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melon-wing · 4 years

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A Confession of Love Part 1 [Grian x Ren]

Betaread by tha amazingly talented @aaronampora-ao3 Warning: This is sad! This may hurt a bit. ~*~

Grian looked down at his communicator, a sad smile playing on his lips. How could he be so happy and sad at the same time? A laugh bubbled up without him being able to hold it back. He wiped a stray tear from his face. This was stupid. He shouldn’t be as emotionally invested in this as he was. Ren was talking to everyone like that. It was just the way he was. Ren loved everyone and in return it was so easy to love him…

And like everyone, Grian had told him that much countless times. He had sent Ren so many ‘I love you’s, just like all the other Hermits had in their group chat. And he wanted to believe that he was still special, that there was something between them. He wanted to believe it so badly. But deep down he really knew he wasn’t. He was exactly like everyone else to Ren. Grian looked at the message again and his heart felt so weird, like it wanted to jump and ache at the same time.

<Ren> I love you so much, man. Talking to you is so much fun. I almost walked off a cliff because I couldn’t take my eyes off your message. I really wanna see you again.

Grian hesitated, his fingers twitching over the little keypad. He knew what he wanted to say, but at the same time he really didn’t. He wanted to drop hints so badly, but hints at what? That he was in love? But was he?

It was just so fucking confusing. They hadn’t even interacted all that much since he joined this world. Their bases were far apart and they only sometimes crossed paths in the shopping district. They mostly chatted in the group chat, and lately privately as well. How could you be in love with someone you had barely spent any time with?

He started typing.

<Grian> You know, I really love you too. I love talking to you. It’s weird to imagine a life before Hermitcraft now…

He sent the message. But he wasn’t happy with it yet. He felt the urge to say more, to drop some hint. An ‘I love you’ was so common in their chats, it had lost it’s deeper meaning. Everybody on the server said it.

‘You know… My friend Taurtis asked about us and I told him I would date you if you were into guys and I was here for longer than just this one season’

Grian stared at the words he had written for a while. He really wanted to send it, but he was scared of the way Ren might react. What if that went too far? It was nothing like a love confession. Ren might just take it as another of their overly affectionate talks and nothing more… But what if it made him uncomfortable? He didn’t want to lose the way they talked to each other so easily. Things might get awkward.

Grian leaned back against the tree, looking up at the little piece of sky he could see through the skylight of his aviary. The leaves and sky got a little blurry slowly, as his eyes filled with tears. Fuck. Why was he starting to cry again? He was so confused. This was all so confusing. He should know what he wanted.

He didn’t.

With every new message that Ren sent him, he hoped for some hint inside. Some hidden meaning. But at the same time he dreaded it. What if Ren was interested? Grian would be gone again after they were done in this world. He had only asked Xisuma to join them for one Season. He’d move on in a year. They’d be worlds apart. Was he ready to commit to something like that… And was it selfish to maybe hope that Ren would come with him?

Damn, he wasn’t a stupid lovestruck teenager anymore. He was old enough to have a grip on his emotions.

He took a deep breath. He’d been there before. And he could do this.

“I decide who I fall in love with”, Grian said in a quiet whisper, the words he had told himself so often, every time his heart had threatened to beat faster for someone. “If I don’t want to, I won’t fall for him. I won’t fall in love. I can’t… I’m done with love. I’m happy right now with the way things are.”

He looked back down at the communicator, his own message seemingly glaring back at him. But what if there was a chance? Would he take it? His finger hovered over the send button. He wanted to send it so badly.

He didn’t.

Instead he deleted it all again.

He wasn’t in love. He wasn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall. He wasn’t ready to be disappointed. He had been disappointed too often. He had let himself fall, believing his crush was also interested, only to fall into a void of sadness. This time he wouldn’t let himself fall. He would keep pretending nothing was wrong. To Ren, he was just like the others. The love confessions to him were nothing special.

And he wasn’t in love.

Because he had decided he wasn’t.

But if he wasn’t, why wouldn’t the tears stop coming? Why did his heart hurt when he made that decision? Did he want to fall in love…?

No.

He had decided he didn’t want to. His heart should really stop trying to be so dramatic. This was real life and not some romance novel.

<Ren> Right back at you, my dude! Maybe you will change your mind and stay with us for longer than one season ;)

Grian sighed. His head was a mess. He wasn’t able to think clearly anymore. He… He was just tired. He was imagining things. He wasn’t really falling. He just needed a night of rest. Just one night and in the morning everything would look different again. He’d have a clear head once more. He’d be rational. He’d not be a crying mess over some stupid messages that meant nothing.

<Grian> I’m going to crash now. Talk to you tomorrow.

<Ren> I’m looking forward to it. Love you!

Without answering and with a heavy heart Grian put the communicator aside. One of his parrots hopped over, eyeing the device curiously and then decided that it wasn’t interesting enough, instead going for Grian’s lap, snuggling against him.

Grian closed his eyes. Tomorrow the world would be different. His future self would laugh at the mess he was right now.

Grian awoke when a felt a stinging sensation on his head. He opened his eyes to look at one of the little birds, trying to rip out some of his hairs, probably to build its nest. Grian gently pushed it away, which earned him an annoyed squawk.

He took out his communicator and looked at it. There were only a few new messages in their group chat. And suddenly he felt so stupid about the evening before. Why had he gotten so upset again? He was doing that to himself. He probably wanted to suffer. He cursed his brain for that. He got up, putting his parrot onto one of the low hanging branches. He still felt the urge to message Ren – to check if he really was over yesterday's emotions. Or at least he told himself that was the reason every time a voice in his head suggested something else.

He flew down his base and stepped through the portal. He had a busy day ahead. They were about to update their world’s code in a few days and he’d need to work on Sahara a bit more. There was so much to prepare. He had no time to think about some stupid emotions.

Grian was in the middle of trimming the trees in Sahara’s courtyard, when a loud beep made him almost fall from the ladder with how fast he scrambled to get his communicator out. He berated himself for being that jumpy, but he couldn’t help it. When he looked down and saw Mumbo’s name flashing over his screen he gave a sad sigh and then stopped, eyes going wide. No! He so hadn’t been hoping for Ren to message him. No way!

He dropped a quick reply to Mumbo and then checked the group chat again. And there he was, Ren, throwing around words of love. Something rose up inside of Grian as he read about Ren gushing over Iskall and his style of building. It didn’t take him long to realise he was jealous. And with that realisation came a pressing amount of guilt. He loved Iskall dearly. He himself threw similar words at him all the time… Iskall deserved the love and praise. And Grian wasn’t in love anyways. His brain had no right to be jealous, because he and Ren? They were just friends and wouldn’t ever be anything more. He had decided that and his brain and heart were supposed to follow his decision.

He started typing a message of support into the group chat and the moment he sent it off, Ren greeted him, with a bunch of hearts and excitement.

<Ren> GRIAN! Have I told you today how much I love you already? Because I do! I love you!

Grian grimaced a little, sitting down on the top of the ladder, resting his head against the tree trunk. His chest felt tighter the moment he read that message. He had been over it. He was still over it. They were friends. And on Hermitcraft, this was what friendly interaction looked like.

<Grian> Love you too. But I gotta keep working now. The trees won’t cut themselves… at least not until Mumbo builds some redstone machine to do it.

<Grian> Also, Mumbo? If you read this, I’m kidding. Stop planning a tree cutting machine, it would ruin the way the Sahara yard looks like.

Mumbo only sent a frowny face into the group chat and immediately a round of friendly teasing started. Grian put the small device into his back pocket, returning to cutting the trees. So what if he was a bit rougher with the huge scissors than necessary? It meant nothing.

When he was finished he went back to his base building a bit on the pillars framing it, putting in his dwindling supply of white concrete. He really needed to use a different colour Palette one day. Maybe one that didn’t involve a block as grind-heavy as concrete. Maybe he should build a house out of wood once they went to the new part of the world. It had been a while since he had built something rustic. Taurtis would be shocked if he knew how modern all of Grian’s buildings looked.

Taurtis... Grian stopped what he was doing, looking at the sky in deep thought. He should really message Taurtis again. Talking to him always helped Grian figure out his emotions. Taurtis could make those doubts go away. He’d laugh and tell Grian he was being stupid and then Grian could move on and not feel so weird every time Ren declared his undying love for him in the chat. He just hoped Taurtis would really agree with him, that there was nothing going on. Because he didn’t know what he’d do ifTaurtis told him he had fallen for Ren.

He definitely hadn’t fallen for Ren. That was ridiculous. It would make far more sense to fall for Mumbo, who was his neighbour and with whom he shared so many projects. Or maybe fall in love with Taurtis, who had been his friend for years and who he planned to join again after this Season was over. Falling for Ren made no sense... And that was why he definitely hadn’t fallen. It all made sense. It was the only logical conclusion.

He didn’t love Ren as more than a friend. He never had and he never would.

Grian looked back at his communicator again. Back at another private message from Ren, asking him something and ending with another declaration of love.

<Grian> I know. Love you too.

<Ren> Forever and always?

Grian hesitated for a second. He was a bit too slow to stop his brain from wondering if there might be some intention behind Ren’s words. If he maybe was just as confused as Grian and tried to test the waters. Grian suppressed that voice as fast as it had spoken up.

<Grian> Sure! Forever and always! Love you so much!

Grian let out a frustrated noise, pressing a hand against his eyes. This was stupid. He should just outright ask Ren if he had feelings for him. When Ren said no it would be far easier to tell his brain to stop all of this. Maybe then his brain would stop imagining them kissing. Damn, now he had that image stuck in his head once more.

His bird made a worried sound and Grian let his hand drop again. "Don't worry. Everything's alright. He doesn't like me that way and I don't... I... What if I ask and he says he likes me? I don't even know what I'd do then. I don't love Ren", Grian whispered to the bird, while gently caressing the feathers on its belly.

"Love Ren", the bird repeated and Grian could feel heat rising to his face. This was so dumb. He was getting flustered by some bird repeating his own words. Maybe he just needed another huge project to stop himself from thinking about it.

Grian looked down from his house in Hermitville and grinned in excitement. He sat on the highest tower, able to look over all of Hermitville and beyond. He loved the crooked way he built it. He had been right to change up his block palette a little after the whole modern thing. His communicator beeped, and Grian tried. He really tried to resist it. But after another beep and a few more seconds he sighed, putting his shulker of wood away to have his hands free. Their shared chat hadn't been that busy today and most of the messages had just been someone asking for coordinates or some blocks.

And every time Grian had hoped there'd be a message for him alone... But they were all busy building in this new place, discovering all the new things this part of the world offered them. And he didn't drop any message either... He had thought about it. He had opened his private chat with Ren a few times in the last hours alone. He had stared at the 'I love you's from the past days, his fingers hovering over the keypad. He had never even entered one letter. He didn't really have any reason to write to Ren. And no matter how hard he thought about it, he couldn't think of a reason to start a conversation. Sure, Ren always told him he loved their conversations, and that Grian could always talk to him... But still. It felt weird.

Grian looked into the group chat and froze. Ren was finally in the chat. And why did he freeze up at that alone? This was so stupid. Grian took a breath and then read the message. It was the same as the rest, Ren was just asking for some blocks he needed and didn't want to go way back for.

<Grian> I got some. You can come over any time!

Grian's hand was shaking a little, as he was typing and he deleted the message again. He really shouldn't. He needed the materials for himself. He really did. But he had the urge to just give them to Ren, if it meant the other would come over and talk to him.

Ren must have seen him typing something though, because there was an immediate reply.

<Ren> Grian! My man! My love! You got something for me?

And finally Grian felt brave enough to reply.

<Grian> Of course! You can pick them up at my place. You know I'd do anything for you!

<Ren> Anything?

Grian hesitated, staring at the message and his mind went wild. Anything? Oh fuck. What direction was Ren going with this? Was this some innuendo? Him flirting? Could Ren be interested after all? Grian's heart was beating in his throat when he wrote back.

<Grian> Yes. Anything.

And then he waited. His heart was racing. He let himself fall back, lying on the rooftop and looking at the sky. He was getting nervous now. What if Ren had really meant something more with that. What if Ren was about to ask him on a date or something. Oh god he wasn't ready for that. He had told himself that he wouldn't... But when he had sent Ren that message, it had mostly been his heart speaking, not his brain and he had meant it. Whatever Ren would ask of him next, Grian would love to hand it to him on a silver platter. But his mind was screaming at him not to. Play it off as a joke if Ren really asked. And why was it taking Ren so long to reply? What did he need to write to that?

There was a beep, but Grian didn't move. He didn't feel ready, when just a second ago he had been so impatient.

Grian took a deep breath, calming his nerves. There was nothing to be nervous about. Nothing. He finally looked back down and opened the message.

<Ren> You know that is almost as good as an IOU note, right? You should be more careful with how you phrase things! But I already know what I want. Take a break. You’ve been building like crazy. You need to take care better of yourself Grian! Don’t overwork yourself! The competition you got going on is all fun and games until one of you guys faints. I love you, man, but I think you also need to love yourself more!

Grian’s heart stopped beating so fast and why did he suddenly feel disappointed? What had he wanted Ren to say? What had he expected? He let out a joyless laugh. He wanted to scream, wanted to cry. He wanted to throw the communicator off the rooftop and watch it crash on the ground below. And at the same time he wanted to be glad that this hadn’t went into a certain direction. Because if Ren had tried to flirt, Grian would have broken his heart... Because he wasn’t in love with Ren, right?

It took a few seconds to calm himself down again.

<Grian> I can’t promise that. It’s hard, you know? I get so lost in building I don’t even realise it’s already so late.

<Ren> Grian, please. For me?

<Grian> I promise that I’ll try. I can’t promise more than that. But I’ll try for you, alright? For me that is a lot!

<Ren> That’s perfect. I love you so very much! I wish you could love yourself just as much as I love you!

Grian did throw the communicator off the roof after that message. He didn’t know why he did that. He really didn’t. He had thought it would satisfy him, but as he watched the little device shatter on the ground, only to immediately respawn in his hands, he only felt hollow inside.

He really needed to speak with somebody about all of this. But who? Taurtis was busy at the moment. Then there was Mumbo or Iskall. But how much was Grian willing to share with them? Sure, they had become great friends in the comparably short time Grian had spent in this world... But they were also friends with Ren and that might make it weird.

And what if Ren also talked to them about it? What if they knew for a fact that Ren was or wasn’t interested. What if they told him what Grian had suspected all along? That Ren was 100 percent straight and wouldn’t be interested in Grian because of that.

And why the fuck did Grian think he’d be disappointed again?

“Grian! My dude! Down here!”

Grian jumped when he heard the voice and his heart seemed to jump along, almost leaving his body the way it raced. Right, the materials he had promised to Ren! He had almost forgotten about that.

He did his best to compose himself, getting up only to realise that his cheeks were still a little wet. Damn. He hurriedly wiped the remaining tears off with the sleeve of his jumper. He was really lucky that Ren had walked over here instead of coming by Eytra and maybe landing right next to him.

Grian smiled and waved down before jumping off the roof. He had planned to land next to Ren, but a sudden gust of wind changed his flight direction and he landed right in Ren’s outstretched arms. They looked at each other and Ren chuckled. Grian felt a blush rising to his cheeks at that sound, hurriedly taking a step back. But he couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips.

“I would have never thought that the day would ever come, when I needed to catch the server’s best flyer.”

Grian rolled his eyes, casting a fond glance towards Ren, before walking to his door. “You know you didn’t really have to catch me? I would have landed gracefully if you hadn’t stood there.”

“Well I like hugging you. So that was better than just stepping aside. You know, I love you.”

Grian faltered as he pressed the handle, almost falling forward with the door. Ren’s love declarations were nothing new. He read them daily, but hearing him say it was always even more jarring. And Grian felt so hesitant to return them then. In chat it was more casual, more meaningless. Speaking those actual words? It had been easier a while ago. When had that changed? When had he felt his throat close up at the thought of saying a little ‘I love you’ out loud?

“I know”, he just replied, voice quiet and he hoped Ren wouldn’t notice the little tremble in it. he felt stupid for it. He felt stupid for being unable to say those words when it had never been a problem. He had been able to say them to Ren. he was still able to say them to all the other Hermits. It was just a phrase. It didn’t have to be romantic. There were many forms of love after all…

Ren didn’t seem to notice his little hesitance as they entered the house. Grian tried to keep his hands busy, painfully aware of the others presence right behind him. Ren kept on talking, but Grian wasn't able to concentrate on the words, hearing that deep, rumbly voice, listening to those little chuckles, it drove him insane. He hurriedly got the materials out and put them into a shulker box.

"There you go", Grian finally said as he turned to Ren, doing his best, to push all of those unwelcome thoughts down. He managed until Ren smiled at him, eyes lighting up, almost sparkling in excitement and then there were arms around Grian. His face was pressed into Ren's chest and he could feel the heat radiating off of him. He gasped in surprise and instantly Ren's scent seemed to be all around him.

"Thank you so much! You don't know how much you're helping me! I sort of misplaced my Elytra and I really don't want to walk all the way back to my original base", Ren said and as he was speaking, he kept a tight hold on Grian, one of his hands almost gently caressing Grian's back. And Grian didn't know what to say or do. Did Ren even realise what he was doing to Grian? Did Ren know what was going on inside of him? Grian could feel the walls he had built in his mind crumbling. He felt weak in the embrace, as if his muscles didn't work anymore. Maybe this was okay. Maybe it was alright to let himself go. Maybe he finally found someone... Maybe this time he wasn't imagining things. Maybe this time he was actually loved.

His hands twitched. He wanted to return the hug. He really did. He raised his hands slowly.

"Dude, you are a true friend! One of the best friends someone could ask for.”

Grian felt the walls snap back into place, stronger even then before and he let his hands drop again. He felt like someone had emptied a bucket of ice cold water over him.

"No worries, Ren. I got your back. But I have to get back to Sahara. We got a meeting there soon." With those words Grian stepped back out of the embrace, smiling tightly at Ren. "I got no time for our chit chat today. Sorry."

Ren looked a bit disappointed, but then smiled at Grian and nodded, before giving him a little salute. "Thanks again for those blocks. I'll put them to good use. And I'll return the favour. Just tell me if you ever need anything, alright?"

Grian just nodded and watched Ren leave his little house. He still felt crowded. Even when he was alone. His body was suddenly set to auto pilot, as if he was moving on muscle memory alone. His legs took him to the portal and then he was flying through the tunnels. No time at all seemed to pass until he was back at his old base and then back to the aviary. And then his feet touched the ground... and he became undone. He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. All of his parrots were fluttering around him, roused from his sudden fall.

Grian should have known it all along. He had known it. And he had already decided that he didn't love Ren. Then why did it hurt so much? Why did his heart feel like someone was holding it in an iron grip? He didn't love Ren. He didn't. He never had. So what if Ren saw him as nothing more than a friend? That was alright, that was what he had hoped for. And still... He couldn't stop feeling like he had wished for a different ending. Maybe, just maybe his mind wasn't the one calling the shots after all. Maybe he had been lying to himself all alone, thinking he could decide not to be in love. He had been such a fool.

He was shaking, more tears rushing to his eyes and then he raised his head to the sky and screamed. He screamed until he was out of breath and then he just sat there, his head tilted backwards, looking at the ceiling, tears running over his cheeks.

He was in love.

He was in love and it was hopeless.

#🍉 stories #hermitship #hermitshipping #gren #angst #This will have a second part #It might take a while

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auncyen · 4 years

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two snippets from an early draft of “when the Cat Dragged in the Trickster” that had more buildup covering the school year and the repeat requests for Ren to be given a change of heart...because I’m deleting old docs to clean up but I still like them.

The first time they checked the MetaNav because Amamiya had been requested on the Phansite, Morgana crowed at the negative result. "See! He doesn't have a distorted desire! If he was wicked before, he has clearly reformed."

The second time they checked the MetaNav because Amamiya had been requested, Morgana rolled his eyes before explaining to a mildly curious Yusuke that people were only scared of Amamiya because of his dubious past and that they weren't paying enough attention to his current impeccable conduct. Ryuji then filled Yusuke in on what said dubious past was. Ann informed everyone the result was still negative. No distortion.

The third time Amamiya got requested, Ryuji shook his head when Makoto started to bring out her phone. "He ain't gonna be on there," he told her.

"You're certain?" the student council president asked. "With a record like his..."

"He's been on the site before, I believe," Haru said. "Was he already given a change of heart?"

Ann sighed in aggravation. "No, but we've checked both times Mishima's forwarded the requests before, and he hasn't shown up then either. I mean, yeah, you'd think if he assaulted someone out of the blue, he must be distorted, but he got arrested and put on probation for it. That'd be enough to make most people reflect on themselves, right?"

Haru nodded, accepting the logic, but Makoto still said aloud, "Amamiya Ren."

"Candidate not found."

Morgana huffed. "See?" He jumped up on the accessway's railing. "Lady Ann, I say we tell Mishima to not accept these requests anymore. They clearly have no basis."

Ann frowned, thinking. It'd be a little hard when they were still trying to keep some plausible deniability with Mishima, but she could probably...drop a heavy hint. "Okay--"

"Wait," Makoto said. "You only think it lacks basis because of the app. We don't know where it's from or how it was made, so how can we trust it to be accurate?"

"Do you think the accusation has merit, then? That he threatened the writer?" Yusuke asked. Morgana gave a loud, exasperated sigh.

"I...don't know," Makoto said slowly. "Honestly, I'd prefer if Ann's explanation was right. If Amamiya's reformed, it would mean the justice system at least works sometimes. It's just...what if these are serious? Haru made multiple requests, and you still nearly missed them before I brought them to your attention."

"By blackmailing us," Ryuji muttered.

Makoto's cheeks colored. Haru squeezing her hand as gentle reassurance didn't help. "...That's besides the point. I just want to make sure no other victims slip through the cracks either."

Ryuji and Ann exchanged looks. Ryuji shoved his hands in his back pockets and leaned against the railing. "Honestly, I kind of wonder if I'd be on the Phansite if it'd gone up before Kamoshida went down," he said. "People mostly just leave me alone now, but last year there was talk about how I was gonna haul off and hit the next person who looked at me funny. Shit made me want to quit school for a while."

"You called Amamiya-san 'the guy who stabs people'," Morgana reminded him.

"Well, that's how I knew him! And I wasn't spreadin' anything--Ann had already heard about him, and who were you gonna tell?" Ryuji shot back before a gesture from Makoto reminded him to lower his voice. "Look, I know the guy's done something bad once before, and from what I've seen of him, he's a little weird. Like, I can't get a read on him at all. But none of that means he should be harassed. I guess...we should check to be sure nothing's going on...but can we do it without bothering the guy?"

"I think...both Mako-chan and Ryuji-kun have a point," Haru said slowly. Since we don't know much about the MetaNav, we can't know for sure if it's always working correctly, can we? So I think we should do some questioning ourselves to make sure Amamiya isn't involved in anything suspicious. But we must be discreet, and if we find nothing, we ask the administrator to not accept any more requests about him. I wouldn't want us to be used as a tool for harassment. People deserve second chances."

"That seems reasonable," Yusuke said. "I agree with the proposed action." Makoto nodded, and Ryuji shrugged. Ann hesitated for a moment, but...if there was a victim...and if there was a chance the MetaNav didn't always work, they needed to know, considering how much they relied on it. She nodded.

Morgana held out for a couple of tense minutes, his tail swishing in agitation behind him, but at last it slowed. "I guess...it'd reflect badly on the name of the Phantom Thieves if we ignored a request that turned out to be legitimate... very well, then. We investigate, and then we tell Mishima to reject any further requests."

Morgana's phrasing made it obvious he expected Amamiya to be found innocent. Fortunately, he seemed to be right. Morgana tailed Amamiya from a distance. Yusuke kept an eye out for Amamiya when he people watched at the station. The four Shujin students kept an ear out for any current rumors that might have any basis. Ann asked Mishima if he would be able to find more details about Amamiya's record, since the original leak appeared long-deleted and he was good with the internet and searching for information.

Mishima was more than happy to help her find information--he actually pulled up the record itself for her. The details on the trial were sparse, with the victim's identity completely missing from the record. Was that normal...? Ann hoped it was, to protect victims. It seemed the assault conviction was legitimate enough, anyway. Amamiya had pleaded not guilty, but there was an identified witness who had testified that he had attacked the man she'd been with out of the blue. The judge had made a quick ruling--Ann guessed it was a fairly open-and-shut case. The most troubling thing was that the transcript of the proceedings gave no hint into what had provoked Amamiya to assault that man, who seemed to have been a stranger, besides the allegation that he had anger management issues. That lined up with a few of the rumors, but...the rumors were based on his record to begin with. And they were all old--nothing they turned up sounded that different from what they'd heard in April. Yusuke and Morgana had nothing suspicious to report, unless Amamiya holding three part-time jobs, one of which seemed to be where he was living, counted.

It was...weird. No, she guessed it made sense if Amamiya had reformed and was working to control his temper. They ended the investigation. Ann dropped hints to Mishima that the Phantom Thieves weren't after criminals who'd already been punished.

Mishima seemed seriously reluctant to take those hints, considering they got a fourth request for Amamiya while they were waiting for Futaba to wake up. Ann hadn't even finished reading the message before she deleted it in aggravation.

The second snippet being a slightly different form of investigating with interesting/concerning results:

Haru and Makoto were in agreement from the beginning, with Yusuke agreeing it seemed reasonable enough soon after. Ann was the first to be won over from skepticism. Then Ryuji. Finally, Morgana's ears drooped. "We really don't know how that thing works," he said with a glance at Ann's phone. "It'd be terrible if we accidentally ignored someone in danger...all right. We investigate, and then we tell Mishima to reject any further requests."

Morgana's phrasing made it obvious he expected Amamiya to be found innocent, and Ann was a little worried what would happen if he was wrong. Still, for now, they had a unanimous vote. They started an investigation.

Makoto tailed Amamiya, with Ryuji at a distance just in case she was confronted. All she learned was that that Amamiya worked at both 777 and a beef bowl shop and seemed to be a decent employee. Yusuke kept an eye out when he people watched at the station and spotted Amamiya a few times, but never saw him do anything or go anywhere unusual, and most of what he had to say about finally seeing the transfer student for himself was "his aesthetic is appallingly drab". He also figured out somehow that Amamiya's glasses were fake, but Ann didn't know what that information had to do with anything, even if Yusuke found it the one interesting thing about Shujin's transfer student.

Morgana also tailed Amamiya, and by 'tailed' he really just strutted up to Amamiya, meowed and acted like a lost cat, and let Amamiya take him home for the night. It was a lazy approach. It was also the most informative, though not in the way Ann had expected.

Amamiya returned Morgana to Ann in the morning. That, she'd expected: either Amamiya would be conscientious and return a cat he'd recognize as hers, or Morgana would eventually slip away and return on his own. What she hadn't expected was that Amamiya looked nervous--really nervous--when he let his schoolbag down on his desk and showed her Morgana, safe inside. Morgana looked upset.

"He...must have gotten out somehow? I found him in Shibuya, after my work shift--"

"He thinks you'll think he stole me," Morgana blurted.

"Okay, okay, come on," Ann said, reaching into the schoolbag to extricate the smallest thief. She was confused. Why on earth would Amamiya think she'd suspect him of kidnapping Morgana? He'd gone up to Amamiya himself--

Well, though...if Ann didn't know that, if Morgana was a normal cat--oh. Yeah, it might be suspicious that Amamiya of all people had 'found' him. Shoot. She immediately looked up at Amamiya and gave him her brightest smile. "I'm glad you found him! I was sooooo worried about this little guy. Thank you."

"'Little guy'?" Morgana muttered, but he clambered into her desk and turned himself about, his blue eyes focusing on Amamiya. "See? It's fine. Calm down."

Obviously, Amamiya couldn't understand Morgana. But he did seem to be relaxing. He smiled back a little at Ann, an awkward thing, and she felt so lost. What had happened to the guy who'd intimidated the entire class just to let a cat sit in a desk?

#persona 5 #persona 5 fic #my fic #cat and trickster

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florenceandthemachine · 5 years

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@jacksonstilinskis I deleted your ask because I am a dumb lmao but if I recall correctly it was about stackson and photos right?? oy I have feels.

and I have feels because stackson is always feels but I digress. YES Jackson and his cute butt would be fucking Tumblr famous in like six days and it would start off as an accident.

have some really cute things after the mess that was my last reblog.

stiles would just be fucking around with his phone one day (probably in college, me thinks? sharing a terrible dorm together after Jackson divorces himself from his parents) after waking up one morning, looking over at the love of his life, and deciding he needed to see Jackson every day always. Jackson is sleepy and soft and the sunlight from the window behind him is giving him a full glow with his adorable hair and his ridiculously attractive face.

there’s even a little bit of chest hair showing, which stiles loves (getting Jackson to stop waxing was a fucking miracle of a chance—apparently Lydia had loved the smooth skin, and Jackson had just kept it up out of habit. Stiles was 100% here for not ripping out your hair, especially when Jackson told him it hurt even more as a fast-healing wolf) and his leg is stuck out, because even though Stiles does not doubt at all that “monsters under the bed” are real anymore, Jackson is confident he could take one on and apparently leaves his fucking leg out to tempt them all, because he is an asshole. an asshole that stiles is in love with.

and Stiles snaps the picture right as Jackson starts waking up, and saves it, and his heart melts every time he looks at his phone.

he decides to post it on a whim. he’s a member of a few online communities based on abuse survivors (of the human and paranormal), some LGBT support groups, that kind of things, and he’s definitely not well known, so he doesn’t think twice about it—he edits the photo a little, cropping out most of Jackson’s face because people are creepy online, and posts it with some caption like “u guys my boyfriend is so cute I love him so much I can’t even handle it send help” to his Tumblr and then goes about his merry way, turning his phone off before his next exam, expecting maybe three or four replies from his closer online friends.

needless to say when he turns his phone back on, he only has a moment to appreciate Jackson’s face as his wallpaper before his phone is literally bombarded with notifications. like, over a thousand in three hours. stiles had never had a thousand notes in the span of a month, let alone a day, and he’s initially nervous when he tells Jackson what he did (”I know it’s creepy but I cropped most of your face out except your cute sleepy smile but everyone loves it so much this was so weird I am so sorry for invading your privacy”).

Jackson, of course, loves it. sure, it might be a little bit weird to have his picture on the internet like that, but the fact that Stiles posted it makes up for it. he's fine with it, and tells stiles that much, just asks that they go over any future pictures together.

(of course, what he loves the most is that stiles posted it bragging about how cute his boyfriend was—not how hot, or how sexy, and he preens at that. at the same time, he realizes Stiles basically told everyone online that he knows that he loves Jackson, and he feels warm about that too.)

Stiles posts a few more pictures of Jackson, only sharing the candid shots he takes, no matter how badly Jackson wants to basically flood the internet with terrible photos of himself (stiles loves Jackson very much but Jackson has TERRIBLE taste in staging a photo. no one wants to see you supermanning on the beach, you ironic fuck). they're all VERY artsy. Jackson in soft lighting, Jackson’s body beneath a single sheet, Jackson bending over the counter as he brushes his teeth in a ratty pair of boxers.

He’s still amazed that each photo garners more and more notes, to the point where he actually has a decent sized following on his blog now—he would feel weird about it, but now when he signal boosts an abuse helpline or a coming out safety list, he’s actually reaching more people, and he can’t be mad about it.

what he CAN be mad about, though, is how badly Jackson wants to get a picture of Stiles on the internet. he fights it tooth and nail, going as far as hiding his head in his shirt whenever Jackson has his phone even moderately aimed in his direction. he’s not hot, okay? he knows it. it’s a wonder that Jackson finds him attractive. he doesn’t need the people of the internet to confirm that he is basically a troll dating an adonis.

Jackson, of course, gets around it, by being an asshole. he steals Stiles phone while he sleeps and snaps what he will later tell Stiles was a selfie, and posts it to his blog. there’s about a fifth of Jackson’s smiling face in the corner of the photo—stiles is front and fucking center, laying on his stomach in bed, on top of all of his sheets, superman pajama pants low on his hips, hair wild and pale, dotted skin on full display. Jackson captions it with “the photographer becomes the photographeee.” that’s it, no tags, no grabbing at validation, nothing.

stiles is almost mad about it when he sees the photo that is getting more notes than anything on his blog ever has. people are obviously blind if they’re telling him he is cuter than Jackson. Jackson is smug, so fucking smug.

one year after the first photo was uploaded, Jackson takes another photo (they've invested in some equipment—a tripod, a real camera, nothing fancy) of he and Stiles both in bed, bare chested, with Jackson’s left arm around Stiles as they spoon, matching rings catching the flash perfectly.

Stiles phone overheats and dies with the notifications that come in for nine days straight.

(also I can’t remember if you mentioned nudes or not, but stiles approaches the subject of tasteful nudity months into the photo experience, thinking along the lines of “posing like a live art drawing”. Jackson immediately posts a shower selfie, and Stiles lectures him for three hours about what constitutes a “tasteful nude” and what absolutely fucking does nOT. Jackson is laughing too hard to listen.)

#stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #teen wolf #fluff #i love my gay son #and his gay boyfriend #flospeaks

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

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Stand in the Rain

Happy birthday, @branlovestowrite! I am so glad I got to know you during the first CSSNS. You are a talented writer and a sweet mama. I have enjoyed swapping stories about our little girls and adventures with American Girl dolls : ) I wish you the very best day!

I have always had the head canon that Emma and Killian hung out a lot in between the moments of crisis in 3B. Though we didn't get a lot on screen, it felt like these two grew to be best friends during that time. This is a deleted scene showing that, along with some angst due to Killian's cursed lips and Emma's walls with a dash of sexual tension. I hope you like it, Brandy!

This is based on the song by Superchic[k]. Yes, as in "One Girl Revolution." They are my guilty pleasure, okay? Plus, there's more to the group than poppy girl power songs. This is a ballad written about the lead singer's battle with an eating disorder, and it is surprisingly deep. Plus, I will always and forever blast the entire album Karaoke Superstar (yes, I know all the words to every song) because it makes me feel like I can conquer the world. Cadet Kelly and Elle Woods knew a thing or two.

Summary: Was this the only way she could let herself feel? To let her tears mingle with the rain so no one saw? An emotional hurt/comfort fic taking place sometime after the episode The Jolly Roger.

Words: 2,000 and some change

Rating: T for sexual tension

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @jennjenn615@welllpthisishappening @kday426 @let-it-raines @teamhook@kmomof4 @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @tiganasummertree@whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @distant-rose@shireness-says @xhookswenchx @optomisticgirl @spartanguard

She never slows down. She doesn't know why, but she knows that when she's all alone, feels like it’s all coming down. She won't turn around. The shadows are long and she fears if she cries that first tear, the tears will not stop raining down.

Killian Jones could always feel rain coming, deep in his bones, so he wasn’t surprised when the squall descended on Storybrooke, drenching the town in a downpour of frigid winter rain. His room at Granny’s was a much cozier haven from the storm than what he had been used to on The Jolly Roger, and for a rare moment he was thankful he was here in the inn instead of Storybrooke harbor.

Though his room was warm and full of creature comforts, he wasn’t able to relax. Not when the Wicked Witch was attempting to use him as her pawn, not when even being in Emma Swan’s presence was the worst kind of torture. Not that he would kiss her anyway if she didn’t seem responsive, it’s just . . . Was he imagining things, or did she seem responsive lately? Of course she’d begun to thaw towards him just when his bloody lips had been cursed. Had his life ever been anything but constant struggle?

Killian dropped his fisted hand to the wall with a thud, his jaw clenching. He wouldn’t kiss her, no matter how he was tempted. Even if she flung herself into his arms -

He groaned at the thought. Maybe he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was. Which was precisely why he’d distanced himself from her, though it killed him to do so. As he pressed his forehead to the cool glass of his second floor window, he startled at what he saw. Emma herself was standing, body rigid, face tipped up to the pouring rain in the middle of the street in front of Granny’s. He glanced at the clock, his forehead creasing with even more concern when he saw that it was past two in the morning.

He dashed out of his room and bounded down the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding. Was she under a spell of some kind? Was the Wicked Witch nearby to pounce on Emma when she was most vulnerable?

He skidded to a stop in the street a few feet away from Emma. He was arrested by the look in her eyes as she pierced him with her gaze. Her face illuminated by the streetlight, he saw nothing but clarity in the green of her eyes. Nevertheless, he approached her cautiously, the rain beating down in sheets, soaking his shirt and blurring his vision. He was thankful he’d discarded his coat earlier.

“Emma? Are you okay?”

She nodded, then closed her eyes before tilting her head again to bathe her face with the rain. As Killian drew closer, he noticed the lines creasing the corners of her mouth, and the anxiety lining her brow. He squinted.

“You’re crying.”

“No I’m not.”

He searched her face intently. The moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes wasn’t rain. “Yes you are.”

She hung her head, and rain dripped off her water-logged hair, trailing rivulets of water over her winter coat. He almost didn’t hear her over the roar of the pouring rain. “Maybe I am.”

Was this the only way she could let herself feel? To let her tears mingle with the rain so no one saw? He understood, of course, so he said nothing. He drew closer, his elbow brushing hers.

“I’m not who everyone thinks I am,” she told him, her head still down. “I’m not like the rest of you. I grew up here. I’m no character in a story.”

“You’re right,” he replied softly, and she lifted her startled gaze to his. A strand of her hair was plastered to her cheek, and he reached out and gently brushed it aside. “You’re not a character, you’re not simply a pawn in this battle, you’re . . . Emma.”

Killian shrugged, frustrated that his words for once were failing him, but she rewarded him with a tiny smile all the same. Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips, and he felt himself sway imperceptibly towards her. When he realized the movement, he quickly stepped away from her. Though his eyelashes were weighted with the rain, he saw the flicker of rejection in her eyes.

“We have to get you inside, Swan,” he said quickly, “you’ll catch your death of cold out here.”

She shook her head, bloody stubborn woman. “I don’t want to wake Henry.”

“Then come to my room.”

She openly scowled at him then, her lips pressed in a disapproving line.

“I swear to you, Swan, I will be a perfect gentleman.” If only she knew the half of it.

A shiver ran through her body, and her lips trembled. “I guess so.”

He gave her a wide berth as they headed back inside, reminding himself in a thousand different ways what an idiot he was. Apparently he enjoyed inflicting torture on himself.

She won't make a sound. Alone in this fight with herself and the fears whispering if she stands she'll fall down. She wants to be found. The only way out is through everything she's running from.

She wants to give up and lie down.

The two of them were dripping puddles of water onto the floor of his room, and Emma was shaking so badly it frightened him. His own words shook as they came out.

“You’ve got to get out of those clothes, Swan.”

“I - I kn-knew y-you would try to g-get me n-naked.”

The smile she gave him infused her words with levity, and he couldn’t help chuckling in response. He crossed the room, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved one of his black shirts. He turned and handed it to her, gesturing to the bathroom with his hook.

“Take a warm bath, or . . . what’s it called again?”

“A shower, old man.”

He shook his head and gave another short laugh. “Aye, a shower. Then you can change into that. I apologize I don’t have anything else. You sure you don’t want to go to your own chambers?”

“Room, Killian, we call it a room. And no, I don’t want to wake Henry, I told you.”

She shuffled to his bathroom, and Killian held his tongue from reminding her that she had an entire suite with Henry. Chances of waking the lad were slim, as they had all discovered during their many chats with her parents in the sitting room. Could it be that Emma wanted his company? If that were the case, he’d give it. Even if it was painful.

He heard the shower running as he peeled off his own soaked clothing. He was down to one shirt and one pair of breeches now that he’d drenched himself and offered his clothing to Emma. Perhaps it was time he invested in some of this realm’s clothing. The Merry Men had been raving about something called jeans.

Emma was quick in the shower, a trait of hers that didn’t surprise him in the least. She came out in his shirt, an uncharacteristic blush to her cheeks as she attempted to tug it further down her thighs. His breath caught in his lungs and his mouth went dry at the sight of her. What the bloody hell had he been thinking? She looked like they’d just been -

“Do you sleep in leather too?”

He blinked and shook his head to clear it at Emma’s words. “Umm . . . pardon?”

She chuckled knowingly, gazing at him teasingly beneath her lashes. “I mean, you don’t have pajamas? You know, clothes just for sleeping?”

He couldn’t pass up the open invitation. He grinned with an arch of his brow. “I sleep in the nude, Swan.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile upon her face appled her cheeks and deepened her blush. She grabbed the thick blanket rolled up on the end of his bed and wrapped it around herself. When he noticed her still shivering, he rushed to the fireplace in the sitting area of his room and retrieved the gray rock from the mantel and began striking his hook against it. He lifted his gaze in surprise when Emma began to laugh.

“Are you seriously trying to strike your hook on a rock to start a fire?”

“It’s called a flint, Swan, and how do you suggest I light it? With that ridiculous modern device that Bae -” he stopped, his voice trailing off. He looked apologetically into Emma’s eyes, but all she did was give him a soft, understanding smile.

“Here,” she said, that same smug grin upon her face that she’d had when practicing her magic in the diner, “let me.”

Emma pulled one arm free from the blanket and knelt before the fire. Instead of conjuring a fireball as Regina would have, she simply held her hand up to the wood in the fireplace, wriggling her fingers a little. Warmth radiated from her palm, sparking a gentle flame that flicked across the wood. He grinned down at her triumphantly.

“Your magic is different from Regina’s.”

“You mean it doesn’t come as easy,” Emma grumbled slightly as she leaned back against the winged back chair next to the fire.

“No,” Killian clarified as he settled down on the hearth across from her, “it’s more elegant.”

“Elegant,” Emma mused, gazing into the flames, “that’s not a word I would use to describe myself.”

“Well you should.”

Emma pulled her knees up, cocooning herself in the blanket. She tilted her head as she scrutinized him. “What’s been with you lately?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do,” Emma laughed, “super power remember?”

Killian arched both brows at her.

“Besides,” she continued, “for a pirate, you have some pretty big tells. This,” she teased, scratching behind her ear, “and that jaw clench thing you do.”

Killian hastily dropped his hand from his ear. “I don’t have tells.”

Emma rolled her eyes again. “Okay, pirate, keep telling yourself that.”

“Why were you standing out in the rain?”

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“I asked you first.”

Emma sighed. “Fine. I didn’t want . . . “ she fidgeted nervously, “I just felt myself about to snap, you know, and I just had to get out.”

Killian nodded. “I’ve shared tight quarters with way too many sailors most of my life. Believe me, love, I understand.”

“I hate lying to Henry,” she continued, picking at a loose thread on the blanket so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “I’m pretty much the world’s worst mother.”

“That lad of yours is quite the young man, Swan. Don’t tell me you had nothing to do with that.”

“Did I though?’ she asked, eyes flashing. “It was all fake.”

“Not the last year.”

She blinked, her mouth opening slightly, then closing again. “I . . . guess.”

They fell silent, gazing at the flickering flames.

“Are you really pissed at me about messing with your hook?”

Killian’s gaze flew to hers in surprise. “Bloody hell, love, of course not.”

“What is it then?” She lowered her gaze again, biting at her lip. “I’ve missed you.”

Killian slid across the floor until he was next to her. He arched his eyebrows and swiped his tongue across his lower lip. “Really?”

Emma laughed and shoved him in the shoulder. “Calm down, I don’t mean it like that.” She rested her chin on her blanket-covered knees. “You’ve become . . . a good friend. Probably my best friend at this point.”

His gaze softened. “Aye, Swan, I feel the same.”

“What?” she teased, poking him in the shoulder. “Are you saying I’m better than Smee?”

“Well,” he teased back, “I’m not promoting you to first mate yet, but you are a lot easier on the eyes.”

Emma’s smile was bright, and her eyes sparkled. She was staring at his lips again. Killian cleared his throat and rose swiftly, pretending to stoke the fire,

“Killian,” Emma said softly. He looked down to see her face tilted up at him, the firelight illuminating her still damp hair. She looked so much like an angel, his chest ached.

“Yes, Emma?”

“I’m serious you know. You . . . get me. There’s a lot of stuff my parents can’t understand, you know?”

He nodded. “I know.”

Emma didn’t stare at his lips again, but she did fall asleep on his shoulder by the fire. Her bare legs were pressed against his leather pants because she’d insisted on sharing the blanket. It was torture, no doubt about it, but there were some crosses he was willing to bear.

He awakened her reluctantly at dawn so she could slip back into the room she shared with Henry. He almost brushed a kiss to her brow, but stopped himself just in time. The sleepy smile she gave him as she shuffled out the door made something swoop low in his belly. Yes, he would endure this torture.

That’s what best friends do.

So stand in the rain

Stand your ground

Stand up when it's all crashing down

You stand through the pain

You won't drown

And one day, what’s lost can be found

You stand in the rain

#cs ff #cs deleted scene #3B deleted scene #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #fandom birthday playlist #stand in the rain #for bran #on her birthday

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jikook-is-soft · 6 years

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JIKOOK FIC REC

I made this whole thing once before and accidentally deleted it and had to do it all over so RIP me. This time there will be less oneshots but that’s because I’ve read a fuck ton of chaptered fics this year so get ready.

ONESHOTS

The Arrangement: Jikook are roommates in the BTS dorm and often find themselves sleeping in the same bed. the problem is Jungkook keeps waking Jimin up with his morning wood. Jungkook is in denial about his gayness and Jimin is hiding his until they come up with a little plan. Jimin will help him get rid of his boners so that Kookie’s sexual frustration will go away and stop waking Jimin up in the morning simple right? This is low-key really hot but I wish it was longer.

A Knight’s Duty: Who doesn’t love a little porn with a plot am I right? Jungkook is in charge of guarding the crown prince Park Jimin, and it’s no secret that Jimin likes to get up to more than inappropriate things with the pretty knight. Read it read it read it

Thigh Highs: This one is super cute and super hot all at the same time. Jungkook comes home to find Jimin wrapped up in blankets and christmas lights. When he asks Jungkook to unwrap him he finds that Jimin is only wearing a t shirt and some thigh high socks. I swear this is some actual shit that Jikook would do, it makes me giddy.

Live in Osaka: oh boy I LIVE for this oneshot. It’s based on the iconic vlive where Tae cock blocks Jikook by coming into Jungkook’s hotel room. you know the one “Jungkookie isn’t wearing any clothes” and Jimin hiding in the bathroom, yeah that one. Anyway this fic does a good job of describing the gay chaos that was this vlive.

The Adventures of Jikook boyfriends: Okay this is precious. It’s a series of 12 oneshots in which Jikook are domestic as fuck. It’s so cute and fluffy (with the tinniest hint of smut) and definitely worth the read.

White T-shirts and Brown Timberlands: shit. yes. okay. I swear this is an emotional rollercoaster. It made me laugh and cry and smile. Jimin and Jungkook have been together for eight years and Jimin realizes that it’s finally coming to an end as he holds the divorce papers in his hands. YOU GUYS, if this doesn’t hook you right away I don’t know what will. Don’t worry it has a happy ending, but that doesn’t mean it won’t make you cry.

Okay those are the only really good oneshots that I’ve read in a while so now on to the juicy stuff, the Chaptered fics. There’s actually so many of these that I’m not sure I’ll even have time to put them all down but I’m going to try my darn best.

CHAPTERED FICS

Comfort in lies: First things first TRIGGER WARNING there is rape and non consensual activity in this fic so if that bothers you in any way this may not be the one for you. That doesn’t dominate the whole story though. It’s canon compliant and is mostly about how Jungkook and Jimin come to terms with their feelings for each other. It made me cry big time just a warning. Their relationship in this is so pure and precious and not toxic like a lot of fics. Highly recommend this one (36 chapters)

Like Fire, Like Stone: YES YES YES. This is yet another fic that made me bawl like a little child. It’s a shadow hunters AU but don’t worry you don’t need to know the show to enjoy this (I’ve never seen it and still love this fic). Jimin and Jungkook are childhood best friends that become each other’s Parabatai which is a bond made between two soldiers that connects them spiritually in order to help them in battle. The thing is parabatai are forbidden from being anything more than platonic, which is very hard for Jungkook when he starts to realize he may feel more for Jimin than he should. Please read this, it’s so good. (12 chapters)

High For This: It’s easy to grasp. Jimin is a stripper and a certain young Jungkook starts to pay for all his time. It’s here that Jungkook convinces Jimin to be his BDSM sub. This is cute and sexy and also angsty. But still good check it out (18 Chapters)

All Your Glory: Fucking yes, this is so great. Jungkook and Jimin are both from rich powerful families that also happen to be sworn enemies. The two are supposed to hate each other and they somewhat do when they aren’t fucking each other’s brains out. Fuck buddy AU meets enemies to lovers AU meets business men AU. it’s fucking good okay? Read it (11 chapters) +a second part to the series.

Whiskey: out of all the fics I’ve read in the past couple months this one stands out in my mind a lot. All I have to say is that if you read this please please listen to the music that goes with it because it’s an experience. Jimin is an omega cam boy but even with all the thirsty alphas watching him Jimin won’t ever succumb to his natural instincts, he’s independent and doesn’t need an alpha. However that changes when one of his viewers sends in his shirt and his smell sends Jimin into heat. this fucking hot and Pyscojimin has a twisted little mind that I love. (15 chapters)

crushes are the plague (and I caught your fever): Jungkook is the school bad boy and everyone knows that he has a reputation. However what people don’t know is that he’s dating the school angel and class president Park Jimin. this is so freaking cute but also really hot and I love it so much. (30 chapters)

Longing: a yearning desire: cry’s in Jikook. This is a soulmate AU in which the first words that your soulmate says to you appears on your wrist when you turn 18, unless your soulmates has already died. When Jungkook turns 18 his wrist is blank. This is really beautiful and Jimin is so soft here? I love love love this one so check it out. (11 chapters)

Cherry: AAAHHH. Good old ABO fic. This is actually the sweetest thing it gives me butterflies inside. Jimin and Jungkook are childhood neighbors and best friends. When they are young they can’t help but sent each other and nuzzle into each other’s necks even though their parents get angry and try to stop them. Jungkook likes that Jimin smells like cherries. This is so freaking good you guys. there’s fluff and smut and angst and everything nice. (25 chapters)

Where you Belong: if Daddy kink makes you uncomfortable do not read this fic. I personally find this one absolutely adorable. Jimin thinks that he may be a little and decides to sign up for a website in order to find a daddy where he meets Jungkook. (There isn’t really any age regression here it’s mostly just Jimin being fragile and soft). It’s very sweet and soft (30 chapters)

(my heart beats) for you: Oh my God this one is so freaking cute. Jungkook becomes friends with Park Jimin who gets bullied at school. He thinks Jimin is the most adorable boy he’s ever laid eyes on from the day they meet and well into their older years. This warms my heart. There’s fluff and smut here which is a perfect combo. (4 chapters)

Times Six: Okay I am SO SORRY. I know this is utter filth and completely fucking crazy but I HAD to add this fic. I don’t want to go into too many details and keep you from being surprised. Jungkook gets chosen for a super secret scientific project. As it turns out, super genius Park Jimin has succeeded in human cloning. When I say this is udder filth I really don’t say it lightly so please be cautious and good fucking luck to anyone that reads this one. (5 chapters)

Falling for you again: Okay I remember reading this but I don’t actually remember if I liked it or not. I think I might have? who knows I read too much fanfiction. Anyway Jungkook gets into a car accident that leaves him badly damaged and erases his memory, specifically the memories of his boyfriend Jimin. The tags say happy ending so I assume that this one won’t make you cry too much....(4 chapters)

Into You: I read this a long time ago but I do remember liking it. Jimin is a very famous model and Jungkook is his bodyguard, but the fans don’t have to know that they are actually much more than that. There’s fluff and there’s smut and there’s angst so what more do you want. (7 chapters)

Expiration Date: Yes yes yes, a million times yes. I’m just going to add part of the actually story summary because they can put it into words better than I can “The age old story of two people that love each other so much that they are reincarnated because their bond is stronger than death. Take that, multiply it by 20, and switch the word love with hate.” Basically Jimin and Jungkook are like the opposite of lover soulmates. They are reincarnated and in every life they find each other, but the thing is once they meet all their memories of their past lives come back and they only have three months to live before they die and have to start it all over. THIS IS SO GOOD READ IT (30 chapters)

Appetite For Stars: Okay so you’re going to read the summary for this one and go “what the fuck”, but hear me out. The first chapter is defiantly uncomfortable so let’s get that shit out of the way. The second chapter is the reason that this fic is on here and don’t worry their is no pedo shit or underage sex. The second part to this fic is something I find very interesting so don’t get turned off by the first part. I”ll let you dive into this one alone (2 chapters)

Redo: Gonna be honest don’t remember this one too well, it was pretty far back in my ao3 history. Jungkook tries to get over his ex by having a one night stand and soon finds out that that one night stand just so happens to be his new roommate. (7 chapters)

Mono no aware: Ah the old “We were married and got a divorce so I haven’t seen you in years but suddenly you show up in my life again trope”. I think you can probably guess how this one goes, I highly recommend (10 chapters)

Tastes like victory: Why are there so many fics where Jimin is like a fragile stripper? Where does that even come from? But this fic is still really good, Jungkook is an underground fighter that meets Jimin, he teaches him how to defend himself from some nasty clients. (13 chapters)

Twelve: A New Chance: This one has a very interesting concept. For every person that you fall in love with it leave a mark on your skin. Gold is the most rare meaning that person is your soulmate. Black means mutual love, you may not be destined for each other but you’ll love each other none the less, and red means unrequited love. So far Jimin has 11 red marks. (13 chapters)

Coconut Head and McThiccens: Holy SHIT. Okay this might be my favorite fic on this list. I kid you not this is one of the softest and cutest jikook fics I’ve read in my life and I can’t believe I only found it recently. Jungkook is super boring and emotionless, almost like a robot. Jimin is the asshole of the school that everyone avoids because they know that he’ll tear the shit out of them if they get too close. However, Jungkook seems to be immune to anything Jimin does no matter how hard he tries to get a reaction, it frustrates Jimin. please please please read this oh my God you won’t regret it. It’s not finished yet there are still two chapters to go, but the author is updating soon (33/35 chapters)

Alrighty I think that’s the end of this Jikook fic rec. There are more chaptered fics that I didn’t add to the list just because they weren’t special enough for me to remember/recommend. Enjoy all the jikook!

#jikook #jikook fic rec #fic rec #bts #bts fic rec #Jikook fluff #jikook smut #bts fanfiction #jikook fanfiction #here is the jikook fic rec that I promised I hope you enjoy

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deepdaleducks · 6 years

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Slow Burn - Dele

Author’s Note So I got the idea for this based on a conversation @forza-atleti and I had this morning so I kinda had to write it asap. Idk if I have much else to say, I have some ideas for a second part of this so if you want more, let me know. I didn’t proof read any of it so if you see any mistakes, point them out nicely. I love getting feedback from you guys and I’m really enjoying writing at the moment so thanks for enjoying reading it!! Love you all x

“Hey erm, I kinda have to bail on tonight. I know we said we’d stay home and watch movies but, err, something’s come up and I can’t anymore. I’ll defo see you Sunday though, yeah? I’m sorry and erm have a good weekend.” You’d listened to the voicemail he’d left on your phone what felt like a million times. You knew exactly what the something that had come up was. Or who it was for that matter. His ex-girlfriend, Ruby. They’d broken up about a month ago, but it had been long and drawn out. He would still call her at night and sometimes she’d go to his place. And in the mornings, he would be at your front door, regret on his face, ranting about how he just can’t seem to leave her. How unfollowing her on Instagram didn’t seem to work because his car still knew the exact route to her house, even if he wasn’t planning to drive there. How he’d memorised her number, so deleting it was no good. How she was his biggest weakness. You would make him a cup of tea and some toast and tell him that with time and distance things will heal. That moving on to other people will help him get over her. How spending time with other people would distract him from thinking about going to her house.

That’s how your Valentine’s Day plans had come about. No boyfriends or girlfriends, no exes or drunk dials, just the two of you, friends, together with a movie and a take away pizza. It wasn’t going to be a date, and you weren’t going to tell him. Not that it didn’t hurt when you got his message. Not that it didn’t break your heart a little when you realised that he was choosing her over you. So instead of pizza and movies, its wine and Grey’s Anatomy. And if he shows up tomorrow, its ‘I’m late for work’. But from the look of her Instagram story, a fancy restaurant in the city, he won’t be showing up in the morning anyway.

Your phone buzzes with a text, pulling you from your third episode of the night.

Chlo: Soooooo, how’s your night going?? If you don’t reply I know what you’re up to😉😉 get it girl!!!

When you’d told her about your plans for Valentine’s Day she’s shrieked in excitement. She had been begging you to reveal your true feelings to Dele for weeks and when she found out about his break up, she’d called you immediately saying that this was your chance. You’d insisted that this wasn’t your chance and that if you told him now, you’d just be a rebound and everything would fall apart. Instead you went for the option of being a shoulder to cry on and letting your friendship grow. You typed in a quick reply before turning back to the tv.

Me: He bailed. Back with her, I guess.

Her reply comes through almost instantly. You pause the tv and head into the kitchen to fill your wine, figuring that if you were gonna be texting for a while you may as well get another glass.

Chlo: Oh babe.

Chlo: ….

Before she has the chance to type any more, you change the subject quickly.

Me: It’s fine. How was your night with Jesse? His leg doing okay?

The two of you had become friends at the World Cup last summer. You’d bonded in the family and friend’s area of the stands over being two of the most outraged people there. You were both yelling over the referee’s poor decision. Somehow that led to you talking and becoming friends. When you’d introduced yourself as Dele’s friend, she’d quickly joked about how she thought Dele had gotten a new girlfriend, and you could tell she’d regretted it. “She doesn’t like me, either” You’d replied, and her face was flooded with relief. Since then, you were constantly texting, meeting up in each other’s city, watching the boys at games.

Chlo: Oi oi, don’t try to change the subject. We’re just having the night in, Jess is fine. Are you okay though?

Her text flashes up and then seconds later a call is coming through. You answer, sipping on your wine before talking.

“Chlo, I’m fine honestly. It’s Valentine’s Day, of course he’s gonna go back to her, I don’t know why we didn’t see it coming.” You say before she can even begin to rant about how shitty his actions were.

“Nah, that was a shitty thing for him to do. Imma be having words, swear down.” You hear Jesse’s voice echo in, realising you were on speaker phone, you chime in a ‘hey Jess’. You laugh at his threats.

“Yeah, babe, everyone and their grandma’s cat knows that she treats him badly. I don’t get why he can’t see that.” Chloe sighs. The three of you were biased for sure, with neither of you being her biggest fan, but it wasn’t hard to deny that she did treat him badly. And you would treat him so much better.

“There’s not much I can do about it though, is there? Like hey Del, break up with your girlfriend I love you more than she ever could. He’s not exactly going to fall into my arms. He’s wrapped around her finger, for fuck’s sake.” You reply, trying to push down any feelings for him that were rising in your heart.

“What are you doing this weekend? You wanna come up and stay with us?” She asks impulsively. Despite your usual plans to see Dele on Sunday, you agree, planning to make the drive up tomorrow after work. “I know your heart is hurting right now, babe, but he’ll see the light eventually. We’ll make sure of it.” She finishes.

“Hell yeah, we will!” Jesse yells from the background. With that you hang up and head upstairs to pack a small bag for your impromptu weekend away.

When you get out of work on Friday night, you immediately get in the car and begin the four hour drive up to Manchester. The traffic delays don’t phase you, the promise of a warm home cooked meal keeping you on. Your car pulls into the drive of your friend’s house, the warm lights from inside welcoming you. Inside you find Chloe and Jesse, taking your bag and coat.

“Surprise!” a familiar voice yells, emerging from the living room. You turn to see Marcus walking over to you with his arms open to hug you. “Been way too long, chuck,” he says, squeezing you tightly.

“Yeah sorry, I couldn’t come to see you at Fulham the other week. Work’s been so busy recently.” You respond pulling away. “Alright, not to be rude, but I’m starving so where’s the food?”

The four of you head into the dining room, engorging on a meal prepared by Chloe. Jesse claims to have helped with the cooking but you and Marcus both return with jokes about how Jesse has absolutely no cooking ability whatsoever and that the boy couldn’t even chop a carrot if he tried.

The night passes by with ease, as you share jokes and stories. Marcus talks about the girl he’s been seeing, and Jesse teases that she’s so out of Marcus’ league. The boys tell stories from training and talk about how rough its going to be now Jesse is injured. And Dele doesn’t cross your mind once. No thought about how she was probably in his bed right now. About how things should be different.

In the morning, Chloe takes you to brunch and then you head out for some retail therapy. She forces you to buy a new black dress, claiming that you should find a date for next weekend and wear the dress to knock the socks of your suitor.

“You now I’ve tried dating other people, Chlo. I have. Do you not remember Jake? Or Ben? Or that guy I went out with like a month ago!” You protest. Dating other people hadn’t been successful albeit. Every time you found something that felt that it could work, Dele would show up at your door in the night, eyes puffy from crying, voice hoarse from yelling, and you would let him in again. He would fall into your bed, and you’d hold his hands whilst he slept. He would tell you that he was never going to find anyone else like you. And then he would leave in the morning and go back to her. Like clockwork.

“Yeah but Jake was the opposite of everything you want so that was never gonna work, and Ben was a dickhead anyway. Besides, if Del sees you dating someone else it might make him a little jealous. Remind him that he’s not the only guy in your life, yeah?” She gives you a look that says I’m right and you best believe me, so you slowly nod your head in response, convincing yourself that her plan is good one.

She’s called into work in the afternoon and you’re left at home with Jesse, who’s still resting from his injury. You flick through Sky Movies together trying to find a film that suits both of your tastes. You want romcom and he wants action which leads to the two of you bickering like siblings over the remote. Pausing as you flick past The Proposal, you turn to look at him.

“I noticed you still didn’t put a ring on Chloe’s finger this Valentine’s then.” You tease, eying his response carefully. They’d been together for a while and you and Marcus had made bets on when they’d get engaged before Christmas, with him thinking it would be in the summer and you insisting it had to happen soon.

“Nah, nah, Valentine’s proposals are cringing as fuck man. That’s so typical. I don’t want her to be expecting it, so I’m skipping Christmas, Valentine’s, her birthday, our anniversary, none of that.” He defends himself, shaking his head.

“Christ, Jess. At this rate I’m gonna be getting married before you and I’m in love with a guy who is constantly going back to his ex.” You joke, the words stinging a little as you say them.

“It’ll happen soon, I swear. Maybe next month, who knows? March is nothing important, right?” He pauses to look you over, “Do you, though? Love him?” His question puts you on edge. No one had ever asked you that before. Sure, Chloe had teased you about your crush and about the fact you liked him. But the word love had never come up. Especially not in this content. Your mind spins as you think, but quickly enough, you have one clear thought.

“How could I not?” You ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

It’s 9pm before you finally hear from him. You never replied to his voicemail on Thursday and since then the two of you hadn’t interacted.

Del: We still on for brunch tomorrow morning? I’ll pick you up at 10 x

Me: In Manchester so I can’t.

Your reply is blunt, but worthy. He bailed on you, so you’re bailing on him. As much as he could have you like butter in his hands, you wanted to show a little distance. The distance crumbles when his face flashes on your screen displaying an incoming call and you answer immediately.

“What the fuck are you doing in Manchester?” He asks with a tone of anger in his voice. “Were you just not planning to tell me you were cancelling on our weekly brunch?”

You scoff in response, “That’s a little rich coming from you right now, Dele. Chloe and Jesse called me on Thursday night and invited me up for the weekend, so I happily accepted.” Throwing in the detail that they invited you on Thursday was done to spite him. You were supposed to see him on Thursday, and hopefully him realising that you had other offers would hurt a little.

“Oh right,” he mutters in response. “I guess we’ll have to do it another time then.”

“Yeah maybe…” You trail off, “Look, I gotta go. I, erm, I’ll see you when I’m back sometime.” Hanging up the phone you leave it in the kitchen, heading back into the living room to watch more tv with your friends. When you retire up to bed you leave your phone downstairs, happy to not be distracted by any social media or messages. Your phone sits on the kitchen counter, 10 unread text messages and 3 missed calls unnoticed on the screen.

You’re sound asleep when you hear a banging on the door downstairs, followed by three more rings of the doorbell. You slowly pull yourself from the comfort of your bed and throw your dressing gown on, heading out in to the hall to see what’s causing all the noise. Jesse emerges from the master throwing a t-shirt on.

“You stay here, I’ll go see what it is.” He says sleepily. Waiting at the top of the staircase, you hear him open the door and mumble a “what are you doing here, it’s the middle of the night”. Straining your ears, you try to make out the other voice. It sounds familiar and the pieces of conversation you hear help you to piece it all together.

“I need to speak to her…”

“Look bro, it’s the middle of the night.”

“No but I need to see her.”

“I don’t know if she wants to see you… Come back tomorrow maybe, man.”

“I need to tell her it’s over.”

The last thing you hear sends you down the stairs tentatively. He stands there in the entrance hall, joggers and a t-shirt, bags under his eyes, presumably from driving all night, hair a mess, eyes pleading. Jesse looks between you and notices his que to leave, heading upstairs with a whispered shout if you need me.

“It’s over?” You ask, not stepping any further in his direction. He nods weakly in reply. You feel like you’re having déjà vu, flashing back to this exact situation a few weeks ago. You remember him crying, saying those same words. Then you remember him going back to her, and again and again. A bitter taste appears on your tongue and you feel a sudden urge to get a glass of water.

“Good for you,” you mutter, walking straight past him towards the kitchen. He follows you instantly, keeping his distance on the other side of the room.

“Good for me?” He hisses quietly, careful not to make any noise. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t think you’re telling the truth.” You huff, looking at him tiredly. “It means that I’ve been down this road so many times with you recently, Del, that I’m just bored of it.”

“No, I’m serious. It’s over.” He pleads with you, moving closer. You don’t respond and a silence settles between the two of you for a minute. You stare out the window into the garden and he stands behind you at a distance, facing in the same way. He eyes your reflection in the mirror and your eyes meet. “You know how I know it’s over? Friday morning, we wake up and we agree to go to dinner in the evening, right. And she calls me later saying, she’s invited to some club event and she’s gonna have to skip the dinner, am I arsed about it? No, not really. But then yesterday, hearing that you’re not coming to brunch and that you’re all the way up in Manchester and I had no idea. That broke my heart. Because I pushed you out of my life, and I don’t ever want you to not be a part of my life.” When he pauses to breath you turn around to look at him, leaning back against the counter. “I’ve been pushing you away to be with her and she’s not worth me losing you.”

Everything he’s saying sounds sweet. Perfect, in fact. But he’s still not saying the one thing you want to hear. He’s not saying he loves you, that he’s in love with you. And right now, as much as you want his attention, every second of his time isn’t worth it if he doesn’t love you back. The pain of him being your friend, but not yours, would be too much.

“Okay, well. I, um.” You stutter, lost for words. “I don’t think I can be your friend right now because…” The words are right there on your lips. Because I’m in love with you. You drop your eyes to the floor and attempt to move past him, out from where he’s trapped you in the corner of the kitchen.

“Because what? Because you’re in love with me?” His words echo your thoughts.

His words stop you in your tracks. “How do you know that?” you ask, not turning back to look at him.

“She pointed it out. Ruby. She’s the one who noticed it.” He stops for a minute, hoping you’ll lift your head, or turn around in interested. “She said she could tell by the way you looked at me, or the way your face would light up whenever you talked about me. It’s, uh, why we broke up actually. She was constantly scared I was gonna leave her for you, and I could never see it and thought she was just being jealous.”

If what he was saying was true, and he knew that you were in love with him, why was he constantly falling back into her bed. Why was he still putting her above you in his list of priorities?

“So, what? You know I’m in love with you, you break up with your girlfriend over it, cry on my shoulder and then still go back to sleep with her? None of that adds up, Dele. I don’t know what you’re doing, but whatever it is, it’s fucked up.”

He falters whilst processing your words. “I thought it wasn’t true. You never said you were in love with me and I didn’t wanna just spring it on you and ruin everything. I don’t know what I was doing, okay?” He says louder in frustration, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. But you were dating some guy, and she came along, and I just told myself to forget it. Then she goes and makes statements like that and it messes with my head.”

“You’re in love with me?” You ask, the new realisation sending excitement through your veins. Eyes finally meeting his for the first time in minutes.

“I am so fucking in love with you.” He grins cheekily. Hearing those words come out of his mouth dissipates every negative emotion that you’d been harbouring in the last few weeks. You feel the immediate pull of his gravity, drawing you across the kitchen into his arms. His lips crash against yours in an instant, lighting your entire body on fire. Its urgent and fierce and screams we’ve waited years to do this. When you part for breath, he rests his forehead against yours, and your eyes flutter open to meet his.

“What does this mean?” You ask, hesitantly.

“It means that we’re gonna go upstairs and sleep. Then tomorrow, we’re gonna wake up and I’m gonna take you on a date to get breakfast. And then I’m going to pay to get your car sent back to London, because in the afternoon I’m gonna drive you home.” He gives you another short sweet peck.

Your fingers find his and you drag him upstairs to the spare bedroom you’d been staying in. You fall into bed together, not for the first time, but when he reaches out for your hand like always, this time he uses it to pull you closer to him, and you know that tomorrow, he won’t be leaving.

READ PART TWO HERE

#footballer imagine #dele #dele alli #jesse lingard #marcus rashford #writing #idk what else to hashtag #slow burn

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fruitful-blogger · 6 years

Text

Flipping the Script

Check it out on AO3!

Part Two!

High School is hard enough for a goth kid, but Roman wasn’t one to let it get him down. After all, he had some great friends, including the smartest kid in the school, Patton, the star of the men’s Tennis team and teen heartthrob, Logan, and the most popular prep and student council member, Virgil, at his side.

A High School AU with a twist – based on a Discord Conversation.

Roman Prince was looking over his chipped nail polish with a frown. He had wanted to repaint them the night before, but he had been out of his preferred nail polish for the day – the silver and black combo that would have really brought out today’s outfit. His black and red hair was ever messy as a black leather jacket hung around his arms and shoulders, underneath a black t-shirt with spider-web design across the fabric. His ripped jeans were always on point, and his black convers were polished, if a bit distracting with the blood red shoe laces. His black and red back pack hung over his back as his headphones strung up through his pocket of his jacket to his ears, though he’d muted the music (he didn’t want to talk to anyone, really). While his nails were messy, his eye make-up was always on point, dark wings accentuating his eyes and a thin palour of lipstick to bring out his natural red tones.

Even though he was a goth, a Prince has got to slay – as a dark prince, he thought double of that.

Roman frowned at his cuticle again as he contemplated ditching first period to go to the drug store and get another bottle of his nail polish. It was only the first day, after all, and it was going to be boring anyway…

“I see that look on your face, Princey, and whatever you are thinking, don’t.” Roman snapped up as he looked to the person who had addressed him. The boy before him was dressed like he’d walked out of a fashion magazine – crisp dark jeans nicely ironed, paired with a wine colored polo and purple-tinted suit jacket, all pulled together with his black and purple back pack and his loafers. His hair was messy in a way that seemed effortless even though he’d probably taken an hour this morning to perfect it.

Most people would think that drama goth Roman Prince and Student Council Treasurer Virgil Smythe would NEVER, in a million years, interact – and they would have been right freshman year. The two boys had butted heads so many times that year, as the goth vs preps went, but all it took was the spring play of Aladdin to make them friends. Now that they were Juniors, Virgil was easily one of Roman’s best friends, and the prep would say the same of the goth.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Peter Prep.” Roman grinned as he pulled out his headphones. “I was just contemplating how BORING the first day would be and…”

“And you can’t skip.” Virgil pointed as he nodded his head. The two began to walk around the school. It was still early in the day, and there were a few students there early with the teachers. Roman really hadn’t any reason to be there, but Virgil had just gotten out of a meeting with the other class reps. “So, the reps are talking already about the themes for Homecoming. It was a long-ass debate even though we aren’t voting on anything for a few weeks. And, man, the freshmen? Those adorable mofos have no idea.”

Roman snorted in response as they rounded the school wall. A faint “THWAP THWAP” was heard now as they approached their destination. “Honestly, those fuckers have no idea. I mean, fuck, remember freshman year? You thought you were the shit.”

“Oh like you’re one to talk, Prince.”

“Careful, Prepington the third, sounds like you’re jelly.” Roman gestured to all of himself. “Although, anyone would love to be me.”

“SUUUURREEE.” Virgil smirked. “So what WERE you planning?”

“Nail polish run.” Roman noted as Virgil lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Sorry, I just half expected you to try something like last year.”

“In my defense, this school needs more blacks and reds. It’s so… pastel.” The goth made a face. “ SO overdone. You should put that into the bureaucratic mess we call a student council. More darks, more individuality!”

“Yes, because we need more anarchy.”

“Exactly!”

“Hello!” A third voice cut in.

Virgil and Roman looked up as they reached the small set of bleachers. At one of the top rows, surrounded by several books, was their resident genius and all around nerd, Patton Thompson. Patton had his usual light blue polo on with his pressed pants and simple shoes, a cardigan and matching tie with his outfit to pull the whole nerd look together. The goth and prep jogged up to meet him on the bench. Sure enough, he had a textbook on his lap, AP Biology, and he was already half way through it.

“Hey Pat.” Roman greeted as he added a hug, the smaller nerd returning it even as he scrambled to get his books. “Uhg, what are you doing studying? It’s the first day!”

“But it’s so INTERESTING!” Patton threw as he clutched a book to his chest. “We’re going to be learning about CRISPR soon enough, which would allow us to theoretically hack the human genome and eliminate disease! It does so by using the DNA’s own infrastructure to turn off genes that could potentially be harmful to humans, though there are fears of it causing more harm than good because it can accidentally delete more than just a single base pair.” The boy grinned. “But we won’t get too into that until Christmas.”

“Patton, I was about to have a heart attack.” Virgil sighed as he sat on the bench next to Patton, butting shoulders with the blue boy. “I only read chapter one like Dr. Spencer wanted us to. You had me thinking we were gonna have a test on this tomorrow.”

The nerd smiled back as Roman sat to the other side of Virgil, the opposite of Patton having a pile of books stacked there. “Sorry, you know how I am.”

“And we love you for it.” Roman returned. “Especially because I suck at science and you are my saving grace.”

Patton giggled as Virgil used their height to look out. They were stationed on the bleachers near their school’s tennis courts. While it was technically girls’ season, they weren’t to have practice until after school. Instead, the tennis storage unit was open and in the first court was a male figure, rushing back and forth as a ball dispenser sent out dozens of balls at him. The figure was a blur of navy blue, white, and silver – the school’s colors on a uniform, no doubt – as he expertly returned every shot.

“How long has Roger Feder-Nerd been out here, Smart Cookie?” Roman asked to Patton.

The nerd shrugged. “Logan’s been here longer then I have. I came early to go to the library, and he was already here when I pulled up.”

“Jeez.” Virgil sighed as he stood, cupping his hands to his face. “LOGAN CROFTER PLEASE GET OFF THE COURT!”

The figure paused, looking in their direction even as he deflected a ball. It somehow still went over, though it was no winning shot. “WHEN DID YOU GUYS GET HERE?” He yelled back as he deflected another ball. “WHAT TIME IS IT?”

“TIME TO GET CLEANED UP, LO!” Roman added.

The ball machine seemed to agree as it finally ran out of balls. Logan was sweating but easily jogged around the net to turn it off. Off to the side, a few girls oogled at the school’s star athlete. Logan stopped by his bag to throw his sports glasses in, instead replacing them with a simple wire pair. He dabbed his face with his shirt, causing the females to swoon at his abs.

Roman bit his lips, wanting to badly to tell them off, especially since they had no chance.

Roman and Patton were the only two in the school to now that Logan and Virgil were gay. While the latter two were more out about their sexualities – Roman would fight the man however he could, and Patton had, logically, figured that it was just a part of their brain chemistry and therefore was not a big deal. They didn’t shout it from the rooftops, but, if someone asked, they’d be honest.

Virgil and Logan, on the other hand, had a harder time with it. Logan being the star athlete weighed on him, there being a certain expectation for them. While he himself had figured out his sexuality back in middle school, he hadn’t felt comfortable with anyone to tell them. It was only after freshman year when he’d become part of the group that he came out to them on accident. With an accidental pun (Logan HATED puns, but Patton had lost it).

Virgil was another story. He’d let them know that, at the surface level, his parents were at least a bit homophobic, weather they acknowledged their homophobia or not. It also didn’t help that he was raised in, well, a more upper middle class society, so everyone tended to be more on the conservative side of things. While he knew his parents loved him, he was scared shitless to ever tell them or anyone else. He’d had a break down about it one day, when it was just him and Patton, and he’d finally told someone that he had never felt that way for a girl but he probably had a crush on a guy in their grade. Patton, Roman, and Logan were all supportive of him, though, and he came to them when his internal anxiety just got to be too much.

While the kid seemed mostly together with a pretty ideal life, he was still a ball of anxiety under the surface. He was thankful, though, that he had friends like these to help him out.

Virgil, in fact, was already up and jogging down to the court. He grabbed a second basket that stood nearby and began to help Logan clean, the two chatting. Virgil, like Logan, had grown up playing tennis, but the purple-wearing boy was on the JV team as opposed to varsity. The two had, however, become friends because of tennis and were the only freshman boys on JV all those years back (Logan, had, of course, been bumped to varsity sophomore year).

Roman leaned back in his seat as he heard Patton’s many pens scratch the paper (his notes had a whole color coding system that Roman couldn’t hope to learn). More cars began to pull into the parking lot as the goth took in the day. It was chilly but sunny, and, while he loved his dark room and ambient light, he could appreciate sweater weather.

“Are you two to join us?” Roman cracked an eye as Virgil and Logan approached, Logan with his tennis bag and back pack. Logan had spoken.

“Give me a sec, kiddos!” Patton called as he scrambled to get his books into his backpack. He had so many, though, that there was no way the boy was getting them all into one bag.

Roman stood, cracking his back as he grabbed both his and the abandoned purple bag left by Virgil. “Need help, Padre?”

“Nah, I got it!” The small boy added as he huffed a few books into his arms. “I’ll drop a few at my locker while Lo gets cleaned up.”

“Indeed, I should make my way to the changing room before class.” Logan added as he overheard. The two boys skipped down the steps before all four headed to the school. “Although I need to see the physical therapist again. My wrist is feeling odd the last week.” He noted as he played with his right wrist. “My serve is off by a few degrees.”

“Well, from what I saw, you sure were SERVING up some ACE shots!” Patton giggled as Logan tried to hide a smirk.

“Why am I friends with you?”

“Because you love me?”

“Debatable.”

“Because I make cookies for the tennis bake sale?”

“Ah, yes, there it is.” Logan and Patton shared a snigger at the comment.

Virgil snatched his backpack from Roman as the two followed. “So, a little birdie told me that someone MIGHT try out for the hero this semester…” Virgil grinned to Roman. “What, done playing the villains?”

Roman loved the stage, but he almost always tried out for the villain. He thought they were constantly underrated and pegged as evil when, in retrospect, they would be more morally grey characters. “Well… depends on if the play I want comes to fruition! You see, I think I can convince Larry to let us do Nightmare Before Christmas, and you KNOW I know all the Jack Skellington parts.”

Virgil belted out a laugh. “Really? Because I thought you were just reading off cue cards every time I came over for movie night.”

“Blah blah blah that’s all I hear from you.” He threw with a wave of his hand. The two were left bickering all the way into the school.

It was just the beginning of another year at North Hamilton High.

#Sanders Sides #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Flipped Script AU #High School AU #Role Swap AU #Human AU #Discord Chat

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goldendream-s · 6 years

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perfectly wrong

a/n; loosely based/inspired off of perfectly wrong. i was planning to post this later tonight, but my laptop is about to die so enjoy! also, i haven’t written in a while so i hope i’m not too rusty

MASTERLIST || REQUEST

He knew it was unfair to her. Hell, he knew that no one deserved to be on the receiving end of his actions. Especially someone as empathic and loving as you, obliviously and patiently waiting for Shawn to return from the dozens of events he had booked across the globe.

Although the two of you never made what you had official, it was obvious to everyone around that you and Shawn were more than ‘just friends’. Both of you knew full well that it wasn’t a fling, either. He even went out of his way to let you know that he wanted to be the one for you, insisting that he’d cut off all of his other affairs.

It was funny, actually. Shawn also said that he wanted to take things slow, but you couldn’t help but fall in love with him head first. You were doomed from the start, though. How could you not fall for someone who took care of you so well? Someone like Shawn who would find time in their busy schedule to call and let you know that you were still on their mind, someone who texted just to tell you that something they saw reminded them of you. Every fiber in your body wanted Shawn and although it had initially stung when he said he just wanted to take time on things, you agreed to take it slow, scared that you would lose him to someone else if you didn’t. He was quick to dissolve your worries, though. Quick to tell you he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

How naive you were to so easily believe his words

It was selfish of Shawn, and he knew it. Despite that, he couldn't bring his soul to commit all of himself to you. If “taking things slowly” meant that he could still have you, he was all for it. He could lie to himself and to you all he wanted, but while you were back at home chasing your own dreams, he was chasing a relationship with another girl that had gone sour months ago. He couldn't let either of you go. Every time he thought he was over his ex, a simple mention of her name would drag him back.

She was perfectly wrong for him, that’s why he could never leave.

He couldn't resist no matter how many times he reminded himself that he promised you the two of you would make the relationship official once he got back from promoting his album. Whenever he saw his ex, he always ended up taking her back to his hotel room, trying to reminisce on a toxic relationship that was long gone. His still-broken heart would feel mended, and he couldn't get enough. As wrong as it felt, he’d still run straight into the fire every time. Even if it hurt everyone in the situation, he’d still do it a hundred times over.

As your phone rang, you groggily rubbed your eyes, checking the time. You were quick to click the answer button as soon as a picture of you and Shawn together lit up your screen.

“H-Hello?” You tiredly greeted, a grin making its way up your lips.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot that it’s probably really late back at home,” Shawn giggled, guilt slightly filling his voice.

“Don’t worry about it. How’s London?”

“It’s great. Just wanted to check in on you since I haven’t been on my phone much today. You’d love it here, babe. I’ll need to take you here the next time you’re on break from school,” He replied, the use of the pet name making your heart flutter.

“Sounds like a plan. Well I’m glad you’re enjoying it there. Your performance this morning was amazing,” You responded as you remembered how you were one of the firsts to hear songs from his new album, which were now being performed in front of thousands.

“It was honestly the coolest thing ever. I’ll let you get to bed, but I promise we’ll talk about things between us as soon as I get back, alright? Have a goodnight, baby,” Shawn said, noticing how tired you sounded.

“Yea, I’ll be at the airport. Just send me your gate number when you get the chance. Night.”

The two of you said your last goodbyes as you hung up the phone with the largest smile on your face. Maybe the odds weren’t against you.

The next morning, you were sprawled on your couch as you waited for you coffee to finish brewing. You couldn't erase the shit-eating grin that had appeared after last night’s conversation with Shawn.

Scrolling through twitter, your timeline was immediately flooded with pictures of Shawn. But he wasn’t alone. Instead, all of the pictures were of of Shawn and his supposed ex walking back to a hotel, hand in hand. You didn’t feel anything at first, staring at the picture partly in shock and confusion. But the more you looked at the paparazzi pictures, a growing pit of hurt grew from your stomach.

You quickly exited out of the picture, scrolling further in attempt to escape your suspicions. It certainly didn’t help when you landed on another picture of Shawn and the same girl leaving the hotel in what looks like the early morning afterwards. She was wearing a YOUTH hoodie that fit her like a dress. The same hoodie that you had told Shawn many times before how much you loved on him. You’d even worn it a couple times, the thought causing goosebumps to crawl across your skin. As shock became denial, your fingers mindlessly zoomed in on the pictures, hoping that you were reading this situation all wrong.

It was now clear as day to you what was going on, and although you told yourself you and Shawn were never official, a pang of jealousy and hurt still flooded your body.

As your thumb hovered over his contact, you hesitated calling him until you finally decided to just get the conversation you were dreading over with. After a couple rings, he picked up the phone as you held your breath.

“Hi, Shawn’s in an interview right now, but did you have a message that you wanted me to leave for him?” A feminine voice cheerfully rang through your phone. You were beyond confused at who’d Shawn would be comfortable enough to leave his phone with, but you were brisk to piece two and two together as tears began to well cloud your vision.

“Oh hi,” You started, trying to steady your voice, “Do you mind me asking who this is?” You questioned, still hoping this was all some twisted joke.

“Oh, my bad. I’m Olivia, uh, Shawn’s girlfriend.” The girl hesitantly replied.

With those simple words, your mind rushed to so many things. Had you misinterpreted the call? Were you nothing to Shawn after all of this time? If you didn't feel your heart shatter before, you were now. So many more emotions rushed through your brain, but your first instinct was to end the call before you were hysterically bawling.

“D-Don’t worry. If you don’t mind, could you please delete my contact from his phone? Thanks,” You rushed your sentence and hung up before you even got a reply.

Setting your phone down on the table, you finally let everything out. Your face felt hot, but you couldn’t tell if it was from all of the distress you were in or the tears freely falling along your cheeks. How could Shawn be so quick to change his mind when he’d call you just hours ago telling you how he still wanted to work things out?

You didn’t know what to think, but if there was one thing you could make out of this whole situation, it was that you were not going to let this fire burn you that easily.

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn #mendes #shawn mendes writing #my writing

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gvbejvmesmichaels · 4 years

Text

Drabble: Reflections - One Year Later

Title: Reflections - One Year Later Or the update/remix you asked for Rating: R for language Relationships: Gabe/Johnny, past Gabe/the Russian Warnings: None? Summary: A remixed version of Too Old to Text and Reflections. Notes: For you.

January, 2020

This was not a call he wanted to make, but he’d done everything he needed to do. He’d had papers served, and he'd gone back and forth with the lawyers -- nothing worked. And he knew what this was, what this really was. It was a fucking powerplay. He was still pissed that he’d been dumped and was purposely making Gabe’s life more annoying than it needed to be. It should have been easy - one and done.

All he legally needed was for Gregor Rasputin to sign off on using his likeness. It was a standard contract for artists, and it was designed to protect artists from having their subjects sue for half their commission. He didn’t think that Razz would sue, but Gabe wasn’t willing to chance it, and neither was Sully, his agent. He had a show at the end of February and there were pieces he wanted to show, but he couldn’t if Razz was going to be a dick.

It was with that thought in mind that he settled in his studio and called his ex-lover (boyfriend was never a term he had used for him). The clock said 12am, which meant it was 8am for Razz. Unless the other man was determined to dodge Gabe entirely, this was his best chance to reach the other man. If he refused to sign the papers, he was going to need to rethink the entire theme of his show, and the thing was -- he didn’t want to. He had a vision and he was determined to see it come to life.

“Yashcheritsa!” Razz greeted, sounding far too pleasant for 8 in the morning, and for the fact he was on the phone with his ex. “You’re up late, no? Is Printsessa still keeping you up at odd hours?”

He closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not a game he felt like playing. “Razz.” He scolded, rolling his eyes, even though he knew the other man couldn’t see him. “I’m half-asleep as it is and I don’t have time for this. You know why I’m calling.”

The other man didn’t respond right away. Maybe he was looking for the right words; maybe his English was getting rusty. Gabe didn’t exactly care; all he wanted was to get his answer right from the source - fuck lawyers (‘aren’t you trying to?’ the Georgie voice in his head helpfully supplied). “Yashcheritsa, I don’t like the idea of pictures of me just existing for others to see.”

Gabe scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not like that…” He promised. “No one is going to even know that it’s you. It’s not exactly a picture of your face.”

There was a sound of surprise from the other end of the phone. “Gabrelle.” Razz sounded scandalized. “What body part will people be seeing?”

He couldn’t help the snicker that escaped. Sometimes all he could think about was the fact that he was essentially a thirteen year old boy. “Not the body part you’re thinking about.” He frowned as he thought about it for a moment. “Okay, part of the body part you’re thinking about, but not that actual body part.”

It was quiet again, but this time Gabe knew that Razz was thinking. “This is important to you?” He finally asked.

“Very.”

Razz sighed. “I will sign tonight.” He promised.

The smile that spread across his face was genuine. “Thank you.” He said and he found that he meant it.

February 2020

Gabe paced the length of his bedroom, the dogs laying on the bed watching his movements. He was pretty sure they were waiting to see if they needed to get off the bed and follow him out of the room. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he stopped and stared down at his cell phone. “You can do this. It’s not fucking rocket science. Just stop being a pussy and do it.” He closed his eyes, the phone feeling heavy in his hands. “Fuck. Why is this so hard? It’s a text. It’s just a text.”

He jumped as his phone went off in his hand. Had he accidentally sent a voice to text? Horrified he stared down at his phone, but it was just an incoming text from The Russian.

Updated release signed. Sent to Sully.

It was strange to think that part of his show was so reliant on his ex-lover signing particular documents. He didn’t respond to the text message and instead stared down at his left hand or rather at the inside of his hand where there was an ugly gash running up the palm. The stitches had come out the day before, but his hand still looked nasty. Sighing again, he looked back at his cell phone and swiped away from the text from Razz. He scanned through his incoming texts. He’d been pretty shitty at replying to his texts as of late. There had just been so many coming in and he just didn’t want to deal with it.

He scanned through the texts, looking for anything to do other than the thing he’d told himself he was going to do. They were basically the same thing, but from different people.

It’s been awhile since you’ve done a show. Are you nervous? Are you sure you want to do a showing?

It was strange. How long had it been since the last time he showed? It hadn’t been that long, had it? Why was it such a big deal now? Had his show right after the divorce really been that much of a shit show?

Sighing, he scrolled past the texts until he got to the person he was looking for. His finger hovered over the name for a moment before he finally clicked on Jay, and, boy, was it fucking weird seeing his name as something other than Do Not Answer.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he tapped out a message: I have a gallery opening next week, and I’d love it if you came.

“I sound like a fucking fifteen year old girl.” He whined out as he deleted it and tapped out a different message.

My new exhibit is opening at Nik’s gallery next week. Did you want to come?

“God, this is fucking stupid. You’ve known him for like 14 years. Just send him the fucking text.” He deleted the text again, and swore under his breath. “Stop being such a fucking chicken shit.”

Next week my new exhibit opens at Nik’s gallery. Would you like to come to the opening with me?

This time he actually sent the damn text. “I still chickened out, didn’t I?” He asked the dogs. “Shit.”

To be clear – as my date.

And then because he always seemed to freak out when it came to Johnny, as soon as he sent the text, he threw the phone onto the bed, earning yelps and growls from the dogs as it landed too close to them.

“Sorry, sorry.” He bit his lip, and closed his eyes before tilting his head up towards the ceiling. “You happy, G?” He asked as though the dead could hear him. “I did the thing. I asked my ex-husband out.” His eyes widened. “Shit, I asked my ex-husband out… What the fuck am I doing?”

Friday, February 28, Opening Day of Reflections

7am

“Gabe?” Nik’s voice echoed through the gallery. “I really hope you’re in here and someone didn’t break in.”

Using a creeper, he was laying on the floor of the gallery, installing rods to support one of his pieces. It was an intricate installation piece and he was terrified that due to the nature of the base, the glass bits were going to weigh down the base, break, shatter all over the floor, and he was going to be a disgrace in the art world.

“I’m in the inner chamber!” He called out. When she had left the night before most of the temporary display walls he’d set up to separate the sections of his show hadn’t been completely installed yet. Now her gallery was one giant maze.

There was no response for a moment, and Gabe figured that she was trying to orient herself. “How do I get there?” She called out in response.

“What room are you in?” The thin rods were weaved inside of the base to blend in so they weren’t noticeable to the viewer. He wasn’t sure how many rods he was going to need, but he figured if he weaved in at least ten, it would be strong enough.

“I think I’m at the circus.”

Gabe groaned. “Yep, I’m changing the lighting in there. I knew the lights were too bright.” He huffed out. “Either walk past the wedding rings or come in through the back and come through the looking glass.”

It was quiet so Gabe figured she was maneuvering through the exhibits and got distracted. He went back to weaving another rod through when suddenly a hand was on his foot, and he startled so badly that he almost broke the damn thing he was trying to fix. “The fuck.” He snapped out as he was rolled out of his piece. “You break it, you buy it. And my shit isn’t cheap.”

Nik just raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you sleep at all last night or were you here the whole time?” She asked, even though he was pretty sure she knew the answer to that.

“It just needs to be perfect.” He said as he sat up. “All my shows are personal but this one is…”

“A love letter. I know.” She told him, giving his knee a gentle pat. “Go home and sleep. I’ll fix the lighting for you.”

Gabe shook his head. “I need to get that done, and I need to put the hands in this piece and-”

Taking his hands, Nik pulled him to his feet. “I know, Gabe. I’ve seen the footprint you provided.” She said pushing him towards the back. “I have to set up for the cocktail portion of the evening, too. I’m perfectly capable of finishing the things up here. You need to sleep.”

“I still have-”

Nik shook her head. “I’ll call DJ on you.” She threatened. “Or worse. I’ll call Katie and watch her drag you home by your ear.”

Gabe groaned. “And you’ll follow my directions exactly?” And he regretted the question as soon as he saw the look on Nik’s face. “Fine, fine. I’m going, I’m going.”

9:51am

He was lying face down on his bed, George and Gulliver asleep on either side of him while Scully lay on her bed, snoozing away when his phone went off. Still more asleep than awake, he blindly reached for his phone and answered it with a tired, “Uh-llo.”

“Briel? You never responded to my text. What time am I picking you up tonight?”

Still more asleep than anything else, he let himself drift back towards sleep. He knew that voice so it was okay to fall back asleep. That was a good voice, a trustworthy voice. “Mmhmm.”

“Let me guess. You were up all night doing finishing touches on your show and you’re just now sleeping.” The other man theorized. He really did know Gabe well.

Gabe snuggled his face deeper into his pillow as he listened to Johnny talk. “Got kicked out.” He slurred. His whole life he’d talked in his sleep, and offered out pure gibberish in response to questions when someone woke him up. Chances were that he wouldn’t even remember this conversation. It wouldn’t be the first time he had a full conversation with Johnny and didn’t remember a single word. It probably also wouldn’t be the last time.

There was a warm laugh. “Briel, are you awake or asleep?” His ex-husband asked him, knowing very well from first hand experience what he was like when he was asleep.

“Yes. The sirens call to me to lull me back to the place of dreams.” Another laugh. “Briel, who are you on the phone with right now?”

“JJM.” He mumbled out, letting sleep wash over him, going back to his habit of referring to people by their initials. He’d done it a lot when he was younger, which was how the kids wound up with their nicknames of CJ and DJ.

There was no response at first. “Who is JJM?” And there was a strange hitch to the other man’s voice.

“Jonathan James-Michaels.” Gabe responded like it was a stupid question.

It was quiet and Gabe was almost fully asleep again before: “What time am I getting you tonight?” He asked tentatively.

“5:30.”

“At your place?”

The phone felt really heavy in his hand. He was going to be non-responsive any minute now.

“Mmhmm. GB wants to see our pretty clothes.”

He never heard Johnny’s response; he was already fully asleep again.

11:15am

Gabe’s arm was lifted and a little warm body slithered underneath before Bella put her head on the same pillow that Gabe was using. His granddaughter usually ran warm, but she was warmer than usual.

“Old man.” Drew touched his face until his eyes opened and he was actually awake and blinking up at his oldest child. “Old man, I gotta go pick up the shit for tonight. The kid’s running a fever so I’m leaving her with you.” He kept his hand on his face until he was sure that the words made sense to him.

Yawning, Gabe sat up and laid on his back, Bella immediately readjusting and snuggling onto his side for warmth and comfort. “W’a ‘ime issit?” He asked tiredly, an arm wrapping around Bella so she wouldn’t roll off the bed. He had no idea where the dogs wandered off to.

“A little after eleven.” His son told him. “But go back to sleep. You got a couple of hours to sleep yet.” He reassured him before slipping out of the room.

“Family should respect my vampirism.” He mumbled out incoherently.

“I res-ped.” Bella agreed before they both fell back asleep.

4:45pm

“I don’t know what to wear.” Gabe whined as he ransacked through his closet. He was already fully dressed in an outfit that Juliet had both picked out and had pressed for him. The dark slacks would hit the tops of his shoes just right, and the light blue button-up fit just right. He trusted his former stepdaughter’s judgement when it came to clothes, but that didn’t stop his nerves from spiraling out of control.

“Aren’t you already dressed?” Drew asked in complete and total confusion. He and Maxxie were both in his bed with Bella. They’d been dating for a couple of months, but he wasn’t sure when he would get used to his son dating his friend. Sure, Maxxie was only a couple of years older than Drew, but it felt like his two worlds colliding; he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Their backs were pressed against the headboard, and Bella was strewn across their laps. She had already liked Maxxie, but now that he was dating Drew, who happened to live with them? She was constantly in a state of happiness being surrounded by the people she liked best in the world. She was still warm to the touch, but her fever wasn’t high enough to make him nervous enough to cancel. “Because you look dressed.” His son continued.

Bella blinked sleepily up at him. “GG, you look pretty.” She said before yawning and burying her face into Maxxie’s stomach.

“You’re stalling, which is totally adorable.” Maxxie chimed in. And he wasn’t sure why Maxxie was getting ready at his place instead of getting ready at his own place and picking up Drew later. All he knew was that his friend had shown up carrying a bag and wearing nothing but a silk robe. He was really hoping it wasn’t some sort of weird sex thing.

He made a face at Maxxie. “I’m not stalling. I’m just nervous about tonight.” He corrected, pulling himself away from his closet and sitting on the bed with the kids.

Drew shrugged, but it was Maxxie who spoke. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just a date, and you guys were married for like 10 years.” He said nonchalantly.

Gabe blinked. “I meant about the show.” He said, giving him a weird look.

“Oh. I don’t know why you’re nervous about that part. I would be more nervous about going on a date with my ex-husband.” His son chimed in.

He groaned. “Gee, thanks for that.”

5:30pm

“Why is he picking you up so early?” Drew asked as he held onto Bella so Gabe could put medicine in the two year old’s ears. She always tended to be slightly more agreeable when her uncle was involved in her medicine-giving, but only slightly. She would have been more agreeable if Maxxie was holding her, but he’d disappeared into the furnished basement which was essentially Drew’s apartment.

Gabe shrugged. “I got a text when I was sleeping telling me he was, but apparently I was on the phone with him for five minutes when I was asleep so I probably told him to get me early.” He admitted, petting Bella’s hair to keep her from squirming too much. “I probably figured I needed a chaperone.”

His son rolled his eyes as Gabe scooped Bella out of his arms once he got the medication in her ears. “I don’t want to be your guys’ chaperone.” He practically whined out.

There was a knock on the front door, and suddenly Maxxie was standing on the stairs that led from the living room to Drew’s lair. His hair was done up in rollers, which elicited a giggle from Bella. “Your date is here!” Maxxie announced excitedly before flapping his hands in Gabe’s direction. “Go put the baby down-”

“Not a baby, Maxxie Mouse.” Bella complained.

“Of course you’re not, baby.” Maxxie soothed before turning his attention back to Gabe. “Go. He needs to see the effect of you coming down the stairs in those pants.”

He rolled his eyes, but still did as he was told. As he set Bella down in her bed, he could hear Maxxie open the front door. “You have a party.” Bella snuggled into her bed, Scully already on the bed with her, a protective paw on Bella’s leg. “You sleep here? Or you sleep there?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Gabe admitted, thinking more about how parties tended to go with his friends, not so much about how things could go with Johnny. “But Grey is gonna spend the night here, and Kid and Abby are going to look after you both. You’re gonna be good for Abby, right?”

Bella nodded. “The best.” She promised before pointing at her cheek demandingly. “Kiss, now.”

Laughing, he pressed a kiss to her cheek before passing over her LeapPad and stepping into the hallway. He ran a hand over his slacks, making sure they were wrinkle-free and dog hair free. Unable to stall any longer, he walked down the stairs, pausing midway at the sight of Johnny standing in the living room with Maxxie and Drew. He wasn’t sure who looked more uncomfortable: Johnny or Drew.

Seeing Johnny in a suit would always make his heart skip a beat. Now he knew why Juliet was so damn determined to get him in light blue; she wanted him to match her father’s eyes. “I feel like we’re fucking going to prom.”

Johnny’s hands were stuffed into his pockets and when he looked at Gabe, really looked at him, Gabe found that he needed to hold onto the handrail for support. “You look better than going to prom.” His ex-husband murmured out, looking uncomfortable, like he didn’t know what to say or what to do in this given situation and then… “How are you feeling? You always used to get so nervous.”

A smile slid onto his features, all previous thoughts immediately dismissed. Years later and the other man still knew him better than anyone else in the world. “I still do.” He looked down at his feet, once again feeling like a teenage girl about to go to Prom with the Quarterback. Hearing Maxxie clear his throat was what prompted him to continue down the stairs and to his date. “I’m feeling a lot calmer now.”

7:00pm

They’re sitting in the car outside of the gallery, and it’s taking everything in Gabe to not run away. This was probably the most nervous he’d been for a show in a very long time. When he first got out of prison, he’d opened every emotion he’d ever felt for other people to see, but lately he hadn’t been as raw, as open, as intimate with his art as he was in the beginning of his career. Hell, this is probably the most intimate and public he’d ever been.

“You’re terrified of what everyone’s going to think.” Johnny told him, staring out at the gallery, instead of looking over at Gabe. “What’s so different about this one?”

He ran a hand over his mouth as he thought about an answer that wouldn’t ruin the truth of what Johnny was about to walk into. When it came to his shows, Gabe liked to generally keep Johnny in the dark. His reactions to Gabe’s work was always one of the rare times where his features weren’t schooled, when his emotions showed all over his face. Those were his favorite reactions. “It’s more personal than usual.” He finally admitted. “My heart is spread out there on the walls. Every ounce of it.”

“You’ve gone through a lot. You used to tell me that’s what made the best pieces.” His ex laid his hand over Gabe’s and gave it a squeeze. His hand lingered over Gabe’s for a couple of extra moments, and Gabe wanted to grab his hand back when he pulled away. “I’ve wanted to ask how you are after… everything. After coming back from Russia, after everything that’s been happening with Connie, but I’m guessing I’ll get my answer in there.”

Gabe couldn’t help but to close his eyes, his hand already feeling cold. “I’m… probably less broken up than I’m supposed to be. It’s not really anything to do with Connie in there. There’s a bit about him, but he’s not exactly the focal point of my show.” He swallowed and glanced over at Johnny, chewing on his lip as he did so. “There’s stuff about you in there.”

The other man swallowed and then took a deep breath before making eye contact with Gabe. “Whatever it is, I’m not going to be upset.” He promised. “Unless it’s my ass again.”

Gabe’s laughter filled the car.

7:15pm

The nerves returned as Gabe and Johnny stepped into the gallery. These were his familiar pre-show jitters. The ideas he had in his head didn’t always translate to other people, which was the risk that came from being an artist. Opening night meant translating his mind onto a canvas of some kind. Not everyone would understand his vision, which was so fucking nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, he took Johnny’s hand and they walked into the gallery.

He’d taken over the entire gallery, something that Gabe was incredibly grateful to Nik for allowing. She said it helped her more than it helped him, but he was still grateful for her and everything she’d done for him. As soon as anyone walked through the front door, they were greeted by a white display wall. Mounted on the wall were 15 mirrors, each surrounded by iridescent painted metal, surrounding the varying sized round mirrors like a cage. A 6”x6” sign was on the far right corner: Inside the Mirror, 2019, metal on mirrored glass. Gabe watched as Johnny detached his hand from his and wandered along the path, his fingers hovering over the caged mirrors, as though he was doing his best not to touch them.

Inside the Mirror was the beginning of the little maze that Gabe had created. If the person walked to the left, they were led to a small room. One side of the room had a white wall with lights playing against it that made it look like it was snowing. The whole room actually was designed to mimic a frigid cold environment. Everything was stark white and silver. It didn’t look sterile so much as it looked as though it should be below zero.

In front of the white wall was a half-wall of blown glass onion domes, backlit by lights. It was supposed to mimic how Gabe had felt when he was walking down the streets of Saint Petersburg, alone with a toddler. A 6”x6” sign was on the far left corner: Candied Onions, 2020, glass.

It didn’t look like they were at the circus any more. Nik had shifted the lights down so the room was bathed in what Gabe would only describe as stained glass magic. It almost felt like the cold sun was shining through the glass, and not like a clown was going to jump out from around the corner any minute.

On the display wall opposite the glass wall of onion domes, there were three paintings. The first painting was mascara painted on a faded out mirror. The was a 6”x6” sign to the right of the painting: Homo/Hetero, 2019, glass.

It was a man’s muscular leg and thigh, as seen from profile. Instead of being biologically correct, where his dick should have been was a shredded Pride flag. Nerves ran up his spine as he watched Johnny study his piece, but he didn’t stay at that one for very long before moving onto the next piece.

The sign to the right of this one read: Iced Out, 2020, canvas. There were two families drawn in charcoal on canvas. One family was the outline of a father holding his daughter. Their bodies were painted out in watercolor earth tones. The father was holding the hand of another man, and this man’s outline was painted out in cool tones. The side closest to the father was a light blue that turned into an icier blue, which turned to look like ice as he got further away from the father. Next to that man was a man and woman painted to look like Matryoshka dolls.

The third painting was on what used to be someone’s oak dinner table. A hundred different wedding rings were painted out in melted chrome. Some were embedded deeply into the wood, while other ones were just barely on the surface. This one had taken months to get right. The sign for this one read: Wooden Rings, 2019. Of all the pieces in this room, this piece was the one that had Johnny’s attention. He stood in front of it for what felt like a long time, his fingers tracing over the rings. Sometimes Johnny was worse than the kids when it came to his work; he needed to be reminded to touch with his eyes. Something about seeing him with this piece though… He didn’t have the heart to tell him not to touch.

“There’s more.” Gabe murmured out, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet atmosphere he’d created. “This room leads to a bigger room, but I don’t want you to see the middle room yet. I need you to go back the other way.”

He didn’t know how to explain it, but Johnny didn’t look like he was listening to Gabe, like he was in the current moment. It was like he was hypnotized by Gabe’s work, which left him very proud. “Why?” The other man finally told him, even as he was wandering back the way they had just come. “Stop worrying.”

The room to the right was laid out similarly to the left room. Instead of onion domes, there was a wall of blue ocean waves made out of blown glass, back lit the same as the other room. The sign for this one read: Cool Blue, 2020, glass. As an opposition to the piece in the other room, this one made the person feel like they were standing in water, like it was lapping gently at your feet. This room also felt warmer than the other room had. Winter vs Summer.

Seeing Johnny standing in the middle of this room made his stomach do little flip flops. The lighting brought out the blue in his eyes just right, which almost took Gabe’s breath away. God, that man was gorgeous.

On the opposite wall, there were three paintings, same as the other room. The first painting motor oil painted on a sheet of translucent blue glass. There were strong thighs, like the other room, but this was painted as a front view. This time, however, the space where the dick should have been was blank. It was an optical illusion making it appear as though the viewer was giving head. Seeing Johnny stand in front of it, gave Gabe a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It just looked… weird seeing him standing like that in front of his own legs. The small sign next to it read: Masculine Vulnerability, 2018, glass.

Thankfully Johnny didn’t stand in front of it for very long before moving onto the next painting. If Gabe was totally honest, this painting was probably his favorite of all the paintings he had on display. The plaque for this one read: Ocean Dreams, 2019, canvas. For once one of his paintings was actually on a traditional canvas. It was layer after layer of blue and white paint, giving an ocean effect. In the beginning he hadn’t actually known what he was doing, but when he realized what effect the layers of paint had, he kept going. It turned out quite good, if you were to ask him. Johnny’s fingers hovered over it, like he wanted to touch, but he behaved himself this time.

The third painting was done on an old wooden glass window with four panes. He’d acquired it last year during one of his wandering through antique shop adventures, but he’d been hanging onto it for months, not sure what to do with it. A few weeks ago it had hit him, and he’d worked on it feverishly until it turned into what his mind had wanted. In each pane was hand drawn burned out divorce papers. He’d painted carefully onto the backside of the glass so that if someone touched the front, the paint wouldn’t smear or flake. The sign for this one read: Burning Regret, 2020, glass.

Johnny stood in front of this one for a very long time, and when the meaning behind this piece, behind the show hit him, it was like watching a light bulb go off over the other man’s head. “I…” He watched his ex-husband swallow. “What’s next?”

It took Gabe a stupidly long moment to realize that they were holding hands again. When had that happened? The only place left to go was the room in the middle - to the piece that Gabe had been working on in the morning. To be fair, there were three pieces in there, but Gabe was only really worried about one of them. “You can’t touch the piece in there.” He reminded Johnny, knowing the other man too well. “You’ll know the one I’m talking about when you see it.” He whispered out. “I didn’t do a weight test on it yet. Eventually it’s going to be interactive, but I wanted it to be ready for this show. There’s a lot of starch, and glue, and magic holding it up.” He gave his ex’s hand a squeeze. “You go in first.”

The first piece in the room was his latest piece in the Mythology of Muse series, Hades & Persephone. It was glass painted into wood. Like all of the pieces in this series, the subjects were seen from behind, and they weren’t wearing any clothing. This time it was two men, seen only from behind from the waist up. They’re holding hands, but their hands are burnt. One man was made to look like fire and ash while the other man was made to look like water with water lilies. The men balance each other out: fire and water, seemingly very different but necessary to the other to stay in check. Their bodies are tilted away from each other, but their heads are bent towards each other.

Johnny stood in front of this piece for a very long time, and Gabe couldn’t help but to find himself wondering if Johnny understood what he was trying to say. As much as he loved his ex-husband, the man could be incredibly dense when Gabe’s art was about him. He never seemed to understand why Gabe found him so fascinating and why he was constantly a feature in his art. He hoped this time, he’d get it. Gabe thought it was pretty clear what the painting signified, but he was also the person who made it, so what did he know?

The next piece in the room was a last minute addition. This was the piece he’d been obsessed with and made in the last week. He’d had inspiration after a conversation with Johnny and hadn’t been able to get the imagery they’d created during that conversation out of his head. It had been a couple of weeks ago, and Gabe had broken a mug. They’d stood in the kitchen of a house they’d designed together, but now belonged to Johnny. Blood had been pouring freely from Gabe’s hand while Johnny had stood between his legs, a cloth in hand as he tried to stop the bleeding.

The sheer imagery of that moment, nothing longer than a few minutes, had bounced around Gabe’s head for days before he finally figured out a way to bring it to life. It had been his obsession this whole week. This was the piece Gabe had been the most nervous about. Every ounce of who he was and what he wanted to tell Johnny was poured out into this piece.

It was an art installation piece, and there was a small stand with the plaque displaying the name: String of Fate, 2020, sculpture. It was a sculpture of two hands made out of glass, and it looked as though they were balancing on nothing but red string.

One hand was made out of white glass and the other hand was made of black glass. The black hand was holding the white hand, forming imagery of yin and yang. It went along with his theme of two things balancing each other out. The white hand had a cut in the middle and red string poured out of it like blood. The string wrapped around both hands and the string twisted around and around in circles forming a stand that held the two hands up. The metal rods he’d been weaving into the string that morning seemed to be holding all right, which sent a wave of relief over him.

Unlike his other pieces, Johnny barely looked at this one before he was turning away from it. For a moment Gabe was terrified that the other man hated it, but then he saw his face. His face was flushed and tears were on his face. Before Gabe could process what was happening, Johnny’s hands were on his face and he was kissing him.

It was like coming home after a long time. The nerves were melting away. They still had a ton of shit to talk about and work through, but all that mattered in the given moment was that Johnny was kissing him.

When Johnny pulled away, all Gabe could think to do was wipe the wetness away from his ex-husband’s face as the other man gently cupped Gabe’s jaw. “This is my love letter to you.” Gabe managed out when he was able to say words again. “I take it that you like it?”

Johnny laughed. “Yes, I love it.” And his lips were on his again. “I love it.” He repeated, his hands moving to straighten Gabe’s shirt. “And everyone else will, too, but not as much as I do.”

And that was all Gabe needed to hear for the stupid smile to slid onto his features. That was the only critic that Gabe ever cared about anyway.

“There’s another piece.” He murmured out, glancing back at Through the Looking Glass, an interactive piece that guests needed to literally walk through to get to the party in the other part of the gallery.

His ex nodded, and tugged Gabe against him. Suddenly Gabe forgot what they were talking about.

9:30pm

The party was in full swing, and Gabe had long since been separated from Johnny. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t know where the other man was; he’d been able to catch his eyes from across the room all night. No, now came Gabe’s least favorite part, where he was being passed around from person to person. Weirdly enough, it reminded him of prison - that feeling of too many people in too small of a space.

“Gabriel,” The art critic from the Times brought Gabe back into the present. “There seems to be an ongoing theme of duality in your pieces this evening. Is there a reason why you chose to call this show Reflections?”

He took a sip of champagne, if only to buy himself some additional time to think of his response. Why did these guys always assume that he had some sort of hidden meaning and philosophy behind his work? Thankfully over the years, he’d mostly gotten good at throwing random shit out there that the reporters tended to buy.

“The duality theme is in reference to me and my exploration of who I am and what I wanted out of life. In general, every piece is a study of my own self-reflection. The past two and a half years have been about me figuring out who I am, what I want, and where my heart lies. Sure, there are mirrors. I’ve always enjoyed using mirrors as a canvas, but really all of this is a reflection of who I’ve become as a person.” And Jesus fuck. He needed to stop drinking soon. He always waxed poetic when he was buzzed and drunk.

The art critic ate up Gabe’s words and Gabe glanced around to see where Johnny had wandered off to. However, the next question had Gabe’s head whipping back to the critic. “Your break-up with D.A. Michaels was pretty public. Divorce tends to be messy when both parties are in the limelight. The political world and the art world are two very different scenes, but it was a pretty public breakup by New York standards nonetheless.”

Gabe didn’t know where the reporter was going with this, but he found himself finishing his drink and nodding anyway. “Yes, but we handled it maturely.” If anyone called one party losing himself in bottles and going to Hawaii with his legal secretary while the other got very very high at an artist’s retreat and then burning pictures from said Hawaii trip mature.

“I can see that.” The reporter said slowly, and Gabe just knew he was going to hate the next words out of the other man’s mouth. “Does your ex-husband usually come to all your shows? Or only when they’re about him?”

And suddenly Gabe wished he hadn’t finished his drink. What was it that Johnny had said when Juliet found him and Johnny kissing near String of Fate earlier and wanted to know what that made them? “I won’t be answering any questions about Jay- D.A. Michaels at this time.”

10:15pm

“OLD MAN!” Drew crashed into him, his brown hair smacking Gabe in the face. His arms looped around his neck, and Maxxie was staggering right behind him. Yep, someone had definitely been dipping into the free booze. Connie trailed behind them, which was a shock. Usually she wanted nothing to do with him and his art, but maybe she was sober and playing nice. Or maybe Drew had asked her to come because he knew how much it would mean to Gabe for both his children to be at his opening night.

“There you are!” Drew announced. “I can’t believe you made all that stuff!” He leaned into him, and Gabe just laughed and gave his son a hug. “It’s so shiny!”

“I think someone should be cutting you off soon.” He said with a laugh before turning his attention over to his daughter. To be fair, he wasn’t sure what his daughter was going to think about this show. “What did you think of the show?”

Connie shrugged and he realized now just how uncomfortable she looked. “You being good at art had never been your problem. You prioritizing your relationships and your art over us and mom was your problem.” She snapped out.

Her words made Gabe’s stomach turn, and he took a gulp of his fresh glass of champagne, watching as Maxxie and Drew wandered off. Being left alone with his daughter wasn’t exactly comfortable.

“Are you really getting back together with him?” And Gabe must have made a face because his daughter rolled her eyes. “You’re not a subtle person. Besides, I saw you guys holding hands earlier. You have a weird thing about holding hands. What was it that you told me once? It’s one of the most intimate things two people can do?”

Gabe found himself blushing, but he didn’t break eye contact with his daughter. “It’s like someone pressed pause on an old cassette tape. It’s a little warped, but it still picks up where it left off.” He told her, his gaze searching across the room to find Johnny again. “Excuse me. You should probably keep an eye on your brother anyway.”

10:30pm

His back was pressed against one of the walls in the gallery, the light from the ocean room the only light. All he knew was that it was dark enough in the room that no one would find them, unless they were really looking for them. There were lips on his neck, a leg wedged between his, and a hand on his hip. For his part, he had one arm wrapped around Johnny’s neck and the other one on his ass.

“Think anyone will notice if we run away?” And at this point he’d had too many glasses of champagne and just wanted to be away from all the people.

His ex was saying something, but Gabe wasn’t paying that much attention since he was kissing him, pulling back only to say one word before kissing him again. He was in sensory overload. All he could smell was Johnny, all he could feel was Johnny, and all he could taste was Johnny. In the back of his mind, he found himself wondering if he could taste the half a pack of cigarettes he’d smoked prior to Johnny picking him up.

“Come home.” And Johnny wasn’t kissing him any more, but they were sharing the same air. They were so close that all Gabe needed to do was tilt his head up just right to kiss him again. The other man’s words caught Gabe off-guard. Home. That was such a foreign concept to him at this point. It was strange to think that after these years, Johnny still thought of the house as theirs. “Just for tonight, just so I can keep kissing you. Say yes and I’ll stop dragging you away from your party.”

Maybe it was the emotions of the day, or maybe it was the alcohol, but Gabe couldn’t imagine giving him any other answer than the word that poured easily out of his lips. “Okay.” And his mouth was on his again. “Okay.”

11:05pm

“Seriously?” Juliet groaned as she got a good look at Gabe who’d slipped out of the back part of the gallery before Johnny did. “What are you guys? Teenagers?” She wasn’t faring any better than Drew and Maxxie in terms of dipping into the free booze and her shoes were long since abandoned somewhere. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

Her hands straightened out Gabe’s shirt. “I really don’t want to know what you guys were doing in there.” She murmured out before trying to tuck the tail of Gabe’s shirt back in. “But you have a hickey on your neck.”

“I do not.” He said with a half laugh, twisting his head to see if he could see what she was talking about. There was a small flash of purple, and he groaned. “Okay, I do. I’m going to kill him.”

Juliet laughed. “It’s good to see you happy, Papa Bear.” She said, hugging him tightly. “Both of you.”

He sighed. “Jules, we still have a lot to work through.” He tried to tell her, but his step-daughter just laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll check on your dogs tomorrow.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” He called after her as she moved through the crowd of people for another drink. “And I’m already paying people to do that!”

1:38am

Stumbling into the bedroom, he toed his shoes off and dropped his jacket on the floor before flopping face-first, ass-up onto the bed. Johnny had taken Felony outside, and between the booze and his weird-ass pre-show sleep schedule, he was fucking exhausted. Blindly he reached out for Johnny’s pillow and buried his face into the fabric, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent. He was halfway asleep when the bed dipped and there were hands on his hips.

“Take your pants off before you fall asleep, Briel.” He was being manhandled onto his back, and if it was anyone else, Gabe probably would have fought them on it, but it was Johnny and he trusted him. Johnny straddled his legs and unbuttoned his pants for him as Gabe laid there, watching him. “Really? You’re not going to help me at all?”

Gabe shook his head, sliding his hands to Johnny’s ass and pulling him down on top of him. “Uh uh.” He said, hugging his ex to him, nuzzling at his neck. “Shouldn’t have drank so much. Wasted a good opportunity.” He slid his hands under the back of Johnny’s shirt to pull him closer to him.

“This isn’t the last time you’re sleeping here.” Johnny said with a laugh before freezing and pulling back to look at Gabe. “It isn’t, right?”

Gabe rolled them over so he was straddling Johnny’s stomach. “Not even close to the last time.” He murmured out before kissing him.

They were both too buzzed for it to lead anywhere else, but if there was one thing Gabe had always liked, it was kissing Johnny.

4:45am

“Briel.” The bed dipped and Felony yelped from where she had been curled up next to Gabe’s hip as he slept. She jumped off the bed at the intrusion and wandered out of the room.

“The rabbits have escaped the compound, babe. I need to find them.” He mumbled out, trying to stay asleep. “I can’t go to school yet.”

Laughing, Johnny pushed him into a sitting position, despite Gabe’s groans of protest. “Wake up.” He slid behind Gabe, leaning against the headboard and pulling Gabe against his chest. Kissing the side of Gabe’s jaw, he smacked his thigh with a newspaper. “I have today’s Times.”

Now Gabe was awake. “I don’t want to read it.” He whined out, burying his face against Johnny’s chest. “I don’t want to know what he thinks of the show. He hated it. I’m sure he hated it.”

Ignoring him, Johnny flipped through the paper until he found the section he was looking for, and then pulled Arts and Design out so both he and Gabe could see the article. “It’s tradition.” He said, which was why he had a paper copy and not a digital copy. “Now shush and let me read to you.”

Unable to look at the page himself, he closed his eyes and let Johnny read the article to him. “The Duality of Reflection: GRT Gallery reopens with the hottest show in town.” Johnny nudged him. “That doesn’t sound bad so far.”

Gabe groaned, and opened his eyes. “Keep reading.” He whined out.

“There’s a sense of quiet upon walking into the GRT Gallery. The gallery has been sectioned off into four main rooms, which is Gabriel James’ style - transporting the viewer into the dreamscape that is his mind. The lighting is low lit, forcing calm over anyone who enters the gallery.

“The first room is nothing but a white wall with a series of mirrors mounted onto it. The mirrors set the stage for the other rooms in the show. It’s at this point where the guest gets to choose their own path. If they venture off to the left, they find themselves in a Russian themed room. Despite the harsh white lighting in the room, James’ signature style is more than evident in each piece, including his habit of sprinkling vulgarity and crudeness into his pieces.”

“Ugh.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Ever since the penis tree, suddenly my style is vulgar.” He whined out.

Johnny laughed, the sound and motion making Gabe’s body vibrate. “Briel, you have a painting in this show that make it look like people are rounding third.” He pointed out, and Gabe didn’t have to turn around to know that the other man was smirking at him. “Anyway, where was I?”

“I have a vulgar style.” Gabe prompted, settling back against his ex again.

There was a kiss pressed against his shoulder before the reading continued. “According to James,” there was a nudge at his side as though to point out that the critic was now quoting him. “‘I was in a strange state of mind after moving back home from an extended stay in Russia. There was something cold about living there, and I’m not just talking about the snow.’”

Johnny laughed. “How drunk were you when they finally found you?” He asked, the paper shaking in his hands.

Gabe flipped him off. “Do I need to take over reading or are you going to do it?” He asked, half-turning his head to look at Johnny.

“If the guest goes to the right, they find themselves in a blue-themed room. Everything is soft and cast in shades of light blue. In spite of the soft colors, it’s very obvious that this room represents masculinity. The pieces in this room all have a theme, the jewel of this room being the overly textured Ocean Dreams.”

The sound that escaped Gabe’s mouth wasn’t entirely human. “Overly textured???? It’s just the right amount of fucking texture.” He hissed out, but Johnny ignored him and kept on reading.

“The pieces in the main room are the reasons for coming to see Reflections. ‘The middle room is the equivalent to my soul.’ James said in explanation to why the most striking pieces are the ones tucked away in the middle of the show. ‘These pieces are the most personal pieces I’ve ever created. As much as I overshare when it comes to my personal life, I like to keep some emotions bottled up and hidden. I finally came to a point in my life where I realized how stupid that was. I’m not ashamed of how I feel, and I need to share my feelings with the world.’”

Johnny stopped reading for a moment, and Gabe turned his head up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Keep reading.” He breathed out. “I need to know what he thinks of the other pieces.”

“The latest installation in the Mythology of Muse series is by far James’ best work in the series. The only other piece in the series that features a portrayal of James himself is Apollo & Artemis. James has said in interviews before that he doesn’t like including himself in his art so when he does, the pieces carry a deeper meaning than the ones without him in it. There’s a sense of awe that comes from seeing an artist included in their art - especially an artist like Gabriel James.”

Gabe closed his eyes, not wanting to see the paper any more. “I don’t want to know what he thinks about String of Fate. You liked it; that’s enough. I don’t need to know.” He said, almost nonsensically.

Another kiss on his shoulder. “Yes, you do.” Johnny said before straightening the paper out again. “If you need one reason to see Reflections, go only to see String of Fate. Though all the pieces in Reflections are well-thought out and beautiful in their own right, String of Fate is James’ masterpiece. When art historians talk about James in the future, String of Fate will be the piece most associated with James. This will be the piece art students study.”

He couldn’t breathe. His eyes were open again, and somehow Gabe’s hands were clinging to Johnny’s arms. When had he even grabbed his arms?

“Reflections will be on display through the end of March at the GRT Gallery. Can’t make it before April? Don’t worry. String of Fate and Hades & Persephone will be on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art where Gabriel James will be the artist in residence throughout the summer season.”

Johnny hit Gabriel with the paper. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be at the MET this summer!” He accused.

Shaking his head, Gabe turned his head to look at Johnny. “I didn’t know.” He breathed out, looking at him in complete surprise. “Pants!” He scrambled out of the bed. “Where are my pants at?”

“The hamper.” His ex told him, before flushing as he realized what a married thing that had been to do. Gabe didn’t live there any more, but it seemed like Johnny had forgotten when he’d tossed both their pants in there. The simple gesture shouldn’t have made a grin appear on Gabe’s features, but it did none-the-less. “But I put your phone and wallet on the dresser where you usually, uh, used to put it.”

With shaking hands, Gabe unlocked his phone and scrolled through his texts, looking for the one from his agent, Sully. It felt like the air had been punched out of him as he read the text out loud. “Congratulations, G! We’ve gotten more than a dozen offers on your pieces, and a few museums that would like to purchase the rights to Ocean Dreams and Iced Out for both display purposes and to print reprints for sale. We also received a generous offer from the MET for Artist in Residence. I know how you feel about the MET and your relationship with them so I told them yes, pending a contract review. I know you’re probably celebrating so I’ll call you on Monday. Congrats, again!”

He set the phone back down on the dresser and in a daze walked back over to the bed. “I… they… I…” Once again he was experiencing sensory overload. Not knowing how to form words, he instead crawled onto Johnny’s lap, straddling his thighs. Only knowing one way to express the sheer amount of emotions that were washing over him right now, he pressed his lips against Johnny’s, kissing him as hard as he could until he couldn’t breathe any more. Then he buried his face into the crook of his neck as he struggled to catch his breath. And was he crying? Fuck, he was crying.

“I told you they were going to love it.” His ex-husband soothed, his hands trailing gently up and down Gabe’s back. “Not as much as I did, but I told you they were going to love it.”

He nodded against the other man’s neck, still unable to talk. Maybe it was the sheer amount of emotions put into the show, or from the stress of reading the review, or the lack of normal sleep he’d gotten over the past couple of days, but within minutes he was asleep, still clinging to his ex-husband like he was the only thing keeping him anchored to the world. And maybe in this current moment in time, he was.

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iamartemisday · 7 years

Text

Jane Foster Week Day Two

A/N: Loosely based on this post.

.02 Associated Quote

Science never solves a problem without creating ten more. -George Bernard Shaw

Bucky would never forget the first time he met Jane Foster.

It was sometime after their climactic battle against Thanos for the fate of the universe. The mad titan was dead. Bucky had a new arm and full control of his mind. Him and Steve were picking up the pieces of their friendship/romance/whatever you called random fucking these days. All in all, things were okay.

They had a place on Long Island and went upstate every few weeks to the main Avengers base. Steve and Tony had worked out their issues and were back to their kind of sort of best friend relationship. Tony hadn't quite forgiven Bucky yet, but he'd stopped trying to shoot him when he walked in the room, so that was progress.

Bucky was at the base eating lunch one day when Steve walked in He had a woman with him, one Bucky had never seen before. "Hey Buck, I'd like you to meet Jane. Jane, this is Bucky."

"Nice to meet you," she said, shaking his hand. She had a nice smile.

"Likewise," Bucky said. He went back to his peanut butter sandwich while Steve and Jane sat beside him at the bar top.

"She was just telling me about the time SHIELD confiscated her equipment," Steve said before turning back to Jane. "Did you really drive all the way out into the desert to get it back?"

"Thor needed a ride, and I needed my stuff back,," said Jane. "I didn't know for sure then that he could do it, but it was that or sit on my ass and mope."

'Can't do that,' Bucky thought. He wasn't invested in their conversation, but they were fun to listen to.

"No, I completely understand. I would've done the same thing," said Steve. "That urban legend about me and the grenade? Not a legend."

Jane laughed. "Reminds me of when I tried shielding Thor with my body in the middle of a fight."

Bucky stopped chewing.

"You tried to shield Thor?"

"Twice."

Bucky's head turned slowly towards her.

"No offense, Jane, but I don't think ten of you working together could do that."

"None taken, but in my defense it was a life or death situation. I try to do whatever I can to help save the day, be it making some funky new device or trying to defend super powered aliens. Probably why I punched Loki that one time."

The sandwich fell out of Bucky's hands.

"You punched Loki… I knew I liked you for a reason. Anyway, how's your bridge coming along?"

"We're getting started on a new prototype. Since that incident with the last one, we overhauled the fire safety regulations. Right now, we're looking at a ninety seven percent chance at successful transport. I figure if we can reach one hundred percent and I get myself as far as Asgard, we'll be in business."

"Wait, you're not using a test subject?"

"Why bother? It's my bridge. If anyone's gets first ride, it's going to be… is he okay?"

Bucky was decidedly not okay. His mouth hung open and his eyes bugged out. The sad remains of his sandwich lay forgotten on the floor, and though Steve called his name, Bucky was not in a place to answer. He could hardly hear Steve at all as he sunk deep into his thoughts.

** James Buchanan Barnes Inner Mind Theatre

"It is time to commence my greatest scientific experiment yet!" Jane shouted as she put on a helmet and strapped herself down on a massive rocket.

A faceless man in a lab coat lit the fuse, then ran for cover. The rocket shot out through a hole in the ceiling, Jane riding it like a horse and cackling with glee.

"FOR SCIENCE!" she screamed, soaring higher and higher in the sky. The rocket reached the sun and exploded on impact. Millions of pieces rained down upon the earth. All that remained of Jane Foster was some hair and a scrap of singed plaid.

** "Buck? Bucky?" Steve snapped his fingers in Bucky's face. "You in there?"

Bucky returned to reality with a bang. Literally. That was the sound his chair made when he threw it at the wall getting up. He lunged at Jane, pulling her so close their noses touched. "You must be protected at all costs."

Jane blinked. Steve blinked. Bucky did not blink.

"Uh…" Jane said. "Okay?"

After that fateful day, the majority of Bucky and Steve's free time was spent in Jane's lab. By the third day, she'd gotten over her befuddlement and accepted them into the fold as unpaid, super strong assistants. They moved heavy equipment, made midnight convenience/liquor store runs, and got a crash course in welding when it came time to solder the frame into place.

At night, or whenever Jane's eyes started to droop, they'd ease her away from her station and carry her to bed. She'd offer token resistance, but always gave in and buried her head into the neck of whoever got to hold her that day. It was a peaceful routine for the three of them. Jane got her work done faster, Bucky ensured she didn't blow herself to kingdom come, and Steve got a few nights a week in bed as long as Jane and Bucky's self imposed tasks were completed in a timely manner.

On one such night, which should have been date night at home watching badly dubbed kung fu movies and eating pizza, Steve was in the kitchen getting their drinks while Bucky put the movie on. He was all wrapped up in his favorite fuzzy blanket, so comfortable he didn't think he'd move for the next week. Then his phone chimed with a new text message.

'Hey there! Having a big breakthrough. Think the bridge might be ready for a test run! -Jane'

"Okay," Steve said, as he walked in with two fruity beverages. "Got those mango strawberry smoothies with whipped cream for my best guy!"

Bucky threw the blanket away. It smacked into Steve, spilling the drinks all over him. "We have to go. Jane needs us."

"But-"

"MOVE!"

They were out the door in seconds, Steve fumbling with his jacket as Bucky half dragged him to the car. He threw him in the passenger seat and tore out of the driveway. Steve managed to right himself and buckle in three blocks away from Jane's lab. He glared at Bucky. "Tonight was supposed to be our night, you know."

"Now it's our night and Jane's. Deal with it."

"If you love her so much, you should marry her."

"Not me, we."

"Wait, what?"

They arrived to find the lab intact and Jane exactly where they left her that morning. She had a Chinese takeout carton in her lap and typed one-handed while she ate. On the screen was the same code she'd been working on. The bridge prototype was untouched and unactivated.

"Hey guys," she said. "What are you doing here? I thought tonight was date night."

"So did I," Steve grumbled.

"I got your text. Did anything happen?" Bucky did a full sweep of the lab, searching for fires, leaking chemicals, or rips in the space time continuum. "Did you turn on the bridge?"

Jane swallowed a bite of lo mein. "I ordered dinner first. Physical engineering is hungry work. I've got more if you want some."

Bucky's stomach chose that moment to whine. He took a seat and rolled another chair at Steve. Jane had overshot how much food she'd need, leaving just enough for the three of them. Bucky gobbled down his fried shrimp while Steve stole an entire plate of dim sum. They ate, chatted, laughed, and joked around. Eventually, Steve relaxed and stopped passive aggressively ribbing Bucky about date night. It wouldn't have been the same without Jane anyway. One of these days, Bucky would tell her that. Unless Steve beat him to the punch.

"So I think I'll be ready for the test run tomorrow," Jane said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's going to be amazing, though success is only ninety five percent certain this time."

Bucky forgot momentarily that he was supposed to be curbing her reckless behavior and got lost in how adorable she was when she was happy. Or nervous. Or happy and nervous at the same time. "That's great, Jane. And I'm sure whatever inanimate you send to Asgard will have a great trip!"

"Smooth Barnes," Steve hissed in his ear. Bucky elbowed him in the gut.

"Yeah, I still haven't convinced the legal team to let me go," Jane groused, crossing her arms. "As if they get to tell me what I do with my bridge."

"Well, they're the ones responsible for damage control if something goes wrong," said Steve.

"Nothing will go wrong if they'd just let me do it my way," Jane said. "Instead, I have to add all these superfluous safety features that aren't even really safe. I'd be at one hundred percent if it wasn't for this so-called virus protection they installed. That thing is buggier than a swamp."

"So delete it."

"I've tried. The encryptions are a mile long," Jane harrumphed. "Stupid bureaucracy. This is why I was independent for so long."

"I thought it was because they were stupid and didn't believe you," said Bucky.

"True," Jane conceded, "but they're eating their words now. And they'll eat them even more if I can get rid of this virus blocker."

She dropped the empty lo mein carton in the garbage. With both hands free, she typed at lightning speed. Bucky had never seen hands move so quickly. He tried to follow them, but his temples throbbed. He took to watching the screen instead. Line after line of letters and numbers in a sequence which made sense only to Jane. Bucky shared a look with Steve, but the punk just shrugged and shook his head.

"Are you sure you shouldn't just leave it?" Bucky asked as Jane deleted everything she'd written in frustration and started again. "Maybe it really would help?"

Alarms went off around the room as the screen took on a life of it's own. It spat out numbers at a rate of a hundred per second, too fast even for Jane.

"Yes," she said, the color draining from her face. "I am extremely sure."

"What's going on?" Steve got out of his chair as the gate prototype began to oscillate.

Jane screamed. "HIT THE DECK!"

The explosion shook the foundation of the building, which was single floor and made from titanium alloy exactly for this reason. They'd all have to send thank you notes to Tony later. In the meantime, Bucky covered Jane with his body, while Steve shielded the both of them with a metal table. The gate opened part of the way and blew an unearthly wind at them, pushing them backwards. Random bits of unused wires and computer modules flew over their heads. Bucky would have bumps and bruises later. Steve already had a cut on his cheek and lord knows how Jane was fairing.

The chaos ceased after ten long seconds. The gate's door mechanism rebooted and went back online, bringing about an end to the storm which in turn shut off the alarm system. The lab returned to relative silence as the trio picked themselves off the ground and assessed the damage.

Jane's bridge was in perfect condition. Everything else was not.

"I guess we won't be doing that demonstration tomorrow," Jane said, picking up the snarled remains of her favorite computer with shaking hands.

Steve put an arm around her. Bucky did the same. Sandwiched between them, she allowed her muscles to relax and her knees to buckle. They held her steady. Bucky kissed the crown of her head and rubbed her back. "Steve, what do you say we have a nice long talk with those legal guys tomorrow?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth," said Steve. "For now, how about you come home with us, Jane? We can watch kung fu movies."

He was so earnest, puppy dog eyes fully armed and loaded. Bucky himself would've fallen for it. Compared to that, Jane never stood a chance. She dried her eyes and left her ruined tech on the battered table. They stepped outside, arm in arm, to find an army of police cars and firetrucks waiting for them.

Two hours of paperwork and interrogation later, during which Bucky scared three different officers into wetting themselves, the three of them finally made it home. They cuddled up on the couch, Jane wrapped securely in the fuzzy blanket between them. Sipping mango strawberry smoothies, they watched Bruce Lee beat up thirty guys at a time and let their troubles roll by.

Bucky had read once that sometimes, science caused more problems than it solved. He kissed Steve and Jane as they were lulled off to the sleep, and knew this was not one of those times.

#Jane Foster #janefosterweek #janefosterweek2017 #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #BuckyxJanexSteve

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suallenparker · 7 years

Text

Philinda Fanfic: Behind the Scenes, Chapter 10

RATING: T

SPOILER: This is set in a Universe where Phil quit his Tony Stark babysitting duties after the first gig and returned to active field work. So, basically their backstories stay the same until after the first Iron Man Movie.

SUMMARY: After her former partner Phil Coulson almost got killed in action, the traumatized SHIELD agent Melinda May returns to duty. She and Phil go undercover as contestants of the celebrated TV show “Forever Love” to catch a stalker and to trip a traitor.

NOTES: See Chapter 1. Life’s still crazy, unfortunately. But today was a good writing day so there’s finally a new chapter! I hope you enjoy. :)

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o0o

Chapter 10: Resolution in which they stay in character a bit longer.

So she had two more reasons to kick Garrett’s ass. Melinda tried to look upset and confused instead of pissed as all the women gathered around in the big hall. Three cameras where set in front of them, two behind them.

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked and rubbed Melinda’s arm.

Melinda took a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

An hour ago that dickface had arrested Rebecca and everything after had been a bit of chaos. Of course the cocktail party had to be interrupted. - Not ended. Just interrupted. They would start rolling again any minute now.

They still had a rose ceremony to film.

So they all stood here, in their pretty dresses with their pretty make up and pretty shoes, waiting for some news. - And waiting for Eric to ask them to stay.

“I saw how they brought Rebecca out with cuffs,” Anisa said. Her voice was shaky. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Melinda pulled up her shoulders. This was one of the new reasons she wanted to kick Garrett’s ass.

At least Garrett had been smart enough to bust Rebecca with them on set, if things should’ve gone south.

Unfortunately Rebecca went without a fight. Melinda was really in the mood for a little fight. Or just a chase. Anything that would grant her the opportunity to hit Garrett by accident.

“Did Eric say anything?” Audrey asked. “He was with you, right?”

Melinda shook her head. “We were both just so shocked!“

Phil had been just as surprised as she had been. How could Garrett blindside them like that? He might not have ways to communicate with her but if Phil kept to their arrangements, he called that jerk every other day for updates on the world outside the show, just like she did with Hill.

“Does anybody know why they arrested Rebecca?” Anisa asked. “What could she’ve done that would be so horrible?”

Melinda shrugged again. Until Hill would call this mission complete, her mission was to stay in character. And Diane was clueless. “They just arrested her. It all happened so fast!”

In a corner across from them, Peter patted Phil’s arm. Phil looked convincingly worried and confused. Those two emotions were always much more in his wheelhouse than in hers. Hand powdered Peter’s face. Maggie and Javier stood next to them. Javier had his arms crossed while Maggie said something to Peter and Phil that Melinda couldn’t understand.

Next, Peter walked up in front of the women and opened his arms. For the first time, he wasn’t smiling his charming smile. “Today was a hard hit for our hit show.”

“Peter, please just read the script.” Maggie said from the sidelines.

Peter turned his head. “Excuse me for trying to add flair.”

They both looked at each other until he broke under her gaze and turned back to the camera.

“Ladies,” he said and brought his hands together in that power triangle. “Today was a long day but please know, you’re safe. The police is handling everything and so we’re free to continue the journey to love.” He turned to the side again and extended his arm. “Eric?”

As Phil stepped into the frame, Peter stepped a little to the side.

Phil took a breath and smiled at all of them. “Life is crazy sometimes and I’m glad I have all of you with me to go through this experience. You’ve all been fantastic!”

Eric moved back in, “But now you have to decide who will stay by your side and who will leave tonight. Eric, who will get the first rose?” With those words, Peter took a red rose off a little tray, held by a kneeling camera assistant off camera.

Phil took the rose and looked at every one of the eight women left.

“Diane.” His gaze stopped at her and Melinda pressed her nails into the palms of her hand. Damn her knees for getting shaky. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t him! But oh, that look in his eyes and that soft smile on his lips …

He cleared his throat. “I’m so sorry our little date tonight got interrupted. I feel so connected to you and I think, given the chance, we could be something great. So please, will you accept this rose?”

“Of course.”

o0o

Half past midnight they had finally wrapped up filming for the day and Phil could call Garrett from the privacy of his room.

Phil clenched his fist while the phone rang for a sixth time. And a seventh. And an eighth.

What the hell took Garrett so long?

Finally, after the twelfth ring, Garrett answered the phone, “Hey, buddy.”

“What the hell was that?”

“Would I’ve known that you’d be smooching May, I would’ve given you another minute to enjoy.”

Phil closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Soon enough they would arrest Garrett. Soon enough that bastard would root behind bars forever.

“Why did you blindside us?” he asked as calmly as he could.

“There was just no time to tell you, I swear. Just this morning I got a lead that Rebecca had been in a relationship Anisa Patel. The personal trainer. Things ended badly.”

“I know who she is.” They went snorkeling just yesterday. She had told him about her nieces and they had bonded about their dislike for Thai Chi. It was just way too slow of a sport. The only time he enjoyed it was when he was watching Melinda going through the moves. Phil swallowed. “Who gave you the lead?”

“I went far back down Anisa’s Facebook today and checked every photo for familiar faces. And there they were. Holding hands November two years ago.”

“That’s a long time to hold a grudge.”

“Hacked myself into the database of her timeline and she obviously deleted a lot of pictures. I checked out Rebecca’s social media too, and I found a picture of her and Anisa from last fall. They’re carving a pumpkin together, looking all smily and in love. - Just like you and May did today.”

He hated that Garrett still spoke to him like a friend might. That bastard. But they would deal with that later. For now Phil had to keep up the facade. So he focused on the obvious. “That’s still very slim. Anything else?”

“We’re interrogating Rebecca right now. So far she’s just denying everything. Hill is getting pissed.”

“Maybe because you arrested someone based on two photos and a hunch.”

“Told you I had to act fast.”

Nope. Not buying into that.

“Come on, I just know in my gut that she’s responsible. And as soon as we got her confession, we’re all free of that mission. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I want to get the right person so the people on this show and behind it are safe.”

“Will you ever tell May?”

“Tell her what?”

“How you feel about her.”

“She already knows that she’s my favorite partner.”

“Only because she’s way prettier than me.”

Phil forced himself to chuckle at that. “Sounds about right.”

o0o

Phil dried his hair with a towel when he heard a knock on the door to his room. It was half past seven in the morning and Maggie had promised they wouldn’t start shooting before nine today, so what could she possibly want now? Sighing, he dropped the towel to the bathroom floor.

“Coming,” he said as he walked out of the bathroom. He grabbed a pair of jeans from the side chair and slipped into them, before he opened the door.

“Oh,” Anisa said. For a moment, she stared at his chest, her hand half lifted towards the scar the bullet had left him with, before she swallowed hard and looked into his eyes. “I’m so sorry to disturb you so early, but I needed to talk to you.”

Rebecca.

“Good morning, Anisa,” he said, ignoring the camera man, the sound lady and Javier who stood behind her. What other chance did he have? Until Hill confirmed that Rebecca was indeed the person they were after, the show was still going on. “Would you like to come in?”

Anisa nodded sternly and pulled her shoulders up. She and the film crew followed him inside. Javier closed the door while Phil kept focus on Anisa.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. Eric asked.

“I wanted you to hear this from me,” she said and pulled in a breath. “Rebecca and I were dating once. For a year. We broke up February last year and … “ She looked at him with tears dwelling in her eyes. “I thought we were friends after. But if she did anything to hurt you because of me … I’m so sorry, Eric.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“Maybe I should’ve told someone when I met her on set but we …”

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“I know that feeling.” He rubbed her arms. “You can’t take responsibility for somebody else’s action. Even if they’re your friends. Ok?”

She smiled and threw herself into a hug. “Thank you so much for saying that.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Thank you for telling me.”

Javier held up a thumb and gave a big smile. “Perfect!” he mouthed.

Then someone else knocked.

“This is getting crowded,” Anisa said as she pulled away from him.

He laughed. She was such a sweet and funny person! She definitely deserved better than this. He squeezed her hand.

It knocked again.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he said.

Anisa and the film crew stepped out of his way.

Phil opened the door.

“Cut,” Maggie said.

Phil frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

Maggie held up a piece of paper. “You got a letter from …” She glanced at the film crew and Rebecca. “your doctor.”

Yeah, no. His doctor wouldn’t contact him through Maggie.

Anisa gasped. “Are you alright?” She placed her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just a reminder for a check up,” Maggie said.

Looked like he was here to stay. Because he would bet his right arm that Maggie was holding a new threat against the show. And him.

o0o

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MORE NOTES: Thank you for sticking with this and still reading! As always, i can’t wait to hear your thoughts! :D

#philinda #philinda fanfiction #melinda may #phil coulson #agents of shield #philinda au

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 7 years

Text

Vital Signs, pt10

Vital Signs Masterlist

Word Count: 2055 Tags: @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 and @outside-the-government, @jimfromsales, @donnaintx, @enterprisewriting

“Lady, there’s a guy in a towel running after us. Should I stop?” The cabbie asked me. I swung around to look out the window, and sure enough, there was Steve, barreling after us. I hoped he wouldn’t catch up. Not something you would need to hope for with any other man.

“No. Please just go.” I reached into my purse for a tissue and wiped my eyes. I mentally beat myself up for the entire drive to the helipad. What had I been thinking, kissing him like that? What would he be thinking of me? I felt as though I had touched a torch to a pyre with our friendship strapped to the top of it. We finally arrived and I paid the cabbie before checking in with the pilot.

“You are early, ma’am. Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” He asked. I nodded and accepted the cup. He turned back to his computer, printed a page and looked back to me.

“Looks like you are the only passenger on my manifest and we are cleared to depart if you want to get going now,” he offered. I leapt at the chance. If Steve was willing to run down the street wearing nothing but a towel, who was to say he wouldn’t try to follow me all the way to the helipad? I strapped myself in and waited for the pilot to get clearance. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket but ignored it. I was sure it was Steve and I had just stopped crying. I didn’t exactly want to have to explain why I was bawling to the pilot if I started again. We left New York behind moments later, and popped through the clouds into a beautiful clear morning sky.

“If you look out the window on your right, you can see the helicarrier in the distance,” the pilot pointed out to the horizon. “We’ll be about 45 minutes.” My phone vibrated in my pocket again. I was suddenly grateful that I wasn’t allowed to use it while we were in the air. By the time we landed on the helicarrier deck, I’d counted 16 messages based on the vibrations against my leg. I shook the pilot’s hand and checked in on the deck before heading to the infirmary. I signed in to change my location and collected my duty package from the staff files. My room assignment and key were in it. And since I had the rest of the day to acclimate, I headed to my bunk without another thought.

Once I was in my room, I checked my phone. I was up to 33 unanswered texts and 4 phone calls. I sat on my bunk and took a deep breath. I didn’t want to be a coward, and I knew I was going to have to face it eventually. And with a significant amount of air space between us, I figured I may as well face up to him sooner rather than later. I scrolled to the start of the texts and read through them quickly. He was obviously more worried than angry based on the tone of the messages. I dialed into my voice mail.

“Lex, I’m sure you realize this is Steve. I suspect that’s why you didn’t answer. We have to talk about what happened. I know you don’t want to, but we do. Call me back.” I deleted it, and moved on to the next message.

“Okay, you don’t seem to be viewing your text messages either. Are you okay?” He hadn’t left messages with the other two calls, but my call display showed it was him. While I stared at my phone, trying to figure out what to say, his picture popped up on the screen and it started ringing. I answered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer sooner. I was on the helicopter to the carrier.” I didn’t say hello.

“You’re there now?” He asked.

“Yeah, just settling into my bunk.”

“In your haste to get away from me, you left your slippers and sling,” he sounded hurt.

“I wasn’t trying to get away from you, Steve.”

“Really? Because shoving me away and then disappearing in a cab made me feel you were.” He was definitely hurt.

“I’m sorry.” I was barely keeping my voice from breaking.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I don’t know what else to say.”

“We need to sit down and talk about this.”

“I agree. But you are still in the city.”

“If you hadn’t run away, maybe we could have sorted this out.”

“I’m sorry.” The tears started falling again.

“Please stop apologizing. We can’t just leave things like this.”

“What else can we do, Steve? I’m going to be here for at least six months. You are being called away on assignments now. When are we going to get a chance to talk this out?”

“You said I was your best friend, so hear me out. What happened this morning doesn’t change any of that. It just happened. It’s my fault anyhow, I should be the one apologizing.”

“It’s not-“

“It is. I was giving you a hard time, I knew exactly what was going to happen, and I let it happen anyhow. It wasn’t fair to you. Now, I’ve spent most of my life thinking I was a pretty decent man, and I would like to think that hasn’t changed. We have to talk about this, but you’re right, we can’t do it over the phone. So here’s what I propose. Let’s forget about it for now, and we’ll stick with our original plan, where we email and talk and stay friends. The next time we can see each other in person, we’ll have a conversation about what happened and figure things out,” he was almost pleading. I sniffled and my voice caught in my throat.

“I just-“

“Don’t cry when I can’t be there to catch the tears, Lex,” he sounded pained.

“We’re truly okay?” I asked.

“Of course we are. Just… Don’t ever run away like that again.”

“I promise.”

“I’ve already lost one girl I care about, Lex. I won’t have it happen again,” he said. I blinked away the tears and nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. It was painful, not even close the usual companionable silences we shared.

“I’ll send you an email when I’m more settled,” I finally said. He sighed.

“You’re my best friend too, Lex. Good night.” He hung up. I indulged in a good self-pitying cry and then took a nap. I awoke to pounding on my door and my name being called by a familiar voice. I pulled open the door to Jack.

“Good, you’re back. We need to get you back in shape.” He handed me a training schedule and walked away.

I was flat on my back on the gym mats by 0600 the next morning.

“You weren’t even gone three months. How do you already suck so badly?” Jackson pulled me to my feet. I winced at the pain in my shoulder. It was healed enough that it didn’t hurt during regular activity. It hurt like hell when I landed on it or tried to throw people with it.

“It was a trade off.” I rubbed the scar, hoping the ache would go away. It didn’t.

“Did you do anything remotely physical while you were on the ground?” He asked. I nodded and reset my stance.

“Yeah, I ran 5k twice a day.”

“We’ll do an endurance test this afternoon then. See where you’re at. I’ve been in touch with Romanoff. She’s going to help you with your hand-to-hand again. It should be on your schedule. She’s on and off the boat a lot, so on days when she’s not around, you’ll be stuck with me, but I figure even a couple days a month with her will improve you.” He threw a punch at me, and I blocked it and swept his foot out from under him. He still somehow managed to pull me down and pin me.

“Don’t forget that I have an infirmary to run.”

“Fury wants all SHIELD employees to be able to pass field competency testing.” He got up and tossed a towel at me. I wiped my face and scowled. I understood the motivation, but honestly. After going from the triumph of finishing med school with distinction, returning to being the most inept and defenseless loser on the helicarrier was almost too much. I headed to the locker room and was peeling off my sweaty work out wear when I thought I heard Steve. Shaking my head, I continued into the showers. I was obviously not going to get over the embarrassment of kissing him easily, if I was hearing his voice in my head.

When I walked back out into the gym, I stopped dead in my tracks. It had been Steve. He was standing on the mats talking to Jackson. When he saw me, he smiled.

“I was looking for you.” He walked toward me and swept me up in a huge hug.

“I thought we were going to email.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Fury tracked me down last night and told me to be here today.”

“Fury wanted us to talk this out?” I was puzzled and mortified. It’s not like I was in high school. Steve laughed.

“No, something about project that went badly, and a facility got blown up. He wants us to look into it.” He drew me away from Jack and toward the door.

“Us?” We walked out into the hall and toward my bunk.

“Stark, myself, a Dr. Banner, Agent Romanoff.”

“Ah.” I stopped at the door, hesitant.

“But right now is about us talking.” He looked over my shoulder at the door to my bunk expectantly.

“Right.” I opened the door and we both entered. He sat on the bed. I leaned against my desk, not quite comfortable enough to sit beside him.

“I owe you an apology, Alexandra. I was out of line yesterday. I’d been feeling at loose ends and after we’d talked about how different dating is now, I just. I don’t know. I guess my curiosity got the better of me, and I needed to know.”

“Needed to know what?”

“If men and women can balance friendship without this modern attitude about sex getting in the way.”

“So you pushed to see if I would what? Jump you? You’re right, you do owe me an apology.” I was angry. I was not a science experiment. Steve jumped up.

“No, that’s now how I meant it. Lex, you’ve been so honest with me, and so helpful. I don’t feel like I’m in the wrong place when I’m with you. But everything is so different now; I thought we must just be friends. But in being honest with me, you’ve said a few times that you find me attractive. And I just thought, you know, if I’m ever going to join this century, you’re the woman I’d want to spend time with.” He sounded unsure of himself. It wasn’t something I was used to.

“I don’t understand.” I furrowed my brow.

“Wow. Uh, this is a lot more uncomfortable than I thought it would be.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I laughed awkwardly.

“You know, I’m more a man of action than a man of words,” he laughed, and then pulled me into his arms. I leaned into his embrace, finally reassured that I hadn’t blown our friendship. He pulled back and looked down at me. And kissed me again. So thoroughly that I thought my toes would curl.

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of what else to say.

“I have nothing to offer you. I have no idea how I’m ever going to really fit in to this world. I don’t know how much we’ll see each other, I don’t know how we could ever make whatever the hell it is that we are work. But I don’t feel out of place with you.”

“Oh.” My mind was spinning, “so what you’re saying is-“ He interrupted by kissing me again. And then he proved that he really wasn’t the most naïve, innocent man-child in the world.

#avengers fanfic #Steve Rogers x OFC

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wildlingknight · 7 years

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Wayward - Chapter 2

Accidentally deleted this when playing with links and stuff so this is a re-upload.

Zelda had lost her voice. This man, whom she had been thinking about that very morning, whom she had hoped one day she might track down, without expecting much success for he had appeared, saved two entire kingdoms and then vanished back to the nowhere from whence he came, whose expression grew steadily more concerned the longer she stared at him, how had he found her?

“Your Highness?” Link raised his voice a little more, perhaps thinking she hadn’t quite heard him over the gale and downpour still going strong. Zelda’s gaze moved from his face down to the hand he was still holding out to her.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine.” She took his hand and allowed him to pull her up, only to catch her as she fell against him, hissing as she put weight on her bad ankle.

“You’re hurt?”

“My ankle, I fell and landed badly.”

“Can you walk?”

“I...I don’t know. It’s very painful.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t then. D’you think you can get on Epona? I’ll lead you back.” Back where? She looked over to the tall mare, taller than her own by a few hands, whichever leg she used to mount her, she was going to have to transfer all of her weight to the other, it wasn’t going to work without causing her a lot of pain.

“No, she’s too tall.” Link nodded his head once, as though expecting her answer. He seemed to do some quick thinking and then moved himself around her while still offering her his support. He clasped their left hands together with hers on top, and crossed his right arm around her back, hand resting just above her waist where her ribs ended.

“Is this alright? It isn’t too far a walk, we’ll just have to move slower.” She nodded her head, leaning into him as she tried to take a step, he supported her as she moved her weight onto her bad ankle and stumbled, grasping his hand tight and gritting her teeth against the pain shooting up her leg. He lead her towards a small opening in the high banks surrounding the clearing that she hadn’t noticed before in her panic. The frigid wind and rain nipped at their exposed faces, and Zelda used her free hand to pull up her hood, for all the good it did her though being as sodden and soaked as the rest of her. Link glanced over his shoulder and clicked his tongue, Epona’s heavy footfalls following almost immediately after.

Moving slowly and using Link for support turned out to be tiring work. She was panting with the effort of keeping as much of her weight off her injury as possible by the time they rounded the corner, fighting through waist high grass that whipped at them in the gust, entering what looked to be a cave, which then turned out to be a tunnel cutting right through the stone of a small cliff. The through-cave acted as a wind tunnel, their cloaks pressing against their backs as they staggered against the force, and tried to keep their footing on the uneven stone.

They emerged on the other side and Zelda looked up from the ground where she had been watching her steps. There was a spring here. The surface of the water, usually so placid and inviting as springs ought to be, was hazy with the pelting of the rain. She felt Link subtly push her on and realised she had stopped to stare. Tightening her hold on his hand again, she allowed him to half support, half carry her over the softened earth where the dirt met the sand of the spring. She tried to map out where she must be, and the only spring surrounded by woodland that she knew of was in Faron. Had she really come that far south? Did Link live in Faron Woods? From what she had heard and read, Faron wasn’t a particularly hospitable place, with wild, dense woodland and many creatures wandering the deep heart of the Wood. Her recent experience there seemed to support this theory. But that was where Link seemed to be leading her, and that hut she had stumbled upon, as rundown as it had appeared, had been built there for a reason, she was sure.

They slipped and trudged through yet more woodland. Link seemed to know where he was going, so Zelda put her trust in him as they slogged through the muddy forest floor, her skirts hitting them both in the legs as they were blown about them. Zelda desperately hoped that wherever Link was taking her, it had a hot bath she could sink into and wash away the horrors of the day. The rain seemed to lash down with a whole new intensity and the sound of it hitting something wooden reached her ears, she squinted up ahead to see what was coming. A wooden rope bridge lay before them, spanning a chasm she had no hope of seeing the bottom of. The bridge swayed and creaked, and she pulled up short, squeezing Link’s hand subconsciously. He squeezed back reassuringly, urging her across as the wind howled and threatened to blow their hoods down.

“It’s alright.” She heard Link call over the storm, “It’ll hold us, just take your time.” Zelda wanted to spend as little of her time on that bridge as possible. Allowing Link to walk her onto the boards, slick with the torrents of rain and moss, Zelda held her breath, trying her hardest to keep her eyes on her feet. The bridge swayed and jumped in the gale, and she prayed to every deity she knew that she would make it across. Epona’s loud footfalls behind them did nothing to prevent her disquiet, despite knowing the faithful mount wouldn’t have entered onto the bridge if there was even a chance it was unsafe.

Zelda exhaled slowly as the ground under her feet turned from wood to dirt. Link led them to the side of the road, closed in by high stone walls and maneuvered her to lean against the rock. “I need to close the gate.” She turned to watch him and he pat Epona’s flank as she passed him, closing the left gate and struggling to push the other one as the wind fought against him. When he managed to lock the gates behind them, he came back to her and took up his position again. As they walked, an opening in the rock wall caught her eye and she turned her head to see another spring. She didn’t even know there was a spring this far south, and made a mental note to ask Link about it later if she got the chance. His arm tightened around her back as she slipped slightly and she returned her eyes to the path and her feet.

The path opened up briefly into a small clearing and she could see that it continued on the other side. The wind swirled around the small round space, buffeting and battering them as they crossed. As they entered the path on the other side, they had a small respite from the wind but the rain lashed down harder than ever as the tree canopies over head shrunk away, revealing another small clearing after a short walk. This time, on the other side of the clearing, a path lined with wooden fences sloped down and curved away out of sight. And on the left there a stood a tall, great tree. Zelda barely spared it a glance, assuming the path was their destination whilst simultaneously wondering how much farther they had to go, but looked up and stared when Link steered them towards the tree, and saw the ladder and door built into the enormous trunk. Link stopped at the base of the ladder.

“D’you think you can climb up?” Zelda had to tear her eyes away from what was discernibly a roof built into the trunk, and looked over Link’s face, he clearly hadn’t thought about this obstacle when he’d decided to bring her here. She turned her gaze to the ladder, it was more than twice her height, and with her barely being able to carry her own weight, she doubted her ability to climb it. Link seemed to sense her answer before she spoke it. “I can carry you up, if you’ll allow it.” Zelda thought she heard the ‘I think’ in his tone, but with the rain lashing and wind howling, she nodded her head.

Link let go of her waist, keeping hold of her left hand in his to keep her steady, he crouched down and Zelda’s heart leapt into her throat as she felt his other hand lift her skirts to put his arm through her legs, wrapping it around her right leg at the same time as he pulled her over his shoulders with his left hand. She found herself lying across his shoulders and grabbed on tight to his tunic and cloak as he stood slowly. She had seen this lift performed before by the men in her army, being trained to carry their brothers away from danger if they were to become wounded in battle, but she never thought she would be the one to be carried. Link’s right arm fit snugly in the crook of her knee, and his right hand grabbed a hold of her right arm in order to keep her secure around his shoulders. He stepped forward onto the bottom rung, and used his one free hand to haul them slowly up the ladder. She could feel and hear the effort it took, the way his body would tense and strain, and the way he held his breath as he pulled their combined weights up, and took a quick exhale and inhale in the time he grabbed for the next rung. Zelda’s heart skipped every time he did this, trying her hardest to put her trust in him and not imagine the fall should he miss.

By the time they reached the top, Link was panting and he staggered slightly on the raised wooden porch, causing Zelda to gasp and tighten her hold on him. Using his free hand, Link fished around in the pouch on his belt, coming up with a small ring of keys, letting go of her arm to find the right one, before unlocking the door and turning sideways to get them both through the frame. He didn’t put her down right away, instead crossing the dark room, his boots thumping on the wooden floor and floorboards creaking as he pulled a chair out from under a small table and dragged it around. He crouched again and let her down, holding onto her as he stood and helping lower her into the chair.

“Are you alri-” They jumped as the door blew shut in the wind, bouncing against the frame and cutting off the dim light from the doorway. “I need to secure Epona.” Zelda nodded and watched as he strode toward the door, battling it open and disappearing back down the ladder. She shivered now that she was out of the wind and rain, looking around the room but seeing very little in the grey light from outside. She sincerely hoped Nylah was safe. She had been so frightened, she hadn’t even been able to see where the mare had run. Had she come into the woods? Her blood ran cold at the thought of her beautiful mare falling to the blunted blades of Bokoblins. Hearing the sound of Link’s return, she saw him through the open door as it swung on its hinges, he had Epona’s saddlebags slung over his shoulder and he disappeared from view, walking left on the porch. Zelda only had a second to wonder what he was up to when another loud bang from above made her jump out of her skin. The already dim light dimmed further as what looked to be a trapdoor in the ceiling had been closed.

Then Link was back. He threw the saddlebags down on the floor just inside and turned to shut and bolt the door. The darkness became complete, and Zelda heard him catching his breath. She could hear the faint sound of water droplets hitting wood now that most of the sound from outside had been blocked out and wondered if perhaps there was a leak somewhere. She shivered again and started as Link’s footsteps indicated he was on the move. She felt him come fairly close to her, stopping just in front of her and to the right, she could hear him shifting around, then the distinctive sound of flint being struck. Small sparks caught her attention, but didn’t last long enough to provider her with any sort of visual clarity, until they caught on whatever kindling Link was attempting to burn. A warm, orange light grew from a circle in the pale, curved, protruding wall to her right.

Link took a step in her direction and halted as though unsure of himself. “Could you... uhm, there’s some firewood…” He gestured to her right and Zelda looked down beside her chair. A small pile of wood, cut into foot long wedges, sat stacked up neatly beside what she now knew to be an earthen fireplace. She reached down and picked up a log, handing it over to Link, who took it from her with a small smile and threw it through the hole, holding his hand out for another one, and then another one. “That should be enough, thanks.” Zelda nodded, wrapping her arms around herself and trying not to let her teeth chatter so loudly that her rescuer could hear them. The fire's warmth hadn’t spread out of the hearth yet, and she was soaked through to her skin.

He seemed to realise, as he turned from her suddenly, crossing the room and stopping at a wooden bench, moving the buckets and a spare saddle onto the floor so he could lift the lid and rummage around inside of it. Zelda’s eyes wandered now that her eyes had grown accustomed to the firelight and took in what she assumed to be Link’s home.

The walls were pale and earthy tones, made from stone and wooden planks, with wood support struts joining the rounded space that looked to be made from the tree it was built into. The tree seemed to invade, thick branches curled around the walls and leaves still grew in places. Link had made use of them, tying ropes between the branches and support beams, crossing the space and spanning the walls where he had hung various belongings from them; clothing, obviously drying after being washed, blankets and even food; curing meats and vegetables hung out of the way of hungry rodents and critters.

To her right, past the fireplace, was a workbench with a square, metal box integrated into the surface. A sink of some kind, she assumed, although the lack of taps gave her doubts. There was another, smaller fireplace built into the base of the bench and a removeable lid in the surface above it, perhaps a sort of oven, and shelving nailed to the wall above the bench and a unit to the side held tableware and jars. Past that, there was what appeared to be an archway of sorts, with a rope tied across and a large curtain bunched to the side and tied with a rope. The firelight wasn’t directed here, so Zelda couldn’t see into this dark, shadowy corner, so moved her attention to her other side. Another ladder caught her eye, and her gaze followed it up to a small landing, also shadowed by the lack of light, and another ladder leading even higher and out of sight at the top of the dark room.

Zelda quickly looked at the fire when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Link stand up straight again and close the lid of the bench, she didn’t want him to think she was prying. He walked back toward her with some blankets piled in his arms, depositing them on the table next to her. “I can take your cloak.” His voice was so much quieter, now that he didn’t have to shout over the storm that still raged on outside the walls of Link’s quaint home. Zelda unclasped her cloak, accepting the hand that Link offered to help her stand so she could remove it, and handing it to him. He slung it over the back of another chair, and grabbed one of the blankets from the table, letting it fall open and then folding it half to thicken it up. He held it up as though asking permission, to which Zelda nodded and he threw it around her shoulders. As she pulled the slightly itchy fabric around herself, Link took her cloak and walked over to the shadowy area she couldn’t see. He came back a few moments later, minus his own cloak, and from the sound of his lighter footsteps, without his boots too.

Zelda watched him grab two cups from a shelf and pad over to a barrel near what she thought to be his sink, he removed the lid and dipped the cups inside, before moving over to her and offering her a cup. She accepted the cup of water, uttering a soft “Thank you” and he nodded once before taking a sip from his own.

“Would you like some tea?” The thought of a warm drink was welcome.

“Yes please, if it’s not too much trouble.” Link shook his head and placed his cup down on the table beside her, then he moved over to the shelves, picking up a thick, quilted cloth and removing the pot that had been hanging from a pole and chain inside his fireplace. He used a jug to collect and pour some water into it and replaced it back onto the chain in order to warm. He then pulled a jar down from his shelf and a little ball on a small, tarnished silver chain. The ball had tiny, pin-sized holes all over the lower half, and Zelda saw that it had been made from a Deku Nut. She watched in fascination, as Link pulled the little ball apart and dipped his hand into the jar, pulling out what she recognised as Deku tea leaves. He put two pinches of the tea leaves into the ball and pushed it closed again, putting the jar back and checking on the water, which was still a little ways away from boiling.

“If you don’t mind, Your Highne-”

“Zelda. Please.” Link dipped his head.

“If you don’t mind, I can get you some dry clothes, but they will be some of mine, I hope that’s ok.” His eyes were averted to the side, showing signs of feeling awkward and embarrassed.

“That would be greatly appreciated, Link. Thank you. I hate to impose on you and your home, you’ve been so kind.” He shook his head again, choosing not to speak, and she could have sworn she saw his cheeks color slightly before he turned away. She watched as he crossed the room, heading for the ladder and climbing up it with practised speed and ease. Once on the first landing, he lit a lantern and she could see him looking around on a shelving unit, covered by a sheet of fabric. He returned minutes later, climbing one handed down the ladder again as his other arm held some items of clothing. Instead of adding them to the pile of blankets he had brought over earlier though, he crossed to the shadowy space. Lighting a lantern there as well, he placed the clothing down on a small wooden stool and loosened a small rope keeping the curtain to the side. He then came and picked up the other chair at the table, taking it into the now covered area. He returned to help her walk across the room, moving the curtain aside for her and helping sit her down on the chair so she could keep the weight off of her damaged ankle. He dipped his head to her and left her to change.

From where she sat, Zelda looked around this space she had been unable to see before. It was much the same as the rest of Link’s house, but to her left there was a wooden banister, hers and Link’s cloaks thrown over it to dry, blocking off a large, square hole in the ground. She could see the top of another ladder and wondered vaguely what lay down there. The wind and rain sounded louder now that she was away from the cheerily crackling fire, and she could feel a cold draft coming up from the hole. The curtain to her right was in the vein of the tapestries hanging on the walls of her castle, rich dark coloured threads woven together in patterns, and it hung half a foot off the ground, making her feel exposed even though she could hear Link moving around on the other side of the house.

She turned her attention to the clothing sitting next to her. Link had brought the stool closer to her so she didn’t have to get up. Looking down at her dirty and ripped skirts, she sighed, it was safe to say that this dress had been ruined. Gently taking off her left boot, she sucked in a breath at the sight of her swollen and bruised ankle, and removed her other boot. She pulled at the lacing at the front of her dress, pulling it open and down her arms, before pushing it down to her waist. She lifted herself carefully with one hand gripping the edge of the chair, and pushed the dress down over her hips, lowering herself back down and pushing it down her legs, kicking it away with her good leg.

She sat shivering in her white cotton shift, which was also damp. She would have to remove it, she would catch a cold if she wore it any longer, and she doubted very much Link would have anything else for her to wear under the clothes he had lent her. Feeling self conscious, despite the fact that Link could not see her, she slowly peeled the cotton away from her, slipping out of it the same way she had escaped her dress. Covering her chest with one arm, she leant to the side and picked up the first item from the stool, allowing it to unfold as she picked it up to identify it. It was a shirt, an off-white linen, soft and comfortable feeling, a pull over, with lacing to close and a high collar, practical for someone such as Link no doubt.

Zelda lay it over her legs and she found the bottom and quickly pulled it over her head, slipping her arms into the sleeves, finding that they tapered slightly towards her wrists, probably so that arm guards could be worn over them without an excess of material to get in the way. The shirt was longer than she had first expected and guessed that if she were to stand, it would fall to the tops of her thighs. The hem at the bottom was rounded, with small slits at the sides where the back met the front. Looking down her front, the lacing left her quite exposed, so she pulled it closed right to the top, tying it in a neat bow.

Looking next to the trousers she had been given, Zelda felt the thick fabric they were made from, designed to be warm and hard-wearing. Possibly some kind of wool, woven in such a way to be strong and durable and dyed an inoffensive grey. She slipped them up her legs, again lifting herself so as to pull them over her hips, and tying the lacing at the front. The trousers also tapered towards her ankles so as to fit easily into boots, again, practicality clearly at the forefront of Link’s clothing choices. She pulled the tie from the end of her braid and ran her fingers through her damp hair, untangling it to allow it to dry. Giving herself as best a once over as she could, and determining that she was decent, she cleared her throat. “Link?” There was a long pause, then his bare feet could be seen as he stopped on the other side of the curtain.

“I’m here.”

“I’m dressed.” He opened the curtain cautiously, and she smiled at him, holding her arms out to her sides slightly as though asking his opinion. He nodded his head once, smiling back and moving over to help her stand. Zelda noticed, as he walked towards her, that he had changed too, a similar outfit to hers, except it looked more worn, and lived-in. The trousers were weather beaten, the colour faded in places, and the lacing on his shirt was broken, leaving it loose and open. Zelda had to tear her eyes away from his chest as he bent, to help bare some of her weight as she stood. He walked her back over to the chair she had sat in before, only he had turned it toward the table and left the blanket draped over the back for her to wrap herself in, and he placed a mug in front of her. While she had been changing, it appeared the water had boiled, and he had a copper kettle sitting in his sink. He used the quilted cloth to fetch the pot from the fire and used another cloth to tip the boiling water into the kettle, spilling a small amount into the sink. Then, bringing the kettle to the table, he picked up the small ball he had filled with tea leaves before, and dropped it into the kettle, leaving the chain hanging over the side. She could see now that it was right in front of her, that the chain had a little metal ball on the end, to weight it and stop it from falling into the kettle.

“Oh! It’s a strainer!” Link looked up at her bemusedly. She smiled apologetically. “I couldn’t figure out what it was.”

“Don’t you have tea at the castle?”

“Yes, but we use these little silver spoons that sit across the cup.” When his expression remained bemused, she continued, “The spoon has tiny holes in, you put the tea leaves onto the spoon and then pour hot water through it.” His expression cleared for a moment, then he frowned slightly.

“That tea would be very weak.” When she only blinked at him, he motioned to the kettle, “This will be stronger than you’re used to.” He poured the tea into her mug and she noted the dark amber colour. When he asked her if she wanted milk, he apologised for it not being cold, and that it was goat milk. She waved away his apologies, helping herself to sugar when he pointed out a small jar on the table. She blew on the surface of the tea for a moment, before carefully tilting the mug to her lips. Link had been right, it was much stronger than she was used to, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It had an earthier taste than the tea at her castle, and the goats milk tasted slightly sweeter. She realised Link had been watching her, gauging her reaction, and she took another sip while looking at him, showing she was fine. He seemed to nod slightly to himself, and proceeded to pour himself a cup, pouring only a small amount of milk into his cup and leaving it unsweetened. “Are you hungry?”

“A little.” In truth, she was starving. She had no idea what time it actually was, but she hadn’t eaten until just after dawn, and after the exhausting events of the day, that felt like a very long time ago.

“I can make some pumpkin and goat stew, I’m sorry I don’t have much else.”

“That would be fine, thank you.” She sipped her tea delicately. He set about gathering ingredients, taking covered dishes from his shelves and chopping the vegetables he retrieved from them, before disappearing behind the curtain for a few minutes. He returned with a wrapped package, which turned out to be raw meat, and Zelda figured that the hole in the floor must be a cellar. Cold enough to keep meat, and probably other foods, preserved for a few days. She watched him work, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the loose collar of his shirt falling down his shoulder. His movements were easy and practised, obviously comfortable in his home, and though Zelda had thought much of him in the past weeks, she had never thought to see him being so domestic. His house was warm and inviting, and although he was halting, shy and quiet, he was warm too.

Link fetched another pot from his cellar, a bigger one than that he had used to heat the water, and began to throw everything in, before he hung it above the fire. “It will be a while, I can get you some bread and cheese while you wait?” When she nodded her head with an embarrassed smile, he went to fetch it. He cut her a few pieces, placing them on a plate with a heel of goat cheese. “I’m sorry everything is goat. We breed them here, so it's all we know.” She shook her head to show she was not at all bothered by it, her mouth full. “We trade the meat and milk, and the wool, even the horns fetch a price. We grow pumpkins here too. It’s sort of what Ordon is known for.” His ears went red as he sat down opposite her and he became very interested in his tea, as though embarrassed he had overshared.

“Ordon is not in Hyrule, is it? I’ve seen Ordona written as the capital of Latoan on maps, but I had no idea there was a village named Ordon.” Link nodded as he swallowed a mouthful of his tea.

“Ordon is a village in Ordona, which is a province and the capital of Latoan, and Latoan is a neighbouring country to Hyrule, but is still under the rule of, well...you.”

“Because we are an empire.” Link nodded, draining his cup and getting up to check on the stew. Zelda looked down at the table top. It felt strange to realise that Link wasn’t from the same country that she had been born into, even if he was technically under her rule. But he had the long, pointed ears of a Hylian. She turned to look at him, confirming to herself that she was right. From her readings, she knew that Hylians were from Hyrule. Meaning, whether or not Link had been born in Ordon, a part of him was still from Hyrule at least. Should she ask him? Was it too personal a question to ask the origins of his birth? Would he even know?

“Why were you out in the storm?” His voice startled her from her musings, even though it was low and quiet and he turned to look at her while he stirred the stew.

“I was taking some time for myself. Since the Twilight War, I have been busy trying to heal my country. I needed a few moments to feel like a human, instead of a crown.” He didn’t say anything, just locked her with his piercing stare, and she looked away down at his table top “As someone who traversed all over a country and deep into ancient, forgotten places, and faced unimaginable horrors, putting your life at risk again and again, that must sound very selfish to you.”

“Not really.” Zelda looked back up at him again, he had turned back to the stew, but by the fire dancing in his eyes, she could see he wasn’t really looking at it. “You have to try and rebuild a kingdom. You don‘t have anyone telling you how to do it, you’re having to try and figure out how to do it on your own. At least I had Midna bossing me about, and telling me where to go, and yelling at me if I did something wrong. I’d take fighting through an old underwater temple over meetings and paperwork any day.” Zelda laughed. He smiled and glanced at her, stepping away from the fireplace and taking his seat again.

“You fought through an underwater temple?” Link nodded. “What was it like?”

“Wet.” Zelda laughed again. “I thought I’d never be dry again.” They settled into a comfortable silence, the storm still howling outside and the crackle of the fire taking the place of conversation. “So,” His voice croaked and he cleared his throat before continuing, “if you were taking a break from the castle, how did you end up in Faron Woods being chased by Bokoblins?” Zelda took a deep breath.

“Well. I was rather foolish actually. The fog rolled in and I lost my way back to the castle, and instead of turning around, I carried on. Then I was attacked on the road and my horse bolted, I fell from the saddle and decided to find shelter in the woods.”

“That was foolish.” Zelda bristled slightly and Link laughed quietly. “I’m just saying, for a Princess to go wandering around on her own in the fog, that’s pretty dangerous.”

“Yes, well, thankfully the goddesses decided to take pity on me, and they sent me a hero.” Link’s smile fell slightly as he got up to check on the stew again, grabbing some bowls from his shelf and using his cloths to remove the pot from the fire. He grabbed a ladle from a small rack above the circle in the wall and began to dish out the bubbling food. He carried the bowls to the table, going back to fetch some spoons, and settled down opposite Zelda to eat. She tucked in immediately, enjoying the hot, savoury dish, feeling the warmth flood through her as she ate. They ate in silence, an occurrence Zelda was unused to, she very rarely dined alone while at the castle and there was always some sort of conversation going on. She slowed her eating so as not to just sit and wait for Link to finish since he seemed to have taken his time with his meal unlike her. Her mind buzzed with questions she wanted to ask him, but he didn’t seem to want to engage in conversation, keeping his eyes down as he focussed on his meal. When he finally put his spoon down and leant back in his chair, Zelda leant forwards.

“What other types of temples did you visit, while rescuing Hyrule?”

Heyyy so I heard tumblr is being a shit about linking to external pages and hiding posts that do it, so if you want to read more of my stuff on either AO3 or FF.Net or if you wanna see anything else I may have written then there are links in the dots around the sheikah eye on my blog. Give ‘em a click and as always leave me something nice if you liked this :)

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