#{{ now she will definitely forget a conversation but sometimes it’ll go from ten seconds to three minutes

[yamag00ps]

the in-between

pairing: akaashi x reader x bokuto

genre: friends to lovers, love triangle

contains: angst, fluff

word count: 3.3k

summary: What is the difference between the process of falling in love versus actually being in love?

note: this is longer than the others but it’s definitely my favorite part of all four :’) thank you for your patience! I had a lot of fun writing this and ngl I gave myself some butterflies.. Kjgfhbk ANYWAY! the flashback is a week before kuroo’s birthday party! after the flashback, the story resumes to akaashi and bokuto outside of kuroo’s apartment where the last chapter left off. I highly recommend listening to the songs mentioned while reading because it’ll really help you visualize the tone and mood of the story <3 enjoy!

 part 1, part 2, part 3

songs: can’t help falling in love (cover) - kina grannis crazy for you - madonna

flashback - a week ago

Kina Grannis’s cover of Can’t Help Falling In Love played from Bokuto’s speakers as your eyes were glued to the screen. You’ve watched the wedding scene in the movie Crazy Rich Asians a million times, but it never failed to put stars in your eyes. Nick and Rachel gazed at each other, despite an entire wedding unfolding in front of them as if they were falling in love for the first time all over again. You were in awe of how the film captured the feeling of falling in love so flawlessly, without a single word being spoken.

Your eyes watered as Bokuto silently chuckled to himself. You came over for a movie night, but it seemed that Bokuto was watching you watch the movie instead. Akaashi was out of town to see family for a couple of days, so it was just the two of you for the night.

Bokuto found his own eyes watering as well, but not because of the movie. You looked over at him from the other end of the couch and he quickly turned back to the TV.

“Wait are you also crying?” You sniffled. Bokuto threw a pillow at you and scoffed, “..No.”

“What?! I’m just asking! I’m not judging,” your giggle turned into a sigh. “It’s magical.”

He smiled at the small pout on your face.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Magical.

Eventually, the end credits rolled and you both scrolled on your phones for a bit, your head laying on one arm of the couch and his head on the other.

“Have you ever been in love?” You lay your phone on your chest and stared at the ceiling.

“Hm.. I actually don’t know,” Bokuto scrunched his eyebrows slightly, “I think I’ve been close to it though.” He peeked over his phone at you. The television screen was now black, the moonlight being the only source of light in the room. You seemed to be deep in thought, hair disheveled from laying down for two hours, and lips slightly swollen from crying because of the movie. Beautiful was an understatement. Bokuto put his phone down to fully look at you, pure adoration and a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Do you think there’s a difference between falling in love and being in love?” You asked.

“I guess falling in love is when you believe you could eventually be in love with someone.”

“That’s a pretty way to put it,” you hummed in agreement.

“I wonder how long that ‘in-between’ time is, then,” you added, “like, if you think of it as a spectrum--beginning to fall in love on one side and then actually being in love on the opposite end. There’s that ‘in-between’ kind of grey area.” Bokuto watched in amusement as you talked with your hands.

Little did you know that that was where Bokuto currently was--the in-between of falling in love and being in love. With you. Bokuto smiled sadly upon realizing this. He was struggling not to cross that grey area, knowing it would only hurt him if he did. He couldn’t reach that far end of the spectrum, as it was currently reserved for his best friend.

At this point, Bokuto was well aware of his closest friends’ budding feelings for one another. It was in the way Akaashi looked at you when you weren’t paying attention. It was in your doe eyes every time you used Akaashi’s first name.

Bokuto had refused to confront his best friend for weeks now, convincing himself that if he ignored it long enough, it would go away and his premonitions wouldn’t be true. He also wasn’t ready to let go of his feelings for you, wanting to relish in them, without reserve, just a little longer. He was being selfish, not wanting something that felt so beautiful and pure to end just yet--even if it was unrequited.

However, despite everything, he found comfort in his feelings for you whether you reciprocated them or not. The feelings he had for you were so special, and most importantly, they were his alone. No one could take them away from him--not you, not Akaashi.

Until he met you, he had never known what it was like to feel so strongly for anyone. He had never experienced caring for someone so unconditionally and so purely. It felt like magic.

Magic. That was the only word that did you justice.

Bokuto was never going to forget these feelings and this was both a blessing and a curse.

“Bo?” you pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“I think I’m in that in-between right now.”

You didn’t elaborate, but you didn’t have to. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was it. At the end of this conversation, it was time for him to let you go.

Thank you, he thought. Thank you for the magic.

“I think he might be too.”

end flashback

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

“I know.”

Akasshi opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. How long has Bokuto known? Was it that obvious? Has Bokuto been silently resenting him all this time? If Bokuto knew, did you know too?

The two of them were now sitting on the steps of the building’s stairway with murmurs of the party on the other side of the door filling the silence. Bokuto’s head hung low as he contemplated what to say next.

“I’m sorry. I.. I won’t do anything about it if you don’t want me to,” Akaashi broke the silence.

Bokuto only shook his head at this, not saying a word. For the first time, Akaashi couldn’t read his best friend’s expression. Why did he look so defeated?

“I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I got in your way,” Bokuto finally spoke up.

“What? No, you knew her first. You have every righ--”

“I know I do,” Bokuto slightly smirked and nudged his best friend, “but she doesn’t look at me the way she looks at you.” Bokuto wasn’t angry. He almost seemed relieved, but Akaashi couldn’t pinpoint why.

Akaashi’s lips parted but was rendered speechless again. Was that true? He wanted to hope it was, but the guilt was eating him alive at this point. Truly nothing could have prepared him for this conversation.

“I’m not gonna lie, dude,” Bokuto let out a shaky sigh, “I want to be mad at you.”

Akaashi sighed and apologized again. He didn’t know what else to say.

“But that wouldn’t be fair. You can’t help how you feel and neither can she,” he shrugged.

“But I don’t even know if she likes me.”

Bokuto scoffed at this.

“Akaashi, I know I can be dense and a bit of an airhead sometimes, but even I can see it.” He snorted at his best friend’s obliviousness.

“You know, she asked me if you were single after you first met,” he quietly added with hesitancy in his voice.

“She did?”

“Yeah. At the time.. I convinced myself that I didn’t have to tell you because I assumed you didn’t care, but I was just being selfish,” Bokuto admitted.

“I don’t blame you. That’s fair,” Akaashi shrugged. The air around them seemed to feel less suffocating.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m really sorry. I mean it,” Akaashi added.

“Don’t be. You would have done the same for me,” Bokuto said sincerely. Akaashi didn’t have to say anything more, they both knew this was true.

Both of their phones chimed at once, receiving texts from you.

Y/N: where did you both go? I need a partner for pong :p

Y/N: wait who is even DD tonight

“Speak of the devil,” Bokuto joked. Akaashi stared at the screen a second longer.

“..Are you sure?” Akaashi asked for confirmation once more.

“Yeah man, I’ll get over it,” Bokuto forced a smile, “Now go find her before I change my mind.” He playfully punched his friend’s arm, though there was an edge to his voice.

“My only request is that you don’t do anything in front of me,” Bokuto added, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact.

“Of course not, I’m not a dick,” Akaashi scoffed, a bit offended at the request. Bokuto snorted at this.

“Debatable.”

The rest of the night was enjoyable, though Akaashi ended up not making a move, not wanting to take advantage of you while intoxicated. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t secretly enjoy how extra touchy you were, especially when you would discreetly yet casually reach for his hand every ten minutes.

But there was a specific moment of that night the two of you would ingrain into your minds.

A random girl stood at the front of the room, microphone in hand, as the opening lyrics to Madonna’s Crazy For You ran across the screen. This was your favorite karaoke song as a child, Akaashi knew this. He watched you from across the room and chuckled at the way your eyes widened and your tired figure suddenly sat up on the couch as you recognized the song. You caught his stare and rolled your eyes at his teasing, a slight blush on your face forming as you realized he was watching you.

I love this song, you mouthed. He smiled.

I know, he mouthed back. You smiled.

As the 80's hit played, you and a handful of other people sang along. Akaashi watched in amusement as you soulfully sang the lyrics with the girl next to you. Every now and then you would lock eyes with him and playfully point, singing the words as if they were directed at him.

I see you through the smokey air

Can’t you feel the weight of my stare?

You’re so close but still a world away

What I’m dying to say,

Akaashi was thankful for the dim lighting masking the blush growing on his cheeks. He shook his head with a smirk as you pointed at him, ignoring the growing ache in his heart. You have no idea what you do to me, he thought.

Is that I’m crazy for you

Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true

I never wanted anyone like this

It’s all brand new

He watched as you swayed your body to the music, singing with your eyes squeezed shut. At one point you put a hand over your mouth in embarrassment as you jumbled the lyrics. He shook his head again, laughing to himself. You laughed with him as your gaze softened before you sang the next line.

Eye to eye, we need no words at all

Akaashi smiled back at you, wondering how someone who had been drinking all night managed to look so lovely.

Soon we two are standing still in time

If you read my mind, you’ll see

I’m crazy for you

The two of you seemed to be in your own little world, despite being on opposite sides of the room. Your face was starting to hurt from smiling, drunk on both alcohol and emotion. Anyone paying attention would have seen the hearts in both of your eyes.

Everything seemed to fade away from your periphery and all you saw was him. His gaze refused to leave yours as he was convinced that if he looked away for a split second, he would somehow lose you. In a room full of jumbled voices, the silent adoration you shared was deafening.

You felt like you were floating while simultaneously feeling the adrenaline of going downhill on a rollercoaster. Your heart felt like it was going to burst at any given moment, but you have also never felt so at peace. You struggled to comprehend the duality of the serenity and chaos coursing through your veins--and then it hit you.

This was the grey area. This was the in-between.

You were falling in love with Akaashi Keiji.

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

A week had passed since the party and Akaashi still had yet to confess--the adrenaline from that night slowly vanished, replaced with an irrational anxiety of running out of time.

Ever since he got home that night, Akaashi had been wracking his brain trying to figure out how to properly confess. Being the over thinker he is, he went through every scenario possible in his head, rewording his sentences over and over. The longer he waited, the more discouraged he became.

Strangely enough, the one who brought him back down to earth whenever he would get too in his head about his feelings was the source of his restlessness itself--you. Somehow you were both his chaos and his calm.

As the days passed, you noticed that he had become distracted more often than usual.

You two had been studying in the library for hours when you noticed that Akaashi’s mind seemed elsewhere. By now, you had memorized his tells like your favorite book. His knee bobbed up and down under the table, his hair was disheveled from repeatedly running his hands through it, and his eyes glazed over the textbook in front of him, not having turned a single page in the past twenty minutes. You knew he hadn’t gotten anything done since you sat down.

You closed your laptop and waited for him to match your gaze. It wasn’t until you rested your hand on his bobbing knee that he looked up at you and became aware of the amount of tension in his body. You gave him a small but sincere smile, wordlessly asking if he was okay. You rubbed his knee and he immediately relaxed at your touch, relief rushing through him.

Your timing was always perfect--constantly pulling him out of his overwhelming thoughts as if you could read his mind.

“Let’s take a break,” you whispered. He placed his hand on top of yours and gave it a squeeze, nodding.

It was funny--the concept of you distracting him from his thoughts about you.

The two of you ended up at the mall, people watching from a bench. This had become a favorite pastime for the both of you--picking out random passersby and creating extensive backstories about their lives. It was a way to destress and put your own lives on hold for a bit.

You spotted a couple sitting on a bench far enough away for you to talk about them.

“Those two are secretly pining for each other,” you nodded your head in their direction.

“Hm. Are they in love?”

“Oh no, not yet at least,” you speculated.

“And how do you know?” Akaashi mused.

“They’re sitting too far away from each other,” you stated matter-of-factly. Akaashi silently noted the distance between the two of you and compared.

“Huh. Okay,” He scooted closer, not being discreet at all. You held back a smile and refused to meet his gaze.

“How else can you tell?” He watched you intently, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“He’s giving her too much eye contact. He’s not nervous enough.” Akaashi scrunched his eyebrows in thought. Noted, he thought. Just as you looked up at him, he swiftly turned his head the opposite way with a small smirk on his face.

Doing your best to ignore him, you asked a question this time.

“Who do you think will make the first move?”

“Oh, definitely the guy,” Akaashi stated confidently.

“Oh?”

“It’s in his body language. His body is fully facing her,” Akaashi mimicked his position, now fully facing you with his right arm resting on the top of the bench behind you. You leaned back with your arms crossed, still facing forward to avoid looking at him. You felt his arm fall from the bench to your shoulders, his hand now tracing circles into your shoulder.  

“And what does that mean?” you rolled your eyes, still refusing to face him. Your heart warmed as he mindlessly took one of your hands and started playing with your fingers.

“It means..” Akaashi took a deep breath as if he had prepared a full-blown explanation. You raised your eyebrows waiting for him to finish, eyes still on the couple. When he took too long to continue, you turned to face him and silently gasped upon realizing how close his face was to yours.

You felt yourself stop breathing as he hesitated before speaking. He kept his voice low as if he was sharing top-secret information.

“He really wants to kiss her.” It wasn’t until now that you realized the proximity of your faces in this position. His eyes bore into yours, flickering to your lips as if to ask for permission.

“Do you think she’d kiss him back?” you held your breath, your gaze also lowering to his lips.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he whispered, his lips just barely grazing yours.

You closed your eyes as you slightly tilted your head up, your lips lightly pressing against his, lingering a bit before pulling away. It was short and sweet. You looked down shyly, biting back a smile.

Akaashi watched you, his eyes low. He didn’t wait all this time for short and sweet. His left hand lifted your chin up as he attached his lips to yours again, kissing you with more passion this time. You held onto his wrist and kissed him back, matching his fervor.

“Keiji..” you barely managed to let out, as he wouldn’t stop kissing you (not that you were complaining).

If he initially thought your first name in his mouth was sweet.. The taste of his first name coming from your lips while they were melting into his? Jesus. His brain was short-circuiting.

You groaned upon realizing you were in a public space, but you couldn’t find the willpower to pull away either. All of Akaashi’s inhibitions were out the window. The only thing that mattered right now was you, as you wiped away every lingering trace of doubt, fear, and worry from his mind with every kiss.

“Keiji!” You laughed, attempting to pull away only for him to grab your chin and pull you back in.

One more, he thought.

“We’re the,” one more, “stereotypical,” another, “couple,” another one, “making out in the,” another, “middle,” one more, “of a,” last one, “mall,” for now. You giggled in between kisses. Akaashi chuckled and got a hold of himself, finally pulling away and resting his forehead on yours.

“Sorry,” he smiled shyly. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

You closed your eyes and blushed furiously at this. He pulled back further to get a better look at you with an eyebrow cocked.

“Couple, huh?” You already began shaking your head. “Wow at least ask me on a date first, you can’t skip important steps like that, F/N.”

“You kissed me first!” you laughed as you pushed him away.

“Did I, though?”

It took you a second to realize he was right. You were the one to lean into the first kiss. Ugh.

“Oh my god I’m leaving,” you walked off as you fought the smile on your face, not being able to handle his teasing any longer. He threw his head back laughing and quickly caught up to you. He tugged your hand and pulled you into him as his arm hooked around your shoulders again. You peeked up to catch him grinning ear to ear. He looked down at you, and pressed a kiss on your forehead. Not saying another word, you leaned into his hold and sighed.

You thought about all of the wordless moments the two of you shared. Akaashi Keiji wasn’t a very talkative person, but he didn’t have to be. All it took was one look, without a single word spoken, and you knew.

This was what falling in love felt like.

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a/n: it’s finally done! thank you all for waiting!!! also, your feedback means so much and inspires me to keep writing so thank you all so much <3 (p.s. I love bokuto so so much I felt so bad hurting him but I’ll write something else to make it up to him lmao) also can I just say I love the way the chapter begins with her in awe of the love she saw on tv and then it ends with her finding that exact feeling with akaashi :p full circle hehe

part 1, part 2, part 3

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Love Where You Are

Bucky x Black Female OC.

Bucky's got to learn that sometimes people don't want more out of you than you already have. Not perfection, but what's there right now.

Fluff. Just lots of Fluff. Does take place right after The Falcon and the Winter Solider.

Masterlist (multifandom)

_____________________

“And if you are alone, that is the quietest most personal hell. And James, that is very hard to escape.”

It rings his ears, long after he leaves the office, long after he returns the notebook, long after the sun has set but sitting here, at the pier feels right. The boats rock gently with the waves and the metal anchors tap against the metal husks. It reminds him of New Orleans, of hearing the giggles and fake punches being thrown. The community that always banded together no matter what.

Bucky did really think he was alone. Just a guy, with a friend of a friend. Well, maybe he wasn’t really a guy anymore. Not in the sense that guys were young, making mistakes--that was a guy. Or at least the way he saw it back before. Back when Steve was still the kid stuffing his shoes with newspaper, and lying on enlistment forms. Back when Bucky was playing the courts for the both of them and nights out were spent drinking just as much as they were spent getting into tussles to save Steve’s ass.

A more fair assessment would be that Bucky was maybe a guy. He had made his mistakes while trying to fix them. But he sure as hell wasn’t getting younger. But he was a guy that’s definitely trying to move on. Trying to figure out what it means to be a guy now at this moment--even though the nightmares still linger.

Sam would probably tell Bucky that the nightmares are common. He’d maybe even say it’s a good thing. They show Bucky he’s still human. And maybe that’s what Bucky’s still struggling with--how to be human more than anything else. What does it mean to have friends again? What does it mean to get a chance of life that he gets some control in? No more fighting other people’s wars. Well, for right now at least.

“A fish out of water, I see.”

Bucky turns to the voice. “Who sent you this time?”

Patricia smiles before sitting next to Bucky. “You’re forgetting I’m the one who showed you this place. So the real question is why are you jocking my happy place?”

Bucky laughs. “I am not stealing your happy place, I swear.”

“Yeah, sure could’ve fooled me.”

“It is a pretty nice place to come to, just let go of everything,” Bucky whispers, staring back out at the horizon. The sun’s just starting to duck behind the horizon casting just enough of an orange glow onto the water. Patricia hums, turning her attention back to the water in front of them as well. And for a moment, it’s silent between them. Minus the slight buzz of the water beneath them of course and the traffic on the pier.

Bucky glances over his shoulder to Patricia. The moles are all still there, scattered across her face. She still looks the same, like she did when they met in Wakanda. Patricia’s not Wakandian at all. However, when Shuri started to oversee the Science center back in Oakland, she reached out to see if she could find some people locally to help her run it. Patricia happened to be one the very few people to make the list. And occasionally, she came to Wakanda to have meetings with Shuri when Shuri couldn’t leave, or didn’t want to. Though her visits were brief, Patricia never seemed to be shocked by Bucky’s presence, and a couple of times when he happened to be in the area of the castle, went out of her way to talk to him. And in those moments, though Bucky never had much to say then, Patricia would tell him about what was happening in the world, or share personal stories.

He’s not sure what made her trust him and he’s not sure why he trusted her either. Maybe it’s because at the time, she didn’t seem bothered by him. It’s like she just saw a man, some body, and not a machine. Bucky hadn’t told her, not initially who he was, or what he had done not initially. But then Patricia asked why he was in Wakana too. That question made him freeze, unsure of how to answer. And rather than answering it directly, he dodged around it and gave what he thought was a vague response. And in the sunset there, Patricia didn’t seem bothered by the answer. Instead she pushed forward, steering the conversation to something else.

“Shouldn’t you be on the other side of the country?” Bucky asks, suddenly realizing that he’s not even close to the West Coast.

“Vacation. Boss mandated vacation, but vacation nonetheless.”

“Visiting home then?”

“Yeah. Checking in on my mom and dad. They’re going on a cruise in a couple of days for their anniversary. And I try to see them before their yearly vacation too. The last I heard you were rag tagging it with Sam though. And I definitely didn’t think you’d say in New York, not after what happened.”

“You--how long have you been in town?”

“Long enough to hear and see that the life of being a superhero is never easy.”

Bucky never considered himself a superhero. Not after what he’s done. “Oh, no, I’m not. Just--” What was he doing? Trying to recklessly hold onto a person, to an idea of who he was in someone else’s perspective?

“Just Bucky?” Patricia suggests. Gently, she reaches out to take his left hand.

Bucky tenses for a second and then has to make sure to relax so he doesn’t hurt her. He goes to speak and the air leaves him for just a moment when she threads his fingers through his. With a deep breath he finds the sentence again, “You make that sound so complete. Because I-I don’t even know who Bucky is even more.”

“I think you have more of a clue than you let on.”

“Perhaps subconsciously, there is more than I know consciously.” Bucky almost wants to flex his fingers, try to figure out the right way to carry her hand and how much pressure to give. He glances down, the black metal of his arm accented with gold pairs nicely with the deep red brown of her skin. But it still feels foreign, like the first time he wore a shirt again with his new arm and he was worried the threads would get snagged in the divots.

“How long are you in town for?” Patricia asks.

“Oh, I live here in Brooklyn.”

“You never told me you were from Brooklyn.”

“Born and raised. I just recently moved back here. In Wakanda, when you told me about the pier, how you liked coming just to clear your head, I liked to hear how you saw it. Besides, it had been quite a few years since I had been back to see it. So, it was nice.”

“I mean it hadn’t changed all that much in a few years,” Patricia comments off handedly.

“Well, maybe it was, uh, a little bit more than just a few years.”

“Like several decades more.”

“Who told you?”

“I may just be the assistant director at the center, but I am let in on a lot of secrets that have a very real chance to impact us. Someone might think we have access to certain materials,” she taps his metal arm with the phrase, “or if we have information that may help them and we have to be prepared for that.”

“So that means you know about everything.”

“Only need to know. And your unique relation was classified as a need to know for me.”

With a sigh, Bucky shakes his head. “That makes this incredibly easier and ten time more awkward.”

“If it helps at all, James, clearly I haven’t run for the hills.”

“Please, call me Bucky. The only time I’m used to hearing James is when I’m in trouble or from my therapist when she was fed up with me. And as much as my mother would absolutely like to have a talk with me from the great beyond, I think I’m going to hold out on having to hear that lecture for as long as I can.”

“I don’t think she has that long of a lecture.”

It’s with a slight lump in his throat that Bucky realizes he hadn’t thought about his mother is so long. What would she think of him? What would she think of what he had done? He blinks back the tears and clears his throat. But the tears come back, the lump reforms. “Oh, God, I-my mom,” he whispers. She’d been gone for a while; that fact wasn’t new. But what was fact was that he didn’t want to disappoint her. Even though she was gone, it didn’t mean that Bucky was trying to make it hard for her to watch over him.

Patricia takes the hand holding his hand and gingerly rubs across his shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright.”

It takes a moment and a pinch at the bridge of his nose between his eyes to keep the water works at a minimum. “Thanks. I’m okay.”

“I think this calls for ice cream. My treat. What do you think?”

“Oh-I don’t know.”

“C’mon. It’s a couple scopes. It’ll make you feel better.” Patricia stands, holding out her hand, fingers motioning for him to stand.

It’s here, in the in between, between standing and sitting, between giving into the ice cream and standing firm on his denial that he wonders, why would someone like Patricia be nice to him. As far as he knew, she didn’t know about war, or constantly fighting or always looking over your shoulder. And maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe she knew more about it than Bucky was giving her credit for as a Black woman in America. Much like he hadn’t known the similar things about Sam and the shield. But why would she want to give someone like him a chance? Shouldn’t she be more afraid?

“What’s this all about?” Bucky asks, standing but not taking her hand.

“Ice cream to help soothe mental wounds.”

They stand face to face. He towers over her by a few inches. But it’s enough where she looks up at him ever so slightly. “No, if you know about me, why do any of this? Even back at Wakanda.”

There’s a pause from Patricia. She turns on her heel and he follows. Though he’s not sure he should be. They get a couple steps from the bench before Patricia exhales heavily. Perhaps, it was not the smartest move to admit this clearly after an emotional moment. But her nerve would leave her as it always did if she didn’t strike now. “On the one hand, Bucky, it’s this little thing called flirting.”

“Flirt-flirting?”

The wide eyes and dropped jaw make her laugh. “Yeah, flirting.”

“I am a little over a century old. But that-that is not flirting.”

“I am not great at it, but I was attempting,” Patricia returns, with a bit of annoyance creasing her brow.

“Oh, doll.”

“Aht, no, you do not get to ‘Doll’ me. I am not a doll. No, do I look like a doll?”

Bucky smirks. It’s all too easy; it would be all too easy. He won’t do it. Not now at least. “I apologize. But I’m just saying being nice to someone isn’t necessarily flirting.”

“Wakanda was different. I was trying to get to know you and I knew things were complicated for you. So I kept it to being nice. And then I knew I’d be Stateside most of the time. However, when I got the call from the Dora and Shuri that you were moving to the U.S, I thought maybe I could get a chance. But then the expo was coming up and I was essentially working as director and counselor to keep the center open late to let kids work and things just never worked. But then I saw you, here, at the pier and I thought it might be my chance. Sue me.”

Bucky nods as she speaks, keeping stride as they weave through the crowd. “So inviting me out for ice cream was the move?”

“It was like move two. Get you to go with me for ice cream so then I could ask you for dinner.”

“I don’t think you need to worry or waste time with me.” If Bucky could stop it, he would. If the little voice in the back of his head didn’t get so loud sometimes, he wouldn’t even have to deal with Patricia’s full halt and tugging him off to the side. If Bucky could keep the doubt down, his comment wouldn’t fall from his lips. But unfortunately, what he wants and what he does isn’t always on the same page.

“Repeat that for me,” Patricia demands.

It’s the way she says it, like he can try to repeat it but he’s sure it wasn’t lack of hearing that she’s asking. “I just mean--I’m still not like a hundred percent...together. And it’s not a process I can hope to do in seconds or one that I can promise won’t be ugly. So I don’t know--”

“Sometimes, Bucky, people want to love you where you are. No one’s perfect. Not even us non-superbeings. I’m not asking for the perfect you. I’m asking to go on some dates with whatever version of you is here, right now. I want to disasterly cook a meal and then order pizza. I’m asking you to give me whatever you have now. ”

And if you’re alone, that is the quietest most personal hell. But Bucky still doesn’t want to drag her into this world, this mess he was in. But here Patricia is, asking for whatever he has, whether it’s perfect or put together or not. And there have only been a few times in his life that people wanted whatever he had. It’s that soldier, the barking commands from his training officers that can make it hard. They always wanted more, they wanted perfection in some ways. They wanted obedience more than anything, but Patricia’s not asking for any of that.

“No-no one’s just wanted the mess I am. I thought I lost the last person that wanted that from me.”

“Well, if you let me in and say yes to ice cream and a dinner date, where I do not cook initially, then you’ll have gained another person that wants you for whatever mess you are.”

“By mess, I mean mess. Like I sleep on the floor of my own apartment. I just want you to be aware of where the bar is.”

Patricia smiles, a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “Consider my expectations set.”

“Then I would be honored to get ice cream and eventually go to dinner with you.”

Her grin widens, heats heating at the bit of a twinkle settling into his gaze. She’s thankful her blush is not visible at all. “You’re going to have to stop looking at me like that. Because a look like that is dangerous.”

“Looking at you like what?”

She circles his face with her pointer finger, “Like that, like you’re plotting something devious.”

Bucky laughs, holding his hands up in defense of himself. “You’re the one planning. Not me.”

“It’s a Mr. Suave look. I know it when I see it.” She starts back down the pier and Bucky’s quick to catch up, right hand slipping into hers. “See, now you’re plotting something for sure! But I’m not that mad at it.”

Gingerly, he gives her hand a squeeze. “Good. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Linked Universe: Regrets

“Although I accepted life as the hero, I could not convey the lessons of that life to those who came after... At last, I have eased my regrets.”

Twilight had never forgotten those words. He had carried them with pride. Used them when his hands faltered. Remembered the strength that had been taught to him. Swords without courage meant nothing. With the lessons of the Hero's Shade, Twilight struck down Hyrule's greatest enemy for good.

(He thought. But there would be another after him, long after, but one nonetheless, and he would suffer greatly from the shadow of Hyrule's first enemy.)

Nowadays, it's a white lie that haunts his nights.

“Link... I... See you later.”

He's learned when things aren't meant to be. And he loves his fellow heroes. Wouldn't trade them for peaceful days wandering his Hyrule. He loves them. Like brothers. Like another father. But he knows it can't last. Whenever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. And theirs... through time and space... there will be no reunion after they've completed this quest.

He should shield his heart better, but they slip past too easily for that. One day, they'll go their separate way. He can't change that. Still, any time he looks at the old man, his heart squeeze and he just wants to help. To save him. He can't.

Is it like that for anyone else? Does Hyrule hide something like this from Legend behind all his sweet smiles and his eagerness to learn? Does he also think of a nameless grave by a tree? Maybe a grand mausoleum, because it's Legend, and he's earned at least this much, to hear him speak of his many trials?

He smirks to himself at the idea, but it slips soon enough.

Four? No one's quite sure where he fits in the timeline, but the best guess is 'early'. Wind? No, he's said the legends exist, but the hero never showed. Warriors thinks it's the timelines diverging when Time returned to his youth to prevent Ganon's rise. He's another odd one out. Knowing a bit of everything and everyone's legacy. Does Warriors know how it'll end for me?Wild certainly doesn't.

The truth is Twilight knows that Time will never be fully content despite Malon, despite a future as a father, and he hates the fact that he cannot save his mentor. Cannot prevent that regret from taking root in him. He's only ever known that he hated leaving his Hyrule defenseless, with no one to learn from the hardships he was shoved into as a child.

Twilight hates it so much. Sometimes, Zant's pendant pulsed with the dark emotions that want to choke him up. He almost wonders if there isn't something right in the ranting of the old usurpers. The Goddesses were so many things, but kind?

It's hard to remember their blessings when the people you love most see their fate as cursed. When Hyrule is doomed without that pain.

“Green rupee for your thoughts?” Warriors ask, watching the sun set over the horizon.

“I know I'm country folk, but we ain't that cheap, Captain,” Twilight drawls.

Warriors shrugs, then pulls his sword out to run a whetstone over its edge. “Well, I'm broke. My queen and I hadn't thought it'd stretch out over this long.”

The thought sobers Twilight, who is decidedly not looking dusk painting the sky like a bonfire. “Miss her?” he says, quieter than usual.

Warriors' glance is a bit sharper than warranted, but he makes no comment about it. “Certainly,” he replies easily. “She was one of the few... mhmm, wait, did I never tell you about my situation back in my era?”

He sees the non-sequitur and accepts it with a sigh of relief. Sitting down by the same tree, he settles just close enough for them to touch shoulders. “No, but I sense this is a long story.”

“It's the perfect length, thank you,” Warriors haughtily counters. “So, it all begins roughly ten years ago-”

Twilight snorts, and pushes his brother roughly. Warriors is agile enough he slips back into place without dropping the sword or the stone, radiating smug triumph.

In the end, he joins Warriors on first watch just to distract himself from his thoughts.

***

Lon Lon Ranch is one of his favorite place to visit. Stepping inside feels like being served a slice of Ordon on a platter. It's a piece of home, without the awkwardness that comes from the odd looks here and there. Unspoken questions about every little way he's changed.

Twilight shakes his head. What's he doing? Somewhat forcefully, he pulls back the sleeves of his tunic and spits in his hands. He's got some work to do, and it's not Legend (who is egging Warriors more than he's shoveling) or Wind (who is having the time of his life learning how to ride with Time's Epona) that'll finish the chores for him.

“Here, sweetheart.” Malon holds out a waterskin to him and a towel. “Don't forget to rest and drink every once in a while. With this sun, it's not healthy to neglect it.”

He accepts gratefully, swallowing a mouthful of cool water first. “I will, Ma'am.”

“Oh, hush with that. It's Malon for family,” she corrects him easily, and he ducks his head, pleased. “And I'll be watching you, sweetheart. The Goddesses know my Link's not one to recognize his limits.”

Time straightens and leans against the handle of his spade. “Now, now, honey, you know I'm a reasonable man.”

“Did I tell you about the time my clever husband decided to renovate the ba-!”

Malon lets out a fake shriek when Time grabs her with his dirt-covered hands. Pretends to fight back. She's not fooling him or her husband. They've both witnessed her handling the cattle. It's not from Time's side of the family that Twilight inherited the strength.

(They're the type of couple that teases each other constantly. He wonders what it would have been like if Midna...)

There's something a little different about Malon today. Something under her skin. Like she was holding on to a secret with both hands and it's threatening to explode the whole time. He wouldn't call her nervous. Excited, though? Yes.

He finds out at dinner.

They've just finished another two course meal courtesy of Malon and Wild when she pulls her husband aside during dessert. It gets a glance or two, but the conversation keeps going on the topic of stupidest things they've ever done. Since it's Wild's turn though, Twilight can still focus on the married couple by the sink.

(It's a sad day when he can name more for Wild than Wild remembers. They've got diverging definitions of what constitutes a 'stupid' thing. He will forever argue against the monster masks, especially the lynel one.)

“I was waiting for a chance to tell you in person. I saw a wisewoman last week.”

“What for...?” Time asks, and he sounds a little anxious for once, hands hovering closer to his wife.

Coy, Malon bites her lips and glances at Twilight. Time has to turn to see where, exactly, she's looking, and his breath hitches when he realizes. His mouth twitch as he grabs both her hands, focused on her with such intensity she giggles.

“You mean...?”

She breaks into a grin, nods and whispers-yells: “Yes! We're going to be parents, Link.”

The kiss he lands on her lips is indecent enough to attract whistles from some of the others, who seem to be clueing in to the excitement in the room. When those two come apart, a pleasant blush colors their cheeks, and he tells her, over and over that he loves her. When he's had his fill, he whirls around to face them and their cheering.

“Boys!” Time calls out, exuberant, absolutely unguarded. “Boys! I'm going to be a father!”

The roof, improbably, resists the eruption of screams. Time's pure joy is contagious and it's the best news they've got since starting this quest. Congratulations rain on the happy couple.

“Someone's going to have competition, huh?” Legend nudges Twilight's ribs, wagging eyebrows.

Normally, Twilight would be flattered that his bond with Time is that obvious. Normally, he'd grab Legend and give him a noogie for his insolence. Make him cry 'uncle'. The classic big brother behavior he's used to. But he barely hears the words as it is, his mind bogged down by a sudden realization.

He stalls.

He's a second delayed in joining in the congratulations, behind Sky and Hyrule who are a little less physical in their affections. They've formed a circle around their leader and his wife, offering their best wishes, joking, patting Time on the back, kissing Malon's cheeks.

And then it's his turn.

Twilight remembers to breath. Offers his hand first.

“Oh, come here, you!” she swats away his hand and forces him into a hug that's warm, soft.

“You'll make a wonderful mother, Malon.”

Her expression shifts slightly, more of a knowing smirk, and he can see her laughter in her eyes. 'Oh, now you tell me.'

It's impossible for him not to smile back.

And below that elation, the flare of hope in his guts, is a heart stopping dread.

***

The next few battles are some of the worst Twilight had to struggle through. The enemies' number swell. Their ambushes turn elaborate with unheard of combinations of monsters that never coexisted naturally. The puppeteer behind them has tightened the strings, and Twilight has trouble keeping his head above water when every second he looks away, he fears his mentor (father) will die.

It's sheer experience and a heaping dose of help from his companions that ensure he's not dead. And even then...

“There, good as new,” Hyrule proclaims, slapping Twilight's bicep for good measure. “Now how about you don't pull a Wild and drop your weapon next time? We're counting on you to teach him caution, not the opposite.”

“Heard you, 'Rule!” Wild protests from where he's helping Four hobble back to them.

“Great, because we all saw that thing with the peahat.”

“It was the only way!”

And here goes the bickering, Twilight huffs. Wild and Hyrule get along like a house on fire, which means that it's warm and toasty for a while until everything collapse into ashes for a bit. Then they rebuild it better and stronger than before with perfect coordination. It's impressive, honestly, how they both push in the same direction without a second thought.

At least this doesn't look like he'll need to turn into a wolf to fetch them in a forest on the other side of a mountain like last time (he's still bitter about it, a mountain?).

“Pup,” Time's voice jolts him back into awareness. His mentor's standing right behind him. “Come with me for a minute?”

For a second, he hesitates. He likes to imagine a thousand explanations for it, but he already knows the one. Sky shot him the odd look during the fight. Saw him sloppier than usual. And Time keeps an even closer look on all of them.

The clearing is just far enough to be away from prying eyes, though not far enough they can't hear the others if they pay attention. Both sides could hear and rush at the first sign of trouble. It's a good place for a talk.

“Twilight,” Time begins, voice brimming with concern, “what's wrong?”

“It's...”

Silence lingers between them, with all the things Twilight can't say.

“Does it have anything to do about Malon's pregnancy?” Time asks, and Twilight cringes. “Ah. I figured as much. Are you bothered?”

Twilight fights the flashback to one of those evenings Rusl took him aside for a fatherly talk. He feels about as small as he did back then too. “No, of course not! It's... before, when I met Malon and saw you two didn't have kids, I realized you were safe. Every one of us is risking his life on this quest, but I could hold onto the idea that you'd live through, that it was impossible that you didn't because I'm here.”

“Were you not worried for my safety before this, Pup?” Time teases, a full on smirk on his face.

Twilight's face burns. “I, no, that's not it at all! It's just... Goddesses, I'm being silly.”

The hand that rests on his shoulder feels solid. Grounding. Like Time means to give him back some of that certainty through sheer force of will.

Twilight's relieved that it works on him.

“Pup, I promise I have no intention of dying and leaving Malon to raise our little hellion all on her own. I wouldn't do that to her.”

“Oh, right, the poor gal,” Twilight hears himself reply.

Time blinks. Then hooks his arm around Twilight's neck, an unholy glint in his good eye. “A youngster like you's too ignorant to mock your elders like this. But I suppose I should teach you.”

***

Time's few additions to the prank war ongoing inside their camps gives Twilight chills.

But he joins in the laughs with the rest of them.

And he almost forgets.

***

They have a lead on the object of their quest.

A location they must investigate. No guarantee, but reports seem promising.

It's hard not to get swept right in by his brothers' enthusiasms. He's found more family through this quest than he had ever hoped to get, but it's also been a mess of ambushes, lost directions and insufferable assholes (some of which, he loves because they're his pack, his siblings, his dad).

“I'll cut the fucker's balls right off!” Wind cheers, which gets nods from Legend and Wild, and winces from Sky and Warriors.

Twilight is more in the 'rip their throat out' camp, but he's also got a unique perspective on how to get personal with killing off your enemies.

(If their quest is to end, he will stand between any number of enemies so that his family returns home safe.)

***

The Temple of Souls.

A place of power, of memories. Deeds commemorated here. Statues of the various chosen heroes during their adventures. Honored and immortalized in stone.

Twilight hesitates before the one statue of a beast, and the imp riding its back. It's a testament to how much the other heroes helped him heal that he mostly feels nostalgia looking at his past. The pain, muted by Wild's enthusiasm or Four's more solemn amusement.

They search through the history of the Hero's Spirit together, with Warriors leading them. Their captain's light-hearted jester attitude's been replaced by his battlefield look. A strategist and a soldier, at the head of a battalion of legends. And yet, there's a tightness to his expression. Twilight gets why and he makes sure to stay close. The sorceress had been reformed, so this world's Zelda said. But the fear's longer lasting.

Time lingers near the statue of the Hero of Time. So do the others, with Warriors deciding to keep watch, since they clearly couldn't deal with the idea of Time having once been a child.

A little kid. Probably not even as tall as Colin or Talo. Twilight tries to imagine letting these two go on a quest to save Hyrule and his mind buckles in protest at the knowledge of what kind of monstrosities can crawl up from the darkest corners of Hyrule. Imagines them in the Arbiter's Ground, and he feels acute pain in his left hand, where he is gripping his sword's hilt so hard his knuckles turn white.

Hylia stole Time's childhood, but Twilight won't let her take his future.

***

They found the enemy.

It found them in return. Hyrule is the first to realize, and it's their wanderer's words that ring in their heads during the worst battle of their lives.

'Impaled by a shadow in my likeness. Everything I gave, he returned right back.'

Dark Link. The other side of the coin. The shadow of the Hero's Spirit, grown with each incarnation.

It is not an opponent for any one hero to take on anymore. Dark Link is the sum of every dark turns their minds have ever taken, every moment of fear, despair, anger. Every dirty trick. Every method of handling a sword. It reflects all nine of them, in turn and at once.

And it means that each one of them know a piece of Dark Link as intimately as the back of their hands.

The battle does not end quickly.

While most encounters with monsters last minutes at most and encounters with bosses sometimes stretch twice or thrice that, this battle goes on for what feels like lifetimes. There's not a thing Twilight knows that he doesn't see at some point in Dark Link's arsenal. He's forced to see his journey thrown back at him, and he only went on a single one.

(He loses both his shield and his sword midway through. Has to join in the sniping until that's destroyed. Breaks two more of Wild's weapons. Fought with fangs and claws till he desperately needed healing.)

They came prepared. Armed with every weapon they have. Overstocked with potions and blessings and fairies.

They're still all exhausted, wounded and little more than dead on their feet when Wild lands the apparent fatal blow with a shock arrow. Electricity dances on the shade, its face a mask of silent agony, and it stumbles, shape unsteady, and sinks back into nothing.

“Is it... is it over?” Wind asks, his shirt shredded and an ugly burn on his collarbone.

“Steady!” Warriors calls out. “It might be trying to trick us.”

They watch every corner of the room with the hard earned hatred of a difficult opponent. They're all on their last leg and they can't keep going much longer. The air's so thick with tension Twilight tastes it. His instinct's screaming at him. He knows, in his heart, that this is it.

(It might be why he looked.)

(None of the others have spent as much time as him watching shadows, longing for the way they might waver and twist and become a beloved companion.)

Time's shadow shouldn't be this inky black.

Time's grip on his sword is also looser than his shadow's.

Twilight breaks into a sprint.

For a long time, Twilight had no choice. No matter what, his old mentor couldn't die before he had children.

Somehow, he'd been naïve enough to find comfort in that. Since then, he's dreamed of Time holding his baby, happier than he had ever dared express before. The memories of years that aged his heart faster than his body no longer a burden in his quiet little corner of the world.

There still isn't a choice. Time must go back to his wife and child. Twilight won't accept any other outcome. He'll turn silly images conjured from his resting mind into rock solid visions of the future.

Time's shadow stands up.

Hyrule shouts a warning.

And the blade swings.

“TWILIGHT!”

The taste of copper washes over his tongue. Drips from the corner of his mouth.

He looks down. A blade's shadow is impaling him straight through the chest. And Dark Link's face splits into a savage grin. Triumphant.

Heat bleeds out of his wound too fast. Somehow, he's certain this isn't poison, or at least, the traditional kind. It's climbing up his limbs, through his torso, and squeezes as if it were the coils of a snake. There's something wild, uncontrolled to it. Malicious. Its embrace tightens. Tries to leave him helpless, paralyzed.

It's fine. More so than any other hero, he's used to darkness. Made it a tool for himself in the ways the others haven't dared. And he's suddenly so thankful for it. That it's him. His country doesn't need him anymore, not like Sky who needs to build it from the ground, not like Legend who can never step outside his doors without getting roped into saving another country, not like Hyrule who guards the secret of his royal family, not like Warriors who is working so damn hard to earn back trust and honor amongst his own, not like Wild who wants to serve his Zelda and pay back his past mistake.

He doesn't even have grand projects for the future, like discovering a new land with pirates, find a lost brother, or simply build a home with his wife.

He's just... a farmer who picked up a sword and had help at the right time. Even if he dies, he knows his friends in the resistance could still protect Hyrule in his stead. The kids can look after themselves and each other now. Queen Zelda has always been stronger than him. And Illia... he'll finally let Epona go back to her. He can only hope that will be enough.

Because here and now, he is needed one last time.

Dark Link snarls and grins and begins to pull back his sword.

Twilight's hand catches his wrist. Grips.

Dark Link flinches. Red eyes flickers between his wrist and Twilight's serene smile. The other hand lashes like a whip, dagger's shade aimed right at his face, but that one instead pierces through Twilight's palm. Closing fingers lock Dark Link's arm into place. Neither can escape the other now. For the first time, hesitation flashes on the doppelganger's face. Tilts into fear as it starts to struggle. Each movement is rough, violent and murder on Twilight's battered body. The thing's strength should scare him.

  Except Twilight learned to wrestle gorons for fun. He wins every time.

The others rally. He catches them rushing forward in the corner of his eyes.

It tries to slip inside his shadows, but Twilight remembers that trick too. He pulls back, welcomes the darkness and Dark Link's feet blur, fuse to the ground, to Twilight's own shadow. It's oddly fitting.

With a deadly chime, the biggoron sword sails over his shoulder and catches Dark Link's arm. It rams itself against Twilight, tries to stagger him, but his mentor's at his back now, and the battleworn heroes, his wronged family, repay their suffering with interest.

One skewering echoed eight times over. Every aspect of the Hero's Spirit stabbing at their inner darkness, fighting the demon that claimed their faults. It cannot escape this time. Its face shifts with every blow. From young to old to young again, a twin lost at birth. Bitter. Resentful. It's weak and faltering when at last, it becomes Twilight's.

With one last battle cry, Sky executes a point perfect great spin that slices straight through Dark Link's neck. Its head goes flying and dissolves before it hits the ground. The body remains longer. Some of it clings to Twilight, sinks into him. He might have worried about this eventually, but the black sword fades and his tunic become slick with blood.

Yeah... there's no coming back from that one.

Dark Mirrors had always been his greatest weakness. What set him on his journey, what broke him in the end, twice. He thinks... he thinks he managed to pick up the pieces well enough.

“Sorry, guys...” His attempt at a smile turn into a grimace of pain. “I don't think I can walk this off...”

“Hyrule! Heal him!”

Hyrule's corpse-like pallor is all the answer they need. The fight exhausted the last of his magic. He's still stumbling forward like he will put his own life into the spell if he needs it. Sky's the one to pull him back, looking sick.

Legend's bag is upturned over the floor, and three of them kneel amongst the items. Twilight notes with faint amusement that this time, their prickly veteran does not yell at them to be careful with his stuff. Rare items gathered through harrowing adventures just go flying on the sides, discarded as useless. He hopes none of them break. He'd hate that to be one of the last things Legend remember about him.

“Don't,” Twilight says, but it's too weak to get through his family's panic. “It's okay...”

Four, the one trying to help him stand, snaps at him. “Don't say that!”

“I-” His knees give out from under him. Four goes down with him.

“Twilight!”

The others snap their heads in their direction.

It takes one look at Time's face to realize what a fool he'd been. It's almost enough to make him regret it. But no, given another chance, he'd make the same decision over and over again.

“Please...” he tries to say, but it's lost in a gargle of copper and red.

The screaming worsens.

Will Time go to his grave with this on his mind? He can't. Twilight wants to beg him not to. Wants to explain. Free himself of the fear he's clung to for the months they traveled together. But his lungs refuse to cooperate, filling with blood. Every attempt to speak just pains him more and produces mere wheezes.

Not on my behalf, he thinks, a last jolt of strength going through him from frustration and fear and sorrow. He hates the knowledge he'll put his mentor to rest with false hope. That he'll move on, thinking that his training might save him from this fate.

(From Ganondorf, yes, always. Hyrule saved because of the old man. Always cursed not to be known for his heroism, wasn't he?)

High whistling notes edge the confines of his consciousness. Fast notes, frantic, played with the fervor of a dying man, and he almost chuckles thinking he has a much better understanding of this as darkness creeps on the corner of his eyes and heat leeches out of his wound.

He can't see Time anymore. Just vague outlines of all his brothers, the color of their cloaks and hair the best way he can distinguish them by now. Hands push down on his shoulders, lift him gently. Scarred hands. Strands of blonde hair tickle his face.

Wild.

“'M sorry...” he breathes out. Tears prick at his eyes, knowing how much this'll hurt his cub. His little brother who already bears the weight of so many deaths. “Not... f-f-au-lt. Swear,” he tries to sound stern, he really does.

He can't go to his grave otherwise. He'll stay alive just so Wild and Time and the others don't pick up the guilt.

Eh...

She did always call him an optimist.

He's probably in some dying dream, he sees hands the shades of her skin join Wild's, brush his hair away from his eyes. Liquid flames frame a face like hers. The mocking lilt of her voice is broken by a sob though. He's never heard that before.

He wishes he could stop the pain for all of them, but he's tired.

Maybe... maybe Hylia granted him that one last favor. Maybe it's just him and his stupid heart that won't heal right, that makes him see what's not there...

He doesn't have the strength to do more than believe anyway.

“Midna...”

Tender warmth brush over his lips, one last little balm before he goes. It's gentle. So unlike her, so like her too. Eh. He always imagined they'd be cold.

***

Wild sees Twilight's eyes close, and his world snaps in half.

His brother slips from his arms, but thankfully, the woman's grip on him is steady. Familiar. It makes Twilight look at peace, as if he was sleeping in his lover's lap. It's something he always wished for his big brother, from the moment he heard that joke about a princess and a mirror. To have someone who loved him worth the pain he'd gone through.

And he only gets it in death.

It can't end this way. It can't! Mipha! he grapples with the thought and it wins. “MIPHA! PLEASE!”

She'd healed him from the brink so many times. Twilight's even more of a hero than him, so it would only be fair, right? Just this once. Just this once. He can't lose someone else because of his incompetence!

But Mipha has long gone to rest, and no one disturbs their group of heroes from their loss.

Wild feels himself scrap at his old hood, pushes it down over his head. As if that would stop reality from sinking in. He can't look at Twilight's body. He can't. He just wants to wake up in the shrine, like nothing ever happened. Like he hasn't watched-

“It was you!” Warriors snarls at the woman, his tone as biting as a sword's kiss. “All this time! It was you that broke his heart! He said he lost you, but you just left, didn't you?! You could have gone back to him!”

The strange woman – Midna – finally turns away from Twil- from... she turns to Warriors. Tears trail down her cheeks despite the faintest hint of a smile. “I always hoped he would forget me, the sweet fool.”

It's spoken with the sort of affection in one of Twilight's hair ruffling, but the insult feels searing. Wind's on her the next second.

“Don't you dare call him that!” he howls in her face, the shout less intimidated by the snot and tears he can't hold in. “Don't you- Twilight's not- not...”

Somehow, Sky can move. He lifts Wind away from Midna. It breaks the teen's rage, and he curls into Sky's shoulders as if their chosen isn't crying himself.

“He was,” she says, and it strikes Wild that she is just like Twilight had said. Fierce. Powerful. And a bit cruel. Like a jewel barbed in thorns – even if she'd laugh at the description. “It could have been different, if he hadn't been who he was. But he would always make this choice. You know this.”

Memories come to Wild, unbidden, of days in his Hyrule, where the only one he could count on was himself and a wolf. Hordes chasing a beast whilst he picked them off one by one. Enormous monsters fell side by side with his friend. Cold nights buried in fur. Panicked barks getting closer to him as he struggled to stand in the middle of a battlefield.

Goddesses...

The music – when, who, had started, – breaks into a horrible screech that should never come out of an instrument. It's half scream. Half something shattering.

“Why isn't it working?!” Time croaks, hands trembling around his broken ocarina.

“That power was only ever borrowed,” Midna says as if every syllable costs her. “The price would be too high.”

Legend is the next one to move from sorrow to rage. “No! We'll do it again!” He kneels by his bags and he's tossing aside items by the dozens.  “We didn't come all this way for this!”

“You did,” Midna's voice falters. “And so did I. It was always meant to end like this.”

An horrible sinking feeling seizes Wild's heart. “You... knew?”

They freeze.

Midna looks down at Twilight's face and brushes a strand of hair away from his markings. “At the very end of our adventures, I was spared by the Goddess. Salvaged, maybe, from the ruins of forbidden power and the home of my dearest friend. Hylia spoke to me then. Told me.”

Wild sees her chest shudder before her voice breaks.

“Told me that Link and I would only be reunited on the day of his death. That I'd be the one to take his last breath. It was the only way Hyrule could be safe.”

“Fuck Hyrule!” Legend shouts, hoarse. “What is the point-? Every time! F-fuck this kingdom and fuck Hylia! What about us?! Why does she hate us so much?!”

Legend's arms fall to the sides, his grief spent. He stares at his feet and doesn't react when his successor hugs him tight. Warriors gets his other side.

Wild feels numb. He had done his best the first time around, to believe that Hylia wanted the best even when she let his Zelda suffer through her silence. He thought, maybe, her late answer had a purpose. But he can't figure it out. A kingdom she claimed to protect, destroyed before she helped.

His chest hurts. He can't breath right.

Ahead, the air tears with a jarring noise and a burst of black particles. He can't help the flare of hope they bring, the very same magic that Twilight used to become a wolf. But his brother's not moving. Midna's arm is raised toward the black portal.  

“No, no!” Time finally breaks out of his paralysis, reaching out for Twilight's body. “You can't take him!”

“I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I don't have much time left. I must bring him back to his village. I owe him that much.”

None of them stop her from walking back into the shadows, their lost brother in her arms.

***

The greatest threat to their world has finally been defeated. Months of hardship, over. The purpose for which Hylia assembled them, fulfilled. It should have been heralded by a feast, a last evening together before the final goodbyes. The weight of their mission should have been lifted, but now it won't leave them.

They try.

They find the seediest tavern, in the darkest corner of town. They are not looking for a celebration. They want to drown the sorrow in something less painful than grief, be it a bar fight, a hangover or a round of the bard's singing.

All eight of them around a table, nine drinks before them. A toast.

Unshed tears.

Stories. All those times Twilight played big brother to them. Tried to be the reasonable one even when he was smirking under his wolf pelt. Those games of cards he won the pants off Warriors, literally. Those times he teased Legend with his incomprehensible slangs (they'd never know what that one about goat horns mean, would they?). Those nights they woke bundled up under a wolf. Those days he would spend at their bedside, caring for injuries he sniffed out better than most.

They call up more drinks, left the ninth alone, and pour their soul into making themselves almost believe he was still alive. That Midna had taken his sleeping body back where he'd finally get to be in love with her.  

For the time of a few laughs, it works. Then they look at the empty seat.

“He died.” Time drops his head into his hands, smaller than they'd ever seen him before. “Twilight died, and I wasn't even holding him! I was playing that goddess-curse ocarina! He told me! He told me he would die for me and I didn't listen!”

“He would have died for any of us,” Warriors says, weakly. “Just like we would have died for him.”

At the end of the night, when they stumble out, unsteady, Wild picks up the ninth drink and empties it outside.

***

The arrow's tip strikes one eye and detonates.

Cracks in the stone spread a little further. But the statue is still standing. It waited for him when he came back. Here. The only thing still standing in the ruins of the temple. Where his first journey began.

He can't hear her voice as he did before. He has no crest to offer, no proof of his valor to receive a blessing. Even now, the thought makes him want to hurl. To carve out the gifts he'd received from the monster that parades as a goddess right out of his chest.

“Why?!” Wild screams at the unfeeling block of stone.

The damage reaches the statue's middle, and a chunk tears off. A piece of her cloak. Dust follows. He shoots another bomb arrow. Almost grins to see a piece of her hair fly off.

“Why? Why WHYWHYWHY?!”

Fingers close on air. He's emptied his quiver.

Glowing bomb runes materialize in his hands, and he can barely wait out the cooldown time between each new explosion.

He switches to a club.

“Why him?!” He wails at the stone. “Why was it him?! Why not me?!”

The shout drains the last of his strength. With a sob, he falls to his knees.

“You did this to him! You killed my brother!” he spits every inch of venom that's making his chest heave, that burns his eyes and that opened this gaping hole inside him. “Why did you do that?! You're supposed to be good! Everyone told me you protect Hyrule! But you don't! You just send the same mortal do your job over and over again! And now he's... he's DEAD! What's the point of you?!”

“Link!”

Zelda's voice.

It rubs his skin raw that she sounds so happy. She should be disgusted to see such a worthless hero! She should have left him to die in that field!

She stops by the broken entrance to the Temple of Time, her gaze flickering to the statue, to his sorry state. The ecstatic looks vanishes and a far more fitting sadness replaces it.

“Link...?”

For a frightening moment, he thinks he's going to hate her. Hate Zelda for what she represents. He thinks he won't be able to look at her without knowing what she is. That there'll always be a voice in the back of his mind telling him she shares her soul with the unfeeling thing that lead his brother to his death.

“What happened?” she asks, gentle.

“T-Twilight... he's... ”

The club hits the ground.

Zelda closes her arms around him, and he clings to her like she's going to disappear.

***

“It's a boy!”

The wisewoman presents the small squirming body to Time.

Wisps of strawberry blonde hair crown his son's mostly naked head. Not dark enough to be...

He banishes the thought from his head. It's unfair. It's cruel. He can't compare them. His son. His son, he repeats to himself when the little bundle shifts against the inside of his elbow. Malon was right. That button nose is far cuter than his.

He's perfect.

His heart is threatening to jump right out of his chest. He doesn't think he can express all the love he has for this little hylian boy properly. He doesn't think it's possible to love anyone that much. For years, he'd feared a pauper's grave, a hole on the side of the road. A monster getting lucky at last and no one to mourn him. And now he was holding his firstborn child.

Malon had pushed past that fear and the walls he'd built around his heart. Twilight had shown him without a doubt he could have a family.

Twilight had...

It could have been different. But he would always make this choice.

Always choose to save Time at the last possible moment. For Malon. For their son.

Time dabs the corner of his eyes, and loses himself in the feeling of his son's skin against his own. He's so lucky to be able to hold him. To kiss the top of his head. To look at the beauty of his wife and child together. He doesn't know if he deserves it. Doesn't feel like he does anymore. But he can't throw it away. The price was so high. He wants every moment spent well. A full life to shower his child with love, for all the children he might have on the ranch.

I promised you.

Twilight is his successor, his son. A strong, kind young man that died too soon for Time's mistake. If he'd been stronger, if any of them had been a little stronger, perhaps...

He's never resented the lack of recognition over his deeds so ardently before. Never felt the bitterness take root this deep. Everything he was, everything he did, forgotten, lost. Accounts of his deeds, his prowesses, gone. Sword techniques. Tricks. Items. Twilight had been a farmer before Hylia had pushed his fate onto him. How could his own descendant have nothing of Time's knowledge and treasures passed down to him? If he had...  

On the Triforce, he swears. He will pass on everything he knows to his children and his grandchildren after them, make them promise to perpetuate that tradition, so that Twilight might live longer. He couldn't fail him again.

He swears.

He will do anything to help Twilight survive their last quest.

In this world or the next.

[snarkwrites]

02 | upside down; steve harrington

Notes:

I suck so bad. I meant to post these before I left to go on my little trip and life got hella busy. But, I didn't get around to it. BUT BUT.. I am now. They're not really that edited, so yeah. I was happy with what came out, despite this turning out to not be a slow burn type thing at all like I originally wanted. So for all those hoping for a slow burn, oopsies?

OH.. And before I forget, chapters one, two, three and potentially four take place BEFORE the actual series starts. ;P

Summary:

She moves back to Hawkins and manages to turn his life completely upside down. In the best of ways.

But how will everything play out between them? Also, can they handle all the weirdness ahead? We shall see.

Warnings:

LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE AT BEST, TOTAL DEVIATION AT WORST - this is just an up front catch all because sometimes, things happen that I don’t particularly care for (the senseless death of Barb, anybody?) and if you’re one of those canon only people, this is here to warn you that this is not the fic for you. LANGUAGE, OCCASIONAL GORE, MONSTERS / FANTASY ELEMENTS, TEENAGE DRAMA AND SHENANIGANS - Obviously, teenagers are going to do stuff. They’re at that point in their life where not every decision they make is the best one. So if you’d rather skip over this kind of thing (teen drinking, fighting, etc) then yeah.. you’ve been warned. THIS IS NOT A SLOW BURN, I REPEAT NOT SLOW AT ALL / EVENTUAL FILTHY GOOD NESS - because lets be real.. we’re all wondering when we’re gonna drop the plot and get to the good stuff. When this chapter occurs, I will flair it with an M. In the meantime, if you’re not into slow burn or mutual pining, then you’re probably not going to care about this.

Other Parts

[ SOUNDTRACK | part one]

Other Stuff

[ FAQ - TAG LIST DOC ]

Tagging:

There’s nobody on my list yet but… If you wanna be tagged for this, tell me pls. It will make me overjoyed.

Throwing out a no pressure tag to @RAMPAGEWRITING​ and @TWISTNET​ as well as @CHASINGEVERYBREAKINGWAVE​ just because. No pressure though bbies!

TWO.

Monday came with no sign of Steve. Then Tuesday. By Wednesday, I felt like I was about to lose my mind. Still no sign of him.

It was now Thursday afternoon. And honestly, I’d put the whole thing out of my head. Started to convince myself that I’d been right about Steve Harrington and his intentions after all. Nana Ginger had gotten Jonathan to come and help out by bussing tables in the dining area for an hour or two so I could go over the books for her with no interruptions. When I caught sight of Steve’s silver BMW pulling into the parking lot, I was perched atop the counter in the gas station doing just that.

With Billy Idol blasting quietly from a little boombox nearby.

I raised a brow when instead of coming in like usual, Steve wandered around back. Out to where Nana's boyfriend Hank was working in bay 3 of the garage behind the place.

“Oh. Oh no. Steve, why the hell…” I muttered to myself. Sitting the ledger to the side as I tiptoed carefully to the door that lead out into the garage from the front of the buildings attached. I pressed my ear against it, trying to listen.

All I could really make out was Hank laughing out loud. And Steve asking what was so funny about what he’d apparently asked. Then Hank telling him verbatim, that he didn’t know if he could trust him as far as he could throw him while pointing out that he’d been a teenage boy once too and that he knew exactly where this was all heading.

My breath caught in my throat. I waited on Steve to offer some form of rebuttal. Seconds later, he finally did. “ You’re actually completely wrong about me, sir. With all due respect.”

“If you can get her to say yes to a date in the first place, kid, by all means. But if you hurt her, you’re not gonna have anywhere to hide. We clear, kid?” Hank said this as loud and as plain as day. Clearly enough I could hear it completely through the door separating the two areas.

Steve muttered something else I couldn’t quite hear and in a mad scramble that had Jonathan nearly doubling over in laughter, I was trying to perch myself back on top of the counter at the front of the gas station. Balancing the ledger on my lap. Trying to force myself to concentrate on running numbers.

My reading glasses started to slip down the bridge of my nose and swearing, I pushed them back up. Eventually taking them off to unfocus my eyes and give them a little relief from strain. Jonathan spoke up from nearby.

“Hear anything interesting just now, Jen?” he gave me a teasing smirk and I grumbled, playfully flipping him off as I gave a soft smile. I nodded. “Yeah. I guess I have to at least consider saying yes to Harrington’s constant asking me out. I mean… takes a brave guy to talk to Hank.”

“You’re definitely not wrong there.” Jonathan muttered, chuckling quietly. Digging around in the pocket of his apron and tossing me a cassette tape. Smirking. “I made it during the countdown last night.”

“Oh?” I turned the cassette over in my hands, smiling. “I’ll put it in right now, give it a listen while I’m doing the rest of the books. Hey, do you need somebody to give Will a lift to Mike’s on Saturday?”

“If you don’t mind?” Jonathan asked.

“Not at all.” I grinned, adding quickly, “I’m supposed to drop Dustin Henderson off there too. Figured since they’re going to the same place and I’m gonna hang out with Nancy for a while, why not?”

“Thank you.” Jonathan gave a grateful smile and an idea kind of formed. I smiled and mentioned casually, “Ya know, Jon.. If you really want to thank me.. You could talk to Nancy sometime.”

Jonathan eyed me with a raised brow. I held out his mixtape and added, “She loves The Clash.”

“Really?” his brow raised.

“Just take my word for it, Byers.”

“ You’re sure you don’t mind me giving her this?”

“Why would I? I told you to, silly.” I laughed, shaking my head. Jonathan was being called to the back dining area again by my Nana, so he hurried off and I stood, stretching. Slinking down the aisles of the gas station, over to a cooler.

I grabbed myself a Diet Pepsi and dug around in my pocket for the money to put in the register to cover it. Once I’d popped the top against the counter, I settled back on top of it, getting back to balancing the books.

I heard a throat clearing from the doors about ten minutes later. The smell of cheeseburger and french fries wafted straight to my nose, making me groan quietly as my eyes fixed on Steve and then promptly lowered to the grease stained brown paper bag he held in his hands as he grinned at me, nodding to the glasses perched on my nose.

“Fuck.” I scrambled to take them off. Steve stepped into the gas station completely, walking towards me. A teasing gleam in his eyes as he shook his head. Stopping on the other side of the counter, in front of me. “You don’t have to do that, Jennie. I’ve seen you wearing glasses before, remember? The red framed ones you had in kindergarten.”

I cringed, laughing a little. Leaning in slightly. Gazing at him almost helplessly as the bits of conversation I’d overheard between him and Hank out in the garage earlier replaying in my head.

Remembering that tonight, if he asked me on a date yet again, I was going to say yes. And not just because of some silly dare given to me by Barb and Nancy. Because I couldn’t keep fighting Steve Harrington off the way I had been if I wanted to, to begin with.

I was leaning closer where I sat. It occurred to me when Steve chuckled quietly. Stepping between my legs, the way they dangled over the counter on his side. He sat the grease stained paper bag to the side and he bit his lip, gazing up at me.

“Your grandma told me to come and drag you out of here. She told me to tell you not to worry about waiting the tables, she’s trying to help Jonathan get some extra cash on the side. She also said don’t argue.” Steve flashed me another one of those charmer grins and I swallowed hard. My mouth opened and closed for a second or two because I just couldn’t think of anything clever to say. Weird, because normally, I have plenty to say. Constantly.

Out of habit, my fingers drifted up to the dainty cursive nameplate that hung on the silver chain around my neck. I toyed with the lettering as I pretended to mull it over, just to be slightly difficult.

So I could feel better about giving in when I inevitably did.

“C’mon, Jennie.” Steve pleaded. Eyes locked on mine. Gaze dropping briefly to my lips and lingering there just long enough that I could feel my breath when it caught in my throat.

I finally managed to get my mouth and brain working in tandem and licking my lips as I gazed at him, I muttered quietly, “It’s Jen.”

“Maybe I like Jennie better.” Steve leaned in just a little. A teasing gleam in his eye and a flirty tone to his voice as it dropped lower. Quieter.

And when Hank’s throat cleared from the door between the garage and the front of the building, I wanted to puddle into a pile of goo in the linoleum tile.

“Interruptin somethin, Jaybird?” he asked the question so casually.

Steve looked like a deer in headlights. He pulled away just a little and despite myself, I pouted.

Satisfied that he’d interrupted things between Steve and I, Hank smirked a little, dragging an oil stained hand over shaggy brown and gray hair. Gazing at us both. Giving Steve that universal gesture that clearly spelled out “I’m watching you, kid.” before going to a cooler to grab himself a six pack of beer, counting out the correct change in bills and coins and handing them to me.

I grabbed hold of Hank’s hand. “Nana is gonna have a fit. I know that’s not super glue I see holdin skin together, sir.”

“It is, Jaybird. Because if I don’t get that damned Chrysler off my lift, I’m gonna burn her to the ground.”

“Oh Hank.” I shook my head, clucking my tongue at him. Digging around for antiseptic and a bandage, holding it out to him expectantly as he withdrew his hand. He chuckled and shook his head. “It’ll be fine, kid.” he waved away the antiseptic and the bandage and made his way into the garage area again, making me shake my head.

Taking the time to pull myself together decently enough that I wasn’t a stammering mess when I glanced at Steve again.

“C’mon. Please?” he asked again.

I tapped my chin, pretending to think about it. Slipping off the counter. By this time, he’d stepped in close all over again, so me slipping off the counter had us body to body. His hand settled in the curve of my hip and I barely restrained a gasp.

“Okay. Alright. I’ll leave with you.”

He grinned brightly. Holding the door open for me after I clocked out and placed my timecard in the slot with my name on it. I ducked my head into the dining area and my Nana’s only response was to smirk and wink at me. Shooing me out of the diner.

“Get her outta my hair, kid!” my Nana smiled as she called out to Steve, who was standing right behind me. His hand at my lower back. The second I realized this, I could feel myself burning up all over. Just the simplest touch.. Felt comforting. Intimate. And me, being of dirty mind, well.. Me and my dirty mind, we took that and ran.

Jesus Christ, of all the times for my hormones to manifest, it’s now? When I’m trying to break 2 prior generations of questionable romantic choices? I wanted to shake my head at myself. I reminded myself calmly that just because my Nana and my mom did the things they did, that didn’t mean I had to cave in and repeat. I am my own person, after all. And apparently right now, that person is giddy with… Thoughts.

“Gladly, ma’am!” Steve called back, laughing.

He pushed open the door and we stepped outside. When he opened the passenger door, I sank down into the seat, leaning back against it a little. Steve wandered around to the driver side, getting into the car. Starting it.

“Where are you taking me?”

He chuckled. “ I think you’ll like it.”

“Steve.” I pouted, “A hint?”

“It’s outside.” was literally all he’d tell me.

“Well that really narrows it down.” I teased with a laugh.

He parked at this old park we all used to play at after school. Just as the sun was starting to go down.

We got out, wandering over to an old picnic table. Sitting on top of it, digging around in the bag for our food.

“So.. That dumb carnival is this weekend. Starts tomorrow night, I think.” Steve hinted after a few minutes. I nodded to where carnival workers were already setting up a midway a few feet away from us. Taking a bite of my burger, I mentioned casually, “I thought about going. But Nancy’s grounded again and Barb’s got that date with some guy Logan.”

“You could go with me.” Steve chuckled as he said it.

I smiled, taking another bite. “I could.”

“Would you?” he asked a few seconds later. Adding quickly, “Tonight isn’t a real date. Tomorrow. That would be.” flashing me that charmer smirk.

I nodded. Smiling as I spoke up. “ Yeah. I will. Hey… since I don’t have to go back to the diner…” before trailing off and gazing down at my legs . Reminding myself to have boundaries and restraint. But all the mental reminders in the world just weren’t cutting it. At all.

He reached out, curling his fingers beneath my chin. Making me look up at him. “What were you going to say, Jennie? You can tell me.” he coaxed. Biting his lip as he gazed at me intently.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go swimming with me. There’s this little place out by my Nana’s out in the woods I go to swim…” I gave a soft laugh. I had to laugh at myself, it was pretty much all I could do.

Look at me. Going overboard.

“Yeah.” he nodded, smiling. We finished our food, and after, we wound up driving around a little. And about an hour later found us walking through the woods. Well, he was walking, glancing around warily, swatting at spider webs that he almost walked into a time or two and I had hold of his hand, practically dragging the poor guy.

We stepped out onto the sandy bank and he chuckled. Dragging his hand through his hair as he gazed down at me. “We don’t have suits or towels.” he mused, stepping closer to me. Staring me down all over again. I could feel my breath as it caught in my throat because if you want me to be honest?

I hadn’t thought this through properly. And was now freaking out silently. Just a little bit.

But I did my best to shove that out of my head and play it cool and calm. I went for turning it around on him, hoping to fluster him like his observation had flustered me just now.

“I know Mr. Lady Killer’s not worried about somebody seeing him in his Calvins.” I teased, sticking my tongue out at him. He chuckled. Going for his shirt, tugging it over his head. Letting it settle on a branch nearby without tearing his eyes off me for a single second as he did it.

“Did that look worried to you, Jennie?” he muttered, stepping closer. His hand at my hip as he gazed down at me. Waiting.

I cleared my throat, gesturing for him to turn around. He did, but as he did so, he joked that I was the one who was worried. Which to me, sounded like a challenge. So I tapped his shoulder so he’d turn around after lowering my shirt.

He eyed me, a brow raised.

“Challenging me, Steve?” I questioned, giving him an amused laugh as I reached down, tugging my shirt up and over my head. Letting it settle on the branch next to his polo shirt.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath and muttered something to himself, closing the distance between us. His hand settled on my hip again and he laughed quietly. Leaning down a little bit so that we were face to face, his forehead against mine and one of his hands cradling my face.

My heart was pounding. Hard and fast. So fast that I thought it might break out of my chest. I went to lick my own lips and my tongue brushed against his mouth. His fingers dug into my hip lightly and he muttered huskily, “ I see you still can’t turn down a dare, Jennie.” only half teasing. I shrugged, biting my lip as I gazed up at him. Trailing my fingers over his chest mostly just so I could ignore the way my hands were shaking and I was wet, getting wetter by the second. I glanced over my shoulder and nodded at the water. “If we’re going to swim, we should get in.”

Steve cleared his throat, nodding hastily. Stepping away, bending to tug off his sneakers and nearly tumbling over in the process. Making me giggle softly as I pulled off my boots. When my pocketknife and my mom’s old lighter fell out, he eyed me and then nodded to the items on the ground.

“A knife?”

“A girl’s gotta be prepared.” I shrugged it off. Steve tugged down his jeans and while I told myself I wasn’t going to peek or stare, I wound up failing at this miserably and got so distracted watching him that he was able to turn around my own words on me as soon as he kicked his jeans free at the ankle.

“If we’re going to swim, Jennie… we should get in.” he gave me a playful smirk as he said it, stepping closer all over again.

My hand shook as I lowered it to the button on my cut offs. As soon as I’d shed those, I took off for the water full speed. Nearly tripping on a stump in the hill leading down to the water. Steve’s arms shot out and he caught me, pulling me back upright. Pulling me hard enough that when he did, I found myself pressed against him completely.

He chuckled quietly, raising a hand. Pulling a leaf free from my hair.

“The water’s not going anywhere, Jennie.”

“I know.” I answered, my breath catching in my throat when our mouths brushed against each other’s just a little more with each word spoken. His fingers dug into my hip a little more and he took a shaky breath, asking the question quietly, “If I kissed you right now…”

My heart was hammering away in my chest but I managed to answer, “I dare you, Steve...No… I triple dare you.”. The hand he’d placed on my hip was tangled in the hair at the back of my head, pulling my mouth all the way against his mouth. His tongue swept out, outlining and then parting my lips. Massaging my tongue. Slow. Deep. Savoring the moment, even after we both clearly started to get light-headed from lack of actual oxygen. His hand moved up and down my body, settling on my lower back. Pulling me up to tiptoe slightly. The kiss broke long enough for both of us to properly breathe and then his mouth found mine again.

When it finally broke completely, Steve dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. Taking a few deep breaths. “Yeah.” he chuckled to himself.

I raised a brow. “Hm?”

“That was exactly how I thought it’d feel.” he mused, adding quietly, “Wow.”

My stomach churned and I tensed up a little. He chuckled, shaking his head. Placing his lips against my forehead. “It’s not a bad thing. Not at all. I mean.. It wasn’t for me?” he was the one who looked anxious now.

I muttered quietly, “ I definitely wouldn’t mind a repeat. A few repeats, actually, if I’m being honest.” while still quietly reeling from the intensity of it all. Melting myself against him, my fingers dancing slow over his chest. He sucked in a breath, catching hold of my hand. Tilting my chin so that I had to look up at him.

“You’re blushing.” Steve was teasing gently. Rolling his thumb over my bottom lip, leaving it quivering.

“I’m not!” I pretended to be offended by what he said, pouting a little. But I knew I was, I could feel my cheeks burning hot. I stepped away and turned my back, taking off at a run down the hill. Hitting the cool water with a loud and obnoxious splash. Steve dove in behind me, swimming over. Surfacing behind me and pressing against me from behind. I turned to face him and when he splashed me and dove out of the way, I sent up an obnoxious spray of water in his direction, making him yelp because he hadn’t been expecting it.

After about an hour of swimming around and walking the creek down further, we made our way back up to the bank, flopping onto the sand.

My restraint was well out the window by now. If I even thought for a second I was going to fight off the magnetic pull I felt to Steve, I was mistaken and I knew that now. I settled my head on his shoulder and he looped an arm around me, and we lounged around lazily, watching the sky get darker and darker.

Talking. A lot.

I realized that it had to be getting late and I sprang up, holding out my hand. Steve grabbed hold, pulling himself up. After we’d gotten redressed, we wandered up the hill and out of the woods, over to where he’d parked his car at the end of my nana’s driveway..

When he went to walk me up to my front door, we wound up body to body. My arms raised, settling around his neck. My back met the front door and he pulled me into another long and drawn out deep kiss that had us both breathless when it broke.

“Kind of don’t want tonight to end.” he admitted as he gazed down at me. I nodded, definitely agreeing. “Me either.” I admitted quietly, muttering the words against his lips. The porch light started to flicker like crazy and I smiled into the kiss, wiping my mouth as I finally managed to pull away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Steve asked, reminding me that I’d agreed to go to the carnival in town with him. I smiled and nodded. Pausing in the doorway of my grandmother’s house to steal another quick kiss before finally making myself go inside.

I leaned against the door, pulling myself together and my Nana called out from the kitchen, “Well? How did it go, Jennie Bird?”

I wandered into the kitchen, sinking down in a chair at her kitchen table. Smirking at her as all I did to answer her endless stream of questions was to shrug.

“You’re no fun, girl. No fun at all. I wanted to hear juicy details.” my nana reached out, pulling a leaf from my wet hair, holding it at me, smirking as she did so. “Any reason you’re all wet and dazed, bringing half the forest up in my house?”

“We went for a swim down at the creek.”

“Mhm.” my nana teased, laughing softly. “I know you’ll use your head. God knows one of us Brown women needs to, neither me or your mama, god rest her, could ever manage it.” she nodded to the phone on the wall by the doorway. “Might wanna call Nan and Barb. They’ve been calling all afternoon, wondering where you were. They both told me tell you they wanted full details.”

“No listening from upstairs, Nana.” I teased as she shrugged. “Makin no promises, Jennie Bird. You know me. I’m a nosy old broad.”

I grabbed the phone and managed to make the cord stretch to the living room, where I sprawled out on the old couch, legs over the back, telling Nancy and then Barb everything that happened that afternoon.

At one point, while I was talking to Nancy, I smiled to myself when she went into a good ten minutes of gushing over Jonathan walking her home from the library earlier. And giving her a mixed tape.

To be fair, it’s about time he finally talked to her. I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to shove them both in a closet and walk away.

“So… how’d it go with you and Steve tonight?”

“So many sparks.” I gave a dreamy sigh as I spoke, making Nancy laugh. Toying with the necklace and smiling softly to myself as I continued, “ Between you and me? I needed the dip in the cold water…”

“You went swimming?”

“Mhm.” I answered, taking a deep breath. “He’s taking me to the carnival downtown tomorrow night.”

“Oh my god. Get out. Really?” Nancy laughed.

I rolled onto my stomach, twisting the phone cord around my fingertip. Laughing softly as I explained exactly what transpired when Steve showed up at the diner earlier. By the end of it, Nancy let out a low whistle. “He really sacrificed himself to Hank.”

“Mhm. Left me with no option but to say yes. We know how my nana’s boyfriend is. It takes… a brave one to even attempt that.”

“Confession… I may or may not be meeting Jonathan at the carnival tomorrow night too. And Barb mentioned earlier that she’s going to come to it after the movie ends over at the theater, with Logan.”

“Group date?” I asked, giving a giggle. Raking my fingers through my hair as I reached for the Diet Tab I’d gotten myself before grabbing the phone, taking a sip of it.

“Yes. Group date indeed.” Nancy answered. I could hear her mother yelling at her to hang up, and I let her go, calling Barb.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, you are not going to believe what happened to me this afternoon, Barb.”

“Your nana told us you left with Steve earlier. How’d that go?” Barb asked in a teasing tone. “I told you he liked you, you realize this, right?” she added.

“All I’m saying is I needed that swim to cool me down. I needed it badly.” I giggled. Agreeing reluctantly when she reminded me that she’d been telling me he liked me all month long. I rolled onto my back, twisting the cord around my fingers again. “Hey, are you and Logan gonna stop by the carnival after your movie?”

“Yeah! Did Nancy tell you? I told her to tell you so we could all meet up or something.”

“I am dying for funnel cake. And maybe getting stuck at the top of the Ferris Wheel like some cliche romance novel…” I muttered, giving a soft laugh at the end.

“Aww how cute!” Barb teased.

I took a few more sips of my diet Tab and smiled to myself. Excited about tomorrow night. Barb spoke up again, “Wait… you said you and Steve went swimming…”

“We did.”

“What was that like?”

“Oh, it was interesting. Very,very interesting.”

“You’re no fun girl!” my Nana’s voice cut through the call and I groaned inwardly, lowering the phone to call up the stairs to my Nana in her room, “Seriously?”

Barb was laughing. After my nana hung up, we talked a little more and I told her about Steve going out to the garage. WIth all the tools. And my nana’s boyfriend Hank… to ask him if he could take me on a date.

“He did? And he’s alive? How?”

“I don’t know, actually. Hank’s always giving him shit when he comes into the diner, I did not see it going the way it did. But.. I’m glad it did. Ah, I had such a good time tonight.”

“He’d better be good to you or I’m coming for his knee caps.” Barb teased, going quiet for a few seconds. Her mom must have come to her door to tell her she needed to use the phone, because she had to get off. After I ended the call with her, I wandered up to my room, falling across my bed.

What.A.Night.

[shipping-receiving]

Skeins (pt. 2 of ?)

A draft of a sequel to my Jaime x Brienne colleagues-with-benefits fic Strings. (pt. 1)

==========

It’s an irony, perhaps, that words might come so unsteadily to two people whose vocations depend entirely upon their linguistic talents. Although, come to think of it, they’ve never had a problem talking about their work, and all the deliberations and debates that come with it. Even in bed, where their vocabulary is slightly more limited, they rarely ever experience a breakdown in communication. But this? Dating? Small talk? Apprehensions, and vulnerabilities? They are so new to putting these things into words. To putting words into these things.

Anything new is usually pretty weird, he’d told Brienne just now.

They’re on the way back to her apartment, their weird brunch a ten-minute walk behind them. The food had been pretty good, as she’d promised; unassuming, and more satisfying because of it. It was a shame that they’d fumbled their way through their conversation. But Jaime had held her hand at least—in broad daylight, no less, even if she’s tucking her hands into her pockets as they stroll down the street now—and besides, there’ll be other opportunities.

Practice makes perfect, right?

He’s nervous about visiting her home for the first time. Probably not as nervous as she is, but he’s nervous nonetheless. It’s absurd. He’s seen her, been with her completely naked—two or more times a week for the past four months—and now he’s nervous about this. Not that he thinks it’ll change anything about anything, but Brienne has kept her home a secret for so long that its mystery seems so much like an unequivocal truth. In a few minutes, they will tear the veil from this truth, and there’s a lump in his throat because of it.

When they finally step through her door, though, it doesn’t feel like any kind of great reveal. In fact, it dawns on him that it’s exactly what he expected her apartment to look like.

“It’s very… Brienne,” he tells her.

She locks the door behind them. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“An observation.” He looks around at the mix of simple and salvaged furniture in this snug one-bedroom apartment. A sturdy wooden dining table, where her laptop sits, fully charged now; three filled bookshelves, each of a different size and design, yet somehow making sense together; a navy blue couch, with one of its seats—Brienne’s favoured, he deduces—more sunken in than the other; her small kitchen, neat, not heavily used, but clearly used enough to keep her going; a modest vase on her coffee table, filled with flowers, a small indulgence that she allows herself. “Very practical,” he elaborates. “But… warm.”

“I should put that on my dating profile,” she quips with a forced laugh.

“Do you have one?” He’d deleted his dating app after three days, even before his second time with Brienne—which was the first time he’d asked her to come over. He hadn’t put much thought into his bio then. Just here because the woman I enjoyed fucking once might not fuck me again, it might as well have said.

“No,” she answers, walking towards the kitchen. “Water?”

“No, thank you. Sex?”

She snorts. “You didn’t even let me give you the tour.”

“Sex is the tour. We can fuck here—” he points at her couch— “or here—” he points at her dining table— “or, I assume, through there.”

He is pointing at a closed door now, one of two.

“That’s the bathroom,” Brienne says, rolling her eyes.

“We can fuck in the bathroom. Why haven’t we fucked in a bathroom? We should fuck in your bathroom.”

“Will you—” She sighs affectionately—he hopes it’s affectionate—and leans against the kitchen counter. “Do you have to be so… crude?”

“Shower sex isn’t—”

“Not that.” She casts her eyes to the floor.

“What?” He thinks back on his words. “Wait—you mean, ‘fucking’?”

She opens a cabinet, and takes out a glass. “Forget it.”

“You say it as much as I do,” he says, pulling out a chair from the dining table and settling in it. “Fuck me, Jaime, and all that.”

“That’s…” Brienne walks over to the fridge, opens the door, and removes a pitcher of water. “That’s in the moment. What else can I say?”

“So what would you prefer that I say?”

“I’m not saying you can’t say it.” She fills her glass halfway. “I just… I don’t know. I wish there was a better word for it.”

“It’s not a bad word. It’s versatile. And does the job in one syllable.”

One sip. “You know—sometimes we… fuck. But sometimes, it feels like something else.”

He runs a finger over the back of the chair. “You mean, like that Sunday…?”

Pink tints her cheeks. “Yeah. Like that Sunday. I suppose I mean—sometimes I’d like to…” she swallows, “to fuck. To fuck you, or, or be fucked by you. But—if we’re—now that we’re—”

“Dating,” he offers.

“Yes. I’d like a—a different word, or phrase for it.” She laughs, a little helplessly. “It’s silly, isn’t it? Is this an occupational hazard?”

Jaime smiles. He likes her this way, this questioning, quivering, shimmering version of her. The woman who asks if they look like they’re on a date, who asks if there’s another way to describe what happens when their bodies come together. Who tears up and tells him she’s all tangled up about him. “All of our options are quite awful, aren’t they?”

“They’re too direct. Or too casual. Or too… euphemistic.”

She isn’t one for euphemisms, he thinks. Probably despises their inauthenticity. “Humour me,” he says, waving her over. “Run me through them.”

She sets her glass down on the counter, and walks over to him. As she approaches, he catches her by the waist. “Let’s play a game,” he says, bringing her between his thighs. “A word game—synonyms. I started us off, so now it’s your turn.”

Hesitantly, she puts her hands on his shoulders. “‘Having sex’, to start. Accurate, but dry. Clinical, almost.”

“‘Sleeping together’. Unwieldy, and not particularly descriptive.” He wraps his arms a little tighter around her. “It does sound cosy, though.”

“‘Sleeping with’?” she modifies. “Still as ambiguous, I guess.”

“I’d even argue that it’s obfuscation. Apart from last night, we haven’t actually done a lot of sleeping with each other.”

“Fair point. ‘Intercourse’?”

Jaime barks out a laugh. “That one’s indefensible. Supremely unsexy.”

“You don’t want to have intercourse with me?” she teases, and lifts a finger towards the dining table. “Not here—” she points behind her at the couch, “or there?”

On her back, his fingers slip beneath her shirt to draw circles on her skin. “It does put a bit of a damper on things.”

“Quite a bit.”

“How about: ‘joining’?”

“Joining?” she repeats incredulously. “That’s vague.”

“It could work. Given the right context.”

“Given a lot of context.”

“Like my cock joining your cunt?”

“Jaime!” She wriggles out of his grip, and heads for her couch. “The point was to be less vulgar, not more!”

“You wanted context!” he laughs. “Your turn.”

She collapses on the seat that’s more sunken in. “‘Fornicating’.”

“Terrible. Banging.”

“Worse than ‘fucking’, yet somehow not as good. ‘Hooking up’.”

“‘Getting laid’.”

“‘Getting some’.”

“‘Getting lucky’.”

“‘Getting it on’,” she giggles. “Getting tired.”

That giggle makes him grin as he says:

“Making love.”

The grin disappears as soon as the phrase is out of his mouth. It’s too soon. It was only yesterday night that they were on the verge of ending things, that he was almost on his knees trying to convince Brienne to give them a chance. Now he’s saying words like that?

Brienne isn’t responding in the way he’d thought she would, though. No wide eyes, no sputtering, no changing the subject. Instead, she’s wrinkling her nose in a sort of… disgust?

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I just hate the phrase. I can’t imagine asking you to… do that. To me.”

“Too euphemistic?” he asks, thinking of her comment earlier.

“I guess?” She leans her head back, and gazes up to the ceiling. “It also puts a lot of… pressure on the act. Like it has to live up to something.”

“It didn’t use to mean ‘sex’, you know. Just a few decades ago, all it meant was something like courtship.”

“I know. And that’s a lot of pressure to put on some flowers, or poetry, or whatever.”

Jaime watches as her fingers trace lines across her jeans, then lets his eyes travel to the vase of flowers on her coffee table. “Is that… something you want? Flowers, and poetry?”

“Not really,” she shrugs. “I wouldn’t know what to do with things like that.”

He wonders what gifts he could offer to someone like Brienne—books, maybe, besides any underwear to replace the ones he might destroy in future—then he hears her say:

“It’s interesting. How the meanings, and implications of words can change in such a short time.”

“Mm.” He stands from his seat, and moves to join her on her couch. “Language can be so… malleable. Definitions can change within a few months. Or even… in one night.”

“One night?” She turns her head to frown at him. Then, her brow relaxes, and she bites down on the corner of her bottom lip. “Oh.”

He stops right in front of her, and leans down to kiss that bite away. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Oh.”

[mourntheantagonist]

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

1988: P.I.R. Day 1

“Bill, it’s raining.”

Billy looks over to his boyfriend who sits in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. The rain is coming down as barely even a sprinkle. More like a mist. Windshield wipers only useful every five minute.

“Someone’s observant.”

Steve scoffs and crosses his arms. He’s been in a mood since they got up this morning. Steve was all packed and ready for a long weekend trip only to find out that the track was only a whopping ten minute drive from their house.

“Where else did you think the Portland International Raceway was located?”

Steve just dropped his duffle to the ground and walked out the front door and jumped into the Camaro. Leaving the cup of coffee Billy had poured him sitting on the counter to grow cold.

Billy knew not to look too much into things like this with Steve. He was by no means a morning person and even though the droplets were small, rain always put him in a bad mood.

It reminded him too much of Hawkins. Not memories of good days out with friends or at parties getting shitfaced. It reminded him of the days spent inside by himself as he watched raindrops drip on the window pane. Alone in his huge house. Nothing to do but stare at the puddles forming in potholes and being heavily reminded of his loneliness.

Rain put him in a bad mood. It really didn’t help that they lived in the Pacific Northwest, where rain was almost an everyday thing. But today it was a little more than just the rain. It was that Billy would be racing in the rain. Steve didn’t like that at all.

Billy oh so regrets telling Steve about the guy who spun out and crashed into a wall just two races ago. Because of the rain he hydroplaned and couldn’t stop himself. But Steve won’t listen to the rest of the story. Won’t listen to the fact that the guy has a history of pulling shit like this. Doesn’t take the road conditions into account ever. And he was fine! The car barely even sustained enough damage to warrant repair. Just a dent that was easily pulled out and a couple chips off the paint.

Steve wants nothing more than for Billy to turn the car right around. Drive out to Peet’s and fuel him with some caffeine, considering he’d abandoned the one at home in an attempt to make a point to Billy.

But he’s not going to ask him to do that. But he’s definitely not going to let Billy think he’s okay with what he’s doing.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll go slow.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “For you, slow is five over.”

“I’ll turn around if you’re really that upset about it.”

Steve wants to scream ‘Yes! Please turn around’, but he doesn’t want to be the reason for that. Doesn’t want to be the wall standing in between Billy doing what he wants to do. He wants Billy to put up those walls himself, for himself. Value his own safety and livelihood just a little bit.

Was Steve being overdramatic? Probably. But cut him some slack. It’s eight in the morning, rain is coming down, Billy refuses to run the heat in the car, and he’s tired. Should have just drank the damn coffee.

They pull into the venue and it is absolutely nothing like the last race. Trees are replaced by buildings. The hum of traffic on the interstate is deafening. They are unmistakably still smack dab in the middle of the city, and not in Nowheresville, Washington. There’s people standing around engaged in conversation. Easily able to differentiate between locals and tourists by whether or not they’re standing under the canopy. True Oregonians don’t even own umbrellas.

Sure, they’re technically locals, but Steve still rushed from the safety of the car to one of the covered areas, pulling his flannel up and over his head. Have to protect the hair.

Billy followed shortly after, Steve’s raincoat in hand because Billy remembered to grab it. Steve always forgets. Steve begrudgingly takes it from Billy’s hands and puts it on. It’s hard to stay mad at someone when they keep being so considerate. But Steve does have a special talent for that.

“Come on you big fucking baby, let’s go get you some coffee. They’re selling some at concessions.”

Steve’s head jerks around quick enough to cause minor whiplash.

“Wait, there's concessions?”

“Yes. Not every race is just a bunch of dudes in a parking lot.”

“Is there food?”

Billy just huffs out a laugh and pulls Steve by the collar of his jacket out into the rain and towards the little concession stand by the bleachers. If there’s one way to get Steve out of a bad mood, it’s directly through his stomach.

Billy bought him a cup of coffee with extra creamer – he was still working on that – and a croissant. Steve didn’t need to know that they weren’t freshly made and came directly out of a Costco container. As his stomach filled and his body warmed up from the hot drink in his hand, his bad mood started to fade. And just like Steve, the earth had a mood change as well. Clouds parting, letting in a glimpse of sun as the rain halted.

“Look Steve, no more rain.”

“The ground is still wet.”

Billy just dramatically threw his hands in the air. “Barely!” He exclaimed. “Just relax and finish your croissant. I’m gonna go register.”

Steve nods and watches Billy walk away, leaving him there by himself. Coffee in one hand, half of a croissant in the other. Left to his own thoughts. His weird intrusive thoughts. Like if someone were to push him over, which would he save? The coffee or the croissant? He should just finish the croissant so he doesn’t have to ponder that question. He never liked the trolley problem.

He looks to the sky, watching the clouds continue to part revealing bright blue skies and the bright sun overhead. It was nice, but they lived here long enough to know not to hold their breath. Portland rain was indecisive. It would be pouring buckets one minute, and sunny clear skies the next.

It’s why you would never catch a local with an umbrella. It’s pointless unless you plan to lug it around with you all year long. It’s better to learn to accept and even appreciate damp clothes and damp hair. That last part was definitely taking Steve some time to come to grips with.

The line Billy’s in was long. And he didn’t appear to be anywhere close to the front. That’s the reason the sudden hand on his shoulder startled him. Was he actually going to have to decide which to save?

But he turns around to see Gerry. Five foot three and a hundred and ten pounds of pure bullishness. Steve would be lying through his teeth if he were to say he wasn’t absolutely terrified of the old woman.

“Good to see ya here kid. Thought you’d been scared off after the first race.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open just slightly. It’s too early for him to talk to people. Luckily he realizes he’s been just standing there like an idiot after just a few seconds.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. I just have a crazy work schedule. This was the first time I could have the weekend off.”

“That’s good. Was startin’ to worry the two of you had broke it off. Glad to see ya didn’t.” She pats his shoulder a little hard. Not really expecting it he stumbles slightly.

He momentarily freaks at the comment. Forgetting for a second that Billy had told her. He allows himself to smile when it comes back to him. Enjoying the acceptance from the old woman. Ahead of her time. Reminding himself why he said he liked her.

“Okay. Since I have you alone, I have to ask. I have a theory and I need you to confirm it.” Steve throws her a quizzical look and takes a sip of his coffee. “What’s Hargrove like in the sack?”

Steve nearly does a spit take.

He manages to swallow the coffee in one aggressive gulp before actually bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry. Uh. Could you maybe elaborate? Are you asking about our... positions?”

“Oh god. No. Please don’t tell me that.”

Steve never thought he’d see that lady blush. But she was. Blushing. Cherry red all over her cheeks.

“My theory is that his little tough guy act don’t make it past the bedroom door.”

“Oh! Okay. Umm.” Steve was slightly uncomfortable. Discussing not his sex life with a woman be barely knew, but Billy’s sex life. But Steve was still hanging on to that grudge and thought, what harm is there? “He���s definitely not as aggressive, but I wouldn’t go as far to say he’s entirely submissive.”

“So he’s not a pillow princess?”

Steve raises his eyebrows and chuckles.

“Sometimes.”

Now Gerry has burst into laughter. Almost tearing up. Steve never would have thought this is the kind of conversation he’d be having at eight thirty in the morning in the middle of a parking lot surrounded by conservative men in their forties and fifties.

And then there’s someone else standing next to them. Long dirty blond hair. Unmistakably Billy.

“What are you guys laughing at?” Billy asks. Not at all amused.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, princess.” Gerry says before slapping a hand two times against his cheek and walking off without another word.

Billy looks completely dumbfounded. Steve is desperately trying to hold in another laugh.

“Did she just call me princess?”

“Hey shouldn’t we be walking the course right about now?”

Billy takes the half eaten croissant from Steve’s hand and takes a bite before handing it back.

And with a mouthful of bread he points a finger. “This conversation is not over.”

- : -

They only had the time to walk the course just once. Billy was nervous. Steve could tell. Not just because of that. But because it had started to rain again.

Steve doesn’t like seeing Billy nervous about the rain. He was already nervous enough himself when Billy was all confident with his “it’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing”’s, but if Billy’s nervous, that can’t be good.

By the time they get back to the Camaro, Billy falls into the driver seat with his legs hanging out the open door. His head in his hands breathing slightly chaotic. Something was wrong. More than just the rain.

Steve lays a tentative hand onto Billy’s thigh, but Billy quickly and swiftly slaps the hand away.

“Don’t touch me. We’re in public!”

Okay. Something was really wrong.

Because not ten minutes ago they were just fine being touchy. Sure they were very PG and platonic. But Billy seemed to be okay with it so long as it was nothing too suspicious. A hand on a thigh might seem a little too suggestive if you don’t counter in the fact that there was literally nobody near and the car door shielded the act entirely from view.

But Steve chose not to take it personally. Because something happened in that little head of his as soon as the rain started. Something Steve was not yet privy to.

“Billy. Relax. I’m gonna get in and we’re gonna talk it out, okay?”

Billy nodded his head. Breaths still shaky with a hint of anger as he tossed his legs into the vehicle and slammed his door shut. Okay maybe a little more than a hint.

Once Steve was inside he took a tight hold of Billy’s hand. Trying to calm his erratic breathing. It seems to help slightly. Enough for Billy to actually hear the words coming out of Steve’s mouth.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Billy looks at him. His eyes stone cold. “It’s fucking raining.”

“Someone’s observant.”

“Shut up.”

Steve pulls their clasped hands to where they are now resting on Steve’s thigh. Wrapping a second hand around the two so Billy’s is fully encompassed.

“That didn’t seem to bother you an hour ago. Why now?”

Billy tosses his head back against the headrest. Shutting his eyes tightly and inhaling sharply through his nose.

“You! You made me fucking nervous, Steve. I have never given the rain a second thought until you. And now I can barely remember the course, and I have to run on street tires, and it’s fucking raining! And you’re here to watch and now I’m nervous.”

Steve’s look at Billy softens. Because it makes sense. And god Steve feels awful because it was his grumpy attitude that caused all of this.

“Bills, if I thought your life was actually in danger I would have had you turn the car around when you asked. I was just in a pissy mood, okay?” Steve squeezes tighter. “I believe in you, princess.”

That pulls Billy out of his haze for just a moment. “Okay what the fuck inside joke is this?”

“If you do well today, maybe, I’ll tell you.”

“Bribery huh? Didn’t think that was your style.”

Aw. There’s the Billy he knows and unfortunately loves.

“Come on, let’s get those brand new numbers on your car.”

“Kiss me first, shithead.”

So Steve does. Leaning over the stick shift, planting a quick and wet kiss straight to Billy’s lips. Not the kiss Billy wants. But that’s all Steve’s going to give.

- : -

To both of their surprise, Billy doesn’t spin. Actually, he’s one of the only drivers who didn’t spin.

And fortunately, nobody crashed today. Not even Dwight.

Steve didn’t ride with Billy today. Not wanting to add to the stress. Even if it wasn’t a timed run.

And Billy came in first. Even if he drove slower than his liking. All of the DNF’s, missed gates, and hit cones playing in his own favor. And shit, Steve owes him some information, and maybe a better kiss.

The second run group was on course straight away, giving Billy and him absolutely zero time to even speak before Billy was being summoned to his work assignment. So Steve just parked himself at one of the picnic tables in the covered area. Ignoring the fact that his boyfriend was putting himself in front of reckless drivers on wet pavement. Shoving down the thought of “what could go wrong” as far as it would fucking go.

No. No. No. The only car Billy would be going home in would be the Camaro. Not an ambulance.

The sounds of screeching tires against wet asphalt did not cure the thought. Painstakingly resisting every urge to turn his head every time he heard so much as an “ooh” from an onlooker.

He sat there. Sipping on his now lukewarm coffee and searching the wooden planks of the picnic table for hidden shapes. Just like he would with the clouds if they weren’t just one gray blob.

And time manages to pass by quickly with just that to occupy his time. He hears the engines shut off and the announcer call something over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t know what, but the tone of his voice made it sound like a finale.

He’s tossing his nearly empty coffee cup in the garbage can when Billy comes up from behind him.

“Hey, before we go, wanna feel like you’re in high school again?” Billy asks, discreetly pulling at his sleeve.

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Just trust me.”

Steve gives him a weird look but follows Billy under the bleachers that face the real racetrack. The one people actually come here for. Not a parking lot.

You can barely see anything but rusted metal from where they’re standing. Steve pieces it together fairly quickly.

“You bring me under here to kill me?”

“Just shut up and fucking kiss me.”

Billy was right. It totally does feel like high school. The good parts. Sneaking girls under the bleachers on the football field. But this felt ten times better. Because it was Billy. Not just some girl he only got with to prove something to Tommy H.

It’s like they were in their own little corner of the world. Perfectly concealed and able to love one another publicly but privately at the same time.

Steve’s tugging at Billy’s hair and Billy’s tugging at his. He’d be upset if it hadn’t already been messed up by the rain earlier.

Their hands are moving haphazardly but their lips and tongues have found a rhythm. Slowly interlocking and fulfilling their every need.

“God I love you.” Steve breathes against Billy’s mouth.

“Tell me what princess means.”

Steve had nearly forgotten.

“Something relating to your pillow.”

Billy stalls for a second before completely stepping away from Steve.

“You did not tell her that.”

Steve doesn’t respond. Just raises his eyebrows and stands his ground. The look says I sure did.

“I fucking hate you.”

“You love me.”

And Billy just moves back in, pulling him by the collar, and kisses him. Inhaling sharply. Breathing in all that is Steve.

“You know you love it when I just lay there.”

“Yeah. I do.”

[akeshuu]

Ikerev HC

Fenrir going to the Land of Reason with MC to meet her friends

Also MC is from our time period, because a) I forgot whether she was from the 18th or 19th century and had no internet to check it and b) I’m a lazy dumbass and couldn’t stay historically accurate regarding scenery, inventions, etc. anyway.

So. EXCITED.

Alice had spent long hours talking about her friends and family back home in the Land of Reason. Fenrir knew that she loved him and her new home in Cradle, but it was also obvious how much she missed some aspects of her old life. Especially her friends.

Alice was happy most of the time, but he had caught glimpses of the shadow in her eyes whenever something reminded her of her old friends, the regret that sometimes found its way into her heart for leaving without a single goodbye.

A few months had passed and those moments had begun occurring more and more

So, of course, Fenrir decided to take matters into his own hands. He spoke with Ray and arranged for them both to be free for the next month.

When he told her that he was sending her to the Land of Reason, at first Alice was confused. Last time he had done that, it was to protect her from danger. But why this time?

“We’re going together,” he assured her. “I know you left without saying goodbye and you miss everyone from your old life. So we’re going to spend a month with your family and friends so you can assure them that you’re doing alright and see them once more. Sounds good?” When Alice just nods, overwhelmed with happiness at the thought, Fenrir smiles and embraces her.

Alice didn’t regret her decision to stay in Cradle, even for a second. But for some reason she had thought that once she had made a choice, it was final. If she decided to live in this magic Wonderland, she had to abandon her home forever.

But there was Fenrir, the love of her life, who had seen right into her heart and found a way to erase her worries and gift her with even more happiness than she thought possible.

Thus they found themselves in the garden at the next full moon, with quite more luggage than necessary. It was mostly Seth’s fault, though. At first MC had taken only a small bag with necessities, since most of her things were still in her old apartment. They only needed to get Fenrir’s stuff. But seeing how little she had planned to take for an entire month, Seth switched to panicked-big-sis mode and packed an entire suitcase in the span of mere minutes. However, he did remind her to get her friends and family gifts from Cradle, so she was grateful.

“Ready?”

“I should be the one asking. Prepared to fall into the rabbit hole into an entirely new world with no magic, where you aren’t allowed to shoot guns?”

“I’m ready for the fight of my life!”

The Land of Reason sure wasn’t as epic as he made it sound, but it was reassurance enough.

Although he hadn’t really expected the fall. Why hadn’t he expected it? Alice warned him beforehand. But boy, that didn’t make sense. She had fallen into Cradle from the sky. So why were they falling out Cradle as well? Shouldn’t they be, I don’t know, flying towards the sky or something?

Magic is weird.

It was late when they found themselves in the park, so they headed towards her old apartment for the night.

On their way, Fenrir was taking everything in and always asking questions. He knew her world was different, but it was another thing to see it for himself. “These weird rectangles all people seem to be holding. Are those the smartphones you mentioned?” “Was this fast thing the car you once told me about? It does indeed seem more comfortable than a carriage.” “Those screens are lighten up and are moving! How the hell does this work without magic crystals?”

“…I don’t actually know. I’ve always been bad at this stuff.” (same, Alice, same. Let me fall into Cradle and forget that science is a thing)

You decide to meet your friends first, because you know it’ll be easier to explain them the whole situation. (and because I only wanna write their meeting with her gang, which was meant to be a shameless self-insert with my friend group, but I got tired writing it)

After they wake up the next day, Alice texts her old friends she hadn’t used a phone in months, what is this? in their group chat, that has hundreds of missed messages, many of which aimed at her or regarding her disappearance. She ignored those for now, still feeling that ping of guilt, and asked to meet them all at their usual spot, which was a little playground with some benches, surrounded by grass. It was where they had played as kids and later on kept as a hangout spot, since barely any people went there anymore. Right after he message was sent, her friends freaked out and texted her back, mostly in all caps, asking where she had been. Alice didn’t respond for less than ten seconds, but her phone was already ringing.

“WHAT HAPPENED, GIRL? WHERE WERE YOU? IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?” It was a bit overwhelming, but it was nice hearing her friend’s voice.

“Hey, Rhia, I promise I’m fine. I’ll explain everything later”.

Fenrir placed a soothing hand on her knee and offered a smile. He knows how much she hates making people worry and could practically feel the anxiety pouring out of her in that moment.

An hour later, they were walking towards the place. They’re still a few minutes early, but MC knew her friends well enough to guess that they’ve all talked to each other previously and decided to go early so they were all together when she arrived. Fenrir held her hand during the whole way and didn’t say a word. She had a lot on her mind and he gives her the space she needs to sort those thought out.

As she thought, the others were already waiting for them when they arrived. Two girls and one boy. Fenrir had heard about them already. They lived in the same neighborhood and had always been together. Many people had joined and left their group, but in the end, they were the four that always stayed, always chose each other before anyone else.

Until Alice had left them to live in Cradle without saying anything. From what he had heart, Fenrir was sure that they would acknowledge her happiness and understand and respect her decision. She didn’t seem that confident, though.

“We thought you had been kidnapped! Murdered even! And now you come with a boy? Did you abandon us for some stupid boyfriend?”, one of the girls, probably Rhia, from what he knew, screamed at her.

“I was actually kidnapped at one point,” argued Alice. Probably not the best way to start the conversation.

All her friends froze, not knowing whether it was one of her usual jokes or something real. Fenrir spoke up, hoping to break at least some of the tension. “Hi, I’m Fenrir. Indeed her boyfriend, but definitely not the one who kidnapped her.” And then softly, only so Alice could hear him “Do you want me to leave you alone for this?” She shook her head and so he stayed.

She started her story. She told them about meeting Blanc and falling down the rabbit hole, discovering that the fantasy land from “Alice in Wonderland” was real, albeit a bit different than the book. She told them how she was stuck there for a month, but then didn’t want to leave when she had to. Told them of the world and the armies and all her adventures there.

“Thanks for listening to everything. I don’t know if you can believe me, but I promise that-“

“Of course we believe you”, the boy, Kian, said. “We made a promise when we were kids, remember? If something supernatural happens to one of us, the others have to hear them out and believe them. Or at least believe that they believe themselves.” The last part wasn’t that reassuring, but the fact that they all remembered that silly children’s promise was all she needed. (here comes the self-insert. It’s a promise I have with my friends, because we’re all obsessed with magic and stuff and honestly, it’s the best thing)

“I do believe you” her other friend said, a girl with green hair. That must be Lena. “And I respect those little mind tricks. Letting us know how much you enjoy the world, adventures and new friends, but skipping out on all details on your boyfriend so we don’t assume you’re just ditching us for some boy”

Fenrir tensed at that. He had never thought about it that way, but her friends hadn’t been there when they had fallen in love. Of course they would assume the worst. He himself wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told him he would find another person to be his partner in crime. There had never been someone equally as important to him as Ray, until he met Alice. She was their Ray, but they had lost her for a while and didn’t know why.

“I know you’re all mad that I disappeared, but I also know that you’re worried because you care. Because of that, I wanted to assure you that I’ve got it all figured out. I’ve got an amazing home, awesome friends, a job that makes me happy and all in a world that feels more like home than anything here ever has. So you don’t need to worry about me. I’m doing it for myself, not for him. However, I do love Fenrir. I’m pretty sure I always will.”

That was enough for them to accept it. They all offered her a smile and Fenrir could almost see the tension falling off her shoulders. Keeping Cradle a secret seemed to be more of a burden to her than even he had noticed. Now, she glowed with newly discovered freedom and Fenrir could feel his heart responding to it with a wave of warmth.

Her friends had accepted Cradle and, seeing the loving looks they gave each other, their relationship as well. However, there was still much they had to know about Fenrir. And so, they took turns asking… Or rather, testing him. Luckily, he was cool with it, amused even and Alice seemed to share his feelings.

“Weapon of choice?” “Guns” *sparkling eyes* “Swords are more badass” *angry mode activated*

“Did you know that Alice loved ghost stories so much, she had a notebook where she wrote down all her favorite ones, but doodled silly ghosties around them, because they were “too scary otherwise?”, this was supposed to be a way to embarrass Alice, but eventually lead to teasing Fenrir. “Well, I might’ve skipped that part for his sake?” “What? Too embarrassed to let him know you’re scared of your own interests?” “More like, I think that even the silly ghost doodles would’ve scared the shit out of him”

“Will you protect Alice at all cost?” “I’ll always be there if she needs me, but honestly, I’m not sure she needs it. She’s so badass, even our king is scared of her at this point” *flashback to that one time Alice took all his books out of his room and used them to close off the entrance to the place where all the cats meet. No one knew how she had managed to bring that a good hundred books into the city without anyone noticing. Whoever had helped her kept silent to this day*

“Do you accept that Alice is allowed to speak and be as friendly as she wishes with whomever she wishes and you, even as her boyfriend, have no say in it?”

Alice responded before Fenrir can: “One, he knows I’m not his property and can have my own friends. Two, I’m pretty much the only girl in the whole Black Army, so if that was an issue, we would’ve had a fight ages ago. And three, even if he gets jealous sometimes, he has no right to control my friendships in anyway without being a hypocrite, because I know he and his best friend were making out in high school.”

“Wait, who told you about that?” *baby was confused, he hadn’t told her yet*

“A girl never tells her secrets” *actually, it was just a pure guess*

Yeah, her friends loved him at the end of the day. There was no need to worry this much.

Now Alice could return to Cradle without all the guilt. And who knows, perhaps they could come visit every now and then.

[ratsoh-writes]

Matchups you say hmmmmm??? Also omg I wasn’t gonna send one in but I kept seeing all the ones you did and they were so cute so I just had to join in;) thank you for doing these!! Also if you have a lot, feel free to ignore this one<3

Main personality traits: I use she/her pronouns, I’m bisexual, and Idk if this is helpful but from quiz results (that were done just for fun lol) I’m a kindness soul. I’m pretty socially awkward, but I try my best to make an effort when I talk to people. I’m very talkative once I get comfortable with someone and I love to joke around and be silly with the people close to me. I love the feeling when you’re joking with someone and you both get so giddy with laughter (it’s one of my fav feelings). I do tend to get drained socially and need alone time every once and awhile. I make an effort, no matter what kind of day I’m having, to be nice to people because you don’t know what they’re going through. I have been told I have rbf (resting bitch face) and not a lot of people tend to approach me because of it and I’m constantly being asked if I’m okay or if I’m mad when around other people, but most of the time, I’m just chilling. I think it’s a mix of social awkwardness and the rbf but who knows? Food is definitely the way to my heart, I love eating good food with good company I just get so warm and fuzzy when cooking/eating with loved ones;) I’d say my love language is probably quality time, and food (is that one of the love languages?? If not it should).

Strengths: Having dealt with a lot of judgment myself, I don’t tend to be a judgmental person. I’m a good listener, I’m good at reaffirming and hyping up those close to me when they need it, and I’m good at seeing if someone is uncomfortable in situations and acting accordingly, such as getting them out, changing the subject, speaking up, etc.

Weaknesses: I’m a sh*t communicator when it comes to my own feelings, especially when they’re negative, and I find it really hard to put them into words and because of this I tend to bottle a lot of things up. When I snap, it’s not usually anger it’s mostly just, exhaustion, tears, or a total shut down because of the bottling and while I’m working to get better, it’s still a bad habit I have. I also tend to procrastinate, I have a hard time with big social gatherings, I can be forgetful, I can be pretty stubborn, and I get very insecure (about my feelings and my appearance/body) and tend to beat myself up over a lot of things.

Pet peeves/odd habits: I have sensory issues so I cannot stand flashing lights, sudden loud/shrill noises, loud chewing/mouth noises, itchy fabrics (those are the main triggers). I hate angry yelling, laugh tracks in shows, vomit and when its used as comedy in the media, and the dark. I also really hate alcohol and drugs, I don’t care if others are having fun with it, you do you and I’m not gonna judge you for it, but personally it’s a trigger and I don’t like being around it or people while they’re under the effects of it. As for odd habits, I never have the comforter on the bed because it gets too hot and I sleep with only one or two thinner blankets, I hate having doors and windows open, and burning candles makes me nervous and I’ll never let them burn for more then ten minutes.

Hobbies: I love to draw, play/listen to music, paint nails/do nail art, play video games, go on walks (not runs I am deeply out of shape), go to cool shops/places, and as mentioned before cook/eat with loved ones.

No no’s in a relationship: not respecting my boundaries, pressuring me to do things I’ve said I don’t want to (not like going to events or stuff because getting out of your comfort zone is important sometimes, but with more serious things), constantly interrupting me without noticing or caring, being judgmental, and jumping to conclusions without having a conversation with me.

I hope that wasn’t too much! Thank you for doing these!! I hope you’re doing okay and are hopefully having a good day/night;)

hmmm there's quite a few boys who fit you pretty well. Let’s take a walk on the wild side and go with CASH (swapfell papyrus)!

First of all, the two biggest points are: your humor and aversion to drink and drug. The sense of humor is pretty self explanatory. Cash just wants someone he can joke around with. It doesn't necessarily mean elaborate pranks all the time, just teasing and giggling together is great too. For the drinking, cash is an ex alcoholic and drug addict. He’s been sober for a few years now, but obviously needs someone who wont be a temptation to him. 

Cash is one of those guys who’s very social and needs a lot of stimulation to be happy. He’s an independent adult and wont get mad if you need a day to yourself on occasion. He might be all whiny though since he’s a dramatic b*stard lol. 

Cash takes people as they are and won’t expect anyone to change for him. Unfortunately both of you are crap at talking about your own feelings. It’s just something you both will have to learn together. 

dating cash includes:

so you like nail art? He’s always down to be your test dummy. If you ever did cash’s claws, he’ll wear the art with pride

just a warning, cash is ridiculously easy to hype up. He just loved being excited and goofy! If you’re in a playful mood, it’ll only take like .2 seconds to get hi right up there with you lol

cash is picky when it comes to the food at his own home, but going out he has a rule that you should try everything at least once. Even the really sketch stuff. No regrets in this house

if  you’re wondering, the second best was bruiser

[lemondropsssss]

There is a twenty-seven-second stretch of time between when Jaskier wakes up and the exact moment he remembers he invited Geralt of Rivia and his Child of Surprise Cirilla, the fucking Lost Princess of Cintra, into his home. Of his own free will and with embarrassingly little prompting. Maybe, just maybe, if he stays in bed for a few moments longer his house guests will have magically disappeared. Geralt’s a Witcher and weird magical shit happens all the time, it’s possible.

But then a door opens down the hall and the too heavy footsteps of decidedly-not-Bea and most-definitely-Geralt sound on the stairs, which seems fairly damning evidence for the ‘Geralt is still in his house and he is going to have to deal with that in a mature way’ side of things. And mature adults rise early and make pleasant conversation with their guests over breakfast. He leverages himself up with a groan and goes about getting himself ready for the day.

Jaskier washes his face in the clean water Bea left out for him the night before, grateful for the cold as to shake off his morning apprehension. He dresses plainly in a off-white shirt, dark blue doublet, tawny-brown breeches with soft leather boots of the same color, and then spends possibly too long staring at his reflection in the glass before deeming the outfit acceptable. With a last fluff of his hair he makes his way downstairs, steadfastly not thinking about the heavy weight of nervousness clinging to him.

At the ground floor landing he stops, hearing the soft murmur of a girl in the front room. He pushes open the door, and can’t help but smile at the sight that meets him. Ciri is curled up on the ledge in front of the window. Her bedspread is draped over her shoulders, and she has tucked it over Arthur next to her. The old dog looks smitten, basking in the attention as Ciri strokes soft fingers through his fur.

“-And that’s when I found Geralt, or he might have found me, and then we found Yen together. Geralt said that we’re going somewhere high in the mountains. Have you ever been?” Arthur doesn’t answer, but that doesn’t seem to deter Ciri. “Me neither. I’m excited about the snow, though. Geralt said it’ll get as tall as him, but he might’ve been joking, it’s hard to tell with him.”

“It’s all in the eyes,” Jaskier says, blatently forgetting that Ciri did not know she was being overheard, and then feeling terrible when it frightens her. The girl jumps nearly half a foot, whirling around to face Jaskier with a wild look in her eye, and nearly toppling off the ledge as she does. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He steps further into the room, hands held towards her with his palms up. She relaxes incrementally, tucking her blanket tighter around herself, but he can tell she’s still on edge.

“Geralt and Arthur are much the same,” Jaskier says and takes a seat in a plush armchair a good few feet away, letting her have her space. “Not particularly verbose, either of them, but good listeners.” He offers a smile which she returns. “There were some days when we were traveling I don’t believe Geralt said more than two words to me. But he didn’t mind if I talked,” Liar, the voice in his head hissed, “And I knew he was listening.” What nonsense are you filling her head with? “But joking, that’s all in the eyes. I didn’t even notice it until he’d done it a few times, but the corners of his eyes crinkle when he’s laughing, even if his mouth looks the same. Best way to know a Witcher, my dear: study the eye crinkles.”

Ciri regards him for a long moment, head tilted to the side in thought. Just like Geralt, isn’t it? Would he like the lie you’re spreading?

“Did you sleep out here all night?” He asks, finding her gaze far too searching for his comfort level.

“No, I uh-” She pauses, and her fingers resume their petting through Arthur’s fur, “I couldn’t sleep. I have dreams, sometimes, that aren’t very friendly. I saw him here when I went up to bed last night, so I thought he might still be here. I meant to go back up, but I liked watching the people. I missed the city.” It’s a quiet admission, but Jaskier understands. There’s a difference between city quiet and middle of nowhere quiet. Insects, birds, animals, cannot match the ever-present hum of a city. Growing up in a castle is much the same; there’s always someone awake, some human making noise somewhere. The absence of that can be jarring, and Jaskier well remembers his many sleepless nights under an open sky.

Jaskier lets her be, watches her watching the world wake up. He leaves after a long moment, casting a backward glance at Ciri and her companion. She has resettled them with Arthur stretched over her lap, her fingers scritch-scritching against his head, leaning cross legged against the wall of the window seat, a tired and lost look in her eye.

He takes the stairs to the kitchen two at a time, resolving to bring Ciri some breakfast at least, but stops short before he reaches the last step.

“My horse.” He hears Geralt say, voice rough and worn. It seems both his house guests are in need of recuperation.

“Oh, yes, I had Erik take her two houses down to the Roiche home. After Master Julian helped their son get into the University they’ve given us use of their stables when we have the need. I can send for him or-”

“I’ll take him, Bea. I think we both know Erik won’t be among the living for a few hours yet.” They both startle at the arrival of Jaskier, Geralt’s face dropping into a scowl and he knows it’s because Geralt didn’t hear his arrival. “Bea, Fiona slept poorly, she’s in the front room with Arthur now. Will you bring her some toast with butter and jam, and maybe a cup of your sleepy tea?”

Bea tuts something about poor dear girls and bustles off to prepare her meal, setting the kettle to boil, slicing the bread, pulling this bottle and that jar down from the pantry, all with expert skill honed over her years in the kitchen.

“Who’s Arthur?” Now Geralt’s scowl is about something entirely different. “I don’t like leaving Fiona with a man I don’t know, Ja- Julian.”

“Well good, because it’s a dog Geralt, good gods. Although,” He pauses to consider, smirk firmly in place, “Watching you try to fight the ten pound dog might be entertaining. We should consider it as an afternoon activity. I bet Fiona’d like it.” He ignores Geralt’s warming growl and turns on his heel quickly to hide his grin at provoking such a reaction.

“ Julian. The horse.” Ooh, scary voice. A look over his shoulder confirms he has on his scary face as well.

“Yes, yes, c’mon, then. It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.” Jaskier leaves without bothering to check if Geralt is following him, but he can feel the Witcher’s eyes on him as they leave the house. He guides them down the sleepy street a short ways, coming to a stop at a gated alley between two houses. He unlocks it with a key from his belt purse, and leads Geralt down a narrow path opening into a small courtyard with a small but well built stable tucked in behind the residence.

Roach is alone in the stall, and she lets out a nicker at the sight of friends. Jaskier approaches slowly, hand held out flat for her to sniff. He’s known multiple Roaches over the years, but all the mares have seemed to have the same bite-first policy when it came to unsanctioned touching.

“Hello, you brave, beautiful creature. Do you remember me?” Roach butts her head into his chest, and he huffs a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ve missed you.” He whispers it like a secret as he strokes a hand down her velvet soft muzzle. He traces his fingers across the delicate white markings on her face with a soft reverence. He’d liked every previous Roach well enough, but this was the only one who’d ever returned his affections. It may have had something to do with the treats he’d fed her any time he thought Geralt wasn’t looking.

“She missed you, too.” Geralt’s voice from behind makes him jump, and Jaskier realizes he has quite forgotten they had an audience. “She was mad at me for a week after- well, after. Didn’t like that you were gone, kept trying to get into my pockets for treats.” His voice is low and rough, like he’d been speaking the whole night, and Jaskier does not turn to meet his gaze. “You always said she had better sense than me. Think you might’ve been right about that.” A pause, a clearing of the throat, and then the graze of fingertips at his elbow. “I think you might’ve been right about a few things, actually.”

“Oh? Twenty two years and I might’ve been right about ‘a few things’?” Jaskier turns and instantly regrets the move as it brings him chest to chest with a too-close Geralt. “How-” His throat is suddenly very dry and really, when did Geralt get this close? The man hates unnecessary physical contact. Jaskier folds his arms over his chest to hide his shaking hands before clearing his throat and trying again. “How magnanimous of you, Witcher. Tell me, which things was I right about?”

“Fiona, for one. Whenever you tried to broach the subject on the Path I shut you up, or just left you somewhere. That was unfair of me.” Geralt’s brow furrows, his head tilts to the side, and the way that alone tugs at Jaskier’s heart is wildly unfair. How can he be so endearing even now? “That was when I started pushing you away, I think. After Cintra. I knew you went back there, that you’d seen her and I couldn’t...” He trails off, and the silence stretches between them.

“Never knew you to be the introspective type.” It’s said quietly and mostly directed at Roach, but he knows Geralt will hear him.

“Yen might’ve had something to say about it all last time we were together.” Cue blood rushing in his ears, a pressure in his head, a percussive beat sounding out Yen Yen Yen Yen Yen against his skull. “She didn’t like it when I told her what had happened. What I said. She’s the one who suggested finding you here on our way to Kaer Morhen. So I could apologize.”

“So all this is just you doing as your witch tells you. Makes sense, I’ve never known you to be so acquiescent to anyone else.” He can’t keep the bitterness from his voice, and it sours on his tongue even as he says it. He should have known Geralt was back with Yennefer. That’s what he did; she would swann in with some magical adventure and he would drop everything to follow her, and then when their dual stubbornness would come to a head and she’d leave him in a fit of righteous anger he would trail back to Jaskier to start the game all over again. And Jaskier would let him, the absolute fool, every time. “Huh, introspective and obedient. I knew I should’ve done a silver test when you showed up at my door.”

Hurt passes over Geralt’s face and he draws back, eyes darting across Jaskier’s face. He’s still for a moment before he reaches into his boot, bringing out a small silver dagger. He presses it to the skin of his forearm for a long moment before holding out the hilt to Jaskier. “If you’re unsatisfied, feel free to test me with whatever you like, however many times you like. I’m no doppler and no trick, Jask.”

“My name is Julian,” He snaps, before looking down at the knife in his hand. At the sight of it his eyes widen, and a weight drops onto his chest.

Jaskier grasps the hilt in a shaking hand, testing the familiar strength in his grip. He knows this knife. Geralt gave him this knife when he turned twenty-five. There were buttercups carved into the blade, and he’d fancied it as a lover’s gift back when he still let himself believe such nonsense. Silver for monsters. It had been one of the things left in Geralt’s pack when Jaskier fled the mountain top.

“Why do you have this?” He croaks out, swallowing against the tightness in his throat before trying again. “Why would you keep this?” He tries to push it back into Geralt’s hand but the Witcher refuses.

“It was a gift, freely given. It belongs to you.” Geralt closes the distance between them again, gaze earnest and utterly heartbreaking in its sincerity. Fool us once shame on him, fool us a hundred thousand times? By then you do not play a fool, you are one. A weak, sad, fool who falls for the same trick every time.  

“You- you can’t do this again. Geralt, I won’t do this again.” Because suddenly he’s drowning in it, in the warm glow of Geralt’s undivided attention and it burns inside. And maybe it’s a good burn but all the good is drowned out by the anger-sadness-confusion-desperation playing in his chest.

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestures wildly between the two of them. “This thing you do when she rejects you and you come to me so I can sing your praises and make you feel cared for, which I’ll do because I am an absolute glutton for punishment and unavailable men, but it’s just until you get sick of me or she calls for you.” Jaskier turns his back, burying his head in Roach’s neck to avoid the struck look on Geralt’s face. “It’s- it’s not fair , Geralt. It’s just not fair. And I can’t do it again.”

It’s a long time before either man speaks. Jaskier can feel the warmth of Geralt at his back, but keeps his head planted firmly against Roach. Finally, he feels Geralt reach out and skim his spine with soft knuckles. Then, hands on his waist, softly pulling him back from the horse and turning him against a firm chest. He tucks his face against Geralt’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent and hating himself for how safe it feels. Geralt’s arms wrap around him, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other circled around his waist. He’s never been held with such reverence and it takes his breath away.

“Not again, Jask. I promise.” It’s words rumbled from the mouth by his ear, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “I promise this time will be different.” Geralt says with such conviction, Jaskier almost believes him. Almost.

-

@geralt-struggling-love asked to be tagged

part one part two part three and the full story is on ao3 here

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Swansong || Roger Taylor x fem!Reader

summary || sequel to ‘debut’. it’s sixteen years after you and roger first started dating. fourteen years since you graduated university. eight years since you married someone else. three weeks since you realised your husband was cheating on you. what are the chances that you run into roger, after all this time?

rating || family friendly, folks, apart from a few swear words here and there. just angst. pure angst, basically. with a christmassy, festive vibe.

word count || 5.8k (somehow, for fuck’s sake)

author’s notes || so, i’ve had quite a few people ask about a ‘debut’ sequel. surprise! here’s the sequel that i’m sure none of you were after. the idea just popped into my head and, despite the fact that i do not like reading angst (or writing, generally), here i am. also, this is a much older roger than i normally write for (he’s 52 in this), but i still wouldn’t call it pd roger by any means. this video is what i pictured when i was writing him - he was actually 52 years old in 1999, so it works perfectly. roger talks about his kids in this fic, but bc this is an alternate universe, of course, i’ve not used the names of his real kids. (sidenote: there’s an oc in here whose name is naoise - it’s pronounced ‘neesha’!)

masterlist

     “I can’t do this anymore. I have to break up with him right now. I have to.”

    Justine grabs your wrist, snatching your phone from your hand. “No, are you serious? What are you going to do, break up with him over the phone? Text him?”

    Your bottom lip trembles, and you feel tears well in your eyes. “I can’t deal with this anymore, Juss. He hates me.”

    “He doesn’t hate you.” Justine sets your phone down on the table, and cups your cheeks in her hands, brushing the tears away with her thumbs. “Hey. Hey. It’s okay. Deep breath. In and out. With me.”

    You follow her lead – a shaky breath in, a shaky breath out.

    “I’m sorry you’re going through this,” she murmurs. “I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, especially not my best friend. But you have to hold it together until after Christmas, okay? Just two more weeks. For April.”

    You nod, and take another steady breath. “For April.” April, your daughter, the love of your life.

    “Let’s just go to this stupid party, all right?” Justine said. “Go fix your make-up, I’ll call an Uber.”

    You nod, she gives you a warm, sad smile, and you head to the bathroom.

    You take a drink of water and sigh heavily, then dig out your make-up to fix your foundation and mascara. Fuck him, you think to yourself. Fuck him for ruining everything. Eight years of marriage. Hope that side piece was worth it.

    You’re not sure if he knows that you know about… all of that. But you have your suspicions. He’s not exactly trying to hide it. Coming home late, smelling of another woman’s perfume, having no other excuse other than he’s ‘working late’. He’s been telling you for weeks that he’s just been ‘too tired’ for sex.

    But he’s with April tonight, while you and Justine are heading to the Christmas party of an old friend from uni.

    You tell yourself it’ll be a fun night. It’ll be nice to get away from home for a few hours, anyway.

    The host, Naoise, welcomes the both of you with a glamorous smile and kisses on the cheek, and waves you over with a manicured hand to the drinks table. You recognise a few familiar faces in the room, but you and Justine stick mostly together. Christmas music – mostly Michael Bublé, from what you can hear – croons in the background, just underneath the hum of conversation.

    “She was always good at throwing these things, wasn’t she?” Justine murmurs into her glass of champagne.

    You nod and hum in agreement, trying to surreptitiously cram an appetiser into your mouth and eat it as quickly as possible. “Nice of her to invite us,” you manage to mumble around the mouthful.

    “Yeah,” Justine says. “Naoise was always lovely.”

    “Have you met her kids?”

    “Yeah. She had them young, didn’t she? Right out of uni? They’re, what, ten and twelve now?”

    You finally swallow the food. “Christ.” You pick up your wine and take a gulp to wash it down. “Uh, yeah, I think so. She and Chin got married, like, a month after we graduated or something. Can you imagine April being that old?”

    Justine snorts. “I thought I had my kids young. But she seems happy, so I’m happy for her.”

    “Mm, yeah.” You take another sip of wine. “Wow. Getting married at, like, twenty-one, twenty-two. Oof.”

    “Right?” Justine says lowly. “Like, I would’ve been terrified. I was dating Amanda.”

    Your eyes widen. “Holy shit, Amanda. I forgot all about her.”

    “I know! I can’t believe we dated for almost three years. Even I forget about her sometimes. Can’t imagine being married to her. Eugh. Plus, if Amanda hadn’t dumped me six months after graduation, then I never would’ve met Jules. I wouldn’t have the kids I have now.”

    “Weird.”

    “Yeah. Weird.” Justine’s eyes idly meander over the mingling crowd, and then she looks to you. “Out of everyone you dated at uni, who would you have married? If you had to choose.”

    You sigh. “Juss, I don’t know if I wanna talk about marriage and stuff right now. Not marriage when it’s got anything to do with me, anyway.”

    “Right, of course. Sorry.”

    “It’s fine.” You give her a reassuring smile.

    The two of you drink in silence. You know you should be mingling with everyone else, making small talk, but it’s been a rough couple of weeks, to put it lightly. And everyone will be asking how’s Will? and all of those casual questions and you’ll feel overwhelmingly uncomfortable and bitter that everyone is prying into your personal life, even if they aren’t, they’re just being polite, and that’s just too much to think about.

    So staying by the snacks table it is.

    “Roger,” you say softly.

    “Hm?”

    You chew on the inside of your cheek, and glance at Justine. “I, um– I would’ve married Roger. You remember him? Second year? The older guy?”

    Justine gives you a look. “Uh, do I remember him? The guy who was, like, twenty years older than you and you lost your virginity to? He paid you for it? Yes, I remember him.”

    “Sixteen years, thanks,” you correct her. “And he didn’t mean to pay me for it, it was a mix-up, his friends set him up, and– oh, whatever, you know the story, I don’t know why I’m telling you again.”

    “I’m just saying, hard to forget something like that,” Justine says. “You would’ve married him?”

    You nod. “Given time, yeah, I think so. There was just something about him, y’know? I mean, it makes sense why we didn’t work out. He was older, and I had uni, and I’d never really dated before, all of that. I think it was just a matter of wrong place, wrong time. But he’s – well, everyone has their ‘one that got away’, don’t they?”

    “I guess,” Justine says. She thinks for a moment, and then says, “I used to think mine was the girl I dated all through high school, Kayla. Then I met Jules.”

    “Really?” you say. “You don’t have anyone who you think would have been your perfect match, had things just been a little different?”

    Justine shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe at the time. But not now.”

    You look away, and finish the rest of your wine. “I’m getting another glass,” you mutter.

    “Hey, hey, [Y/N],” Justine says, taking your wrist. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

    You shake your head. “It’s not your fault.” You hesitate, and then say, “Am I a bad wife for– for thinking that? Even after Will and I got married, I– I mean, I never wished I had Roger instead of Will, but I just always knew that, if things had been different, then I know I would’ve ended up with Roger.”

    “No,” Justine says firmly. “No. You were never a bad wife. You’re still not. Don’t ever think that.”

    You take a moment to drink this in, and then say, “You know, I’m the same age now that Roger was when I first started dating him?” You let out a laugh. “Oh my God, I’m thirty-six. When the fuck did that happen?”

    Justine chuckles. “I know. I still feel twenty.”

    “I still feel seventeen, sometimes.”

    “I don’t think that ever changes.”

    “No, maybe not.” You twirl the empty wine glass in your fingers. “I was head-over-heels for that guy.”

    “For Roger?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Yeah, I could tell,” Justine says with a grin. “I always thought it was just because the sex was really good. And he had the money to buy you nice stuff.”

    “All of that helped,” you say lightly, and Justine laughs. “But he was just such a good guy as well. He was such a good listener, and he was so thoughtful and patient and understanding, and, I don’t know if you remember, but he used to do this thing where he’d invite me over if I’d had a hard day at uni, and when I arrived, he’d have a bubble bath all ready for me, and some snacks, and he just…” You trail away. No point in getting too caught up in the memories.

    “I always liked him,” Justine says. “After I got over the age gap. For what it’s worth, I think he really liked you, too.”

    You nod. “Yeah, I think he did.” You sigh. “Well. No use thinking it over, is there? Doubt I’ll ever see him again.”

    Justine freezes, her eyes like dinner plates.

    “Juss?” you say. “What, what is it?”

    “No fucking way,” she murmurs. Her eyes flick to yours, and she grabs your wrist again, her grip tight. “You’re not going to believe this. I cannot believe this is happening. Turn around.”

    “What?” You turn around, and your jaw drops to the floor.

    Talk about speak of the Devil.

    He’s older, definitely. How old would he be now? Fifty-two.

    You wouldn’t have picked it. You would’ve guessed maybe mid-forties. But he always did have a bit of a younger face.

    “Am I dreaming?” you say. “Am I actually dreaming?”

    “What are the goddamn chances,” Justine says incredulously.

    You watch as Roger greets Naoise, and then her husband Chin. By the way Chin beams, you guess Roger was his invite.

    “Go say hello,” Justine hisses, nudging you.

    You whirl around to look at her. “Are you out of your mind?” you hiss back. “I haven’t seen him for, like, sixteen years!”

    “Then you’ll have so much to catch up on.”

    “He wouldn’t even remember me. We only dated for less than a year.”

    “Don’t be like that. You’re as hard to forget as he is. I’m sure he’ll remember forking over three months’ wages to sleep with y–”

    “Jesus Christ, Justine, can you give it a rest already?”

    Justine tries to smother a smile. “Sorry.”

    You shake your head. “No, it’s too weird. Especially in light of everything, and this whole conversation, it’s… No. Maybe later, but not now.”

    “Maybe it’s fate, or something.”

    “Don’t,” you say, your voice hard. “I’m gonna get another drink.”

    You leave Justine at the snack table.

    You’re just deciding whether to stick to wine or to switch to champagne when a shocking familiar voice says behind you, “Good God, [Y/N]?”

    Hearing him say your name again really is like something out of a dream – like a memory come to life. You turn to him, and, inexplicably, feel a blush heat your cheeks. You have no idea what to say, so you just say, “Roger?” as if you hadn’t already known he was here.

    Up close, you can tell more easily that he’s aged. But he still smells good – different, but good – and he’s dressed nicely.

    Still not wearing glasses, though. He never did. You used to pester him all the time about it when you dated.

    There’s a moment of awkwardness, but both of you go in for a brief hug. It’s weird. You shouldn’t have gone for the hug.

    “My God, it’s been how long?” Roger says with a laugh. “Fifteen years or something?”

    “Something like that, yeah,” you say.

    “You look great.”

    “Thanks. So do you.” 

    “Oh, don’t,” Roger says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m actually old now, I know.”

    “No, you do,” you insist. “Look good, I mean. Genuinely.”

    His outfit is simple, black-and-white, which almost surprises you. He used to dress a little more eclectically; there was always something patterned or brightly coloured in just about every outfit he wore, especially to parties. Maybe it’s something he’s outgrown. The thought makes you quietly sad.

    He does have a little reindeer pin on his lapel, though. It looks handmade, like something he would have bought at a market, made out of mini pom-poms and tufts of tinsel. So maybe he hasn’t outgrown that part of him entirely.

    He seems a little flustered by your compliment, and, yep, that’s the Roger you remember. “Well, er, thank you. And I meant it too, of course.”

    “Thank you.” An unmistakably awkward moment passes, and you blurt out, “You– How are you? What brings you here?”

    “Funny story, actually.” Roger ducks forward and grabs a glass of red, and you take the opportunity to take some champagne. “I, uh, decided I hated dentistry, so I went back to uni and studied biology instead. Wanted to become a professor, but I was already thirty-seven when I started, and I would’ve had to retire by the time I got my PhD. I’m a teacher these days, high school teacher. Chin just started working with me earlier this year, and we hit it off, I suppose.”

    You blink in surprise. “A biology teacher?”

    Roger chuckles. “Yes, I know. My friends were all shocked and appalled when I told them. The salary’s miserable in comparison, but I don’t hate my life when I wake up in the mornings, so I see that as a positive.”

    You hesitate, unsure whether to ask, but go for it anyway. “Did you always hate being a dentist? I don’t…” Is this too far? Is this out of line? “I mean, well, I don’t remember you hating it that much.”

    Roger drinks this in, and then nods to himself. “Right, yeah,” he says, sounding almost surprised. “I, um, never really told you, actually. I didn’t want to, uh, force you to listen to me whine about a job I hated while you were studying and all of that.”

    “Oh,” you say. You look at your champagne. You should’ve stuck to wine.“Well, for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have minded. At all. As I remember, I used to whine about university all the time.”

    “University’s for whining,” Roger says with a shrug. “I’d done my fair share of that already, all through dentistry school. And I got to do it again, as it turned out.”

    “Is there, ah, anything else you didn’t tell me while we were dating?” you joke half-heartedly.

    Roger’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, I–”

    “No, sorry, I was kidding,” you jump in. “Obviously, I don’t expect you to…” You inwardly curse yourself, and pour some champagne down your throat.

    Roger opens his mouth, as if to say something, and, in the back of your mind, you recognise that look, but you can’t quite place what it is.

    Then someone calls Roger’s name, and the look is gone, and Roger politely excuses himself from the conversation to be swept up in another.

    You bolt back to the snack table, as subtly as you can, but Justine is nowhere to be found. You quietly vow to throttle her next time you see her for disappearing on you, and shovel one more appetiser into your mouth, washing it down with champagne, then turn to face the crowd you’ve been immaturely avoiding all night.

    It feels like an hour, but must be no more than twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes, before you find a reasonable excuse to slip away again. You’re not having a bad time, per se, and you’re enjoying getting to catch up with old acquaintances, but it’s damn exhausting. You still haven’t seen Justine.

    You wish it wasn’t so freezing outside. You could do with some fresh air.

    Maybe another drink will help keep you warm. Even though you know you shouldn’t. You’re already tipsy.

    You take another flute of champagne and slip outside onto the balcony. The automatic light switches on.

    Your fingers and toes immediately feel like they’re about to fall off. “Eugh, this was a mistake,” you mutter to yourself, and bob up and down on the spot. The balcony is dotted with snow, but it’s hardly been the coldest winter you’ve ever lived through. It’s not snowing right now, at least. And it is nice to have some time to yourself.

    The back door slides open, and you turn to see who’s joining you, hoping it’s Justine.

    It’s Roger. He gives you a smile – a little nervous, a little shy, almost – and holds out your jacket. “You looked cold.”

    The first thing that comes out of your mouth is: “How’d you know it was mine?”

    “I asked Naoise. Here, let me hold your drink.”

    You pass him your champagne, and slip on your jacket, then take the flute back. “Thanks.”

    “No worries.” Roger moves closer to you, standing beside you, and squints up at the dark sky. “Not much snow this winter.”

    You follow his gaze. The moon is half-full. “No,” you agree.

    The sounds of the party are muffled behind you. Beyond the balcony, you can see through the bright yellow windows of Naoise’s neighbours – the silhouettes of family dinners, of other parties, the white light of TVs.

    “Sorry,” Roger says, breaking the silence. “You probably came out here to have some alone time. I shouldn’t have intruded. I can go back inside.”

    “No, it’s all right,” you say. This is nice, you want to add. But you don’t know if that’s appropriate, and you can’t think of anything to say instead, so you just leave the sentiment hanging in the icy air.

    “I realised I never asked what you’re doing with yourself these days,” Roger says.

    “Ah, just working,” you reply. “I’m a market research analyst.”

    “Oh, right. How long have you been doing that for?”

    “Since I finished uni, really. Well, I worked my way up. Started as an intern in web content writing, realised I preferred data analysis, so I wormed my way into market research. But I’ve been an analyst for almost ten years now.”

    Roger ponders this. “Do you enjoy it?”

     “Yeah,” you say with a nod. “I know it sounds boring. Most people think I’m mad for not only wanting to do my job, but actually enjoying it, but I do.”

    Roger smiles, and it’s a fond smile, a smile that you used to see all the time, and you feel a stab in your chest. A voice in the back of your mind whispers, Do you remember what it feels like to be loved like that? When was the last time Will smiled at you like that? When was the last time he smiled at you at all?

    You push that voice aside. You’re just lonely, and hurt, and sad. You’re reading far too much into a simple smile.

    “I think it’s great that you love it,” Roger says. “How lucky you found something you enjoy doing so early in your career.”

    You’re taken a little off-guard, and you duck your head to hide your smile. “Yeah, I guess I am lucky.”

    You take a sip of champagne.

    “Speaking of lucky – who’s the lucky man?”

    You try not to cringe. “Oh. Uh.” You glance down at the wedding ring that caught Roger’s eye. “Yes. Um, his name is Will. We met at a work do, actually. Been married eight years.”

    “He couldn’t make it tonight?”

    “No.” You don’t elaborate.

    Roger says nothing to that, and you wonder if he’s picked up on the bitterness in your tone, as much as you tried to hide it.

    “Right,” Roger says eventually. He clears his throat. “Any kids?”

    “Yes,” you say, and there’s no pretending now – the love in your voice is real. “April. She’s three.”

    “April,” Roger muses. “Lovely name.”

    “Thank you.” You grin at him. “Actually, this is going to sound so strange, but I always thought to myself that I wanted to be as good of a parent to my kids as you were to yours.”

    Roger blinks at you – his eyes are still big and blue, but you doubted even God himself could change that – and, if you’re not mistaken, you can see his face start to colour in the beam of the balcony light. “Oh,” he says. “That’s… one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

    You chuckle. “Well, it’s true. You were such an amazing dad. I’m sure you still are.”

    “I try to be.”

    “How old are they now? Gosh, they’d all be finished high school now, wouldn’t they?”

    “Yeah,” Roger says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yes, um, my youngest, Sam, she graduated last year. She’s taking a year off this year, working and travelling. Daphne’s the oldest, if you remember, and she’s moving in with her girlfriend soon. She still lives at her mum’s, but her and Asha have been looking for a place for a few months now. She’s an industrial designer. Then there’s Fox, he’s a musician, he’s a bassist, and Sophie’s still at uni, she’s studying theatre, and she wants to do a master’s in artistic directing.”

    “Wow,” you say. You never got to know his kids personally too well – you met them a handful of times, but you were far too nervous to spend too much time with them back in the day. The last time you saw them, Daphne hadn’t even started high school. Sam was still learning to talk. “Wow, that’s– they’re so grown-up now.”

    “God, you don’t have to tell me,” Roger says with a chuckle.

    You shake your head, sighing, and drink some more champagne. “Do you have a lucky lady, then?”

    Roger’s face tightens, and he looks down at his left hand, splaying his fingers, but you don’t see a ring. He tucks his hand into his pocket. “I’ve been seeing someone for two months now, almost three,” he says. “Jean. I teach one of her kids. She’s lovely.”

    “Jean,” you repeat. “She couldn’t make it tonight?”

    Roger shakes his head. “No. She’s a nurse, so she often works nights.” He pauses, and then says quickly, “She’s fifty.”

    You can’t help but laugh. “Right.”

    “I didn’t want you to think that I always go for younger women,” Roger explains hastily. “You were an outlier. A wonderful outlier, but an outlier nonetheless.”

    “‘A wonderful outlier’,” you muse, a touch playfully. “Could be the name of my memoir.”

    “It could very well be,” Roger says.

    Something doesn’t sit quite right. It seems impossible that someone wouldn’t have married Roger in sixteen years. Surely he’s not just been dating on and off that whole time. Not a guy like him.

    Don’t pry, you tell yourself. Don’t pry, don’t pry, don’t pry– “I don’t mean to pry,” you say, and hate yourself for it, “but – did you ever get remarried, or…?”

    Roger looks a little taken aback.

    “Sorry,” you say. “That’s so rude, I’m sorry.”

    “What gave it away?” Roger says.

    You bite your lip. “You, um, looked at your left hand. No ring.”

    Roger nods. “Hm. Well. Got it in one.” He shoots you a wry smile, but you can see that he’s uncomfortable. “You seem to keep appearing in my life after I’ve gone through a divorce.”

    “I’m so sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

    “It’s all right,” Roger says. “It was a year ago now, just about.”

    “Were you married long?”

    “Twelve years.”

    “Christ, Roger, I’m sorry.”

    Roger just shrugs, and sniffs, staring out at the apartments and houses beyond the balcony. But you can see the tension in his shoulders.

    “I’m divorcing my husband,” you blurt out.

    Roger looks to you. “I thought so,” he says carefully. “I could see it in your face when I asked about him.”

    You chew on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    You shake your head. “Don’t be. He deserves it.”

    Roger grimaces. “Oh.”

    “He’s been cheating. But I want to wait until after Christmas to– to do all of that. To tell him I’m leaving him, the lawyers, the paperwork. So April doesn’t have to go through it during Christmas. I don’t want to ruin it for her.”

    Roger nods in understanding. He looks for a moment like he wants to reach out and touch you, comfort you, maybe, but he doesn’t. He just nods again and says, “You’re a good mum.”

    Your throat tightens, and you have to look away. You don’t dare to try to thank him for the compliment. The last thing you need is to break down at a Christmas party in front of your ex.

    “I’m sorry,” Roger says.

    You manage a forced laugh, turning to him. “For what?”

    “I don’t know,” he says. “I just… felt like I needed to say it.”

    You drink him in. The moment feels familiar somehow, and simultaneously foreign altogether.

    You sniff, but, luckily, no tears have fallen, and you take a breath to compose yourself.

    “Can I get you another drink?” Roger offers, holding out his hand to take your empty flute.

    “No, I shouldn’t,” you say. “I’ve had more than enough.” You chuckle. “I don’t remember ever saying that when we dated.”

    You expect Roger to laugh along with you, but instead he blinks in shock at you. “Oh, er, I– I also never– I’m glad you…”

    “You’re glad what, I enjoyed getting shitfaced?” you tease, not quite understanding his confusion.

    His eyes go wide. “Oh, drinking. Yes, well, everyone’s like that at uni a bit, aren’t they?” He chuckles uncomfortably, and then rushes out, “Just getting a drink,” and disappears inside.

    You frown to yourself. ‘Oh, drinking’? What else could you have possibly meant?

    Unless Roger thought you were referring to–

    Surely not.

    Referring to the sex?

    Your stomach drops to your feet. “Oh, God,” you groan softly, hiding your face behind your hand. You hope Roger doesn’t think you’re flirting with him.

    That’d be a story to tell the kids, wouldn’t it? Or to tell Jean. Hey, love, guess what happened last night? Ran into an ex, I dated her almost twenty years ago for a couple months, and we weren’t even chatting for more than half an hour before she was cracking onto me. Even though she’s married. Turns out I still got it!

    A shiver rocks through you, and you realise you can’t feel your fingers, but you’re loathe to head back inside. It’s nice out here, in the snow and ice, in a stiff, numb sort of way.

    Roger reappears not long after, wine in hand. “Thought you’d have headed back inside by now.”

    “I probably should,” you say, and cross your arms to warm up your hands. “But no, I don’t think I will.”

     “Do you mind if I stay out here with you?”

     You smile. “Not at all.”

     You don’t know for how long the two of you stand out there. With each passing minute, more of the awkwardness and discomfort slips away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but soon the two of you are chatting away like no time has passed at all, laughing and bickering.

     He tells you more about the kids, and you tell him about April. He tells you about his second ex-wife – a title that he despises, and, for a while, you let him bemoan the notion that maybe he’s just a terrible husband  before you tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself.

    Mostly, you both reminisce about the past. About the good times and the bad.

    “It was mostly good, though,” you say. “I like to think it was mostly good.”

    Roger nods thoughtfully. “I think it was, yeah,” he says.

    “I can’t even remember how we broke up.”

    Roger snorts. “Are you joking?”

    You shake your head, shrugging. “No. I remember going through the break-up period, which took me far longer to get over than I’m willing to admit to you.”

    Roger grins. “Oh, yeah?” he teases.

    “No, don’t,” you warn him with a laugh. “You’re not getting an ego boost from me.”

    “Did you cry every night? Have a photo of me under your pillow? Eat lots of ice cream and watch rom-coms?”

    “Shut up, I’m not saying a word.”

    Roger laughs, and the sound of it makes your heart sing. “You’re not saying no.”

    You roll your eyes. “I was in a lot of pain for a long time,” you say. “There, are you happy?”

    Roger’s smile fades, and he looks down at his feet. “No, of course that doesn’t make me happy,” he says. He looks back to you. “For what it’s worth, I probably took even longer to get over you.”

    You study his face. It’s a little more weathered, a little more lined, but it’s a face you missed for a very long time. “What happened?” you ask, so softly it’s almost a whisper, like you wouldn’t dare to speak the question any louder. “I… I really liked you, Rog. A lot. Loved you, even, although I– I didn’t know what love felt like at the time. Where did we go wrong?”

    Roger swallows, and shakes his head minutely, his eyes drinking in yours. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “Wrong place, wrong time. But I…” He cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath, looking away.

    “But what?”

    “Nothing.” Roger gives you a small smile. “I’ve never met Will, but he sounds like the stupidest man alive to hurt you like that.”

    You snort a laugh. “Well. I’m sure he doesn’t think so.”

    “It’ll be too late by the time he figures it out. Stupid men are like that.”

    You don’t know what to say to that, so you don’t say anything at all. All you can think is that Roger really hasn’t changed much at all, and that Jean is a very fortunate woman.

    Your phone buzzes, and you pull it out of your pocket to check it. “Ah, shit,” you mutter. It’s Will. April’s come down with a fever, the text says. Need you home.

    “Is everything all right?” Roger asks.

    You pocket your phone again. “April’s sick,” you say. “Duty calls.”

    “Right, of course. Let me walk you inside.”

    He opens the sliding door for you, and waves you in. “Age and beauty,” he says, and it catches you unaware, makes you laugh.

    “I forgot you say that,” you say. It’s a play on age before beauty – Roger used to say that you bested in him both age and beauty, so the original phrase didn’t fit, and he insisted on saying his version of it every time he opened a door for you. Which was often. He liked that his silly little phrase made you giggle and give him a gentle slap on the arm.

    “I haven’t said it in a long time, actually,” Roger says with a grin, closing the door behind him, trapping you both in the warmth, along with the music and conversation. “Not since you.”

    You both stand there for a moment, grinning at each other, unsure how to proceed, and you feel a familiar squeeze of your heart. “I need to go,” you say, almost apologetically.

    “Yes,” Roger says.

    “I…” You hesitate. “Wait for me at the door, I just want to make the rounds, say quick goodbyes to everyone.”

    “Sure,” Roger says, and you give his arm a quick squeeze, then track down Naoise and Chin to say your thank-yous and farewells, then Justine, then a couple of other people.

    You grab your purse, and meet Roger at the front door. “I had a really nice time tonight,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

    “I was just about to say the same thing,” he says.

    You’re unsure what to say, but then an idea strikes you. “Do you want my number? It’d be nice to keep in touch.”

    “Oh, yes, of course,” Roger says. “That’d be lovely.”

    He hands over his phone, and you save your number. “Give me a call whenever,” he says, as you hand his phone back. “If you need someone to talk to, y’know. Or just for a chat. Divorces are… really not fun.”

    You chuckle wryly. “Well, I suppose you’re the expert, aren’t you?”

    “God, you’re just as rude as I remember,” Roger says with a roll of his eyes, laughing alongside you.

    He stops in his tracks, his gaze towards the ceiling.

    You tilt your head up. A decorative sprig of mistletoe hangs above the door.

    You and Roger look at each other, your faces both pink.

    Your heart clenches. Yes, Jean is a very fortunate woman indeed. “Funny,” you say with a nervous chuckle.

    “Yeah, weird,” Roger says. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen mistletoe in real life before.”

    “Me, either.”

     Another moment passes. “In another lifetime,” you say with a smile.

    Roger takes a breath, and there’s something in his eyes, something you haven’t seen for a long time, and he nods, smiling back. “Yeah,” he says. “Right time, right place.”

    You nod again, drinking this in, and sigh. “Okay, well, I really do need to go. I’m sure Will is on the verge of panic without me there.”

    “Of course,” Roger says. “I hope April’s all right.”

    “Thanks, Rog.” On a spur of the moment, you give him a peck on the cheek, and then let yourself out. “Merry Christmas.”

    “Merry Christmas,” he says. “I might see you soon?”

    “You will,” you say. Your ride is almost here, so you give one final wave, and head to the lift.

    The door closes.

    You take the lift down and climb into the car.

    You go home, say hello to your husband, and take care of your daughter.

    That night, you sit in the dining room, nursing a hot chocolate, listening to the silence of the house.

    Then, and only then, do you allow yourself to cry.

     Your wallowing was short-lived, though - swiftly interrupted by a phone call from an unknown number.

     You wipe your nose on your sleeve, grimacing, and answer. “Hello?”

    “[Y/N]?”

     You’re gobsmacked. “Roger?”

     “I- I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I was just... going to leave a voice message to say this was my number.”

     You let out a pitiful bubble of laughter. “Why didn’t you just text?”

     There’s a pause, and then an embarrassed, “Oh, yes. I could’ve done that.”

     You sniff. “It’s fine, no harm done. I’ll let you get to bed, it’s late.”

    “Right,” Roger says. “Um, how’s- how’s April?”

    “She’s good, yeah, thanks for asking. Gave her some painkillers and she went right to sleep.”

    “Good, that’s good.”

    “Yes.” You sniff again, wetly, and quickly wipe at your nose a second time. “Ah, well, I, um... should probably...”

    “Go, yes,” Roger says. “Sorry. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

    “No, no, not at all,” you reassure him. “I was just, um, having a hot chocolate.”

    “Right, sounds important.”

     You laugh. “It’s very important.”

    “I’m sure it is. I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

    “I appreciate it.”

     You realise you’re smiling to yourself like a loon. “Thanks for calling,” you say.

     Roger chuckles. “No worries at all. And, um, seriously. If you need someone to talk to, at any time, please just call me. I couldn’t bear the thought of you, I don’t know, sitting alone and crying, or something like that.”

     You almost laugh out loud. “Thank you, Rog. I’ll make sure to save your number.”

    “Please do, so I don’t have to call you in the middle of the night again.”

     You smile. “G’night.”

    “Night, [Y/N].”

     You hang up.

     Your hot chocolate tastes a little sweeter than it did before.

[lifeinahole27]

Fic Bits 2019

Well, this is a little later than I usually post these, but I’m sure we can all agree that it’s been a hell of a year already. All posted in one go because I had a lot of trouble writing during this last round and did the absolute best I could. I hope you all enjoy!!

Included in this pack:

“Scream and Shout” - Emma wants to find out if mindreading is real. 

“A Regular Pair of Grinches” - They’re mostly impartial to each other, but their friends want them to be more than that. 

Lethologica: Behind the Scenes - Conversations that happen when our lovers aren’t around. 

My Eyes, They Speak for Me: The continuation I always wanted to write but never did.

On the Two: A Peek into the Future - So fluffy and sweet it’ll make your teeth rot.

“A Long Time Coming” - Every year, I write a Frozen Jewel bit for @xpumpkindumplingx because I love her and I know how much she loves them. This year was no different. Sprinkles of CS included so it can be enjoyed by all!

“Scream and Shout”

It’s not that she really believes in the supernatural powers that people claim to have. There’s no definitive proof. People go on talk shows and spout stories but the most they do is a “demonstration” that could easily be some rehearsed nonsense that she chooses to reject as reality.

But the strangest thing keeps happening at work. In the bullpen in her office, she keeps a running monologue of jokes or comments, things she thinks to herself but doesn’t say out loud to anyone because the last thing she wants or needs is HR on her ass. Twice now she’s noticed after particularly amusing comments to herself, she’s heard chuckling across the way. But it has to be a coincidence. She doesn’t believe in telepathy. Doesn’t believe in any of this stuff.

But just for fun, she starts to keep track of the timing. She keeps track of who’s in the room when it happens. And she decides to test some theories. She tries talking to whoever may be listening, but there’s no answer. She tries thinking numbers to see if anyone gets frustrated or loses their concentration.

Finally, she’s standing at the water cooler one day and she goes for the big one: in her mind, she screams as loud as she can –

And there it is. Killian flinches. Killian. The man she’s had an office crush on since he started working here three months ago.

But how can she get him to admit it?

It’s not like she can just walk up to him and ask if he’s a telepath – not without sounding rude, or admitting that she was the one that just screamed in his head. So she bides her time and tries to put it behind her.

It isn’t until one day when they’re getting ready to leave that she has a chance to prove it. They’re the last ones in the office, so Emma starts asking Killian to bring her something from his side of the office.

“Sure, Swan. Do you need the hole-punch as well?”

When he looks around, Emma is nowhere to be seen. His shoulders slump, and he sighs.

“Fine. I’m sorry. I swear I don’t do it all the time, but you come in loud and clear in my head for some reason.”

Emma steps out from around the wall she was hiding behind on the other side of the room. “Why’s that?”

“Probably because I’ve fancied you since the first time I saw you,” he says, pausing and rubbing a spot behind his ear. “Well, when you stopped yelling at me for queueing before you in the copy line.”

“Can you hear me all the time?”

“No. I actively try not to listen, but when I’m not listening to music while working, your comments and jokes come out loud and clear above the rest of our coworkers.”

She wanders a little closer, propping against the cubicle wall as he drops back into his chair. “That sounds awful, actually.”

“Not when it’s you,” he admits quietly, chancing a look up at her. “But only when you aren’t screaming.”

It’s Emma’s turn to look sheepish for once.  “Sorry. I just… I needed to find the proof.”

“Please forget I ever asked if the answer is no, but would you like to grab coffee? You could pick my brain… so to speak.”

For once, Emma takes the chance and says yes.

After a year of dating, he still sometimes listens to her thoughts, but this time he has her permission. At least he gets it loud and clear when she starts hinting that he should propose.

The ring is just as she imagined and everything.

-x-

“A Regular Pair of Grinches”

They’re not really friends – not in a traditional way, anyway. They met through mutual friends and were always the solo ones, so they had to form a friendship so their friends would stop trying to shack them up with each other.

It’s only at mutual functions that they see each other, though, never going out of the way to see each other beyond what their friends put together and invite them to.

During the Christmas party, they get sick of everyone trying to line them up under the mistletoe. Emma is the one that suggests the heist, and Killian goes right along with the plan. When everyone else is occupied with a story that Emma is telling them, he reaches up and snags the little sprig and shoves it in his pocket.

Twelve minutes later (they timed it, after all) Snow realizes her precious little plan has come undone.

Of course, everyone immediately realizes it was Emma and Killian, and they’re soon banished to another room for being general Grinches during the season.

“Maybe if they hadn’t tried this like a million times,” Emma grouses as she flops onto the couch in their “prison.”

“For some reason, Swan, we’re the only ones that seem to realize we are adults with agency and we can choose to do whatever we’d like.”

“Hell yeah we are!” At this statement, Emma produces a bottle of rum from where she’d stashed it away earlier.

“Have I ever told you that I adore you?” Killian asks as he reaches for the bottle.

“Not everyone can be this pretty and a genius. You’re welcome.”

It’s somewhere after the fourth shot that they end up next to each other on the couch, with Emma’s legs thrown over Killian’s lap and his hand gently resting on one of her shins.

It’s after the sixth shot that they end up snuggled together spooning on the – admittedly, very comfortable – couch.

It’s when they wake up that Killian digs the mistletoe out of his pocket and stares at it in the dim light of morning.

And it’s when Emma wakes up and sees him holding it above their heads that she reacts, turning his face towards hers and kissing him with everything she’s got.

They’ve both got morning breath and she’s sure her makeup is fucked up beyond repair, but the way he’s holding her makes her feel… cherished. She’s not sure she’s ever felt that way before.

When they break apart, they’re both smiling. This is normally where Emma would run, but there’s something about it being Killian that stops her from doing that.

It’s only later that they realize that they were covered with a blanket, realizing Snow must’ve come in and tucked them in at some point.

Sure enough, she looks like a cat that got the cream when they finally make it in for breakfast.

The next time they share a bed, it’s actually a bed, and there are a lot less clothes involved.

They’re not really friends – they’re more like… lovers.

-x-

Lethologica: Behind the Scenes

Of course everyone knows long before the wedding where Emma and Killian blatantly make out in the middle of the reception hall. This stems from Mary Margaret and Ruby speculating over their girl-date coffees one day.

Ruby asks pretty early on: “Have you noticed anything weird about Emma and Killian?”

“Oh, thank god I’m not the only one,” Mary Margaret breathes out, making sure to lower her voice as she continues. “I think they’re sneaking around behind our backs.”

“How long?”

“So Killian came to the diner one day with this look and Emma was too smug about something.”

“They’ve been a lot more affectionate on nights out. They hide it really well but they’re almost always touching.”

“Didn’t they always touch before?”

“It has a different feel to it, Mary Margaret. Can’t you see it?”

“I can see it. But do you think they can see it?”

They stare at each other for a solid ten seconds before they both burst out laughing, thankful for the secluded corner of the little coffee house they go to when they don’t want to go to Granny’s.

“Nope,” Ruby says.

“Not a chance. How long do you think before they realize they’re in love?”

“No clue, but it’ll probably take something small to push them over the edge. They’re really just…” she trails off, seeing David approaching and knowing that he doesn’t need to know anything about this yet. “A couple of potatoes with the recipe.”

“What?”

“You making something new for dinner?” David asks as he leans down and places a kiss to the crown of Mary Margaret’s head.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Ruby was telling me about this… potato recipe.”

“I love potatoes. Twice baked?”

“Probably by now,” Ruby mutters, causing Mary Margaret to choke on the sip of her coffee.

“Something like that. You’ll see tonight,” she says when she clears her airway. Since Ruby is already occupied on her phone, Mary Margaret can only assume that she’s trying to find interesting potato dishes to send along.

After witnessing the clear intimacy between Emma and Killian at the dining out, Ruby sends Mary Margaret a text message.

“THE POTATOES ARE MASHED! I REPEAT! THE POTATOES ARE MASHED!!”

“I JUST GOT ENGAGED!!” comes the reply right after, which causes an entirely different freak-out in Ruby.

The night ends, and as Ruby and Mulan head back to their room, Ruby holds on to Mulan’s hand tightly.

“David and Mary Margaret got engaged tonight,” Ruby says quietly in the stillness of the hallway. “And we now have proof that Emma and Killian are together.”

“Everyone is going to get hurt when the orders become official,” Mulan says, keying into their room and closing the door firmly behind Ruby.

Ruby turns and kicks off her shoes, but Mulan is right behind her, spinning her and resting her cheek against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“You’ll help him get through the deployment, yeah?”

“You know I will,” Ruby responds, wrapping her arms around Mulan and already planning how to tackle this next hurdle in all their lives.

-x-

My Eyes, They Speak for Me: After

Returning to Storybrooke is not exactly the weirdest thing that’s happened in her life lately. She did defeat her ex-boyfriend after he turned into a flying monkey, after all.

No, the only thing that makes their return weird is the fact that she and Killian are dating.

That she has to explain to her parents that she and Captain Hook have formed a bond that she never even thought possible. Especially not after everything she’s been through in her life.

But here they are, entering the town, with Henry oblivious to the weight hovering over the adults in the front seat. Emma holds onto Killian’s prosthetic hand like it’ll make everything better. She doesn’t even know if her parents are going to remember her.

Thankfully, they do.

Everyone remembers everything that happened before Pan’s curse. But there’s a whole missing year. All they knew is for the last couple months they’ve been here, still trying to figure out what happened, unable to find out in any way if Emma was alive and okay, and just… stuck in limbo.

Also, her mother is very pregnant. Like, about to burst pregnant. And has a creepy midwife with fiery red hair and a weird personality. Like some kind of twisted Mary Poppins.

Emma’s the first one to figure out that she’s the Wicked Witch. She did not anticipate the whole angle where Zelena is Regina’s sister, but she can appreciate the fact that she never thought the family tree around here would get more fucked up.

She has a thought several times while they’re trying to track down this crazy witch that she should just take Henry and Killian and high-tail it back to NYC. And she and Killian actually argue about it at one point, because she is convinced that after this is all over she just wants a normal life with her son and her boyfriend.

That’s not so much to ask, is it?

But then she’d have to leave her parents behind, and when it becomes clear that Zelena is after the newborn that is expected soon, Emma decides she can’t leave.

And then the whole Neal incident happens and that is a lot to take in, and try to explain to Henry who still doesn’t have his memories back.

When Zelena is finally locked away in a cell in the psychiatric ward, and after they’ve taken the time to officially lay Neal to rest, Emma sits down with Henry. Thankfully, Regina finally came through with a memory potion, so it makes it all a little easier, but Emma still has to talk to him about what losing his father for real this time means, and how they’re going to move forward.

It turns out when there are flying monkeys and another story come to life, it’s easy to explain to your parents that you’re dating a pirate. And while eventually she’d like to get her own place (story of her life) she does give up the bigger room at Granny’s in favor of moving into a smaller one with Killian.

Just for now.

They do have all the time in the world to get to the next step.

Until a portal opens up where their final battle with Zelena took place and she and Killian are the ones to check it out…

-x-

On The Two: A Peek into the Future

Five years later, they’re married and move home to Storybrooke after they have a beautiful daughter that they name after the camp. Emma and Ruby have both moved on from dancing at the hotel to pursue other interests.

Emma has gone back to teaching. She gives lessons in Storybrooke to locals and tourists, and still teaches every summer at Camp Hope.

Killian is also teaching, on top of his general maintenance jobs with David. He went back for certifications to teach classes on managing addictions, specifically an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, and he also talks with amputees and their friends and loved ones about how to cope with the loss of a limb.

He and Emma do a schedule of week on/week off at camp so that Hope is with one of them as often as possible.

Sometimes, they both stay home for a week with David and Snow’s son, Leo, and they contemplate having another of their own as they watch Hope playing and exploring – they’d love to see what she would do with a sibling of her own. Mostly they haven’t yet because they know they’ll officially have to give up the loft in order to live comfortably.

Other weeks, David and Snow take both the kids and Emma and Killian stay at the campsite.

They use those weeks to pretend they aren’t actively trying for another baby but there’s still a trill to sneaking out on the back balcony of the Owners’ Lodge, making love with the sight of the horizon and the ocean as their passion ebbs and flows.

Emma sometimes still can’t believe how her life has come together.

She wakes early one morning to the soft strains of a song they’ve used for the Waltz before, and she eases out of the bed upstairs, careful not to make a single noise so she can see what her husband is up to.

He’s standing in the middle of the floor on the other side of the breakfast bar, Hope in his arms, gliding through the steps and dramatically dipping Hope to her obvious delight.

She’s so happy that she lets out a high-pitched giggle, pressing her little hands to Killian’s cheeks.

He laughs quietly, bracing her against his body with his other arm so he can hold his finger to his lips to remind her to stay quiet.

As quietly as she can, she slips back to the bed to get her phone off the charger, crawling back over to brace under the handrail to take video of the two of them.

When the song ends, she locks her phone and stands up to applaud, even giving a little whistle of appreciation.

“Your mum’s awake, little love.”

“And she’s pregnant,” Emma says, probably far too bluntly since she actually hears Killian’s neck crack with how swiftly he turns his head to look up at her.

“Aye?”

“Yep. Calling the doctor today to confirm it. But yeah.”

“Why don’t we go into the kitchen to make your mum a perfect breakfast, hmm?” He turns to look up at her again, making sure their eyes are locked. “I love you,” he tells her, heart in his expression.

“I love you, too,” she says back, quietly, and while Hope has no idea what’s even being said, she goes off on a string of “la la la” to tell them each she loves them.

-x-

“A Long Time Coming” 

There’s a camaraderie that comes from having rich guardians that want nothing to do with you, and that’s what the Arendelle sisters and the Jones brothers find out after their first Christmas in the Alps.

Elsa is sixteen when she and Killian discover that with their combined efforts, they can raise havoc at the ski resort. From that point on they are BFFs.

Three years of their antics go by quickly, and the staff at the lodge becomes their family more than Brennan Jones or Ingrid ever could be.

Liam is a constant wise source of guidance. Anna is always the annoying little sister. Killian wears his heart on his sleeve at all times. Elsa… has a problem.

She has a ridiculous, unquenchable crush on Liam. When she was 17 it was just a silly little thing, but by the time she’s 20, it’s no longer “just” anything. But the seven year age gap makes her think that Liam probably thinks of her as more as a little sister than anything else.

The years pass and they grow, year by year, milestone by milestone. Killian is Kristof’s best man at his and Anna’s wedding. Elsa is the one that almost literally drops Emma in Killian’s lap when she sees the potential they could have together. Year after year, though, things are never in line for her own love life.

She dates, with mixed results, but there’s no spark that makes them last.

Over the course of ten years, they all bounce around each other. They handle love and disasters, heartbreak and celebrations. And still Elsa feels like she’s just a satellite around Liam at some of these events. She only really ever sees him during the holidays unless there’s a big event in their lives, so at least she has those times to look forward to. But mostly it’s to watch from afar as they each dwell in their own relationships.

She’s single when he’s not, he’s single when she’s not.

And then she turns twenty-eight. And she’s single. And he’s single. And they’re in the same place at the same time which is all feeling a lot like a miracle when she can’t remember the last time this even happened. And someone has posted mistletoe in the entrance of their cabin this year.

She’s pretty sure it was Killian, because he’s getting ready to propose to Emma and they’re adorably (if not sickeningly) in love.

On a return trip from the main lodge to grab dinner for everyone, she finds the cabin empty… or at least so it seems. Because Liam is waiting to help her bring in the food. He’s standing in the doorway.

Directly beneath the mistletoe.

She doesn’t know which one goes for it first, but the food gets left on the entryway table while they make out beneath a dumb piece of greenery.

It’s Emma that finds them snuggled on the couch about a half hour later, with Liam planting a small, gentle kiss on her lips. Her smile is self-satisfied, and knowing, and she subtly ushers everyone else out of the room to eat their dinners and leave Elsa and Liam in peace.

It’s Killian later on who tells her that Liam’s had eyes for her for years. But the timing was never right.

So the mistletoe was definitely planted by him, but intended for Liam and Elsa.

The next year they go, there’s a shiny ring on Emma’s finger, Anna announces she and Kristof are expecting, and Elsa and Liam celebrate their anniversary.

All in all, while they all have tragedy in their pasts, they turn out right where they need to be.

[platypanthewriter]

Strangest 2: Fractionally Gay

As Steve was laughing at Billy’s horror over the bat, his lungs starting to clench at the impossibility of explaining, the phone rang. He batted Mike aside and swung his leg over the back of the couch--any effort was worthwhile to forestall certain conversations.

“Steve,” the small voice came through raspy, and it took him a second to place it.

“Max?”

Billy’s head popped up like a meerkat’s.

“Billy ran out screaming. Lucas said I should warn you.” She gulped, difficult to understand through the rapid breathing. “You--you better call Hopper, Steve, he might--”

“He’s just sitting here drinking hot chocolate, Max,” he hurried to reassure her, wincing as Billy stumbled back over the arm of the couch towards the wall, smacking his hand down for the bat as he moved. Will kicked it out of his reach, and Billy winced as his shoulderblades thudded against the wall.

Max was breathing slowly--consciously, Steve thought, maybe he wasn’t the only one whose body had forgotten how. “He’s what,” she asked, voice flat.

“He show...he shows up here, sometimes,” he closed his eyes, feeling the Judgemental Adolescent Brigade’s attention shift from Billy to him with laser focus, “--it’s fine. I mean, he’s still an asshole, but he hasn’t done anything. He--” Steve stopped himself before telling a middle-school girl her delinquent brother’s semi-alcoholic cigarette funk was more grounding than a lightning rod. “...are you okay?”

“Me and Lucas are fine.” She swallowed hard again, and Steve waited patiently. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He might’ve...broken something. His, um. His dad said he fell down the stairs, but he’d just got in the shower. He wouldn’t be trying to get laundry or anything. He totally wanders around in his underwear if he forgets pants, Steve, he wasn’t hurrying to get anywhere,” she scoffed, and Steve frowned over to where Billy was still leaning against the wall, now casual, the bruised side of his face turned away from the room. “I think he, uh. I--I think he slammed him into a few other things. The tub makes a noise.”

“You gonna call ‘Hopper’ on me?” Billy bared his teeth, staring at the bat, and Mike crouched, reaching for it.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on, Max,” Steve pressed the phone to his chest. “Dustin. Put the bat, uh, with the skis, y’know--” He waved vaguely, hoping to convey the bat’s location to everyone but Billy. “Billy, if you’re gonna hit anything, uh. Go upstairs and punch a pillow or something. My room’s plaid.”

“So plaid,” Dustin confirmed, proud of his insider information.

“I think we should go,” Will whispered, and Mike slid an arm around him, baring his teeth right back at Billy.

“And leave him here with Steve? We should call Hopper.”

Billy snorted, but gave them a wide berth on his way to the kitchen, where he pointedly loitered for a while, reminding Steve of nothing so much as a cat who doesn’t want to admit anyone else has a good idea. The stairs creaked under his rapid footsteps as Dustin returned, then spun in place. “Where the hell is he?! Did you kill him?!”

“He went upstairs,” Will whispered back, frowning up at the sound of a creaking hallway.

“Max,” Steve tried to ignore the whispered conference behind him, “--he seems fine, but I’ll check later. Glad you have a date night, or every little shithead I know would be here. Why don’t you guys ever just show up to sell cookies?” He frowned accusingly at Mike, who frowned back.

“I just don’t want the stupid shit dying in your house,” Max grumbled, and Steve found himself grinning again into the handset.

“It’s okay, we’ve got a shovel.” He rubbed his face.

She snorted. “Are you sure I shouldn’t call Hopper? I mean he might...set you on fire, or...fuck your mom.”

“...what a resume,” Steve sighed, trying not to just sit on the floor and laugh, or possibly cry. His lungs were ready to heave, but undecided. “He’s not doing anything, yet. If he sets my mom on fire, I’ll definitely let you know.”

“Does Steve have a mom?” Steve heard Mike asking Dustin.

In his ear, Max took a shaky breath. “...okay. Okay. Are...are you sure we shouldn’t come over? I can steal my mom’s car.”

“No!” Steve barked. “No! It’s fine! You definitely don’t have to get arrested to come protect me, holy shit. Go...watch My Little Pony or something. Or hey, watch something for you, screw what Lucas wants.” That brought grins to Dustin, Mike, and Will’s faces, and he heard Max relaying it to a shouting Lucas over the phone. “Okay. I’m gonna hang up. It’s fine. If anything happens, I promise I’ll call Hopper.”

“Yeah, you better.” The connection clicked over to dial tone.

“...if we keep watching, it’ll show us how to kill the Nazgul Steve’s got in his bedroom,” Dustin sing-songed, grinning, and Steve sighed.

“Yeah. Sure. I need more--” the kettle shrieked again--Billy must have switched it on again, after Steve had chosen to busy his invaders with the microwave instead of allowing conversation. He frowned as he flicked it off, but no stairs creaked, so he figured it was to be obnoxious, rather than a need for more hot chocolate. “...I need more hot chocolate.” So did they all. Steve surveyed the Hot Chocolate Cupboard--the only cupboard he used, the only one that wasn’t a bit dusty--and couldn’t really think of much else he could buy. I could fill up the garage, he thought, thinking of the ease of routine in the grocery store, filling an entire cart with marshmallows, and the reassurance of a shelf of them every time he parked his car. I’ll have to stockpile candy canes, he thought with a snort, his intestines doing a crampy clench at the idea of running out in mid-February, and having some kind of breathing emergency that required them. They’ll find me blue in the kitchen, he muffled his snickers against the sleeve of his forearm, after I collapse because my hot chocolate isn’t right, and my lungs turn into inflexible plastic soda bottles, and Billy isn’t around to bitch about singing mice.

“...Steve?” Dustin’s voice trailed in from the front room over the sound of goblins, and Steve wiped his eyes, sniffling.

“Be right there.”

Another hour in, and Steve had jerked awake nearly every ten minutes to the sound of Dustin’s voice, so he stood, stretching. Dustin crawled forward to pause the VCR when Steve walked into the kitchen.

“Go ahead,” he leaned back into the front room, “I’m beat. I’m going to go sleep upstairs.” On his way, he refilled his hot chocolate, and grabbed another, crouching to make sure they didn’t foam up over the sides, that there were equal piles of marshmallows, and that his was actually mostly coffee.

He didn’t see the exchange of wide-eyed glances.

The lights were off in his room. The hallway light shone across Billy’s defined abs where he was sprawled across Steve’s bed. Steve kicked his way through a pile of shoes on his way to the desk lamp.

“What the hell,” Billy groaned, covering his face with his arms.

“I brought more hot chocolate, I guess,” Steve shrugged, rattling around in his desk drawers. “I told Max I’d make sure you weren’t broken anywhere, or anything.” He thumped the first aid kit on his desk. It still had smears of blood on it.

Billy snorted. “The hell did she tell you.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask about the hand-shaped bruises he’d compared to Sylvester Stallone’s, closed it again, and shrugged. “Sounds like your dad’s an asshole.” Billy flinched, then tried to cover it with a luxurious stretch.

“Breaking news.”

“Come on, sit up, dickhead, let me check out your face.”

“You just wanna check me out,” Billy bared his teeth in a wide smile, leaning in like Steve was somebody he was about to ask to Makeout Point.

“Um--” Steve leaned away so fast his head hit the wall, and Billy cackled, curling on to his side on the bed in a fit of the giggles.

“Y’don’t want a blow job, Harrington? Are you sure? You’re being awfully,” his mouth quirked into a crooked grin, “--fucking. Sweet to me. You had me wait in your bed.”

Steve sighed, rubbing his face. There was probably some scientific name for something just difficult enough to keep your mind off worse things. Nancy would know. Maybe he could switch to a different awful thing to keep the nightmares away. Alcohol would probably work, but the idea of being drunk and not noticing the motion detector lights coming on all around the house--he grabbed at the hot chocolate, slopping it on his math homework, but feeling the heat ease into his palms. The marshmallows were sweet foam, almost entirely melted, and he sipped slowly, licking the sugar off his lips. After Max’ phone call, he couldn’t just kick Billy out--That’s almost worse than the trunk, he thought, sending him back to somebody who slams his head into the side of the tub. He could put the kids in his parent’s room, he thought, then imagined them wandering off to poke Billy in the night, ending with Billy a snarling silhouette at the treeline, dragging a bleeding child away, red spray against the snow and trees, and dripping blood from his mouthful of soft belly. He sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Billy had gone very still.

“...you gonna get your bat, King Steve?” he whispered.

“I’m not going to hit anybody with a nailbat,” Steve opened the first aid box, counting off breaths in his head. One one thousand, he breathed. Two one thousand. He breathed again. “Not unless you make me.”

Billy’s grin widened. “How do I make you? I could fuck Nancy. I could punch what’s his name. The kid with no teeth.”

Steve stared at him. “That’s...that’s the shit you’re gonna do?”

“Not if you tell me the rules.” Billy sat up and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“What.” Steve squinted, suddenly trying to calculate the amount of sleep he’d had recently. It wasn’t enough. He knocked back more of his ‘coffee’. “What are you talking about?”

“When,” Billy leaned in again, “--you gonna--” his breath tickled Steve’s lips, “--fuck me up, Harrington.”

“Jesus,” Steve jerked back again.

“Some blood on that bat.” Billy stretched, leaning to look out the window. “You gonna bury me out in the woods? Oh, no, I know, the sheriff’s your friend, you make it look like I drove drunk.”

“What--” Steve clenched the edge of the desk, hoping this ride slowed soon so he could get off. “...I’m not…”

“Oh, I get it now,” Billy laughed, going still again. “You killed that girl. Barb. That’s why little Nancy-Nance broke up with you.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Steve watched Billy’s legs kicking in the air as he lolled around like a happy cat, rubbing his eyes.

“That’s how you know ‘Hopper’. He helped you cover it up. Was she pregnant?” Billy cracked up, covering his face. “I thought you’d make a great dad, King Perfect, Steve Harrington, but that’s really shitty of you.” He grinned over lazily. “You’re starting earlier than mine did, did you make the bat for that, or did you already--”

Steve slammed his fist on the desk, making the light bounce and flicker. “I didn’t kill anyone. It was some--animal. It ate Dustin’s cat. Got in Will’s house. The--the little shitheads are just impressed because I babysat them while Hopper and Ms Byers set the nest on fire.”

“What, you hit some little...coyote?” Billy sat up to glare at him, all the musculature on display vibrating with tension as he leaned to breathe all over Steve’s face again, and Steve rolled backwards in the chair, sighing.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was a coyote. I’m not gonna hit you with a nailbat, jesus.”

“So when I showed up at the Byers, you were all afraid of a coyote.”

“It was scary as hell,” Steve shrugged.

“So scary you had syringes of sedative big enough to put me down. Lookee, your majesty, I’m so much bigger than a coyote.” He spread his arms, smiling. It looked uncomfortable, Steve thought, the stiff denim over all that sweaty bare shivering skin. Max’ call earlier had given Billy the added funk of adrenaline sweat over his usual eau de teenage alcoholic smoker whose shower got interrupted, and Steve tried to lean back in subtly, feeling his brain clear of blue tint.

“Look, we don’t know what it was. It ate people--”

“Who, Barb?”

“Barb! Yes! It ate Barb, that’s why no one found her!”

“Why the hell didn’t you just shoot it?”

“I don’t have a gun.” Steve rolled his eyes, inhaling the relaxing smell of stupid asshole, and feeling it work on his lungs. “‘Hey, Sheriff Hopper, I need a gun!’ I’m sure that would have worked.”

“The hell? Where was he? They just left you with the kids and went off--what was it, a bear?!”

“Sure, yeah, I guess.” Steve shrugged, rubbing his face as the adrenaline keeping him awake ebbed.

“Sure. And then you used your syringe on me.”

“Max was afraid I’d die! At least we didn’t leave you on the floor to get eaten.”

Billy stared at him. “You locked me in a trunk...to be a Good fucking Samaritan. What the hell were you supposed to do with a syringe against--a whatever, like, jump on its back?”

“Well, you knocked me out,” Steve rubbed his face, his brain going a little fuzzy as the image of Billy punching him superimposed itself over Billy sitting on the edge of his bed. “That was Max and them. You’d just tried to kill her friends, she maybe just wanted you locked up somewhere. I didn’t wake up until they were driving,” he grimaced, forcing another deep breath.

“Yeah, but, I mean--they just left you with a bat and a syringe? What the hell kind of--where are your parents? ‘Hopper’ and the Byers just leave you to defend against--things--”

He sounded as pissed off as usual, and Steve shook his head, grinning. “Pretty safe until you showed up.”

“I wasn’t gonna...fucking kill them,” Billy snorted.

“You sure? You were sure acting like it.”

“He told me to get the little bitch home, okay--”

“Leave the little assholes alone, I am not fucking around about this--” Steve’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s when the bat comes out,” Billy took a shuddering breath, rubbing his face, “--just them, huh? ‘Cause you’ve still got some greeny face there from when I clocked you in the--”

“Fuck you, and me,” Steve amended. “Me too. Goddamn. Just don’t--fucking attack people. We used the syringe, and not the bat. Look, do you want a shirt to put on.”

“Make me,” Billy grinned, but his voice was starting to sound hoarse, and his hands trembled. “Why don’t you make me, Harrington.”

“Damn iiiiit.” Steve let his head clonk against the first aid kit. “Look, you’re shaking. Are you actually hurt. Are you cold. Do you have any wounds.”

“I’m great,” Billy beamed back, eyes over-shiny in the low light, “--wanna check my teeth? They’re a little loose on the left. They’d probably come out easy. Bloody teeth all over your room.”

“Max was afraid your head hit the tub.” Steve leaned in to frown at the bruise, and Billy caught his breath.

“My--my knee. And--it’s fine. Why the hell was she listening.” His eyes were fixed on Steve’s mouth, like Steve was the biting risk.

Steve sighed with relief, spun in his desk chair, and stalked over to his dresser to throw a sweatsuit over--at first he aimed for Billy’s head, but logic happened, and he just tossed it on the bed within reach. “Do you want a shower? I mean, she said you--”

“Max should get that diarrhea of the face checked,” Billy growled.

“Or not, but they’re clean and dry.” Steve shrugged, wishing Billy and all his problems would just vanish into a nice sleep-inducing haze until morning.

After an odd moment where Billy apparently felt the need to hold up the elastic and test it, he glared over. “You gonna watch? My hot chocolate’s cold. Fix it, Mom.”

Steve blinked, then sighed, wandering back to the desk to grab both mugs. “We shower together after games, asshole. I’ve seen it all before.”

“Oh, you were looking?” Billy snarled, and Steve backed out of the room. “You eyeing me up? Wanna put your hands on me, King Harrington?”

“Just trying to pretend you were Cindy Crawford,” Steve backed through the door, sighing. “Bathroom’s through there, if you want it. I’m gonna go let the Scooby Gang know I’m alive.”

Naturally, there was a general scramble on the stairs as he turned down them. “We heard a thump...” Will watched his face nervously.

Upstairs, the shower turned on, and Steve sighed, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table. “Yeah, he’s so annoying I slammed my hand on the desk. Okay, I’m not saying I like him, or want him around--”

“Psh yeah,” Dustin agreed stoutly, glaring at Mike.

Huh, Steve thought, too tired to ask. “...I need to talk to Hopper.” He leaned his face in his arms.

“I’ll call El,” Mike’s eyes narrowed, his voice ringing with judgement. After a minute or so of whispering, the plastic of the handset banged Steve in the head, and he flapped his hand for it.

“Sheriff Hopper?”

“Steve.”

“Uh, you called me before when Billy was driving around. Did his dad call you again?”

“We’ve got a report of him leaving the house drunk, disorderly, and intending mayhem,” Hopper sounded disbelieving, “--which sounds about right, for him, what you got, kid?”

“Um.” Steve felt his shoulders hunch. “He was...here, that time. He wasn’t even drunk! He was just--” he waved a hand, “--sitting on the couch. We watched Star Wars.”

“Okay,” Hopper waited, sounding even judgier than Mike.

“He just...showed up here again tonight, soaking wet and half in his jeans--”

“Ew, gross,” Dustin made a revolted face at Mike, whose nose wrinkled. Will shot a glance upstairs, wide-eyed.

“And, uh, Max called? And said Billy’s dad grabbed him out of the shower, kicked his ass. Threw him down the stairs...I guess?�� he trailed off, shrugging apologetically at the phone, as Mike mouthed ‘Good,’ to nods from the other two. “He’s pretty banged up?”

“Billy Hargrove has been hiding out at your house,” Hopper said slowly, and Steve rubbed his face, groaning, and feeling like he was shrinking inches every minute this conversation continued. He’d have to see if Billy minded carting him around, once he was the size of Stuart Little. “Did he finally do something? Why own up now?”

“Well, I mean, he’s not actually doing anything? Instead of having to drive around all night looking out for him, you can just call up and ask me whether there’s an asshole here bitching about Secrets of NIMH?” Steve bit his lips, uncertain about this strange ritual of communicating with adults.

Hopper took a long whistly breath through his teeth. “Not too comfortable with him around the kids.”

“Uh, yeah, I had him go upstairs, they’re like...segregated,” Steve made an apologetic face at Will, who blinked, then shyly nodded.

After a brief pause, Hopper asked “You tell that boy what to do and he does it?”

“...mostly? I mean, he knows I know you, I think he thinks you’d help me cover up his murder?”

“Hopper would.” Dustin nodded confidently.

“...only if it were Billy Hargrove,” Mike shook his head, “--he wouldn’t let Steve murder just anybody--”

“I trust you not to murder anyone unless it’s self-defense,” Hopper sounded exhausted, but also like he might be laughing. “Call if you need anything, you know that.”

“...yeah,” Steve’s throat felt too tight to swallow.

“Night, kid.”

“Yeah. Yeah, night.” He sat listening to the dial tone, wondering what to do.

“Why do you have to harbor that fugitive,” Dustin shuddered, holding his hands up like a silent movie heroine in denial. “Couldn’t you have, like, a hot British double agent? With eleven guns, that does flips.”

“Usually it’s fine, because nobody’s here.” Steve waved his arms, sighing.

Mike and Will both frowned from his face to Dustin’s, but Dustin made a very obvious “Cut it off” motion at his neck, and they didn’t ask. Steve couldn’t help it, the idea of Dustin keeping track of his friends’ slumber party etiquette had him snickering again. “Holy god. I’m going back to bed.”

“But...Billy’s up there,” Will pointed out, and received an elbow from Mike.

“Yeah, he is. You guys can sleep down here or in the big bedroom, Dustin knows where.” Dustin nodded, obviously resisting a salute. “He’s...look, it’s fine, he...sleeps, like everybody else--”

“Is he why you haven’t been sleeping?” Will asked solemnly.

Steve snorted. “Ha. Nuh-unh. Okay, you guys have had nightmares--” Mike and Will nodded, while Dustin scoffed. “Imagine you’re--” Steve glanced at Will, trying to phrase it without pressing anywhere sore, “--somewhere in a nightmare, but something really weird walks by, something so out of place it’s funny--”

“...Clifford?” Will suggested hesitantly.

“Eugh!” Mike groaned. “I’m gonna burn that ABC book--”

“It’s really hard to focus on our game around stupid Clifford--” Dustin rolled his eyes, “--you walk into a dungeon and suddenly Mike’s mom’s voice, ‘That’s an ostrich! O! O is for Ostrich!”

“I know--” Mike groaned. “Try living there--”

“Clifford!” Steve grinned. “Exactly! That’s right. So you’re in a nightmare, and Clifford walks by. And you don’t really want Clifford around--”

“He’s annoying as hell--” Mike slumped into the other kitchen chair.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, at Will’s thoughtful expression. “He’s huge and he smells like a dog--”

“He takes huge shits,” Dustin grinned proudly.

“--but,” Steve eyeballed Will in particular, “--you can’t really be scared, either, with the Big Friendly Dog stinking up the place--’

“Billy is Clifford,” Will’s eyes widened, “--you like having him here. Even though he smells awful.”

“Yeah, well. He’s showering.” They all grimaced at the ceiling.

“I listen to music with Jonathan,” Will said softly.

Mike nodded. “I call El, or put the TV on.”

“I’m not scared,” Dustin snorted, “--but if I was, I’d call somebody, Steve, come on, pick up the phone, you don’t need a huge shitty dog.”

“Bedtime.” Steve stretched, groaning. “It’s...whatever. I don’t care.” He staggered upright, already focused on the hours of sleep he might get with Billy breathing in the same room. “I’m going to bed, to sleep, and if anyone wakes me up, there better be--” he glanced at Will again, and cleared his throat, and his head of monsters, “--a costumed supervillain, like, circling the house.”

“Nah, he’s already upstairs,” Dustin muttered, and Steve flipped him off, already running up the stairs.

As Steve frowned at the bed--it’d seemed bigger when he had a girl in it, but then, he supposed, he wasn’t wary of Nancy breaking his face if he brushed his elbow against hers in the night--Billy wandered in, sweatshirt half pulled over his head.

“Holy crap, there.” Steve stared at the purple bruising under Billy’s right shoulderblade and across his ribs, the familiar greeny-yellow handprint on his shoulder, fingermarks on his forearm, and what honestly looked like a heel-stomp on his lower back.

Billy scrambled to get the sweatshirt pulled down. “Fuck you. Go fuck yourself. King fucking Steve Harrington.”

Steve ordinarily had no trouble restraining the urge to laugh at Billy, who he mostly thought of as an unexploded bomb, but listening to his angry “fuck”s muffled through thick jersey fabric was hilarious. He forestalled it with a hand over his mouth. “I’m gonna go to sleep.” He pointed at the bed, more for his own comprehension than anyone else’s. “You can do whatever, but there’s still a whole Munchkin music number going on downstairs.”

Billy looked from his pointing finger, to the bed, back to Steve’s face. “This is an invitation to sleep in your bed.”

“I don’t care,” Steve tottered over and pulled back the covers. “Oh, I guess you could sleep in your car. I told them downstairs they could have the other bedroom or the couch, but I won’t be there to stop them bugging you, and if you murder them I’ll have to…” the pillow against his face felt like the smooth feathers of a celestial swan. “This is the best bed,” he mumbled.

“Harrington,” Billy’s voice came from somewhere off to Steve’s right. “Steve.”

“Sleeping,” Steve told him, wondering dazedly whether he’d dream about Clifford. Or Billy. Or Billy riding Clifford.

He didn’t remember what he dreamt about, jerking out of a sound sleep to a shout of his name downstairs (Dustin, probably), and the streaming light of the motion detectors. He had a vague impression of vaulting over the banister and not dying, and finding Mike and Dustin trying to jolly Will out of a panic attack.

“It’s probably just a leaf or something,” Dustin said, both thumbs up, as Steve sighed and got his bat. The VCR clock said it was four, so he’d actually gotten a few hours of sleep. He shoved his feet into his boots by the door, and stepped outside, keeping to the shadows, and shuffling, so he wouldn’t crunch loudly in the snow. The lights were scheduled for three minutes, so they flipped off soon after he began his circuit. He rested the bat against his shoulder, closing in on the sound of snow crunching.

Of course it was just Billy. Steve shuffled silently closer to the lit end of Billy’s cigarette, only to have the motion detector lights snap back on and illuminate Billy’s face from less than a foot away. Billy screamed, flailing backwards and landing on his ass in the snow, and Steve started snickering, leaning on his bat.

“What the fuck, Harrington,” Billy yelled, sounding breathless. His hair was dusted with snow, and the hoodie hood was wedged awkwardly half under the jean jacket, making him look a little less dangerous than usual. “What the hell, what in the--”

Steve considered himself, shirtless in yanked-on, unbuttoned jeans, a bloodied nailbat over his shoulder, and grinned. “I look like Conan or something.”

“You fucking asswipe, you look nuts--I thought I was gonna die--”

“The little bastards saw the motion detector come on and woke me up,” Steve shrugged, leaning on his bat again as he held a hand down for Billy, who’d landed in about two feet of snow and a patch of scrubgrass, and was stabbing his hands in the snow without finding any leverage to shove himself upright. Billy jerked back, and Steve groaned, rubbing his face. “...you’re just gonna sit there in the snow?”

Billy’s glare didn’t waver as he grabbed at the uneven grass, trying to push himself up, and Steve finally bent in close and grabbed his hand.

Billy yanked back. “--fuck go of me--”

“Come on.” Steve set the end of the bat in the snow and pushed off it to haul Billy up so chilled denim thudded against his chest.

Billy went still against him.

“Breathe,” Steve recommended, recognizing the signs of recalcitrant lungs, and brushed a hunk of snow out of Billy’s mullet. The skin under the denim collar was warm, and Steve let his half-frozen fingers linger there, breathing easily in the cloud of cigarette smoke, and the smell of his shampoo on Billy Hargrove’s mullet. It was soft, and Steve let his fingers curl in it, resting his thumb behind Billy’s ear.

“The hell are you putting your hands on me.” Billy’s breath was warm against his ear, but he didn’t pull away.

Steve considered, head clear and and nearly fizzy with the hours of sleep. In the chill of snow against his shoulders, with his hand clenched in the denim of Billy’s jacket, he felt farther away from tunneling nightmares than he had in months. Billy finally lifted his face from Steve’s shoulder enough to take another drag on his cigarette, which forced him to wrap that arm loosely around Steve’s shoulder to reach. Steve giggled, mentally cataloguing the windows probably holding small, horrified faces.

“You tell my dad I’m here and nobody’ll ever find my body,” Billy breathed smoke against his head, before pulling back enough to press his lips to Steve’s.

He has long eyelashes, Steve thought, less confident about his wakefulness than he’d been moments before, but kissing Billy’s warm mouth was weirdly cozy, and he leaned into it, feeling the bat slide from his hand. “Wait--” He clenched his fingers in the curls at the base of Billy’s skull, and Billy groaned against his mouth, eyes sliding shut. “...wow,” Steve paused, distracted by the immediate rush of red across Billy’s cheeks, but Billy ducked his head, jerking away, so Steve pulled him back with his other hand around Billy’s neck. “Wait.” He licked his lips, thinking. “That’s. Huh. We should go back inside. But your dad knows you--you’re gay?”

“I’m not a fag.” Billy jerked backwards, but didn’t try to disentangle Steve’s hands from his hair and neck. “I fuck women, Harrington-- ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but you just...I mean,” Steve ran his thumbs up Billy’s cheeks, pulling him closer, fascinated at the lack of protest, “--wait, that’s why he--?” He touched the bruise carefully.

“No,” Billy growled. “I mean, I don’t know, I know mom didn’t just have a dizzy spell on the stairs, but I bet she--she wasn’t--fucking women--”

“Jesus.” Steve tugged him back in so their foreheads met, studying Billy’s closed eyes and shivers as their breath fogged. “You think your dad’s a murderer? You think he-- ”

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Billy swallowed. “The hell are you gonna do. You gonna tell ‘Hopper’ I kissed you. You gonna tell my dad. Might as well kill me with that bat, Steve.” He shifted away, stilling at Steve’s hand on the back of his skull.

“No, no, jesus, calm down--” Steve pulled him close again, breathing in Essence of Hargrove in hopes his mind would stop spinning. “Fuck. Your--your dad killed your mom?”

“Dunno what the hell else coulda happened,” Billy said thickly, tense against him.

“...jesus.” Steve whispered against his jaw. “You should--you should tell Hopper. Christ. Uh, we should--we should go back inside.”

“Your three little piglets probably already called him. They’ll think I ate you out here.”

“Oh shit.” Steve grabbed Billy’s hand in one of his, scooping up the bat with the other, and began dragging him back toward the house. “How long have I been out here, they probably did--”

“What the hell, Steve, why--you’re--let go--” Billy tried to shake him off, staggering after him through the snow.

“It’s fine!” Steve shouted, stumbling over all the shoes as they tromped through the door. “This asshole was having a cigarette!” He held up his and Billy’s hands like they’d won a trophy, and Billy tried to jerk away again, snarling under his breath.

“What are you doing,” Dustin said levelly, staring between them.

Mike’s nose was wrinkled. “You can let him go now.”

Will’s red rimmed eyes traveled over Billy and fixed on their clasped hands, but he just cocked his head, raising his eyebrows at Steve, who felt his face heat.

“We’re going back to sleep--” Steve dove towards the stairs, prompting a burst of expletives from Billy, who scrambled after him.

Upstairs, Steve closed and locked his bedroom door, dropped the bat to thud against the wall, and turned to face Billy, who was shuddering at regular intervals. “Un...less you want more hot chocolate.” Steve stood back, surveying the shivers and teary eyes.

“I don’t fucking want hot chocolate, what is it with you.” Billy bared his teeth, hunching in on himself, and Steve reflected with a grin that for once, he didn’t want hot chocolate either.

Steve dropped into the office chair, letting it slowly spin him all the way around. “You kissed me.”

“Prove it in court,” Billy sighed, hugging himself in his snowy jacket.

“Come on.” Steve waved him over.

“Hell no.” Billy backed away, his shoulders hitting the wall again.

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, then snorted a laugh. “Don’t make me grab your hair again.”

“Fuck you.” Billy’s eyes narrowed, but slowly traveled down Steve’s chest, over his abs, and down to his unbuttoned jeans and visible triangle of briefs. “...plaid the new thing at court? Isn’t your room enough? Look,” he rolled his shoulders, probably forgetting his borrowed saggy grey sweats were hiding his usual flexing pectorals, “--you want a blowjob? You can’t tell anyone.”

“What?” Steve blinked.

“Want my mouth on your dick?” Billy sauntered towards him. “Don’t tell my father.” He leaned in to whisper along Steve’s jaw, and Steve resisted the urge to reach down and hoist his dick out of his briefs. “Don’t tell the sheriff.” Billy dropped to his knees, mouthing down Steve’s chest. “Don’t--cave my--head in,” he went still as Steve slid a hand in his hair. “Don’t crush my eyeballs with a nailbat, and I’ll blow you.”

“Wait,” Steve groaned, tugging to detach Billy’s warm, soft mouth from the edge of his jeans. “Damn it. Billy, hold on--”

“The hell is wrong with you, Harrington?” Billy sat back on his feet, eyebrows raised. “Close your eyes if you want, I don’t care--”

“I just--” Steve ran his fingers along Billy’s jaw, losing his train of thought as Billy tipped his head willingly.

“You wanna hit me and have me?” Billy laughed, turning his head to bite gently at Steve’s hand. “I’m hot with bruises. Gimme a bloody nose, kiss off your daily iron allowance, your majesty.”

“No. No.” Steve clenched his fingers in the silky hair at the back of Billy’s head again, feeling him sag. He was careful not to yank individual strands.

“Don’t tell anyone, though. Hit me, don’t kill me--” Billy pulled Steve’s thumb in his mouth with his tongue, sucking suggestively, but his eyes were getting shiny again. “Come on. You don’t really wanna haul me out of another trunk.”

“Jesus, Hargrove,” Steve yanked his hand away from Billy’s mouth, “--I won’t tell anyone you’re--I mean, that we’re--what are we even doing.” For the first time, his lungs started to feel stiff even with Billy Hargrove right in front of him. He forced some small, shallow breaths, watching Billy’s eyes start to brim over. He put the hand not holding Billy’s hair over his mouth to forestall what was probably about to be another flood of abuse, and took another breath. One one thousand, he counted to himself, holding it and letting it out. “You--you’re a fuckhead,” he started again, feeling Billy laugh against his hand. “Look, I’m not gonna--if you get up right now, I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t--hit you, or anything. If you wanna be there, that’s--that’s good too. But. I won’t tell anyone.”

Billy shook his head, trying to get away from Steve’s hand over his mouth--since Steve hadn’t moved when he licked it--and Steve lowered it, narrowing his eyes. Billy cleared his throat. “What’s the point, then?”

Steve flailed his free hand. “It was your idea!”

“I like women,” Billy bared his teeth, “--you’re just gonna shut your eyes anyway.”

“What, you want me to stare at you?” Steve pressed his licked thumb to Billy’s lower lip. He’d tasted like cigarettes and chocolate.

“I don’t fucking want anything.” Billy let his eyes slide closed, pressing his face into the seam of Steve’s jeans. “Neither of us are fucking...queers.”

Steve wondered, in passing, whether he wanted more of a sexual buffet table than he’d suspected. It makes sense, he thought, one hand in Billy’s hair, the other satisfying various curiosities about Billy’s ear piercing, the texture of his stubble, and the heat coming up in his cheeks. Nobody wants the same thing forever, right? He leaned in again, kissing Billy Hargrove, and huffing a laugh of disbelief. Billy flinched back, eyes blinking wide.

“You gotta lay off the little shitheads,” Steve remembered to say, pulling back. Billy’s mouth quirked, and Steve kissed it again, tugging at Billy’s lower lip and its edge of stubble with his teeth. Billy moaned into his mouth, and Steve grabbed the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer--not that there was much closer for him to be.

“I don’t give a shit about them,” Billy panted against his mouth.

“I ended up with them somehow, you need to be...okay with them, if you can be nice to people without...taking your pants off,” Steve pressed lightly on Billy’s unbruised cheek with his thumb, and Billy obediently opened his mouth. He still tasted better than Steve would have expected, his mouth warm and smoky, and his body ever more pliable as Steve held him firmly by the hair.

“Being nice right now,” Billy whispered back, and Steve snorted, pulling him into another kiss. The left side of Billy’s mouth tasted coppery, and his soft groan turned into more of a pained whine, but he slid his arms around Steve’s neck to stop him from pulling away.

“God,” Steve tucked his face against Billy’s other cheek, breathing him in, “--you--you gotta promise, though. If you’re about to lose your shit at a kid, walk away.”

“I wouldn’t really,” Billy laughed, pulling his arms back to fumble at Steve’s pants. Steve grabbed his hands.

“Billy.”

“I won’t,” he shoved away to stomp over against the wall, “--the hell is this, Harrington, some kinda trap. Fuck you.”

“Nooooo,” Steve said slowly, feeling whiplash, “--that was…” He felt his cheeks flush. “That was good. You should come back over here.”

“Why the hell would I.” Billy rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck menacingly, but wandered a few feet closer. “What if one of your spawn calls the sheriff. He’ll show up and shoot me in the head.”

“Oh! I called him,” Steve blinked, “--while you were in the shower--” he cut off at Billy’s soft choking noise.

“He’s not here, what, he’s just waiting for me at home, then--” His voice had gone high and wet.

“What?”

“He’s gonna know, Harrington, he’s gonna--god, fuck you, he’s gonna nail me to a fucking fence--” He scrambled over to reach for the bat, and Steve put all his basketball lessons in interference into preventing him from reaching it, finally hugging Billy’s arms to his body.

“Sshhhh,” he tried, unable to think of anything else. “Shhh, Billy. I called Hopper. I told him your dad was a liar. I told him we watched Star Wars. He’s not coming. He’s not telling your dad.”

“Fuck you--” Billy’s voice shook.

Steve rocked them back and forth, hugging him tighter, and Billy snorted into his shoulder. “Lemme go.”

“Not sure I should,” Steve breathed against his neck.

“This is so gay,” Billy groaned.

“I think we’re both maybe half gay, though.” Steve loosened his grip, sliding his hand up to stroke his thumb against the base of Billy’s skull, and Billy shuddered, snorting a laugh.

“Fags come in fractions?”

“Maybe.”

Billy took a deep breath, tickling Steve’s ear. “...maybe you’re a moron.”

Steve slid his other hand under the denim jacket and old sweatshirt, running the flat of his hand up and down Billy’s back.

“Maybe,” Billy whispered in his ear.

(I think Tumblr ate my first three chapter posts, so I’m redoing them?!) Strangest chapter 1/chapter 2/chapter 3/chapter 4/chapter 5/chapter 6/chapter 7/chapter 8/chapter 9/chapter 10/  But really I’d recommend reading it on Ao3 under peterqpan, scrolling through it on Tumblr sounds crazymaking

[frankpanioncube]

Costco Adventures

Somehow, @loganthrives and I got onto the idea that it’d be hilarious to see demons in a costco. And I wrote it. I used @loganthrives and @wowanothergotdamnedartist ‘s oc’s with my own. And I hope it’ll be funny

Lord Diavolo had issued a decree - a human needed human supplies, then it was necessary to go to the human world for such things

“We need to get lots of stuff in a bit of a hurry. We need to make sure they have bathroom things and all sorts of food that’s safe for humans. How do we do that? And quickly?”

“We use Costco.”Logan suggested. “There are plenty of them all over the world.”

“Oh. Good point” Kotomi nodded. “You know, I have to say, living here I almost forgot about all our human stuff. It just seems second nature to use Akuzon now.”

“You know, I know what you mean.”

Logan nodded at her fellow human by way of a reply.

“This is excellent.” Solomon said and that should have been the warning this whole thing was going to go off the rails extremely quickly. 

“Costco it is!”

And that should have been the end of it, but this was the seven Demon brothers and also...Diavolo. Plus two angels and three humans. Honestly no one was sure where they were. Could have been London, could have been Bangledesh. Could have been Toronto.

(It was actually Chicago)

“Oh look. There’s hotdogs and pizza and blue drink. What does blue drink taste like?”

It took a moment for the humans to register Diavolo was addressing them. “It’s usually blue raspberry.”

“How exciting! And I do believe I would like to try this bubblegum stuff. Is this what pink tastes like? Ah, Lucifer, you must try this!”

“Of course, Lord Diavolo.”

“And this is...raspberry but...blue?”

“Yes. It’s very common by modern standards.”

If the prince of hell wasn’t going to try to figure it out no one else had any options.

“Maybe I could ask Heavenly Father.”

“And let’s not do that, Angel.”

Winter shrugged at Satan but left the issue alone.

“It’s wonderful.”

It was almost normal by Diavolo’s standards. No one (wisely) asked where Diavolo got a blue raspberry ice pop out of the clear blue.

“Wonderful.” Beel and Winter had hit the food stand already and Asmo had disappeared down some aisle that had health and beauty products, leaving Mammon, Lucifer, Belphegor and Satan to turn to their humans for any actual shopping. Levi had seen the TV’s not ten seconds after walking in and run.

“How are we supposed to get things from the top shelves.” Belphegor complained.

“Oh how easy. Did you forget your own twin has wings? And so do some of us. Lucifer fly up there.”

“Oh hell yes. Any day Lucifer looks like an idiot please and thank you.” 

“Lord Diavolo there is toilet paper on the ground here.”

“Get the one at the top. It’s more fresh.”

No one had the heart to tell Diavolo toilet paper didn’t have a shelf life. Or maybe, just because it was the demon prince’s shenanigans. Either one made sense.

“Oh this is the best day ever.” The wings had been all out of balance since Lucifer fell and with all members of the Lucifer Sucks club present this was like Christmas.

As it turned out, the party was down by a bunch which made Solomon’s arrival at the cart with boxes extremely conspicuous.

“Asmo asked me to get them.”

Lucifer shook his head. “I very much doubt my brother asked you to get...24 packs of chicken salsa taquitos. I might believe Beel but this is your worst lie ever.”

They were in the cart. The now by MUCH put upon Avatar of Pride shook his head, but Diavolo stopped his hand. “Oh but humans like them! That is a human!”

And the group they were supposed to be buying for had gotten cut by a third.

“Where is Logan? And Belphegor and...anyone who didn’t stay at the food court.”

***

“Come with me!” “Belphegor had whispered. 

Logan was a tougher human than most but Belphegor usually didn’t do her wrong and they found themselves being lead away from Diavolo and the toilet paper and into a large display in the centre of the store.

“There’s a bed right here. Come on, let’s try it out.” 

Logan had always prided themselves on being at least a bit more willful than that but apparently there was no stopping Belphegor when he wanted to cuddle. They got into the bed - it was….a bed, they guessed. Nothing to write home about and honestly they were messing up a display. They’d done their dues in retail before being asked to the Devildom - maybe not a Costco but this had to be a retail worker faux pas.

“Okay. We’ve tried it out and…”

Logan wasn’t sure if it was some trick of the Avatar of sloth or whether this bed was comfy or whether Belphegor was the comfortable one if he was hugging you, But allri---

Kevin drove a fork lift. That was his job. He rotated stock. He had a rapport that was decent with his coworkers. Every so often Amran the sample dude would give him whatever the store was hocking if he was in the vicinity. So how in the hell there was what seemed to be two people cuddled up in the display bed?

He...decided not to disturb them.

Although...when next he drove his forklift around after his break...they were on a porch swing.

Just how? And HOW did that man have a tail. Maybe he was one of those furries...that was a thing. Well...Kevin wasn’t a judge. He got back on his forklift.

---

“Okay sho...Sho I don’t half to pay for these?”

“The idea is, SIR….” and the sales lady said that with a very implied suggestion that ‘keeping her job’ was the only reason the individual before her ought to receive any sort of title  “That you pay for them if you like them. They’re samples.”

“But they’re FREE samples, right?”

The poor human was definitely not paid enough to be dealing with this level of shit. “Would you please buy a box? Or maybe ten? ”

“Oh...Oh hell yeah. Hell yeah my brother will. Lemme take these and I’ll add them to the cart. But thanks for lunch! Pretty good food ya humans got here.”

“Thank you? Uh...human?”

“Don’t worry about--”

“I’m so sorry. It’s apparently Mammon’s first time being around people. We’ll buy your stuff...too.”

Kotomi sighed and grabbed almost her fifth box from the random samples. “Sometimes I think you should be the Avatar of Gluttony…” she muttered.

“Well if they ain’t nailed down they’re free. And I ain’t gonna pass up a free lunch ya know.”

Lucifer and Diavolo were looking at some toothpaste when the human and the avatar of greed caught up. Kotomi dumped ten boxes of all the free sample products Mammon had ate across the store.

“Are these things you need?”

“Yes. They are things we need because Mammon decided to make a meal of the samples.”

Lucifer grit his teeth. 

Diavolo nodded peaceably. “Ah, well we can’t have enough. I had never thought chimera would be poisonous to humans but happy accident we were able to help. These...pizza bagels are evidently more to human taste being they’re sold in a human shop.”

Wherever Logan and Soloman were right now, there would be a human plot to get Lucifer to eat a pizza bagel. It would probably be hilarious.

___

It was predictable enough that Beel gravitated towards any place that served food just as Levi was likely looking at the wall of televisions (he was) . It was also predictable that Winter accompanied the Avatar of Gluttony.

“Beel I’m really full. I don’t think...Why don’t you finish this?”

“Oh wonderful!” 

The angel breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just going to rest my head here. You keep eating.”

“I can’t believe this food is so cheap!”

“I can’t believe I ate five hotdogs.”

“I’m proud of you.” Beel said around a mouthful. “I worry about you.”

Winter managed a smile. “You know you don’t need to. I’m just fine. And most of us don’t need to eat as much as you do. But it’s sweet you worry.”

And with that the angel slipped into a food coma. 

“Oh! Lucifer...you guys are back. Ah….you think you could settle up?”

“Beel...this board says the pizza and hotdogs are $1 each. How the hell did you rack up…$89.95?”

“Is that angel okay?“ Diavolo whispered

“She’s an angel - she’ll just be groggy and bloated.”

Winter managed a slight noise that was best translated as ‘Mrr’ before cuddling into Beel’s arms.

“Ah are we checking out? The distraction from the over full Angel (who seemed to be well...angel like gorgeous despite being slumped over Beel’s shoulders) was a shock to all. 

“Satan and Levi.” 

Lucifer’s joy at not having to track down anyone else was a bit short lived when he saw what Satan was carrying.

“What is that?” By this point the Avatar of Pride was just resigned.

“An HD TV with 3D Capabilities.” 

“And a PS5.”

“Is that a thing now?” Kotomi asked.

“Oh, actually yes.” That was Soloman. “iS that the 250 gig one?”

“Yes indeed!” the otaku chirped. “And I’ll even put it in the common room.”

“...goody.” 

“What was that, Lucifer?”

“I said, where are Logan and Belphegor? Also did anyone keep tabs on Asmo? I…”

“Uh hello? Hi...hi there hello?” A man in a Costco uniform was running across the parking lot. “

“Um...okay this is going to sound super weird but are you people...um...are you with the um...the two people in the bed in Asle 19?”

“Probably.” Diavolo spoke up.

“Okay one of them has a cow tail and the other is a white chick with some---”

“Yes. Yes they’re with us. Can we get them back?”

“Please.” Kevin said, who literally had never had a weirder day. “Do you...do you maybe want to take the guy in Aisle 5 too? He just checked out with about five boxes of lotion and facial masks and just about everything from the cosmetic section...he’s a little dude but wow you all….I mean….wow.”

“Thank you for the compliment kind human! We all loved your store and we got plenty of stuff for the humans.”

It didn’t take too long for the weird little party to leave the Costco with the strangest break room conversation.

Kevin the forklift guy apparently went to mandatory counselling because he swore he saw a door open into hell and swallow a whole bunch of weird customers. 

[iridescentkippen]

it's gonna be our night (aka a bad seblos one shot i wrote while half asleep)

this was kind of a bad character study of sorts as i really want to write hoco from seb's point of view at some point but felt like i couldn't do that without writing- let's be real i'm analyzing it more than writing it- from carlos' first?? idk this isn't good and it's missing parts of the episode because i wrote it when i was half asleep but platonic ashlyn/carlos is my favorite so i had to

It was a Friday night, and Carlos had no homework. What he should have been doing was hugging his pillow and crying to The Notebook for the fifth hundredth time before calling Ashlyn at two in the morning to cry that, "Ash, why don't I have a hot boyfriend like Ryan Gosling?" but instead he was tearing through his closet to try and find the tie that would match his suit. Why did homecoming have to be so stressful?

Ashlyn is perched on the end of his bed, scrolling on her phone, when her gasp causes Carlos to pull himself out of his closet to look at her. "What?"

"I know my cousin is shallow, and I know he sometimes doesn't have the best taste in girls, but Gina?" She turns her phone towards him to show Gina's Instagram story of the two of them at dinner.

Carlos rolls his eyes, going back to tearing through his stuff before finally finding the tie he was looking for. "Didn't he and Nini just call it quits like, yesterday? He didn't seem over her last I saw," He throws the tie over his shoulder onto where his tux is sitting next to Ashlyn, and the redhead ducks as it comes towards her.

"Dude, warn me next time you start chucking clothes at me," The two start laughing, before falling down next to each other on Carlos' bed.

"You know, if I have to go insane with someone, I'm glad it's you. I thought I would have no friends at East High, but now I have you and Seb and Miss Jenn-" He cuts himself off when he realizes how dumb he sounds.

They start cackling again before Ashlyn shoves him and the two sit up. "C'mon, let's get you into that and send a photo to lover boy before he thinks you've forgotten all about him." Carlos blushes as he pulls on the coat and attempts to get the tie on correctly before forcing Ashlyn to do it.

"What if he thinks I look dumb? What if he looks so nice that I start blushing and stuttering over my words? What if-"

"Carlos, I mean this in the nicest way possible. Shut up!" She takes a photo of him on the boy's phone before handing it back to him. He sends the photo to his date, but not without getting teased by his best friend for already having put hearts by the other boy's name.

The rest of the afternoon goes as smoothly as it can when all Carlos wants to do is check his phone every ten seconds to see if Seb has replied. He and Ashlyn do photos outside his house before running to McDonald's because in her words, "We are not spending money on nice food when we could each get twenty chicken nuggets and a large soda for way cheaper," and he's learned not to argue with her when it comes to fast food.

Ashlyn finally takes his phone from him and says she'll tell him if Seb texts because he can't stay off of it long enough to have an actual conversation. They finish eating before rushing to the school to meet the rest of the theatre kids.

Ricky and Big Red meet them at the door and they all head in, finding the table reserved for them. After sitting there for nearly ninety minutes, Carlos turns to Ashlyn, worry painting his face. "What if he doesn't show up?"

"He will, Carlos, I promise. Maybe he just got caught in traffic," Carlos frowns at her before checking his phone again.

"Traffic? We live in Salt Lake City, Ash, I'm pretty positive there hasn't been traffic here since the 2002 Olympics. Also, he left me on read. What could that mean?" Ashlyn sighs, turning off his phone for him.

"I dont know, idiot. Now put your phone away and have fun until he gets here! C'mon, let's go dance!"

Carlos frowns, urging himself not to cry. "Let's face it, Ash, I've been stood up. Let's go home. We still have time to get in HSM and Camp Rock if we go now,"

"No, I'm not letting you give up this easily. Get something to drink and then come dance with me!" She grabs his arm, tugging him out of his seat and through the crowd made of their peers. "See, even Ricky and Red are having a good time." The two boys are awkwardly dancing and laughing as Red continues to trip over his feet every five seconds.

Ashlyn shoves him towards the drink table before disappearing into the crowd of people, leaving him alone. Mr. Mazzara talks to him, and he responds, but he isn't really sure what he's saying even as he's handed a cup of something red and sweet. It tastes a little bit like alcohol, and he's not sure some kid didn't spike it when Mazzara wasn't watching, but he still drinks the whole thing anyway. Maybe it'll make him forget Seb.

A song he loved when he was little starts playing, and a small smile breaks out on his face. He drops the cup in the garbage before sighing and walking into the crowd of people. He sways on his own a little before Ashlyn finds him and the two dance and scream the lyrics at each other. There was definitely something in the punch as he feels more confident than he has in years. He doesn't even remember why he was so sad. Ashlyn calls out to him, "So, have you decided you can have fun without Seb being here?"

Oh, right. That's why he was so sad. And everything hits him again as he takes a deep breath and shrugs. He's about to ask her if they can still go home now because he tried staying here and he just can't, when suddenly he sees him. Standing in the doorway is Seb, a look on his face Carlos can't quite describe in his half tipsy state. Ashlyn sees him too, as a smile breaks out onto her face and she looks like she's going to cry of happiness.

"He's here! Go say hi!" She shoves him, and he stumbles across the gym towards the blonde boy.

"Hey, sorry I'm so late," And with those five words, Carlos forgives him because he just can't stay mad at Seb. He just can't.

"You're almost three hours late," Seb sighs, not meeting Carlos' eyes.

"I know, one of our cows went missing and I was the only one who could find her,"

"But not answering my texts?" Seb giggles, looking at his feet.

"We don't have great service out there. I really was trying to, I promise," A slow song comes on and Seb smiles, holding out his hands to the other boy. "Can I have this dance?"

He smiles, taking Seb's hands, and in that moment everything is perfect. Maybe everything can be okay, just the two of them. "Of course." And then the two of them dance for the rest of the night, not paying attention to anybody else in the room (even though Ashlyn sneakily takes photos of them to make fun of Carlos later). And everything is okay. Everything is perfect.

ik it's not great but like and/or reblog if you enjoyed?? it lets me know what people wanna see me write :)

[gwentoryfics]

all the time in the world (yanan fluff)

Genre | Soulmates AU

Pairing | Yanan x Reader

Words | 3.5k

Summary | Ever since you were little, you’d heard about soulmates. You’d been told that there was one person, just a single soul out of the seven billion on the planet, that was meant to join with yours. But how long would it take for you to Connect?

Warnings | None. Just cute stuff. 😊

Note | Wrote this for a request! Also sorry this is not quite up to my usual standards, I blew through it kind of fast lol.

You would never forget the day it happened.

You were tucked away in the library, hunched over the table that sat next to the big window, trying desperately to complete your math homework. But your best friend, Jamie, wouldn’t stop laughing to herself.

“What’s so funny?” You tried not to sound irritated, but her giggles made it really hard for you to focus.

“Sorry,” she spoke quietly, trying to hide her smile. She pointed to her temple, indicating that she was Connecting with her soulmate. “Marcus is being inappropriate.”

“Could you ask him to leave you alone so we can study?”

“Yeah, of course.” She closed her eyes for a second as she concentrated on her telepathic message, and then she nodded. “Done. I told him I’d talk more later.”

“Thank you.” You returned to your math problem, trying not to make it obvious how much you’re struggling with algebra.

“Have you heard anything from your soulmate yet?” Jamie pried. “Do you still try to Connect with them?”

Disheartened, you frown. “Of course I do, but nothing yet. I don’t know if it’ll ever happen.” You send out messages every morning and every night, but you still haven’t managed to Connect. 

No one really knows how it works, only that one day the Connection is formed between you and your soulmate, and you’re able to communicate telepathically for the rest of your lives together. Most people start to connect around the time they hit puberty, but on rare occasions the Connection might not happen until you’re both in your thirties or forties.

After your sixteenth birthday a few months ago, you started to think you might be one of those rare cases. You absolutely hated the thought of having to wait that long to find your soulmate, but you didn’t really get a say in the matter. You just had to stay patient. 

You wanted to start dating, but everyone around you was already madly in love with their soulmate, which made it impossible to date casually. People thought dating was a waste of time, anyway, since you’d really just be killing time until your soulmate came around.

“Of course it’ll happen. It always does.” Jamie sounded so confident as she comforted you. “Just stay positive.”

With a curt nod, you tried to return to your homework. But now that she’s got you thinking about soulmates...

Are you any good at algebra? You try to Connect. If you are, I could really use your help.

And then you heard it. For the first time in your life, you heard a voice respond:

你在哪?

You completely froze up when you heard him. It was the most beautiful, melancholy voice you had ever heard. What did he just say? What language was that? Everyone always remembers their soulmate’s first words, but how could you ever remember the foreign sounds you just heard? 

“Oh my God…” You couldn’t believe it. “Oh my God I just- he just…”

“What?” Jamie looked up from her homework, wide-eyed. “What just happened?”

“I heard him!” You tried to keep your voice down, but that proved to be difficult when you were so full of such raw adrenaline. “There was a voice! He talked to me!”

“Oh my God, _____! What did he say?” Jamie completely lit up, just as ecstatic as you at the good news.

And then your heart sank. “I have no idea. It wasn’t English.”

“Oh,” she breathed, perplexed. “Well that’s… uncommon, but not unheard of. Do you know what it was? What did it sound like?”

“I don’t know… it might have been an Asian language? I’m not really sure. He sounded… sweet. He has a gentle voice.” You smiled just thinking about it. You needed to hear it again.

Hello? You feebly tried to respond. Can you hear me?

A few moments passed, and you were greeted with nothing but silence in return.

“I don’t think he can hear me. I think it was a fluke,” you confess. 

“That’s okay! This is still great news!” 

She was right. Your smile returned. “It is. It’s fantastic news!”

***

You started hearing from your soulmate multiple times a day. Most of the time it would be just a short phrase, but sometimes the sound of his voice could go on for minutes at a time. You wondered if he was venting to you, and you wished that you could be there for him. You came to love every message you received, even when it interfered with your school work.

Every time you heard him, you tried to respond. Sometimes it felt like you were having a conversation, but more often than not it was obvious that your Connection was one-sided. One-sided Connections were the most common way that Connections started, so you weren’t concerned about that part of it. Sometimes it could be months or years before your Connection fully formed, and that’s what bothered you most.

After taking some time to research Asian languages, you eventually decided that your soulmate must be communicating in Mandarin. Not exactly the easiest language for you to learn, unfortunately, but you’d gladly take on the challenge for your him. You didn’t even hesitate in deciding to learn the language.

Your parents were more than happy to enroll you in an online Mandarin language class, and you studied harder than you ever had in your life to learn your soulmate’s way of speaking. And little by little, you’re able to understand fragments of his messages.

...waiting patiently.

Today… got worse. …better soon.

Where are you?

When it was time to prepare for university, you easily decided to major in Mandarin with the goal of becoming a translator. Learning the language had become your whole life, and you found genuine joy in it. 

Fragments became sentences, and you’d lay awake at night just listening to his messages. He obviously had no idea that you lived in a different time zone, but you didn’t mind the late-night broadcasts.

Sometimes they were sweet…

I thought about you a lot today. I wonder if you can hear me. I want so badly to talk to you, but I’ll be patient. I wonder what you’re like, what makes you happy, what passions and interests you have. Recently I’ve been training to sing well. Maybe one day we’ll meet and I can sing for you.

Sometimes they were heartbreaking…

I miss my family. I knew that moving away would be hard, but I’m too busy to ever visit and all I want is to see my parents. I love them so much. I hope this message isn’t a burden for you.

And every night you tried to respond. You tried to tell him that you thought about him too, that you hoped he was doing alright. But he never seemed to hear.

Although you’d come to love the sound of his voice and every single message he sent, you couldn’t help but be frustrated by the lack of personal information he shared. He’d been communicating with you for years, but hadn’t so much as hinted at his name. You asked him for it constantly, even though he couldn’t hear you, and you hoped that one day he would tell you.

***

One morning, you were startled awake by his incredibly ecstatic voice. You couldn’t remember ever being forcefully woken up by him, but his voice was so loud, like he was shouting in your ear. 

We did it! We debuted! I just performed my first stage with my members and I am so proud of how far we’ve come! And it was so much fun. I can’t believe we finally made it! Even though we just started, we already have fans. I’m so happy and I just want to perform again!

It was as if the energy he gained from performing had transferred to you, and you suddenly felt wide awake. You jumped out of bed and tore into your roommate’s bedroom, excitedly shouting at her in Mandarin.

“Mingzhu! He’s a singer! That’s what he does! He’s a professional singer!”

Mingzhu screamed in fear at your loud entrance. “_____, I was sleeping! What the hell?”

You fell onto her bed. “This is great news! We can finally figure out who my soulmate is!”

You had met Mingzhu through your university’s Chinese Language and Culture Club, which you joined to help deepen your understanding of Mandarin. Mingzhu grew up in China and fluently spoke Mandarin, and it was hugely helpful to have someone she could practice speaking with. Plus, the two of you had a lot in common and you genuinely enjoyed her friendship.

She was still very connected to her Chinese roots and remained in tune with Asian pop culture. Because of that, you knew she’d be able to help you track down your soulmate, now that you had learned something important about him.

“I’m going to start doing some research to see who just debuted today. Can you help?” You held her hand tightly, hoping to all that is holy that she might agree.

With a sleepy roll of her eyes, she nodded. “Fine. Get me my laptop.”

***

It didn’t take long. You definitely started off on the wrong path by researching Chinese debuts - you didn’t realize that when he talked about moving away from his family, he meant that he moved out of the country. But with Mingzhu’s help, you finally found his group.

They were a ten person Korean boy group named Pentagon. And he was the only Chinese member, Yanan.

And he. Was. Beautiful.

The moment you saw his photo, your heart was overcome with love. He looked just as sweet as he always sounded in your head, with his dark hair, warm eyes, small nose, and gentle smile.

You found their debut performance online and you lost count of how many times you watched it. You were disappointed by Yanan’s lack of screentime, but whenever your gaze latched onto him, your smile could not be contained.

How could you have gotten so lucky?

Of course, there was just a small shred of doubt that it could really be him. It was kind of a guess, after all. But too much of Yanan’s story lined up with what your soulmate has told you, and it just felt so right when you looked at him. 

You spent the whole day watching any video content of him you could find, drowning yourself in the reality show that led to Pentagon’s debut. Of course, everything was in Korean instead of Mandarin, and you weren’t always able to find English subtitles, but it didn’t matter. You were in love.

At least, you were as in love as you could be with someone that you’ve never actually met. With someone who still doesn’t know you exist.

Well… there’s only one way to change that.

***

You took your seat in the middle of the crowd, anxious for Pentagon to come on stage for their Runaway comeback recording for Show Champion. It had been over a year since you discovered your soulmate’s identity, and in that time you managed to finish your schooling and save up enough money to fly to Korea. So there you were, in a completely new country, surrounded by people speaking a language that you barely understood, entirely unsure of how you’d get Yanan to notice you… You had no plan, but at the very least you were there. That’s the most you could do, since your Connection still hadn’t formed.

Maybe you could hang around Cube Entertainment’s building to see if you crossed paths? Or maybe you could find a way to sneak backstage?

No, all of those options would make you seem like a total creep, and that’s not the impression you want to make on your soulmate.

The more you thought about it, the more impossible it seemed that you could ever get to him without your Connection.

Yanan, I’m here. You tried desperately to Connect. Yanan, please hear me. Please. I’m here.

There was no response.

Maybe it was dumb of you to come the whole way to Korea before your Connection was complete.

But no matter - all of your worries get wiped away as soon as the boys step on stage.

Suddenly he’s there. He’s right there in front of you. Yanan, your pretty blonde boy, was right there, wearing his hoodie and ripped jeans and looking like a total boyfriend.

Your whole body got hot from head to toe, your fingertips started tingling, and you had the distinct feeling of completely losing your breath. In that moment, you didn’t know if you were feeling something magical because of your Connection or if you were just having a panic attack because everything was suddenly so real.

And then Yanan shook his hand at his side, as if he felt something too.

Yanan, I’m here! You tried again.

No reaction.

The music started. The boys performed. Yanan still didn’t get enough lines, but the ones he got were the most perfect lines in the whole song. His voice was beautiful as ever and he killed the choreography. As the song ended, you were on the verge of tears because of how overwhelmingly happy you felt.

You knew he wouldn’t hear you, but you just had to tell him. Yanan, you did amazingly! You danced so well and you sang beautifully. I am so proud of you and I LOVE YOU! Yanan, I love you!

All of the sudden, Yanan broke out of his ending pose, his calm, confident expression turning into one of total shock. 

And then he responded.

Soulmate? Are you there?

You couldn’t control the loud gasp that left your lungs. You can hear me? Yanan, I’m here! I’m in the audience, I’m here!

Yanan looked out over the crowd as if he could find you in the sea of people. Before he could spot you, they were ushered off stage and he was gone, but his voice remained inside your head. I’ll find you. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave. I need to see you.

You responded. I won’t leave, Yanan. I’m here. Tell me where to find you.

I’ll get my manager to help. I can’t believe this! He sounded so excited. How did you know it was me? How long have you known?

I’ve known you for years, Yanan. You’ve been with me, talking to me for years without even knowing it.

He was quiet for a while, but you stayed patient. You had waited for this long, you can wait another few minutes. When he Connected again, he asked for your name and row number and said that a staff member would come to get you.

It was so unreal to think that it was actually happening. You were really Connected, and you were about to meet the man you’ve grown to love since you first heard his voice six years ago.

Just as he promised, a staff member came to collect you and bring you back to the waiting room. It was no secret that idols had soulmates too, and more often than not their soulmates were just regular people. Most of Pentagon had already publicly Connected, with only Yanan and Wooseok still waiting for their Connections to happen. You knew the fact that Yanan finally Connected would be reason for the rest of the group to celebrate, and you’d be more than welcome to come see all of them.

You were brought back to a small room that was far too full of people. The members were scattered throughout, carrying on while the makeup artists blotted their foreheads and noses.

The staff member that ushered you in pointed off to the left and said something in Korean that you didn’t quite understand, but you didn’t need to know her words. You followed her gesture and your gaze fell on your tall blonde soulmate, who had been watching you from the moment you entered the room.

“Yanan,” you breathed.

Your body grew warm and your fingers tingled again. He was so far away, and yet he was the closest he’d ever been. Your whole body was electric in his presence and you knew he felt the same way.

Is it you? His voice sounded in your head, his eyes widening as they fixated on you.

It’s me. Why were you frozen in place? Why couldn’t you seem to move when every cell in your body ached to touch him?

Yanan broke out of the spell first, a sudden smile coming to his lips as he approached you, laughing. And then he spoke to you out loud for the very first time. “I thought you’d be Chinese. Your Mandarin is very impressive.”

“Thank you.” You felt lightheaded as he reached a hand out for you, and you intertwined your fingers with his, the heat of your Connection flashing up your arm as you finally touched. “I learned it just for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. All of the sudden I had this Chinese kid talking in my head. I had to figure out what he was saying.” You laughed, and Yanan’s sweet laughter mingled with yours. 

With his free hand, he touched your hair, your cheek bones, your jaw, your shoulder. Discovering you and cherishing you. Ingraining the image of his soulmate into the depths of his mind.

“You said you loved me. Is that true?” Yanan’s thumb swept across your cheek, his eyes searching your face.

“I love you with all of my heart, Yanan. I’ve loved you for years.” It was way too easy for you to confess. Being with him just felt so right. You had nothing to hide. “But don’t worry, I don’t expect you to love me right away. We’re soulmates, but love still takes time.”

By that point, the others in the room had started to notice what was going on, and they all stood in giddy anticipation. Kino shouted something in Korean, and Hui smacked his arm, lecturing him for whatever he said. Yanan’s face grew red and he responded in a flustered way.

“What did he say?” you asked. “I don’t know Korean.”

“You don’t?” He frowned, realizing that you really were as foreign as you appeared. “You’re not from here, are you.”

You shook your head. “I came from the other side of the world to see you. This is my first time in Korea.” 

“How long will you be here?”

“I can only stay for another week and a half. But we’ll work something out until I can move here.”

“You’d move here for me?” Yanan seemed a little bewildered yet concerned that you were so ready to uproot your life for him.

Sternly, you responded, “Of course! You’re my soulmate! I’d do anything for you.” 

Hongseok spoke up just then, and the other members laughed at his comment, Yanan included.

“What are they saying?” You smiled and squeezed his hand. “Tell me!”

“Hongseok said ‘They’re already bickering, they must really be soulmates.’” Yanan pulled you into an unexpected hug as he chuckled, and you eagerly wrapped your arms around his waist.

You listened to the gentle beating of his heart and truly felt like you were home. “And Kino? What did he say?” 

You could feel Yanan’s hesitance to respond, but he translates eventually. “He said, ‘Just kiss her already!’”

Your heart fluttered at the words, and you pulled away to look up at him. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“You’re a little spitfire, aren’t you.” He cupped your face with a wild grin. “I like that.”

“You better.” You grinned, too. “You’re stuck with me, after all.”

With a chuckle, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, officially sealing your Connection. Warmth flowed through you and peaceful energy radiated from you, bathing the room in a calm aura. 

When you parted, he murmured, “I’m sorry that you had to wait for me for so long. I can’t wait to learn everything about you.”

“We’re in no rush. We have all the time in the world.”

All Rights Reserved © gwentoryfics. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

[riarushi]

you as the female maknae of nct. (updated ver)

So apparently a lot of you wanted me to update this, so I hope you enjoy! (I added in our new members as well~) ALSO, I’m starting to need new ideas for the Twitter posts, so if you have any, feel free to send them in and I’ll try my best to make it into a post! ~Ness

Profile:

Member Interaction:

Taeil

The one you can always run to when you need immediate assistance.

Loves it when you do.

Will unnecessarily teach you all his lines in every NCT song he sings in.

“What happens if I’m sick? Y/N can fill in my spot.”

Doesn’t want to spoil you but finds it hard not to once you’re around.

When he hasn’t seen you in a while, he’ll make sure to send a text to check up on you.

Johnny

SM won’t let you guys share a room anymore.

Last time, the two of you filled the room with plushies to the point where neither of you could sleep on your beds.

A prominent big brother figure, loves giving you life advice.

You’re his favourite model for photos.

“Just keep doing that, you’ll look even cuter than usual in this picture.”

Would totally start picking fluff off your clothes while you guys stand on stage.

Taeyong

You’re totally his favourite member.

He just won’t admit it.

Has a little shelf in where he keeps all the handmade presents you make for him.

Probably makes something for you in return.

“Look! It matches the bracelet you made me, too!”

Would want to wear the matching bracelets during SMTOWN shows.

Yuta

Can’t restrain himself from wrapping his arms around you every time he sees you.

It doesn’t even matter if you’re filming a variety show or you’re doing a live.

“Y/N~ My small girl~~~”

Takes you out on runs with him sometimes.

Chatting during runs is relaxing and calm, and definitely quality bonding time for the both of you.

You bet he’s not speaking anything other than Japanese with you.

Kun

You’re one of his three (3) children.

Helps you do things without you needing to even ask.

“I looked over your Korean homework, do you want me to help you with that question you didn’t finish?”

Zips your coat up before you leave the dorms, before shoving your bag in your hands.

He made sure not to forget anything you would need for the day while packing it.

Turns off your lights for you before you sleep.

Doyoung

Comes to visit you while you record in the recording studio.

He likes it when you wave at him through the booth window.

Knows the most pointless trivia about you out of all the members due to all the small talk he makes with you.

“Y/n wouldn’t like that. She thinks that colour doesn’t suit her.”

Sends you a lot of aesthetic posts or motivational quotes.

You’ll wake up to see that he’s sent over forty (40) since last night.

Ten

You guys are literally inseparable dance partners.

Takes you out to go get something to eat or drink after practices.

Always teaches you new words that he learns in Chinese.

Would literally squeal if you wanted to learn Thai.

“Wait, say that again! Your pronunciation was almost better than mine.”

I can see him jokingly fitting Japanese into his conversations with you.

Jaehyun

Unintentionally babies you, but immediately apologizes when he realizes.

Always willing to listen to you vent and give advice.

He would take you out to go grab a drink together on your off days.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m gonna go get some coffee, you wanna come?”

Remembers your usual order, but offers to buy the special if you seem interested in it.

Literally the best big brother figure.

Winwin

Despite the fact that he hates skinship, he finds it cute when you grab his arm.

Has definitely gotten closer to you since you moved in, and likes going out with you sometimes.

Probably takes you to dog cafes a lot.

“Do you think that big fluffy one will remember me if I visit it everyday?”

The two of you feel at ease with each other, so you’ve started dropping the polite speech and honorifics with him.

Still continues to choose to be on your team for variety games.

Jungwoo

Showers you with compliments and refuses to stop unless you take them.

“You’re the cutest,Y/N! Just accept it!”

Comes to you for support, and always reminds you that he has your back too.

Buys you things that remind him of you when he’s travelling with 127.

Gives them all to you once he gets back.

Almost half of your plushie collection is contributions from Jungwoo.

Lucas

Always greets you by messing up your hair and attempting to give you a fistbump.

It’s his goal to always keep you out of a bad mood.

Very joking, I can see him always smiling and cracking jokes around you.

“WAIT NO I HAVE AN EVEN BETTER JOKE, LISTEN TO THIS Y/N.”

Absentmindedly grabs your hand and starts playing with your fingers while on stage.

Considers you one of his closest friends.

Mark

Your teacher in lyric writing and other musical aspects.

Can’t resist looking at your notebook whenever he can.

“Oh, Y/N! Y-You’re back... I wasn’t looking at your lyrics. Or anything. Just sitting here and waiting for you.”

Invites you to come watch him record no matter what unit he’s recording for.

He gets excited when you walk in with a cup of watermelon juice for him.

The two of you made a playlist full of songs you both like, and it gets updated often.

Xiaojun

Wants you to join him in his health adventures.

“We can start today! Let’s go get some vegetables and create a delicious and nutritious dish.”

Still continues to wake you up at 3 in the morning to get something sweet to eat.

Also enjoys spending late nights playing video games with you and some of the other members.

Scrambles to turn off the computer and cover the two of you with blankets when he hears someone shuffling outside the room.

It’ll be a while until the both of you develop that healthy lifestyle.

Hendery

Has kept himself somewhat polite and courteous around you.

If he’s joking around with another member and notices you, he’ll get embarrassed.

“Y/N! I didn’t see you there just now.. How are you today?”

Really wants to be close with you.

To show how much he cares about his relationship with you, he’ll buy you a little cactus.

Puts it on your desk and leaves a little encouraging note.

Renjun

Helps you study Korean mostly, but will help with any subject you need assistance with.

“Oh, this one? It’s actually pretty simple, pass me your pencil and I’ll show you how to do it.”

Casually starts doodling Moomin on the side of your paper while you do your work.

He won’t erase his doodling even if you ask him to.

If your sad, he lets you wrap your arms around his waist and pull yourself into him.

Gets so soft and pats your head.

Jeno

Also regular participant in the 3 AM video game party.

Is literally fighting Xiaojun for his favourite gaming buddy back.

“Please stop teaming with him! I’ll play support if you play with me~”

Finds it so hard to not agree to do anything you say.

He’ll get you anything you need. Cuddles? Of course! Something to drink? Take all the water bottles he could find!

You might want to team with him as soon as possible before he spoils you too much.

Haechan

“Who’s Mark Lee? My favourite member is Y/N~”

He’s your number one fanboy.

Begs you to do aegyo on the daily, using his own aegyo to try to convince you.

Is always hugging you and resting his chin on the top of your head during fansigns.

After all the NCTzens are done getting their albums signed, he’ll get up and walk over to your part of the table to pretend to get your autograph too.

Casually initiates a lot of skinship.

Jaemin

Your first and closest friend in NCT.

He shares and does everything with you.

Loves to watch movies with you, the two of you have a movie-watching tradition.

“What should we watch today..?”

Keeps an arm around your shoulders whenever you’re chilling beside each other.

Sometimes surprises you with quick pecks on your temple as he walks by you in fansigns.

Yangyang

One (1) of your two (2) siblings.

Teases you often, but will always side with you when you’re arguing with someone else.

During practices, he’s completely different and is quite serious.

“Try doing this sort of rhythm instead. It’ll sound more natural.”

Gives really good advice to help you improve your performance.

Despite all the teasing he does, he really cares for you and loves you like a little sister.

Chenle

One (1) of your two (2) siblings.

The two of you bicker a lot, but are always comfortable with it because of how chill you are with each other.

Just like real siblings, to be honest.

Usually doesn’t complain when you sneak a bite of his second helping of ramen.

Unless he really doesn’t want to share.

“Hey! That’s the last bit of noodle, give it back!”

Jisung

Likes to point out small little habits he notices you have, and gets embarrassed when you do it back.

For example if you point out his scrunched nose, he’ll quickly cover it up with his hands.

“Don’t talk about it like that! I can’t help it...”

While overseas, he’ll constantly look at you for encouragement while speaking in a language you know well.

In return, he’ll help you with perfecting your dance moves.

Finds it to be extremely cute when you wear his caps.