poe hasn’t replaced him. Or Rey. He never believed he would, but the fear was always present.

What Finn expects to be yet another text from the last member of their trio turns out to be one from his mum, and yeah, he should probably get going before she comes and gets him herself.

He doesn’t really want this to end. Let him reside in this blissful warmth, pretend his childhood crush’s actually returns his feelings, or something, okay?

“Sorry, Poe, it’s uh- it’s my mum,” Finn tells his friend with a chuckle, “I wanna catch up, but my mum also wanna catch up, so...”

“Of course! Don’t worry, buddy,” he tells him, and Finn takes a small happiness in the disappointed look Poe’s trying to hide, “You still have my number, right?”

And he doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed or hopeful right now, but Finn nods and his friend brightens up.

“Perfect. Still need to show you my pictures! Got loads of my plane- or well, the one I was assigned to…” Poe stumbles a bit on his words.

He’s always been confident, at least that’s how Finn always saw him as, smiles that may go to the cocky side after a couple drinks, hands rubbing his friends’ back when they’re nervous, this courage to always say what he means, even when it’s frowned upon.

Especially when it’s frowned upon.

But of course Finn, and Rey, saw the rare moments aside from that. The soft, the sad, the unknowing. 

Before Poe Dameron announced his sexuality in the high school speaker system, he told Finn in the middle of the night, the light of his phone screen illuminating him, and a crack in his voice that he’ll deny if Finn ever brings it up.

“If you want to, that is!” the older man adds quickly, and Finn has to stop him with a nod, “Of course.”

And well, he can’t really postpone it anymore, which is why Finn stands up, and, because fuck it, goes in for a hug. Luckily, Poe seems just as willing.

He pats his older friend on the back a couple times for good measure, to distance himself from the way his stomach is clenching still.

And maybe, he hopes, it’ll stop affecting him the next time they meet. Maybe.

…

Today is Sunday.

In his childhood, this day always meant going to church, and well, as much as he respects his mother’s religion, he guesses he grew out of it.

Nowadays, Sunday is usually his assigned ‘do absolutely nothing day’, and has been since he turned sixteen.

Yet Finn somehow finds himself doing something. It’s tragic, really.

But Poe texted with the question of hey bud! you doing anything today?, followed by if you’re up for looking at pictures, you know. coffee on the house? ;), and he can’t exactly ignore Poe Dameron, can he?

After staring at the winky face emoticon for way longer than he should, like he hadn’t seen it a million times before, Finn decides to reply and make his way to where their reunion took place a week ago.

And boy, if he thought the coffee shop was empty then, it’s definitely void now.

Only two residents present, an old woman knitting, and a man possibly in his late thirties, typing away on a laptop like his life depends on it.

“Buddy!” Finn recognizes the exclaim, and gives his friend a wave.

And Poe is already sitting at a table, surprisingly.

A look to the counter reveals a blond barista, hair put up in two buns, apron sporting an abundance of colorful pins and, what he assumes is their business catchphrase, You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy coffee - and that’s pretty close.

Just like when they first reunited, Finn’s undivided attention is once again drawn to his childhood crush, smiling at him as if they hadn’t stopped calling each other for four years. Finn might as well have a permanent stomach ache by now.

“You’re off already?” he questions his friend, taking the seat across from him, where a iced latte was already placed for him.

That’s just a friendly gesture, right? Nothing more for Finn to overthink for the rest of his life.

Poe nods, “An hour ago. Kaydel needs some extra hours, anyway, so I’m getting off early.” and his curls bops as he gestures to the woman operating the coffee machines.

Today’s a bit warmer compared to the last time, Finn mentally notes. Perhaps their heating was broken before.

Not that he has time to freeze or sweat or anything similar when Poe’s in front of him, and Finn is absolutely embarrassed that his feelings are hitting him this hard.

After their first meeting three days ago, Finn called Rey, and of course, he can’t keep anything secret from her, so it was less than twenty minutes before she’d gotten the news out of him.

“Finn! You know what this means?!” she yelled to him, the surprised yelp sounding in the background, which he assumed belonged to her girlfriend, and, well.

Finn laughed to her, nervously, “That you’re coming back so we can have it like old times again?” and he could not help but think that Rey was rolling her eyes at him, all the way over in France.

He doesn’t doubt that Rey wants to see Poe again, but he also knows that she never let his childhood crush on their friend go.

“Well, duh,” she told him, then clicked her tongue, “Buuut now you can see him on a daily basis.”

And Finn had played dumb, don’t judge him, okay? That day was already a lot for his mind, and heart, to handle, so he needed a bit of distance from it all.

“Uh, I guess?”

“Finn.”

“What?”

“You still not going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” he told her, with a smile creeping up, and he didn’t know how to interpret the laugh coming out of the speaker, but damn, he missed her.

Daily facetime and texting is great, of course, they never go a day without saying something to each other, at least once. But it’s been a year since he’s seen her in person, and she’s his best friend.

She was always the one who arranged the sleepovers in their school days, and Finn has to admit it, the study plan she made for him is immensely helpful. Rey has a way of being in control that Finn hasn’t mastered yet.

“You’re impossible.”

And honestly, he has to agree with her, cause now he’s drinking an iced latte, his heart beating a little too fast, while Poe shows him pictures. He tries hard not to think about which one, of the many people his friend tells him about, could be his boyfriend.

“So there’s Hux - that’s his last name, never would tell us his first name, weird guy - Jessika, Phasma, Snap, Zori and Kylo.” Poe’s listing names, pointing to the faces.

Finn can’t help but smile, watching Poe’s enthusiastic arm movement, looking at each photo with nostalgia, his voice smooth like honey.

He notices his leg jumping up and down, that’s always a thing he does when he’s excited and it used to drive Rey insane. Finn doesn’t mind it.

“Of course you don’t mind.” She would tell him, whenever he took Poe’s side in the argument about whether or not it was annoying, and each time he would desperately hide his blush, giving Rey an intense look until she laughed at him.

Finn knows she’d never say.

They’ve joked about it, they really have, but she would never betray his trust like that. They pinkie promised, anyway, so if Rey did let it slip, she’ll hear for it til the end of eternity.

Finn knows the reminiscing smile on Poe’s face, and he has to clear his throat to not let his thoughts drag him to overthinking all this, “I bet you miss them, now.”

Poe nods. “I do.”

He then shrugs, and Finn hasn’t given up on reading his friend, but it sure is getting harder.

“But also, spending every waking moment with the same group of people is well,” he laughs at himself, “It can put anyone on edge sometimes, you know? Especially cause there’s no way to be alone. Not really.”

All Finn can do is nod in silent agreement.

He can’t imagine how that must be. Hell, he thought a dorm room would be the worst living situation possible, before he headed to America.

And because those words touch him in an unexplainable way, and because Finn can’t ever keep his damn mouth shut can he, he lets the question, “Did you miss me?” out into their comfortable silence.

Finn’s curses himself immediately.

The dreamy man in front of him looks up with a smile, again, this smile that’s soft but also utterly charming. And now he’s biting his lip, and well, Finn doesn’t know how to interpret any of this.

Poe takes his hand across the table, but turns it so his knuckles are resting in his friend’s palm. “Goes without saying, buddy.”

And how in the world is this happening, how are they holding hands, again?

Finn cannot possibly say he hasn’t experience this kind of affection from Poe before, because, well, he has. Poe loved holding his hand, Rey’s too.

And he could never tell whether his friend was making it harder for him, or, if this touch was what Finn craved from him, even if they could never actually be a thing, then, at least, he’ll have this.

Honestly, it’s return is more or less making him unsure of how to breathe.

Unlike their previous meeting, Poe doesn’t draw back his hand immediately, maybe only a few seconds later, and Finn wishes he didn’t count the seconds, but he did.

Surely, Poe must be noticing his nerves? Or maybe, possibly, he thinks this is Finn’s natural state, around everyone. 

He wishes he knew, and he knows he should be telling him then, like Rey says, but boy, it’s terrifying, the thought of just telling him about his seemingly forever lasting crush on his childhood friend after randomly stumbling upon him and barely knowing about his life now.

Finn must be deemed to suffer, he thinks. If his feelings haven’t faded away now, he has this nagging fear, that, maybe, it never will.

And he may have confessed his thoughts about Poe to Rey, but what he hasn’t told her about is the Valentine’s Day letter he may or may not have written and slipped into his best friend’s locker.

Yeah, it’s, just, listen, okay?

It was short and sweet, or at least, he liked to think that. His fifteen year old self had sat up till a way too late hour to finish it.

Guess you can say it wasn’t really a letter, because Finn liked music, and for a long time, he’s expressed himself easier way that way. So he may have put a list of songs that made him think of his friend. Is that cheesy?

Finn would be lying if he said he could clearly remember which he put down, it’s been so long, and truth be told, he might’ve desperately tried to wipe that memory, anyway.

He signed off as a ‘secret admirer’, obviously, because he’s read those romantic teen novels, and there’s no way he had… the guts? The bravery? He doesn’t really know, Finn just knew he would die if Poe knew it was him.

Rey’s said before he tends to exaggerate, but whatever.

And you might say, he made a move, right? Thing is, well, when Poe found it, he was over the moon.  So, of course, he interrogated virtually every guy he knew. Except Finn, of course.

The reason why he is trying, so hard, to forget this tiny glimpse of hope is because someone took the honor for it. Yep, a real blow to his confidence, to be honest.

So Poe had a boyfriend for a while, which made Finn lose his mind even more, if that’s even possible. The relationship didn’t last long, though.

Lucky for Finn, Rey excitedly exclaimed at the time, except Finn still didn’t act.

He swears, he almost did, biking around the neighbourhood on a Sunday evening with nothing better to do, when Poe looked more beat down than he’s ever seen his friend before.

Apparently, whatever his name was, Finn genuinely doesn’t remember and it’s like it matters, really… anyway, this guy eventually confessed the letter wasn’t from him.

So this evening was one of only a handful occasions where Finn did most of the talking.

And he just couldn’t bear the older boy being quiet, so he shoved his feelings down for what felt like the millionth time and told him bad jokes until the smile he knew so well resurfaced.

It always does. He wishes Poe would smile forever.

Besides, even though this guy was a douche, at least to Finn, he wasn’t Poe’s best friend since before puberty. And that sealed the deal for him to never to do anything, no matter how many times their stubborn friend tells him it’s stupid.

God, are unrequited feelings always this painful? It’s the only one he’s ever had, to be fair.

Finally, after what seems like more than four years, the hand leaves his, and it’s flickering through the photographs again, delicately, and with so much care.

But he can’t help looking at Poe’s face, reminding himself of every feature he memorized so long ago, like his brain’s telling me they’re going to be pushed apart once more.

And Finn wills his friend to look at him, and he does. He always does, really.

And he wishes to know what’s going on in Poe’s head, and for all that is good hopes he doesn’t realise what’s going on in his own.

…

Rey is coming home.

Well, she’s going to visit, she said. Obviously, she’s still got her degree and work in France, and the apartment, it’s not like Finn’s expecting her to move back.

That would be kind of nice, in theory, wouldn’t it?

In the course of, Jesus, almost two months now, things have been pushing Finn out of his new routine, things that were once part of it

He’s moved back into his parents’ basement, and honestly, this gap year was supposed to be relatively uneventful, it really was.

Free of stumbling into his childhood friend slash man of his dreams, at least, but it seems like he’s waking up to a surprise every day now.

Finn really can’t deny that Poe’s stressing him out. And making him nervous. Maybe a bit giddy, shut up.

His stomach aches every time he sees him, and it's always in the coffee shop, so sometimes, Finn allows himself to imagine them as dates because he's pining, okay?

It’s this constant reminder that Poe, well, he just exists in the same space right now, and his stupid texts with winky faces, and maybe, he’s drinking too much coffee now, too.

Poe’s always got his order ready now, and this act has a domestic tone to it that Finn’s not really willing himself to think anymore about.

He always thought he was missing something, as stupid and cheesy as it sounds.

It’s his dream school, of course, and his friends are wonderful, and his ex-girlfriend, still very good friend, Jannah, is close to his heart, too.

But Poe just fits, you know? And Rey too.

Growing up, he had many worries in his life, but at the end of the day, he always knew he could fall back on the two.

It’s like when he got drunk for the first time and his two friends were there with their overly caring, which he really can’t blame them for, because when it happened to Rey, he was there, too, obviously.

It goes without saying.

And Poe always squeezes on his heart, just a tiny, tiny bit every time he sees him, and it’s just a daunting realization that his friend may never know what he’s doing to him.

But Rey’s arriving today.

She called Finn before boarding, a conversation that went a little overtime and might consist of her almost begging him to just take his shot, as she said.

Her girlfriend’s coming too, and weirdly, this is both Poe and Finn’s first time ever meeting Rose.

Oh, in Rey and Finn’s more than weekly facetime he’s talked to her numerous times, but it’s not really the same, he thinks. It’s different being in the same room.

That’s what he learnt from these encounters with Poe, anyway.

And said man once again has invited Finn to coffee before they pick up the girls at the airport. He’s not even working today, good Lord.

So maybe, Finn’s been at Poe’s flat one time. It was just last week, actually.

It’s a small, humble one, and it just works for Poe, like, screams it in the wall art and the model plane he got on his fourteenth birthday that he’s, somehow, managed to keep intact all these years.

It’s the first thing Finn mentions, and his friend’s jokingly grumpy look when he laughs is just so endearing.

And that just took him back to their teenage hangouts, more than anything.

Poe wanted to show him more pictures, and boy, he had plenty of cardboard boxes piled up in a corner containing just that.

And it turned out, not only military time photographs, but old photo albums from before they were split up. A lot of them. The fact that Poe’s kept all of this jumbles up Finn’s insides, and his brain, to be honest.

“Welcome to the corner of shame.” he had said, with that deadpan expression he thinks is sort of menacing, like he’s about to tell a scary story, but honestly, it’s hard to take that serious.

Finn doesn’t say that, because despite them both making fun of each other loads of times, in this moment, it just makes him nostalgic.

If Rey were here, she would probably call him a loser or something, and Poe would stick out his tongue at her, because he’s not that great at comebacks, really.

He might be a bit infamous for starting conversation, arguments, whatever you call it, and not knowing how to finish them.

The fact that Finn finds even that endearing about him, well, he’s long gone.

But he’s known for years, because his other best friend loves to remind him.

Trust Finn when he says this, he’s seen every single photograph Poe owns, and that’s really the main reason they went to the flat, because there’s no humanly possible way he could carry all these to the coffee shop, but they ended up with a movie night because… yeah.

He would’ve stayed over, except that’s just about too much teenage sleepover memories for Finn to handle.

He also noticed the flat to be empty of other residents, except Poe’s dog, who instantly loved him, and his friend knows Finn will get close to tears near absolutely any dog, so. The postbox had only Dameron on it, too, not that he deliberately read on it, or anything.

But whatever, he’s sure Poe must have a boyfriend, somewhere. How could he not?

Perhaps he’s biased, but Finn’s sure there’s no aspect of his best friend that’s not lovable.

And the thing is, Poe’s confident, except when he’s not, like when he ended it with that guy who took the credit for Finn’s work, and for some reason, he started finding flaws to himself.

Listening to it clenched Finn’s heart in a different way than when his friend smiled at him, this was the sort of thing that made him want to curse the world, and that stupid guy, and prove Poe wrong in all this internalised criticism he has put on himself.

Regardless, Finn’s in the coffee shop, iced latte as usual, Poe’s drinking black coffee because he’s weird, and the conversation’s just swarming around being excited about the last part of their trio being on her way.

“You’ve talked to her girlfriend before, right?” Poe asks, biting his lip like he’s about to meet his partner’s parents, God, he is so likeable, why doesn’t he think that himself? Finn should remind him more often.

“Yeah,” he chuckles in his reply, “She’s so cool, honestly. Still weird to think of being in the same room as her. You know. Both of us existing.”

Finn shakes his head at himself, because he always does this with words, but Poe always smiles at him fondly, so even though it causes that familiar stomach ache, it’s worth it.

“I’ve missed this. You’re so deep.”

Their laughs are quiet and he has to say he feels like they’re meaningful. Or he doesn’t say it out loud, but you know what he means.

Thing is, Finn’s almost settled into this, like maybe he can see Poe again, everyday, and sure, he still feels just as strongly as before, but he’s learning to hide the nerves again.

Unfortunately, his best friend manages throw him out of the loop, once again.

Because suddenly Poe’s saying, “See this,” and Finn’s about to ask just how many photo albums he’s got laying around when what he pulls out is anything other than a photograph.

Remember that love letter Finn talked about before? It’s that damned thing Poe has in his hands now.

Firstly, it’s crumbled to oblivion, and he cannot believe his friend has it.

Can paper even, like, survive that long? Finn doesn’t really know.

He does know he feels like throwing up.

But he can’t really excuse himself, not only because this would blow this bottle up your feelings game Finn’s been playing for years now out of the water, but also, they’re supposed to be making their way to the airport soon.

Fuck. What is going on?

“You remember this?” his older friend inquires, turning the paper over in his hands, carefully, and honestly, it would probably return to dust if he didn’t.

How- Poe kept this stupid letter? Surely, Finn expected he’d have thrown it away, in a physical sense and in his mind, after that first breakup.

And Finn nods, swallowing the lump in his throat while the man in front of him continues, “It’s- I kept it in my jacket, even when I was the army.”

Finn knows exactly which jacket, because it’s also one probably too worn out but still being kept alive, multiple patches and stitches for as long as he can remember, “You did?”

It’s a small “Yeah,” he gets as a reply, and well, you already know how his smile makes Finn feel, “You know, I never found out who wrote it.”

And he just can’t reply, because Poe looks like he’s reminiscing, and Finn just wants this to be over. Can almost hear Rey’s encouraging, tired voice in the back of his mind.

“Sorry.” his friend then says, after the shortest silence, already folding the paper back together. Finn still can’t remember the songs, or if he wrote anything else.

Poe glances at the clock and mutters “shit” under his breath, and suddenly, the letter is put in his pocket where it came from, and whatever this moment was is over as quickly as it started.

And his friend gulps down the rest of his coffee in one go, yuck, and he rushes, and stresses, and Finn’s struggling to keep up.

Poe’s still got his hand in his pocket. That’s extremely inconvenient, especially with his bag, why is he doing this?

Finn wants to know just what his friend was thinking about when he brought that letter to light, because, well, God, it must mean something to him if he kept all this time.

It has to, right? What’s he supposed to do with this information?

And also, Finn doesn’t realise that he’s standing still until Poe’s voice sounds somehow a bit further away from him, it’s like he’s staring into nothing and not looking at his childhood best friend.

“What’s the matter?”

He zoned out, he’s zoning out.

It’s just- Finn doesn’t know what he’s trying to think of. All that’s going on in his head is Rey’s convinced mindset, telling him that Poe loves him, if that is platonic or romantic, it doesn’t matter.

He guesses Rey’s right. Maybe. That platonic only option is gonna hurt, though.

Poe’s coming closer again now, except it’s like Finn’s watching this going on outside his body, like a third person, or from above, maybe, and when his friend surely has to tell him they’re in a hurry again, it comes out of his mouth too choked up, too out of place and time for his liking, “I need to tell you something, Poe.”

And his older friend furrows his brow, of course, his stressful demeanor instead morphed to a frown of confusion, and despite of the world possibly crashing upon him this second, Finn continues, because fuck it, “I- I really hope you won’t look at me differently.”

Poe stands in silence for the shortest of the moments, mouth slightly agape, “Buddy, what are you talking about?”

Buddy. That should pretty much settle it, really. Their friendship will most likely put to the an end, or put in a hold, if he flees this.

At least Finn can tell Rey he tried. And say “I told you so,” might as well, now that he’s at it.

Which is why he squeezes his eyes shut for a second instead of looking at this man he knows so well, because well, he’s already distancing himself from everything right now, “It’s my letter, you know?”

And god, has the sound of traffic ever been so jarring.

Finn doesn’t even register the movement at first, he wonders where this is going, only he’s not the one moving, in fact every fiber of his being tenses up when Poe is suddenly as close to his face as they were in puberty.

The older man looks perpetually confused, honestly, Finn doesn’t blame him.

There’s a lot of blinking until, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” and you know Finn by now, his brain desperately tries to catch up to speed, throwing words out of his mouth in an unusual stutter, with no real meaning to the madness, luckily, Poe knows this stressed state of his, and a hand finds his shoulder.

It’s smoothing out his collar just a bit, his friend’s expression starting to change again, his eyes pleading to understand, “Finn, I need you to breathe.”

He does. They’re breathing the same air, always, he’s so acutely aware of it now than before.

Why has Poe even stopped him in explaining? He just needs to explain, despite there not being anything reasonable to say, because why does Finn feel the need to defend these feelings? 

Maybe to soften inevitable blow, surely, Poe doesn’t even look fazed, actually, maybe he’s not shaken by it, that’s something.

“And I need you to tell me why Sweater Weather reminds you of me.”

“What?”

“Please?”

Oh, that comes back to him. Finn was far from prepared for a question like that, when a possible rejection was replaying until he might lose his mind.

He just shrugs, almost wanting to be outside his body so he can shove himself.

Why is Poe looking at him like that? It’s just that same smile. His eyes are soft now. His hand just gesturing a bit.

Finn recalls the feeling of hearing that song, but he’s not sure how to say it. It’s like, he can’t tell what his friend wants out of it. No matter what he says, it’ll probably be cheesy, but Finn was fifteen when he made the list, after all.

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugs again, they should probably be going, why is this lump in his throat getting bigger, “It’s like, when we were snowed in, when we watched Alien, you know? I freeze so easily, you know? And you make me warm.”

That’s what he wrote, the little note in the bottom. You make me warm. My heart beats too loud when you’re around. I wonder if you can hear it. I wonder if you know how easy it is to love you.

“I do?” and either Finn’s hallucinating right now, or Poe’s smiling even bigger.

“Yeah. It- it’s like home. I wished I could make you feel that way.”

Why not get everything out in the open now that they’re at it, huh. Poe’s looking at him, though. Like, really looking at him. There’s crinkles forming at his eyes, Finn wonders if they’ve always been there.

And his friend lets out a breath. What is going on-

“You think... would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Who the hell is Poe kidding, right now?

Finn doesn't if he wants to scream at the top of his lungs because this absurdity or because of this glee. 

This year's really going way beyond his expectations already, and God forbid this moment ends, it seems way more like one of his daydreams than reality.

"You want to kiss me?" Finn asks, because it's hard to believe. It's almost like he should be banging his head against a wall for hiding this for so long.

Not that he knows if Poe's, well, wanted to kiss as long as he's wanted to kiss him.

"Buddy." he says, of course he says that, but now it's almost morphed into a new meaning, one where the classic, wonderous Poe smile is a smile of adoration, like a feeling that Finn might have overlooked it all the years they've known each other, for some reason, one that gives him goosebumps. 

"Of course I do. That's the feeling I've never told you about. You make me feel that without even trying."

Well, of course Finn nods, of course, he cannot do anything else than believe him, because this is what, finally, eases his stomach and releases the chokehold on his breath.

This is what makes him study Poe's face and think to himself, is this how he looks when he looks at his friend?

It's like, the world's revolving around Poe, at this moment. To hell with it if that's already been said a million times before, Finn's saying it now.

Maybe Rey was right, not that he'll admit that to her today. Oh fuck, they should probably, actually, get going, shouldn't they?

He isn't eager to break this news to Poe, though, what with his chapped lips on his, and a warmth spreading from his cheeks all the way to his toes.

The buzzing of his phone can wait for another minute, right?

[poemjunkie]

9-1-1 Meta

As someone who has said the exact phrase “not a bad person, just a bad parent” about my own father, I thought I’d share some thoughts about what that means for the Buckley parents.

It makes me doubt very highly they were physically abusive to either Maddie or Buck. This is a very common fanfic theme, but Maddie wouldn’t say they “weren’t bad people” if this were the case. Nor do I think they were neglectful in the sense that Maddie and Buck didn’t get the physical things they needed, such as food, clothing, etc. They probably even helped pay for college. Because that’s just what’s expected of parents. It’s like a bare minimum standard if you have parents who can afford those things.

That doesn’t mean they were good parents.

From my point of view, the Buckleys probably think they did fine. Their kids grew up, got an education, got careers, are financially stable, and don’t need them anymore. That’s a parent’s job, right? So, good job, Buckleys!

This is a long rant, but if you’re interested in what a relationship with a “good person, bad parent” parent is like, more under the cut. Sorry it’s long, I went off, lol.

Here are some examples from someone who had a “good person, bad parent” parent.

1. My dad has never, ever, said he loves me. And in fact, I don’t believe he does. Or any of his children, of which there are five.

This seems like the biggie, no? Like, you could point to this, and say, ‘Uh, that’s obviously emotional neglect?’ Probably. My mom and dad married in 1970 and having kids was just...what you did. And my mom LOVES children, and loves all of us very deeply, I have a close relationship with her, so don’t worry about me too much. But here’s the thing when you have a “good person, bad parent” parent. If you asked me if my dad would step in front of a train to save me, I’d probably say yes. But my mom would do it because she loves me. My dad would do it because that’s what you’re supposed to do for your kids and because he’s a good person, and that’s the good person answer. It’s a very strange, blurry line, but it’s also very much present. I’ve had conversations with my siblings about this, and they feel similarly, so it’s not just me.

1a. My dad does not show any affection.

No hugs, no kisses, no physical affection ever, and as you might have guessed by the above, he doesn’t show it verbally, either. My dad works a lot, has always worked a lot, and is very much ‘a man provides for his family’ and thinks, well, he’s done his job by providing for the family. So that’s it. Not even in the like, gruff, fatherly ways some men who are bad at emoting do, like teaching me to change my oil or a tire, drive, or how to fix the plumbing. Like, that was still mom’s job.

2. My dad and I have never had a real conversation about anything.

My dad comes is just kind of a stoic guy in general, but he does Not Talk to his children. About anything. It’s a non-starter. A relative was visiting, and asked what my cat’s name was. Unironically, his answer was...”I don’t know.” (Mind you, this is a cat that lives in the same house as him. It’s not my cat who lives with me somewhere else. IN HIS HOUSE.) When I would have friends over, and introduce them, he’d just kind of grunt a hello and I’ve had MULTIPLE friends ask me if my dad doesn’t like them or doesn’t want them over, and I’ve had to explain that no, he doesn’t care that they’re there, he’s just Like That.

3. My dad could give a fuck about his children’s activities.

I was on the volleyball team, swim team, my older brother (only one I went to high school with, there is a big gap between him and my other three siblings) played soccer, hockey and golf. Guess how many games my dad showed up to. Did you guess none? It was none. He never made a big deal out of buying equipment, and hockey and golf are not cheap sports, nor was the pool rental fees for my swim team. He never discouraged us from playing these sports, but he also...didn’t give a shit about them. Or anything we did. Even big events like graduation, when mom was giving us hugs, he would stand there with his hands in his pockets, like, clear “don’t hug me” signals, and not say anything beyond social niceties. I was valedictorian of my undergraduate college class and he didn’t even GO to that ceremony to hear my speech.

4. We were not a priority

My mom usually was the one who picked us up from school or sports, but she had five kids and other stuff going on, so very occasionally, she would ask my dad to do it, like if she was taking another kid to a dentist appointment of something. This happened VERY RARELY, because literally every time, he would forget and it gave my mom anxiety to ask him to do it. Like I can count on two hands the number of times EVER he was supposed to pick me up, and I would ALWAYS, ALWAYS end up having to walk to his work (luckily not that far from my middle school) to be like, “Dad, you need to drive me home.” He would just...forget.

But this sounds like a “bad person, bad parent” you say. But it’s more complex than that. As I said, my dad has worked hard his whole life, and he’s generous with his kids. I graduated with barely any college debt because my parents (and primarily my dad) paid my tuition, and he didn’t pressure my brothers (who hated school) to continue higher education and took them on as partners in the family business. He helped my sister buy her first house. He allowed us to pretty much have whatever pets we wanted. If its something we want that requires physical labor, he’ll do it. He and my mom never fight, he never yells, he’s a member of good standing in our church, etc. etc. etc. I never wanted for anything. My clothes were never dirty, I got to school every day, we had occasional family vacations. It was very normal. I just grew up into an adult that’s able to say “I don’t think my dad loves me.”

“Maybe his love language is just different, like taking care of things is just how he expresses himself.”

I’ve struggled with that a long time, and have had to accept that if there is a way my dad loves me and my siblings, it’s this. And perhaps the above is true. But I still grew up into a person that doesn’t think her dad loves his children. So, if that’s the only way he could express it, ultimately, it wasn’t enough.

That’s what it means to have a parent who’s a “good person, bad parent.”

But, I had my mom. I can’t imagine what my childhood would have been like if they were BOTH like that. I imagine it would have ended up much like they’re hinting the Buckleys ended up -- my siblings would have done the emotional heavy lifting, because some of them were much older. But guess what being the baby means? That when those older siblings are gone, you’re left alone.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 17

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by Dara.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: Some people are unable to see anyone's else's point until they're repeatedly beaten over the head with it, and Ernesto is one of them. 

***

“There. Help me out - we need to cut the plank down the line. Let it slide towards the saw and--”

“Not to be repetitive, but that would come really close to my fingers.”

“Your fingers will be fine if you cut the plank down the line.”

“Entirely too close to my fingers. I need them to play.”

“Most people find having fingers useful.”

“And I think I got splinters in my palm.”

“Por Dios, is this what living in the city does to men?” Estéban grumbles, causing Ernesto to roll his eyes. 

“It’s just that I’d appreciate gloves,” he mutters, but he does help his father guide the plank towards the rotating saw without further comments. It cuts through the wood almost as easily as a hot knife through butter, throwing sawdust up in the air. There is nothing about this that Ernesto finds in the slightest pleasant, but apparently woodwork is how his old man was able to get himself out of alcoholism. 

Interesting, given how the more he works, the more he wants a drink himself.

“What are we making again?”

“Pews.”

“... For the church?”

“Where else would you put a pew?”

Up your ass if you keep this up, Ernesto thinks, but decides against uttering that. 

Compared to how Estéban de la Cruz used to be - how his temper flared over nothing, how one wrong word could set him off - this is basically sugar and honey. “What is it, some kind of charity job you picked up?”

“Something like that. Someone will need to do the upholstery, unless they really want to fuck up their knees by kneeling right on the wood, but I do most of the work,” his father mutters, scratching his cheek - Ernesto is still growing used to seeing gray in it - and turning to glance back towards the end of the room. There are a couple of pews there that Ernesto hadn’t noticed. All done, even with carvings at the side - since when does his old man have the taste for that kind of thing? Has the world turned on its head? 

“I didn’t know you’d also started going to church,” Ernesto mutters, gaining himself a shrug. 

“I don’t. Just get them their damn pews. I’ll probably do the altar next, the old one is coming apart. Keeps me busy,” Estéban says, reaching for the leveller. “The shitty thing about trying to quit drinking is that you can’t look at a bottle of water without seeing alcohol. And then everyone is bringing it up - asking how you’re doing - you think about it all the time.”

Tell me about it, Ernesto thinks, his mood souring. He’s been doing his best not to think of Héctor at all, or of whatever mess he’s going to find once he returns-- "Don't show your face here ever again!" -- to Mexico City, but it turned out to be more difficult than expected. One short walk out with his mother, to get some milk to replace the one in the broken bottle and also some clothes for himself, and he was recognized and stopped several times by people he hasn’t seen in years - old friends and simple acquaintances, plus others he didn’t even remember.

And while being recognized and stopped in the streets was something he dreamed of for a long time, the fact everyone kept asking about Héctor and Imelda as well sort of soured it. That, and the fact he still has no idea what the falling out with Héctor may do to the career they-- he --had worked so hard to build. 

“Ernesto!”

“It’s really you, it’s been so long!”

“We heard there’s an album coming out!”

“Great job!”

“I already pre-ordered it!”

“We knew you’d make it!”

“Hey, can you give me an autograph? I already have Héctor’s. So I can sell them on once you two get properly famous!”

“By the way, how’s Héctor?”

“Heard he and Imelda have a baby on the way!”

“Gerardo and Milagros left to stay with them a few days - and took the twin terrors with them, thank God, imagine what they might have done unsupervised!”

“I hope they never get them to babysit, that would be an awful idea--”

“... Ernesto?” Estéban calls out, causing Ernesto to recoil, snapped out of his thoughts. He glances over at his father to see he looks-- concerned? Is that concern? It’s not something he recalls seeing on his face before, so it’s hard to tell. “Is something the matter?”

Well, this could be the beginning of a honest, heart-to-heart talk between father and son, if not for the fact Ernesto would rather stick his cock in the maw of a hungry coyote. 

“No. Nothing’s wrong,” he mutters, keeping his tone light. “All right, so, I think I got the hang of--”

“And yet here you are. Without a suitcase, a change of clothes, any clue how long you��re going to stay. We’re glad you’re here, but it doesn’t take much to work out something is not right.”

Ah, Ernesto thinks. Well, look at that - when sober, he’s actually a lot more observant than his wife. Who’d have thought. 

Maybe I should offer him a drink or two or twenty.

“It’s-- nothing…”

“Stay away from me, Imelda, and our baby. Stay away from my family.”

“... Nothing I can’t handle,” he finishes. He sounds unconvincing to his own ears, but his father doesn’t press on; he just looks back at the pew he’s working on, clearing his throat. Luckily, it seems that Ernesto is not the only one who doesn’t do heartfelt talks and would, in fact, rather stick his cock in the maw of a hungry coyote. That at least has not changed. Thank God.

“All right. Just keep in mind, whatever-- well. You can stay as long as you want.”

“Ah,” Ernesto says, and clearly his throat as well. “I mean-- thanks.”

A nod. “Well. Since you got the hang of it, maybe you can help me with the carvings before your mother calls us in for dinner.”

“Sure,” Ernesto mutters. As it turns out, he’s not too bad at it. Not too bad at all.

***

The first thing Héctor thinks once the crib is all assembled and ready - despite Dante’s efforts to eat some parts and the twins suggesting they should install a motor beneath it to make it rock on its own, thankfully vetoed by their father before Héctor could capitulate - is that he’ll have to struggle to keep Ernesto’s dogs from trying to climb on it. The second thing that hits him is that there probably will be no need, because those dogs are never coming into their home again. 

And they’re never coming into their home again because their owner isn’t, either. 

Ah, it stings. This is not how things were meant to go; Ernesto should have been his baby’s godfather, her honorary uncle. It seemed natural that he would - he was his best friend, after all.

He was always my best friend. Trying to change that into something different was a mistake. Now we’re left with nothing. If only we never let things get this far…

But maybe it would have made no difference, would it? Maybe Ernesto would have ended up resenting Imelda and even the baby, demanding more attention for himself. Maybe he’s never wanted a friend as much as he needed a songwriter, a public, someone who’d put him and his needs first and cheer him on at the right times.

And that was what Héctor did, every time, without fail. Until he couldn’t, not anymore, and Ernesto showed just how little he really thinks of him. How little he values him.

I don’t want you, he said.

Why would someone like her settle for you, he said.

“... Héctor?” Felipe’s voice reaches him from a mile away, immediately followed by Óscar’s.

“You good?”

“Why are you glaring at the crib?”

“Don’t like it?”

“We can improve it.”

“Make it the best crib.”

“That motor to have it rock itself would be a really good addition, look, we have the blueprints...”

“... And a document to sign that says we’re not liable to be sued for damages...”

“Boys, I think your mother is calling you,” their father intervenes, his voice even. “Go see what she needs.”

“Did she?”

“I didn’t hear--”

“But you heard me, didn’t you?” Gerardo asks, his voice still perfectly calm. Unlike his daughter and his wife, he rarely if ever raises his voice; back when Héctor and Imelda got together, Héctor found him the least intimidating member of the family to deal with - aside maybe from Imelda’s abuela, who was mostly interested in seeing how much food her potential grandson-in-law could fit in his stomach. He knows that Gerardo wasn’t overly enthusiastic about Imelda’s choice of husband, but neither did he choose to be hostile, and was generally much more laid back than his wife. 

Héctor is rather grateful for that. Judging from how quickly his sons obey him when he so much raises an eyebrow, Héctor suspects there is more to him than he knows, and that he probably wouldn’t want to be on his bad side. 

“Or would you rather your mother finds out about the bathtub incident--”

“No, no!”

“Not at all!”

“No señor!”

“We heard you.”

“Loud and clear!”

“And we heard her.”

“Calling our names.”

“We’re going to see what she needs, sí?”

“Ah, that’s what I thought you had said,” Gerardo mutters as they leave the room. Héctor can’t hold back a chuckle.

“Gracias. I think they could have talked me into it.”

“De nada. I don’t fancy getting a phone call telling me my granddaughter got thrown head first into the wall when their self-rocking crib malfunctions.”

“... Didn’t you mean, if it malfunct--”

“I know my sons and I know what I’m about."

“Heh. Fair,” Héctor chuckles again, and gives the crib a push, watching it rock. To think that in a short time there will be a baby sleeping in it, his baby, is… staggering. And a little overwhelming. He clears his throat, willing himself not to cry tears of joy in front of his father-in-law. “What was the bathtub incident, anyway?” he asks to change the subject.

That gets Imelda’s father to turn to him and-- grin. A childish sort of grin, at odds with his graying hair and usually solemn expression. “Ah, my secret weapon. I have no idea.”

Héctor blinks. “What?”

“There was a bathtub incident, I am sure, but it was so long ago I forgot. I think they forgot, too. But you mention the possibility of telling their mother, and they turn into obedient little soldiers. Works every time.”

All right, Héctor thinks, so maybe he doesn’t so much have a secret scary side as much as a secret sense of humor. Good to know. “Heh. I’ll keep it in mind, if I’m in trouble.”

When I’ll be in trouble, not if. I don’t even know if I still have a career without Ernesto, how am I going to do my part to support my family? I’ll fuck this up, I’ll never be a good father, oh God I’m going to let this kid down so badly I’m going to do something wrong and it will be awful and if only my parents were here at least they could tell me--

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Gerardo says, suddenly sounding entirely serious again, not a joking note to his voice. Héctor recoils and has exactly two seconds to worry whether this man can read his mind before he speaks again. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, Héctor. Or on your face. Either way, if you were trying to pretend you’re not worried, it really didn’t work.”

Ah. Héctor drops his shoulders, reaching to rub the back of his neck and looking just about everywhere across the room except at his father-in-law. “Well, you know-- first child and all--”

“I know. Staggering, isn’t it? Just like when Imelda was born. But it was all right. I probably did plenty wrong, everyone does, but she turned out all right, no?” 

Héctor smiles. “She turned out wonderful.”

“Well then, if I did it, anyone can,” Gerardo says with a shrug. “I got a pep speech from my parents back then. Figured you could use one, since…” He hesitates a moment, as though embarrassed, then, “I’m sure Ricardo and Emilia would have said the same, more or less,” he adds, and suddenly Héctor’s throat feels really tight.

I wish they were here. I wish they could meet their granddaughter. 

 “I… gracias,” Héctor mutters, and turns quickly to the crib, pretending to be checking it over - in case a screw is loose or something was assembled wrong or whatever. It’s very obvious, and Gerardo surely picks it up, but he doesn’t mention it. 

“You’re welcome,” is all he says, and leaves the room to give Héctor some privacy in case he needs to have a sniffle. 

He does.

***

“Ah, for fuck’s sake.”

“Ernesto, I’d really appreciate you not using that language.”

After years away from home, in Mexico City, Ernesto’s instinctive response to anyone asking him to mind his language is generally something along the lines of ‘chingate’. Luckily, this time his brain manages to catch up with his tongue just on time for him to realize who he’d be telling to go fuck herself and hold back. Adela de la Cruz was never one to resort to physical violence, but is currently holding a wooden spoon in her hand and she does have her limits. Ernesto is not too keen to find out if that spoon on the knuckles really hurts as much as he remembers. 

“Right, right,” he mutters, sitting at the kitchen table and frowning down at his phone. Dead, of course: the charger is probably still at Sofía’s place, and none of the chargers his parents have - four or five, three of which long-forgotten and tangled together - actually fit his phone. Not surprising, considering that their phones seem to be about as old as he is, but annoying nonetheless. 

“Put that phone down and wash your hands,” his mother tells him, drying her hands on a table cloth. It is… almost creepy, how quickly she’s slipped back into the habit after so long without him around. Ernesto almost remarks on that, but decides against it; she looks so happy, and he finds it isn’t half bad, being around someone who wants him there. 

"Stay away from my family."

The words echoing in the back of his mind sting, and Ernesto quickly chases the memory away, putting down the phone. “I’ll need to buy a charger,” he mutters, glancing outside. It is dark, and any shop where he could possibly find one must have long since closed. It doesn’t bother him excessively, however: part of him dreads what he might find once he turns his phone on again. 

Maybe more insults. Maybe Armando, telling me that Héctor beat me to it, that he said it was him or me and they chose him and I no longer have a contract, or a songwriter, or a best friend. 

Maybe he’s being too pessimistic - maybe what he will find is a message from Héctor apologizing, saying that he went too far, suggesting a drink to talk things over. Or maybe - much more realistically - there will be no message at all, from Héctor or Armando, only dragging on the uncertainty of what is to become of his life from now on. 

Wouldn’t it be best to get it over with?

“Mijo? Is something the matter?”

Ernesto blinks, and looks up from the dark screen of his phone. His mother looks concerned, and he tries not to wonder what expression she saw on his face. He makes an effort to smile.

“No. All is well,” Ernesto says, and puts the phone down. “So, what’s for dinn-- mamá?”

His mother doesn’t answer immediately. She steps closer to pull him in an embrace, stroking his hair back - something she probably wouldn’t be able to do if he were standing. “I’ve missed you so much, mijo,” she chokes out, leaning her cheek on his head. “I’m so happy to have you here. I hurt you so much.”

Ah, right. She does do heartfelt talks. Might be because she doesn’t have a cock she would otherwise rather put in the maw of a hungry coyote. “Yes, well-- uh-- it’s all right.”

“If there is anything I can do to help - if you need any help…” she sniffles. “It’s the least I could do. To try and fix what I’ve done.”

“I didn’t know when to shut up and I fucked up and I can’t fix it.”

“I don’t have to give her a moment’s thought. Let alone another chance. If she’d kept her mouth shut--”

“I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up.”

“Stay away from my family.”

He swallows, and leans into the touch. She has the same scent as always, the one he smelled in her embraces since he was a little boy, soap and spices and something he could never quite pinpoint but that just smells like home. Unlike his father, who lost the stink of stale alcohol and sweat, she has not changed. “It was years ago, mamá.”

“It’s not just that I-- told your papá--” her voice breaks up a little, her fingers brushing back his hair. “I am so proud of how far he has come, but I should have stood up to him years before that, when he began to drink so much. But he was in so much pain after the accident and the operation, I thought it would get better-- you were so little, so confused because your papá no longer carried around on his shoulders…”

Ernesto had no idea his father used to carry him like that; he cannot remember it. There is something in the back of his mind, so far away in time - the feeling of being on top of the world. Was that it? He is not sure. He was so small.

“... And I kept thinking, it wasn’t too bad. Your papá, my husband - we needed him, I needed him, God knows I love him. What if I made things worse? And I put off trying to confront him, but I should have because it was hurting you and it was not fair. I should have been braver. If only I got your papá to clean up his act sooner, even if I was afraid of losing him…”

"We need to make some changes, even if we don’t like it,” Imelda’s voice echoes in Ernesto’s ears. He swallows.

“But you never want to lose someone you care about,” he rasps. “It hurts.”

“It would have, so badly.” Another sniffles. “But protecting you was the most important thing, and I didn’t. I waited and you were hurt. I should have been ready to do whatever it took for your sake.”

“For the baby.”

Something in Ernesto’s chest hurts. He has to swallow again before he breathes out, chest shuddering a little. “He wasn’t easy to confront,” he manages, and it is true. Addiction makes you selfish, a need so great all you can think of is satisfying it, whatever the means, regardless of the consequences on… anybody else. He saw it clearly in his father; he never thought he would see it in himself. What he yearns for is not alcohol, but it is yearning all the same.

“She was right to bring the arrangement to an end. It could have never worked because you’d put your own wants before a baby’s needs, you always did. What you want you get, and if you don’t get it then you push me around until you do!”

Maybe she is right. Maybe they are both right. But ah it hurt, it really did, watching them get ready to start their own family, and each time Héctor showed up with a stupid grin and talked about the baby it was a twist of the knife, even if he didn’t realize it.

“We would like you to be her godfather,” he said. He must have thought it a role of great esteem. He must have really thought it would make him happy.

Ernesto’s eyes sting, and he pulls back before he can start crying in front of his mother, because he’s a grown man, he’s got his dignity to defend, and all in all he’d rather stick his cock in the maw of a coyote that’s probably starving at this point. “It’s all right, mamá. I’m here, and I'm... all right,” he says. 

She smiles, patting his cheek. “You are,” she says, then wipes her eyes. “... Go wash your hands. Dinner is almost ready.”

Ernesto nods and stands, slipping the phone in his pocket. He’ll get a charger soon, he decides. Tomorrow. Well, maybe in a couple of days. He’s not quite stalling, he knows this mess will need to be resolved in some way, but not now.

He can deal with the yelling and insults later.

***

“Turn on the phone, idiota!”

“... leave a message after the guitar strum, and I’ll get back to you…”

“Uuuugh!” Imelda groans, leaning against the wall as the strumming starts. The hand that is not holding the phone goes up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Her back aches, her head aches, her feet are swollen, she has to empty her bladder for the third time in less than a hour, and this is the last thing she needs. “I swear that if you play a whole song, I’ll--”

It is a whole song. By the end of it, Imelda’s groan has turned into a snarl. “I hate you,” she snaps as soon as the notes fade to let her leave a message, and she ends the call.

Precisely three seconds later, she’s already in the process of regretting it.

“Por Dios, no way I can delete that, is there?” she sighs, sitting down by the window and glancing over at Pepita, who is… spending a lot more time inside than usual these days, maybe because she can tell she’s pregnant or simply due to the lack of yapping chihuahuas. She glances over at Imelda, green eyes half lidded, and bumps her head against her hand, purring.

She smiles a little, scratching her behind the ears, and glances out of the window, the hand holding the phone resting on the bump of her stomach. Héctor took Dante out for a walk in the courtyard, and apparently the dog managed to tear the leash out of his hand. Not that he’s gone far, though: he’s currently running in circles around a tree, chasing… the other end of his lead, while Héctor is pretty obviously cracking up. 

Imelda smiles, and opens the window a little to listen to his laugh. He’s smiled plenty lately - he’s so excited to be a father, despite his worries, and does nothing to hide it - but she hasn’t heard him laugh so whole-heartedly in a while. Ever since… well, ever since they had to end their arrangement with Ernesto. He laughs less, now, and so does she; there is no point in trying to deny that, or the dull ache somewhere in her chest. 

Another sigh, and she looks down at the phone again. She knows it had to be done; she regrets it hurt all of them this much, leading to Ernesto feeling like he was discarded. They should have handled it better - perhaps they never should have never had the arrangement in the first place. She’s always known it couldn’t last forever, they all did, but none of them expected it to become a lot more than a challenge, a lot more than the not-so-occasional sex. 

They can never have that again: it wouldn’t be safe, it wouldn’t be wise. Yet she can’t bear to leave things as they are, either. Whatever Ernesto said to Héctor - he refuses to speak of it - hurt her husband deeply. A nice mess, that: all three of them hurting, and Ernesto dropping off the face of Earth, speaking to neither of them. 

I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t think he’d be this hurt. Or I wanted to believe he wouldn’t be.

Another sigh, and Imelda calls Ernesto’s number again. She soldiers through the message and pointless song, and draws in a deep breath as the notes fade, preparing to speak and trying to keep her voice even.

“Ernesto. All right, first thing first, disregard the previous message. Or don’t listen at all if you haven’t yet. I--” have been trying to get a hold of you all day, what happened, where are you, you better not have done something stupid or God help me and you both “... Believe I owe you an apology.” We owe you an apology, probably, but I won’t drag Héctor in this just yet. “I should have handled this better. Not the message, I mean, everything. I--” thought it would be like ripping off a band-air, quicker and less painful if you just do it quickly, but por Dios maybe I was wrong “... Am sorry we hurt you. Please, get in touch. At least to let us know if you’re all right. We’re worried. I know I am,” Imelda adds, her voice quiet, and ends the call. 

She leans back in her armchair and Pepita jumps on her lap, purring, nuzzling against the baby bump. Imelda strokes her head, gazing down as Héctor manages to get a hold of Dante’s leash. He glances up, sees her at the window, and smiles, lifting it in a goofy show of triumph. Then Dante gives a sudden pull, running back inside, and Héctor almost flies after him with a yelp.

Ay, how she loves him.

Imelda smiles, a hand still petting Pepita’s head, the other clutching the phone as she waits for a response. 

None comes that day, or the next.

***

The second Ernesto turns on his phone, it seems to burst with notifications - texts, emails, missed calls, voice messages. At a glance nothing seems to come from Armando, which is a relief: at least it means his contract was not ripped to shreds. Nothing from Héctor, either, which is… both a relief and a stab of pain he tries to ignore as he moves on to the voicemail. 

“... Think you’re going to be back and take your tiny terrors back anytime soon? They ate the contents of my bin, threw it up and ate it again more times than I can count. Nothing keeps them from getting into it. They’re fine, but if  have to clean up after them one more time--”

Ernesto hits the button for the next message - someone he probably slept with long ago and whose face he doesn’t remember telling him she heard about his upcoming album and complimenting him. He listens to the praise, makes a face when she suggests meeting. 

Next message. 

“Would you like to have twice the data at half the price? Visit our website--”

Next.

“I hate you.”

Imelda’s snarl catches him entirely by surprise, and he freezes, something in his chest seizing up. A bleep follows, silence - that’s it, that’s the message. She just-- called him to let him know she hates him.

Ernesto blinks, wondering if he really heard that; incredulity makes way for a stab of pain, another. Anger would surely follow, but the next message starts playing, causing breath to catch in his throat. Imelda’s voice, again, but softer, and… apologetic.

“Ernesto. All right, first thing first, disregard the previous message. Or don’t listen at all if you haven’t yet. I-- believe I owe you an apology.”

Ernesto opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He stays still and silent, mouth hanging open, as he listen the rest of the message. And then he listens again, to make sure he heard right. 

“I am sorry we hurt you. Please, get in touch.”

Listen again.

“We’re worried.”

“You’re not,” Ernesto says, but his voice is weak because ah, he wants to believe they are, at least a little. His phone stays silent, no other messages to play; this was the last one. Ernesto finds himself staring at the phone, dumbfounded, until the screen goes back and he’s staring at his own reflection, wide-eyed and, for once, absolutely speechless.

***

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32 + 6 Good Omens Fic Recs

There have been so many good stories to come out of the Good Omens fandom that I thought I should finally go about making a rec list and give credit to the ones that have given me the most joy.

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

IT chapter 2 list one and two - Reddie

Various BL Series fic (fandoms: Love By Chance, TharnType, 2Moons series, My Engineer, Until We Meet Again, 2gether, History3: Trapped)

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

All fics are completed. All fics are Aziraphale/Crowley.

** denotes a favorite

1. you knew my name on sight by brinnanza - “This wasn’t me, you know,” Crowley says, the words out of his mouth before he’s made the conscious choice to utter them. “Not just the library, but the whole civil war. You know me; I’ve mostly been getting drunk at Bacchanals.”

“I know,” says Aziraphale. (general, 8,300 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale knows Crowley, perhaps even better than he knows himself. This is a bittersweet story about two human shaped-beings who love the Earth, even when it hurts.

2. End with Hope by PepperPrints - In 537 A.D., the Black Knight enters King Arthur's Tournament of Champions, with quite disastrous consequences, and Sir Aziraphale of the Round Table takes it upon himself to intervene -- which, naturally, also turns out to be quite disastrous in itself. (explicit, 15,888 words)

Reccer’s note: Such great pining from Crowley here. This is a really meaty story with a satisfying ending and a gorgeous sex scene, but it definitely leaves me wishing for a modern sequel to see what happens next.

3. Fraternizing by kalpurna - Aziraphale has an unexpected house guest. Crowley disapproves. (explicit, 5,720 words)

Reccer’s note: A curious young angel comes down from Heaven to investigate what things are like on Earth. He asks a lot of very...awkward questions about Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship. It seems to diverge from canon in that Heaven knows about Aziraphale working with Crowley and sort of looks the other way.

4.  Some strangeness in the proportion by trailingoff -  ‘I assume your punishment involved the destruction of the demon, but I am not aware of the details,’ says the Angel. ‘The description was redacted from your file and labelled “Highly Classified” with a red stamp.’

*Aziraphale is trying to mourn in peace, but the cause of his grief keeps bothering him. (teen, 11,461 words)

Reccer’s note: Heavy angst warning. This one hurt, but in the best way. Angst with a happy ending. Gabriel figures out the best way to hurt Aziraphale: he makes Crowley into another soulless angel. This story contains grieving and suicidal ideation and attempted suicide. Aziraphale does not take Crowley’s passing well.

5. In Style by shinyopals -  ‘You can’t get kidnapped by the forces of Hell looking like that!’ insists Crowley. ‘I have certain standards to maintain!’

Letting someone else drive your body is weird enough without them accidentally ruining your look. Luckily Crowley's around to fix things. (general, 2,124 words)

Reccer’s note: I am an absolute sucker for stories about playing with hair or massage or any kind of pleasant, comforting touching, and this is a great one. I liked Crowley’s voice in this, and the whole thing was very sweet and cozy.

6. Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile -  “Isn’t this nice?” says Aziraphale with badly feigned casualness the next time Crowley stops by for a late night drink.

Crowley is all set to reply, words lined up in his mouth waiting to go, when Aziraphale adds, “I mean, all of the books and furniture and bottles of wine and things?”

Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals. (teen, 3608 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale decides to go all in on courting Crowley, but Crowley is entirely befuddled by what is happening. Some nice mutual pining here, followed by a bit of supernatural, glowy sex.

7. By Definition by idiopathicsmile - Aziraphale has certainly dabbled in the world of carnal delights over the years, most notably in the late nineteenth century, when a certain infernal adversary was enjoying a century-long nap and seemingly the only way to pass the time had been to develop some hobbies.  (explicit, 3074 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale is not that into sex, but he’s VERY into Crowley and watching him come apart beneath him. And Crowley is VERY interested in, you know, having that happen. So things work out quite nicely. Even though the physical sensations of sex don’t do much for him, the author does a nice job of showing how Aziraphale still luxuriates in watching Crowley. It’s super hot. Crowley agrees.

8. I am not scared of the elements by sparklespiff - After the loveliest meal of his entire existence, Aziraphale followed Crowley back to the Bentley. He wondered if it would be too forward to try to hold Crowley's free hand, or if he ought to wait for Crowley to reach out. Probably he should wait. Crowley had done the asking, after all, and would better know what he was doing. And anyway, riding in the Bentley was dangerous enough without removing one of Crowley's hands from doing something theoretically necessary for the operation of an automobile. 

or: Two occult/ethereal beings with one (1) brain cell between them attempt to end 6000 years of pining. (general, 3609 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale thinks it’s go time after the events of the show, but Crowley believes that Aziraphale has once again put on the brakes. They’re working at cross-purposes, but they both want the same thing. Eventually it all works out.

9. attachment by artenon - 1941. Crowley is hurt more than he lets on from walking on the consecrated ground of the church. Aziraphale takes care of him while grappling with the realization that he's in love with Crowley. (teen, 4455 words)

A bit of mild hurt/comfort. It’s always nice when stories have Aziraphale helping Crowley, because it’s often the other way around. And you can never go wrong with a good h/c.

10. speeding up by tamerofdarkstars - Crowley stopped calculating the minute shifts required to bring his knee into contact with Aziraphale’s and looked instead at the divine being next to him currently licking butter off his fingers.

“Wait. You picked this because you thought I’d like it?” (general, 1725 words)

Reccer’s note: This is one of the shortest fics on the list, but what it lacks in length, it makes up for in utter preciousness. So many pure ‘what if I held his hand??’ thoughts.

11.** Five Times Crowley Fails To Demonically Seduce Anyone, And One Time He Doesn't Need To by shinyopals -  'I need you to tell me how to find a human willing to have sex with me, and then how to persuade them to actually do it in the least unpleasant way possible for everyone involved. If I don’t manage at least one seduction, I’m going to get recalled back Down There.’ 

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a moment. ‘I think…’ he said delicately, ‘that we should have that drink.’ (mature, 11,166 words)

Reccer’s note: Oh, the feelings. The feelings. Crowley is forced by Hell to engage in some human seduction, when all he wants to do is be seduced by Aziraphale. The pining. The light angst. The gorgeous ending. Read this story.

12. ** Anywhere You Want to Go by Aria -  Aziraphale knew Crowley liked him. He'd known it with a horrible clarity since around 1100, which was at least a thousand years after the first time he'd thought of kissing Crowley, and some eight hundred and odd before it occurred to him that the specific quality of Crowley's regard could be very dangerous for both of them, if they actually admitted their feelings aloud.

It was also two weeks since any of that had mattered at all anymore. (explicit, 9990 words)

Reccer’s note: I wish this story was about 10,000 words longer. The sweet and slow coming together here is lovely. This is a South Downs cottage story, where, after everything, Aziraphale is finally ready to face his feelings for Crowley and Crowley’s feelings for him in return. Crowley’s disbelieving, besotted, overwhelmed reaction is my new favorite thing in this fandom.

13. human childcare for the occult (and ethereal) by suzukiblu - The Dowlings miraculously need a nanny and a gardener at the same time, and Aziraphale suggests they flip for it. Crowley takes one moment to picture Aziraphale nannying anyone and calls dibs. It’s not that Aziraphale’s terrible with humans, he’s just, well. Terrible with humans. Truly, truly terrible.

He doesn’t want to deal with Aziraphale getting metaphorically guillotined or kicking up security’s paranoia, basically. A gardener can be a little odd, and no one will notice or care. Except Warlock, perhaps, as the only other person with any real reason to spend much time out on the lawn, but Warlock’s the one they want noticing so that’ll be fine, Crowley’s sure.

Even if it does make him cringe a little, leaving Aziraphale in charge of the plants. (general, 11,954 words)

Reccer’s note: As with all nanny/gardener stories, you need to mentally erase Aziraphale’s horrifying gardener disguise from your brain in order to enjoy this. But this tale of Crowley and Aziraphale becoming “godfathers” to Warlock and making a cozy little life together at the Dowlings is wonderful.

14. Naps and Other Surprises by out_there - The angel is a surprisingly good kisser. All soft lips and gentle sighs, and the careful graze of fingertips along Crowley's jaw. But there's also the scrape of fingernails at the nape of his neck, the pins and needles shiver it sends down his spine, the slightest catch of teeth on his lower lip. (explicit, 4,312 words)

Reccer’s note: Another slow and cozy fic that starts with Aziraphale slowly and carefully giving Crowley a massage and ends with him slowly and carefully eating Crowley out. Pretty nice day for Crowley tbh.

15 & 16. Ineffable Endearments series by TheLadyZephyr - So far this series includes two stories: Four times Crowley called Aziraphale "sweetheart" without noticing (and One time he did) and Four times Crowley fails to cope with Aziraphale using a pet name (and One time he starts to get used to it)

(not rated, 6,130 words total for the series)

Reccer’s note: Look, if you’re going to do the pet names things, I think you have to really lean into it, and that’s what this author does. It’s sweet how adorably flustered they each get in these stories. So fluffy.

17. An Angel who did not so much Fall In Love as Settle Into It Gradually by TheLadyZephyr - Crowley was standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking a little lost. Aziraphale eyed the distance between them. Five steps. Five steps, and six thousand years, and a battlefield spanning an eternity.

The story of the little moments over the millennia that shape an angel’s regard for a demon, and the way he slowly, with great reluctance but inevitable surety, falls in love. (general, 7,548 words)

Reccer’s note: I wish more stories would span the centuries the way that this one does. There’s so much material ripe for a good love story in it, and this author seems to understand that. Slow burn that I wish was a little slower, but still left me satisfied, especially the kiss at the end, when Aziraphale literally says “fuck it.”

18. get religion quick (cause you're looking divine) by brinnanza - So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing.

It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop. (general, 4,285 words)

Reccer’s note: Why, why, why aren’t there more stories with Aziraphale being sure that Crowley can’t love him? This is wonderful seeing the pining from the other side. And of course Aziraphale is completely wrong and completely silly, but that just makes it better. Stars in my eyes for this one.

19. Wings and How to Hide Them by triedunture - Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends? 

Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect?  (Mature,10,134 words)

Reccer’s note: Crowley knows that Aziraphale has sex, so he assumes it must just be him he doesn’t want. Aziraphale, meanwhile, assumes that Crowley just isn’t Into That. 6000 years of Crowley pining. I will honestly never get enough of this trope. Not ever. I will die wanting more.

20. the first week of the rest of their lives by Deputychairman - “Port gives the worst hangovers in the world, did you know that?” Crowley slurred when the bottle was all gone. “Don’t know who got credit for that one. Nice drink, lovely drink, shame it makes you want to die in the morning.”

“Such a shame,” Aziraphale agreed sadly, watching Crowley stretch out on his sofa. He did like port. He liked Crowley stretched out on his sofa, too. (mature, 4,618 words)

Reccer’s note: The world doesn’t end, but Aziraphale needs a bit of time to ease himself into the idea of a life with Crowley. Crowley obliges him, as ever. I like the way that the sex feels inevitable here, like they’re just falling naturally into it. I also like that Crowley is the one to ravish Aziraphale first.

21. Not So Blue by pineapplecrushface - Aziraphale presses his suit. Crowley mostly has a lot of questions. (mature, 5,501 words)

Reccer’s note: After the events of the show, things start to change and Crowley doesn’t know if he’s quite ready for it. The way that Crowley comes to recognize Aziraphale’s feelings for what they are was so beautiful.

22. Almost Human Moments by shinyopals - The fact that Crowley's largest contribution to saving the world had been to encourage a scared child was an uncomfortable fact that he was endeavouring to bottle up. He was actually doing quite well at bottling it up because of all the other uncomfortable facts he was currently dealing with that he couldn’t even begin to figure out how to bottle up.  

Such as: Hell was going to find him, and make him pay.

After the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, Crowley broods, Aziraphale thinks, and somehow they manage to muddle through. (teen, 6,701 words)

Reccer’s note: The visceral and immediate reaction that Crowley has to the idea of Aziraphale going down to Hell was so lovely. There’s also some very intense hand holding that really pushes my buttons. The world needs more desperate hand holding.

23. ** Ever After by ArabellaFaith - We all know they're in love. But maybe, now that the head offices are off their backs, Crowley and Aziraphale can actually DO something about it.

A rambling descent into love confessions, sexual exploration, and what it means for these two to live happily ever after. (explicit, 16,450 words)

Reccer’s note: So much sex. So much really, really good sex. Desperate sex. First time sex. Sex with feelings Is there anything better in fanfic? I really don’t think so.

24 & 25. ** It’s Not The End of the World, Dear series by jessthereckless -  Series includes two stories so far: Lie Back And Think Of Dinner and Still My Heart Has Wings

After averting the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale re-examine their relationship and reach the obvious conclusion: they're retired, they're in love and they're damn well going to enjoy it. Providing, of course, that they can stay out of trouble. (mature, 20,745 words total for the series)

Reccer’s note: WHY ISN’T THERE MORE MAGICAL SEX IN THIS FANDOM? I want literally earth-shattering orgasms, give them to me, people. These stories are so good, because the author packs so much feeling and sensuality into every agonized scene between them. There’s desperation, there’s so much love, and there’s really weird-but-hot sex.

26. Taking the Liberty by CartWrite - After swapping bodies (but before their respective sides come for them), Aziraphale spends the night in Crowley's flat trying to figure out how to talk, walk, and be convincing as Crowley. Trouble is, he's such a convincing Crowley, he starts to convince himself to... well. Things get out of hand. (explicit, 3,463 words)

Reccer’s note: Is it really masturbation if you’re bodyswapped with the guy you’ve spent 6000 years pretending not to be obsessed with? Asking for a friend.

27. a city wall and a trampoline by kafkian - In their cottage in the South Downs, when Crowley eventually succeeds in getting Aziraphale to use a laptop, it takes Aziraphale literal hours to get past the default Windows screensavers of picturesque locations because 'oh, look, isn't it lovely, Crowley!'

5 times Crowley knows he’s in love with Aziraphale + 1 time he knows the reverse. (teen, 4,727 words)

Reccer’s note: Crowley just being so endlessly fond of Aziraphale fills me with so much joy. And it’s here again. It’s technically five times that he knows he’s in love with Aziraphale, but it’s also five times that Crowley tries so hard to make Aziraphale happy.

28. A Home at the Beginning of the World by stereobone - "Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me." (explicit, 5,867 words)

Reccer’s note: A visit with Anathema and Newt helps Aziraphale realize some very clear things that he’s been missing.

29. Too Generous by rfsmiley - “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Or: what happened after the [ we all got hit by a ] bus scene (aka "you could stay at my place, if you like")....(teen, 1,501 words)

Reccer’s note: Crowley offers Aziraphale the bed, and Aziraphale suggests that there would be room for two. Contains slinky Crowley, which there should just be more of in the world.

30. His Banner Over Me by pineapplecrushface - Three of Aziraphale's excellent ideas, and how Crowley (very casually) obliges him, as a friend does. (explicit, 5475 words)

Reccer’s note: Handjobs. Just...truly excellent mutual handjobs. \

+6

And finally, because this is my blog and I can, here is a list of my own stories for after you finish all the recs above:

1. The Seduction Malfunction - “Disguise yourself,” Hastur said. “Pretend you’re a priest, or better yet, an altar boy. Their lot can’t resist an altar boy.”  

Crowley held in a hysterical bubble of laughter as he imagined Aziraphale’s horrified face at being confronted with Crowley disguised as a lascivious altar boy. He’d feed him soup and give him a good talking to before sending him on his way.

Crowley gets orders to seduce Aziraphale to the dark side. It goes about as well as you might expect. (teen, 5,441 words)

2. Transference - There was always a low level hum of attraction and lust in the air when Crowley was around. In fact, Aziraphale couldn’t recall a single time, after their first meeting on the wall, when he hadn’t watched Crowley dazzle and transfix every poor human that they encountered. He’d even seen Eve give him the eye when he was in his human form, back in the day, and she’d been with child at the time.   

Aziraphale couldn’t blame them for falling victim to Crowley’s considerable wiles. He was a demon, after all. Tempting was in the job description. Plus, he’d clearly designed his human form to be utterly irresistible to all humans, from his eye-catching hair down to his stylish clothing. It was overkill, if you asked Aziraphale. But then, he supposed, overkill wasn’t really a thing with demons.

Aziraphale would win a gold medal in Mental Gymnastics. (mature, 4,282 words)

3. Step in the Bright Lights - The angel was holding court on the walking path surrounded by a passel of small children and their bored parents. He wore an absolutely ridiculous magician’s costume, complete with a top hat, cape, black wand, and a painted on mustache above his upper lip that had Crowley recoiling in horror. On a table in front of Aziraphale was a sign that proclaimed: THE AMAZING MISTER FELL AND HIS REMARKABLE FEATS OF PRESTIDIGITATION.  

He almost turned right around, but then Aziraphale spotted him and waved enthusiastically, stopping in the middle of a bit involving some handkerchiefs coming out of his sleeve to greet him. 

“Oh, look, children! It’s the Amazing Mr. Fell’s very special assistant, Signor Crowley!”

Aziraphale picks up some new hobbies. Crowley has no chill. (teen, 3,311 words)

4. Something To Talk About - He had the sudden and almost overwhelming desire to reach out and take Crowley’s hand. An absurd notion, of course. In 6000 years, Crowley had never shown any inclination towards physical affection for Aziraphale, despite their shared feelings. Aziraphale had long ago accepted that any gentle touch from him would have Crowley stepping hastily away and otherwise ignoring Aziraphale’s attempts. Or at least he had accepted it, until their delicate status quo had been disrupted.

Aziraphale jumps to some very inaccurate conclusions. (explicit, 3,664 words)

5. To Rest My Weary Soul - “Are you saying I feel like this because of my time in Hell? I thought you meant moral consequences.” 

“Since when do I give a toss about moral consequences, angel? No, you’ve got a Hell hangover. Must have hit once the adrenaline wore off,” Crowley answered.

“Hell hangover?” Aziraphale repeated incredulously.

Aziraphale's trip down to Hell leaves him worse for wear. (teen, 3,945 words)

Bonus: Podfic by FayJay

6. Taking the Long Way - Crawley nodded down at the sweaty humans undulating in a frightfully uncomfortable-looking position below them. “Mating,” he clarified. “One of God’s better ideas, if you ask me. Looks like it could be fun.”

“Does it?” Aziraphale asked doubtfully. “It’s all a bit sticky for my tastes. I think She had the right of it with plants. Pollination seems much more sensible.”

It takes Aziraphale 6000 years to catch up. (explicit, 6,919 words)

[mrslittletall]

Title: The Sparring Accident Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Laurence the first Vicar/Ludwig the Holy Blade Word Count: 8.375 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22280614

Summary: Laurence misses the time he could spar with his old friends. He asks Ludwig if he could spar with him to satisfy his nostalgia, but he didn't take into account just how strong the Holy Blade is.

(Author's note: I needed some Laulu hurt/comfort so here is some Laulu hurt/comfort.)

As Laurence had taken a break from sitting on his desk to stretch his legs a bit, wandering the cathedral, he had stopped to look out at the yard where Ludwig was training his hunters.

It looked like they were sparring. They had formed groups and he could see one going against Ludwig himself. As he watched them, it brought Laurence back to easier times.

He often had sparred with Gehrman or Maria. He was nowhere good at fighting beasts as them but he could pride himself in having some duelist skills, often having brought Gehrman and Maria on the edge.

He missed them. Thinking about this only made his chest tighten so he shook his head and tried to get this thoughts out of his mind.

But he couldn't stop thinking about that he would like to spar again. It often helped him getting his focus back or getting rid of bad emotions. And it certainly had made him a little more fit.

So this evening after dinner Laurence asked: “Say, Ludwig, we have never sparred with each other.”

“Um...”, Ludwig said and Laurence could feel how his boyfriend stared him over, probably concerned about his scrawny and small stature.

“Hey, I don't look like it but I used to spar with Gehrman and Maria. And I was on par with them.”, he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Wait, what, really?”, Ludwig said, “But you never partake in the hunts...”

“First.”, Laurence said, “The hunt is a complete different thing than a sparring match against a human. Second, someone has to stay and prepare all the blood vials.”

“Yes, the church doctors and the blood saints.”, Ludwig said.

“Um...”, Ludwig had a point. “I mean, you are right, but when we started the church it was all me... so I got used to staying in and prepare the blood ministrations and blood vials.”, he murmured. “Anyway, would you spar with me this evening? I feel like I want to try some of my techniques again. Have gotten rusty.”

“Well, of course, if is your wish.”, Ludwig said and smiled to Laurence.

“Great, then let us meet at around 9 PM on the yard.”, Laurence smiled back.

After Laurence had finished a bit more paperwork he snatched his threaded cane and strolled down to the yard, where he already found Ludwig doing some warm up slashes with his Holy Moon Light sword.

“Ah, Laurence.”, he said. “I actually feel a bit uneasy sparring with you using the holy moonlight sword. I know we have blood vials, but I would feel more at ease when I could use a wooden training weapon.”

“Fine with me.”, Laurence said. “I intend on using my cane, there doesn't exist a blunt version of it.”

“Fine with me.”, Ludwig said and put his Holy Moonlight Sword back on his back, getting a wooden substitute that had exactly the same size. “Do you want to make a few warm ups first?”

“Good idea.”, Laurence said as he tested a few slashes with his weapon. Next to him he noticed that Ludwig adjusted himself to the wooden sword.

After he was satisfied, Laurence said: “Let's start.”

“Alright.”, Ludwig said, walking a few steps away and then turned around so that he faced Laurence.

“Ready?”, he asked.

Laurence took in his stance, clicked on the cane to transform and braced himself: “Ready.”

The next thing Laurence knew was that he saw Ludwig flash forward, that the floor beneath his feet got drawn away and that he heard a sickening crunch. And then his whole body was pain. He had the faint feeling of tasting some blood.

Somewhere through the fog that his head had become he heard Ludwig scream: “Laurence, by the holy blood, I am so sorry! Are you alright?!”

Laurence was half aware that he was lying on the ground, probably bleeding, it felt like he had broken something.

“Ludwig.”, he groaned. “Did you... really think... I could... take... a hit... at your... full strength?”

He felt himself slip into darkness after this.

The next time he awoke he could see Ludwig's worried face come into focus.

“You are already awake? How are you feeling?”, he asked.

“Ungh...”, was all Laurence brought out at first. He didn't feel any different than before he had passed out, well, maybe there was the difference that he felt the pain concentrate in his left arm, chest and head. “...Where am I?”, he asked instead of answering the question. He was faintly aware that he wasn't lying on the floor anymore. The thing he was lying into was far too soft to be the floor.

“Infirmary.”, Ludwig said, stroking a streak of hair out of Laurence' face, stopping the motion as Laurence scrunched up his face. “Sorry, did that hurt?”

“Everything hurts...”, Laurence whimpered.

“Don't worry, your blood ministration is prepared right now.”, Ludwig said. “Though the doctor has to set your arm first.”

“It's broken?”, Laurence asked, practically already knowing it. The crunch he had heard earlier, the intense pain and the fact that he couldn't move his left arm at all told him. Ludwig just gave a tiny nod to his question and then, Laurence hadn't expected this at all, almost broke out into tears.

“Laurence I am so sorry, I thought you could take a hit, when you said you used to spar with Gehrman I got a wrong impression of your skill and strength and I didn't want to hurt you like this and...”, he rambled on.

“It... it's fine...”, Laurence said, feeling helpless. He tried to pull himself up, to maybe show Ludwig that he wasn't hurt that bad but a wave of pain and nausea forced him right back into the pillows. He winced when another wave of pain tingled through his head and his right hand flew up to his mouth as his body still considered if it wanted him to throw up.

“Do you have to vomit?”, Ludwig asked and Laurence could see his big brown eyes staring at him in concern. Laurence needed a while before he could answer, breathing slowly in and out until the wave of nausea passed.

“No...”, he finally said, half aware that a good minute must have been passed. Ludwig had never left his position during this time, his hands still on the bed, leaning forward to look at Laurence.

“Good.”, Ludwig said, his eyes easing as he stared over Laurence, “Doctor Tiffany said you might have a concussion. You... were bleeding quite badly so we got a blood vial into you and put some gauze around your head so that you wouldn't make such a big mess.”

As Ludwig spoke, Laurence reached out to his head to in fact feel a thick gauze bandage wrapped around his head. He winced as he felt the spot where the wound must have been.

“Ungh.. what is taking the doctor so long?”, he asked, “I would like to finally get the blood ministration.”

“Ah... it's because it is rather late, sorry, Laurence.”, Ludwig said. “There is only one doctor in charge right now. And I think she is still new and will need a little while to prepare the blood ministration correctly.”

“Not the best news to wake up to...”, Laurence said, staring up at the ceiling. He half wished he had just stayed unconscious, then he hadn't to deal with his body being in that flaring pain.

“Do you want me to stay or shall I look upon her progress?”, Ludwig asked.

“Hm... stay...”, Laurence said. While he would approve of not being in pain anymore, the thought of being left alone while he couldn't move properly was more scary. He searched for Ludwig's hand with his uninjured right one. Luckily, Ludwig noticed his efforts and took it into his own, a certain warmth spreading from them through Laurence' whole body.

Laurence almost managed to slip into sleep while they waited but got brought back when he heard an unfamiliar voice: “Sorry for the wait.”

He opened his eyes to be greeted with the face of who must be Dr. Tiffany. Ludwig was right, she must have been new, she looked rather young.

“As you are probably aware I need to set your bones before I can apply the blood ministration, Vicar.”, she said.

“Mhm...”, he just said. “Can I have a few sedatives before we start?”

“Laurence, you know you shouldn't take this many sedatives.”, Ludwig scolded Laurence. Laurence gave him a glare as best as he could. Really? Was Ludwig calling him out on his addictions when he had very good reasons to take them?

“It shouldn't be a problem.”, Dr. Tiffany said, “In fact, the sedatives will help him deal with the pain better.”

“See?”, Laurence said. “They are in my coat pocket, can you get them for me?”

As Ludwig stood up and walked over to a chair where Laurence' recognized his clothes, he wondered what he was wearing and took a sneak under the blankets. There he cringed as he got a better look at his left arm, which was twisted in a way that just looked plain wrong. He also noticed that he pretty much had nothing on his body than his underwear and a few bandages.

“My apologies, but it is hard to tend to wounds when clothes are in the way.”, Dr. Tiffany said right as Ludwig came back with the sedatives.

“Which kind of injuries do I suffer from?”, Laurence asked as he watched her taking the sedative bottles and put a few drops in a glass of water.

“A laceration at the back of your head with a possible concussion, multiple breaks in your left arm, a few broken ribs, quite a few bruises.”, she said.

“Pretty much your entire left side is blue.”, Ludwig said, fidgeting with his fingers.

“It won't be any trouble because the blood ministration will help him back on his feet in the span of 48 hours.”, the doctor said.

Laurence internally groaned as she said that. He knew how powerful the blood ministration was, but he also knew that they had to be slow with it and so bad injuries like the ones he suffered would need a bit longer to heal.

“Ludwig, would you please help him up so that he can take the sedatives?”, Dr. Tiffany asked.

“Of course.”, Ludwig said and came nearer to Laurence' bed, carefully lifting him up, stopping whenever Laurence winced in pain. As Laurence was successfully propped against the pillow, he supported him as the doctor led the glass with the medicine to his lips and made sure that he carefully drank the liquids inside it.

Once the glass was empty, Ludwig carefully laid him back down. Laurence could already feel the effects of the sedatives and searched for Ludwig's hand as the doctor handed him some wood.

“Just bite on it when the pain gets too worse. And when you want me to stop, please raise your right arm.”

Laurence wanted to nod to tell her that he had understood but settled for another “Mhm”, instead, his head felt like cotton candy. He felt Ludwig squeeze his hand in reassurement.

Laurence put the small wooden block between his teeth and braced himself as the doctor went to set his bone. At least he knew what he was getting into, it wasn't the first time he got a break set.

That of course didn't meant that it would hurt less. After the doctor was done around five minutes later, he was laying there, taking deep breathes as his arm pounded in pain.

Dr. Tiffany made sure to splint his arm and fixated the splint with a bandage. “I think we can save the cast because the blood ministration will have it fixed soon.”, she said. She still felt the need to instruct Laurence to move his arm as little as possible.

“And now it is time for the blood ministration.”, she said, finally having brought over the equipment, the needle glistening in her hands. “I will put it into your right arm, because your left is covered in bandages.”

Laurence wasn't too thrilled to hear this, but he knew he didn't had another choice. There was just one thing...

“Wait...”, he said, “before you put the needle in, can I get something more to wear? I am cold.”

She stopped, looking at him and then at Ludwig. “Um, we should have night shirts for the patients here... But are you sure? It could be a bother to get your arm through a sleeve...”

“I don't care... I am freezing...”, Laurence said. He always had froze easily and that it wasn't a hot night didn't make him feel any warmer.

“Wel, alright.”, Dr. Tiffany said and rummaged around in a cupboard to come back with a night shirt. “Will you help him get dressed?”, she addressed Ludwig and received a nod from the Holy Blade.

“Come, Laurence, let's get you dressed up.”, Ludwig said. Like Dr. Tiffany had predicted, it was quite a hassle to get his broken arm through a sleeve and that Ludwig stopped every time Laurence even slightly winced made the process even more drawn out.

Eventually, he was dressed in a loose woollen night shirt and laid back on the pillow, already feeling warmer and less exposed.

“Can you roll up your sleeve then?”, Dr. Tiffany asked. Oh, apparently she wanted to stick the needle in the crook of his arm. Laurence could understand why though, it was far easier to see the veins there. He wished he could just do the blood ministration himself, but he didn't had a choice.

“I would like to but I can't move my left arm.”, he said and saw the doctor blush, apparently she had forgotten this tiny detail.

“I am taking care of it.”, Ludwig said and rolled up Laurence' sleeve, so that the needle of the blood ministration finally could get stuck in.

As Laurence felt the rush of the old blood circulate in his own body he sighed as the pain in his body got duller and he closed his eyes. He didn't knew how late exactly it was but he would like to sleep.

“You shouldn't get up for the next 24 hours.”, he heard Dr. Tiffany say, but didn't care anymore because his body just wanted to sleep off the pain.

The next time Laurence awoke it was still dark outside. He blinked a few times, confused at what had happened and why he wasn't in his bed in his room. When he shifted a bit he felt a sharp pain in his left arm and the “accident” he had came back to him. He lowly hissed in pain, wondering why he had awoken in the middle of the night when all he desired was to sleep over the pain.

However, he knew right away when his body gave him the urgent signal to visit the bathroom soon. Laurence sighed, that wouldn't have been a problem when he wouldn't be hurt. But like this... he required help.

Luckily Ludwig was sleeping in a chair right next to him, close enough so that Laurence could nudge him with his right hand. “Hey, Ludwig, wake up...”, he murmured.

Laurence had expected for Ludwig to need a minute or two to wake up, not for him to be awake in an instant and practically shouting: “Is something wrong? Does something hurt? Do you need pain medication? Should I get Dr. Tiffany?”

“No, it's nothing like that.”, Laurence said, taken aback by his boyfriend's panicked concern, “I just have to pee. Can you help me to the bathroom?”

“Oh, of course.”, Ludwig said, but then fell silent for a few seconds. “I mean, I would when you were allowed to get up. Dr. Tiffany said you shouldn't get up for 24 hours. Also, you are still hooked to the blood ministration.”

“Fuck, I forgot...”, Laurence said, a faint memory of her saying it in the back of his head. He stared down at his arm to confirm that he indeed was still hooked up. And he knew best that someone shouldn't move around too much while getting a ministration.

“Don't worry, this is an infirmary. There surely will be a chamber pot around.”, Ludwig said cheerfully, apparently relieved that Laurence' problem was easy to take care of. “Or should I wake her and ask if you can get up for a few minutes?”

“Nah, it's fine.”, Laurence said. Staying in bed felt like the better option anyway, he still had a slight nausea and didn't want to risk having to puke by getting up. He silently watched as Ludwig lit a candle and searched the room until he came back.

“Found one.”, he said and put the chamber pot down.

Laurence looked down at himself, his left arm being splinted and bandaged and his right arm being hooked up to the blood ministration. “I think I require your assistance...”, he said, blushing faintly.

“Hey, you don't have to blush.”, Ludwig said. “I was helping you go potty a lot when you had your frenzy. I don't mind.”

Laurence blushed even more when Ludwig brought up the time he had spent in a catatonic state, completely unable to perform even the most basic tasks. But at least he hadn't been aware of this time. Mostly.

“Let's... let's just get his over with.”, he said, his face now feeling as red as the blood that was pouring into him.

Gladly Ludwig stopped the teasing and after Laurence had taken care of his need he was already feeling like drifting back off to sleep again. As he saw Ludwig walking away, he murmured: “Ludwig, stay with me...”

Ludwig stopped and looked back at Laurence. “Of course, Laurence, I just wanted to take care of the waste. I will come back right away.”

“You better...”, Laurence murmured and fell back into a deep slumber.

The next time Laurence awoke the sun had rose and when he turned his head he saw Ludwig kneeling besides his bed, his head resting on the mattress.

“He has watched over you almost the whole night.”, Dr. Tiffany came in the room and smiled as she saw him awake. “How are you feeling? Need anything?”

“Hmmm...”, Laurence said, checking his needs. He needed to go the bathroom again, but decided that he could wait for Ludwig to wake to help him instead of asking Dr. Tiffany. He also noticed that his nausea had been replaced with a slight hunger, though he still had a lingering headache. He guessed the blood ministration had managed to mostly heal the concussion already.

However, his bruised left side and especially the broken arm still stung. He knew he would need to lie still for a little while longer. “Head doesn't hurt as bad anymore.”, he finally answered. “A little hungry.”

“It's still early, but breakfast should be prepared soon.”, Dr. Tiffany said.

“So it isn't 7 AM yet?”, Laurence asked, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes.”, Dr. Tiffany confirmed for him, it is around 6.30 AM.” She had been busy preparing a few blood vials and once the last one had been out away she came closer to his bed. “Say, how did you get yourself injured like this by the way?”

“Huh?”, Laurence said, glancing at Ludwig, “Didn't Ludwig bring me here? He was there when it happened.”

“The only thing he brought out was a garbled mess of words and begging me to take care of you because you were hurt and unconscious and he seemed to be very worried that you wouldn't wake up.”, Dr. Tiffany said. “So I don't actually know what happened to you. Did you fall down some stairs?”

“Nah...”, Laurence said, shaking his head. “Something in me was crazy enough to ask the Holy Blade if he would spar with me... and... he seemed to misunderstand a sparring with going full force.”

Dr. Tiffany stared at Ludwig and Laurence could see how her gaze went over the muscles in his arms and his pectorals and then her gaze wandered over Laurence and he could practically feel how she took note of his thin arms and scrawny build.

“I really don't know which of you two has been the dumber one.”, she said and while Laurence could have easily interpreted this as an insult, a part of him knew how right she was.

“Tell me if you need anything. Pain medication, sedatives, help with anything you can't do on your own. I'll get some food for you once it is ready.”, she said and turned around, tending back to her duties.

Laurence confirmed her with a “Mhm” and watched her for a few minutes before turning his attention to Ludwig, studying his sleeping face and then extending his hand to stroke over his head, playing around with his ponytail a bit.

This didn't went unnoticed and after a few minutes Ludwig opened his brown eyes, blinked a few times and then gently forced Laurence' arm to sit still on the bed. “You are the inventor of the blood ministration and should know not to move that much when you get one.”, he said, getting up and stretching himself, making his bones pop.

“Good morning, Laurence.”, he said. “Let me guess, you need the bathroom?”

“Morning, Ludwig.”, Laurence said and blushed a bit at this suggestion. “How did you know?”

“You always visit the bathroom first after you wake up.”, Ludwig said and when his gaze wandered through the room, probably searching for the chamber pot he had found yesterday, it fell on Dr. Tiffany.

“Oh, don't worry, I give you some privacy.”, she said. “I will get on my way to get some food now.”

“Thanks.”, Laurence said, “To, uh, both...”

“Don't mention it.”, Dr. Tiffany said as she left the room. “I wouldn't want to be stared at every little thing I need help with in your situation also.”

It took Dr. Tiffany around twenty minutes to return with some breakfast, during this time Laurence had decided to doze some more and Ludwig had apparently watched him the whole time. Laurence thought about that he probably had to be more tired than him. While Laurence was the injured one and his body craved the sleep to help with healing, Ludwig had apparently been awake for a long time to watch him.

Laurence awoke from his dozing by a voice from the door. “Excuse me, could you open the door for me? I am carrying three servings.”

“Of course, I am coming.”, Ludwig said and got up from the chair, walking to the door, letting the doctor in and taking two of the servings from her, carrying them over to the bed, putting one down on Laurence' night stand and keeping one on his lap. Laurence noticed scrambled eggs, bacon and a piece of toasted bread.

“Hey, by the way, where are all the other doctors?”, Laurence asked. “Why are you the only one on duty?”

“Yesterday was because it was already late and most of them had headed home.”, Dr. Tiffany answered. “And this morning I got the message that there has been a new outbreak. They went there to take care of the disease.”

“And why has nobody told me about this?”, Laurence said, a bit upset that he didn't got any news about outbreaks or accidents right away.

“Maybe because you are hurt and shouldn't get worked up?”, Ludwig said.

“The message has been delivered to your secretary.”, the doctor said, while putting a piece of scrambled egg on her fork. “Who has run around headless to search for you by the way.”

“Florence, fuck, I forgot.”, Laurence groaned and gave Ludwig a tiny glare. He knew about Florence and could have gone to tell her. But granted, he had watched over him the night and it simply hadn't occurred his mind.

“Don't worry, I told her about your whereabouts. She said to me that she would reschedule all your appointments.”

“Hm, alright.”, Laurence said and then looked at Ludwig again, who hadn't touched his plate at all yet. “Why aren't you eating?”

“Because I am waiting for you to finish talking so that I can feed you.”, Ludwig said. “Also, isn't it time for your sedatives? You usually take them before breakfast.”

“Oh.”, Laurence said, feeling silly about having forgotten his inability to move both of his arms again. “And yes, two drops in a glass of water.”

“You can get some water from the sink.”, Dr. Tiffany said between bites. Laurence watched as Ludwig got up to get a glass of water, put it on the night stand beneath the meal and added the two drops of sedatives.

After the sedatives had swirled in the glass for a minute, Ludwig helped Laurence into a sitting position before leading the glass to his lips and help him drink it. Like always, Laurence could feel the effect of the sedatives right away and his mind seemed to fly away to a place where there wasn't a care in the world.

“And now it's time to eat.”, Ludwig said, taking the plate from his lap and putting a bit of scrambled egg on a fork. “Say aaah.”

“I am not a little child, Ludwig.”, Laurence said, narrowing his eyes at Ludwig, suspecting that his boyfriend started to have fun with this situation.

“Aw, don't be stubborn, are you refusing to eat?”, Ludwig said.

“Only if you don't treat me like a child.”, Laurence said.

“Aw... fine.”, Ludwig said and finally got Laurence to open his mouth to get a fork of the now half cooled egg.

“You are having to much fun with his.”, Laurence murmured.

“Well, the last time I had to feed you, you have been unresponsive and I was worried sick about you ever getting better.”, Ludwig said.

“Please don't remind me of this anymore...”, Laurence said, opening his mouth to get fed a piece of bacon and while chewing on it, he heard Ludwig say a tiny “Sorry.”

Ludwig proceeded to feed him until Laurence told him that he was full and didn't want to eat anymore. He hadn't been that hungry to begin with. He noticed that he pretty much had only eaten the half of what had been on the plate.

“Are you sure you don't want to eat anymore?”, Ludwig asked.

“Yes, I think I would get sick when I took another bite...”, Laurence said, the concussion hadn't been fully healed yet and he didn't want to risk anything.

“Then you don't mind when I eat your leftovers?”, Ludwig said. Laurence was aware that there was a third serving on his night stand but didn't point this out. He knew that Ludwig could eat a whole lot.

“Go on.”, he said and gently lowered himself back in a lying position, grimacing when his broken arm shifted and he felt a twinge in it. He then watched Ludwig eat, a process that was over in several minutes because he didn't waste any time shovelling the food into him. Even though it already had gone cold in the meantime. Ludwig didn't care.

After Ludwig had finished eating and downed a whole glass of water at once he got up and took the used dishes with him.

“Are you going to start your duties now?”, Laurence asked.

Ludwig turned around to face him and said: “Nonsense, I just intended to take the dishes back to the kitchen. I won't leave your side for long today. And if you request it from me, I leave the dishes here and stay at your side.”

That was actually nice to hear. Laurence had feared that Ludwig would leave him alone for the rest of the day, while he was unable to take care of himself. Sure, Dr. Tiffany would be there to help him out, but he felt far more comfortable with his boyfriend around.

“That's a relief to hear.”, he said and gave Ludwig a tiny smile. “You can take the dishes back to the kitchen, as long as you come back afterwards.”

After Ludwig had left Dr. Tiffany stepped to Laurence' bed to check the blood ministration. “Should be done around noon.”, she said. “And then you only have to wait for your body to heal.”

“I know.”, Laurence said, aware that she simply had done what she had learned.

While the blood ministration was able to heal bad sicknesses and injuries, it took some time for it to take effect the worse it was. Or more, Laurence thought, the healing process got sped up. Two days for a broken bone instead of several weeks. A concussion would be healed in one day instead of two weeks. Tiny scratches would heal instantly and with blood vials, basically a weaker form of blood ministrations, any bleeding would cease immediately.

While Dr. Tiffany adjusted the needle in his elbow crook, he was taking check about how his body felt and determined that it was a mix of a dull pain and a weird itch that he couldn't do anything against. He also had the feeling that every area that had been injured felt far hotter and he felt himself sweat a little after this realization.

“Please tell me if you are in pain or uncomfortable.”, Dr. Tiffany said and went back to her duties. Shortly after this Ludwig returned.

“Is there anything you want to do, Laurence?”, Ludwig asked.

“Nap.”, Laurence answered without thinking about it. His body still felt beaten up and tired but most importantly... “And you should nap too, the doctor told me you were watching me almost the whole night.”

He saw Ludwig blush a little, muttering: “I wanted to make sure that you were taken care off...”

“And everything turned out fine. I will call Dr. Tiffany should I wake up and need anything. Or she could wake you when you prefer it.”

“I would prefer it.”, Ludwig said. Laurence had the assumption that since he had gotten out of the Frenzy Ludwig didn't trust others with his care that much anymore.

“Good, so I will call Dr. Tiffany to wake you should I need something.”, Laurence said. “Now go and lay down a bit.”

“You are the one who got hurt.”, Ludwig muttered but complied and soon Laurence could hear him breath evenly from a patient bed not too far from him. Once he was sure that Ludwig had fallen asleep, he closed his own eyes to give his body the very much desired sleep to help him with healing.

When Laurence awoke a few hours later he saw Ludwig at his side, looking much more fresh than before. Turned out it was already noon and after Ludwig had helped Laurence to freshen himself up a bit, he got some food from the kitchen and proceeded to feed Laurence again.

“Ugh, please don't feed me the peas, you know I don't like them.”, Laurence complained once he saw Ludwig fork them up.

“You will never grow when you don't eat your greens.”, Ludwig said, making Laurence huff.

“I stopped growing years ago, so who cares?”, he replied, keeping his mouth shut as Ludwig brought the fork nearer.

“You are far too stubborn, Laurence.”, Ludwig said. “I could tickle you to get this stubborn mouth open.”

“What? No, don't touch me, I am hurt!”, Laurence weakly yelled and then realized that Ludwig had tricked him when he found the fork in his mouth.

“That was mean.”, he said as he had to chew on the disliked food. “At least give me some water to rinse the bad taste.”

As Ludwig gave Laurence to drink from a glass of water, Dr. Tiffany's voice sounded behind them: “If I wouldn't know better I would think you two are a couple.”

This comment actually made Laurence spit out the water he hadn't swallowed yet.

“Laurence, don't make such a mess.”, Ludwig said and got a towel to dry him up, making them look even more like a couple.

“We.. we are just good friends...”, Laurence said weakly, not sounding very convinced.

“I know. That is common knowledge in here. I may be new but I got as much from simply listening.”, she said, stepping to the blood ministration equipment and observing it. As Laurence took a glance it became apparent for him that it almost had completely seeped into his bloodstream.

“Though, I don't know why neither of you has married yet? You are in the right age, both of you are of stunning looks and there wouldn't be a girl in Yharnam that would turn any of you down.”, Dr. Tiffany continued.

“Uh.. I am a man of the Church, I can't marry.”, Laurence blurted out a bit too quickly, completely aware of what a weak excuse it was.

“And I don't want to leave a family behind because I regularly participate in the hunt.”, Ludwig said, his attention had never left Laurence as he carefully dried his chest, taking care to not upset the broken ribs. His excuse felt a lot more real but Dr. Tiffany seemed to be satisfied with both of them.

“You probably just haven't found the right one yet, it's fine.”, she said and Laurence felt his body physically relax at her not poking this subject further and because Ludwig had finished drying him off and released the pressure from his chest. “I plan to draw the needle now. Ludwig, would you please press on the wound until it closes?”

She gave him a piece of gauze and Ludwig gave her an affirmative nod. Laurence knew that normally the person getting the ministration would press on the wound, but with his left arm out of commission he needed the help.

Laurence had drawn the needle out of himself so many time that he knew how to do it completely painless but Dr. Tiffany was still new to the whole blood ministration thing and so he winced when she pulled the needle and it actually did hurt quite a bit.

“Oh dear, did I do something wrong? That usually never bled that much at the test patients...”, she murmured to herself.

“That isn't very reassuring.”, Laurence hissed but calmed down when he felt Ludwig press the gauze on his wound.

“You probably have made mistakes too, the first time around?”, Ludwig asked, but his gaze on Dr. Tiffany had some disdain in it.

“Of course, but back then the blood ministration wasn't as advanced at now...”, he said. He wanted to rub the wound but was damned to wait for it to close up on its own. Thankfully, it didn't take too long and Ludwig removed the gauze, folded it once and used the clean site to wipe off Laurence' arm.

“There's some blood on the sheet, should we change it?”, he asked Laurence.

Laurence didn't had any motivation to get out of bed and answered: “Just leave it like this...”

“I would like to have you lie still until around 10 PM this evening, alright?”, Dr. Tiffany said. “After then your concussion should have healed up for you to move around again. Oh, but you can feel free to go to the bathroom down the hallway now, but only if you get some support.”

“Don't worry, I will be there for him.”, Ludwig said with this warm smile he gave everybody but that always made Laurence' insides tingling.

Before Laurence could ask Ludwig what they could do now, because he was forced in bed for a while longer, the door to the infirmary shot open and a chubby woman in her fifties entered the room.

“Your grace, just how did you manage to hurt yourself like this?”, she asked. “And why did I had to run around this morning to find out what happened?! You couldn't have send someone to inform me!”

Laurence felt himself getting a bit smaller. He really should have tell Florence, his secretary, what happened. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, he heard Ludwig's deep voice speak: “It is my fault, Florence. He got hurt because I didn't had my strength under control. And I didn't want to leave his side to inform you. Besides, it already had been late when it happened, so please take my apologies.”

Florence gave Laurence a thoroughly look over and then spoke: “Ludwig didn't had his strength under control? Were you two fighting?”

“Sparring...”, Laurence answered, finally finding his voice, though it couldn't have been called a spar, it was more a violent flying through the room and hitting a wall.

Florence glared at Ludwig and Laurence recognized that look. It was her “I know he is the Vicar of the Healing Church but I secretly adopted him as my son” look and braced himself for the tirade that was about to happen.

“Ludwig, have you looked at him? How should he be able to keep up with your strength let alone spar with you on par? All he does is sitting at his desk and going to parties and drink too much...”, she gave Laurence a tiny glare as she said that, “...and don't forget the Frenzy, his body is still in bad shape. What were you thinking?!”

“Actually...”, Laurence started, seeing how Ludwig seemed to deflate into his chair as Florence continued to give him an earful, but was cutting short by her.

“Shh, Vicar, you just stay in bed and relax.” And then the tirade went on for several more minutes until Florence finally was finished and said: “I have made sure to reschedule all your appointments to next week. And I have taken care of the cats.”

“Thank you, Florence.”, Laurence said as she got up and went away. “Sorry for this, Ludwig.”, he said after she had left. “I think she secretly adopted me.”

“It's fine.”, Ludwig said. “I am used to this by now. Though I have made worse mistakes... but I admit... I can sometimes be a bit... thoughtless.”

“That's one way to put it.”, Laurence chuckled and quickly hid under the blankets when he saw Ludwig's glance.

After Florence had visited an hour or two had passed and Laurence stared at the ceiling, sighing. “It's booooring.”, he complained. “I can't do anything.”

“Maybe try to nap a bit more?”, Ludwig suggested.

“Not tired anymore.”, Laurence said. He had tried to get back to sleep but hadn't managed.

“Shall I get you something to read?”

“I wouldn't be able to turn the pages.”, Laurence said. Also, he doubted that he could concentrate on tiny letters, there was still a slight headache lingering.

“And reading to you?”

“I appreciate the offer but your reading speed would make me go nuts.”, Laurence said, not missing the hurtful expression in Ludwig's face. “Oh, um, it's my fault for reading so quick, not yours.”

That cheered Ludwig up a bit but still didn't solve Laurence' problem of being bored. He sighed. “I wish there would be anything you can do when being forced into bed and can't move one arm...”, he said.

“Wait, Laurence, look.”, Ludwig had got up and fetched something from the other side of the room. When he came back he presented a chess board. “We could play this. You only need one hand for this.”

“Oh.”, Laurence said. “That could work. Though I haven't played in a while, I could need some time to get back into track.”

“That's fine, I could need someone to go easy on me anyway.”, Ludwig said.

Ten rounds later Laurence knew why Ludwig had said that, because he had managed to destroy him every single time.

“I didn't think you were that bad at chess.”, he said.

“... I know that I am not the best at this game, but you are simply a genius at it.”, Ludwig said. “You seem to perfectly know how to counter everything. How do you do this?”

“It's just pure logic.”, Laurence said, a bit baffled. “That's why I always liked chess, it's like math. I often would have play sessions against Micolash, but then we discovered Sudoku. Ah, talking about this brings me back... Why don't you ask Micolash if he comes over for a party of chess?”

Right after he had said that Laurence realized his mistake and his face fell. “Oh fuck...”, he whispered, his right hand wiping some sweat of his forehead.

“Yes, I just wanted to ask. Nobody has seen Micolash after you had this big fight last year.”, Ludwig said.

“Yeah, forget what I said... I was just... longing for simpler times...”, Laurence said and in an desperate attempt to change the subject. “Why don't you get Amelia? She is still young, but smart. She could prove a real challenge to me.”

“She is still in school and after that she has to train for her duties as a blood saint”, Ludwig said. “Shouldn't you know her schedule?”

“Um..”, Laurence mumbled, there was no reason for him to not know Amelia's schedule, he just didn't knew, like usual, which day of the week it was. “I thought it was still Sunday...”, he said.

“Aha, of course you don't know which week of the day it is again. Today is Wednesday!”, Ludwig said, resetting the pieces of the chess board. “How about another round, but this time you could go easy on me. Or teach me how to play better.”

“Going easy...”, Laurence suddenly said. Ludwig had mentioned it earlier and it had rubbed him in some kind of way, but he didn't knew in what kind. “Um, Ludwig, you remember that I told you that I used to spar with Maria and Gehrman?”

“Yes. That was the reason why I thought you would be able to counter my blow.”, Ludwig said, staring at his lap.

“Well... I think...”, Laurence needed a bit to get the words right, “I think... they might have went easy on me...”

Ludwig glanced over Laurence, from his small frame to his puny arms.

“Looking at you, this makes absolute sense. And I have been an idiot for thinking otherwise. I should have gone easy on you too, Laurence.”

“Actually, I wanted to thank you... for not doing it...”, Laurence said weakly.

“What, why? I did hurt you pretty badly after all.”

“It's because... because it felt good that you thought I could keep up with you. Everybody always has let me feel that I was weak and often too sick to keep up with. It was nice to see at least one person that thought otherwise. Even... even if he was right and I can't keep up with him...”, Laurence said.

“Um, you are welcome then?”, Ludwig said. “But the next time we spar I will make sure to not hurt you, alright?” He gave Laurence a big smile

“Fine with me.”, Laurence smiled back at him.

The both of them played a few rounds more of chess which Laurence still all won. Sadly, it hadn't killed much time.

“And what know?”, Laurence asked. He could feel that the old blood had already worked great on his injuries, his left side didn't hurt anymore and the headache was gone. His arm and chest still hurt, of course, broken bones needed a bit longer to heal.

“You know what?”, Ludwig said and Laurence tiredly looked at his boyfriend's face. “I envy you a bit, Laurence.”

“Envy me for what?”, Laurence asked, cocking his head, regretting it, that brought the headache back.

“The thing you had with Maria and Gehrman. And... and Micolash.”, he said. Laurence felt a sting in his chest. He asked himself if Ludwig knew that the mention of his old friends hurt.

“That is all over...”, Laurence said, investigating the bandage around his arm. And it's my fault., lingered in his mind.

“I wanted to ask you... I know it sounds strange, but I never had something like a close friend. Everybody liked me, but nobody really was that kind of friend, you know?”, he trailed off before he found his words again: “Can you tell me a few stories of these times?”

“Huh...”, Laurence said and the blushed. “But... but a lot of them are really embarrassing. Why do I remember them first, by the good blood...”

“You don't have to tell me anything that you are ashamed of.”, Ludwig smiled. “I just... would like to hear a few stories.”

“Alright then...”, Laurence said. “But there is no guarantee that I remember everything exactly like it happened.”

The next few hours Laurence talked to Ludwig about his time in Byrgenwerth, only sometimes interrupted by his boyfriend asking a question.

“...and one day I found out how to open Master Willem's wine cellar and managed to get really drunk right away... and Master Willem was so mad but also worried because I had a pretty bad hangover and I think I had to sit in detention for the whole month...”

“I would have also put my thirteen year old protégé into a month long detention if he got drunk on my personal wine.”, Laurence didn't miss the look in Ludwig's eye at his teenage misbehaviour.

“...and then we saw the largest beast I have ever seen in the labyrinth. We all were running away in a panic until we fell down a hole. I remember that we all landed on Gehrman. Don't worry, he was fine, but he was really mad because we didn't get up right away and apparently we were heavy...”

“...Micolash and me had this rivalry going on. It mostly was about who scored better at tests, but we did a few really really dumb contests that I don't want to go into detail about...”

“I have some assumptions but I will keep them to myself.”

“...and Master Willem would always get upset with me when I would curse so I made it my life goal to use the f-word as often as possible. My whole language was littered with it and... this is the reason why I always say it when I am upset, it is an old habit...”

“You really wanted to make the life of your caretaker as hard as possible, right?”

“Well... I think it was my rebellious phase. Oh, and did I tell you that I fainted all the time back then? Fuck, I am glad that is over. Sometimes I would know it beforehand and could warn people, sometimes it would happen without warning. And I so often hurt myself when nobody was around catching me... One day I was smashing my arm open on a table...”

“So that is how you got that scar.”

Laurence didn't even notice how the time flew by as he told Ludwig about all kind of deeds and misdeeds from his youth, not even realizing that he even started to tell him about the more embarrassing things. Ludwig just listened, smiled and occasionally commented.

“...I think this has been all.”, Laurence said after a while, noticing how hungry he was. “Oh, time for dinner I guess...”, he said. “And time to take a leak...”, he added as he realized that all the water he had drunk to make his voice smoother wanted to get out again.

“I'll help you and then we get some dinner, alright?”, Ludwig said and supported Laurence who had the feeling he would be able to walk on his own, but didn't forget Dr. Tiffany's instructions.

After he was laid back down in the bed, Ludwig came back with food and prepared it for Laurence. He was a bit clumsy with his right hand but at least he didn't had to be fed anymore.

After they had eaten, Dr. Tiffany came to check on him. “It isn't 10 PM now, but you look a lot better.”, she said. “If you promise me to not push yourself too hard, I let you go. Just remember to come back once your arm stopped hurting.”

“Wait, really, you will let me go prematurely?”, Laurence practically beamed. After all this time in bed he was eager to get up and be able to stay up for more than a few minutes.

“Let me just remove the bandage around your head, that should be healed now...”, Dr. Tiffany got straight to work and after approving that he wound had indeed healed and he didn't show any signs of concussion anymore, Ludwig helped him up.

“We should maybe secure this arm a bit more.”, Ludwig said. Dr. Tiffany had him covered because she gave Laurence a sling where he could rest his arm in.

“Come back for another blood ministration should your pain get worse.”, Dr. Tiffany said as Ludwig let Laurence out of the infirmary.

“Where to?”, he asked.

“My room.”, Laurence said. “I couldn't kiss you the whole day, we have to make up for this.”

“With pleasure.”, Ludwig said, carefully leading Laurence into the direction of his room.

The rest of the night the two of them spend snuggled against each other.