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On a list of things Annabeth Chase wanted to do, sharing a hotel room with her ex-boyfriend of seven months was at the very bottom. Especially when the entire reason she'd ended things with him had been a complete and total lie, and she was still very much not over him. But for her best friend's destination wedding, she would be doing exactly that.
She just had to get through four nights of close quarters with her extremely hot ex that she was in love with, who couldn't keep his eyes to himself if his life depended on it, all while the voices in her head (and her best friends) whispered to her that they should've never broken up in the first place. How hard could it be?
my partner doesnt understand my vision but I've been writing a running gag between otacon and snake where during the events of msg2 when undercover as pliskin, snake keeps pretending otacon is actively having an affair with pliskin and snake cannot ever find out and ik its SO incredibly stupid but I cant stop laughing at their interactions
where the butterflies die (saw one shot)
Word count: 2914
Ship: Loopholeshipping/Art Blank x William Easton
Synopsis: William makes a big mistake, and has to hope Art forgives him
AO3 Link
A/N: hope u enjoy lmao
THE SUN FILTERED THROUGH THE TREES LIKE COFFEE DRIPPING INTO THE POT. William scanned the grass, sometimes crouching when he noticed color just to find some kind of litter. The park wasn’t super packed, for once just a few people dwindling down the path or around the basketball court. The swingset’s creak cut the air.
After the wind picked up and the sun dipped below the treeline, William finally found it— a dead butterfly. He was lucky. It was a beautiful thing, pale pink and bark brown, the size of his palm. He inched it into his hand and started for his apartment.
Turning the lock, he stepped inside. It was a very small space, with a kitchenette walking in, bare with the occasional wooden knick-knack, and a living room with a TV, couch, and coffee table. His wife had taken nearly everything in the divorce, and he let her. It made him feel guilty to do otherwise. The only things that were truly his were his bugs and the bones he scavenged from the woods. He even had a pair of antlers hanging on the wall.
He let the butterfly relax before placing it on the pinning block. He worked methodically, trying not to damage the wings, thinner than paper and more fragile than a sand castle. The world blurred. Time went by with his back turned, and when he came to life, it was dark outside. He set the butterfly aside to dry.
Just as he did so, the doorbell rang. Adjusting his jacket, William opened the door just for Art to push in and kiss him, pressing him back into the apartment. Easton laughed softly as Art kicked the door shut. He draped an arm over Art’s shoulder as they kissed, until Art pressed his forehead to William’s.
“God, I’ve been waiting to do that all fucking day.”
William led him into the kitchen. “Yeah? That bad of a day?”
“Pretty much. Some sleazy asshole got hit by a cop. I have to defend the fucker. I don’t even think I’m gonna get him the money.”
William grunted. “Well, you never know, I suppose.”
They microwaved leftovers and sat on the couch together to eat. After, Art put an arm around William’s shoulders. Easton leaned into his side.
It was quiet.
“How are you still working?” Art asked.
William looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”
“I don’t understand how you’re still working. If I were put in a trap…”
“It keeps me distracted,” he said. “I just do what I can.”
Art nodded slowly, like he was digesting. William met his eyes, brown as the dirt where the butterflies die.
“You ever think we’d end up here?” Art asked.
“What,” William asked, “together?”
“Kind of. Listen, you remember that trial we did back in 2022?”
“Of course. You gave me hell.”
Art snorted. “Well, I’m bringing it up because it wasn’t the first time we’ve butted heads. I remember you. I… I know you. You’re different now.”
“Of course I’m different.” He sat up and crossed his arms, almost hugging himself. “Do you think someone wouldn’t change from something like that? People… people died, Art. Good people.”
He reached a hand out, and William let him, lacing their fingers. “I know. I know. I just mean… you’ve lost some of who you are. I know you want to change, I know you want to be a better person, I just think— shouldn’t you let some of that go?”
“Let what go? Josh? Hank? Aaron?”
He sighed. “It’s not about that. It’s not about… it’s about— you know what, never mind.”
William stared. “Never mind?”
“Yeah. Never mind.”
He looked away. “Fine.”
They sat in silence for a while. Art started to say he had to go, but William pulled him down and kissed him. Art kissed him back, pushing him against the couch. They ran their hands over each other and held each other close, and William’s heart skipped the same way it did during their first kiss. After a little while, Art pulled off.
“We can’t just make out every time we’re mad at each other.”
William fixed his hair. “Why not?”
He snickered. Straightening, he helped William sit up. He wanted to ask Art what he was trying to say, the difference between forgetting and forgetting— homophones. It wasn’t fair. How was he to know?
Art pulled him closer. “Tell me— how did you think your first relationship would go, back when you were younger?”
“My first?” He soured. “I don’t know. It obviously didn’t work out, whatever it was.”
Art was quiet. Then he said, “I always wanted a book store date.”
William imagined Art with some pretty guy sitting at a cafe within a book shop. Trading coffees to make fun of each other, reading passages and commenting on each other’s annotations. It fit him.
“That’s… interesting,” he said. “Have you ever?”
He laughed. “Me? No. In truth, I haven’t been with anyone before you.”
Easton looked at him. Suddenly, there was a crushing weight on his shoulders. His heart tightened as if there were still clamps against his sides.
“Well… I hope I’m holding up.”
They laid together a little while longer before Art truly had to go. He kissed Easton goodbye then told him, “Don’t work too hard.”
When he was gone, William laid on the couch until it was almost two in the morning. He had to go to work, so he didn’t get a lot of sleep, proven by his endless coffee-drinking in the office.
Debbie stared at him guzzling his fourth cup. “Will,” she finally said patiently, “we were talking about the trial.”
“The trial,” he took one last sip, “right.” He looked at her. “What about the trial?”
She sighed. The light reflected off her hair like the sun off of glass. Her eyes were striking, her clothes pressed. She was always put together, even now.
“I wanted to ask you a few questions, for my peace of mind.”
“Alright…” He adjusted his tie and gestured for her to go on.
Crossing her legs, she said, “Did you know any members of the jury?”
“Jesus Christ, Debbie. No, I didn’t.”
“So there were no biases in the trial?”
He swallowed. “Of course not.”
“And there were no relationships?”
He scowled. “What is this?”
Meeting his eyes, she asked flatly, “Did you and Art Blank have sexual relations?”
The lights were too bright. Coughing, he reached for his coffee, only for Debbie to drag it away from him.
“William. Just talk to me.”
“No. We did not have relations.”
She stared. William shifted his weight.
Sighing, Debbie said, “Okay. Fine. No relations.” Standing, she brushed down her skirt. “That concludes my questions. You can get back to work.”
He nodded politely. “Thank you, Debbie.”
“Uh-huh.”
With a parting glance, she left. The door snapped behind her.
He tried to focus on his work. It was sloppy, frantic. He worried how badly he fucked up, but there was no energy to check.
His panic only grew. Come lunch time, he patted his hand against his leg compulsively as he called Art. Everyone knows. I’m going to lose my job and everyone will find out and my life will be ruined.
“Babe? Hey.”
William swallowed. He looked around to make sure no one was in ear-shot, then said quietly as he patted harder, “We, uh, we need to talk.”
He was quiet. “Don’t do this.”
William’s eyes widened. How did he know? Was he truly that predictable?
“What are you doing? Why are you doing this?” A door opened and closed, and air wooshed by.
“People are going to find out! I can’t risk it, please understand—”
“No,” he snapped, “I don’t understand.”
William’s hand moved faster. His thigh was going to bruise. The wind was picking up, blowing his tie back.
“You’re going to choose the opinions of some freaks over us? Fuck you.”
The phone went dead. Clenching his fists, William brought in a slow breath. It came out shaky. He went back to work, forcing his hand to still, and got nothing done.
Walking to the park after, still in his office clothes, he sagged with exhaustion. The trees shivered.
He was able to find another butterfly— blue like lazuli. It was laying on a low tree branch, leaves grasping, wind threatening. Taking it home, he waited for it to relax. After waiting as long as he could, he worked on it only to realize halfway through that he started too soon. It was too brittle, and cracked down the middle of its left wing.
Taking the fragile thing in his fist, he slammed it into the trash. He banged his fists on the desk a few times then rested his forehead against the wood. He took in another slow breath. Let it out. In. Out. In.
Out.
He didn’t sleep that night. He stared at the ceiling, out the window. Listened to music and tried to read, researched bugs and pinning, thought about searching for bones in the dead of night. He had trouble moving.
At work, he fell asleep a couple times. He typed slowly, frustrated that he was too groggy to see. Someone knocked on the door and it made him jump.
“Will?” Debbie came in. “I wanted to speak with you.”
He sighed. “Honestly, Debbie, I—”
“Cut the crap, Will.” The door clicked shut. “Art told me.”
He sat up, eyes wide. “He what?”
She sat across from him at the desk. He had a cat skull next to a small plastic plant in a pot shaped like a kettle.
“He told me. And he also told me what a fucking moron you are.”
“Why would he come to you? I don’t understand.” His eyebrows turned downward.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. She clasped her hands in her lap, wedding ring glinting. “Maybe because he knows.”
“Knows what? That you’re the only one I talk to these days?”
She laughed. “I guess there’s no other way to phrase it.”
He shook his head. “There’s gotta be another reason.”
“Not everything is Jigsaw-complicated, Will.” She brushed her hair over her ear, revealing more of her steam burns. They curled up the side of her face, singeing some of her hairline. “Sometimes people do things because of one reason and one reason alone.”
William’s eyes drifted.
“Will,” Art said. “Come over here and look at this.”
Easton did so. “It’s a sky.”
“Well, yes, but what about the colors?” He waved his paintbrush around, flicking pink onto Easton’s cheek. “Are they… different?”
“Different? Different how?” He smeared the paint as he tried to wipe it away.
“Do they stand out? Does it look like a sky, but one you wouldn’t normally see?”
He laughed. “Why would you want that?”
Art looked up at him. There was something Easton couldn’t place. Something he liked.
He wanted Art to stare at him that way forever.
“Hey,” Art said quietly. Easton looked at him. “Don’t disappear on me, okay?”
William swallowed and opened his eyes, then nodded. “Okay… so what do you suggest I do?”
“I think you should apologize, you idiot. You know how, don’t you?”
Scowling, Willim said, “Yes, Debbie, I know how. I guess I do owe him one… Fine. I’ll do it.”
Debbie put a hand on his shoulder for a minute, before saying, “Let me know how it goes. Oh, and Will?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you dare let anyone find out about the trial.”
His heart in his stomach, he tried to finish work with a smile. He had a meeting, and the conference room had never been more suffocating. The heater made his scars burn. His coworkers stared, clearly noticing he wasn’t himself as they mumbled to each other.
After work, he drove to Art’s. The house was small, made of wood and stone. He walked up the cobble steps and used the vintage knocker. It hurt his knuckles.
The door swung open. “Hello— William.” He raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted… I wanted to…”
“Uh-huh.”
He grimaced. Why was this so hard? “I just wanted to say, about yesterday, I… I didn’t mean it. I mean— I just— I don’t know.”
Say it. Say it. Say you’re sorry. Just say you’re sorry.
Art stared at him for a while, waiting for more that didn’t come. Then he said, “Don’t care,” and shut the door.
William clenched his fists. There was a time Art would do anything for William— but that time was over.
He called out of work the next day. And the next. And the next. He didn’t know what else to do but sleep. His life was falling apart. Even the rain couldn’t convey his melancholy.
“I always wanted a book store date.”
William startled as he sat up in bed. It wasn’t much… but it was something. Maybe if he showed Art he cared, he paid attention, it would be different. It would work.
He got online and researched the best book stores in the area. He found one with near perfect reviews, a fancy expensive shop with plenty of places to read, get coffee and snacks, even VIP rooms. There was one built like a dark forest, perfect for Art.
He knew he needed to get paid first, so as excruciating as it was, he waited. He let Art have his space on the way.
He walked into work on payday with confidence in his step. Usually, Umbrella triggered panic attacks and flashbacks, but not today.
It wasn’t until his boss called him into her office that he faltered.
“You just haven’t been reaching your numbers,” she said. “It would be different if you were on schedule, or even coming in at all, but you’ve called in five times the past two weeks.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, William.”
His hands were shaking— none of that was his fault. “This is about the trap,” he accused. “That’s illegal, you can’t—”
“Sweetie. Do you really want to talk to me about illegal?”
He felt sick when he walked out. His things in a crate, his little cat skull rattled against the teapot plant. He set it in his trunk, and didn’t pull it out when he got into the car.
The phone rang a few times. “Debbie,” she said.
“Hey.” He swallowed. “You hear from Art?”
“Not since he blew up at you. You okay, by the way?”
He was quiet. Then, “I had a surprise for him.”
“Oh, yeah?” She asked excitedly.
“It didn’t work out.”
He explained what happened, and she made a noise.
“Will… I’m so sorry. But I’m sure he’ll—”
“No, Debbie. I think I fucked it up.”
Her annoyance was apparent through the phone. “Why do you give up so easily, Will? I’d smack you if I was there.”
He laughed a little. “Well, you’re not. What do you mean, I give up too easily?”
“You really think Art would fall out of love with you over something like this?.”
“I wouldn’t blame him,” William mumbled.
“Will. This isn’t going to break you.”
William sat on that for a while. He finally decided to give it one last shot.
He arrived at Art’s office empty-handed. Art stared at him, his brown eyes wide. “William?”
“Hi.”
He cleared his throat. The entire office looked in their direction. Coming closer, he said softly, “I… wanted to do this differently.”
“Everyone get out.” Art waved his hand, and people rushed out of the room. When it was just the two of them, he asked, “Differently, do what differently?”
“I’m sorry.” William looked down. “I know the trial is over. I think I’m just… paranoid, after the game. I wanted to make it up to you— I had a whole plan. We were going to a really interesting bookstore downtown and…”
Art came over. He watched William for a moment, hands in his pockets. He seemed almost curious. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against his mouth.
“I just don’t want you to be afraid to be with me.”
He kissed Art, for just a moment, with Art’s hands running up and down his sides. A lurching wave crashed through him head to toe, memories of all the times he touched Art flickering like firelight. He pulled away and told Art he’d let him get back to work, only for Art to pull him in one more time.
That night, he went looking for butterflies. There was a moth laid flat against a boulder. He took it home, waited for it to relax. Laid it out. Pinned it. His hands were steady, tediously placing and positioning. He almost broke a wing, before he froze and gently pulled his hand back. It fell back into place, unharmed.
After he put it to dry, and found his pink and brown butterfly. He pulled it out and took down his frame. Seeing it on the wall made William grin.
It fit in yet stood out, like gold in the night sky. There was a life to these butterflies. Something beautiful preserved in his shitty apartment. He couldn’t help but wonder, when he molded into the dirt, would there be anyone to hang him up? To admire him? He had a history of ruining things.
He thought maybe, for once, history would be on his side.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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same drill as the cole one, i asked @fantillisdaylight for a player, and this is what became of it. decided this one hurt too good not to share with the masses.
~
nico and his little childhood girlfriend that start dating at 15, thinking it’s them against the world.
the girlfriend who moves away to canada at 16, promises of forever exchanged amidst the careful kisses they press to each other’s lips.
nico joining her in canada, and for a year, it’s perfect. they’re reunited, and filled with we laugh belief that they may actually make it. they made it when she was in canada, snd he in switzerland, so what can truly part them, if not an ocean?
the nico gets drafted, and still, reality hasn’t hit. “we made it with over 3000 miles between us, 800 is nothing.”
he goes to the show the very next season, headed to new jersey bright eyed and full of hope- hope for a long-lasting relationship, as well as a long-lasting career.
very quickly, nico is swept up in the nhl chaos. the media is more chaotic than ever, swarming through latest number one draft pick, eager to see how he’d perform against the very best.
and somewhere along the way, those 800 miles begin to feel like 3000 again. and suddenly there’s an ocean between them again. and suddenly, it’s like nico isn’t even living in the same stratosphere.
“you haven’t called in weeks nico! i’m lucky to even get a goodnight text. what’s happened to us?”
and nico absorbs the question, searching for answer within himself. “what did happen to us?” he asks himself.
and truthfully, he knew. it was a mixture of things, truly, but there was a primary cause: himself. he brought these problems upon them, and he knew it.
“i’m- “ “nico don’t apologize. i know you. i know how you’re mind works. it’s- it’s not your fault. i just think- i swore we were going to make it. but i think- i think we might’ve been wrong.”
and his heart breaks, but he knows it’s the truth. “‘m sorry,” he croaks out, the breaking of his heart audible, even with some 800 odd miles between them.
“me too,” she sobs back, covering her mouth to try and keep her wails in the confines of her mind, at least until they ended the call.
~
they didn’t end the call. they stayed on the phone all night, exchanging sobs and apologies, two shattered hearts trying to soothe one another.
at the all star break, nico flys back to halifax, needing one last moment together, not accepting anything less than ending their relationship in an embrace.
he knocked on her door, (the door of the apartment she had moved into at the start of school- nico missed that. he missed a lot. it made his heart hurt thinking about just how much he missed), fully expecting to have to sleep outside her door (but he’d do that, he thought. he’d do it for her. it’s the least she deserved), but to his surprise, she opened the door.
upon her door opening, he was greeted with a sight that made his heart ache in so many unexplainable ways.
she was there, perfect as ever. hair was a little ruffled, but she was perfect. it was like nothing had changed, but it reality, everything had.
“nico,” she sighed out, tears rushing to her eyes at the sight of the boy who had occupied her heart for so long now (but not forever, a voice taunted her inside- that was over now.)
in a blink of an eye, he crossed the threshold of her apartment (that smelt like her favorite candle, he noted inside his head. oh how’d he miss that smell), wrapping her in his arms. at the feeling of his familiar arms encasing her, she broke, sobs wracking her body once again.
“i guess forever wasn’t ours,” he croaked out, a sob cutting him off from continuing his sentence.
“i guess-“ she started, a sob interrupting her sentence. “i guess not,” she finished, tears soaking the fabric of nico’s hoodie (not one of his old ones, she noted. she knew those fabrics. this- this was new. she didn’t like that. it was just a symbol of the distance between them, literally and figuratively).
a while later, after the couple had calmed down, they sat huddled together on the couch, arms still embracing one another.
“it was good, right?” she hesitantly questioned, afraid of the answer he’d respond with.
“the best,” the boy replied.
and with that, it was like the string that tied them together snapped. the feeling was gut wrenching, that much was true. but over time, their hearts would heal. they’d move on, and one day, could hopefully look back on their time together and smile.
but for now, they’d simply remember each other by the ache deep in their chests, the longing that weighed down their bones, and the broken promises of forever in their hearts.
LAST WIP LINES GAME!!!! Tagged by my genius and lovely and talented @bittersweetresilience KISSES YOU SENSELESS!!!!
OKAY LET'S SEE
Something like a voice jittered erratically in her throat as Quaxwell fell into a fighting stance beside her, but the look in Friede's eyes made the words die as her hope did: shamefully, and without a sound.
He didn't recognize her. She hadn't realized that could be worse than its opposite until this moment.
"Ha-ha! Gotcha, evildoer."
The words were familiar, and her undoing.
Tears sprung to her eyes, forced there by her shaky breath. Friede stepped forwards and she stepped back. "Nowhere to run in this fancy base of yours, huh?" His strained smile didn't reach his eyes. "Tell me where the sample is and we don't have to settle this off the books." His voice was edged and cold; a surgical knife.
The– sample?
She didn't know about a sample. It was probably Spinel's work. They probably stole it from the Rising Volt Tacklers, if the captain himself was here.
"Fine then, be that way. Charizard–"
"Liquidation!"
Explorer Dot AU... Putting her through the horrors because I am EVIL MWAHAHAHAHA. Tagging @cowcowwow @gayafsowhat @nymphoutofwater @alullinchaos @mushu306 AND ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO PLAY!!! ABSOLUTELY NO PRESSURE AS ALWAYS 💜💜💜💜💜
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Nika finally moves into her new place, with some help. Guel attempts to secure a partnership. Shaddiq learns that magic isn't something to be taken lightly. And Five finally manages to get away from his boss.
I spent a lot of time looking at home listings while doing research for this chapter. I have no idea if it paid off or not
